I am currently hanging on to my sanity by the barest threads, doing everything in my power to ignore the tightness in my neck and the pain behind my eyes and my back and hips which are screaming at me as I TRY NOT TO FREAK OUT RIGHT NOW AFTER NO SLEEP FOR OVER 48 HOURS!!! Internal terror! And I. am. Going. Insane! I have a strong will. Yes, I am quite willful! I am sitting on the floor. And rocking. And my body is screaming. And I cannot get warm.
I am trying to slow my breathing. I am trying to calm myself down. I am trying to remember where I am. I am trying to figure out where I am. I am trying to know that I am safe. I am trying to keep myself safe. I am trying to keep myself safe. I am trying to keep myself alive. I am trying to stay alive. I am trying to keep breathing. I am trying to breathe.
But it is still this moment, right now, this frightful moment, and all I can do is just try to live through it.
I press a pillow to my face and scream.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Saturday, September 11, 2010
I can't cope
I’ve been fighting. Fighting, struggling, lashing out at the faceless, formless thing that chases me ever since I can remember. I’m so very angry now, tonight, all day, for two weeks – technically a lifetime…whatever. Angry and tired, I sit with my hands on my knees and my head bent, rocking…weak but wishing to be strong; held captive but wishing to be free; alone and afraid, wishing for comfort and courage.
I am sad as hell and I have no one in real life to talk to because no one cares or understands and whatever I know that it’s my “fault” that I don’t have the support system in place when I am in dire need of it…which would be now. I know that I suck. Got. It. I am a bit on the ‘not-lucid’ side tonight and a tad drunky so the shield that blocks the unbecoming *Grace you made me blush and gasp* at the same time…that shield…well, it seems to have disappeared with the last shot of vodka so I guess I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me or my lack of ladylike skills in prose or behavior. Come on, ya’ll, I grew up in a trailor park! Fuck was probably my first word!
Oh – I feel like I should put a disclaimer here…one that states WARNING: this post will contain a LOT of swearing and probably not make a lot of sense cuz the logical Grace left a while ago and will likely not be back till daybreak so you're stuck with me, the un-polished part.
There is a part inside who has been researching how to die…quickly and painlessly. Last Friday it was an overdose of medication (I won’t say what med it was because it is now in the past and I don’t need some well intended person yelling at me OH MY GOD THAT COULD KILL YOU in all caps - sometimes we are still in quite a fragile state. I write this because I feel like those of you who have been a part of this journey with me should know what’s going on. This is what’s going on: I do not feel better. I do not have a good support in place here. Shame. On. Us. We have not done a good job at getting this done. I have continued to pretend like everything is fine when there everything is so very *un-fine*. *not-fine*…so very opposite of fine.
I can’t cope with the frustration and invalidation tonight. I can’t cope with the screaming. I am not coping at all. I’ve tried. I can’t. I am struggling right now, tonight, to make it minute to minute. I’m not sure what I’m doing. I feel like I am fighting a losing battle and I have no coach. And I do not feel better.
I am sad as hell and I have no one in real life to talk to because no one cares or understands and whatever I know that it’s my “fault” that I don’t have the support system in place when I am in dire need of it…which would be now. I know that I suck. Got. It. I am a bit on the ‘not-lucid’ side tonight and a tad drunky so the shield that blocks the unbecoming *Grace you made me blush and gasp* at the same time…that shield…well, it seems to have disappeared with the last shot of vodka so I guess I don’t give a shit what anyone thinks of me or my lack of ladylike skills in prose or behavior. Come on, ya’ll, I grew up in a trailor park! Fuck was probably my first word!
Oh – I feel like I should put a disclaimer here…one that states WARNING: this post will contain a LOT of swearing and probably not make a lot of sense cuz the logical Grace left a while ago and will likely not be back till daybreak so you're stuck with me, the un-polished part.
There is a part inside who has been researching how to die…quickly and painlessly. Last Friday it was an overdose of medication (I won’t say what med it was because it is now in the past and I don’t need some well intended person yelling at me OH MY GOD THAT COULD KILL YOU in all caps - sometimes we are still in quite a fragile state. I write this because I feel like those of you who have been a part of this journey with me should know what’s going on. This is what’s going on: I do not feel better. I do not have a good support in place here. Shame. On. Us. We have not done a good job at getting this done. I have continued to pretend like everything is fine when there everything is so very *un-fine*. *not-fine*…so very opposite of fine.
I can’t cope with the frustration and invalidation tonight. I can’t cope with the screaming. I am not coping at all. I’ve tried. I can’t. I am struggling right now, tonight, to make it minute to minute. I’m not sure what I’m doing. I feel like I am fighting a losing battle and I have no coach. And I do not feel better.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Help me, I am dying
I internalized all the bad things they said to me. I hear them, I feel them. But I don’t feel the good. That’s it in a nutshell. I watch the “good” Grace from outside of this body and I don’t know her, I don’t see her as part of me. I have no idea who she is even though she is “me”. Instead I carry around this sense of ‘badness’ that was drilled into my head for so many years: You are bad. You will never be anything. You are worthless. You are an evil whore. You are unlovable. No one will ever care about you. And I see that as the “real” Grace. I believed those things and I built walls to keep people out so they would not see the “real” me…the badness.
But I still see that girl. She is five, eight, ten, twelve…they are still inside me, screaming in pain, yelling at me to help them and here I am 25 years later, standing here alone with all of these girls so wounded and afraid and I am unable to help them. All of this pain from recent years has shattered me, ghosts haunt me, and I realize just how much hurt I never let go of. Every night takes me back to the most painful times in that girl’s life and I see just how little I have recovered from the destruction they left behind – the wreckage that was supposed to be me! All of the pain, all of the baggage they put on me, forced me to carry, it is too heavy! And I am so tired.
I plead with them at night, “Please don’t be like this…” And it is so frustrating because I don’t know how to make them be any other way. Every night I feel like I am trapped behind this one-way mirror and I can see everyone but no one can see me. And I am screaming for help but no one hears me. No one sees me. No one will help me manage them and I have no idea how to do it on my own. I feel diminutive and insignificant in a way that feels simply dreadful and it makes me feel worthless. I feel a bit like I don’t exist. I watch and listen and look and I am pleading…please help me…please see me here…but they don’t.
I know that’s not true. I know that can’t be true. People care about me, people love me, want to be with me, offer me help, try to get me to talk to them, but no one really SEES me. No one sees beyond the obvious projection of who I *appear* to be and into my shattered heart and deep into my soul. No one really knows her and that is what makes it feel so extraordinarily lonely, that’s what pushes me over the edge of the cliff and into the darkness…falling, falling, falling…and there’s no one to catch me. Where is everybody? Where are you? I can’t see the bottom and it’s so black and cold and I’m so afraid… but I have to believe that there is someone down there in the darkness that is strong enough to catch me because I’m not strong enough to catch myself. Because I am not strong enough to say out loud, “Please take my hand and help me, I am dying.”
And of course now I am crying and can barely see the computer screen and my dog, Sammy, is pressing his face under my arm and putting his paw in my lap as he tries to get as close to me as possible. He loves me and he’s trying to tell me, “It’s going to be okay Grace, I promise, we’re gonna make it after all.”
I need to take a deep breath and know that it’s okay. Because it is. Because it has to be.
But I still see that girl. She is five, eight, ten, twelve…they are still inside me, screaming in pain, yelling at me to help them and here I am 25 years later, standing here alone with all of these girls so wounded and afraid and I am unable to help them. All of this pain from recent years has shattered me, ghosts haunt me, and I realize just how much hurt I never let go of. Every night takes me back to the most painful times in that girl’s life and I see just how little I have recovered from the destruction they left behind – the wreckage that was supposed to be me! All of the pain, all of the baggage they put on me, forced me to carry, it is too heavy! And I am so tired.
I plead with them at night, “Please don’t be like this…” And it is so frustrating because I don’t know how to make them be any other way. Every night I feel like I am trapped behind this one-way mirror and I can see everyone but no one can see me. And I am screaming for help but no one hears me. No one sees me. No one will help me manage them and I have no idea how to do it on my own. I feel diminutive and insignificant in a way that feels simply dreadful and it makes me feel worthless. I feel a bit like I don’t exist. I watch and listen and look and I am pleading…please help me…please see me here…but they don’t.
I know that’s not true. I know that can’t be true. People care about me, people love me, want to be with me, offer me help, try to get me to talk to them, but no one really SEES me. No one sees beyond the obvious projection of who I *appear* to be and into my shattered heart and deep into my soul. No one really knows her and that is what makes it feel so extraordinarily lonely, that’s what pushes me over the edge of the cliff and into the darkness…falling, falling, falling…and there’s no one to catch me. Where is everybody? Where are you? I can’t see the bottom and it’s so black and cold and I’m so afraid… but I have to believe that there is someone down there in the darkness that is strong enough to catch me because I’m not strong enough to catch myself. Because I am not strong enough to say out loud, “Please take my hand and help me, I am dying.”
And of course now I am crying and can barely see the computer screen and my dog, Sammy, is pressing his face under my arm and putting his paw in my lap as he tries to get as close to me as possible. He loves me and he’s trying to tell me, “It’s going to be okay Grace, I promise, we’re gonna make it after all.”
I need to take a deep breath and know that it’s okay. Because it is. Because it has to be.
Even if only for 1 minute
I’m sitting here and the last thing I want to do is write. Oh, that’s not entirely true. I have wanted to write…but I haven’t been able to do it. I have been aching to talk about last Friday night but unable to find the words. I have been silent online. I know that. It was on purpose. I have come here several times today, and a few times yesterday, but my mind has been unable to take the myriad of fragmented thoughts and memories and put them down on paper in a way they will be able to be read and understood. My thoughts don’t form fluid complete sentences right now. They have no eloquence or beauty…perhaps they also lack the passion that was once at my fingertips – words begging to be written, screaming to be spoken out loud, even if only a whisper.
I am sitting here with my heart in my throat and I need to be here. I want to be here. I crave being a part of this community but at the same time I fear the judgment. I have felt so deeply absorbed in my own pain and yet wanting so desperately to express my thoughts and feelings here. Voices inside of me begging to be heard, to connect with someone who might possibly understand how it is I feel. I have poured my energy and channeled my anger into writing. The hurt, the sadness, the rage, the hurt, the shame, and my Lord, the unbearable pain…all made me write…and write…and write. I pour my heart, my soul, my very self out here and the sense of belonging and community here make me better. Even if only for a minute…
Sometimes it is just too heavy and I am having a hard time coping. With the crazyiness…with life. I move from wanting to change to giving up on myself constantly. I am not yet ready to explain what giving up feels like, but Friday night, I gave up. And I want you to give up on me too. I want you to be angry at me for giving up.
And yet I want you to care and I want your help. There is so very much to fix inside of my crazy-brain.
I am sitting here with my heart in my throat and I need to be here. I want to be here. I crave being a part of this community but at the same time I fear the judgment. I have felt so deeply absorbed in my own pain and yet wanting so desperately to express my thoughts and feelings here. Voices inside of me begging to be heard, to connect with someone who might possibly understand how it is I feel. I have poured my energy and channeled my anger into writing. The hurt, the sadness, the rage, the hurt, the shame, and my Lord, the unbearable pain…all made me write…and write…and write. I pour my heart, my soul, my very self out here and the sense of belonging and community here make me better. Even if only for a minute…
Sometimes it is just too heavy and I am having a hard time coping. With the crazyiness…with life. I move from wanting to change to giving up on myself constantly. I am not yet ready to explain what giving up feels like, but Friday night, I gave up. And I want you to give up on me too. I want you to be angry at me for giving up.
And yet I want you to care and I want your help. There is so very much to fix inside of my crazy-brain.
The path of "Madness"
THURS 8/31/10
I felt tired and empty and aching and oh.so.alone in this struggle. Life is so damn painful sometimes and yet we still are supposed to stay here, people are still “counting” on us to put on a happy face and carry on with our head and chin rasied! NO! You must not deter from LIVING even in the face of Hurricane Earl and gale-force winds that tear through your body and blacken your soul.
I walk on this path where madness and insanity are the only stepping stones. And the voices get louder with each step I take. They speak in familiar tones telling me how much I am hated, loathed, despised, unlovable. And I know…I know how close I come…when my vision becomes wavy and the voices grow louder and the counting begins…Everyone hates you. You are worthless. No one cares. Not a soul in this world would miss you. So close…closer…closer…I can feel his breath in my ear and there is only one way to make him go away.
Yup. Thanks to the wine, loraz, and insanity, I’m speaking freely tonight! I got a lotta worthless shit to say and I’m spilling it here in the internet, so sit down, shut up, and listen (Hilarical!I just told an inaminate object to shut up!).
I am scared. Sometimes petrified! I work hard…so hard to just stay here, and it’s difficult at times. Like I use EVERYTHING in me to fight it. And I’m scared. What if I can’t? What if nothing I have will work? What if I succumb to the madness? The clock is ticking so loud in my ear and I am shaking and digging through this box of keys, frantically searching for the right one. And I know time is limited. I know that I have to find that key before the clock stops. What if I can’t find it?
Yesterday on my way home from work, there was an accident and the police had the road blocked, which forced me to drive on a kind of detour, weaving through some country roads, driving around the reservoir. The road isn’t really paved, so you have to drive fairly slow…and as I rounded the east side of the reservoir, the sun was reflecting off of the water as it began to descend behind the mountains and it was breathtaking. You know those people (maybe you’re one of them) who spends a lot of time in “nature” and you see beauty and you feel at peace? I saw beauty and I felt at peace for a brief moment. And I thought, this would be a good place to spend your last moments, right here, in this water, as the sun sets behind the mountains…peaceful.
Madness is just another ford for fucked up. Don’t you think? Gawd…I am a quite literally *mad*. I hate this – this rattling on and on until I fall off into the abyss. Tumbling into the darkness and not knowing where, or even if, I will land. I hate to think of everyone judging me. I think you hate me. I’m fairly certain it’s true. Weak. Mad. Insane. I hate me. Why wouldn’t you? I judge me…why shouldn’t you? Weak…Mad…Insane…
It is too much sometimes…never really feeling alive, so never really capable of dying to escape the cruel evil abusive people who tear and claw at me, skinning me, burning me, killing me slowly and oh.so.painfully. And I hear his anger and I feel his hate. And I fight…I stay in survival mode and pretend everything is okay. But why? When I am certain not a soul would truly miss me.
I felt tired and empty and aching and oh.so.alone in this struggle. Life is so damn painful sometimes and yet we still are supposed to stay here, people are still “counting” on us to put on a happy face and carry on with our head and chin rasied! NO! You must not deter from LIVING even in the face of Hurricane Earl and gale-force winds that tear through your body and blacken your soul.
I walk on this path where madness and insanity are the only stepping stones. And the voices get louder with each step I take. They speak in familiar tones telling me how much I am hated, loathed, despised, unlovable. And I know…I know how close I come…when my vision becomes wavy and the voices grow louder and the counting begins…Everyone hates you. You are worthless. No one cares. Not a soul in this world would miss you. So close…closer…closer…I can feel his breath in my ear and there is only one way to make him go away.
Yup. Thanks to the wine, loraz, and insanity, I’m speaking freely tonight! I got a lotta worthless shit to say and I’m spilling it here in the internet, so sit down, shut up, and listen (Hilarical!I just told an inaminate object to shut up!).
I am scared. Sometimes petrified! I work hard…so hard to just stay here, and it’s difficult at times. Like I use EVERYTHING in me to fight it. And I’m scared. What if I can’t? What if nothing I have will work? What if I succumb to the madness? The clock is ticking so loud in my ear and I am shaking and digging through this box of keys, frantically searching for the right one. And I know time is limited. I know that I have to find that key before the clock stops. What if I can’t find it?
Yesterday on my way home from work, there was an accident and the police had the road blocked, which forced me to drive on a kind of detour, weaving through some country roads, driving around the reservoir. The road isn’t really paved, so you have to drive fairly slow…and as I rounded the east side of the reservoir, the sun was reflecting off of the water as it began to descend behind the mountains and it was breathtaking. You know those people (maybe you’re one of them) who spends a lot of time in “nature” and you see beauty and you feel at peace? I saw beauty and I felt at peace for a brief moment. And I thought, this would be a good place to spend your last moments, right here, in this water, as the sun sets behind the mountains…peaceful.
Madness is just another ford for fucked up. Don’t you think? Gawd…I am a quite literally *mad*. I hate this – this rattling on and on until I fall off into the abyss. Tumbling into the darkness and not knowing where, or even if, I will land. I hate to think of everyone judging me. I think you hate me. I’m fairly certain it’s true. Weak. Mad. Insane. I hate me. Why wouldn’t you? I judge me…why shouldn’t you? Weak…Mad…Insane…
It is too much sometimes…never really feeling alive, so never really capable of dying to escape the cruel evil abusive people who tear and claw at me, skinning me, burning me, killing me slowly and oh.so.painfully. And I hear his anger and I feel his hate. And I fight…I stay in survival mode and pretend everything is okay. But why? When I am certain not a soul would truly miss me.
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