If today were a color, it would be black. It would be the darkest of black holes, where all light and energy is sucked in and there’s just nothing. At first I thought an accurate description for it would be red. Red is a good, angry color. Red reflects a zipping rage that ignites your veins and has you looking for something breakable to throw. But red isn’t right for today. Nope, today is black. It goes beyond anger and rage. It approaches a level of pure disgust. A loathing that cuts so deep that rather than a sharp pain, there is nothing. That’s what today is.
You might wonder what prompted this blackness, and really, that’s a good question. It’s not just one event, but a collection of many, that combined together have highlighted the fact that I’m nowhere near being the person I want to be. I want to be strong, confident, proud of myself…but I am none of these things. Instead, I am weak and transparent. I don’t like this one bit. Truth be told, I’d rather be the person I was 10 years ago. That Alison kept everyone at arm’s length where it was safe. She was a master at creating whatever image was necessary for the situation at hand. She may have been falling apart on the inside, but nobody else knew it. I prefer that Alison. I think it’s time she returns. I’m rebuilding the walls, and only a select few of my family will see what is on the other side. Trust has been too easily handed out, and I’ve felt the sting of putting it in the wrong hands on more than one occasion of late. Things will be much better this way. Not just for me, but for everyone. I’m tired of feeling eyes on me, watching and waiting for me to lose it or to crumble. I refuse to do so. I don’t want to be monitored, or worried about, or anything. I want to be left alone. Whether I continue on a path of healing, or one of self-destruction, it’s for me to handle. These are decisions only I can make…for myself. I am at peace with this plan. I’m re-taking control and setting my own rules.
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I see dark clouds building in the distance, and even as I watch, the afternoon light darkens imperceptibly. Closing my eyes, I listen to the crashing of a wave as it breaks on the sand, and then the fizz of the foam left behind as the water recedes. I hear the frenzied squawking of the seagulls as they swoop and dive up, down, and around. I hear towels and umbrellas snapping in the wind that is growing brisker with each passing moment. As the other beach inhabitants scramble for their belongings and head for shelter, I stay and throw myself into the coming storm. I smell rain, salt water, and a hint of fish. The smells become stronger as the wind continues to pick up. My hair whips around my head, obscuring my vision, but I don’t care. I walk along the surf, letting the tide swirl around my ankles, feeling the coolness of the water that sprays up on my legs. A few drops splash up on my face and I open my mouth to taste the salty tang of ocean water. A rumble of thunder is followed seconds later by a bolt of lightning flashing on the horizon. I notice the white caps of the waves breaking farther offshore and the grey of the swells moving up and down. The dark clouds march closer, bringing with them a chill that raises goose bumps on my arms. I pull a hoodie over my head, leaving my legs bare, and dig my toes into the cool sand. Slowly, as the surf moves back and forth, I sink…deeper and deeper until sand covers my feet completely. Caught in that fragile prison, I tip my chin towards the sky and breathe in cadence with the waves crashing on shore. Tucking my hair, tangled and sticky with salt, behind my ears, I slowly pull my feet from the sand and watch as the holes fill up with water, melting away as though I’d never been there. Thunder crashes and raindrops finally begin falling, slow at first, and then faster and faster. I stretch out my arms, tilt my head back, and begin spinning in circles with sheer abandon. From deep inside, I let go of myself. All my worries and fears…all the things I hold so close to my heart that weigh me down…melt away in the rain. As I spin and dance in the storm, I feel joy, freedom. I am at peace.
When I was a little girl and got scared of something, I would close my eyes tight and pretend it wasn’t there. I would ignore the scary monster, or whatever it was, and very deliberately focus on the small details surrounding me. The feel of my blanket. The sounds of the TV from the living room. The whirr of the fan. In that way, the scary wasn’t quite so all-encompassing. Today, I applied that same technique to…well, my day.
I’ve had an appointment with my psychiatrist that I’ve canceled twice. Today was the 3rd time I’d rescheduled it for, and I knew I had to go because I’m low on my medications. I walked in the door, breathed in the smells, took in the sounds and sights of the waiting room, spotted one of the doctors behind the glass window, and I freaked. I sat there for 30 minutes while I waited my turn, and the whole time I was shaky and tensed up like a coiled snake who feels threatened. It suddenly occurred to me why. I go to a husband/wife team. I see the wife for my routine checks, but the husband was my doctor while I was in-patient at the hospital. Everything about their office reminds me of that place. I knew I’ve never been at ease when I go for these checks, but I never linked these visits with that week last October until this morning. Maybe it was the lighting hitting my eyes just right, or it was the look of a couple of the patients sitting in the waiting room…sort of like they just rolled out of bed…or the sound of the phone ringing and the nurses tone when she answered it, but it sort of just clicked in my memory and I went into instant “get me the hell out of here” mode. When I finally got back into the room, I answered her rapid fire questions with rapid fire answers of my own (and no, I wasn’t altogether truthful with her…I wanted OUT) and basically put on a show so the visit would end quick. As I was driving into work afterwards, I slowly started breathing easier, and I took the opportunity to pray a very long, heartfelt, and specific prayer. Very specific. Part of it pertained to what I had just gone through at my doctor’s office, but most of it was focused on something else. I was probably a driving hazard at that point, as I was 100% focused on what I was saying to God. I guess He thought my disinterest in the road was forgivable since I sort of snapped out of my daze a few miles later with no incidents. For the rest of today, I focused very, very closely on what Alison needed…15 minutes at a time. I did not allow my thoughts to stray too far, keeping them pulled in tight and only allowing them to wander as far as I needed them to in order to get me through the next 15 minutes. I took my whole day in tiny, little baby steps like that. I did this for 2 reasons. First, I have so much fury bubbling just under the surface, and today’s mood coming off the weekend I had was ripe for me completely losing it if I didn’t retain very tight control. Second, I was listening very closely to what God was telling me today. And He spoke loud and clear. It makes me smile just to write that. He heard me and He answered me. Do I like His answer? It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know what it is, and I know it is the right answer. There’s no doubt, and for once, I don’t have a desire to fight or dig my heels in. I know, I know…crazy, huh? I can almost guarantee that because I experienced this small victory today, tomorrow I will be under a renewed attack to drag me backwards. But, rather than focus on what that attack may look like, I’m going to continue taking baby steps. I’ll focus on getting through the rest of my evening, and getting some sleep. And I’ll take tomorrow, whatever it may look like, as it comes. I used to think I handle change really well. Perhaps I do, to an extent. But after today, I realized that there is a limit to my ability to go with the flow. Not only has my cheese been moved all over the place, it's been through the grater and sprinkled everywhere I go.
We've been in our new house a week. And this past week I've felt like a complete and utter disappointment to everyone because I haven't reacted to it the way I should have. Closing day was anticlimactic. You'd think that after the roller coaster ride of selling our old home, getting the keys and officially walking into "our house" would be like the biggest high ever. Except it wasn't. I was happy. But, I was more tired than anything. That same theme has played out ever since. People keep saying to me, "I bet you couldn't wait to start unpacking!" Um, not exactly. In fact, it's been like pulling teeth to get me to even do 1 box. It still looks like we're renting a home for a vacation or something because our clothes are still in suitcases (I haven't found the hangers), we've been eating on paper and cheapy plastic plates, and digging through boxes as needed when we think of something we want. I haven't decorated. The mere idea of figuring out color schemes, paint, picture arrangements, and what parts of the old we're going to sprinkle in with the new makes my head want to explode. And as much as I love and appreciate those that have come to help us unpack, it's been really hard to not just scream and throw things because I DON'T KNOW WHERE I WANT TO PUT THAT, AND I HAVEN'T DECIDED WHAT I'M GOING TO DO WITH THIS, AND OH MY GOD, I HAVE THE REST OF MY LIFE IN THIS HOUSE SO WHY IS IT SO DAMN IMPORTANT THAT WE FIGURE OUT ALL THIS SHIT RIGHT THIS INSTANT? My brain is done. It is shutting down on me. Right now, I'm not sure that merely existing isn't too much to ask of me. I can't think, I can't feel happy even though I'm in the midst of what “should” be a gloriously happy time, and I keep thinking about hiding away in the farthest, darkest, most remote corner of the house and pretending I'm in a cave. I feel pressured to be someone I'm not. I'm not suzy homemaker. I'm not Martha Stewart. And I'm certainly not going to win any mom or wife of the year awards. I don't want to even think about Halloween. At the rate I'm going, we'll be lucky to even have a tree up by Christmas morning. It's so bad that H's birthday is in 2 weeks and we haven't even really discussed a plan for her party. HELLO!?!? What is wrong with me? I don't want to be this Alison. I don't even know how I got to be the me that I am right now. Is this who I really am? Or is this just the super stressed out, I can't do this anymore, everyone on the planet just needs to leave me the hell alone, "me" that will eventually go away as things become more stable? I don’t know. And that makes me angry…..so very angry. I’m angry that I care so much about what others think. I’m angry that the whole world seems to be able to “do” life better than me. I’m angry that I keep bouncing back and forth between being able to semi function and being so awful that all I do is cry. For hours. I can’t sleep, can’t eat, and can’t seem to hang on to even the smallest slivers of hope that I come across. And I’m really, REALLY, angry that all that seems to come out of my mouth these days is, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t”. But, it’s because I CAN’T. I might be capable enough, and smart enough, to someday “be able to”, but right now I can’t. I. Just. Can’t. I want peace. I want calm. I want tranquil. These are 3 of the most foreign words to me, and are 3 of the things I crave the most. I’m starting to wonder if God doesn’t intend for me to have these things….that whatever purpose I was put on this earth to do requires something different. I just wish I knew what it was. I had a really rough day yesterday. Probably one of the darkest days since this time last year. It blindsided me and I had a tough time figuring out how to deal with it. My first reaction was to build up my walls and shut down. I didn’t want to talk, and was absolutely determined that I was NOT going to talk, despite knowing deep down that sharing my feelings would be the most beneficial thing for me to do. That’s the stubborn streak in me coming out.
But. Fortunately, I have a husband and friends who refused to let me push them out, in spite of my best efforts. I will admit that at the time, I wasn’t feeling very fortunate about that. I wanted to sit in that deep, dark, black ditch and drift away. Why? Because that’s the easy path. It may not sound like it, but that’s the truth. What’s hard is voicing the pain…putting your feelings and hurts into words and floating (or hurling, as in my case) them out in the universe where they can be judged. That’s my biggest fear, and has been since my childhood. Being judged and found lacking. I imagine most people have that fear to some degree. Mine seems to border on phobic. That is what drives everything I do. I hold myself to a standard of perfection that is impossible to achieve, which is ridiculous. I set myself up for failure by doing this, but I haven’t found the tools yet to help me stop. I can easily see that I’m doing it, and I can also sit here and tell you that I do it. I can hear and accept people’s words when they say nobody can ever be perfect, that only God is perfect, and we are flawed beings. I nod and agree and hate every bit of that truth. I’ve been working on strengthening my relationship with Him. I’m reading scripture, discussing it with others, and learning how to let go of the reins I hold so tightly. That’s been one of the hardest parts for me. Letting go of the desire to carry my burdens by myself instead of handing them over to God so he can shoulder them for me. Somehow, I’ve gotten the idea in my head that I can do this all on my own. I’m aware of this flaw now, and working hard to, bit by bit, hand my struggles over. It’s not easy to do. The other truth that I’m having difficulty accepting is that God sees in me what I can’t see. I’ve been pretty open about my fight to accept myself as I am. This goes hand in hand with the perfectionism thing. I know my past mistakes, I know all my flaws (inside and out), and I know my thoughts. I don’t like these things and have allowed only the bad stuff to completely define who I am in my mind. Because of this, I will normally shoot you down the instant you compliment me. I’m not comfortable with it. So, I have a hard time with the fact that God knows every bad thing about me and every bad thing I might do in the future, and still finds me worthy of forgiveness and love. I just can’t wrap my head around it. Yesterday, I was drowning in all of these thoughts. And I seriously didn’t know what to do with them. I was thinking about harming myself again just to make it all go away. And do you know what happened? Several different friends, at different times throughout the day, all said the exact same thing to me. “Alison, you were created in God’s own image.” Those same friends also told me something else, again all the same message, but in their own way: “He loves you and forgives you, no matter what the sin is. You were made exactly the way you are for a reason.” It was like God had gotten a little fed up with me (wink, wink) and was hammering me over the head with these truths…telling me to wake up and just LISTEN TO HIM! So, I have a theory, and it’s one that was presented to me and I have come to believe. I’m making progress in my journey to know God better, and each baby step forward I take, Satan gets nervous and starts attacking me. I think before I fully embraced my desire to learn and live how God wants me to, Satan got complacent in his “attacks” on me. They were just these unsettled feelings of unrest and unhappiness that were sort of always there, hovering in the background. They would flare up every now and then, but they weren’t as sudden or violent as they’ve been since I’ve begun actively seeking the Truth. That tells me I’m moving in the right direction. So today, I’m better. I wouldn’t classify my mood as good, but it’s not terrible either. I’m moving forward again…one step in front of the other. I have an app that gives me a Verse of the Day. I opened it this morning and was presented with the following: Psalm 59:16 NIV “But I will sing of your strength, in the morning I will sing of your love; for you are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.” Seems pretty clear to me. I’ve been under attack and thinking I had to handle it alone. But I know now where I can seek refuge. “Get It Right”
What have I done? I wish I could run, Away from this ship going under Just trying to help Hurt everyone else Now I feel the weight of the world is on my shoulders What can you do when your good isn’t good enough And all that you touch tumbles down? Cause my best intentions Keep making a mess of things, I just wanna fix it somehow But how many times will it take? Oh, how many times will it take for me to get it right, to get it right? Can I start again, with my faith shaken? Cause I can’t go back and undo this I just have to stay and face my mistakes, But if I get stronger and wiser, I’ll get through this What can you do when your good isn’t good enough And all that you touch tumbles down? Cause my best intentions Keep making a mess of things, I just wanna fix it somehow But how many times will it take? Oh, how many times will it take for me to get it right, to get it right? So I throw up my fist, throw a punch in the air, And accept the truth that sometimes life isn’t fair! Yeah, I’ll send out a wish, yeah, I’ll send up a prayer And finally someone will see how much I care What can you do when your good isn’t good enough And all that you touch tumbles down? Cause my best intentions Keep making a mess of things, I just wanna fix it somehow But how many times will it take? Oh, how many times will it take for me to get it right, to get it right? I look in the mirror and I can see myself crumbling. I’m alone in this darkness. I don’t know how to fix it and I don’t know if I’ll ever get it right. “Unwritten”
I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned Staring at the blank page before you Open up the dirty window Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find Reaching for something in the distance So close you can almost taste it Release your inhibitions Feel the rain on your skin No one else can feel it for you Only you can let it in No one else, no one else Can speak the words on your lips Drench yourself in words unspoken Live your life with arms wide open Today is where your book begins The rest is still unwritten Oh, oh, oh I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way This. This song nails it. It says what I know in my heart. I don’t know what my ending will be, but I do know that whatever it is, and however I get there, it’s my journey and mine alone. Nobody else can feel what I’m feeling, read my mind, or fight my battles for me. They can stand with me while I do it, but I have to be the one that opens my heart and mind to the tools I’ve been exposed to for use in fighting through this. Oh, how I’ve made mistakes. And some of my attempts at dealing with those missteps have certainly been unorthodox. But, I’m still learning what does and doesn’t work, and I suspect that will be the case until the day I die. Tomorrow is a huge day for my family; one that should invoke excitement. I’ve been counting it down for the last 3 ½ months. Yet, I’m nervous and struggling with a sense of dread that doesn’t seem right to be feeling. I had a long conversation with a friend yesterday about this and the conclusion they reached as to why I’m feeling this way made so much sense—that I can’t accept the blessings because I’m allowing my past demons to negate any goodness. I have been convinced for a very long time that I am not a good person. Trust me when I say that I’ve made mistakes in the past that nobody on this earth knows. The only ones who do know these past actions are me and God. Add to that the slow backslide into who I am today…the suicide attempts, hospital stay, putting my husband and girls through hell, the physical pain I have inflicted upon myself….all of it, and I just can’t wrap my head around why I’ve been so blessed and continue to be blessed with good things. It just doesn’t seem right. I know people who are just downright wonderful people, living to be the best they can be, good in every way, and they deal with cancer, children with disabilities, losing jobs, houses, lives turned upside down. So, why am I so blessed? When I’m nowhere near as good as they are? It makes no sense to me. I continue to read the Bible, absorbing what it is telling me, and trying to open my heart to the truth of it. A very good friend gave me this Scripture and it brought much comfort to me. Deuteronomy 20:4 For the LORD your God is the one who goes with you, to fight for you against your enemies, to save you. A huge part of me is screaming not to post this. The Evil Alison part of me. And Satan. But I’m going to publish this because my desire to beat these bastards out of my head is higher than most anything else right now.
I am very good at hiding things. I’m also good at deflecting, re-directing conversations that I don’t like, and generally extracting myself from having any sort of uncomfortable encounter. I do this because I have this idea in my head, even now, that A) I shouldn’t be bothering anyone else with my problems, and B) I don’t want to hear something that I may not like. I think I’m human with that little tendency. But, the truth is, I can get myself into very dark situations, and it can happen fast. Most of the time, when I do get there, I start pulling away, erecting walls, distancing myself so as not to attract attention to whatever it is I’m either doing or thinking. [Deep Breath]. If any of you see me doing this…do not let me get away with it. Just don’t. If it comes down to cornering me or forcing me into talking, then that’s what will have to happen. You see why this is something that every fiber of my being is screaming at me NOT to say? But I have to get this out there so that those of you I interact with constantly, and even those that I don’t see often, but still have the ability to see me spiraling, can do what it takes to not let me distract you or push you away from trying to offer help. Because that’s what I’ll do, and that’s exactly what I ask you not to let me get away with. I’m learning that I’m not going to get through this without help. Many various forms of help. And as often as I’ll tell you “I’m fine” or “I’m just tired today”, 95% of the time those are not true statements. As much as I hate telling my secrets, I know it’s what I need to do to help myself and to help me get stabilized and in a good place again. And if I get irritated with you for doing as I’ve requested, please don’t take it personally. I’m just one of those people that like to control where people’s attention is directed, and I’m not very good at giving up that control…no matter how necessary it is. I have a husband and 2 girls (plus 3 dogs) that are counting on me. That knowledge doesn’t escape me, ever. But sometimes I’m pretty good at convincing myself they’d be better off without me around, and the same thought goes for my friends, too. I’m trying to break myself of that habit of thinking. That’s just Satan telling me lies. And I think he’s messed with me enough, don’t you? I want to preface this post by saying I am super scared to share these details and afraid of who it might cause to turn away from me. But, when I started this journey of a blog, I promised myself I'd be candid and truthful. So....[deeeeep breath]...here goes.
This week is one I’ve been looking forward to for 4 ½ months. We do our walk through on the house tomorrow, we close on Friday the 17th, and the movers are set to arrive Saturday morning. Despite my excitement and anticipation, I am still being attacked mentally with mean, untrue, and dangerous thoughts. I feel weaker today than I did at the end of last week, and it concerns me. I cannot….WILL NOT….let those thoughts break me again. Because when I did let those feelings take over my mind, I did something that most people cannot understand. And I don’t blame them. It’s a difficult concept to process for most, and even for me, someone who DID it, it still boggles my mind that I arrived at that decision, went through with it, and actually found comfort in it. Who can understand that? My BDD is bad. Add to that the anxiety and depression, and there are days…a lot of days….where I look in the mirror, or think about my past mistakes, and a scary anger just builds up inside. It was in one of these moments last week, when all I could think about was punishing myself for being so fucked up (it happened to be the anniversary of my mental hospital admission, as well), that I took a knife, and then an eyeglass screwdriver, and butchered my wrist. Concentrating on that pain, kept my mind occupied so it didn’t have time to dwell on the internal turmoil. Today, looking back on my actions, I can see how it would not make sense to anyone who has never done it. And I can certainly look at my wrist today and feel sorrow that I did it. But, I’m choosing to look at it in a different way, as well. More than likely, my wounds will leave scars. I can tell that I cut deep enough that there will be a forever reminder on my wrist of what I did. I also know that there are 2 ways I can deal with this. 1) I can be ashamed, angry, and self conscious enough to go out of my way to hide the scars, which would then lead me to dwell on them, something I do NOT want to do. So, I’m choosing to go with the second option: 2) I can look at the scars and remember how they got there, while accepting them as permanent proof that I did that in the darkest of dark places and I came out on the other side. I won’t hide them. If anyone asks about them, I’ll share my story. To me, this is the much healthier way of dealing with what I did, why I did it, and will help to serve as a reminder for the rest of my life that this is not an answer when things get hard. I keep questioning why God made me this way. I know there is a reason, and it’s one that I may never understand until I’m in Heaven with Him. And I know it’s not really for me to question. Still, I have a few theories, but no idea if they are anywhere near the mark. A friend told me that Satan is working extra hard on me because I’m not one of the super strong ones that he knows he can’t touch, nor am I one of the weakest ones that will take little of his effort. I am one of those in the middle, viewable as a threat and just vulnerable enough to attract his attention, and so he works particularly hard at wearing me down and building a wedge between me and my Lord and Savior. Maybe this is right, or maybe it’s not…I don’t know. But I do feel like I’ve been especially targeted and beaten down, so it makes just as much sense to me as anything else does right now. After a few troubling details of my day, tonight I am tired, a little snappish at my family, and this is not the person I want to be. Since I mentioned moments of my day, 2 frustrating ones come directly to mind. First, and probably the funniest…well, maybe not, because the second seems pretty funny, too. But firstly, I had my cell phone in my back pocket when I stopped by the ladies room at lunch at work. And it promptly fell into the toilet (clean water, thank you very much), but then the sensor picked up my frantic movements to fish it out and it tried to flush it. So. I don’t have a phone now, and not eligible for an upgrade until Sunday, and I have everyone related to the closing of our home and the move into our house using my number for contacting us. I’m trying SO HARD to find this funny, but really, I’m more pissed off than anything. I never really thought it would be this hard to not have a freaking phone. Sigh. Secondly, I’m driving a bright yellow (think Bumblebee from Transformers) Fiat while my car is in the shop. It’s tiny. It’s microscopic. And watching me, my 11 year old, and my 5 year old (who is still in a booster seat) try to climb in and out of this stupid thing with all our computer bags, purses, backpacks, lunchboxes, and everything else we have is like literally watching clowns trying to squeeze into a clown car. Again, it must seem amusing to anyone watching, but it just pisses me off while we try to cram in and out the thing. 4 more days. 4. More. Days. Then I get to move into our home, get a new phone!, and start the next leg of this journey. It can’t get started fast enough. It’s taken me several days to write this. There’s so much churning around in my head that it was too much to put down on paper in one sitting.
Early yesterday morning, at around 2:00am, was the 1 year anniversary of my admission into the hospital. I can remember that night/morning like it was yesterday. I remember the long wait in the initial waiting room with my mom on one side of me and my husband on the other. I remember finally being called into the “intake” room, where I was asked a hundred different questions by one person and then another hundred questions by a psychiatrist. I remember him saying, “she needs to be admitted”, and me asking for how long. I remember not liking his answer to that question at all. The room was freezing cold and I was in a T-shirt, work out shorts, and flip flops. I remember them cutting the underwire out of my bra and the drawstring out of my shorts “for my safety”. I remember hugging my husband and mom goodbye, and I remember watching hubs walking out the door and feeling more lonely in that moment than I’ve ever felt in my life. The next few hours I sat in a chair in the locked ward by the nurses’ station while they found a room for me. It was so cold. There was a woman wandering around the common area in a hospital gown, bandages up and down her arms, talking to herself, spinning around in circles and laughing hysterically. She scared me. Finally, I was taken to my room, given a blanket and pillow, and given the rules. Door must remain open at all times. Nobody else allowed in the room except my roommate and myself. Breakfast at this time, group sessions at these times, doctor evaluation every day at this time, meds dispensed at this time. Finally, I was left alone to crawl into bed where I spent the next few hours crying and listening to my roommate sleep. I will never forget that night. I will never forget the following 7 days in that place. I grew to like the group sessions, even looking forward to them. But, the rest of it….well, I’ll carry the memory of it with me forever, but I’m not happy about it. If I had my way, I’d like to forget all of it. I thought I was handling yesterday pretty well, but it turns out I wasn’t. Not at all. The memories came crashing into me, and the pain, guilt, shame, anger – all of it – overwhelmed me to the point that I did something I had promised I’d never do again. Bringing physical pain to myself somehow numbs the inner pain. Did you know that? It does. For a brief time, anyway. But then the guilt and shame and anger of that act washes over you and you’re just left spinning in this darkness, not knowing how – HOW – to get back to the light. That desperation led me last night to ask my husband to do something with me that we’ve never done before. I showed him what I’d done to myself, and I asked him to pray with me. I was so scared in that moment, but as we started, holding hands, praying out loud to God for strength, courage, forgiveness, and for HELP, I felt the power and the intimacy of the moment flooding through me. I felt safe. I felt protected. But the emotions of yesterday have left me drained today. On to a happier subject: Seven days. Seven days until we close on our new home. It seems so close, and still so very far away. I’m anxious to get my key, unlock my front door, step inside, and breathe in the joy of the memories that I know we’ll be making in this house. We started this process back in June, and though it may not seem that long on paper, it has been an eternity in my mind. I simply cannot wait to get my key, hold it safely in my hand, and revel in the new adventure we are embarking upon. Going hand-in-hand with the move into our new home and the next step in our lives, I’m beginning to actively wage war against the stronghold that Satan has on my mind. He has been working on me….laying out his plan, planting seeds of doubt, re-enforcing my fears and hurts from over the years, and he does so quietly and patiently. Today, I feel strong and confident that I can keep him out, but realistically I know there will be another day where I’m feeling weak, and he’ll wiggle his way through the chinks in my armor and start working on me again. But the important thing I wanted to say today is that I am starting to wage my own battle against him, with God on my side. And though I’ll surely take 2 steps backwards to my every step forward, I’m comforted by the fact that I WILL be moving forwards, and that God WILL always be by my side. I do not have to make this journey, fight this battle, or win this war by myself. I have friends who are guiding me, I have family who love me, and I have the loving arms of God around me, urging me to let go of the reins, lean on him, and let him help. There can be no failure with Him on my side. I am still struggling, though. As hopeful as I am about someday being victorious, the fact remains that I have an illness called depression. I also have an anxiety disorder and BDD. These things will never be magically cured, only managed. Today, my BDD is hitting me relatively hard. I posted a video on my personal facebook page that someone else had shared, and it was so powerful. It was about women and self-hatred. Damn, did it touch me in a way that had me in tears and left me angry that so many women, myself included, fall into the trap of never feeling like they are beautiful enough, thin enough, tall enough, curvy enough….good enough. I look in the mirror and see every single flaw. Every one of them! There is nothing that escapes my notice, and even if nobody else ever sees them, I do. And it’s extremely damaging. Because I’ve been feeling so lost, I’ve had a major case of writer’s block on my book. I have a long term detailed storyline planned, but I haven’t had the desire to sit down and flesh it out. I’ve had to make decisions about certain characters and what their ultimate purpose is going to be. Thanks to a wonderful piece of feedback, I also have some new areas to explore, and I’ve been sort of rolling them around in my head figuring out how to lay it in with what I’ve already created. I finally think I have a path to move forward with, and I’m anxious to get started on it again. As I’ve said many times before, writing is an escape for me…it puts me in a happy place where I control what happens. Completely. Totally. This coming weekend is a solid booking of activities, and I’m grateful for it. Sometimes not having much down time to sit and think is a very good thing. It’s what I need right now. I need to be going, going, going. |
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July 2019
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