Unseen

When I am walking
I pull myself within
hoping that no one will notice
that no one will see.
For on their faces
I can see
their thoughts,
their disgust with me.
I see their lips curl
I glimpse the pity
the disbelief
that I could put myself here.
This is my reality
no matter what you say
this is how I see the world
and it is not okay.
Jay-lyn Doerksen
December 28/17

Worthy

One of the outcomes of this round of depression is my realization that a lot of people like, care and love me. They all only want what is best for me.  They are all here to help me and they are not going to take no for an answer no matter how hard and furiously I protest that I am alright. For me this a most unusual circumstance. When I am depressed, sad and feeling alone, I reach out to know one. The tape that is playing in my head, is such a deep part of my psyche that I do not even hear it speaking to me any more. It has become so invasive, that it has morphed into a feeling of unworthiness, for why on earth would anyone want to hear that I was feeling lonely? Why would they care that I was sad today and had no idea why? Why would anyone want to listen to me whine away about my life? I could go on and on, for the list is a long one.
This is one of the reasons I think that I have such a difficult time realizing what is going on with me. Where once I would actually hear a voice in my head chanting these things, I could send it away. I would say aloud ‘You are not real. I am not stupid. I do not ruin everything.’ Now, it is this all enveloping warm blanket of emotions and feelings that I do not want to have, so rather than face them, this time around I used pills to try and make everything all better. Wow was I ever a fool. Apparently, and who knew, after awhile your body says ‘screw you lady, enough is enough and I am done with this.’ Thank goodness I have that type of body, and I made the admission aloud to a lot of people. Several doctors. Friends. Family.
As I reread these lines, it makes it sound like I am very blase about this addiction and depression. I am not. I have struggled with pills for 20 plus years. I have at times been able to control my need for them, I went years after T was born. Always though, some crisis, some emotional upheavel will drive me straight back into those seductive arms. Yesterday at the doctor’s office I was offered something that would help me with my anxiety and I declined. I do not want anything in the house that could tempt me. I even purged my cupboard here at home. Of Motrin, Cold & Flu Medication, Sinus Medication, all normal products that people have in their homes and I turfed it all. I know that may even sound like I have gone overboard, but it is a slippery slope for me. So I am going to work on controlling my anxiety with deep breaths and anchoring myself.
I know where my struggle for perfection comes from. One day I will write about that but today it is my worthiness. There are usually definative points where trauma is inflicted and you know why you are acting a certain way. The voice that looped through my head previously was my dad’s because as a child I was always ruining everything for him. I was stupid for doing simple child things. Once I identified that, I was able to take care of the matter. That was during my first round of depression and therapy sessions. I used positive words and when the voice began, I was able to mentally scream it down.
The amount of anger and the daily wearing down of my being and again an inordinate amount of pills, contributed to my second round of depression. I worked through the anger, I worked through the hatred that I felt for myself and released the control that my father still had on me. This even though he had been dead for ten or so years. I also had to work through some of my issues that I had never faced with mom too. Four months I did not speak to her after I wrote her a long angry letter. It took me time, but mom and me, we are stronger than ever and if there is anything that I have stated over and over in the last few days it is ‘I want my mommy!’
This time around, it is my sense of failure, my desire for everything to be controlled that has sent me precariously close to the ragged edge of the cliff. And like that lone shrub growing stubbornly on the edge, I cling there. I am not willing to allow this to get any worse. I am going to work really hard at accepting these hands of love and caring that reach out to pull me back from that ledge. I am going to be doing a lot of introspection. Some of it I will post and some will be most personal and I think that I am going to keep those thoughts to myself for the moment. Writing is my life line. I begin therapy on January 29th unless my doctor can pull some strings and get me in sooner. He may have a different counselor/therapist he wants me to see. And most of all, I am going to be kind to myself and love myself. I may have been forgetting to do that lately.