Follow-Up to March 20, 2010

I mentioned about two four ago in my entry Sometimes Healing Hurts that something set me off into a crying cycle.  It was seeing the photo a professional acquaintance took of me and Bobby the previous weekend.  It touched me deeply. I ended up texting with Felicia for over an hour as the swing took it's course.  It was a VERY depressing exchange.  I saved the texts to pull out and examine later.  Below is our conversation, with very little edited.  It shows how I was thinking/feeling at that point in time.


Recovery is a PROCESS.  There are many ups and downs.  8 out of 10 days the issues discussed below don't phase me.  I'm healthy and very content with where my life currently is, and where it's going.  Many attitudes, fears, and wishes are touched upon.  Seemingly at random in some sections.  I'm posting this today to show people that they aren't alone in thinking this way.  That things can/do get better.  I'm posting it today to use as a springboard for further blogs.  I'm sure I can get 10 more out of this alone if I wish.  ;)


My texts are in underlined, plain font, Felicia's are in italics.  And yes, at one point she did just 'listen' while I got it out of my system.  For those of you who don't remember, Bobby & Felicia are married.  The three of us were becoming good friends, individually and collectively.  At this point I am closer to Bobby.  Felicia is ridiculously busy.  Full time mom, wife, career, etc.  I also seem to have stepped in it badly this summer.  Hopefully time will ease that.


Each helped me with the challenges of January-May.
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I haven't looked that nice in a foto in longer than I can remember.  I'm so utterly thrilled

Really?

Really.  It's one of the nicest things a near stranger has done for me in a very very long time.  I can tell how he edited it to make me more attractive.  I'm even crying over it.

How would he have edited it and why?  That's not a (name deleted) thing to do

He cropped it so my arm didn't look as fat.  See how there's more space to Bobby's left?  He also diminished my dark eye circles

You can't believe he centered it and you're just that pretty?

nope. sure can't

because?

Men don't marry women like me, Felicia.  I've know that for along time.  Men like Bobby are rare, and they're all taken.  I'm too outspoken, smart and eccentric.  I have family issues/baggage that will always be my responsibility.  I have a disease that could again fuck up my life and ruin those of people I love.  It's happened before.  There is a very good chance that I can't have healthy children.  And I'm fat.  It's just not in the cards for me.  It's too much.  No sane, healthy person would want to take that on.  And I understand.  Can't blame him for protecting himself.

You just described me.  Except for having the disease . . .   I'm just surrounded by it. 

The problem with being so utterly confident and competent in so many areas, is that people don't ask if you need help.  They know you can do it.  Or they ask, "do you need help" not "do you WANT help"  It sucks, but it's life.

If you think that way, it's a self-fulfilling prophecy.  It you're opened minded and 'whatever happens, happens' , you may be surprised where life leads you.

I try.  it's double edged.  Some days I have a great deal of hope.  other days not.  It fluctuates.  When I'm feeling bad, then the depression comes.  You and Bobby give me hope.  Sometimes I'll look at you two and want the same thing for myself so badly IT HURTS.

You two find my heart/mind attractive.  which is what I've always wanted.  I've never wanted to be a sex object, and hate women who use their appeal to get what they want all the time.  I'm not pretty, I never will be.  I clean up well, but it's not the same.

I want to be someone's one and only and I probably never will.  I became and adult at age 8.  Josh always came first, and the tragic reality is that I have to be in crisis to get that central regard

You need self esteem. 

I knew by high school that I wasn't what men wanted.  certainly not physically.  The other realizations came later.  so I learned to focus more on personality--which I already had been doing.  It's just not enough sometimes.  I'm female enough and shallow enough to want to be pretty, too.

People who have it don't talk like you do-- I'm fat, not pretty, and nobody wants me

I have PLENTY of self-esteem sans this one area of my life.  the disease makes it worse, esp when cycling.  That's not a cop out.  Self-esteem struggles are a HUGE part of MI.  ANY MI.  It's something we have to work on daily.  Events of the last two months are forcing me to re-evaluate. it's hard and scary. TALL vertical learning curve.  I'll get there.  Sometimes 'accepting' certain unpleasant 'truths' about your life is less painful.  it keeps you from wanting.

AND, you found Bobby young.  My time is running out for children, whom I want desperately.  But I know better than to be a single mother.  Then there's the factor of meds during pregnancy.  To risk her health or mine.  Which is more important in utero-- a stable mother or a drug free child?  what is she inherits?  and what right do --I-- have to knowingly bring a child into this world who may have to grow old quickly dealing with a sick mother?

That is NOT a pity party.  It's well thought out practicality, and the truth hurts.  terribly.

I had just become comfortable in my body and was awakening sexually in early college.  then I got sick.  it all went away and I haven't been able to reclaim it.  parts of it are different, more mature, better. but it will take a lot of time support and an INCREDIBLE amount of love to heal.

NOW do you see why I wared you both away?  part of me is a mess.  I can/do wear people out.  and hurt them unintentionally.  I'm coming to care a lot about both of you.  I don't want that for you.  for anyone!

Don't get me wrong. a few men have treated me very well in their own ways.  But when (name deleted) is kind and tender with me, it undoes me.  I've never had that, ever.  It makes me want.  Yearn.  True intimacy has been SO rate. I will cherish every moment with him, regardless of whether or not there are any more.

Pagan Princess = utter mess.  I will be sad if you two walk away.  Incredibly so.  But I will understand.  I want what is best for both of you and the kids.  But I'm rambling and repeating.  Probably depressing the fuck out of you.  It's late.  I'll let you get to bed.

rambling is allowed  ;)  it's a lot and it's late and we'll have to discuss it all over dinner some time  ;)

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End of transcript.  Now you see where I was that night.  Always interesting to visit things after the fact.  The stage is set.  More to follow at a later date.

Sometimes Healing Hurts

Yesterday started out as a very good day.  I made it to school ad got to enjoy lovely weather.  Saw all my friends whom I'd missed over spring break.  My one teacher was absent due to illness, so we had a substitute.  We did some very specific, interesting review that was helpful to me.  Lots of little, bitty differences that can be confusing.  The substitute-- my Monday afternoon teacher-- asked if we wanted to wait until our regular instructor returns and we all said yes.  It's a receptive ASL [American Sign Language] exam, and we are accustomed to how our regular gal signs.

Had a nice lunch break, and headed to afternoon class.  Did some VERY helpful, nitty gritty work on numbers and money.  Then had 2 quizzes.  Neither was particularly painful.  Always nice.  THEN I got my midterm exams and all my quizzes back.  I'm sitting at a 92% in that class.  And it's my MOST difficult class.  I was thrilled!!

Home to change and pick up J, then to a friend's house for dinner, visit and massage.  Boy did I need the massage!  But, with it came some energy healing and releasing of things below the surface.  Got home around 9:30 and when I logged in to FB, I saw something very nice that set me off.  No rhyme or reason for it, I just saw something that touched me deeply.  What you may ask?  An acquaintance of mine took a photo of Bobby (Felicia's husband) and me at the Saturday professional networking gig I attended.  It turned out REALLY well.  I haven't looked so nice in a long time.

I cried and cried and cried and cried.  For a good hour while I was texting with Felicia.  She mostly just 'listened', and commented that I need to get some self-esteem.  I told her that I have EXCELLENT self-esteem.  Barring this one area of my life-- men, love, and relationships.  With some body image thrown in.

Sound like a lot? It's not, really.  Love and relationships is a far larger area than men and dating.  It's all one umbrella issue; intricately linked. **

MI robs people of many things.  Their hopes and dreams, self-esteem, often their body image, sometimes friends and family.  There is a fear of relapse.  Clawing your way back from that pain and low self-regard takes a long time.  It often requires weekly, if not daily, effort.  It means paying attention your thoughts, behaviours, and word choices.

I know I'm smart, talented, educated, and an excellent friend.  I'm fun to be around.  I'm a gifted healer and public speaker.  I take good care of people I care about.  I use the varying love languages  to show my appreciation for those who mean a lot to me.  I'm polite and kind to strangers-- asking if they need assistance, opening doors, making general conversation.  I always remember the assistants and custodians at school, taking time to learn their names and making sure they get a little thing of appreciation over the holidays since they're so often forgotten.

In short, I'm a DAMN fine individual.  I have people who really love me.  But sometimes in my heart, it's not enough.  I'm able to like and respect myself, but not love myself.

Yesterday, as things released, a lot of deep seated grief and fear came to the fore.  Often I ignore it, or bury it.  More and more often recently I take it out and examine it.  True, deep healing takes time.  I tell myself that what I'm thinking is bullshit and MEAN it.  But it's still there.  Last night it hurt.  A LOT.  But I know it will be better in the long run.

I went to bed with my eyes swollen, and they look horribly puffy today.  If friends ask I'll blame it on allergies, easy excuse for springtime.  And one benefit of crying forever is that your sinuses drain.  ;)  I slept HARD and deep.  Woke up at 3am to use the restroom, and I literally stumbled to and from the bathroom I was in such a deep sleep.  Took a LOT to drag myself out of bed today but I managed it.

So off to school.  Another day.  Beautiful weather predicted, and I'm sure to get a few needed hugs.  Keeping on.  It's what I do.  Often times it sucks and can be REALLY hard.  But it's how to stay in recovery.  I fought WAY too long and hard to get here; I'm NOT giving it up.  Will keep you posted!


**I will post the text conversation later so that you may see what I mean, dear readers.  For those of you without MI, I think you'll find it enlightening.  It will also create an excellent springboard for conversation, and set the stage for future posts.

For Those Who Came Before

Today's post is a blast from the past, originally written April 2008.  I was working hard and long on my recovery, processing a lot of emotions.  I was working towards relocating and starting another stage of my life.  I was excited and terrified, and more than a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of WORK involved.  

So it goes without saying that I was a little moody.  I was doing a lot of journalling in those days, and much of it made it onto the blog I had then since I type far more quickly than I write.  There is a small possibility that you have already seen some of these 'blasts from the past' on the other site, but it's all my original work.  And I have since pulled them off that blog so as not to overload search engines.

I'm posting this here, today, because it will be a GREAT springboard to discussing many of the matters I want to address here on the recovery blog.  I've fixed some of the grammar, and made sure to conceal my friend's identity.  Beyond that, this post is whole as originally written back in spring 2008.  Fair warning, it IS long.  As Cleo says, I tend to channel dead Russian novelists when I write.  I hope you enjoy it, and that it gives you much to consider.

Pagan Princess
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OMG I'm crying my eyes out!!!!  But--before everyone starts rolling their eyes and wondering what has set me off THIS time....... it's a GOOD cry.  Truly.

But be warned, I'm trying to process so this will probably ramble a LOT!

The last several years of my life have been tough.  To say I've lost my way, and much of myself, would be a massive understatement.  Even more difficult, is that the people who knew me way back when...... pretty much aren't in my life anymore.  I started pulling away from many childhood friends my senior year of high school for various reasons.  One of which--I didn't know how to bridge the gap.  Socially awkward doesn't even BEGIN to cover it.  By graduation I was a virtual stranger.  I was so hell-bent on making my own way, carving out a new life.  I had to get away from my home town to understand just how desperately unhappy I had been, and that the ways I handled my pain alienated and wounded those around me.  My good friend, Greg, helped me to understand that.

Less than six months after graduation my friend, Ben died, and my world shattered.  I knew I loved him dearly, but didn't realize to what extent he was my best friend until he was gone.  Even reading emails from friends back home hurt too much to bear for oh-so-many reasons.  Several of my high school friends made an effort to tell me about Ben as soon as they heard.  They didn't want me to find out in a bad way.  And, as I tried to cope with our loss, they gave me many words of wisdom.  Most of which I wasn't ready to hear.  Walking away helped me submerge my heartbreak.

Within the last few months, a childhood/high school friend and I have been in correspondence.  Our friendship, and our competitive battles, were legend.  Probably still are.  Within our circle of acquaintances, he and I probably defined love/hate.  Greg never felt intimidated by my father.  That or he hid it VERY well.  Probably the ONLY person from my youth to be that way, or the only male anyway.  He was the first friend to vocalize, albeit maybe not recognize, the great damage my family circumstances inflicted upon my heart; and that maybe, just maybe, my parents were partly culpable.
 

I keep MEANING to write Greg, and it keeps getting away from me.  And I'm so scattered most days that I have difficulty remembering what I have discussed with whom and when.  UG!  But as my 'sister' Spazz says: when in doubt, blame it on the meds.

Greg was also the first person to get ahold of me about Ben, and by FAR the most persistent.  He called my dorm room at 15-30 minute intervals all morning long until he finally reached me.  He, better than anyone, knew how much Ben's passing would affect me.

About two? weeks ago Greg sent me a quick letter.  I had started giving him answers to questions one night back in February, but stopped after my hands got tired.  (read: about 90 minutes)  As those of you who read my blogs can attest, once I get going I channel a Russian novelist.  My emails are worse.  Being tired, I told him I'd get him part 2 later.

But I didn't.

So Herr Greg sent me a quick note just to check in.  That by ITSELF melted my heart.  When, oh WHEN was the last time someone called or emailed just to check in?

Anyway, Greg is to be married this October.  Couldn't happen to a nicer guy, truly.  And I have my own, private reasons for rejoicing in his happiness.  (Read--I know things about him you don't.)  I asked him recently where he and his lovely finacee were registered, and what he might like as a wedding present.

His response was so moving and encouraging, that just thinking of it tears me up:

And, from your earlier message, please do not consider any tangible gifts. If you really want to get me something that I will honestly treasure, then strive to get out and stand on your own two legs again. You may have forgotten, but Pagan Princess strives on proving people wrong...and she has no limitations despite what anyone, casual or professional, may say. She just needs to be ready to decide it and it's done.......  Do that by October and I promise that you'll have given me my most cherished wedding gift.

With one short missive he brought back everything we once were to each other ages ago.  This is the man who instead of putting a trite quip in my senior yearbook wrote a letter to my unborn children telling them how blessed they are to have me as a mother--because they could never have one finer than myself.  Tonight there was another letter awaiting my when I logged in.  From his words, I can almost see the girl I was eleven years ago.  I have forgotten her, utterly and completely in so many ways.  I'm not her anymore, and I can't be again.  I'm wise enough to know that.  I'm also pleased with many of the ways I have grown beyond her.

***But some days I miss her so keenly that I fear catching a glimpse of the razor blades that surely must protrude from my chest.  What happened to the brash teen, so full of her own hubris that she'd defy God Himself just because she knew she could?  Where did the strong, intelligent, not-yet-a-woman go?  Is she still in here somewhere?  First arrogance matured to confident assertion. 

Next, slowly and then suddenly the sickness came.  The agonizingly slow death of the her soul leaving only the ghostly shell of who she once was.***

How do you recapture what once was, when knowing there is no going back???

Then tonight's missive, more loving and specific than that which came before, and I can't stop crying!  But the most confusing thing is, I don't know why!!!!

Have I lost the ability to trust those around me?  Those whom I love with a desperation that terrifies, that whatever words of encouragement they send my way bounce off the tattered armor I clutch to my heart?  Why should the words of someone who knew me THEN have the power to undo me in ways that no one since has been able to acheive????

I suppose the simplest truth---is because he DID know me.  In all my glory and gore, Greg knew me; loved me, understood me.  Sadly, we probably hurt each other as much as we loved because in our own ways we were each young, damaged, and hurting.  Were I to ask, I'll wager he could recall many of my exploits in such vivid detail, you would think the narrative sprung from his active artist's imagination.  He certainly entertained the masses with his embellished recounting of my varied follies!  A truer jester I have never known, Greg.  Fifty years ago he'd have given Danny Kaye a run for his money.

So, here's to those who came before.  Who see and know things about us we may WISH to forget  and thus keep us in line.  Those who know our hurts, and always save time for a hug and prayer.  

Today I am crying, but for the first time in a long time I remember how it feels to be blessed.

***

not all of this paragraph is entirely, originally my own.  I know that some of it was inspired by Elizabeth Wurtzel's Prozac Nation, and other written sources.  And I often lose track of what metaphors I think of independently only to see in print later.

 

 

M. from Omaha

today's entry is again a blast from the past.  I originally journalled this back in summer 2006.  Looking at it now, I can see how early I was in my fledgling recovery.  Some of the themes still hit close to home on bad days, but also shows me how far I've come in the years since.  I think it will give many of you insight into how I process things.  And how much of an utterly clueless DORK I can be when it comes to the opposite sex.  Intellectualizing everything usually isn't the smartest course of action.  Interesting as I read it now, I wonder if I was trying to convince myself, or the all-knowing journal-person.  It feels maudlin, reading it now, but it's how I felt at that time. 

and remember kids-- feelings are neither good nor bad, they just are.

Well, it was fun while it lasted.

I joined a social networking service (emphasis on dating) in March.  Thus far it hasn’t yielded many results.  But that’s neither here nor there.  In May I started communication with M. from Omaha.  I thought this one had potential.

M. is intelligent, educated, articulate, cultured, funny, a successful businessman. But the real kickers------------he loves to ballroom dance and is a UU.  I can’t remember the last time I went dancing, just how sorely I miss it.  I know it was back during my junior year of college, and that’s been six years now.  Happily, as a Unitarian his philosophy would be VERY compatible with my pagan faith.

We had amazing conversations.  He was a wonderful flirt.  A friend of mine refers to it as “intellectual foreplay”.  Very accurate statement.  He stimulated my mind in challenging and delightful ways.  And the flirting was something I’ve nearly forgotten.  Certainly enjoyed it.   It’s been a long time since I’ve had a man express appreciation for me as a woman.  In ANY respect, let alone been able to access my mind at the same time.  The substance of our communiqués was sustaining on several levels.

But a little over two weeks ago, he finally asked about J.  While we hadn’t as of yet discussed particulars, I’m kind of confused how he missed her.  Must not have been paying attention.  I mention her right on my profile page.  The section specifically states “List three things in your life for which you are most thankful”.  I listed “my Labrador J”. After the Ren. faire at Jubilee I vented a bit about while the day was fun, she had been a nightmare.  He questioned who she was.

I was short and candid--------------J is my seven year old yellow Labrador.  She is also my service dog. Are you scared now?

The inevitable response came------------Are you blind?

I kept my answer brief but detailed.  Emphasized the positive such as my stability, careful planning, docs, support system.  Used the metaphor of denying a Type I diabetic her insulin.   I also enclosed several files of reading material. From laity to professional grade intel, complete with graphics.  Told him to digest and feel free to ask any Q’s he has.

And I haven’t heard from him since.

At the 8 day mark last week I send him a short missive.   The standard how are you, how you been, haven’t heard from you, hope you’re well, etc.  It has been over a week yet again, and I’m fairly certain he’s a lost cause.

I’m afraid I can’t suppress my disappointment.

I can completely understand how someone does not wish to pursue a relationship with someone differently-abled in the clinical sense of the term.  I know I do not.  While some may feel that I am being <fit negative adj here> in this desire, it is more a case of self-preservation.   I know I need a certain amount of stability and support.   I need a partner to be able to provide that on a consistent basis.  Bare fact.  An individual who has a certain degree of severity regarding their own challenges would not be able to provide that.  Neither he nor I need that stress and heartache.  Especially considering that mental illness can easily become short term, long term, or permanently disabling depending upon how the fates have aligned.

There is a part of me that wonders that if I fall into the abyss again, if I’ll be able to get back out.   It gets old, and more difficult each time.  And I get tired.  So very tired of fighting the good fight every single day.   I highly doubt my parents could survive me fully tanking again.  It would probably kill my mother.

I promised myself I would never be re-admitted to a psych ward.  And I meant it. I would rather “go home” permanently than be that sick again.  For the record, I self-admitted. So part of me was thinking wisely.  **

While I give thanks that my health has been fairly stable for a few years now, it was not always so.  There were YEARS when I was non-functional, to varying degrees of time and severity.   I’d stop eating, bathing, communicating with others.  Sleeping 18 hours a day only to get up to semi-watch tv was fairly common.  Having a basement apartment 10 miles from campus was one of the more foolish decisions I have made in the last ten years.  I depend on my support system at unpredictable times.

J does quite a bit, but she doesn’t talk, and can’t dole out pills.   Though she can bring them to me as well as water if told to do so.   Of course, I have to be VERBAL ENOUGH to give her the commands.  I forget how bad it can get, even for 24 hours, if I’m not mindful of it.  No amount of chemicals can fix everything, or keep me on the straight path by itself for any long stretch of time.

So I understand his decision.   I can’t help being hurt by it.   It’s discouraging.  And I feel that he could have had the courtesy to at least inform me that he was no longer interested.  It’s taken me a VERY long time to feel worthy of a partner despite my illness. Fairly consistent work for a good two years now.  This development doesn’t help that self-esteem issue.

I suppose what makes me so sad some times, like this evening, is how I see how others’ lives are unfolding.  I keep running into high school friends/acquaintances who are partnering up, starting families.  Quite a few have been married for years and have multiple children.   I have two adopted nieces and one nephew among my inner circle.  Ages 18 months to five.   Close friends who are very content with their partners.   Good, stable marriages, many of which are true mated pairings.   I can’t help feeling that I got left behind.

Feeling this way is a major pain in the ass. I do not regret the path I chose.  I was not ready for a long-term partner or a family earlier, even before the disease took control.  I am only now getting to that point.  I was education/career focused for a VERY long time.  Very one track mind.  Fairly ironic since I currently have neither career nor college degree.  Ten years ago I’d have thought I’d have my PhD and be working on tenure at a good university by now.  I wanted to be well-established before I thought about a major evolution in my personal life.  And I am thankful that I had the wisdom to NOT attempt either a physical or romantic partner during the times that I was NOT stable enough to maintain myself, let ALONE a relationship.

No one wants their partner to fall apart.   It’s hard when it happens, and not everyone has the strength to see it through.  And no one with a fair amount of wisdom chooses someone who is ill to the point of disability.  And I mean dis-ability, not someone functional who has a physical/mental challenge.  That one is my harsh vision of reality.  Feel free to disagree, but please don’t beat me up about it.  I know some people are capable of giving that much.  I am NOT, nor I don’t WANT to try.  At least not this lifetime.

That is why it has been so hard for me to even fathom someone wanting to be involved with me.

The last psuedo-date I had was over a year ago.  It wasn’t really a romantic relationship.  He is a very good friend with whom I had a “special friends” arrangement.  Our benefits were limited in scope and frequency.  Over time the situation caused me more pain than fulfilment.  Being a place-holder for someone who you KNOW doesn’t want everything with you in the long run…………… After a while my emotional needs just weren’t getting met.  We used each other as surrogates, and we both knew it.  Me more than him.  I walked into it eyes open, albeit not cognizant of the possible repercussions.  He is one of my closest friends, we love each other dearly, and are in regular contact.  We both suffer with him now living out of state.

This wanting a relationship is a new feeling for me, and I’m not quite sure how to handle it.   Ever since I reprogrammed the whole Western “you must have a wife/husband to be happy” mentality in early college it hasn’t been an issue. Next I tackled the “you must find your one, true soulmate to feel complete." Interesting that I am no longer satisfied to be a single female.   I don’t know how much of it is loneliness.   Maybe because I’m approaching 30.  Maybe because I can’t remember the last date I had.  I know there is a part of me that sorely misses the emotional intimacy that comes from dating someone.  Being around happy couples frustrates the hell out of me some days.

I really don’t know.  Thankfully, I get fulfilment and satisfaction from many things in my current life.  I am still balanced enough to feel complete without having that elusive partner.  If that changes, I will REALLY be in trouble.

** "go home" is a phrase referring to death.  Go home, to where one is pain-free be with those who you love and have gone before.