the sky is paper

I had planned to write a second post much sooner as I was really excited about starting this blog, but sometimes the words get all stuck somewhere and it takes more time than I’d like for them to work their way out.  Kinda having one of those moments now, but all the thinky thoughts are keeping me awake.  Wide awake.  I think they are meant to distract me from this gaping hole I feel in my chest right now.  Don’t know where it came from.  It wasn’t there an hour ago when I went to bed… but it sure came along in full force shortly after.  I never sleep after that.

My therapist has been trying to convince me that I can feel safe.  That I can be “aware” without being hyper-vigilant.  I seem to strongly disagree.  My husband has been working overnight shifts this week, which left me home alone all night.  Of course, my plan to deal with this is to stay up all night till he gets home.  Or at least until daylight.  I usually feel much better when the sun is out.  For the most part, this works because I generally sleep like crap anyway so I do this when he is home sometimes as well.  He’s back to a regular schedule today so I was looking forward to a regular night.  I’m tired as hell, too, so I really expected to fall right asleep.

I think it started with a prayer.  I don’t pray regularly.  I’ve always been a little uncomfortable with it.  That’s a whole other bag, but the short of it- God and me have some issues.  I’m sure I’ll write about those sometime, but I’m pretty stubborn about confronting that so I won’t write much tonight.  BUT, early in the week as I was feeling exhausted and anxious about being home alone, I said a little prayer, asking that I be/feel safe while I’m home alone.   And as I was closing my eyes tonight, glad the week was over, I thought, “oh, bettter say thanks.”  So I did that real quick.  I felt awkward as usual.  This is partly because I was raised to say prayers a certain way, with a certain format, something like “… in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.”

Years ago, when I decided I didn’t accept the religion I had grown up with, I realized I had to start from scratch to discover what I DID believe.  I haven’t really decided if Christ is part of that or not.  So saying a prayer in his name feels weird, because it’s not authentic.  Now I suppose it should be easy to find another way to pray.  And actually, I occasionally do.  But most of the time, I revert to the pattern I know.  Truth is, I don’t really have a lot of faith in prayer.  It’s kind of like crossing my fingers.  I do it just in case it helps because I WANT to believe it works.  But I really don’t.

So, back to me lying in bed tonight… I start thinking about all that, feeling guilty about not having more faith, about not being more grateful, about not saying a better prayer… and now I’m wide awake thinking that the world is not how it should be.  My therapist wants me to believe that odds are, I am not going to be hurt again.  That most of the people in the world are good people.  My parents want me to believe that God is watching, and listening, and somehow INVOLVED in our lives and the world.  20 years ago, I accepted all this as fact.  The world was basically good.  Bad things might still happen to good people, but at the end of the day, God is there.  We’re not alone.  AND THIS WILL SOMEHOW MAKE EVERYTHING OK.

Bullshit.  ok… now the anger is coming out, and I knew it would.  blechhh.  I told ya, me and God got some stuff to work out.  I don’t do well with expressing anger.  I don’t even do well with realizing I feel this way.  But I AM pissed.  I feel like the world is a SHITTY place.  People can’t be trusted.  God-that-I-thought-existed IS NOT REAL.  (Note: I am not saying God is not real.  I really don’t know.  I just know it’s not the God I thought was real.)  It’s like finding out that beautiful sky is made of paper and someone just punched a hole through it with their fist.  World destroyed.  It’s like finding out the glasses you’ve been wearing all your life had rose-colored lenses… and without them, the world is completely different.  And I just can’t reconcile…

I wish I could.  …  *deep breath*  Wow, I just read what i had typed so far.  I guess I knew damn good and well where that gaping hole came from.  I just didn’t want to admit it.  Like I said… STUBBORN.  I have to admit, the pain in my chest is a little smaller now.  So, um… yay?

Ummm… I can usually only handle personal revelation in small doses.  And I kinda use fandom as a coping strategy sometimes?  So… I’ll just finish this post with a favorite fanvid of mine that kinda captures my current feels.  If you’re into that, enjoy?  If not… that’s ok.  Thanks for hearing me out tonight!  This is a Supernatural fanvid, “No Bravery” by Ash.

Challenge Accepted…!

Wow.  So I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, but kept finding excuses not to get started.  But I’m finally doing it… so yay me!  No more putting it on the shelf of things I “should do”, “would like to do”, “will do”, etc.

So, a little about me and what I’m hoping to accomplish here.  I’m really stuck in life right now.  Emotionally, physically, mentally… just really, really stuck.  Afraid to move.  I can’t keep living like that.  I’ve literally made myself sick, and I’m just tired.  So- it’s time to get creative and try some new things.  This is one of ’em!

I was assaulted in my home nearly 16 years ago.  I say assaulted because that’s usually an easier word, but more specifically, I was raped at knife point by a man in a mask who threatened to kill me if I told anyone.  I will write more about this, but it’s more than I’m ready to get into right now.  Since then, I’ve struggled with anxiety, depression, insomnia, PTSD, and just fear in general.  I kind of thought this would be my big trial in life- the big thing I’d have to work through and overcome.  And it’s been a fairly up and down road for the most part.  I’ve had times where I didn’t function so well, but mostly, I pushed through it all and did what I had to do to get through life.  I figured I was managing it as well as could be expected, I guess. I was tired, pretty much all the time, but didn’t feel like there was much I could do about that.  As long as I made it to work each day, I called it a success!  It took ending up in the hospital to realize that maybe my idea of success was a little off.

I’d been having stomach pain for about 2 years.  It started sort of small, but kept getting worse and worse.  I didn’t exactly ignore it, but I was so sure it was just part of the emotional/physical fallout from the assault.  So I went back to therapy, and tried to address it from a more holistic angle.  I didn’t love my doctor at the time and just didn’t really believe she’d tell me it was anything other than stress anyway.  So I kept putting off seeing an MD.  At the time, I was working as a massage therapist and was surrounded by chiropracters, naturopaths, accupuncturists, etc.  I pursued all these things hoping that in conjunction with therapy my stomach would get better.  BUT that was not to be.  It was good most of my clients couldn’t see my face as I was working, because there were times I was nearly floored by sudden stomach pain and it was all I could do to keep massaging without doubling over.  I started dropping weight REALLY fast.  And pretty soon, I couldn’t get through a single appointment without having to excuse myself to use the restroom…. which was mortifying.  I felt terrible that these people were paying me to have a nice relaxing massage and I had to interrupt- sometimes even wake them up- to tell them I had to run out for a moment.  FORTUNATELY, the majority of my clients had been with me a very long time and knew I hadn’t been feeling well.  Everyone was very understanding and no one seemed to mind much, but I hated how unprofessional I felt.  As things kept getting worse, I finally found a great new doctor, and she immediately sent me to a GI specialist.  A couple of weeks and a colonoscopy later, I was diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis.

I remember leaving the GI’s office that day thinking, “Well, it doesn’t sound that bad.  Take these meds, sounds like things’ll get better and back to normal soon.”  HA.  I had no idea!  Less than a month later, I was in the hospital and thus began the long, long road of IBD.

…I think I’m going to stop the story there for now because if I keep going, this post is going to get rather lengthy, and frankly, the process of setting up this blog for the first time took a lot longer than I expected!  But hopefully I’ve given you an idea about where I’m coming from and what I’ll be writing about.  Trying to work through years of stored up trauma has always been a lot of work.  Trying to navigate a chronic illness on top of that has been exhausting.  So I’ll probably be writing about those things a lot, but you can probably expect to see some other things thrown in the mix.  In general, I’m pretty introverted so I have many things swirling around in my brain that I don’t share a lot in regular conversation.  I love art, science, music, books, tv and movies… I’m sort of a youtube fanvid addict.    I’m a big tv geek and find that TV can be REALLY therapeutic sometimes.  So I’ll probably post about that stuff from time to time.

Truly, this blog is for me.  Obviously, I hope people read it, but most of all, I need to give voice to all this crud I’ve held inside for so long.  And I’d like to think that some of what I have to say might help someone else who is dealing with some of these same things.  It’s always been a comfort to me to find I’m not alone.  So… yeah.  I hope this is the start of an excellent adventure!  Thanks for reading!

 

Image

 

I found this on pinterest.  It’s my current mantra…

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