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Another Night With A Stranger

A man I met on the internet is planning his suicide. I’ve never met him in person. He bought a rope tonight. He seems like a nice guy, has a dog and a job. He set the date to end his life. I don’t know what his hair smells like or which cigarettes he smokes. He told us he is taking some time beforehand to say his goodbyes. Tonight has been spinning.

There is nothing quite like the plight of another to bring you out of your own mental suffering. My anxiety, my depression, my broken relationships, all of it can wait. This stranger needs me. I think he went to sleep. I wanted to talk to him, but he wasn’t there. I messaged him for an hour- just ramblings. Thoughts on the topic including my own attempt. I told him about the drugs I am on, the exercises my counselor has recommended. I told him about the song I use to get through the winter, and the blue light device my husband bought me to help. I don’t want to leave him alone- even if he hates me for it- because alone is the worst way to feel.

I don’t know this stranger friend. Yet I want to save his life. I want to hear his heartbeat more than ever now. I want to feel how he feels in a hug. He is kind. He’s funny and witty; he knows things that he teaches us. But he is broken. He is broken in a way we can all relate to. I don’t know any underlying cause for his depression. He doesn’t need one. He doesn’t need to explain himself to anyone. Everyone should try to help him. No one deserves to feel so low that their only escape is permanence.

I would like to meet my stranger friend one day. I just didn’t expect it to be so painful.

Losing

I feel like I’ve lost enough recently. In the last year I lost my best friend (she won’t speak to me) and several close friends to different situations. None of them are dead, but sometimes things can’t be put back together.

I lost what I thought was my future. A career that I was brilliant at, had me trembling and crying behind closed doors from anxiety and bipolar disorder. I quit in August.

I lost the rest of my sense of peace and independence shortly thereafter and spent some time including my birthday in a psychiatric hospital.

I live with my parents now, and I’m trying desperately to get back on my feet, but my brain is fighting with me every step of the fucking way. I’m battling suicidal thoughts, panic attacks, and anger I never knew I had in me.

But plot twist. My parents are moving cross country and it’s no longer my choice. I’m going with them. I’m leaving my friends, my mentor, my therapist, my home.

I’m left grasping at straws.

I’m afraid of how much more I can lose because I’m losing the fight. Even when I try with everything that God gave me, it just doesn’t seem to be enough.

I miss my best friend. I miss my independence. I miss the me who could glow and love and feel joy. I never thought mental illness could cost this much.

DOH Monday: French Pastry

Recently, a friend of mine went to Paris. As we were messaging while she was there, she asked me what I wanted from France. I told her I couldn’t think of anything because French clothes were far too expensive for me to ask anybody to buy for me.

Then it occurred to me: the French are known for their pastries. So I told her if she could figure out how to get me a pastry without it getting stale or destroyed, then a French Pastry would be divine.

This woman didn’t just get me a french pastry. She got me a Basque French Pastry. From the Basque region of France. And she managed to get it home from France INTACT, and not stale. I was duly impressed.

It was unfuckingbelieveably good.

How To Release Someone

I am in love with a person who is so possessive I feel as though I am being tortured.

Our relationship was physically abusive three years ago, but that has stopped. The mental and verbal torture is almost worse.

I can’t stop loving him. When he was sober, he was my best friend. I never dreamed so many dreams, accomplished so many things, laughed so much in those short years. Now he is a monster. His possessiveness knows no bounds. He threatens to kill himself when I say I’m leaving the relationship. I am afraid for the little dog he owns, whom I love.

I must release him to the world. To someone else. To himself. Only, he doesn’t want his life.

It reminds me of the old Ana NG lyrics,  “I don’t want the world, I just want your half.”

If I stay late at work, he is mad. If I stay home at night with my cat, I apparently don’t love him anymore …the list goes on.

I cannot do this anymore.

I am finally getting back into enjoying my life. I see a future possibly for myself. I don’t feel broken every single day, like I have all my life.

I was raised in an abusive, violent, alcoholic-ridden family. I am not the greatest person. I am a failure and I don’t know how to have a normal relationship either. I am no good most of the time. I have a mood disorder and trichotillomania and am afraid of being alone forever.

I don’t want to lose my best friend, but it is killing me to be tortured every single day. I can’t be with this person. I want to, but cannot imagine living with him and being trapped in the same home with all the manipulation and possessiveness.

I’m not making much sense.

I just need to know how to release him to a better place then where we are now.

Thanks for listening.

Depression Rears It’s Ugly Head

I’m not a stranger to depression. I live in the frozen tundra and seasonal depression is a way of life up here. I went through previous bouts of depression after my sister died and after my first miscarriage.

It’s back. It’s been slowly building for months.

I hate it, but I have to deal with it now.

It’s not normal to sit on the couch and sob because my house is a mess and it seems like all my friends have older kids who don’t leave toy cars all over the floor. Everyone has problems. Everyone has issues. If my kids were older, there would be other messes, other problems. Wishing my children were in high school is not going to fix anything.

I feel like everyone around me has their life together while I’m falling apart. I have no interest in taking care of my house. I don’t want my pets anywhere near me. The puppy I didn’t even want, but has completely attached himself to me, needs training, but I can’t handle it. Our latest (surprise!) litter of kittens need to be litter-box trained. I can’t deal with that either. My children annoy me. Important paperwork that needs to be taken care of sits untouched because I can’t process the thoughts about how to even fill them out. My kitchen is a disaster. My living room looks like a tornado came through it. I have a load of laundry that is probably molding inside my washing machine right now.

I’ve never understood people who run away from their lives and start over. Until now. It’s really tempting. I used to go for drives by myself when I needed to blow off some steam. But now, I can’t trust myself to get behind the wheel because I don’t know if I would come back. I know my husband and my children need me. I stay because of a sense of duty, but my heart isn’t in it right now.

On Sunday, I had a really bad cold. With my husband home, I could go in the bedroom and rest. I took a good book, my laptop, my phone, my headphones, and stayed all by myself in bed for most of the day. It was the happiest I’ve been in weeks – being alone and able to do whatever I wanted. I read. I napped. I listened to some favorite music. I watched a movie that didn’t involve animated creatures. It was heavenly. When I finally had to leave the comfort of my room and my bed, I had to resist the urge to kick and scream and act like my 3-year-old when he’s overtired and I tell him he has to take a nap.

This morning, a family issue required my action, and I had what I’m guessing was an anxiety attack. I shut down. I could not do what was needed. I started shaking, and tears poured down my face. Thankfully, that action was able to be put off until tomorrow and I have time to prepare myself mentally for what I need to do.

This is scary.

My husband recognized last week that I’m not well and insisted that I get help. I met with my doctor yesterday, and she put me on an antidepressant. Unfortunately, I know all too well from all of my husband’s bipolar medications that mood and brain altering drugs can take weeks to take effect. I do no look forward to the wait.

I’ve made an appointment to meet with a therapist. I’ve let some family members and my closest friends know what’s going on with me and everyone has been really supportive.

But I still feel so very, very alone.

Thankful

I’ve been thinking and thinking about this. This time of year everyone is making their thankful lists. Generally at the top of the list is “Family and Friends.” They are always at the top of mine. Except this year, a piece of my family, a piece of me, is not with us. I will never, ever be able to express how thankful I am that Graysen came into my life. There is nothing I am more grateful for.

It is just very hard to balance the thankfulness for the love I have for this little warrior and the fact that she is not here.

I’m just going to say it …it’s hard to be thankful this year. I’m not saying it’s impossible. I’m just saying that it could be so easy to give in, to embrace my pain and my rage, to wallow in jealousy and negativity.

Some days it feels like these ugly emotions are like drugs. They provide an escape from my journey to stay positive, hopeful, loving, and kind. They are an easy escape from reality because when one is deep in these feelings, the outside world ceases to exist. It’s an odd realization that my ongoing internal pain and grief hurts less than my struggles in the real world. My internal thoughts are familiar although painful. The outside world is the unpredictable, sobering, and therefore fear inducing.

The negative emotions are free, they take no effort to bring on, and they have no expectations. They also don’t know when its time to leave.

To rid myself of them, I am forced to look at them honestly, take them head on, and then use every fiber of my being to convince myself that there is an alternative. That there is a future full of positive emotion and experience.

Positive emotions are earned. The spoils from my battle with ugly emotions include happiness, contentment, and peacefulness.

I just have to work for it, if I want it. It’s not going to come easily, and it will involve an epic battle to fend off negativity.

Trust me, I WANT to work for it. I have had moments, even entire days full of positive emotion and experience. When this happens, I want to stop time and bathe in the feelings and cling to them and stockpile them away as ammunition against darker times.  This is truly a war I’m waging against myself. I want both sides to emerge victorious.

Last year we were happily preparing for our first family Thanksgiving and Graysen’s baptism. I was so honored to have so many family and friends in town for that beautiful week of celebration. Brock and I relished every single day with our Little Warrior, and these days were no different. Graysen was placed in the arms of pretty much every guest at our party for her. As each loved one had their turn, we truly felt the love of every person in that room spreading out to her, giving her strength, and teaching her what love feels like.

This year I’m fighting to remind myself what that kind of love feels like. The strength that that feeling can bring to a family. I’ve dug in and those of you who know me know that once that happens, I am unwavering in my resolve. We have been lucky to be surrounded by family and friends who are showering us with that kind of love. Every kind word, hug, look, and smile in our direction gives us that much more desire to fight.

I wish everyone peace, love, and kindness this Thanksgiving. I am thankful. Thankful that I am able to offer kind wishes to others, that I have the strength to honor the efforts of myself, Brock, and our family and friends. I am thankful that I continue to want to fight, to live a meaningful life, and support those around me.  I am thankful for those who model strength and resilience. Who continue to  mentor and counsel my family. We have all been doing such hard work and the holidays are exhausting when such work is required.

Remember that many more people than you think are putting on a brave face and may look peaceful, but are battling just like I am. Smiles, kind gestures, and compassion are the greatest gifts for both the giver and the receiver.

I just can’t say it enough …I am thankful for Graysen’s love. I feel her sending it to me everyday. The warmth starts deep inside my heart and extends out to every part of my being. She protects me with a suit of armor against the cold reality.

I am a warrior.