My birthday is this week.

I’m going to be 27.

Having spent this month living in a physical rehabilitation facility – geared specifically towards seniors and geriatrics. … I know that I have only been around for a fraction of a lifetime. I’m surrounded by those who have led full lives. Careers, travels, marriage, children. They have seen it all…and acomplished so much.

I can’t help but feel lacking. I had so many goals that were going to be completed by now. I was going to be done college or university. I would have had at least one child by now; and hopefully in a stable, loving relationship. I may not have lost weight, have had the perfect job….or even the “magic” romance. Yet – I would have acomplished something. Becoming a mom.

I think that has been the reason for the crying lately. Everything is reminding me of what I haven’t done, what goals I have failed at, the children that aren’t there.

Logically – in an emotionally healthy way – I would be happy of what I do have, rejoicing in what I can do – not foxused on what I can’t. Logically. …

I don’t know how to be logical about this. I’m trying – really I am. Letting go of dreams is hard though.

When I was younger I had extremely irregular cycles; debilitating pain,  almost always sidelining me for the better part of a week. When they did an exploratory scope – it was determined that only one of my ovaries had developed fully and properly. That the one was small , with a large space around it (where they said cysts and hernias could occur), and they didn’t know if t functioned.

At 15 (ish) I was informed that I had half the reproductive capacity of the average female my age. I was told my irregularities were more then likely caused by this imbalance – and that it may have been caused by one or more of the psych meds I had been on for the past few years. And oh yeah – since most women had two ovaries, and the average start of menopause was the 50’s – they predicted that for every year after 25 I didn’t have children …. my chances dropped exponentially. Nice huh?

All I have *EVER* wanted was to be a mom. To have my own children. To share my knowledge, experience the joys and heartaches, to love and raise a child from conception – through birth – and the rest of life. I wanted those late nights. Those random cravings. The tears of frustration when they won’t listen, and the ones of joy because they drew you a picture. I’ve known – that if I did not acomplish any other thing in my life – I would still be complete.

Hearing this news put a giant ticking clock over my head. Half the time of my friends. Twice the chance of failure.( I have miscarried. That is a different story all together. )

I have been told not to worry. That it will happen in time, that I could get invitro or adopt.  That things aren’t as bad as they seem…

But – I have a mental illness. I have been on disability for the last few years. My medications can cause birth defects. I could never afford invitro on the small monthly amount I get. I would not get approved for adoption. Not without a job and probably not with my mental illness.

So I’ve tried. To get pregnant. Since 16 I have tried – sometimes actively (on my part) sometimes not. Always hearing that clock ticking away, faster and faster. There is one crucial part of the equation. I have been lacking though….sex.

It has been a little over two years since I have had sex. Over four since having regular and unprotected sex. Yes – I was in a relationship until this past October.  No that did not mean he would have sex with me. (Again – different story).

So here I am. Turning 27. Two years after my clock sped up to double time. Careerless. A college drop out. Single and on disability.  Celibate by bad luck….and childless.

So yeah, that could explain whats going on. Why I am having such a hard time looking for the good. Why I get angry when I see a parent getting mad at their child – when they are just being a child. Why I don’t want to talk about my life…and what I haven’t acomplished.

I’m crying because every day – a chance of fulfilling my dream of becoming a mother – slips further and further from my grasp. My heart is breaking every time that clock picks up , just a little more speed.

Yeah…..that explains it.


So. It begins. The beginning of the end…

I was so scared to tell her I was moving. To let her know that I was making a choice for myself. Not for anyone else. Turns out I was right to be scared. Right to be worried.

Moments after I sent that email – She responded with good luck. You owe me money.

Okay. I owe you 100. You want an extra 50 for driving me home? After was able to get a ride for free, and you convinced me to stay until the next day where you would have a boy drive me? Fine. I will pay you the 50.

You are so cold. So held back. I know you are hurting about this as much as I am . There is no way you couldn’t care. Besides – I know you. You are my friend, one of my best… I know there is a way you react when you feel threatened or hurt. I know you push people away. Lash out. Try and make them hurt as much as you do. It’s not okay.. but I can understand it.

And yes – I expected this. I knew – KNEW – that there was a 99% chance of the reaction being such. Being asked to return everything that might have been lent. Pay you money. Having you request everything so that you can “break” ties.

You want the few books I might have back – Sure.. I’ll look for them.
You want the supplies you gave me for displaying jewellery? Sure. No problem. I will give them to the boys when they come by.

You want the bedroom set you said I could have because you didn’t want it? To save it from being sold off by your mother? I’ll do that too.

You can take all the material stuff you want back. Not thing things you gave as real honest to god gifts though. (I know how you feel about people wanting to give stuff like that back).

It won’t change anything. I will still be here – waiting for you to not be mad or hurt anymore. I will get past my hurt, disappointment, abandonment feelings – and I will still care about you. You could never speak to me again… and I would still think of you every day. You may not want anything to do with me right now.. and that is okay… But I will still be caring about you – even when you try and cut every piece out.

I am sorry you are hurting. I am sorry you feel that our friendship was one-sided. That I used(??really you feel I was only using you???) you for what I could get out of you. To feel and believe that of everyone must be exhausting. And painful. No matter what you believe now – I never tried to use you. I never wanted you because you had money, were nice to me… anything like that. I liked you because *I LIKED YOU*.

I wanted to be your friend from the first time I met you. Sucks that because I cared about you, and am now moving away – it means I used you.


I will give your stuff back. I will find a way to pay you back . I will take a step back, let you be. Hopefully one day you will forgive me and we could be friends again. In a way that isn’t me keeping the candle light in the window. It sucks… maybe this will help you too.

You were what was keeping me here… but that isn’t right either. To stay somewhere, go somewhere, do something… because you are scared of losing or hurting someone… isn’t healthy. I finally want to try for what *I* want. The only person who wasn’t okay with me making a choice for me – no matter what – was you. I’m sorry that being in your house so you could move away wasn’t enough. I’m sorry that me trying to be happy – makes you feel hurt and sad. I’m sorry.

Whether you care or not… I still do. And I will miss you. Every day. But .. I am still going. I want to start a life for me. With no one telling me what to do.  Not mom, not dad, not Oma, not even you.

Hopefully you will one day stop hurting  and I won’t have to keep the candle lit. Hopefully ….


The Endless Fight (POSSIBLE TRIGGER)

The skies,  slowly darken
As the winds howl inside
No hope is felt,  seen,  heard

The clouds, ripped open
Rain drowns the tears
A call rings out,  no answer

The days,  never ending
Desperation ever grows
No help in sight,  alone

The night,  grows dim
Blackness fills the void
Wounds are festering,  bleeding

The storm, rages on
Tides will never turn
Souls shrivel,  dead

The trees,  lose leaves
Darkness covers the land
No birds sing,  silence

The blade, glints silver
Determination wavers
One more day, breathe

The tunnel,  slowly ends
A song is heard
A memory beckons,  closer

The waves have receded
Fists begin to unclench
Pressure releases, freedom

The thoughts are clear
Direction is chosen
Feet move,  one more step

The sun shines through
Clouds make way for sky
Decisions been made, forward

The head is held high
Stubbornness grows with each breath
Depression lies,  defeated

The course is now set
No way to turn back
Freedom will be had,  again

The battle is over
Casualties scatter the ground
War is not over,  yet


Protected: Hopeless confusion.

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The worst day in months (TRIGGER ALERT)

I cannot be held responsible if reading this post triggers you in any way. After all – I warned you in the title!

Ive been debating back and forth whether or not I would actually write about what happened. I cannot stop going over it in my mind. Maybe writing about it will help.  I wish I could say the emotions are still raw… but well … meds…

First off – I have a horrendous sinus infection thing. It started as a cough, turned into no voice and now that I have my voice back my sinus is so swollen that my head feels like a giant pressurized balloon that is ready to pop.  So please excuse any run-on-sentences, grammatical errors and spelling mistakes that the spell check didn’t get.

This all happened Tuesday night.

The meds I am on seem to have three main side effects for me. Lack of appetite. Weight gain. Numbing of all emotional responses. Well not all. Anxiety and some depression still manage to get through. But no anger, no sadness, no real joy or happiness either – but I figure the numb has to help somewhat. (My previous posts were mostly anxiety driven and a statement of the facts. OK. Maybe my emotions are not as totally shut off as I would like to believe – but seriously – when I am in the situation I turn off and don’t have any response).

During the issues the last little bit – while they are actually happening I don’t actually break down. I don’t get mad. I  don’t really do much but try and not zone out. It is not healthy, but I think it has kept me sane for the most part lately.

Then I got sick.

Tuesday night. I have taken my regular meds, and a dose of NyQuil. I am sick – wanting to sleep and hoping the NyQuil will do its job. Instead I stare at the wall for 2 hours. Wishing to go to sleep. Trying to shut my brain off. Trying not to relive and replay every interaction for the last few months over and over. No go. I just cannot seem to shut off my brain and let the NyQuil do its magic.

That’s when it happens. I start to cry. Just a little bit at first. Small enough that I thought it would pass, I would fall asleep and it would all just be a bad memory in the morning. But something went wrong. I don’t know what thought or memory triggered it – but I just started to sob. Big, horrible, drooling, snot filled sobs. My whole body was heaving with the force of my tears.

It was like every thing i worried about or had been anxious about – decided to come to the surface and demand attention. Every fear. Every argument with J. Every perceived failure, every BPD trigger – EVERYTHING. Nothing seemed to stop it.

I was lost. Overwhelmed by months worth of emotional release I was a mess. I sat on the edge of my bed, rocking myself while I sobbed. Feeling such a sense of loneliness. I had no clue where to turn.

I called J’s cell. Went straight to voice mail.

I started to really freak out and panic. I knew that I wasn’t being logical – things couldn’t really be that overwhelming. I just needed to figure out how to calm down. I tried every trick I could remember from what I had done in the DBT so far. Each thing that didn’t calm me down just made everything worse.

Now I was failing at not only every other thing, but at this – my newest skills set – as well.

I knew talking xanax or something would help. The issue was at this point I didn’t trust myself not to take too many.

I called J again. Voice mail.

I started to look for my cut tool. By this time I was sobbing so uncontrollably that I could barely see and was having trouble breathing. This of course sent my anxiety and meltdown spiraling higher and higher.

I couldn’t find my tool.

I purposefully went into the kitchen and got a paring knife. I dragged it across my leg. Nothing happened. I dug my fingernails into my arms, my thighs, scraping them down  hoping that the non- skin breaking pain would work. The knife still didn’t do more then a few light cuts. Not anything that calmed me, or made the pain better.

I called J again. Voice mail.

By this time it is 230 in the morning. I had been sobbing, spiraling, freaking out for about 2.5 hours. I didn’t know how to stop. I sent J a text that said only one two words. Help me.I then went back into the kitchen and rooted around in the drawer for a better knife. I didn’t trust myself not to cut, slash or maim with a bigger knife. Instead I chose a steak knife. Serrated but still fairly sharp.

I returned to my bedroom and proceeded to slice my leg over and over again. Watching the blood well up was cathartic. It brought me down enough to know that if I didn’t connect with someone I was going to have to call 911. I felt that out of control.

With 30-40 cuts on my leg ranging from long to short, shallow to deep – with bruising and smearing already happening from me punching my leg in despair when a cut didn’t help – I called my mom.

I don’t like to call my mom when I am upset. She gets too emotionally upset because she cannot help. She lives in BC. I live in Saskatchewan. I have no family at all here. The ONLY reason I am in this province, this city is because of J. Yes I have S in Regina – but she would understand if I left.

My mom was my safety. She was able to breach through the fear and panic. It was her voice that helped me put down the knife and stop cutting. Her admissions of her love for me, her unwavering support and repeated chant of “It gets better. I know it sucks right now but it gets better”. The knowledge that she cared and didn’t want to push me away because I was broken in two at the moment helped me pull the pieces back together.

We talked for quite a while. Mostly stuff that was easy to talk about as I slowly stopped crying. Both of us knew if we talked about any of the issues going on it would have set me off again.

She made the suggestion that I play a video game – any game – where I could kill things. Take out my feelings on meaningless pixels. Make sure it was bloody and unmerciful – but to keep playing until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. Use it as a distraction.

I started playing while she was still on the phone and silent tears were still rolling down my face. When we finally decided to stop talking it was with the generalized feeling from my end of “I’m going to hurt these motherfuckers real good”.

I eventually fell asleep around 5 am. The sun was up and every light in my place was on. I made it through the night. I’m still here. Only mildly cut up. Still sicker then a dog.

I think this whole thing has sent me into a manic swing though. I haven’t been sleeping since. Ive spent money I don’t have on junk. I’m binge eating. Yet I cannot bring myself to care too much. I am not headed back down that rabbit hole again.

Good enough for me.

* Side note – J did eventually call. About 3/4 of the way through me talking with my mom. He was very groggy, said his phone wasn’t working right. He asked if I was OK, and why I was having an issue. What had set it off. I told him I was fine and thanks for getting back to me. That things were going to be moderately fine. (all this was said while trying not to let him know I was crying still) He did eventually call though. That counts for something.

** I didn’t tell my mom about cutting, or the knife. I told her about how out of control I felt and how I didn’t trust myself to not take more pills then I needed. I should have told her – but then she probably would have called the hospital… and who would I get to look after my animals if I was in the crazy ward? Honest to god. That was my reasoning for not telling her.


Do you ever find yourself wondering which way is up?

Do you find yourself confused and unsure about where you stand, what you did and why things are turning out this way?

Do you ever have a conversation with a significant other that goes along the lines of:
“U forgot your bag and ty for showing me where u stand”

To which you are completely in the dark as to what is being referred to as – you just spent 3 hours in a vehicle with your significant other; your significant other dropped you off and helped you put bring your bags inside; your significant other made some joke on the way out and stated they would talk to you later.

Then the text message. No context. No more information. No warning. Just a message that reads as you have hurt your significant other’s feelings in some way and morally/ethically offended them somehow.

My response were as follows:

Call. Goes to VM.
Text : “What??? I am so confused now. Which bag?”
Call home phone. VM.
Call cell again just in case he just missed the call. VM. Leave message asking for a call back for clarification.
Text : “And what do you mean by where I stand?”
Call cell. VM.
Text: (for clarification):”I don’t know what I did that was “showing you where I stand” did I do something? Or say something? Or not do something? Please communicate!”
Complete 10 minutes of silence and panic.
Get text “your air-force one”
Reply “ok. What about your other statement?”
Get text: “Nothing”
Call cell. VM.
Call friend. Proceed with the WTF and WHAT DID I DO!?!? panicking.
While waiting for friend to answer text : “Obviously I have upset you somehow/way. I am sorry if this is the case and hope that when you are comfortable you will share it with me so we can solve the issue.”
Response of: “Nothing to share.”
Explaining confusion to friend.
Send text to SO saying :”It is really frustrating to not know what is going on”
His response? “Only you know now adays”
(by now I am so fucking confused, crying and having a panic attack
Me: “I don’t get it. Only I know what is going on?”
SO : “Yeap”

Then comes the standard response I tend to get whenever I ask for clarification, communication or expansion on the topic we are discussing…

“Don’t worry about it”

How can I not fucking worry about it? You have made it absolutely certain that I will worry about it. That I will panic. I try and keep things calm, collected and not panic inducing, yet you always respond the same way + or – a W/e

I didn’t know what to do. What to say. No answer on the cell. No return of call. No clarification of any sort. I respond with the only thing I have left.

“K. I love you”

It is like the merry-go-round that never ends. I do something wrong. Or you state I have not done something. Or I was supposed to do something but didn’t. Or something I forgot has you upset.  I ask for clarification. I ask for communication. Sometimes I get phone calls. I try and remain calm and communicate like I am learning. Like I have been taught during Lifeskills. Through the DBT workbook. Making sure I don’t make any judging statements. Don’t accuse. Don’t get defensive. Apologize for the misunderstanding that may have occurred and ask what could be done to make the situation better. I wish I could get the same sort of thought out response that I put into my carefully thought out and weighed attempt at communication. I would love for some clear, non overly emotional. Non blaming. Non yelling. Non arguments starting with “you cant” or “you wont” or “I have to” (making it sound like a horrid burden) and the dreaded “Whatever” “It’s fine” “Don’t worry about it”

How am I supposed to get any sort of useful information/communication and PROGRESS to change and communication in our relationship if everything seems to be my fault, because of me, and no way for me to change it.

Any time I try and start an open communication you never want to talk. You say it will just make you upset, or angry. That it wont change anything anyways.

I am in knots. I’m panicky. I’m sick to my stomach. I can’t sit still and have spent the last hour staring at my ceiling wondering what I did or said wrong. How I could have messed up so badly again. How I can make it right.

What do I do now? I am so confused. Which way is up? What direction am I facing?

I tell you I love you. Lately you only respond with “Sure” “yeap” and “Okay”.

I ask you if you love me and you reply with “sometimes”.

I ask you to come to Donna with me – so we can talk about things, our relationship, get things communicated in a neutral, safe, understanding environment. You almost never show – or do – but in the last 10 minutes. I understand you are busy and work lots. But all I am asking is for 1.5 hours a month. Or every other month. Hell – once every 3 months. Just wish you would come and communicate.

I love you. I really truly do. I want to work on our relationship. I want to communicate better.

I cannot be the only participant.

I am not the only one making mistakes. Needing to adjust outlooks and visions. Needing to develop skills.

I have a disability. If I get on the SAID program I will have permanent disability. This does not make me less of a person then I was when we first got together and I was killing myself with multiple jobs and denial that I needed help. This past year has been hard. I have had med changes about every 6 weeks. And not just adjustments. Full blown fucking changes in the medication. This is hard on a person. I cannot just fix it. I cannot just change meds and the next week be fine. Sometimes it can take 3-6 weeks to even know if a medication will work. 3weeks to 3 months to figure out if/what the side effects are. It is a time consuming and frustrating task – not just for those around me – but for me as well. I don’t WANT to be so tired I cannot wake up. I don’t want to be lactating when I am not pregnant. I DO NOT WANT the 60 lbs of med induced yo-yoing over the past year. You think I like being the way I am right now?

I also didn’t want this to turn into a rant either.

Oh well. There ya go.

So I keep fucking up…

Warning – Ranty Post!


I keep fucking things up.

No matter what my intentions are/were, or what I plan out – I keep fucking things up. And I don’t know how to fix them.

Lately I have had some bad hermititus. I havent wanted to be doing much of anything. Other then probably spending time in bed, or with my dog and cat. Possibly it is because the weather is so icky – But I just think I am on a downward spiral into another bout with Depression. YAY!

So I make plans to go over to J’s house to help him out with some stuff. We talk about me coming over.. but neither one of us puts an exact time on it. I just know that I want to get there earlier and help out.

Here is what has been happening:

– Offer to go over

– He replies with fine, if you want too (been having issues/arguments about everything lately)

– I make a consious decision to go over in the morning as soon as I can so that I can maximize how long i am there.

– I set alarms.

– I head to bed at a not rediculous time – last night it was before 11 – but probably closer to 1130 when I actually fell asleep.

– I have rough night of tossing and turning (which has been the norm lately. Nightmares and stuff on a regular basis)


– J calls around 10am. Says that he figured I wouldn’t be up. Mentions that I would be on time if it was something “I” wanted to do, like going to Regina or something of the like.  He says he is frustrated, getting fed up with the same thing happening over and over. Says that he doesnt know what I want him to tell me.

I never know what to say either. I planned to get up. I set alarms. I didnt stay up until 1am. I made a concious decission to go to his house in teh morning. I even drempt about going to his house.


I don’t know why. I dont know how to fix it. I dont know what to do to make it better. He says he still loves me but is headed to the end of his rope. I dont know what to do to make this better or insure it doesnt keep happening.

Maybe if I take my meds at like 4pm.

Maybe if I set even more alarms then the 5 I have.

Maybe if I dont go to bed I wont have to worry about missing the bus all the time.

Then again – Maybe I should just curl into a ball and die. That is really tempting.

Shit hitting the fan? or.. Just a normal day In my world (WARNING -RANT POST)

Today… This week… This month… This year… FUCKING HELL.

Whats been going on with J:

J has been helping me pay my cc bill. We went to Orlando in January, which was fine. Then we both kinda lived on it for a while before that? (Christmas time). Anyways – my cc has been maxed. He has been making payments and in return I have been helping him out at job sites. Supposed to be a fair trade. Apparenlty it isn’t.

He keeps telling me that his company has to not have profits so that he can pay my cc. That he is having to support me and has to do all this explaining and excuse making to his parents about where his money is going. That its a big burden on him to have to help me pay my cc, and my groceries, etc.

While I appreciate the help, if it is that big of a deal – Stop. I will figure out a way on my own to pay my debts. I will cut corners, do something that I can to make it work. Ive been in tough situations before, and I can do it again. If it is making things so hard on you – please stop. I dont want to be a burden or a trial.

Im not working right now. I am on disability. I am trying to get my body and mind back to a place where i might be able to work – as in I arranged for 2 differnt volunteer positions. I asked to go to them myself. A big step. I donno if I am ready to go back to work. The thought of it makes me start to sweat, my breath speeds up, my throat closes and the world starts to grey around the edges. Every job I have ever had – I have had issues. I have issues with people in authority. Issues with standing up for myself. Issues with people using me. I also have issues saying when – so i put myself in situations where I cannot handle it and physically get sick.

I am currently working thought the DBT workbook. I am hoping that it will work and I will gain some help and knowledge out of it. It has worked for so many people – but it is extremely hard to do. it makes you look so hard at everything that is wrong with who you are as a person. Somedays i can only do a page or two before the anxiaty and depression gets so bad I have to quit.

I also havent been showering. I just cannot be bothered to do so. Then when I do think about it, im in a hurry or supposed to be going somewhere so there is no time. I also dont have an appitite. So I can go a whole day and not realize that I havent eaten.

This past year and a bit – I have gone through so much. Admitting I need help. Asking for it. Taking the time off work to try to get re-medicated. Applying for disability. Signing myself up for Lifeskills to try and learn what I am lacking. Nickel. Fighting with J. Getting Asher. Finishing lifeskills and still not feeling ready enough to WORK. So I am volunteering. Still trying to get out of the house. Still trying to get out and help J when he needs it. PUSHING myself to continue to do things even when I am feeling so drained, antisocial and freaked out that I want to hide for a week.

I feel.. that there are communication issues between J and I. He will mention he is doing something.. then ask if I have any plans. When I say no… he says OK. He doesnt actually ASK me if I would like to come over, or if I would like to hang out. He just asks if I have any plans, and when I say – “No today my plans so far are to stay home ” he says “alright:. Apparently in reality when he is asking me what I have planned, he is really wanting me to spend time with him. But I cannot know that! Today he mentioned he wanted to make meatloaf. I said that sounds yummy. Why dont you make it sunday and I will come over? He replied with Sunday is left overs. I responded with AWWW. When we were leaving coffee he asked if i was walking home. I said I guess so. Then we parted ways. Apparenlty somewhere in there was an invitiation for me to go home with him and have meatloaf. And that I have been avoiding him and not wanting to do anything for months. IM sorry? I dont realize when I am getting hermititus – and how much it affects people if they dont talk to me.

He is angry I am not working. Angry that I am on disabilty and he cannot tell his parents about it. Angry that I have been antisocial. Angry that I am flaky and what I am able to do energywise changes from day to day. He seems to be put out that I am talking to my brother daily. I dont get it. He talks to many people all the time.

He says I don’t have a set plan. That he has been asking for one for months. Thing is… My plan is actually – one day at a time. It goes something like this. “Wake up”. Today I am going to shower and do the dishes. That is it. That is the TOTAL plan for the day. Once those things are done – anything extra is a bonus. The next day is the exact same thing. I wake up. Make a goal. Complete the goal. Or at least try. No chance to fail if they only goal you have for the day is to get out of bed. (Somedays I cannot even complete this goal)

J asks me all the time to lie to his parents. To pretend that I am working. That things are all going good on that front. He doesnt want me to tell them about my disability, or my mental illness. He says that they will rag on him. Say things like “Oh you got another dud” and  “Another one that looks good on the surface but isnt underneath”. The fact that they would think this is an issue – but the fact that he woudl let it bother him.. thats a whole different can of worms. It makes me feel like he is ashamed about this part of me. This big, huge, life altering part of who I am. The one I alwasy struggle with. The one that makes up 90% of my personality. The part that I have been struggling with since I was 5 yerars old. I mean./… I am working on changing it… but there is only so much you can change when you have only just fully admitted how much was going wrong and how much you were hiding away. I mean.. I was fucking suicidal. Now I am currently not. THAT IS A BIG DEAL TO ACOMPLISH. I may not be all kittens and unicorns but – I am willing to fucking fight back now.

One thing that gets to me is him asking what is causing it, or why. I dont know what exactly set off my axiaty at any given time. Sometimes I do. I will admit that sometimes I do. But other times? When I am just minding my own business and then so overwhelmingly terrified about EVERYTHIGN in the world? I dont know why that happens. Apparently my “distraction” tecniques are not subtle. I count using my fingers… I mutter under my breath. I will sit and stare into space as I try and get through – whatever is ending my world at that time. My thoughts? I am trying. That is what matters to me.

So I have had a big case of the Hermititus lately. I havent wanted to go out. Havent wanted to visit people. Havent wanted to do much but stare at the wall and pet my dog. I am sorry. Im trying to get motovated about things. I really am.

I have recenly set up a volunteer positon with the help of the CHMA. A second one. At a new place. Where I have never been before. Doing stuff I have never done before. By myself with no one I know there. I am freaked the fuck out. BUT IT IS A STEP FORWARD. I am going to go on Monday. I will make it to the set time and I will try and stay for 1 hour. If I can do that?  it should be a wonderful feeling.

VOLUNTEERING – a way for me to get my feet back in the waters of community living. Of community involvement. Of the potential of eventually leading me back to a job somewhere. Big steps. Important steps. HARD steps.

This year has been the year of CONSTANT med changes. I had taken myself off my medication (with doctors supervision) – to see what it was like. If I coudl function without the medication. If I could accept the challenge. And yo know what happend? I went Manic. Big time. I took on a second job. I worked 18 hour days then went home and stayed up. I8 spent money. I kept upping my cc. i made big plans, and big promises. Then I crashed. The crash started physically this time. Chest pain. Inablity to get a full breath. Sweats and the shakes. I ended up in the hospital for almost 10 days. They couldnt find a thing wrong with me. Other then they figured I needed to go back and see my psychiatrist. Which I did. I got back on medications. I got a new psychiatrist. I went on disabilty and stopped working. I crashed and went into a deep and long depression. Then I went manic again. Not sleeping for days on end. Constant irritiblity. Anger.

More meds. Lifeskills. More meds. Changes in meds. Changes to a different kind of medication. Still currently in the middle of a set of medication adjustments. Still alive. Still trying to meet a goal a day.

I applied for the SAID program. Its a specific disabilty program where I live that will allow me more security. It is geared towards those people that have a life long disabilty. That will acknowledge that some weeks I may be able to go out and get a job… but it may be just as likely that I only make it as far as my kitchen. A program where if things are going well I can make a little bit more before they deduct from my amount. Insures that if I were to get an inheritance of some sort I can use it – instead of being penilized for it. Basically a great program that I think will make my burdens a lot lighter. Only issue – It takes time. Time to apply. Time to wait for a response. Time to do a seconday interview. Time to wait for the applicaiton proccess to complete. Time to wait for approval. Time seems to be the one thing that J feels I dont have. Sigh.

I donno. I just – dont feel good enough. I dont feel like he is happy – with me, with us, with my being on disabilty. I dont want to give in and go back to work before I am ready … but I fear I might just to make him happy with me again. I donno. Hopeflully he will come to my donna appointment. Maybe we can talk about things some. I hope so.

I better go to bed. No I didnt spell check. No I didnt proof read. It is an emotional ramble. Deal with it.

Day 10 – 1 confession

My confession. Its turning out to be harder then I thought. I’ve thought it over, and over and over. Ive written it in my head many times. I keep forgetting to actually write it down though.

Here it goes…

I have a mental illness. Well technically a few of them. They are not something I am ashamed of.(I don’t think…) I just don’t go yelling from the rooftops. Some days are better then others. Hell, some years are better then others.

It effects every part of my life. My social interactions, my work (or non work) environment. Its just who I am.

There are times where I don’t leave the house for days on end. Times where I don’t sleep. Times where everything I see makes me cry or scream in anger. I live in constant fear that I will never get better. Constant fear that what I have, WHO I am – will never measure up. That people will find out, not understand and judge. If they just asked… if they were just willing to get to know ME…

Every day is a battle. Somedays I win. Somedays I lose. Most days I just survive. Sometimes my anxiaty is so bad I can’t breathe, the walls close in and I just want to run. Days go by where I am so depressed I just want to give up. Then there are the times where everything is fine… life is normal, days go on.

I would never be able to get by without the small support network I have. Desiree. My mom. Jamie. Syl. My brothers. Each of these people I lean on, each of these people are willing to support me. I couldn’t do it without them.

So my confession is this:

My name is Robyn. I am broken. Apparently it is not fixable. I am still here. Still fighting. Still the same person I was yesterday. I have a mental illness. But I am not my mental illness.

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