Mental illness

My Emotional Freedom

A short time before Keith and I got married, I had a severe depressive episode and attempted to kill myself. Keith saved my life and I was transported to the hospital where I stayed a week, then to the nuthouse for a week.

Not many people know about that incident. It’s a time of my life I wish I could forget. However, I can’t escape it because it’s still a very real part of my every day existence. I struggle with suicidal ideation more than I like to admit.

My husband’s death changed my outlook on suicide for a short time, although I had hoped it would be permanent. Understanding what it’s like for the love of your life to simply, “check out”, made me despise suicide, and eventually led to me feeling very angry with my dead husband. I felt abandoned and was utterly shattered. My husband was gone almost a year when I met my boyfriend and I thought I was doing ok. I had no clue what was coming.

For some reason, the beginning of year two without Keith triggered something in me and I have been practically bedridden ever since. That was in November.

It’s been 8 months and I have rarely left the confines of my bedroom. I feel like I am a slave to my emotions and cannot control them. I cry at the drop of a hat, then I can turn around and be as mean as a striped snake. That’s not me… I’m not mean, I’ve never been mean.

Today I was laying in bed feeling particularly sorry for myself when I had a thought. I am going to take back my emotional freedom. It’s mine to do with what I wish and I want freedom. I feel so silly because I have known all along that I have the power to create emotional harmony within myself but the epiphany had to bitch slap me because that’s how I like it. I like the rough stuff. I’m taking the power back damn it. I’m fucking this duck!

My poor, poor boyfriend. Why he loves me or even likes me is a mystery to me. He gets incredibly frustrated with me and I don’t blame him. If I’m alone with me for more than five minutes I’m wanting to pull the escape hatch myself but I can’t escape me.

He doesn’t really understand mental illness and although I’m trying to help him, I’m having a breakdown at the same time. So imagine me reading a well written article explaining how to train your Manic depressive, in a shirt, no pants, wild hair, possibly a hint of mustard on my lip and stopping every couple of minutes to ugly cry. It’s not pretty. He doesn’t run for the hills either. He really listens to me blabber on and tries to understand. He loves me and assures me all the time he is not going anywhere.

I need to get my emotional freedom back and realize my man is not leaving. He’s definitely not leaving the planet until the universe calls for him. I deserve happiness. I have to tell myself that over and over. I deserve happiness…

Mental illness

What The Hell Am I Doing?

I know it’s been awhile since I have posted any craziness, and the simplest explanation is… Bitches be crazy.

I completely understand I am the one ultimately responsible for the outcome of various circumstances in my life. Every choice we make directly affects every single outcome. We have more power over our lives than most realize. I’m not saying it’s our fault when all bad things happen to us. I am saying however, we simply have more control than we either realize or are about to admit. It’s hard sometimes to know (and really know) we are in a shitty place in life directly influenced or caused by a decision or series of decisions WE MADE. I have no problem taking responsibility for my choices. Like others, I also struggle with the shitty occurrences I honestly do not believe I deserve or ever deserved.

My grandmother always said our family was cursed. I’m not so sure there is an actual curse, but I can definitely see how anyone could form that opinion. All families experience tragedy. Unfortunately, some experience a shit ton of it, while others sail through life relatively unscathed. It seems unfair. I hold on to the idea that I am only equipped with the limited knowledge a human being can grasp in our current form. Metaphysically, anything is possible. Perhaps the tragedies happen to us because we are here on this planet to learn certain things. Perhaps even, we are all here to learn different things relative to each individual soul.

My patience and tolerance of others is tested on a daily basis. Is this because I am mentally ill and anti-social or could it be my soul came to this planet wanting or needing to learn the virtues of patience and tolerance? I firmly believe everything happens for a reason. Maybe for me it’s dual reasons. Mental illness as well as my souls purpose.

The confusion within this mindfuck, is in the actual learning process. Sometimes stuff jumps out at me, flailing it’s arms and barking like a seal. Most of the time, I don’t have any fucking clue what the hell is happening and why the hell it’s happening to me, until so far into the shit storm it has become hindsight. It is never too late to change the course of your life though.

At this point in my crazy life, the only thing I know for certain is that something has to change because my life as it is right now, is not working for me at all. I am very unhappy. I have all the answers, I know I do. The solutions are all horribly difficult for me and of course they are. I have learned in life the things we need the most are the most challenging to attain. My solutions might seem like a cakewalk to some people, but for me the solutions seem impossible most of the time. If all of this was easy I wouldn’t value the positive results I get nearly as much. Anything acquired through hard work and sacrifice we naturally have a deeper appreciation for. I hate the process. I hate it, hate it, hate it.

I am not sure exactly how anything is going to turn out. I do know I will do what’s right by myself eventually and I will come to the conclusion I am meant to come to. I have faith in that. Right now I am going to relax and make note of what I know I have immediate control over. As my mother always says, ” You can eat an entire elephant, you just can’t eat it all at once.” I am starting on the ass of the elephant, I am sure of this. After I get this heaping helping of elephant ass, I’m praying the next piece of elephant is little easier to eat. I can only hope.