Thursday, July 24, 2014

L is for List

I have a list of people who act the same way. They will claim to love/like me, do something hurtful, get mad at me for what they did, and stop speaking to me. Now granted, they all have serious mental conditions, but still, is there no human decency in these people?

Ex is at the top of that list. He did this so many times, there is no way to count. I clearly remember the time I got home from work one night and he was on the couch and refused to speak to me. He didn't speak to me for days. Things had been going fine; I had no idea what I had done to make him mad at me. Turns out, I hadn't done anything at all. He had gotten home from work early, gone on a bike ride, and then decided I would be mad that he went without me. So he got mad at me for what my imagined response was, and stopped speaking to me. For days. I didn't even know he had gone on  a bike ride in the first place, and I wouldn't have cared. But I got punished for what he had done.
My older sister decided I said something hurtful to her. She stopped speaking to me for an entire year. She and her family missed my college graduation and she was not there for me during my difficult divorce. She said mean things about me to her children. My nephews. One day a year later, she suddenly came to the realization that I hadn't actually said anything at all, and all was "forgiven." She explained to me that she understood I hadn't been mean, and that we could be friends. Life was resumed. I got no apologies; there was no remorse for adding to the extreme pain I was going through. Nothing. I forgave her because I love my nephews. I will never trust her. But I will tolerate her for my nephews.
Last night, someone I have been a friend to got mad at me because I called her on something hurtful she had done. She thoughtlessly used me (by name) as an example in therapy group, and even though she knew I was upset about it, didn't apologize or even mention it all week. In group, I said I was upset about what had happened. I didn't name her, but she named herself by getting up and leaving. She did apologize via text, which I accepted and apologized to her for not talking to her in private. She then proceeded to tell me why she was in the right. Why it was okay for her to use an incorrect example with my name involved. I didn't get mad. I didn't tell her she was an idiot. I simply told her to leave me out of her examples. "No worries about that." was her reply. And boom, she resigned our Words with Friends game and unfriended me on Facebook. She is mad at me for something she did.
Again, I realize these are very screwed up people I am dealing with. I need to choose better friends. Did you notice I said I had been a friend to this girl, not that we were friends. She was never there for me when I needed her. If I asked to spend time with her, she would tell me she was waiting around, hoping her boyfriend would let her spend time with him. The last time we went to the movies, she bought the matinee tickets and expected me to pay for the refreshments (WAY more expensive.) I missed the previews, which are my favorite part of the movie, because she had decided at the last minute to go see this particular showing and I wanted to accommodate her. Afterwards, I asked if she wanted to go eat or get a drink so we could talk. Nope. She wanted to stand on the sidewalk and talk about herself and then leave.
This behavior was typical, but I never called her on her selfishness. I was pathetically grateful that she had spent time with me, since she has a habit of abandoning her friends once she finds a relationship or someone to sleep with. That isn't a friend I need. It makes me sad, but I am better off without that in my life. I need to be around people who are respectful and considerate.
I was thinking this happened to me "all the time," but really, it is just these three mentally ill people who cannot sustain relationships with anyone. I don't know why I think I can be different. I don't know why I should tolerate their insanity. I think my list will end here. Three people on my list of narcissistic people who get mad at me for the hurtful things they do is enough. I've learned my lesson. The list is closed.   

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

K is for Karma

The Buddhist definition of karma: the sum of a person's actions in this and previous states of existence, viewed as deciding their fate in future existences.
That woman in my therapy group had better have run into a car this week. Not have a car accident; that may have hurt someone else. I mean I hope the idiot was walking and tripped over a car and smashed her face. It's better for something like that to happen rather than me have to smash her face into a brick wall tomorrow.

My therapist said to just ask her not to talk to me. But she got in my face. I was sitting down and she was practically stepping on my feet. I don't normally get violent. I don't normally even get mad. But she was talking about my family. No idiot is allowed to talk about my family. It has been almost a week and I am still irate. She took something serious and sad and trivialized it with her stupidity. And thought she was cool.

I'll show you cool.
I seriously considered not going to group, but my therapist says that isn't effective. Maybe ho-bag won't be there. Maybe she will be embarrassed about the bruises on her face from tripping over a car. If karma exists, that happened. I believe.

Monday, July 21, 2014

J is for Jitters

I have the jitters. What a weird word. But a good one, since it fills two needs I have: to start a post with "J" and to describe my feelings of nervousness about my upcoming visit to see my family. My older sister, her husband, and my four nephews will be driving through my city to pick me up, and then we will stay at a hotel halfway, and then go to see my little sister, her husband, my three nieces, and my mom. Whew!
We haven't all been together for years. I miss my family. Ex hated my older sister and her husband, which is extremely ironic, considering the fact that they took his side and remained friends on Facebook with him until (I'm assuming) he dumped them once he met his new wife. "Who are these people, honey?" Explain that. I do wonder if Ex told her he had been married before. My guess is no. But that is another letter.
Why am I jittery? Well, mainly because my place in the family has always been the entertainer. I'm the funny one. I'm the one who laughs first and longest. I'm the happy one.
I'm not happy anymore. I'm just not. Happiness has flown from me like the spirit flies from the dead. It does not exist in this shell. So I'm jittery, because I don't want to let my family know how sad and dead I really am. I don't want to be fake and pretend like everything is okay, either. I don't know who to be anymore. I'm not the me I used to be.

Friday, July 18, 2014

I is for Insomnia

It's back.

I have struggled with insomnia my entire life, but had a brief respite the last few months. I was given a magical little pill called Ambien, and then was taken off of it, but was still able to sleep. I hoped insomnia was a thing of the past. Nope.
Sometimes I wonder if it is that I cannot sleep or if I do not want to sleep. When things are really bothering me, I have crazy, scary dreams, and I don't want to go to sleep when I know they are coming. I know I've told you about the waves before - how they start out as just slightly odd dreams and then get progressively worse until I wake up screaming. That's fun.

I'm really tired tonight. Last night, I stayed up until 4:00 a.m. and then, even after turning out the light, laid there awake for a long time. I don't look at the clock once lights are out. It's too depressing. I really want to go to sleep, but the dreams I had last night were slightly odd. The wave is starting.
When I was with Ex, I would lie awake and listen to him breathe and it would comfort me. It was nice knowing that he was sleeping peacefully, and I would lie there and wonder what he was dreaming about. I would think of names for our future children until I drifted off to sleep. Simon and Sophie. Cute, right? Now I lie in bed and try to focus on my own breathing. It gets scary in my head. No one wants to be in my head.

I don't know if I can call it insomnia when I know I could easily fall asleep if I would just allow myself to do so. I just don't want to. I'm scared.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

H is for Hard

I haven't been going to group lately, but did go tonight. I wish I had stayed home. We do "check-in," where everyone goes around and says their name, the high of their week, the low of their week, and a skill they used. I told mine. My low was pretty low.
Two people came up to me at break and tried to share stories from their lives. One well-meaning girl only succeeded in making me feel sorry for her. The other woman is lucky I was able to refrain from jumping out of my chair and ramming her stupid face into the brick wall. Hard. I am not, by nature, a violent person, but when you are talking to me about something that really matters, don't be stupid. Don't. Just shut your stupid face and go sit down.
And then, once group recommenced, another girl used me as an example of people being nice and trying to help. They did not help. One genuinely tried, the other was just stupid and wanted to feel important. Don't use stupidity as an example of kindness. Do not confuse the two, and especially do not involve me. I spent the entire remainder of group trying not to just get up and leave. The only reason I didn't was that a late-comer was sitting right in front of the door and it would have caused drama. I couldn't make a clean exit, so I sat there and drew geometric designs and dissociated until group was finally over.
People tried to talk to me after group and they meant well but I was so far out of it and so mad and so sad and so over it that I just left. I had to. I had nothing to say to those people. Now I am at home on my couch, drinking. I have been able to not drink for quite some time. I do not think I have enough alcohol on hand to get as drunk as I want to get, which is probably good, because then I get really, really sad and am strongly tempted to just go ahead and take every pill I have. I blame Ex for all of this. If not for him, I would not be in therapy and would not be subjected to stupid people who need to have their faces smashed into brick walls. Hard.

I thought therapy was supposed to make me feel better. What happened?

Thursday, July 10, 2014

G is for Go

Let me start this post with a serious disclaimer: I am not suicidal. Don't worry about me. That being said, I really want to go to the hospital. I want to lie on the metal bed in a glass room in the ER while they stare at me. I want to lie huddled under a sheet and bawl. I want to soak the sheets. I want the social worker to come in and ask me stupid questions to see if I merit a stay in the psychiatric ward. I know how to answer those questions to gain admittance.
I want to be taken upstairs in a wheelchair as if I have suddenly lost use of my legs and sit there while they go through my little bag of things. Shoes with elastic so I can wear them instead of slippers. I know I can't have shoelaces. A book. A few changes of clothes. I want to be pointed to a bed in the middle of the night; it's late, because the intake process takes forever. I want to lie in a bed in a room full of strangers and cry myself to sleep.

I want a nurse to wake me up and give me medication and take my blood and then let me go back to sleep. I want to be called to the cafeteria for a breakfast brought in a huge silver cart. I want to be able to go back to bed and lie there and cry. I want someone to tell me what to do. Eat. Sleep. Take this pill. Come to this group. Watch this show. Take a shower. Rest.
I can't go. I can't afford to board my dogs, and I'm going to visit my family in a few weeks, so I can't miss work. I need the money badly. I don't really need to go. I'm not going to kill myself. I just want to rest for a little bit. I think I will take a tranquilizer and go to bed, set my own alarm, get up later than planned in the morning, tell myself to take my medication, find my own breakfast, drive myself to work, get through the day somehow. It is all so hard.

Wednesday, July 9, 2014

F is for Floor

I find myself drawn to the floor again lately. I do not think this is a good sign. Right after Ex kicked me out, I would sleep on the hardwood floor in front of my couch with a blanket and sometimes a pillow. Usually, Little Woof would steal the pillow during the night and be curled up on it while I woke with a cramp in my neck. Or she would sleep on the back of the couch. Robbie would sleep on the couch and look over the edge at me. Both of my dogs were more concerned about creature comforts than I was.
I laid on the floor of my therapist's office on Monday. I was sitting on the couch and somehow melted down onto the floor and just stayed there. I don't think she quite knew what to do with me. I was really sad and not motivated to even breathe. I get like that sometimes. I will make an effort to stay on the couch for my next session. I think.

The months of sleeping on the floor in front of the couch were not healthy, nor should they be repeated. Lying on the floor in front of my therapist's couch reminded me of those nights. They were not fun. They were sad and lonely and desolate and filled with despair and sorrow. And every other synonym for "sad" that you care to insert here. ______________
I don't think my attraction to the floor is healthy. I am trying to not lie on the floor at work right now. It is not easy. The floor sings a song of comfort and solidarity. I like the floor. The floor likes me. I really want to lie on the floor.

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

E is for Eventually

Eventually, I will not cry at a therapy appointment.
Eventually, I will not need to go to therapy anymore.
Eventually, I will find a job that I like.
Eventually, I will succeed at something.
Eventually, I will get to see my little niece again.
Eventually, Jailbird will just be Bird and I will be able to see him again.
Eventually, I won't remember so many horrible things about Ex.
Eventually, my hair will turn gray.
Eventually, someone will read my book
Eventually, I will be able to send money to my mom.
Eventually, my house will be livable.
Eventually, my house will be paid off and it will be all mine.
Eventually, I will move.
Eventually, all of this will happen.
Eventually, I will die.

Eventually, I will realize that, in order for the list to happen, the last thing on the list has to happen right where it is - last.

Sunday, July 6, 2014

D is for Dreams

I have had series of nightmares for my entire life. They rotate; the rotation starts off as memorable dreams that are only slightly disturbing. I will "remember" running into someone I don't like at the store, or something minor like that. Then they get worse. Memories of my childhood home. I was scared of the door leading from the house to the garage, and I will dream that, no matter how hard I pull, I can't get the door to close all the way, and there is something on the other side that is going to come and hurt me.
When I went to see the energy healer, she asked me about my dreams. I told her they start out mild and progress to those that wake me up screaming and crying. I said this very calmly. It is part of my life and has been for as long as I can remember, and it isn't a big deal to me anymore. She looked at me with sorrowful eyes and told me she was sorry that life has been so hard.
That almost made me cry. I am generally okay until someone else feels sorry for me, and then I want to join them in their pity of me and bawl. No, my life has not been easy. No, not a lot of good things have gone on. Yes, a lot of bad things have gone down. I don't want to do this anymore.

Last night, I dreamt of nothing. It was nice.

Wednesday, July 2, 2014

C is for Chakra

I did something completely out of character today and went to see an energy healer. I don't believe in that stuff. I don't. Well, apparently, I do. Or at least, I believe in it enough to make an appointment and then actually go to the appointment. It was weird. I was incredibly uncomfortable and felt nauseated at first. She got me talking about training horses, so I kind of forgot why I was there, and she said she did "work" on me while I was distracted. Okay.

Something must have gone on, because she left the room to get a booklet for me and I got so dizzy I had to put my head between my legs. I seriously thought I was going to pass out. Or throw up. Or both. Luckily, I did neither, but I'm home on the couch (shocking!) now, and my stomach is really upset. So she did something. Or something. Whatever.
She did have a lot of interesting things to say. She showed me a picture and explained the chakras to me. The lower three, I learned, have to do with body stuff (She used far better terminology, but this is what I brought home with me). Then there is the heart, the mind, and the soul, also called the third eye. When trauma happens, the lower three chakras close up. She compared it to a large wound in your arm: you are hurt and have to apply a tourniquet in order to stop the bleeding and survive. Trauma is injury, and closing the chakras is applying the tourniquet. That makes sense to me.
Then she said, matter-of-factly, that the lower chakras also shut down when a person dies. Bingo. If I buy into all of this, here is what I get: I have had trauma thrown at me my entire life. I muddled through until marrying Ex, who managed to inflict so much damage that I was forced to shut down my chakras in order to survive. They have been so severely shut down and for so long a time, that now they are in the same state as if my body was actually dying. So when I told my therapist that I feel dead, this could explain that.

Do I believe this? Or did I just throw my hard-earned money down the drain? I don't know, but I do know I don't feel well. And I can kind of feel my feet. Which, when you've been disconnected from your body as long as I have, is kind of cool.
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