I haven’t even had this blog a year yet and it feels so majorly important to me. I’ve written a great deal of poetry here. I’ve also touched quite a bit on mental health. I’ve really combined the two in a book that I’ve written through Flutter Press. This is so exciting! It’s called “I’m Still Here.”
http://createspace.com/6445470
Thank you for the support I’ve gotten from all of you. It means so much!
What’s to gain in this group of the downtrodden? Perhaps a great deal there’s no superiority, no less than. I heard one man say, “Wherever I go, I take me with me.” The bare simplicity touched me. Circling around my mind as I remember all of the times that I flew coast to coast searching for blissful meaning. Each time I felt crushed under the weight of almost tangible disappointment.
I take my disorder with me. No lifestyle change removes it from my life. No more hiding or relocation. It’s just me and my shadow.
Blue pills, white, stripes down the middle. A nightly ritual.
Tire my body but relentlessly clouding my wandering mind. What makes me angry is that I can’t remember what it was like before my colorful cohorts.
Who am I? Why can’t I hold a thought? Can anyone hear me?
I consider myself to be an average looking gal. To look at me, you may see a mousey girl with glasses and converse sneakers. (So average)
But inside, I try and conceal just about everything. There’s a small social part of me who LOVES good company in small groups, but I practically explode with anxiety in a large crowd. I don’t know where to put my hands, if I drink I have no self-control so the night ends up with vomit in part of my hair.
I have Schizoaffective Disorder and it’s been tough. Symptoms of both Bipolar and Schizophrenia half managed by very Strong meds. I try and pretend I didn’t see the group of shadows in the corner or hear the random auditory hallucinations of a man mocking me. Telling me to self-harm.
Right now, I’m going through a totally unexpected divorce that I learned about via long distance phone call.
It’s been so long since I’ve been able to hold down a job. I feel lost, a bit hopeless. I’m currently staying with my family in New England (where I was visiting when I learned about my upcoming divorce.)
I have no money, no skills. In Maine you can make more than 733 dollars a month to get disability. I’m getting about 800 in Spousal support, so I’m not qualified.
Right now I’m in a hospital room after I took about 100 pills in hopes of killing myself.
I’m so lost. I have no friends here. But I’m so grateful to be able to vent through this site. It’s truly my saving grace.
life is what you make it.
You’ve heard that before.
What if the tools you’re given are faulty?
How do you build a home and life with broken hands, broken tools.
I imagine brick by brick.
Day by day.
Not overnight.
This can’t be how it ends for me.
I must have more to give in this relentless world.
Well logistically I left him on a vacation to see my family across the country in Maine. So my husband calls me and asks for a divorce. Tells me to cancel my round ticket back. He had been waiting me to leave sometime this year. Told me I should be in a supportive enviorment. I call it being a Pussy.
He couldn’t deal with my infertility and mentall illness.
I knew he had it tough at times, but He gave NO sighs. There were no prior conversations,
What go I do with my life?
Am I gonna be 30 living with my parents?
Can anyone ever love me?
I hate dating and have been with the same man 13years.
My life is falling apart.
I’m so numb I can’t breathe. It hurts, it all burns me inside and out. I’m lonely, angry, and want things to be as they were.
I will not ruin this day for him I say into the bathroom mirror. For good measure I repeat it three times. Each time becomes less convincing than the last.
Yesterday I was so sure my mental state was crystal clear and emotions were manageable. Now my mind is playing some twisted tortuous game. The highs and lows flow so fluidly. Like a child flying down a slide and racing back to climb up again for one more thrill.
I meet my gaze once again in the mirror at my makeup application, my straightened hair and my strategically planned outfit.
I should be happy.
They’re counting on me.
I don’t crave attention because I despise people who do just that.
Its not attention that I need.
Id settle for a shred of acknowledgment. If I’m lucky, a hug and a sense of promise, not verbally , but internally, that I’m strong enough to make it.
My chest tightens, fearful tears fill my eyes. I know this feeling.
My mind races and I’m desperate.
Dizzy eyes, quickening breaths, and a lightheadedness that alerts me that I’m slipping into full-blown panic.
I don’t surrender.
Then I attempted a new calming technique that my therapist taught me just in the knick of time . I close my eyes and envision my favorite color.
Purple energy waves of appreciation and love fill my lungs as I breathe it in deeply. I picture this energy encompassing my heart and keeping me safe. Then breathe out. (I repeated it 4 times.) I find it works better with my right hand on my chest so I can feel the rise and fall of my breathing.
Its so much more soothing when you have the soft voice of a warm, kind, therapist coaching you through it. I also know full well that I must look like a totally crazy person about to recite the pledge of alliegence. But hey, whatever works! Im becoming such a pro, I hardly get that embarassed anymore. I can finally see the humor in all this madness.
Now I know you may be impressed with how zen I’ve become. But should also disclosr that I took 1mg of klonopin. So, who knows what really stopped my panic attack. I’m leaning towards the klonopin, but I do feel quite accomplished for even attempting to handle my anxiety on my own by adding some breathing techniques instead of just popping a pill and hoping for the best.
I’d love to hear what works for any of you out there! That is, if anyone reads this…
There he goes without me and here I stay behind.
My repeated self-exclusion have left me embarrassed once again.
I’m in need of a light-hearted evening, some time outside of my head.
It’s just too much work to pretend to be normal.
Voices, visions, inner chaos. All the while trying to absorb and reciprocate friendly banter.
It overwhelms my senses and leaves me spinning out of control.
I worry what they think.
Wondering if they question why I’m not by his side.
To be anti-social is the equivalent of weirdness.
What to you do when you’ve become anti-social and are perpetually weird?
I was really looking forward to my psychiatric testing after my initial evaluation two weeks ago. However I was slightly dissapointed to find my insurance would take 4-6 weeks to even approve the testing to be done. I mean, the sooner I get tested, the better tailored my medication will be to my individual needs.
So Ichecked the mail this morning to find a letter approving my testing weeks earlier than I anticipated. After doing my happy dance, I called my doctor to set up an appointment! Turns out, I can’t be seen until OCTOBER. Five months seems like years right now. I thought maybe I could get in July at the latest. I really feel like the sooner my medication can be adjusted, the sooner I can get back into the work force.
I love volunteering at the library, but I need more in my life, and can’t wait to achieve that.
I really don’t deal with bad news well. To say I overreact is quite the understatement. I’ve self-harmed and cried uncontrollably over way less. So I quickly decided turned to something that brings me joy before I had time to dwell on any negativity.
I made cookies!
So you may be wondering what’s better than homemade peanut butter cookies?
Peanut butter sandwich cookies!
I really do feel a bit better. Plus as usual, my husband will bring the majority to work tomorrow.
Just doing my part to support our troops! 😁
Three days ago my therapist Rachel, advised that I reduce my activity on social media. After I left my appointment feeling wonderful as I usually do, I chose to delete my FB all together. I knew it would be a healthy decision, but I still had some anxiety clicking that deactivate button. The truth was, I had several reasons why FB wasn’t good for me, and there was no real reason to keep it. Here are some of the more compelling points:
1. I can’t be my true self. There’s no way I’ve ever felt comfortable talking about my mental illness or infertility. A large percentage of my FB “friends” are people I went to high school and college with. I felt shame in the thought of them judging me. I feared being perceived as crazy or someone who craved attention.
2. Triggers. Posts of children and families can be very triggering to me depending on my mood. Having a mental illness, I don’t always know how I’m going to feel. Now that I’m nearly thirty, EVERYONE I know has children. Constantly being reminded of what I don’t have and desperately want, felt tortuous.
3. Family toxicity. Nuff said.
4. Time suck. Endless useless information and maddening political views.
(Especially due to the upcoming election.) I found myself scrolling in search of something to make me smile, and seldom found anything.
I much rather be reading or writing anyway.
I can’t say it’s not challenging breaking a habit that I use to indulge in daily. I clearly crave ways to waste my time…I love distractions. I’ve heard others say before that FB is addictive. It certainly can be. I don’t see anything wrong with logging on for many of those people, but it did nothing to enhance my life. If anything, I found myself comparing my life to everyone else’s. It time to work on creating my own happiness. I look at this small change as a step in the right direction.
Also, I wrote a friendly email to an old friend I haven’t spoken with in ages. It felt really good to write a thorough and thoughtful email.So much better than the brevity of a text or FB messenger.
peaceableme 