Phew

I wrote this on my personal Facebook, and I think it belongs here too:

Since I did reiki, I’ve had a lot of emotions trying to break loose – sometimes it happens with different yoga positions too. I am not great at handling my emotions. I tend to diagnose them and ignore them or whatever. I met with my new psychiatrist yesterday and spent an hour and a half with him. He said, basically, I’m not a statistic. My symptoms fit in many different diagnoses – everything but schizophrenia. (Woo!) I am starting on lamictal again, and if I can take that with minimal side effects, he will add vyvanse (ADHD med the boys are on).

I talked to (Jack) last night about everything, and suddenly I broke down sobbing. I’m talking big heaving snotty sobs. The feelings that I’ve been wrestling with were: regardless of the name – bipolar whatever – is whatever “wrong” with me why I’ve screwed my life up so badly? Adoption, abortion, divorce, busted relationship after relationship…is it me? Is it my illness? Is it both?”
I’ve been searching for anything to help me understand the roller coaster of my life, and I am stuck because I don’t trust myself anymore.

The reality is I won’t know. The reality is there’s no diagnosis I fit in: bipolar, OCD, ADHD, MDD, GAD, and bulimia all describe symptoms. The reality is it’s in the past and I cannot change it. The reality is, me sobbing hysterically and allowing myself to feel despair, pain, and hopelessness is the healthiest and most human thing I can do. The reality is whatever I am is what I am. That’s beautiful – mistakes and all. I’m so tired of being ashamed of myself. My brain is my damn brain and it’s gotten me this far.

I read: stop carrying the boulders of the mistakes on your back. Lay them at your feet and walk upon them. They’re the stepping stones to you as you are.

I’m so fricking glad I did reiki and found a new doctor. Did you know the translation of nirvana is a sigh of relief? Like phew. This is the first morning of my life I can say truthfully, I love and accept all of myself. Because all of the crap that came out last night wasn’t even relevant. It was yesterday.

Phewwwwwww🙏🏿

 

^that’s what I wrote on Facebook, and since then, I’ve gotten messages from people on my Facebook thanking me for my candor and saying I’m brave.  My initial reaction was “oh my god, do these people not know how nuts I am?” However, I’m getting away from listening to that first line of crap.  The second reaction I had was, “I’m really glad I didn’t listen to myself and not post this.” I almost didn’t.  I know very well for any one nice comment, there are likely 5 times that of people who don’t support me or anyone who writes as I do.

I have the strangest feeling to that: I don’t care.  It’s been occurring more and more frequently, and I cannot tell myself it’s a fluke or whatever.  I don’t care anymore.  I have been realizing that the things, people, ideals, notions, whatever I’ve been clinging so desperately to are nothing more than anchors on my soul.  Why do I want to surround myself with situations that have me put on a mask?

On Facebook, I saw a quote, “Being alone is dangerous.  It is addictive.  Once you see how peaceful it is, you will never want anything else.”  I feared losing people.  I’ve stayed in relationships well past their expiration date in the fear of being alone.  I was impregnated by an abusive man because I didn’t want to be alone.  Not wanting him to be my child’s father was my primary motivator in giving her up for adoption, and he was what I called “boyfriend.”

The past two years I spent largely alone.  While my finances and recovery made it necessary to end that and move back in with my ex to get support in the here and now, there is one thing I miss more desperately than I can describe: being alone.

If people choose to leave my life because of me being me, I don’t want them anymore.  To be even more blunt, I don’t even care.  In this incarnation on this earth, I have this go and that’s it.  I’ve spent far too much time living other people’s lives.  I’m far more interested in mine.  The doctor’s words yesterday unleashed a dam of emotions I haven’t been able to grasp for 20 years.  It took me two hours to sob out my feelings, words, confusion, pain, and suffering.

I can sum it up, very easily: I hated myself.  For the last year, I’ve been trying to love myself, then I realized it’s not enough to love yourself.  You have to love yourself unconditionally.  Until yesterday, I was trying.  The remaining conditions:

*if I wasn’t such a fuck up

*if I could fix my damn brain

But what the doctor said made me realize, it doesn’t matter. I’ll never know what caused my yesterdays; the past is subjective anyway.  Every year it gets easier to look back on my innumerable mistakes.   I’m not ashamed of anything anymore.  I kept all of these crazy thoughts, feelings, etc. stuffed so deeply I made myself ill in every sense of the word.  I hurt myself in every way imaginable.  Now, it’s as easy for me to discuss depression as it is last night’s dinner.  My biggest fear was being crazy, so naturally I drove myself crazy.

Every day it is getting easier for me to let go of hating myself, and genuinely forgiving myself.  I’ve gotten close to this point before.  I’ve had these big moments many, many times in the past.  I suspect the spiral of life is a puzzle.  Every turn round, you pick up a new piece, until you get your puzzle together.  Ultimately, we all build the same puzzle with different pieces. For all of us it’s, “Love yourself unconditionally so you can love others unconditionally.” Most of us are just bass-ackwards and try to love the whole world while quietly hating ourselves.

Now, I’m really getting somewhere.  Last year, I conquered all my fears, and this year,  I lost all my asterisks.

I used to start the morning with, “I wonder what I can do today?” I’d surprise myself every day.  I went to bed with tears in my eyes and woke up saying Phew.   What can you do today – any fears or asterisks in your way? Namaste ❤

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