Posts Tagged ‘doubt’

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Writing it out and calling bs on monsters

June 1, 2016

The thing about my anxiety is, it creeps. It slithers up my ankles, itching the backs of my knees, creates knots in my back and tangles in my tummy, it makes my fingertips tingle, my temples throb, and my brain spin. And then it reaches around into my ear and laughs. It laughs because i sit there helplessly wondering what just happened to start this whole thing and sometimes i just don’t know. Or it laughs because sometimes it decides to burrow and make itself at home for days at a time while every noise makes me jump and while other’s people’s comments send me reeling. i worry about everything i say or do during those days, terrified to feel the creeping.

 

i can feel it in my shoulder blades right now. Tightening muscles as it moves. Brain in full spin. And, sure, i can name little things that may have started the whole thing but i don’t know what started the ready to disappear, want to curl up, crying hysterically, ready to be done with this shit anxiety.

 

Maybe it’s the fact that every time i have to talk about my family. . . the real ones, not the chosen. i feel sick. And that makes me feel like a failure because they are supposed to be out of my life but clearly they still have such power over me. Power i’m not sure how to take back. Because it’s one thing to physically walk away and it’s another to get that out of your head. And i feel like even more of a failure because i suck at talking in the first place. then throw in feeling physically ill and like i’ve fucked up because i can’t get these people out of my head or take back the power they have over me. And i’m ready to just shut down completely. i have yet to win in that situation which makes me dread it. And that makes it this vicious cycle that i can’t seem to get out of.

 

Maybe it’s just a matter of repetition and seeing that i can get through these conversations. And with each conversation comes more power back in my hands. i don’t know if that’s how it works. Maybe it could? Maybe it could lead to days and weeks of feeling like shit and wondering if i’ll ever breathe normally again. Maybe both?

 

So i sit here trying to write out my thoughts as my head spins, and my leg shakes, and i feel nauseous, and i want to be doing other things. Because that’s always the answer, write it out. i wish it were really that easy. i wish i didn’t have to sit here time and time again with tears streaming down my face forcing myself to get my thoughts out in words rather than other ways. i wish i didn’t have to have other people pushing me to do so instead of myself too.

 

But i guess that’s what life is, sometimes you’re the one pushing yourself and sometimes you’re the one being pushed by someone else and i have to keep learning that there is nothing wrong with that. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to get that push from someone else when i can’t give it to myself. i just need to be able to listen past the drone of the anxiety and the depression monsters and hear the reality of the situation. And that’s not always easy.

 

Monsters like to pull you down and keep you isolated. That failure feeling is like food for them, they just keep coming back for more and more. And they just get louder and louder every single time. Writing it out, i guess, is my way of breaking that isolation. Of calling bullshit on monsters. i just need a reminder to do so sometimes. i need some help to do that calling out.

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Saying goodbye to the biggest piece of my heart.

October 15, 2015

i’ve talked before about how i believe the world works the way it is supposed to.

i’m having more than a little trouble understanding it at the moment. i know we aren’t always going to understand- and it may take time to see the big picture. But quite honestly, at this moment in time, i don’t want a big picture, i don’t want the future to come with answers, all i want is to turn back time.

September 12 was one of the worst days of my life. And i am trying to constantly remind myself of the year and a half of magic that led up to that day.

You see, 2013 was a year of ginormous changes in my life. They were good changes but hard ones. They happened in a way that i wasn’t emotionally prepared for and the depression monster became my closest frienemy. But in December of that year while i was struggling to make it through each day i learned that there might be a light in my future in the form of an emotional support animal.

i have always had a connection with animals- dogs especially. Growing up in the household i did my dogs were my protectors, my confidantes, and the greatest source of love. In college i had a pet fish who died, some friends wanted to know what would make me feel better as i sobbed. All i wanted was my dog. They couldn’t give me this so they went and bought me one of those electronic dogs that was so popular for a bit.

i spoke with my doctor, she agreed this was a good plan and something that would help me. And at some point in January of 2014, i started seriously looking at Petfinder to see who was out there. i saw so many faces and stories that touched my heart and then one night i stopped. i saw a face looking at me and i knew. i knew with no doubt i had found the answer i had been looking for.

On January 14 i drove about an hour and a half, it had snowed recently. Usually i am terrified to drive on slippery roads, i’ll avoid it at all costs but it felt like the middle of summer to me that day. When i pulled up to the shelter my heart was pounding in my ears, my mouth felt dry. i was anxious and excited. i started panicking that someone had come for her earlier that morning.

i walked in and let them know which dog i was there to see and the woman said, “Are you sure?” She went on to tell me how this dog was too wild for all the people who had come for her before. How she had been at the shelter for over 6 months- had had a major surgery. She finally let me know she would bring her out and i could see what i thought, she had a look of doubt and amusement on her face. Like she knew once i saw this animal i would turn around and walk out the door.

They brought her out and she jumped up to sniff me, i sat on the ground and she crawled into my lap, rolled on her back and looked up like she were saying, “rub my tummy and let’s go home.” And that’s what we did.

In the car she was nervous at first, she didn’t want to explore anything but the floor of the passenger’s seat. And then i started singing along with my music. She crawled up to the seat and started licking my face, she would stop and stare when a song changed and when i started singing more kisses. She started watching the other cars on the road- she loved them. Even when we stopped to pick her up some new treats and toys she wanted to stay in the parking lot and just watch the cars driving.

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The next day i gave her a bath and she fell asleep in my arms while drying off. i knew that this was the best relationship i had ever opened the door to.

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My Maguire was named after Robin Williams’ character in Good Will Hunting. Those of you who have read my previous posts know how much that movie means to me. Sean Maguire says things that hit my brain in ways other words have never been able to. And since she was my emotional support dog she was like a little therapist herself. i thought it was fitting.

The difference in my well being was astronomical. There are so many people who can tell you this. Not only did i have someone constantly beside me to face whatever demons crawled into my head but i had someone there who i knew i had to be there for. i had to get up each day to get food and water and trips outside. i couldn’t hide away the way i could before.

When i tore my ACL Maguire would greet me like normal but when it came time to snuggle she would rest with her head on my knee like she was protecting it from anything else happening. We practiced jumping through a hula hoop while i was recovering from surgery so she would still get exercise and fun while i wasn’t able to do as much.

She loved her aunties. One day one of them came to visit and i kept trying to do other things so Maguire would spend time with her. It wasn’t until i sat down and she was able to fully greet me and make sure i was okay that she went and crawled into someone else’s lap.

She refused to sleep without touching me. In the winter she was under the blankets curled up right next to me and in the summer when she got warm, she would stretch her paws so they were touching part of me and then fall asleep.

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To say i was in love would be an understatement. My heart has never been filled with the love and magical-ness of anything like this before. At my college reunion people commented about her in the same way i asked and commented about their children. i was so proud. My Girl Scouts would ask to see pictures. And almost everyone i ran into at work mentioned her. She was my world, my light, my heart.

So when i got home on September 12, i didn’t know that my world was going to change. Maguire greeted me like always- we had our mom just got home from work talk and snuggle in her chair and then came to snuggle more in bed. About an hour or so later everything changed. i knew something was wrong, i thought maybe she had a tummy bug. We went to the vet and by the time we arrived she had gotten even worse. After way to much time waiting and running tests they suggested i take her to the emergency vet. We sped out there to find that no one had any answers. She was deteriorating more and more and i was trying to be strong but i couldn’t stop crying. We decided to try a course of treatment and see what happened. A few hours later i got a call telling me that she had only gotten worse. The doctor said she had never seen anything like it in a dog. Whatever was happening was in her brain and it wasn’t stopping. My heart was breaking- i’ve never felt anything like it. And i said yes when she asked if i wanted to stop her suffering. i drove out in a blur of tears and they brought her in on a table, she couldn’t walk anymore, she was blind in one eye. She was trying to dig into the air as they put her on the ground and told me i could have as much time with her as i wanted. i curled up next to her and started talking while the tears poured out. Her paws stopped and rested on my tummy. i apologized to her for the day and for anything else i might have done to cause her suffering like this. i told her how much i loved her over and over and over again. i gave her kisses and i hid my face in her neck and sobbed while begging her not to leave me. i don’t know how long i was there- it never would have been enough time. i got up to get the doctor and she started digging again. The doctor came in and i curled up next to her again and held her while the shot was injected. i held her after. i didn’t know if i was going to be able to let go.

And now there is nothing. No clicking of nails on the wood floor. No protective barking when the neighbors get loud. Everywhere i look is a reminder. And all i can think is, why? Why her? Why me? Why in that way?  Because as whiny and cliche as it sounds, it isn’t fair. And the truth is, i need her. i still need her so much.

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Sometimes i have a good day, or hour, or few minutes, and then something reminds me and i can feel my heart being torn all over again. It never stops hurting.

Some people don’t understand, to them she was a dog. She wasn’t a dog to me. She was everything. You don’t ask someone who has lost a spouse or a child if they are going to go find a new one but they ask me that. i can’t look at a picture of any dog without making comparisons to Maguire or cursing it for not being her right now- i know that in time my heart will be open again but right now it is grieving and i don’t know when my next step in that process is.

It’s taken a few times sitting in front of this screen to be able to get this far. It has been a daily struggle to deal with the world and my own brain. i don’t have a pair of paws jumping onto my tummy in the morning to force me out of bed. i don’t have eyes looking at me or a body getting comfy on my head when i want to reach for a sharp object. And thus far i’ve been able to avoid those objects but i worry about how long that will last.

i’ve been shutting the world out, shutting people out. It isn’t so much that i want to be alone, though that is the only way i know how to put words to it. It is more like none of the world is Maguire and i don’t know how to talk about everything very well yet. All the words and the emotions feel like mush and i don’t know how to take that mush and turn it into a conversation or a moment in time with another being.

i’ve talked in the past about fighting this monster- there is a part of me, right now, that thinks. . . what’s the point? Because the things and people i love all just go away. Everybody leaves, my heart is always going to be crushed over and over and over again. So why try and fight? Why ask for help when i’m just going to end up alone anyway?

i’m lucky to have people in my life who don’t let me listen to that very long. But it’s a struggle. It’s hard work to fight while you feel so defeated. And hard to push through when you don’t see anything at the end to be fighting for. No amount of hard work or fight will bring Maguire back.

So i struggle, every single day. And this along with my fucking uterus has made for one of the most mentally and physically painful months that i can remember. i’ve been trying to take each day one moment at a time- that’s all i can do right now. Grief takes time. Our society doesn’t allow for that. We hear time and time again that you can take as much time as you need, and that in time things will feel better but there is no magic Delorean out there providing this time for us. We are expected to take that time around the schedule of everyone else- grieve as long as you want, as long as you don’t miss work and perform to normal standards. Grieve in your way, as long as you are still a functioning member of society. The pressure is enormous and makes my head want to explode.

i’m not saying this to call out any particular person or group. But it is hard enough to deal with mental health bullshit every single day. There are still so many taboos and fears. When you add a traumatic experience on top and are made to feel like those things don’t matter- that you just aren’t strong enough or trying hard enough it’s a recipe for disaster. i know this, i’ve eaten disaster more times than i’d like to remember.

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i’ve taken some steps to get help through all this and i’m trying to be proud of myself for that. i know Maguire would be.

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Sometimes the keyboard is mightier than the blade

February 26, 2015

i haven’t posted in forever because i’ve been feeling trapped. Trapped in my head, in my apartment, in my job, in this state, in certain relationships, and on and on and on. It seems like no matter where i turn to try and escape everything gets a little smaller. And this isn’t like a claustrophobic thing. The walls aren’t closing in on me. It’s more like a cartoon quicksand thing i guess. . . i keep trying to get away from everything and going under faster and faster. But i don’t know that the cartoon idea of holding still would make things any better either.

This monster is cruel. Because it is still there even when i feel strong. The anxiety, the panic, the doubt, and everything else that spirals into that dark place that i can’t ever fucking seem to get away from.

None of these words are right and if i feel trapped by my words i don’t know what i have left. i’ve been lying to so many people. Either by omission or flat out. Well enough that someone said to me something along the lines of i’ve seen you when you are depressed and this is definitely something different. And i guess it is different. Because i was asking for help and i was writing it out and that turned on me, again. i don’t want to have one more person get close to me just so they can rip it all away. And people say those people don’t deserve me in their lives and maybe that’s true but it can only happen so many times before you start to see all the things they said you were.

And then it’s only a matter of time for me before it feels like the only real friends i have, who will always be there, are small and silver and sharp. Then those scars start to look like comfort again and not like battle wounds. And i did. i fell off my streak, yet again while i’ve not been posting, because i can’t seem to do anything without fucking it up.

So why am i posting now? Because i was dumb enough to watch a movie on Netflix that i’ve been wanting to see since i heard they were making it Call Me Crazy: A Five Film and of course it triggered a shit ton of everything. Because each short had bits and pieces of my life flashing before me and i wanted to throw up but i couldn’t stop watching.

So i remembered a few things, however softly the message was whispered through the din of negativity that slams around in my head.

First of all this mental health shit wants us to feel alone. That’s why they are monsters. Because we aren’t alone. Even if we haven’t found our people in front of us they are out there because someone out there felt enough of what i feel to make me feel like a bit of my life was in that short.

And secondly i don’t want to live my life being a lesser version of myself. i don’t want to lie to people or feel like i can’t contribute to a conversation because some negative voice inside is telling me that i’m not worthy enough to participate. i don’t want to hold the people closest to me at arm’s length so they can’t see what is really happening with me. The things i love most about my friends and my chosen family are some of their quirks- not their perfection. i shouldn’t hold myself to any different standard.

So once again, here i go on this journey. Right now i don’t particularly want to be anywhere but as i don’t have that choice i’ll try not to disappear.

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We’re all mad here, just not necessarily at the right people

August 19, 2014

There are things in the world right now that i want to be angry with. People i want to be angry at. But the depression monster likes to lie. So instead i’m just angry at myself right now. 

 

i’m angry because people tell me i need to not be so hard on myself right now and i can’t seem to even do that when i need to most of all. i’m angry because i just want to push everyone away and be alone. And because i don’t want to be alone either but i can’t figure out what i do want. i’m so mad because i have some of the most incredible people in my life and i don’t know how to handle that right now because i don’t think i’ve ever had so much support, sad and mad because it took this long to find that support.  i’m pissy because my knee hurts right now and because i didn’t go to physical therapy today. 

 

A lot of that is just surface stuff. i can’t seem to stop there. i can feel rage and a barrage of questions, why couldn’t i be the daughter/friend/girlfriend/person  X wanted? Why did i have to fuck everything up all over again? Why can’t i just shut up right now? When will i ever not think about picking up a razor blade to fix things? 

 

i’m trying to step out of my head and tell myself that every moment that i am here, writing, being, whatevering is something for me to not be angry about. But anger is something i need help with. i wasn’t allowed to express anger growing up so it all turned inward. i know that. So now i still have problems figuring out how to express anger and direct it places other than at me. And i am angry at the depression monster but depression is part of me so i just get stuck in a limbo. 

 

When someone does something to make me mad, i turn it around that i shouldn’t have trusted/connected/believed/etc. i should have known better. What is the use at being angry at that person because i can’t change that person- i can try to change me so i should be mad at me. But being mad at myself isn’t productive. It doesn’t get me anywhere except further info the vortex of negative voices in my head. So where do i put these emotions? How do they work? And can i retrain myself to figure this out? i really don’t like me right now- i don’t want to be around me right now so how do i reconcile all that anger i have toward myself and trying to keep holding onto the desire to wade through all this shittiness and come out stronger for next time? 

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Surrounded by way too many people but still way too alone

August 18, 2014

Questions and doubts are the only things that seem to be playing in my head. Trying to remind myself that this is just all part of the game the monster likes to play with me and then questioning whether i believe that or not. Wondering if it is actually worth making connections with people when i know i will never be good enough for what they deserve. And wondering if, in standing up for what i believe if i feel better standing alone right now or not. 

 

i don’t want to see people. Because i don’t want to have to pretend to be whatever i’m not right now. And we say it’s okay to not do that. We say we can be honest with people. And maybe that’s true, behind the closed doors of your home with a close friend. Or whispered with one person who you might be able to trust but you aren’t sure because trust is kind of for suckers anyway. i can’t be how i am right now around people without every wrong question being asked, look being given, hearing every sigh or seeing every eye rolling. And maybe even if that wasn’t the case i wouldn’t want to see people. i don’t know. Right now i feel broken. Not “unfixable” but kind of like a chain that falls off on a bike sometimes. i don’t want to be around people when i’m broken. 

 

The questions roll on and on and on, is it really that i don’t want to be around people or do i doubt that people want to be around me? Am i scared of what they will think of me when they see me broken?  How do people muster up the energy to speak to other people? Why can’t i just fake it for days and weeks anymore? Was that really better? Why can’t i have brain chemistry that works? Why is it so wrong to want to relieve all the pressure? What would people think if they knew how many hypothetical questions i asked and then googled? Should i be worried about those questions? Do i even deserve to be asking those questions? Why can’t someone who cares more than i do right now be doing this? 

 

i want to say this writing thing is worthless but i know it isn’t. i know it helps me. i know it is something solid for me to grasp when nothing else seems graspable. But right now, at this moment, it feels worthless. It feels like something no one cares about, something i do because someone else suggested it was a better thing to do than my other coping mechanisms. It feels like words that i am standing at the top of a cliff screaming and no one is hearing. And it isn’t a matter of page views or comments or anything like that. It’s just a matter of writing these stream of consciousness things and then still feeling like i’m standing alone at the top of the cliff. There’s no immediate relief. The monster can burrow into every crevice so quickly but needs all the time in the world to find its way out.

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trying to write through the really big and the really little.

August 17, 2014

When i was younger there was a bread factory in town that you could take tours at. We went for school and for Girl Scouts. My favorite part of that tour was at the end when they gave each of us our very own miniature loaf of bread. i would take mine to my grandma and she would slice it up and make miniature sandwiches for me.

 

i like miniature things. They feel so easy to conquer. i could put a whole sandwich in my mouth like a giant and think nothing of it. They don’t seem so scary or make me feel so vulnerable. 

 

But right now i keep looking around inside my head and everything seems humongous. The darkness does a great job of covering all of it. And the anxiety likes to form paths. But i just want to stop. Not move. Not talk. Not think. Not be. 

 

My voice feels pointless when everything towers over me. A tiny squeak even i can barely hear. My brain, which is me, but doesn’t feel connected right now keeps rattling off all the things i should have said and done and worn and read and not said and not done. It compiles a list of each imperfection and an explanation of how that will cause failure at some point. 

 

i don’t know if it is a success to look at pictures of scars rather than to create more of my own. Nothing is right right now. 

 

i want to feel like a giant in my head again. i want to eat miniature sandwiches and find words that make noises. i want to just sleep.

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An open letter to the monsters in my head

August 15, 2014

Dear Depression Monster,

Lots of people are talking about you right now. And i’m glad. Except i hope it doesn’t stop this time. i hope they keep talking long and hard and loud. You lie.  i can only speak for me but you trick me. You trick me into thinking that all those people who told me to call them when i wanted to pick up a razor blade don’t actually mean it. You trick me into thinking the razor blades are my friends. You trick me into thinking that everything will always have that haze over it and it will hurt to even try to get out of bed. You make me think i am alone and you make every negative voice in my head scream so loudly that i want to just make everything stop. You make my head hurt and my stomach hurt. You make me feel like i am out of control in every aspect. i can’t focus, so you remind me how poorly i am doing at things which will lead to my eventual failure. i can’t explain why you are there so you let me know what a terrible friend i am when people just want to help. You don’t even let me form words sometimes because you like to taunt me with just how worthless all of mine are. You tell me to push people away when i need them most. 

Well guess what? Fuck you.

Because i felt you creeping up this time. And i asked for help. And i let someone know. And i didn’t let you keep my mouth shut. i looked at the blades and then i curled up and let the love of my life and she rolled on her back and stuck her paws in the air and waited for me to rub her tummy and then she licked my face and curled up on my tummy and reminded me that she loves me NO MATTER WHAT you say. That doesn’t mean i win this round or any round. You will probably always be stronger than me. But if i can hold on until you decide to move on then i at least get points. 

You played a part in taking someone who meant something to me. i never met him. i most likely never would have. And maybe it sounds silly but my heart was full of love for him. And it hurts now. More than i ever thought the death of a stranger could. And i hate you for playing a part. I hate you for lying to him and everyone else. And i hate you for making people feel so ashamed because they know you. 

i’m not ashamed and i’m ready, with backup, to punch you in the face. 

me