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...
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
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?
Sunday, May 11, 2014
I'm not a mom...but I love like one
"I believe we can honor mothers without alienating others." (via Time Warp Wife blog: http://timewarpwife.com/?p=3120# )
It's just hitting me harder this year, sorry. Getting older, health issues, always on the outside looking in, taking care of everyone else and blocking the pain and thoughts. I wish my worth as a person was more than what I can give to everyone else, how I can help them move forward and heal, but right now, it's not. If it is, where's the proof? I am who I am. And I know my place, as much as I fight against it and pray for things to be different. I know. I don't want to take anything from anyone else or mess up anyone's happiness. I hold back on saying so much, for that reason. I'm the protector, the nurturer, the therapist, the healer. I give, I love. I just need some things for myself too. Not want, NEED. I'm incomplete. I just wish to keep one thing. I pray that I won't die this way. With an unfinished life, only for others. My heart hurts. Does anyone see?
I love the babies in my life. But they're not mine. And having a dog is similar to raising a child (my niece and my puppy act very much alike), but it doesn't make up for what is missing. The way one child can't replace another who was lost. It just doesn't.
It hurts my feelings (to the point of being offensive, sometimes) when friends say "this is for my "mommy friends only", or something "only a mother will understand". Do you mean only someone who has gone through labor? Do C-sections count, or only natural births? What about women whose only child died? Are they no longer mothers? What about those who are unable to carry their child, but get a surrogate? What about those who adopt or raise a family member's child as their own? Are single fathers included? What about those of us who have taken care of children most of our lives and do know the lessons/information/worries/fears/love that you only credit to your "mommy friends"? Are we less than you because we haven't felt that child growing inside of us or pushed it out for all to lay eyes upon it? Is that all a mother is? Is that all that counts? No matter how abusive or neglectful or just plain wrong a woman treats her child, is she better than others who haven't had a child? So, the fact that I was helping my parents take care of my baby brother and sister when I was SEVEN YEARS OLD and babysat for friends and family, fed them, changed diapers, wiped away tears, even drove them to school...you're saying I don't know what your post is about? I can't possibly relate? You didn't know anything about kids until you had your own, in your TWENTIES. I have experience and natural ability. I don't have to think how to love. I just do. But I mean nothing in this world of mothers.
Do you see why I hate it? Why I'm angry and hurt? The questions/statements/posts are never about the physical act of having a child - that I could admit to not knowing (although I understand)...but to say someone doesn't know what product to buy or what to do when they're teething unless they're a mother themselves is wrong. I'm a nanny - I take care of my niece for 8 1/2 hours a day, Monday through Friday, every week. Since she was 2 months old. I KNOW. Why don't people get that? How can they not know how insensitive it is? Those are questions. I have too many questions about too many things. And my heart is still busted, so not the best mood.
The blog link I posted above explains it all better than me anyway:
"Acknowledge the wide continuum of mothering.
To those who gave birth this year to their first child—we celebrate with you
To those who lost a child this year – we mourn with you
To those who are in the trenches with little ones every day and wear the badge of food stains – we appreciate you
To those who experienced loss through miscarriage, failed adoptions, or running away—we mourn with you
To those who walk the hard path of infertility, fraught with pokes, prods, tears, and disappointment – we walk with you.
Forgive us when we say foolish things. We don’t mean to make this harder than it is.
To those who are foster moms, mentor moms, and spiritual moms – we need you
To those who have warm and close relationships with your children – we celebrate with you
To those who have disappointment, heart ache, and distance with your children – we sit with you
To those who lost their mothers this year – we grieve with you
To those who experienced abuse at the hands of your own mother – we acknowledge your experience
To those who lived through driving tests, medical tests, and the overall testing of motherhood – we are better for having you in our midst
To those who are single and long to be married and mothering your own children – we mourn that life has not turned out the way you longed for it to be
To those who step-parent – we walk with you on these complex paths
To those who envisioned lavishing love on grandchildren - yet that dream is not to be, we grieve with you
To those who will have emptier nests in the upcoming year – we grieve and rejoice with you
To those who placed children up for adoption — we commend you for your selflessness and remember how you hold that child in your heart
And to those who are pregnant with new life, both expected and surprising – we anticipate with you
This Mother’s Day, we walk with you.
Mothering is not for the faint of heart and we have real warriors in our midst.
We remember you."
* * * * * *
Thank you, Mom.
Thank you Grandma, Grandmom, my aunts, Godmother, friends...thank you.
That's all that really matters today anyway, right? What they are/were...not what I am/am not.
It's just hitting me harder this year, sorry. Getting older, health issues, always on the outside looking in, taking care of everyone else and blocking the pain and thoughts. I wish my worth as a person was more than what I can give to everyone else, how I can help them move forward and heal, but right now, it's not. If it is, where's the proof? I am who I am. And I know my place, as much as I fight against it and pray for things to be different. I know. I don't want to take anything from anyone else or mess up anyone's happiness. I hold back on saying so much, for that reason. I'm the protector, the nurturer, the therapist, the healer. I give, I love. I just need some things for myself too. Not want, NEED. I'm incomplete. I just wish to keep one thing. I pray that I won't die this way. With an unfinished life, only for others. My heart hurts. Does anyone see?
I love the babies in my life. But they're not mine. And having a dog is similar to raising a child (my niece and my puppy act very much alike), but it doesn't make up for what is missing. The way one child can't replace another who was lost. It just doesn't.
It hurts my feelings (to the point of being offensive, sometimes) when friends say "this is for my "mommy friends only", or something "only a mother will understand". Do you mean only someone who has gone through labor? Do C-sections count, or only natural births? What about women whose only child died? Are they no longer mothers? What about those who are unable to carry their child, but get a surrogate? What about those who adopt or raise a family member's child as their own? Are single fathers included? What about those of us who have taken care of children most of our lives and do know the lessons/information/worries/fears/love that you only credit to your "mommy friends"? Are we less than you because we haven't felt that child growing inside of us or pushed it out for all to lay eyes upon it? Is that all a mother is? Is that all that counts? No matter how abusive or neglectful or just plain wrong a woman treats her child, is she better than others who haven't had a child? So, the fact that I was helping my parents take care of my baby brother and sister when I was SEVEN YEARS OLD and babysat for friends and family, fed them, changed diapers, wiped away tears, even drove them to school...you're saying I don't know what your post is about? I can't possibly relate? You didn't know anything about kids until you had your own, in your TWENTIES. I have experience and natural ability. I don't have to think how to love. I just do. But I mean nothing in this world of mothers.
Do you see why I hate it? Why I'm angry and hurt? The questions/statements/posts are never about the physical act of having a child - that I could admit to not knowing (although I understand)...but to say someone doesn't know what product to buy or what to do when they're teething unless they're a mother themselves is wrong. I'm a nanny - I take care of my niece for 8 1/2 hours a day, Monday through Friday, every week. Since she was 2 months old. I KNOW. Why don't people get that? How can they not know how insensitive it is? Those are questions. I have too many questions about too many things. And my heart is still busted, so not the best mood.
The blog link I posted above explains it all better than me anyway:
"Acknowledge the wide continuum of mothering.
To those who gave birth this year to their first child—we celebrate with you
To those who lost a child this year – we mourn with you
To those who are in the trenches with little ones every day and wear the badge of food stains – we appreciate you
To those who experienced loss through miscarriage, failed adoptions, or running away—we mourn with you
To those who walk the hard path of infertility, fraught with pokes, prods, tears, and disappointment – we walk with you.
Forgive us when we say foolish things. We don’t mean to make this harder than it is.
To those who are foster moms, mentor moms, and spiritual moms – we need you
To those who have warm and close relationships with your children – we celebrate with you
To those who have disappointment, heart ache, and distance with your children – we sit with you
To those who lost their mothers this year – we grieve with you
To those who experienced abuse at the hands of your own mother – we acknowledge your experience
To those who lived through driving tests, medical tests, and the overall testing of motherhood – we are better for having you in our midst
To those who are single and long to be married and mothering your own children – we mourn that life has not turned out the way you longed for it to be
To those who step-parent – we walk with you on these complex paths
To those who envisioned lavishing love on grandchildren - yet that dream is not to be, we grieve with you
To those who will have emptier nests in the upcoming year – we grieve and rejoice with you
To those who placed children up for adoption — we commend you for your selflessness and remember how you hold that child in your heart
And to those who are pregnant with new life, both expected and surprising – we anticipate with you
This Mother’s Day, we walk with you.
Mothering is not for the faint of heart and we have real warriors in our midst.
We remember you."
* * * * * *
Thank you, Mom.
Thank you Grandma, Grandmom, my aunts, Godmother, friends...thank you.
That's all that really matters today anyway, right? What they are/were...not what I am/am not.
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Rainbows/Lost and Found
I'm lost. And I'm found. I am. And I'm not.
I'm in that inbetween place.
I want to speak in poetic rhymes.
I want to leave my mind behind.
And fix my heart.
I stand strong, when I'm at my weakest. I smile, when I want to cry. I hold on, when everyone else is letting go. I love...even when he can't see me.
I need many things. I want many things. I need the people I wrote to, to write me back. I need the interaction, the connection, some comfort. But they have their own lives. I get too far embedded in other people's lives. I'm there too much. Because now I'm empty. And how do I ask them to step away from their lives to enter mine? To be with me? Like I'm entitled to that? Maybe I am. They love me. Care about me. But do they need me?
I'm hurting. This is my place right now. Where I exist. Whatever the reason. Whatever I choose to do about it, this is how I feel right now.
"I loved you on purpose.
I was open on purpose."
(from 'For Colored Girls')
I always give my all, when I believe. Maybe that was my mistake, believing. But I wasn't the only one. I lost, again. He broke my heart...and he doesn't even know. There are reasons why I don't tell. There are reasons why I chose to let go and move on. Not for him, not to give something to him. But for me.
I gave. I was there. I was there.
"My love is too beautiful to have thrown back on my face."
I'm better than this. I'm miles ahead. I'm not inadequate. I didn't fail. I didn't destroy it. I was good. I did so well. It just didn't happen. But I know my worth now. All those who walked away lost me. They messed up. I would have been good for them. I know it. Good to them.
You can't do better than me.
But I can do better than you.
I can't wait for that. For things to work itself out. For help to come. I can't count on anyone. I wish I could. But wishes...
No one will be there to save me. I have to save myself. But how do you save yourself when you no longer have the strength?
"And this is for Colored girls who have considered suicide, but are moving to the ends of their own rainbows."
These are the kind of days when it's unbearable to be here. In this house, in this city. I can't get out. There's so much I have to do before I can get out. Before I can be me again. I'm doing my best. One day at a time. Hiding away, staying silent to save myself. I did once. I can't promise I can do it again. But every ounce of me is willing to try.
I feel...hopeless. But hope doesn't want to leave. Is my destiny my own? Or is it all mapped out? Who controls it? God protects me. He helps me and comforts me. Sends people to me. And takes them away? Does He allow the situations that break me down? Or is His only concern with bringing me back up? A lot of it is human nature, I believe. Freedom of choice. We choose what path we walk down, we choose how we treat others, what we push away and what we hold onto. Choices. Our heart, our head. But that's how I see the world.
I'm doing my best. I'm grateful for the things I have and I'm proud of myself for doing good for others.
I don't know what the future holds. Or how much of a future I have left. No one really does. And you can't say I haven't tried hard or conquered my fears. I've done a lot. Been through my share of bad times. I can say, "I've been through worse" or "I've been called worse." And it would be true. People assume, but they don't know. And I will say a lot if pushed.
Writing makes me feel better. It's therapy. And music too. The best kind.
But life is complicated. Sometimes what heals you has the power to hurt you. And so, you survive.
I'm in that inbetween place.
I want to speak in poetic rhymes.
I want to leave my mind behind.
And fix my heart.
I stand strong, when I'm at my weakest. I smile, when I want to cry. I hold on, when everyone else is letting go. I love...even when he can't see me.
I need many things. I want many things. I need the people I wrote to, to write me back. I need the interaction, the connection, some comfort. But they have their own lives. I get too far embedded in other people's lives. I'm there too much. Because now I'm empty. And how do I ask them to step away from their lives to enter mine? To be with me? Like I'm entitled to that? Maybe I am. They love me. Care about me. But do they need me?
I'm hurting. This is my place right now. Where I exist. Whatever the reason. Whatever I choose to do about it, this is how I feel right now.
"I loved you on purpose.
I was open on purpose."
(from 'For Colored Girls')
I always give my all, when I believe. Maybe that was my mistake, believing. But I wasn't the only one. I lost, again. He broke my heart...and he doesn't even know. There are reasons why I don't tell. There are reasons why I chose to let go and move on. Not for him, not to give something to him. But for me.
I gave. I was there. I was there.
"My love is too beautiful to have thrown back on my face."
I'm better than this. I'm miles ahead. I'm not inadequate. I didn't fail. I didn't destroy it. I was good. I did so well. It just didn't happen. But I know my worth now. All those who walked away lost me. They messed up. I would have been good for them. I know it. Good to them.
You can't do better than me.
But I can do better than you.
I can't wait for that. For things to work itself out. For help to come. I can't count on anyone. I wish I could. But wishes...
No one will be there to save me. I have to save myself. But how do you save yourself when you no longer have the strength?
"And this is for Colored girls who have considered suicide, but are moving to the ends of their own rainbows."
These are the kind of days when it's unbearable to be here. In this house, in this city. I can't get out. There's so much I have to do before I can get out. Before I can be me again. I'm doing my best. One day at a time. Hiding away, staying silent to save myself. I did once. I can't promise I can do it again. But every ounce of me is willing to try.
I feel...hopeless. But hope doesn't want to leave. Is my destiny my own? Or is it all mapped out? Who controls it? God protects me. He helps me and comforts me. Sends people to me. And takes them away? Does He allow the situations that break me down? Or is His only concern with bringing me back up? A lot of it is human nature, I believe. Freedom of choice. We choose what path we walk down, we choose how we treat others, what we push away and what we hold onto. Choices. Our heart, our head. But that's how I see the world.
I'm doing my best. I'm grateful for the things I have and I'm proud of myself for doing good for others.
I don't know what the future holds. Or how much of a future I have left. No one really does. And you can't say I haven't tried hard or conquered my fears. I've done a lot. Been through my share of bad times. I can say, "I've been through worse" or "I've been called worse." And it would be true. People assume, but they don't know. And I will say a lot if pushed.
Writing makes me feel better. It's therapy. And music too. The best kind.
But life is complicated. Sometimes what heals you has the power to hurt you. And so, you survive.
Tuesday, March 18, 2014
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