Nothing to Fear

As we all know, the saying goes "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself." However, I am living with a fear that is no less real because one US president decided that fear was harder to live with than the thing that we are afraid of. I actually agree with Sir Francis Bacon when he said "Nothing is terrible except fear itself."

So, what does a person do when what he/she fears is him/herself? How do you live with something like that? How do you function on a day to day basis? I am a ridiculously logical person 90% of the time. I need my logic to create a smooth outer finish for everyone to see, I need it to chase the chaos away, and I need it to keep the fear at bay. Now, I don't have anything to keep it at bay because logic is part of the fear.

Recently, I discovered that logic is not always a safe haven. Instead of logic saving me, logic nearly killed me. It didn't persuade me that hurting myself would hurt others. Instead, all it gave me was reasons why everyone would be okay without me. So, now I fear emotions and logic. What does that leave me? I have nowhere to turn to make sense of my life, except to others around me, and I have forgotten how to do that.

This is leading to some uncomfortable realizations about myself:

1. I can't really handle emotions. I never learned how to as a child, and it's really hard to learn as an adult when you're in the habit of running from emotions or pushing them away from you. My therapist thinks we can work on my gut reactions to things, maybe we can work on this too.
2. I have spent the last decade of my life pushing people away. I thought this was because I had to be strong and take care of myself. The truth of the matter is that I needed everyone to stay away because people generated real emotions, rather than the easily controlled fake emotions I conjured up to avoid curious looks from strangers, all pleasant of course. People want(ed) me to talk about myself, and that's horrifying to me. Unfortunately, now that I need people to replace my cold logic that was occasionally overcome with overwhelming emotions, this is definitely a problem. I feel so uncomfortable talking about myself that when I go to see a friend for that specific purpose I shy away and ask him to talk about himself. I'm so NOT OKAY with my own emotions that I feel freaked out after talking about myself to someone I PAY TO LISTEN TO LISTEN TO ME TALK ABOUT MYSELF.
3. Due to pushing people away, I feel even more uncomfortable asking for help on something as intimate as sharing parts of myself I chose to pretend barely existed until 2 weeks ago. How dare I ask for help when I haven't been there for anyone for nearly 2 decades (I've only been pushing people away for the last half of that. You can deduce on your own what happened the previous half.) 
4. No one in my life really needs me. They love me, yes. They want me around and to be able to call me up any time the desire arises, absolutely. They don't want me dead, HECK YEAH! But they don't really need me. I have not wanted anyone to need me, and effectively prevented that from becoming a thing with my friends and family, even my own children. I felt safer that way, right up until I wasn't safer, I was devastated. That's the reason it was so easy to believe it didn't matter if I lived or died. I wasn't NEEDED.
5. I talk to no one. I feel just downright weird talking to people as much as I have the last couple of weeks. People want me to express how I am, but I don't know how to say anything other than my standard of "I'm fine." and really struggle with expressing things that I just recently let myself admit existed. If you are one of those asking, please be patient with me. Writing is easy, person to person interaction is just plain impossible most days. At least I'm trying now. You may think I sound easy going and fine, but trust me I'm usually not and I have to really work on that honesty thing. 
6. It's probably better for me if I try for the sake of those that love me right now. I know you all think that's backwards, that I should want to do this for me, but it's so much easier to believe the bad stuff I've heard my whole life that I really don't like myself. So, trying for my own sake makes me feel hopeless and full of bad urges. When I think about the fact that others love me and I have a mission to be needed again, that is easIER. It's never easy. Even my good days are bad days.
7. It is going to take me years to get through all the memories of my life. I feel like I've relived my entire life in the last 3 1/2 years and don't know how to file most of it away in my brain, so it's all scattered about on the floor and crammed into closets. Everything is clutter. The worst of it is the memories of the fugue. They fill my mind with so many confusing and terrifying images, I mostly really can't cope. I hope my therapist is prepared for a long haul with me.
8. I am very, VERY afraid of myself. Mostly because, I heard all the others in the hospital say over and over "I will never do that again. I was so miserable after hurting myself I have no desire to even try again." But, I know I still could and frankly still would if I let myself spiral to where I was before. I have to tread lightly and stay open to everyone.

So you see, I don't have nothing to fear but the fear I live with, because I can't get away from what I fear the most. I live with it, breath in and out with it, I keep it in motion and it never shuts off. I am afraid of my own mind and how easily it will betray the vessel that it lives in because it's overwhelmed and doesn't want to try to live. I am afraid of myself, and I can't be ashamed any more about that. I just need to keep trying. For you!

Don't Pick

Written 8/24/14, the day I started to feel myself spiraling out of control, the day my world really felt like it was falling apart around me and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. I'm going through my unpublished posts backwards and choosing a few to let you all know where I really was/am rather than lying about what is/was happening to me. I say I don't want to hide or lie, but that's exactly what I've been doing.

You'd think I'd have learned a long time ago not to pick at my wounds. They will heal naturally. In the meantime, leaves the scabs alone. God will move things along in His time.

Well, if this is His timing, I have news for Him. I can't deal with this.

So, am I okay? No. I honestly may never be okay again.

Why? Mostly, because I remember. I remember it all. And I want it to go away again. Now that I know why it was gone, I don't know how to do this.

For the first time in my life, I have run up against a wall. This is something I just can't get through. I'm not saying I can't get through this without help. I honestly don't see how to get through this AT ALL.

I remember what happened that started this. At the time, that would have destroyed me. Now, though, what is destroying me is her. The switch was flipped and she came out. All she cared about was survival. My survival. Nothing else mattered. She's the part of me that always seemed to be missing. The part of me that should naturally want to protect myself. She was stuffed into a box, collecting dust, becoming stronger and stronger until she had no choice but to take over. However, the things she did in the name of keeping me alive, the things she justified to herself, the excuses she made for not just going to my parents/sister/brother/aunt/anyone who cared.....none of it is okay. The things she did are what are destroying me.....and trying to wrap my head around the fact that she is me, but not me.

I would never do what she did. I would never allow myself to become that. She is cynical, suspicious, terrified and mistrusting of all people, and so very angry. Then I realized that all the parts of me that are so strong lately, but I don't really recognize from before, those are parts of her. She left them behind on purpose. Not to hurt, to protect, but it hurts anyway.

There's a line in a song that really speaks to me about this situation, Breathe No More by Evanescence. It says "I know the difference between myself and my reflection" but now I wonder if there is a difference. Are we one and the same. Is she a reflection of who I could be? Is she even a reflection, or is she just me.

I remember that night. He was at the gas station, I dropped my receipt and he stopped me by grabbing my shoulder with his hand. Then he followed me, but I didn't know that at the time. I stopped in the parking lot at Meijer by the bank to figure out my balance and decide if I could withdraw anything. He knocked on my window, I recognized him, rolled it down a bit to ask if there was anything else I'd forgotten, but then he opened the door, you can fill in the blanks from there, I'm sure. Except, something clicked in my brain. It's a light switch was flipped and suddenly I was watching as a silent observer and she was punching him in the nose. Hopped back in the car, locked the door, he ran off, she got cash, and just kept saying "Mom and Dad. Have to get to Mom and Dad." She know they would make me feel safe. It changed after a bit, though. They were never there when I was young and it was someone else hurting me, only she was. Keeping me alive, not letting me cut too deep, she was always whispering to be careful when I cut, don't take those pills, don't jump, she was the one that kept me alive and that's what she was going to do this time too.

And, that's what she did at all costs. Got people to trust her with the pretty young thing routine then dumped them when they were no longer useful, she (I?) willing to do whatever they wanted to do in order to get what she wanted....money, a roof over her head, food, anything.

It all came crashing down in Joliet, though. The money ran out, no more people to trick into trusting her and the one that brought her there unreachable all of the sudden. Time to flip the switch, but just right so I don't remember what happened. Keeping me alive because that's her only job in life. The only problem was, I lost everything. But, I was still alive. Now I wish I wasn't, but I recognize that she's there, still whispering, still telling me that if I cut, don't cut too deep. If I take pills, only take enough to make the pain better, not die. If I drink, don't drink stupid. Who cares about the pain, as long as that pain tells her I'm alive that's fine with her. Alive is all that matters. Sane, well that would be a nice bonus, but apparently not necessary!!

Now to just figure out, are we a we, or is it just me?

The Reflection

Written on 9/1/14, it has taken me this long to share, but I think now is as good a time as any. I feel there are some things going on with me that I need to not be ashamed to share and this was early in a not as long as it felt process of a horrid spiral that I almost didn't survive. I want to not be ashamed of my mental illness(es?) because I want others not to be ashamed. We need to be okay with who we are in order to get the help we need.

Most people who've been through traumatic experiences talk of being afraid of the dark. They are afraid of the images their minds will conjure up when their eyes can't fill their minds with the reality of the here and now. I, on the other hand, and terrified by the light. I want to just lay in the dark and avoid looking in the mirror ever again.

Who do I see when I look there? Do I see me? Do I see her? Are we one and the same, or are we truly separate people? Maybe all I'm seeing is a reflection of a side of me I hate to admit even exists. The person inside of me that feels everything deeply. A person of no in between. A person that feels extremely sad OR angry OR happy OR frustrated. Even worse, it's like there is another person that feels everything all at once. Worst of all, there is no one who is normal, feeling only to capacity. Not so overflowing with emotion(s) that she can't function, or so lacking in emotion she is completely numb and terrifies herself.

I'm also not afraid of sleep. I want to just sleep and sleep forever and do nothing else. When I fall asleep with music blaring to drown out the noise that creeps into my mind in my dreams, or fall asleep to a show that makes me feel I could be protected, I'm at peace. But, sleep is harder than you would imagine. I lay in my bed wide awake for days. Then a day comes when I can't stay awake any longer. Those are the good days. I sleep for 12+ hours and wake up feeling nothing new, and am able to function a little better. Then the cycle starts all over again. 

Sometimes, when I've been awake for days, I feel like my control is slipping. I feel emotions. I'm her. The one who feels one thing at a time with her whole being. I get angry, and am just ANGRY. I feel sad, and am just SAD. Happiness doesn't seem to be common with her. Not that it never happens, but it's not good happiness. It's joy over someone else's pain. Another reason to not believe she is me. I don't think that way. I am not a perfect person, but I don't live for the pain of others. I don't want to make the people around me miserable to make myself feel better. 

Again, I sit here wondering how to survive this. Not knowing was better. I can't live with the knowing. I can't live with the pain of the lifetime of emotions bubbling below the surface, harder every day to hide. It is impossible to get through a day without losing my control just a little bit. The cutting is more frequent and the cuts are deeper. More and more they are because of lack of numbness rather than the other way around. 

I can't deal with this much longer.