Yeah, Sully from Monsters Inc. is cute. But this is his scary face. Everything on Google images was either too cute, or quite frankly too scary for what I wanted my readers to see. (I'm thinking of the kids people).
Living with my diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder blows chunks. It doesn't get easier, or go away with age, as one pshychologist tried to tell me. What a lofty idea though. It would be Heaven if it did. It doesn't get tolerable. You just learn tools to get through it. Over the years I've used bad and ineffective ones. From cutting to overdosing on pills. Fun, fun. *eyeroll* I have also learned and used more effective ones in the last eight or nine years. Doing stuff even though you feel like crap. I'm gonna feel like poop either way, might as well get something done while I'm at it. Going running. Oh my gosh I miss this. I really screwed up my leg. Lesson learned. If you are going to run, make sure you are strength training! Very important. Ugh shin splints. To writing, and anything that makes me feel what I think normal should feel like. (sounds like a bad thought now, since I've got it written down and all. Realizing I have nothing normal in my life to base what normal feels like on.)
But this monster, that's what I think everyone sees. Over the last nine years I have been dealing with some heavy crap from my past so I can move on. I've pretty much dealt with all of it. I knew dealing with my intense feelings was the "last frontier" so to speak. Since the anti-depressants I was on stopped working, there was no better time. And then, the unthinkable happened. What the heck?! I don't want to deal with this and the loss of someone. The loss only helps to make those intense emotions that more intense. I'm so not ready to deal with any of this. Apparently God thinks I am. I have this to say to God, "Do you NOT see the monster that is lying in wait inside me to bring havoc to all those around? That one that wants to destroy me and the life I fought so hard to build? Do you not understand the chaos, the depths of pain you are sending me to?"
I honestly hear God laughing at me. Chiding me and telling me I need to "Let Go, and Let God". Well God, I'm a control freak and you just threw all my control and plans out the window. I'm not about to let you or anyone tell me what to do. And I'm definitely not about to let go of anything. Even if I don't have anything left to hold on to. I will find something. Anything.
I'm as stubborn as they come.
God and I are currently embroiled in this struggle. Okay, He's not struggling. I am. I'm not ready to give up though. I do plead a lot. a. lot.
One thing that is coming up though, besides the fact that I need to grieve and not put a time limit on it. (apparently, in all my logic, two weeks is more than enough time to get over the loss of my baby.) I'm learning not only am I illogical, but so is grief. I hate myself. I knew I hated myself. But I always thought it was because of the disorder, or because of my parents, or because of such and such in my past. I'm sure it's a combination of everything, but doing some reading and there is actually a disorder of self-loathing. WTH?! Who knew?
Maybe that monster up there isn't a monster that is in me that will eat everyone up, including myself. Well, it will if I continue the way I am. But maybe the monster has a name. It wasn't neglect. It wasn't abandonment. It wasn't abuse of any kind. Well, maybe self abuse. I'm thinking this monster is self-loathing.
Recently, I went out to try and feel "normal" again after the loss. I was having a conversation with a group of women and covering everything, we eneded up discussing our jobs. I think about my job like I always do. You got to have a certain amount of crazy in you to do the type of care jobs like I do. The one lady seemed a bit put off by what I said. Of course I wanted to hear her thoughts. She said she didn't agree, and gave her reason. She also said, I was putting myself down, that what I did, didn't make me a superhero like some think of it (I was right about that feeling), but it does take a special kind of person, which wasn't because they were "crazy", but compassionate, etc. That they have a "serving spirit". I could only feel sad and contemplative. I could also only be honest with myself. Why that moment, that person was the one that finally pushed that acknowledgement button that I do put myself down. A. lot. I don't know. Maybe it was the combination of the loss and wanting to move on. Maybe it is just time for me to deal with this part of everything. Who knows. It doesn't really matter, what does matter is I think this lady broke the lock on the door I've been beating my head against for years. I know others have said I put myself down, that I'm really negative, and I've just gotten angry and pushed them off. Many times, ending friendships.
So self-loathing monster, angry Sully. I'm gonna do some more reading, and let's see if I can shrink you and squish you. I'm ready to stop hating everything about myself.
Oh yeah, anyone have a time limit on this? Yeah, I know. Just like my grief there won't be one. Stupid control issues.