I don't like having the misconception out there that I have bad parents. I know that I blogged about how my parents can sometimes make me feel, but this by no means is a good display of how I feel about them.
When my heart is in pain, my immediate response is to write and get things out, I know that when writing on such a public forum, it's often hard to put yourself (and others) out there. I write because I want people to know that they are not alone.
I felt as though I was alone for years. I thought that all the things that were going on inside me were mine and mine alone to deal with. The moment that I became public about my issues, I found others who had similar experiences and would write to me and tell me how much my story reflected their own. So I decided to continue in my quest of trying to cope with my inner demons and make it public for others to see that they are not alone by any means.
Some of the things I write or say are immediate responses to how badly I hurt at the time. I've always been the person to try to hurt someone as much if not more than they hurt me. Just because I wanted to always be the one in control. I wanted to be the one who hurt less. I wanted to be the one inflicting pain, instead of the one who hurt so much that it was painful to breathe.
As I grow older, I try to not hurt people and I try to be someone that people can come to, but sometimes I inadvertently hurt people without trying.
My parents have and always will be 2 of my best friends ever.
When I was younger, I could not fathom telling anyone about what my cousin did to me. I always felt that no one would believe me and that I would get blamed in some way, shape or form for what happened. "Why didn't you stop it?" "Why did you let it go on for so long?" "What exactly happened?" These were all the questions that I either never wanted to answer or could not find an answer to.
When I finally came out with it to my parents, I was so embarrassed and disgusted by what had gone on, I wanted no one else in the world to know. I wanted to put it behind me and never deal with it. I wanted to forget everything about it.
Little did I know that I would be haunted with nightmares and having this huge weight of this awful secret on my shoulders. I became angry with the world and hated everything and every one. I let this monster on my back ruin so many relationships and destroy myself for years.
How does one come back from this? How does one come up from a hatred that is buried so deep it's making it hard to see the sun?
I told my parents about the molestation when I was 16 years old but I also asked them to keep my secret for me because of the shame that came with such a terrible past. I wish that I could explain why I never came to them before that time, but I can't. All I know is that I never wanted anyone to know and the only reason why I told them was because I wanted them to know that I wasn't trying to be an evil shit, I just didn't know how to deal with life at that point.
I was an awful kid. I would cuss at my parents and I would cut myself and I would tell them that I hated them because I was putting my pain on them. I wanted everyone in the world to hurt as much as I did.
I didn't know anything else. I thought that telling my parents what happened would be a way to explain to them that I wasn't trying to be awful, I just hated myself. Call it teenage angst or call it what it was, a mentally ill child that could not handle PTSD.
In retrospective, I went about everything the wrong way. I would definitely change everything I did, if I could. What I did, I did for my family. I never wanted to lose them. That gave me an extra 17 years with my family that I would not have had if I had told my story back then. I was right when I thought that my family would abandon me when I came out with the truth about that disgusting bastard. Everyone except for my parents and a few others just left me out to dry.
My parents and I have such a close relationship that we sometimes hurt each other without meaning to. Yes, I am supersensitive now. Yes, I take things to heart. The good thing that comes from this? It means that I can feel again. I hated being such an ice queen and not feeling any emotions for so many years.
I know that I have shitty ways of sometimes explaining things because my mind goes in so many different directions at once but I am trying. I am trying to get my story out there. I am trying to be a person that I can once again like.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Saturday, August 24, 2013
A Long, Hard Road Out of Hell
I will admit to the fact that I am a difficult person to be in any type of relationship with. Whether it be friendship or romantic or even related to me, I am a hard person to deal with. I've always known this and I've always used it to my advantage to kind of "test" (I use this word because I can't think of any better way to describe it.) people to see if they truly do love me. I mean, really, you only deal with difficult people when you love them, right?
I honestly couldn't tell you why I do this, I'm sure if I sat there and really examined things, I'd get to the bottom of it, but one thing I know is "if you can't handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best" is something I've always seemed to live by.
There are a few people who have seen me at my worst and still love me, those people are the people that I hold dear and let them truly see the person I am. I've always told my mom that I know I'm hard to love, she says that loving me is easy, it's dealing with me that's hard. Her and my dad have seen me at my worst. They have seen me go through some of the toughest times in my life and they still love me, even when I hate myself.
My best friend, Stephanie, has seen me hit rock bottom and has even dealt with my bipolar wrath, and she still loves me. This is the type of person that I've always needed in my life but only in the last 11 years have come in contact with. Most of my "friends" from my past have never loved me as she has. If my inner demon has been invoked and she has to deal with that awful part of me, she simply lets me know that I will not be able to push her away, although I've tried many times.
In my past, I've been the person who sinks into the darkness of depression and can't see any way out. Usually, I've been alone when I get like this. Now, I'm not alone. I have my husband who has to see me when I'm enveloped in this darkness and can't see 2 feet in front of me.
My husband has been there by my side for the last 5 years and he has seen the absolute worst in me and has stuck by my side. Seeing me on occasion or a few days a week is nothing compared to living with me.
I can be awful, I can be evil, I can be sweet as pie. With the snap of a finger, my emotional roller coaster takes a dive and I am a woman possessed.
I feel terrible when I become the evil part of myself and it's like an out of body experience because I can see the way I am acting, but I have no power to stop myself. I can't put the brakes on the emotions.
I know a lot of people look at me and they don't see a person with a disability or they can't understand why a person who seems as intelligent as I would act as I do. Now, I wish I could control everything because if I could, I would not be so up and down with my emotions. When I try to explain that I can't control myself, no one seems to understand. I get told that I need to learn how to do this, but don't people think I've tried?
I have been blessed and given a second chance at life.
When I married my husband, I was reborn with a new name. I left my old self behind. I say this because I told everyone about being molested as a child by my cousin and that huge weight that was on my shoulders was lifted. I may have lost my family by doing this, but I gained a new family built of those who love me enough to be by my side.
For the last year and a half, I have dealt with being made to feel like a leper by the majority of my family on my dad's side (ever since I confessed the evil doings of the bastard sick fuck that molested me) and now, I haven't had as many nightmares as I used to and my therapy sessions were not focused on my being molested, they had moved on to other issues in my life (I have many) and that part of me felt like it was in remission.
I still don't want anything to do with sick fucker, or anyone who has anything to do with him, but it's not because I can't handle it, it's because it's my choice. I mean seriously, who the fuck wants to see the person that caused so much pain in their past, regardless of moving on? It's like opening an old wound that has started to scar over.
Ever since I realized that therapy had been focused on other things, I was able to to start dealing with this whole being bipolar crap. I've been working on trying to understand who I am and how to deal with what is going on with me mentally. Although I've been bipolar my entire life, it's only the last couple of years that I've had this diagnosis so I'm still trying to understand and learn a lot about dealing with everything that comes with learning something new about yourself. Especially something as deep as mental illness.
I don't want to deal with things the way I did in my past. I don't want to go back to using alcohol or any other type of self medication. I want to deal with this head on. I want to learn to be the best version of myself that I can, despite my illness. I want to take my bipolar by the neck and show it how strong I can really be.
I know that I have a rough road ahead of me. I know that most days, I will feel like my emotions are driving on the bumpiest road known to mankind. I know that I will hit walls of depression, but I also know that I have a community of people (albeit a small one) who care enough about me to love me no matter how shitty I can sometimes be. Because I will eventually get back to me, the person I was born to be, the person who loves so hard that it sometimes hurts.
I honestly couldn't tell you why I do this, I'm sure if I sat there and really examined things, I'd get to the bottom of it, but one thing I know is "if you can't handle me at my worst, you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best" is something I've always seemed to live by.
There are a few people who have seen me at my worst and still love me, those people are the people that I hold dear and let them truly see the person I am. I've always told my mom that I know I'm hard to love, she says that loving me is easy, it's dealing with me that's hard. Her and my dad have seen me at my worst. They have seen me go through some of the toughest times in my life and they still love me, even when I hate myself.
My best friend, Stephanie, has seen me hit rock bottom and has even dealt with my bipolar wrath, and she still loves me. This is the type of person that I've always needed in my life but only in the last 11 years have come in contact with. Most of my "friends" from my past have never loved me as she has. If my inner demon has been invoked and she has to deal with that awful part of me, she simply lets me know that I will not be able to push her away, although I've tried many times.
In my past, I've been the person who sinks into the darkness of depression and can't see any way out. Usually, I've been alone when I get like this. Now, I'm not alone. I have my husband who has to see me when I'm enveloped in this darkness and can't see 2 feet in front of me.
My husband has been there by my side for the last 5 years and he has seen the absolute worst in me and has stuck by my side. Seeing me on occasion or a few days a week is nothing compared to living with me.
I can be awful, I can be evil, I can be sweet as pie. With the snap of a finger, my emotional roller coaster takes a dive and I am a woman possessed.
I feel terrible when I become the evil part of myself and it's like an out of body experience because I can see the way I am acting, but I have no power to stop myself. I can't put the brakes on the emotions.
I know a lot of people look at me and they don't see a person with a disability or they can't understand why a person who seems as intelligent as I would act as I do. Now, I wish I could control everything because if I could, I would not be so up and down with my emotions. When I try to explain that I can't control myself, no one seems to understand. I get told that I need to learn how to do this, but don't people think I've tried?
I have been blessed and given a second chance at life.
When I married my husband, I was reborn with a new name. I left my old self behind. I say this because I told everyone about being molested as a child by my cousin and that huge weight that was on my shoulders was lifted. I may have lost my family by doing this, but I gained a new family built of those who love me enough to be by my side.
For the last year and a half, I have dealt with being made to feel like a leper by the majority of my family on my dad's side (ever since I confessed the evil doings of the bastard sick fuck that molested me) and now, I haven't had as many nightmares as I used to and my therapy sessions were not focused on my being molested, they had moved on to other issues in my life (I have many) and that part of me felt like it was in remission.
I still don't want anything to do with sick fucker, or anyone who has anything to do with him, but it's not because I can't handle it, it's because it's my choice. I mean seriously, who the fuck wants to see the person that caused so much pain in their past, regardless of moving on? It's like opening an old wound that has started to scar over.
Ever since I realized that therapy had been focused on other things, I was able to to start dealing with this whole being bipolar crap. I've been working on trying to understand who I am and how to deal with what is going on with me mentally. Although I've been bipolar my entire life, it's only the last couple of years that I've had this diagnosis so I'm still trying to understand and learn a lot about dealing with everything that comes with learning something new about yourself. Especially something as deep as mental illness.
I don't want to deal with things the way I did in my past. I don't want to go back to using alcohol or any other type of self medication. I want to deal with this head on. I want to learn to be the best version of myself that I can, despite my illness. I want to take my bipolar by the neck and show it how strong I can really be.
I know that I have a rough road ahead of me. I know that most days, I will feel like my emotions are driving on the bumpiest road known to mankind. I know that I will hit walls of depression, but I also know that I have a community of people (albeit a small one) who care enough about me to love me no matter how shitty I can sometimes be. Because I will eventually get back to me, the person I was born to be, the person who loves so hard that it sometimes hurts.
Monday, August 12, 2013
When Your Brain Hates You...
So, I know I haven't blogged in a LONG, LONG time. I've had a lot of things on my mind, but not the proper way to put the thoughts into words.
I hate when I get like that. For someone who lives for writing... art... books... it makes you feel like you are partially dead on the inside. I know that people get tired of hearing the "woe is me" that is my life, so I rarely speak these feelings out loud. I never say what I truly feel out loud. I'm constantly wearing a mask and it kills me.
I wish that I could for once be me and not fear that people will tell me to "snap out of it" or "stop being such a bitch" or "quit being so sensitive" or whatever other cliche it is that people tell those of us with mental illness because they just don't.get.it.
My heart hurts with the pain that I cause myself and others. It's like watching yourself from above do all this self destructive shit and not being able to stop.
I HATE when my parents say that I was a bad kid when I hit thirteen. I hate that to no end. Knowing what they know now, they should see that my being undiagnosed and being molested and having PTSD was what caused me to act like that. It's not like I had any control over it. Like I really wanted to be a shit? Like I want to be the way I am now? NO. I don't. I hate this.
I hate myself almost every day of my life. Why give me more reason to hate myself? Why give me more fuel to feel like complete and absolute shit about myself? I know people don't mean to but when they point out my bad points, things that I really and honestly do not have control over (i.e. emotions) it breaks me in half. My parents aren't the only ones that do this. Almost everyone I know does this to me, probably thinking they are helping or not thinking at all... my grandmother tells me I'm spoiled, I'm not sure if this is to hurt me or what the fuck, but do people not think before they say shit?
I'm a perfectionist according to my Psychologist and when I see that I am disappointing so many people with being an utter failure and asshole, it makes me feel like complete and total trash. I feel like I'm not worth anything.
When I hear how horrible a person I was/am, I feel so defeated. I feel like if I suck so fucking much, why bother? Why bother trying to do anything to please anyone? Because every fucking thing I do in life is to please others. I do nothing for myself any more.
Ever since I fell down the stairs at my mother in law's on the 4th of July and became a complete fucking gimp, I feel like I'm worth even less than I was before. I can't do anything without being in pain. I can't sleep comfortably, I can't move around much, I can't even take a relaxing bath. It's like I was handed a bunch of rotten lemons that I can't even use for lemonade. What am I supposed to do with that?
Now, I'm having a down moment right now because today sucked, but for the most part these last couple of months have been okay because I have been at a creative peak with my crocheting. I think that since I had a shitty night and a shitty day, I just needed to vent. I will be better and my next blog won't be as depressing.
I hate when I get like that. For someone who lives for writing... art... books... it makes you feel like you are partially dead on the inside. I know that people get tired of hearing the "woe is me" that is my life, so I rarely speak these feelings out loud. I never say what I truly feel out loud. I'm constantly wearing a mask and it kills me.
I wish that I could for once be me and not fear that people will tell me to "snap out of it" or "stop being such a bitch" or "quit being so sensitive" or whatever other cliche it is that people tell those of us with mental illness because they just don't.get.it.
My heart hurts with the pain that I cause myself and others. It's like watching yourself from above do all this self destructive shit and not being able to stop.
I HATE when my parents say that I was a bad kid when I hit thirteen. I hate that to no end. Knowing what they know now, they should see that my being undiagnosed and being molested and having PTSD was what caused me to act like that. It's not like I had any control over it. Like I really wanted to be a shit? Like I want to be the way I am now? NO. I don't. I hate this.
I hate myself almost every day of my life. Why give me more reason to hate myself? Why give me more fuel to feel like complete and absolute shit about myself? I know people don't mean to but when they point out my bad points, things that I really and honestly do not have control over (i.e. emotions) it breaks me in half. My parents aren't the only ones that do this. Almost everyone I know does this to me, probably thinking they are helping or not thinking at all... my grandmother tells me I'm spoiled, I'm not sure if this is to hurt me or what the fuck, but do people not think before they say shit?
I'm a perfectionist according to my Psychologist and when I see that I am disappointing so many people with being an utter failure and asshole, it makes me feel like complete and total trash. I feel like I'm not worth anything.
When I hear how horrible a person I was/am, I feel so defeated. I feel like if I suck so fucking much, why bother? Why bother trying to do anything to please anyone? Because every fucking thing I do in life is to please others. I do nothing for myself any more.
Ever since I fell down the stairs at my mother in law's on the 4th of July and became a complete fucking gimp, I feel like I'm worth even less than I was before. I can't do anything without being in pain. I can't sleep comfortably, I can't move around much, I can't even take a relaxing bath. It's like I was handed a bunch of rotten lemons that I can't even use for lemonade. What am I supposed to do with that?
Now, I'm having a down moment right now because today sucked, but for the most part these last couple of months have been okay because I have been at a creative peak with my crocheting. I think that since I had a shitty night and a shitty day, I just needed to vent. I will be better and my next blog won't be as depressing.
Tuesday, June 11, 2013
It's just another manic... Tuesday?
I've been really manic the last few weeks and in some ways it's pretty good for my creativity, but in others it sucks so much ass. The reason why it sucks is because I've been pretty impulsive in many aspects of life and that includes personal...
It's hard to explain but I love being manic for a few reasons but I also hate it for so much more. I hate it because I'm so self destructive and I'm so fucking crazy but at times I feel like I'm so insanely happy that I am walking on a cloud. A FUCKING CLOUD!!! I want to laugh, I want to cry. I want to just fucking scream. I can't tell which way is up or down.
The other shitty thing is my sleep is kind of off. It's like I don't want to do it. I do it because I have to, but I don't want to. I need my medication to make me do it. I'm a lot more anxious and paranoid about things that don't exist. I mean right now, I'm pretty lucid, I'm lucid enough to write this post so I know that things are crazy when I think of them but I'm not thinking of the crazy shit I normally think of so I can't really give you an example.
Most of the time I live my life on the depressed end of the bipolar spectrum and that fucking sucks because being depressed sucks. It's not something I choose, it's something that just happens. I fucking hate when people tell me that I'm choosing to live my life that way. Who the fuck seriously chooses to be depressed all the time?
So being insanely fucking manic is a nice change. I like it. I'm not going to lie. But I hate not knowing what each day is going to bring. I hate not knowing where my head is going to be. I hate not being able to sit down long enough to finish one fucking project. I'm on a deadline here!
It's hard to explain but I love being manic for a few reasons but I also hate it for so much more. I hate it because I'm so self destructive and I'm so fucking crazy but at times I feel like I'm so insanely happy that I am walking on a cloud. A FUCKING CLOUD!!! I want to laugh, I want to cry. I want to just fucking scream. I can't tell which way is up or down.
The other shitty thing is my sleep is kind of off. It's like I don't want to do it. I do it because I have to, but I don't want to. I need my medication to make me do it. I'm a lot more anxious and paranoid about things that don't exist. I mean right now, I'm pretty lucid, I'm lucid enough to write this post so I know that things are crazy when I think of them but I'm not thinking of the crazy shit I normally think of so I can't really give you an example.
Most of the time I live my life on the depressed end of the bipolar spectrum and that fucking sucks because being depressed sucks. It's not something I choose, it's something that just happens. I fucking hate when people tell me that I'm choosing to live my life that way. Who the fuck seriously chooses to be depressed all the time?
So being insanely fucking manic is a nice change. I like it. I'm not going to lie. But I hate not knowing what each day is going to bring. I hate not knowing where my head is going to be. I hate not being able to sit down long enough to finish one fucking project. I'm on a deadline here!
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Does My Anxiety Make Me Look Fat?
I don't really remember when my anxiety became so bad. I know it has gradually gotten worse over the years but I'm pretty sure I've always been anxious in social situations because of my appearance. I know it's pretty effing sad but yeah, my weight makes me feel like people are looking at me and talking about me and saying mean things. Because of this, it makes it so that a lot of times I really don't want to go out in public.
It's really sad and pathetic when you think about it, but it's the hard truth. People are cruel and mean. People also don't teach their children manners and kids say rude shit. A lot of times I pretend like I don't hear people but I do. Even after losing a little weight, I still feel uncomfortable. I'm sure that no matter what, I will probably always feel like people are talking about me because I've spent most of my life being the punchline to some asshole's sad attempt at a joke. Despite what most people think, fat people do have feelings.
Some people may say, "well, why don't you get up and exercise?" or "why don't you diet?" You know, I do and I have. However, and it may not be an excuse to anyone but I'm bipolar. I spend the majority of my time depressed. Waking up every day is a chore. I also have ITP so that adds to the fatigue. Sometimes I get motivated. I really do, but that motivation is short lived. It may last a few days, weeks, sometimes months. Then I get burned out or my depression returns and I start to cycle again. It fucking sucks.
Another shitty thing about my anxiety is that it's not only something in my head, it metastasizes into these physical symptoms. It starts as this annoying itchy rash and I don't even notice most of the time, but I'm scratching like a frickin tweaker all over the place. It starts in my legs and feet. How fucking annoying is it for your effing feet to itch??? Then it's my thighs and my belly and my back. Then I have hives on my chest and my arms. It's insane. I get tunnel vision and then everyone sounds like they are far away. I do my best to ignore it, but it's really hard. I also get irritable, but fuck, you try having itching powder all over your body and see how nice you can be.
I try to make myself do things so that I don't become the hermit that I would prefer, but I'll be damned if staying home doesn't sound so much better than a lot of the things I make myself do. This is why I hate being mentally ill. It's a frickin handicap like no other. Just because I smile and act like I'm okay, doesn't mean I am. I'm just trying to deal with everything one day at a time.
I just want people to know that they aren't alone with their anxiety. They aren't alone with their bipolar. They aren't alone with their PTSD. This is just what I have to deal with... what do you have to deal with? What are your ailments?
It's really sad and pathetic when you think about it, but it's the hard truth. People are cruel and mean. People also don't teach their children manners and kids say rude shit. A lot of times I pretend like I don't hear people but I do. Even after losing a little weight, I still feel uncomfortable. I'm sure that no matter what, I will probably always feel like people are talking about me because I've spent most of my life being the punchline to some asshole's sad attempt at a joke. Despite what most people think, fat people do have feelings.
Some people may say, "well, why don't you get up and exercise?" or "why don't you diet?" You know, I do and I have. However, and it may not be an excuse to anyone but I'm bipolar. I spend the majority of my time depressed. Waking up every day is a chore. I also have ITP so that adds to the fatigue. Sometimes I get motivated. I really do, but that motivation is short lived. It may last a few days, weeks, sometimes months. Then I get burned out or my depression returns and I start to cycle again. It fucking sucks.
Another shitty thing about my anxiety is that it's not only something in my head, it metastasizes into these physical symptoms. It starts as this annoying itchy rash and I don't even notice most of the time, but I'm scratching like a frickin tweaker all over the place. It starts in my legs and feet. How fucking annoying is it for your effing feet to itch??? Then it's my thighs and my belly and my back. Then I have hives on my chest and my arms. It's insane. I get tunnel vision and then everyone sounds like they are far away. I do my best to ignore it, but it's really hard. I also get irritable, but fuck, you try having itching powder all over your body and see how nice you can be.
I try to make myself do things so that I don't become the hermit that I would prefer, but I'll be damned if staying home doesn't sound so much better than a lot of the things I make myself do. This is why I hate being mentally ill. It's a frickin handicap like no other. Just because I smile and act like I'm okay, doesn't mean I am. I'm just trying to deal with everything one day at a time.
I just want people to know that they aren't alone with their anxiety. They aren't alone with their bipolar. They aren't alone with their PTSD. This is just what I have to deal with... what do you have to deal with? What are your ailments?
Friday, May 17, 2013
Where's Chief Bromden When You Need Him?
Being bipolar fucking sucks. It really does. Especially if you're an average Joe who doesn't have the cash flow like Catherine Zeta Jones to just check in for preventative care whenever you feel like it. Most of us have to deal with it on our own.
I have to say, I'm really fucking tired of it. I have enough mental shit to deal with, I hate this bipolar bullshit on top of my PTSD and anxiety/social anxiety crap. Some people try to understand, but unless you are bipolar or have some other mental illness, you can't understand what it's like.
Hell, I wish I understood or could stop my mood swings or depression. I wish I could control it better. I try, I try really fucking hard, but sometimes it's just too much. It consumes me. It consumes all my energy and just drains me. It makes me feel like I'm a huge failure because I can't be the person that I want to be. I would LOVE to be fucking normal. Unfortunately, I'm not. I'm a fucked up basketcase. I can't apologize anymore for who I am.
Some people tell me to stop using my illness as an excuse, you know what, it's not a fucking excuse, it's what it is. I'm sorry that you aren't willing to accept me for what I am or who I am. But what the fuck. I spent years being strong and I spent years trying not to be so fucking sensitive and I became this fucking zombie. I hated when I was like that. When I was like that, I was so mean. I was so fucking mean and I never cared about anyone's feelings because I was fucking numb and I couldn't feel anymore so I forgot anyone else could.
So now I'm extra sensitive and words hurt me and for the first fucking time in my life I am allowing myself to not hide behind this fake mask. I am allowing myself to feel.
My bipolar makes me want to punch myself in the face. My PTSD comes and goes as it pleases these days. My anxiety makes me want to crawl out of my skin and my social anxiety makes me want to just hide in a dark hole.
I hate being mentally ill. The reason why I hate it is because everyone else treats me like I'm a leper. Everyone makes me feel like I shouldn't be feeling my feelings. It's like my feelings don't matter because they are not the same as everyone else's. That's how people make me feel, just because I have mental illness. Like the fact that I'm mentally ill negates the fact that I am also human. If that makes any sense.
I don't even know what I'm trying to say anymore because I'm just so difjrewgoihsjdkjvnsxk y'know? You know when there isn't even a work to describe it... and you just want to scream random sounds and punch your keyboard? That. That's what I am feeling right now.
I have to say, I'm really fucking tired of it. I have enough mental shit to deal with, I hate this bipolar bullshit on top of my PTSD and anxiety/social anxiety crap. Some people try to understand, but unless you are bipolar or have some other mental illness, you can't understand what it's like.
Hell, I wish I understood or could stop my mood swings or depression. I wish I could control it better. I try, I try really fucking hard, but sometimes it's just too much. It consumes me. It consumes all my energy and just drains me. It makes me feel like I'm a huge failure because I can't be the person that I want to be. I would LOVE to be fucking normal. Unfortunately, I'm not. I'm a fucked up basketcase. I can't apologize anymore for who I am.
Some people tell me to stop using my illness as an excuse, you know what, it's not a fucking excuse, it's what it is. I'm sorry that you aren't willing to accept me for what I am or who I am. But what the fuck. I spent years being strong and I spent years trying not to be so fucking sensitive and I became this fucking zombie. I hated when I was like that. When I was like that, I was so mean. I was so fucking mean and I never cared about anyone's feelings because I was fucking numb and I couldn't feel anymore so I forgot anyone else could.
So now I'm extra sensitive and words hurt me and for the first fucking time in my life I am allowing myself to not hide behind this fake mask. I am allowing myself to feel.
My bipolar makes me want to punch myself in the face. My PTSD comes and goes as it pleases these days. My anxiety makes me want to crawl out of my skin and my social anxiety makes me want to just hide in a dark hole.
I hate being mentally ill. The reason why I hate it is because everyone else treats me like I'm a leper. Everyone makes me feel like I shouldn't be feeling my feelings. It's like my feelings don't matter because they are not the same as everyone else's. That's how people make me feel, just because I have mental illness. Like the fact that I'm mentally ill negates the fact that I am also human. If that makes any sense.
I don't even know what I'm trying to say anymore because I'm just so difjrewgoihsjdkjvnsxk y'know? You know when there isn't even a work to describe it... and you just want to scream random sounds and punch your keyboard? That. That's what I am feeling right now.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Why I don't "celebrate" Valentine's Day
Valentine's day has never really been a big day to me. I've pretty much always been single around it so it's always been a day to make me feel like crap for being single. The one time I did celebrate with someone, I found out 5 days later that I was the other woman. So yeah, that wasn't much of a good memory for me.
I used to exchange gifts with my close friends and we would spoil each other and those were good times, but it still wasn't a big deal.
So when my husband and I started dating and 6 months later our first Valentine's came around, I had told him I did not want to celebrate. Why would I make such a decision? You ask. Well, we had been living together for a few months (yes, you read that right, dating for only 6 months yet living together for a few) so I had no worries of where our relationship status was. I knew I had met the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I didn't need to be showered with the commercial gifts that are given by every man to their woman.
I just didn't want CW to think that one day was good enough to spoil me. I really am low maintenance in a lot of ways. I don't need expensive jewelry or expensive gifts, but I do like to be pampered in love constantly. So I told CW that I want love to be shown all the time, not just on ONE day. So he agreed. We wouldn't celebrate on a commercialized love holiday.
During our years together, we never have celebrated Valentine's day. I don't shun it. I don't down others for celebrating. It's my decision for doing so. My birthday is 8 days after Valentine's day. CW's is 5 days after, that's when we get gifts.
You know... the way CW and I celebrate all year long is the best. He shows me he loves me by making me dinner and trying to make my life as easy as possible around the house and brings me home these little surprises here and there. I am more of a surprising him with gifts and doing unexpected things for him type. It just works for us. I know that I may complain, I may bitch, but I'm writing out of emotion at the time because I need to vent. In between therapy appointments, writing is my therapy. :)
I used to exchange gifts with my close friends and we would spoil each other and those were good times, but it still wasn't a big deal.
So when my husband and I started dating and 6 months later our first Valentine's came around, I had told him I did not want to celebrate. Why would I make such a decision? You ask. Well, we had been living together for a few months (yes, you read that right, dating for only 6 months yet living together for a few) so I had no worries of where our relationship status was. I knew I had met the man I was going to spend the rest of my life with. I didn't need to be showered with the commercial gifts that are given by every man to their woman.
I just didn't want CW to think that one day was good enough to spoil me. I really am low maintenance in a lot of ways. I don't need expensive jewelry or expensive gifts, but I do like to be pampered in love constantly. So I told CW that I want love to be shown all the time, not just on ONE day. So he agreed. We wouldn't celebrate on a commercialized love holiday.
During our years together, we never have celebrated Valentine's day. I don't shun it. I don't down others for celebrating. It's my decision for doing so. My birthday is 8 days after Valentine's day. CW's is 5 days after, that's when we get gifts.
You know... the way CW and I celebrate all year long is the best. He shows me he loves me by making me dinner and trying to make my life as easy as possible around the house and brings me home these little surprises here and there. I am more of a surprising him with gifts and doing unexpected things for him type. It just works for us. I know that I may complain, I may bitch, but I'm writing out of emotion at the time because I need to vent. In between therapy appointments, writing is my therapy. :)
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