My Wrenched Brain

WTF

2012-02-10T22:14:00.001-05:00

I feel like I've just run out of words. Every time I try to come here, I sit and look and turn away. I've been bipolar for as long as I can remember, I've been abused just as long. I keep finding myself at so many different points and places through the day it is hard to know where to start.

I went to get dressed the other day, deciding between two pairs of jeans and just wanted to scream. My clothes haven't fit right since I gained weight being on meds, because I'm bipolar, because I've been abused. And it was like being hit by a freight train all over again. The ramifications of what THEY did to ME. It doesn't matter that I've done pretty good at losing the weight, reducing meds, eating better, exercising, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH!!! It's the REASON I got that way in the first place. WHY IN THE HELL DO I HAVE TO CLEAN UP THEIR FUCKING MESS?? AS IF ISN'T BAD ENOUGH WHAT MY ABUSERS DID TO ME IN THE FIRST PLACE, THEN I HAVE TO FUCKING RELIVE IT IN ORDER TO HEAL??? WHY IN THE HELL DO I HAVE DO ALL THE WORK TO HEAL FROM WHAT THEY DID TO ME?? HOW IS THAT FAIR AND JUST?? WHY DO I HAVE TO LIVE BY A THREAD OF SANITY FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE WHILE THEY JUST CARRY ON?? WHY IS IT THAT NO MATTER WHAT, IT IS ALL STILL LEFT ON MY SHOULDERS?? IT DOESN'T MATTER IF I SCREAM OR SHOUT, CRY, GRIEVE, LIVE, DIE OR JUST PLAIN ACCEPT IT, IT WILL NEVER CHANGE THE FACTS OF WHAT THEY DID NOR THE FACT THAT I'M THE ONE WHO HAS TO LIVE WITH IT. WHERE IS THE JUSTICE?? AND EVEN IF THEY WERE PUNISHED IT WOULD NEVER CHANGE ANY FACT OF MY LIFE OR THE HEALING PROCESS OR REVERSE ALL THE DAMAGE THEY DID. HOW IN HELL DO YOU PROCESS THAT??

The jeans are just one example of many that I MUST deal with on a daily basis. The doctor said I had fibromyalga (sp?), from PTSD, another living example the damage THEY incurred. A constant reminder of the living hell I was put through, have "survived" and is still ramming me up against the wall today. As if the abuse wasn't enough to begin with....I am still paying for THEIR price. What the hell is wrong with this picture?

2012

2012-01-09T22:37:00.000-05:00

I didn't think I would make it here. Honestly I didn't know how far I would get through 2011. Mentally. I wasn't sure if I would have any capacity to hang to when last year started. It was the closest I'd come to relishing in the thought of death in a long time.

I conquered fears I'd never intended to think about trying to do the right things for myself. For not only did I face them, they lead me down a different path of learning to trust myself. I've been getting in touch with deep seeded anger that I have feared and learning to channel it in a more positive direction; instead of stuffing it back down and trying to destroy myself with it.

My hypo manic thoughts are blending with my sadness. My brain almost never turns off or shuts down since reducing my Respirdol six months ago. It has been a new challenge calming down the constant flow of thoughts. Like a sponge soaking in new material and ideas while witnessing some of the best moments of my life, I want to take it all in now.

I think the biggest thing I learned surviving 2011 is that I want to live. And I want to be alive. While I will always want to escape life at those times when it is too much to bear, or have thoughts of not wanting to go on, I am feeling again. Like a giant light has flooded my brain and body and showing me everything that is worth living for. And that includes me. 2011 wasn't about just making it through, it was a fight for myself and if I was worth the battle for me. As grueling as it was coming out of the trenches, I found I was more than worth it, but that I could do it.

So as we start our journey around the sun, I finally feel like I here, for once standing among you and it is right where I belong.

Happy New Year!

take down

2011-12-26T12:20:00.000-05:00

Clawing to get in

The talons of the past sink deep into my skin

I am weary from the fight

It is the oldest trick in the book

Like a tick that latches on

I feel the infection run through me

I feel myself give way to surrender

Phil Collins blares through my head

"I DON'T CARE ANYMORE. YOU HEAR I DON'T CARE NO MORE, NO MORE!"

I feel the talons begin to shred through the layers

No fear. Just let them try and take me.

They couldn't do it the first time

Surrounded by my own personal warriors

They can never take me down.

HEALING?

2011-12-20T17:49:00.002-05:00

For every day that my brain is tore in two

For every heart beat that is smashed and splattered on the walls

For every ounce of agony that wrenches my soul

When I look back

I hope there is someone to tell me it was all worth it

I Need a Camera in my Brain

2011-12-13T22:43:00.000-05:00

I wish I could film from inside my head what I experience on an outing and project it on film. I can't explain what happens in my head, nor the way I feel to see if anyone can understand. Caught between two dimensions. Ignoring and believing. Fighting and surrendering. The past and present and future. All happening simultaneously. The push and pull. With a twist. When I got home today I felt like I'd been on another planet. If it wasn't for the 6 bodies of fur that I could tangibly grab, I don't think I would have known what was real.

not today

2011-12-11T12:29:00.000-05:00

the sun bathes the day
flooding my soul
lighting that unknown place
between myself and me
drowning in tediousness
blocks the light
to focus on the perfection of the tasks.

the spotlight
keeps highlighting
the flaws
and scars
those blemishes that don't wash off.
retreating to the darkest corner
I try to sort out the ugly
I can't bear to look today
they cover me
the defectiveness of my being

the rips and tears
they clash and sear in the beams
sliding into that cervice
I don't want to look at me today.

Why Can't I Just Say It??

2011-12-05T21:25:00.000-05:00

My comment to Meredith at Daily Bipolar post Motivation Churns, Apathy Burns:

Exactly. This is how I have been feeling. Like by brain is just stationary. I have this energy that burst through and that suddenly cuts off, like unplugging a chord. I can't figure if it is better to sit and rest, or keep pushing myself to move. I am starving, but have appetite to eat. My mind is in constant thought, but with little feeling. Or it is like in the middle of heavy fog.

I too, am committed to exercise, but moving is so very difficult. If it wasn't for my dogs pulling me along I don't know that I could do it on my own.

I have struggled with communicating how I have been feeling and couldn't seem to put it into any logical context. I know it is the reduction of Respirdol, but I can't seem to explain how it feels. Like trying to interpret what baby is thinking. It is so abstract, like my thought and feelings are in another dimension, yet I can feel everything right here in this moment. I feel like I am split among some intergalactic connection and sitting here in front of my computer.

Heat is almost unbearable. It is close to 65 degrees in the house and I can't bring myself to start the wood furnace. There have been many times that my brain feels like an inferno and I have to get outside. If there was snow I would stick my head in it. My sinuses are ravaging. I used to bundle in sweats and layers of blankets for bed, now it's a nightshirt and throwing covers off. Hot showers are a thing of the past.

I fly into mini panic attacks for what seem no reason. I don't think there is any threat to hang Christmas lights around the window, but I find myself in a mental state of exhaustion through the process and shake with anxiety to complete what seems like such a daunting project. And that was it, my one project for the day. It is all my slow-mo brain can handle. I have ideas and thoughts and words flowing in book form all day long, until I sit down and the plethora of information is so overwhelming I just stare at the screen. I find I can only take one thought and expand on it. I could either sit here and write non-stop or I run screaming from this thing called a computer. And of course all of the senses are on overload. Cloudy days are too bright. My computer screen can bore holes in my eyes. And light is almost too strong. I used to blare the stero, now it is barely audible. And my skin...every touch is too much pressure and almost painful. Like my eyes in a constant squint. My skin is squinting. Cringing at every sound, sight, and touch. I will say I have had an unnecessary craving for sweets, like I can't ever remember, because I hate sweets. Fruits, chocolate, ice cream, cookies, but mostly fruits. As a kid I loved them, but not as an adult. Does this mean I am healing?? I don't know. Considering I have no appetite to eat them. It is hard to say.

It feels good finally digging loose all this crap going on inside of my brain. I didn't think I would ever find the words to explain what in the hell is going on. I can't thank you enough Meredith for cracking my skull to find this moment of peace. And thank you again for sharing your story. It is SO good not to be alone!!

Here

2011-11-21T21:06:00.000-05:00

I just haven't been here. I've written post, I can't bring myself to publish. My brain keeps fumbling around like a dryer drum with all my thoughts, feelings and words bumping around in it. I can't seem to get past the fact of not being able to do the things I used to do. Things I never thought twice about now hinder me. Except on the flip side, things I never thought I'd be able to do, I am doing. Right now it is hard to see how far I have come. The changes I have made. The leaps and bounds are difficult to see when I feel so paralyzed. Today was a struggle day. Seeing failures blowing up like a balloon in my face.

I am surviving the medication withdrawal from reducing my dosage in half. And it plays with every part of my head and body. I feel like I am in a constant state of understanding and not knowing what is going on. And I go from feeling like everything is mishmash to still having a clear view. 6 months in and the withdrawal symptoms are becoming more apparent. I feel alone and together at the same time. And for some reason I felt the need to be here. I keep feeling like I need to "do" something. And as much as I feel like I don't know where I am going, I have direction. If that makes any sense. And maybe that is the key to everything, I am here. I am just here.

It's just ...everything

2011-11-01T22:34:00.000-04:00

I can't begin the pinpoint when everything seem to unravel in my little world. It was this and then that and then it began to snowball and take on a life of it's own. And I was bowled over with no way of stopping it. Many things that were out of my control and really have nothing to do with my tiny little bubble have cause a domino effect exploding inside of me. Taking over my brain and body as I have been suddenly flooded with emotions that won't stop.

For months I felt little as my analytical mind took over. I was caught up in theories and behaviors, while being happy and anxious. I struggled with what I was feeling, because I wasn't on an emotional roller coaster to guide me. For the most part, I was doing OK with it, other times when trying to express a feeling, I had nothing. Like they were all pack away in box way up on the shelf that I could never seem to find. I'd like to know who took that fucking box down and spilled everything all over the floor. Like a million pieces of paper stuck in syrup I can't seem to pick up my feelings. And for some reason I can't figure out what is happening to me. The more I try to fight it, the more I become stuck as well. And my brain can not comprehend. I am losing the fight as I crumble in the syrup/paper mess, not knowing how I will get out of this. Not even sure if I care. But hoping that surrender is the answer.

Computer Doctor

2011-10-27T16:16:00.000-04:00

I wrote this post in July of this year, I was so horrified by the experience I couldn't even post it at the time. I will be seeing this doctor again in the next few weeks and I think this time with my own growth and healing, I will be better prepared for it. It looks like this is the new wave of psychiatry.

I had one of the most horrific psych-doc appointments I have ever had. Not only did I have to talk to a new doctor, but I also had to talk to her through a computer screen. My regular doctor was taking a leave of absence and they informed me of this new doctor and the video chat the day before. It was bad enough that I had to talk to a total stranger, who wasn't part of the staff, but to top it off wasn't even physically there. I was angry and terrified at the same time.

My defenses were already high when she started by asking my husband to leave and that she would prefer to talk to the me alone. NO WAY IN HELL!! After asking twice, I told her that I wanted him there, she finally conceded. If she thought that I was going to talk to her without him in there, she was dead wrong, I wouldn't have told her anything because I would have walked out.

Five minutes later, I walked out of there with my face in knot. My husband thought I was angry, I was containing my tears that let loose after we got out to the car. After going there for ten years, this felt like a slap in the face. I don't give a crap about the great technology wave, I want a real human being to talk to. She didn't even live in the same state! I found the whole thing repulsive and perverse. It felt degrading and I felt completely devalued. As if the world doesn't have enough illusion and delusions in it, talking to a DOCTOR through a screen took the cake. What kind of care is that??????

Nothing but real dog here!

After my tears subsided, my husband pulled over to a small park area. We had one of the dogs with us, so I took him for a quick stroll through it. The only words that rang through my head, "This is REAL." The grass, the trees, my loving dog, the water, the boats. REAL, REAL, REAL. I can not remember being so grateful for bringing Zappa and having him to touch and see.

There is a possibility that my doctor may not be coming back. I am OK with that and have already factor that chance into my equation. When I know for certain one way or the other than I will begin the changes I need to make, because I refuse to be treated like a video game. And I'll be damn to make a 4 hour round trip to talk to a freaking computer screen! I think the whole thing is a bunch of BS, but I will ride it out, until I know if and when my REAL doctor is coming back.

LEARNING

2011-10-15T22:04:00.000-04:00

So many times, I have written in my head and have failed to post. Life is just happening quickly and my brain is following. And I am in a thrash of learning. Things about myself that could have never been deemed possible. I am learning to calm my anxieties, from my dogs. I am learning how to grasp myself before jumping in that great big black hole. I am learning to take my day in little parts while still moving forward. I am learning to challenge myself without a gun to head. I am also learning how to take the vice off my head when I push myself over my own line. I am taking a step back and really looking at situations and the reality of what they mean. There are still many days when I feel both good feelings and bad at the same time about the same thing. The mixing of black and white and coming to realize they are not all one or the other, they are usually both. I am allowing myself to feel and when it passes, I move with it, instead of hanging on for dear life that I will never feel again. That is kind of nice feeling. I have been learning to stay in touch with my emotions, yet not let them run me over 1000 times. Though a difficult one, I have been learning to stop and sit and let myself be tired without the nagging feeling that I will die if I do not keep going. I have been practicing to take that time and let my mind and body rest so that I can go again. It is one of the hardest things for me to do. And will I still resist all of these things to some degree, I am also learning to trust and accept it. My self-mutilation has turned into a nervous habit as I am still learning to love myself, but I have cause no pain to myself and still am aware enough to catch myself. That is still a miracle. I have also been learning that change isn't the creator of doom, but can also be the creator of great things. And one the greatest things I have learned is that believing in something can make it come true, because I do not only just believe it, I am living it.

This moment

2011-10-11T22:41:00.000-04:00

For three weeks my life suddenly came all together. I took full advantage of this hypo manic state. And when I left a friend's house feeling more empty than I was when I got there, I knew it was coming. I'd been waiting for it, here was the opening, and I took it. And I rode that long, sad depression like I was surfing it. And I didn't care. If I was going down, I was going all the way. And I did, I took it as far as I could and then I got on with my life again.

Well, I'm there again. I am there in the depths of sorrow and pain and I don't even know where it is coming from. And I am grabbing it like a lifeline and sliding down pole. I don't have the energy to fight or change, I am just accepting it. Same as I did the good feelings and energy. And if I want to cry for the tragedy in my life and belt out my pain, then more power to me. It's being able to let go and let it be what it is. And when I acknowledge that pain, it will wear itself out as well. Because life isn't about being all the time happy and positive. That's not reality. People hurt. Life hurts. I am hurting. And I am giving myself the permission to hurt and that helps it not last forever. That's where I am at, at this moment in time until the next one comes along and I will be somewhere else.

And for some reason I just had to say that.

Putting the .45 back in it's holster

2011-10-06T02:33:00.000-04:00

I had this awesome moment today with my dog Chance. I rushed too quickly with getting him used to a harness, a dog that took me over a year to be able to brush without him flinching. He doesn't like foreign objects on his skin. I didn't give him any time to get used to this contraption that cradles his chest and runs the length of his back. I was too much in a hurry to get him used to dog sledding and didn't give him hardly any time to adjust to this awful thing on his body. Chance is a puppy from our litter that was returned to us quite abused. While he was always fine when he was running and pulling a sled, he never got used to the harness. In fact he doesn't like it at all. If anyone should know, I should know what it is like to be put in a position you are uncomfortable and not being able to ask for help. But he was telling me and for some reason I missed or ignored the signs. A couple of weeks ago, I got the harness out, he let me put it on him, put he fought with a rising anxiety and I finally became aware, this was just too much for this pup.

Here's the part I find amazing-for one, I recognize I made a mistake. And for some reason I am rather at ease at knowing that. Which is minding blowing in itself. Two, I am very aware of where my mind was at these last couple of years and I am actually forgiving myself instead of beating the crap out of myself. For some reason I was quite ignorant of Chance's reaction because he masked it very well. i.e. always letting me put harness on and pulling with ease. I also thought these two facts alone would help him work out his issues with the harness by themselves. I was wrong. And for some reason I am OK with being wrong. And Three, the big one, I am just going to start over, from the beginning with him by taking my time and gradually get him accumulated to the harness as he is comfortable with it. We may not even get to go sledding this winter. I'm OK with that. In fact, I am more than OK. It takes a ton of pressure and weight off of me to try to "perform and get everything perfect." For the first time in my life, I actually feel like I have time to do just about anything I want. There is no clock ticking or deadline since I just dog sled for fun. My entire being just sighs in relief at not putting myself in that timeline vice, and "this winter or else" mode of thinking. I have plenty of time to work with Chance and I will give him all the time and space he needs to learn to love the harness and what it represents. And if for some reason he never gets that far, that OK too. His mental and emotional well being is far too precious than watching him be miserable. And so is mine. It's not worth it. (can you hear the light bulbs snapping on?? I think I may need my sunglasses!! lol)

Whether I believe in time or not, I have witnessed miracles occur because of time alone. After living in a pressure cooker for so many years and trying to be perfect at everything right now because everything was under such life and death decisions, I am beginning to feel the tension loosen in my wrenched brain and body. I am beginning to understand I have choices and that I can choose what I want and need without that .45 pointed in my face. And heaven forbid, if I died tomorrow, I would die in the comfort and peace of knowing I released that tension off of Chance and never once blamed myself for being a horrible, awful person who didn't deserve to live anyways. And that my friends, is the best feeling I could ever ask for.

Confucius say...

2011-09-21T23:09:00.000-04:00

A wise man said to me today...Your past is not your problem.

Don't tell him I said that, I have to live with the guy.

And I suddenly agreed. (which was a million to one shot)

My past is not my problem to fix or change or try to make right.

Which then suddenly shrunk my past down to nothing.

A Perspective that finally put my past in it's place.

And I had a great day kicking that little pebble around!

I wonder if God is angry?

2011-09-08T15:28:00.000-04:00

A question I began to ponder while reading Emily's Adventures in Wonderland. She had talked about reaching the anger state of her grief. I asked her how she did that. She replied, she borrowed someone it from someone else.

Is God angry at what my abusers did to me? My first initial reaction to my own question is I honestly don't know. I would like to think so, but then I am trying to put myself in God's position and can really only feel what I feel. Which of course is nothing. While I am angry all of the time at a thousand different things, I can't seem to pull off directing it where it needs to go. Once in a while I hit the nail on the head, but most of the time I am swinging that hammer everywhere but. It isn't justice I want served, I have completely left that in God's hands, but I keep finding myself on the pendulum of being angry at everything else in my life or an apathy of "what does it really matter anyways?" Getting angry or having any feelings really will not change anything that happened or even grant justice and there becomes a sense of pointlessness to doing anything at all.

So I take all that anger, tuck it quietly to bed, wrap it up a big bow and hand it over to my husband who upon opening it gets shot in the face with it. Over and over again. Never being able to give it to the person who deserves it. I keep sliding around it, jumping over it, smothering it, anything not to touch it. Because if I touch it, I will have to feel it and face it and give it back and I don't know that I am capable of it. I feel like if I hold all of that power, I will become undone. I am afraid of being angry. Terrified. I don't want to be angry, even if it is for justifiable reason and part of the healing. I don't feel I have any right to be. What's done is done. Can't go back. Can't change a thing. How do you grieve for something you never had? It all seems like a bunch of malarkey to me. Yet, it is still there, oozes out of my pores and spilling all over the place. I just don't understand.

So to answer my own question, no, I don't think God would be angry. He forgives and understands. In my feeble mind there are always reasons for why people act the way they do and I can't draw any line, why would He?

2011-09-06T16:49:00.000-04:00

When I was diagnosed with bipolar and I saw my first doctor outside of the hospital, he told me the reason I was bipolar was because I had a chemical imbalance. I remember the amount of relief that washed over me. For the first time in my life, something wasn't my fault. I didn't have to take on a new blame or responsibility for my brain being such a mess.

For all of the bizarre thoughts and feelings I'd been having I was so comforted by the knowledge that I didn't cause my disorder. There is a ton of controversy about the cause of being bipolar and a cure for it. Many argue quite strongly that a "chemical imbalance" isn't a good enough answer. There are deep discussions about the lies we are being told or how we are being mislead. I have never felt that way. For some reason, the simplicity of having a chemical imbalance, makes all the difference for me and has had no bearing on my recovery. Twenty some years later and I'm still OK with that answer because it makes sense to me.

My Fortress, My Blaze

2011-08-31T00:27:00.001-04:00

This started off as a post for the dog blog that turned into so much more. I left all contents as is.

I have been struggling with any consistency in leash training my dog Blaze. While I'm technically not having any problems, there is a part of me that doesn't feel qualified to handle her extreme self will. I am intimated by how smart she is and haven't yet figured out how to conquer my fear of her strong independence. I am terrified of trying to break her will and spirit. It is not her giving me any hard time or acting different, it is I that can't seem to keep myself together when I try to work with her. Some days we walk along without a hitch while other days I feel like I'm dealing with a stranger's dog. She has developed this will to survive through her horrific abuse. She was never one to cower from a blow or being locked up for hours at a time. And I understand all too well that will to survive and the fear of being broken if having to bend that I project on to her. She has adapted just fine to every test I have given her. Every bit of training and behavioral reshaping while steering clear of crushing her spirit. I continue to work within her means and boundaries and limitations. Her wit is astonishing, it seems her wheels are in a constant motion that never seem to quit. I understand this all too well. I constantly feel like I'm being thrown back and forth when I am with her, never quite knowing whether I am coming or going. This is a brave example of what my husband must go through on a daily basis with me.

I have nurtured that survival force so that nothing can penetrate it, or at least I like to think so. I am constantly reworking and redesigning this wall of protection so that life can not happen to me and hurt me again like it did in my past, but no matter how hard I try I can not escape it. No matter what I will always get hurt by people, whether they meant it or not and life just keeps happening. The fridge is going to break down at some point, the house still has to be paid every month, the dogs are always going to bark, and for some reason, I just can't stop the whole world and ask to be left alone for the rest of my life. And I still can't grasp it. Not even as a concept. Protecting myself from the pain in my fortress, does not stop the fact that it is happening. As I am a master of compartmentalizing every little ounce of feeling and thought, I have thousands upon thousand of these tiny pieces in a heap in the basement so I never once have to look at them. The problem is that the basement has been full for years and now they are filling my living space and I can't get around them anymore. I can barely walk through them. So I've tried picking up a few of them, thinking if I look at them and see what they are maybe I can find a better spot for them. There is nowhere to put them anymore. How do I get rid of everything that represents my life and my ability to be here? Do I just get a shovel and start heaving them out the window or door? How do I start me over without all of this? Who am I without these piles of me to turn to in case I forget? How do I just let go of everything that kept me alive? And decided who am I? Do I sit and sift through, hoping to at least keep the good parts? Do I know enough what the good parts are? Seeing how everything in me has been completely shattered into these pieces, does that mean my will has been too? And what I thought was holding me together or should I say what I've been trying to hold together has been shattered as well? Can there really be more to life than just pain and misery? And how in the world would I ever accept it? How would I know it? Is there a way to believe in it? Trust it?

It is my will that I am so frightened of and it's power to never change. To hold on to the only the thing I know that has been there through everything, myself. And as the walls crumble and the seas crashes in, there I am left with myself. Alone in the same sea of misery and pain as when it all started with no one to call on because my every action, thought and feeling has acted as if that was my only option, because my past conditioned me to believe that way. And I have done everything in my power to continue that abusive belief. Everything I think and feel is negated by this believe and I have held onto it as my firing power to survive. Somehow my walk with Blaze tonight, broke that ice and I've come to realize how much it has been hurting me, even more than I realized.

Maybe it is time to talk. Really talk.

PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPON!!

2011-08-23T13:40:00.000-04:00

I have stopped self-mutilating. This past winter, my fingernails felt like weapons, even getting above the quick, and I just kept chopping them off, so I couldn't tear at my skin. My fingers have been healed for months. I have even had nails on and off, but when my hands begin to feel violent to myself, CHOP, CHOP, CHOP!! And I save myself. Sometime in June, I stopped gnawing on inside of my cheek and lips. I actually don't know how it happened, I just quit doing it. That was worse than my tearing the skin off my fingers, I was constantly chewing my inside cheeks. They are healing as well.

It wasn't a conscious thing to stop self-mutilating. I didn't make a decision of any kind, I was just tired of the physical pain and anxiety that was festering because of it. I have cut my nails before when they felt like knives and I couldn't stop myself, but this was the first time I started cutting them at the source, before I could start. I still start to pick at fingers sometimes, (I'm not a saint), but this has been the most that I have been aware of doing it and will stop myself. That is a freaking miracle!! Chewing on my inside cheek and lip has been a little bit more difficult. It is a much more unconscious habit than my fingers, so I've had more slip up recently, but I am still more aware than I have ever been and doing my best to stop it.

So here I am wondering why I am a fuck up mess when my coping skills aren't being utilized AND I am in the process of reducing my meds. Well...DUH!! I still can't believe I am not self harming. Can you imagine how screwed up my brain is at the moment without abusing the crap out of myself? It's like finally breaking from one of my abusers after all this time. Talk about not knowing how to function!! No wonder I feel like there is a giant hole in the back of my head!! LOL! My entire system has probably gone haywire not knowing what to do with itself. Talk about starting over! My self abuse has gone on for as long as I can remember. And I have been doing fantastic without it. I can't begin to tell you what I have been through that I should have chewed holes through my cheek and slashed my fingers to the bone and I haven't even come close...that's just freaking fantastic!! And we're not even talking about all of the negative messages these acts have perpetuated and victimized over and over through the years.

The first steps to really loving myself and I am finally doing just that!! :)

I Keep Forgetting...

2011-08-19T17:25:00.000-04:00

I forget sometimes that I have been off anti-depressants for three years and the fact that I have cut my anti-pychotic Respirdol in half for three months. I forget about the cycle of withdrawal usually happens every three months or so and I feel like the bottom half of my brain has been blown out. I am struggling with connecting, to anything. I feel like there static between me and every one, like looking through a fuzzy station and I can only grab bits and pieces. This same thing is happening in my brain. Like the neurons are struggling to fire and when they do, they hit empty space. Then out of the blue the lightning bolts in my head will connect and there is a rapid firing cycle at finding the mark. And then as quickly as it started it begins to fade again and the target stands waiting through all of the smoke and haze, while everything in my head becomes limp, never knowing when contact will be made again. And I am just trying to get the round peg in the round hole like again and again and again.

I have been in the process of relearning everything I know. All the things that used to make me who I was. I am rebuilding and recreating myself, literally. I forget that sometimes. In fact, most of the time because I can't figure out what the heck is wrong with me. And then I panic, because the disconnecting static almost stings my brain and I can't think because my firing missile won't work in my brain and I panic more because I can't remember what is going on and why I feel this way and why I can't just do something and change it. And I had one of those epsiodes tonight and it finally dawned on me, I'm ready to hit the three month mark of cutting my meds down. The withdrawal. Functioning without. And doing so among all the static that sizzles through my head. And it is a son of a bitch. And it is scarier than a mother fucker, but when it all comes together for that moment in time, it is the glorious feeling in the world and I'd just about do anything for it not to end. And when it does, the first thing I think of is, getting all the feeling back and going on meds. Not always consciously, but it is there. And I'd give anything at that moment to bring it all back together, to feel alive again instead of a walking corpse. Then there are those partial times, when some of the picture is coming in and out, those are the worse. Just make up your mind!! Be there or don't. These half ass firing in my head are the most frustrating, like walking through a tunnel of reality or death. It is like something out of the "Twilight Zone." And I just want to scream! And I want to run! Anything to rev up the energy so that the firing will strike. This is usually my most active part of the day. I need to do something physical, but because of my weariness, it is difficult and trying, but I can't lay down. RESET! RESET!! Come on get those tracking missile out---I need some connection. Anything! CONTACT! CONTACT!! And here we go again as the neurons start missing again and everything comes back down and I am lost again.

So much work to do, one step at a time. Some days are better than others. Mostly it helps when my husband is home because I can stay connected with him and it helps me stay in focus and I'm just usually happier when he's around. The rest of the time it is all a hit or miss. Or something in between. And I still forget that.

Sick Hopes

2011-08-18T17:11:00.000-04:00

I got to thinking today (I know, scary thought) and remembered a time, for about two years or more when I was so depressed and wasn't able to nap during the day, that I would wish for a flu-like illness. Yes, I was that sick, for I would have rather taken on a case of fever, shakes, chills, and the violent explosion out each end if it meant a valid excuse to be able to sleep all day long. I couldn't take naps because I struggle with the guilt of needing extra rest along my responsibilities that I knew I couldn't accomplish and would fail at. It was that bad, that I would pray to be sick enough so my body and brain would shut down long enough to vacate the world for a day or two. I would have actually rather had food poisoning or the flu because that is how heavy it was to face the day being depressed. I wasn't asking for a lifetime disease, just a couple of days of sleep without any guilt. I went through this wishing every day to rest my weary body and mind.

Needless to say it never happened and I don't know when I stopped this sick wishing for sickness, but looking back makes me realize I have been getting better over the course of time. Now, I'd still like to sleep the entire day away or even take a small nap, but I think that is a far cry and a little bit more "normal" than hoping for the flu just so I can sleep. Yeah, I think there's some improvement there. :)

Tumbling

2011-08-12T22:28:00.000-04:00

I was talking to people. Ideas were exploding in my head. The energy was addictive. I was alive and every neuron in my brain felt invigorated. I was walking through fears that have plagued me from the beginning. I was high on anxiety and tripping over the excitement. I couldn't write fast enough or just enough in general. I felt like I was gripping a blazing horse whipping by the world. And even the fear couldn't hold me down. It was electric.

Until I began tumbling ever so gently down the mountain and didn't see what was happening, until there I was sitting and looking up and where I'd fallen from.

"What...what just happened? What is going on? How did I get here? I was just up...there." "There must be some mistake. You can't do this to me. I thought we were done with this game. How could you do this to me again?" My face frozen in shock, my body weary with defeat. This can't be happening again. I sit and look at that hill, determine to crawl up if I have to. Every movement feeling broken and stiff and I crumple under the weight of trying to get back up that hill as a gentle hand holds me back. NO! Please don't keep me here. The loving arms hold me while I weep in exhaustion, pain and sadness. "It is time to be quiet and rest," the caring voice whispers. "Take this time to mourn and breathe. I am right here and I will not let go. There will be time to fly again, but for now it is time to be still."

Beyond the Mountain

2011-08-09T14:53:00.000-04:00

I don't remember much of the actual climb, but I remember sitting at the top. The view was beyond spectacular. The group that I had climbed the mountain with were all on a static high. They were excited and giddy while I was quieted and withdrawn. I couldn't understand their excitement for when we reached the peak, it didn't seem like a big deal. I remember thinking, "This is it?"

What took my breath away was the view. Mountain peaks in every direction for as far as the eye could see. It was the highest vantage point I'd ever been at and the largest scope I'd ever seen of the world. Surrounded for miles by this mountain range, I was comforted in the silent hope that I wasn't alone.

Reaching the summit had meant little, it was the glimpse of the beyond that stilled my soul with the faith that there was more to my life than what I could see and still carries me through until this day.

Just Sad

2011-08-03T21:38:00.000-04:00

I was terrified and could prove that she was "one of them." I was certain I was standing up to every abusers I have had when I went to tell her I couldn't continue therapy. Though I was stark white with fear, I faced her. I confronted her. And we continued to talk. I left reassured, comforted and with an open door policy if I chose.

And for some reason I am sad. Very, very sad. My fears and paranoia were spacing off every which way. But I still faced her. And she accepted. A couple of times that I have been to therapy, I have walked away with a strong sense of my distorted view of people. Being that it has been confirmed over and over again, I have never had a reason to challenge it. And she does. Gently. But noticeably. Making me aware of my twisted thoughts that are as natural as breath. Yet, I sit up and take notice. Like when I walked out today. I have lived with so much bad, I don't know that anything is good. Maybe that is what is making me sad today.

Instinct

2011-07-31T16:17:00.000-04:00

What was it that nagged at me about her? Or was it me trying to get my own attention? My instincts kept telling me something wasn’t right. Was it her or was it me? Was it like many things in my life telling me something just wasn’t right, but not having any solid proof as I kept brushing the pesky fly away? Why did I feel the need to press on when that little knife kept edging deeper and deeper. I felt I was out of options and I had to know the truth. It painfully consumed me. For six weeks I dove into this assignment head first, never once thinking about just testing the water. It was all or nothing. I was either going all the way or I wasn’t. There was no in between. There was nothing that anyone could say to stop me. I am obsessive that way. My inner voice kept tapping me on the shoulder from the first time my therapist called back. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with her. Maybe it had to do with my own inert fears and the leap of faith I was about to embark upon. I have never had any desire to go to counseling, but with my back up against the wall, I reached for the first thing I could think of. Regardless if it was the right thing or not. Once the ball started rolling, I had to know why that pesky fly kept swarming around my head. I was in deep. Suddenly I felt like my head was split open and my brains were bleeding on the table. There was something wrong with this procedure. This was unnatural and barbaric to me as I have learned over the course of my healing to move with the ebb and flow of life. And I began to find myself swimming in murky waters, I ran into the rock that finally knocked some sense into me. I have went for years living in that tortured state and I had been set free, only to jump back into those gloomy waters. This way of healing was never going to work for me. I took the chance, I faced my fears, I thoroughly explored every aspect and looked at the harsh results that were concluding. It wasn’t going to work.

I can say that I gave more than 110% effort because when I make up my mind, I execute to the fullest extent. As I had exhausted every other possible option that I knew up until that time, my mind was completely focused as I channeled every energy into each session and every other minute of the day. I am like a dog with bone, just try to stop me. I faced fears I never dreamed of , not only did I face them I met them head on and was able to conquer those that have plagued me for years. I spoke words that had never been spoken outside of my home and I am still here to tell about it. I exposed myself to an unknown element in spite of those fears and splattered myself all over the walls. I sat in those fears for hours at a time and felt every gripping hold they had on me and still walked away unscathed and a whole person. What an incredible experience. I did that. With the help of my faith, my husband and my 6 dogs, I walked down every dark tunnel and came through on the other side. I can see and feel the changes already.

The slate is clear, I am ready to move on. My mind has opened to other options, now that I can take therapy off the table. I already made one call, now my next move involves taking a huge risk and a ton of guts. And while it may not seem that to someone else, it will take a whole lot of courage to make me get my foot out the door and keep walking. Wish me well. I am finally going to make my own moves and do what I believe will help me.

Something I have learned

2011-07-27T11:46:00.000-04:00

Corroborating gut instincts with the reason for it is painful and scary, but well worth it to bring body back to mind.