Day 108 – The Bed Dread.

What A day. I’ve been awake for 36 hours now. I wish I could say I was sleepy.

I’m hoping to lay down tonight and not care about anything.

I was yelled at twice today by other employees. I had the typical work Monday.

I went to dinner with my son after to celebrate Mother’s Day. I can have the worst day, and he’s always sunshine. He gave me a bracelet. I just love it.

He knows how to make me smile.

I need to go to bed. I need to sleep. Friday night I had disturbing dreams. One of them is recurring. Same place, same scenario. The other was a new one but woke me up feeling sad and scared. Like it was so real.

Anyway, I’m not dreading the sleep. I’m dreading the bed. I actually do want to be a normal person and sleep every night. But sleep has never been a place of safety. It’s never been a place where I get peace.

I’d love it if my Mom came and tucked me in and kissed me on the forehead.

Or my husband held me until I fell asleep.

Oh wait, neither of those can happen.

Im hoping tomorrow will be less frustrating and I can continue to get clarity and direction with each passing day.

So for tonight, God, can you please be my Father and pick me up when the nightmares are too much? I’ll stretch out my arms so that you will know that I need You.

Until next time – I am being MJ every day.

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Day 107 – Dare to Care

What a weekend it has been. Ups and downs. Tears and laughter.

After going to the hospital on Wednesday night with extremely high blood pressure, I was reminded of my lack of self-care and my inability to slow down and allow myself to breathe.

There were so many drugs pumped into me at the hospital that I was out of it until Friday.

But what happened is that I had to stop in my tracks. I had to self care. I had no choice.

On Friday, I started to feel more alert. I had a phone session with Mrs. A and probably more open and relaxed than I have ever been with her.

On Saturday, I started slowly moving around, going to the grocery store, cleaning, etc.

Saturday evening, I sat and listened to music and wrote and prayed. Wow, was that me? My third day of focusing on ME. Weird.

This morning I avoided church because it’s Mother’s Day. I couldn’t bear to see all the happy families being kind to one another and also feeling the grief of loss since my mother’s passing in October. The truth is that it’s different than losing a loving, supportive mother. It’s a loss of a dream. The loss of a desire to be loved. The loss of ever having her approval.

Yes, she loved me, in her own way. But never was able to demonstrate that love. She was mentally ill, and knee deep in her own pain.

So, I got up and went to work. After a few hours of work, I did some shopping. Nothing like retail therapy.

I bought myself a bracelet and a wallet. I bought a few pieces of candy and a note bad. Nothing big but healing my hole in my heart. Something to fill it up for the moment.

Anyway, after all that, had a burger and ice cream with my roommate. I haven’t really talked about her in my blog but more about her to follow.

After dinner, I had a long healing conversation with a friend and some tears after that. Happy tears. Rare for me. But twice this week.

Now as I prepare to lay down, my mind is racing with both good and bad.

But in the future, I’m going to practice self-care before I end up being sick and see if I can begin to heal my cracked heart.

If I can only just dare to use self care! Sounds corny but I hope it is a healing remedy for hospital visits and medications.

Until next time – I am being MJ every day. ๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผ

Day 106 – Crash and Burn

Work has been my life saver. It has protected me from thinking, feeling, and participating in relationships.

Two weeks ago I quit working at #1381 because I had been working two jobs for 7 years.

What I did was start working longer hours at my first job.

Last week my Doctor’s nurse called and said there were some things in my blood work that are a little alarming. More tests to follow on the 20th.

I told no one. But I haven’t felt well for a few weeks. The Nurse suggested more rest, less stress, etc.

In my usual fashion, I worked even more.

On Wednesday, I felt so bad but stayed at work determined to get in at least 12 hours for the day.

My co-worker keeps telling me that I need to do deep breathing and then go home. She says I look like I’m not ok.

After leaving, I stopped at our local grocery store and took my blood pressure. It was very high. I was literally seeing stars.

I left there and with the encouragement of my son and a friend, I went to the emergency room.

When I arrived, my blood pressure was 184/106. I felt so awful.

The pumped me full of drugs and sent me home.

I’ve spent the last two days on my sofa, trying to figure out how I get so out of control.

Today, I talked to Mrs. A for a phone session. Probably the most relaxed I have been in months.

We talked about relationships and love. We talked about negative self talk.

She frequently gives me homework in between sessions. Some of the assignments I avoid but eventually I try to go back to them.

I’m currently working on positive self labels. That’s a hard one for me.

Two weeks ago, we discussed my need to minimize the abuse whenever someone asks me about it. It’s too hard for me to admit I was brave and strong and survived awful things.

But in thinking about it this past week, I created this meme of myself.

I posted it on multiple private groups and it has been shared now almost 100 times.

Wow. How did I do that? I never thought adding my face to a meme would make me less ashamed. I was feeling almost like it was payback to the abusers for making me hide the secrets.

Anyway, this post is kind of all over the place but I just felt like using my down time to write and reconnect to my creative side.

I would really like to say thanks to all of the readers and especially those tbat continually follow me and/or offer support. It’s been a great experience to share and connect.

Love and prayers my sisters and brothers. ๐Ÿ’œ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿผ

Until next time – I am being MJ every day.

Day 105 – The Cowardly Lion

Last weekend I told my story on a telesummit and was so proud of myself for being so brave. I felt like I was turning the corner and leaving CPTSD behind for good.

I was feeling so strong until Thursday. I guess I should be happy because 4 days is much better than I’ve had in a very long time.

Thursday, one small phone call turns my world upside down. No, the reaction was not appropriate but thats part of negative self talk and years of negative messages from others.

Instead of saying to myself how unrealistic those messages are, I’m already spiraling down immediately.

I forgot how strong and brave I was 4 days earlier. As the weekend progressed and I spent more time alone, I couldn’t sort the messages going on in my head.

I sent Mrs. A an email this afternoon just venting my frustration. Most likely she won’t answer until our session but I needed to say it.

I feel like I wear this brave lion costume during the day, and as soon as I’m out of work, I become the lost, cowardly lion.

It’s frustrating and confusing. It’s a cycle that creates more shame and low self-esteem.

In the meantime, a friend messages me at 5 am with encouraging words and scriptures because she is prompted to by my Heavenly Father who does all of my perenting these days.

Saturday night, I drove several hours of pointless miles, because I wanted to get away from me. What a cowardly lion. Where did the brave lion go?

Anyway, I’m ok and will keep pushing on. But I’m tired and weak. Where is the finish line? When will the cowardly lion find a den of hope?

Courage. Courage. Courage.

You can do it! Someone get the cowardly lion by the tail and calm her down.

Until next time – I am being MJ everyday.

Day 104 – Itโ€™s My Story and Iโ€™ll Cry If I Want To!

Wow, wow, wow. Today I told my story again. I was a guest speaker on a telesummit called, “Living as a survivor”.

I was preparing all day. I did my hair and makeup and got dressed as if everyone could see me. I wanted to feel as if I was practicing for my future. My goal of one day public speaking is never far from my mind.

The hour before, I started to feel my stomach turning. I kept trying to breath. I felt those old twinges of self hatred and shame. I felt myself thinking that no one cares what my story is.

I stopped. I got quiet and I prayed. Deep breaths. Aromatherapy lotion. And I was ready.

I knew there were friends and family listening. I knew that I might say things that they didnt know.

I told a very abbreviated version of my story. Time doesn’t allow for deep details. Which is probably for the best.

After it was over, I continued to listen to other speakers and their stories of survival.

At the end of the telesummit, I took a deep breath. I realized how tensed up I was as we all told our stories.

As I have said in the past, it’s hard to claim it as my story. It’s hard to be sad for my little girl self. It’s hard to give myself permission to cry and grieve for my loss of innocence.

But today, I did tell it as my story. Today, I took a step towards having a purpose. Today, i was able to breath and not want to die.

I’m so grateful that God has given me strength for this day. It is, infact, all that I have.

What’s my next step? What’s my future? Whatever it is, I’ll need my Heavenly Father to help me fly.

Until next time – I am being MJ every day.

Day 103 – Dadโ€™s Tractor

I went to see my step-dad for the Easter Weekend. He is my Dad since I did not grow up with my biological father.

He’s been really sad since my mother passed away in October. She was his whole life. He took care of her for most of their life together. She was always sick or mentally unstable. Regardless, he loved her and devoted his whole life to her.

For that he definitely should receive an award of honor because she never made it easy for him.

We watched tv and shared news. We walked his property and looked at all of his unfinished projects. So many things he never got time to do because he was taking care of Mother.

His favorite piece of equipment is his John Deere tractor. As I walked outside alone to breathe out the sadness, I looked at the tractor and even took pictures of it.

It really made me think of what a powerful thing it can do by digging up the earth.

God gives me these visual metaphors when I least expect it.

The tractor digs up the old soil and makes room for the new. Sometimes there may be tree stumps or rocks that hinder the progess. But the tractor continues to dig until the land is clear of debris.

I’ve been digging out debris for over a year now. I didn’t want to. I wanted to plant my new life on the old ground that is full of roots and rocks. But would I have grown at all over the past year?

As I look back to October 2017, when I first began therapy, I can see a difference. There are small changes. There is a lot of debris that’s been brought to the surface.

I’m a long way from having the whole field plowed up. But I’m still digging.

So what I’m learning is that I’m pretty strong. I have been thru a lot of soil and debris in my life.

Instead of being frustrated with not being “finished” with my healing journey, I now can see how strong and resilient I have been. Could anyone else have survived my past?

I’m learning to be my own hero. I’m learning to thank God for my survival skills that kept me alive. Even though my accomplishments probably pale in comparison to the rich and famous, I ran the race and survived. I have a wealth of life experiences and have developed a resilience that the average person doesn’t have.

Digging it up the soil may be the best thing I ever did. Can’t wait to plant some daisies.

Until next time – I am being MJ every day.

Day 102 – Jesus Wept- Why Canโ€™t I ??

Today my friend passed away.

He was older. He was ready. I was not.

I feel so guilty because in the last few months I wan’t able to really visit him because of my own struggles. I kept thinking he would be fine until I felt better.

So I didn’t say goodbye.

Growing up I couldn’t cry. I would get in trouble. And if I cried loud, it would be even worse.

My mother would tell me how sad it made her when I cried. She would blame her depression on me.

When I was 10, my older cousin passed away. He was 17. I cried hard. My first real experience with death. On the way home from the funeral, my step-father said to if I didn’t stop the GD crying I was gonna get my ass beat when we got home.

When my parents found out about the abuse they told me to stop crying about it and just dont ever speak to him again. (That was helpful). My mom asked me why I was crying since I didn’t tell. And I must have liked it.

Consequently, I can only cry when I truly feel like dying. And my tears always come with shame. I cry and tell myself to get my act together. Act like an adult. Stop being a baby.

And what happens if I cry and can’t stop??

A good friend reminded me that even Jesus wept. And it was ok.

But Jesus wasn’t shamed for crying. So I must really be excessive right?

My self-talk is way out in left field tonight.

So, to combat the tears and sadness, I bake cookies. Cookies make everyone happy right?

So now I’m just babbling. And numbing. Hopefully I can get a few hours of sleep without nightmares.

I appreciate your love and support. Thanks for hanging in there with me.

Until next time – I am being MJ every day.