I lay here, as I do most nights, restless and tired, but unable to sleep. I'd take something to help me sleep but somehow my prescription ran out, a week before my doc appoint, (sigh) I'd like to know how that happen.
regardless, i sense something is not right, not necessarily with me (lord knows i could find a million things about myself that is not right). but something really not right, almost like the faith smell of death is lingering around my home. I am not psychotic, nor do i halleucinate...i don't think demons are coming to get me, or indulge in any weird out-of-my-mind scenarios like that. it's like that feeling, moms know this feeling well, like when your child is just sick, you just know. It's instinct or your "gut", telling you something. I don't believe that my "gut" is any way related to predicting the future or some other crazy irrational idea. But I do feel that something is off, almost like something horrible will happen. And yet, I'm not anxious about it, or worried. i'm curious. of all things to be, i'm just curious.
oh and get this...what is adding to my morbid curiousity, is that i also feel as if i know something. like i can't remember what it is, or a memory that is unclear. i feel as if i know exactly what this creepy shadowy feeling is all about. this is probably the 4th night in the past two weeks that i have felt this. I've tried to ignore it before tonight. i'm going to move onto happier thoughts. the lingering shadow discussion isn't going to have an answer, its not a puzzle, looking to be solve, its just a circumstance.
I'll think about tomorrow, about doing something special with the kids. :) this is a big deal, for me, as with a mental illness such as mine, thinking about the future, even the next day, doesn't happen that often. (unless of course its anxiety related).
I think i will hold onto this happy thought for as long as i can. its is wonderful to feel something, my kids always know how to bring a smile to my face.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Protection
The anxiety has become a frequent obstacle for me. For a few months, even about 1/2 a year, I think the medication has had it under control, panic attacks were less frequent and severe, the general worry that shadowed me, and incessant walking on eggshells feeling, has diminished.
Yet for the last week - week and a half...my mind has started to fall back into that pattern. I feel myself subconsciously forgetting to breathe, and finally gasping as if breathing through a straw, the tingling in my fingertips, and when its at its worst, the tingling in my face as the blood drains from my head making me dizzy. Lately, I have been building up my walls of defense, brick by brick, I shelter the fragile child from the outside world. Your words are the glue or mortar that holds my bricks firmly.
I feel desperate, yet I am not sure why. I blink back tears, so my children won't see. and I rarely speak to my husband for fear of rejection or criticism. Then comes the nausea, like a lump in the back of your throat were you can't swallow past it. recently the nausea has become so physical, that I find myself hanging over the kitchen sink gagging.
My newest drama, is the "cringe". I actually find myself tensing up and holding my breathe whenever my husband opens the bedroom door to speak to me, or enters a room and says my name in that monotone parent scolding voice. Internally I cry and beg and plead, please no more hurt, please, don't tell me what I have done wrong, or impose a new rule on me that I must follow and remember. Please don't tell me disappointing news, or something else that will make be worry. Don't ask me questions that you won't listen to the answers, I hate that. And please don't give me another chore to do, I'm not going to do it right so why bother.
But outside, my response is "yes" and "ok", and I give you that blank stare as if I am listening to your every word. When really, I'm just trying to swallow the lump in my throat or get the feeling back in my hands.
When I was younger I remember these same motions and habits. I remember standing there, in front of the firing squad being yelled yet. And the same blank stare, the same nods of agreement, when inside - my brain was sounding the alarm, Like a castle pulling up their drawbridge, and archers lining the walls... my mind falls into protection mode. It shuts down my emotions, piece by piece, protecting the frail child from pain.
Each time I go "under", a small piece of me doesn't come back. You see, depression is not always about sobbing everyday, and moping and feeling sorry for yourself. The deepest depression is the loniliness. Where your true self, is so far locked away from the world, so deep inside, that no one can get to you.
Yet for the last week - week and a half...my mind has started to fall back into that pattern. I feel myself subconsciously forgetting to breathe, and finally gasping as if breathing through a straw, the tingling in my fingertips, and when its at its worst, the tingling in my face as the blood drains from my head making me dizzy. Lately, I have been building up my walls of defense, brick by brick, I shelter the fragile child from the outside world. Your words are the glue or mortar that holds my bricks firmly.
I feel desperate, yet I am not sure why. I blink back tears, so my children won't see. and I rarely speak to my husband for fear of rejection or criticism. Then comes the nausea, like a lump in the back of your throat were you can't swallow past it. recently the nausea has become so physical, that I find myself hanging over the kitchen sink gagging.
My newest drama, is the "cringe". I actually find myself tensing up and holding my breathe whenever my husband opens the bedroom door to speak to me, or enters a room and says my name in that monotone parent scolding voice. Internally I cry and beg and plead, please no more hurt, please, don't tell me what I have done wrong, or impose a new rule on me that I must follow and remember. Please don't tell me disappointing news, or something else that will make be worry. Don't ask me questions that you won't listen to the answers, I hate that. And please don't give me another chore to do, I'm not going to do it right so why bother.
But outside, my response is "yes" and "ok", and I give you that blank stare as if I am listening to your every word. When really, I'm just trying to swallow the lump in my throat or get the feeling back in my hands.
When I was younger I remember these same motions and habits. I remember standing there, in front of the firing squad being yelled yet. And the same blank stare, the same nods of agreement, when inside - my brain was sounding the alarm, Like a castle pulling up their drawbridge, and archers lining the walls... my mind falls into protection mode. It shuts down my emotions, piece by piece, protecting the frail child from pain.
Each time I go "under", a small piece of me doesn't come back. You see, depression is not always about sobbing everyday, and moping and feeling sorry for yourself. The deepest depression is the loniliness. Where your true self, is so far locked away from the world, so deep inside, that no one can get to you.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
humiliation
to feel humiliated, is self imposed. You see, you can't be humiliated, unless you have preconceived notions about social norms, and personal expectations. You also have to care on some level to experience it. so if you can feel humiliated, you know that you are not yet at the bottom because you give a rats ass about something. I believe that once you feel nothing, then that is the bottom, and the risk you off yourself is the greatest.
Today I was humiliated in public, by my wonderful husband. Thank you. The best is that when he asked me why i was "silent" and I stated " you humiliated me in that store. His response was "I didn't humiliate you" Thank you again, because now you can control or at least attempt to state how it is I feel.
God I love this, I never have to think because he does it for me.
Today I was humiliated in public, by my wonderful husband. Thank you. The best is that when he asked me why i was "silent" and I stated " you humiliated me in that store. His response was "I didn't humiliate you" Thank you again, because now you can control or at least attempt to state how it is I feel.
God I love this, I never have to think because he does it for me.
Friday, January 20, 2012
I tried
but couldn't put the words down....had so many thoughts - tried to type and then....I don't know so sorry
Why?
Sometimes I wonder why this life was chosen for me, why my set of circumstances, why the reality of each morning I face. I try to think logically - well I make my own choices, isn't that what God gave us all, a choice? But the harsh truth of it is that no one controls the outcomes, that is where I have failed. The most anyone can hope to do is to increase the odds of success in our favor.
What is buried deep inside is a hurt child, unable to make herself small enough to disappear. For those of you have at one time or another, heard their parents fight when they were young. If you were lucky enough your parents fought after they believed you were sleeping. And there you would lay, listening to their words, as you held your head on your blankets, praying that you wouldn't be caught listening, praying that they would stop.
I spent most of my life with my head under my covers. The most horrible things I would hear them say, and I wish I could shut so many of those words out. My stepfather was the worst of them all. Again - they always believed that I was sleeping, but I heard way too much. I heard that I was a slut and a whore, and should probably start "serving men" to start paying the bills. (let's just say servicing men was not the term that was used). How I was a manipulative B^tch and how my mother better take care of me, give me a good whooping or he would.
I was about 13.
I recall some of my offenses, not taking dinner out of the freezer for the 100th time, coming in the house to see my stepfather passed out with his penis in full view, oh yes the time when I came home 20 minutes passed my curfew. (I believe that was one of the times I was told I was a whore). I stayed a virgin for a very long time, terrified to have sex, and I never wanted to be one.
This is the first time, I have ever spoke of these events. I don't know if I feel better, but I can say, that this is not the worst of my memories. (close but not the worst).
So yes, I spent much time, hiding under the covers, hoping that my mom would stick up for me, hoping that they wouldn't come in and yank me out of bed, or wouldn't make up some crazy punishment to enforce on me the next day. Usually something to humiliate me. It was nights like these that I prayed God would take my breathe....and I always wondered, why me?
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Hating myself
I sit here.
Listening to the tv, but couldn't tell you want is on.
I want to be normal, I want to function.
I know that there are so many of you out there, that suffer silently with depression. Please share with me, how do you get through each day?
What drives you to continue on, to go through the motions, as a friend, spouse, parent or employee? How do you do it...I am running out of solutions. I have covered up and continue to mask my sorrow. It's hard....so freaking hard.
Listening to the tv, but couldn't tell you want is on.
I want to be normal, I want to function.
I know that there are so many of you out there, that suffer silently with depression. Please share with me, how do you get through each day?
What drives you to continue on, to go through the motions, as a friend, spouse, parent or employee? How do you do it...I am running out of solutions. I have covered up and continue to mask my sorrow. It's hard....so freaking hard.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
embarrassment
I feel so shameful for feeling this way.
Every day - I feel just a little piece of me crumbling.
I am so embarrassed - as I don't have a right to feel this way, yet I don't seem to have any control over it. I'm in therapy, medicated, its not that I am not trying to fix the issue.
It's not that I feel sorry for myself either. At least I don't think I do. The truth is, I hate myself.
Imagine waking up everyday, looking in the mirror, and just feeling plain nauseous at who is looking back.
I am so embarrassed - as I don't have a right to feel this way, yet I don't seem to have any control over it. I'm in therapy, medicated, its not that I am not trying to fix the issue.
It's not that I feel sorry for myself either. At least I don't think I do. The truth is, I hate myself.
Imagine waking up everyday, looking in the mirror, and just feeling plain nauseous at who is looking back.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Sorrow
BlogCatalog
a sorrow so great, that it is almost tangible. i can almost hold it in my hand. for those familiar with meditation, and mind travel (astral travel? I forgot what it is called)- then you understand that feeling of your mind slipping away.
Yet with sorrow, you're not in control. At times, it is a struggle, like trying to climb out of a well, but the rocks, dirt, or any item that you might imagine grabbing slips away and tumbles down into the big black circle beneath you. In this mental picture, you are scrambling, but are fatally unsuccessful. Never quite strong enough to pull yourself out. Sometimes that is what my sorrow is like.
And sometimes, it is like laying still, perfectly still under heavy blankets, like you are playing hide n seek. You lay so still, not even breathing for fear that the world will see the blankets move. Sometimes that is what my sorrow is like too. It's funny, but I am very consciencious of my deepening sorrow. My therapist once said that I was extremely insightful. I think she was correct in some ways, I am always aware, analyzing, interpreting, looking for the truth. It's pathetic how much self awareness I have, so much, that I can see my own fall. I see the signs of someone slipping away, as if it wasn't me.
Today I am under the big blanket. Just listening, just watching, and even waiting (for what I have no idea). I watch as my husband moves about the house, getting the kids ready for bed. I listen as they laugh and play, and I even smile on the inside soaking up the joy of their giggles, from my distant world. I listen to my husband leave the house, never even mentioning that he was leaving or where he was going, or even saying goodbye. I feel sad that he didn't notice me, while I was trying not to be noticed. I promise when I leave to say goodbye.
So I lay here under my blanket, listening to my little ones play in the next room, thinking that for tonight - I would like to be a part of those giggles. So I join them.
a sorrow so great, that it is almost tangible. i can almost hold it in my hand. for those familiar with meditation, and mind travel (astral travel? I forgot what it is called)- then you understand that feeling of your mind slipping away.
Yet with sorrow, you're not in control. At times, it is a struggle, like trying to climb out of a well, but the rocks, dirt, or any item that you might imagine grabbing slips away and tumbles down into the big black circle beneath you. In this mental picture, you are scrambling, but are fatally unsuccessful. Never quite strong enough to pull yourself out. Sometimes that is what my sorrow is like.
And sometimes, it is like laying still, perfectly still under heavy blankets, like you are playing hide n seek. You lay so still, not even breathing for fear that the world will see the blankets move. Sometimes that is what my sorrow is like too. It's funny, but I am very consciencious of my deepening sorrow. My therapist once said that I was extremely insightful. I think she was correct in some ways, I am always aware, analyzing, interpreting, looking for the truth. It's pathetic how much self awareness I have, so much, that I can see my own fall. I see the signs of someone slipping away, as if it wasn't me.
Today I am under the big blanket. Just listening, just watching, and even waiting (for what I have no idea). I watch as my husband moves about the house, getting the kids ready for bed. I listen as they laugh and play, and I even smile on the inside soaking up the joy of their giggles, from my distant world. I listen to my husband leave the house, never even mentioning that he was leaving or where he was going, or even saying goodbye. I feel sad that he didn't notice me, while I was trying not to be noticed. I promise when I leave to say goodbye.
So I lay here under my blanket, listening to my little ones play in the next room, thinking that for tonight - I would like to be a part of those giggles. So I join them.
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