This is a post I started a while ago. It's been sitting because I think I'm half afraid to finish it.
A MONTH AGO:
I've had a lot of time for self-reflection, lately, driving back and forth to work. Psychology is a subject I very much enjoy. I feel like I need to know and understand WHY we do the things we do. It's fascinating to me.
Lately, however, I've been falling short. I haven't had time for self-reflection or I'm too tired or too frazzled or [insert a million other excuses here]. I avoid and deny. For a long time, I thought that meant living life one day at a time. I thought that meant being strong and pushing forward. Now, though, I'm not so sure.
Things come up. Things happen. It's like having little earthquakes, and suddenly a fracture appears. It's not necessarily due to the strength of the earthquake, but rather an underlying, hidden weakness. That's how I feel. I feel like it's going to take one more earthquake, and I'm going to fracture.
It's amazing to me. Things have happened in my life that I am STILL uncertain about how I got through. Sometimes I really wonder why the heck I am still standing. I know my family history. We tend to crack. There's a definite history of depression and anxiety... and maybe more than a few breakdowns. With a million small things and a handful of horrible I-wouldn't-wish-this-on-my-worst-enemy things piling up... why haven't I cracked? What's going to be the straw that breaks the camel's back? It's a nervous feeling. It's a terrible feeling because I know the last time I had a horrible earth-shaking, heart-stopping terrible life event, I was all but deserted. The people I thought cared were suddenly nowhere to be found. I can't say I've forgiven them - because I haven't. It's hard to forget. It's hard to trust people. I still care about those people. But would I go running to them again? HECK. To the. NO. That begs the question, Where do you go?
I know we're supposed to rely on Jehovah. In my head, I understand that. In my heart, I'm human, I'm fleshly, I'm weak. I withdraw from God in tough situations. I don't think it's because I blame him. I blame me. Self-hate presents a serious road block. I need help and encouragement and love from others. Is that right to demand? I don't know. But it's the simple truth.
I have been blocking too much. It has made me a mean and hateful and angry and bitter person. Maybe I never beat my PPD. Maybe I just buried it. Ignored it. Pretended it didn't exist. Hoped it would go away. None of that worked. It's like capping a volcano. Your efforts are futile, and it will only result in making a bigger mess.
Since I wrote those previous paragraphs, I feel like I have cracked. I have become an emotional, teary basketcase. I'm overwhelmed with an avalanche of emotions and shortcomings. And I hate myself for it. In my eyes, depression is a weakness. I am not a weak person. Well. I like to think I am not. And the fact that I feel the way I do makes me absolutely furious. Why can't I just make myself better? Why can't I get around this and be happy? Why aren't I trying harder? What the heck is the matter with me?!?!!
You can't imagine the self-loathing that comes along with this sort of breakdown.
I went to someone - a close friend - for help. Admittedly, I can be a very proud person. I despise asking for help. I loathe being seen as a weakling. I absolutely abhor crying in front of people. It makes me want to kick my own teeth in.
Well that person let me down. They got angry with me. Maybe I'm not good at saying what I'm trying to say or making sense of the jumbled mess in my head. I opened myself wayyyy up. That is something I very fervently hate to do because EVERY. SINGLE. PERSON. I have ever seriously loved has let me down. This is no exaggeration. I've been let down, dropped on my head, in some serious ways. All I needed was some caring, some love, some understanding. And this person couldn't provide. I'm not sure how I feel about that. I hate being left open. I hate exposing myself. But I did. And it backfired.
So now... I'm rather lost. I don't even know what it is that I need. I was told I just need therapy because this individual is unable - or unwilling - to help me with my "problems."
I don't think I'm crazy. Which is funny because I know that crazy people never realize that they are crazy. I feel like I'm failing. I've been trying SO freaking hard, and I still feel like I'm failing. It's a miserable feeling. And for the first time in a long time, I just don't feel like smiling. I don't feel like teasing or joking or being funny. And that is a very strange and foreign sensation for someone as goofy as me.
And I'm not looking for pity. Don't you dare pity me. Pity feeds the angry beast and turns her into a nightmarish horror. I just need to vent. To breathe a little. To expel some demons. To let go a little.
Maybe I need to know and understand that I'm not alone. Maybe I need someone to validate my feelings and just say, "YES. I understand. And it is okay to feel that way." I pretty much grew up being told my feelings don't matter. The pattern didn't change as I got older.
Mind over matter, I tell myself. You can get past anything if you just MAKE yourself do it, I say.
This week, that's just not working for me.