Monsters

My physical disabilities I’ve come to terms with. I can’t do anything about them that I’m not already doing, and physically I am getting stronger. I am handling the pain surprisingly well (in my opinion) and I am not letting it or any pain meds be the rulers of my life.

My mental illnesses or disabilities (depending on how you look at it) however, I had come to terms with at one or two points in my 44 years, but i can’t say that I am anymore. I tried to deal and handle them on my own for most my life, although honestly, I didn’t do the greatest job. But then, I was always afraid to ever talk to anyone about my suspicions about what was really wrong with me because I feared getting tossed in a loony bin. Besides, until I was 25, it didn’t really matter that much. Not to me…I suppose I ought to say us. Most of my time loss was minimal, I always had flashes of what the other was up to, sort of; except for a few situations where I ‘woke up’ so’s to speak and had to figure out where the hell I was, how I got there and how long I had been gone. Most of the time they were just small bits of my day or evening and I’d find out I did something embarrassingly stupid or uncharacteristically bold and harsh on behalf of someone else. I’m lousy at standing up for myself, but I am fierce when it comes to the people I love; I can’t even figure that…no, I can…Hmm. I might be getting better at this; I hold the people I love at a higher worth value than I hold myself, they are worth standing up for. I am not 100% sure I believe I am worth standing up for considering some of the terrible things that are domino effect results of my mental illnesses. Granted, I have no control when another personality does take over, just as I generally have no memory of what that personality does But that doesn’t change the fact that it is my body, and my loved ones who get hurt; so I take full responsibility for not being strong enough to face everything life throws at me which is what I assume causes me to run away and gives the others an opportunity to take control. My therapist doesn’t agree with this though. She says I’m too hard on myself; that I’ve let all the negative verbal abuse thrown at me throughout my life by other people, especially people who were close to me in some way, brainwash me into believing those negative things and worse, along with the constant chastising voices in my head and the ‘awesome friends’ nobody else can see who love to point out all my mistakes, or remind me over and over and over (you get the picture) again of everything negative anyone and everyone has ever said to me. It’s such a joyous gift…NOT!

It’s the next day now, I’ve opted not to keep track of the days/dates on this one because it tends to distract me. I’m quite distracted by numerous other things on a regular basis, so to purposely add a distraction seems rather unfruitful and therefore a waste of time. I waste enough time already as well. These are things I am trying to change. This morning I was doing really well, feeling good; but I forgot to take my morning meds when the alarm went off. I was only 1 1/2 hours late, but I had gotten up, made coffee, fluffed the clothing in the drier, got them out and onto my bed so I could transfer the load in the washer into the drier, folded the clothing on the bed and put them away and then hung up all the hang up clothes. The ache in my back and shoulders should have been my first clue, but no. My phone dings, Facebook message from my dad-send quick response, little chat ensues, cool. “Answer the phone.” (???) Doodoodoodoodoodoo (Our phone doesn’t “Ring” per-say). We had a very nice 45 minute conversation. We worry about each other because we both deal with depression and upon reconnecting and have discovered we also share a lot of the same physical disabilities as well. When he first found out, he said he felt so Blessed to have someone to talk to who literally understood everything he was going through and feeling, but it broke his heart at the same time knowing it was his daughter, 21 years younger than him and 15-20 years before her time. (This was about 3 years ago, I think). Anyway, (see, easily distracted, even by myself!!) it was nice to hear his voice. We have a complicated history, and he hasn’t been in my life for much of it. I never used to fear my death, only the death of those I love. I’ve always obsessed over death though, now that I think about it; for as long as I can remember…sidetracked again, sorry.

When I first started writing poetry, I was but a child with pain in my heart and soul. I saw and heard things nobody else did. I had a very strong belief in God, Lucifer, Demons, Monsters, Spirits-both good and evil, and Angels especially because one walked with me everyday. Did I write fabulously weird poems about these things? Heck no! I was 12, I wrote about friendship, clouds and dreams, the imagination; really simplistic things. Then puberty hit with its wonderful flood of wacky hormones to mix with the chemical imbalance I already had but no one knew about because they didn’t know about that kind of stuff when I was a kid. That’s when my writing started getting more personal and much more private.

It’s March 10th today. I initially started this post on January 16th, and it was intended to have to do with how I feel like I am a monster because of some of my mental health issues and blah blah. I had been struggling really hard trying to wrap my head around a few things that just weren’t processing through, and being the OCD type of weirdo that I am, naturally , I obsessed over the why of the shit that I simply couldn’t wrap my head around! (Did trying to read that make your head hurt a little? Just a taste of what I’ve been putting myself through). Sounds pretty insane doesn’t it? Yet still they ask, every day…And yes, I know I’m crazy too. I’m told that often as well. Have you stepped out into the world lately? Show me someone who isn’t just a tiny bit crazy and I’ll show you someone with no imagination or passion. In all seriousness though, hopefully not too many are as…hindered as I am, though I know I am not alone. I also know there are many who suffer even more, and it makes me shudder…which sort of brings me back to my point today.

When I first started sharing my poems with the “world”, and subsequently began to share my life, my story; it was in the hopes of not only helping myself therapeutically through my writing, but also with the hopes of connecting and perhaps helping others who might find themselves in a similar situation. Granted my poems are from my point of view, which at times were misled and quite paranoid when “lack of communication” moved in and seemed to take over for several years. I have come to a lot of realizations since beginning this post-possibly why I haven’t finished it yet-thanks to some wise words from a vast variety of sources. Obviously my therapist is one of them and she is truly quite awesome. Above her are the top two which are my Mama and my brother Todd. They have always had my back no matter what, even when they disagreed with my decisions. My mom would lovingly explain why she disagreed, but still stood beside me if I chose to move forward. Todd is as blunt and straight forward as they come.

“This is my opinion about what is going on and what I think you need to do. I love you and I just want you happy, healthy and safe. So there it is and here I am whenever you need me. Just call. I’ll respect your choice because I love you.”

Right there I already have more than a lot of others who suffer from a mental illness that effects their behavior. I’m very aware of the many Blessings I have been given throughout my life. Some of them I think of as rewards for having survived one of the trials or tribulations I am to face throughout my life until I finally complete the primary task I am here for. I don’t look at the world the same way as anyone else and I definitely don’t see it the same way as everyone else either. I’m starting to get sidetracked.  My point, I don’t think I’m a monster anymore, in fact I know I’m not. I have a few mental disorders and sometimes I fall apart…and it can be really bad. But that doesn’t make me a monster. I am doing everything within my capabilities to be the best version of me that I can be. Ha ha, that’s funny. But I really am as far as meds, therapy, PT for the neck and all the follow-ups. (Hey tikka? Have you ever actually explained your diagnosis’? Or does everyone have E.S.P.?) …some of it I know I have here and …who ? I usually recognize the voices that interrupt me so adding them in had/has become second nature, but that wasn’t a familiar voice…?? Maybe…It’s been a long day and my head-it’s doing it’s thing. 🙂

Many of us who deal with some form of mental disability, we have a very negative, warped view of ourselves. Because of a chemical imbalance in our brain in my son’s and my case, we are manically depressive, over-sensitive, we are prone to insomnia, tend to have severe highs and lows. We have symtoms that fall under a variety of mental disorders, but no one specific which makes finding the right meds difficult. I’ve been lost for awhile and almost forgot I had a say in the matter, but not anymore.

I finally found my center and within my center I found my peace. WOW! From within my peace I found my strength and balance. I’m doing much better now. 🙂

Kyla

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Midnight_Whisper_by_PyroDemi

Midnight Whisper by PyroDemi

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