So It’s Been A Long Time…….

Yes, I know. It’s been over 2 months since I wrote on here last. It isn’t because I haven’t wanted to. It was mostly because I just couldn’t find the words. The right words. The words that would fully express what was going on in my head and make sense to those of you who actually read this. See, it didn’t even make sense to me, so how was I supposed to translate that into words for others to understand? I just couldn’t. I haven’t forgotten about this site though that is for sure.

Today, I decided I was going to write. Write whatever I could about whatever I could whether it made sense or not. So here we go.

The last couple of months have been a crazy road of ups and downs. Mostly downs on the inside, and ups on the outside. Let me explain. The last couple of months I have felt more depressed than I have in a long long time. All while on the outside smiling and telling people I am in the best place I have ever been and that I am proud of where I am in life. I have been telling those around me that I’m happy, content, and just going with the flow. In some ways those aren’t lies. In other ways they are. They aren’t lies in sense that I have come thousands of miles from where I was just 5 years ago in my recovery journey. Am I happy about that? Absolutely. Am I happier in many ways now than I was before? Definitely. Am I where I want to be in my life? Definitely not. That is where the lie comes in. I cannot say I am in the bad place I used to be in, but I can say I am in a different place. A different kind of bad, a different kind of depression, and a different kind of wishing for something more. Something better. I ache on the inside to be a person who has found love. To be a woman living on her own, taking care of herself, and surrounded by friends. Plural. FriendS. I have a couple of people I call friends. But mostly, the people in my life are what many would define as acquaintances. People who you see at events, occasions, etc, but also people who don’t know the real me. People who don’t bother to call on the weekends just to say hi, or check in and see how things are going. People who have your number in their phone, but never call. People who when I’m around them, we have fun, we laugh, all that, but once the night is over they are the people who don’t initiate ever hanging out again. I am at a place in my life where I feel very lonely. The people I can honestly say are my friends, Johanna and Sally, I love them to death.  I love the friendships I have with these two people. They mean the world to me. I wouldn’t trade them for anything. I just hope they know just how much I appreciate them, their random texts, and their hugs when I see them.

I am in a place in my life where I feel sad. Sad I am not more. Sad I don’t have that special someone. Sad I just don’t see my worth.

The depression is bad lately. Nowhere what it was 5, 6, 7, years ago, but different. I have skills now where I can recognize what is going on. I can help myself. But there are just so many days I wake up and feel disappointed I woke up. I  see other people worse off than I am, and I know how it is to be where they are, and I am soooo grateful to have come as far as I have, I just wish people would realize. Realize that even though I have come so far, made such huge strides, there’s still a road in front of me. It doesn’t mean the sadness goes away. It doesn’t mean I don’t still hurt on the inside. It doesn’t mean I don’t see or believe that I matter.

I love helping everyone else. I love seeing others smile. And yet, I hate it all at the same time. Let me explain. I hate it because I get jealous. I long for someone to notice the hurt inside of me the way I can notice it in others. I long for someone to tell me, it’s ok to not be ok. I long for someone to see I can’t be everything for everyone else, and nothing for me. All while at the same time, I put my energy into everyone else because I don’t see the worth I have. I don’t see myself being worthy of even my own time.

The past couple of months, I’ve been changing meds and it’s not been easy. Starting one med, stopping another, having a reaction emotionally and quickly stopping the new med and starting another new one. It’s been a total shock to my serotonin levels and my emotions have been all over. I’ve isolated. I’ve put all my energy into work, and doing my job, and when I get home I just have nothing left. I’ve been pushing those people I love the most away and  I hate it, but I “have” to in order to keep myself going to the point where I can say I am functioning and I am able to get through the day. I have to because if I wasn’t isolating, I’d be taking on everything of everyone else’s also and I’d breakdown even further. I know. It makes no sense at all. It’s the fucked up type thinking that comes along with the depression, the med changes, and in a way it’s a type of protection. I’m trying to protect myself from things getting worse.

I had an appointment with my psychiatrist, and her boss, who just so happens to be the psychiatrist who does my ECT treatments. We all sat and we talked about what has been going on. We talked about the med changes and how I’ve been feeling….all that stuff. We talked about things going on in my life. Things with my Grandpa, my mom. We talked about what I’ve been going over in therapy. I told them. I told them I’ve been diving into the sexual abuse by my uncle. I told them it’s not been easy, but it’s something I have been keeping inside for so long it was time I had to share it. I had to let it out. Well, he said maybe doing that in therapy and doing this med changes and such all at the same time wasn’t the best idea. They mentioned I stop talking about the abuse for a couple of months in therapy, take a break. They said give my body, my mind a chance to catch up, to adapt to the new meds, and then see if I even feel I need to go back to the subject of the abuse. I agreed. I told my therapist on Saturday I wanted to take a break. She 100% agreed also.

Life isn’t easy, it’s not meant to be. If life was meant to be easy, God wouldn’t have had to die on the cross. If life were meant to be easy, Christ wouldn’t have even existed. We all have tough times. We all have sin. We all need help, love, and companionship. I know I have God, I know I will never truly be alone. I know these things. I, though, also, am a sinner, and I long for earthly things. I long for human relationships, and I long for feeling like I matter to those around me. These are all things I need to work on every day. Things I need to pray about. I love that I can look forward to heaven. I hate. at the same time, how I have no control over when I go. I need to learn and accept many things. I need to.

Advertisements

I’m not sure anyone is reading this…… 

For real, I only know of one person who actually reads this. I don’t get much feedback from anyone on here so it’s hard to tell how many people really are reading my posts. I suppose it doesn’t matter all that much, I just wonder sometimes is all I guess.

The past week and a half has been something else. Let’s just say,  I am really glad for all the supports I had during this time. Friday, May 12th, I finally took the step and went to the YWCA to meet with a counselor there to sign up for their survivors of sexual abuse group. I was terrified. I had been told about this group all the way back in October, but was just now able to make an appointment and go in. My last post was all about this meeting, so I won’t spend a lot of time going over it again. On the way to the meeting though, my boss decided to call me and tell me about a scheduling error I had made for that day. I felt dumb, useless. All I could tell her was I was sorry, I didn’t know how it had happened, and I would fix the schedule for the upcoming Friday’s when I got back to the office of Monday. She responded with a “Well I guess I’ll have to call and find people to come in today,” and all I could think was, “yeah, I guess so, because I’m not there and I can’t fix it from my car.” I feel like she called just to point out I had messed up, and that it caused her to have to take time time to fix it. I felt terrible, and honestly I thought about it all weekend. When Monday came along, I was so worked up, so anxious, I got to work and it wasn’t even 2 hours into my shift when I had to call my dad and tell him I was about to just start crying because I was so worried about what my boss was going to say to me about my mistake when we met in a little while. I just wanted to cry, run away from it all, even the thoughts of quitting my job came to mind. I know, I know, ridiculous, right? Everyone makes mistakes, and we all have to learn to deal with consequences and learn from them. Well, my anxiety and depression told me otherwise.

I didn’t run, I didn’t quit. I did go to the bathroom and cry, and I did stress out most of the day. The stressing out was noticed by a few of my co-workers, to which I just responded that I wasn’t feeling well and it was no big deal. Tuesday came and we had a speaker coming in to do a presentation that evening. I came in late for the day as I would be staying later in the evening. Again, I was stressing out. This time though, I really wasn’t feeling all that well. My cold/allergies were being wacko and I just couldn’t get my anxiety to go away. My boss noticed I wasn’t looking good, my face was red and hot, and I just wasn’t myself. She even told me I wasn’t looking so good.

After the speaker’s series, which no one showed up for, and we had to send the speaker’s away, I went home and just crashed into my bed. I woke up Thursday feeling ok physically, but so emotionally drained and beat that I called in sick. I told my boss I was physically sick. I was having physical symptoms, but I believe a lot of it was because of the level of depression and anxiety I was having. The same thing happened on Thursday too. So I only worked Monday and Tuesday last week, and took Wed/Thurs off (I have Friday off every week anyways).

I went to my psychiatrist on Wednesday, told her I felt terrible for calling in to work when I was only having emotional issues and not physical. She pretty much told me that “mental health” days are and should be treated just the same as “physical health” days. She told me she would write me a letter of necessity to give to my boss if I really thought I’d need it. She’s right. I shouldn’t feel bad for taking 2 days to just care for me, to give myself time to just BE.

Wednesday and Thursday came and went, and here I am at Sunday wanting, and not wanting to go to work tomorrow all at the same time. I know I should, I know I need to, but my brain and my depression is telling me to just stay home, stay in bed, and not do anything.

My psychiatrist raised one of my meds and we will be weening off of another over the next few months or so. So I know things will be changing and hopefully getting better. I just struggle, with my thoughts, with anxieties, and with depression. I just want it all to go away. I get tired of not knowing, not being able to describe, not having a definite answer to the question “What’s wrong?” or “What’s going on?” I know only one person who truly understands when I say the words for how I’m feeling haven’t even been invented yet. She knows who she is.

If anyone else reads this……how do you all get through the dark times? The anxieties? The depression? How do you all gain confidence in yourself? How do you know and believe you are worth it?

 

 

“A Journey Of A Thousand Miles Begins With A Single Step” – Lao Tzu

From the parking lot to the building was only a few short steps, but the one step it took to get in through the door was the biggest step I’ve had to take.

Yesterday I took one of the biggest steps I’ve had to take on my journey to recovery and healing. I finally took to heart what my co-worker told me about way back in October about the YWCA and all they have to offer for women survivors of sexual abuse. I have, for the last 6 months, kept his words and encouragement, and advice, in the back of my mind, terrified to call the YWCA and set up an appointment to do an intake and join their therapy/ Support group. I kept telling myself, “I don’t need that. I can do this with just my therapist, and I don’t need to put my full story out there to a bunch of strangers.” or “All it’s going to do is trigger me and make things worse.” Well, a couple of weeks ago I finally got to the point where I said to myself, “Maybe being around others who have experienced the same things and hearing their stories will help me. Maybe it will help me to feel not so alone, so ashamed, guilty, and dirty.” I picked up the phone and set up an intake appointment. Then I put it all out of my mind. Subconsciously hoping it might just all go away.

Yesterday was the day of my appointment. The week leading up to this appointment was full of anxiety, headaches, spacing out, and fear. I’m pretty good at putting on that mask of everything’s alright, and no one ever really truly knows what my mind is telling me, putting me through. There are even times I don’t even know. It’s like the words haven’t even been invented yet to describe the thoughts, the pain, the emotion in my head.

Yesterday came way too slow……but yet so fast. This past week was long, but not long enough either. I dreaded the appointment, scared of being judged, scared of being told my story wasn’t bad enough that I didn’t really need this group and I should just leave. I was scared I wouldn’t be believed, that the person wouldn’t really get it. Scared of, well, scared of how real it was all going to feel as I told the intake person my story, and my fears. I texted my best friend before the meeting, just to make sure she would be available when I was done, so if I needed to talk I would know she was there…….it brought a sense of peace and solace knowing she knew I was going into this meeting scared shit less and that she would be thinking about me and praying for me. I had this sense of not being alone and I can’t thank her more for that.

I told my dad about this meeting weeks ago, but I’ve been terrified to tell my mom, as I was scared it would upset her. I did finally tell her though right before I went to the meeting, she took it well, and I’m glad I told her about it.

I drove to the YWCA office. I got there early (go figure right? I’m early for everything) I sat in the parking lot with the music on in my car. I knew the music was playing but I didn’t hear it all at the same time. I couldn’t. I was so caught up in thoughts and fears and just didn’t know what I was doing. Should I stay? Should  I just go? I looked at the clock and it seemed as if the time wasn’t changing. I felt frozen in this moment, stuck in the fear, and yet feeling this overwhelming need to get out of the car and just do it. Just walk up to the building and go in those double glass doors. I sat there and I said a prayer. I said, “God, I don’t know why you put Mike in my life to tell me about this place way back in October, I don’t know why you finally put it on my heart to do this, and I definitely do not know why you have brought me to such an unknown and scary place. I do know though, that You are Great and will be with me the whole time. I know You won’t bring me to anything You can’t help me through, and I also know this sucks really bad. I am terrified God, just give me strength.” After I was done praying I got out of the car, stood next to it for what seemed like minutes when really it was probably just a few seconds, and I took those steps to the doors at the front of the building. The sun was shining down on my face and I could feel it’s warmth as I stood there, trying to lift my arm that felt like a thousand pounds, to open the door. I did it. I opened the door and I walked in. I stared at the receptionist and knew she was saying something to me, but I couldn’t hear her. I responded with a shaky “what?” and she asked me to sign in and have a seat, that she would let the counselor know I was there.

I took a seat on the fake leather chair and just looked around and took in my surroundings. I noticed my leg was shaking and my palms were getting a bit sweaty. I sat for what seemed like forever, though it was really only 5 minutes, and then Erin, the counselor came out to get me. She welcomed me, shook my hand, and told me it was nice to meet me. All I could think was “don’t say that too fast, you don’t even know me yet, you may not think it’s so nice after we get done talking.” I have a lot of doubts about myself. I have a hard time finding myself worthy of being liked by anyone.

We went to a small conference like room with two chairs and a small table and we started talking about the YWCA and generally what it is for, who it is for, and what the group I was looking to join was all about. Erin talked to me like she had known me for years, she listened to me as if what I had to say truly mattered to her. It’s not something I’m all that used to. I mean, my family and friends and my therapist they listen, and they care, what I mean is this person was completely new to me, and yet she still had such an interest in me, my story, and my experiences. I told her a lot about things that had happened, but not everything. I even said at one point, “I don’t want to answer that question yet, I don’t really know you well enough to go that deep.” and she accepted that answer as valid and said ok, that she completely understood that.

She understood that. Wow, she understood that I wasn’t quite ready, that I had limits. This was a realm of unfamiliarity for me. I felt this meeting to be completely  non-judgmental and safe. We talked for close to 2.5 hours about everything and going over intake questions and paperwork and all that. I left feeling exhausted, worn out, and just drained. The first group is on May 30th. I’m terrified, nervous, but looking forward to it at the same time.

Taking this step really wasn’t all that big, but the impact of it already has been huge and it can and might leave a huge impact on my process of healing from the impact of the sexual abuse of my uncle. I imagine this is a lot like sky diving. You jump out of a plane, free falling, you see the possibility of the bottom, and you have confidence your parachute will open and the landing will be standard/ easy, but there’s that standing fear of what if my parachute doesn’t open? What if when I land I get hurt? But you still take the jump, because you know it’s going to take you on a path you’ve never been on before, and it could teach you so much about life and yourself.

 

“When The Storm Is Raging, And My Hope Is Gone….”

The title of this post is part of the lyrics to the song “Eye of the storm” by Ryan Stevenson. This song, along with a couple others, has been really hitting home to me lately. I know my blog isn’t the most uplifting blog around, but it is one of the most honest blogs anyone will ever find. I write on this blog almost as if it is my journal. I write on here rather than in a journal because I truly feel like it is a release, I feel like I am being heard…….even though I have no idea who in the world is reading this. I have tried writing in a paper journal, and it works to an extent to get things out, but I don’t feel any closure from it because it’s like, ok now all my emotions are on the paper but now what? I get no feedback from a journal. I know people write blogs for all different reasons, I just wanted to let you all know why I write the way I do, and about the topics I do. I write this blog as my story.

Now to get to my post for today. The lyrics of this song and the few other songs I have clung to over the last couple of weeks have really been hitting home hard for me. I mentioned in a previous post that about a year ago I started going to a new church, after not going to church for a couple of years. The people at this new church are amazing. I have formed friendships I believe will last a long time. I have friends who I am not embarrassed to ask to pray for me, who I also pray for. My faith has grown tremendously, and I have a whole new support system. All this, while at the same time still every day battling depression and thoughts of self harm and suicide. Thoughts I know I won’t act upon, but they cause stress and anxiety all at the same time. I am struggling with my relationship with my mom too. She has a mental illness diagnosis also, and she is at a point in her recovery where she thinks therapy is just a place to go bitch about everything but then leave for week and not work on changing anything. She has this attitude that comes across as if she believes everyone else is wrong and should do everything for her. That the way she feels is everyone else’s fault and they are the ones who need to make changes not her. I know this place well, because I was once there in my own recovery. I, however, was able to see through therapy that basically this world doesn’t revolve around me and I need to work at getting better and my recovery just as hard, if not harder than everyone else around me. I learned my recovery process is not just a process for the one with the diagnosis, but the family too……the family members are there to help and support the individual, but they too need support as the process happens. My mom, because of the depth of her depression, deals with memory loss, and it’s frustrating. It’s frustrating to tell her something and then 10 minutes later have her ask again……and then again later. I do get frustrated, and I get angry, then she gets upset because she feels bad she forgot but she also is frustrated with not remembering and she feels hopeless. Well, I get that, but what angers me the most is that she CAN fix it. The doctors have told her it’s due to her depression, but yet she’s not doing anything to move forward in getting better. Her therapist doesn’t challenge her to change or make changes, and her psychiatrist just gives meds and that’s it. Mom goes in and tells the doctor things are fine, when in reality they are NOT fine at all. She doesn’t remember things dad tells her to bring up at the doctor so she doesn’t and the vicious cycle keeps going.

I’m frustrated. It’s hard to watch my mom falling apart, and it’s hard to be around her at all. She get’s upset that I don’t want to do things with her or go places with her, or I’ll work all day and not want to do or go anywhere with her when I get home and she gets upset as if it’s something against her, not that I’m just tired from work and want to chill for a bit. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I am not at a point where I can move out of the house……trust me, if I could afford it, I would be out already. I am working on that in many ways. I am very aware that her behaviors and her depression are very triggering and influential of my own depression. I am daily trying to set a schedule and make sure I am taking care of myself first and setting boundaries and all that……but it’s still stressful, and hard…….I mean let’s face it…..Life isn’t perfect…..it’s hard.

I had a phone session with my therapist today because it’s been 3 weeks since I have seen her because she has been out of the office due to medical reasons. I won’t actually see her in a sit down session until at least a week from tomorrow……April 22. She is for sure the best therapist I have ever had….I have been working with her for over 5 years and I couldn’t ask for a better person to listen to me and have empathy towards me but yet challenge me and push me to continue to move forward and towards my goals in life and recovery in general. She doesn’t put up with any shit, she knows when I’m holding things back and she holds me accountable to things I say I am going to do. Today we talked just about what’s been happening over the last few weeks of her being gone. The last few weeks the depression has gotten worse. The nightmares have been peaking and my anxiety has not been good either. Overall, I feel like crap and I don’t know why. I honestly cannot give a reason for why the depression and everything has been getting worse. I can’t explain why I often just feel like crying but the tears just don’t want to come. I can’t give a reason for any of this. And that in itself is a frustrating thing. I just want to feel balanced. I want to wake up in the morning and be glad I woke up. I want to love myself, and see myself as others have described me to be. I want to help myself as much as I have helped others. I want to know what it is that people see in me and I want to believe what they have to say.

I don’t know if any of this makes sense or if anyone even read this to the end, but I wonder, does anyone else ever feel like  I do lately? Do any of you deal with similar things?

 

When Looking In, Everything Is Going Right…….

This has got to be one of the most common questions asked by people with depression, anxiety, or any other type of mental illness. How can everything seemingly be going so well, going so right, but yet on the inside I feel irritable, sad, angry, alone, scared, and just like it’s all falling apart? What do I believe………the way things are to everyone else, or the way my brain is telling me things are……the way my emotions are? I hate this depression crap……I know I have things going well for me……the new job is coming along. I am getting a hold of things, starting to pick up a routine, and picking up on some of the tech things I didn’t know before. I still have a LOT to learn, don’t get me wrong. It is still a bit overwhelming with the amount of things the person in this position before me left unorganized and wrong, or simply didn’t do at all even though he was supposed to be doing it regularly. I basically inherited a mess when it comes to records of things and it’s going to be a process to clean it all up. I think in a way, the depression I am experiencing lately probably has a lot to do with the stress factor from the new job, but I have to find ways to relieve this stress other than ways I would use in the past, or have used in the past. I can tell you right now, I haven’t had the urge to self-injure like I have over the past week, in a long time. Don;t get me wrong, those urges have never fully gone away, but I’m just saying it hasn’t seemed as appealing of an option as it has the last week or so. I haven’t done anything……trust me…….and I don’t plan on using that as a relief tool…..I’m just saying it isn’t making it any easier.

The past few weeks/ months, my therapist and I have also been going deeper into the sexual abuse experiences I had as a child. Therefore, the nightmares have not been getting any better either. In fact, they have gone up. It’s rare to go a night without waking up at least 3 times because of a nightmare having to do with my Uncle and the abuse. It’s like  a combination of being on a roller coaster, when your stomach drops, and being a kid who wakes up from a dream trying to scream but nothing comes out. It’s not a pleasant feeling. Along with those things, it takes a minute or so to realize once I have woken up, that it’s not real, it’s not happening again, that I am safe. Imagine having that 3-4 times every night, over and over again. This in itself is a life stressor I deal with, and have dealt with for years. I can’t remember the last time I slept through a night without having nightmares.

I just feel like I should be so happy, and in many ways I am, because I am so grateful to be where I am in my life. I am so happy I am not where I was just 5 years ago, in the hospital over and over, and unable to work at all. But at the same time, I feel like because I’ve come so far, to have a bad day is moving backwards. Now, I logically know that isn’t true, everyone has bad days, but for me, bad days are not just one day, it’s 2, 3, 4, days and I find ways to push it all down inside, and pretend like it’s all good. All because I don’t want to move backwards, I don’t want people to see me as a failure, I don’t want to see myself as a failure………heh…..I already do. I want to succeed, I want to move forward, do things the world says a 30 year old female should be doing. I want to have a boy friend, I want to get married, have a place of my own, support myself, all while at the same time feeling ugly, unworthy, and pitiful. I feel like no guy would ever love me …… because of my illness, my weight, and the “baggage” that would come with me. I just feel like I can’t even love myself, how could anyone else ever love me? I truly believe this is why I put so much of myself into helping others, because I can’t love myself, so I may as well love and help others to be happy and the best they can be, because THEY deserve it……me? I don’t. I have said this to people before and a few have tried to convince me otherwise, but words are not enough, it proves nothing, the actions of the world prove things. The way guys treated me in high school and college. The way guys treat me now. The way people who are close to me say things like, “relationships aren’t for everyone” or “you don’t need a guy to be happy”. I get that, but it’s to the point where I’ve started saying things like “I don’t want to get married, a guy would just hold me back” or “There’s no way I’d have kids” as a way to cover up the fact that on the inside I am just longing for it, Jealous of my sister and cousins who have these things. Feeling even more alone, and unlovable because it’s just come to be expected by my family that I’ll be single.

I can say one thing that is really good, and I’m truly happy to have, is my friendship with a person from work who I feel like I can call and just bitch to, or laugh with, or just talk about people from work with or anything. We are often sending texts to each other just to say hi, or checking in, and I hope she knows just how much I appreciate her, her friendship, and her honesty with me. She makes me laugh, and we talk about everything. She has a diagnosis too so I know she fully gets it. I just smile when I think about our friendship. She is an amazing person, friend, and I don’t know what I’d do without her.

I saw my psychiatrist the other day, after I settle into this new job a bit more we are going to work on changing up my meds. She didn’t want to start a med change when such a big transition was going on in my life. I’m continuing to do ECT every 2 weeks, and I think it’s best that way. My therapist is off this week and next so that doesn’t make things any easier. I guess I just needed to vent things out today, sorry for the unorganized post.

We shall see what tomorrow has to bring………………just one day at a time.

When Someone Does Something That Reminds You That You Matter

I work at a non-profit as a peer specialist. I help others going through mental health difficulties by sharing my story and using my experiences as a a tool to help them to set and reach recovery goals. That’s a very brief explanation of my job. Anyway, as part of my job, I do speaking engagements, either at hospitals, schools, police training’s, or other groups meetings etc. sharing my story of living with a mental illness, but also reaching the point of recovery that I am at now. I work with a gentlemen, who is a retired police social worker. He mostly does all the police training’s, but he also leads the support group for the peer specialists. He has heard my story multiple times, and the last support group meeting, I shared I was struggling and all that. Well, this past weekend I received an email from him saying he had something he wanted to discuss with me the next time our paths crossed. Well, my anxiety kicked in and all I could think was I did something wrong and things like that. Then this past Saturday, I saw him at the Peer specialist party we had to celebrate our 1 year of being with this non-profit and I flat out asked him what it was he wanted to discuss. He said it could wait until Monday, but I told him I was getting anxious about it and that my mind was being a bitch that it would be easier to just take a walk and talk right then. So we did, and he brought up that he had been thinking about me and my story a lot lately, that he was wondering if I had ever gotten the help I needed for the sexual abuse by my uncle when I was little that I mention in my story when I speak. I didn’t tell my parents, or anyone really, about the abuse until just 6 years ago when I was 24 during one of my hospitalizations. He told me he’s concerned about me and how the abuse affects me and my life and my mental/ emotional health and that it’s something that needs to be faced head on, coped with, not just pushed aside. He said he didn’t know how much I had coped with it, or worked on it with my therapist, but that he had a few numbers of people he would recommend to help me to deal with it  and all that. He told me he knew about some support groups and that he wanted to help me. I didn’t really know how to react. First, for someone to say “I’ve been thinking about you and your story a lot lately” wow, that in itself took me aback. I’m not used to hearing that from others, I mean I know I have support and that people care about me, but I often feel as if I don’t really matter. By him saying that, and all the things we talked about, he gave me this feeling that I do matter to him, that I deserve to get the help I need for this abuse, and that I am worth it.

This Mental Illness Won’t Win….It’s Just Giving Me A Mighty Competition Right Now

I’ve been struggling for over a month now. I have been going to therapy, ECT, and my psychiatrist regularly, and they all know what’s going on. My therapist is great, and she is very encouraging and lets me just “word vomit” all over her during our sessions as I vent out everything that is going on in my head, all the while helping me remember I have gotten through times like this before and it’s possible to get through it again. My psychiatrist has been raising my anti-depressant as the levels of it on the blood test were extremely low. The blood results caused him to talk to his fellow doctors and one of them asked him if he was sure I was even taking the meds, that’s how low the levels were in my blood. When my doctor told me that, I looked at him like “you’ve got to be kidding me” I have never not taken my meds, and I have always had the determination to get better, he knows that. I have to go get the levels of this med checked again on wednesday and we will go from there. He raised it last week so we are going to see if the increased dose does anything. The levels could be low for 2 reasons : either my body is not metabolizing the medication, or my body is overly metabolizing the medication and it’s “going away” too fast.

I haven’t felt this bad in a long time. I am emotionally exhausted and getting tired of putting on that mask that everything is Ok when really, on the inside I’m a mess. I tell some people when they ask how I’m doing that “I’m ok, just going day by day” but that’s as far as it goes. I don’t say, “I’m really struggling, and just falling apart” I feel like if I were to say that I would either throw people off, or end up unintentionally pushing people away because they are too scared or unsure of how to help me. I just feel like crying all the time and it’s literally taking all my energy to get through a day. I went to bed at 8pm last night because I was so exhausted. Not that I slept from 8 pm on but just to lay in bed felt good. I haven’t been sleeping all that well. I have mentioned before that I deal with nightmares, and they haven’t been helping this situation at all. Though, last week when I told my psychiatrist I was not sleeping well, he said he didn’t want to just keep adding meds and that he’s a real believer in sleep hygiene and other skills to help one sleep. I totally respect him for that. I don’t want to just end up relying on meds to get to sleep or to stay asleep. I want to be able to get sleep without those things. I downloaded some sleep meditation apps on my phone and so far the one that is supposedly a hypnosis type meditation has helped to reduce the nightmares, I don’t know if I am in a deeper sleep that the nightmares aren’t as prevalent or what, but on a  scale of 1-10 my nightmares have been running from a 7-9 and over the last week with this app it’s gone down as low as a 5. I’ll take it. I’m still waking up multiple times so my sleep isn’t all that restful, but the sleep I am getting I’m not experiencing so many nightmares so that is good.

Another thing…..this past Saturday I got to meet my cousins baby girl for the first time since she was born. She is 5 weeks old and is the most beautiful and precious thing I have ever seen. I am madly in love 😉 It was great getting to meet her, and at the same time I had a bunch of emotions I wasn’t expecting. I was a bit jealous of my cousin, that she is so much further in life than I am and she is younger than me. I was scared, scared that I’ll be stuck where I am forever, that no guy will ever love me and that I will forever be alone. I don’t feel worthy of a mans love, so I brush it off by saying I just don’t want to get married or have kids, but in reality I want to get married. I want to have that companionship, I just don’t feel worthy of love. Not after what my uncle did to me. I feel dirty, traumatized, and unworthy.

When I was sitting on the couch at my aunts house with my sisters boyfriend and my other cousin’s fiance, they were talking about a guy who killed himself. I didn’t know that’s what they were talking about until I heard them say something really graphic and I got completely triggered. I am already in a vulnerable state of mind, and then this. It just didn’t help to have this on top of everything else. So I got up from the couch and I went and held the baby, I just looked into her pretty blue eyes and focused on her breathing and tried to calm myself that way.

I know this post was a bit all over the place…..sorry about that. My mind isn’t quite focused right now and it’s hard to compose all my thoughts. I just want to feel better. I want this rough time to pass, and hopefully I’ll learn something from it. I will not let this mental illness win over my life, it’s just giving me a mighty competition right now.