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Day After Day

by | Aug 22, 2017 | Addiction, Addiction Recovery, Loving An Addict | 3 comments

Writing has always been cathartic for me.

When I write, somehow I am able to process it in a way that makes more sense. And yet I have been avoiding putting pen to paper, or fingers to keys. I’m not sure what this means, except that I have not wanted to let go of some things that are still percolating upstairs.

The mind is a dangerous place, my mind especially. Neurons form associative pathways based on past experiences, and it is extremely difficult to reprogram them. Add to the mix…well, we’ll call it background noise, and some days I feel like the top of my head is about to explode outwards in a shower of gore and fire. I am a person who takes medication to keep things manageable, and I make no apologies for this. There is a marked difference in my mood and tolerance for everyday stumbling blocks when I do not have them, so I have chosen to keep taking meds. Even still, I find myself ruminating on past life experiences more lately, and I think maybe it is time that I purge.

I know part of it has to do with the weather. It’s fall, and warm with a cool breeze, the kind of day I used to hope for when I was running in Baltimore. That way, you see, it’s not too hot or cold in the abandominium hideouts where the other junkies and I liked to sit and hoard our meager scores. I miss sitting on scavenged milk crates, avoiding foul-smelling piles in the corners, and talking big with random people. I know it’s somehow disturbing that I miss the griminess, the feeling of being bad, the rush of my heart when a cop drove by (”Will he stop? Does he see me?”), and I want to leave it behind. It seems to dog me, waking and asleep. It would be so easy to slip back to that life of running and hiding and dealing with nothing.

So I guess I keep putting one foot in front of the other, having little community meetings in my head, and trying to concentrate on the good in my life now.

Some days it’s just really fucking hard.

Hi, I Used To Cut Myself

by | Aug 1, 2017 | Addiction Recovery, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, How To Help A Loved One Who Self-Injures, Major Depressive Disorder, Self Injury, Self-Destructive Behavior, Shame, Stress, Uncategorized | 6 comments

Clench my teeth
brief sensation of pain
Wait for it to come
it takes a second
Bringing with it relief
here it comes
Pain flows out
trickling down my arm
In little red rivulets
so warm and wet
 I have no problems

That cheery little poem is mine. Oh, it’s from many years ago. Back when I was still living with my parents, in fact. That last line? Is total crap. Yes, the blood brought relief of some feelings, but the guilt and anxiety that was left every time I looked at the scars….yeah, sometimes even THAT was enough of a trigger.

I’ve been pretty up-front about dealing with Postpartum Depression, Generalized Anxiety Disorder and major depressive disorder.

But, to add to the list of things that I don’t talk about, I’m also a cutter.

I probably ought to say “was”…..because I haven’t actually cut myself in years. But you know how some people say that they will always be a recovering alcoholic, and never recovered. It’s like that.

The urge to give in is there. It’s not my first reaction to bad news, anymore, but when I’m at my lowest, or most anxious, I still want to.

There are certain movies that I couldn’t watch all the way through for a long time, like Thirteen or Girl, Interrupted because they make me want to cut myself.

This is a big step for me. Other than my parents, one or two friends from way back then, and my husband and now half-the-freaking-internet, no one knows this. Come to think of it, I don’t know if I bother to tell my therapists. Yes, I know. I’m a horrible patient.

After I decided to stop, which wasn’t until I was pregnant with my first, AND it was totally selfish at first; too many doctor’s exams that required getting naked. I kept waiting to outgrow the feelings. You know, the way I outgrew angsty poetry, and emo-ish music? But I’m still waiting.

Still fighting.

Still coping.

Kinda.

Going Through The Motions

by | May 22, 2017 | Chronic Illness, Coping With Depression, How To Help A Friend With Chronic Illness, Major Depressive Disorder | 5 comments

My daughter just got home from school and asked me what was wrong.  I told her “I don’t feel good” but I can’t really pin down what’s wrong or why I don’t feel good.

Ever since this morning, I’ve been so out of it. Just doing a sink full of dishes seemed like it took a huge effort. I managed to haul the laundry to the laundromat.  I plugged earplugs into my Blackberry, which I shoved into my pocket. I wasn’t listening to anything, but I didn’t want anyone to look at me, let alone talk to me.

I feel like this cloud is surrounding me. I can see glimpses of the sun at times, but it doesn’t last. Or it’s like I’m treading water. I’m doing what it takes to survive, but not much more.

The only thing that feels good is if I am alone, wrapped in a blanket or in bed. I go through the motions for my husband and daughter.  Mostly because I know they won’t understand.  And how do I explain how I feel when I don’t even know myself?

Maybe it’s the depression… maybe I need a different medication.  Maybe it’s hormones.  My period is due any day now, and I already know my hormones are all kinds of screwed up.

I feel alone when I feel like this. I want to talk to someone, but I don’t know who will understand.  Who will “get it”. Who won’t just think it’s all in my head?

In the meantime, I try to move forward. I try to keep going through the motions.

How Do I Make You Understand?

by | Nov 22, 2016 | Breakups, Caregiver, Coping With Depression, Family, Help With Relationships, Major Depressive Disorder, Marriage and Partnership, Marriage Problems, Mental Health, Romantic Relationships | 3 comments

Sometimes, people on the outside have no idea how to help those with depression.

This is her story:

How do I make you see that being depressed is not something I have control over?  How do I make you see that when the darkness is creeping in, I feel alone and I need an anchor?

I can’t just “be happy”.  I can’t just change my negative thinking.  I can’t just change the fact that I feel like a failure.  I need a lifeline.

You are that person for me.  You are my rock, my oasis.  But that doesn’t mean that the darkness does not creep in.  It doesn’t mean the thoughts cease.

It does mean that I will cling harder to you while pushing you away.  And I hate that about me.  Because I love you.  Because I know you deserve better.  Because I know in the one year we’ve been together, I have come to trust you more than I have anyone in 16 years.  Because we’ve walked through fire together.

But my mind won’t let me see that enough.  My mind tells me, “He doesn’t love you.” “He will leave you.”  “You will be alone.” And instead of looking into your eyes and hearing you tell me you love me and planning our future together, I listen to the voices.  My mind isn’t trying to protect me.  My mind has gotten used to the negative thoughts and now thrives on them.

Unfortunately, the voices haven’t always came from my own head.  They’ve come from bad relationships.  Some that lasted only 10 months, one that lasted almost 6 years.  Six years of hell.  Six years that left me scarred.  Time may heal wounds, but the scars are still visible.  As the years have passed by, I have tackled one issue after another that I carry as baggage.  But I still have the depression.  I still have the anxiety.  I still have the fear.  And that’s when the darkness begins to creep in.  And the cycle begins anew….

I want to be a better person.  Not just for you.  Not just for my kids.  But for me.

But I need your help and your understanding that these walls are not about you, they’re about me.

Single Parenting

by | Nov 13, 2016 | Abuse, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Parenting, Single Parenting, Single Parenting by Choice | 0 comments

People who know me refer to me as a single parent.

I don’t really like that distinction because while I AM single and I AM a parent, the stigma attached to “single parent” is not a good one.

My Gigi is 5. She and I left her dad almost exactly five years ago when she was seven months old.  He was mean and emotionally abusive.  He seems to have changed a bit – or at least he loves his little girl more than he ever loved me.

He is involved.  He sees her one evening a week, every other weekend and every other week he gets another shorter evening.  It tears my heart out every single time she goes.  Sometimes she cries and sometimes she runs away. Sometimes I tell her if she does either of those things she won’t be able to play with her friends in the neighborhood the next day because those things “hurt her daddy’s feelings.”

I’m sick of him and his feelings.  My little girl wants to stay HOME.  My house.  Not his.

The other day a friend was talking about public schools in our area.  She mentioned a school that is not particularly good and said, “well you know, all those poor kids have single moms and their test scores are horrendous.”  Now, are there test scores horrendous because they have a single mom?  Or what?  The demographics of the school are not desirable due to the number of one parent homes.

Hmmmm…I’m a one-parent home.  Does that mean my child will not be as smart?  Or not do well on tests?  Or will be a behavior issue or somehow not succeed because she lives in a single parent home?  I choose not to believe that.  You see, my daughter is MUCH better off with living in a single parent home.  Her Mama may be messy and scatterbrained but she does not cry every day anymore or do things like look at her little girl and make the promise every single day that no one will ever hurt her.

I am a single parent.  I did not choose this path, but I live this path.  Would I like to have someone around to help pay the bills, cook the meals, clean up the kitchen and do a load of laundry?  Yes. But I also would want to be in love with this person.  And have that person love me back.

Another friend on Facebook had a status that said, “K is happy she doesn’t have to be a single parent anymore.  Hubby will be home in three hours.”

You are not a single parent.  You have a husband.  Who works and makes money.  He may be traveling for work or away from home but you are not a single parent.  You don’t understand how much coordination it takes to figure out when and who will go to school conferences.  Or what your child will be for Halloween or give her the choice of just having two Halloween costumes.  You do not have to put a screaming, fighting, kicking child to bed when she has been up too late so she can have quality time with daddy.  You don’t have to worry about your little girl looking at you and saying, “Mama, I love you the best.  So much more than my daddy.”

I choose to not let the stigma of being a “single parent” define me.  I try to wear the badge proudly and let my daughter know that we can do it ourselves.  We are strong…Mama and Gigi against the world.  I am raising her to be a strong woman who knows that her Mama can fix the sink or mount the shower head without the help of a man.

Don’t get me wrong…I’m not a man hater.  I would love for Prince Charming to come in and sweep me off my feet.  But at this point it would be a distraction from my most important job.  My daughter.  I can’t imagine having to share her with anyone else.  I miss her when she’s gone.  We have been apart so much I should be used to it.  But sometimes I still cry because I miss her when she is gone for a weekend.

I am a single parent and I’m not ashamed.