Category Archives: pain
Life happens before you have time to realize what’s going on. It comes at you faster than light and you can’t escape. You think you can control it or predict it or protect yourself against it but you can’t. You never could. But you thought you had it all under control.
So you hide. You sweep everything under your perfectly manicured fake smile and you wear it like a shroud. Hiding the truth from the world the best you can. And it works. “You know how I can tell you had a good day? Because you’re glowing,” they say. “You look fantastic,” they gush. So you smile. And you thank them. And you hide behind your smile. You are at your worst. You are thinking about the release of death. You are thinking of the beauty in the end.
But you keep going. You keep hiding behind your lies because you have your family to think about. Your family that you love. And you have to think of your friends. The friends you care about fiercely. And you have to make sure they are okay. You have to make sure you are there for them.
You can’t give up. You have to keep trying. You have to keep pushing. You have to keep hiding. And you do. But they don’t know – you dazzle them with your smile and they don’t see the crumbling structure behind it. You are fine, thanks-so-much!, and nobody is the wiser. You are winning. You are faking it until you make it. And it’s working.
Until it’s suddenly and voraciously not okay. It eats you alive. You feel each bit of you fall away – consumed by the unyielding lies you so meticulously swept away.
But life is still happening. And you are just along for the ride. And you wake up every morning. And you talk yourself out of bed. And you convince yourself you have to go to work. And you don your smile and you pack on your shards of faith. Your shattered positivity. And you pretend you still know how to define hope. And you live. Every. Damn. Day. You do it.
Because you’ll never have to live today again. You will always have tomorrow. Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better.
It has to be.
Involuntarily her shoulder meets her ear in a reflex reaction to the echoing in her head. It starts slow, idling in the background until suddenly the bullet train rips her down a dark tunnel dull lights passing in and out of focus as the train speeds along faster faster faster the words hitting her getting heavier and heavier more insistent until all she can hear is a jarring rendition of all her insecurities pushing and tearing through her an involuntary passenger on a train of relentless falsities masquerading as truths until…nothing. Her body aches, her lids heavy with unshed tears, as reality comes flickering back into focus one frame at a time.
Shoulder meets ear.
“Go away.” She whispers.
Shoulder meets ear.
A cold tingling river starts in her head trickling down her neck, her arms, her torso, down her legs, reaching her feet, stretching to her toes.
Shoulder meets ear.
Worthless. Disappointment. Unattractive. Horrible. Horrible. Horrible.
She knows depression lies. It feeds on insecurities and lays in wait, festering, gobbling up any nuance and waiting for its opportunity to regurgitate it with a vengeance.
“What’s wrong?” People ask, seeing the fear in her eyes they mistake as anger.
“Nothing.” She pleads with her eyes. “I’m fine.” She lies.
Sometimes I want to run away. In the middle of the night. Under the cloak of darkness. Because sometimes it hurts too much. It hurts too much and I want so desperately to reach out and tell someone but I think only of how much of a burden I have been in my life and how little I want to continue being a burden. Most often I don’t even see what’s going on until it’s too late and I…I hurt myself…in one form or fashion, in the end. My mind moves at the speed of light and my anxiety and depression shoulder devils, whisper sweet nothings into my ears that befuddle my already confusing thoughts.
The worst part is that I should know how to do this by now. I should know how to calm myself down at 3:45 a.m. when I wake up crying with a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach that makes me curl up into a ball for fear my insides will tear open from the pain that may or may not even exist inside me. I should be able to dispel these thoughts and feelings and the raw, nagging insistence that I will never amount to anything because I have nothing to show for my life thus far and probably never will. I should. Should, should, should. There are a lot of things I should do and people will tell me to “just do them.” People will tell me that my thoughts are silly and I should just get over them. And I will. I promise. I always do. But now, right now, I don’t feel that way. I KNOW I will get past this, but I don’t FEEL like I will. Even that is exhausting – battling with yourself over what you know versus what you feel. Especially when what you think you know isn’t always right.
My thoughts are filled with lies but I’m not always sure what is a lie and what is a truth. I tell myself lies all the time: you’re not good enough, you’re not smart enough, you’re not pretty enough, you’re not witty enough, you’re not funny enough, you’re not enough. A freight train rumbles through my brain, clattering around, billowing out steam, ripping through sanity and rationality, leaving behind chaos and destruction, getting louder and louder as the thoughts become worse and worse until……silence. Nothing. No more noise, no more anything. A void so vast and incomprehensible suddenly appears blanketed with dark, glistening, beautiful lies. So beautiful and enticing that the darkness almost becomes comforting. I enshroud myself in words that are not true. Hiding behind the lies that comfort me. But they don’t really feel like lies. They feel like truths. And maybe, deep down, on a good day, I KNOW they are lies; I just have trouble sifting through those to get through to what is true.
I’m old enough now, I should have this figured out. I shouldn’t have to talk about it anymore. I should be better. Until then, I’ll be just fine. F.I.N.E.
Also, I’m going to go stand outside. Where I will be outstanding. Because that joke is stupid and makes me laugh and feel a twinge better.
May your day start with stupid jokes, be filled with unexpected surprises, and end with tacos. All the tacos. Happy Tuesday, ya’ll.
I feel empty. And I don’t want to talk about it. Not because I think it wouldn’t help but because I’m not sure I know what is wrong and I don’t want to bug any of my friends. Any of the people I want to open up to. I feel as though I have lost all my friends…no, scratch that, I know I have. Once I fall down I push everyone away, distance myself, make it easy to fall apart without feeling like I will hurt anyone. Anyone other than myself.
Once my desperate desires turned into fears of possible follow through I began to realize that I wasn’t the person I had worked so hard to become. The person I was. The person I am. Somewhere along the way I let myself go. I lost who I was again and suddenly, without knowing when or how or why, I found myself back at the bottom of the mountain I had climbed up so carefully and tediously. And the thing is, clawing your way back to the top is much more difficult than the tumble down is. I see where I once was. I can even see my damn footprints in the ground but reaching even that first step seems impossible from this far away.
Fortunately for me I have done it before so I know I can do it again. Unfortunately, it has once again become a task that seems impossible from this view. I go through so many ups and downs through the day I am exhausted by the time I finally clock out at work thinking only of the comfort of my bed and dreaming of comfort food that I rarely crave let alone indulge in. But right now I would like nothing more than to finish off a very large bag of Cheetos followed by a pint of strawberry ice cream not to be shown up by a bottle of white wine.
Sometimes you search for solace in a person you don’t even know; a person who needs you in that moment just as much as you need them. A stranger who can take on all your troubles and you theirs because in the end you mean nothing more to each other than a fellow sufferer searching for any strand of a lifeline in this chaotic, unfeeling world of empty souls. I used to be able to find those people in my times of need but this time…this time I know it won’t help. I know exactly to whom I should be talking. To whom I need to talk, but it is more difficult than I ever imagined possible.
During my writing hiatus a lot has happened and I have wanted to share it with the world but every time I tried to sit down and write nothing came. Sometimes I couldn’t even bring myself to sit in front of my computer because I knew my inability to put emotions and feelings into words, my inability to do what has always come so naturally to me, would lead to nothing more than a self loathing pity party that even I didn’t want to participate in. I should know by now that once “writers block” sets in it means I have stopped connecting with myself; stopped taking time to do things I enjoy…basically stopped being myself.
So what happened? How did I get here? I was happy and making progress towards all my goals and trying new things and doing everything I had said I would do and then…what? I met someone. I met my future husband. And things were wonderful. At first. After a few months I do what I always do; I stopped focusing on myself and focused solely on making him happy. Why? Why did I do this? Because there is a very large part of me that believes I am not good enough and I have to make up for it somehow. This very large part of me was a part I believed I had finally shut away for good…I believed incorrectly.
It came back with a vengeance and likes to remind me of all the hurt I have endured from other men and the nasty things they would blame me for regardless of the fact that I was not to blame. I would like to believe that my devotion to making my man happy came from the fear of having him turn on me like the others in my past but that would be a lie. The embarrassing truth is that I have always devoted myself to making my significant other happy while completely neglecting my own feelings. It took me awhile to realize that my devotion was the exact thing that pushed the people I loved away and this time I was not going to let it happen. This time was different. This man was different.
And that, dear readers, is what finally hit me recently and knocked me out of my downward spiral. I’m still down here, but I know what must be done. I know that I need to talk to him. I know that it will all be okay because, guess what? This man loves me. All of me. For all the right reasons. And I can claim that he doesn’t, I can try and convince myself that he is like the others, I can push and push and push against him, but in the end I know that I am just fooling myself. In the end those wedding magazines are still sitting on my desk full of sticky notes marking desires and ideas. In the end, he’s still the one.
So as not to completely deviate from my old ways I must end this post with a cyber smile since today is Texas’ “Icemaggeddon” and my company closed down their offices I have been having my own little version of a snow day and would like to wish you a day filled with spiked coffee, cozy blankets fully equipped with cuddle bitches, and naps where you dream of nothing but heat inducing activities with your partner…should you be so lucky to have one with you.
Sadly my man is over THERE and I am over HERE and the icy roads are screaming a resounding, “FUCK YOU!” to couples all throughout North Texas. Thanks…we owe you. And we ALWAYS repay our debts.
Having writers block is about as much fun as stubbing your toe repeatedly. Lately, each attempt at putting pen to paper (both figuratively and literally) has resulted in both a lack of imagination as well as a lack of vocabulary. My entire curse word patois came into full force and I felt as though I could have put a few sailors to shame yet not one iota of what I wrote was usable which made for a confused, frustrated, and rather bitchy me. It is quite similar to PMS…just, you know, without the cramps and cravings. And finally today during my eleven hour work day my thoughts ran rampant and suddenly the ability to write came back to me in full force. But that’s how it happens, isn’t it? When you want to do it, you can’t. When you are busy doing something else and are completely consumed in your work, BAM!, inspiration hits and has a good laugh at it’s perfectly inconvenient timing. So, as well as adding to one of my scripts I decided it was time to try writing another blog and see how it will work out. Fingers crossed that I can finish this and not leave in in draft-land where so many other reside.
I could spout out several reasons for why I have not been blogging lately but the long and short of it is that I haven’t been okay. There was a buildup of sadness and near depression for several weeks leading up to my second psychotic episode ever. This one happened to be a few days after the anniversary of my first one last year that landed me in the E.R. with a terrifyingly insufficient recollection of what exactly had happened. Luckily this episode wasn’t as severe but the next morning my memories felt like a movie I had watched. They weren’t my own. It was like I was in another person’s head watching their memories and remembering their thoughts and feelings. That is the best way I can describe it other than scary as fuck.
There has been such a buildup of negativity that it has left me exhausted. I sleep like I’m depressed, I have to force myself to eat because I have no energy to do it, I have no appetite, and get a little nauseous every time I smell food cooking. I rarely want to go out and do anything anymore because just the idea of doing something makes me tired. I think about telling someone that I want to talk but I don’t even know what I would say so I just don’t. I pretend like everything is okay; I’m doing just fine thankyouverymuch! I take it when someone yells at me for being sad or in a mood when they think it is because of them since I don’t even have the energy or words to explain to them what may be going on. I can’t even really place the emotion. I’m not sad or depressed or upset or angry or indifferent or unhappy…I’m just slightly empty. Good things happen to me and it doesn’t even occur to me to share the good news with anybody. I keep most of it to myself and the person that I do tell doesn’t really care because….well, because. So here I am. Empty, and unsure why. I can come up with a few reasons as to why I may feel this way but it will all be mostly conjecture. I mean, can you always explain why you feel a certain way when there is so much traffic in your brain that you no longer know which way is left?
The strangest part about all of this is something that I realized today. Through all of this I have kept my hope and faith. I still love life. I have a childlike wonder about everything and I love making new memories every day. Because that’s all we have, really. You can’t live in the past, you have to leave that behind you because if you don’t you will miss out on what is happening in the present. And you can’t live in the future because you never really know what will happen and if you focus on what you may or may not have you could miss out on what is currently happening. I have faith in people and I still I have hope that everything will end up okay. I wish I could hand this hope and faith over to my friends who are going through difficult times and have neither, but I can’t. Instead I will continue to hold on to it for them until they are ready to accept it again. I don’t think there is any reason not to have faith or hope because they make everything better. The only reason you shouldn’t have them is if you like being miserable. And I would know this because being miserable used to be my thing but for the first time in my life I am not letting the misery get to me. I will not let it take over. I refuse. I accept that I will have bad times in my life, that I may not always be the overly peppy girl that I have become, but I will never let depression take over my life again.
So, while I am really, very not okay, I do still have certain days that are fantastic….
A perfect example of this would be Saturday – even though the week had sucked so much I cried at work three days in a row due to a few choice words from a friend who apparently knows me so well that they know exactly what to say that will hurt me the most (let’s ignore the fact that I shouldn’t let words effect me, okay?) – I woke up hyper, happy, and high on life. Maybe it was because I had cried myself to sleep at eight the night before and spent 12 restless hours in bed or maybe it was because I realized that I was not at fault for what I had been blamed for, but for some reason everything seemed like it was going to be okay. And it was, for the most part. I attended a wedding with Mr. Perfect before we headed to the Rangers vs. Red Sox game and everything was fine until the vows were exchanged. The word “forever” was thrown around and my stomach lurched. I’m sure I have said it before but I will say it again: I don’t think I could ever get married, and it isn’t because I don’t think I could be with someone forever, it’s because I don’t trust that anybody would keep their word and stick around forever. People always leave. They just do. But I deserve better than that. I don’t ever want to feel the same kind of pain and betrayal as I have felt from every person I have been in a relationship with. If you are special enough for me to want to give my everything to, then I deserve the same from you. Loving a person is the easy part, it’s caring enough to stay that is difficult, apparently. So, until I find someone who realizes that I’m worth sticking around for, I will continue to hold back my trust.
*cough cough* Back to Saturday…
After the 5:30 vows were exchanged and congratulations were attempted to be given Mr. Perfect and I beelined to the parking lot to change in the car before heading to our much anticipated 7:05 baseball game. I had so much going on in my head at this point that I was afraid I had lost my hyper-ness and, for most of the drive, I had. But, true to myself, it appeared out of nowhere once again and as we were walking into the park Mr. Perfect informed me that I was special. Not the hey-you-are-an-amazing-person-and-I’m-so-glad-to-have-you-in-my-life! kind of special, but the damn-they-had-a-designated-short-bus-for-you-didn’t-they? kind of special. Yeah…because apparently people don’t skip around, break into song and dance, or name their bobby pins. This is something “special” people do. I’m special like V.I.P. damnit! And my bobby pins agree. Mostly Rosencrantz but that’s only because he thinks quite highly of himself and claims that he wouldn’t fraternize with anybody beneath him. But, I mean, he’s a bobby pin…I probably shouldn’t consider his opinion.
Baseball, beer, ginormous nachos with your best friend when you are super hyper makes for a pretty good Saturday night, even if everything else in your world seems to be crumbling down around you. After years of always being in a dark place I was pretty proud of myself for not letting the darkness consume me when it was trying so hard to do just that.
This blog seriously meandered…if you made it all the way through I thank you for sticking with me. I’m not even sure if it all makes sense but I just had to write something.