A self-examination
Dear Reader: I need to get this out, to understand all of the factors that pushed me over the edge. I apologize ahead of time for the mopery. If you have a problem with any of this, fuck off. This is my journal. This post is public, in part, so that if you care, you can see some of where I am coming from, where I am right now. I reserve the right to read and delete any comments that I don't like.
--
I don't quite know where to start this. Suffice it to say that, three years ago, I was betrayed by someone I loved very much. While the action of betrayal was his, I have always felt that I could have prevented the worst of it, had I been a different person. So, in part, I blamed myself, I still do, and I probably always will. The part of me with dreams quarrelled with the part of me that is undyingly loyal, and to my great shame, the Dreamer won. I followed my ambitions at the expense of my relationship, and ruined it. In all fairness, I had to take a stand, and not take him back, because I would never have respected myself again. Perhaps it was a moot action, because I don't really respect myself now anyway.
So anyway, he cheated on me, I left him. This event spurred in me many feelings of inadequacy, ineptitude, self-loathing and a general sense of unworthiness. I let this self-sense of unworthiness pull me down, I let it affect another relationship, I let it get under my skin and I claimed it as my own, something that I deserved for not being a the person I felt I should have been.
Since that time I have not felt that I deserved any of the good things that have come my way. My friends tried to reach out and comfort me, but that only hurt more, because I did not feel that a person so unworthy as myself deserved such good friends. I withdrew myself emotionally from them, because I did not want to hurt them by exposing them to my grief and pain. I withdrew myself, because their kindness hurt so much, I felt that they were wasting their time on someone who was not worthy of the effort they were putting in. I knew that I was not capable of giving back the good things that they gave me, that I would not be able to provide a fair exchange with them, and so I withdrew into myself.
Unfortunately, all I could see in myself was the bad things. I gained weight, and saw myself unattractive. I had a bad semester at school and denigrated myself as a failure. I lost my job, and saw myself as incapable even of supporting myself. I could see no reason to like myself. The insistance of my friends that I come out and spend time with them also hurt, because if I could see no reason to like myself, why in the world would anybody else like me? This left only the option that they pitied me, and that hurt too. Any attempt to convince me otherwise felt like artificial flattery, because in my eyes it could not be real. I felt great guilt because I could not do for them what they tried to do for me, even thought they did not need it, and that hurt too, because I felt even more a failure by comparision.
To insulate myself against my feelings, I shut them up, completely ignoring them if at all possible. I threw myself into books, or art, or whatever. Anything so that I didn't have to look at myself. In the meantime, because I refused to examine myself closely, my emotional health deteriorated greatly. I learned how to put up a great mask, only revealing the sad girl inside for those people that had my trust.
Other problems in life added to my frustrations. I lost my driver's license, making travel back and forth to look for work an everyday risk of going to jail and having my car impounded. I lost my apartment because I was unable to pay rent. I eventually racked up five tickets for driving, either without insurance or with a suspended license or both. Money problems mounted.
Some friends invited me to share their home, to get back on my feet for a while, and I took the opportunity. I moved to Grand Rapids and found a job. But as I started to earn money, I started to take stock of what needed fixing in my life. That meant that I needed to actually face the person I had become.
I found that I do not like the person I have become. Out of habit, I am still smiling and friendly, but inside I am a far darker and meaner person than I ever was. It actually pains me to find that I have become a mean person. The truly gentle and caring part of me is either hibernating or has died. The blithely happy and optimistic Alli is now morose and cynical. I don't know if my emotional nerve endings are just fried or what, but I can't seem to take the world anymore, everything wounds me. I crave the pills again. I want to pick up all of my old, bad habits in an attempt to dull the pain that I am finally letting myself feel. I think about cutting and drugs, about a total escape from reality. I became angry at all the things that I cannot control in my life. I drove too fast, and was reckless in my manner, perhaps because, momentarily, I really didn't care if I lived or died. I didn't even care enough to kill myself.
I went to work because that was what was expected of me, because it truly didn't matter to me whether I stayed home or not. I slept all the time that I wasn't working, and attempted to console myself with food or shopping, though I would buy things, then get home and discover that I really didn't want them after all.
Meanwhile I gave up on joining a group of people in a bond of community that I was really looking forward to being a part of. Giving up on that was a lot like giving up on myself, because it was as good as admitting to myself that I didn't think that I would get better. I didn't think that they really cared if I was part of the group, and I didn't see the advantage to them if I joined, so I gave it up. I have lost too much face with those people, and I am sure that I would not be welcome even if I wanted to join again. And that hurts too.
All of these things and more have contributed to where I am today. I feel as though I am starting entirely again, as though I burned almost every bridge behind me as a I ran from myself. Perhaps I have. I hope not.
I have resolved to be strong, and not do any of those bad things that I think of. They will not solve anything, and the rational voice inside my head, though small, reminds me of the oaths I have taken against returning to those behaviors.
I am doing my best, currently, to face my perceived and actual shortcomings and deal with them. I am losing weight, I'm down to 208 after a spike two weeks ago up to 220. I almost have enough money to get my license back. I have found a job where I fit in, where I don't have to deal with people and I can tell my co-workers to go the fuck away and they won't be insulted. The plastic doesn't care if I cry for no reason while I'm at work. I have slowed down when driving, taking care to be a cautious and careful driver, if only out of respect for others on the road. I am not sure how to deal with the personality shift, but I will either have to accept it or sublimate it, and I don't think I am strong enough to shove the negative traits down again. I am trying to accept myself for who I am, and find good things to praise myself about, so that I at least have something positive to turn to. There is nothing I can do about my bipolar disorder, all the medications I have taken have either had horrifying side effects or made me suicidal, which defeats the purpose of taking them.
Hopefully soon I will be moving back out on my own, into my own place. I don't know if this is a good idea or a bad one, given that I have been so lonely over here. I haven't really had much of a chance to develop any new aquaintances, and honestly, I don't think that I am suitable for new people right now.
So. Wow. That is not all of it, by a long shot, but it's a start at an honest look at some of what is hurting me, and some of what I am facing as a I recover from this bad time.
Ironically, as I finish this, the song playing on my mp3 player is "It's a Fine Day" by ATB. The lyrics are sickeningly optimistic. Is it a sign?
--
I don't quite know where to start this. Suffice it to say that, three years ago, I was betrayed by someone I loved very much. While the action of betrayal was his, I have always felt that I could have prevented the worst of it, had I been a different person. So, in part, I blamed myself, I still do, and I probably always will. The part of me with dreams quarrelled with the part of me that is undyingly loyal, and to my great shame, the Dreamer won. I followed my ambitions at the expense of my relationship, and ruined it. In all fairness, I had to take a stand, and not take him back, because I would never have respected myself again. Perhaps it was a moot action, because I don't really respect myself now anyway.
So anyway, he cheated on me, I left him. This event spurred in me many feelings of inadequacy, ineptitude, self-loathing and a general sense of unworthiness. I let this self-sense of unworthiness pull me down, I let it affect another relationship, I let it get under my skin and I claimed it as my own, something that I deserved for not being a the person I felt I should have been.
Since that time I have not felt that I deserved any of the good things that have come my way. My friends tried to reach out and comfort me, but that only hurt more, because I did not feel that a person so unworthy as myself deserved such good friends. I withdrew myself emotionally from them, because I did not want to hurt them by exposing them to my grief and pain. I withdrew myself, because their kindness hurt so much, I felt that they were wasting their time on someone who was not worthy of the effort they were putting in. I knew that I was not capable of giving back the good things that they gave me, that I would not be able to provide a fair exchange with them, and so I withdrew into myself.
Unfortunately, all I could see in myself was the bad things. I gained weight, and saw myself unattractive. I had a bad semester at school and denigrated myself as a failure. I lost my job, and saw myself as incapable even of supporting myself. I could see no reason to like myself. The insistance of my friends that I come out and spend time with them also hurt, because if I could see no reason to like myself, why in the world would anybody else like me? This left only the option that they pitied me, and that hurt too. Any attempt to convince me otherwise felt like artificial flattery, because in my eyes it could not be real. I felt great guilt because I could not do for them what they tried to do for me, even thought they did not need it, and that hurt too, because I felt even more a failure by comparision.
To insulate myself against my feelings, I shut them up, completely ignoring them if at all possible. I threw myself into books, or art, or whatever. Anything so that I didn't have to look at myself. In the meantime, because I refused to examine myself closely, my emotional health deteriorated greatly. I learned how to put up a great mask, only revealing the sad girl inside for those people that had my trust.
Other problems in life added to my frustrations. I lost my driver's license, making travel back and forth to look for work an everyday risk of going to jail and having my car impounded. I lost my apartment because I was unable to pay rent. I eventually racked up five tickets for driving, either without insurance or with a suspended license or both. Money problems mounted.
Some friends invited me to share their home, to get back on my feet for a while, and I took the opportunity. I moved to Grand Rapids and found a job. But as I started to earn money, I started to take stock of what needed fixing in my life. That meant that I needed to actually face the person I had become.
I found that I do not like the person I have become. Out of habit, I am still smiling and friendly, but inside I am a far darker and meaner person than I ever was. It actually pains me to find that I have become a mean person. The truly gentle and caring part of me is either hibernating or has died. The blithely happy and optimistic Alli is now morose and cynical. I don't know if my emotional nerve endings are just fried or what, but I can't seem to take the world anymore, everything wounds me. I crave the pills again. I want to pick up all of my old, bad habits in an attempt to dull the pain that I am finally letting myself feel. I think about cutting and drugs, about a total escape from reality. I became angry at all the things that I cannot control in my life. I drove too fast, and was reckless in my manner, perhaps because, momentarily, I really didn't care if I lived or died. I didn't even care enough to kill myself.
I went to work because that was what was expected of me, because it truly didn't matter to me whether I stayed home or not. I slept all the time that I wasn't working, and attempted to console myself with food or shopping, though I would buy things, then get home and discover that I really didn't want them after all.
Meanwhile I gave up on joining a group of people in a bond of community that I was really looking forward to being a part of. Giving up on that was a lot like giving up on myself, because it was as good as admitting to myself that I didn't think that I would get better. I didn't think that they really cared if I was part of the group, and I didn't see the advantage to them if I joined, so I gave it up. I have lost too much face with those people, and I am sure that I would not be welcome even if I wanted to join again. And that hurts too.
All of these things and more have contributed to where I am today. I feel as though I am starting entirely again, as though I burned almost every bridge behind me as a I ran from myself. Perhaps I have. I hope not.
I have resolved to be strong, and not do any of those bad things that I think of. They will not solve anything, and the rational voice inside my head, though small, reminds me of the oaths I have taken against returning to those behaviors.
I am doing my best, currently, to face my perceived and actual shortcomings and deal with them. I am losing weight, I'm down to 208 after a spike two weeks ago up to 220. I almost have enough money to get my license back. I have found a job where I fit in, where I don't have to deal with people and I can tell my co-workers to go the fuck away and they won't be insulted. The plastic doesn't care if I cry for no reason while I'm at work. I have slowed down when driving, taking care to be a cautious and careful driver, if only out of respect for others on the road. I am not sure how to deal with the personality shift, but I will either have to accept it or sublimate it, and I don't think I am strong enough to shove the negative traits down again. I am trying to accept myself for who I am, and find good things to praise myself about, so that I at least have something positive to turn to. There is nothing I can do about my bipolar disorder, all the medications I have taken have either had horrifying side effects or made me suicidal, which defeats the purpose of taking them.
Hopefully soon I will be moving back out on my own, into my own place. I don't know if this is a good idea or a bad one, given that I have been so lonely over here. I haven't really had much of a chance to develop any new aquaintances, and honestly, I don't think that I am suitable for new people right now.
So. Wow. That is not all of it, by a long shot, but it's a start at an honest look at some of what is hurting me, and some of what I am facing as a I recover from this bad time.
Ironically, as I finish this, the song playing on my mp3 player is "It's a Fine Day" by ATB. The lyrics are sickeningly optimistic. Is it a sign?