Anger

Anger

I have been wanting to blog for sometime.  It isn't like I don't have the time.  I just don't have the words.  I have many blog posts stored in my head.  The moment I sit down to write them the words...they disappear like bandit in the night.

If I were to blog this post "right here and now" as I am writing..it may come out as a rant and rave.  I am likely to regret later anything that I publish now.  It is my intent, to be candid and honest.  However, I will go back and clean up extensive foul language....which usually comes out the most when I am angry.

I know it is important to express being angry.  I AM ANGRY.  This is a feeling that everyone of us have inside....anger.  Many of us avoid anger at all costs.  We are raised to 'contain' our anger.  It is a very scary and uncomfortable feeling to have so much anger.  There is not one thing about it that I enjoy or like.  Often in my life, anger was not displayed appropriately.  It has only been in the recent months/year that I(we) have been able to learn how anger can be felt and expressed appropriately and in a healthy manner.

Trauma survivors...we have plenty of things to be angry about.  I know that. I get it.  I know that in no way am I overreacting.  Yet, other things I am angry about, alone by themselves, would not warrant the strong feelings of anger that I have.  However, they tend to pile up on top of everything else with everything that makes me angry.....add more fuel to the fire.  The fire gets larger and larger the more anger is contained in an unhealthy manner (aka: keeping my mouth shut and containing it)

I am trying very hard to control myself, on the outside, things on the inside feel completely out of control.  I want to lash out at someone and yet I know that won't help anything.  I want to scream at the top of my lungs and yet I have no words when I try to.  I have this burning in the pit of my stomach and it feels like at anytime I can regurgitate 40 years worth of anger at the next person that says "hi" or looks at me odd.

I am so afraid of saying something I will regret, I often can not express the anger I have to the one person who is safe and has all but said "bring it on...".  I can't blog about these things without making sure what I write is 'appropriate'.  I am stuck only writing about the experience of feeling anger.

I know that it is important to release this anger and to be able to express it in a healthy manner.  It is important that I do so appropriately and in a way that will help me and not hurt me.

Random Thoughts....

I can't place my finger on what seems to be going on internally.  It's almost like the emotional roller coaster ride that never ends.  Sometimes it is really intense and others not so much.  Then the ride is intense again and I'm holding on for dear life again.

One minute I am doing well. The next I am in tears. The next I am yelling at my husband.  And another I am literally shaking and questioning myself on everything.  Then I am back to a place where I think I got a handle on things and it is going ok.  The rapid changes, rapid switching and unpredictability is very hard to manage and deal with.  I am feeling unstable even though I don't know exactly why and it's hard to explain why and what is going on.

I know there's stuff going on internally that is creating the undercurrent of a lot of these feelings. The intensity seems to be getting worse.  Often over the last few weeks (and always my therapist will ask how I am doing.  I keep saying ok bc I don't know how else to explain what is going on.  There are really no words to describe what I am feeling.  I worry that as time continues to go on and I am unable to describe what I am experiencing she will not know how to help me.  If I can't tell her how is she supposed to know?  She can usually tell by facial expressions and body language there is something going on.  Often it feels like she has the words that I don't.

I am thankful I don't have do this alone.  I have a therapist who is there to help me through this.  I have a husband that is trying to learn and be more understanding. I have my best friend who is trying her best to be supportive as she can from 5 states away.  Ultimately, at the end of the day....days like today...I need them by my side when I feel as though I am sinking miserable and feel so unstable.

Dirty little B* called Shame...

At some point a few months ago I came to the realization that most of my 40+ years on this earth have been filled with shame.  It is a theme that has pepper sprayed my life from the time I was very young.  There have been things that have come out in therapy in the last year, that continue to come to light, and the common theme for me is shame.  In addition to my abuse struggles, came several years of infertility and then a failed adoption...these things added to the shame that was already there.

I want to be in a place where I can let go of the shame.  Damn it has a really tight grip on me though. It isn't a fun place to be in.  It is so deeply ingrained into my though process and mind, into who I am as a being, it's been there for nearly 40 years.  It is so deeply rooted the process of shedding the shame is like manually separating muscles from my bones.  It is feels impossible.  It is excruciating.  I have had four shoulder surgeries in less than 4 years.  It feels impossible to be be able let it go.

I am sure if you talk to my therapist she will share with you (and me) that it is possible.  I am thankful for her hope and commitment to me. If I am honest, I will tell you that I have a very hard time believing it is no more possible than it is for me to get a new body.

If I am being honest, I will say that therapy feels kind of like a war zone most of the time.  I often wonder if we will survive all of the minefields in the ward zone. As with so much of the things that drive the struggles I continue to have, shame drives these thoughts.

Today...I am breathing.  Today...I am alive.  Today...I continue to put one foot in front of the other.  It's all I can do.

Empowering yourself....ROAR

I don't get real worked up over many musicians. I have a few favorites.  Generally speaking, they are not worldly musicians. People that are mostly religious based.  

I left therapy appt tonight with a headache that topped it all. I didn't get very far from the clinic before I stopped because it was so bad.  Once I got home I sat in my car with my head in my hands fighting back tears. This headache had became a migraine. It is the typical "switching....aka therapy headache".  Only tonight it was much worse than it has been in a long time.  

About the time I was going to get out of my car "Roar" by Katy Perry came on the radio.  Within a few lines of the song, I could no longer fight back tears. This song applies to survivors of any kind. The ability to speak out, to own your truth, tell your story, the ability to Roar against this illness...it is empowering.  

So this is for anyone feeling hopeless, powerless or no longer able to keep fighting....let the words empower you. Let them fill your heart and soul and empower you to keep on getting up....keep on fighting.  Keep on Roaring.

Katy Perry's Roar

Lyrics:

I used to bite my tongue and hold my breath
Scared to rock the boat and make a mess
So I sat quietly, agreed politely
I guess that I forgot I had a choice (Not that abuse victims ever have a choice)
I let you push me past the breaking point
I stood for nothing, so I fell for everything

You held me down, but I got up (hey!)
Already brushing off the dust
You hear my voice, your hear that sound
Like thunder, gonna shake the ground
You held me down, but I got up
Get ready 'cause I had enough

I see it all, I see it now

I got the eye of the tiger, the fire
Dancing through the fire
'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar
Louder, louder than a lion
'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
You're gonna hear me roar!

 

Now I'm floating like a butterfly
Stinging like a bee I earned my stripes
I went from zero, to my own hero

You held me down, but I got up (hey!)
Already brushing off the dust
You hear my voice, your hear that sound
Like thunder, gonna shake the ground
You held me down, but I got up
Get ready 'cause I've had enough

I see it all, I see it now

I got the eye of the tiger, the fire
Dancing through the fire
'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar
Louder, louder than a lion
'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
You're gonna hear me roar!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
You're gonna hear me roar!

Roar, roar, roar, roar, roar!

I got the eye of the tiger, the fire
Dancing through the fire
'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar
Louder, louder than a lion
'Cause I am a champion, and you're gonna hear me roar!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
You're gonna hear me roar!

Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
You're gonna hear me roar!

The Struggle is Real

Every single day, I feel the struggle to determine if what I am feeling is normal or is it related to D.I.D. Every action I take, every emotion, every word is analyzed on the spot so that I don't make an ass of myself or worse. Reveal to those around me what is really going on.  

This shit is exhausting.....not to mention nearly  impossible.

How can I determine if something is normal, when I don't know what normal is? Have I ever been normal? That is the million dollar question.  Most of my adult life I have watched others and thought they were so much more put together than I am.  They are adulting so much different than what I am.  Occasionally, I have felt inferior and like I didn't have it together.  Hell most days I don't have it together.  As I have gotten older, I have come to realize that almost everyone is wearing a mask.  Nobody really feels like they have it all together and under control.  My mask got so good over the years that I have come to fool myself at times.  There was a time when I thought I had my stuff to together.

Then it all came crashing down.  There are days, weeks, months, and even years like this one....when I know that I am far from having my shit together.  I've been slammed with the fact that I have control over nothing.  It has been the hardest thing for me to deal with, that loss of the imagined control.  On the surface, I can come across as being calm and reasonable.  I have recently had several individuals tell me "but you seem so calm and collected".  To which I reply "if you only knew".  I know that underneath, there is a storm brewing, threatening to consume me from the inside out.  I can feel the spinning of the oncoming hurricane as my head gets louder and louder until, inevitable, I can no longer keep it in.

But is that normal?  Since I have become an adult...the last three years have been  the hardest years of my life.  I have been through abuse, years of infertility, years of therapy, years of the wrong therapy with therapist how poo-poo'd me, the loss of a child who still is living and breathing, the loss of jobs, the loss of my home, several mental health diagnoses, and the latest diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder, and so much more.  I keep telling myself that as long as I continue to get up and move,, then there is still hope.  Then all of these things...they haven't beaten me yet and I am still strong; but part of me wonders why I always feel the need to be strong.  Is it defeat if I just say to hell with it all and walk away? Yep. That is what I think. But what the hell do I know anyway?

This is what I do know.

I am exhausted. I am exhausted by the circumstance that led to this thing that I call my life.  I am exhausted by trying to figure out if I am reacting appropriately to those around me...to these circumstances that have led me to where I am today.  I am exhausted by the intense therapy that I am involved in.  I am continuously reminded that this shit is real...it is real exhausting.  I have always been a big supporter that "life is 10% what happens, 90% how you deal with it," but holy shit lately, as in this last year, I don't feel like I'm dealing with it at all.

I recently read a blog post that someone wrote about what she admired within herself.  I have every intention on blogging more and then I don't. I write hundreds of posts in my head. They never make it to this blog.  My goal will to be able to write "What I Admire Within Myself" next.  Something a little more positive.

All of Me...

Last night as I was listening to my ipod and trying to make sense of "all that is me"...this song came on.

I remember hearing this song a few years ago and it spoke very loud and clear to "me".  The DJ at the time said "my friendsd...those of you who are wear, have lost your way, feel as if you are broken....this is for you.  Surrendoer all of your heart (and more)...."

That would be me. Weary. Broken. Lost. Grief Stricken. Over. And. Over.

It's Time To Talk...Stigma

While it may be my goal to write this blog and begin to talk about my experiences living with Dissociative Identity Disorder, I am in many ways very invisible.  There are many who have read this blog over the last few years who know who I am.  Yet, at the same time there will be many who don't know me. I contemplated beginning a new blog where, I can express my views and be honest about my life, my difficulties, my experiences....safe in knowing that no one would know who I was. I have decided it is high time I begin to talk.

This week I have been thinking about why I chose in most circumstances not to discuss my diagnosis. I realized that my fears surrounding the stigma of mental illness really do impact my everyday life.  It is time to talk.

I guess to the outside world looking in I may seem very normal...whatever that might be.   I do not carry a label saying I have mental health issues. However, many who know me know that I do.  I do not carry a label that says "I have D.I.D.".

Obviously, when I meet people for the first time, I tend to skip over the fact that I have DID, and the fact that I have been hospitalized for severe depression and suicidal ideation. I do not lie. I just do not expand on certain issues.  I have a crap load of medical professionals in my life currently. Unless asked, I do not bring this up. Again, I will not lie. However, I do not expand. It is my expectation that they will ask.

My birth father is deceased.  My mother and step-father are still alive.  I do not ever say I was a victim of child sexual abuse and that one of my parents did the best she could and the other was the abuser.  I will tell you that my abuser ended his life a few years ago.  A few years to late....

The fear of rejection is fairly huge. I chose to limit what I tell people, even if I have known someone a long time I am often not upfront and open.  Why?  Truth be told I would like you to judge me as a person and not a label.  To see me as an equal who can contribute to society and can make a difference to this world that I live in.  I want you to see me as a wife and mother of two beautiful, well adjusted and smart teenagers and a wife.  So I try and seamlessly interact with society, despite everything I work at me fitting in to a world that at times is extremely frightening, triggering and scary.

It isn't easy for someone with DID to live in this world and appear normal.  I often switch between parts, my voice changes, my facial expressions change, my mannerisms change.  For many years I have tried very hard to try and plan and prepare for everything just to look normal, you see just being out there and being adult....it takes a huge toll on me...on anyone with DID.

I find it extremely hard to justify why I am so forgetful.  Why am I loosing track of a conversation half way through?  Why I have to keep time in my schedule free...just so I can either rest and recover.  Yet the reality is people don't recognize instantly that I have DID.  They do not realize when we have switched between parts/alters unless of course we react in a very clear physical way or the change is very drastic, they will just assume I am forgetful or pre-occupied with something else.

My husband, best friend (who lives 5 states away) and therapist...they know me well enough to know that these memory lapses are because of DID.  Only my therapist can tell instantly when there has been a change. My bff when we are together is also able to tell instantly.  My husband...he is learning and slowly figuring it out.  Often, my husband is able to prompt me during discussions because he knows where the forgetfulness is coming from.  He attends 99% of all doctor appts with me because of this very reason.

Society views mental health with scepticism.  The statistic that 1 in 4 people will struggle with some sort of mental health related issue....society tells us that it won't happen to us.  Indeed, with the 1 in 4 statistic, you know a minimum of 1 person who struggles with mental health issues.

Fear and stigma surround us.  There are tv programs about mental health, however it is often more for entertainment and just creates more stigma in my opinion.

People do not generally know anything about D.I.D, it is not the most talked about issue.  There is VERY Little coverage in the media about dissociative disorders.  Why? Because the underlying issue is trauma. Media doesn't want to talk about trauma.

Being victim of child abuse and young adult who was victim of abuse leaves a stigma that goes above and beyond mental health.  As a young adult, I was told it was my fault. I tend to hid the shame and the guilt I carry and have carried since being a very young child.  As a very young child I was told I was bad.  The harsh reality is of course I was a child/young adult, who was hurt.  Who suffered at the hands of adults and and employer who should have protected me or at the very least not hurt me.

Ultimately, I tend not to tell people about having a diagnosis of D.I.D because I am ashamed, not of the diagnosis or my parts but of what has happened to me.  I carry an extreme amount of shame that belongs to someone else. My abusers. One who is dead. One who is not.  This is my own self created stigma, I know.

Admitting that I have D.I.D means I am admitting not just to them but to myself, that what happened to me is a reality and as much as I sometimes wish I could, I can't deny my past.  I cant wash it away. I somehow need to embrace it. I need to someone how take up the mantel of rebuilding a life out of my past.

I want to live with this diagnosis and all of its difficulties and challenges. I want to not be a victim but a survivor. I do not want to be a statistic of someone who had a mental illness that is not commonly recognized and went misdiagnosed for 15 years while seeking mental health treatment.

My personal challenge in the coming weeks and months is to start dealing with the stigma. If people stop talking to me, judge me or ignore me. So be it. That is their problem not mine.

I am who I am.

I am the 1 in 4.

It is about damn time I begin talking....

Changes...

Just over a year ago, I lost my therapist due to insurance change. I had seen N. for about 10 months when I was no longer able to see her. After about 4-5 months without a therapist, I started seeing R. in mid March.  It was a devastating change. It has been a rocky 9 months with R. Learning to trust her has been rough.  She is committed to helping her patients.  She is committed to helping me. Afterall she was the 11th therapist I have had.  The last blog post "Eleven" highlights a little bit about that change and the positive that came from that change. Even though the change was fairly rough....it has been a blessing in disguise.  

It is my goal for 2016 to revive this blog. The aim of this blog will change to bringing awareness to Dissociative Identity Disorder.  I will also be blogging about the reasons why I have D.I.D. and continue to blog about mental health related issues.

I was diagnosed in 2014 with Dissociative Identiy Disorder.  It wasn't until I began seeing my current therapist the diagnosis was confirmed, following a number of mis-diagnoses over the last 15 years.  While life is still very rough. There has been a lot of positive that have come out of this diagnosis.

What is a Dissociative Disorder?
Dissociation is a coping skill that disconnects traumatic memories from one's consciousness, shielding them from the pain or fear associated with the trauma.  The traumatic memories still exist but are deeply buried within the mind.  The memories may resurface on their own or after being triggered by something in the person's life, usually appearing as panic, anxiety, flashbacks, and nightmares.  
For more information on Dissociative Identity Disorder please check out this link:  Infinite Mind's Website

 

Eleven...

In my post a few weeks ago I mentioned that something has happened with this new therapist.  It is the first time in 15 yrs of therapy...actually 16 years that someone was not afraid to touch the root of what is going on.  My last therapist, N., she saw it.  She knew what was going on.  However, 2 shoulder surgeries in the first 5 months of seeing her didn't give her the ability to dig deep into what was going on.  She did more stabilization and working on building trust and some light(er) ground work. 

ELEVEN.

That is the number of therapist I have had prior to seeing R.

She is the first person to address the abuse and trauma head on and not back off.  She hasn't let "me" get scared, freak out and tell her nope, nadda, not going there, nothing....and backed off.  Instead, in those moments she has hunkered down and said what I needed to hear.

"Do you want to get better...?"

Yes....

Hello June....

Here is it June.  Only the 2nd or 3rd post of the year.  I wish that I could say that life is wonderful. Life is peachy. Life is all roses.  Actually, life is still hard.  Hard as hell.  But, at the end of the day....I have continued to get up.  Which is what I promised myself and my kids I would do regardless of how hard it is.

The last post in March I had just began seeing a new therapist.  It wasn't going very well.  It wasn't her... instead it was more the reason why I was there. Having any choice in who I saw at this clinic wasn't an option and well...it wasn't going well.

It's been almost 3 months since I first started seeing R.  It hasn't been easy.  Holy hell it hasn't been hard as hell.  I really want to say hard as fuck.  But I've been trying to refrain from using the F word. That doesn't always go very well.

For the first time in 15 years of therapy...something has happened.  Something pretty damn big.  Something that isn't always easy to wrap my head around.

I will try to "talk" about that in my next blog post.

M.I.A.

Life....things....it has collectively went down hill over the last several months. 

Another therapist change. This time by no other choice than lovely insurance change.  That I had no control over. Beaurocratic bullshit got in the way.  After being on a waiting list for several months I was scheduled with a new therapist. Someone I knew nothing about. The verdict is not out yet on what I think about her...It's still fairly new and fresh.

I'm fed up with people and life in general. I can't return to my job.  Living with physical pain daily.  Unable to scratch my damn back if I needed to because I can't move my arm.  Loosing my home.  Will loose my job...because someone didn't do their job.  Lost my therapist whom I loved.  I'm crazy as shit and I'm fed up.  Simple fed up.  If I could figure out a way for it all to go away.....I would in a heartbeat.

The only semi bright spot in my life was a week long visit to Utah the beginning of the month to see my dear friend D and her family.  It was a wonderful reset that my entire body needed!!

Same old stuff....

Today... Just like many other days tends to be rough. The theme is always the same. 

Today...I'm figuring out how to go through the motions. It is the longest I have went without seeing a therapist in many years. Truthfully, the last time it was this long with no end in site resulted in disaster. 

Disaster lies on the horizon. No therapist. No psychiatrist. Nadda.  

I'm not working. Managed to fail interview for important promotion.  

I have managed to push many, if not all, of those who supported me away. Try as I might continue to sucdeed. 

Failure rings loud and clear.  So loud I can't hear much else.   

Wordless Wednesday with Words

Several years ago when I began blogging there was this thing that would go around the blogging community called "Wordless Wednesday". Often moms (that is only blogs I read) would post some cute or not so cute picture of their children or life.  With no words.  Just a picture.  Sometimes there would be words.  Sometimes the pictures were edited to have words on them.  Other times the pictures portrayed a picture and the point was easy to get....

Here is my Not-So-Wordless-Wednesday Post...
It pretty much sums things up...

Self Harm...

Self harm is disturbing. It is brutal.  Yet, often it is the way I feel.  It is a way to bring sensation into my the body and fill a void.  Self harm is something I've battled off and on for the last 10 years. It  probably is something I have battled for more than 10 years.  However, right now it is what I can remember.  It started out very minor.  I can honestly say I never thought of the things I did as self harm.  The important part for me to remember....much of what I've done (and do) is done on an unconscious level.  It is almost always in times of distress and overwhelm.  I often feel like my body is an empty cavern.  Inside that emptiness is a bucket of emotions that are void to my knowledge.  They are locked up and sealed with a ton of duct tape.  It is when I inflict injury upon myself I am able to feel a small portion of those emotions...in a painful, yet satisfying, sensation.

I don't self harm because I like it.  I don't believe anyone does.  I hate every aspect of it.  I don't like it for a moment. I struggle talking about it.  It is like a drug.  Drugs are addicting.  Self harm is addicting.  Instead of washing away all of my emotions and memory with the drug, I allow myself to for once feel something.  Being able to allow the void to fill, even when it is a small smidgen of some sort of emotion.

I'm aware that many parents freak and flip out when they find out their child has been hurting themselves.  I'm a parent.  I can't say that I wouldn't struggle in much of the same way as many parents.  Yet, because I understand some of what lies underneath the behaviors, I hope and pray that if I am presented with the same situation as many parents, I will be able to respond differently.  This isn't about teens. It isn't about my children.  It is about me.  A 40 something adult.  Struggling more with these behaviors and emotions than I ever have in my life.

Not understanding the reasons behind self harm leads people to jump to conclusions like suicide, manipulation, attention seeking, ect ect.  Those who don't understand what self harm is really about believe that those who act upon the urges to hurt themselves are martyers, selfish, seeking attention, and often believe there is a need for major psychological intervention.  

In some cases, the above might be true.  However, in many cases it is completely the opposite.  It is completely the opposite in my case.  What I need is someone who is willing to truly listen and understand.  I've never cut myself and even though I've never done it.... doesn't mean I don't understand it.  I've battled the urges to cut myself many times in recent months.  Often for me, those urges come by accident.  While I'm cutting something for dinner and accidentally slip and hurt myself.  The thought to follow through and cut myself again, on purpose...gets stronger and stronger.

I have recently participated in one or more of self harm behaviors.  I am not proud of myself.  In fact, I hate every aspect and myself.  I have struggled a lot with  not being able to use the tools I know I have.  Finding a safe, useful, method to release and find the sensation and emotions that I am seeking.
Think for a moment or two, that your body is numb.  You can not feel anything.  You have completely lost all feeling.  Then, paralysis starts to sink in.  You get frustrated because you don't know what to do.  You want the sensation back again.  You want to feel your body again.  What do you think you would do?  Take a moment and imagine you have finally found something that will help you get that sensation and emotion you are seeking...that would allow your body to feel again.  Would you act upon it?  Would you take it?

I've said this before and will again, most individuals who act on self harm urges do not do it for attention.  Ultimately, it is to finally feel something.  It is to release an overwhelming abundance of trapped emotions.

It is helpful for me when I have someone who is willing to listen without passing judgement.  This person has to understand and continue to love me through all of the hell that I put myself and them through.  I have a someone in my life who does not freak out.  If she could be with me I'm pretty certain she would sit with me.  She has sat next to me. She has laid next to me, as I've sobbed uncontrollable and the urges to follow through have been flooding every ounce of my body.
Instead of freaking out and feeling like I need to be hospitalized she has cried with me, she has asked what she can do to help me get through every single tough patch.

This is why I am writing this post.   I know there are those of you out thee who are reading this and know someone who struggles with much of the same self harm issues that I do.  I want  to give you some insight and reasoning behind this awful part of mental illness.  I also want to challenge you to do the very same for them that I have had done for me. I have given you the perspective from someone who has and does live with it every.single.day of her life.

I leave you with my hope that you can/will take it upon yourself to listen-truly listen-to whomever it is you may know.  I ask you to love this person no matter what.  Unconditionally... love them with all your heart.  I ask you do do your best not to judge.  It is hard. I know.  Lastly, I ask you to take it upon yourself to try and understand fully.  From their side, not yours.  This is critical if your friend, loved one, spouse, child, whomever it might be, for this person to learn to trust you.

There are extremes to self-harm in which psychiatric help is necessary, I am for not one moment saying there isn't.  However, not everyone needs immediate attention. I am just trying to feel again.  Feel and not be numb.  It is much easier to not be so numb and regain a little bit of the feeling that I'm seeking when those around you are not freaking out about the methods in which you help yourself feel.  Instead, helping them feel your love and understanding may be....all they need!

Finding My Voice...slowly...again!

Over the last several months blogging has been incredible hard for me. Somewhere along the way I have struggled with finding my voice and wanting it to be heard. 

Truth be told, I have not been doing very well. On the surface...to the naked eye...one may think I've got my crap mostly together and am doing good. 

There are many faces of mental illness. Those closest to me know the depth of just how yucky the waters have been.  Those who matter most and who truly care have stuck by myside. 

I've lost my voice when it comes to blogging. There isn't really any rhymn or reason. It isn't as therapeutic as it once was. My current therapist has asked me a few times what it would take for this part of my life to be a safe place again. Honestly have not been able to tell her. 

I do believe that there is one small element that does know. The next chapter is being able to be comfortable with truly opening up and putting myself out there and writing about some pretty tough topics. In doing so it puts myself in a position of having people in my everyday life knowing about some of the deep rooted and tough things that have/are happening. 

Recently, I was approved for TMS booster session. I was able to complete 10 of the 14 sessions scheduled. 

In spirit of finding my voice in blogging again my next post will be on how the booster sessions have went. 

Sunday Evening Random Ramblings...

I'm here.  Surviving.  Busy. There's good. There's bad.  There's really good. And then there's really bad. It is an never ending up and down battle.

There is good in many things.  My children are growing. Thriving. And seem to have adjusted well to school.  We've got some personal issues with one of my children that has triggered some pretty crappy things w/in my own trauma history.  My youngest did not come home from school every day the first week begging to be home schooled.  He was super excited that one of his buddies from church, who has been home schooled until this grade, was in everyone of his classes.  They sit together or w/in a few seats in every class.  It was a great start to what was highly dreaded.

This was the first time in many years, okay ever, that I didn't want to send my kids back to school.  I've been off work since the beginning of February. I had surgery again right before school ended.  We had some pretty sweet moments this summer.  I loved having them home and I miss them after 4 day being back at school.

Twin Falls, Idaho
Day 8 of 15

We took a 15 day, 5000 mile, to many states to count, cross country road trip.  We visited my grandparents, my birth father's family, and then went to Utah and stayed w/my BFF for a night, spent the day w/her family on the weekend, and stayed w/my in laws.  We were ready to pull into our driveway after 15 days of being gone.  It was a wonderful trip and we made some good memories.

My children were not thrilled about riding in the car.  They wanted to fly. We've never done anything like this.  Our furthest road trip was about 5-6 hr drive.  Having the 1st leg of our trip be 28 hrs of driving was a bit scary.  We made it fun and stopped in a few different places along the way to stretch and do some sight seeing.  My 15 yr old is a budding photographer and kept her camera in her lap/near by the entire trip.

Today, there was a comment to something posted on my facebook blog page.  The first sentence was a kick in the gut.  "Think more positive."  Sure. Yep. I know I need to be more positive.  The remaining part of the message didn't come across well, either.  My gut tells me it was all in support and love. However, that is not what I heard.  The timing wasn't the best.

I've been at a fairly low place.  Therapy is hard.  It is *insert several curse words* hard.  The more intense it gets the more alone I feel. Yet, I know I am not. Truthfully,  I haven't felt this alone since sitting in hospital a week before the court hearing to disrupt our adoption. It's the kind of alone that makes me think...nobody gets it.  My therapist doesn't. My husband doesn't. My bff doesn't. My family doesn't.  During that time in the hospital, I had a visitor who happened to be the Relief Society President.  Her and I go way way back.   Sitting with another friend in church today, who I know 'gets mental illness' on a very personal level, I was reminded of the same message that my relief society president shared with me several years ago.  The Lord put the same message in my head today as he did that day.  And it brought me to tears.

Fear not! I am with thee.
Oh, be not dismayed.
For I am thy God.
And will still give thee aid!
I'll strengthen thee,
Help thee
And cause thee to stand.
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.

I know that I am loved. I know that I am not alone. I know these things.  However, it is so very hard to remember in the depths of hell.

That Thing I Hate....

I'm here.  Kinda.  Not really sure where to start. What to say. I'm not sure how much I want to say.

In May, I was blessed to be able to head to Utah and spend some much needed time with my best friend and her family.  It was a much needed trip and "Beauty in Tough Times" was really what I needed at that point.  My husband and I spoke a several times about having me go to see D* and her family after my surgery the beginning of May.  Each time my husband saying "you have no clue how well you will recover....it is best you go before".  He had a very good point.

I have had 3 shoulder surgeries in 2 years and 4 surgeries in the last 6 months.  Needless to say the clump of hair on the shower drain wasn't much of a surprise this morning.  Even though I expected it to happen at some point, I wasn't fully prepared for it.

My head hasn't been in a particularly good space lately.  Talking about it is pretty tough.  I don't even know what or how much to say about it with the people that are closest to me.

There are several different reasons.  Several possible reasons.  All have a rather large combined impact.  These "other" things have all taken their toll collectively.

I don't really want to write about any of it.  So I haven't.  The reasons don't really matter.  What truly matters is how I manage each of these things together w/o coming apart at the seams.

One of the things, for me, that is the hardest right now is feeling alone.  Ultimately, I feel I am coping with this alone.There is no one offline who I feel really gets it that lives within close proximity.  My best friend lives 5 states away.  And then there is the part of me that struggles with not wanting to bother anyone else anyway.

Take this afternoon as an example.  I did need someone in person. I did need someone to check in with.  I have a friend who lives in close proximity (same town) as I do.  She can be somewhat triggering and I can handle her in small doses.  After spending a majority of the day wavering back and forth in the world of suicidal ideation and self harm thoughts spinning, having not ate anything other than a banana, I decided to call her.  After I was sitting in my car at McD's I called her.  She was going to bed. Little did I know she had posted on FB 2 minutes before she was going to bed and if anyone woke her she would kill them.  Didn't tell her what I really wanted.  And really didn't want to bother her.  I told her I would talk to her some other time.  Sat in my car for another half hour before texting someone else and coming home and crawling into bed.

Things are cloudy.  Thoughts spinning non-stop.  I know I catastrophise to the point of no return, in my mind.  I think that things are at the very worst they have ever been.  I start obsessing how about how to change and manage things. The more I try to figure it out the worse it gets.  My mind has been in chaos.  Generally much greater chaos that it is in reality.

It's scary and much worse than it probably sounds.  I struggle with how to stop and just have calm. The struggle continues to keep things quiet and keep it from escalating further in my mind.

You know the thing I really hate about mental illness?  There are actually many things that I hate about mental illness.  On so many different levels.  I've thought about it a lot over the last several weeks.  The one thing that I really hate....

That deep need to just curl up and hide...it NEVER seems to go away.  EVER!

I struggle a ton with lack of motivation.  I've not worked since the first week of February.  Even when I am motivated to go about life and do things....I still have the deep seeded feeling inside of "I want to curl up and hide".

I know that I can't curl up and hide.  I know it is just a feeling.  It is still there.  It is still incredible lonely.  And it makes everyday life and functioning 10x harder.

I still get up every damn day.  I still keep going every day. I still keep doing all the things I normally do.  I still am a mom.  I still keep being me. I still keep resisting the urge to curl up and hide for a very long time.

Almost every day.

That feeling it is still there.  Regardless of how much I get up.  I keep trying.  I do things to keep myself busy. I do things that I enjoy. I do things that I want to be doing with my family.  I try like crazy to enjoy life.  I try like crazy to enjoy my children. I take my medication (when I'm on meds). I don't miss appointments. I go to weekly therapy and physcial therapy.

I interact with others. I enjoy life at times. To the naked eye - I do well.  Yet, deep down the need to curl up and hide is still there. The need to turn the constant spinning off in my head is still there.  It never really goes away.

All these things are just part of managing this beast.  Yet the beast is still there.  It never goes away.  Ever.

I keep going. I hate to be told "but you keep going..." because deep down...this crap never goes away.  And when I'm told "but you keep going, you keep getting up, you keep managing......."

There is a part in my head that says when you say that to me...you are dismissing what I'm feeling.

And all this, is perhaps what I hate about this illness.

Beauty in Tough Times

Late April I found out I would need to have another surgery on my shoulders. Even though I knew it was bound to come to this (and knew it was needed) it was quite a blow. I had 2.5 weeks to physically, mentally, and everything else to prepare. 

One of the things my husband agreed would be needed and best was to spend an extended weekend with my best friend in Utah. 

On a Tuesday afternoon airline tickets were bought. 

Friday afternoon...

I landed in Salt Lake City for a weekend with a pretty special lady and her family. 

D* picked me up and we headed to a local Flower Garden a Tulip Festival. It was one of the last days the 'Tulip Therapy' would be available for viewing. 

The Lords beauty and handiwork were surrounding D* and I. Our friendship and love for each other made it even more special. 

Acres upon acres of beautiful landscape. Breathtaking views all around. 

The next morning I no longer was the 'friend inside moms phone' and met her family. I not only got to spend the weekend with her family but had the opportunity to attend family members college graduation, meet siblings and visit with her parents. 

Her family took me on a few dirt therapy excursions into the canyon/mountains. 

Beauty surrounded us on all sides. It truly is wonderful therapy. On Monday evening after a hard afternoon for myself and in general we went out for another therapy session. 

Tuesday morning came way to fast. One of the hardest good-byes I've ever had. Knowing what laid ahead with my surgery the next Monday. 

So thankful we were able to spend time together. Blessed by her family. Each one of her children and spouce offered something different and filled me up in a way that was needed. I've spent many moments browsing the picture I took from my phone that weekend while laying in bed. My surgery has been rough. I knew would be. Just wasn't prepared for the emotional aspect. 

 

Love this quote. And this pic was one of my favorites taken that special weekend. There were many photos that I loved. 

~When Trust is Broken....Losing a Best Friend...Value of a True Friendship~

It is a specific kind of loneliness that hits you like a wave of nausea.  When it began to happen, I didn't want to believe it.  Took her word for it when she said she would get back to me.  She was busy at home and at work.  I felt the change...the shift.  Because I was unable to rationalize it, I tried to ignore it.

That nausea that hits...it continues to do so over and over.  I scroll through my contacts and stop at their name.  I almost call but don't, feeling confused and abandoned.  There was no huge fight that marked the end of a friendship.  No falling out.  No major disagreement to my knowledge.  Priorties changed.  Those priorties becamse more important than our friendship.

No one wakes up in the moring thinking "hmm, I think I will stop being friends with so-and-so today."  The light went out with a fizz. Just like a cigarete hitting the bottom of the ground and being stepped on.

In many ways loosing a friendship is worse than loosing a lover.  Lovers come and go for the most part.  Friends...friends they are supposed to be there for you.  Always.  Or so we like to believe.  I never expected the one person I thought I could depend on to disappear without saying goodbye.  To stop responding to my messages.  When it didthe sickeningly stupid feeling that I had triggered the same feeling of something happening several years earlier.  You trust this person. Give them your heart.  Share with them some of the most intimate and intricate details of your heart.  It's left me wondering what I really meant.  I don't know for sure.  I looked back through pictures from when we were happy and holding each other up.  I don't understand what happened.

I have reached for the phone on many different occasions.  Ready to attach a photo to an email, start the subject line with some sort of "Remember this...." and follow up with "I miss you....a lot!"  For whatever reason I get overwhelmed by an incredible emptiness and discard the draft.  Leaving the phone untouched.
So much of my heart flushed down a dirty sink.

The worst part of the entire situation....I don't know how to explain it to myself.  I wonder if another friendship will end the same way.  When she will leave without warning.  When my heart will be crushed again.  Trust broken again.  I know if I bring this up with her I will get no response or a blank excuse.  I don't want to explain how I feel.  I can't.

I want to take her by the shoulders and say "What the hell happened?  Where are you? I know things are rough.  They are for both of us. Where are you?"  I can't do that. I just want to be able to read her like I used to be able to.  And have her read me like she used to.  To laugh at our kids quirkiness.  And to cry at their milestones and the tough spots.

We are no longer on the same level.  Letting it fuel my signficant trust and crazies will not be helpful.  I find myself screaming in my head to her.... just because there is someone else in the picture doesn't mean we can't still care about each other.  She's not the other women. We can still be friends.  We can still visit each other when time permits.  Hell I have lots of time right now.  I can't scream these things. And so I try to let it go.  It's not easy.  This has happened before. Before texting was a way of life.  When that divide happened...it was a little easier. She knew why I created that divide. It didn't make it any easier.  However, protecting myself and family was what was needed.  This happened before social media was involved.  I've not unfriended or deleted her from the social media contacts because I still love her.  I love her family.  Maybe that is what is driving the craziness of the situation.

I know that in life, it's a given that people will come and go.  Loss is just a part of life.  Friendships will flow in and out like the long hair through an open car window.  Sometimes for no reason at all.  Losing someone important to you feels like a sucker punch to the gut every single time.  I didn't see that punch coming.  No one ever does.

Which brings me to the end....

The friendships that do hold out.  The ones that regardless of miles and tough times, the ones that make it through breakthroughs and breakdowns, the ones who make it through the changes of seasons...

They are so damn important.

Dear Suicidal Thoughts...

Trigger Warning.
Talk of suicide and swearing.

~~~~

Dear Suicidal Thoughts...

I hate you. I hate everything you have taken from me. I really fucking hate you.

I hate how I have to spend so much time and energy keeping my guard up and making sure that I don't fall to your fucking grips again and again.

I hate how draining that it is.

I hate what you've taken from my family.

I hate that you make me believe these bad things will be better for my family in the end.

I fucking hate you.

I hate how evil you are.  You are an evil fucking bitch.

I hate how you scare me.

I hate that I'm always waiting for the next shoe to drop and you will creep back into my life.

I hate how you are always lingering around teasing me.

I hate how, even when I know I'm not OK, I feel guilty because I feel like I should be just fine. 

Dear Suicidal Thoughts...


I will continue to keep trying.... not to let you back into my life the way you have been in the past.

I may not be successful today, or last week, or last month.  But one day I will.

If, despite all that I am doing, you manage to come back, I will not let you take over my life as you have in the past.  I will kick you in the fucking balls as I am trying to today.  You might be winning today. But be reminded, you will not fucking win. You will not!

I will continue to try and keep myself safe and protect my body, mind and spirit from you.
You will never beat me.  Never.  I promise you one thing.  You will NEVER fucking win.


Dear Suicidal Thoughts...

You will NEVER kill me.  No matter how hard you try.  I still wish you would go to hell and leave me the hell alone.