Doubt your doubts....

Ugliness and Trust

Ugly. This post very well may be ugly. I don't know wht it will look like. What I know is every single ounce of my inside and out feel incredible ugly.   There may not be much holding back when it comes to what I have to say. And if you are reading this post and you know me, know what has happened, know the udder despair and UGLY FUCKING mess life has been AND you are offended by what I have to say....don't say I didn't warn you. And please be my guest and don't let the door hit you in the ass on way out. 

Here goes....

First and foremost I owe so much thanks to one specific person. She knows who she is. She knows and has seen first hand the pure ugliness. She continues to love me. Regardless of how much I've told her to shut up. Regardless of how many times I've tried to push her away. She's held me up literally and figuratively over the last month and more importantly over the last 6 days... and for that I owe so much more than I could ever give.    

In my religion our clergy are called to serve by the area leaders. Bishops generally serve around 5 yrs. And 2 weeks ago we got a new bishop in our ward. He just so happens to be the dad of my dd so called 'boyfriend'. They are not 16 and thus not permitted to technically date. Whatever...they are both decent kids, she follows house rules and I'm lax enough of a parent to let it be.  Anyway. It has taken about 18 months for me to open up enough with my last bishop to let him know some of the deeper and darker things I struggle with. To be able to allow him into my world just enough to know i am struggling and need help. 

And then we get a new bishop. It was a devastating blow. One that I could have looked over and with time been able to gain an ounce of trust like I did with previous bishop. 

That isn't how things turned out. He new basics from previous bishop but nothing in detail and that there were issues I am struggling with.   

Three days after our bishop was called and sustained in sacrament he received a text from my husband. It was personal. It came with it a ton of pain and frustration. We NEED(ed) his help and support moving forward. 

We met with him for two hours in his home. He asked very personal and detailed questions about my mental health, trauma, and life in general. Every ounce of my being screamed 'NO' you can't tell him, you don't know him, you don't trust him, don't tell him!!  And I did it anyway. I needed his support and help. Come hell or high water I knew I needed to give him the answers he was looking for.   Damnit I did. What transpired after meeting him needed to be cleaned up. And with the help of a loved one was able to try and clean up the pieces where possible. 

The ounce of trust I made myself give him...went out the window over the next week. With it he took not only the trust I had in him but the trust I had with my therapist by demanding to speak to her. I took my husband with me to an appt with my therapist before leaving for Utah last Tuesday. I wasn't in 'crisis-mode' when I saw her. I was headed out several hours later to spend the rest of the week with house full of other moms. I was headed out to spend the night with one of my best friends. I was holding my head up and keeping every ounce of the ugliness contained. Which is often what she sees. I took my husband with me to that appointment for the first time. I opened up a personal and private space by letting him in...trusted that in the end it would be helpful. Not hurtful. As mentioned I agreed to allow my therapist permission to speak with my bishop. In hopes it would be helpful not hurtful.  That release will be revoked as soon as I am able to do so. It wasn't helpful. It did more damage than good. The ugliness transpired ten times stronger. And left me even more vulnerable than I was before. 

I'm pissed. I'm more than pissed. I'm angry. Angry at so many people right now.  And the one thing that makes me the angriest is that no one will listen to me. That the people with the fucking pieces of paper and fancy degrees (and yes that includes my bishop bc when he isn't a bishop he works in medical field). Think that they know wht is best for me. They think I'm fixated on one thing and one thing only. They believe that they can play my husband against me by telling him they know what is best for me. I know me.  

Things have changed. I am not better. I'm angry. And I'm hurt.  I don't know if theses two relationships will ever be able to be repaired. 

Being able to verbalize to anyone...that I'm struggling with suicidal ideation on the level I am will probably not happen anytime soon. Being able to admit that self harm impulses are an issue..same thing. I don't trust that there will be any level of support and help.  I know I need to continue in therapy. However at the moment I can't even fathom walking back into her office. My husband insists that it is ok and he will go with. Which is bull crap. That space changed the minute I signed the release for her to speak to my bishop. He insisted on speaking to her. Ass backwards if I ever saw it. He KNEW when he asked for that permission he wasn't able to provide the level of support needed. And yet he did it anyway. 

I don't need to go to church. I can read my scriptures and say my prayers without going. I've been hurt by one to many bishops in the past. I totally get and understand that if what was asked of my bishop wasn't an option it would be ok. He should have told me that from the beginning. Telling me what he did is where the knife is cutting deep. And another example why it isn't safe to trust others. 

He knew before he drilled me over and over. I firmly believe he knew he wouldn't be able to offer support. And yet I heard the 'Help me understand ...'

When someone who is trying to understand and you are giving them personal info says to you 'I stay outbid the psychiatric unit at all cost. That way when a need arises I can say I don't have the experience to work in that department'...when you are told this by anyone..and you struggle with any level of depression or mental illness --- run fast!  Very fast the other direction. Itbin your clue and was mine that said person has no knowledge OR is as ignorant as the day is long about mental illness. 

I'm running the opposite direction alright!

Alone

This picture has came across my pinterest feed before.  I've probably even shared on this blog or my FB blog page before.  I frankly don't remember.

What I know is this:  this picture describes exactly what I'm thinking and feeling.

I've laid on my couch the last 2 hours in silence.  Staring aimlessly at a computer screen with nothing but mumbled up words, playing candy crush until I run out of lives, gasps of air in between the tears, pretty much sums it up where I'm at right now.

No words.

I posted this a few months ago. And for a variety of reasons took it down. This morning my head and heart are weary. 

Struggling with some pretty deep shit.   No words this morning. Just tears. Lots of tears. 

This post came to my mind. And so today I will repost it again. 

--------

Not sure where to begin.  My head is reeling on this one.  It has been for sometime.  A few months ago, during one of my therapy appointments my therapist said something that I took as a somewhat flippant comment.  I didn't answer her. And if I did...most likely was a flippant answer back.  Wasn't the first time I've been asked and most likely will not be the last.

Taken straight from an email that I received today....

"If you are indeed choosing to stay where you are, what is the payoff?  What are you getting out of it?  There has to be one or you wouldn't keep doing it (referring to sabotage).  Is there some underlying twisted payoff or is there something else driving the cycle."

This friend has asked me this before. I've avoided her question, answered it flippantly.  Been rather distant and not really ready (or wanting) to really dig deep at the answers.  Just like my previous post discussing the fear of "not liking who I will find on the other side"....this particular question is just as tough. It is more than tough.  It is debilitating. It is a I can't stay present long enough to really think about it, dig deep inside, and untangle the mess debilitating.

I've mentioned before that depression and mental illness took on an entirely new role in my life after the birth of my youngest child 10 years ago.  And then 2 years later after having gastric bypass it took on another new level.  And then at the same time I had an emergency hysterectomy and we disrupted our adoption w/our son.  Many life changes that were huge.  REALLY HUGE with in a 24-28 month time span. 

For a long time I thought I would pull out of it.  That eventually things would get better.  And they did.  For a time.  For a season.  And then just like the trees change colors every fall...so did depression/mental illness.  Each year, each season, never fully getting back to 'what it once was..'

I have fought with depression since I was a teen in high school.  I used to think that everyone felt this way and it was normal.  It became my way of life.  When I got married the seasons changed and took on another new

level.

What I'm about to say feels and sounds incredible crazy.  Because it is crazy.  I am crazy. I know it. I own it.  It is what it is.  Crazy or not.  It may or may not be the answers that I'm trying to untangle.  It is however, the way I'm able to process it right now. 

This is normal and in a very twisted way comfortable.  Take away the fact I don't like feeling depressed, suicidal, and all around like shit...it has become who I am. On most days I don't want to push myself.  Yet I do.  I don't want to reach out to anyone. I want to sleep the day away with minimal energy and retreat into my little hole.  I have reached out to people from time to time and end up pushing them away.  When I have reached out, it takes a ton of energy.  And energy that I often don't have.  Ultimately, it takes on a huge risk. I've been burned before by taking risks.  I've been hurt beyond what I can even admit by taking those risks.  I beat myself up for feeling sorry for myself, for digging the hole a little bit deeper and deeper as the days, weeks, and months turned into years.  I got myself here.  Now dammit I can get myself out.

And not by taking risks of opening up to people.

And then I get upset at myself for trusting to deep.

And then when those closest to me attempt to reach out, to help, to put themselves out there regardless of how freaking hard it may for them....I pull back more.

And beat myself up for trusting to deep.

I hang on to that 3-4-5 year old little girl thinking that I don't deserve to feel my Father in Heaven's warmth and love.

I hang on to that 3-4-5 year old little girl thinking that I don't deserve to feel the warmth and happiness that my family and friends can provide.

because I'm bad...

Before anyone goes and tells me that this is untrue and crazy.  I know that. I'm an adult.  The adult in me knows it is not true.  The adult in me knows that it is the inner child voice screaming out and playing a roll in my life every single day.  Even though, I want to change and feel good about myself.....I fear I will disappoint people.  With disappoint comes the pain.  If I stay in the pain of depression I won't have to feel good and then turn around and feel bad again and again..

The ups and downs downs are so incredible painful that I believe strongly if I stay in the down at least it will be a consistent...what I know feeling.  I've said many times before how much I love roller coasters.  I hate the roller coaster ride of feelings.

As I've wrote this it sounds so damn crazy and bizarre.  I've deleted it a few times.  It comes down to that feeling I don't deserve to be happy.  I sure as hell can't make anyone else happy.  It as if feeling good, happy, in anokay place is wrong.  The need to punish myself kicks in way before anyone else can do it for me. 

I wish like hell I could say I'm in a better place.  I'm not.  I know I need to accept that as a human being, adult, mother, and wife...it is okay to have an array of feelings.  I need to accept that I'm not intrinsically bad.  I am not a sociopath.  I have the capacity to love others AND myself. 

I will continue untangle slowly. 

I will continue to untangle the incorrect beliefs that I learned from a very young age.

I will continue to untangle slowly...and it will continue to be messy.

What are they saying....

A few nights ago, I tried out Google Hang Out with one of my dear friends who lives in Utah.  We've skyped on our phones and my ipad.  There is usually a feedback or some sort that is annoying as ever.  And so we tried Google + Hangout....or...whatever it is called.

There are good and bad things about using Skype/Google Hang Out or any sort video chat.

My friend could tell I was really struggling.  Struggling with the thoughts that were running ramped in my head.  Trying to have a conversation, talk about whatever struck our fancy, and some more serious things.  She is the level headed, thinking things clearly, and gives sound but sometimes hard to hear harsh advice.  And I'm more the fly by the seat of my pants whatever I'm on a whim kind of person and say what I think as it comes to my head.

This night however, I wasn't able to say what I was thinking.  I was silenced by the thoughts that were running rampid.  She took a screen shot picture of me.  I think she knows it pissed me off.  The next morning, when I was thinking a bit more clearly, the screen still up on my computer from our video chat on Google...I saw that picture.  And it struck me as harsh.  Holy freaking hell it was harsh.

Then later in the day I read this post by Jen Daisybee.  I was struck by how very similiar the things that go in out of of my thoughts were the same on some cellular level.

I sat on my couch and thought....if only I could have relayed that back to D last night as we were chatting.  Or to my therapist yesterday as she tried reminding me to not shut down and remember her office was a safe place.

And then I re-hashed that appointment over and over in my head.  WHY can't I share.  WHY is it that I let these things have so much power over me.  WHY?  Why is is so damn hard to put words to the self harm.  WHY?

I hear D's voice.  "What are they saying?"

They were/are saying I can't trust anyone.
They were/are saying everyone is lying to me.
They were/are saying my family deserves better.  And you/I am not it.
They were/are saying my children deserve a better mother.  And you/I am not it.
They were/are saying if you just push a little bit harder on that scar on your forehead you will inadvertantly check out/pass out and be able to numb all this out.
They were/are saying if you continue to take scalding hot showers you can numb everything out for that time being.  Enough you can fall asleep.
They were/are saying don't take that shower bc if you do then you will feel safe enough to fall asleep.  Sleeping is not okay. You need to stay up.
They were/are saying your husband is tired of seeing you like this and going to find someone/where else to meet his needs...emotionally, physically, sexually, you name it...he will find it.  And you/I will continue to be here.  Alone.
They were/are saying this is as good as it gets.  Always.
They were/are saying my therapist is full of shit.  She believes I'm fine.  She doesn't believe I'm fine. She is just a waste of my/your time.
They were/are saying you had a job you loved and you have screwed it up by hurting yourself.
They were/are saying you can't change.  You can't get past this. You deserve every ounce of everything that comes your way.
They were/are saying the only way to end the insanity and the pain is to give up and let mental illness win.  Resign to it.

And it goes on and on.  I could sit here for hours.  And get into the more intimate and details.  I could go on about the abuse.  About what a fucktard Randy was or was he?  I could go on about all the things that keep me up at night.

These things.  They are what the thoughts are saying.

~Doesn't get better....just different~

Words can't describe where my head and heart are right now. 

This picture kind of does a little bit. 

I don't think I have the ability to trust and believe that it will get better.....

Just different.  It just gets different!!!!

My heart is hurting in manner much different than I imagined it would. 

Grieving the life I once had. 

Grieving the dreams and inspirations for my family. 

Grieving there is a light at the end when in fact I've lost hope that light will be bright again. 

~My only Hope is in Him~

"And now, Lord, what do I wait for and expect? My hope and expectation are in You." Psalm 39:7

Not many days go by where I am not reminded constantly that the path in life I am walking down is not a walk in the park. Many, okay most, days are excruciatingly rough emotionally.  There are things I dearly love about my current situation. Then there are the things that I absolutely despise with every fiber of my being. 

These things are the ones that haunt me in the wee hours of the morning. They take away precious and much needed rest.  They continue to rob me of the very things that mean so much. 

"When the righteous cry for help, The Lord hears and delivers their troubles. The Lord is near to the broken hearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the righteous, but The Lord delivers him out of them all. He keeps all his bones; not one of them is broken."  Psalm 34:17-20

I struggle a great deal with prayer. It is one of the hardest parts about being a Christian. I've prayed about many things for long period of time.  Yet don't receive the answers that I'm looking for.  Currently, I'm not looking for answers. Instead I've laid it at His feet and pleaded for relief.  Relief from what is robbing my family, my friends, and ultimately myself.  This hurts so incredible much. It has, and is, breaking my faith to the utmost end. 

I know deep down in my heart that pleading with the Lord about something so personal, that the answers lay with my Heavenly Father.  He is the only one who can see the bigger picture.  Trusting in this is just as painful and the struggle on some days.  Some days....would be today.

Day in and day out I've struggled with the current battle to regain my life, rise above mental illness, and come out on the other side whole and in one piece. It sucks. There is no way around it. Dear heaven I can't tell you how horrific and troublesome it is for me to continue fighting my way out of hell. Only to have the rocks fall back down on top of me making it even harder to pull myself out of this pit. 

 I'm trying like hell to hold my head up.  I'm fighting my way out of hell to Praise him in this Storm.  I am feeling defeated.  I am seeking out some sort of meaning in all of this.  I have found nothing. I know that Jesus found hope through suffering, so that his children could do the same.  I don't have any answers.

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28-30  
My entire life is not engulfed in suffering and a pit of pain.  It really isn't.  I have so much to be thankful for.  This burden has taken ahold of my life, stuck a stick through my heart, and taken me down to my very core.  It has and continues to hinder my everyday functioning.  I know it doesn't have to be that way.

It doesn't have to be this way. I know it doesn't.  And so, I continue to find hope where all seems hopeless.  I continue to seek healing, where there appears to be none.  I continue to lay my burdens and pain at His feet.  Trusting that relief will be found as I lay these burdens before Him.

TMS Update ~ Mental Illness Sucks

I've ended TMS Therapy.  I finished 2 weeks ago with 61 treatments.  Not the suggested and usual 25-35 treatments.

61 Treatments. (update: the report I received today said 48 treatments.  I'm pretty sure it was 61.  I counted 61 day on my calendar.  And that was what the therapist said on the last day.)

I lost track on how many of those treatments were dual for anxiety and depression.  AKA: Both sides.

Nearly 11 weeks of going every single day.  There were a few weeks of 4 days.  And when tapering began it was over the course of 3-4 weeks.  

I wish I could sit here and write how much better life is.  How much better controlled depression, anxiety, and mental illness is in my life.  Reality is...I can't.  That hurts my heart more than you can even begin to imagine.  I gave it my all.  Every single day.  I didn't cancel or miss appointments.  

If I'm anything, I am brutally honest.  And this blog has never been anything but that.  I've pretty much told those who don't like that where the door is.  You won't find rainbows and unicorns shooting out my ass.  

That being said....TMS isn't all it is talked into being.  It isn't this one day you wake up and "oh my freaking word the cloud was gone..."  No it wasn't like that.  It hasn't been like that.  Yet, every testimonial I've read has pretty much been JUST THAT.  Because those people...the ones who are so much better after 3-4 weeks of treatment...those people...they shoot rainbows out their ass.  They eat unicorn poop cookies for lunch.  And while I'm extremely happy for them.  I want to trip them.  I really do.  Because they gave me false hope.  Almost every single day I sat down in that chair I had high hopes.  Really high hopes.  

Slow and steady wins the race.  I know that.  I also know that I've hit a block.  A really big block.  It isn't going anywhere anytime soon.  Despite my attempts to barge over it, under it, through it, or around it.  It's there.  The elephant in the room.  

The hope has slowly faded over the last 2 weeks.  The reality that this...this life that I'm living...although a smidge better than it was....it is still pretty damn horrible.  There is no amount positive thinking, reiki, tapping, prayer, faith, you name it....none that will change that. 

Mental illness sucks. 

Trauma sucks.

And I'm tired of fighting it.  Fighting the thought that 'it will get better'.
Tired of buying into the thought that 'it will get better'.

I'm not very positive today.  You could probably say I"m never positive.  And honestly, I don't care.  I got out of bed yesterday to go to a massage.  And came back home.  Went back to bed.  I'm writing this from my bed. I'm not working right now.  Which it gives for more reason to not get up.

In the last 24 hours depression has hit hard.  Honestly, it has been long standing.  Yet, the last 24-48 hours has hit hard.  

I hope my next post can be a bit brighter.  Until then...this is what I've got.

End.Of.Story

Get back up....

The last 24 hour have been rough.  Rather brutal to be exact.  Father's Day has never really been a trigger for me.  It seemed to be this year.  It wasn't took a friend asked me abt it that I was able to look a little closer and see a tad clearer that maybe that was part of the problem.

My inner critic and self doubt is raging higher than ever.  And has already begun to  wreak havoc.  I know I shouldn't give in and I know that sabotage isn't the answer. Yet, when faced with fear and anxiety of the replayed tapes....I gave in.  And here I did!

The next step is to call and find out if I have to work today bc I'm on call.  Go to TMS and a therapy appt tonight.  Both of which I wish I wasn't going to.  Staying in bed seems to be the better alternative.

I know I need to get up.
Damnit I will.
No one said I have to like it.
Just freeking need to do it