My Hell (Warning: May Trigger) (With UPDATE)

I sat down an hour and a half ago to begin writing out a story. This story is my story. It's terrible, and haunting, and makes me sick to my stomach to think about.

I am damn proud of myself right now. I just finished writing 17 pages worth. There is more to write but I cannot manage anything else at the moment. I have most of the major stuff written... kinda. I have more ideas and thoughts swimming in my head, but I'm physically, mentally, and spiritually exhausted. I feel as if I have been beaten up and broken and left bleeding on the pavement. But I'm still proud. A bit scared of what I may do til sleep comes and replaces the thoughts in my head with some much needed nonsense...

But I just had a thought... I'll probably dream about it, about what I just put on paper to try to help ease it all out of my head. I will probably dream about him. The more I've thought about it, the more literal my dreams have been... no longer verging on metaphorical, but being much more straight forward. And it's scary. I wake up most mornings feeling as if I had been molested during the night. It's hard to share a bed with my husband when that is going on. It's hard to sleep at all when that is going on. So I've been staying up til the sun is rising and my eyelids can't possibly stay open for another second. I know those dreams are just that... dreams. They are not real. The touching, abuse, and trauma from them is not real. But the feelings, the pain, the hurt... all that IS real. And it sticks around, ruining my days and leading only to more sleepless/nightmarish nights.

And here are the chills, up and down my spine as I think about it all, like his nasty fingers on me. The headache and stomach ache have been there since I first began writing nearly 2 hours ago. The chest pains have come and gone while I wrote, depending on where I was in the story.

I'm scared to even move. I know I'm on the edge. Do I try to take something to calm myself down? Do I wake Handsome and ask for his help in distracting me? Do I just accept that my night is going to be Hell and get on with getting it over with? It's difficult because I guess I knew this would come from bringing up so much of the story to the forefront of my mind, So I probably shouldn't be writing it in the middle of the night, so that I can protect myself from moments such as this. But at the same time, This is about the only time I can find the privacy and "flow" to write it out.

I need something uplifting. Something to completely redirect my thoughts. Something to get these images out of my head. Anything to get HIM out of my mind. At least tomorrow(later today) I will be able to see my therapist and hash some of this out. But again, that will result in keeping all this in the forefront of my mind, leave it swirling in there, and it will be a shadow on the rest of the day. And handsome will not be home tomorrow night to be my safety net to catch me if/when I fall to far into hell. But a friend will be stopping by. Maybe the whole purpose of planning our catch-up was divinely inspired, so that I would not be alone during this time.

The most random thing I can think to do to lift my spirits at the moment is a McDonald's Rolo McFlurry. I love those freakin things. And I want one, right now. My reward, for a hard job well done. But I'm afraid to go alone. If I'm alone, I will feel the shadows behind me in the car. Not even the radio on full blast will shoo them away. If I'm alone there may be thoughts of self-harm that creep in, and I'm trying to avoid them at all costs... especially after I lost my head a bit this evening and hurt my thumb in a fit.

So I could wake Handsome up and see if he would be willing to go get me one, or ride with me. Pregnant women do stuff like that all the time right?  I have one awful baby in my head that needs a McFlurry to calm down... Only I can't use the excuse that he made me like that, so he had to deal with it... The exact opposite is true. He tries so hard to be understanding, to help, to relieve as much of the pain as he can, to be exactly what I need him to be (though most times neither one of  us know what that is.)  So If I wake him up to help me, there will be guilt from him losing sleep. He has work tomorrow, and scout camp after that. He needs to sleep. I need to be stronger. But as I said before... I'm tired. That story wears me out... and maybe I should have stopped before I got too deep into it.

Regardless, I need to stop thinking about this and find a distraction. Not sure what I'll find yet, but something (anything) has got to help.

I also found this website tonight. (http://writingourselveswhole.org/)  If you're trying to write about traumatic experiences in your life, this is a great place to go and check out. It helped me get started tonight. Maybe it could help you as well.

****I've had a few messages from people on FB and emails and others just checking on me to make sure I'm doing okay. I'm great. I ended up waking Chris up and we went to McDonald's at 3 in the morning (and they were busy... WTHeck?)  Turns out they were cleaning their ice cream machine, so no McFlurry, but Handsome helped me get my mind off everything and we laughed and laughed and ended up turning on the Princess Bride when we got back home. So yeah... I'm good. Thank you all for your concern and for making sure I'm doing good. I appreciate it and love you all.

Depth of Feelings

I was thinking the other day about how bad I feel sometimes. It is overwhelming. It effects everything about me, my thoughts, my speech, my demeanor, my looks, my posture, how I treat myself and those around me... Sometimes it hurts so much that I would rather be done with life than to continue feeling that bad.
(I AM NOT SUICIDAL. AT NO POINT HAVE I WANTED TO TAKE MY OWN LIFE!  Hurt so badly that I ache for the pain to stop, however that has to happen, yes... but end my life on my own? Nope. And that's not what this post is about anyways.) I have numerous times felt so horrible all I could do was curl up and cry, and not just crying to myself, but down on the floor in the fetal position sobbing so hard my entire body is shaking.

I've had so many people think that I'm just sad sometimes. I'm not sad sometimes. The heartbreak that I feel is not like some teenage girl trying to get over a crush. My whole soul wrenches. It aches. It pleads for peace, for a moment's peace... just a millisecond of hope to help me get through. Nothing really helps in those moments of complete despair and darkness. I can pray, receive blessings, try to read scriptures, try to talk about it, but usually it just has to pass. All I can do is to endure to the end.

I am not a sad person. I am not a depressed person. I am a happy person who happens to struggle with a disease. But I am kinda grateful in some ways for that disease. Because I have felt such pain, heartbreak, despair, darkness, I can celebrate the times I have happiness and peace and joy and laughter. I can be furiously happy and laugh my ass off at the hilarity of life because I have known the opposite. And to be honest, I think I would rather feel the extremes than to just kind of hang somewhere in the middle. I've been there (thanks to drugs) and did not like it.

I will take the tears, the hurt, the ache if it means I can laugh til my stomach hurts, I can be happy for those days where my mind is my own. I can dance around my home like an idiot and enjoy how good it feels to just be alive with my gorgeous little girls and my incredibly sexy husband. I can love the things in this life that make me happy and not be embarrassed by them or by who I am.

I have wondered over and over again why it is that I have to struggle with such a hard disease. It's not like there's one simple answer out there to make me better. Like with my Asthma, I have an attack, I use my inhaler, end of story. I know that cats trigger it so I stay away from them. It's easy. It's fixable. Depression is so much different. Yes there is medication, but often the side effects can be as bad as the symptoms. I have not taken an antidepressant in a month, yet I'm still having "brain shivers" from coming off of them. I don't want the meds. I don't want the side effects. I don't want to feel numb. If I have to feel this pain in order to feel the joy and happiness that I have had, then so be it. I will endure to the end. I will not give up, and I will also continue to appreciate the little things in this life that make me furiously happy.

The heart break that I feel sometimes is not just me feeling sad.

Do it for yourself.

I have a friend (I'll call her Sam) who is one of my three heroes. I met Sam about 7 years ago I think. I could go on and on about how amazing she is, all that she has endured and overcome, but most of it is pretty personal and I don't feel comfortable sharing it all on here, but in my opinion, she's had WAY MORE than her fair share of trials in this life. Seriously... It's unreal!!!

I went out to see Sam yesterday very last minute... I called on the way. She was welcoming as always. I love going to her farm.  Yes she has a farm! And it has everything a good farm has, cows, horses, chickens, rabbits, baby wild turkeys, a fully stocked pond with a dock to have picnics on... It's heaven on earth. My girls have a BLAST every time we go and it makes me ache to have them grow up in the country, but I digress.

When I first met Sam, we were instantly friends. Over the years she has become family. Every time I see her I know more and more that we were meant to be in each others lives. Yesterday, Sam and I sat in her room on the floor and talked for a couple hours. I had no idea how badly I needed that. 

Sam has been through much of the same things I have in life and has many of the same issues (anxiety, depression, etc.) I was telling her about my struggle and the ways I'm trying to overcome it. I told her about being molested when I was 14, and feeling so sad for that little girl I was then. Sam told me she had been molested as a child as well. She told me she calls her younger self the "Summer Child." I told Sam about how I want to get better for my Handsome, for my girls, for the children we have yet to have... Sam told me something amazing.

The only way I will truly get better is to get better for myself. I will only truly overcome this awful disease if I do it for my own  "summer child." I have to get better for that 14 year old girl who was hurt so badly. I have to get better for the 40 year old woman I will be someday. I have to get better for the 80 year old woman I will be. 

It's weird when I say it out loud, but I don't feel like the me right now is worth it... is worthy of me being better, of me feeling better, of me being happy. But when I think about that girl I was, I want to get better to avenge what happened to her, the hurt she felt. When I think about the future me, I feel like I owe it to myself to do this. 

I have tried to wake up in the morning and think, "I need to shower, shave my legs, fix my hair and do my make-up  for Chris. I need to make a schedule for my girls." Everything I try to do, I'm doing for someone else. But I need to want these things for me. I need to make myself feel worthy again. And by slowly doing things like getting dressed and dolled up for myself, and no one else, will help me rebuild the relationship with myself, help  me realize my own self worth, and hopefully, help me to stop the self abuse. 

Thank you Sam. You help me to see that I am worth something. You help me feel that I am not alone. You uplift me so much. I pray that I help you do the same. I feel strong because you can see strength in me. I hope you feel the same. Thank you for all you have taught me and for being my sister. I adore you lady. 

From now on... I'm doing this for myself.

Why me?

The pain in my heart at the moment is so real, I can hardly breath. I'm not quite sure that this is a panic attack cause my heart is not racing. I'm just so overwhelmingly sad... It feels good to cry though. The tears are kinda healing in some ways. They calm me down a little.  It's like I can just get it out through there and then I'm better.

My biggest frustration lately is WHY. Why do I have depression? What is it's purpose? Why do I have anxiety? Why do I have to suffer?

My conclusion is still kinda up in the air, and I don't know that I will ever really know WHY... well in this life anyways.  But here's what I've come up with so far.

1. Genetics. My mother has depression and anxiety issues. My older sister has these issues as well. My younger brother has had anxiety issues. I wonder if anyone else in my family suffers from these issues.  I think we all get some mental quirks from our parents. I can see mine very obviously. My dad has control issues... and can be a bit OCD and has some hoarding stuff... nothing that complicates his life. But I have those tendencies as well. And like I said, depression and anxiety from my mama.  But what I don't know is if this stuff is learned or DNA. I'm hoping more of it is learned than not... Because I am terrified of passing this on to my daughters. I really hope I don't.

2. Hormones. Having my two daughters back to back threw me off. I am blaming part of this on my IUD as well. Mirena does have some hormones and I think I'm off balance.  But I don't want a baby anytime soon, so I'm not having it removed. There are other factors playing into my issues anyways.

3. Past Events.  There have been 3 major events in my past that have directly led to my issues with Anxiety, Depression, and PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder.) I was molested twice when I was growing up. One of those times I was very young and don't remember it. But that doesn't mean it has no effect on my psyche. Another one of those times I was a teenager and a family member molested me. That I remember in vivid detail... up to a certain point. Then it's blank... then I remember what happened afterwards. That one haunts me. I have forgiven those involved and tried to move past it as much as I can, but I have never seen a therapist for it. The third event was being kicked out of college. At the time, I shut down. I quit eating, my hair started falling out... So I moved. I changed my life to try and get me out of the funk. But it only got worse. The environment around me was not helpful and I kept slipping further and further. I finally came back home and got my shit together. That's when I met Chris and my life started looking up.

I know all this has led to my mental health issues.  Some of these issues can be corrected physically with prescriptions and regular exercise and sun, etc.  Some can't. Some will be with me through my entire life. They led me to where I am and to who I am, and though I may be broken in places... I wouldn't trade where I am right now for anything. I love my life and those around me. So if this is my burden to bear, then I will try my hardest.

Even though I am resigned to the fact that some of this will be with me my whole life does not mean that I am giving up and giving in to the depression. I will try daily to fight it. To strive for joy and happiness and light in the darkness.

One of my heroes, The Bloggess, said that those who suffer from depression are deeper people because of the suffering we have. I agree. I have a deeper sense of sympathy, of joy and of light. I can appreciate them more because of the pain I feel. I can laugh harder because of those times when sadness overwhelms me. Maybe that is the why... maybe it's so that I can be a deeper person, more grateful, more empathetic, more caring, more loving, and happier in times of peace. And if I have been called to suffer so that I can be this person, then so be it. I will be her. And pray that it is enough.