Dear Jen,
I finally figured out how to change my privacy settings back to the way they were before I tried to apply for that dumb job. I was really surprised to hear that you thought I had blocked you out - I'm glad you finally asked!
I'm so sorry I couldn't figure it out sooner. I'm sorry I didn't pay more attention.
Mostly, I'm just sorry. I will miss you so.
Tuesday, January 01, 2013
Saturday, October 13, 2012
I Don't Know How
So many things I have to say. So many things I can't control. I have nowhere else to say them, which is both sad and fortunate.
I've been watching my youngest child struggle with mood and behavioral issues she since was a toddler. We asked for an IEP, which was denied because despite her many and varied behavioral problems in school, she excelled academically. We agreed to in-school counseling, which was offered - and then pulled - several times over the course of her schooling. She has been medicated with a number of different substances for about 18 months, and has had weekly therapy. She has been hospitalized for suicidal ideation. She is irritable, has delusions of persecution, will fly into a completely irrational rage at a moment's notice, is hypersexual, has experimented with drugs and alcohol, is an expert manipulator, worries obsessively about things that most teens don't even think about, and suffers extreme anxiety about unlikely and sometimes unreal situations.
She is me.
Once I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, my entire life made so much more sense. I think I've related this elsewhere in my blog. Since my critical incident and the prescription of the medication I will take for the rest of my life, I've forgotten to take that medication a few times, and realized quickly that I functioned most of my young life in a surreal unreality. This is the unreality that my youngest daughter lives in now.
And no one will help her.
My entire life, and the life of my family, is held hostage by the chemistry of her brain. Her disrespect and sometimes outright verbal abuse is embarrassing and humiliating. Her rages are unmanageable, and I end up trying to manage both her rage and the subsequent rage of MSU, which escalates into total PTSD meltdown for me and solves NOTHING. MSU is frustrated and often takes it out on me because he feels that i am being "lenient," though he knows as well as I do that punishing her doesn't work, typical parenting doesn't work, and he actually reinforces her rages by attempting to lecture her - or yell her - into submission. Her impulsivity is terrifying, her absolute uncaring attitude toward dangerous situations even more so. I can't count how many times I've sat in various school offices listening to administrators, counselors, and teachers tell me how ineffective I am as a parent. I can't tell you how many times I have asked for help from these same administrators via IEP requests, 502 plan requests, IEP/AB2726 combinations, and the like, always to be denied because she is so very intelligent. Doctors - even psychiatrists - have dismissed her obvious rapid cycling as "hormonal." She lives constantly in a world where her brain won't allow her to rest, won't allow her to trust, won't allow her to tolerate, and won't allow her to see herself as anything but different from everybody else.
She is me. And no one will help her. And I am so tired.
I have to take full responsibility for the times prior to my diagnosis. Full responsibility for shitty parenting - though I did the best I could. Full responsibility for being a shitty wife - though I did the best I could. Full responsibility for blowing up my life - and the lives of others - more times than I can count. So I realize that many of the issues my kids have are a direct result of who I am when I am the Chemically UnTreated Me. And my youngest is probably a direct product of the Chemically UnTreated Me, and for that I feel so guilty (though an organic disorder can't be my fault, it is certainly my faulty genetics that caused it). And Chemically UnTreated Me had absolutely no resources whatsoever to deal with Chemically Untreated Her. Hell, the New and Improved Me has no resources whatsoever to cope with her. SHE has no resources to cope with her.
And no one will help her.
She is me.
Once I was diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder, my entire life made so much more sense. I think I've related this elsewhere in my blog. Since my critical incident and the prescription of the medication I will take for the rest of my life, I've forgotten to take that medication a few times, and realized quickly that I functioned most of my young life in a surreal unreality. This is the unreality that my youngest daughter lives in now.
And no one will help her.
My entire life, and the life of my family, is held hostage by the chemistry of her brain. Her disrespect and sometimes outright verbal abuse is embarrassing and humiliating. Her rages are unmanageable, and I end up trying to manage both her rage and the subsequent rage of MSU, which escalates into total PTSD meltdown for me and solves NOTHING. MSU is frustrated and often takes it out on me because he feels that i am being "lenient," though he knows as well as I do that punishing her doesn't work, typical parenting doesn't work, and he actually reinforces her rages by attempting to lecture her - or yell her - into submission. Her impulsivity is terrifying, her absolute uncaring attitude toward dangerous situations even more so. I can't count how many times I've sat in various school offices listening to administrators, counselors, and teachers tell me how ineffective I am as a parent. I can't tell you how many times I have asked for help from these same administrators via IEP requests, 502 plan requests, IEP/AB2726 combinations, and the like, always to be denied because she is so very intelligent. Doctors - even psychiatrists - have dismissed her obvious rapid cycling as "hormonal." She lives constantly in a world where her brain won't allow her to rest, won't allow her to trust, won't allow her to tolerate, and won't allow her to see herself as anything but different from everybody else.
She is me. And no one will help her. And I am so tired.
I have to take full responsibility for the times prior to my diagnosis. Full responsibility for shitty parenting - though I did the best I could. Full responsibility for being a shitty wife - though I did the best I could. Full responsibility for blowing up my life - and the lives of others - more times than I can count. So I realize that many of the issues my kids have are a direct result of who I am when I am the Chemically UnTreated Me. And my youngest is probably a direct product of the Chemically UnTreated Me, and for that I feel so guilty (though an organic disorder can't be my fault, it is certainly my faulty genetics that caused it). And Chemically UnTreated Me had absolutely no resources whatsoever to deal with Chemically Untreated Her. Hell, the New and Improved Me has no resources whatsoever to cope with her. SHE has no resources to cope with her.
And no one will help her.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
Random Thought...
Just before falling asleep last night, I was once again thinking about PostSecret. PostSecret is a good thing for me: from silly to heartbreaking, I realize by reading that none of us are alone.
I thought about all the things I would want to say to people throughout my life. Not secrets, necessarily, but things I should have said and didn't. Or things I did say and wish I hadn't. Things that were noticed but not acknowledged. Etc.
What about a blog or system similar to PostSecret, where people can post -anonymously or not - things they wish they had said, or feel they should say? Maybe, if enough people would read it, some of those messages would actually be received by those hwy were intended for. Hmmm.
Thursday, September 08, 2011
10 Years Later: I Am STILL a Patriot
I've said it before and I will say it until the day I die: I am not an anarchist. I am a patriot.
10 years and a zillion conspiracy theories later, the events of 9-11-2001 remain one of our most horrific national tragedies. It really doesn't matter why it was perpetrated or by whom; the fact that it happened at all is enough to feel those feelings of helplessness, of utter powerlessness all over again.
10 years and a truckload of propaganda later, the significant changes in our laws and culture lead me to side - generally speaking - with conspiracy theorists. The passing of the Patriot Act (which is anything but), the presence of our troops in Afghanistan and other Middle-Eastern countries after the previously purported objectives have been met, the knee-jerk and WAY too late creation of TSA and the Air Marshall programs, and the continuous feeding of paranoia-inducing media hype lead me to believe that those theories are, at least in part, very sadly true.
I HATE thinking that way. I HATE feeling that way. but I cannot avoid it, I cannot deny it, I cannot lay it by the wayside and let it go. I am a patriot.
Did you know that Afghanistan is the largest producer of opium (read heroin) in the world?? Did you know that prior to 9-11, the Taliban (religious leadership) had banned the growing, processing, sales, and distribution of opium, even for medicinal purposes? Did you know that our American troops stand duty guarding poppy fields and protecting the distribution of the fruits thereof????
Most importantly, do you think America, as a whole, would have supported American troops in Afghanistan without the events of 9-11-2001??
I lay awake at night sometimes, wondering: where's the plane that allegedly hit the Pentagon (and coincidentally hit the Pentagon in a newly renovated and practically uninhabited section)?? And asking that, where did Flight 77 go after the transponder was shut down?? Why did the towers collapse the way they did, damaging very little around them (and why did Tower 7 collapse at all, much less so much later)?? Why did Flight 93 crash into an uninhabited field if the "terrorists" were still in control of the plane (meaning, if the "terrorists" were planning to put the plane down "before the passengers broke through the cockpit door, why would they go to the extra trouble of setting down where there would be no collateral damage?) Why wasn't military force mobilized into the danger areas instead of launched and set into holding patterns?
And why do Americans abide with the ever-increasing limitation of our rights using 'terrorism" as an excuse??
I am not an anarchist. I love my country. I wish things were different.
10 years and a zillion conspiracy theories later, the events of 9-11-2001 remain one of our most horrific national tragedies. It really doesn't matter why it was perpetrated or by whom; the fact that it happened at all is enough to feel those feelings of helplessness, of utter powerlessness all over again.
10 years and a truckload of propaganda later, the significant changes in our laws and culture lead me to side - generally speaking - with conspiracy theorists. The passing of the Patriot Act (which is anything but), the presence of our troops in Afghanistan and other Middle-Eastern countries after the previously purported objectives have been met, the knee-jerk and WAY too late creation of TSA and the Air Marshall programs, and the continuous feeding of paranoia-inducing media hype lead me to believe that those theories are, at least in part, very sadly true.
I HATE thinking that way. I HATE feeling that way. but I cannot avoid it, I cannot deny it, I cannot lay it by the wayside and let it go. I am a patriot.
Did you know that Afghanistan is the largest producer of opium (read heroin) in the world?? Did you know that prior to 9-11, the Taliban (religious leadership) had banned the growing, processing, sales, and distribution of opium, even for medicinal purposes? Did you know that our American troops stand duty guarding poppy fields and protecting the distribution of the fruits thereof????
Most importantly, do you think America, as a whole, would have supported American troops in Afghanistan without the events of 9-11-2001??
I lay awake at night sometimes, wondering: where's the plane that allegedly hit the Pentagon (and coincidentally hit the Pentagon in a newly renovated and practically uninhabited section)?? And asking that, where did Flight 77 go after the transponder was shut down?? Why did the towers collapse the way they did, damaging very little around them (and why did Tower 7 collapse at all, much less so much later)?? Why did Flight 93 crash into an uninhabited field if the "terrorists" were still in control of the plane (meaning, if the "terrorists" were planning to put the plane down "before the passengers broke through the cockpit door, why would they go to the extra trouble of setting down where there would be no collateral damage?) Why wasn't military force mobilized into the danger areas instead of launched and set into holding patterns?
And why do Americans abide with the ever-increasing limitation of our rights using 'terrorism" as an excuse??
I am not an anarchist. I love my country. I wish things were different.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Secrets.
Every Monday I read the "Sunday Secrets." For some I laugh, for some I cry, and for some I just hope that my moment of attention contributes to that person's peace. For most of my life, I would have said I didn't have any secrets, that I'm open with my life and my history because to carry all of that around would be too heavy to bear. Oh, so untrue.
The past three or four months have been an exercise in healing, a journey of pain, a project of stripping away the layers of rot and dirt and denial to expose the hope underneath. Each exposed truth has been a epiphany of acceptance and forgiveness, which has led to a freedom I never knew I could feel, a liberty I never knew I had. I finally accept and forgive ME.
And maybe it's time to tell my secrets. Let's do this.
My biological father didn't abandon us and neither did his parents. My mother wouldn't allow him to have contact with us. She didn't give us birthday cards and Christmas presents that were sent, we weren't allowed to answer the phone or the door. Even though I knew this as a child, I'd forgotten it, almost as if my brain convinced me that my mother could never do such a thing.
I've ruined every relationship I've ever had because I continue to use survival skills I no longer need. And I always blamed the other person.
Sex with love is so difficult and frightening for me. Sex with a stranger is easy.
I'm afraid of everything that's out of my control. Which is EVERYTHING.
My adoptive father beat the shit out of me, terrorized me, starved me, and controlled me because he was crazy, not because I was bad. But it didn't take long to convince me that I was bad. And still am.
(Despite all of that, I am often struck by gratitude for my father's comprehensive infusion of fear. I've felt that the deep-running paranoia that runs my life actually makes me BETTER at what I do. Realization that this is probably one of the sickest things I've ever heard was one layer of rot all by itself.)
I learned to be honest because lying was so easy. I did it a LOT back in the day. And the temptation is always there. So if I'm "hardcore" about extreme honesty, it's because I know the difference.
I only have one regret in my entire life, despite the fact that I've done some pretty horrible things. I'm not sorry for any of them, I'm only sorry that I'm not.
I've aborted more babies than I've delivered. And it was the right thing to do every time.
I spent several years secretly wishing MSU would die because the several insurance policies I keep on him were worth more than he was to me.
My children terrify me. And I've been a really shitty mother because of it.
I love my mother. But I hate her more. I'm an over-controlling and over-protective mother because she wouldn't be consistent or protective. Maybe she couldn't be. But I don't care. I hate her for failing to do what was necessary to keep us safe.
I'm afraid I will kill my adoptive father if I ever see him again. And sometimes I really hope I run into him.
I hoarded food until well into my 20s.
I made my marriage the toxic thing it became. I did it. No one else. Everyone else had no choice but to just react.
In 1st grade, the kid no one liked always had really good desserts in her lunch. I told her I would be her friend as long as she gave me her dessert every day.
I quit high school because I wanted to party, fuck, and use drugs. Sure, it was boring. Sure, my mom kicked me out when I was 15. But the real reason I quit was because I had "better" things to do.
Of course, there are more. But ost of those are what I like to think of as "standard" secrets: stealing as a little kid, getting my sister in trouble on purpose, sneaking out of the house, doing stupid things and not getting caught.
I face me. I see me. I forgive me. I move on.
The past three or four months have been an exercise in healing, a journey of pain, a project of stripping away the layers of rot and dirt and denial to expose the hope underneath. Each exposed truth has been a epiphany of acceptance and forgiveness, which has led to a freedom I never knew I could feel, a liberty I never knew I had. I finally accept and forgive ME.
And maybe it's time to tell my secrets. Let's do this.
My biological father didn't abandon us and neither did his parents. My mother wouldn't allow him to have contact with us. She didn't give us birthday cards and Christmas presents that were sent, we weren't allowed to answer the phone or the door. Even though I knew this as a child, I'd forgotten it, almost as if my brain convinced me that my mother could never do such a thing.
I've ruined every relationship I've ever had because I continue to use survival skills I no longer need. And I always blamed the other person.
Sex with love is so difficult and frightening for me. Sex with a stranger is easy.
I'm afraid of everything that's out of my control. Which is EVERYTHING.
My adoptive father beat the shit out of me, terrorized me, starved me, and controlled me because he was crazy, not because I was bad. But it didn't take long to convince me that I was bad. And still am.
(Despite all of that, I am often struck by gratitude for my father's comprehensive infusion of fear. I've felt that the deep-running paranoia that runs my life actually makes me BETTER at what I do. Realization that this is probably one of the sickest things I've ever heard was one layer of rot all by itself.)
I learned to be honest because lying was so easy. I did it a LOT back in the day. And the temptation is always there. So if I'm "hardcore" about extreme honesty, it's because I know the difference.
I only have one regret in my entire life, despite the fact that I've done some pretty horrible things. I'm not sorry for any of them, I'm only sorry that I'm not.
I've aborted more babies than I've delivered. And it was the right thing to do every time.
I spent several years secretly wishing MSU would die because the several insurance policies I keep on him were worth more than he was to me.
My children terrify me. And I've been a really shitty mother because of it.
I love my mother. But I hate her more. I'm an over-controlling and over-protective mother because she wouldn't be consistent or protective. Maybe she couldn't be. But I don't care. I hate her for failing to do what was necessary to keep us safe.
I'm afraid I will kill my adoptive father if I ever see him again. And sometimes I really hope I run into him.
I hoarded food until well into my 20s.
I made my marriage the toxic thing it became. I did it. No one else. Everyone else had no choice but to just react.
In 1st grade, the kid no one liked always had really good desserts in her lunch. I told her I would be her friend as long as she gave me her dessert every day.
I quit high school because I wanted to party, fuck, and use drugs. Sure, it was boring. Sure, my mom kicked me out when I was 15. But the real reason I quit was because I had "better" things to do.
Of course, there are more. But ost of those are what I like to think of as "standard" secrets: stealing as a little kid, getting my sister in trouble on purpose, sneaking out of the house, doing stupid things and not getting caught.
I face me. I see me. I forgive me. I move on.
Monday, May 09, 2011
My Soul's Voice
In a kinda-sorta-maybe elaboration on a previous post (http://daughterofnight.blogspot.com/2011/02/goofy-theory-that-is-keeping-me-awake.html), I have decided to practice being LESS sentient.
Yes, you read that right. LESS sentient.
I wrote: "So, it stands to reason that there is something about us that is not our bodies and something else about us that is not our minds. There is no doubt in my “mind” (haha) that when my body ceases to exchange energy information between its systems, my brain – the thing that we posit contains our central computer and thus the “I AM” part of us – will cease exchanging information as well, as it is the central part of that system indeed. But the energy that compels me to know I AM I forever, throughout a life in which all cellular information is replaced several times, must be in direct systemic exchange with a similar and relative energy. An exchange that would continue regardless of the communication shutdown in the shrouded and particular systems of this coalescence of cells that I call my body. Could this direct systemic energy exchange between the field that dictates my particular energy and whatever relative field that confirms it be the Soul? And could this constant resonation from the relative energy be the source of what we call “emotion,” which, for the purposes of this theorizing would then be held as the electromagnetic and subatomic system of… God?"
Which is a very strange coincidence, because my tattoo artist gave me a book last Friday. And the author of that book said pretty much the SAME thing. There is something about us that is not physical. There is something about us that is not our "minds." And that something is made of Light, and Divinity, and the ALL. That something is WHO WE ARE. Our BEING. And we suppress our Being with... (you guessed it)... thought.
I wrote: "So, if emotion is the voice of our “soul,” that connection to the relative system outside the system- of- the- body configuration, and we rely on our “minds” to dissect this emotion, respond to this emotion, label this emotion, deconstruct this emotion, dislike this emotion, avoid this emotion, expect this emotion, make choices in relation to this emotion… then aren’t we arrogantly using our dubious power of discrimination (choice) to subvert, muffle, second-guess, and over-analyze our connection with the Divine? Aren’t we then torturing ourselves with the curse of “free will,” when in fact, that sense of “free will” is only a by-product of an inferior and almost completely unrelated system? And when we do that… aren’t we then killing our personal system? Damaging the cells? Poisoning ourselves?"
Strangely enough, this is also addressed in my new book. Strangely enough, this is, upon further research, addressed by almost every spiritual Master in history. Feeling an emotion is being fully present in NOW. Dissecting the emotion, reliving the emotion over and over, blaming for the emotion, surrounding the emotion with THOUGHT forces that emotion into both the Past and the Future. Think about past and future for a second. Do they exist? Are they real? Really thing before you answer... because the answer is no. The past is an illusion. The future is an illusion. Both illusion are created by our minds to shroud NOW. HERE and NOW are ALL THAT IS. And believing that our identity is crafted by our past is a fallacy and creates suffering in our lives. Believing our future will contain the fruition of all this "work" is an illusion and creates suffering in our lives. Suffering is an illusion created by our thinking, not by our Souls. When we THINK, we reside only in that illusion state, the Past and the Future. When we are fully present in our lives, fully BEING, then we are wholly in the NOW and knowing there is no threat NOW, there is no pain NOW, there is no need NOW, I am perfect NOW, I AM NOW.
I wrote: " It seems to me that the systemic connection from “I AM” to the relative and ultimately containing field is constant, unending, irrefutable, and is the True Source, the Divine, the Universal Mud, whatever you want to call it. We do the Great System a grand disservice by failing to nurture the connection, and using the excuse of “free will” for the death of our souls.
In other words: We kill ourselves with “what if?” We kill ourselves with fear. We kill ourselves with denial. We kill ourselves with the belief that we are less than perfect. We kill ourselves with the belief that we are separate, alone, entities unto ourselves and nothing else. We kill ourselves with the overuse of the inferior system (mind) of the body’s configuration rather than nurturing that system with the energy of the connection to the Source.
I can’t get it out of my head: What if your Soul’s voice was the only voice you heard?"
So, I ask myself again: What if the Soul's voice is the only voice I hear? What if BEING is all I do? What if I use thought only in the practical sense, the everyday sense and focus that thought on what I am doing NOW and not what may come out of it in that non-existent, that NOT REAL future? What if I observe my thoughts as a witness, and thus remove their power to (seemingly) control me? What if, in each moment, I KNOW that I already have everything I need? That I was crafted in perfection and in perfect sync with the rest of the System?
Because RIGHT NOW, I can do that. Because RIGHT NOW, I need nothing and I can be fully present in the moment, in my life, in my heart, in this System. Because RIGHT now, there is no past, there is no future, there is nothing to fear. Because RIGHT NOW, I AM. And granting any kind of awareness to my ego and it's constant litany of illusory bullshit take awareness from BEING. Right now, BEING is so cool.
And right now, too.
And now.
And now.
There is joy here. There is ease. There is light.
Yes, you read that right. LESS sentient.
I wrote: "So, it stands to reason that there is something about us that is not our bodies and something else about us that is not our minds. There is no doubt in my “mind” (haha) that when my body ceases to exchange energy information between its systems, my brain – the thing that we posit contains our central computer and thus the “I AM” part of us – will cease exchanging information as well, as it is the central part of that system indeed. But the energy that compels me to know I AM I forever, throughout a life in which all cellular information is replaced several times, must be in direct systemic exchange with a similar and relative energy. An exchange that would continue regardless of the communication shutdown in the shrouded and particular systems of this coalescence of cells that I call my body. Could this direct systemic energy exchange between the field that dictates my particular energy and whatever relative field that confirms it be the Soul? And could this constant resonation from the relative energy be the source of what we call “emotion,” which, for the purposes of this theorizing would then be held as the electromagnetic and subatomic system of… God?"
Which is a very strange coincidence, because my tattoo artist gave me a book last Friday. And the author of that book said pretty much the SAME thing. There is something about us that is not physical. There is something about us that is not our "minds." And that something is made of Light, and Divinity, and the ALL. That something is WHO WE ARE. Our BEING. And we suppress our Being with... (you guessed it)... thought.
I wrote: "So, if emotion is the voice of our “soul,” that connection to the relative system outside the system- of- the- body configuration, and we rely on our “minds” to dissect this emotion, respond to this emotion, label this emotion, deconstruct this emotion, dislike this emotion, avoid this emotion, expect this emotion, make choices in relation to this emotion… then aren’t we arrogantly using our dubious power of discrimination (choice) to subvert, muffle, second-guess, and over-analyze our connection with the Divine? Aren’t we then torturing ourselves with the curse of “free will,” when in fact, that sense of “free will” is only a by-product of an inferior and almost completely unrelated system? And when we do that… aren’t we then killing our personal system? Damaging the cells? Poisoning ourselves?"
Strangely enough, this is also addressed in my new book. Strangely enough, this is, upon further research, addressed by almost every spiritual Master in history. Feeling an emotion is being fully present in NOW. Dissecting the emotion, reliving the emotion over and over, blaming for the emotion, surrounding the emotion with THOUGHT forces that emotion into both the Past and the Future. Think about past and future for a second. Do they exist? Are they real? Really thing before you answer... because the answer is no. The past is an illusion. The future is an illusion. Both illusion are created by our minds to shroud NOW. HERE and NOW are ALL THAT IS. And believing that our identity is crafted by our past is a fallacy and creates suffering in our lives. Believing our future will contain the fruition of all this "work" is an illusion and creates suffering in our lives. Suffering is an illusion created by our thinking, not by our Souls. When we THINK, we reside only in that illusion state, the Past and the Future. When we are fully present in our lives, fully BEING, then we are wholly in the NOW and knowing there is no threat NOW, there is no pain NOW, there is no need NOW, I am perfect NOW, I AM NOW.
I wrote: " It seems to me that the systemic connection from “I AM” to the relative and ultimately containing field is constant, unending, irrefutable, and is the True Source, the Divine, the Universal Mud, whatever you want to call it. We do the Great System a grand disservice by failing to nurture the connection, and using the excuse of “free will” for the death of our souls.
In other words: We kill ourselves with “what if?” We kill ourselves with fear. We kill ourselves with denial. We kill ourselves with the belief that we are less than perfect. We kill ourselves with the belief that we are separate, alone, entities unto ourselves and nothing else. We kill ourselves with the overuse of the inferior system (mind) of the body’s configuration rather than nurturing that system with the energy of the connection to the Source.
I can’t get it out of my head: What if your Soul’s voice was the only voice you heard?"
So, I ask myself again: What if the Soul's voice is the only voice I hear? What if BEING is all I do? What if I use thought only in the practical sense, the everyday sense and focus that thought on what I am doing NOW and not what may come out of it in that non-existent, that NOT REAL future? What if I observe my thoughts as a witness, and thus remove their power to (seemingly) control me? What if, in each moment, I KNOW that I already have everything I need? That I was crafted in perfection and in perfect sync with the rest of the System?
Because RIGHT NOW, I can do that. Because RIGHT NOW, I need nothing and I can be fully present in the moment, in my life, in my heart, in this System. Because RIGHT now, there is no past, there is no future, there is nothing to fear. Because RIGHT NOW, I AM. And granting any kind of awareness to my ego and it's constant litany of illusory bullshit take awareness from BEING. Right now, BEING is so cool.
And right now, too.
And now.
And now.
There is joy here. There is ease. There is light.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
I Guess I'm Crazy... Crazy for Feeling so Lonely
I'm moved out and living securely in my own little place. But I'm hardly alone, as MSU has been over to my house every night since I left except one. And I've been over to his house (formerly known as OUR house) every night to take care of details, see my daughter, and realize MSU's expectation that I continue to know his existence is irrevocably connected to my own and listen to more of his lies and excuses.
The hardest part about being a certifed co-dependent is learning to let go of that all-consuming need to control everything and being absolutely certain that I can. The second hardest part is learning how to stop using the concepts of Pity and Love interchangeably. The third most difficult is ameliorating that signature hypervigilance... but that one will have to wait.
And even though I KNOW this is the right thing - at least for now and likely for forever - I am struggling. My fear of abadonment (yes, I know I'm the one who left) and my fear of being "replaced" is consuming, almost as though I don't want MSU to be happy. Cognitively forefront, of course that's what I want. In my secret and often black heart, I want him to be anything but. I want him to be so very bereft that he is forced to see how needy he is, how emotionally unavailable he is, how addicted he is, and how much of our relationship was just old childhood tapes being played over and over again. I want him to commit to positive change.
But he knew the consequences of that continued behavior, and refused to make those changes for over a year after I issued the ultimatum. His fear of my last-minute cancellation of my suicide plan faded quickly and was overtaken by his natural, unheeding and uncaring, state. Every single time he's said "I don't want this" over the past couple of months, I've asked him the same question: "No? What did you think was going to happen?" Because I'd never before, in my entire life, issued an ultimatum. Why on Earth would he think that I wouldn't follow through? That I meant what I said? That instead of ending my life, I've chosen to change it (as hard as it is and will be)?
Because he doesn't CARE. That's why. All he cares about is himself. The hallmark of our entire marriage is these three constants: the drinking, the lying, and his penchant to say one thing but do another. Activities (or behaviors, if you will) that benefit only him and are devastating to the rest of us.
So here I am, recognizing my own dysfunction and feeling oh-so-powerlesss to change it... but still willing and able to try. Here I am, knowing that I was attracted to this relationship because it was a familiar situation to me, a relationship in which I knew "how to act" according to the survival tools of my youth. Here I am, left ot my own devices, without any guidance, and not really knowing what a healthy, sharing, loving relationship IS. And if I let go of my survival skills, erase those old tapes and start anew... well, how will I survive????? How will I know how to act?? How can avoid toxic relationships in the future? And what can I do to help MSU? (Ah, there it is again! The answer to that is: NOTHING!)
These and many other mysteries will be solved in therapy. I hope.
In the meantime, all I can do is stick to my guns no matter how sad, how lonely, and how out-of-control I feel. All I can do is take my meds and try to act as normal as I know how. And most importantly, I mustmustmust learn to say no to MSU. No, you can't come over. No, I won't have sex with you out of compassion (read pity). No, I won't stay the night (and for God's sake I won't let him manipulate me with how "good it will be for Izzy if you're here in the morning'), and no, I am not going to sacrifice these things that I know are RIGHT just so he can feel better about where he is in this sad and pathetic life: Still making excuses. Still lying to cover up his behavior. Still saying one thing and turning around and doing the opposite. Still drinking (and riding/driving). Still acting like a 15-year-old in a 54-year-old's body. But I won't be there to keep pulling the bottom out from under him so he can sink even lower. I won't be there to pick up the pieces. The only thing I'll be there to do is pick up my daughter when he drops the ball over and over again while still expecting to stay on the varsity team.
As I posted on FaceBook this morning, I've learned that bi-polar disorder and co-dependency is a lethal life combination. Stay tuned while I claw my way out of this grave, barely breathing, to that pinpoint of light I see through the mud and roots and rot. I am tired but still digging.
The hardest part about being a certifed co-dependent is learning to let go of that all-consuming need to control everything and being absolutely certain that I can. The second hardest part is learning how to stop using the concepts of Pity and Love interchangeably. The third most difficult is ameliorating that signature hypervigilance... but that one will have to wait.
And even though I KNOW this is the right thing - at least for now and likely for forever - I am struggling. My fear of abadonment (yes, I know I'm the one who left) and my fear of being "replaced" is consuming, almost as though I don't want MSU to be happy. Cognitively forefront, of course that's what I want. In my secret and often black heart, I want him to be anything but. I want him to be so very bereft that he is forced to see how needy he is, how emotionally unavailable he is, how addicted he is, and how much of our relationship was just old childhood tapes being played over and over again. I want him to commit to positive change.
But he knew the consequences of that continued behavior, and refused to make those changes for over a year after I issued the ultimatum. His fear of my last-minute cancellation of my suicide plan faded quickly and was overtaken by his natural, unheeding and uncaring, state. Every single time he's said "I don't want this" over the past couple of months, I've asked him the same question: "No? What did you think was going to happen?" Because I'd never before, in my entire life, issued an ultimatum. Why on Earth would he think that I wouldn't follow through? That I meant what I said? That instead of ending my life, I've chosen to change it (as hard as it is and will be)?
Because he doesn't CARE. That's why. All he cares about is himself. The hallmark of our entire marriage is these three constants: the drinking, the lying, and his penchant to say one thing but do another. Activities (or behaviors, if you will) that benefit only him and are devastating to the rest of us.
So here I am, recognizing my own dysfunction and feeling oh-so-powerlesss to change it... but still willing and able to try. Here I am, knowing that I was attracted to this relationship because it was a familiar situation to me, a relationship in which I knew "how to act" according to the survival tools of my youth. Here I am, left ot my own devices, without any guidance, and not really knowing what a healthy, sharing, loving relationship IS. And if I let go of my survival skills, erase those old tapes and start anew... well, how will I survive????? How will I know how to act?? How can avoid toxic relationships in the future? And what can I do to help MSU? (Ah, there it is again! The answer to that is: NOTHING!)
These and many other mysteries will be solved in therapy. I hope.
In the meantime, all I can do is stick to my guns no matter how sad, how lonely, and how out-of-control I feel. All I can do is take my meds and try to act as normal as I know how. And most importantly, I mustmustmust learn to say no to MSU. No, you can't come over. No, I won't have sex with you out of compassion (read pity). No, I won't stay the night (and for God's sake I won't let him manipulate me with how "good it will be for Izzy if you're here in the morning'), and no, I am not going to sacrifice these things that I know are RIGHT just so he can feel better about where he is in this sad and pathetic life: Still making excuses. Still lying to cover up his behavior. Still saying one thing and turning around and doing the opposite. Still drinking (and riding/driving). Still acting like a 15-year-old in a 54-year-old's body. But I won't be there to keep pulling the bottom out from under him so he can sink even lower. I won't be there to pick up the pieces. The only thing I'll be there to do is pick up my daughter when he drops the ball over and over again while still expecting to stay on the varsity team.
As I posted on FaceBook this morning, I've learned that bi-polar disorder and co-dependency is a lethal life combination. Stay tuned while I claw my way out of this grave, barely breathing, to that pinpoint of light I see through the mud and roots and rot. I am tired but still digging.
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