So, I had something what one would term a “mini-nervous breakdown”. I was taking on too much, holding too much in, and not dealing with various issues I had.
Throw in a depression my meds couldn’t touch, and you have a perfect snapshot of my mental state when I first tried to hang myself. I kept wanting to pull away and just be alone, but that was not possible. Something in me just wouldn’t let me cut all my ties, burn all my bridges again. Self-sabotauge this time was not executed perfectly. I literally had to sit there, with folks very privvy to what is going on, and for those closer to me…to see me totally naked.
It was the most painful feeling a person can have, feeling unsafe and desiring some type of release. Of the permanant type.
It’s hard to look in the mirror(or someone serving as your mirror) and show you what you look like. It’s like looking at a little girl, sobbing(very hard) screaming “Don’t leave me”. Which sadly was going on at my core. My anxiety, which was made even worse with my fear of being abandoned left me a wreck. I assumed that everyone thought I was awful, dirty, and just plain ‘bad”.
But the truth is, I was the only person thinking that. But I didn’t want to accept fully the fact that out of the people I know, I am the only person who still struggles with liking “me”. I guess you could say it was “revealed” to be how hard I am on myself. I took all these things that was either told to me or intimated, and internalized them. Then, I split myself. There was the good me, who if she did everything right, I liked. Then there was the bad me, who if she screwed up just once….I’d want to eliminate her.
The older I got, the more I tried to compensate for the “bad” me: I was kind(overly so?), giving(def overly so), and trying my hardest to have a spotless reputation.
Because according to my family, that’s all you have. Your name.
I wanted to be perfect so bad, I could taste it. It was bad enough I was born the way I was, looking like I do, and being as sensitive as I am, I assumed that I was the problem. And being the “helper” I am,I wanted to get rid of the problem. Which made me angry because I promised to various folks I wouldn’t hurt myself. I tried so very hard. And kept my word,if only by the skin of my teeth.
I guess I should thank my brain for going kaput for a while. It helped me to desconstruct myself, so to speak. See what things are truly me and what is just random add-on. Also, I learned who I can lean on(even though I hate NEEDING someone) and who I should just consider the outside ring. It hurts knowing you can’t depend on the ones who throw out I love yous like confetti, but it hurts even more to not depend on the one who actually means it and think you’re alone.
I was never alone. I didn’t feel a mystical force guiding me, but I did know I had people who would talk to me when my brain became intoxicated by the most feverish of ideas. Brought me back from the brink. They gave me of themselves until I believed I drained them dry. They carried me, it seems. I felt a bit like a parasite because of it honestly. But I guess I was a bit of a mess. So all I could do was be loved on. Even though everyone was far away, and I would get panicky..I knew I was loved deep down.
At least..that’s what I was constantly told: “You know we love you!”. Which honestly, did drive me insane. To be totally honest, normal, functioning me would know. But the crying, slightly bruised girl here has NO clue. Because she’s, in a manner of speaking, not thinking. Just feeling. Every glance, every sigh she weighs and tries to suss out meaning. And usually is wrong. This weak, beaten girl is what I try and try to hide.
But, like in Persona 4, this girl is a part of me. She IS me. I am needy, scared, and love starved. I have been abused and stepped on. I do have scars that I only show in the darkness. But I also am brave, intelligent, funny, loyal, loving, and kind. I strive to better myself,but I try too hard. I accept others, but cannot accept myself. I can give of myself to others, but cannot treat myself with kindness.
I ask myself why. The answer isn’t very complex: I was taught to be this way. From the time I hit my preteens, the path of the servant was drummed into me. I didn’t need to think of my own needs or wants, because Christ will take care of it. I just needed to be a good daughter, christian, and whatever else was needed. In my mind, if it did not come from sacrifice, it was not worth doing or having. The older I got, the more I felt invested in that line of thinking/behaving. And of course it sounds like I’m whining about what the church did to me, blah blah blah. But the truth of the matter is, it was taught to me and I swallowed it whole. I believed in this so strongly, that even when I left the church(the first,second, and third time) I still deferred to others. Tried to please others. Even to the point where at my age now, I realize that I made other people’s opinion so freaking important, that I forgot what I thought.
It made me feel empty, hollow. Like those really cheap baby dolls. You can fill it with anything and get a cute toy made to your specifications. I became a literal walking doll. And I believe my heart/mind got tired of it. So, I’m beginning to take my own advice: I’m going to love myself more. I will allow myself to make more mistakes. And if my mistake is that I forget to let myself make mistakes…I’ll count it as a mistake and try again. (yes I did that)
I’ll have a long road to unlearn the maladaptive behaviors of seeing things as just in black and white and treating myself like crap, but I’ll do fine.
There is a glimmer of hope: I had a lazy day today, and felt no guilt for napping :D. Granted, I’ll be up all night writing but no shame in that.
So, after realizing that, you think I’d be like “okay..on our way to therapy” but I surprised myself.
I, on my own, forgave my step-grandfather, my various abusers, my grandmother, father, and to an extent my own church. I don’t deny the wrong they’ve done, but I refuse to let it determine my future. It’s mine, not theirs. I can control where this ship goes, not them. I don’t really love them, but I refuse to tie myself to them by hating them any longer. I have better things to do. And I don’t have an afterlife to really look forward to, so I gotta do my stuff while I am alive.
Because now is all I got.