Day 71 – There Has To Be An Answer !

Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like nothing you do is right?

That is me today. I try to not always feel like I have to be in control of every situation. But today I remembered why I do that.

I feel like when I relax and start to feel better about myself, I screw something up. It’s so hard for me to accept my own mistakes and move on.

It feels like the mistakes just stock pile and I’m buried under the weight of them.

I have a hard time accepting that I am human. Heck, most of the time I have a hard time accepting that I’m still alive.

Today I annoyed myself. All day. I didn’t like my attitude. I didn’t like my hair. I didn’t like the clothes I was wearing. I didn’t like the way I avoid things that make me uncomfortable.

I kept thinking that it’s no wonder that my parents and my siblings were always annoyed with me.

Some people would refer to this as a pity party. Some would say it’s just depression. Some might say I’m crazy. Literally.

The truth is that I’m just trying so hard to like myself.

I’m trying so hard to take this recovery thing one day at a time. But its slow. And painful. I want it to be done. I want to love me. I want to love others and be loved without fear of rejection or being abandoned.

Sometimes I think I put myself on some sort of pedastal, where I’m not capable or allowed to make mistakes. I’m not allowed to be human. It’s my rule for me. If I’ma perfect person I can be loved. If I make mistakes, I’ll be abandoned.

I don’t understand my thinking. It frustrates me. This type of thinking is a direct result of childhood abuse and how the brain handles trauma.

My fight, flight, or fawn responses are reflexes that I don’t even think about before they happen.

The self talk and analysis goes on in my head every minute that I’m awake. It’s like being in Vegas. The noise never stops. My brain sometimes feels like a prison. Or a punishment.

Even sleep is not a relief because there are those nightmares and terrors that come at the time whe you need relief and quiet.

It’s not hard to understand why it feels sometimes like death is the only true freedom.

I’m not looking for sympathy or attention. I just wish my brain had a window and others could see and understand the struggle.

Tonight I’m going to pray harder than I ever have. I’m asking all believers to pray for us, the people who struggle with life. There has to be an answer. And it has to be supernatural.

Until next time – I am being Mj every day.

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Day 70 – Do Not Pass Go

Remember the old Roadrunner cartoons, where the huge anvil comes out of the sky and lands on top of the Cayote’s head?  That’s how I felt yesterday.

I’m having an ok day.  Just doing laundry, cleaning etc.  Then it hits me.  Out of nowhere. A huge bomb of grief.  It’s been 19 days since my Mother died.  I was pretty sure I had finished grieving.  If you have followed my blog you will know that I have grieved that relationship for many years.  But this year, the last time, I went to see her in person, she was not happy that I was there.

Yes, she was ill.  She was mentally and physically ill my whole life.  I tried my whole life to stop expecting it to change.  Still, somewhere in the back of my mind, I had hope, or a belief that it could and would change.

I felt like as we both got older, that the relationship would turn into a friendship.  I dreamed of us taking trips and laughing together.  I dreamed of us sharing our grandchildren.  I dreamed of us sharing holidays.

Anyway, in my attempt to “normalize” my day, I got ready for work and got in the car and headed to my job at 1381.  This job is my “fun” job and typically, even if I’m feeling really crappy, I’ll be fine after getting there and getting busy.   So, I’m driving and breathing, breathing, breathing.  One tear and then two.  I panicked. Why can’t I stop this? I can always cut off my crying.  I pulled into the parking lot and sat still. Trying to recognize the grief and tell myself it was ok.  But the more I tried to stop it the harder it became to control it.

I never did make it into work.  I sat in my car for almost an hour before I was able to compose myself enough to drive.  I learned after my brother’s death, not to drive when you are crying.  I totaled my car five days after my brother died because I was crying and couldn’t see the car stop in front of me.

Working is where I get my self-esteem and a small dose of respect for myself. So naturally, after not making it in the building, I’m feeling more and more guilty as the minutes pass.

I finally had to leave. There was no way I could pull myself together enough to walk into a store meeting and have everyone looking at me.

I was texting my life coach (my angel- Teresa) and sent a panic email to Ms. A.  Teresa was helping me breathe and try to bring it back into perspective.

In the past, when I have felt this amount of pain, I would walk.  Or Run.  Sometimes I would walk for hours.  To nowhere.  Sometimes in the rain.  It made me feel alive and in control to get away from what was hurting me.  (Usually it was my ex-husband).  In the past year, I have spent hours just driving or wandering around in other cities, trying to get away from the pain.

I’m not good at just sitting with it.  I’m not good at feeling the heartache.  One of the things that I did realize a few weeks ago is that all of the things that I thought made me healthy were really pushing me farther and farther away from my own heart.

I was reading a few weeks ago about how strong men in the Bible lamented before the Lord.  I had to think about why Christ (the one who controls all things in the universe) would allow them to feel this way. So, I looked it up in the dictionary.  To “lament” means “to feel or express sorrow or regret for”. Or “to mourn for or over”.  I guess if it’s ok for strong men to cry, then surely it’s ok for me right?

The saddest part of it all is that she is gone, and we can’t ever fix what was broken.  It ended the same way it has always been.

I don’t doubt that she loved me.  In her own way, she loved us all. I don’t doubt that I loved her.  But I wanted to feel valued.  I wanted to feel important.  I wanted to “feel” loved.  I now I can’t and won’t.

When I was at her bed side, and she was on life support, I asked her if we could both leave that day with a peace.

She was NEVER at peace.  She always had her inner demons.  She always had her depression.  She always had her physical illnesses.

Anyway, I cried until about 2 am last night. I was still crying off and on today and trying to concentrate at work.  I wish I didn’t know how this story ends.  But I do.  I can’t re-write it.  I can’t get the book edited. No refunds.  Do not pass Go.  Do not collect $200.00.

Until next time – I am being MJ every day.

Day 69 – Feeling Needy

It’s 4:54 am and I’ve been up for a while now.

I should be exhausted and sleeping like a rock. But I’m awake, as usual, and feeling needy.

So, i had this conversation with Ms. A on Friday. It went something like this: I’m always available to my friends and family to call or text as needed for anything. I will do everything in my power to make sure they know that I care. But it’s different for me.

I don’t feel like I should “bother” anyone. Even those that said, more times than I can count, to call for anything. I just don’t.

Why? Because I feel needy. I feel like a child. I feel like a “cry-baby”. I feel like people have to be sick of hearing about my “problems”. I feel like it’s too petty to bother anyone.

Ms. A says that I have a different set of rules for myself than I have for everyone else.

I’m not my own friend most of the time. I’m annoyed by me most of the time. I’m tired of hearing “my stuff” ALL of the time.

But I can’t avoid me. I’m always here. And that’s when the suicidal thoughts come in.

It’s a war I fight within my own mind almost daily. No one can see it or hear it. But it’s always there.

Be quiet my mind. And don’t wake me for at least four hours. I really need the rest. Thank you for your cooperation.

Until next time – I am being MJ every day.

Day 68 – Prozac and Proud.

Most people in my life do not know that I take medication that protects my mental health. I have never been proud of it and have always kept it to myself.

There is such a stigma around the subject of mental illness. You bcome that diagnosis and that how people begin to identify you.

If you had arthritis, they wouldn’t say, “That’s the girl with an inflammatory disease”. But when you have mental illness, it becomes your identity. ” She’s crazy”, “She has issues”, etc.

After my Mother passed away, I was having trouble with feelings. All I could feel was numb. Of course I blamed the meds. All of them. I stopped taking them all. Including blood pressure meds.

A few days ago I started feeling antsy and restless. I could feel my mood getting out of control.

I thought I was stronger than them. I thought I was brave enough to let them go.

And then I came to my senses. Maybe I don’t need them anymore, but my doctor should determine that. Maybe I can stop them, but not cold turkey.

I think it was a little bit of a rebellion. Sort of thinking that I’m not going to be controlled by anything. Including Prozac.

Anyway, I started taking it again and I’m trying not to hate it. It has saved my life and I should appreciate it.

If you judge me, I’m ok with it. I am taking Prozac and will not be ashamed.

Until next time – I am being MJ every day.

Day 67 – I Couldn’t See It.

Today I was at work and I had that Ah ha moment when you suddenly see what you have been missing most of your life.

What I realized was that I took over where “they” left off.

Being abused as a child, whether it be physically, sexually, or verbally, leaves you scarred and disabled. You are so used to being minimized that you don’t know what it means to be a whole person.

For me, I only knew hurt and betrayal and I never felt like any part of me was loveable.

So, as the abuse was ending, I would continually find reasons why I was not loveable. I would either sabotage myself, or a relationship or anything that would cause me to believe in myself.

It’s harder to dissapoint yourself when you have no expectations of yourself.

So if you always feel like a loser, then you can’t lose. If you always feel like you are not good enough, then you can’t fail. And if you always feel like you aren’t loveable then you can’t be rejected.

It’s easier to walk a path alone than to walk with someone who keeps tripping you. Maybe you will never reach your destination, but you wont fall again.

And just like that I realized that I isolate myself because it’s easier than being hurt by others. I criticize myself because it’s easier than being being vulnerable to other’s opinions.

Hurting yourself is less painful and less unexpected than being hurt by others.

I started it probably even before the abuse stopped.

This moment took me more than 40 years but I saw it today.

I saw the mean girl and it was me.

Until next next time – I an being MJ everyday.

Day 66 – The Truth Hurts

Since Mom died, I’ve been feeling blank. Feeling nothing. Good or bad. Walking around like a zombie.

As usual (on Tuesday) I went to therapy with Ms. A. She was her usual compassionate, kind self.

The session started with the usual, “So catch me up” conversation that we always start with.

Somehow, the conversation evolved into talking about my communication and interaction in my relationships.

I suddenly started to feel defensive and like I was under attack. Ms. A was trying to get me to look out a particular situation and how I may not have handled a situation in the best way. And she was right. Except that I felt like Im always fxxxing things up. I felt like I just failed at one more attempt at somewhat of a normal life.

She said didn’t want me to feel like it was just something to add to my list of failures. But that’s all I could think.

I left without looking at her. I was ashamed. And felt like jumping in front of a car. Seriously. All I could think is that I can’t wait for this life to be over.

And I got in my car thinking about how quickly that spiraled out of control.

The good thing or not so good thing is that I felt something. I shed two tears. Literally. And then I cut it off. I went back to work to close up and head to my second job.

Thank God for 1381. It has saved my life on more than one occassion.

What I realized is that Ms. A was right. She’s always right. And the truth hurts. It hurts because I do not know how to let my guard down and change these negative behaviors and thoughts.

I dont know how to love and be loved. I’m dysfunctional in so many different ways.

Physically Im exhausted. I’ve slept about 6 hours over the last 3 days.

I’m going to spend the next few days thinking about today’s session and seriously praying to God that I can make the changes.

Until next time – I am being MJ every day.

Day 65 – You Can’t Break What’s Already Broken

This past year, I’ve cried more than my share. I’ve felt the pain of awful memories, constant flashbacks, sleepless nights, nightmares, rejection, dissociation, lack of concentration, suicidal thoughts and lack of purpose for living.

A month ago I started to feel like I could begin to reach in to those dark places and try to find some missing pieces of my soul.

And then she died. My Mother left me. She took with her my dream of ever having a great relationship with her. She took my last tears with her. She took the few good memories I had and turned them into an everlasting memory of the breath between life and death.

The moment she passed, I lost a lot. Not only my fantasy of the perfect Mother – Daughter relationship, but I lost my ability to cry. I lost my ability to laugh. I lost my ability to feel for others. I’m not even sure how to reach my own ability to love.

This lack of feeling and the darkness of being empty is all I have.

Several months ago I was crying nearly every day. I thought I was broken. But maybe that’s when I was really starting to live. Maybe that’s when I was able to feel pain of losing my childhood. Maybe I was feeling fear of the memories and the unknown future.

Regardless, I was feeling. And now I feel nothing.

Is it a blessing? Is it a step backward? Who knows. But I’m just accepting it as who I am today.

Tomorrow I might not be numb. That scares the hell out of me.

When does this battle of the mind come to an end? When will peace be a part of my life?

Until next time – I am being MJ every day.