Mixed Mood

Masks

/ Self Saving Warrior Princess / Leave a comment

I took a few really great pictures this weekend of me smiling and having a great time.

They weren’t a lie, but they were taken during the moments where I was able to put on the mask that I wore for about half of the weekend. The other half of the weekend I spent hiding in the car, or in the hotel room, too tired to keep my eyes open. Falling asleep across the bed with my shoes still on because depression has set in so fully that, while I know there are reasons to live, I can’t always feel them.

Riding home, Wonder Woman points out an amazing city skyline, Philly I think, and normally my heart would want to explode with the beauty of it, right now, I appreciate that she pulled me out of my own head to tell me, but I can’t FEEL it the way I normally can and that makes me so so sad.

I can wear the mask and smile and fool lots of people but I can’t make myself feel the way my face appears to be feeling.

Apathy is a horrible emotion.

A beautiful sky still looks beautiful and I can appreciate the colors and the beauty that is the sunset. I’m glad I’m alive to see it, but I also would be just as happy if I wouldn’t wake up to see another one.

And that makes me sad. It also terrifies me.

But I put on the mask all weekend because it wasn’t about me. I knew enough to keep myself safe. I had lots of friends supporting me from afar..

One of them saw one of my selfies and was shocked when I told her how I was really feeling. Guess how many rejected selfies it took for me to capture one where the mask was adequately covering my real feelings.

The mask is exhausting for me, and the more I wear it, the harder it becomes to reach out. The harder it becomes to tell people I’m in danger.

I’m starting to understand how those who wear it all the time can’t reach up and find a hand to grab. Maybe it’s time to take the mask off for awhile. Maybe it’s becoming too comfortable. Pretending is exhausting but it’s almost easier than being vulnerable and telling someone just how nice it might be to drift away.

Turbulent

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Trigger Warning: Suicidal Shit. Mental Health Crap. “Hey Tina . . Don’t Die” Stuff.

My brain is so so so loud.

Angry angry thoughts. Directed outward and directed inward and It’s all based on being so overwhelmed with the number of changes even though I want it all.

My brain is still retreating to old habits, old coping mechanisms that are supremely unhelpful. I once heard a quote “it’s comfortable in a warm pile of shit” Even if a situation sucks it’s often far easier than actually changing it because change is incredibly turbulent.

Right now I’ve hit a very turbulent period of growth and change and my brain is pissed. I want ALL of the things that are ahead. I want this growth. I want to continue to become the amazing person I’m meant to be. I want to finally be myself instead of living in the shell of me.

But right now the turbulence is trying to tear me apart and I’m trying not to lash outward or take it out on myself.

The frequency of my suicidal ideations just keeps increasing. I’m back to having safety plans that include other people to keep me safe from myself. I’m basically fighting to get myself out of the house every day when really I just want to curl up in a ball and stop existing.

My therapist and I are exploring a number of different options including increasing therapy and I may end up back in some sort of out patient intensive program.

Yep, this fucking sucks, but, staying alive is kind of important because I do want whats next.

Sometimes this means gut wrenching sobs late at night, that end in laughter when I realize I woke Wonder Woman up, and that, no she doesn’t mind, but it’s still weird and embarrassing to have someone right there holding me. I hate that I’m going through this again.

I hate the images I’m seeing, flashes of death and dying and not being sure if I want to run from it or to it and hating that I even question the decision. I know what it feels like to be left behind, I hate that in the moment, I don’t even have the mental energy to consider those that would be. All I can think of is stopping the pain I’m in. It’s not a rational thing, but the guilt when I come out of it . . .holy fuck, I can’t even describe what the guilt on top of every thing else is like.

“If she was his real mom, she wouldn’t have done that” Right . . . . then how am I even considering it?

I found Parker . . and at some point after the ideations get bad, I always go to “Holy fuck . . . how would I put someone through that.” and that’s on top of visualizing myself there first.

It’s not just being suicidal, it’s not just wanting to die . . . it’s then beating myself up for all of it, and going round and round and round. And feeling like if I don’t pick the right form of treatment moving forward, this is how it’s going to play out, and I will end up dead and someone will find me and they will live this and it will all repeat.

I’m sharing this because I know I’m not the only one that goes through this and maybe if someone else knows that they aren’t alone, they will keep fighting too. Maybe they will know they are a little less crazy than they think they are.

For that matter, maybe someone will remind me that I’m not alone, and that I’m not as crazy as I think I am . . . because even though I logically understand why all this is happening, and I’m supposed to know I will pull out of it, again. . . .

Sometimes it’s nice to hear that I’m not the only one. I know I have so so many people out there, but my brain is so so loud.

And right now that warm pile of shit would be comfortable to crawl back into.

Power

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After an amazing weekend away, I’ve realized that my anxiety in public has virtually vanished. There were multiple times that I went off completely alone in NYC in crowds, without a thought.

I went and retrieved a pizza when they suddenly couldn’t deliver it and throughout the weekend I had no issue figuring out the subway and actually enjoyed getting lost and missing stops and backtracking. It was a puzzle, a game.

I survived one of my worst fears a year ago, and so those people in that giant city have no power over me anymore.

But now those close to me have 100 times more power than they can ever imagine. And it’s power they don’t want, and power I don’t want to give them and it’s become a whole different kind of anxiety that I’m now battling. These trains are just as loud as the trains that used to tell me I couldn’t leave the house.

I know loss, and not in the “we can’t be friends anymore” kind of way, and not even in the “this isn’t working out” kind of way. We had a fight, a stupid fight over stupid shit and she went to bed and did not wake up. And while I know I had nothing to do with Parker’s death, I cannot quiet that voice that tells me I did . . . . it’s part of the process . . .

Because of that, the social anxiety that was always there is now 100 times louder. The fear that everyone else is going to leave gets louder and louder.

Every time someone is angry with me not only do I feel that tension and need to run from it, but I’m internally petrified . . what if I don’t have a chance to make amends. What if there is no tomorrow to say “I’m sorry, this was stupid” after they calm down.

Because of it I end up sometimes becoming incredibly irratic and overbearing and talking over them and even over myself to try and fix problems that aren’t even there because in my mind . .

If I don’t put out those fires I’m going to lose more people.

And i LOVE my people. I love my tribe. With every bit of my being.

I am both thankful for, and sorry to those who have been so close to me this past year. I know I am a lot. And I know that by now, you thought it would not be so much to be so close to someone who you have given so much to. And I do appreciate you, more than you could ever know. I wasn’t on even ground to begin with, and a year ago that ground disappeared. I’m quite thankful that I realized I could fly, but you guys have done more than your fair share of carrying.

I am intense . . and I am trying to get better. All month I have been trying to figure out how things feel so right in some ways, and so wrong in other ways.