Lonliness

(Word vomit time! If pity parties make you gag, skip this)

I'm angry right now. I can feel it coursing through my veins, white and hot. I want to lash out at everyone, but I'm restraining myself and hoping that just writing it out will lessen the sting.

I'm finding offense at things that don't really matter. I'm angry for the years I spent on stupid affirmations, on ridiculous self-help books and audio, on losing weight, on eating "right"... all for what? To try to impress someone? Anyone? For the validation that I received that my body was finally acceptable to the world? So I could just end up stuck where I am now? In a house I feel totally uncomfortable living in, with a job that I can barely get by on its wages with a body I have to figure out how to love in a world that hates it?

Alone. In my room, alone. All alone.

I think loneliness has got to be the most painful emotion. At least for me, it causes the most pain. Real, physical pain in my chest. It's heavy and dark. It stabs me, crushes me. And the anger hides it, even from myself sometimes. But not for long, never for long. I can only keep the tears at bay for so long and when they fall, so do my shields, so do my defenses. And what am I left with? Hurt, deep in my heart.

Why couldn't my mom just love me for me? What was so wrong with me that she couldn't accept me? Why me? Why didn't she treat other siblings how she treated me? All I have ever wanted was a mother who loved me unconditionally. That will probably never happen, she will probably never be the mother I want or need her to be. I have to mother my inner child now, because she is hurting so much. I have to be there for her so she can heal from the years of hurt I suffered as a child and as an adult.

There's so much hurt in my family. There always has been, but in the last year it has really increased. And I feel even more alone in the world. The few people who care have their own people. And I? I have no one.

Alone. In my room, alone. By myself. Everyday, for hours. Wishing someone... anyone... would send me a message telling me I'm not alone. That they care. That they want me around them. That I matter in this world. That I'm not a waste of space. That my existence means something to someone. Anyone. Please. Is anyone there? Or am I just alone, all alone, in the world?

Stuff n things

Saw my therapist today and she was praising me on the progress I have made in the last year. It's difficult for me to see that. It's hard to remember exactly what things were like 1 year ago... but as I think more about it, I remember I was very unhappy. I was probably the lowest I have ever been. I was so depressed, so anxious, all the time. I had been going through some med changes for several months and was just feeling so off. I really didn't imagine I'd ever find any form of happiness.

I began seeing my current therapist, Caley, about 1 year ago. I have met with her once a week since then and she has really helped me so much. The therapy we do is called DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy). I leave every session feeling pretty amazing or a strong sense of relief. I am a huge proponent for therapy; I think everyone could benefit from one form of therapy or another regardless of how their personal life is going. What an amazing feeling to be able to say whatever you want without fear, to an objective, 3rd party individual. She's really able to see the bigger picture and help me put things together. I have a ways to go, but progress is what I'm after right now.

My client's mother notified me this morning that she wouldn't be at school today or tomorrow as I was on my way to work. I was told there was no coverage available, so I went home! I was able to make a to-do list and tackle some items I've been putting off: putting away 2 week old clean laundry, making a dr. appt for my feet with a specialist (been putting that one off since January!), etc. I also wrote my neice and nephew letters and colored them pictures, went to therapy, played with the dogs, studied scriptures and Come Follow Me. It's been productive.

It's been nice to have the day off today. I think I needed it. The weekends have been rough lately and it was nice to have a relaxing day.

I was able to take the sacrament yesterday and was hopeful I'd be able to go to the temple this week. My bishop wants me to have another good week and take the sacrament and then says that will help prepare me to go to the temple. I was without a recommend for about 14 months or so and just got it back right before Christmas. I had it for a few weeks before slipping and then slipping again and again. It's been super frustrating. I want to be better, get better, do better, but I find it difficult to find the motivation required. I'm trying.

I've been going to meetings, last week I shared about how the nature of my addiction is a big source of shame still and that if I am to feel comfortable and move forward I needed to speak that to the group. I was able to, through many tears, share the nature of my addiction and feel accepted by the group. Man, I just want to wake up without this addiction, without the temptations. Wouldn't that be nice? I haven't looked at the manual at all since the last meeting - haven't opened my study materials at all between meetings this week. Still have a few more days...

first post

I'm not really sure what to write here, but I've had the itch to just write for a while now. I used to write a lot but it's been years since I've done more than a little journal entry here or there. Mostly I've spent the last while (and I say 'while' but I don't really know how long exactly...) just trying to numb myself to the pain I feel on a regular basis. Pain from depression, anxiety & addiction.

Some of the pain is self-inflicted, but a lot of the pain is legit, straight up, biological. I've come to understand that depression is something I get to live with, probably forever. I spent almost 4 years eating what I thought was "perfectly". I exercised almost every single day, sometimes multiple times a day, and still was plagued with that dark cloud hanging over my head, weighing down my limbs and causing my chest to hurt. Depression and anxiety were not cured through a "healthier" lifestyle. I don't even know how many meds I have been on and off in the last several years, but I have come to accept that they are a part of my life, and that's ok! I am not weak or stupid for needing meds to function in my life. I am strong for accepting that they help me and not being weighed down by stigma. I come from a family that didn't speak about things like depression, anxiety or addictions growing up. Things that were hard to discuss, we just didn't. When hard things did come up, we got the broom and swept them under the rug as quickly as possible, never to be addressed again. It wasn't until I was about 27 that I was even diagnosed with a mental illness, "bipolar". Since then I have been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, ADHD & OCD and every one of them was a shock! Until I looked back and could see how they made total sense.

I think they all kind of work together into one big ball of chaos. Recently, my therapist and I were discussing shame. She wondered what it would look like if I was able to see shame as something that wasn't a part of me. Something outside myself. I have this image of shame as a slimy, brain/yarn-like ball with arms and legs on a leash. For some strange reason I continue to bring shame along, but I think I like the imagery of mental illness in this same way. Taking this ball of chaos on a walk too. It's something outside of myself. It doesn't define me. It's not who I am, but is a part of my life. I don't think I'm doing a very good job of explaining my thinking there, but it makes perfect sense in my head!

My homework for this week was to try a new coping skill. So, here's me trying a new one: writing.

Until I have something much more interesting to say...