RealMental

There was a postcard on last Sunday’s Post Secret that hit me very close to home. It was of a picture of a wedding ring with “I don’t paint as much anymore” in text above the ring.

There were two comments below the postcard; “i don’t dance anymore”, and “I left my husband this weekend because I realized I didn’t laugh anymore.”

An old and familiar twinge danced within me. The twinge that draws a line from commitment, creating a shape that eventually equals death. I never dreamed of getting married when I was a little girl, I could not understand what would drive a person to tether himself or herself to one person for the rest of their life. Only I knew the truth, which was that wedding ceremonies were really a funeral in secret.

Every relationship I’ve been in, I’ve ended. Some of those relationships made it to the four year mark most did not. Rather than being “in” the partnership, I would spend a lot of time looking for their flaws, persuading myself into believing they were not the one for me. I would find something that stuck and I would begin to plan my escape.

Planning my escape is just something that I do, something that I’ve always done. Eating in a restaurant, if it’s suddenly taken over by aliens you’ll want to follow me as I’ve already come up with the escape plan. Driving in a car over a bridge and somehow the car veers towards the side and ends up in the water? I have a plan. In a relationship and having second thoughts, look no further I can create an escape plan for you.

To be honest, I have a few escape plans in the back of my mind now. It’s some kind of mental exercise, very much like my compulsive need to count.

Where am I going with this? Well, I’ll tell you. Despite what you’ve just read, I am married and I have children. I struggle with the idea of being married to the same person for the rest of my life. The reason is not due to the man I married, but because I am who I am. I still have that fear of losing myself, and I can tell you that I *have* lost some parts of me. I’m not so happy about it, but I’m learning to live with it.

I like to believe that my marriage will be a lasting commitment, one in which we both will continue to grow as individuals. I’m not a believer in “two halves make a whole” theory.

I believe your relationships should enhance who you are as a person and support you on the road to being that person (and vice versa). In turn, this will make both people better peoples.

I guess only time will tell and as with everything, it really is all about the journey.

Not sure when it happened, or how it happened. At some point, in between the abuse I experienced as a child, and becoming an adult, I made a promise to myself that I would make the world a safer place for children.

I didn’t remember that vague whisper of the promise I made until I was a few years into being a step parent. Most of my life, kids have always liked me. I would dare to tell you that my measure of worth as a person could be determined on whether or not a child thought well of me.

This is precisely why my experience with my step daughter brought me to my knees. I was ashamed of myself as an adult, as a parent. I was doing it all wrong. I was stuck in a vicious cycle of bad parenting when my only desire was to do right by her.

I was trying desperately trying to do THE RIGHT THING.

I wanted to change quickly, I wanted to improve yesterday. If I could just finding the fucking key, the source, and the exact nature of the wrong then I would be ok. We would be ok.

Finally, the tides began turning; I started doing small things within myself to change. The biggest change, that served me, was that I had to stop trying to fix her, and I had to start taking better care of myself.

We talked, and talked and talked. I had to force myself not to ask her if she was ok even though I could feel her pain, her sorrow. I made amends to her. I thanked her for being such a good teacher.

It’s taken time for the healing to show results, but the results have surfaced. The results are there. She knows without any doubt that I would take a bullet for her.

By loving her, hidden doorways within me revealed themselves, and bridges were crossed that may have otherwise fallen down. We are bonded, that one and I. She is the sun, the moon, and the stars and I love her deeply.  She helped me keep the promise.

A friend of our family recently disclosed to me that even though I’ve been referred to as “the crazy one” for many years in my family of origin, this person believes that I am actually more sane, or even better, healthier than the others. Me.

(The context of this comment was in no way competitive, nor meant to bring any others down. It was simply this person’s truth.)

This is what crazy people like myself long to hear, because we secretly believe it ourselves. We long to hear that all the years of therapy and talking about our feelings is going to finally pay off.

Not that I don’t have the internal fight with voices that one day tell me, “gee you are really doing well in therapy and making progress”, the next day the voices say “your family is right, you are an insolent slob of a human and you should be ashamed for even thinking you were worthy of anything”.

The crazy one in the family is the one others gang up on, and demand to know “why can’t you just be normal?”, or “why does everything bother you so much?”, “when are you going to get over it?”

If I had a dime for every time I’ve heard those comments, I’d buy myself a nice straitjacket.

I mentioned this to my therapist on my last appointment, and he confirmed that it’s actually common in family dynamics for the “crazy one” to be the healthiest. The crazy one is the one who tells the truth, and speaks up about things not being right while everyone else is busy trying to ignore the elephant.

This is similar to something that I’ve always wondered about people who talk to himself or herself, or “act crazy” in public. Perhaps, they are the normal ones, unfettered by the social slavery of “acting normal.”

After sharing this comment with my therapist, he was complimentary and praised me for the work I’ve been doing. He doesn’t offer up this type of information easily and he’s painfully honest.

I need to tell you that I felt good before my therapist expressed his opinion. This is vitally important that I feel this way about myself, whether my therapist or anyone else offers me praise or not. This is progress for me; in addition to something, that not one single person or event can take away from me.

Early on in working with this therapist, he pointed out a comment I made at the beginning of our relationship. It was “how can a person love me if I cannot love myself?” I had no idea I’d said it.

Not only said it, but I’d been LIVING it without even realizing.

I’ve heard this in one form or another “you have to love yourself before others can love you” for most of my life. I never really understood it until my therapist pointed out that I’d said it.

People have told me they love me, that I’m pretty, that I’m worthwhile, and I’ve always felt like they were lying. If they told me I was a horrible excuse for a human, I’d believe them. It was easier to believe the bad because the bad is what I’ve been telling myself for most of my life.

How I feel about myself is much more important than how any other person feels about me. This is a reminder for myself and anyone else that suffers from this disposition. The thing about these revelations is that they do not last forevermore and there I go skipping into the sunset.

As I continue to grow as a person, my crazy will weave and it will bob. That is life, that is mother nature. Each enlightenment leads to more enlightenments.

Today, I don’t feel so bad about being the crazy one.

I can honestly say that I am wearing my crazy title proudly.

Many years ago, I was a Shoney’s restaurant soldier. You had 90 seconds or less to the table, pick up dishes, food out in another predetermined measurement of time, and OMG it could be a shopper!

The mere thought of all of these rules frightened me, and being the shit test taker that I was, it only served to make me nervous and mess up.

John, our hunch-backed manager said of me one night, “she’s dropped everything but her drawers.”

John despised me when I first started waiting tables at HIS restaurant. I dropped things; I was rough around the edges, and without culture.

He was polished, he was smooth, he was at least 9 feet tall, and he made me nervous. This type of a person had always made me nervous; causing me to act like an idiot and asking very stupid questions. John wore a Christian Dior pin on his tie. One night, I asked him if that was his girlfriend. You can imagine his disdain.

Oddly, John and I became good friends after he got to know me better. He was an Aquarian too, so it was only a matter of time before he fell for my silliness and we became good friends. This friendship was never based in anything sexual or romantic, just a deep respect and admiration for one another.

It helped that I would scratch his hump back after the restaurant closed, while he counted money and did paperwork.

I followed him to another store in the same restaurant chain to work for him part time. The only reason I worked there was because he claimed he needed me. And golly, if you needed me then I was there.

There was one New Years Eve night that he begged me to work for him. I explained that I would definitely be under the influence of many substances, and if that were acceptable to him, I’d be there.

He agreed it was fine and added that maybe I’d even be a little more cheerful under the influence. We made a deal, and I showed up around midnight and as promised, and I was loaded.

He loved me and seemed to feel better when I was near. This is a common issue with Aquarian people; they are often misunderstood and looked upon as an alien subject. It didn’t help that John was at least 9 feet tall with a huge hump back.

He helped me to become a more polished person over our time together and I like to think I helped him be more humble. If I have support and admiration from those I respect, I can achieve great things. He was one of many along my journey that helped me to become a better person through friendship.

I lost contact with John somehow; perhaps my journey into addiction could be blamed. I’ve often thought of him and how much I really loved him and the friendship he gave me.

We were an odd couple, his height/my shortness, his being a polished Northerner, me being not polished and from the South.

I miss him. I just bet he’d be quite surprised with my life now, or surprised that I am still alive. I had heard through the grapevine that he may not be alive due to his condition; I’ve tried to look him up in Google but no luck.

I like to believe that he can hear my heart words. It offers him thanks and admiration for his friendship and care. It would like for him to know that I am sober, a mom with a beautiful family, and that I am no longer lost. Because of him, I became a better person.

I can try all day long to explain to you what it is like. You would have some thoughts or opinions on the subject that you think would be helpful. I really wanted your thoughts and opinions to be helpful.

Yet, you would not completely understand unless you have walked the same path. The reason I know this is that I have been trying to explain it for a long time and I’ve been trying to find a logical solution to the drama.

I foolishly thought that other people could help solve the case. I really wanted these other people to help; I wanted it more than any one thing.

Pain is the greatest motivator, it forces you do something. That something isn’t always a positive action but it’s an action.

Sometimes you have to walk a long way in the other direction in order to see your true path. This could cause you to believe you’re previous steps were a mistake. Steps are never a mistake, they are like emotional foreplay for you to get where you need to go.

Time has been the only thing that gives me solace and answers. You know, “time”. How I despise that option sometimes. It doesn’t even feel like an option at all.

Something that I have learned is that my heart and my gut always know the truth. Despite this amazing ability to have truth reside within, the emotions always try and mask the answers. Emotions; we have them for a reason.

I know in my heart of hearts that she loves me. I know in my heart of hearts that no matter how hard you try and change that with your lies, contempt, and jealousy, she will still love me.

This relationship is not something you can control and it only serves to create a bigger wedge. Raising children is a big finger pointing back at ourselves. We must grow inside in order to provide all that we need to our children. We must overcome our petty jealousy, our animal like needs for immediate response.

I am a better person because of you. I would not have expected to ever utter those words, much less write them. You, my mortal enemy in a never ending battle. I wish you peace; love and whatever you need in order to bring you joy. By letting this go, I become free and I wish you the same.

There many positive side effects to getting healthy minded and being present in your own life.

I think back on all those appointments I canceled because I would think I was “all better now!” and no longer needed any help. Or, the times as I was actually driving TO therapy wishing I were on my way to somewhere else, anywhere else but there.

My personal favorite, that creepy scratchy high pitched voice in my head that would mimic and taunt me with things like, “look at so and so, she doesn’t have to do therapy and SHE’S JUST FINE!”, or “why can’t you just let this stuff go and quit whining already!” “You are so fat; maybe if you just lost weight you’d be cured!”

Somehow, I got to therapy and somehow it worked. Without a doubt, it saved my life and it was worth all the hell in getting through it. I must say that the only reason that I even began digging around is that it affected my life and all my personal relationships. If it had not affected my daily living, why else would I have bothered? Truth is, I wouldn’t have.

With Thanksgiving down and Christmas and New Years just around the corner, I’ve been thinking about the down side of becoming healthy minded. One of those is trying to be around family members that are highly toxic and painfully poisonous to me.

Much like when I began dating again after my first leg of “serious therapy” was complete, my dating pool got smaller and smaller. I could see the “bad boy” and think lustful thoughts but I would think it through, and realize that it just wasn’t worth it to go down that road. I cared enough about myself not to even bother.

I figured I had no problem being single because for the first time in my life, I was having fun. And, not only fun but also I was sober. I got the job of my dreams, I could pay all my own bills, I came and went as I pleased and my life was mine.

All mine for the first time.

This leg of mental health work is more about other issues, more about the relationship I had with my mother and more about my codependency.

Holidays are just another word for codependency.

I wanted to ask the real mental community for some suggestions. How you handle being around people that you know are toxic and will bring you down if you just give them a moment of your time.

How do you handle this, and what are your escape plans?

Namaste,

Moonflower

acting as if.

sometimes, is the only way i can act.

rushes of emotion, mental activity going way over the speed limits.

i see you smile, watch your interactions with other people, the way that you move yourself that is no longer the child you were.

i’m not sure “how to be”, i haven’t written or read that chapter yet.

i bet there isn’t one on that anyway.

for each person it would be different. the way you process information and emotion is uniquely personal.

it’s as if i am watching a movie that pulled me close enough to jump into it. emotionally.

i’m trying to dog ear the page so i can get back to it later.

only you can’t do that with your life. you can, but then you always have to go back and face the pages that you thought you could escape.

after so much time, it all gets tangled up like christmas lights.

you curse them, wonder if just throwing them away would be a good solution.

except, each year at that magical time you pull them out again.

and they are still tangled.

once again, the only solution is to work on them each day. sometimes making little or no progress.

some days making so much progress, you have to lay down for a nap because the progress hurts so much.

some days, acting as if is all that i have to give.