I am grateful for the things I have, the gifts I have been given, the people in my life. At times I am moody, demanding, needy, stubborn, and controlling. I may ask for more than others are able to give or expect more than I have a right to. I can be overbearing, dramatic, paranoid, and persistent. I often feel alone and like no one notices or cares. I know consciously that it is not true, but when the depression takes control, I can't see it or feel it. The pain and hopelessness blocks it. I am sorry if I appear ungrateful...but I truly am. When I come out of it and the fog lifts and my vision is clear, I see all of you. Protecting me, holding me, guiding me. When you hold out your hand to me or offer your ear, it means so much. If I don't take it, that doesn't mean I don't want or need it, just that I have to face it alone or I'm afraid or not ready. Or simply that the gesture healed my wounds and gave me all the strength I needed. Loyalty and acceptance are very valuable to me and make me feel safe. That's all I need. So don't feel like you don't give enough just because I'm lost. If I know you're looking for me, waiting for me, it helps me find my way back home.
Facebook note by Nicole McMillan on Friday, March 11, 2011 at 4:16am.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
I Hate Anxiety!
This blog by Kate White pretty much sums up my life right now...
I Hate Anxiety! The Physiology of Stress | Treating Anxiety - HealthyPlace
I Hate Anxiety! The Physiology of Stress | Treating Anxiety - HealthyPlace
Thursday, March 10, 2011
The elephant in the room...aka My brain
"We are born with no limitation on communicating our feelings and thoughts. A young child speaks without censoring him - or herself, but then something happens and we begin suppressing ourselves; instead of communicating our feelings and thoughts as they occur, we begin holding back." from My Mind is Not Always My Friend
Maybe I need to explain my writing process (blogging/venting, as opposed to journalistic writing). Or maybe more specifically, my thinking process. I have so much in my head constantly; thoughts upon thoughts upon thoughts. My brain works like a novel (or sometimes a horror movie) - I think in stories. And I speak and write in stories. I'm a very visual person and have to be emotionally connected to the things in my life in order to understand them. I overanalyze and overworry and overwork. Stress, exhaustion, sickness, and/or anxiety cuts down on my control. I'm more uninhibited, more open. But still, I keep secrets. I'm reserved, distrustful, cautious.
I imagine I was like any other child, saying what was on my mind and being curious about the world. I remember asking questions when I didn't understand something and got the feeling that what I asked was deemed unusual or strange or should have been obvious. I felt stupid for asking, but I couldn't help doing so. I needed to know. I still need to know -- everything. As I grew older, I learned what not to say or do, because I was expected to present myself a certain way. Quiet by nature, I kept my thoughts and feelings to myself and protected those close to me from my true self. No one knew who I was. And maybe know one ever will...I don't know myself completely.
But all of this comes back to why I need to write now, why I need to express myself -- not just to close friends or family, but to the world. I stepped out of my comfort zone, left my shell, and put myself on display. It's terrifying. But it's also therapeutic, so I continue. It may seem like my thoughts are linear, and in a way they are, but they go from one memory to the next, one year to another. A recent incident will remind me of something that happened years ago. And image, a sound, a smell will remind me of a past relationship...or a past trauma. And I can't separate the then from the now. It's all in my head at once, going from one emotion to another. It gets jumbled, it gets combined. And I'm the only one who truly knows what each word relates to, what the subject is. And sometimes, rereading my writing, I don't even remember who or what I was talking about. Because my mind has changed since.
It's the reason I post several different status messages on FB within a day or post completely unrelated links within minutes of each other. Because my mind changes...it's never on one wavelength for long. That's not to say that I can't concentrate on a single project for hours -- that's easy because my focus narrows to the size of a pinhole. But the thoughts remain. And I multitask. But that's off-subject. What I mean to say is that with all of this "stuff" inside of me at once, circling around, I can't just write about one thing. I segue. Because it's all connected to me. People may read and assume that it's about a particular subject, and maybe it started that way, but my emotions were on a different plane and that's not how I meant to express it. Or maybe people don't understand what I'm trying to say because it's so convoluted. I'm just one big ball of emotion. I can speak in facts and make things very clinical in a business sense, but in my personal world...it doesn't happen.
And maybe I'm still not explaining it right. And I should stop explaining and just let things be. But I have a lot on my mind and last night I saw things through a different perspective. Of course today I don't feel good about getting myself back into this situation at all. And what situation is it? No one knows. Could be anything because that's how I write. I can see it in my mind, but what's written is vague. Still hiding maybe. Protecting. But no longer pretending.
Ok, let's look at it from a mental health point of view -- one of my biggest obstacles and one of the things I'm working on. When something bad happens or I make a mistake (especially publicly), my mind brings up every single bad thing that I've done or has been done to me -- in my life. I have memories going back to being a 1 1/2 years old. And I can remember an incident that happened when I was 2 years old very clearly. 6, 7, 10, 12, 14, 18, etc. The most painful ones stand out. The ones that are still affecting me today -- panic triggers. But I can remember the mistakes...small things like giving the wrong answer in class or putting something away in the wrong spot in the kitchen. To major things like scratching up my car by backing into the parking garage or having an emotional outburst in public or an argument where I hurt someone's feelings. Buying something I shouldn't have, not calling someone back. Or calling too much. I can think of a hundred moments...and maybe they aren't really major in the grand scheme of things. But to me, as a perfectionist, as the "good girl", anything that deviates from what is "RIGHT" means that I did something wrong. I can blame it on constant criticism as a child, feeling like I had no control, being put on display because I was different, being too sensitive, not standing up for myself. But none of that really matters now. I'm an adult and I have to function in society and do what's necessary. These old habits or anxieties or whatever WILL pop up to slap me down, will fill me with that crippling pain in my stomach. But I have to overcome. Knowing the whys and hows and whens helps me because I can look back and see that that's not reality anymore, that's not important anymore. It's so easy to forgive others but nearly impossible to forgive myself. Even when I know I did nothing wrong or I made up for it if I did. I don't like to hurt others. I admit to being vindictive and wanting someone to feel my pain if they hurt me, but that never lasts long and then I feel guilty for having those thoughts. There are some who don't deserve my forgiveness or at the least, don't deserve to have a say in my life anymore. But I miss them. That's horrible isn't it? The ones who hurt me the most, broke my heart, are the ones who are on my mind.
And that's part of the recent downfall, the "craziness". I feel out-of-control and just overall not happy. I can't just flip a switch and change...just can't. And when I think of that, it makes me think of all of the people over the years who mistreated me because I couldn't. That's what my last blog was about. Recent events (like the white car or online conversations or private messages) triggered it, but that's not enough to make me fall apart. I have to bring back all the old pain, the situations in the past that made me feel similar, the words that were used before that parallel the words used now. I punish myself. That's how it gets me. One little piece doesn't make me fall. I am stronger than that. But you add more and more to it -- even perceived events as a result of paranoia -- and the weight is too much. I'm just not good with pressure. I can handle it and function...or, I could in the past, but it gets me. Every time.
So, I'm sorry for anyone I offended with my rants. I go into my head and it all pours out, almost faster than I can type. I go from one thing to another to another. Jumping back, jumping forward. I am a hypocrite -- I hate people talking about me, but I talk about others. Not specifically maybe, and only when I feel upset or abused or misunderstood, but it happens. I don't do it for pleasure or to wound. I don't ridicule or call names. I just argue and go into one of my "stories". But I hide what I can and keep things vague. I don't want anyone to know. I don't want someone I'm mad at to see...because it's my private vulnerabilities. But people do see. I'm not careful or tactful or controlled enough. And all of this -- the blog, the FB notes, status updates -- those are just emotional monologues, more about me and my state of mind than what anyone else is doing. It's my reaction to an event that causes the need to vent or cry or get mad. Whether my reaction is justified isn't really the issue. I feel what I feel. And the whole world becomes about that feeling. Hence the panic and anxiety when I can't stop thinking about something. I am learning how to broaden my focus and see the truth of things, see that my thoughts and fears don't make bad things happen, that my intense dreams won't come true. And that being happy isn't a death sentence for those I love. Bad things do happen when I'm up and I fall again. But I know that the only way to have any joy is to take whatever good I can at that moment, for as long as it's there. Because it will go away. Maybe my instability, maybe just the way life works. I don't handle it as well as some. And that's why those who have never felt this way think that I'm overreacting or dramatic. I know my family loves me, even if they don't really understand. I know I have friends who I can count on to be supportive and compassionate, even if they're happy with their own lives. And I know there are so many going through what I'm going through who know exactly what I mean, how frustrating and difficult this all is.
He does. And I'm grateful for the call last night. Unexpected...I was wary, but I needed to talk to someone who had been through this and came out the other side, someone objective, but had enough similar experiences and reactions. But I can't let myself feel pressured or guilty if I can't be the right kind of friend, or talk enough or go out or whatever is wanted. Whatever is expected. That's the problem, I'm never what people expect me to be, never what I appear. I keep changing...but really, I'm still the same. Just so much inside, so many variations, I guess it's hard to get a handle on it. Yeah, I have trouble understanding myself. It's so much.
So maybe I can't give back enough of what people need or be the type of person they want in their lives. I know that's true with men. So many men on my mind lately...no wonder I'm a wreck. The past is past but it never stays buried. I can't forget your face...and you're constantly in my dreams. I love...but I'm broken. "Don't break me", I titled my last post. But it's not really accurate because all the things on my mind when I wrote it proved that I was already broken. And I can't even explain it all. So many private things or past things or secrets that no one sees or knows. So much goes on behind the scenes. You never really understand what someone else is living with, no matter how much they talk about it. I have to stop assuming that other women with husbands/boyfriends and kids feel complete with what they have. That's my emotion...I know there's a hole inside of me that gets partially filled at times...and I know what will fill it. I know I'm a better person when I have someone there to share my life with...because it fuels me and makes me want to achieve more. I don't want someone to solve my problems or "complete me"...I just need that extra piece that makes my life better. Just better. And I had it before, so I know that's true. It exists and others do have it, others feel this way. But not everyone. And that's ok...I'm all about individuality and choice. But I need control in my own life, so I want things a certain way. And if you're in my life, then I want that relationship to be a certain way. Doesn't mean I'll get it, doesn't mean my expectations aren't too high, just means it's what I need to feel secure. And the kids thing...well, I won't go into that again. It's a very very strong emotion for me and something I long for almost beyond description. I suppose it makes me sound crazy or overbearing or needy or something. I'm getting tired, I can't think of the word. I don't intend to just go out and do it, or trick anyone, or marry just for that. That's not me, I'm too picky, I have to plan out everything. It all has to be RIGHT...feel right. You know when you know. And I know it's not time. I have things to get through. I still have time, right?
I don't want to scare anyone, someone I really don't want to lose. I push too hard, I pull too much, I hold on too tightly. I'm trying to be more casual, lay back, let things be whatever they'll be. But I'm scared that I already messed it up. And I'm scared that it's more than I can handle if it's good. And all the other things. So many things. Complicated. Loving is so easy, letting go is not. And forget about forgetting. "An elephant never forgets."
I shouldn't apologize for being me -- good or bad. But how can I be me and not?
What more can I do except just try my best. I have to do it my way.
Maybe I need to explain my writing process (blogging/venting, as opposed to journalistic writing). Or maybe more specifically, my thinking process. I have so much in my head constantly; thoughts upon thoughts upon thoughts. My brain works like a novel (or sometimes a horror movie) - I think in stories. And I speak and write in stories. I'm a very visual person and have to be emotionally connected to the things in my life in order to understand them. I overanalyze and overworry and overwork. Stress, exhaustion, sickness, and/or anxiety cuts down on my control. I'm more uninhibited, more open. But still, I keep secrets. I'm reserved, distrustful, cautious.
I imagine I was like any other child, saying what was on my mind and being curious about the world. I remember asking questions when I didn't understand something and got the feeling that what I asked was deemed unusual or strange or should have been obvious. I felt stupid for asking, but I couldn't help doing so. I needed to know. I still need to know -- everything. As I grew older, I learned what not to say or do, because I was expected to present myself a certain way. Quiet by nature, I kept my thoughts and feelings to myself and protected those close to me from my true self. No one knew who I was. And maybe know one ever will...I don't know myself completely.
But all of this comes back to why I need to write now, why I need to express myself -- not just to close friends or family, but to the world. I stepped out of my comfort zone, left my shell, and put myself on display. It's terrifying. But it's also therapeutic, so I continue. It may seem like my thoughts are linear, and in a way they are, but they go from one memory to the next, one year to another. A recent incident will remind me of something that happened years ago. And image, a sound, a smell will remind me of a past relationship...or a past trauma. And I can't separate the then from the now. It's all in my head at once, going from one emotion to another. It gets jumbled, it gets combined. And I'm the only one who truly knows what each word relates to, what the subject is. And sometimes, rereading my writing, I don't even remember who or what I was talking about. Because my mind has changed since.
It's the reason I post several different status messages on FB within a day or post completely unrelated links within minutes of each other. Because my mind changes...it's never on one wavelength for long. That's not to say that I can't concentrate on a single project for hours -- that's easy because my focus narrows to the size of a pinhole. But the thoughts remain. And I multitask. But that's off-subject. What I mean to say is that with all of this "stuff" inside of me at once, circling around, I can't just write about one thing. I segue. Because it's all connected to me. People may read and assume that it's about a particular subject, and maybe it started that way, but my emotions were on a different plane and that's not how I meant to express it. Or maybe people don't understand what I'm trying to say because it's so convoluted. I'm just one big ball of emotion. I can speak in facts and make things very clinical in a business sense, but in my personal world...it doesn't happen.
And maybe I'm still not explaining it right. And I should stop explaining and just let things be. But I have a lot on my mind and last night I saw things through a different perspective. Of course today I don't feel good about getting myself back into this situation at all. And what situation is it? No one knows. Could be anything because that's how I write. I can see it in my mind, but what's written is vague. Still hiding maybe. Protecting. But no longer pretending.
Ok, let's look at it from a mental health point of view -- one of my biggest obstacles and one of the things I'm working on. When something bad happens or I make a mistake (especially publicly), my mind brings up every single bad thing that I've done or has been done to me -- in my life. I have memories going back to being a 1 1/2 years old. And I can remember an incident that happened when I was 2 years old very clearly. 6, 7, 10, 12, 14, 18, etc. The most painful ones stand out. The ones that are still affecting me today -- panic triggers. But I can remember the mistakes...small things like giving the wrong answer in class or putting something away in the wrong spot in the kitchen. To major things like scratching up my car by backing into the parking garage or having an emotional outburst in public or an argument where I hurt someone's feelings. Buying something I shouldn't have, not calling someone back. Or calling too much. I can think of a hundred moments...and maybe they aren't really major in the grand scheme of things. But to me, as a perfectionist, as the "good girl", anything that deviates from what is "RIGHT" means that I did something wrong. I can blame it on constant criticism as a child, feeling like I had no control, being put on display because I was different, being too sensitive, not standing up for myself. But none of that really matters now. I'm an adult and I have to function in society and do what's necessary. These old habits or anxieties or whatever WILL pop up to slap me down, will fill me with that crippling pain in my stomach. But I have to overcome. Knowing the whys and hows and whens helps me because I can look back and see that that's not reality anymore, that's not important anymore. It's so easy to forgive others but nearly impossible to forgive myself. Even when I know I did nothing wrong or I made up for it if I did. I don't like to hurt others. I admit to being vindictive and wanting someone to feel my pain if they hurt me, but that never lasts long and then I feel guilty for having those thoughts. There are some who don't deserve my forgiveness or at the least, don't deserve to have a say in my life anymore. But I miss them. That's horrible isn't it? The ones who hurt me the most, broke my heart, are the ones who are on my mind.
And that's part of the recent downfall, the "craziness". I feel out-of-control and just overall not happy. I can't just flip a switch and change...just can't. And when I think of that, it makes me think of all of the people over the years who mistreated me because I couldn't. That's what my last blog was about. Recent events (like the white car or online conversations or private messages) triggered it, but that's not enough to make me fall apart. I have to bring back all the old pain, the situations in the past that made me feel similar, the words that were used before that parallel the words used now. I punish myself. That's how it gets me. One little piece doesn't make me fall. I am stronger than that. But you add more and more to it -- even perceived events as a result of paranoia -- and the weight is too much. I'm just not good with pressure. I can handle it and function...or, I could in the past, but it gets me. Every time.
So, I'm sorry for anyone I offended with my rants. I go into my head and it all pours out, almost faster than I can type. I go from one thing to another to another. Jumping back, jumping forward. I am a hypocrite -- I hate people talking about me, but I talk about others. Not specifically maybe, and only when I feel upset or abused or misunderstood, but it happens. I don't do it for pleasure or to wound. I don't ridicule or call names. I just argue and go into one of my "stories". But I hide what I can and keep things vague. I don't want anyone to know. I don't want someone I'm mad at to see...because it's my private vulnerabilities. But people do see. I'm not careful or tactful or controlled enough. And all of this -- the blog, the FB notes, status updates -- those are just emotional monologues, more about me and my state of mind than what anyone else is doing. It's my reaction to an event that causes the need to vent or cry or get mad. Whether my reaction is justified isn't really the issue. I feel what I feel. And the whole world becomes about that feeling. Hence the panic and anxiety when I can't stop thinking about something. I am learning how to broaden my focus and see the truth of things, see that my thoughts and fears don't make bad things happen, that my intense dreams won't come true. And that being happy isn't a death sentence for those I love. Bad things do happen when I'm up and I fall again. But I know that the only way to have any joy is to take whatever good I can at that moment, for as long as it's there. Because it will go away. Maybe my instability, maybe just the way life works. I don't handle it as well as some. And that's why those who have never felt this way think that I'm overreacting or dramatic. I know my family loves me, even if they don't really understand. I know I have friends who I can count on to be supportive and compassionate, even if they're happy with their own lives. And I know there are so many going through what I'm going through who know exactly what I mean, how frustrating and difficult this all is.
He does. And I'm grateful for the call last night. Unexpected...I was wary, but I needed to talk to someone who had been through this and came out the other side, someone objective, but had enough similar experiences and reactions. But I can't let myself feel pressured or guilty if I can't be the right kind of friend, or talk enough or go out or whatever is wanted. Whatever is expected. That's the problem, I'm never what people expect me to be, never what I appear. I keep changing...but really, I'm still the same. Just so much inside, so many variations, I guess it's hard to get a handle on it. Yeah, I have trouble understanding myself. It's so much.
So maybe I can't give back enough of what people need or be the type of person they want in their lives. I know that's true with men. So many men on my mind lately...no wonder I'm a wreck. The past is past but it never stays buried. I can't forget your face...and you're constantly in my dreams. I love...but I'm broken. "Don't break me", I titled my last post. But it's not really accurate because all the things on my mind when I wrote it proved that I was already broken. And I can't even explain it all. So many private things or past things or secrets that no one sees or knows. So much goes on behind the scenes. You never really understand what someone else is living with, no matter how much they talk about it. I have to stop assuming that other women with husbands/boyfriends and kids feel complete with what they have. That's my emotion...I know there's a hole inside of me that gets partially filled at times...and I know what will fill it. I know I'm a better person when I have someone there to share my life with...because it fuels me and makes me want to achieve more. I don't want someone to solve my problems or "complete me"...I just need that extra piece that makes my life better. Just better. And I had it before, so I know that's true. It exists and others do have it, others feel this way. But not everyone. And that's ok...I'm all about individuality and choice. But I need control in my own life, so I want things a certain way. And if you're in my life, then I want that relationship to be a certain way. Doesn't mean I'll get it, doesn't mean my expectations aren't too high, just means it's what I need to feel secure. And the kids thing...well, I won't go into that again. It's a very very strong emotion for me and something I long for almost beyond description. I suppose it makes me sound crazy or overbearing or needy or something. I'm getting tired, I can't think of the word. I don't intend to just go out and do it, or trick anyone, or marry just for that. That's not me, I'm too picky, I have to plan out everything. It all has to be RIGHT...feel right. You know when you know. And I know it's not time. I have things to get through. I still have time, right?
I don't want to scare anyone, someone I really don't want to lose. I push too hard, I pull too much, I hold on too tightly. I'm trying to be more casual, lay back, let things be whatever they'll be. But I'm scared that I already messed it up. And I'm scared that it's more than I can handle if it's good. And all the other things. So many things. Complicated. Loving is so easy, letting go is not. And forget about forgetting. "An elephant never forgets."
I shouldn't apologize for being me -- good or bad. But how can I be me and not?
What more can I do except just try my best. I have to do it my way.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Don't break me
"I want to shape the world to fit the way you move."
The problem is, everyone wants me to change to fit their world, their lifestyle. And I don't fit. I can't say I want anyone to change to be like me and feel what I feel...but if they could just put themselves in my place, see through my eyes, maybe they could understand. Instead of telling me what to do based on what they would do, actually listen to what's going on in my life and help me figure out what I should do for myself. Or just be there. I don't need solutions or advice or to be fixed. I need to know that people aren't going to leave me because I'm not worth the effort. And I know that some already have.
I can't worry about those who have gone. Not anymore. I can't worry about trying to please everyone or how they react to what I say/think/do. I have to stop feeling guilty when I don't take their "advice" or get defensive when they criticize or get hurt when they put me down. Everyone says it says more about them than it does about me when people say cruel things. Maybe so. I know a lot of people deny or hide how they feel, or fake it to appear happy. But I'm the one who has to hear it, read the words, look at the empty spaces. I can't be what you want, so instead of talking to me and working things out, you just leave? Or talk about me behind my back?
I'm tired. I don't feel well and I don't want to talk to anyone. This is the longest I've felt like that...where I've been angry and frustrated and so irritated by the smallest things. Xanax barely covers the pain, barely blocks the thoughts. I relax and then get anxious again. It's not depression though, although I am very low. But it's this dissatisfaction with my life. Disappointment in myself and others. I'm very sad about last weekend...I know I could have gone if things were different. If I could have just sat in the car while someone else drove -- I would have made it through the concert, made it through the night. But to do it all myself was just too much. Just too much. And it makes me look so weak and helpless because no one really understands how difficult driving is for me -- not physically, but emotionally. Just because I have my own car and drive everywhere on my own, just because I'm a careful driver and don't let the panic get to me, doesn't mean it's not still there. It's all still there.
And the weight thing...
I just want people to understand that this is real. That what I'm going through is real. I'm not trying to be "emo" or get attention or whining. Maybe it sounds like complaining, but when I vent, it's to get the negative out. No one has to read it. No one has to pretend to be my friend. If you don't like what I say or how I am, stay away. There's no need to be cruel, no need to call me crazy or treat me like my "flaws" will rub off on you if you get too close. I'm not a form of entertainment, I'm not here for you to watch me rise and fall. I'm not here for all you can take and then when my usefulness is done, you throw me away. I'm a person, with feelings. You want me to be happy? Be a friend, be there. Not at your convenience, not because you feel it's a chore that must be done, but because you care, because I matter.
I'll never live up to everyone's expectations, I'll never be "normal". I'll probably never live up to my own expectations because they're so high and I constantly try to improve and want so much out of life. But I do have things I'm proud of, things I've accomplished. Maybe that intimidates people, makes them feel inferior. I am strong despite my weaknesses. I try hard.
But I don't hate anyone. I don't make fun or put people down or say cruel things to watch them suffer. I don't like to make people upset or uncomfortable. I apologize if I do. I try to make things right. I confront people and if I'm mad at you, you'll know it. I argue...maybe that's not usual conversation for others, but that's how I grew up. I don't smile to someone's face and pretend to be their best friend while hating them behind their back. I'm not that good of an actress and it would just make me sick to do it. I can be civil, I can be polite, but you won't get my heart if I don't like you. If you treat me badly or hurt someone I love, you'll never be trusted. I don't trust words anymore, I don't believe all the affection. Because it can change in an instant. I don't understand people like that. But it's everywhere...and we're all getting hurt by it.
There's nothing I can say to change things, to make someone accept or understand if they don't want to. Or simply can't. I keep assuming that just because someone is a Blue October fan, that they'll understand what I'm going through or already know about the symptoms and struggles of mental illness. But they don't...some just don't feel it, don't connect it to their own lives. Even those who have health issues themselves or have been through similar situations can't understand why I can't get better, why I don't just do what they did and get over it. Get past it. Why I can't just change my ways or think positively or be happy. It doesn't work like that. I've tried. I've changed. And I'm still me after all these years. I didn't choose this. Maybe it's easier to stay where it's low because it's more familiar. But I constantly break free and try to rise above. People see that. They just forget when I fall again. When we all fall. There are so many of us struggling and hurting and all we want is to be acknowledged, to be believed and accepted as people. We can't be like you, we didn't choose this. We don't want to be this way. But we are. Like the color of our skin or the shape of our eyes, this is who we are. You can mask it, you can hide it, you can pretend that it's not there...but it doesn't go away. Talking about it, writing about it, singing about it, whatever, that doesn't make it go away either. It lessens the pain, it helps with the healing, but it doesn't change our DNA.
Not to say that there aren't people who do recover from depression, who do get better permanently. It may take years or a special treatment. So give us time. Let us find our way.
Sometimes all we want is someone to walk beside us in silence...
The problem is, everyone wants me to change to fit their world, their lifestyle. And I don't fit. I can't say I want anyone to change to be like me and feel what I feel...but if they could just put themselves in my place, see through my eyes, maybe they could understand. Instead of telling me what to do based on what they would do, actually listen to what's going on in my life and help me figure out what I should do for myself. Or just be there. I don't need solutions or advice or to be fixed. I need to know that people aren't going to leave me because I'm not worth the effort. And I know that some already have.
I can't worry about those who have gone. Not anymore. I can't worry about trying to please everyone or how they react to what I say/think/do. I have to stop feeling guilty when I don't take their "advice" or get defensive when they criticize or get hurt when they put me down. Everyone says it says more about them than it does about me when people say cruel things. Maybe so. I know a lot of people deny or hide how they feel, or fake it to appear happy. But I'm the one who has to hear it, read the words, look at the empty spaces. I can't be what you want, so instead of talking to me and working things out, you just leave? Or talk about me behind my back?
I'm tired. I don't feel well and I don't want to talk to anyone. This is the longest I've felt like that...where I've been angry and frustrated and so irritated by the smallest things. Xanax barely covers the pain, barely blocks the thoughts. I relax and then get anxious again. It's not depression though, although I am very low. But it's this dissatisfaction with my life. Disappointment in myself and others. I'm very sad about last weekend...I know I could have gone if things were different. If I could have just sat in the car while someone else drove -- I would have made it through the concert, made it through the night. But to do it all myself was just too much. Just too much. And it makes me look so weak and helpless because no one really understands how difficult driving is for me -- not physically, but emotionally. Just because I have my own car and drive everywhere on my own, just because I'm a careful driver and don't let the panic get to me, doesn't mean it's not still there. It's all still there.
And the weight thing...
I just want people to understand that this is real. That what I'm going through is real. I'm not trying to be "emo" or get attention or whining. Maybe it sounds like complaining, but when I vent, it's to get the negative out. No one has to read it. No one has to pretend to be my friend. If you don't like what I say or how I am, stay away. There's no need to be cruel, no need to call me crazy or treat me like my "flaws" will rub off on you if you get too close. I'm not a form of entertainment, I'm not here for you to watch me rise and fall. I'm not here for all you can take and then when my usefulness is done, you throw me away. I'm a person, with feelings. You want me to be happy? Be a friend, be there. Not at your convenience, not because you feel it's a chore that must be done, but because you care, because I matter.
I'll never live up to everyone's expectations, I'll never be "normal". I'll probably never live up to my own expectations because they're so high and I constantly try to improve and want so much out of life. But I do have things I'm proud of, things I've accomplished. Maybe that intimidates people, makes them feel inferior. I am strong despite my weaknesses. I try hard.
But I don't hate anyone. I don't make fun or put people down or say cruel things to watch them suffer. I don't like to make people upset or uncomfortable. I apologize if I do. I try to make things right. I confront people and if I'm mad at you, you'll know it. I argue...maybe that's not usual conversation for others, but that's how I grew up. I don't smile to someone's face and pretend to be their best friend while hating them behind their back. I'm not that good of an actress and it would just make me sick to do it. I can be civil, I can be polite, but you won't get my heart if I don't like you. If you treat me badly or hurt someone I love, you'll never be trusted. I don't trust words anymore, I don't believe all the affection. Because it can change in an instant. I don't understand people like that. But it's everywhere...and we're all getting hurt by it.
There's nothing I can say to change things, to make someone accept or understand if they don't want to. Or simply can't. I keep assuming that just because someone is a Blue October fan, that they'll understand what I'm going through or already know about the symptoms and struggles of mental illness. But they don't...some just don't feel it, don't connect it to their own lives. Even those who have health issues themselves or have been through similar situations can't understand why I can't get better, why I don't just do what they did and get over it. Get past it. Why I can't just change my ways or think positively or be happy. It doesn't work like that. I've tried. I've changed. And I'm still me after all these years. I didn't choose this. Maybe it's easier to stay where it's low because it's more familiar. But I constantly break free and try to rise above. People see that. They just forget when I fall again. When we all fall. There are so many of us struggling and hurting and all we want is to be acknowledged, to be believed and accepted as people. We can't be like you, we didn't choose this. We don't want to be this way. But we are. Like the color of our skin or the shape of our eyes, this is who we are. You can mask it, you can hide it, you can pretend that it's not there...but it doesn't go away. Talking about it, writing about it, singing about it, whatever, that doesn't make it go away either. It lessens the pain, it helps with the healing, but it doesn't change our DNA.
Not to say that there aren't people who do recover from depression, who do get better permanently. It may take years or a special treatment. So give us time. Let us find our way.
Sometimes all we want is someone to walk beside us in silence...
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