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.
Forgiveness is a funny thing. I don’t find it really difficult to forgive people their indiscretions toward myself because, in all honestly, I am strong and I know I can accept it, deal with it, and move on. I am a firm believer in giving people several chances, in starting over, and in forgiveness. Where I struggle with forgiveness is when there is an injustice done to one of my loved ones. Be it friends or family or even just a popular figure that I look up to, if someone does or says something harmful or rude I can almost feel the fire start to burn inside me. I get this urge to correct all the wrongs, to save everyone from hurt. I let it take me over and become a wrecking ball for injustice. Apparently I fancy myself a superhero – wishing I could save everyone in the world from mental or physical harm. My intentions are all well and good, but I have recently come to the realization that I can’t do this anymore. Yes, it is okay for you to want to defend a loved one, but you can’t always do that. I know that if I always let someone else stand up for me I wouldn’t be the pillar of strength I am today; that I have learned to be.
Back to forgiveness. When someone says or does something hurtful to me I usually have no problem letting it go. Sure, every once in awhile I will hold on to it like a comfort blanket and keep going back to it letting my anger and rage build up, but eventually I become sane enough to see what I am doing to myself and I let go of my blanket, forgive them by remembering that no matter what they say or do I am still me and they don’t have any control over me. Other times I forgive so easily I have had people tell me that I am “too nice,” that I need to stop giving people chances. But I feel like everybody makes mistakes, and says things they don’t mean so I have trouble justifying holding a grudge. And I’m right, everybody deserves a second chance and everybody deserves forgiveness – except…except I don’t give myself the same leeway. I have the most trouble forgiving myself. I remember one time I was driving down the highway late at night, music blaring after a long day full of depressing thoughts and unhappiness and then a song came on. It have always liked the song but for some reason this time it really resonated with me and made me realize…I hadn’t forgiven myself.
I did NOT forgive me. I couldn’t forgive myself for hurting my loved ones, which I know my depression did. Watching someone you love hurt and not being able to do anything about it is really difficult, so I knew it must be hard on my family. They all tried to help but I never perked up. I felt like a flower, wilting slowly; every day losing a new petal, falling closer to earth. I couldn’t forgive myself for being raped. For letting another person take that kind of control over me. I couldn’t forgive myself for…anything. Every little thing I had done or said was weighing down on me and I wouldn’t forgive myself. I told myself I deserved it all – all the pain all the self hate all the love lost. I believed that it all happened to pay me back for all the wrongs and injusticies I felt that I had doled out in my short lifetime.
This was over two years ago. I am still on the path towards forgiving myself. It is difficult and quite convoluted and I struggle with it every day. Learning to love and forgive yourself might be the most difficult yet fulfulling journey – and one I think I will be on for the rest of my life, like I’m sure many others are. But we have to learn to do both because it is easier to forgive yourself when you love yourself. And what’s not to love? You are unique, there is only one of you out there! And you are beautiful and you have ideas and strength and power and love. You can be anything and do anything. You will make mistakes and that’s okay. We all do, but we can also move on, learn from our mistakes, make a difference.
Forgive, starting with yourself.