Tag Archive | alone

How to Socialize an Adult

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I’d go out much more often if the world was full of bubbles. Something to think about.

Okay but the world isn’t full of bubbles. And I’m not 4, so its not socially acceptable for me to blow bubbles everywhere I go. Socially acceptable – Yuck – I hate that.

See, I was not properly socialized when I was little. I was not exactly raised by wolves, no, I think wolves would have done a better job.

So what is an adult to do, when she finds herself in her forties, wow, yes, forties now, and completely alone? I have never learned to make friends, not really, not the kind that lasts or that will be helpful and supportive. I have only learned to blend in, hang out, be a part of a group. When I start actually getting to know people, or letting them know me…stuff goes all wonkers.

So a quick recap, thanks to neuropsych dude, I know I have never felt safe, and I have these rules and alarm bells for how I operate to keep myself safe. Even though I may not need to be so strict now, these rules and bells are hard wired, they formed in my brain to help me grow up. Am I doomed to always be alone because of them?

I have been taking first steps at genuine friendships. Face to face was way to scary, so I have been using a variety of online friendship apps. I find that behind the safety of my phone or computer, and the delay of texting, I can calm down those alarm bells and proceed further with people than I can in real life. In real life, I shut down or run away, not great friend making skills.

I’ve been using friendship apps that have a no flirting, no dating policy. I’m actually finding genuine people this way, instead of the multitude of creeps I was finding online at the other sites, even when I would say I’m not interested, BAM an unsavory pic sent to my text. No thanks, goodbye.

I’m starting to believe there are good people out there, but so far I have not found any near enough to me to meet for coffee or whatever. But I am patient, and building skills. And more important, people are reaching out to me with kindness, showering me with it. They check in on me, encourage me, and also get me to do some tough thinking to help me get unstuck. One is helping me to find my spark, my words, get me to start writing and painting again. They are becoming…true friends? wow.

I am so grateful.

Maybe I can do this

Mom’s assets

The lawyers sent me a list of mom’s assets. Her life savings all in black and white. A cold, horrible itemized list, reducing her life to a dollar amount.

She worked so hard and died at 68 with barely any savings, no hope of retirement. So sad. 

I can’t quite explain how this list makes me feel but I would like to try. Renewed grief at seeing her name next to the word deceased. Anger at the lawyers, at the legal necessity for all of this due process. A different anger, a sad anger at my brother that still won’t talk to me. A deep pain, sadness perhaps, this longing, this hole, this emptiness that washes over me and chokes my breath out as I cry. I want a family. Yes I have my children but they don’t fill this aching hole. 

I had a major accomplishment in PT today. I used the one machine without my weak leg shaking, first time ever it just went smoothly. Everyone cheered for me there. That didn’t fill the hole either. I wanted to call my mom and tell her too. 

But all I have  of her is this dreadful bank statement. And so many mixed up memories. She wasn’t always good to me, but she was trying.

And that was her true asset. 

Too many words

When it takes me too long in between posts, it is not for a lack of words, rather I have too many.

My brain is as busy as a big city highway, thoughts rushing about, crashing into each other. Therapy has stirred up nightmares and flashbacks at an alarming rate. That, along with otherwise not sleeping has increased migraine frequency again.

My daughter is okay. I hate that she has scoliosis and that my genes gave it to her. It is worse than I thought it was, her s curve and rotation already raising her one shoulder and hip out of level, twisting her ribs so one side of her back appears rounder than the other. But only if you look closely and know what to look for. Dr recommended she start doing yoga to stretch and strengthen her core to combat the sore muscles she already has. Then we go back in a few months for new xrays, and hope the curve has not progressed much. Thats all we can do.

I managed the day of her checkup though I had several flashbacks. It could have been better, could have been worse. We went in through the garage, not the front door where AF used to drop me off. We stopped at the cafe for slow paced breakfast. Upstairs was heavily remodeled since I had last been there. That was good. I did feel triggered looking down the hallway where I spent countless painful hours of physical therapy with no gain. I did feel triggered in the large waiting room, recalling times waiting there by myself, times when both parents came and were so busy fighting I had wished I was alone. I knew the view out that huge window well, as it took me out of the waiting room to watch people walking down below.

It was actually comforting to meet Dr junior. I had forgotten how much I liked and trusted his dad as a child. Junior has the same amazing warmth and accent. The look on his face was entirely priceless when he asked who performed my surgery as a child, and I said it was dear old dad. I decided not to tell him it didn’t go so well, as I don’t fault the surgeon for that. 

I did feel sick to see my girl’s body distorted by this horrible disease. No one really knows a cause yet. 30 years later and we can’t prevent it from permanently deforming us, slowly twisting and winding us up as we grow.

So that would have been enough for my nerves. But no, that’s never how it works. My FIL was also at that hospital that day, having surgery. So we walked through the maze of buildings to visit with MIL and deliver the cards my kids had made. I was losing touch the longer I walked. I kept seeing my girl, who looks so much like me, and lost my bearings, struggled to stay grounded more and more.

We sat with MIL far too long. I asked hubby a few times if we could leave. We had been there several hours now, approaching lunch time, and girly was stressed and hungry. The surgical waiting room was not a good place for her. 

One woman was describing how her husband was missing his ears and chunks of his cheeks due to skin cancer. I wanted to comfort her but I had nothing in me to offer her. I wanted to run away.

Finally we left and started the long walk back to the garage. But this time the hallways looked different. Swirly. I could barely read the directions on the signs and kept getting lost. I easily lead us all there but was now confused. Hubby reached out and grabbed my shoulders. I screamed “Don’t touch me!” And looked for an escape. A few nurses and doctors asked if I needed help. I wasn’t sure…I kept looking around, waiting for something to make sense, waiting for hubby to take the lead, but he never did. My flashback had overtaken me. I was disoriented and scared. My only thought was avoid evryone and get to the car as quickly as possible. But I didn’t know how. I was trapped in one of my nightmares, hallways kept getting longer, people were no longer speaking english, I was struggling to walk, holding onto walls for balance, struggling to breathe but doing it anyway.

I just kept walking. Hubby and girly followed me. At hallway intersections we looked sad and confused and nurses pointed the way. Finally we could see our garage. I knew I could make it now, the fear lessened and switched to exhaustion. The final steps to the car took all my energy. Made it. Sat down. Breathing can resume.

I don’t recall leaving the garage or entering the highway. At some point I ‘woke up’ and remembered the suggestion to go somewhere fun. We needed lunch so I asked girly if she wanted to go to the mall. Sure!

We ate lunch and headed for her favorite store to search for a black dress for choir. I was still exhausted, struggling to stay grounded, but this seemed important. As we entered the store, hubby disappeared. He often does this, wanders off to look at something. So I waited. He was taking forever, so I checked my phone…dead. crap. Looked around and still did not see him so we kept shopping, but were forced to stay in that one store. She tried on a few things, no luck on a dress. Finally I spotted hubby sitting by the fountain outside the store. What? How long has he been there? I tell him I had no idea where he went. I tell him I don’t know if we should buy anything. He gets all defensive saying he thought we were better off without him and he didn’t know where we went and hows he supposed to know…

I was too tired for that. When I have flashbacks I have trouble making decisions, using math, deciding worth. I wanted his help but obviously was not going to get it. I told girly we would keep those things she liked in mind for another day but we should probably get going. She was fine with that.

When we got home I thought I could rest and recover. Hubby had the same idea. He fell asleep and left me to make dinner, monitor homework, manage bedtime. 

The next day he said he thought everything went perfectly. I snorted a bit, surprised by our different impressions of the day. He asked what I thought could have been better and got angry when I made suggestions, because now I was attacking him and pointing out everything he did wrong. I wasn’t even going to bring it up, he asked. I wasn’t going to bring it up because it doesn’t help. I can’t rely on him, in those moments, I am forever alone.

I am Grief

It is starting to feel like I am grief, not like I am grieving, not like it is a process, or an emotion that moves through me, but a state of being that is me and completely has consumed me from so many directions.

When I allow myself to feel the sadness, I can’t see to type through the tears, so I need to hold it back to that familiar dull choking feeling that is now my life. That no one wants to see or acknowledge. Yes I am still sad today. Yes it sucks. Yes I need more time. I don’t want to apologize for how I am any more. I don’t want to explain it any more. I want it to be understood. But this is my life – I don’t get what I want.

I do feel moments of happiness with my kids, I do, but it is heavy, weighed down by this sadness, like I have an upper limit, or this shadow turning everything good a bit blurry.

I miss my mom. So much. So many things I want to show her, share with her, apologize for, explain to her. I see her everywhere, the songs she liked, the candy she liked, flowers she liked. I have paintings I started for her

I am also hurting as I realize I have not been treated very well here. I realized I did not receive one sympathy card, no flowers, no casseroles. Not even from my in-laws. Nada nothing. I did get one phone call from an aunt, the wife of my mom’s brother checked on me. That’s it. No one else reached out to me at all. Same for when AF died the year before. I know that was complicated, but everyone pretended it didn’t happen. I have lost both of my parents in the space of a year and a half, both were not even 70.

Then AF declared for the world to see that he never loved me, in his Will.

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That broke me. I crumbled. Whatever was holding me together for so many years was shattered then. I lost myself. I became suicidal. I lost my job. I was hospitalized. Then as I was recovering my mom got cancer and didn’t tell me. I had pushed her away while I was healing. I didn’t speak to her during her last year on earth because AF broke me. He stole her from me again. Just like as a child, he kept her from me, creating fear by telling me she hated me and never wanted me.

Hubby is still not understanding. He is not gentle or comforting for me. His volatile moods and rough responses are too much for me to handle right now so I generally avoid him. When I do specifically ask him to do something for me and I think he understands, he does not follow through, leaving me hurt and confused, feeling betrayed all over again. I say please don’t tell ___ to your mom, it will get around to your sisters and come back to torment me and I don’t want to deal with all of that. He agrees. Then an hour later I hear him, he is telling his mom ___ on the phone. (Next day his sisters text me about it…I hate drama, wanted to avoid it, none of their business, didn’t matter, leave me alone, I give vague responses until it settles down) I ask him later why he did that? He yells at me. It is my fault again. How was he supposed to know. Sigh. Do I give up or do I try again?

I don’t understand. I have such little trust as it is, these events don’t help. I am spiraled into emotional flashbacks because he can’t do what he tells me he will do. Did he not agree with me in the first place? Am I not important enough to grant or remember this request? Was he lying to shut me up, make me happy, with no intention of not telling? The doubts flood my brain as I try to make sense of what happened. And he says, Sorry (but he says it so rough like a bark, not sincere), whatever, What’s the big deal.

Then we are trying to plan a party for his parents. It keeps getting more and more complicated, with his one sister coming in from out of state, the one married to the guy I accused of being a creep a few years ago. That plus they are adding more events to the day, a family photo, lunch, dinner, coffee and dessert, all in different locations. I told hubby that I was concerned I may not be able to do all of that. Then he said to his sister on the phone that I may be too tired, not have enough energy to do all of that. My heart sunk. Is he ashamed of me? He can avoid this topic but not the one I asked him to? So I texted his sister after he hung up “Hey I’m not sure he explained it very well, I want to do everything you have planned and it sounds like a great day for everyone and your parents, but I am still struggling with social anxiety and other symptoms of ptsd that may make it difficult for me to do so many events all in one day. I don’t want to let you all down, I will do my best to manage but wanted you to be aware.” She texted back “ok”

So I am trying to be real with the only people in my life. I keep hoping they will one day be more accepting, accommodating, instead of only me being forced to hide my symptoms and smile pretty for them so they aren’t uncomfortable. I have no idea how I married into such an unsupportive group, I suppose some part of me knew this, guaranteeing my isolation and continuation of what was familiar. They aren’t pedophiles and psychopaths, but dysfunction runs rampant.

Maybe a supportive functional family is a myth.

I am trying to manage this grief that keeps trying to swallow me whole. But I noticed I have forgotten how to smile. It is no longer natural. I started practicing in a mirror and those muscles feel so heavy and I can only produce an odd crooked grin.

I am turning 40 very soon. I have no plans. No party. No friends. No extended family, just my kids.They are the only humans I feel safe with, can feel happy with. I hate how much I need them. My daughter is my best friend, we talk about everything. I already fear the day when they grow a bit older and I lose them. Then I will truly be alone on this planet. Until then I will try to cherish the moments and try to make this creepy grin into a real smile and try not to think about how unimportant I am to everyone else.

You can’t force an uneasy mind

When anxiety takes hold, or even anxiety’s precursor of overthinking, the mind is in a dangerous system overload. A talented pilot can recognize the danger signs and possibly pull up out of the death spiral before stalling out and nosediving. But even the most talented cannot be forced through the anxiety, forced to overcome the fear, to get over it, or snap out of it.

Pulling yourself up out of the grips of anxiety takes awareness, self compassion, and plenty of practice. The earlier you catch it, the easier it is to apply the brakes. At some point, it is a lost cause and all you can do is wait it out and breathe. 

The worst thing that can happen to an anxious person, is the addition of more stress by expressing frustration, disappointment, even anger. Yelling and asking the anxious person to rush, to do what they fear, will escalate the anxiety and cause further delay. An anxious person already feels like a freak and would love some gentle, quiet support, some sympathy and understanding, someone next to them so they aren’t so alone.

We feel so alone, so often, and we hate it.

Ever feel lost?

I have been loving this song, so pure, simple and beatiful. A girl and a piano uses themes from Peter Pan to explore being lost and found and escaping reality.

How many of us have been on the run, searching for home and family, trying to both escape and be found too? This song gives me chills every time I hear it. Her voice is lovely but it is more than that. It is bittersweet. Sad yet hopeful too. 

How many nights did I stare stare at the moon, wishing it would take me out of my room. How many days I played in the woods, living in worlds from my books or my own creation, to delay going home.

Yes I too am a lost boy, thanks for this Ruth B.

The song is Lost Boy by Ruth B

There was a time when I was alone
Nowhere to go and no place to call home
My only friend was the man in the moon
And even sometimes he would go away, too

Then one night, as I closed my eyes,
I saw a shadow flying high
He came to me with the sweetest smile
Told me he wanted to talk for awhile
He said, “Peter Pan. That’s what they call me.
I promise that you’ll never be lonely.”
And ever since that day…

I am a lost boy from Neverland
Usually hanging out with Peter Pan
And when we’re bored we play in the woods
Always on the run from Captain Hook
“Run, run, lost boy,” they say to me,
“Away from all of reality.”

Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free

He sprinkled me in pixie dust and told me to believe
Believe in him and believe in me
Together we will fly away in a cloud of green
To your beautiful destiny
As we soared above the town that never loved me
I realized I finally had a family
Soon enough we reached Neverland
Peacefully my feet hit the sand
And ever since that day…

I am a lost boy from Neverland
Usually hanging out with Peter Pan
And when we’re bored we play in the woods
Always on the run from Captain Hook
“Run, run, lost boy,” they say to me,
“Away from all of reality.”

Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free

Peter Pan, Tinker Bell, Wendy Darling,
Even Captain Hook.
You are my perfect story book
Neverland, I love you so,
You are now my home sweet home
Forever a lost boy at last

And for always I will say…

I am a lost boy from Neverland
Usually hanging out with Peter Pan
And when we’re bored we play in the woods
Always on the run from Captain Hook
“Run, run, lost boy,” they say to me,
“Away from all of reality.”

Neverland is home to lost boys like me
And lost boys like me are free

I’m Fine, You dont have to help me

I have given up. on him, not me.

After over 20 years together, I find it unbelievable and inexcusable that Hubby is still so clueless about me. I have never felt more misunderstood

I need to stop giving him the power to emotionally torture me. I don’t think he does it intentionally. I don’t think he is cruel. I actually think he has been trying to help and understand but he is so far wrong each and every time even though I spend literally hours explaining with examples until I am exhausted.

He has no empathy. He just can’t see something from someone else’s point of view.

He’s never had depression, or panic or phobias. he doesn’t get it, how hard this, how hard I’m trying to recover from the suicide attempts in April. That life is really fragile for me right now, and nothing is easy that may seem easy to him.

I asked for his help, no I begged him. I said I am stuck inside my head. I am stuck inside this house. I haven’t walked my dogs in nearly a year. I haven’t had fun in …. years. Its been so long that I’ve been declining I really don’t know when I lost the ability to feel joy. I asked him to try to encourage and include me in outings instead of assuming I don’t want to go. I tried explaining that although I do avoid everything, I actually long to be included and feel like I belong and like I matter to people.

I have this binder from my group that I keep asking him to go through with me, so he can learn what I learned, for himself, and to help me, to help us. I keep waiting for the ‘right time’ to do this activity. He’s always tired from work, or resting its a weekend, or playing with the kids, or doing all the household chores and tasks that I havent been doing. I get it, he’s a busy guy trying to fill in for me. And I’m asking for more. I’m asking for emotional support as I learn to rewire my brain, do the hard dbt steps, rejoin the living. I’m asking him not to yell at me when I tell him I’m scared or worried or upset.

I’m asking him to be the strong one. And I’ve never asked this before. I’ve never admitted my weakness before. I’ve never said I am scared when you touch me. I’ve never said I cry all alone. I’ve never said I stand there paralyzed with fear. I’ve never said how many times a day I wish for death to find me.

I know this is hard. This really f*cking hard. But I can’t mess around anymore. I need to do this NOW. I can’t wait for you to help me. I can’t wait for you to see and understand me, and figure out how to help. Maybe one day you’ll be that person, but for now you aren’t.

So my emotional safety will not be placed in your hands. When you ask how I am, my answer will be “Fine” back to how you’re used to it being for the past 20 years. I will self soothe and go to others for support. My emotions are not for you.

I waited for the right time to be convenient for you to help me.

You chose to help your friend, who lives an hour away, to fix his lawn mower, instead of working with me.

Your abrupt change in plans devastated me and left me at home crying, feeling like a failure, and as important as a piece of sh*t. And then I got angry. I’m usually afraid to confront you with thoughts like those, but I did. I texted that to you, and didn’t hear acknowledgement until nearly 12 hours later, right before bedtime when its too late to talk about it. Thank you for the “I’m Sorry”. But you need to know what a dreadful day I had waiting for it. This type of distress sends me to the ghost land, where I disassociate and can barely stay present no matter what I do. The fury boils underneath my skin but I can barely move it makes me sick. Especially when you try to sit next to me, I say yes, waiting for you to say something, but can only take for so long before I have to run out of the room. I’m afraid of you, I resent you, and I need you all at once. This is too confusing and familiar for my brain thats trying to get healthy.

You’re not a bad man, but you’re not always a good one. Not for me. I swear my hair could be on fire and you would have no idea what was bothering me. So good news, you’re officially off the hook. Stop trying. Leave me alone. I’m Fine. I’ll ask someone else to help me.

Maybe your bad behavior is a blessing, the final push I need to reach out of my isolation….

Accepting limitations

Having trouble turning thoughts into actions. More of my thoughts are good ones, on the positive side, like something healthy useful or productive, but the thoughts seem to remain thoughts most of the time and I’m not sure why. I  don’t feel like I am consciously choosing or not choosing to do something, and yet I sit here most of the day, day after day.

I quit my job 6 months ago now. It feels like yesterday. How have I watched TV for 6 months. I’ve barely even blogged, just a few posts and comments here and there. Like my brain checked out. I don’t even remember the TV, its just on so I don’t sit and stare at nothing, which I actually don’t mind because my mind is so busy inside.

Its like I’m in a worm hole and traveling in time at a different rate than the rest of the world. Everyone speaks and walks too quickly. I can’t keep up. Thank God my kids are so smart because I don’t understand their assignments. I help supervise and make sure they work on it, but I can’t follow the directions, its too complicated and I can’t remember step 1 by the time we got to step 2. I put due dates on the calendar and remind them, that’s all I can do with my new brain.

I’ve accepted that this may be permanent. I cried. I screamed. I kicked things. I’m calm now. Sometimes I still let a little tear escape when I try to do something simple and the confusion makes me equal to my second grader. Because I remember teaching calculus and geometry. I remember being brilliant. But I’m not right now. I’m slow and dull.

Part of this odd confusion and slowness seems to rob motivation or whatever the mechanism is for making the body actually get up. I live in my head and its frighteningly difficult to get out. I barely notice my surroundings or my body. I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel numb. I feel calm and content, so its hard to call this depression. I think its more a function of the confusion from the migraines at this point, and the isolation habits from the depression.

I’ve been alone so long. I am taking steps to fix that though. I completed the intensive DBT group therapy and now they are recommending a 12 week cognitive processing group therapy for me. That should start in a few weeks. I am still on the waiting list for an individual trauma based therapist so I can do this group while I wait.

I have some concerns though. I am concerned to start something so intense around the holidays that always are so difficult to handle anyways. I’m barely talking to Hubby or anyone, I feel exiled from all family except my SIL. She’s been an angel. Hubby and I have terrible habits of communication that we react badly to one another, and whenever I tell him I am scared, he escalates and raises his voice and makes me feel worse. We keep talking but have found no solutions to this yet, other than he isn’t a safe person for me most of the time when c-ptsd is all stirred up. Which is exactly what this group will do. Its going to dig deep and stir it all up. The counselor said its going to be terrible and midway through everyone nearly breaks down as they explore hidden emotions and try to get in touch with the trauma and process it. Eek.

I’m not sure I can do that on my own, with no one here to comfort me when I get scared. But if I don’t do this now, I have to wait 12 weeks to join the next group, and what, is my life on hold until then? I think now is the time, while I’m not working, to do this once and for all. I just need to trust myself that I can handle this, and that I will listen to me, and not AF’s voice, and not the suicidal thoughts that are bound to flood in when the shit hits the fan.

I joined a NAMI support group, I actually go there in person twice a month. I do have them. I do have my SIL.I also joined a different online forum and I have some new friends there I chat with, so I have them too. And of course I have my wordpress friends. So maybe I can do, and maybe this is the next step to getting AF’s voice OUT of my head.

But I’m afraid. I am so afraid to turn around and face it and hear it full volume, its been muted for so long. I get dizzy, nauseous, and sometimes black out during these exercises it is so powerful and frightening. This counselor says I have a bit of hell trapped in my brain and it blocking me from enjoying my life. That I can’t feel things like love and happiness until I get this block out. I blocked it to stop feeling the pain and fear, she said. I still don’t know if I believe her, but I am willing to try this if it has any chance of removing or even reducing the amount of suicidal thoughts I have daily. Its so hard to build a meaningful life when your brain just keeps saying you should be dead.

I asked them all about going on antidepressants and I talked to doctors, psychiatrists and my neurologists and we all agreed that they arent good for my brain. The only times I ever actually attempted suicide were when I was on antidepressants. No I think the root of the suicidal thinking is not chemical, its AF’s voice constantly feeding me negativity and filth and hatred. When I can practice more compassionate self-talk it really makes a difference.

  • You can make healthy choices for yourself
  • You are strong
  • You can make it through this
  • You are having a normal reaction to an abnormal situation (you are not a freak)

How do hermits make friends?

How to increase your support network?

How to come out of hiding?

How to find people to trust, people to like, people to talk to?

How to find people who care?

How to find people willing to help?

I have all of these questions lately. It has become painfully clear to me that one of my largest issues and reasons I continually slip down the rabbit hole of despair is that I have no one to talk to. That’s why I started this blog actually, so many years ago, and it has helped, but it isn’t the same as seeing and hearing people in real life, in real time.

This point was hammered home to me repeatedly in classes in the psych ward stay – they gave us worksheets to fill out with 10 blanks to list all the people in our lives we trust, talk to, interact with on a daily basis, that know us and could help us.

Mine was blank. I sat there staring at a blank paper and holding back tears as everyone else listed “my mother, my dad, my sister, my brother, my friend Joe, my neighbor Mary, my friend, my friend, my friend…..”

My world is so small and my isolation is enormous.

I had people that I went out with, that we performed together, laughed and had fun together, but we never talked. My family is so painfully dysfunctional I had given up on sharing anything or remotely relying on them. Hubby’s family is emotionally repressed or explosive and not people I can open up to. All my high school and college friends drifted away from me and it hurt too much to keep trying to find friends. I gave up decades ago.

So I’ve only had my counselor. That’s it. One trusted confidante that I have to pay and schedule a 1 hour visit.

All those online dating sites – are there any for friendships? Seeking intelligent, open minded women ready for deep philosophical discussions involving the latest neuroscience and psychology too. Seeking honest, yet gentle and non-judging, opinions and guidance. Seeking warm shoulders to cry on occasionally. Seeking happy voices to share funny stories. Seeking women who don’t mind that I only have 1 pair of sandals each summer, that my nails are never painted, that my house is a mess, that my garden is dead and full of weeds, that my tired eyes show a persistent sadness if you look too closely, but my soul shows a persistent humor and style if you don’t scare it into hiding.

Otherwise, I am seriously looking for suggestions on how to get back into the world and create authentic connections and start letting people know the real me. maybe.

So Many Mistakes, so much stress

So I’m here trying to feel grateful and not overwhelmed but really on that line still. Mostly now thinking how did I get here? What the hell happened the past 3 months, 6 months, a year??  Looking back I see I made a few mistakes, and allowed my stress levels to get too high.

Mistake 1 – Having no social support network and only trusting Hubby to judge my own stress and distress. Truth is, Hubby is not a strong, safe shoulder for me. My fears and doubts are met with either blank stares, his own fears, or anger. And yet I continually ask this of him year after year and expect him to be better THIS time. I keep hoping he will change. I have FINALLY learned this lesson and the need to expand my support network, to trust myself more, and to get more than Hubby’s opinion and help.

It was unfortunate timing that my trusted counselor of over a decade took an extended leave of absence during such a stressful period for me. I started working full time at a stressful new position, struggled with workplace drama hostility and ethics, then AF died and I didn’t know then the impact all this stress would have on my health.

I had no idea how to handle AF’s death. The man that was my entire world as a child, even though it was a wicked and twisted world, was gone. He was the one I called daddy for so many years. I discussed his passing, and his final attack in his will with the interim counselor, but I had never connected with her, and she didn’t lead me through any grieving process. I had no healthy way to process it on my own. No one around me thought it was worth discussing much, or knew what to say, or what to expect in how it could affect me. Even worse, I hid it from coworkers since I was not attending the funeral and didn’t want days off or to discuss it. So I got no sympathy, had to focus my wandering mind, got no flowers, nothing.

I should have given myself some time off, but I didn’t know then because I didn’t feel it then. I still felt ashamed, I didn’t want to burden anyone with my problems. I still thought AF was my terrible secret, all my own. His death stirred up all that in me initially, all those feelings of I must hide, and isolate, that I’d lose everything if they knew. And since Hubby and in-laws were so callous about it, and my FOO was useless as usual, I alone as usual. So completely alone. And then that terrible Will, where AF was so cruel again, and it hurt, and I felt it ‘shouldn’t’ and then felt guilty for it hurting. I should have maybe gotten a message to my counselor, I know now she would have talked to me, but I did what came naturally and started my self harm cycle of binge eating, not sleeping, isolating, and self loathing. Odd how the self harm is part of my self comforting cycle, when I’m hurting I need to hurt myself more. Where’s all that progress I supposedly had made? All of it gone because my counselor wasn’t there to help me? I felt like no one was there to help me and I kept saying how much it hurt, kept reaching out this time, but it didn’t matter, no one understood. I needed my counselor I guess. When I finally saw her in March, she saw the pain, all the weight gain, and had me sign a safety contract, she saw I was in crisis. That I needed a break. She recommended a weekend away. It was good, but too little too late. I should have done it months earlier.

I remember one terrible day of head pain 2 months ago, intense memories/flashbacks to daddy holding me tenderly enclosed in his arms, when I felt safe in his arms as I curled up in a ball and fit completely on his lap, I actually felt his warm arms around me, I heard his voice, felt his head on top of mine. It was a wonderful moment frozen in time, but then I also know his hands are caressing me, slowly in ways a daddy should not. The me I am now returns to present day and feels nauseous, the moment is over, and I’m so confused, like a short circuit, I miss that wonderful disgusting man. That is when I started to cry and could not stop. and the memories flooded in, but even more, the sadness. Oh my god the sadness. I thought my head would split open from the force of the tears and the sadness, and the guilt, and the shame.I had several events like this, each more powerful than the last. I called and made an appointment with a psychiatrist but it was weeks away, so was my next counselor appointment. I could not bear another flashback/migraine/grief/shame attack. I started drinking more and more. I was getting so on edge I couldn’t stay in the room with anyone else. My kids faces looked like a young me and triggered new flashbacks. I avoided them. I started my combo of drinking and cold meds to put me out, and this time I had muscle relaxers to add to the mix from the migraines. Those only gave temporary relief as I woke up more desperate each time looking for something stronger. I just wanted to stop thinking, not actually to die. I remembered something about robotripping and looked up dosages. I had half a bottle of dextromorphan added to my muscle relaxer/whiskey/tylenol cocktail one night. I think I already wrote about this, but I’m writing again anyway because it was so stupid. I blacked out and vomited and fell asleep in my toilet.

I could have died from that stupidity. I didn’t. And not because life has more torture for me, but because my liver did its job. And because we don’t know why things happen. Maybe the second I accept life and stop wishing for death a toilet seat will fall from the space station and kill me in a freak accident. We don’t know. I won’t fill this page with dishonest gratitude either that I’m still living. I’m not yet in a positive place so that wouldn’t be right. But you can all think that for me, no harm there. And all you lucky enough to believe in God to can say its part of his plan for me, no harm for you to think that either.

So – I quit my job, no notice. Just ‘sorry, I quit, effective immediately’. I asked Hubby and he agreed I should quit. I debated telling them I was struggling with migraines, and asking for medical leave. But Hubby and I decided this was best. We also decided it was best because we were planning to take me to the hospital.

I need to clear something up here. I never actually attempted suicide this time. I went to the hospital because I was so afraid that I might. I was still completely rational upon admittance. I even planned the admittance, it wasn’t an emergency trip or anything. I wanted to see if they could help stop the flashbacks and the sadness and the suicidal fears. When I saw that I was only able to work 5 hours the previous week due to migraines. When I realized I was spending most of my time in bed in a dark quiet room and would be unable to work the following week either, I felt like such a failure that I couldn’t even work part time now and find another job appropriately. Flashbacks were nearly constant, seeing anything, feeling anything – could trigger reliving long intense moments of my childhood. The strange part of these flashbacks is that many of them were not frightening, and did not leave me feeling afraid, they left me feeling sad – purely sad, sadder than I’ve ever known possible to feel.

I pushed too far and I broke. My body could not withstand those levels of stress and I was putting my trust in doctors to help me heal, to get some needed rest from the torture of my own brain.