Do people who think they know me, actually know me?
Thinking...about the conversation with my Aunt Star (the year before she died?), where we discussed my hesitation to the idea of dating white guys. Not for lack of attraction or connection or anything else, but because of the way I grew up - the town, the school, the cliques and racist undertones of everything. Feeling like an outsider, always different. I didn't want to deal with more of that. Likely, racism against me from the other person's family and friends or judgment from everyone else, society. I just wanted to avoid the possibility of it happening. I was done with that stuff. I didn't live there anymore, but those fears followed me, even in the land of diversity and acceptance. All types of guys (especially Black) talked to me in KOP. But I took a chance, 2 years after she died, and asked a guy out, a white guy at work. It was not a good relationship, but had nothing to do with race, just our personalities clashing.
Would she be proud of me? For trying and being more open? For standing up for myself at that job, even though I got reprimanded? I think so. She was strong.
I talked to different races over the years, tried to date when I had a connection. So many false starts. And moving back to here, the town where I grew up...away from the diversity of Philly. Here...you're expected to be a certain way. And I never fit in. In school times, anyway. But I don't care now.
So, ten years (moved away and back) of being "single" and finally I have a romantic relationship again? With an older white guy. Then a younger white guy. Black guys around here don't seem interested enough to make a move. And the 2 that did (in 2012), weren't from around here anyway. But, it didn't work out. I can't be made to feel bad about myself...that won't make me date you. And you can't talk bad about my family, all the races and skin colors, the kids. No. We are who we are. It was a surprise that the white guys in this area were so interested in me. Never was an option in the past. Maybe it became like a victory to me...I was finally beautiful to them. Not just the shy little black girl. So why not take what was offered? If I feel it, I feel it.
People think they know me. My "preference"? Based on recent years. No, that's not it. I prefer color. I'm attracted to contrast of skin and hair with interesting features. Dark hair and dark eyes. Ethnic-looking. Tall. I'd rather have a big guy than someone too thin. But have I dated a guy with all that? Not really. I'm not searching for some ideal person. Looks aren't anything. Personality, humor, intelligence...those qualities matter. Race, religion, job...it doesn't determine how I feel about someone. And what I feel is what determines who you are to me. If I love you...
But people don't ask, they don't notice. They don't look back and follow the whole story of me. They look at one chapter, what they think it means, what it means to them. I see it. No one said it yet. This time. But I see it. Or maybe I'm just paranoid. Maybe no one even cares anymore. I'm trying not to care.
Do you know what it means to me? I follow my heart. I do what I feel is right for me at the time. If it's this person, then it's this person. If I don't feel a connection with someone, then I'm not going to do it, I won't settle. I've given too many chances because someone was "nice" and I didn't see a reason not to date them, or try. But the feelings don't materialize. It's just not there. I'm honest about my feelings. I won't let anyone pressure me. But I'm not cruel, I don't play games and dump people. I don't like to hurt anyone. Because I hurt so much.
I try. I keep trying. But...I think I can't right now. I'm not whole. And my heart isn't my own, not yet. But I know I need to make changes. Also, not let the bitterness and anger in. Not become that person. It's in me. But I won't become that.
My first boyfriend...that beautiful Black man with the perfect smile and best laugh. The southern accent. My music man. He was one of the nicest and classiest people I've ever met. Maybe no one can compare to that. I saw a future with him. Didn't happen, we were too young and he didn't want to get serious. Faded away. He went back home. It was hard for me. Took 3 years to breathe again, try again. I did. But I don't even remember dates back then, who, when.
So much hope. For that person who would want what I wanted and understand me. I don't think I found anyone like that, until this last time. He wasn't white...he didn't identify as white, he didn't sound white, he wasn't from this country, his "family" was black, his friends. But everyone who sees the photos or met him will say white. It doesn't matter. And yes, he was totally gorgeous. It was nice to have that for once - the wild attraction, the butterflies when I looked at him. But his humor outshone it all. He changed me, inspired me, helped me see that future again, so much more this time. I was loved. I thought my time had come. Finally, a child? A husband? All the trying, the pain, the heartbreaks, led to this. He erased it all, and every man who came before. They didn't matter. He was my Joseph. But...that all went away too. It wasn't my time, he wasn't the man. Was he? I was so sure. I believed. My faith was strong. I wasn't wrong. I did everything I was meant to do. But. He's gone. I wasn't the one for him, in the end. So short of a time. I wasn't ready. I wasn't done. But.
Keep moving forward. Am I? I'm healing, the days are getting better. But still, it hurts.
Bleed Out. That was my life for too long. Months that felt like years. The highest of highs, the lowest of lows. I understand so much more. I lived so much in a short period of time. I learned so much. A different world.
If he listened to Blue October...if he understood what Justin had been through and has become now, would it help him? There are so many similarities with their lives and behaviors. I believed in him. I still believe in him. And I know it's possible...the kind of man he can be. The kind of life he could have. I tried to give it to him. Show him my world. Maybe it was too much, not right, not time. I don't know. But I made him happy. I helped him when he was in need. He loved talking to me, said he was blessed to have me. Someone else said I was a gift. I have all of that in my heart. I did that, I was that. Those are good things.
I'll be ok. I'm always ok, right? Even when I'm not. I want to get on the right path again. Focus, not keep thinking and dwelling on this and looking at other people's paths. I'm trying to make it all make sense in my head so my heart can cope with it. It doesn't yet.
I can't trust myself yet. I'm distant from others. Guarding my heart. Distrustful of happiness. It'll take time. I'm wounded and vulnerable and low on patience. It'll take time.
Fears and worries, self-sabotage. Trying not to let them in. It's hard though, especially when anxiety kicks in. But, that's the fight. I fight.
Do you know me yet?
Saturday, May 23, 2015
Saturday, May 16, 2015
My heart...
Having a hard time today. Too many thoughts, too many feelings. I want to cry or rage or scream. Even in my dreams I'm frustrated and hurting and confused. I'm so paranoid. Wondering what people say, worrying what people are saying, thinking. How stupid I am for dating the guys I dated. Different races, different ages -- but not the "right" ones. For trying and believing and being nice and compassionate. Not being mean enough or letting the evil thoughts out. Not being what I could be, what I've been in the past. I don't want to be that person again. I don't like feeling that way -- the toxicity, the drama. I don't like hurting people, I don't like confrontations and fights. I'll do it if it comes to that, if too much builds up and I snap. If I have to get my point across. But why am I going to start out like that? Can't I be mature and handle it in a different way? Work things out, have a discussion that's productive? Why is trying to be a good person a bad thing? Why do I want to cause someone to be mad at me and attack back? That's not pleasant. Arguing is not fun for me. I don't like to debate. Is that all that's accepted in this world? All that people know? If they're close to God, shouldn't they be working on being patient and kind and using compassion and mercy themselves? Shouldn't they want to behave better and move their lives forward? Am I the only one who can see that? They claim to be further ahead than this in me, more developed, more devoted, but they think I shouldn't be so good? I'm not nearly good enough, nowhere near righteous. I'm still learning, just becoming who I can be. Finding my purpose. I keep falling off the path. Sometimes I just don't even want to fight anymore or try anymore. My body, my mind, my soul, won't let me give up. I conditioned myself so well these past few years. So now, even without medication, I pull myself up quickly. Out of the dark. I don't want to, I want to stay there where it's easy and comfortable. But I can't. I can't give up.
Am I weak? Am I strong? I don't know what I am. Getting better but still so broken inside that I can barely breathe. What's wrong with me? There's something so wrong with me. I feel like no one can really see it. No one can fix me, no one can save me. Sometimes I think it'd be such a relief if I did go into the hospital -- at least I could relax and let go and stop pretending to be ok, stop being strong and functional. Just completely let go and let someone take care of me. What's that like, when someone takes care of your every need? I haven't had that, not since I was very young. I've been taking care of myself, fixing myself, keeping these secrets and all the darkness within. No one wanted to hear about it or see it. Even as an adult, people don't want to know or deal with it, with me. Too much trouble. They say they're worried about me, but they just want me to get better so they don't have to worry or be uncomfortable. They're not really going to take on my burden or help me. They want me to help them, tell them I'm ok so they can walk away and feel better. That's not what I need. I need you to be there for ME. Look at me and really see me, see all the scary parts and still stay. Stay.
I guess that's the problem now, again. I feel abandoned. He didn't stay, he can't stay. None of them stay. Why do they come into my life and make me happy and inspire me and make me believe and then not want me anymore? How do they just turn off their feelings like that? There was something there, something everyone could see, but then it's gone? Changes, changes, changes. I don't change. I'm loyal, steady, permanent. I love forever. Unconditionally. Everyone has conditions, boundaries. They won't hold on, they won't fight the way I do. They run away. I didn't. Even when I wanted to leave, when I endured so much. Tested, tried, stretched out, met my limit again and again and surpassed it. It was right. I stayed because God told me to. Keep trying. This whole relationship was guided on faith. Maybe no one can understand that or believe me. Maybe I was just foolish. But I didn't make these choices based soley on love or fairytale ideas. Love isn't always enough. I knew the reality, I knew the consequences, I knew how much these challenges were hurting me. But went through it, got through it, with the hope that things would get better. The situation was a trial, but situations can change. It was supposed to change. It didn't get more stable, but the good still outweighed the bad. We grew stronger, we learned. And so I kept trying. Until I had nothing left to give...then gave a little more. I held it together, but it crumbled in my hands. Things didn't get better, they only got worse. He didn't fix it or fight for it like I hoped, like I prayed. I was the only one fighting, the only one trying, the only one giving. He was going through a bad time, so I still tried to understand. But he chose a different path...his old path, his old life. I wanted to keep moving forward. He was my future. But those dreams died. And now I walk alone, once again. Carrying those broken dreams. Like the W.B. Yeats poem...but he didn't tread lightly.
Did I settle too much? Allow the situation too much leeway because of mental health issues and past traumas? Did I try too hard to be too much? To try to be his rock, his champion, his savior, his support, his family? Don't we all need that sometimes? I do. I wanted him to be that for me too...be there for me and fight for me and not give up on me no matter how bad it gets. I wanted that. And I was capable of giving that so I did. I was gentle, I was kind, I was loving. Sometimes I let the anger and hurt slip out. And we discussed things. Three hours worth of discussion things. The distance was hard, but I tried my best to be there. I drove, even through my fears. But it's my fears that make me seen as weak. My anxiety and issues. So minor compared to his...and hers. But yet, too much. God, I tried so hard, gave so much. And maybe that's the problem. What did he sacrifice for me? I gave him all of me. I gave him my family...and they loved him. He fit, he was a part. There was so much more to come. I believed it could work, against all odds. I thought he believed that too. But...things changed. Everything changed.
I can understand. I can see the logic. I understand that you can't control your emotions. I acknowledge his pain and fear. I know what fear can do. I haven't experienced what he experienced, I don't have a similar background. But I have empathy and compassion. He wanted me to know him, so I know him. Does he know me? More so than he did. But maybe it doesn't matter. I did all I was meant to do. I did what I needed to do. I was appreciated. I didn't do it for him. I will continue doing good. I will probably continue to question and be confused, but I will do what I'm asked to do. I will try to live my life right, better. I have to walk my own path now, focus on making myself better. Focus on building a new future. Maybe my destiny is to just be alone, helping others, getting them to where they need to be. Then they move on. All that loss has a cost though. And I'm not happy. I'm grieving. The loss of this. My grandparents, my dog, Lazy. My birthday's coming up and it will be four years. It's hard. We just lost too much, too many in such a short time. My mom is hurting and that hurts me too. It all goes inside of me, all the pain. People think I haven't been through something as bad as they have, but I have lost a lot, I have suffered. And I take all of their pain and loss and grief and fear...and my family's, and my own. Add all that up. Isn't that enough? There will always be something worse. And once I know about it, it will become a part of me too. If you suffer, I suffer with you, just by reading your words, hearing your voice. Isn't that enough? It doesn't end. The good things end, but the bad things continue on.
I'm so tired. I'm still feeling insecure. But I will post this one. Because I need to take that step. And maybe it will all matter. I believe in miracles. I believe that anything's possible.
I pray for someone I love to love me enough and accept me enough to stay...for those 30+ years to eternity. No more words, no more intentions, no promises. Only action. Prove it. And keep proving it. I was a good girlfriend. And I know I can be a good wife. I feel like I was living the vows already. I am worth the effort. And you'll never have to doubt that you are loved. I know how to prove it. I have so much in my heart.
But I still love him. I can't change that. I wish he could be all the things he once was. All that I could see in him. I still believe in him, that he's better than his circumstances, better than his past. That he can have a bright future and do so much good in this world. Be righteous like he said he wanted to be. He inspired me in that way. My mom said he has a good heart...I'll always believe that. I saw it in action. I loved him for it. I'll continue to pray for him. But I can't be a part of his life. He doesn't want me there anyway.
What do I want? It doesn't matter. What is meant to be will be. Time will heal, time will let go. I have to go. Where? Where I need to be, I guess.
Am I weak? Am I strong? I don't know what I am. Getting better but still so broken inside that I can barely breathe. What's wrong with me? There's something so wrong with me. I feel like no one can really see it. No one can fix me, no one can save me. Sometimes I think it'd be such a relief if I did go into the hospital -- at least I could relax and let go and stop pretending to be ok, stop being strong and functional. Just completely let go and let someone take care of me. What's that like, when someone takes care of your every need? I haven't had that, not since I was very young. I've been taking care of myself, fixing myself, keeping these secrets and all the darkness within. No one wanted to hear about it or see it. Even as an adult, people don't want to know or deal with it, with me. Too much trouble. They say they're worried about me, but they just want me to get better so they don't have to worry or be uncomfortable. They're not really going to take on my burden or help me. They want me to help them, tell them I'm ok so they can walk away and feel better. That's not what I need. I need you to be there for ME. Look at me and really see me, see all the scary parts and still stay. Stay.
I guess that's the problem now, again. I feel abandoned. He didn't stay, he can't stay. None of them stay. Why do they come into my life and make me happy and inspire me and make me believe and then not want me anymore? How do they just turn off their feelings like that? There was something there, something everyone could see, but then it's gone? Changes, changes, changes. I don't change. I'm loyal, steady, permanent. I love forever. Unconditionally. Everyone has conditions, boundaries. They won't hold on, they won't fight the way I do. They run away. I didn't. Even when I wanted to leave, when I endured so much. Tested, tried, stretched out, met my limit again and again and surpassed it. It was right. I stayed because God told me to. Keep trying. This whole relationship was guided on faith. Maybe no one can understand that or believe me. Maybe I was just foolish. But I didn't make these choices based soley on love or fairytale ideas. Love isn't always enough. I knew the reality, I knew the consequences, I knew how much these challenges were hurting me. But went through it, got through it, with the hope that things would get better. The situation was a trial, but situations can change. It was supposed to change. It didn't get more stable, but the good still outweighed the bad. We grew stronger, we learned. And so I kept trying. Until I had nothing left to give...then gave a little more. I held it together, but it crumbled in my hands. Things didn't get better, they only got worse. He didn't fix it or fight for it like I hoped, like I prayed. I was the only one fighting, the only one trying, the only one giving. He was going through a bad time, so I still tried to understand. But he chose a different path...his old path, his old life. I wanted to keep moving forward. He was my future. But those dreams died. And now I walk alone, once again. Carrying those broken dreams. Like the W.B. Yeats poem...but he didn't tread lightly.
Did I settle too much? Allow the situation too much leeway because of mental health issues and past traumas? Did I try too hard to be too much? To try to be his rock, his champion, his savior, his support, his family? Don't we all need that sometimes? I do. I wanted him to be that for me too...be there for me and fight for me and not give up on me no matter how bad it gets. I wanted that. And I was capable of giving that so I did. I was gentle, I was kind, I was loving. Sometimes I let the anger and hurt slip out. And we discussed things. Three hours worth of discussion things. The distance was hard, but I tried my best to be there. I drove, even through my fears. But it's my fears that make me seen as weak. My anxiety and issues. So minor compared to his...and hers. But yet, too much. God, I tried so hard, gave so much. And maybe that's the problem. What did he sacrifice for me? I gave him all of me. I gave him my family...and they loved him. He fit, he was a part. There was so much more to come. I believed it could work, against all odds. I thought he believed that too. But...things changed. Everything changed.
I can understand. I can see the logic. I understand that you can't control your emotions. I acknowledge his pain and fear. I know what fear can do. I haven't experienced what he experienced, I don't have a similar background. But I have empathy and compassion. He wanted me to know him, so I know him. Does he know me? More so than he did. But maybe it doesn't matter. I did all I was meant to do. I did what I needed to do. I was appreciated. I didn't do it for him. I will continue doing good. I will probably continue to question and be confused, but I will do what I'm asked to do. I will try to live my life right, better. I have to walk my own path now, focus on making myself better. Focus on building a new future. Maybe my destiny is to just be alone, helping others, getting them to where they need to be. Then they move on. All that loss has a cost though. And I'm not happy. I'm grieving. The loss of this. My grandparents, my dog, Lazy. My birthday's coming up and it will be four years. It's hard. We just lost too much, too many in such a short time. My mom is hurting and that hurts me too. It all goes inside of me, all the pain. People think I haven't been through something as bad as they have, but I have lost a lot, I have suffered. And I take all of their pain and loss and grief and fear...and my family's, and my own. Add all that up. Isn't that enough? There will always be something worse. And once I know about it, it will become a part of me too. If you suffer, I suffer with you, just by reading your words, hearing your voice. Isn't that enough? It doesn't end. The good things end, but the bad things continue on.
I'm so tired. I'm still feeling insecure. But I will post this one. Because I need to take that step. And maybe it will all matter. I believe in miracles. I believe that anything's possible.
I pray for someone I love to love me enough and accept me enough to stay...for those 30+ years to eternity. No more words, no more intentions, no promises. Only action. Prove it. And keep proving it. I was a good girlfriend. And I know I can be a good wife. I feel like I was living the vows already. I am worth the effort. And you'll never have to doubt that you are loved. I know how to prove it. I have so much in my heart.
But I still love him. I can't change that. I wish he could be all the things he once was. All that I could see in him. I still believe in him, that he's better than his circumstances, better than his past. That he can have a bright future and do so much good in this world. Be righteous like he said he wanted to be. He inspired me in that way. My mom said he has a good heart...I'll always believe that. I saw it in action. I loved him for it. I'll continue to pray for him. But I can't be a part of his life. He doesn't want me there anyway.
What do I want? It doesn't matter. What is meant to be will be. Time will heal, time will let go. I have to go. Where? Where I need to be, I guess.
Monday, February 16, 2015
The Compassion Switch
"True compassion is not just an emotional response but a firm commitment founded on reason. Therefore, a truly compassionate attitude towards others does not change even if they behave negatively." - Dalai Lama
I've been working on compassion...trying to react to situations with love rather than defensiveness or anger or frustration. Showing mercy...giving, loving, helping when someone least deserves it. It's very hard sometimes. I fall, I fail, I still have grudges. I'm not able to do it for everyone yet. Maybe I'm not supposed to.
I'm unsure everyday of what I should do. I seek guidance. I need help. I'm the giver...but I need to be given.
I don't know if it's possible for any person to help me, love me, take care of me the way I need it. No one has tried. Not completely, whole-heartedly tried. I am cared for when there is extra time, when they have extra to give. There are other focuses in their lives, other priorities. That's the way it is. I don't come first...I never have. I take care of myself because I'm the only one who will, always. I've learned that. What choice do I have? If I reach out and they turn away...or worse yet, minimize or belittle my suffering, what choice do I have but to take care of myself? I've been "making myself better", fixing myself since I was 14. I asked for help but help was not given. So I developed a game face, learned how to appear human and well. Even now, people see me smile and say I look so happy. It's ridiculous really, how easy it is to fool people. Without even trying, just by coping. Sad that they can't see behind the smile. They won't look.
Some do...some see it. I have lots of support, lots of people who let me know I'm not alone. I reach out, I vent. I don't keep it all inside like I used to. I do better now. I have healed in some areas. I still have a long way to go. And I don't trust easily. I protect people from the worst of me. I minimize the seriousness of the pain. Not everyone can handle it. And sometimes I get tired of explaining.
Who wants to know, really? I do. I like getting to know people, issues and all. But I'm strange. I like to help. I'm able to even when I'm suffering myself. I have a switch...or a lever. I can be so low, so in need, barely hanging on...but if I encounter someone else in need, my compassion switches on. I feel the lever lock, click, and my strength builds. I can tell them what they need to hear...I can listen, support, be there for them. I felt it yesterday. I felt my body do this. My mind opened. I was consciously aware of it. How much I can do is not much. My strength was still very low, my mind was not clear. But I'm able to be a friend, compassionate, merciful, loving. It's easy to care when someone is hurting. Family, friend, stranger, animal. It's easy to have sympathy and empathy and compassion. It's easy for me to help others when I cannot help myself. That's why that saying is so ridiculous to me: how can you help/take care of someone else if you don't help/take care of yourself first. And the other, how can you love someone else if you don't love yourself. It's easy. It's so easy, I do it every day. Love is love...how I feel about someone else is not based on my mood. It's just there. It comes out of me, regardless. It used to make me so mad and frustrated when people said those things. They just don't GET IT. They think I'm wrong for arguing, because their way is right, in their minds it's not possible. But it is. I do it all the time. Other friends do it all the time. We put aside our own needs and help someone we love. We do what needs to be done. Out of love, out of kindness, out of need. So how is it not possible if we just did it? How did we love someone else and inspire them and help them out of their low place when we were low ourselves? How did I take care of my niece when I had a kidney stone or bad cramps or pain from ovarian cysts or when my world was falling apart in October? I could barely function, barely feed myself, my mind was SCREAMING, but I still took care of someone else. Because that's what you do. You put aside your own pain and you help someone else in need. Even if it's not a responsibility, even if it's not a necessity, if I see my friend hurting, I automatically want to help. So I try. I give what I can. I have to...I have to try. Because, what if I'm the only one who does? What if I'm the only thing standing between life and death. I can't let them die, I can't let them suffer and be lost if I can stop it. I have to help. And beyond that, I want to help. It's a need. It's my nature. Maybe it's not healthy to put someone else first so often but that's the initial reaction. It hurts me more if I don't help.
But I realize now that not everyone has that need, that level of compassion and overwhelming empathy. And even if they do, even if they want to help, they may be unable. They don't have that switch that lets them turn off their problems and give that strength to someone else. They don't have it to give. They have to focus on their own issues and help themselves because that's what they need to do. They can't help anyone else, they have nothing left. Because I am able, it's hard to understand when others don't help or turn away. I reached out yesterday...I needed him...but he couldn't help. Because his own needs were too great. I know this, I know he's struggling, more than me. I know this and I love him, so my compassion switch turned on. I had a moment of disappointment and hopelessness, then my strength increased and my focus was on easing his suffering. I don't know if I did, I don't know if I helped. Maybe I made it worse by being too helpful, too controlling, too smothering, too nurturing. I just offered my support, my love, my time. Those are good things. But some people find that off-putting. I try to fix things and they don't want to be fixed. That was the past, one person who had a problem with me. But he didn't love me, didn't accept me or understand me. This is now, this is different. He does understand. He does love me and accept me and know me. But still...I don't know. I got scared that he was in a bad way, scared that I could lose him, so I held on...gave all I had to give. He didn't take it, didn't reply. I can't let that matter. I gave my all, I tried. It's all I can do. I tried. He knows I'm here. Maybe I shouldn't be. Maybe it's too much...too much pain and instability for me. But this is what I'm supposed to do now. There's a reason for this. I have to stay true to that, that faith.
I'm hurting. My heart is hurting, my brain is hurting. Because I lost a friend. And I didn't even know he was gone. He died in October and I didn't even know. I didn't find out until Saturday night. How did I not know? No one told me because they didn't know we were close. And how close could we have been if it took me 4 months to check up on him? How did I not know? All these months. My friend is gone forever and I didn't even know. I was in shock and disbelief until yesterday...then I cried. But it still doesn't seem real. And who can I talk to about it, who can I ask. Everyone else has been grieving for 4 months, they've moved forward. Mine is just starting, like it just happened. But it didn't. He's been gone this whole time. I feel stupid and guilty...I didn't do enough, wasn't there enough, didn't love enough, didn't talk enough. I remember his voice, I do. He helped me, he gave me different perspectives. He understood the struggle with depression, anxiety. He got it. He had it. So many problems. But I thought he was ok, I thought he was still out there. How did I not know? He's gone forever. I could never have handled it if I found out the week it happened. I was in a bad place, already barely functional. Like I said, my mind was screaming. I already lost something. I couldn't have handled another loss. But all these months? I don't know. It's hard to feel this helpless. What can I do now? He's gone.
Where is my life going? I don't want to think about that. I put so much pressure on myself. I'm trying to change things, move forward, do right. I'm struggling. I'm unsure. I know what needs to be done, but a lot is still questionable. I gave too much and let too much happen. I thought it was right...it was right. Is it still the right thing to do? To stay, to hold on? He's not holding on to me. How much longer can I fool myself. But it's a bad time and bad times can get better. I don't give up. But I can't stay in this place. I can't continue to be unhealthy. It's not my fight. He has to make his changes, he has to work on things. And I have to step away and work on myself. I try too hard and give too much to everyone else. I keep trying and trying and trying. But not forever. I deserve more. I deserve to be held and cherished and fought for. Shown love. I understand that the illness is preventing that right now. I understand. I'm trying to understand. Compassion and mercy. I am very tired though. And I keep forgetting, other people keep forgetting, I'm doing all of this without medication. It's hard. And this is the first S.A.D. season without it. The first fall/winter since the year after my aunt died. I was on antidepressants for 8 years. I've only been off for 7 months. I'm still learning how to cope without that backup. It's going to take time, it's going to be hard. I lost a lot of weight. It's not going back on so easily. My appetite is low, having blood sugar problems. I don't look the way I want to look. I can't afford to lose any more...I don't want to be sick all the time again. This isn't healthy for me. I know. I have to make changes. I have to keep the negative things from affecting me this way. I'm doing my best. Maybe I need to do better. Or different. Take some time away from trying so hard. I can still be compassionate and supportive and take care of myself too.
Let go...let God. Trust that it will all work out. Have faith in what I cannot see. Believe, pray. I have to do what feels right to me. Try.
I've been working on compassion...trying to react to situations with love rather than defensiveness or anger or frustration. Showing mercy...giving, loving, helping when someone least deserves it. It's very hard sometimes. I fall, I fail, I still have grudges. I'm not able to do it for everyone yet. Maybe I'm not supposed to.
I'm unsure everyday of what I should do. I seek guidance. I need help. I'm the giver...but I need to be given.
I don't know if it's possible for any person to help me, love me, take care of me the way I need it. No one has tried. Not completely, whole-heartedly tried. I am cared for when there is extra time, when they have extra to give. There are other focuses in their lives, other priorities. That's the way it is. I don't come first...I never have. I take care of myself because I'm the only one who will, always. I've learned that. What choice do I have? If I reach out and they turn away...or worse yet, minimize or belittle my suffering, what choice do I have but to take care of myself? I've been "making myself better", fixing myself since I was 14. I asked for help but help was not given. So I developed a game face, learned how to appear human and well. Even now, people see me smile and say I look so happy. It's ridiculous really, how easy it is to fool people. Without even trying, just by coping. Sad that they can't see behind the smile. They won't look.
Some do...some see it. I have lots of support, lots of people who let me know I'm not alone. I reach out, I vent. I don't keep it all inside like I used to. I do better now. I have healed in some areas. I still have a long way to go. And I don't trust easily. I protect people from the worst of me. I minimize the seriousness of the pain. Not everyone can handle it. And sometimes I get tired of explaining.
Who wants to know, really? I do. I like getting to know people, issues and all. But I'm strange. I like to help. I'm able to even when I'm suffering myself. I have a switch...or a lever. I can be so low, so in need, barely hanging on...but if I encounter someone else in need, my compassion switches on. I feel the lever lock, click, and my strength builds. I can tell them what they need to hear...I can listen, support, be there for them. I felt it yesterday. I felt my body do this. My mind opened. I was consciously aware of it. How much I can do is not much. My strength was still very low, my mind was not clear. But I'm able to be a friend, compassionate, merciful, loving. It's easy to care when someone is hurting. Family, friend, stranger, animal. It's easy to have sympathy and empathy and compassion. It's easy for me to help others when I cannot help myself. That's why that saying is so ridiculous to me: how can you help/take care of someone else if you don't help/take care of yourself first. And the other, how can you love someone else if you don't love yourself. It's easy. It's so easy, I do it every day. Love is love...how I feel about someone else is not based on my mood. It's just there. It comes out of me, regardless. It used to make me so mad and frustrated when people said those things. They just don't GET IT. They think I'm wrong for arguing, because their way is right, in their minds it's not possible. But it is. I do it all the time. Other friends do it all the time. We put aside our own needs and help someone we love. We do what needs to be done. Out of love, out of kindness, out of need. So how is it not possible if we just did it? How did we love someone else and inspire them and help them out of their low place when we were low ourselves? How did I take care of my niece when I had a kidney stone or bad cramps or pain from ovarian cysts or when my world was falling apart in October? I could barely function, barely feed myself, my mind was SCREAMING, but I still took care of someone else. Because that's what you do. You put aside your own pain and you help someone else in need. Even if it's not a responsibility, even if it's not a necessity, if I see my friend hurting, I automatically want to help. So I try. I give what I can. I have to...I have to try. Because, what if I'm the only one who does? What if I'm the only thing standing between life and death. I can't let them die, I can't let them suffer and be lost if I can stop it. I have to help. And beyond that, I want to help. It's a need. It's my nature. Maybe it's not healthy to put someone else first so often but that's the initial reaction. It hurts me more if I don't help.
But I realize now that not everyone has that need, that level of compassion and overwhelming empathy. And even if they do, even if they want to help, they may be unable. They don't have that switch that lets them turn off their problems and give that strength to someone else. They don't have it to give. They have to focus on their own issues and help themselves because that's what they need to do. They can't help anyone else, they have nothing left. Because I am able, it's hard to understand when others don't help or turn away. I reached out yesterday...I needed him...but he couldn't help. Because his own needs were too great. I know this, I know he's struggling, more than me. I know this and I love him, so my compassion switch turned on. I had a moment of disappointment and hopelessness, then my strength increased and my focus was on easing his suffering. I don't know if I did, I don't know if I helped. Maybe I made it worse by being too helpful, too controlling, too smothering, too nurturing. I just offered my support, my love, my time. Those are good things. But some people find that off-putting. I try to fix things and they don't want to be fixed. That was the past, one person who had a problem with me. But he didn't love me, didn't accept me or understand me. This is now, this is different. He does understand. He does love me and accept me and know me. But still...I don't know. I got scared that he was in a bad way, scared that I could lose him, so I held on...gave all I had to give. He didn't take it, didn't reply. I can't let that matter. I gave my all, I tried. It's all I can do. I tried. He knows I'm here. Maybe I shouldn't be. Maybe it's too much...too much pain and instability for me. But this is what I'm supposed to do now. There's a reason for this. I have to stay true to that, that faith.
I'm hurting. My heart is hurting, my brain is hurting. Because I lost a friend. And I didn't even know he was gone. He died in October and I didn't even know. I didn't find out until Saturday night. How did I not know? No one told me because they didn't know we were close. And how close could we have been if it took me 4 months to check up on him? How did I not know? All these months. My friend is gone forever and I didn't even know. I was in shock and disbelief until yesterday...then I cried. But it still doesn't seem real. And who can I talk to about it, who can I ask. Everyone else has been grieving for 4 months, they've moved forward. Mine is just starting, like it just happened. But it didn't. He's been gone this whole time. I feel stupid and guilty...I didn't do enough, wasn't there enough, didn't love enough, didn't talk enough. I remember his voice, I do. He helped me, he gave me different perspectives. He understood the struggle with depression, anxiety. He got it. He had it. So many problems. But I thought he was ok, I thought he was still out there. How did I not know? He's gone forever. I could never have handled it if I found out the week it happened. I was in a bad place, already barely functional. Like I said, my mind was screaming. I already lost something. I couldn't have handled another loss. But all these months? I don't know. It's hard to feel this helpless. What can I do now? He's gone.
Where is my life going? I don't want to think about that. I put so much pressure on myself. I'm trying to change things, move forward, do right. I'm struggling. I'm unsure. I know what needs to be done, but a lot is still questionable. I gave too much and let too much happen. I thought it was right...it was right. Is it still the right thing to do? To stay, to hold on? He's not holding on to me. How much longer can I fool myself. But it's a bad time and bad times can get better. I don't give up. But I can't stay in this place. I can't continue to be unhealthy. It's not my fight. He has to make his changes, he has to work on things. And I have to step away and work on myself. I try too hard and give too much to everyone else. I keep trying and trying and trying. But not forever. I deserve more. I deserve to be held and cherished and fought for. Shown love. I understand that the illness is preventing that right now. I understand. I'm trying to understand. Compassion and mercy. I am very tired though. And I keep forgetting, other people keep forgetting, I'm doing all of this without medication. It's hard. And this is the first S.A.D. season without it. The first fall/winter since the year after my aunt died. I was on antidepressants for 8 years. I've only been off for 7 months. I'm still learning how to cope without that backup. It's going to take time, it's going to be hard. I lost a lot of weight. It's not going back on so easily. My appetite is low, having blood sugar problems. I don't look the way I want to look. I can't afford to lose any more...I don't want to be sick all the time again. This isn't healthy for me. I know. I have to make changes. I have to keep the negative things from affecting me this way. I'm doing my best. Maybe I need to do better. Or different. Take some time away from trying so hard. I can still be compassionate and supportive and take care of myself too.
Let go...let God. Trust that it will all work out. Have faith in what I cannot see. Believe, pray. I have to do what feels right to me. Try.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Strength and healing...writing through the fog
I feel like I haven't let writing do its job to heal me. And maybe that's because it hasn't. I wrote 3 blog posts...September, October, January...that were not published. Saved as drafts, for my eyes only. Full of heartache and fear and introspection. They were too personal to my situation, at the time, to be made public. But the words needed to be said...the pain needed to come out. Maybe one day I'll publish them, or at least, talk about those situations. But no need to revisit that now.
I went through a lot of trials and tests in 2014. I was broken, shattered, hopeless. Loved and rejected. Lost and found. I was taken to the edge, surpassed my limits. But I endured. Somehow, I always do. I pick myself back up, put myself back together, try again. Keep going. Keep "graceful dancing". I don't know why God gave me this strength, but I am grateful. I'm still here. I became a different person after all I went through. Each time, I built something. I thought it was a test of the relationship, of the bonds between myself and others, but I know now, that it was a test of my strength and character. It may seem a minor feat or experience to someone else, these things I had to accept or work through in my head, my heart. But it was hard for me, it was new and difficult. I had no experience, no frame of reference to understand some of these things. To cope. To get past it and keep moving forward. And I'm an emotional being - I feel everything so intensely and completely and it doesn't go away. I can't turn it off. And I feel what others feel too...so it's all inside of me, all the time. It's overwhelming. It's painful. Sometimes I wish I didn't feel anything. But then I wouldn't be me.
It's important to be me, right? God chose me for this, gave me this life, these things to overcome. It's a struggle to stay sane sometimes. Right now, the anxiety is trying to take over. It wins sometimes. Yesterday, today, I can't regulate my emotions, I can't be rational about rational things. I get upset and afraid and blow things out of proportion...and worry, worry, worry. I feel like everything I say and do is wrong. Bad things happen, accidents, mistakes...and that proves it. I know better, in my head. But I feel like all of the bad things are true. It's a fog that comes over me, like depression. I was down over the weekend, let thoughts get to me, situations out of my control. Let others' opinions matter too much, let fears take over. Analyze, analyze, analyze. I'm better than this, than that. I know this. But when you're in that state, this state I'm in NOW, your brain lies to you. All of THAT is true. But what's actually true, isn't, doesn't exist in the fog. But I can tell myself what's real most of the time. I can calm myself down or make myself escape into sleep. Sometimes that's the only way. But when I'm awake and thinking...then it's a problem. It can be dangerous, the things my brain tells me to do...or shows me, I should say. Options, possibilities. But they feel like they're really happening. That's the G.A.D. anxiety. Fear of everything and anything happening. There are triggers, sure. But if it's a chemical imbalance or hormonal or as a result of Seasonal Affective Disorder symptoms, then it just happens. It's just there. And the other stuff that happens just enhances it. It's like a hot surface...ok by itself, but you flick something flammable at it or set something on top of it or touch it, then you have a reaction. But even in the quiet times, when the thoughts aren't so bad or so immediate, the pain is there. Physical pain. I don't know why. The struggle with maintaining your game face? Keeping yourself sane? Telling yourself what is instead of letting the fear win? From doing mundane activities and responsibilities when you should be in bed recovering? I don't know, I guess all of those. I'm just very tired and very achy and my head hurts. I had anxiety in the grocery store - fears, thoughts of the future, wondering if I'm lacking, if I'll be enough for him, if the life I want will happen. Or will everything be taken away again? It was triggered by little things...a slogan on a t-shirt that made me think of another conversation and other possibilities. Anxiety is built on "what if". That's all it is - what if this happens or what if that's what they meant when they said that or what if they took what I said the wrong way and now they hate me. And the "what ifs" become real, become "this is". Constantly borrowing trouble. Achieving failure in advance. Over and over. In and out, up and down. Until I can get through the fog and see the truth.
People who don't experience this think it's easy to just think happy thoughts or stop thinking altogether. You can change your thinking, but it's a struggle, it takes effort and training and it's NOT easy. I know the truth, but I can't always feel the truth. There's something blocking that. And I need to be able to feel. I use my intuition, my instincts. They're always right, never wrong. You can say it's God guiding me, or whatever. I feel that. And I need that.
It helps to reflect on things and examine them and work through them - for me, anyway. I have friends who I trust and lean on and vent to when I need to talk to someone. Otherwise, I'd just keep it all inside. That's not healthy. But there are times when I have to face it on my own and make a decision based on what's best for my life. Because I'm the one who has to live it. I get so sick of myself sometimes...but I can't escape me. I have to be here with me everyday. I'm grateful for all that I have. I'm grateful for all those who love me when I don't deserve it...and when I do. I'm grateful for all the good times and good things and good people in my life. I'm grateful that I got to experience love and being loved and everything else in the past (almost) 4 months. I pray for the future I envision, for more good to come. For the life, for the love, for us. Family. I just pray for God to keep us all safe, to take care of me and help me and guide me through this. I'm doing the best that I can, as I am. I've accomplished much. I am strong. I am loving. I am a good person. I have to keep trying. I know this.
I know there will be more tests and obstacles and challenges. I thought 2015 would magically be better and all of those things would go away. That overcoming hardships at the beginning of a journey would ensure a happy ending. That I'd suddenly know what I needed to do for my finances and my health and my future and everything else. I thought it would be easier now, that certain things would be revealed to me. Maybe they have, in a different way than I expected. And I'm still learning how to see them. Maybe they're not easier...but they're easier for me to handle (accept, navigate, etc.) because I'm stronger now. I've been through situations that have prepared me for future situations. They still hurt, they're still difficult or frustrating, but I'm able to bounce back quicker, or maybe they barely touch me. I'm still afraid, because you never know what the future will be like. Some things have shaken me and made me reevaluate, but I'm trying to have faith. What happened in other people's lives won't necessarily happen in mine. And what happened in my past is past. This is a new set of rules. Believe. Keep holding on, keep trying, keep living. Don't anticipate pain or borrow trouble. Deal with the now. Accept what I can. Change what I am able.
See, I know. It's just hard to make it manifest inside myself sometimes. Love is powerful...it can make us do all sorts of things we never thought we were capable of. But so is strength. I have become more than I thought possible. I'm proud of myself. I know that I will become stronger and more capable. I know there is a plan for me, a path for me. I will be the best that I can be. As much as I am able.
Writing this helped. I still feel very tired and there's still so much inside. The fog hasn't lifted yet and it may be days before it does. And with no meds...this is hard. But I'm trying to be better. This time of year is just difficult for me. And it has been oh, so challenging. I'm a private person and I don't put much of myself out there for everyone to see. It's hard for me to say things. I'm not always understood or accepted. I'm not always seen. Sometimes I don't want to be seen. I can't change my nature. I am who I am, I think what I think, I feel what I feel. It just is. But I can adapt and be open to new things. I can evolve and improve. I know so much now, I have a different perspective on many things in this world. I'm glad that I've seen different worlds, met different kinds of people. And there's so much more that can be explored and visited. I need the chance. And then I'll take it. Living for opportunities and living my life while I have it.
There's more I could say. And maybe I could help someone else by sharing more of my story. And I'll write more, another time. This was what I needed to do now. Maybe a few will read it and understand...maybe no one will. It's convoluted and segues into many facets of my thoughts and some parts only someone who I've told about my experiences will understand. That doesn't matter though, because I needed to do this for me. This is where I am, this is who I am. Maybe I'll listen to some Blue tonight. That's music therapy. But I definitely need to sleep.
Thank you for listening...
I went through a lot of trials and tests in 2014. I was broken, shattered, hopeless. Loved and rejected. Lost and found. I was taken to the edge, surpassed my limits. But I endured. Somehow, I always do. I pick myself back up, put myself back together, try again. Keep going. Keep "graceful dancing". I don't know why God gave me this strength, but I am grateful. I'm still here. I became a different person after all I went through. Each time, I built something. I thought it was a test of the relationship, of the bonds between myself and others, but I know now, that it was a test of my strength and character. It may seem a minor feat or experience to someone else, these things I had to accept or work through in my head, my heart. But it was hard for me, it was new and difficult. I had no experience, no frame of reference to understand some of these things. To cope. To get past it and keep moving forward. And I'm an emotional being - I feel everything so intensely and completely and it doesn't go away. I can't turn it off. And I feel what others feel too...so it's all inside of me, all the time. It's overwhelming. It's painful. Sometimes I wish I didn't feel anything. But then I wouldn't be me.
It's important to be me, right? God chose me for this, gave me this life, these things to overcome. It's a struggle to stay sane sometimes. Right now, the anxiety is trying to take over. It wins sometimes. Yesterday, today, I can't regulate my emotions, I can't be rational about rational things. I get upset and afraid and blow things out of proportion...and worry, worry, worry. I feel like everything I say and do is wrong. Bad things happen, accidents, mistakes...and that proves it. I know better, in my head. But I feel like all of the bad things are true. It's a fog that comes over me, like depression. I was down over the weekend, let thoughts get to me, situations out of my control. Let others' opinions matter too much, let fears take over. Analyze, analyze, analyze. I'm better than this, than that. I know this. But when you're in that state, this state I'm in NOW, your brain lies to you. All of THAT is true. But what's actually true, isn't, doesn't exist in the fog. But I can tell myself what's real most of the time. I can calm myself down or make myself escape into sleep. Sometimes that's the only way. But when I'm awake and thinking...then it's a problem. It can be dangerous, the things my brain tells me to do...or shows me, I should say. Options, possibilities. But they feel like they're really happening. That's the G.A.D. anxiety. Fear of everything and anything happening. There are triggers, sure. But if it's a chemical imbalance or hormonal or as a result of Seasonal Affective Disorder symptoms, then it just happens. It's just there. And the other stuff that happens just enhances it. It's like a hot surface...ok by itself, but you flick something flammable at it or set something on top of it or touch it, then you have a reaction. But even in the quiet times, when the thoughts aren't so bad or so immediate, the pain is there. Physical pain. I don't know why. The struggle with maintaining your game face? Keeping yourself sane? Telling yourself what is instead of letting the fear win? From doing mundane activities and responsibilities when you should be in bed recovering? I don't know, I guess all of those. I'm just very tired and very achy and my head hurts. I had anxiety in the grocery store - fears, thoughts of the future, wondering if I'm lacking, if I'll be enough for him, if the life I want will happen. Or will everything be taken away again? It was triggered by little things...a slogan on a t-shirt that made me think of another conversation and other possibilities. Anxiety is built on "what if". That's all it is - what if this happens or what if that's what they meant when they said that or what if they took what I said the wrong way and now they hate me. And the "what ifs" become real, become "this is". Constantly borrowing trouble. Achieving failure in advance. Over and over. In and out, up and down. Until I can get through the fog and see the truth.
People who don't experience this think it's easy to just think happy thoughts or stop thinking altogether. You can change your thinking, but it's a struggle, it takes effort and training and it's NOT easy. I know the truth, but I can't always feel the truth. There's something blocking that. And I need to be able to feel. I use my intuition, my instincts. They're always right, never wrong. You can say it's God guiding me, or whatever. I feel that. And I need that.
It helps to reflect on things and examine them and work through them - for me, anyway. I have friends who I trust and lean on and vent to when I need to talk to someone. Otherwise, I'd just keep it all inside. That's not healthy. But there are times when I have to face it on my own and make a decision based on what's best for my life. Because I'm the one who has to live it. I get so sick of myself sometimes...but I can't escape me. I have to be here with me everyday. I'm grateful for all that I have. I'm grateful for all those who love me when I don't deserve it...and when I do. I'm grateful for all the good times and good things and good people in my life. I'm grateful that I got to experience love and being loved and everything else in the past (almost) 4 months. I pray for the future I envision, for more good to come. For the life, for the love, for us. Family. I just pray for God to keep us all safe, to take care of me and help me and guide me through this. I'm doing the best that I can, as I am. I've accomplished much. I am strong. I am loving. I am a good person. I have to keep trying. I know this.
I know there will be more tests and obstacles and challenges. I thought 2015 would magically be better and all of those things would go away. That overcoming hardships at the beginning of a journey would ensure a happy ending. That I'd suddenly know what I needed to do for my finances and my health and my future and everything else. I thought it would be easier now, that certain things would be revealed to me. Maybe they have, in a different way than I expected. And I'm still learning how to see them. Maybe they're not easier...but they're easier for me to handle (accept, navigate, etc.) because I'm stronger now. I've been through situations that have prepared me for future situations. They still hurt, they're still difficult or frustrating, but I'm able to bounce back quicker, or maybe they barely touch me. I'm still afraid, because you never know what the future will be like. Some things have shaken me and made me reevaluate, but I'm trying to have faith. What happened in other people's lives won't necessarily happen in mine. And what happened in my past is past. This is a new set of rules. Believe. Keep holding on, keep trying, keep living. Don't anticipate pain or borrow trouble. Deal with the now. Accept what I can. Change what I am able.
See, I know. It's just hard to make it manifest inside myself sometimes. Love is powerful...it can make us do all sorts of things we never thought we were capable of. But so is strength. I have become more than I thought possible. I'm proud of myself. I know that I will become stronger and more capable. I know there is a plan for me, a path for me. I will be the best that I can be. As much as I am able.
Writing this helped. I still feel very tired and there's still so much inside. The fog hasn't lifted yet and it may be days before it does. And with no meds...this is hard. But I'm trying to be better. This time of year is just difficult for me. And it has been oh, so challenging. I'm a private person and I don't put much of myself out there for everyone to see. It's hard for me to say things. I'm not always understood or accepted. I'm not always seen. Sometimes I don't want to be seen. I can't change my nature. I am who I am, I think what I think, I feel what I feel. It just is. But I can adapt and be open to new things. I can evolve and improve. I know so much now, I have a different perspective on many things in this world. I'm glad that I've seen different worlds, met different kinds of people. And there's so much more that can be explored and visited. I need the chance. And then I'll take it. Living for opportunities and living my life while I have it.
There's more I could say. And maybe I could help someone else by sharing more of my story. And I'll write more, another time. This was what I needed to do now. Maybe a few will read it and understand...maybe no one will. It's convoluted and segues into many facets of my thoughts and some parts only someone who I've told about my experiences will understand. That doesn't matter though, because I needed to do this for me. This is where I am, this is who I am. Maybe I'll listen to some Blue tonight. That's music therapy. But I definitely need to sleep.
Thank you for listening...
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Strong enough
Writing helps release the poison that gathers inside and threatens to destroy me. And so I write.
I was going to talk about the sad part of my heart, but let's talk about the strong part instead. I've been antidepressant free for 41 days. I don't usually count the days, I just say, "since the end of July." And I haven't taken Xanax longer than that. It's not due to an addiction or recovery. It's a personal choice because I felt that it was time. I don't have to remember to take it everyday, I don't have to pay for it out-of-pocket every month or worry about getting a doctor to prescribe refills. It's all a lot of stress and running around. And lack of money's a factor. The side effects...
I cut it down little by little over a couple months. But even stopping with only a quarter of medication in my system had its negative effects. Mostly nausea and hypoglycemia shakes, some anxiety. For about a week after, I guess. I did notice the emotional difference too. Things were just a little bit harder.
But that's what this is about. Even during the hard times, even with the setbacks, the loss of something...I still bounce back quickly. Because I have the tools to cope. Because I've learned how. Some CBT techniques, some personal strengths, lots of experiences that tested me. I made it through. I fall, and I get back up. Some days are harder, next to impossible. But I'm still alive. That's a big feat when everything inside of you is telling you not to be. To give up and die. I don't want to die. But I would like the pain to stop. Medication helps that. And now I'm on my own.
Six years. And now, I'm free. But, is there a price for freedom? I worry about what will happen when October comes, then winter. My Seasonal Affective Disorder creeps in and hits hard. Unexpected, unwanted, debilitating. The anxiety is the worst. And the insomnia messes up my schedule. It's very, very difficult to fight through that everyday. Every day. I don't know what I'll do then. Just keep going...one day, one hour, one minute at a time.
I try my best. That's all I ever do.
"You must remember that
You were born with blood of kings and queens
And can't be stopped."
--- Janet Jackson
I was going to talk about the sad part of my heart, but let's talk about the strong part instead. I've been antidepressant free for 41 days. I don't usually count the days, I just say, "since the end of July." And I haven't taken Xanax longer than that. It's not due to an addiction or recovery. It's a personal choice because I felt that it was time. I don't have to remember to take it everyday, I don't have to pay for it out-of-pocket every month or worry about getting a doctor to prescribe refills. It's all a lot of stress and running around. And lack of money's a factor. The side effects...
I cut it down little by little over a couple months. But even stopping with only a quarter of medication in my system had its negative effects. Mostly nausea and hypoglycemia shakes, some anxiety. For about a week after, I guess. I did notice the emotional difference too. Things were just a little bit harder.
But that's what this is about. Even during the hard times, even with the setbacks, the loss of something...I still bounce back quickly. Because I have the tools to cope. Because I've learned how. Some CBT techniques, some personal strengths, lots of experiences that tested me. I made it through. I fall, and I get back up. Some days are harder, next to impossible. But I'm still alive. That's a big feat when everything inside of you is telling you not to be. To give up and die. I don't want to die. But I would like the pain to stop. Medication helps that. And now I'm on my own.
Six years. And now, I'm free. But, is there a price for freedom? I worry about what will happen when October comes, then winter. My Seasonal Affective Disorder creeps in and hits hard. Unexpected, unwanted, debilitating. The anxiety is the worst. And the insomnia messes up my schedule. It's very, very difficult to fight through that everyday. Every day. I don't know what I'll do then. Just keep going...one day, one hour, one minute at a time.
I try my best. That's all I ever do.
"You must remember that
You were born with blood of kings and queens
And can't be stopped."
--- Janet Jackson
Sunday, August 3, 2014
All of its faces
Death...and all of its faces. That's what I was going to title it. Too morbid? People get scared away so easily. Should I even care anymore? They can step up...I don't need to lower myself. Be brave, the rest of us are. And really, I'm in a better state of mind than I have been in a long, long time. But I'm still me.
I've been thinking about many things. My relatives, mostly. They haunt my dreams...and my waking moments. But I've been thinking about them this time in comparison to other things in life. Not necessarily my life, but life in general. All the bad things, the difficult people, the cruelty and abuse and hopelessness. Religion and morals and other people's opinions. None of it matters. Not in my world. Not anymore. Because when you lose what's most important to you, when you lose what you can't live without...but still live, afterward. When you know more people are going to die and you can't stop it. The other things don't matter much. They barely scratch the surface.
My relatives matter, my pets matter, my friends matter, their children, their loss.
The bad people in this world, doing bad things, will continue. I can't stop it or change it. I really don't care. I'm cynical, bitter, never had much faith in this country and its people...or any, really. I see reality. I know too much. About what we are inside. What I am. I believe in freedom of choice, free will, following your heart and listening to your intuition. A lot of issues make me mad, and I could get mad, but why should I have to? Haven't I been through enough? Haven't I had to deal with the bad things enough? I don't want them anymore. I don't want that in my head or my heart. I don't want to know, because I'll never forget. I'm not running away or avoiding because I'm scared or lazy or ignorant. I'm keeping certain things out of my life now. I'm allowing myself a chance at peace. I think I've earned it. I'm not always good, but I do a lot of good. I'm there for everyone, even when they don't deserve me. I take their pain in, relive their memories, experience their experiences through words and emotions. Those who deserve it, have my heart. And I will do it at the sacrifice of myself. How can I not? I can love at my lowest, when I have nothing left for myself - I can love them. I find more, it comes. People don't understand how I feel, why I feel. I can't turn it off, I can't just think it away or stop thinking. I feel it, down to my bones, throughout my soul. I can love so deeply. And many are afraid of that intensity. They don't want me to love them. Who doesn't want to be loved? You don't have to love back to accept love. You can just be grateful, thankful that you matter. That someone's heart speaks your name with reverence. Is that too intense? It almost makes me want to laugh...because that's normal for me. And I don't know if I can ever be loved enough to fill the void. I need continuous reassurance and demonstrations. I run out of the immediate feeling and start to doubt and need to be replenished. My heart has a high metabolism? I hate that...need.
I don't know if explaining does the trick. I feel like my life is constantly explaining...why I'm this way, what led me to become like this, to feel like this. Why do I dwell on the past, why do I avoid certain situations, why don't I do things the way other people do, why am I so quiet, why do I stand by myself, why didn't I go out last night, why don't I just do it - just drive, just talk, just act right. Just change, fix it, stop thinking. Stop crying. How hard is it, to be like them? To take their advice, to see things their way? It's not ME. It's not me.
Sometimes I get so tired of fighting and smiling and pretending...staying quiet so they won't know how much I don't want them there...not today, not Every day. God, the stress, the noise, the anxiety makes me want to scream. Can't you understand that I need a break? Can't you see things through MY eyes? But, they don't...can't...won't. I'm invisible. No one can hear me...I speak and it's like I'm saying nothing. They talk...that's all that matters. She doesn't listen. No one remembers. And then I'm the crazy one, I'm wrong...because I do. I remember. I don't want to. Not everything. No one knows all of me. Does anyone deserve to? Is there anyone who wouldn't betray me or belittle me or make me feel small and stupid? Why didn't you tell, why didn't you change it, why didn't you stand up for yourself? I was a kid...I was small. But not stupid. I know better than to say what I feel. I know what happens when you do. I know that I have to take care of myself. Fight for myself. Heal myself. "Don't let them in, don't let them see. Be the good girl you always have to be..."
I have friends now. Good friends that I confide in. Who let me speak and listen to me. Don't tell me I'm wrong or strange. Trust me to know what's best for myself. People who go out of their way to make me happy. The way I do for others. Who love me and accept me and don't abandon me when I'm at my worst. It's so easy to walk away. Except for me...I'm the opposite...I hold on for too long. If they only knew. My heart is...large. I love too much. But I have to live with it. I have to live?
I still don't know how the world still revolves without her in it, my Lazy. I don't know why I'm alive to see it. Why I dream. Why am I still here when they're not? I used to ask that question a lot after my aunt died, when I'd cry in the bathroom at work. I felt like a colossal idiot failure and I knew she could do a much better job with my life. I just hope now, she's somewhat proud of me for opening my mind to certain things she wanted for me, that we talked about. Hey, I asked 2 different guys out in the past 5 years - that's monumental (and terrifying) - she'd cheer for me on that, anyway. Even if it ended in disaster and heartbreak, as usual. But I did it. Little shy Nikki. You don't know my strength. Being unmarried with no kids of my own, taking care of other people's kids and living back at home...not a cause for celebration. But she'd understand. Maybe the only one who would. It's hard, watching, smiling.Time moves on, life moves on, but yours doesn't. You get more and more afraid that you'll never be able to have the life you need in your heart. I'm 36. My biological clock started ticking with ruthless urgency at 22. And it hasn't stopped...do you get that? I feel it every day, all of these years, a physical pain when I see a child. A need that makes me ache and want to cry. It's a longing. It's real. And I have to watch you and just smile. It's hard. It's painful. It's my life. I take it. No one notices, really, and if I talk about it, they just say I'm jealous. So, just close my eyes, block my heart and deal. it. But 22 years old...that's when I got hips for the first time. And I'm able to gain weight now, in my 30s. Childbearing preparations? Or just a big joke? Because the other health issues didn't disappear. Eased up, but didn't stay away forever...back again now. I love pain. (No, I do not.) I don't care what the media says or not being included in the "mommy club" or people assuming I have no clue about children or life or whatever (I can prove them wrong, don't worry). I do care about how I feel and what I want. What my soul needs. I know what's best for me, I know how to be patient, I know how to put my pride aside and do what's best for another. I do it every day. No one has to tell me. So stop telling me...like you know me at all. Any of you. Everyone. Just stop. Listen. Try to see it through my eyes. I've said it enough times...
I miss them. My grandparents. My aunts and uncles. My friends. My dog and hamsters. And all the rest. There's so much I can say. But it won't take the pain away. It won't change anything. The past, the future. It comes and goes and we can't stop it.
I don't write this for anyone but myself. To get it out. Too much inside is poison. I'm glad some people identify with it and understand the complicated parts of me. I'm glad we can talk about it and comfort each other. I have no use anymore for anyone who wants to challenge me or put me down. I just don't care about them. I don't have anything in my heart for them. Forgive/love/pray for your enemies? No. They don't deserve it and I'd rather spend my time and love on the people who need it, the people who give my life meaning. I've let too many people have too many chances and gave and gave and gave, and put up with horrible abuse and toxic friends. Because I loved them and it was what I deserved. No more. I have no use for them. Maybe it's mean, but I don't want them in my life in any way. I don't care. I don't care. I'm not the person I was before, sorry. I've been through the fire, I've been through the worst of it, more than I could handle, I've been broken and put back together. Some pieces are missing, I'll never be whole. How can I? They're gone. But all I can do now is try to have some good in my life and enjoy what I can while it's here. Nothing lasts forever...
I know this.
I've been thinking about many things. My relatives, mostly. They haunt my dreams...and my waking moments. But I've been thinking about them this time in comparison to other things in life. Not necessarily my life, but life in general. All the bad things, the difficult people, the cruelty and abuse and hopelessness. Religion and morals and other people's opinions. None of it matters. Not in my world. Not anymore. Because when you lose what's most important to you, when you lose what you can't live without...but still live, afterward. When you know more people are going to die and you can't stop it. The other things don't matter much. They barely scratch the surface.
My relatives matter, my pets matter, my friends matter, their children, their loss.
The bad people in this world, doing bad things, will continue. I can't stop it or change it. I really don't care. I'm cynical, bitter, never had much faith in this country and its people...or any, really. I see reality. I know too much. About what we are inside. What I am. I believe in freedom of choice, free will, following your heart and listening to your intuition. A lot of issues make me mad, and I could get mad, but why should I have to? Haven't I been through enough? Haven't I had to deal with the bad things enough? I don't want them anymore. I don't want that in my head or my heart. I don't want to know, because I'll never forget. I'm not running away or avoiding because I'm scared or lazy or ignorant. I'm keeping certain things out of my life now. I'm allowing myself a chance at peace. I think I've earned it. I'm not always good, but I do a lot of good. I'm there for everyone, even when they don't deserve me. I take their pain in, relive their memories, experience their experiences through words and emotions. Those who deserve it, have my heart. And I will do it at the sacrifice of myself. How can I not? I can love at my lowest, when I have nothing left for myself - I can love them. I find more, it comes. People don't understand how I feel, why I feel. I can't turn it off, I can't just think it away or stop thinking. I feel it, down to my bones, throughout my soul. I can love so deeply. And many are afraid of that intensity. They don't want me to love them. Who doesn't want to be loved? You don't have to love back to accept love. You can just be grateful, thankful that you matter. That someone's heart speaks your name with reverence. Is that too intense? It almost makes me want to laugh...because that's normal for me. And I don't know if I can ever be loved enough to fill the void. I need continuous reassurance and demonstrations. I run out of the immediate feeling and start to doubt and need to be replenished. My heart has a high metabolism? I hate that...need.
I don't know if explaining does the trick. I feel like my life is constantly explaining...why I'm this way, what led me to become like this, to feel like this. Why do I dwell on the past, why do I avoid certain situations, why don't I do things the way other people do, why am I so quiet, why do I stand by myself, why didn't I go out last night, why don't I just do it - just drive, just talk, just act right. Just change, fix it, stop thinking. Stop crying. How hard is it, to be like them? To take their advice, to see things their way? It's not ME. It's not me.
Sometimes I get so tired of fighting and smiling and pretending...staying quiet so they won't know how much I don't want them there...not today, not Every day. God, the stress, the noise, the anxiety makes me want to scream. Can't you understand that I need a break? Can't you see things through MY eyes? But, they don't...can't...won't. I'm invisible. No one can hear me...I speak and it's like I'm saying nothing. They talk...that's all that matters. She doesn't listen. No one remembers. And then I'm the crazy one, I'm wrong...because I do. I remember. I don't want to. Not everything. No one knows all of me. Does anyone deserve to? Is there anyone who wouldn't betray me or belittle me or make me feel small and stupid? Why didn't you tell, why didn't you change it, why didn't you stand up for yourself? I was a kid...I was small. But not stupid. I know better than to say what I feel. I know what happens when you do. I know that I have to take care of myself. Fight for myself. Heal myself. "Don't let them in, don't let them see. Be the good girl you always have to be..."
I have friends now. Good friends that I confide in. Who let me speak and listen to me. Don't tell me I'm wrong or strange. Trust me to know what's best for myself. People who go out of their way to make me happy. The way I do for others. Who love me and accept me and don't abandon me when I'm at my worst. It's so easy to walk away. Except for me...I'm the opposite...I hold on for too long. If they only knew. My heart is...large. I love too much. But I have to live with it. I have to live?
I still don't know how the world still revolves without her in it, my Lazy. I don't know why I'm alive to see it. Why I dream. Why am I still here when they're not? I used to ask that question a lot after my aunt died, when I'd cry in the bathroom at work. I felt like a colossal idiot failure and I knew she could do a much better job with my life. I just hope now, she's somewhat proud of me for opening my mind to certain things she wanted for me, that we talked about. Hey, I asked 2 different guys out in the past 5 years - that's monumental (and terrifying) - she'd cheer for me on that, anyway. Even if it ended in disaster and heartbreak, as usual. But I did it. Little shy Nikki. You don't know my strength. Being unmarried with no kids of my own, taking care of other people's kids and living back at home...not a cause for celebration. But she'd understand. Maybe the only one who would. It's hard, watching, smiling.Time moves on, life moves on, but yours doesn't. You get more and more afraid that you'll never be able to have the life you need in your heart. I'm 36. My biological clock started ticking with ruthless urgency at 22. And it hasn't stopped...do you get that? I feel it every day, all of these years, a physical pain when I see a child. A need that makes me ache and want to cry. It's a longing. It's real. And I have to watch you and just smile. It's hard. It's painful. It's my life. I take it. No one notices, really, and if I talk about it, they just say I'm jealous. So, just close my eyes, block my heart and deal. it. But 22 years old...that's when I got hips for the first time. And I'm able to gain weight now, in my 30s. Childbearing preparations? Or just a big joke? Because the other health issues didn't disappear. Eased up, but didn't stay away forever...back again now. I love pain. (No, I do not.) I don't care what the media says or not being included in the "mommy club" or people assuming I have no clue about children or life or whatever (I can prove them wrong, don't worry). I do care about how I feel and what I want. What my soul needs. I know what's best for me, I know how to be patient, I know how to put my pride aside and do what's best for another. I do it every day. No one has to tell me. So stop telling me...like you know me at all. Any of you. Everyone. Just stop. Listen. Try to see it through my eyes. I've said it enough times...
I miss them. My grandparents. My aunts and uncles. My friends. My dog and hamsters. And all the rest. There's so much I can say. But it won't take the pain away. It won't change anything. The past, the future. It comes and goes and we can't stop it.
I don't write this for anyone but myself. To get it out. Too much inside is poison. I'm glad some people identify with it and understand the complicated parts of me. I'm glad we can talk about it and comfort each other. I have no use anymore for anyone who wants to challenge me or put me down. I just don't care about them. I don't have anything in my heart for them. Forgive/love/pray for your enemies? No. They don't deserve it and I'd rather spend my time and love on the people who need it, the people who give my life meaning. I've let too many people have too many chances and gave and gave and gave, and put up with horrible abuse and toxic friends. Because I loved them and it was what I deserved. No more. I have no use for them. Maybe it's mean, but I don't want them in my life in any way. I don't care. I don't care. I'm not the person I was before, sorry. I've been through the fire, I've been through the worst of it, more than I could handle, I've been broken and put back together. Some pieces are missing, I'll never be whole. How can I? They're gone. But all I can do now is try to have some good in my life and enjoy what I can while it's here. Nothing lasts forever...
I know this.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
A new me...stuck inside the old me
Things are better. A lot better. I feel...appreciated, wanted, cherished. Everything I prayed for, everything I needed, everything I (finally) realized that I deserved...I found it. Or, he found me. It hasn't been long but it's made a difference.
And yet, I can't get past the worries and fears and doubts. That it will happen again...that this will end the way everything does. I've lost so many people in my life, in a few short years. I've been beaten down and broken. I've loved...and lost everything. My heart has been empty, my soul destroyed. And even the little things, the crushes and try-agains, the faith in someone else, the belief in myself - that I'm good enough...it hasn't ever been true. I've been proven wrong every time. Until it becomes "right". The last time...I was proven right, that I wasn't enough, I couldn't win. You won.
Now I want to be proven wrong - that I can have this, that I'm allowed. That fate (or whoever) won't sabotage it. That I won't destroy it. That he'll look past my flaws and issues and want me anyway. No one has. Not for very long. I wonder every day, is this the last day? Will it just suddenly stop...without a word? Or with all the bad ones? Will he lose interest or think I'm a lost cause? Will I say the wrong thing...or too many of the right ones? Will I see something I don't want to see? I've been through it all. I'm still wounded, still broken, but healing. Coming back to ME. The question is, do I know who that is? Who I am really.
Maybe it doesn't matter. I'm always changing, reinventing myself, updating, adapting. I'm a chameleon girl. But I'm hoping I didn't build another clumsy card house. Blue October references. They help. Music is life-saving, therapeutic.
I don't know what to do. I'm not good at this. I'm afraid and insecure. I want to hold on tightly...but I want to run away. Which is easier? Which will be best for my heart? I don't like to give up. Or more accurately, I'm incapable of it, most times. But it's also very hard to let go, even when I need to. I'm not letting go yet. I'm just hitting my stride. And hoping, hoping. That I won't lose this time. That it will be my choice and it won't be taken away from me. I'm praying for the best. And maybe some healing.
I'm not good at it. But I'm trying.
Try with me, please?
And yet, I can't get past the worries and fears and doubts. That it will happen again...that this will end the way everything does. I've lost so many people in my life, in a few short years. I've been beaten down and broken. I've loved...and lost everything. My heart has been empty, my soul destroyed. And even the little things, the crushes and try-agains, the faith in someone else, the belief in myself - that I'm good enough...it hasn't ever been true. I've been proven wrong every time. Until it becomes "right". The last time...I was proven right, that I wasn't enough, I couldn't win. You won.
Now I want to be proven wrong - that I can have this, that I'm allowed. That fate (or whoever) won't sabotage it. That I won't destroy it. That he'll look past my flaws and issues and want me anyway. No one has. Not for very long. I wonder every day, is this the last day? Will it just suddenly stop...without a word? Or with all the bad ones? Will he lose interest or think I'm a lost cause? Will I say the wrong thing...or too many of the right ones? Will I see something I don't want to see? I've been through it all. I'm still wounded, still broken, but healing. Coming back to ME. The question is, do I know who that is? Who I am really.
Maybe it doesn't matter. I'm always changing, reinventing myself, updating, adapting. I'm a chameleon girl. But I'm hoping I didn't build another clumsy card house. Blue October references. They help. Music is life-saving, therapeutic.
I don't know what to do. I'm not good at this. I'm afraid and insecure. I want to hold on tightly...but I want to run away. Which is easier? Which will be best for my heart? I don't like to give up. Or more accurately, I'm incapable of it, most times. But it's also very hard to let go, even when I need to. I'm not letting go yet. I'm just hitting my stride. And hoping, hoping. That I won't lose this time. That it will be my choice and it won't be taken away from me. I'm praying for the best. And maybe some healing.
I'm not good at it. But I'm trying.
Try with me, please?
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