Friday Feelings - SELF-CARE AND THE HOLIDAYS

Maybelline says, "This road trip is making me tired.  I'll just steal Becca's pillow."

I’d love to hear from you?

Is self-care difficult for you?

Do you do anything special this time of year to help you cope?

I’m too busy; I don’t want to inconvenience anybody; There just aren’t enough hours in the day; My family will hate me; I don't want to be selfish; Others need me more; My boss expects more of me this time of year.

Have you said those words or others regarding practicing self-care?  The list of reasons not to take care of ourselves this holiday season could go on ad infinitum.

While last week we discussed what the basics of self care are, with this holiday season coming up on us, self-care may not seem as much a priority against the plethora of activities surrounding the holidays.

Trying to recover in good times is difficult; add in family, shopping, food , and the overall chaos that ensues and you have all the elements brewing for a possible emotional breakdown.  And you can’t steel yourself against  or talk yourself out of a breakdown.  The only way to avoid an emotional collapse is to make self-care a non-negotiable prerequisite to the eventual stress.  

Twitter user Mana @fallingstar_x tweeted recently, (used with her permission)

• “I'm doing the best I can. Well, we are. Just have to get through the holidays. I can fall apart in January, not before, please not before. I'm struggling so much.”  

In response to a couple of my questions asking why she HAD to hold it together, she tweeted,

• “Because my family has enough to worry about and we're quite busy until after Christmas. I don't want to ruin anything, don't want them to hate me.”

Privately, she wrote to me (also used with her permission):

• During Christmas I always freak out and relapse. Nothing seems to help during that time and I'm really busy finding something I can do when I get overwhelmed, without offending my family . . . “

I would offer that Mana’s response is not uncommon.  

However, I wonder if families would really hate another member if they needed some downtime. I also wonder what we might discover if we stepped back from that thinking and really assessed how our loved ones would react to our taking care of ourselves. What if we asked them?

As for me, when I’m with my family and it gets to be too much, I say eff it and go do my own thing.  If I want to be at my optimum, I have to take care of myself, do things for myself, regardless if it inconveniences them or they disapprove.  That’s just the way it is.

Think of animals.  Of course my dog Maybelline comes to mind.  When I rescued Maybelline from the animal shelter, she was neglected, sad, peeking out from downcast eyes, listless, and with no spunk or enjoyment of life.  Now that I’ve been taking care of her, such as taking her for walks, feeding her, rubbing her belly, and playing with her, she is thriving and returns the love in kind with kisses and snuggles.  

The same is true of you.  If you take care of yourself  and practice self-care, you will put yourself in a better position to be balanced, happy, and engaging for yourself and for those close to you.

It is true, however, that our family, friends, and employers may not understand the concept of self-care.  My thoughts are that their approval is not predicated on whether I take care of myself.  Self-care is not selfish or inconsiderate.  It's for preservation. I am reminded of the quote below:

I laugh, but it’s true.  Self-care not only benefits me, but it improves my relationships with others. I can’t imagine how I would handle the world right now if I didn’t have some “me time.”

So when it comes to your sanity this holiday season, think of the benefits below.  Self care:

• Prevents burnout
• Makes you more energetic because you feel better
• Boosts confidence
• Maintains a healthy relationship with self and others
• Reduces stress
• Helps you refocus

Aristotle said we are what we repeatedly do. So if we repeatedly neglect ourselves, we burn out and will probably not be much use to anyone. However, if we repeatedly take care of ourselves, we will be in a position to contribute to the season, to our family and friends, and especially our sanity.

Next week in another addition of Friday Feelings, we’ll explore what to do if we feel we don’t deserve self care.

I’d love to hear from you?

Is self-care difficult for you?

Do you do anything special this time of year to help you cope?

THE NOT-SO BIG REVEAL OUT OF HIDING!

Always have to start with Maybelline.  She's the beginning and the end of my world.

Today sucks.  I hate today.  I feel depressed because I'm fat.  I am having some distressing gastrointestinal issues going on, and they are wreaking havoc on my body and making me feel fat . . . . which in turn makes me depressed.  So I've been hiding in my apartment all day.

So I thought of one thing that might make me feel better today which is to stop hiding behind an anonymous screen and reveal my picture and identity. 

I’ve been thinking about revealing my identity for a while, but up until 2015 I was studying to be a teacher or working as a teacher, and I didn’t think it would be prudent to expose myself in such a vulnerable way in such an important role.  However, I’m not working now, so I can take more risks, and I’m ready to take some now.  I would say my life is boring and safe right now in many ways.  I’m not taking chances in recovery.  I hold up the same walls to Therapist that I usually do.  I just play it safe and if you always do the things you’ve always done, you will always get what you’ve always gotten.

And for some reason, I want more now.  I’m hungry for some type of change.  Something to shake up things.  (I don't know who is saying this because it's not coming from me.) I don’t know what change looks like, what it is, or how to get it.  Normally I hate change.  Still do.  And when it comes time to enacting change, I’ll probably avoid it.  But for now I’ll take my first step and reveal my identity.  


So my name is Becca, and these are some of pictures below.

Hi!  I'm Becca and this is my frizzy, curly hair.

Maybelline and I fell asleep together, and Husband was mean enough to take a picture.

Maybelline loves to rest on my chest.  I think it's my heartbeat she likes to hear.

Always snuggling.  She is my world.

1 of 2 pictures without Maybelline.  What can I say?

Well, now you know.  My name is Becca and I have curly hair.  Not quite an NBC reveal, but it will have to do.  I'll change my avatar soon on IG and Twitter.  I invite you to look at my Instagram page @Run_Becca_Run if you would like to see more pictures of me, Maybelline, and all things inspiration.

I'd love to hear from you!

How do you feel about revealing or not revealing your identity?

Does anything scare you about it?

ARE YOU READY FOR THE BIG CHANGES?!!

Maybelline loves this heated plush throw I bought, and she has been hunkered down in my arms to share it with me.

Winds of Change

I’ve decided to make some changes to the blog.  First off, every Monday will be considered “Music Monday”, and I will give three songs that I feel have some commentary on recovery.  I will draw from all types of music, country, rap, R & B, pop; nothing is off limits.  I will also add why I chose that song and why it’s relavant to my recovery at that time.  It’s my hope that you will send me your own favorites or music that speaks to you, so we can all share what motivates us to get better.

Secondly, the next blog that will have a specific topic will be on Wednesdays and will be called “Wednesday Wisdom” in where I will find a quote to discuss and relate how it pertains to me or my reaction to it.  A lot of my quotes will center around recovery and where I am in relationship to it.  You can help also by giving your favorite quote, and I will be happy to work it into a blog.

Lastly, Fridays will be called “Friday Feels” where I will hand out 3-5 self-care tips to help us take care of our selfves, or at least entertain the idea that that is something we need to do.  Again, the community can be a tremendous asset in sharing what helps you, and might also be featured in an upcoming blog.

Why?  

I’ve been thinking about this blog a lot, and it’s really just become a dumping ground for whatever is going wrong in that moment in my life.  You don’t need to read that.  You already have crap-storms of your own to deal with.  As a result, I wanted to put more of a positive focus on this blog, a place you can come to for answers, commiseration, or relatably.  I greatly encourage your participation and interaction because that is truly what makes the community focus itself, reach for higher goals, and get better.

Speaking of getting better

I can not stress how much lately I don’t want to get better.  I’ve even mentioned it in a couple of my recent blogs.  So this is a big step for my transforming my blog to something more recovery focused.  Getting better, or even the appearance of improvement, creates a resurgence of bold insecurity and fear of change.  On this blog, I’ll be trying to keep a positive tone, so staying focused on recovery will be my challenge.

I’m only human

As was just mentioned, this blog will now become a blog of positivity and will be recovery-focused instead of a dumping ground for everything going wrong.  But that dumping ground is where I’ve always felt safe, so I can tell you now we might have some starts and stops at the beginning.  Tonight’s post just about the changes upcoming was made on some heavy medication because I was having a dissociative break.    So please bear with me.  

Somethings will stay the same. I will always put my dog Maybeline at the beginning of the post since she is the beginning of my world. What will also stay the same is I will never B.S. about how I am. I will not write a positive blog post when in reality I'm self-harming or engaged in other maladaptive behaviors. I will always tell you what's going on. I don't expect perfection from anyone.

Despite my trepidation, I am very much looking forward to exploring music tomorrow, Monday, and how the songs I choose impact my recovery.  Remember, you are part of this journey.  Share your recovery songs also.

Until then. . .

This quote is for all of us, especially me as I embark on undertaking a more positive, recovery-focused blog.

LIVING A MYSTERY

Maybelline snuggling up with my bear on a road trip.  

Worth Wondering.

WHO'S ON FIRST?

So my session with Therapist was interesting yesterday.  At one point he mentioned an alter, Tina, but she was already and participating in the session, but he didn't know it.  And I'm like, "Dude, don't you know after all these years who you talkin' to?"  Made me lose confidence that he really knows who we are and aren't.  Does he not know us by now?  You can't tell I'm in the room?  I HATE being talked about in 3rd person.

JOB TALK

We discussed things like obtaining my Masters degree for writing and also doing some tutoring on the side since I used to be a teacher.  I've decided to begin the arduous and probably disappointing process of using services from Vocational Rehabilitation.  If tutoring is something I consider pursuing, they would help me out by finding me jobs and places that are looking for tutors. 

THE BROKEN BRAIN

He also didn't give much merit to what was said about the mind losing energy with the smallest work and needs a nap frequently to reset.  He didn't understand what I meant when I said our brain was broken.  It's when much of your coping skills are gone.  When you revert back to the person you were before you made progress.  A broken brain is where every little task seems overwhelming and you almost feel child-like and can't do anything.  A broken brain is like being in a coma, able to hear and feel your surroundings, but unable to communicate anything from the bottom of the coma in which you are encased.  My brain broke in 2015 for good.  Since then, it's just about piecing moments and thoughts together to make a semblance of a life.

DISCUSSING CHILDHOOD

Therapist also wanted to talk about the happy times of childhood.  I shut that shit down fast.  I don't want to discuss any aspect of being a child.  If there were good times, I don't want to know about it. There is nothing worth remembering, nothing about being a child that I want any knowledge of. 

What are your thoughts?  

1)How do you hand your therapist talking to and about your parts?

2) Have you ever thought something inside you broke?

3)  Do you avoid talking about childhood altogether, or can you appreciate happy times if they existed?

GETTING BETTER: THE CONUDRUM

Maybelline learning to solve a puzzle for her treats.

Pieces Taken from Wednesday’s Journal Entry

Guess I’ve occupied myself well enough today.  Most of the depression lingering in my soul is dissipating.  Did some cleaning today and cooking.  Breaded pork loin chops, sauteed cabbage, and mashed potatoes were made.  Wasn’t too bad.  Better than the pigs in a blanket I failed at making yesterday.  

I’m listening to the same song on repeat called “Good Enough” by Sarah McLachlan, and she has two lines in it that hit me right in the heart.  She sings, “And I don’t understand; you deserve so much more than this.”  I wish someone would say that to me.

The Birth Parents didn’t really do anything growing up to help with self-esteem or mental health in general.  No kind words of appreciation or kudos for doing something really difficult.  I guess they were clueless.  Neither one of them is very emotional.  

So I see Therapist tomorrow.  What to talk about?  I never know because I don’t want to get better.  The thought of "growing up" and going out now, taking on responsibility and  being an adult is terrifying, and I don’t want it.  I don’t even want to try . . . again.  

Something in me likes staying at hiome, walking Maybelline, cooking dinner, grocery shopping.  I don’t want to give this up for an uncertain future.  And I know I will go back to my  maladaptive coping mechanisms.  

I’ve continued thinking seriously about a writing career and going back to school for my Masters in Professional Writing.  But as I was working on creative writing exercises today, one assignment was to write about a childhood memory.  Ummm?  No!  So a Masters program would likely have that assignment.  The creative exercise recommended writing about 1,500 words.  I squeaked out 150 words.  I decided to write on the time I almost drowned.  It’s a work in progress, and I feel at the mercy of my parts.

I haven’t blogged lately.  There are no words, no ideas.  Nothing I have to say. The depression flattens everything, especially my words. The only part I’ve connected to is Tina and her love (too strong a word) of cooking.  

With the depression, I would think Victoria would be around to say something.  Actually, I’m reminded she did write on Monday.  Oopsie.

Reflecting on why I continue to see Therapist: why do I still have sessions when I don’t want to get better?  I would answer that two-fold.  1) what if he’s my last hope?  What if I somehow, someway did want to get better?  What would I do without him? Seeing him is like insurance just in case I change my mind.  2) Attention.  Yes, we are that desperate.  We get attention from him.  Not as much as we would like.  He has no reaction to what we say.  He’s greatly in check of his emotions, and I think it’s appropriate most of the time, but not always.  Sometimes it’s good to show you can be human.

Goals.

Someone always has to mouth off, and maybe one day I'll love her for it.

WHAT DEPRESSION AND ANXIETY LOOK LIKE

Today I feel so depressed and anxious.  I’m having trouble just getting up off the couch.  I did water my plant and opened the windows for some fresh air, but I’m still in my pajamas and may stay in them all day.  I’ve already gone to McDonalds for a soda in my pajamas and house shoes.  What the fuck do I care?  I haven’t made my bed or unloaded the dishwasher.  It’s Monday, and normally this is the day I clean the apartment.  And Maybelline is sad because I haven’t take her for a walk.  I hate this day.

I should be ashamed that I haven't picked up the air freshener on the floor in the pic, but I'm not.

I have Therapist today.  Whatever.  I really don’t want to go.  

And I can’t  breathe.  I can’t cry.  I can’t move.  I can’t live but I can’t die. But I feel myself fading away.

Just not fast enough.

I should just remind myself that depression will come and go.  I've had better days before, and I will have them again.  Only the depression shuts that noise down.  It blocks the ability to think, to contemplate, to hope. 

I'm out.

THE COUP: ILLEGAL SEIZURE OF POWER

Maybelline sound asleep.  She loves her crate.  Makes her feel safe and secure.

I don’t know if I can write this post.  I feel extremely dissociative at this very moment despite taking my medication.

I don’t know why it’s important to write this, but last night’s experience was so bizarre, disruptive, and disturbing that I need to make sense of it.  

Last night wreaked havoc on me, and I’m not sure I can adequately give voice to it.  

I think something was triggered in our session with Therapist yesterday.  We came home, journaled, and then went to our place of worship.  I was so emotional through the services that I sat in my seat and cried.  When time was up, we had a congregation prayer, and it dawned on me my eyes were open during it.  Then I had a flashback to a time when I might have been eight years old, and I refused to close my eyes during prayer and hadn't been for a long while.  Closed eyes do not equal safety.  You must always keep your eyes open to remain vigilant and safe from people hurting you.  

When I remembered this, I began to dissociate and switch.  It was like the light switch was being turned off and on, off and on, over and over.  The switching was constant, and I had to leave quickly.  

Meanwhile, I came home around 9:30 pm and my lower extremities were in such pain, but I had no clue why.  I hadn't done anything differently to cause such pain. It baffled me, but I took pain medication that never worked.  I doubled the dosage and nothing even came close to alleviating the pain.  

Meantime, Husband left to go to bed around this time of 10:00, but I wasn’t sleepy so I stayed in the living room to catch up on social media, pay bills, etc.  But I kept noticing I couldn’t remembering what I was supposed to be doing.  I would start a task and then forget what I was supposed to do.  It felt like I was flitting from one thing to another, but I couldn’t make sense out of anything I was trying to accomplish.  

I can not overstate it when I say I couldn’t remember from one moment to the next.  It was like being in a dense, thick fog, and I couldn’t process anything.  I was confounded, but couldn’t untangle the mental mess.

I decided to take my night meds and go to bed, but the dissociation had other plans for me.  I wasn’t tired or sleepy despite taking sleeping pills.  

It honestly felt like someone was overriding my medication or it just didn’t affect them.  It never felt like true insomnia.  This felt totally different, like my members were just wide awake.  Almost manic but without the hyperactivity.  I was simply awake and not able to think clearly.

Hours later, I took a muscle relaxer and laid in bed feeling very strange and out of sorts

Sleep finally found me but in bits and pieces, tossing and turning.  

I’ve had insomnia frequently in life but never before did it feel like the hostile takeover of last night.

Today has been similiar.  I’ve been spacey, dissociative, and I have an unrelenting migraine.  

I write this experience because I’m trying to make sense of it, and I’m wondering if anyone reading this might have had a similiar experience because this was way out of the spectrum of normal for me.

Safety is as Stupid Does

Maybelline taking a long nap after a walk.

I feel uneasy and unsettled, and a lot has to do with our session with Therapist.  The clock revealed only 30 minutes had elapsed, so I must have lost time in there.  I remember talking about Husband’s violent behavior and about how others cope who don’t cut, which I find interesting because the cutting isn’t what Therapist should be worried about.  Burning and my restrictive thoughts and behaviors should concern him more.  But with satisfaction I digress.  

Always looking for safe places.

So I’m supposed to blog about what would make me feel safe; what in my present life would make me feel safe.  

LOL.  I’m more likely to find the 8th World Wonder.

SAFETY: the condition of being protected from or unlikely to cause danger, risk, or injury. Security.

Ironically, what has made me feel the most unsafe is the only thing that can make me feel safe again.  Men.  I remember how safe Former Psychiatrist made me feel.  He spoke softly and tenderly to us.  He even allowed me to see how my poetry made him cry.  

Some have said they feel safe with Therapist.  I can’t say that.  I don’t feel he’s warm, soft, or caring, and that’s what we need.

Safety should be a one-way street.  There should be other things to make me feel safe.  But the truth is that what destroyed me is the only thing that can resurrect me.  

But in a perfect world, what would keep me safe?

I can’t answer that.  Nothing will or would.  I’m constantly aware of the dangers around me.  I wonder if you can be both.  Can you be aware of danger but be safe at the same time?

I have no concept of safety.  I’ve always wanted to feel taken care of and protected.  To the core and by the core, we’ve never felt safe.

This subject is bringing out my self-harm inclincations.

I hate this fucking topic of safety.  No where in the world is it safe.  Danger lies in everyone’s thoughts and behind everyone’s perverted fucking eyes.  

I don’t wanna write anymore.  

But we didn’t find the answers.  

Except for one: it’s not safe even inside.  

(There is a child talking to me with a British accent and I hear Victoria trying to calm her)

Why is she upset?   Is she upset because there’s no safety anywhere?

*Realization*

Words.  Words make Victoria feel safe, especially when she can artfully craft them and express them just how she wants them to be.  She’s protected by her words.  They are her defenses.

The rest of us don’t have one.