I’ve realized that I’ve been so focused on myself in the past couple of months–I failed to see anyone else. I was locked in some sort of dungeon that Meg and my parents have been chipping away at. I’m emerging more like a butterfly than a cocoon. I’m not so wrapped up in who I am and what I’m going through. Everyone has their demons they battle daily. Nobody has a perfect life. But, just because I don’t want to have to/can’t pay for therapy–doesn’t mean I can pawn off my issues on to others. It can be overwhelming. I know first hand. I’ve dealt with it with Meg. Having her call me in the middle of the night when I was still dating two girls…. saying she was hearing/seeing things. I drove over there and held her all night. Other times, I would say something out of frustration and I’d come find her trying to kill herself. It’s not easy. But, for those you care about–you stick around for them. You try to fix them. And, I’ve done that for Meg. And she’s done it for me. I just had to be receptive to the idea. It takes awhile to realize just how lucky you are. It’s frustrating that I’ve lost so many friends so fast–who never got a chance to know how fracking goofy and fun we both are. We are bipolar. It’s a real disease. But, talking and hanging out in person (unless with a therapist), we are just cracking jokes. It is what we do. I’ve been optimistic the past few days. I’m exhausted from severe insomnia, but otherwise– I’m doing well. This is the happiest I’ve felt in a long while. Although, we do have a seemingly insurmountable amount of laundry to do!
I sit here waiting for someone who will never show.
Someone who can’t come alone.
It’s easier to see someone broken with another.
I understand.
Sadness is difficult to deal with and witness.
But, the solution is not solidarity.
My presence in someone’s life is nothing but love.
I am not perfect.
But, I love to help.
And will always be a heartbeat away.
Everything happens for a reason. Sometimes I also ponder the concept of if we have control over our destiny or fate–or if it’s completely out of our control. I always said it was not in our hands, but while I still believe that in a sense there are are occasions, where stars align and can shine light on what was otherwise darkness. Perhaps endless darkness.
This is when you realize that not everything is the worst.
I’ve hurt myself many times in the past. Sometimes cognizant–sometimes in a state of inebriation. But, I never meant to end the suffering permanently–just temporarily taking the concentration off of the plague that is my existence. Until yesterday…. I decided how and when I would exit this world. Knowing that it would irreparably damage my fiance and parents. I would destroy them, but they would recover and be better off in the long run.
I have spent the past week in bed–trying to sleep off this ailment that I can not seem to rid myself of. It seems trivial to those who have never endured the inner demons that I’ve lived with for years. I can’t explain to you what that is like. I can’t keep losing friends because of drunken tirades that I hurl their way– or using them as therapists. I’ve had actual therapists. I prefer using my friends as punching bags, apparently. That’s wrong of me.
But, I have a fiance who loves me no matter what. She would gladly be my punching bag. Or maybe I just need a punching bag.
The timing of things is so crucial. I slit my wrists and dug a razor blade into my leg on my girlfriend’s 25th birthday. While she was in the shower. I had to get twelve stitches in my upper thigh. I’ve had the same amount in my neck when I used a razor blade to slit it. Nicked the carotid artery. Went to a psych ward. It seems selfish. And to a degree it is. I hope no one else knows the mental or physical pain that those with these ailments go through. But, back to the issue of timing. My best friend, who lived around the block from me, that I met just randomly when I was 8 years old… just when we ran into each other walking down the same street….. I met him then and we were inseparable until he was my prom date my senior year and I bailed at the last minute. This was of course the Social Anxiety making decisions. But, I broke a heart. Not just his, but mine as well…. because I lost a friend. It’s been nine years since I spoke with him. I sent him a video:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSmE0BBOwSg Just like I sent him a “happy birthday” on October 24th. He remembers mine, too. He responded with a video of a song that we used to sing together in the car. First I’ve heard from him in so long. I cried. I miss him so much. I learned that he had feelings for me that I was too naive and innocent to understand. And as gay as I am, I would have reciprocated them. He was and is that special. He deserves everything good to happen to him. I’m in love. I hope he finds that and I’m thrilled he accepted my apologies. But, the call he gave to me today saved me from an inevitably tragic ending. Right time. Right place. I owe him indefinitely. I can honestly say that right now he is my only friend. It’s tough to be friends with people who appear to not attempt to help themselves. I know this. I live with it daily.
There are times that the world may break your heart.
There are times that those you love will do the same.
I’ve decided that perhaps that should be the start of something new.
It is symbolic of a chance to change and become something different.
A chance to grow up and become the person you didn’t know you could be.
I am learning and adapting… growing into that adult.
It’s not easy and it’s harming me in many ways, but I’m learning.
At the very least, I have my innate sense of sensibility and love.
I am the first one to cry at the movies or at the site of a dying dove.
I am the one who hurts and forever hurts.
I am both the harmer and the fixer.
I will not be able to change some aspects of my personality.
But, I would rather die trying than hurt the love of my life.
Coming from an anti-violent person…
Some things are worth fighting for.
And I have failed.
I will not ever do that again.
Megan, I will marry you. I’m so sorry.
You can hear the words that others say.
You can accept them or choose to defeat them.
Sometimes it’s a difficult choice.
Do you buy into them or decide that they’re wrong?
Do you make the decision to grow from the insults?
Or do you choose to dig your own grave and lie in it?
I’m choosing the former because I have someone who loves me.
I was informed my neediness was too much to deal with.
But, no one in my life would ever say something so inane.
I’m certainly not someone without their problems.
Every day I wake up just waiting for another one to arise.
The anticipation is draining the blood from my body.
I know that I will face something challenging emotionally.
Sometimes it’s my fault, sometimes it’s anothers.
I pawn those off to their own demons.
I accept that.
People make mistakes and I’ve made plenty.
But, at a certain point… perhaps when you hit twenty
You start wondering if you are worth more than that?
I wonder that every day.
I am at a crossroads.
I’ve been told I was a fucking horrible person recently.
But, I am not.
I have one of the biggest hearts out there.
I try to help someone out with a problem I am familiar with.
I fuck that up.
This is my life. Welcome.
Sometimes life is more difficult than other times. That is a natural and normal feeling. We have ups and downs. Unfortunately, despite the support of so many…. I have never been able to dust myself off and pick myself up. I’m lost. I’m tired. I see no light at the end of the esoteric tunnel. But, maybe I do at the tunnel to the end of life. I have tried methods of treatment and none have worked for me. And most recently, I have not only lost someone that could have been a good friend in the future, due to extremely inappropriate attempts at complimenting in a way that would, and perhaps intentionally, appear to be an attempt to woo someone. Thus, breaking the love of my life’s heart and labeling me a cheater on someone I have been faithful to for three wonderful years. Something that has destroyed everything I found decent or respectable about myself. I am a hideous beast. I wake up every morning thinking…. “Who would or could love me?” I haven’t looked in a mirror in years. I have my fiance pluck my eyebrows. I put on make-up and shower in the dark. I have always had image issues. That’s nothing new. However, in a moment of drunken weakness, I confessed feelings to a crush I had years ago. I wanted someone who I had been told I was pretty to previously to want to recite those words again. It was selfish and inane (and insane). And I regret every word, of which I have not re-read since posted. I want them out of my life forever. Not the person. The deplorable nature of my actions.
I didn’t graduate college because I lost my mind. And I almost lost my girlfriend because of my own insecurities. I do not deserve anything from anyone and hate when I get compliments because I did not earn them. Everyone messes up. But, not everyone messes up in the same way as me. My action occurred with absolutely no consideration for anyone else. That is my flaw and fault. I’ve felt this way even during my 3 month sober period. I can’t shake the self-hatred. I’ve always been critical of myself and have expectations of perfection and superman-type capabilities. –and believe I could have achieved them. I am a special person with distinct quirks and traits that are not unlikable. But, I err. I am human.
And just typing this blog, I realize that all I talk about is myself. My inability to realize that I have any affect whatsoever on others is perhaps my biggest mistake and it’s become an enormous and indescribably sized scar that’s grown on both my heart and my body. I am sorry for all whom I have hurt. Sorry actually isn’t a strong enough term in this instance. All I feel is remorse. My one emotion these days. I lament the fact that I even exist. It kills me that I am with this perfect impeccable woman, whom I do not and will never deserve, and can’t accept her apparent sincerity with her declarations of love. It destroys me that I’ve destroyed so many with my mental instabilities. Sorry is not enough. I have lost everything due to issues that I couldn’t always or ever control. I had potential, but that train left the station the moment I decided to be an independent free spirit. My heart is too big, my conscience too small and my lack of confidence far too large to find a proper synonym for. I guess the RMS Titanic would be an appropriate comparison. The unsinkable ship. The largest ever. The one that killed and harmed many. That’s me. That’s how much potential I had and lost because of an illness that I never asked for–nor ever wanted. Just like I never asked to be born. But, we can’t always control our destiny. We can try and alter it. The problem being that we can’t navigate it in the direction we deserve sometimes. There are icebergs out there that sink all expectations and dreams…. often, it’s our own doing by action, but not because it was our desire.
Virginia Woolf’s suicide note says it best: “I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier ’til this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that — everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer. I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been. V.”
lack of eloquence does not mean a lack of meaning and truth. In my previous post, I made it seem as though my Dad was the sole reason for my seeking sobriety and stability. That is only a part of the reason. I want to make everyone in my family proud. I have a sister, a brother-in-law, a mother, a father, a FIANCE, a niece, and 2 dogs and a cat. I have a food bank business card sitting on my bookshelf. I need to start doing volunteer work and getting my life together before attempting a real job. In case you were wondering– Meg and I both have 3 semesters of Texas A&M before our degree. We failed at that. But, we can succeed in other ways. There is no one right path. And as long as she and I pursue it together…. all the pieces will fit perfectly.
I feel I did not iterate this enough earlier…. but, just because I was “daddy’s girl” because of my youthful athleticism…. my mom has been my rock as well. And my sister… as terrifying as she was growing up…. has given me sage advice, grown-up responsibilities, and provided me with more than necessary during this trying time. I love all of them so much. I’m sorry they are not as open with their emotions as I am.
Health care. Let me not be someone to mention some outrageously socialist proposition that completely outrages everyone in the state I was born and raised (and still reside in). I’m not on a Chavez level of socialism (too soon?.) But, what I do take issue with is the way mental health care is treated and viewed in this country. Selfishly, yes. I am saying this in a selfish way. People have it way worse than me; there are those who should and could be complaining and stating a way more effective case for change than I ever could.
But, let’s think about this for a second…. how many criminals have some sort of mental illness? How many… if granted an opportunity…could afford treatment? The answer is zero. I can’t even afford help. I am a raging alcoholic. I finally found a doctor who seemed like he could help. He had been trained in teaching a certain book/exercise manual packet. He didn’t believe in groups. He was an ex-pastor who didn’t follow the 12 step program. It looked perfect on paper. I was directed to him by my primary care physician.
And then I get there…. and he takes no insurance. 160 dollars a session. He wants to see me twice a week at 160 dollars a session. Not to mention the “several thousand dollars” the course that he teaches will take. I looked it up online. I can buy both items for less than 15 dollars.
I feel that this is exploiting the mentally ill. When really…. most of the crime is committed by the mentally ill! Obviously, I am not going to commit a crime. I felt too guilty to take two dollars from RedBox. But, there are crazy people out there–who would be much better off in a program to wean them off of drugs (which I have heard is a nightmare), help them find jobs, figure out a root problem, and set them on their own two feet. These are not program’s that are useless. I am one of the people that needs help in such a manner. I have an issue that cannot be addressed on my own. The last nurse practitioner that I was seeing…. was one of the meanest personnel I have ever been witness to. She told me that I was too much for her to handle. I have little faith in therapy or medicine at this point, but I like to believe that someone out there is affordable and capable of dealing with a tough client. Even this previous man could see that intelligence lies beneath the decay and graffiti that adorns my skin and soul. I’m twenty-seven. I am not a lost cause yet. But, it’s beginning to seem a precarious situation in regards to finding a reputable and yet…. affordable solution to a problem that could potentially end up being priceless. It’s not right. It’s not fair. And I don’t really care what right-wingers have to say about it…. mental health care should cost less than it does. Taxes or not. Suck it up. Grow a pair. And let people who deserve a chance to live…live.
OH. And for those unfamiliar…. AA you believe is a great choice…. BUT, not only am I an agnostic/atheistic person…. I have also read of many stories where if you are a girl and go to these meetings alone–there is a high chance that a predator will take you and rape you. So, yay for that idea.
So, I had some very sweet people reach out to me about this. Thanks to those people. I am so sorry if I burdened anyone with my over privileged annoying self. I am a spoiled brat who ruined everything. That I know…. I think the writing was on the wall that this would happen. But, now I am faced with this most important decision…. can I do this on my own with doctors locally or am I forced to spend time in rehab where I know no one and cannot talk to anyone because that scares me more? Can I leave my girlfriend and my dog? She being the only person I can talk to besides my parents (including my sister… who terrifies me most of all).? I don’t know what to do anymore. But, I need to get better or I will die. And despite hating myself… I know that I would have been capable of accomplishing more than I had a chance to due to addiction. Good lord, I’m just so sorry to everyone I know.
And as an aside…
There is no shame in admitting you have a problem—mental healthy wise or substance abuse wise. It’s more common than you know–and more difficult to defeat than you will ever know.
