Today…

 

I am here.

 

 

Frenetically Bored…

I’ve all but disappeared from social media and this blog. I scheduled posts but I haven’t written anything original or interesting in awhile. If I don’t post or don’t have an online presence, do I exist? This, of course, is an existential question for another day. But it’s one that I think about often. In our technological age, there is this pressure to constantly post and have an online presence, otherwise, we feel as though we don’t exist. Okay, so this is what I feel, at least. But that is not the point of this post. 

I have been filled with this frantic frenetic energy lately. Even now, as I type this, I’m fidgeting and shifting in my chair. I’m bored but I don’t have any motivation to do anything. I’m bored with being bored, I’m bored with life, I’m bored, bored, bored. And yes, I am boring too. 

Trying to feel grateful…

is hard when you’re down in the dumps. For some reason, being ungrateful is easy (though it only adds more shame to the awfulness) and trying to be grateful is quite hard. For me, at least.

Depression and/or mental illness is very insular and internal, it takes all of our focus and turns it inwards. It’s easy to get lost in the fog in our heads and lose touch with the world around us. It’s not that I want to slip and fall backwards, I don’t (who actually wants that?!) but after spending a lifetime being depressed and self-destructive, it’s instinctual to do so.

I was watching a drama yesterday and the theme of the show was, being grateful for the people in our lives and our relationships with each other, as opposed to worshipping the material.

I don’t have a job anymore and my finances is a horror movie at the moment. Every little bump in the road seems cataclysmic. Radical acceptance is hard, turning the mind is harder and so I turn to reframing, or at least, gratefulness.

It’s so easy to focus on what we don’t have and all that we want than being thankful for all that we have and most of all, grateful for the people in our lives.

It doesn’t diminish or even negate my (and our) current struggles but it does help me feel more connected and less isolated.

Yes, I’m doing this on my own but I have support, people that love me and those that are my lighthouses, standing tall amidst the storm, beckoning me back home.

And it’s here, even in my struggles and in the uncertainty that the future holds, where I feel grateful. For all that I have and for all the people in my life. When I think about it that way, being grateful is easy.

If I am not seen, do I exist?

I’ve been working hard on my poetry, editing, revising and rewriting. I’m at that point where everything is shit and if I could press the delete button, I’d delete myself.

Radical acceptance or forceful denial?

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m currently struggling. With life? Trying not to relapse? With my new job? Okay, so life in general.

I’ve been trying to reframe my thoughts and tell myself, “accept what I can change and accept all that I can’t.”

Has it worked? Not really but I’m trying. I’m constantly turning my mind away from the negativity that threatens to engulf me and towards positivity. It’s hard, really hard and I’m discouraged. All I want to do is give up, give in and fade away. Go back to my old habits and self-destruct.

Am I lying to myself–convincing myself over and over how great things are (or at least, how great things should be)? Or am I practicing radical acceptance? I think I know which one I’m stuck in.

Hopefully this funk will leave soon and I can go back to talking about makeup and skincare! Here’s to hoping…

Good morning.

I’ve been feeling really down and shitty lately (I mean, depressed, extremely sad, alternating between catatonic and crying, eating or not eating and insomnia). My job is the reason and I know I should just quit because I don’t want to become sick again. I’m close to relapsing, I’m aware of it. This job is slowly poisoning me but I hate the idea of quitting. Plus, I don’t know my limit and tend to push myself until I snap. So there’s that too.

My dad is worried (I’ve downplayed this to everyone else in my life) and I’ve made an appointment with my therapist next week. But I work the next five days and I’m freaked out, wondering if I can emotionally handle it. But I will. Since my dad is so worried, he dragged me out of the house (figuratively) and we went to a cafe for cappuccinos.

I feel a little better. But that’s going to have to be enough for now.

The Fear of Trying and Succeeding

I have a tattoo on my wrist that I got a few days before the end of group therapy. It’s silly and probably stupid to anyone that doesn’t know me, didn’t see the hell I walked through during the program. I get it. Even I look at it and think, “if it didn’t carry so much weight, it’s probably a little silly.”

It doesn’t matter what people think of it. Like all of the tattoos I have and maybe for others that have tattoos too (though I’m not speaking for them), I don’t care what people think of my tattoos. In fact, most of the time, tattoos are so normalized (in my reality) that I’m shocked when I find out someone doesn’t have any tattoos. Or I’m taken aback when people stare or glare at me. (Yes, I’ve had someone actually turn around in their seat at a restaurant to glare at me. Priceless.)

 

I should explain quickly how group therapy was organized. There were twelve of us in our phase and we had therapy altogether for three out of the four groups. The last group we were split into two groups and had others from different phases join us. Confusing? I hope not.

The last group was a free for all; it was called Insight and we all just talked about what was going on in our heads, lives, emotions and feelings. Or sometimes we talked about nothing at all; the therapists hated when we did that. But movies are important too, right?

Coming home, Coming Back to Myself.

| April 2018 | June 2019 |

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I’ve come a long way–survived hell and back, and back again–to finally end up here.

I mentioned before but for three years, I was in an abusive and toxic situation/relationships. It was soul-crushing and destructive. I worked hard in group therapy to re-wire my broken mind and I’m still struggling with the ramifications of leaving the situation behind me.

Even before those three years, since the winter of 2015 (when I was first diagnosed with having bipolar disorder), my life started to crack at the seams. Until finally, my life fell apart, myself with it.

I fell so hard and like Alice, I tumbled down, down, down the rabbit hole, free falling for years until group therapy. There, I learned how to climb out of hell, only leaving it behind after I walked through it.

Momentously Small: Wearing a Skirt

If you’ve read my post about finally being okay, after all of these years, then you know I’m trying to come alive and be present in my own life. For the most part, it’s working. Other days, I fall back into my old ways but I catch myself, each time, which is the most important part.

Since the last two weeks of group therapy, I’ve started to dress differently. In grade 8, something happened and I changed how I dressed. I used to wear clothes that fit me, skirts, t-shirts; I wasn’t ashamed of my body, I wasn’t disgusted with it. Then grade 8 happened and I couldn’t bear to wear skirts anymore. Dresses, yes but they had to be long and my clothing, for the most part, had to be loose fitting and baggy.

So I always wore clothing that was two or three sizes too big and wondered why I was so fat. I didn’t like when my clothing hugged my body, with all of the messages I heard growing up (I was fat, I was ugly, I needed to diet. I had any bulges painfully pinched and laughed at), maybe I really was disgusting and gross.

Trying to practice radical acceptance right now…

…but dang, it’s hard.

I had to get a criminal background check for this one position (did I tell you I got a job? Finally!) and my supervisor kept saying “a criminal record check (and once said “in all aspects”).”

So being me, I got a regular criminal record check, even though I was asked a total of eight times if I needed a vulnerable background check through the paperwork process. But I thought, no, she only said a regular one. I won’t be working in a position of power or around vulnerable persons. Oh, did I mention it cost me $70?!

I just called my supervisor and she said, “you didn’t get a vulnerable background check?” I freaked out (mentally, of course), started stress sweating (TMI?) but the manager spoke up and said a regular background check is good.

So I know it’s okay. I do. But I can’t help but fall back to regular (and extremely negative) habits. Telling myself I’m an idiot, deep shame, self-loathing, why am I incapable of making a proper decision?

There’s more but those are the most prevalent. I’m so good at negative self-talk and it sucks. I’ve done it for 3/4 of my life and trying to practice radical acceptance is so dang hard.

Radically accepting that

sure, maybe I misunderstood and should redo it,

yes it’ll cost me another $70

I’m not dumb or stupid, I may have made a mistake but I’m not the embodiment of it

I’m not a failure if I screwed up

I’m capable of making decisions, even if they implode terribly

It’ll be okay

I can fix whatever mistake I may have made. I’m allowed to screw up and it’s not a cataclysmic disaster. It’s hard, especially being a perfectionist and coming from a culture where the standards are set on a thin wire and even a small misstep becomes nuclear.

It’s okay though. It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay. Even if I feel terrible right now and am internally freaking out. Radical acceptance is so hard but it’s freeing and little by little, as I write this, I’m chipping away at the negative self-talk. I’m okay and I’m free.