I Want It To Stop

The excruciating physical pain I’ve been in this week has subsided quite a bit. It’s not as unbearable as it was. But the emotional pain has stuck around.

In my previous post, I wrote how I feel like crying when thinking about the next day, week, etc. But now, its escalated into panic. How the hell am I going to make it through the next few days? The next week? My usual “one hour at a time” mantra isn’t holding up. It’s one excruciating hour at a time, and feels like too much to handle. I can’t do this! It’s too hard.

I don’t know what to do. I just need everything to stop! Please, please, please make it stop! How can one person hurt this much?

I need and want a friend right now, but none of them are available this weekend. And they don’t even have decent excuses. It’s frustrating and makes me extremely sad that when I really need them, they’re nowhere to be found. But when they need me, I’m there, no matter what mood I’m in. Even if I’m hurting as well. But I obviously don’t tell them that. In that moment, it’s about them. I put my own shit away to be there and support them.

Today I found myself repeating a pattern of something that I used to do a lot of in my teen years. Every time someone hurt me, or let me down in certain ways, I would feel this defiance and anger inside. But I didn’t want them to see or hear how it affected me. I was scared I might lose them if I mentioned it or showed it. So I’d hide it until I was alone. Then the anger would come, and I’d repeat “I don’t need anyone, I’m fine on my own.” But when the anger died down, I’d break down, with sadness consuming every inch of my being. I’d feel so alone. I preferred the anger, because it covered the disappointment, the rejection, the hurt. Anger is always so much easier to deal with, isn’t it.

I’ve had to cancel a few birthday “celebrations” over the years. Even as an adult. I’ll never forgot my 21st birthday. I was at a co-worker’s house (I was staying with her for a few weeks- I just can’t remember why), and everyone I had invited to my little party had been unable to attend. One of them cancelled an hour before it was due to start. My co-worker had gone to visit her son, as it was his birthday as well. So I was alone that night. The power went out at some point. So I lit a candle, poured myself a glass of wine, and sat on the floor, against the couch (I seem to find it comforting sitting on the floor instead of a couch for some reason- only couches though. Normal chairs- I’ll sit in them rather than on the floor). This might sound really silly, but I pretended there were other people there. Like my mom, little sisters, friends. Making up conversations in my head (there were some pretty funny ones). I had to do that, because if I stopped, the reality hurt too much. Remembering that makes my heart ache. So I’m not a fan of the day of my birth. Besides, I was a mistake. I never should have been born. I don’t even know why birthdays are celebrated in the first place. Who came up with that idea?

I’m writing about all this because I want to prove a point. I’m convinced that there’s something I’m doing wrong. That’s there’s something fundamentally wrong with me. That it’s why friends and family seem to want to spend as little time with me as possible. The things I mentioned above seem to prove it. I don’t know why, but I’ve always had this feeling (and believed) that I deserved everything that happened to me. And right now, I feel it’s especially true. Looking in the mirror earlier today, I wondered who that face belonged to. What’s her life worth?

I want my therapist. She always seems to know what to say, and has a calming influence on me. It’s weekend, so I can’t even reach out to her. And I’m not seeing her anytime soon either, which just feels so messed up. I just want to be held by her. No CBT, DBT, REBT, FFST (Okay, I made that last one up). Just one of those talking sessions. We all need one of those from time to time. Those sessions where she just listens and doesn’t make me work through techniques, skills, etc. I just need someone to listen to me, without judging. That’s what I mean when I say I want to held by her. In that protective therapeutic cocoon. Where it’s warm and safe. Even when it’s hard.

In one of the letters my therapist had written me, she told me that I’m brave. And now I keep hearing her words “be brave” (from another note), but I don’t feel brave right now.

I will try to be though. I’m trying. I’m really, really trying. I just need to get through tonight and tomorrow. That thought makes me panic. I’m trying to just stay in the moment, practice mindfulness, but it only works for a few seconds and I swing right back. These flashbacks that I’ve been having don’t make it any easier. I don’t even know anymore what’s a nightmare, and what’s a real memory. They seem to blend into each other. Swinging from adult to child mode. The nightmares and flashbacks are all from that young part. I should never have opened that door to let that inner child in. When we started working with that whole thing, I knew it was going to be difficult, but I didn’t know just how painful it would be.

“Stop crying. You’re not a baby.”

But big girls cry too.

Going Out Of My Mind

I haven’t been in a good place. Hell, I feel like I’m barely hanging on.

I’ve been dealing with so many flashbacks, and so many things are triggering me. I’ve discovered even more triggers. They’re fucking everywhere lately!

In group on Tuesday, I skipped the first half, which is usually just the check-in anyway. I saw my OT before group and told her that I’m going home (we didn’t have a session that day). She encouraged me to stay, but I felt like I just couldn’t. I was walking to my car when panic set in, and I realized I didn’t want to go back to the house. I’m walking out of my safe place, only to go to a place I desperately want to get away from. I went back, but sat outside in the coffee shop for the first hour. I just needed to be alone in that moment, while being in a secure, comfortable environment.

One of the psychiatrists at the clinic led the group on Tuesday. I don’t really like it when he runs it, because he’s so clinical, and it feels more like school, sitting in a boring class. I like it when the OT’s run the groups, as they make it fun and interactive.

During the break, my OT wanted to talk to me. She asked me what was going on. I told her that I didn’t want to sit in on the check-in’s, because firstly, it was a big group that night, and secondly I didn’t want to talk. (There was something that had happened that day before the group, but I didn’t want to talk about it. And I still don’t. At least not in the near future). OT said that I didn’t have to talk, but that it’s good to be there and just listen to other’s, because it helps with not feeling alone with our struggles/problems. She’s right of course. But what I didn’t tell her was that I was terrified that if someone said or spoke about something that was triggering, it would send me into full-blown panic attack mode (I didn’t have my Ativan with me, as I had forgotten my bag at home).

I just didn’t feel like talking that day. I barely spoke to my friends who also attend the group. One of them asked me why I’m so quiet and distant. I told her that I’m just tired. I wish it was just that.

I’ve been advertising my photography business, posted adverts on bulletin boards in the shops, but nothing has come from it. I feel like I’ll never get out of this situation I’m in. I’m trying so many different things, and I’m just so tired of problem solving when nothing seems to be working. I’m tired of fighting. I feel like I’ll be stuck forever. I don’t see any hope for my future right now. Everything feels hopeless and pointless. I feel useless.

To add insult to injury, I had a wisdom tooth removed two weeks ago, and developed “dry socket” recently. Look it up on Google if you don’t know what that is. The pain is excruciating. I wake up a few times during the night to radiating pain that just doesn’t stop, and keeps me awake for another hour or two. Prescription pain killers barely work. Give me Morphine please! This is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. It’s a little better today, and I only woke up once last night, so I’m hoping that’s a sign that it’s finally healing.

Having two of my other wisdom teeth removed a couple of years ago was traumatic enough, but this is so much worse. That was a walk in the park compared to this time. I never want to see a dentist again in my life! I had to go back to her yesterday so that she could pack the socket, but she first had to clean it out, and that hurt! She told me that unfortunately she couldn’t do anything about the pain while doing that. Before I went in to go see her, I took a double dose of one of my benzo’s (not the Ativan), and I was still terrified. She told me I might have to come back, and have it done again, as it’s just palliative treatment and not a “cure”. Afterward, I was so light-headed and nauseous from the stress and anxiety that I almost passed out, and had to lie down on the waiting room’s couch for about 20 minutes. In that moment I didn’t care what anyone else might have thought. Any other time, I would have.

I told my dad last night that I’m not coming into work today, as I’m exhausted and need to try sleep a little and I couldn’t concentrate with the pain. He told me it’s fine (thankfully), but then said that I’m making the pain worse for myself. “Stop thinking about it”, were his words. Stop thinking about it? Are you fucking kidding me? It feels like my face is going to explode at any minute, but I mustn’t think about the pain. I would give anything to be able to not think about it.

Emotional pain and physical pain don’t mix. Physical pain already makes a person feel miserable. Add in depression and anxiety, and it’s a disaster.

I have no appetite. I have to force myself to eat, and then it takes me an hour. I dread breakfast, lunch and dinner time. I feel like crying when it comes time to eat. Which seems overly dramatic, and it probably is. But that’s how it is for me at the moment.

Talking about crying. When I think about tomorrow, the weekend, the week after, etc, I just want to cry. I don’t feel like there’s anything to look forward to. I wish I could cry. But I just can’t. I never know what’s worse. Crying so much and being tearful the entire day, with the smallest little thing setting it off again, or not being able to cry, even though I desperately want and need to. I guess it depends on which state I’m in at that moment. This time I really want to cry.

During hard times, I usually think “I could really use (therapist) right about now. I need her.” But this time is different (and a first). While I would like to see her now, I think I want/need a friend more.

I’m struggling so much, and I don’t know where to turn. Or who to turn to.

But I just want to die.

This has been a long post, but I needed to get all this out.

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Protection And Running Away

This is a follow up from my previous post.

After I had written it, and gone to sleep, I had a nightmare.

Before I get into the dream, it needs to be said that most of my dreams over the years have followed a similar theme. They all involve me protecting others (or myself and even baby animals). Running away from someone, a group of people, or something (like a natural disaster).

In this dream, that person was my step-father. He was hurting my youngest little sister, and throwing her around the room. She was so tiny. Just a little toddler. It broke me seeing what he was doing to her. So I picked her up and ran. Suddenly there were other people with us who I was also trying to lead to safety. We climbed and jumped over walls and roofs, and crawled through barbed wire fences. Trying to stay out of sight of the monster who was hunting us. There were security camera’s, so it was even more important for us to avoid being seen. There were wide open spaces, which made us especially vulnerable. Other spaces were difficult to get through, as there were plants and trees surrounding us. We came across a house here and there, but I knew they weren’t safe to run into. That the people who lived there were in on it with my step-father. Every time I thought we were in the clear, I’d find that it wasn’t over, and he was catching up to us.

Suddenly a SWAT team appeared. They were helping us escape. But then we understood that they weren’t there to help us at all. They had their own agenda. Now there were more people after us. One of the guys running with us, picked up a dead snake, and told us that the SWAT team had been fooling us. Why a dead snake, and what that has to do with anything, I have no idea (some of my dreams have featured snakes- I don’t know what that represents). At the end of the dream, when I finally thought we were really safe this time, as there were normal people walking around, I realized that we were still in danger. I felt trapped.

I woke up crying. And I realized just how much my past has affected me, and shaped my life. For the first time, I can acknowledge that I haven’t yet fully dealt with it. I always tried to run away from my past. Pretending that it didn’t affect me. But now I realize just how much it actually did.

Once I was fully awake, I felt a combination of anger and deep hurt. I’ve always tried to be the protector to everyone. To take care of others. I took on that role. But who protects me? Who protected that little girl? The people who were supposed to protect her, didn’t, or couldn’t. And for the first time, I’m feeling the extent of that pain.

I could never truly connect to that part of myself until now. I’m grieving for that sad, lonely, and scared little girl. For the teen who had to deal with so much.

Those uncried tears, are finally being released. The hurt with nowhere to go, is being experienced and channeled. The secrets with no one to tell, are now being told.

It’s too painful to feel all at once. But the door has been opened, so I can begin to walk through it.

Going Back To The Old Me

Before starting therapy, I pretty much kept to myself. My feelings, my thoughts. They belonged only to me, and I didn’t share them with anyone. I was always the shy and reserved one. It protected me. It worked for me. Yet at the same time, it didn’t really work. It might have sheltered me from rejection, but it also ate me up inside. I tried to open up a few times, but just ended up getting hurt. Further reinforcing that it wasn’t safe to reveal the deepest parts of myself.

Even in primary school, I was a shadow. When I tried to make friends, and join the other children, I’d just get mocked, teased and called horrible names. So eventually I stopped trying. What was the point. I still remember the day I got my first friend. I was eating my lunch on a step, overlooking some children playing. A girl came to sit next to me and asked my name. We shared my lunch, and from that day we became best friends. I think she was the first friend I ever had. I was never allowed to go visit her at home though (my dad was very controlling- “only protecting me” in his words- when I actually needed to be protected from him). Then we moved to a new city again, and I never heard from her, or saw her again. I didn’t want to get attached to anyone again after that, and I don’t know if I ever did, as I can’t remember the next year or two.

I went to go watch the sunset on the beach today. It’s one of my favourite self-soothing practices. Usually it makes me feel better. It brings me peace. I feel at one with nature, and like I’m not alone in this world. But tonight I just felt this deep sadness the entire time. At first I didn’t understand why, and just tried to push it away. To be mindful of the beauty surrounding me. And then it came. Memories of the same way I felt so often throughout my life. Memories of moments where I felt so alone, with so much sadness buried deep, but that I couldn’t express or verbalize. Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to show emotions. Both my dad and then step-mother hated any display of emotion, other than happiness. But I was hardly ever happy, so I had to pretend that I was. When I went to my biological mom every second weekend, I watched my step-dad hurt her, and occasionally my little sisters as well. I couldn’t show my fear and hatred toward him. I couldn’t protect them. I was scared he would hurt them even more, and that he’d hurt me too. But he never did. I think he was scared of my dad. He was very cruel to me though. Men (monsters) like him, usually are. He also hated displays of emotion. It was a trigger for him. So there were many tears left uncried. So much hurt with nowhere to go. So many secrets with no one to tell. That pattern has followed me ever since.

It was only when I started therapy in March last year, that the pattern got interrupted. Opening up to my therapist felt amazing. She didn’t judge, she didn’t tell me to “stop being a baby”, or get angry with me for expressing my feelings. She didn’t punish me. I felt safe with her. Since then, I’ve become more open to more people. Only to a certain extent though. I knew what to share, and what to keep hidden. Every now and then though, I’d become brave and say more than I should.

In group on Tuesday, I was in a bit of a manic state (I had been in that state for a few days already). We had the usual “check in”. I was a bit late, as I had to go pick up a friend, so when I got back to group, the check in was already underway. Other than the usual check in, we also had to pick an animal that represents us, and tell the others why we chose that animal. When it was my turn, and started sharing, I got interrupted by one of the guys. He argued with me about the correct name for the animal I had chosen. I was so embarrassed and just wanted to disappear. I didn’t want to make it known though how I really felt in that moment, so I argued back. And then I just shut down and let the next person share. It’s taken me a while to start opening up in group. But now with this, I feel it’s not okay to do that anymore. I’ll still connect to the few people I’ve really grown to care about, before group, during the break, and afterward. But I don’t want to open up during the group anymore.

Jasmine and I spent the day together yesterday. Usually when I’m with her, we speak openly about our thoughts and feelings as they come up. But this time I couldn’t. I pretended that everything was okay the whole time, that I was happy. I have to pretend with the dad and current step-mother anyway, so it’s easy. Easy to pretend, difficult to deal with internally.

I just don’t want to be vulnerable anymore. My blog is my space to be open, but in the offline world, I want to stay away from that. I had a great therapy session on Wednesday. But then on Thursday, my manic phase was over, and I went straight down into the depths. And since then I’ve been feeling this need to protect myself from the world.

My younger parts, especially, have been struggling. They need me to take care of them, protect, and love them. They can be vulnerable with the adult me. They only need me. This song is my message to them. It just seems to fit.

A Year

I don’t go onto Facebook often. A few hours ago, I did. Right at the top of my news feed I saw a post from my aunt, that knocked the breath right out of me. It felt as though someone had just stabbed me through the heart. The post was “Dearest brother, it’s been a year since you left us. We still miss you every day, and you’ll forever live on in our hearts.”

It’s been a year since one of my uncles ended his life. Right now it seems like just yesterday. I haven’t thought about him much since then, and the moments I did, I’d feel a sharp stab of pain that would only last a few minutes. I wanted to cry. I wanted to grieve, but my mind didn’t want that. It would just shut down. Exactly one year later, it’s finally hit me in full force. I’ve been crying for what feels like hours. The pain is unbearable, but I have no choice but to bear it.

I didn’t even go to his funeral. It was in another city and I couldn’t afford the plane ticket. A part of me also didn’t want to go. But now I regret it. I wish I could have said goodbye.

A few years ago, he started drinking heavily. Every time he would phone me, he was so drunk I could barely make out what he was saying.

The last time I saw him, I didn’t even recognize him. He didn’t look at all like the uncle I had known. Where was the strong man who used to make me laugh with his silly antics? The man who always called me his “little monkey”. I was angry with him that day. I didn’t know that would be the last time I’d ever see him.

A week before he succeeded, he had attempted suicide, but his ex-wife found him in time. After that, I just had this feeling in my gut that he would try again. And I was right. The evening before that day, he phoned me. But I didn’t answer. And I don’t even know why. What if he was reaching out, and answering that phone call would have made a difference? Instead, I just ignored him. Maybe that’s why I didn’t think about it much this past year. Guilt. Once again, I had let someone I loved, down. And once again, I failed at being there for someone I loved, in their last moments.

I wish I could go back in time. But I can’t. And no amount of wishing can change that.

So tonight I’m feeling what I haven’t allowed myself to feel.

I miss him, and wish he was still here.

Selene

I just sat down at my computer right now and thought that I want to write a post. But then I realized… I don’t have anything to write about. There’s nothing that I really want to say.

Something just popped into my mind. Let me tell you about “Selene”. I’ve never told anyone about “her”. Not even my therapist, because it sounds completely crazy. Besides, it’s never come up.

I don’t know if Selene was around when I was a kid. The earliest memory I have of her is from my late teens I think. I just remember walking down the street one day. I was scared of something. I can’t remember what, but I still remember the feeling of intense fear. Then suddenly I felt this powerful presence beside me. The fear instantly disappeared and I felt this sense of protection. I didn’t need to see her to know she exists. She felt really familiar… Which is why I say I don’t know whether she was around earlier than that memory.

I was still a Christian back then, but knew that this wasn’t God, an angel or anything like that. She wasn’t part of that spiritual world. Selene felt different, separate to all of that. I can’t explain it.

She’s powerful and invincible. When she’s around I feel like no one and nothing can harm me. I feel strong and empowered. Safe. I don’t experience her internally, but on the outside. Like a physical presence right next to me. Close. The way a bodyguard stands next to a public figure.

Sometimes it seems like she just shows up for no reason. I can’t even understand why she’s there in those moments. And why she’s not around when I want her. A lot of the time she shows up when I’m feeling very anxious or afraid of something. Most of the time, it’s at night. My worst time of day. Which is why I try to stay up as late as I can. Because as soon as that light goes out, I feel vulnerable for some reason. She can be there from a few seconds to a few minutes. Although, there are two moments that I remember sensing her presence when I was in terrible emotional pain. Just sitting with me on the bed and the floor. Most of the time, she’s just this powerful, strong being. My protector.

It’s not a regular thing. Months can go by without her. She showed up again this week. And I don’t even know why. In the moments when she shows up, one part of me experiences her as completely real. The presence I feel is real. The logical part of me is aware that she’s not really real. I’m pretty sure she’s just a construct of my imagination. A defense mechanism? But yet, she’s real. Does that make sense?

Well, it seems I did have something to say after all. Even though it’s something that might well see me getting more meds to add to my collection, and send some of you running.

First Love

Lonely tonight.

I had her.
I lost her.
She let me go.
She broke my heart.
My first love.
A love I never experienced before or since.
There were others I thought I was in love with.
I wasn’t.
I was just infatuated for a short while.
I had been fooling myself.
But with her it was real.
Unexplainable.
Painful.
Beautiful.
What if she was the one?
My only shot at true love.
My last.
Now meant to be alone.
Forever.

Love heals? No, love destroys.