FRIDAY FEELINGS - THE BASICS OF SELF CARE - VOL 1

Never really engaging in self-care, I had no idea what to expect, write, or suggest about it. I've been to enough treatment facilities that encouraged self-care, but I always believed I didn't deserve it, so I wouldn't even try.

But learning that self-care lowers stress levels, helps maintain focus on recovery, and helps boost personal happiness, I knew that whether I believed I deserved self-care or not, I was going to "fake it till I make it"; I was going to act like I deserved it. But where to begin?

First, the website Psych Central defines self care as "any activity that we do deliberately in order to take care of our mental, emotional, and physical health."

I appreciate the word used here: deliberately.  It implies an action that is not easy and for which planning will be needed.  It has to be a calculated, deliberate act of treating ourselves to a special activity in order for self-care to be effective.

For many of us, there is a learning curve because self-care doesn't come naturally.  It doesn't feel normal.  We are more prone to hurting ourselves than to taking care of ourselves.

After thinking about self-care and doing some research, I came across the above image exploring different types of self-care.  Physical, Emotional, Spiritual, Practical, Social, and Financial.  The list is brilliant in breaking down the types of  self care and provides examples and suggestions on implementing it.  For instance, under Social Self-Care, the idea to work on friendships is given.  Perhaps you may call up an old friend or acquaintance and prepare some questions you'd like to ask him or her over coffee or tea.  If hanging out with someone is too overwhelming, maybe you could send them a text, let them know you are thinking of him or her.  You could even investigate some clubs or groups you could join where people have similar interests.  

The idea is to just do something.  Let's get out of our comfort zones and deliberately plan an activity that might make us feel better.

I am deliberately choosing to use Practical Self-Care by vacuuming my apartment this weekend.   I love the feeling I get when my home is clean, so this activity will help me accomplish something that makes me feel good and calms.   What about you?

I'd love to hear from you.

Does self-care come easy or hard for you?

What is one deliberate act of self-care you can take to make yourself feel better?

What are some of your ideas on how you take care of yourself?

BROKEN, BEATEN, AND BULLIED

I can count on it.  I depend on it.  And it never lets me down.  The nighttime, from 6-10, is the graveyard where my pretenses  go to die.   

It’s kind of good in a way . . . to feel this despair, I mean.  Before I would try to steel myself against the pain, but now innocent tears plunge down well worn pathways, and my resolve is lost.  I become that bullied child again.  

I often think I should just get over it.  They were just kids, weren’t they?  Did they know better?  Does it matter?

Ask my insecurities.  They’ll tell you.  They’ll scream the truth if it were safe.  

Ask why we constantly need other’s approval or help in making decisions.  Ask why we can never trust ourselves.  Ask why our adult-self cannot make friends, trust others, and fears being social.  Ask, ask, ask away.  The answers agree and never disappoint.

Now, decades later, so many years have ticked off the calendar, but I still see that emotionally beaten and bullied child, 6th grade, head down on desk, tears bursting through failed attempts of constraint, embarrassed they caught her in their grasp again.

Sadly, I remember that girl.  She was me, and I was her.  And neither of us are okay tonight.   She still cries, and I still watch, helplessly.  We take turns when it gets to be too much . . . and tonight it’s too much . . . for both of us . . . and I want so badly for someone to listen.  

WEDNESDAY WISDOM - VOL 1

Norman Cousins (1912 - 1990)

This is a quote from Norman Cousins (1912 - 1990) who was an American journalist and editor in chief of the Saturday Review for over 35 years.  He was known for his quotes on life, death, laughter, and health.   

When we think about loss, most times our minds go to people we have lost in death.  But Cousins said losing someone wasn’t the greatest loss of all; he posited that the death of what lies inside us while we yet live is the greatest loss.

For me, I thought about things that I have lost.  For instance, I feel a piece of me was killed when I went through years of abuse.  I lost myself and my potential.  I lost my youth,  my innocence, my ability to be touched without recoil.  I lost my ability to love and be loved, my ability to feel happiness, to feel relaxed and at peace in the moment.  I could continue on about my losses, but I’m sure you get the point  and could list losses of your own.

Here’s the trick though.  I believe it is up to each of us to “resurrect” or reinvent the pieces we have lost, that have died inside us.  See, Cousins said to lose those things was the greatest loss, but I believe they don’t have to remain absent.  Though I struggle in wanting to get better, I am working on reclaiming what was lost, what was taken from me.  Unlike death, happiness, or a form of it, is something I can recover, and even experience now in bits and pieces.  Losing what lies inside us is worse than death, but it doesn’t mean we have to lose it forever.  

I can make the changes now, no matter how small, how much I don’t want to, or how difficult it is. I can work on restoring my life, and I can get back what was taken from me, what died inside me.  It’s simply a question of how much do I want to reclaim what was taken and how willing I am to fight for what belongs to me.  Just like essayist Anais Nin said, “The day came when the risk to remain tight in the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”  It’s time for us to blossom, to reclaim what others took and what we lost to our abuse.  

I would like to know your thoughts.

What does this quote mean to you?

What things have you lost?

How do you think we can reclaim them?

INSPIRATIONAL MUSIC MONDAY!! POST 1

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Maybelline hogging my heated plush throw.  Silly girl.  

Are you ready for some inspiration?

Welcome to the first Music Monday!  As I wrote in my last post found here,  I have dedicated Monday to music.  For today's Music Monday, I have 3 incredible songs that I hope will inspire you to keep working and  fighting in your recovery.  I've scoured songs from multi-genres and discovered music that I trust will speak to the feelings and thoughts of  men and women dealing with the scourge of mental illness.  Some of the songs you may like, some you may dislike.  I've chosen up-tempo songs as well as songs with slower beats.  I've tried to be as inclusive as possible.

I also encourage you to tweet at @missinginsight,  email at missinginsight@gmail.com, or leave a comment on what songs inspire you so that I may include them in my posts.

As you read and listen, please consider if the music speaks to you and how it relates to you.

1) The first song is "Fly" by Hilary Duff. I remember coming home from Therapist one day, hearing this song on the radio, and I was so inspired to really start trying to get better.  The lyrics I like best are:

All of your worries, leave them somewhere else/Find a dream you can follow/Reach for something when there's nothing left/And the world's feeling hollow/Open the part of you that wants to hide away/You can shine/ Forget about the reasons why you can't inside/ And start to try/Cause it's your time/Time to fly

This song is such an inspiration to me because of its message of trying when you are struggling, forgetting the reasons that you made you feel hopeless, and always trying, always keep moving forward no matter how hard the struggle is to fight off the demons in our head.


2)  The second song that I think represents recovery well is "Alive" by Sia.  It's speaks to the writer  feeling he or she had been hurt for way too long, and is exacting revenge on those who hurt her by getting better.





The lyrics that really speak to me:

I grew up overnight/I played alone/I survived/I had a one way ticket to where all the demons go/and you're taught to cry in your pillow/but I survived/I'm still breathing/I'm still breathing/I'm alive.

This song is usually on repeat because I feel Sia is singing to me.  I've always felt hopeless, all the way back to childhood, and this song is like a slap in the face to my abusers because they tried to break me, but guess what, I'm still here, trying to fight, trying to stay alive.

3)  This song is a recent find.  It's called "The Silver Lining" by First Aid Kit.  I like it because, not only is it uptempo, which I like in inspirational songs, but the lyrics are like poetry set to music.






There are so many relatable lyrics in this song that it is hard to find just a few that I love, but these are ones definitely worth listing.

I don't know if I'm afraid of dying, but I'm scared of living too fast, too slow/Regret, remorse, oh, no, I've got to go/And you've just gotta keep on keeping on/and you've just gotta keep on going straight down the road/I won't take the easy road/the easy road, the easy road/I hear a voice calling out to me/The shackles I've made in an attempt to be free/Be it for reason, be it for love/I won't take the easy road/show me my silver lining

Wow!  I love these words along with the beat and their voices.  I love how the songwriter is saying she  won't have regret or remorse because these things are holding her back and she has to keep on moving ahead or she won't make progress.  Also, personally, I've always tried to take the easy road in recovery by avoiding things that I don't want to confront.  I often still do.  But this song gives me hope that I need to keep on keeping on even if the road to recovery is difficult.  And it always is.

She also mentions how in an attempt to be free, she's made her own shackles.  I'm not sure what the songwriter is saying, but my best interpretation is that she might have made these shackles to make sure things weren't easy and to insure she isn't taking the easy road.  This way she can keep on keeping on.

- - - - - - - - -
Even though I feel hopeless often, these songs are reminders of how we must keep trying, we must find reasons to fight,  we must stay in the fight and not waste our energy on those who hurt us, but show them we are better than them.  We can rise above.

• What are your thoughts on the music?
• Do any of the songs speak to you?
• What songs help you in recover?

Stay tuned for Wednesday Wisdom!

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.

AGE IS NOTHIN' BUT A NUMBER

Mom, I'm out of peanut butter!

I’m not a happy camper.  Plenty of reasons why.  I burned myself yesterday.  It’s only a bummer because it doesn’t hurt today.  I know what will.

We sent a scathing email to Therapist last night.  I’d be nonplussed  if he didn’t tell me not to come back.  But he deserved it.  He thinks I’m too mature, which means too old, to self-harm.  Probs buys into the idea it’s a young person’s disease.

Maybe I am too old to engage in such behaviors, but then why do I want to do it so bad?  Why does it feel so good?  It might not always feel good.  There is shame in it and a wondering of why I’m acting so foolishly.  I should and do know better, but it’s better than nothing.  Reality is filled with uncertainty, disrepair, and unidentified emotions, and I’d do anything to escape reality.  I don’t know how to handle myself in a way that is positive and satisfies my need to have people worry about me.  I wish someone worried about me.  

I can’t make myself stop.  How do you make someone stop feeling ten years old?  That’s how old I feel at this moment.  How can I be  mature when I feel like a child?  Who cares anyhow?