So I've removed alot of posts because after reading them I feel like they aren't beneficial to me or anyone else. I'm leaving the first one though, as a reminder to myself just how ugly and dark my thoughts can be and that no matter how bad I feel some days, I still am not that angry or tired.
Since my last post I feel like I'm at least a little happier and healthier. I don't think about hurting myself anymore, I'm not tempted to just turn into oncoming traffic, and I don't have an unhealthy obsession with reading medical journals on failed suicide attempts looking for both pointers on how to do it right and reasons not to do it at all. I'm not seeing my therapist anymore. We both agreed that the problems I do have at this point are things that I really am going to have to confront but that I'm the one who will have to do it. For anyone who is curious about what you do in therapy, for me what I mostly did was cry. I cried about my parents, I cried about the situations that I'm in and I cried just for the sake of crying. I told her things about myself that I couldn't tell anyone else because no matter how much you love and trust someone, I think there are things that everyone knows about themselves that they don't say out loud. I never really had a huge breakthrough where I ran around yelling "I'm cured! I'm sane again!" because I don't think that realistically happens for most people. I'm still not taking anti-anxiety medication, but I learned that I just need to take some time to myself to simply breathe when I get really worked up about things. I don't have as many panic attacks because I've learned that winding myself up over things I can't control isn't good for me or the people around me. I try to make a point of looking at myself inside and out and thinking "It's alright to be this way. I'm an over-thinker, and sometimes I need to loosen up but at least I have a brain that I can use."
Not to say that I'm all happy go lucky or anything, I still have my days where I'm a holy terror even to myself. I suppose I would say that I feel as normal as I can be, which for anyone that knows me knows that that's nowhere near normal but it's at least a good place to be. I can smile and mean it again, and when I laugh it isn't forced and dry. I think that was the worst part about that year. I love to laugh, and I love being around people who make me laugh, and to have to fake it was so exhausting. Things that would normally send me into fits of giggles or leave me unable to even breathe were just kinda meh. I mean Laddergoat didn't even make me laugh anymore and if you don't know what that is you need to stop reading and watch this right fucking neeowwww. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ggB33d0BLcY . Ohhhh god now my stomach hurts from laughing xD.
You know what made me really think about writing this update and made me realize just how much better I feel? I have been enjoying Christmas music. I mean granted, when it started playing a week before Halloween I grumbled about it like everyone else but now that it actually is December I find myself working on something and singing "I'll Be Home For Christmas" and "The Christmas Can Can" and I dare someone to say something about it. "It's Christmas bitch, get in the spirit before I smack you with this fake holly!"
I want to say something too right here at the end for the people who have been there for me whether they were aware of my issues or not. Thank you so very much for being patient with me, and if you weren't patient with me I totally understand and I want to thank you for giving me the opportunity to be back in your life again. I'm also sorry that I let alot of you down. I know I wasn't there for some of you when you needed me, and I know that I had my own problems to deal with but that doesn't really make me feel any better or make up for the fact that when I was needed I couldn't give what I should have. I kind of had to pool my resources within myself to try and heal some wounds that I didn't even really know I had until I started looking, and that didn't leave alot left for anyone else. I don't regret doing it because it was necessary, but I do regret any hurt feelings that came out of it.
Sooooo yea.......... I kinda ran out of words to say so I guess that's my cue to shut my trap until New Year's when I will try to write again. I think this would be good for me, getting my thoughts out into the universe. It's something to reflect upon, and I think everyone should have something they can look back at and think "Hmmm am I still like that? Yes or No, Is that a good thing? What have I changed and what should I change?" It's just alot of little thoughts like that that make up my day to day. I'm still working on it though....... but Laddergoat, you still so random and at least I can appreciate you again.
You still love me right Laddergoat??!?
"NEEEEHHHHHHHHH"
Good! Let's go glide up that ladder and then laugh til we pee our pants ok?
"NEEEHHH"
Oh..... that's right you don't wear pants.......hmm Well what if I buy you some pants to wear just for the occasion?
"NEEEHHHHH"
Ugh, yes I'll buy you the My Little Pony ones if you insist. But if someone shows up I don't know you! The last thing I need is the rumor going around that I'm hanging out with a brony goat. Deal?
"NEHH"
Sweet! Let's go!
Have a Happy Christmas Folks, and if the world ends this month due to zombies I hope you stay safe and that you don't shoot me for my bullets and med kit.(Yes I have a med kit SHUT UP)
~Claire
Monday, December 10, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Something I Felt Like Sharing
I'm in my early 20's and my family has history of mental illness. I've always been very aware of the stories I've heard and things that I've seen, and I've always felt like there was something inside of me that was like that, so in a way I have always had it in the back of my mind that one day I might just crack up and get carted away by men in not-so-stylish white coats.
Early last year, starting around Christmas, my stress levels were through the roof and I was slowly getting angrier and angrier at the silliest things. Sometimes I would just walk away from people that I truly care about because I didn't want to hurt their feelings because of my bad mood. After the holidays I expected it to get better, but it didn't. I started getting more and more upset and angry and exhausted until one day I woke up and realized I was having the thought, "It doesn't matter what I do anymore, because I will be dead soon." The scary thing is that it didn't even bother me that I was thinking that. Having thoughts of hurting or even killing yourself should scare you, but for me it felt natural; like it was just something I had to do at some point and that I was just waiting for the moment when I would get the courage to. I didn't tell anyone how I was feeling because I was terrified of having to take medication. I saw it as being labeled "Crazy" and giving up and having to numb my feelings to get through life and I didn't want to feel like I had failed. After a few months I started to slowly pull myself out of it, but even then I didn't feel like myself. I felt like a caged animal, and I started to wall myself off from my family and friends in an effort to keep them from seeing what I was and how I felt.
My breaking point came around September, when my family started to push me on something. I don't even remember what it was, but it just made me boil over and I ended up telling my parents and my grandparents about how self destructive I had become, and about how hard it was every single day to go out and have to make an effort to appear normal and happy when inside all I wanted to do was hide and sleep. I told them about all the feelings that I had gone through, and even about how I had researched ways to kill myself and the only reason I didn't try any of them was because I was too afraid of what would happen to me if I failed. I was exhausted, and I wanted it all to be over but the chance I could end up a vegetable or crippled was so terrifying that it was the only thing that kept me from buying a couple bottles of aspirin and helping myself to a little peace of mind(not a good idea by the way, trust me I've looked into it and it's not a quick painless death. There's lots of vomiting, seizing and a 75% chance that you'll just end up a vegetable drooling on your sesame street bib for the rest of your adult life).
I told them about how I felt like a failure, and true to form everyone in my family told me I needed medication and that they would help me in any way they could. My mom is one of those people that just wants to find a quick easy solution to things and even though that may work for some people I just don't work that way. I stood my ground and said that I wasn't going to a psychiatrist but that I would go to see a therapist. I wanted someone who would listen, not diagnose, treat and push me out the door.
At first I didn't trust her and I had made up my mind to stop seeing her after the first visit but I made myself give her a second chance and I was honest with her. I told her that I didn't think I could gain anything from seeing her, that I didn't like going and the way she responded surprised me and made a really big impression on me.
She didn't try to talk me into staying, and after I told her that I did not want to take any medication, and my reasons why, she was supportive. She said that in her opinion I could gain alot from trying anti-anxiety medicine, but that if I didn't feel it was the right option for me we could try other methods for controlling my anxiety and all the feelings I had been having. For me, when something is too hard or stressful I end up pushing it away and pretending like it doesn't exist. She made the point to me that if I have a habit of pushing difficult things away, what made seeing her any different? That maybe, just maybe, if I looked at a problem head on it might make a bigger difference than just ignoring it and hoping it would get better. She was right, of course, so I gave her another chance.
So far I don't see a huge difference in myself other than certain things that would have been impossible before seem easier. It's not because I've confronted some huge fear, but maybe because after talking about them it made me realize how different my life could be if I just tried to do them instead of instinctively pushing them aside and refusing to even try them. -shrugs- There's no real point to this post and there's no huge Hallmark moment where my life changed for the better, but to me I think it's important to share this part of myself. I don't want to push it away and pretend like it never happened.
Early last year, starting around Christmas, my stress levels were through the roof and I was slowly getting angrier and angrier at the silliest things. Sometimes I would just walk away from people that I truly care about because I didn't want to hurt their feelings because of my bad mood. After the holidays I expected it to get better, but it didn't. I started getting more and more upset and angry and exhausted until one day I woke up and realized I was having the thought, "It doesn't matter what I do anymore, because I will be dead soon." The scary thing is that it didn't even bother me that I was thinking that. Having thoughts of hurting or even killing yourself should scare you, but for me it felt natural; like it was just something I had to do at some point and that I was just waiting for the moment when I would get the courage to. I didn't tell anyone how I was feeling because I was terrified of having to take medication. I saw it as being labeled "Crazy" and giving up and having to numb my feelings to get through life and I didn't want to feel like I had failed. After a few months I started to slowly pull myself out of it, but even then I didn't feel like myself. I felt like a caged animal, and I started to wall myself off from my family and friends in an effort to keep them from seeing what I was and how I felt.
My breaking point came around September, when my family started to push me on something. I don't even remember what it was, but it just made me boil over and I ended up telling my parents and my grandparents about how self destructive I had become, and about how hard it was every single day to go out and have to make an effort to appear normal and happy when inside all I wanted to do was hide and sleep. I told them about all the feelings that I had gone through, and even about how I had researched ways to kill myself and the only reason I didn't try any of them was because I was too afraid of what would happen to me if I failed. I was exhausted, and I wanted it all to be over but the chance I could end up a vegetable or crippled was so terrifying that it was the only thing that kept me from buying a couple bottles of aspirin and helping myself to a little peace of mind(not a good idea by the way, trust me I've looked into it and it's not a quick painless death. There's lots of vomiting, seizing and a 75% chance that you'll just end up a vegetable drooling on your sesame street bib for the rest of your adult life).
I told them about how I felt like a failure, and true to form everyone in my family told me I needed medication and that they would help me in any way they could. My mom is one of those people that just wants to find a quick easy solution to things and even though that may work for some people I just don't work that way. I stood my ground and said that I wasn't going to a psychiatrist but that I would go to see a therapist. I wanted someone who would listen, not diagnose, treat and push me out the door.
At first I didn't trust her and I had made up my mind to stop seeing her after the first visit but I made myself give her a second chance and I was honest with her. I told her that I didn't think I could gain anything from seeing her, that I didn't like going and the way she responded surprised me and made a really big impression on me.
She didn't try to talk me into staying, and after I told her that I did not want to take any medication, and my reasons why, she was supportive. She said that in her opinion I could gain alot from trying anti-anxiety medicine, but that if I didn't feel it was the right option for me we could try other methods for controlling my anxiety and all the feelings I had been having. For me, when something is too hard or stressful I end up pushing it away and pretending like it doesn't exist. She made the point to me that if I have a habit of pushing difficult things away, what made seeing her any different? That maybe, just maybe, if I looked at a problem head on it might make a bigger difference than just ignoring it and hoping it would get better. She was right, of course, so I gave her another chance.
So far I don't see a huge difference in myself other than certain things that would have been impossible before seem easier. It's not because I've confronted some huge fear, but maybe because after talking about them it made me realize how different my life could be if I just tried to do them instead of instinctively pushing them aside and refusing to even try them. -shrugs- There's no real point to this post and there's no huge Hallmark moment where my life changed for the better, but to me I think it's important to share this part of myself. I don't want to push it away and pretend like it never happened.
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