my saving grace

I took the day off today… for two reasons. One, I didn’t feel like going to work and two, I was feeling depressed. I definitely needed it. Work is not crazy but it’s not busy either. I slept in til 11am and then went to lunch with my cousin. Went home and took Mochi to the park.

It seems my depression has been getting worse. This is the 3rd time that I’ve gone home or stayed home from work because of it. It seems like I have depressive episodes every week. My doctor changed my medication again but this time they have to increase the dosage slowly and the effects will happen in the span of a couple of months. That scares me! If my depression is already getting bad, I don’t want it to get any worse waiting, months for the right dosage, for the medication to work. I wish I could say that I was getting better, that the medicine is working and I’m on the road to recovery. Well kinda but not really. I’m afraid of what’s to come in the next month or two. I’m afraid of how bad it might get. I still wish that all of this never happened. I get tired of going through the same thing month after month. Taking medicine day after day waiting for something to work. I hate being asked if I have suicidal thoughts, if I have a plan, and what am I going to do? Knowing full well that there is a definite answer to that scares the SHIT out of me! I know what I am capable of. But, in the back of my mind, I really really really don’t want to die! Even though sometimes I do. Maybe that will be my saving grace. That thought alone will keep me from pulling it off. That thought alone will fight my other half to stay alive. Maybe if I’m fighting for someone else and not just me, that will stop me. Maybe that support that I get from someone is enough to pull me out and get me through this mess. That too will be my saving grace. That has to be enough. There is still that glimmer of hope that I will get through all of this even though half the time I’m skeptical about it. C’est la vie.

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the scary stuff

It’s been a long and crazy rough road getting to where I am now. I’m not out of the woods yet but the light is starting to shine through.

In the beginning it started with severe depression. I would be with family and around good vibes and still feel like I wasn’t even there. I hear people talking in the background but it’s just an echo. I’m there but I’m not. No one is home. I’ve floated away to nowhere land and not looking to come back anytime soon.

Seeing things has been there since I was a kid. This is just what has happened recently. Ghosts would be walking around my apartment. There were 5 of them at one point. There was a little girl hunched over on the floor by the piano looking at me during my piano lessons. She wouldn’t move, she would just look at me. There was a tall white naked man with lacerations all over his body always walking across the hallway pacing back and forth. I can’t remember the other three. They wouldn’t talk to me. They would just be there. On the drive home I would have a ghost or two riding in the back seat. There was always someone following me, but would never reveal himself.  I didn’t like to look in the mirror because there would be someone else looking back at me but it wasn’t me.

Then came the demons. The ghosts would disappear when the demons came. There were a lot of them. They would bounce off the walls hanging around everywhere in my apartment. At first they would just stay in the living room. At night I would go to sleep and I could only see them at the door. Night after night they would get closer. In the room. Next, the bedroom light fixture, and then right behind me and whisper in bad things in my ear. I was too scared to remember what they said because I jumped out of bed and ran to the couch and called a friend. I was afraid to be in my own apartment. I sleep with the lights on because if I turn them off, she will be there to take me. She is waiting at the foot of my bed just at the right time, to take me.

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My Pastor and some Elders at the church came for a couple weeks to do prayer sessions at my apartment and it did help a little.

I still sleep with the lights on.

Then came the voices. There were three of them. The nice one who didn’t like to argue. The mean one who dictated over everything, and the middle one who tried to keep the peace. Eventually the mean one took over and she started plotting. This is when the suicidal thoughts and attempts started. She would tell me what to do all day long. Write a letter to this person. Say goodbye to that person. Give all your account information to that person. I actually gave all my account information to my best friend just in case anything ever did happen, he could give it to my family. I had dreams that I was dead. I knew there were times that I was sure I wouldn’t make it to my next birthday. I knew that I wasn’t going to last very long. I had no desire to live anymore. I was numb to everything. The mean voice really didn’t have to say much for me to attempt anything at my own life. There was one night, all I had to do was go into my art box and find my xacto knife and just end it right then and there. I guess it wasn’t my time yet because some part of me kept me from pulling it off. Another incident was when I got home and all I wanted to do was swallow as much pills as I could and sleep and not wake up. I ended up calling a friend before any of it happened. As much as I wanted to die right then and there, at the same time, I didn’t. I don’t want to die. I think that is what is keeping me alive.

None of that happens now. I still have depressive episodes and sometimes suicidal thoughts but not as severe as it has been in the past. Things are getting better and all I can do is move forward.

this is me

I guess when I started this blog site, I didn’t know how personal I would get. In the beginning, I wanted it to be light hearted and funny, or quirky even. I realize that some of my posts have really gotten deep into what makes me who I am today. I have a journal that I write in almost on a daily basis, but lately I find that I’m writing in here more than the journal. I guess I’m learning to open up? I thought it would be scary at first, to let the world know the real me, that side of me that I’ve been hiding from, hiding from the world all these years. I’m afraid of letting the world know who I really am. I feel like I wouldn’t be accepted given my past experiences with people.

So this is me. I normally don’t open up my feeling or my true self to just anyone. It takes me a while before I begin to trust someone because I’ve been burned many times before.

What do I really want to say? I want to stop hiding behind the shadows! I want to stop being the submissive, passive, even door mat that I used to be! I want to let the world know who I am and this is what I’ve been through to get here! It was never the easy road for me. Every time I thought, “this is it, I’m done, I can’t take it anymore!” I somehow found a way to get through it, don’t know how exactly, but I do. Then a year and a half ago, I get this thing called Schizoaffective Disorder and I plummet down to the depths of nowhere land and have to climb my way back up what seems to be a never ending roller coaster of symptoms and emotions and have to start all over again. But God won’t give me anything I can’t handle right? Sometimes I feel like that’s not true. Like this battle is winning over me. I’ve really questioned my faith going through this and it has scared me to my core! I used to be like God can get me through anything. God will prevail. God you are my rock. God this. God that. Then it became why God? Why me? I can’t do this! This thing you gave me is too hard to handle and I’m not the person to do it. When there are times when all you think of is taking your own life day after day among many other symptoms and just waiting and hoping for the medicine to kick in. I began to think, where is God in that? No matter how many times or how hard I prayed that this wasn’t real, that I didn’t have this thing, it wouldn’t go away. I stopped relying on God. I lost my faith in God. I lost all trust in God. I relied only on medicine to hopefully get better and even then I was skeptical. The medicine is working now, a few changes here and there. I don’t think about suicide as much. I still have depressive episodes here and there. I try to talk to God but it gets cut short. I’m still angry with him. Hopefully someday that will change. I read back in some of my old journals and all I talk about is God being in my life and how much I looked to him for all the support I needed; I kinda want that back. But, I know that has to come from me, and God is waiting.

 

anger issues

So along with my depression, I have developed a bit of anger issues. I’m not an angry person, never have been. I was always the shy, quiet, hide behind the shadows type of person. I’ve done a pretty good job of hiding it because no one really notices it but me. Even when I did get mad, I would give the silent treatment. Lately it’s been quite the opposite.

I get that we all have those annoying coworkers who don’t know what they are doing and get on your nerves, but usually you can move past it right? You’re used to it, it’s expected, it’s not going to change. Yet I find myself becoming consumed with anger and frustration over the smallest things that I know they are going to do. So is it that they just got on my last nerve or am I really blowing things out of proportion? For instance, my fellow coworker gives me an incomplete property setup (which she has always done in the past) and I’m here slamming things on my desk, throwing pens or whatever, jamming my pen into a pad of post-it notes and trying to control myself from going over to her desk and yelling at her for the missing information. I mean COME ON! How long have you worked here and you can’t seem to give me complete information?!? Okay, calm down. I knew she was going to do that. I always had to do the second half of her job for her anyway. That was only one instance.

At home, it’s sad, my dog Mochi gets yelled at for no reason. I all of a sudden get in one of my moods and because she isn’t walking as fast or the way I want her to walk and she’s just being a dog and sniffing everything in her path. I start yelling at her and tugging at her leash to make her catch up to me. She’s just being a dog, going for a walk. That’s it. She didn’t do anything wrong and she’s getting reprimanded.

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I can’t control it. I just get into these angry fits and lash out at the first thing that gets in my way. I’m on mood stabilizers but I don’t think it’s doing what it’s supposed to otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this. It doesn’t seem like much but I know myself and this is not me. I’m not an angry person. It used to take a lot to make me angry, now it’s almost as if anything will make me angry. People don’t notice it either because I’m almost always alone when it happens with the exception of work. But I feel it, there is a change in me and I don’t like it. It’s not something I want to get used to either. I don’t want to be known as an angry person.

a blast from the past

All he wanted was my innocence. He used me, used my depression against me, verbal abuse day after day. “You’re too happy, you’re too sad, you are such a child.” Because of him, I fought with my parents, family, rebelled, did drugs, drank and I acted like I was proud of it. I lost who I really was even when I didn’t know myself. I became the worst person I could be when he was around. He talked about intimate personal things about me in front of everyone. He cheated on me and stung me along when things didn’t go his way. I watched him push me away as he got closer to her even when we were still in a relationship. When she got depressed and started hurting herself, he threw it right back at me “don’t go hurting yourself just to get attention from me!”

We decided to go to Vegas for my birthday and he wanted to bring her along. We had our own room, our friends in the other. We started to mess around and one thing led to another. After some time I wanted to stop and I told him to stop but he kept going. It started to get really rough and hurt really bad and I told him it was hurting and to stop again, but he still didn’t stop until he felt he was done. I was in so much pain so I stayed laying on the bed. When we got up, we got decent and joined our friends, they thought we were just having crazy sex. After that weekend, we broke up. At one point some of us friends went to get coffee and I overheard him say to someone, “All I wanted was her innocence.”

Around this same time my parents were starting to go through their divorce. It didn’t make things easy at all. I smoked when I shouldn’t have. For years all I wanted was to hurt him back, to get revenge on him. Even 3 years into the next relationship I had, that was all I could think of. I wanted to hurt him, I wanted to kill him, I wanted him to die, four of five years I would try to get my revenge, try to figure out where he lived.

After some time I forgot about it. Some things changed. Another 5 years passed and here I am now. But I can’t forget the way it made me feel, the way it still makes me feel about myself. So violated and dirty and broken. I should had my guard up. I shouldn’t have given myself away so easily. Is it my fault that this happened to me? That I let it happen? Who is it that I need to forgive? I don’t want to talk about it because I feel so ashamed of myself. Even just writing it down is hard. I don’t want to cry anymore. I don’t want to hurt anymore or feel this way and I keep saying that every single time and now I sound like a broken record. I don’t want to tell this story anymore. At the same time, I know my life wouldn’t be the same if none of this happened. I wouldn’t be the person I am. I would probably be lost in a world of shadows hiding behind everyone I could, like everyone else and not having my own mind, my own personality. And even when Derick tried to turn me into someone else, he got me to find my own true self. As harsh of a reality that I had to go through with them, all I had to do was to look deeper, behind what was really happening. In a sense, maybe I should thank them, because of them, I am not as sensitive, I can think for myself and know that I am making the right decisions in life. I have the strength to stand up for what I believe is right.

**This is something I wrote a long time ago. I found it in one of my journals. I wrote it because I’ve gotten over, worked through this particular part of my life.**

lets pretend

Lets pretend that this mental illness of mine was all made up. That I am doing it for attention. That I don’t need to take all this medicine. That I am always on the up and up and life is good. Then reality kicks in and it is all very real. I’m not doing it to get attention. Believe me, I don’t like getting all the attention. I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t want to have to rely on medication just to make me feel normal. I don’t want to constantly be asked “Are you okay?” because I really don’t have an answer and of course I’m going to lie and say that I am. But at the same time I don’t want to talk about it either. There is nothing to talk about. I’m just in a state of mind. The in between. Not negative, not positive, I’m in nowhere land. I have no control over this. It just happens without me knowing it and by that time, it’s too late. I’m already there. I’m in this state of mind that is indescribable. A blank stare across my face. My inside is hollow with cobwebs hanging here and there. Cold grey cement walls. No thoughts. No words. No actions. How long it lasts, I don’t know. I can’t put on a happy face anymore and pretend that everything is okay. I wish I could, it would make things a lot easier. People won’t get hurt. I don’t choose to be like this. But I can’t take it anymore. I don’t want to have to explain myself to people when they see me like this because there is no explanation. I’m tired of having to pretend that everything is okay, that I am okay, because I’m not and everything is not okay. I don’t want to be fixed, my doctor is already doing that. You just gotta let it pass. Lets just pretend that people understand what it is that I’m going through and give me a break. I am trying my hardest to get through this and I gotta tell you, this, THIS, is REALLY REALLY REALLY HARD! I haven’t given up yet. I’m still here, aren’t I? But please, don’t be offended if you are not the person that I choose to talk to about this. I do it for good reason. So in the end, lets just pretend that I don’t have this mental illness and you treat me like a normal person as if nothing was ever wrong.

not quite an open book

I have a hard time talking about my depression. It’s easier for me to stay away from people, no one gets hurt and I don’t become a burden to anyone. A lot of people tell me that I could talk to them and that they are there for me. Unfortunately, like many of us, there are only certain people that we can confide in. So with that being said, thank you, but no thank you in the most sincere way. But then, there comes a time when I do try to open up to someone. I give very subtle hints and maybe they may not even be noticeable so it is at no fault to that person if they don’t notice it. Instead of picking up on my hint, they tell me to do something else and the conversation is over. At the same time it turns me further away from trying to talk about things and am reminded of why I don’t dare try to bring things up and then hide them even more. It’s ok, I’m used to it. I’ve hid it for a very long time and it is extremely hard for me to talk about in the first place. I don’t know when or if there will ever be a time that I talk about it outside of my therapist’s office. I mean sometimes I have a lot of things to say and others, there is absolutely nothing. Nothing at all, just stuck in a state of mind. Truth be told, I am afraid of openly talking about it because I really don’t know what the other person is going to say and I don’t know what to expect from them either. I am afraid that they will say something that will offend me or vice versa and then we end up getting mad at each other because of the misunderstanding. I know I haven’t given it a chance so I shouldn’t even be critical of it, but it really scares me to talk about it. If I end up somehow talking about it, it is very very surface level, nothing to really know exactly what is going on, just that I’m in an off mood or I’m not myself today or something doesn’t feel right, whatever excuse I can come up with to dodge the conversation. I never really liked the attention either. So, it’s just going to be an ongoing battle of what should I do?

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