Emotional Abuse

I wonder
do you feel regret?
You tore away
my self-esteem
my self-worth
made me feel so less
that I could not see the truth.
I say I am sorry
all the time
preventative measures
for when I do wrong.
Unconditional love
does it really exist?
I am so afraid
for the only love I have known
came with strings attached.
Compliment me
I cannot accept
will turn it aside with
‘a yes but…..’
that I once more
will be abandoned
I erect walls
that grappling hooks cannot breach.
Emotional abuse….
you made me doubt
you made me fear
you made me worthless.
I take it back.
My reality.
No fear.
For I am worth it.
September 24/18
Photo by Alex Wigan on Unsplash

A Girl’s Best Friends

**Picture via Pintrest**
I am me again! Both today and yesterday I was awake at what I consider to my regular time: between 5-5:30 a.m. Wednesday a.m. I woke up at 5:15, felt great, no grogginess, no feeling like I had been drinking without the alcohol. Today, it was 5:18. Again, feeling great and without grogginess. As well no nap yesterday. The only thing that was missing yesterday was the desire to write. I managed to read through the blogs I follow although my interaction remained as pushing the like button.  Oooooooo, oooooooooo and major excitement I am able to read again.  I have started a brand new author that I have never read before Sebstian de Castell’s Greatcoat series. I burned through book one, it is very well written and am into book 2 now. I highly recommend him.
Today is March 1st. Another new month. Another turn around the track of life.
T and me are learning to conversate (is that a word) although we are going to speak less in the morning until Mr. Grumpypants leaves and T returns. He is not all that keen on this idea but it is my answer to being snarked at every time I ask a question before 8 a.m. Also am not sure if he is getting ready to go through another growth spurt or if this is just the beginning of the teenage sleeping pattern but he is sleeping a lot. And it is getting to where he is asking for extra sleep time. Ah the joys.
Since Dec. 23/17 when I crashed, it is really the only thing that I can think to call it, I have been working very hard on something that my mom has harped at me about for so long. She always tells me that my girlfriends are going to be my support system. That it was a relationship like any other and you have to work at them. It is easy if you work with most of them, or have them babysit for you, for than there is a consistent pattern to seeing one another. I am very lucky that I have women in my life who worry and love me. Yes that is right they love me and I love them.
In the beginning there were quite a few people that I had to message or speak with on a daily basis. This way they were assured that I was okay. Slowly as time passed, some fell away, their lives to be lived. However I have discovered a core group of friends who I now know I can call upon whenever I need them. Well maybe not at 2:43:58 a.m. but any other time they are available to me. And I interact with them every day. First thing in the morning, as my coffee is brewing, I find good morning gifs to send to them. Yesterday I cheated and sent them all the same one because I found it hilarious. And I had to share.
Aside from the good morning messages every morning, V and me, we work hard to get together at least every other week for coffee on her day off. I have called Auntie K several times and we have gone out. Wandered the stores around town, laughing and having an absolute blast. Dreaming. My friend P, a brand new one for you to have to remember, reached out even before my crash. She would read my blog and than send me a message to remind me that she was here for me. She sent her husband to the store one day with coffee for me. And we have talked a lot. I really hope that she knows how much I appreciate her. M and me, after a brief hiatus where I withdrew from our friendship, because she was leaving me, are now back on track. Now, we talk daily. The boys are having sleepovers every weekend that T is here on his week with me. And K, bff to the stars and nice enough to allow me in her orbit. (I jest it is she who is lucky ha ha ha ha)
Mom was right. Your friends are more important than anything else in your life. Marriages last or don’t. Children grow and leave the nest. Homes are moved. Jobs changed or retired from. But the friends that support you and are there for you, will never change. It is hard work, even harder to maintain than a marriage. You have to juggle work, kids, life to be able to find the time to spend together or to talk to one another. With the technology that we have today, it is a lot easier to stay in touch daily with texts and Messanger and KIK and the list goes on. But you have to work on it.
I have an exceptional support group and I do not know what I would do without any of them in my life.
We will be the little old ladies riding roller coasters and racing our scooters down Main Street at 6 p.m. on a Saturday evening. We will be those little old ladies.


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.