One Year Ago and Today

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

Today my Facebook memories reminded me that one year ago I wrote a big, long, really real mental health post about suicidal thoughts I was having.

It was hard to go back and read those dark words from that dark space.

It took me back to that time where I got a message from a friend at just the right time to help me.  A message letting me know that she was thinking of me, even though she had no idea I was in such a dark space.

This is one of the reasons I do what I do.  So that a year from now I can see these words and remember where I was.  I can see my growth and my progress.  See the dark and also the light.  I can also see how far my writing has come in that time.

Today I’m fighting depression, but the dark, suicidal thoughts are mostly quiet, only peeking their heads out but not taking hold.  I have a plan to handle the pain that I’m in, which will hopefully give me some relief through the trip this weekend.

I still fight suicidal thoughts sometimes, nothing has really changed there, they still get really dark, really fast and I’m still learning how to sit with them without them becoming so dangerous.

I think I’ve gained a lot of skills in the last year, through my time in partial, and my time in DBT, but at the same time.  I handle the flow of my moods a lot better.

Things may not change as far as my moods shifting and the suicidal thoughts coming, but how I handle them has changed and will continue to change and get better.  I’m growing and learning and doing better.

And I still have amazing support around me, for which I’m quite thankful.

Thursday Question of the Day!

Today’s Question:  What is something you feel is missing in your life?

For me right now, it’s local friends.

I have tons of online friends.

I have an amazing, fulfilling, relationship.

I have my derby friends who I see at roller derby events and scrimmages.

I have my best friend who I see on gym days, and really almost every day.

But it would be really nice to have other people to do things with locally.  I’m an incredibly social being and I love the idea of just having people I can call up and say “let’s grab lunch” or “let’s go to the mall” and I’d love a variety of people to do this with.

I’m working on getting out more to places where making friends is possible, but it’s hard because most people I meet are very busy and I’m pretty busy, so finding time in the calendar is difficult and eventually people give up.  Plus, with mental illness in the way, sometimes I’m not the most in touch friend.

What about you, what are you missing?

Gone Too Soon

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post
but it’s one of those that is
also a Really Real Widow Post.

TW:  Mention of death by suicide.  Mention of suicidal thoughts

I check my Facebook memories every day.

I’m looking for old conversations, or pictures.  Those hidden gems from Parker or Kidlet.  Memories of Wonder Woman and I first meeting.  Signs of my growth.  Patterns of my various labels, mental and physical.

Today there was a note that a friend had sent to me 5 years ago, saying wonderful things about Parker and I, and how we were raising the Kidlet, and how amazing he was.  Parker and I met this friend while we were living in the homeless shelter.  She was a younger girl, sweet as could be, with a bright light in her eyes.

She was going to change the world.

I remember the day, it was only 5 months after she posted the note on my page, I saw people start posting on her page that she was gone too soon, and that they couldn’t believe she decided to go out that way.  I remember how hopeless I felt that she had died, and that it had been so long since we had seen each other.  She lived so far away and transportation was such an issue for us.

Gone too soon.

I thought of her after Parker died.  Wondered if they ran into each other up there.

Parker had just started a college semester.  Just that day her last book had been bought.  She had picked a new major and was excited about becoming an X-ray tech.  We were finally starting to see some light at the end of a very very long tunnel we had been in.

Gone too soon.

When I’m in the depths of my suicidal thoughts, I can’t hold on to the feeling that Parker and our friend left this world before their time.  All I can think of is getting out.

Right now that seems so foreign.  I can’t imagine wanting to walk away.  There’s so much left to live for, so much left to do.  I have degrees left to get, I have words left to type, lives left to change, words left to be heard.

There are sunrises and sunsets that still need to be seen.

But then the clouds obscure my view, and all I can see is the pitch black nothingness.  I just want to escape, just want to make the pain stop, I just want to free myself, and everyone around me, from the burden that is my life.

I have so much love left to give.  There’s so much love left to receive.  I don’t want to walk away.  It’s not my time, it’s not the end.  I won’t let myself be

Gone too soon.

Hurt

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

I’ve posted other times recently about how anger is a trigger for me, and how I’ve surrounded myself with people who I can communicate with and that makes it a bit easier.

Being able to say, I’m frustrated about this. And discussing it. Realizing it’s okay to get angry even if what I’m angry about isn’t that big of a deal, because that’s the purpose of communication. Talking it out.

Silencing my anger and frustration doesn’t work and builds resentment. Eventually that resentment explodes and that’s where the screaming and yelling comes in.

I don’t want to be that person anymore, and the only way not to be that person is to change my habits.

So I talk about what’s wrong, early. I tell people when I’m frustrated, and why. I open up the lines of communication.

The problem is, not everyone wants to communicate that way. When I say I’m frustrated about something, they get angry at me for being angry. As if I’m not allowed to be frustrated.

I spent years in a relationship like that.

I’ve spent a lifetime living in relationships like that.

Walking away and waiting for someone to make the next move is hard. Not knowing if they’ll ever be ready to meet me where I’m at is hard. Losing friends over growth is hard.

Losing someone after a fight, again, is hard.

It brings up all sorts of things for me and I spent part of today worrying about the day that this new relationship period ends for Wonder Woman and I and we get into our first ‘real’ fight. I worry about losing her over it. People like to leave me after fighting with me. They die, they walk away, they move across the country.

But I’m worth the work I’ve put into this growth and moving backwards because of a lack of communication in a friendship isn’t helpful. I deserve more.

My friendships deserve more.

But it still hurts.

Called Out

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

My coffee is way too hot to drink.

And I became an Aunt again overnight last night, as my sister gave birth to another nephew.

And sometimes it’s really easy to write about some things that are happening in my life, like the coffee I’m drinking, or the baby my sister had, and really hard to write about others because I don’t want to involve the people or situation involved.

And that’s the problem with this being a public journal is that sometimes I want to get things of my chest, in the way that I do, but sometimes that would mean putting current situations out there in a way that doesn’t seem fair.

Or even if I wrote about the issues in a way that didn’t name anyone, I would wonder if there was an underlying passive aggressive tone to my writing, as if I were continuing a fight, one sided, through my words on the screen. 

This isn’t the first time this has happened.  I come across situations regularly that I want to write about, but they are too current and too involved and it would call someone out for me to write on it so I start a draft and then drop it.  Later when I come back to it I can’t remember enough detail to finish it.

I need to get a better system of writing and storing entries so that maybe these “in the moment” ones can be written, but then posted down the line, when the moment has passed and I don’t have something to write about. 

Writing this is important to me and to my mental health, and I’ve found that when I have something I want to write, but feel that I can’t, I’ll completely stop writing for a day or two, and face a sort of writers block around it. 

Kind of like when I need to process something and I can’t see anything else until I work through that.  You know, like that. . . 

It’s almost like I use my writing as a place to process things and by stopping the writing process I’m trying to stop my process of processing.  (Say that 5 times fast).

In the mean time, I have other ways I work out hard emotions, and I’ll focus on them to get around and through this.  

Overwhelmed

This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

 

I’m overwhelmed

I feel it starting in my gut.

Crawling into my chest.

It fills my lungs.

Threatens to escape in a yell

With every single breath.

I’m overwhelmed.

 

I’m overwhelmed.

I want to run.

The easiest way to run is to die.

The easiest way to run is to leave.

The easiest way to run is to hide.

Everyone leaves in the end.

I’m overwhelmed.

 

I’m overwhelmed.

I start seeing all the things that are wrong.

I start seeing ways that I’m failing.

I start seeing needs that aren’t being met.

I start seeing conversations I can’t seem to have.

I start seeing things that upset me.

I’m overwhelmed.

 

I’m overwhelmed

All of it’s coming so fast.

Life seemed just fine before.

Why is it bothering me now.

Am I just looking for trouble.

Are things really just fine.

I’m overwhelmed.

 

I’m overwhelmed.

Sitting with difficult feelings.

Finding peace with the chaos inside.

Distance from the emotions.

Waiting before I react.

It’s okay to not be okay.

I’m overwhelmed.

Thankful

Really Real Thanksgiving Post

I had a hard time figuring out how to write this one, even though I knew what I wanted to say.

Thanksgiving is really hard for me.  It’s one of my favorite, but also least favorite holidays of the year.  It holds the best memories, but also the some of the hardest.

I mean, it’s a holiday and that’s kind of what happens around holidays, we link a lot of memories to these “special days” and it makes sense that some of them aren’t going to be great.  Maybe a lot of them.  But hopefully we have some good ones.

I remember the first holiday meal that I offered to host was a Thanksgiving, probably 14 years ago.  I didn’t own any sort of mixer except for one of those hand crank mixers and I made mashed potatoes from scratch using one of those.  I got one hell of an arm work out.

My older sister bought me my stand mixer for Christmas that year and it was the start of us bonding online, over a love of cooking.  I still have that Kitchen Aid.  It’s one of the things I carried through countless moves and stored through homelessness and carried across state lines.  It means the world to me because of the bond it represents between my sister and I.  (This is another one of those things she may have no clue about, Hi Sis!)

It also reminds me of that first Thanksgiving that I hosted.   That first Thanksgiving is also where I found the recipe for my turkey.

I’m so thankful every year I get to make the turkey.

Everyone loves my turkey.

But some years I didn’t get to make the turkey.

One year we were too broke to buy dinner so we went to a soup kitchen instead.

One year we were in a hotel provided by the Red Cross, eating dinner out of Styrofoam containers sent over by a church, because we’d had a house fire 2 days before.

And holidays are still hard.  Thanksgiving was the first major holiday without Parker.  It hit me today that this is the 3rd one without her and that just seems impossible that it’s been that long.

This year it’s the first major holiday with Kidlet all grown up and moved out.

But I’m always happier when I get to make the turkey, and it’s kind of funny when we are going to someones house and I offer to bring a turkey, but they are normally kind of thankful, I think.

And I make a really damn good turkey (as the anxiety hits that I’m going to fuck it up this year, but that’s a pretty typical anxiety for me).

But I’m thankful that I’m spending the day with friends and with the woman I love.

I’m thankful that I get to make the turkey.