Can You Keep a Secret?
But really, it's GOOD news.
Cross-posted from my Bipolar forum:
Turned a New Leaf? And It's Been Eleven Years Since Mom Died.
Well . . . here's something to report.
Right now, as I type this, Seth is sitting - laying - beside me as I sit up and type this message. I know that a lot of you are probably wondering what the eff I'm thinking or doing, but . . . let me explain as best as I can. We've been talking, and while I know you've heard this before, I'm pretty sure you won't hear it again: I think he's turned a new leaf. Rather, I think we both have turned one, or ones, as it seems that we've both been someplace individually over the last few weeks and have now come so together again.
We talked over e-mail, which started last night, though I didn't get a reply 'til this morning. At first it was an angry volley from me, admittedly. I didn't read the whole message, but fired back pretty aggressively at what I thought was an attack. So it goes. That's what I get for skimming. Anyhow, it evolved into us talking over instant messenger this morning and then I agreed to meet to talk with him, which we've been doing for the last few hours. We've been hanging out, having good, real, meaningful conversation, and have come to some agreements on things. I think things are . . . changing. For the better.
We've agreed to - and correct me here if I'm wrong as you're reading over my shoulder - do therapy together, for me to get into DBT (which I need anyway, or some kind of therapy. I'm just most familiar with and comfortable with DBT, hence . . .), and to work on things consistantly for the next ten weeks. That's our commitment for now: Ten weeks to see how things go, to see if this is real, to see if we can work through things and make this a viable, workable deal. And right now I'm hoping . . . and having faith.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Faith . . . faith, on a related tangent, is a strange thing for today.
See, my Mom was a VERY religious person. Before she died I was very ingrained in our local church's youth scene because she had a quid-pro-quo system upon which I could be involved in non-church activities. So, essentially, I was forced into faith . . . strike that, religion. And while I never developed the religious fervor that my Mom had, I did hold a certain element of spirituality. I just didn't believe in her God, per se.
Then when she went into St. Luke's in the beginning of June of 1995, I ended up testing the waters with God as I came to know It. See, when the doctors told us, the family, that she was pretty much going to die, that they didn't see a way to save her, I went down to the chappel on the first floor of the hospital and made a series of plea bargains with God for my Mom's life. I was willing to trade - in this order - my Dad's life (because at the time he and I hated each other, so why not sacrifice him? He'd been abusive when I was younger and we hadn't reconciled, so to me he was dispensible) or my life in exchange for my Mom's because I didn't want her to die. Both, while they may sound sweet in some sick way - coming from a sixteen-year-old, angsty teenager who grew up too fast at that from having to take care of her Mom, home, brother, and school - were actually quite selfish. It didn't take me years to realize that both exchange offers were selfish, either. Part of me knew when I made them, though I tried to tell myself that they weren't. And if you can't see how they were selfish offers, ask me and I'll be more than glad to explain.
Anyhow, off topic, that last bit . . .
Back to faith: When God as I prayed to Itr didn't grant me my blood bargain, I decided to turn my back on It and I lost what little faith I had and snubbed my spirituality, turning intellecutally athiestic. From that moment, I was hollow . . . and for years I searched to fill that hollow void. I tried drugs, alcohol, relationships, food, starvation. . . anything to fill the void. Cutting, even. But nothing did it.
So, the point? Today is the eleventh anniversary of my Mom's death, and in the years since she's died I've come full circle almost, though I'm still not religious. I don't go to church still, but I am quite spiritual and ground myself through my spirituality . . . which, funny as it may sound to some of you, I found through my involvement in Alcoholics Annonymous. And indirectly - or directly, it's hard to say - through my involvement with A. A. and directly due to the spiritual path it caused me to embark upon, I have found my faith once again.
Faith isn't what most people think it is. That was my first mistake and my first lesson. And today I'm rather happy that I have the faith that I do because it allows me the strength and courage that I have in my life today . . . hence, why I think there's the possibility that Seth and I will make it through this stronger and better than ever, and why I'll make it through this June twenty-ninth without having a day full of bad flashbacks and memories taunting me through every moment like almost every other June twenty-ninth.
So far, so good . . . I'm flashback-free and I've got a new start with my sweetheart. ^_^
Now, really, there are certain people that RIGHT NOW shouldn't find out about this. And that may sound bad, but it's not anybody on LJ or any of my regular non-LJ readers . . . it's my roommates. Why? Because of some fucked up shit, yo. So for the love of God and church and country, PLEASE keep your ever-lovin' holes clamped for the time being on this. Loose lips sink ships . . . and I'd like for everyone to have tight, tight lips.
(ephemeral)
Cross-posted from my Bipolar forum:
Turned a New Leaf? And It's Been Eleven Years Since Mom Died.
Well . . . here's something to report.
Right now, as I type this, Seth is sitting - laying - beside me as I sit up and type this message. I know that a lot of you are probably wondering what the eff I'm thinking or doing, but . . . let me explain as best as I can. We've been talking, and while I know you've heard this before, I'm pretty sure you won't hear it again: I think he's turned a new leaf. Rather, I think we both have turned one, or ones, as it seems that we've both been someplace individually over the last few weeks and have now come so together again.
We talked over e-mail, which started last night, though I didn't get a reply 'til this morning. At first it was an angry volley from me, admittedly. I didn't read the whole message, but fired back pretty aggressively at what I thought was an attack. So it goes. That's what I get for skimming. Anyhow, it evolved into us talking over instant messenger this morning and then I agreed to meet to talk with him, which we've been doing for the last few hours. We've been hanging out, having good, real, meaningful conversation, and have come to some agreements on things. I think things are . . . changing. For the better.
We've agreed to - and correct me here if I'm wrong as you're reading over my shoulder - do therapy together, for me to get into DBT (which I need anyway, or some kind of therapy. I'm just most familiar with and comfortable with DBT, hence . . .), and to work on things consistantly for the next ten weeks. That's our commitment for now: Ten weeks to see how things go, to see if this is real, to see if we can work through things and make this a viable, workable deal. And right now I'm hoping . . . and having faith.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Faith . . . faith, on a related tangent, is a strange thing for today.
See, my Mom was a VERY religious person. Before she died I was very ingrained in our local church's youth scene because she had a quid-pro-quo system upon which I could be involved in non-church activities. So, essentially, I was forced into faith . . . strike that, religion. And while I never developed the religious fervor that my Mom had, I did hold a certain element of spirituality. I just didn't believe in her God, per se.
Then when she went into St. Luke's in the beginning of June of 1995, I ended up testing the waters with God as I came to know It. See, when the doctors told us, the family, that she was pretty much going to die, that they didn't see a way to save her, I went down to the chappel on the first floor of the hospital and made a series of plea bargains with God for my Mom's life. I was willing to trade - in this order - my Dad's life (because at the time he and I hated each other, so why not sacrifice him? He'd been abusive when I was younger and we hadn't reconciled, so to me he was dispensible) or my life in exchange for my Mom's because I didn't want her to die. Both, while they may sound sweet in some sick way - coming from a sixteen-year-old, angsty teenager who grew up too fast at that from having to take care of her Mom, home, brother, and school - were actually quite selfish. It didn't take me years to realize that both exchange offers were selfish, either. Part of me knew when I made them, though I tried to tell myself that they weren't. And if you can't see how they were selfish offers, ask me and I'll be more than glad to explain.
Anyhow, off topic, that last bit . . .
Back to faith: When God as I prayed to Itr didn't grant me my blood bargain, I decided to turn my back on It and I lost what little faith I had and snubbed my spirituality, turning intellecutally athiestic. From that moment, I was hollow . . . and for years I searched to fill that hollow void. I tried drugs, alcohol, relationships, food, starvation. . . anything to fill the void. Cutting, even. But nothing did it.
So, the point? Today is the eleventh anniversary of my Mom's death, and in the years since she's died I've come full circle almost, though I'm still not religious. I don't go to church still, but I am quite spiritual and ground myself through my spirituality . . . which, funny as it may sound to some of you, I found through my involvement in Alcoholics Annonymous. And indirectly - or directly, it's hard to say - through my involvement with A. A. and directly due to the spiritual path it caused me to embark upon, I have found my faith once again.
Faith isn't what most people think it is. That was my first mistake and my first lesson. And today I'm rather happy that I have the faith that I do because it allows me the strength and courage that I have in my life today . . . hence, why I think there's the possibility that Seth and I will make it through this stronger and better than ever, and why I'll make it through this June twenty-ninth without having a day full of bad flashbacks and memories taunting me through every moment like almost every other June twenty-ninth.
So far, so good . . . I'm flashback-free and I've got a new start with my sweetheart. ^_^
Now, really, there are certain people that RIGHT NOW shouldn't find out about this. And that may sound bad, but it's not anybody on LJ or any of my regular non-LJ readers . . . it's my roommates. Why? Because of some fucked up shit, yo. So for the love of God and church and country, PLEASE keep your ever-lovin' holes clamped for the time being on this. Loose lips sink ships . . . and I'd like for everyone to have tight, tight lips.
(ephemeral)