Honestly Speaking

I’ve been thinking a lot tonight about my state of mind and this blog. In my response to the December 2 #reverb10 prompt (Writing) I wrote that I’d like to write from a place of honesty.

“I do know I’d like to write from a place of honesty. I’d like to tap into that rawness inside me, both good and bad…”.

My first hurdle faced me tonight. How honest do I want to be about how I feel? How honest can I be? Last night I spoke a little with my brother about what is going on. A little. At least it seemed a little. I told him about the break-up and about the intersection. I told him about starting therapy, the depression and some of the ways I’m unable to function in healthy ways emotionally. Really, they were big things I told him, but it doesn’t seem enough.

Then tonight I frightened myself and I had to make a decision about writing honestly. The debate was whether writing semi-honestly, giving you big things, while keeping back the difficult things, the things that are inside is enough. The other option obviously is to cross that barrier and give you what is going on inside. Not easy. You win. Or lose, depending how you see what follows. Anyway, we’ll see how this goes…

I had a rough day today as I went through my… day of getting lots of nothing done. Granted, one of the items on the list was big… get the Christmas shopping finished. It’s only big since I’ve been having so many problems with going into crowded places lately. It took me two trips to the shopping centre to finish. I just could not do it all in my first trip, I needed to go home, regenerate and give my mind a rest.

I don’t go into a panic. I begin to hyperventilate, but my body kicks in and automatically slows down my breathing. I was taught to do that in the 80s when I was agoraphobic. The breathing slows, so I don’t go into the fight or flight stage. I don’t get pains, dizziness or all the rest, but my thoughts have been difficult to control lately. It is a strain. I need to sit in the car a good 5 minutes before I walk into the shopping centre and a good 5 minutes when I come out. Bad Fucking Luck if you want my car park! You’re going to have to wait!

Over busy is the only way I would describe today. A lot of what I did was unnecessary and kind of unbalanced to what the action plan asks for, but it seemed every time I would take some time out for me, to enjoy the breeze or whatever the tears would want to start. So I did a good job of avoiding those until tonight. Avoiding. Always a mistake. Sigh.

When I did sit and think about the day I realised part of the problem is that the first therapy session is past. For the last couple of weeks I’ve been holding on until that appointment. Now that the appointment is past, I’ve been falling into the depression that the impending appointment was holding back. “January 4, January 4, January 4” I’ve been repeating that over and over since I realised. That’s the day the therapist will ring me to make a new appointment, which will be that week. So I’m holding on again.

It was frightening to find out how deeply into the depression I am. I had the most shocking thoughts running through my mind. The horrible things that will happen, or could have happened. The things people will do, the things they did. These aren’t real things. These are things my mind is imagining, so I won’t waste time writing them here. I got stuck in them earlier. When I finally unstuck myself, I was left shaking. I sat outside on the balcony with tears streaming down my face. In my mind my wrists were cut wide open. Just in my mind. I could feel the blood flowing down over my hands and the warm wetness spreading over my thighs. I could physically feel this. There’s no blood, no cuts, but it was a physical sensation I could feel. Yep, frightened me.

I’ve written the above and I have to say… I’m not suicidal. The likelihood of me planning something is nil. My only real risk times are those moments if I snap like I did in September when I accelerated towards the intersection. It takes a lot of effort to pull myself out of the darkness afterwards, but I do always manage it. Now that I’m aware of how depressed I actually am, I can take precautions against snapping… and start counting down the hours until Christmas is past, which is tomorrow night.

We celebrate Christmas the European way, so Christmas Day I’ll be able to heave a huge sigh of relief that Christmas is finally over and I get a break from the extra pressures. I don’t plan, I cured myself of that 20 years ago when I messed up an attempt and wasn’t brave enough to retry. I smoke instead of planning. We could just say that smoking is taking the long way around *laughs* I’ll write about that one day, but I’m not ready to yet. Not even in my drafts.

My brother has taken notice today of what happens between my parents and I. One part of me is comforted that he cares enough to step in, calmly and subtly, at times when he feels they go too far. It did make today easier, knowing someone cares. Another part feels guilty, thinks he shouldn’t have to feel the need to do that. That he shouldn’t waste time on me. That I can do it on my own. Yet another part of me is disappointed that it took me telling him I’m depressed for him to want to take notice, when they treat me the same every year. Their treatment of me this year is no different from any other year. This year I’m better equipped for it, in that I’m not taking on the guilt, but being this depressed is making it more of a struggle. Yeah, I know, I’ve been too good at hiding from him how it effects me. I also know which way I should be feeling, but I can’t seem to help feeling all three.

It’s a strange depression to be in, or at least it feels strange. I do have hope for the future. I’m sitting here as I type this and I feel… good. Sure, I’d feel a whole lot better if I didn’t have the shadow of depression sitting there at the corner of my sight. Maybe I’m not so lost in it, or I’m still managing to balance the love vs hate thing. Keeping up the number of things I am grateful for as opposed to those that are trying to drown me in the depression. Feeling empowered? Not so powerless? Whatever the reason, I do feel good,  even with the glitch earlier tonight. Yeah, depressed, angry, frustrated… but there’s enough light inside to feel good as well.

Whew, it looks like I’ve lived up to the name I gave the post. That feels good. It’ll feel even better when I hit publish. I’ll have to catch up on my blog reading after Christmas. It’s something to look forward to. *nods head* For now, it’s time to switch off my sleep randomness internal programme thing I have going and try to get some sleep. Hmm, actually I do have one more thing to say, even though he’ll never read it…

Fuck you, Chris! I will make it. In spite of you. In spite of my parents. I will make it. Why the fuck did you have to hurt me like you did when you were ending it? There are ways to end a relationship and then there are totally fucked up ways. You chose a fucked up way! Yes, I’m hurting and I’m angry and what you did has made this so much harder for me than it needed to be.

There. Answered. Not feeling powerless *nods head*

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2 thoughts on “Honestly Speaking

  1. I *hope* you feel better now that you got that off your chest. Writing is a powerful form of healing. I know it is for me. I’m reading, and I’m sending you happy, healthy vibes!

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