Lost in my mind

Time. It is such a waste. I feel so lost. The tears fall. The anxiety builds and no end is in sight for relief. I want to die.
I just want this pain to end. I don't know what to do to help ease this feeling. I just know it's there and is very real.
Will I see next year? Will next year see me? How?
Am I doomed to no longer go to social events? Is it my lot to sit and attempt to administer self-care while at home with just my cats for company?
Am I trying too hard? Not enough?
Who do I tell? What do I tell? How much do I tell?
I am lost in my own mind. Big dreams crushed by fear of reality.
I have a camera, I should learn to use it.
I should start walking.
I should...
I should...
I should...
I don't.
I most likely won't.
My intentions mean well.
I'm a major disappointment.
I don't know why I am loved. I doubt I deserve it.
Jordan deserves so much better than me. Everyone does.
I am lost in a field of my own thoughts and emotions.
Mostly emotions.
Feelings I cannot explain, but cause such great anxiety it's almost paralyzing.
I am told I am needed That I am wanted. But I am uncertain if I want or need myself.
I am once again poor.
Some say there is light at the end of the tunnel.
I rarely see it.
Sometimes a glimpse is enough to give e hope and push through just one more day.
Just one more day.
Just one more day.
But how does one continue to live this way?
Just one more day.
One more day of what?!
Crippling anxiety? Endless tears? Paralyzing fear of everything?
And this is what I live "just one more day" for?!
How?
Why?
To what end?
I am dying here and no one can help me!!!!!

I don't know what to say to people.
I want them to know. They NEED to know.

I showered and put on clean clothes.
I bought a pack of smokes on my way out to Utah.
I don't know if it is helping or hurting.
It gives me something to do and replaces my want for herb.
(So much for my tolerance break.)
It feels good having my hear wet and down, drying in the breeze.
(I'm sitting on the front porch.)

I'm thinking of moving my desk down into the den. Maybe if I move out of the bedroom things will be "easier" on me?
Maybe, just maybe, I'll keep things clean better that way.
Although I like my privacy that my room gives me.
Change for simply changes sake may not be the best of ideas.
If the desk wasn't such a pain to move I might be more eager to try it.
I just really don't know what to do anymore.

Day in and day out nothing changes, nothing but the increasing of my anxiety and a great desire to just disappear.
To no longer exist.
To vanish.
To take a long walk in the woods and never come back.
Maybe I'll go live with the bears.

But really, let's talk about death.
What is it?
What is it, really?
Death is the end of this life.
But it is also the beginning of something new.
The catch?
We travel that journey alone.
There are choices.
At anytime I can choose to take that solo journey into the unknown.
(Jordan says I'm do some good day soon. I hope he's right.)
I can always wait.
Wait.
Wait.
Just one more day.
Just one more day.

I guess I want to be in control. 
I want to be in control of something in my life and right now it feels that the only thing that I have control over is to go one more day.

Angela says I can't go.
Her kids (my minions) vie me as their 2nd mom.
They need me around just as much as they need their folks.

I want to hurt myself.
At least then I'd have something worthy to cry about.
Maybe then this emotional pain can have a physical pain outlet.

I stopped blogging.
I stopped writing.
I stopped reading.
And in some ways I stopped caring, mainly about myself.
I matter not.
That's what my mind tells me.
My mind tells me things would be simpler if I were gone.
I am told I shouldn't let these thoughts linger.
It is claimed to be unhealthy.
But my thoughts are real and I don't know what else to do about them.
Too long have I let them simply dance in my head.
I do not know how to evict them.
Maybe writing this down will help.
Maybe blogging and sharing the real will help.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Everything is "maybe".
Maybe moving my desk will help.
Maybe walking will help.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe.
Maybe I should look into pet sitting.
I could get lucky and I like pets.
Animals are better than humans.
__________________________

the lights flash.
The thoughts wander.
A slow drag on one more cigarette.
One more cider before I throw in the towel.
The guy across the street hides behind his fence while trying to skateboard.
The dog wants in on the action.
Or maybe the dog just want some love and attention.

I just want love and attention.
It sounds funny, and it makes little sense.
I get plenty of love and attention.
I am loved.
I know this.
I am told this.
I am shown this.
It should be enough.
It's all I've ever wanted, and yet...
Yet I am haunted by intangible memories.
Triggers with no solid founding.
Flashbacks filled purely with emotion, no actual events to grasp on to and attempt to process.
How do I work through these "issues" without a better understanding of what they are?

I Was Raised In A Cult

I want to write about all the positive and sexy. I want to cover up the unpleasant things. I know I shouldn't. I know that hiding from those truths makes it harder for me to truly express my full self (and prevents you from better understanding who I am). How can I show you all of me if I keep hidden such an impacting force that has plagued my life and "helped" define who I am today. Please bear with me as I step lightly and honestly through my past. I am only now beginning to understand my true self.

I am defined by my genetics. I am defined by my upbringing. I am defined by the places I have lived and the events that have happened to me. I am made up of the people that have crossed my journey. I am made up of the stories that have touched my life so profoundly that I became a changed person. 

Me and my father, 1980, CA

Me and Mom, 1980, CA

I am scarred by misunderstanding. I'm marked by a narcissistic father and a mother who grew up in a world surrounded by hate, verbal, physical and sexual abuse. I'm misguided by the cult I was raised in. I'm greatly affected by the emotions/feelings of those around me.

The cards were stacked against me from the beginning.

This is my curse. This is my blessing. This is my gift. This is my undoing. This is my design. This is my journey.

Since I was a child I have questioned who I am, where I come from and, ultimately, why am I me? Why am I here, in this body, in this life, in this time? Why aren't I the kid down the street, sleeping soundly in bed? Why am I me. 

Recent revelation has shown that I also have been suffering from sleep paralysis since I was at least 7 years old. I've only recently been made aware that's what it was/still is. It's frightening to find myself paralyzed in bed. Unable to move. The deafening sound of my silent screams. Is this real? Is this my imagination playing tricks on me? Is this normal? Who do I tell? How do I explain it? I told no one. I could not explain it to myself. Who would believe me? 

I've been accused of being a liar since I was old enough to know what a lie is. I have always felt guilty, even when I know I have done nothing wrong. This accusation was further ingrained as I got older. 

I would cry often (still do). Many times for no apparent reason. Emotions would just flood me and the only way my mind could cope was by shedding tears, letting that energy go (as I would later come to understand it). As a child I had no means of understanding and explaining these events. (I now know that I am empathic.)

My mother would ask, "Why are you crying?" 

"I don't know."

"You have to have a reason for crying. Why are you crying?!"

"I don't know."

"Why won't you just tell me why you're crying?!"

"I don't know why I'm crying!"

"Now you're just lying."

To this day I feel guilty when I try to voice my emotional state. I feel like I'm lying because it's so ingrained in me to believe that the words which flow from my mouth are not true. That I do not know my own mind, my own feelings, my own thoughts. In my mind's eye I am still a child and those around me are the adults and they will always know better than me. 

My early childhood is very foggy. I fear learning of the things I have repressed. My nightmares haunt me of events not fully understood. Why does the phrase "You little shit!" leave such a sour taste in my mouth? Why does the thought of being alone with my father send chills down my spine? Why can't I remember much of my life until I was 11 years old? Why am I afraid to go out alone? Why do I fear making my own choices?

Recent enlightenments have shown me that the LDS religion (read - cult) has played an overwhelming role in the choices that I have made, or have failed to make. 

I used to proudly carry around a pamphlet titled "For the Strength of Youth". My youth revolved around this. The standards and expectations were placed before me. As young woman I dreamed of graduating high school, marrying a Returned Missionary (RM) in the temple for all time and eternity, being a loyal housewife, and bearing many children (to "go forth and multiply"). 

My mother clung to these notions. She desired so strongly for me to have everything she did not. I would later discover that she was attempting to live vicariously through me. By my Junior year of High School, she was buying bridal magazines and gathering wedding package information from Disney World (she was obsessed with all things Disney). 

Modesty was drilled into me. Modestly by TSCC (The So Called Church, AKA LDS) standards. Shorts below the knees. No bare shoulders. Minimal makeup. No one-on-one dating. Beware of the devil in your worldly desires. Be ashamed and repress your sexual urges, they too are of the devil. 

From "For the Strength of Youth":

You are not just ordinary young men and women. You are choice spirits who have been held in reserve to come forth in this day when the temptations, responsibilities, and opportunities are the very greatest. You are at a critical time in your lives. This is a time for you not only to live righteously but also to set an example for your peers. As you seek to live the standards of the Church, you will be able to reach out and lift and build your brothers and sisters.

God loves you as He loves each and every one of His children. His desire, purpose, and glory is to have you return to Him pure and undefiled, having proven yourselves worthy of an eternity of joy in His presence.

Your Father in Heaven is mindful of you. He has given you commandments to guide you, to discipline you. He has also given you your agency--freedom of choice--"to see if [you] will do all things whatsoever [He] shall command" (Abraham 3:25). Freedom of choice is a God-given, eternal principle that carries with it moral responsibilities for the choices made.

We counsel you to choose to live a morally clean life. The prophet Alma declared, "Wickedness never was happiness" (Alma 41:10). Truer words were never spoken!

You cannot do wrong and feel right. It is impossible! Years of happiness can be lost in the foolish gratification of a momentary desire for pleasure. Satan would have you believe that happiness comes only as you surrender to his enticement to self-indulgence. We need only to look at the shattered of those who violate God's laws to know why Satan is called the "father of all lies" (2 Nephi 2:18).

You can avoid the burden of guilt and sin and all of attending heartaches if you will but heed the standards provided you through the teachings of the Lord and His servants. (See Following the Prophets home page)

We were the chosen ones. I had a lot to live up to. I had unrealistic expectations placed before me. The ultimate goal to be perfect in all things. Every "sinful" thought was to be fought with repentance, prayer, scripture study, paying tithing and attending all church functions. To avoid temptation my circle of acceptable friends and activities was very limited. 

Example: I was so moved by my 3 week trip to Utah in the summer of 1995 (15 years old), that upon my return I phoned my boyfriend, CJ, and asked his opinion on having sex. "If it happens, it happens," was his response. I could not abide by such loose standards. I was shocked and appalled. How could someone have such low standards to something so sacred as sex? I promptly dumped him without a second thought. 

Oh, I was very much a hypocrite. This was the same guy that I used to make-out with behind the C building before and after school (sometimes during lunch as well). Yep, I was a "heavy petter". I relished the feelings and then hated myself afterwards. 

As an LDS youth I was taught that we were, in fact, better than everyone else. We belonged to the one and only true church in the world. We had modern-day revelation. As TBMs (True Blue Mormons) we had all the answers, to life, death and the hereafter. We were systematically taught not to question ("Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters—my dear friends—please, first doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith. We must never allow doubt to hold us prisoner and keep us from the divine love, peace, and gifts that come through faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.").

These teachings were the foundation by which I built my expectations of my future. Should I falter even but a step from these "truths" I would be outcast and shunned. Ultimately I would spend all of eternity in "Outer Darkness" (AKA Hell). I would be called to repentance and told to beg for forgiveness, which could only be given to me through confession to my Bishop. The steps towards forgiveness would include denial of certain practices, such as partaking of sacrament on Sundays, (everyone saw when you simply passed the sacramental trays to the person next to you without taking for yourself), and saying prayer in public, (a scarlet letter might as well be pinned to your chest when you must admit that you "cannot" offer up a prayer at the opening or closing of a meeting). Church callings would also be revoked and worthiness to enter the temple would be suspended.

I know all of these shames. I have cried before my church leaders as a young woman, declaring my sins, naming them and asking god, through them, for forgiveness. I freely offered up a willingness to do whatever was required of me in order to be seen as spotless before the lord once more. My parents encouraged this. 

Confessions being kept anonymous

What confessing looks like to the LDS

As a teenager I would dress in my Sunday best and sit alone with my Bishop in his office and tell of my sexual transgressions, what greater sin was there for the Latter-Day youth? Yes, alone. I, a teenage female, would tell a grown married man about my sexual thoughts and deeds, including masterbation. (Thoughts are just as damning as actions.) I would be pressed for details in order for my transgressions to be truly weighed and to determine how long my repentance period should last. Sometimes these meetings were held with the whole Bishopric (three men: the Bishop and his first and second councilors). 

This was the foundation by which my perception of sexuality was built. I believed it. I preached it. I testified of it. I judged others based upon it. I condemned even myself because of it. Even now, at 35 years of age, I am still breaking free of this indoctrination I was subjected to. 

[There is a lot here I have shared. I have read and re-read my words. I have provided links to help build a better understanding of where I come from and the expectations by which I was raised. I, by no means, expect the sources I have provided to be read in full.] 

Anxiety and dealing with things no one else can do but me.

Memory getting worse. I have to constantly remind myself what day it is. And not in the typical way either. I think I tell myself at least 10 times a day what day it is.

I had therapy yesterday. Got home and couldn't really remember it. I kept wanting to look at my partner and ask if we went. And the only thing that kept reminding me that we did was that it was Tuesday and it was on the calendar.

I've done well at keeping the litter boxes clean everyday for over 2 weeks now. And the kitchen isn't in a total disarray. So I at least have that going for me.

I've deactivated my personal FaceBook account. It's been that way for at least 2-3 weeks now. It's nice. My Bipolar II page is still active though: https://www.facebook.com/pages/I-Have-Bipolar-II/570142669759988, although I haven't posted on there since July 22 or so.

I'm currently reading Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles, http://annerice.com/Bookshelf-AllBooksInOrder.html not the glittery stuff. I've read most of them before, but it was ages ago. It is escapism, but on the bright side it keeps me off the computer.

I'm in the process of trying to deal with my student loans in regards to my disability. All of this is very stressful for me, but I know that I'm the only one that can take care of it. There are a lot of things my partner can do for me, set up doctor appointments, buy groceries, cook meals, take me to my appointments, pick up my medication and the like. But he can't deal with my student loans.

I used to be in charge of our finances. I'm finding it harder and harder to deal with. All of our bills are now on auto-pay, as I can no longer remember what day things are due and for how much. We have a shared calendar with this information, but it's not enough anymore. Again, I don't know what day of the week it is, much less the date. Thank goodness for this new age era where I no longer have to physically balance my checkbook and I can see real-time bank transactions and fix things as problems arise (mind you it's under medication that makes me tired and sometimes still isn't enough).

I shake a lot now when I'm anxious/nervous. We had to replace the fishtank stand last week. I was a mess. I found out the water filter was leaking down the back (outside) of the tank and it had completely soaked the stand. The shelf was completely bowed where the tank sat. It was the perfect breeding environment for flies (which the area I leave has a problem with anyway). I sobbed when I saw the stand. I then panicked when I saw all the tiny flies everywhere. More sobbing. Sitting on the floor completely at a loss as to what to do. I text my partner and he had to tell me what to do for the time being. (I used to be great at dealing with situations like this.) My partner told me to I empty the tank about half way to lighten the load. He came home early from work and we went to the pet store to get a new (and proper) stand. I felt horrible that I hadn't noticed the problem sooner, so I was already upset. And I just stood in the pet store shaking and attempting to help my partner find a reasonably priced stand, as well as a new water filter. On the one bright side I knew we'd need cat food soon, so we picked that up too. The day was saved, no thanks to my panic. (I text quite a few pictures to attempt to show my partner how severe the problem was.) I asked him if I was being paranoid. And yes, I was to a point. The new stand is nice and everything is now in it's proper order once again.

Having deactivating my FaceBook account life has gotten really quiet. I sent texts to certain people to let them know what was going on and how they could still get ahold of me (phone #, text message and email). Still no word. I'm guessing if it isn't convenient then it's not important.

Trying to find the silver lining, I did get a text message last week out of the blue from a dear friend reminding me that I was loved and that I was being thought of. It was nice. I found it difficult on how to reply, but I didn't want her to think that I didn't care or that I hadn't gotten the text. The best I came up with was "Thank you." Lame.

I feel my mental problems getting worse rather than better, despite my medication and regular therapy.

I can't believe it's already August. All of this has been going on for almost a year now. I hope to have insurance sometime next month. Then we'll play the medication game once more of what might work and what doesn't. It's the one part I'm not looking forward to.

I miss my mom more than ever. At times I can't fathom that she's gone. I just want her to hold me. I just want to understand what's going on with me. I just want her to know that she's wasn't alone in her sorrow and confused depression. Yes it left a huge mark on me, but it's also genetic. She couldn't have known she would pass her depression on to her children. It's not her fault.

I find myself hating me. For allowing this to get ahold of me as it has. And it's so difficult to accept the fact that it's a mental illness. There is very little I could have done to stop it. I've held it back since I was 11 or 12. At 33-34 and living in the same place for 7 years now, it shouldn't be so surprising that my mental state finally caught up with me.

It's hard. I try everyday to do something positive and I feel so guilty and bad for the "pressure" I've put on my partner. It does make one think of death as a way to fix everything. I'm torn between rational about why death isn't an option and just all of this to stop and go away. All the things I used to enjoy, and now I can't leave the property. Sure, I go outside to care for the chickens, take out the dumpings from the litter boxes and to check the mail (thank goodness that box is right next to our property). But to find the strength to get into the car and go somewhere, that's a different story altogether. I had to go pick up my anti-anxiety meds last Thursday (my partner and his girls had just left that morning to go camping). I walked down the row looking for an aisle that was empty, as I feared having to interact with someone. I used to be loud when I talked. When I got to the pharmacy counter I was almost as quiet as a mouse and was shaking all over. It didn't help that there were people behind me. I somehow managed, but it reminded me, if I can't handle something that simple in an almost empty grocery store, there's no way I could handle a real job. Interaction with other people is damned near impossible.

Mad World by Tears For Fears Original HQ 1983

All around me are familiar faces
Worn out places
Worn out faces
Bright and early for their daily races
Going nowhere
Going nowhere
Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression
No expression
Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow
No tomorrow
No tomorrow
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad world
Mad world
Mad world
Mad world
Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy birthday
Happy birthday
And to feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen
Sit and listen
Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me
No one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me
Look right through me
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad world
Mad world
Mad World
Mad world
And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
'Cos I find it hard to take
When people run in circles it's a very very
Mad world
Mad world
Halargian world
Mad world