It's one of those days where I can feel the monster inside, where it's so big it's almost bursting out of me. Screaming. Where I want to scratch my face and rip off my skin to let it out. I want to hurt myself because what's inside is hurting me...I want to hurt it back. But it's me. Confusing? I guess I am.
What am I really? What do YOU see when you look at me, when you listen to me speak, when you read what I write? Who am I in your mind? Do you see a pretty face...or do you see ugliness? Do you think of a "good girl" when you hear my name...or a poisonous one? Do you remember the things I did for you out of kindness...or the things I said out of anger? Or sadness or pain. Does an apology and an explanation make things better...or does it just make me pathetic? Do you see me...or the monster? Aren't we one in the same?
Some people see both. One one day, the other another day. They switch back and forth...or treat me as a good human at first, then treat me like a bug on the bottom of their shoe. I'm worthless, unwanted, a mistake, a failure. Boring, manipulative, flawed, a lost cause, weak, sad, bad bad bad. Is that me? Or am I the other things: honest, kind, loving, supportive, encouraging, beautiful, strong. I'm a lot of things...and I'm very few things. Just depends on the perspective. Mine too.
"I don't wanna hear you sssssssay it..."
"Save your breath, I know the story, I've heard it all before..."
"I don't care if you wait before you tear me apart. Look me in the eye...and lie lie lie lie."
When you've been told something enough times, you start to believe it. Even if you know it's not true, even if you talked yourself out of it before. THEY all believe it...so it must be true, right? I can look in the mirror and see what they were making fun of...so that's true..? I can reread my words and see what they got mad at...so that's true..? I know who I am. I know all the flaws and issues and failures and mistakes and bad points. No one has to tell me about myself. No one has to make a list, a public list, of all the things wrong with me. No one has to tell me why I'm not farther ahead in my life. Or the traits that make me unattractive. No one has to tell me that if I wasn't so quiet in school I could have been popular...or that if I wasn't so quiet my whole entire life, maybe I'd have more friends or be married. No one has to tell me why no man will ever want me or want to have kids with me. You don't think all those thoughts haven't gone through my head already? Maybe I shouldn't say certain things or maybe I should say other things. Maybe I should hide the bad and only show the good. Who cares if it eats away at me until I die? At least I would be what everyone wants. Give into the guilt and move back to that city...I'll be around family...doesn't matter if it kills me, if I have to live with the never-ending anxiety again. I'll be doing what they think I should. Drive hours and hours to a concert alone while I'm sick and have no money? Ok, that will prove my worthiness...and if I die in that neighborhood or get hurt or pass out on the road...well, at least I did what I was supposed to do.
I'm mean, nasty. A bad friend, a horrid person. I'm the monster.
I have anger inside of me. That's from holding emotions in for 30 years. That's from keeping a constant game face on and pretending that I was ok when I wasn't. Stopping myself from passing out, from throwing up when I was sick. Smiling, smiling. Except my eyes. But who cares. If you don't want to see, you won't.
I'm the one who's supposed to keep everything together. Give, help, assist, do everything just right. Keep doing and doing until I fall. Get up and keep doing and doing until I break. Cry quietly and shake...then pull it together and keep doing. And doing. Working hard...while appearing lazy. Being strong...while appearing weak. I'm tired of falling. I'm tired of the slaps...of being kicked down. Look at her there, on the floor. I'm better than her...I'm bigger than her. She can't do anything. That's how I feel...when they say the words, when they look at me that way. I can't even tell you who...it's just my life. It's always been my life. People have hurt me, they've wanted to. I have records...so I'm not making it up. Diaries since I was a kid. Maybe no one will understand the words but me. But I lived it. I lived through it. And so many times wish I didn't. Wondered why I didn't drown. Why...why didn't the darkness take me. Why didn't I have the strength and courage to finally, fatally, fix myself. I was weak then. I'm not now. But I'm not stupid either. So why should I take your advice [speaking to the world]? Why yours and not his? Why hers and not my own? Who knows best? Who has the better answer? If I say I don't want answers, I don't want that kind of help...can you respect it? Can you just be there and listen? Say something encouraging, say you believe in me...even if you disagree with me. Do you know how much goes unsaid? I don't like to hurt anyone. I keep so much to myself. Other people's secrets. My own thoughts. Things come out...things that need to and things that should stay hidden. But I don't say things to hurt. I say what I feel or think at the time. And yes, I will fight like a wounded animal if I feel attacked. I will fight like a protective mother bear if anyone I care about is being hurt. That's who I am. Look at me and see it.
I ask no one to like me. I ask no one to agree with me or share my beliefs. I have my own way of doing things -- in my life. If you cross over into my daily life, then I may want the relationship to be a certain way. I may want you to do certain things to make me feel secure, to show me that you care and that I can trust you. But I won't tell you what to believe or how to live your life. If you want help or advice, if you ask for it, I'll do my best to give you what you need. I'll go out of my way to show you how much I care. And if you don't know...ask me to explain. If I don't make sense, ask me to explain. If I get stubborn and start to argue, try to understand why...argue back if you have to. Just talk to me. Just be real.
Honesty doesn't mean cruelty. Telling someone a certain outfit doesn't flatter their figure or complexion isn't the same as calling someone a fat ugly slob. Asking me why I'm sad today isn't the same as telling me that I'm the most negative person you ever encountered. Asking me why I'm happy today isn't the same as calling me an imposter for not being depressed 24/7. Telling me I need to be slapped and get over my grief...well that's just wrong. And I won't go into what he said...or he said. It hurts...and probably always will. I don't forget...
Don't read this if you don't want to. Don't talk to me/write to me if you don't want to. Don't pretend to be my friend if you don't like me. Just stay away. I'll stay away from you. I don't go where I'm not wanted. And I've been told enough to know where I'm not wanted. I guess silence says the same. When you see someone everyday and they don't even acknowledge that you exist. When do you let go? A month, a year, 2 years? Sometimes it's hard to let go...even when they've been out of your life for longer than they were in it. My feelings don't disappear. I don't stop loving. And if you really want me to leave you alone...you'll have to say it. I respect boundaries. I don't like people to get too close, myself.
I can't stop feeling. But I don't have to watch it. I'm so tired of watching. I don't want to fall in love again and I don't want to have to get past it again. That pain is horrendous. I can't stop loving. But I don't want to be with "him" anymore. Not that way. A friend? Could we be? And maybe, maybe there is someone who feels something special for me. He is special...does he know? I'm afraid. Of what can be...but more afraid that I'll lose it all. That I'll mess it up. It's never all one person's fault...but I tend to blame myself for everything. Always. I don't like to hurt anyone. And I feel their pain regardless. So I'm not really evil, right?
I find so much joy in being around children. I know it's a pure love and I know I have it in me to be a good mother. There will be obstacles -- physical and mental, but I am so determined and I know I would do everything I could to make it work. On my own, alone. I will not let what he said, what they agreed, be truth. I'm better than this. I can be better. I have good role models for it. I know it's possible. God, I really know it's possible. Can you see it? Can you see me? There.
I'm tired. I'm done. Is it out now? Enough out so that I can go take a shower and eat...and sleep? Can I maybe sleep tonight? Well, if not, I just don't want to feel the screaming inside tonight. I don't want to hurt myself...I hold on so tightly to control. It's why people hate me -- the control, the stubborness, the defensive attitude. I can be bossy when I'm in charge. I can be many things. I am many things. I have hurt people...and there are some I wish I could hurt more. I've been jealous and envious and complained. I've whined and cried and said not so nice things. Maybe not mean compared to others, to most, but mean enough for me. I am a genuinely nice person. That's who I am most of the time. But there are days...or maybe just hours, where I just can't be nice. Where everything irritates me and I run out of patience. Where I feel misuderstood and attacked. I just can't keep quiet anymore. I don't regret that, I don't regret becoming a person who stands up for themselves. I don't regret standing up for others when they're being treated badly. I've lost a lot for both of those reasons. But I gained myself. I like that part of me. I am strong.
Maybe I'm too strong. Maybe I'm too much of some things and not enough of others. Ok. I agree. I hate the bad side of me too. But the difference is, you can walk away. For a day, for a lifetime. You can walk away. I can't. I'm stuck with me, my choices, my thoughts. You can give me advice...but are you willing to take the responsibility for my actions? Of course not. You'll say, well, it was your choice, you didn't have to do what I said. Or maybe I did it the wrong way. Maybe I'm always wrong. And you can walk away. If I destroy my life, if I destroy relationships, get fired for something someone else suggested I do, they won't get in trouble for it...they can walk away. It was my choice. I don't give advice. I don't want to be responsible for how someone else lives their life. Freedom. Choices.
You don't have to understand. You don't have to accept. No one does. And I know that the world, humanity, would be better off without me. Lots of people are living happier lives because I'm no longer in it. They forget. It's easy. Some remember...and they come back for another punch. I left you alone...why do you have to hurt me? But maybe they apologize. Well, I can't be the good girl all the time. Sometimes I can't forgive. Sometimes the pain is bigger than the apology. And if you've already proven that you view me in a certain way, that you'll treat me a certain way in this situation...I can't trust you. I would be stupid to trust someone who hurt me or abandoned me. Or believe that I'm...well, all those things he said.
I'm not talking about anyone. This is my blog, so it's about me...it's words coming out of me, from my heart and head. It's the world as I know it, situations as I see them. Skewed maybe, one-sided maybe. And maybe I actually do have people who have seen what I've seen, the way I've seen it - strangers even -...and so I'm not wrong. They're not just telling me nice things to be fake. They mean it, they believe it. I'm not crazy. I'm not evil. I'm just me. Many things. You can walk away. Be grateful for that. And live your life. I'm just trying to live mine. That's all. I'm just trying when I can. Just let me be. Let me erase, delete, start over, continue. It's my life, my page. Why can't I? Don't you? Whoever you are...whoever. I'm tired now. Just words. Don't give me words if you aren't going to back them up. You know I will. You know I will.
Maybe I can sleep. I'm just tired.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Let it be said...
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.
Facebook note by Nicole McMillan on Friday, March 11, 2011 at 4:16am.
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...
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Untitled...and unending
I just feel...so sad. But I don't have the strength to write. Been working so hard. On the job searching, making sure it's all accurate on the form for UC. I need more time. I write articles every week. Started as 3 a week...then 2. Now just on Fridays. Saturday this week. So tired. Updating my Blue group page on FB, trying to keep up with all the news, all the action on Twitter, on 101X. I pushed myself too hard, sacrificed my health. And I paid. People probably think I'm so stupid for not eating, for complaining about being underweight. It's an "abnormal" thing, like being quiet. "Just talk"...now "Just eat". As if food is the problem, as if my voice was the problem. It's about confidence...and now control. Not an eating disorder -- I don't fit that profile because it's not a body image issue. I don't want to be skinny, never did. But always was. It's genetics. And when I lose my appetite...due to meds or stress or not taking breaks, it's my way to self-harm. My punishment, stress eating me alive -- literally. Do you know what that feels like? Not just hunger. A deep pain, aches, shakes, my body suffers. I let it happen. Because...I need pain. I don't know how to be happy. It doesn't feel familiar and I can never stay there. I never stay up.
I keep reading about Bipolar and wondering if I'm slightly manic. I know the terms, the different types, but I'm too tired to focus that much. I'm not manic. I overwork, I push too hard -- myself and others. I just see so much ahead, so much that can be...and I have the drive to make it happen. I don't care about myself to stop achieving my goals. I need to have a purpose, I need to be productive. I never let sickness or depression or pain stop me before. And I passed out at work, I threw up in drawing class, I had breakdowns in meetings. I don't want to be like that anymore. Control. So much control. I need it. I need to be in control now. Let no one tell me how to be...or not be.
God, I'm just so frustrated. With myself, with the world, with life. I'm tired of words. I'm tired of people not following through on what they say. I'm alone. Is there anything more than what's going on now that proves that? They all want to meet me, hang out with me. But...not now? I'm giving freely...take it. I'm asking for too much. I want the kind of friend that I am. Always there, no matter what. Being there even if I don't want to, if I have my own problems. Because they need me...just to be there. I'm sick of being that friend. Because I'm not allowed to expect it from anyone else. It's so wonderful that I'm the way I am, right? They all say. But why do they deserve to be treated like that...why do they deserve my loyalty and time and kindness. Who really deserves my love? I give my all. The whole thing. But all I get back are pieces. There are conditions, limits. Priorities...and I'm just not. I know. I know this. It's always been like this, since I was a kid. I know that "that" isn't my life, I'm not "that" girl. I'm just not. And all the nice words don't prove that I matter enough. That I'm special enough. That I'm worth the time, the sacrifice. That I might need to come first.
I have to let go of this. This idea that I can be like them, that I can have what other people have -- the simple things. I don't need much...but what I need is too much. And I'm tired of the words. I'm tired of letting my guard down and believing, expecting. Hope. I can't give up hope, but I have to turn away. I have to accept my place. How I hate that phrase. But I do have a place...and I've been fighting it forever...wishing on stupid stars, praying. Prayers are ok. As long as I pray for others or pray for my own protection, safety. I have to do my duties. What I was created for. Because there's a reason. And I've always known it. And it's not what anyone on the outside wants for me. But it's all I can give. Give. Victory of the people. That's my purpose.
I love Blue. I love the people I've met. I'm grateful to have reconnected with old friends. I'm thankful for the memories. Even the friends lost...or changed. They were friends once, they did care. But, things change. And I hurt. But that's my life too. I feel too much. One day maybe I'll get that ulcer. Right now I just have anxiety.
I can do this on my own. Live. I just don't want to. Who really wants to be alone...not just by themselves, but alone? All the friends in the world, all the family support can't cure this. I'm different...and I'm lost. I keep going and going until there's not more road left. I have nothing more than that.
I'm down. I'm tired. I want to cry.
But I can do this. I'll do the things I want. I'm capable. Doesn't mean I should have to. But I do. They're all taken away from me...not because I don't deserve it, but because I'm not supposed to have it. I'm meant for something else. More? In a different way, maybe. But not the more I want. But we don't always get what we want.
I want to go see the Parlotones next Saturday. Thank you for letting me win the contest. Two free tickets (well, 2 places on the guest list). I really want to go. I found a solution to the driving problem...to make the trip shorter. But parking? I know what the street looks like (research, maps). I'll try to remain calm. If I go. Have to see how I feel, physically and emotionally. I know I'll feel guilt if I don't go. I was given a gift and didn't use it. But I'm not obligated...and I just have to do what I need to do. I just wish things were a little bit different. A companion was all I needed. But I'm alone.
I have to pull away. That's the hardest thing to do. But I have to go back to the fire, the me in the aftermath. I want to not care anymore. I want to be mean. I want to take and not give back. Not say thank you, not go out of my way to show someone I support them, that I remember what's special to them. People do that for me. I can't say there aren't great things, great people, great moments. But it's not enough. I always need more -- too much. Why doesn't it seem like too much for me?
"Just wake up in the morning. That's all you have to do, and I'll take it from there..." Can someone love me past MY pain? No more words. Give me proof.
I'll finish watching the movie...and try to wind down. My body wants to move but my mind is tired. My back hurts, my legs hurt. I do a lot. More than people see. I'm not lazy, I'm not weak. I'm just now where I want to be. Is this where I should be? I suppose. If you believe in that. I believe in a lot of things. Miracles, true love, angels, ghosts. But I also see the evil, the cruelness, the lies. And I hate living in a world like that. It's getting harder. Every day it gets harder...because time marches on. Who knew I'd ever get here? This old? But I did. I'm protected. I'm necessary...for purposes. I just have to live with that. Acceptance. As much as I hate it. And I'll keep going until I don't.
I'm tired. And I'll regret this. I want to cry every night because I open myself, give myself, the words come out of me. I have to replenish. Night's are so hard...
I'll go on.
*No edit*
I keep reading about Bipolar and wondering if I'm slightly manic. I know the terms, the different types, but I'm too tired to focus that much. I'm not manic. I overwork, I push too hard -- myself and others. I just see so much ahead, so much that can be...and I have the drive to make it happen. I don't care about myself to stop achieving my goals. I need to have a purpose, I need to be productive. I never let sickness or depression or pain stop me before. And I passed out at work, I threw up in drawing class, I had breakdowns in meetings. I don't want to be like that anymore. Control. So much control. I need it. I need to be in control now. Let no one tell me how to be...or not be.
God, I'm just so frustrated. With myself, with the world, with life. I'm tired of words. I'm tired of people not following through on what they say. I'm alone. Is there anything more than what's going on now that proves that? They all want to meet me, hang out with me. But...not now? I'm giving freely...take it. I'm asking for too much. I want the kind of friend that I am. Always there, no matter what. Being there even if I don't want to, if I have my own problems. Because they need me...just to be there. I'm sick of being that friend. Because I'm not allowed to expect it from anyone else. It's so wonderful that I'm the way I am, right? They all say. But why do they deserve to be treated like that...why do they deserve my loyalty and time and kindness. Who really deserves my love? I give my all. The whole thing. But all I get back are pieces. There are conditions, limits. Priorities...and I'm just not. I know. I know this. It's always been like this, since I was a kid. I know that "that" isn't my life, I'm not "that" girl. I'm just not. And all the nice words don't prove that I matter enough. That I'm special enough. That I'm worth the time, the sacrifice. That I might need to come first.
I have to let go of this. This idea that I can be like them, that I can have what other people have -- the simple things. I don't need much...but what I need is too much. And I'm tired of the words. I'm tired of letting my guard down and believing, expecting. Hope. I can't give up hope, but I have to turn away. I have to accept my place. How I hate that phrase. But I do have a place...and I've been fighting it forever...wishing on stupid stars, praying. Prayers are ok. As long as I pray for others or pray for my own protection, safety. I have to do my duties. What I was created for. Because there's a reason. And I've always known it. And it's not what anyone on the outside wants for me. But it's all I can give. Give. Victory of the people. That's my purpose.
I love Blue. I love the people I've met. I'm grateful to have reconnected with old friends. I'm thankful for the memories. Even the friends lost...or changed. They were friends once, they did care. But, things change. And I hurt. But that's my life too. I feel too much. One day maybe I'll get that ulcer. Right now I just have anxiety.
I can do this on my own. Live. I just don't want to. Who really wants to be alone...not just by themselves, but alone? All the friends in the world, all the family support can't cure this. I'm different...and I'm lost. I keep going and going until there's not more road left. I have nothing more than that.
I'm down. I'm tired. I want to cry.
But I can do this. I'll do the things I want. I'm capable. Doesn't mean I should have to. But I do. They're all taken away from me...not because I don't deserve it, but because I'm not supposed to have it. I'm meant for something else. More? In a different way, maybe. But not the more I want. But we don't always get what we want.
I want to go see the Parlotones next Saturday. Thank you for letting me win the contest. Two free tickets (well, 2 places on the guest list). I really want to go. I found a solution to the driving problem...to make the trip shorter. But parking? I know what the street looks like (research, maps). I'll try to remain calm. If I go. Have to see how I feel, physically and emotionally. I know I'll feel guilt if I don't go. I was given a gift and didn't use it. But I'm not obligated...and I just have to do what I need to do. I just wish things were a little bit different. A companion was all I needed. But I'm alone.
I have to pull away. That's the hardest thing to do. But I have to go back to the fire, the me in the aftermath. I want to not care anymore. I want to be mean. I want to take and not give back. Not say thank you, not go out of my way to show someone I support them, that I remember what's special to them. People do that for me. I can't say there aren't great things, great people, great moments. But it's not enough. I always need more -- too much. Why doesn't it seem like too much for me?
"Just wake up in the morning. That's all you have to do, and I'll take it from there..." Can someone love me past MY pain? No more words. Give me proof.
I'll finish watching the movie...and try to wind down. My body wants to move but my mind is tired. My back hurts, my legs hurt. I do a lot. More than people see. I'm not lazy, I'm not weak. I'm just now where I want to be. Is this where I should be? I suppose. If you believe in that. I believe in a lot of things. Miracles, true love, angels, ghosts. But I also see the evil, the cruelness, the lies. And I hate living in a world like that. It's getting harder. Every day it gets harder...because time marches on. Who knew I'd ever get here? This old? But I did. I'm protected. I'm necessary...for purposes. I just have to live with that. Acceptance. As much as I hate it. And I'll keep going until I don't.
I'm tired. And I'll regret this. I want to cry every night because I open myself, give myself, the words come out of me. I have to replenish. Night's are so hard...
I'll go on.
*No edit*
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Blogging is good for your health
My most recently published article. Enjoy!
Blogging is good for your health - Philadelphia Social Networking | Examiner.com
Blogging is good for your health - Philadelphia Social Networking | Examiner.com
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