I am not liked nor loved by many people. Networking, making friends, even socializing at all, is very difficult for me to do. It has caused me grave upset and unrest, because for most of my life — if not all of it, because it is something I am just learning how to let go of — I have craved requited love and sacrifice from others. I am not a people person. I love people very much, although I do not like them. I by and large do not like interacting with them, because it is exhausting for me. I love to learn about them, share ideas, and I love moments of authentic communication, but it is seldom that I enjoy everyday interaction.
Especially in groups.
Fifteen years of therapy, eleven hospitalizations, in and out of partial programs, so many different services and different therapies (DBT, CBT, talk, etc.) Hell, I’ve even undergone ECT, (electroconvulsive therapy), and have had MRI, CT scans, EEGs, test after test, been on medication after medication, dose after dose, and I am sitting here on my couch, full of weeping lethargy but sleeplessness; a restless, nauseated anxiety and hunger for cessation and quiet. I feel so sad and so broken. Beyond tired, beyond depressed, beyond reparation. I know myself well. Years of [self-]interrogation, years of being poked and prodded by doctors, neurologists, psychiatrists, psychotherapists, counselors, and my own reflection have given me near crystalline photographs of my subconscious. I am betting I know myself more than most people know themselves. I am betting I understand myself more than most people understand themselves. And I am sure as hell that at this point, if I can be saved, only I can do it; and that, that is torture.
Many mental illnesses, like many other chronic illnesses, are often cyclical. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, this means that at times the illness softens or even goes into a state of “remission,” in which the illness is not as prominent, invasive, difficult, and/or et cetera. This is especially true with mood disorders, such as depression or bipolar disorder. I think a full “remission” is rare, but I’ve known people who have reportedly (or rather, self-reportedly) gone for years without symptoms who end up hospitalized after an episode returns. Still, many illnesses are cyclical, like fibromyalgia for example.
The uni-cycle from hell
I’ve written many posts lately expressing my love towards, solidarity with, and ambitious perspective of humanity. I’ve written them on group pages, my dA, my tumblr, my personal facebook. I write with hope and promise and love that I am not always able to sustain. As said in my journal on dA: 2016 was a difficult year.
I’ve been hospitalized and re-medicated, had e. coli for a while, not to mention Donald Trump is the President-Elect of the United States (a fact I regard with utmost horror and repulsion, even far more than the e. coli). It’s always going to be a difficult year though. Life’s tough. The point is how you treat the pain. Our [re]actions are what make us, and I feel I’ve grown a lot this year through the pain I have endured.
I’m full of love, passion, and fever right now. I’ve stopped self-harming again. It is very likely that I’ll start up again after a while, because it comes and goes in cycles. It all comes and goes in cycles, waves, echoes. The ebb and flow. The wind and rain. Pain even generally speaking is a boomerang. Life hits us. It hits us hard, and we only hurt ourselves when we violently hit back. I know this. I know self-harming is not part of any recovery model. But forgiving oneself is, and that is where I need to start. Maybe you do too.
The journey is different for everyone. We are all unique, our own tailored work and the forms we’ve adapted into. There have always been challenges to individualism in psychology and philosophy, but truly, you are the only “print” of you. You need to take care of yourself, as I need to take care of myself. You need to thrive as I need to thrive, but we thrive differently and in different places and with different things. Don’t let the implications of isolation drag you down. We are powerful. We live in our own universe. A whole universe fits inside our skull! If that is not beautiful, I don’t know what is.
It’s 01:37 and I’m just rambling now. I am excited for 2017. I will write more about how I approach the new year and set and organize my resolutions. Difficult year or not, hospitalization after hospitalization or not, I have grown a lot this year and so I consider 2016 a personal success. There were a lot of pitfalls, lots of crashes. It was painful and shattering but also beautiful and enriching, and I’m learning to fill the cracks in with gold. I am finding my place. I am setting my purpose and following it. I am learning. I am teaching. I am being.
This was more of a personal post, but I want to say: You are strong. You are complicated like a labyrinth. You may have monsters. I certainly do. So pay close attention to the thoughts that reach you. Make the puzzle eye-opening, enriching. Take the thoughts that nourish you. Breathe them in. Live them. You are a unique web of potential. You can do good for others and yourself. Own that. And the let the negative thoughts fall by the wayside. Acknowledge them and move on. Pour over love, not loneliness. Pour over good.
I will write one more post before the new year. Happy holidays to anyone celebrating. Happy December to anyone who’s not.
With love always
Let me begin with this:
I am pretty good at reading people. Unless I’m unusually invested at the time in building a bridge, I can usually and clearly see who is on the other end. The cruel irony of that is not lost to me. I see red flags, and I see them early, but I’ve been known to ignore them, especially during my lowest and most lonely points in which building bridges seems direly important. Once I consciously chose to ignore red flags, there were none that would keep me away. It didn’t matter if the flags were red with fresh blood, because I would make up reasons to build that bridge. Connection is important to me. Humans are important to me. Bridges are how I explore and travel the world. It’s a dangerous system, and I know it, but this is what brings me the most wisdom.
The importance of heeding your gut
Update 18/12/16 20:03: My friend is alive and okay. 🙂
It is 02:14. I cannot sleep. There is noise in my head and at my fingertips. Voices in different tongues, languages that cannot speak of happiness, where “happiness” has no dictionary wedge, no page, no meaning. I may have lost a friend tonight. So this will be about things I should have told him.
For those of you who have been reading my blog, you know that I used to suffer from chronic suicidality. I used to tell my therapists I have four “moods:” 1. mildly suicidal, 2. moderately suicidal, 3. severely suicidal, and 4. urgently suicidal. #4 is hospitalization. #2 was the most typical on an average day until April 2016.
Even so, every day, I have to make the choice to survive. If you’re familiar with mental illness (whether from chronic pain, trauma, both, or otherwise), this may ring too true. I say “too” because this is a reality many of us must brace ourselves for each night we fall asleep. We have to say, “If I wake up tomorrow, I must continue the fight.” How hard it is to sleep when that echoes in you! It is even harder to get out of bed and face the day when you’re disarmed for the battle.
That’s why the word “why” and its answer are so important.