My life struggles condensed
I was commenting in a friend's journal when I realized that this message was to me, so here it is.
I bitch and moan and fall into depression about my shit. I was raised by a woman who did not know how to convey love. She also had OCD and never threw away even trash or garbage sometimes. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) as a result. I was "forced" to obtain as BS degree even though I'm pretty sure that I'm really an artist. I have been unable to work full time since my second brain surgery and I have been unwilling to go on disabaility because it might preclude my ever working again. I'm on Prozac, and Tegretol to prevent Grand Mal Seisures. My dyslexia is worse that before surgery and if I'm tired, words fail me and b,d,p and q all become the same. After all that, my husband was laid off a full year and then under employed for 2. After 7 years we are finally out of debt. There is probably more, but thats enough to make my point.
AND my point is, life is hard. We need to ask for help. I have been in therapy because I was not well adjusted.There are bits and pieces of the system out there that are helpful. AND there are people who are not like the majority of folks. People who care whether you want them to or not. ;)
I lost my youngest brother to suicide. And I really dont think that was the only solution. Maybe if I had been raped or tortured physically instead of emotionally abused, I might be more willing to give up. But I still think that there is value where others see only crap. Shit makes you stronger. Having full use of your mind and emotions helps, but is not necessary. Sometimes I'm very clear about what I want to do, I may not have the path to get there, quite yet. I will not starve. And I don't have to be alone unless I just really want to.
Shame of who we are and where we are is the hardest thing I have ever had to come to grips with, but shame only effects us on the inside. We create the wall around us that separates us from others. At some point I have to believe that I will not die if I let others see me in my shame. Because there are people who have compassion out there. I promise. I know them.
I bitch and moan and fall into depression about my shit. I was raised by a woman who did not know how to convey love. She also had OCD and never threw away even trash or garbage sometimes. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) as a result. I was "forced" to obtain as BS degree even though I'm pretty sure that I'm really an artist. I have been unable to work full time since my second brain surgery and I have been unwilling to go on disabaility because it might preclude my ever working again. I'm on Prozac, and Tegretol to prevent Grand Mal Seisures. My dyslexia is worse that before surgery and if I'm tired, words fail me and b,d,p and q all become the same. After all that, my husband was laid off a full year and then under employed for 2. After 7 years we are finally out of debt. There is probably more, but thats enough to make my point.
AND my point is, life is hard. We need to ask for help. I have been in therapy because I was not well adjusted.There are bits and pieces of the system out there that are helpful. AND there are people who are not like the majority of folks. People who care whether you want them to or not. ;)
I lost my youngest brother to suicide. And I really dont think that was the only solution. Maybe if I had been raped or tortured physically instead of emotionally abused, I might be more willing to give up. But I still think that there is value where others see only crap. Shit makes you stronger. Having full use of your mind and emotions helps, but is not necessary. Sometimes I'm very clear about what I want to do, I may not have the path to get there, quite yet. I will not starve. And I don't have to be alone unless I just really want to.
Shame of who we are and where we are is the hardest thing I have ever had to come to grips with, but shame only effects us on the inside. We create the wall around us that separates us from others. At some point I have to believe that I will not die if I let others see me in my shame. Because there are people who have compassion out there. I promise. I know them.