Posts Tagged ‘mental illness’

I’ve debated what to do about this blog for the last year. I’ve told myself it’s because I am too busy to write – which is true to an extent. I’m too busy living. Too busy discovering. To busy finding myself in the most incredible and amazing places with amazing and incredible people.

I’ve found a world open to me that never was before.

And so I forget.

I forget who I used to be because I tell myself it’s irrelevant. That’s not who I am anymore. It’s not how I think about myself. My inner change has been reflected in how others perceive me and treat me and trust me. The respect I am shown is sometimes mind-blowing and I can’t wrap my mind around it so I don’t think about it too much.
I am hard with myself. I often feel like I don’t do enough or give enough of myself in work or in school, and then I have to run an inner dialog that goes something like ‘Remember, two years ago you could hardly walk. Two years ago you had never worked a real job. Two years ago the thought of volunteering someone a few hours a week to get out of the house was too overwhelming.’

And then I run a quick mental checklist of what I have accomplished:
Drug free
Living on my own halfway across the world
Recovered from chronic pain and mental illness
Working and studying full time
Learned a new language
Learned to have fun and let go
And I learned that men are human too

In my studies we spend a lot of time on inner reflection and exploration. Which can cause mini-breakdowns because you are ALWAYS with yourself in really intense and intimate ways.

Then the parts of me I’ve worked so hard to put aside suddenly rear up and I feel the huge disconnect. The things that I’ve done and that I’ve been through – things that made perfect sense to the drug and abuse induced fog I was under for so long – make zero sense to my now rational mind.

And I have no outlet for these feelings because no body knows the real details and I don’t really want to talk about it, because its not relevant, right?

But as a result of all of the inner reflection I’ve started to see the bigger picture, and started making sense of all the irrational things that happen. I can see, vaguely, how it got so bad. And in an irrational way, it makes perfect sense to me.

My memory comes and goes. Which I will always be thankful for, because it means when these inner clashes happen, I am not confronted with the full reality – just tiny bits and pieces, which after the initial shock and turmoil, I can begin to sort through.

One of the things I recently remembered was a conversation I had in a restaurant, years ago. I was in a restaurant with my ex. I remember the cold and darkness, not necessarily that it was winter and night, just the impression I get. It was probably after we went clubbing. I remember telling him that my suffering has a purpose.

And I remembered other instances as well, when those words would randomly fall from my lips with doctors, therapists, violent exes. I remember thinking it when was maybe 12 or 13. In a wheelchair, wanting to die, and drugged out of my mind.

Maybe thats why I never died, despite the effort I put into it, and despite the almost-successful attempt made on me by the same ex I said those words too.

Now more the ever I feel the truth of it. And though I have an almost paralyzing fear of people knowing,

I’ll continue writing.

Advertisements

I’m going through old CDs. I had to climb over piles of clothes (fell into them too, like falling into a messy and smelly cloud. tons of fun) to find them, dusty and hidden next to a stereo system that hasn’t been used since there was clear ground on my floor (clear ground meaning I could actually use it). That was maybe 3 yrs ago.

Anyways. I’m loading it all onto itunes, and then my ipod… The reason this mundane chore (of sorts) is so cool is that this is music I typically would have freaked out over.

It’s a mixture of Israeli music I grew up, and dark gothic/metal music. Both equally triggering for various reasons. The Israeli stuff would remind me of all my failures, my guilt, my shame (real or imagined, didn’t matter). The dark stuff… well, this is what I listened to in high school, where I was abused, committed for the first time into a psych ward, ramped up my self-injury, stopped eating, overdosed in school and got politely kicked out and sent to an alternative high school… etc.

So ya. These CDs have been collecting dust.

The pain associated is just gone. I remember, when I hear this music, images come to my head… Like having to get a pass from the hospital to sing and record music for my brother’s Bat-Mitzva. Having to get a pass to attend the event, where my asshole bf was invited. Which ended with my curled up in a ball outside crying in terror. Which ended with me back in the hospital, weirdly relieved. And completely crippled with the thought that I had ruined the event for my whole family. And completely ashamed at knowing everyone was aware of my brokenness.

One of my fav songs. My creativity is inherited. I got my voice from my dad’s side. I can hear my grandmother singing when I hear this. Makes me want to cry.

I saw my gp yesterday, since I’m leaving the country and all. I used to see her at least once a month (narcotic refills), sometimes more often cause there was always something physically broken with me (a reflection of my mental state).

She walks in, stops, and comments about how happy I look.

Yes. I am. But I wasn’t happy to be there. If I still took valium, you can bet I would have downed a couple.

She’s nice. A good doctor in that conventional way, where drugs are the answer for everything, and she thinks my getting off all my meds and firing my shrink is extreme. And I guess I can understand that. People diagnosed as bipolar and borderline aren’t exactly known for clear, rational thinking.

Anyways, I just smiled. I’m not gonna get into my issues with the pharmaceutical industry. Especially cause I know my words can be twisted into paranoia. And therefore I should take a mood stabilizer.

Whatever. I find it really triggering. So I was in that kinda antsy mood all day where I felt I had to shake myself off to feel better. I always feel violated when seeing a doctor.

My day turned out to be really awesome though. There’s a young adult service at church on tuesdays. My reserve is (incredibly slowly) crumbling. But considering I used to be unable to leave the house, and my pathological silence several months ago… It’s not that bad.

What was really awesome about last night was that I allowed myself to actually sing. Turns out I’m a lot more comfortable singing when my voice is drowned out by everyone else. That’s not the awesome part though.

I never trusted my voice, that was the problem. My former vocal coach would always be telling me to ‘release the brakes’. When I can’t hear myself, I can just let go in a way I’ve rarely been able to. Actually, its more then that. Its the need to join in song. A feeling that’s stronger then my need to hold back.

There are notes in the upper register (think soprano), called head notes. You know your singing them when it’s like your head is vibrating with the sound of the note you’re singing. It’s really cool.

That’s the place I got to last night. Where I could feel every note ringing true. The music was alive thrumming through my body.

I’ve talked before of my love of intensity. And my need to lose myself in what I’m doing.

Who knew I could find both at church?

About the song posted, it’s one of my favorite arias. I used to sing it for fun. I haven’t tried to in… years. I still love it. Also, it seems more appropriate then metal.

 

So. It’s June. And I’m wearing my dad’s old sweater and my fuzzy hedgehog slippers. I’m waiting for the weather to catch up to the calender. June is summer, right?

The last couple days, with the bipolar shift in weather (humid, hot, sunny, just last week), makes me… not worry exactly… um. Raises doubts, I guess.

May is apparently classic mood swing time for bipolars. My (former) shrink explained this to me every years, and it’s one of those things that never stuck in my brain. Something about weather patterns and mood. Which actually makes a lot of sense. What doesn’t make sense is why May mood swings wouldn’t happen to me til August or Sept, or not at all, or way before. Basically, I didn’t need a specific month to be nuts. I simply was.

Anyways. The grey weather doesn’t depress me, but I’m not bubbling with joy happy. While I firmly believe having an emotional range is normal… I don’t think I’ve been normal enough to be totally comfortable with having a grey day that matches the grey weather.

Which is also making me incredibly sleepy. Which also makes me… uncomfortable with all the um. non-normalcy I’ve lived through.

I guess what’s also bugging me is that I got talked to about my lack of plans for my trip in two weeks. Um. I have no idea what to write about that. It’s just one of those things that makes me feel like nothing has changed. Which could also be why I’m slightly grumpy today.

I dunno. I guess it’s just one of those days where I am suddenly terrified I’ll wake up from this dream of a beautiful life. This existence is still so new and fragile.

I think I need to go swing in the playground.