He carried me & I didn’t know it

So it’s the evening of Thursday August 10th. Since my last post, well really since right before, I have been in a terrible downward direction. This dip into almost 6 feet under was a breakdown of a kind I haven’t had in many years. I’m sure I should have been in the hospital, I know that, but I had the insight not to be extremely obvious; that is until it got so much worse and quickly. For me insight can become a bad thing. A tipping point between life and death.

When these cycles are slowing I start to ‘wake-up’ and only remember portions of the brooding, irrational, death obsessed person I can be. This was one of those breakdowns that I am still reeling from trying to realize just where it all went wrong and any apology has to be meant. That meaning- I don’t apologize unless I mean it. So the aftermath of my destruction is a type of a post apocalyptic scene (For me). I’m confused right now. I’m trying to figure out just how to keep going and to keep fighting. There are so many things wrong that I almost never see any light.

Questions in my mind, where do I go from here? How do I proceed without breaking down again? Will the next time beyond saying “I give up”- say worse? Do worse words exist for the feeling of wanting to kill yourself? For me, saying “I give up” is in essence saying I AM going to complete suicide, or try my damn hardest. With past failed attempts no matter how serious I’ve been with ICU etc., or minor, I get such an immense feeling of guilt, fear and an odd desire to live when I could be dying at that moment. God has given me and I believe everyone, an extremely strong will. We were put here to spread our seed and in the beginning weren’t meant to die. Just my personal simple version to the reasoning. So whereto from here do I go?

I’d like to jump straight in with the most resilience anyone has ever had to continue living and to be an example how surviving is possible. I know people out there have and are doing this; however, I burn out. I’m very tenacious, bold, loving and stubborn but I also am crushed easily.

So here I am. Again. From cutting, over-medicating and praying for death back to confusion and hopefully a bit of stability long enough to recover from this breakdown. Those who stay in my life must be the resilient people I mentioned. I push so hard against anyone getting close to me. I try to consistently hide every emotion because that’s what I do- hide it. Maybe that’s why I open up here, because I can’t in reality. Somewhere along the years I must have been shown that my emotions were less important and were to be only utilized in private solitude. I try to prevent holding back tears when I want to cry and someone is around. I try so hard to retrain myself in thinking- it’s okay to cry around others. It’s okay that others know my emotions. I think a lot of men talk about this stigma but I’m a woman and I deal with the same circumstance.

I can’t seem to connect mentally with my psychiatrist’s nurse practitioner and I’ve had this problem before. I have a caseworker who is wonderful and seems to understand me. My psychiatrist is very knowledgeable and kind. His NP just seems sort of condescending, and forceful with her opinion of why something is going on in my brain. Yes, I have stress, more than most with my circumstances but even with proper outlets, it still remains; I have a chemical imbalance in my brain. Medications are not a panacea but neither is the mix of therapy and medications. I am one of those people who do need tweaking on occasion. I don’t as much as I did years ago thankfully (that was tumultuous).  There are NP’s and doctors that are huge med pushers but the NP I see almost refuses to tweak meds. However I am able to see my psychiatrist a few times a year and it’s a thousand times better. I don’t think there’s been one question he hasn’t been able to answer. I don’t feel inhuman or talked down to. I don’t feel I’m sick, I feel like a person.

So reeling in the wake of what just happened, I’m still in my fog. It’s a lot like the time I received a serious concussion at 18 years old. It happened, there was a memory lapse and everything looked wrong. It’s like my vision switched to a strange diagonal zigzag of black and white. I tried as hard as I could to walk but I felt I was just barely on my feet swaying and walking everywhere to get to my father’s back door. I heard my voice with little recognition screaming. I stumbled inside in hysterics. I sat down and the pain started. A lump probably the size of a baseball and I was going through my head sequence after sequence trying to figure out everything. I fell asleep for awhile and woke sitting in front of the toilet vomiting over and over until it became retching. The retching went for probably over an hour with only a few second pauses. I can’t explain too well why this relates to my breakdown’s aftermath but in my mind it does.

So I will try as of today to do this medication tweak I practically had to push for. If I hadn’t, I truly believe I would have walked out even more hopeless. That is the worst feeling and I have felt it before, when your health providers give up on you. I realize doctors and therapists are human too, but so are those of us who really need help. During the appointment I did stop trying. There was nothing else I could say, in my mind, that would get my feelings through to her. So instead of wasting time and the little energy I had left- I just started with my “I guess, uh huh, yeah” answers. That means they’ve lost me and in my mind I have dismissed them. I don’t know if they realize but if I’m pushed too far in a direction that isn’t helpful in any way, I recoil and go into my head. Really the whole appointment started awkward. She knew even though it was my scheduled appointment that I had spoken with my caseworker about this massive breakdown. She mentioned my suicidal thoughts and self-harm ahead of me showing up. I don’t think the NP even knew how to start the conversation. The energy in the room came across as thick animosity, and a feeling when your parent is scolding you. I felt like I had deliberately done something wrong. Or maybe she was upset I requested an emergency appointment with my psychiatrist. I can’t place my finger on it, but eventually I will figure out what this animosity is between us. I don’t think she cares to converse with me and often that feeling is mutual. I always kindly say thank you when leaving her office and she never responds other than to walk out back to her office. I just can’t solve this problem right now and it creates a feeling of dread going to these appointments.

So I’m trying to climb back out of the grave I dug for myself. It was almost my permanent resting place this time. I could say that about a lot of times but something was so much different this time. There are reasons for my life, I know that, but I’m not as concerned with what they are as I am to completing them. In my opinion it’s not what I’m told to do- It’s what I meant to do and where I’m led.

I received a beautiful vision today in the sky and I know it was from God. It was a reminder to me that something good always comes after the storm. My instant reaction was saying “thank you God, I needed that”. After I said those words in my head the vision faded away as quickly as it appeared. I feel so blessed when I finally get my answer from Jesus. Sometimes the evil in my head is so loud I have to fight to notice my answer. Or for a simple moment to take a breath. Even if it’s my last, I want it to be a breath for God.


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