RealMental

Today was the first day of school. Over the past few weeks, my kids went shopping for new clothes, for backpacks and pencils and other supplies. They filled out all their paperwork and went to orientation and got nervous and met all their new teachers. And this morning, they got up, went to their classes, reconnected with all their friends and then came home and decompressed, sharing what happened and turning in lists of supplies that they didn’t even know they needed. And all of that was done without me.

I feel like I’m dying inside. Every time I know that something is happening and there is no place for me, I shrivel a little more. Yes, I know they are just at this age. And yes, I know it’s totally normal for them to be separating from their parents. But in the small amount of time they are willing to share, I am not included.

This hurts more than anything I can recall. And I gotta tell you, I’ve been through some pretty rough things. I know that someday, things are going to work out and there will be some place for me in their lives. My job is to be patient until that happens. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

My goal is to prepare like they have for school. I need to prepare to have a life without them in it the way I imagined. I need to find a full-time job, get busy and not sit around waiting and wishing they would want to come over and spend time with me. I need to get passionate about something that earns money and makes me feel like I’m doing something worthwhile. But mostly, I think I need to put some distance between me and them, which is so ironic after all I’ve done to get this close.

They know I’m sitting over here, thinking about them over there, and wishing they would come over. How icky is that? To feel guilty that your mom wishes you’d come over to her house but you don’t want to? I think if I can think of them how people think of their kids when they move away to college, that would be more healthy. Only, I need to be the one to move away, physically at first and them maybe just emotionally. Not love them less, just with less strings attached.

This is one of those things that will get figured out in time. Now, we just need the time.

Republished from Leahpeah, January 26th, 2006.

I’ve accumulated some questions from readers in my inbox and now, armed with a small Dr. Pepper and Feist playing in the headphones, I will attempt to answer them in a way that is readable.

Do you ever “miss” the other personalities? Or, because they are all a part of you now, do you not long for them? I was thinking that in many ways Claire had been your best friend – someone to always bounce ideas off of and such – do you miss having that?

Before I became integrated, it was a heavy topic of conversation, the ‘what happens to everyone if we become just one’ question. And some of my personalities had a great fear of getting left behind and one in particular thought that if we did integrate, we would be defenseless against ‘all the bad guys.’ It takes a lot of faith in your therapist to make that leap because you don’t have any real idea of what it feels like to live life as a ‘mono mind.’ Post-integration, I realized that there is no way to explain what it feels like to be a whole person just like it’s not possible to explain what it feels like to be split to someone that is not. Read more »

Finding The Immediate Possibilities, Letting Go Of The Fear

It may seem obvious, but if you are completely immobile because you are afraid you’ll make a mistake, you can’t move forward and get through the problem. I have a suspicion that most of my depression comes from that place. I wake up feeling so scared that I’ve already failed, that there is no reason to do anything, because I’m just going to make things so incredibly worse than the hell it already is.

One way to help myself through this is to make a list of things I can do. And I mean writing it down as an actual list, because if I’m just saying it in my head, it isn’t real enough. I need to put it down on paper. There have been times when the list contains only one item, but one is still more than the none I had before I started.

Here is an actual list from 2003:

yoga
take a walk
draw
work on book

Here is an actual list from 1999:

breathe

Meditate sometimes makes the list but it depends a lot on where my level of depression is at the moment. If I’m too low, trying to meditate turns into sitting really still and telling myself I’m doing it all wrong, all wrong, all wrong. Not very helpful. Things that require less brain power are better.

It works the best when I only put things on the list that I know for sure I can actually do right at that moment. If I put exercise on the list with the intention of doing it later because right now seems too hard but I’m almost sure I’ll be able to do it later that afternoon, I’ve already set myself up to fail. It would be different if I felt ready to exercise right at that moment.

Once I make the list, I take a moment to do a little positive thinking on my own behalf. I look at my fine list and congratulate myself, with the absolute most sincerity that I can muster, on making a list of things I can do successfully. I cannot fail if I stick to my list. Nice job, me. I’ve been known to say these things aloud, which makes it more real, if I’m feeling brave.

And once I do one or two things on my list, I congratulate myself again. With each success it becomes more real. And I become less afraid. I suppose to someone who doesn’t suffer from depression, this might seem silly. But, to the people that do, it can be a lifesaver.

I wake up in the morning and before I even open my eyes, there it is. That weight laced with desperation. That sinking feeling that tells me nothing is ever going to get better and I might as well just give up now. Give up at what, I’m not really sure. Not that it matters.

I contemplate actually opening my eyes. But what is the point of that? Why would I want to see things better? Smarter just to lay here and try my best not to listen. And definitely not see, think. Anything. Maybe I can go back to sleep. It’s only 5:15am. Plenty of time to sink back in.

My brain does not cooperate. My own worst enemy. Why? Trying to not think ends up worse than thinking. Pushing away the thoughts that at first sneak around behind and then try to cover my head, soon begin simply jabbing at my gut and my thighs. Prodding sharply. I give in and acknowledge them. And then they cover me up.

Nothing will ever get any better. In fact, it’s already getting worse. It doesn’t matter what I could ever try to do. Ever. All the projects I get excited about and then plan. All the projects that I hope will somehow make a difference in someone’s life. They amount to nothing. Nothing. And no one cares. And why should they? I mean, really? Who am I to try and do anything, anyway? I’m just one more person in the world that thinks farther than they can actually reach. But realizes it too late to save themselves the public embarrassment. Read more »

I wake up in the morning and before I even open my eyes, there it is: a weight resting squarely on my chest. I cautiously feel around my thoughts to see what this weight is before jumping to conclusions. It’s possible that I just had a bad dream.

Oh, right. I’m just not quite awake yet. Sometimes when I first wake up, I have left over thoughts flying around in my mind. And some of them could be left over from years and years ago. They are just shadows, tiny endings of experiences that hurt me or things that made me very sad. But they aren’t happening right now and that is what I need to focus on.

I imagine a light. Yellow and white but not too bright. It’s warm and healthy. It’s healing. It starts in my chest and expands until it fills my body.

Some of the remaindered and leftover thoughts try to stick around. They pop up and tell me, ‘You are such a failure’ and ‘Nothing you do matters’ and ‘Nothing will ever get any better.’ Some of them go far, far back and are more like, ‘No one cares about you so you better concentrate on surviving’ and ‘People want to hurt you and take advantage of you’ and ‘Everyone is a liar.’ But as soon as the thoughts come up, I look at them, evaluate them and see if they are true or not. They aren’t. What a relief. And I send them on their way.

I know that if I think too much about what I have to do today, it will feel too hard. I’ll start feeling overwhelmed and probably not get out of bed. Once I allow myself to go down that downward spiral, it’s very hard to climb back up and could take me days. The best defense is a good offense. Some days I do better than others. Read more »

Once, the first time I was in a mental hospital, I remember sitting in a group of women who were all discussing their situations, the gravity of them, and feeling quite out of place. One mentioned how her husband threatened to leave her. Another told how her kids were afraid of her and had never been the same after the morning they found her on the bathroom floor in her own vomit and blood. And yet another talked about how she didn’t think she could manage life on the outside and she hoped they never sent her home.

I remember looking around the room at these women who were sharing their secrets and fears and feeling like a fish out of water. In that moment I saw no connection between myself and them. I could find no similarities between me and the woman who had just intentionally crashed her car into a tree and had been brought in, tied up in a straitjacket, just the night before. And more than that, I didn’t want to.

It’s a scary thing to open yourself up to the possibility that you might be the same on some level as the people locked in a mental facility. But I’m still amazed it took me over a week to realize that I was locked in there with them. If someone had something in common with them, it was me. I just hadn’t dared realize it yet. I’m not suggesting everyone’s reality is that extreme but to some extent, most of us keep hiding from ourselves until our Selves demand to be seen. Read more »