Never No Change

I wouldn't say things have been "shaky" lately, but they've definitely been "squishy." Not quite walking across a rockfield on the side of a steep hill. More like squelching through a muddy riverbank riddled with those rounded river stones. Those stones that seem slightly more friendly than the sharp-cornered mountain rocks that are less forgiving when you fall on your ass.

Not convinced that I'll be falling on my ass soon. I do know that the fear of losing all traction is sitting comfortably in my mind. Whenever physical injury, sickness, or exhaustion forces me to slow down my self-judgment seems to pick up. Even if lying on the couch with a heating pad crammed under my back is the best thing that I can be doing, my mind brings up the 5+ lbs I've accumulated the last few months or the classes that I've yet to peruse for my online degree and-of course-the dishes in the sink or laundry in the hamper.

The fear is familiar. I become agitated, teary, and anxious and can't quite place the source of my discomfort at first. It's the fear. So familiar that it sneaks back into the forefront of my mind with little fanfair.

I may not have caught on, unsure of the source of my anxiety and excess tears, but the fear knows what it's doing. He goes right to work plucking those loose seams from our recent encounters. Those frays so susceptible to those classic judgments he brings with him. I've heard it said that addicts need only one hit to be sucked back into their drug addicitions. I can see how that could be when those hurtful digs start streaming through my mind with renewed gusto. It's difficult not to fall back into the darkest darkness immediately, but I've grown and fought for distance and when I saw those thoughts encroaching-I SAW THEM.

It didn't just happen. I wasn't just taken. I was sitting in bed, getting ready to retire for the night with the hubs beside me. I shoke my head, tears welling in my eyes, a quick inhale, shaky exhale with a shuddering shrug.

"It's not completely unexpected. Is it?" I looked forward, to the corner of the room between our light grey curtains and the mirrored doors of the closet. "Everything, lately. Not just throwing out my back but friends at the gym leaving, coming back from the observation schedule to so much free time. I just haven't figured things out again quite yet."

"It's another transition." His fingers fluttered over my elbow, not quite able to reach my arm for a hand hug, just a whisper of support. "We know these changes get to you. Noticing it is a big deal. It's really important. It's going to get better..."

"Gotta get back on those skills though. I'm running wild with these judgments lately." A few tears escaped and my nose began to run. "Been having those, 'Why me?' thoughts a lot. I know it's pointless. I feel so pouty and off-base."

"It's temporary. We gotta get you back into those DBT tricks and it'll get better."

I nodded. Breathed deep and let myself brush the doubt aside. Even if it were just for now, it would do. I'd done enough thinking. I just wanted to cuddle up with my husband and feel the cool spaces between the duvet slowly warm around us.

Of course, it took some anti-anxiety medication to help me meet that goal, but it worked exactly like it should. A good night's sleep is usually won in my case!

Anyways. The doubts are still stalking me. I'm worried. Unsure. But going at it slowly and trying to think less about the scary signs and more about the tools I can use and the people that need me.

And if I fall on my ass... at least their the smoother rocks and we know exactly what to do if I do.

Something Words Label Here

The days have been indecisive. I know that I've been feeling the same, it just seems like the weather has been more viciously so. My type of indecisive is a quiet desperation for direction, while the weather just likes slapping us all around.

I knew the transition from observation hours back to the old status quo would be challenging like any other change of pace. As it is, this first week feels like a month has passed. I have lost motivation with my studies, found myself wondering if I'm ever going to be able to eat better or push myself more at gym. The judgments have crept in. I feel trapped in an in-between space. I want to improve and yet I'm afraid to strive for fear of the pressure. Pressure. Not quite the possibility of failure, more the possibility of pushing myself to a breaking point, win or lose.

It is a good thing that I want to feel better... there must be a way...

... I don't know.

I do know that some of my gym friends are leaving this summer and I'm already starting to grieve. It was tough enough going to a different class time during my observation hours and now my old class isn't quite going to be my old class anymore.

I do know that the last few days have been especially rough. I've been exhausted and spending lots of time on the couch. At least I've seen the shift and am aware of the downward trajectory, maintaining some perspective on my mood and mental health. Noticing a downturn doesn't mean a bottoming out MUST happen.

It's an awkward, unique experience observing myself like that. Seeing my symptoms crop up and sensing that shift toward a more self-conscious, alienated place. People around me still reach out, chat, include me and yet I feel like I'm being pushed out. It's more of a pulling, I would say. My disease telling me I don't belong, that I'm not good enough. I don't seem to be pushing them away-I'm nice as ever-but I withdraw, pulling myself away.

Oy! 

All this thinking and I've met my quota!

Got to read around a bit today and really enjoyed it <3 Glad to see familiar pages :o)

Take care.

Hannah OUT!

Honestly.

I had ECT this morning. Now, it's this afternoon and I'm recuperating on the couch, watching a movie called "50/50." If you haven't seen it, I'd recommend it-just, maybe not on a day when you're keenly aware of your own illness.

Not too long ago I paused the movie and lurched off the couch and creaked down the hall to the bathroom. The boys had been playing for a bit and somehow I couldn't put it together where they were... Mind you, we live in a three-bedroom apartment. 

Standing in that hallway there was an open door to our bedroom on my right, a closed door ahead of me, and an open door on my left to the bathroom. They weren't in our bedroom or the bathroom and I couldn't remember what was behind the door in front of me.

I couldn't visualize BB's room. I could hear the boys playing and I couldn't imagine where they were. I forgot where his bed was, the blue mini-trampoline by the toy box and his bookshelf. I could hear their voices and had no idea the space they inhabited, the physical plane where they existed, what they could possibly look like behind that door.

My breath caught and the tears came. I stifled sobs and ducked into the bathroom, collapsing onto the floor in the dark. My nose ran. I wiped away tears and tried to keep quiet. Sucking air as I scrambled onto BB's plastic IKEA stool, I swiped at the door until it was mostly closed and slumped against the cabinet.

I was sick. I am sick. 

It's not usual for people to forget what their son's bedroom-a room they're in everyday-looks like. It's not usual for people to be getting IV sticks more than ice cream cones. When I can't remember what I read on the gym whiteboard or any part of the Super Bowl that I watched with the hubs, my gym friend, and our sons... it's not average. It's not a personality trait. It's a side effect. 

I'm sick. I'm sick and there's no cure. I can-I have-achieved remissions. I won't always be experiencing such dramatic side effects. I'm still sick. I'm still hitting up the pharmacy more often than most people visit The Olive Garden or some shit... I mean, you should see my medicine "cabinet." Honestly, I should be upgrading my storage options, 'cuz it's a cluster, I tell ya what.

Honestly. That word. It's a tough one for me. I have a difficult time gauging what's "honest" and what's "dramatic." Maybe that's because sometimes the honest truth is dramatic. Well, I don't want to be dramatic and I want to honest, so not only am I writing this post-I'm sharing some pictures that I've only ever shown to the hubs (well, he's not even seen some of them!).

So. Here goes. Some pictures. And more about my experience of being sick-not that I'm nearly as sick as some people! I know that it could be worse. I just want to be honest about how bad it is. I think a lot of it's about admitting to myself what I'm feeling... I've been opening up to some gym friends lately and it's a little confusing being so "chill" when I'm feeling so bad some days-ANYWAYS. Here goes.

I'm just gonna do it. (might've shared some of these before, just so ya know)

Heading into ECT w/ my hair net.
We put gowns over our street clothes
& cram all our belongings into bright green bags
that they leave at the foot of our bed during treatment.
Sometimes I'm lucky and get the Bair Hugger!

I got a butterfly IV today. Really easy stick too!
Took a picture to taunt the hubby-

Guess it's all about perspective, eh?
He's not one for needles-

Annual blood work does him in.
Kind of lucky that
I'm the "sick" one in that way!

Coming out of ECT.
This seems like my uniform of late-
striped cap, green sweater, Crocs!
It looks like I've been crying, although
I'm usually just misty-eyed post-anesthesia. 

Recovering last week at my parents' w/ BB
eating "yee-gurt" and watching Olympics.

Today.
Hard to see the goop on my temple from treatment-it's there.
Watching a movie about cancer made my cap feel way more "sicky!"
Hurt pretty bad post-treatment today.
Worst in a long time.
Getting a bit better now.

Found this from last month.
I can't remember exactly-I think we went
to the ER. The hubs claimed that he called
ahead and that they "had a room." Later
he admitted that he didn't know, he just told me
so to get me to the hospital.
Smart man.

So, I'm lying on the couch with a mass pillows and extra soft couch blankets (we're "couch blankets" people around here) and posting all these pictures... I feel like I've said something and not enough. Earlier, those sobs, that pain, I really, truly, deeply felt it. Now I feel numbed again. "It's not that bad" again.

Tapped for now.

Thank you. Love and hugs and gratitude and smiles. I'm getting back to "my life" more and more, hopefully that means more blogging. Even if it doesn't quite yet, know that I think of you all!

Bonus pic:

Made it to 29!
First official (29 yrs) bracelet :o)
PS: Good game in the background!

Which button do I...

...push?

Wow. It's been so long! Life has been keeping me quite busy.

BB rollin' out one morning, he loves to accessorize!

 The hubs is still out of work and it's been a blessing considering we're still doing ECT once a week and he has to chauffeur me about that day and day after. Baby Bananaface is quite a handful lately with another language explosion of late along with some more forceful expression even when it's gibberish (take this morning when he yelled over-and-over, "MUSHROOM! MUSHROOM?" as I loaded him into the car after CrossFit, I'm glad he enjoys mushroom hunts, just not sure the entire zipcode needs to know about it).

Painting w/ mom (whoa, that's weird to type!)

Apparently baking biscotti is a full-contact sport

Oh, today is my birthday. As is the new tradition of sorts I made thank you notes and treats for a few special folks, namely my CrossFit crew. I brought three different types of biscotti (almond lemon, cocoa honey almond, almond cardamom) and my favorite almond joy bran muffins. I just love me a bran muffin. Screw birthday cake, give me the muffins. Threw some cardamom in those too! Hot damn!

Like I said, things have been kinda hectic so I didn't make and send out as many 'Thank Yous' as I could've. As such, thank you to all of you in this marvelous blogging community. I wish we had been seeing more of each other of late!

Overall, things are on an upward trend but there have been some tough days. Yesterday or the day before I found myself sitting on the hubster's lap and crying, completely drained and disheartened. Sure, there was a specific cause at that moment, I think it was overall an overwhelmation (new word there). I'm still having to take it slow even on the good days.

Comin' out of ECT

Headed into ECT

The hubs and I have been enjoying more movie/TV time together in the evening. Cuddling up or playing cards (this new one called "Snappy Dresser" is pretty good, even for two folks). I've been able to laugh and happy cry and handle the emotions of a movie, so that's good. And, as always, The Great British Baking Show is always a good fall back.

*sigh*

That's all I've got for now. I need to hydrate, I got my heating pad on my lady business (started my period right after the warm-up run this morning! happy birthday!). It's time for some pleasant TV and perhaps a bit of chocolate....

Hugs and happiness and best hope to you all... It's a blue-skied brisk type of day here and I hope everyone else has decent weather themselves.

<3

Drawing for a CrossFit friend, I asked
for quotes to inspire me and sketched
whatever came to mind.

Artwork I did for a CrossFit friend

Back on the Inside

Friday I had another plan with a set date. The hubs was onto me and I confessed in a note, so he skipped out on work and took me to the ER up in Seattle where they do my ECT treatments now.

We clocked in at 1:25 and I got into my room almost exactly 9 hours later.

T I R E D

So far so good. Found some nice folks and like the staff. Got some great tomato soup here.

Hoping to get onto the ECT schedule for Monday and we shall see.

I think we're gonna be trying a "new" medication to try and help with my sleeping.

We aren't allowed to have laptops or cellphones on the unit so I will be sparse for the next week at least (as if I haven't been sparse for MONTHS now!).

Thank you all for your support. I hope-truly-to see those days when I'm well enough to catch up with all of your blogs and stories too.

Be well.

Bittersweet Romance

I found myself crying on the toilet last night.

After Baby Bananaface had gone to bed the hubster and I found ourselves talking about our past. Our courtship. Our memories. Maybe, more accurately, his memories. I couldn't remember the vast majority of events, moments, excursions, and sweet nothings that he described.

My memory loss usually only comes up in passing. Often, I will feel bad about not remembering such cherished stories. Sometimes, he will feel frustrated and sad as well. Rarely, he lets it show and last night was one of those nights.

Our chat continued into the bedroom and into the darkness. At one point bringing us to the topic of love notes. Apparently I wrote many in our early days and the hubby keeps most of them in a little box. He brought out he box and we sifted through them all.

It was a bittersweet exercise. Seeing all those notes and doodles and revisiting that era of new love. Reading about our adventures as well as the struggles. The hubster describing the sparse furniture featured in our first apartment. My apologies for symptoms of yet-diagnosed disorders.

I could count on one hand the things I actually remembered. After we had read them all he asked, "Did that jog any memories?" I shook my head and shrugged, "Not really. No." My eyes teared up and his brow furrowed. He tried to comfort me and tell me that some of the memories could still back. Grief was in his eyes and lumped in my throat.

Rolling over in the bed, I excused myself and trudged to the bathroom. Tears gathered on my cheeks before I cleared the hallway. By the time I finished peeing I was smothering sudden short-lived sobs.

It was a brief, deep grieving. In that moment I wasn't just acknowledging the loss, I was recognizing the countless moments over the past couple years that the hubs had accommodated my memory loss, supplied information, or concealed his own frustrations and sadness. We try not to spend too much time thinking on it and that seems to work alright-most of the time.

Most of the time.

We're okay with that.

Even if we don't have the memories to share, we still have the love.

Little Interview....

My brain is pretty scrambled, but I think I can manage this little interview I found over at Joey's Pad.

Here are the 6 questions for this week:


1. Tradition...how tightly do you cling to tradition when it comes to holiday gatherings and celebrations? For instance do you always do the cooking, never eat at home, always go to grandma's, never miss the parade, always watch football, never change the menu, always eat at 2 PM, etc.? Have you ever celebrated Christmas or Thanksgiving away from hearth, home, and family? How did that feel?

I used to be much more attached to traditions. Now that the hubs and I are developing our own, things have become loosey-goosey. I tried to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade and we agitated and repulsed and bored. I no longer feel compelled to bake for days on end-certainly not seasonal items that I don't even like much and are "have-tos." Fuck "have-tos." (Yes, I'm cranky)

I celebrated Thanksgiving on my own this year. Well, not really celebrated, I was just home, alone, on that day. It felt strange and a little lonely at first, then I started a to-do list and went with the flow. It was nice to have no strings!

Wondering what the future holds for our traditions... I love to host and holidays are also deeply personal to me. Being unable to accommodate my in-laws and not wanting my family around complicates things! IDK We shall see. 

I know I wanna do advent calendar and the pickle with BB for sure though :o)


2. Help...is it easy for you to ask for help or are you a do-it-yourselfer? How is that a good/bad thing?

I'm mostly a do-it-yourselfer although I quite often ask people instead of Googling something for myself, which can be a bit opposite... anyways. It's usually a good thing-I get things done. It can be really bad when I shame myself not being capable or wanting help and struggling when my inner voice tells me to suck it up. More and more I am asking for help or delegating and saying "no." I like it :o)


3. Abundance...what is there an abundance of in your kitchen?

Spices. And white washcloths. 


4. Name...the smallest thing you're thankful for? the biggest?

Smallest: Atoms.

Biggest: Love.


5. Key...What do you think is the key to living a more grateful life?

Mindfulness and releasing judgments and embracing the perspective that everything in our world exists on a spectrum. I don't think I'm exactly practicing gratitude when I practice radical acceptance and police my judgments, although I think it facilitates a more grateful and satisfying life for me. So I'm gonna stick with that.


6. State your own random thought here.

It's okay that I struggle with certain symptoms of my disorders... I've been self-conscious recently about my difficulty gauging proper social boundaries and trying to conduct myself in "appropriate" ways and holding my tongue or not sharing my true feelings or thoughts. I'm coming to a place where I'm okay not knowing what to do. Over the years, I might pick up on more things. If not, okay. I am who/what I am. I'm not my disorder, and still, it's part of me. That's okay. I don't have to mold myself to a cultural standard. I can just do me. People love and accept me for that, and those that don't-screw 'em.

That said, I'm gonna try to not be quite as vulgar in public... ;o)


Thinking of you all and hoping you're well! I managed to read a couple blogs just now and now I need to get away from computers for a bit.

Be well :o)

Hi Again

It's been a little over a week now since the hubster got laid off.

It's been rocky and at sometimes suspiciously smooth. A confusing mash of understanding and support jumbled up with grief and misdirected anger.

Already having been in the midst of a recovery period and trying to regain some of the balance I lost during the summer living with my family makes me feel more vulnerable. Not that unemployment at any stage of stability wouldn't be a nuke on anyone's life.

There has been some down swings along with a few upswings. The more problematic symptom has been anger. Outbursts, violence, bickering, and eventually the shame and sadness that usually follow my angry moments.

Thankfully the violence has been limited to slamming my fists on a table, flicking or throwing something (not at anyone or to break anything), and yelling. It's still embarrassing and I know that it stresses Baby Bananaface. The hubs and I aren't used to this level of... angst and expression. Being the types that don't just let things lie means that we struggle to shelve things in order to discuss them in a more appropriate way. Things just erupt wherever and whenever.

Even during these rough times, we know that we are committed to one another and strive to improve. We know things will get there. Baby steps.

The holidays are coming.

My nephew's birthday is Saturday. We haven't heard of any party or anything. Wouldn't be surprised if we weren't invited, or invited last minute with the hope of us not being able to make it sort of thing.

We are going to send him a gift and card in the mail tomorrow, just in case.

The journeys across state for Thanksgiving and Christmas are a little worrying. Expenses and potty training complicate things. Our little commuter car isn't something we like to drive over the pass-let alone put more miles on-and we hate to spend money on a rental right now. We shall see how things work out.


Off to errands and chores.

Thank you for commenting! I'm sorry that I can't respond to everyone lately or read around. I do miss everyone and look forward to catching up more thoroughly soon :o)

Hi Again

It's been awhile. Life has been whirling and I've been day-to-day, focusing on staying steady.

Feels strange to be on this screen again... familiar and yet not quite cozy. I'm going to try something a little different and we'll see what happens as I write this update!


A) AMBIGUITY - This is always a part of life and lately I've had a few scenarios in which I have had to mindfully accept ambiguity.

One has to do with CrossFit and a coach there. I have been experiencing anxiety wondering if she will be at the gym or if she will punish us before class or say something mean or look at me in that uniquely punitive and demeaning fashion.

That's my safe space and it's being threatened. I am not sure if she is simply going through a rough time (and even so I'm not sure if I can manage to empathize enough to counter balance my distress) or if this is just how she is going to be. I have considered trying other class times but fear losing connection with my new friends... we shall see.

Another case of ambiguity relates to my husband's family. There has been conflict between the siblings on-and-off for years. At the moment there seems to be a flare up regarding his brother. We had a good visit with him and his daughter and plan to maintain a neutral position while the sisters muster their forces.

There had been plans for the entire family to get together this Christmas. Now that's in the air. I don't like ambiguity with big holidays or events, so I hope it gets ironed out soon regardless of the plan-I just need to know!


B) BRIGHT EYES - I got some good news!

I have applied for grad school in order to obtain a Master's in Teaching-English. I didn't realize at the time that my individual classes would be evaluated and that my degree all by itself wasn't a golden ticket! When the enrollment counselor mentioned this I was very anxious to see if my classes would meet prerequisite requirements and whether or not I would have many courses to complete before my program classwork could commence.

Well, the evaluation came back and I was only short three requirements. I submitted course descriptions and syllabi and got two of those classes applied as well! All that remains is a public communications class because I decided to take "Interpersonal Communication" during high school instead of a 101 class...

Whatever. I am quite pleased! My hope of beginning the program before the year still glimmers... with a self-paced class I should be able to bang out that public speaking credit pretty durn quick.


C) CONFLICT - While things have simmered a bit in regards to my living situation, there has been increased tension between my folks.

It seems to be cooling a bit now. Last week it was more troublesome. My mother usually stuffs her frustrations with  my father and his consistent absence and neglect. Every once in a while she will boil over and this time that meant bickering with my dad as well as snapping at my sister and generally losing her cool.

The conflict is stressful for me even if I'm not directly involved. As far as tension with the hubs and I directly, things have been pretty quiet. We gave notice and have a moving date and I think everyone has just been biding their time. Awkward at times, but better overall.


D) DAGNABBIT - I am still navigating injuries. My shoulder and some wee tendons/muscles in my upper arm are bothering me on my right side. My right ankle is still healing up. My left shoulder/arm are still bothering me in regards to my thoracic outlet syndrome (numbness, tingling, weakness). I am also quite tense in my chest and shoulders which means icing and heating pad and stretching and... ugh. It's one thing dialing it down at gym, it's another when just LIVING is a challenge and uncomfy/painful.

Another dagnabbit... had a panic attack today. Damn box jumps. Wasn't completely awful. Couple minutes running cold water over my wrists and splashing my face, mindful breathing, and censoring judgments helped get me back to right.


Well. I have to get ready for my occupational therapy appointment now. I hope that I can make more time for blogging and not only read and comment but post more too! It's... it's good. Need to get back on this horse!

Thanks for being here readers-TTFN :o)

Catching Up

Feels like it's been too long since my last post. I have had so many different ideas for posts between then and now. I'm sure that I won't be able to post them all (I've forgotten some ideas already, I'm sure) so I'll just throw together a variety into a "Catching Up" post and call it good!



How am I doing? 

Not awful and not great. The hubs told my folks that we'll be moving out at the end of the month and I feel like the dynamic has changed a bit. Either way, I was pretty stressed spending more time with my family the last few days. We did have a pretty good time a local fair:

Anxiety levels are up. Garbled speech. Tears at CrossFit. Bickering with the hubs. Suppressed appetite combined with comfort eating. I've been able to cling to an awareness that it's my illness although I'm quite aware that I could easily slip into a dangerous space in a moment's notice. Last night I began feeling like I wanted to wander off down the street to escape stress and I was able to catch the thought and navigate out of that danger zone.



What's new?

September is National Suicide Prevention Awareness month here in the US and I wanted to do something special on my Facebook page. Instead of one special post, I'm going to post several times about suicide prevention. I haven't shared anything specific about my personal story, although I feel like I will at some point.

It's still quite taboo. My first family won't really talk about it. I can talk openly about it with the hubs and my in-laws though. I make it a point to be open with friends and acquaintances about my experiences and where I'm coming from too. I try not to overshare (even when suffering from social anxiety my mouth seems to have a tendency to just keep moving) and I also don't beat around the bush.

Going through what I went through and having felt so lonely and rejected for so many years I feel compelled to act as an advocate. I think it's a part of me that I wasn't quite aware of before, because while breastfeeding I acted as an advocate as well! Hmm... Anyways. Sharing my story has been mostly well received so far. Sometimes there are awkward moments-sure-overall I've had positive experiences.

Also, re-injured my ankle. Still nursing the thoracic outlet syndrome issues too. Frustrating.

That kinesia-whatever tape AIN'T NO JOKE!

Any plans?

I have plans to hang out with a gal from CrossFit and her son (whom BB adores) outside of gym. I'm not only excited to hang out for fun's sake, I'm excited to be practicing my social skills! We've already ventured out after CrossFit a couple times with other moms and kiddos. Even went to a happy hour with some other adults one evening with the hubs. Baby steps :o)

I've also made plans to meet up with a friend up north to go check out a glass pumpkin patch. I'm excited! I suspected that I had wanted to do this for a long time and hadn't been able to (the hubby confirmed this for me) so I'm happy to finally get around to it. I love glass art and I think it'll be a great way to break into fall.

Pending plans also regarding my schooling... I sent in transcripts and am waiting to hear back from an online college whether or not my degree includes all the pre-reqs they want in order to begin my Master's in Teaching-English.



Feel like life's a bit messy right now. Spinning a lot of plates and such. Bit hectic and confusing and feeling out of control, but I'm able to set that aside and let things roll. I'm doing what I can and I don't want to get caught up in the details. One thing at a time. Momentum will keep things going, I don't need to manage each tiny thing!


I hope.... ;o)



Happy September and I hope to do some catching up on other blogs very soon!

Identities

I'm sure I've written about this before here. It comes up rather often for me, so it may just be a recurring theme in my life! As the hubster just comforted me, "It's the BPD. You have identity issues." That's okay.

So.

This morning as the hubster, Baby Bananaface, and I were eating brekkie we overheard my sister talking to her baby daddy about their mutual birthday gift idea for my nephew. He'll be turning two this fall and they've decided to go in on a motorized miniature Humvee for him. Not our style or something we see as appropriate for a child that age (or even BB's age).

Shortly thereafter I was in the shower and found myself playing out a scene in my head. It got me wondering if my sister sees our different parenting styles in a competitive light. I hope this isn't so as much as I struggle with insecurity and competitiveness, so I understand how she might feel.

The competitive conflict triggered my identity insecurities. While the initial trigger was related to parenting styles, I found myself thinking about my labels. I have embodied a klutzy fat girl persona for so many years it seems as much a part of me as my "Eeyore" identity in my family.

These labels, these judgments, stem from comparison and either/or thinking. In my case, the teasing and criticism over the years has reinforced and amplified these issues; I believe it's a symptom of my family's insecurities...

I've been seeing it come up at my gym among other places. Living with my family has made it extremely hard to avoid backsliding into those negative cycles and cowing to their teasing. I know part of me is my humor, there are more and more times of late when it comes up as a defense mechanism. Being around my family has made me slip back into my klutzy, fat girl routine. Even if I don't finish last or lift the lightest weight, I feel like the CrossFit caboose. I play down my abilities, doubt myself, and get caught up in chronic comparisons.

The constant internal critiquing is exhausting and debilitating. I had made a lot of progress with my self-confidence the past several months before moving here. Lately, it's been hard to stay comfortable in my body and appreciate the changes since I started working out.

My family may be varsity athletes, collegiate-level athletes, and nationally ranked athletes. That doesn't mean that I can't be athletic too.

I suffer from chronic depressive episodes. That doesn't mean that I can't be a happy person.

I carry extra weight. That doesn't mean that I have to ashamed and self-conscious.

There are so many negative habits from my first family that I have to fight back. These are just some of those habits that have become tangled up in my disorders.

It can be so confusing and destabilizing! No wonder I have to write it out from time to time ;o)


Wishing everyone a happy weekend! As far as my health status of late, I've been feeling much safer although the hubs and I keenly aware of my fragile status and susceptibility right now. We've been working in more time out of the house and avoiding triggers. Our backup plan involves me moving in my in-laws for a bit if things get dangerous again.

<3

Acknowledge, Accept, Engage

Ya might think this will be a political post and it isn't. The truth is that I've been having a rough time and I haven't posted about it because I'm self-conscious about posting too often and/or posting incongruous posts. Well, that's life with mental health diagnoses. I can have glorious moments on family vacation and horrible lows all in the same week-or day.

So here goes.

The Friday before we left for our road trip I had my first full-on panic attack in months. My anxiety had been elevated for weeks and I think the pre-departure stress put me in a very vulnerable position.

The class that day was probably around triple the usual size because of an altered schedule that week. We were doing an exercise that involved many people dropping barbells almost in unison. That first round put me over. The tears came on, my body began shaking, my heart rate sky rocketed, and a flush came over me beyond my workout glow.

I grabbed my water bottle and purse, bounding into the front room to haphazardly open my emergency pill container that dangles from my wallet at all times. Between the shakes and my restrictive weightlifting wrist bands it was quite a task! After popping my pill I ran cold water over my hands and face before grabbing some frozen sponges and taking some time to walk around outside to calm myself. A friendly childcare/office lady talked with me during this time and helped me calm down as well.

Yesterday, I had to run out of a workout again.

I haven't been able to manage my anxiety the last several weeks and injuries preventing me from engaging in my workouts as I'd like have been quite upsetting. With the elevated anxiety I wasn't able to think straight and ask my coach for help scaling, instead I panicked when the workout began and subsequently walked out before a full blown panic attack struck.

I collapsed on the grass in the sun outside the gym and cried.

My coach hollered from the warehouse door to see if I was okay and I told him it was anxiety and that I'd be fine.

Later, after the workout, he asked if I wanted to talk about it. I started crying and shrugged my shoulders. He asked if the anxiety just "cropped up" and I told him that it had been a problem for a while. This time, it was more than anxiety though, the suicidal impulses have returned. I told him that I had some mental health diagnoses that involve anxiety and chronic suicidality. That these disorders require me to work out frequently at a certain intensity or things can get dangerous for me. My injuries have been gumming that up.

He thanked me for talking to him and I thanked him as well. A couple other folks inquired as to my well being and wished me well.

I love the support I've received there. It does freak me out that I'm experiencing such intense symptoms where I feel most safe. I can understand it, sure, I'm just concerned that I can't even relax at my relaxing place.



I'm very scared. The dips are persisting longer than they have in a long time. I've had suicidal episodes since moving here, they were acute though. This is a different animal. A slippier animal.

The hubs has pushed things into high gear looking for alternate housing. I've been trying to avoid my family as much as possible. I still need to pull out my DBT book and focus on really working some skills...

My brain is slow yet my thoughts are fast.

My body is weary yet I can't relax.

I have to acknowledge this isn't just a little dip. I've had a few intense episodes since the move and this isn't that. It's been a slow, sneaky descent. I find it more difficult to recognize the dark logic as my disease and I'm starting to romanticize suicidal ideations.

I feel like I'm walking a very dangerous line. I feel desperate. I am afraid. And I'm crying at the drop of hat-more and more in public and when driving (not exactly safe).

Moving here was a bad, bad idea. I came in with the best intentions, trying to tamp down the fear and focus on meeting the challenge, but I have to retreat.

Over and over I think, "my family is killing me," and it haunts me. I feel guilt. I feel anger. I don't think they mean to and yet a sense of victimization overwhelms me. It isn't fair. Why me? So many other people have it so much worse... It's so messy. It's so hurtful. They aren't safe. This can't be malicious, you can't hold them accountable for ignorance... I feel like they would be offended and confused to hear this and yet I can't deny it. I don't want to hurt them, I don't want to blame them (though it is so hard to delineate between fact and blame for me)... but a cut needs to be made. I need to excise this threat.

Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain for staying, pain for leaving.

I suppose my brain chemistry at the moment doesn't help either.



Hope this isn't too incoherent. Thanks for being here, from vacation to crisis :o)

Why does crap travel in a herd?

Bad day.

Diaper in the laundry machine.

Fucked up baking my brother's birthday cake.

Baby Bananaface won't nap and is escaping the crib.

And I'm feeling so worn out from trying to keep another episode at bay.

I'm so disappointed at how much progress I've lost, how destabilized I've become.

I know it's been rough lately. Now I'm feeling like I'm lost again.

Guess I'll be going for a drive to try and get BB down.

One step at a time.

I've been here before.

I'll be here again.

I'll get through this.

One step at a time.

One step at a time.

One of those "anger release" exercises...

WARNING: EXTREMELY LONG POST!

Seriously, it's really long.

If you have to pee, pee now.

So... I had intended to do a different anger releasing writing project and instead I found myself "gifted" with a new starting point today. I ended up mixing some of my previous complaints with the newer ones. It might be a little confusing-somehow in my process I blended multiple members of  my family into one. No matter. The process is the important part. 


DISCLAIMER: I tried to embrace my anger. I tried to fan the flames. I tried to dig up compacted rage. As intentional as this is, I am still quite uncomfortable with expressing my anger. I don't know if such phrases are effective. I don't know if it's rational or justified or something I can stand by... I'm trying not to judge myself and I hope you can withhold judgment as well :o) I don't like saying mean things. I empathize and I see both sides so much that I struggle to even own thoughts like these let alone express them on paper, screen, or out loud!

DISCLAIMER PS: The hubby has encouraged me to embrace a "go fuck yourself" mentality. Instead of being hurt and trying to figure out what's wrong with me or how to be good enough, reject the hurtful opinion. Think or say "go fuck yourself" instead of throwing myself under the bus or putting myself at risk for relapse. I don't have to analyze every comment... I can let it go. Push it away. So, I tried to embrace that. In real life I don't really say, "go fuck yourself." Ever. Very weird feelings... Anywho. Just sayin.


Here we go. Somehow an offhand comment set my off...



Maybe you thought it was a compliment today when you said I should be on that show, "American Grit." The thing is, when the host describes the show as a place for people "all who either have lost their grit or never had it" I don't take that as a compliment. 



A) How the fuck can you think that I don't have grit? Do you have that little appreciation for what I've survived? 


It's puzzling to me that you have never seemed to grasp my mental health issues. It's been over 15 years since my symptoms surfaced and yet it seems like you still struggle to acknowledge my disease. I mention something relating to my mental health and I'm greeted with a "deer in the headlights" stare. My husband says that he has given up on trying to explain that this type of illness can't be "cured," that it's part of my body chemistry and brain structure. Do you really think I'm not trying hard enough to "fix it?" Do you think that I'm lazy?

Maybe you don't appreciate the years of my childhood and young adulthood spent in quiet desperation. The years of self-harming and isolation. You pegged me as "the Eeyore of the family." Why does my mental illness define my personality? 

Maybe you didn't notice my instability. You didn't notice my disease sending me into months of darkness or jerking me into weeks of elation. Years of feeling like I couldn't be trusted with my own life; whether that meant wanting to kill myself or being aware that I was too starry-eyed to make responsible decisions. I was impulsive and unstable and trying to figure out a solution all on my own... I suppose these deep-rooted feelings of rejection and abandonment have grown from multiple seeds, I'm sure this is one of them though. You didn't know what to do, I get it, maybe if it felt like you tried I wouldn't feel this angry. I wouldn't feel this heartbroken. You turned away from me and fed my self-disgust. 


And what of the last couple years? Do you appreciate the fact that I spent months barely able to care for myself or my infant son? What about the period of time that I couldn't be trusted alone with my son? Surely you remember the weeks in the hospital. I'm told you visited. I know that you helped drive me to ECT treatments. Do you know how many times the hubster drove me? or drove BB north to daycare then drove south to work then drove west to see me in the psych ward before rushing back to BB and caring for our son throughout the evening-multiple wakings in the night-before waking early to do it again all on his own? (Hubby comment: he only got one speeding ticket!)

Do you see the scars we carry? The scars that bind us? That time broke trust and built trust. I couldn't be trusted with my life or with my son's life. He saved us. Why does the hubby ask so openly and abruptly if I'm safe? if I'm suicidal? if I feel out of control? because dozens and dozens of times I've been in danger. He's been rescuing me. That was our norm and we've made it through. We've made it through and are making a new normal from scratch. Your jokes and teasing about his protectiveness and adherence to routine aren't just annoying, they're insulting.

How can you imply that I don't have grit? Over a year of life-threatening postpartum depression, over a dozen medications tried to stem the crisis, over three weeks in the hospital, over thirty ECT treatments... I'm still here. I laid on a bed and waited for my last breath to try and spare my husband and son a lifetime of trying to save a life I thought wasn't worth saving-mine. My husband ripped that plastic bag off my face and saved my life that afternoon and despite having close to no resolve left, somehow I kept fighting. For him. For my son. And a little for me.

How much more grit do I have to have before I can believe you think I'm enough?

I can't count on that anymore. I can't wait to sense some change in you. I can't play these pussy-footing games of allusion and corroding criticism. I may have started my life in this game with your dangerous rules. I won't finish my life at your game. You can call me sensitive, you can tease me and imply that I'm weak, you can make me feel like I'm flawed beyond salvaging-and then you can go fuck yourselves. Just because you don't seem to realize the damage you cause doesn't mean you are devoid of responsibility. 

I don't need your apologies. I don't need you. I don't need more grit.




B) Do you have that little appreciation for how much I do everyday to try and avert relapse and continue to survive? What kind of grit does that take?


You give the impression that the most important aspect of my exercise regimen in my weight loss and being fit. Maybe all your comments about me "being in the best shape of your life" or "a sliver of what you used to be" are intended to be compliments. In reality? It feels like weight added back onto my shoulders. I feel pressure to lose more weight. To lift heavier weight. To tone more parts of my body and fit in smaller clothes and eliminate rolls and embody some image that you, society, and the shadowed part of me have deemed worthy of pride. 

It's not healthy.

My mental state is more important than the state of my ass. I exercise every day to try and maintain my mood stability or actively battle back anxiety and depression. I go to the gym despite my social anxiety, despite feeling inept and insufficient, despite feeling like an outcast and poser. I go to the gym and try to push myself hard enough to be able to push back the disease I will live with for the rest of my life.

It doesn't really matter how much I can lift. The kind of strength I need most can't be provided by regular exercise.


You tease me for my "OCD" while loading the dishwasher or trying to keep the refrigerator organized. Okay, that's not how you do things. Fine. I do it different and for a damn good reason. 

I'm not OCD-which is a  clinical disorder and not something to be joked about-I am sick. I am sick in such a way that I have to avoid any extra stress whenever possible. I am sick in such a way that I have to be mindful throughout my day about big and little choices-from doing dishes or taking medication. 

I am sick in such a way that unloading the dishes and finding several of them dirty because the machine was overloaded or loaded ineffectively can be unduly upsetting. I'm sick in such a way that having sharp knives scattered throughout the other silverware instead of contained in their own section can increase my impulses to self-harm. 

As for a disorganized and sometimes unsanitary fridge or a cabinet stuffed with mismatched Tupperware? If I'm having a bad day, opening a door and being confronted by these things can send me into a panic or distress me in a way that contributes to a depressive episode. Not to mention feeling the criticism and rejection from you verbal teasing in each carelessly placed item. And seriously-why would you want to put your fruits right by (or on) your raw meat!? 


I have to live this way to live. It's working for me and that's what matters-at least to me, my husband, and our son. Don't think that I resent it-it is a lot of work and it's also the greatest sense of stability that I've ever had in my life. My mental state may fluctuate and get dangerous from time-to-time; dinner will always be at 6:00 PM. The silverware will always be sorted and easily accessible. The yoghurt will always be on the same shelf. Baby Bananaface will always have a set bedtime. That stability, having something I can count on, gives me comfort and confidence that I didn't have before. It helps me cope, it helps me thrive.

You want to live in a hurricane made by your own hand? Go ahead. You want to swallow your feelings and eat your loneliness? Go ahead. You want to bury yourself in cheap trinkets in lieu hearing "I love you?" Fine. I'm sick of trying to satiate the needs you don't claim responsibility for or even acknowledge. I'm not interested in maintaining this legacy of delusion and self-imposed suffering. I take this heritage and try to set it aside day-after-day for my own good and for my husband and for my son.

Y'all can sit in your burning building on your own. I'm leaving.




Whew. I tried NOT to edit much. I tried NOT to hold back or censor. I'm sure that this isn't everything though. I have a hard time handling anger. I think this was a step in the right direction though.

What does this mean for the real relationship with me family? I have no clue. I do think that I can't expect them to change or expend too much of my energy fighting to change things. I have to take care of myself in other ways first and that takes a lot of my time and energy. I think it's all right to simply accept things and accept that I don't have to fix it. I can move on and live the best life that I can without making everything neat and perfect.

CONGRATS if you read this entire post.

 You have eyes of steel ;o)

Challenge

I just wrote about the 51%-er mentality and wouldn't ya know it-it came up with force this weekend. Funny how a certain level of awareness and insight can mean baloney in the real world!



I went to my first Saturday CrossFit workout. They're different from the weekly classes because they allow anyone and everyone to attend instead of limiting the class size. It's busy and a bit confusing, at least for this newbie. The workout of the day was quite intimidating and considering how much the veterans were groaning made me feel like I had no chance at all. Not to mention the stress and anxiety of a new, challenging social environment.

I felt isolated. Alone. Delusional and highly doubtful that I had any chance of making a complete fool of myself. Before we even started talking about the workout I noticed my heart rate was heightening, my breathing shallow, my eyes tearing, and the familiar desperation of panic creeping toward my chest. I managed to pull it together-including the other opportunities during the workout when I was ready to breakdown.

Anyways.

The workout as prescribed involved such:
>1 mile run
>100 pull-ups
>200 push-ups
>300 squats
>1 mile run

I had to modify since I can't do pull-ups yet or very many full push-ups. I did jumping pull-ups and box push-ups. I also partnered up with someone so we could each do half the prescribed numbers. We did that for most of it except we got mixed up with the pull-ups and we each did 100 of those.

I did. I was slow. I was hurting. My last mile was in slow-mo and even though I was alone and trudging, I never stopped shuffling. I didn't stop and walk, I kept going. Reminded myself it was a competition. At the end my partner returned and cheered me on and encouraged me enough that I could whip up all my last energy to run faster to the end.



After it all, I was proud of myself. It hadn't been perfect. I still felt exiled from the "official CrossFit gang." Still, I tried to focus on the fact that it had been my 7th day at CrossFit and I hung in there during a notorious workout.

Getting home and sharing with my family was disappointing. They seemed dismissive and not interested in details. I felt like a failure again. I felt alone again. I showered and tried to be productive, I was just too spent from that morning's workout. Rested up a bit and then got back to chores and such.

Unfortunately, the fancy cake I was gonna try to make again blew up in my face. The fucked up sponge was enough to rankle me quite thoroughly. Then I ruined the first steps to my buttercream and gave up. I had been so agitated when I started baking. The hubs said I had said the f-word more in five minutes than I had in two weeks altogether. He was right!

My mind found every little thing to be mad at and whipped up a rage in me. That angry mixed with deep sadness left me in quite a state. After I officially bombed the cake and gave up, I took a sparkling water and wandered out to the side of the house to breath and try to let it go.


Really struggled today embracing that 51% mentality. I'm afraid of where this mood instability is going. Not convinced that I'm making any progress in trying to radically accept my family.

I think the growing pains with the CrossFit gym and navigating a new social arena (extra stress) on top of the ongoing stress of living with my family has destabilized me, I was hoping the new gym situation would help give me relief-and to a degree it does-there are also a lot of stressful facets to it.

Whew. Basically, I'm still learning. I'm still trying. Many moons ago when I started at the Y I was the nervous outsider without a clue and then I became a memorable face. I have a chance at doing the same there here, it's just gonna take some time.



Willingly took Ativan this morning. Usually its the hubster that suggests such a thing. This morning I was struggling and becoming highly agitated so quickly, I knew I couldn't manage without something drastic. On top of the Ativan I turned on Pandora on my phone and plugged my headphones in to drone out the noise around the house. It was all too much. A slammed cabinet or a dropped child's toy sent me into shakes and agitated breathing.

At one point after cutting into a bag for a baking project I got the urge to cut. Thought that just a little scratch on my wrist wouldn't be a big deal. Then I thought that any scratch was a big deal. I started shaking and closed my eyes against a flow of tears. I struggled to discard the scissors and ended up tossing them toward a counter and backing toward the freezer to put iced sponges on my face. My mom noticed and I told her to get rid of the scissors. After a few minutes I got back into my recipe and calmed down a bit. Still afraid of what could be coming if that urge was that strong.



One day at a time. One damned minute at a time.

Another Day, Another Dip

Today was one of those days that starts out a bit rocky. You think you can right the boat and paddle on and then everything tips and you're in the drink.

I was feeling down from the get-go. The malaise of a depressive episode shadowing my every move. I made it a point to make it to the gym-I even did two classes back-to-back this morning. That would usually turn my mood around and get me going. Instead, I felt bored. They challenged me a bit, though afterward I didn't get my usual post-workout high. I was simply back to the grindstone.

I felt hungry and yet didn't want to eat. I did anyway.

We took Baby Bananaface for a drive to help him get a proper nap in and for the most part enjoyed the drive and time to chat together. Toward the end of the drive though-we were discussing our relocation to the new area and long term plans-just a few misplaced feelings and fumbling statements pushed my mood over the safety rails.

Whatever bit of recovery I had made from the earlier episode(s) this week crumbled. I began avoiding eye contact. Not speaking. My face slack. Tears falling easily. Thoughts of suicide tactics and self-harming urges flying through my mind.

At one point the hubs tried to get me to promise that I wouldn't hurt myself. Even narrowing his request to encompass only this afternoon, only this evening. only this night, only today. Even then I couldn't say the words. I found myself saying, "How do you define 'hurt yourself?' What if it's better than killing myself?" It got very dysfunctional very fast. There was even some tousling and wrestling as I tried to escape his hugs.

Eventually he managed to get me into bed. Got me to drink a little water. Take some anti-anxiety medication.

As I laid there, desperate thoughts still clattering through my brain-I found myself a surprising respite. I imagined the hubster and BB in a new home. Tall ceilings and lots of windows and natural light. There was a peaceful, petite woman cooking in the kitchen. She watched as they played in the dining area, smiling as she diced and measured and stirred. She had sandy blonde hair and dark blue eyes. She loved them and she was there for them, able to provide and contribute and be a stable, consistent, supportive part of the family. She loved them. He loved her. BB loved her. They were all calm and grateful and happy.

Imagining the scene slowed my heart rate and my thoughts. Brought tears to my eyes and heavy sighs out my throat.

The meds started to kick in. Still, I felt haunted by plots to sneak out a window and walk down back roads toward the bay to swim away until I simply couldn't keep myself afloat any longer. I even had a thought of taking the family dog (my sister adopted it and my parents mostly take care of it and they all complain about her) with me and somehow managing to have both of us obliterated by a train. It seemed like a nice thing to do to get rid of a dog that annoys everyone along with the burden I supply!

Now I'm regaining some perspective. Still quite aware of the darkness. Still quite susceptible. Still convinced that I'm not worth the breaths I take.

Part of me knows that those thoughts will fade and a healthier outlook will return. Part of me has scooped up that sticky rationale that I'm beyond repair and not anywhere near the trouble or bother it takes to keep my alive through these episodes.

If this isn't the bottom, I'm certainly on my way for another visit.

Back to the battleground I go.

Another Rough Day

So the hubster just got home a few minutes ago. At one point he requested that I look him the eyes and he asked, "How long have you been unsafe for?" I asked him to clarify what that meant. He said something about suicidal or self-harming urges. I took a moment to reflect on my day and guesstimated between 3-4 hours.

The suicidal aspect comprised of imagery flashing through my mind. Visualizations of holding a gun to my head. Drowning. Self-harming urges consisted of desires to bash my head on the counter, cutting. I did do some emotional eating. Overall, just not feeling well.


The day as a whole went pretty well-other than mood issues. I was able to keep Baby Bananaface fed and mostly on schedule. He took a good nap. I got dishes, laundry, and some cleaning done. He was agitated and needy today. It wore on me. By mid-afternoon I was ready to be done parenting and get to my strength training class.

The hubster was staying a bit late at work to try and avoid traffic (some major accidents along our main corridor) so I texted asking whether he was close. He asked if I meant as far as completing his homework. I responded with a crying face emoji.

He called and we talked. I stuffed emotions. Avoided discussing how I was really doing. I kept breathing deep, trying to hold back my tears and desperate feelings. I sucked it up and forged ahead with dinner and getting ready for the gym.

Not even 20 minutes into the workout the childcare folks called me in to get BB. Apparently he was asking to be held, wouldn't take off his backpack, and crying when they set him down. At the old gym, no problem. Here, with the meek tweenage ladies taking care of the kids, too much to handle. After I cleaned up mine and my mother's workout stations I walked past the childcare area and saw one of the girls lying on the floor. She can't hold my kid cuz she has to lie down? WTF?

Anyway. My mom had took BB and said that I could finish my workout. I had started to and then I couldn't. I kept thinking about how my mom drops everything and takes care of my nephew so often for my sister and I didn't want to be like that. I can sense how poorly my mom is feeling-physically and mentally-and I just can't contribute to her pain.

There was a moment in my frenzied, sad thinking that I recognized that I have a disease and that I need extra help from time-to-time. I thought that I'm different from my sister and I don't abuse my mother's help. Then I thought about how wore out my mom is and I just couldn't do it... I couldn't give myself that grace.



When we got home I took BB into our room and gave him a bath, got him distracted with some toys so I could shower, then played with him until the hubby got home.

He knew I wasn't well. He knew I was isolating. He started problem solving. I'm still hiding in the bedroom. I used the excuse of needing "computer time" to avoid launching myself back into the family arena.

It's so stressful. Being immersed in this place... these people. I know they're family, it's just with my DBT training we talked a lot about avoiding dysfunctional relationships and I worked a lot on distance and perspective regarding my family. I'm losing that now. I feel myself sliding back into the dysfunction I lived within for so many years-so long not being able to see how it hurt me.

Most of the day I find myself contemplating the massive amounts of CRAP in this house. Every nook and cranny filled with stuff. Old clothes, clearance junk, "just in case" things of every nature. So much STUFF that the place isn't functional. To me, it's also depressing. For me, the stuff signifies so much unsaid, so much unacknowledged pain and emotion. I'm frustrated by the lack of efficiency and stressed by the emotional aspect as well.

Then there is the aspect of spending the day with my mom and observing her interactions with my nephew. Each teasing comment jerks me back to childhood and hurts my heart. "You're such a crankypants." "Knock it off, I can't take anymore." "Let it go." "Get over it." She claims over and over that my nephew is normally better behaved and not as hysterical. The fact is, whenever I've been around him (even before moving in) he's been whiny and crying-especially if my sister or mother leave. Talk about separation anxiety. He nearly passes out from crying so hard. It's awful.

The relationships between my parents and my sister, my parents and each other, my sister and my mother... Ugh. There is so much weight that I feel. My mom is so lonely and tired. Still coping with the death of both her siblings last year and pining for the husband she's continually waiting for to come home. He wasn't there when they got married and he was in the Army, he wasn't there when he got out and decided to pursue a slew of hobbies full force, with every spare minute it seemed. He said he'd slow down with the tennis thing once he got his goal rating and he hasn't. I love my dad. I always will. It breaks my heart seeing the hurt he gives my mom.

It also stresses me out seeing how much my mom defends my sister while simultaneously being wore out and slipping into angry outbursts when she finally hits her limit. Watching my sister ignore her son or sensing her emotional stuffing and bitterness spike my stress. Hearing the teasing and avoidance test my anger.



So much here is weighing on me. Then there is the fear. Is this a momentary struggle, a transition period-or am I backsliding? Can I adjust to this atmosphere or is the beginning of an end in regards to my hard fought stability? I don't know.

The hubby says I need to figure out how to accept help from my mom. That I need to figure out how to tell her when I need help and I'm not safe. I just don't know that I can. She throws herself under the bus so often... I don't want to be like my sister. I don't want to contribute to her demise. I don't want to her her saying what she thinks I want to hear. My family is such a huge part of my emotional regulation problem and history, I don't know that I can ever feel safe relying on them for help.

I don't know.

Baby steps. Tears. Fears. More baby steps.


Hope I didn't tire your eyes out too badly ;o) Thanks for reading friends :o)

The First Week

We've survived the first week of living with my family. It wasn't all smooth sailing and it did go a bit better than I expected. That said, I did bottom out yesterday. Since I had made it through the week relatively well I had thought that maybe I wasn't going to crash. Well, that's what I did!

I was feeling stressed and weary and lonely already. I'm missing the time with the hubs. Chilling out just the two of us or doing errands. It's all felt very rushed and we haven't had that same alone time. Well, by Saturday evening I wasn't feel well and I was still hanging in there by a thread. I thought a night's rest would fix me right up.

Nope.

Sunday morning was awful. I had no appetite and just picked at my food. When the hubster wasn't looking I threw it away. We went for a walk thinking that would help and it didn't. My face was slack, I wasn't talking much or laughing, and my posture was slumpy and sad. I wasn't able to use my skills to get out of the funk on my own. I was able to recognize things as symptoms and identify feelings instead of take them as permanent and true, so that was a good thing.

When we got home I was weak. Just putting away some laundry wrecked me. I slumped to the floor at the end of our bed to rest. Just holding my bones up was too much. The hubs found me and made me come out to the living area and lie on the couch. I resisted. I didn't want my family to see me like that. He told me that I had no reason to be ashamed. That this is just part of who I am and there is no need to hide.

I laid there and didn't really watch the TV. Eventually I drifted off to sleep, which turned out to be wonderful. When I woke up I was able to make eye contact, communicate my needs, even eat and drink a bit.

From there I started a slow climb out. Taking initiative and getting back into the swing of things. Eating and drinking. Talking and slowly getting back into making eye contact.

While I had self harming and suicidal thoughts, I maintained some perspective and didn't feel overwhelmed or totally bottomed out mentally. The physical aspect of the crash was the worst part. My body ached something fierce and any movement seemed like a monumental effort. I was so weary, so, so weary. Even after my nap I was shuffling around, hunched over and aching. Eventually I started loosening up and straightening up. I was able to do some opposite action and conduct myself as if I were feeling better and that helped bring me up.

By the end of the day I was feeling back to good. I'm still worried about maintaining and improving my mood. I still have to find a healthy normal. I'm not sure I'm at the best gym for me and I'm still settling into a schedule for the day.

Especially challenging in the interpersonal aspect. Living with my sister and mom is quite stressful for me. Being highly sensitive I feel so many emotions around them. I sense a lot of stress and sadness. For many years now there has been a lot of "when I do this, I'll be happy" or "when I have this, I'll be good enough." I've worked a lot trying to get away from that type of thinking so being around that attitude again is a bit triggering and dangerous for me. I also don't want that for my mom and sister! So that's distressing.

Anyways. I think it's time for some hot coffee :o)

The sun has started coming out here and we're having more warm days. It's a relief after such a cold and wet winter. I'm still a bit nervous about sunburn and sweating like a pig when trying to sleep at night!

Happy Monday to all :o)