Saturday, July 19, 2014

I don't know how to be happy





I honestly don't know how how to let myself be happy.  For years I've been waited for the bottom to fall out and it always did without fail. 

Today I keep waiting and waiting for the same thing and it really hasn't, although there have been many times it sure felt like it.  Thus proving my point that the bottom is always going to fall out and life will always be a miserable struggle.

It was then that I realized that I didn't know how to be happy.  That I don't know how to let myself be happy. 

And it isn't just about being happy, it is probably more about acknowledging my existence.  Something that was never given to me as my birth right.  I was stripped of from the beginning.  So not only have I spent a lifetime trying to find a reason to exist, but being able to accept it as well.

It has not been an easy road.  It is hard for me to smile at someone just in passing, whether I know them or not.  This simple gesture of  being seen when I've been so invisible for so long. 

It is so hard to believe I am alive and that I am alright. 

And then there is always the case of "too much happiness" and we all know where that leads when you are bipolar.  MANIA!  And I have a healthy fear of them, so I tend to dumb down my happiness or excitement about life.  Don't want to go flying off the handle and shooting for the moon! 

I'm sure this fear plays a big part.  I don't want to go where I was practically off meds and climbing the ceiling.

Have I robbed myself the sheer joy of living and feeling good because of my fear of going into a
mania?  Which I can't really do because I'm on meds that control it.  So what am I so scared of?  Oh yeah, that right, that the worst is going to happen.  And we've circled around back to the start of it.

When I didn't think it could get any worse during my childhood abuse, it did.  And when I didn't think it
could get worse than even that, it did.  It's been a constant pattern.  I have fear everything that there is to fear and then some.  And a lot of it did happen.

And I wonder why it is so hard to get out of.  To just be able to let go.  Live in the Moment and for once forget the bad.  I have been able to do it before.  Now I'd like to find a way to hold on to the happiness.  And really hang on to who I am and be proud of me.  That is my dream.  To be who I really am, as much of the time as possible.

 I would like to be free. 

Saturday, July 5, 2014

Resting camp

I'm in the quiet wave of grieving.  I had my emotional gut wrenching sobs earlier today and at the moment I am quiet.  I lost two people in my life and two dogs (not my own) and along with my own personal grief comes up of the lies that are apart of my truth in my head.  I am trying desperately to separate them and it is so difficult.  It is like splitting the head and tails of a coin.  The lies are that tight.  It is interfering with my painting project and I am struggling to stay afloat.  I am having to fight all my demons at once trying to stay out of my own self-negativity.  I fell apart yesterday, pulled together, then sobbed all the way home.  This after another direct reminder of the two people and two dogs that died.

It was all too much.

Once I cried today and that fountain of grief rushed forth, I was OK.  I don't feel like doing anything and nothing is pressing.  I'm trying to be calm with myself and take it easy.  I don't want to fall down the slippery slope of depression, so I'm taking things slow today.



It's the painting that I can't let go of.  It's those lies that tell me I can't, I won't, and that I'm way out of my league.  Who am I kidding?  The biggest of those lies is I can't do it.  And that is one mountain I am trying to vault.  Which I obviously can't do either.  Mountains have to be climbed.  Then you rest for a while and adjust to the lack of oxygen.  With close calls and hanging on and trudging when you don't want to.  Listening to your body and pushing it to the limit.  Testing yourself while taking care of yourself.  It is the only way to get to the top.  You can't turn around to get there.

So I'm at my "resting camp" with the painting and my "mountain."  Time to regroup and reorder.  Getting back to the basics of taking care of myself.  I still don't know how I am going to move forward.  So I have to learn how to let go of it for now.  I'm just too close right now to see clearly.  But I don't want to bolt from it either, which is my fear and gut reaction to everything.  Run, run, run.  And never take another chance at anything again.

So I'm going to take care of me today and for the next few days.  Naps, food, gardening, time with dogs and cats.  And let the wind wipe my tears.       

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

Cleansed

It never ceases to amaze me, how I can be so high up and happy.  Feeling the rhythm of life and being a part of it as well.  I'm starting a painting project, as in painting a picture and everything is falling into place.  I blast Nine Inch Nails all the way home and when I get here all I can think if the sky was too blue.  Way too blue.  And it's like having a crushing ball land in my lap.  The sky is too blue.  The sky is too blue. BLUE!  BLUE!  BLUE!  It's too fucking BLUE!  And suddenly everything they taught me to be is infesting me.  Making me ill.  And I try to run away and shake off the bugs, but they won't leave me alone.  And I watch my favorite Bible study and take an anti-anxiety pill.  I calm, but I still can't shake it.  I can't get rid of all the slime and filth they scrubbed into my soul trying so hard to destroy it.  A walk with the dogs and a friend and I STILL can not shake the feeling of vomit all over me.  

Some might say I'm being mellow dramatic...am I?  Because really it is just a blue sky, that needs to be toned down.  But the only reason I found that peace was writing how I feel above.  

Name it.  Claim it.  Dump it.  

I should have come here first.
  
My little home away from home.


 
  I feel cleansed. 

Monday, June 23, 2014

Truth Protection

So I'm just going to say it...I live in fear of my abusers reading my blogs.  It makes me not want to write anymore.  This used to be my own little piece of life here and I keep letting it be tainted by them.  And I'm sick of it.  They have controlled me for too many years and I let them control me in my head.  It's stupid.  For all these years I have worked and worked to heal from the traumatic things they have done to me and I have come further than I thought possible.  But this, my blog, is my space and I'm tired of letting them rule my head.  They will get what is coming to them, I am sure of it.  I believe in God and karma, heaven and hell.  So I will let go and give that crap to God and let him take care of it.  I'm tired of letting them rent space in my head.  I've done it for too long.  And I'm taking back my blog.  No one will ever stop me from speaking the truth.  So let them go ahead and read it, because I'm going to keep on writing and talking and telling everyone what you did to me.  And you can't do a thing about it.  The secret's out and will always be out because I'll never stop telling my story and the evil people you really are.  You don't scare me anymore.  I am protected by the truth. 

Thursday, May 1, 2014

Life

I finally called my doctor and asked her to raise my anti-depressant, like we had spoken about at our last meeting.  Normally I would have waited until our appointment later this month to say something and continue suffering because I didn't want to bother her.  Or I didn't feel worth it.  Or it's not that bad, I can live with it for a while longer.  But I didn't. And this gives me a chance to see how it is working before I see her and whether to make changes or not.  So this is all a good thing. 

My husband and I are going through a real stressor in our lives and it has taken it's toll on each of us.  My depression really started kicking in when this stressor happened.  Hubby has also been moody and depressed and has been deeply effected by this life changing situation.  We are just starting to hit the tip of feeling better, but it has been slow going since last December when this all hit.  Thank God we have the dogs and each other!  I could never get through anything without him.  He like my rock and my best friend.  He understands what I've been through, even though he hasn't been through it.  Like my mental health and my childhood abuse.  He understands the why's.  He just struggles watching me struggle in pain.  If he could take it all on, he would, to spare me anymore suffering.  He's just like that.  And I love him for that and so many other reasons.  We each agree there is nothing better than marrying your best friend.  I am a very blessed woman to have found this man.  He has helped through more than any counselor or therapist could ever think of doing.  And I trust him, more than I ever trusted anyone in my life before.  That is my wish for others, to find someone you can really trust, because it makes all the difference in the world.

So until next time, Cheers! 

Thursday, April 10, 2014

And the Gloves Came On




A couple of days ago, I beat the crap out of myself, without catching any warning signs beforehand or really any knowledge I was doing it.  If felt like I had my head flatten to the ground and I couldn't get up for nothing.  I have always struggled with everyone being better than I.  In any way or fashion.  And when I read others blogs, it seems to reaffirm that punched up feeling.  That I'd-be-better-off-dead-feeling.  No energy.  No effort.  As the gavel pounds again and again on my head.  I am my own worst enemy.  Later, when I realized what I'd done, I didn't want this worthless feeling to carry on into the next day.  I decided to take action.

A found a love for boxing in my mid twenties.  I love the art and sport of it.  For a long time I didn't understand wanting to be beaten to a pulp, but it is the heart or the sport that caught me.  And has carried on to the present with my own punching bag and boxing gloves.  So instead of beating the inside of me to mulch, I took it outward with pumping music to release the anger that I was taking out on myself.  It worked.  I took what I needed and I left the rest.  And my day started off feeling empowered.  So much better than the last one.  Suddenly I had the mental energy and the physical stamina to do more that day than I could think one good thought on the bad one.  That was so much more work and more painful.  With the whether finally letting up, maybe next time I'll hit on the bag.

How different two days can be.  One set up to hurt myself and one to help heal.  Seems like a simple choice, but as we all know when it happens, it isn't easy to make the right one.

 

Monday, April 7, 2014

This is how I feel.

I read a post on Facebook that stated something close to this:

I've been stabbed so many times 
that when someone handed me a flower
It took some time to figure out what it was.

It just made complete and utter sense.  Someone finally got it and I wasn't alone and I understood.  And someone understood and knew what that felt like.  And that the damage that was done was so bad, that it took time to recognize what a flower was.  Like messing with your mind and senses.  This is how I feel.