And God said… “Don’t forget, you still have me.” ~M
Photo credit: Pixabay.com
Photo credit: Pixabay.com
The sudden silence is what gets to me most, every time he leaves. Then my chest starts to tighten, and the tears begin to well up, and at that point, I know I’m done for. There’s no holding back the flood of emotions no matter how hard I try. I bury my face in my hands, trying so hard to hide the pain that’s gushing out through every inch of my being.
I can’t let anyone know how much this hurts, how lost I am, how much I don’t even want to do life anymore because I’m always feeling so alone. Five minutes have passed, and I’m wiping the evidence away. Putting on my brave soldier face once more, shrugging my shoulders and getting a grip just the way I’ve been taught. I cannot cry, I can’t let anyone know that I’m weak, and I can’t ever confess to anyone that sometimes I’d rather be six feet under than endure another day alone.
There are little people counting on me, babies that need protecting, loved, and cared for. And this is why I bury all of it, deep inside where nobody can see. If anyone ever found out what I was really thinking, what would they do? What would they say? So I fight through it, the let downs, the misery, the feelings of loneliness and despair. And I put on a happy face because that makes everyone else feel better when I do that. They need me to be happy, and I can’t let them down. I’ve got to hold it together, for them…
I’ve got the past, present, and future all on my mind today. I keep trying to overcome the past, but the present just won’t let me forget, which makes the future look like it’ll just be more of the same. And I’m so tired of thinking about the past. Most days, I wish that somehow I could forget everything, and then perhaps I could overcome and heal from the things that have been weighing heavily on my mind. But no matter what I do, or what I try, I can’t forget the hurts, the struggles, and the reality of my life. I still think that it’s possible to overcome the past, but I think in order to do that, I need to face those issues head-on and stop sweeping them under the rug.
I’ve been on WordPress for five years now, and I have made some amazing friends, but the majority of you don’t really know me. I have been a closed book for a very long time, and that is mainly because I’ve been trying to protect my family and friends from knowing what’s really been going on. Sometimes I feel like it makes things worse to be open and honest with the ones you love. I think most people would say that some things should never be talked about because they are just too hard for most people to handle. But because I’ve been keeping things bottled up, I feel like I’m almost at my breaking point now. I’ve been mostly dealing with everything on my own, with very little support from anyone except a few close friends. And I feel like I don’t even want to tell my close friends everything because I don’t like overwhelming people with my problems. Everyone already has enough to deal with in their own lives, and I don’t want to be the kind of friend who heaps on more. I think this is why I’ve alienated nearly everyone from my life. I’ve been afraid that if I stayed close to anyone, that I might accidentally explode and reveal all of the things that I’ve been trying to work through.
After thinking things over while I was on vacation this month, I feel like I am only doing myself an injustice by not saying anything, and I’m on the verge of baring my heart and soul to everyone. I know I have already lost the majority of the connections with my family and friends, and so I don’t think I could do any more damage than I already have. But at the same time, I am still trying to protect my immediate family from some very damaging issues. I’ve been wanting to see a counselor, and discuss some of these issues there, but I’ve tried to find someone in the past, and our insurance wouldn’t cover the cost of those visits. So I’m sort of in a weird dilemma right now. I feel like I need to start talking about all the things that I should have addressed years ago. I think talking about them, and getting them out in the open is the only way to fix anything. I’m still not sure if writing about all of this on my blog is the best approach, but I need to do something; I just wish I knew what to do.
Photo credit: Pixabay.com
Photo credit: Pixabay.com
Photo credit: pixabay.com
I feel like my heart isn’t in anything right now; I don’t want to do anything; I don’t want to go anywhere; and least of all, I don’t want to socialize. People are reaching out, trying to ask me if I’m ok, and to most, I can’t even respond. I keep asking myself, “What kind of person am I?” That I can’t even respond to a simple email, phone call, or text message.
I sort of feel like I’m floating on a raft in the middle of the ocean, and there is nothing for as far as the eye can see. And I want to be here; out of reach of most anyone or anything. I’m alone without a plan as to where I’m going, and I just don’t care. I don’t want to do anything else, except for simply float peacefully along, and leave everything else behind.
I don’t think I’ve ever isolated myself as much as I am right now. And there are times when I question why I’m doing this. But I feel like I need it. The quiet has been soothing to my soul. I’m loving the peace of not having to talk to anyone, to explain myself, to share all the horrible ugly things that I’m so often dealing with. I don’t want to talk about any of it because then it becomes real. And I can’t deal with the reality of the things that I know I will eventually need to face. I just don’t want to right now.
The funniest thing is, I start a social media communications class next week. It’s a requirement for my major and one of the last general education classes that I still need. 40% of my grade will be the discussions I have with other students. So much for being anti-social! Lol. At least I don’t have to talk about my personal life, but still…
Anyway, so here I am, floating along. It’s rather calm at the moment, but that usually means there’s a storm brewing on the horizon. And even though I can’t see it, I’m sort of securing myself to the raft right now; bracing myself for what’s to come. I just hope the storm passes quickly if and when it finally does arrive.
At the beginning of this year, I finally decided that I couldn’t keep going like I was, and so I asked my doctor to put me on anti-depressants. I’d gone all 46 years of my life without them and felt weak for having to ask for them. I have always tried to do everything on my own, and even to this day, I hate asking for help. My anger is what usually fuels my motivation when I’m left having to do something that seems overwhelmingly hard. And rather than ask for help, I usually just use all that built up negative energy and say a slew of cuss words to complete those difficult tasks.
I think this incessant need to do everything on my own, comes from the way I was raised. I was always made to feel guilty when asking for anything as a child. I would get reprimanded when even asking for the simplest of things. And so I learned how to do most everything on my own. This way of being raised had its benefits in many ways. I think I am a much more self-sufficient person because of it and I never give up on anything.
I think if I had to choose one word to describe me, it would be “determined.” But sometimes, I feel like I just want someone else to take care of me for a change. I would love to have someone there to help me, without me even having to ask. To say to me, “That’s enough; you’ve done plenty; let me help you.” And I want to feel like I can say yes to that, and accept their help.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to change. I’m getting older and more set in my ways. I’m just plain stubborn most of the time, and my girls would agree. They see how irritated I get and how I try not to ask for help. It usually takes breaking something, for me to finally give in and let them help me. Usually, it’s me that gets broken because of the stupid things I try to do without help. And of course, it doesn’t seem to stop me the very next time, from repeating the same act of stupidity. I guess that’s what stubborn people do. We’re a glutton for punishment.
I just ended the anti-depressants yesterday. They seemed to help at first, but then after several weeks, I started feeling anxious all the time, extremely restless, and shaky. My doctor slowly decreased my dose over the last week, and I do feel more like my old self again. I have mixed emotions though. I really did feel better for about the first three weeks, and I’m trying to figure out why I started to feel so bad the longer that I took them.
I still feel like I need to do something to control what I believe to be depression, but I’m not sure what to do to help myself. I think journaling is the best thing that I can continue to do for now. At least until I find a better way to help myself. I’d love to have someone to talk to. Everyone always talks about having a therapist, but I have never had one. I suppose that’s a luxury that I will never have. If my insurance covered that sort of thing, I would see a therapist in a heartbeat, but unfortunately, it doesn’t, and so I have to keep on sorting things out for myself. Anyway, I feel like I’m starting to ramble, so I’ll end this for today. Thanks for reading. ~M
Photo credit: Pixabay.com
Well, I know I haven’t been around for a while, but I’ve been working really hard to get through school. Blogging has sort of had to take a backseat for the time being because of the amount of work I’ve had to do. I’ve managed to stay at the top of my class since I started, and today I received the best news ever. I ended up with a perfect score on my final exam and was told it was one of the best finals that my professor has ever received. My exam consisted of five essays and ended up being eleven pages long, so to find out how well I did, caused the tears to flow straight away. For a writer especially, I think we want to know that our writing is good and we crave encouraging feedback. So for me, today is just the best day ever. To know somebody thought so highly of my work just makes all the difference in the world to me. Finding out about how well I’ve done, makes me feel like all the effort I’ve been putting forth is finally paying off. There have been some days when I haven’t been sure, when I’ve doubted everything and have wanted to throw in the towel and call it quits. So often, I feel like my time is spread so thin, I don’t have enough of me to go around, and I feel like I’ve had to let some people down because of it. I hardly ever put myself first in anything I do, but I’ve had no other choice since I started school this year, and the guilt has been eating me up inside. Feels like my family suffers because of it and I hate knowing that. But I also know in my heart that there is a reason behind all of this madness. I feel like this is leading me down a path that I need to continue to follow. I’m not sure where this will eventually take me, but I’m really excited to find out. And I’ve made myself a promise not to give up no matter how hard it gets. I need to do this and discover exactly what it is that I’m eventually supposed to do. And maybe in the process, I’ll actually figure out what I want to be when I grow up. I think that’s a question most of us ask ourselves our whole lives. It would be so great to finally have an answer for that.
Photo credit: pixabay.com
Photo credit: pixabay.com
Photo credit: pixabay.com
I have to admit, when someone asks me if I’m fine or okay, I start to get a bit defensive. I immediately begin to wonder if I’m starting to look weak or somehow flawed. I’ll come up with any number of excuses to convince the person that I am completely okay and that they need not worry about me. But 9 times out of 10, when somebody asks me this, I only go on the defensive because they are completely right. I’m not always fine and somehow it seems they’ve noticed it. I’m terrible at being able to hide my emotions and I’m drawn to people who are really good at reading them. So with that combination, I am always sure to be found out.
Today, I was thinking all of this over and began to wonder why I am so set on having people believe that I’m okay, when in fact I’m actually not. I think part of it stems from my upbringing. I grew up in a home where I was taught to “suck it up and drive on.” If I ever had a problem, I was told that it was inconsiderate to speak of it and burdensome for others to hear it. I was told that there were plenty of other people who had worse problems, so my problems were not important enough to speak of. I’m almost thinking this was a generational thing because I see a lot of people my age who were told the same thing. We weren’t allowed to complain or voice our opinions like people are nowadays. Everything was a certain way, and whether we liked it or not, that’s just the way it was. We didn’t have many choices or options, we were just told to do what we were supposed to do, and not ask questions or complain.
I had my first and only panic attack when I was 18, and I still remember it like it was yesterday. I had just started a new job, in a new state, and was living with my biological father for the first time. I didn’t know anybody and barely even knew my dad. I had no idea I was feeling anxious at the time because I had grown accustomed to the feeling of anxiety and usually just tried to brush it off as if nothing were wrong. But for some reason, that day, my body wouldn’t cooperate with me just brushing off the anxious emotions which were welling up inside of me. I was completely alone, facing the world for the first time on my own, and uncertainty and fear began to overwhelm me.
Well, that first day on the job only lasted about 20 minutes, before the anxiety attack started. Everything began to turn different shades of gray and I could barely stand due to the sudden dizziness I felt. All sound became muffled and it seemed like I had gone into a dark tunnel where sounds just echoed off the walls around me. I could hear my breathing, which was raspy and strained, and the pounding of my heart, a sound I had never heard audibly, was now the only other sound I could hear. I could no longer speak because I could no longer hear my own voice. It was probably the scariest moment of my life, and I had no idea what was happening.
I remember somebody leading me to a storage room and making me sit down on some boxes. I remember sitting there thinking that I might possibly be dying, but I had no idea what to do about it. After being left there for what seemed like ages, finally, somebody came back for me and tried to ask me what was wrong. I remember not being able to explain to them what was wrong and so eventually they seemed to give up and just drove me home and left me at my apartment.
I don’t remember how long I was back at my apartment before I was coherent enough to call my dad, but after he got home, I remember trying to explain to him what had happened. Since I had never experienced something like that before, I couldn’t really explain what had happened to me. Looking back, I think everyone at that store must have thought I was on drugs or something. I never did end up going back to that place and I don’t think I ever contacted anyone to tell them that I wasn’t coming back. It was years before I ever fully understood what had happened to me that day. I haven’t had another panic attack since then and I really hope I never do.
I’ve since become a master at hiding my anxiety and rarely admit to anyone that I am often depressed. The only time I really confide in anyone is after my feelings of anxiety have subsided. I feel like it’s safer for me to talk about it then after the suicidal thoughts have left me, and when I can control my emotions better. I always have this fear that if I actually tell someone how I’m really feeling that they will lock me away somewhere, for fear that I may otherwise harm myself.
I’ve seen my own daughter end up in a mental hospital and so I know what they are like. The place she stayed at did her absolutely no good and actually made her mental state worse. She became like a prisoner while she was there and we had no say in anything that happened to her. The psychiatrist there told my husband and me that he had complete control of our underage daughter and that he wouldn’t release her until he wanted to. I wouldn’t wish a place like that on my worst enemy and it breaks my heart every time I think of my daughter having to have been there.
It all started out with our family physician insisting that we take her there, and once we did, we lost all parental rights and were only allowed to visit her for about an hour each day. We drove the two hours there and back every day, all in order to be able to at least see her and tell her how much we loved her. But I would never allow it again for any of my family members, no matter what the situation, and I certainly never want to end up in a place like that myself. So even though I struggle with anxiety and depression, I do so without medication, without therapy, and without any sort of outside help. I “suck it up and drive on.” It’s the way I was taught and the way I’ll forever remain.
Photo credit: pixabay.com
Good morning fellow bloggers! How have all of you been lately? I’m so glad you decided to visit me today. I’ve got plenty of hot tea and coffee, or iced tea if you prefer that instead. So pick what you like best and let’s sit down and have a heart to heart talk. Okay, I’m not gonna lie. This conversation is not going to be all hearts and flowers. But I’m keeping it real today.
So here it is, I’m just gonna lay it all out here and let my heart sort of bleed onto this boring white page. I’ve been struggling worse than I think I ever have before. I can’t seem to escape these depressive thoughts anymore. I’m doing everything in my power to try and do something about it. Since writing is what I’m most passionate about, I’ve been trying to focus on creating more humorous posts. I’m also getting outside more and doing things that I normally love to do. But for some reason, I just can’t seem to lose this sinking feeling within myself. I’m not really sure what to do about any of it. I’m definitely feeling the pull to break away from everything and everyone around me. I’ve been doing the fake smile thing lately. Hopeful that nobody notices how I’m really feeling. Of course then there’s always that one person who ruins it for me and asks me how I’m doing. Then the tears start to well up and I can’t even answer back. And of course they have no idea why their question has set me off and I end up feeling like an idiot for not being able to respond to their question properly.
I’m also at a crossroad in my life right now and I’m making a huge effort to try and work on my relationship with my hubby. He’s about to leave again since he’s in the military and I’m not sure when I will have a chance to see him again. I very much love him, but I feel our relationship is still very fragile, and because he’s leaving, I wonder if it’s going to hinder the progress that we’ve made. Fear is sort of taking hold of me at the moment because we are facing so many unknowns. Anyway, he and I have talked in depth about all of this and I think we are both just sort of holding our breath, hopeful for a happy ending. These last couple of years have taken their toll on both of us and perhaps being apart will be the best thing for us. Being away from each other has often helped us in the past. It seems to give us the time we need to sort out our feelings.
Another thing I’m struggling with is the fact that I don’t really know anybody where I live, and so with my hubby leaving, I’m beginning to feel like I’m about to be stranded. We’ve always moved around so much that I’ve never really been able to establish any close friends where I live. And because we’re always moving, I also tend to shy away from making friends in the first place. It seems easier not to have any friends than to always be saying goodbye to them. Since I really don’t have any close ties to Wisconsin, I’m thinking I will welcome another move in the coming future. I’ve always loved the feel of a fresh start in a new place. I get bored easily when I stay in one place for too long and my love for travel leaves me ever wanting to get away.
Anyway, these are the main things I’m struggling with at the moment, and so if I tend to throw a sort of depressive post in the batch once in a while, please forgive me for doing so. I’m just not always in the best frame of mind and sometimes there are days which just seem to get the better of me. I hope all of you are doing well and staying in good health. I want to thank all of you for being my long distance friends and for always showing me how much you care. Blogging has been a great outlet for me, and since I do move around so much, I’m blessed that I can take all of you with me wherever I go. 😉
Photo credit: pixabay.com and giphy.com