Category: mental health

Posted on

Thoughts About Being Positive

I’ve had thoughts just floating around and around for the past few weeks and I’ve had a really hard time getting it down in a concise and readable way for others to understand that also comes from a place of loving. But, I think the gist of it is this:

Why do people spend energy and time sending out negativity? Isn’t their life just as busy and full as mine? Don’t they have only the same limited hours in a day and juggle things around trying to fit them all in? Why would they choose to spend any of those precious moments writing hateful and venomous things about other people?

The most used argument is that everyone has the right to write about whatever they want in their blog. And I mostly agree with that. In most cases, we do. But the part I don’t get is why? What has happened in that person’s life that makes it fun to trash other people for sport? Possibly residual resentments from their upbringing? Maybe they were teased or emotionally abused (or worse) and so they unconsciously need to unload that somewhere? I think if they focused on themselves for a while and went through their own emotional stuff, they wouldn’t feel the need they do now to tear others down,

I tend to think, for the most part, that it is not just plain jealously, because of the amount of pleasure these people seem to get out of their ‘sport’ and how zealous they are about trying to tear other people down. I think it borders more on an obsessive behavior, where they are finding their self-worth in hurting others.

Another common argument is that the people ‘on the top’ that are getting hit with the negativity, should somehow not care because ‘they are famous’ and so this is what goes with the territory. Since I’m not one to get into the trash magazines about movie and music celebrities and I don’t agree that being famous is synonymous with asking the world at large to judge you for every choice you make for the rest of your life, I don’t agree with this argument, either. If someone has worked hard, been recognized for their effort and reaps the benefit of being ‘on top’, then great for them! I wish we could all support each other and say, ‘Way to go! Nice work!’ or if we don’t agree with what they say or what they’ve done, how about, ‘I don’t agree with what you said/wrote/did but I hope you get everything you hope for!’ because them getting what they hope for and work towards takes nothing away from me. There is enough ‘good stuff’ out there for everyone.

Honest debating and real discussions are great. Not agreeing is great. Diversity is what makes the world a great and wonderful place to live. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, just as I’m sure there will be those that don’t agree with what I’ve written here. But resorting to name calling and trash talking and negativity can’t be the best option. And if you have the time and energy and get the inclination to put negativity out into the world, how about putting that excess energy into something positive, like volunteering for your local candidate who might get elected because of your efforts and create some real change in the government? Or, how about looking yourself in the mirror and telling yourself that you love yourself, since that might be lacking. Be positive with yourself and let it come out of you and give it to others. You will be a truly happier person.

Posted on

Possibilities

Where do I go from here? I can do anything I want. The possibilities are endless. This scares me the same way Super Wal-Mart scares me and (besides them being evil) why I don’t go there. I don’t want isles and isles of choices. I want 3 different kinds of blenders to choose from. I can handle that selection. But give me two isles of blenders from the itty, one cup version to the mongo, party sized one that also doubles as a cappuccino maker and Slip-n-Slide, I freeze. Too. Many. Choices. My brain shuts down and I stand there, drool slowly dripping out of the right corner of my mouth and a shhoooooooo noise emanating from my person.

If you could do anything you wanted, what would you do?

This is the question doing brain things inside my head.

Joe is very happy with his new employment situation. I think I was hoping in a very small and selfish way that he would go for a week to a place far, far away, commuting and hating the heat, working for much less money per hour and then tell me, ‘Gee, honey, I really miss working with you. I had no idea how good we had it. I’m going to come back and work with you again and really give it my all this time!’ This has not happened. In fact, he is flourishing. He is working harder than I’ve ever seen him work. He has so much determination to get things done that I forget I was upset. But then I remember. But that is just my own shit and has nothing to do with him. Him? He’s doing great.

So, what do I want to do? I’ve been a fulltime artist, photographer and writer. I’ve been a fulltime Project Manager and Project Director. (Those must be capitalized?) And then I was a fulltime Web Developer and partner. Now I’m doing lots of those things part-time and really missing the connection of Doing Something.

I realize that anyone at any time can decide to change their life and vocation. Anyone. Any time. However, this break and subsequent vocation change has been thrust at me. Have I mentioned I’m a planner? I did not plan for this. I plan when to change the lint screen and when to rotate the socks. I am unprepared! Maybe this is bordering on mid-life crisis. It must be time to get my nose repierced, get a new tattoo and chain smoke cloves while reciting bad prose I wrote people-watching at the Getty.

I’ve been working on other people’s projects for years. Now I would like to work on my own. But I feel like I need a person, a sounding board, a partner. Someone that listens to my ideas and tells me that it sounds like a bunch of crap. Or not. Someone that tells me their ideas and we work on them together. Someone that wants to work in online networking. Someone that has some design skills and programming skills to compliment my own. Someone that wants to work with me. I don’t feel qualified to do everything on my own and I miss working with other people. And Leah just sitting and stewing in her own juice all day does not make a sweet stew.

At some point, Joe and I said we would be all of those things for each other. We would be a Power Couple and work together and build something great. Really great. It’s hard to let go of all those ideas and feelings. I’m sad about that. But working together has not been good for Joe and I. I’m a perfectionist. He’s not. I have a driving need to get work done at a rapid pace. He does not. We even have different definitions of integrity. As it turns out, we aren’t the same person. Who knew? In short, we drove each other crazy. And even with not having a car all day, since we only have one and he uses it to commute to Far Far Away, I feel better. The energy in the house is clearer. When he comes home, he doesn’t have to feel like he’s still at work and I don’t feel like I need to ask him where he’s at with a million different projects. If he wasn’t so tired from getting up so early and coming home so late, I’m sure we’d have lots to commiserate about. We’d cuddle and laugh. He’d rub my feet. I’d tell him the funny thing our pet spider plant did and he’d use the anecdote with his colleagues the next day around the water cooler. It would be good times.

The kids are around for the next week or so and there really isn’t anything to be done in the Figuring Out The Future venue while we are ‘vacationing’ together. But the thought sits there, in the director’s chair with ‘Leahpeah’ written on the back, at the fore.

Posted on

And Then, I Didn't Die

Do you see this photo?

olives

Anything you notice about it? Here’s a hint: view original sizes.

green

Any idea what it might mean?

beef2

Try not to notice the obvious, which is that my kitchen counter appears to have more alcohol on it than the corner bar or that said alcohol is still taking prime real estate even though the party was July 3rd and leaving no room for the dirty dishes that are piled next to the toaster.

cherry

Look beyond the delicious cherry topping on the mini cheese cakes I made.

sticks

I got my F717 back in the mail and lo, it was fixed. And I saw that it was good. And then the angels sang, the heavens rejoiced and all was well with the world. And I did not give up the ghost because there was too much alcohol left to enjoy and too many more objects to take photos of.

Posted on

Leaky Eyes

My eyes are leaking. Seriously. Leaking all over the place all week long. You know how after time passes you can talk about things with more perspective and it all makes sense? Well, that hasn’t happened yet. I’m still in the middle of it, I have no perspective, everything feels awful and that makes my eyes leaky.

If this were a movie, it would be the part where I shake my fist at the sky and scream, ‘Is that the best you can do? Bring it on!’ with my hair whipping in the wind, a wild look in my eye right before the earth opens up and I get swallowed whole. And then the chipmunks laugh uproariously, straighten their ties and go back to playing Yahtzee.

So, here’s the thing about codependent relationships = they suck, but they work. And you want them to change, but then when they do, you kind of freak out. I’ve been pleading with Joe to figure out what he wants out of his life since I met him. I am always the one with great ideas and I’m all up with the knowing what I want and everything. He has always just kind of gone along with my flow instead of knowing what his own was. And then he sits back and silently resents the hell out of me. And so I’m all, ‘Joe, just think really hard and figure out what you want out of your life. I will be so supportive!’ And in the meantime, I just keep doing what I need to do and taking care of myself, because you can’t change anyone else, anyway, all the while telling Joe that I will be SO supportive, just as soon as there is something to be supportive about.

Fast forward a couple of years, I’ve invested all of myself in ‘my great ideas’, he decides he needs something different and actually TAKES STEPS to change things. And the pain, ladies and gentlemen. The pain is excruciating. Joe is doing exactly the right thing, the thing I’ve even encouraged him to do, and it hurts so bad I want to rip my heart out.

You know that place where you know things are exactly how they should be and it hurts like hell? You would rather walk on cut glass than go through it but you know there is no other way? You feel all alone and you look around and wish someone was there with you, but when people try to help you tell them to shut up because there is no way they can understand how you feel? And you walk around with your eyes leaking everywhere for days? Yes, well, that’s me right now. Just call me Leaky Eyes.

I’m so proud of Joe. I can’t even tell you how proud I am of him. The proudness of him makes my eyes leak, too, just so you know. I’m watching him change and evolve and Become the person he wants to be. The decisions he’s making turn my world upside down. They make me have to reevaluate what I’m doing and figure out some things all over again. They make me angry. They make me uncertain. I have the strongest urges to say things to him that I never would have thought possible. I feel manipulation coming to the surface and in order to not give into those hurtful urges, I say nothing. I just leak out of my eyes. I can hardly believe it’s possible for anyone, ever, to change a codependent relationship because even though it’s what I’ve been asking him to do, I can’t stand it. I can’t even imagine if I was part of a couple where my partner started changing, I didn’t even realize there was a problem and I didn’t want him to. This sucks hard, but that would suck rockstar-style.

So, there will be no Oregon vacation this year, which over the past two days has set a record in eye-leakage. But next year, I could bet that this situation wouldn’t happen again because of the changes Joe is making. And that is something to look forward to. Heck, just being able to pay the bills is something to look forward to. You have no idea how not being able to pay the gas bill makes my eyes leak. It’s crazy.

Posted on

Good Days

I wake up in the morning and before I even open my eyes, there it is: a weight resting squarely on my chest. I cautiously feel around my thoughts to see what this weight is before jumping to conclusions. It’s possible that I just had a bad dream.

Oh, right. I’m just not quite awake yet. Sometimes when I first wake up, I have left over thoughts flying around in my mind. And some of them could be left over from years and years ago. They are just shadows, tiny endings of experiences that hurt me or things that made me very sad. But they aren’t happening right now and that is what I need to focus on.

I imagine a light. Yellow and white but not too bright. It’s warm and healthy. It’s healing. It starts in my chest and expands until it fills my body.

Some of the remaindered and leftover thoughts try to stick around. They pop up and tell me, ‘You are such a failure’ and ‘Nothing you do matters’ and ‘Nothing will ever get any better.’ Some of them go far, far back and are more like, ‘No one cares about you so you better concentrate on surviving’ and ‘People want to hurt you and take advantage of you’ and ‘Everyone is a liar.’ But as soon as the thoughts come up, I look at them, evaluate them and see if they are true or not. They aren’t. What a relief. And I send them on their way.

I know that if I think too much about what I have to do today, it will feel too hard. I’ll start feeling overwhelmed and probably not get out of bed. Once I allow myself to go down that downward spiral, it’s very hard to climb back up and could take me days. The best defense is a good offense. Some days I do better than others.

There are days when catastrophic thinking is hard to shake off, but it doesn’t happen very often. I thank God for that. And The Universe. And Love. I know my meditation routine by heart and slip easily into a place where I feel only Love and a connection to everything and everyone. It’s beautiful. I stay as long as I need to and then climb out of bed.

I don’t think about getting up or showering or even what I’m going to wear. I don’t think about any of those things because I don’t really NEED to think about them. I know how to do them all without thinking. And if I make the mistake of thinking about it, I might not do it. So, I just do it.

As I finish up washing my hair and shaving my legs, I smell the soap. It smells clean and invigorating. I’m looking forward to the coffee. I grab an outfit from the two that I laid out last night: one is for slightly warmer weather and one for colder. That way, I don’t have to think about it when it feels too hard. Of course, I can always change my mind and get something else from the closet if I want. And sometimes I do. But mostly, I stick with what I prepared the night before.

A thought of work will come up and for a second my heart starts to race. I feel behind. I feel like I’ll never be safe and secure. I feel like everything I’ve worked so hard for could be taken away in a second. My breathing gets faster and faster. I start to sweat. I can’t breathe. I’m going to die. But then I catch myself. I tell my heart to slow down. I remind myself to take some deep breaths. And I tell myself that I’ll think about all of that in about an hour when I’m more awake and I’ve eaten some protein and had some coffee.

I go downstairs to begin my day and do stuff.

Posted on

Stop the Cutting

I’ve been walking around in this cloud of Irritation. If you get in my face, most likely I’ll cut you first and ask questions later but probably never feel bad about it. And you can’t do anything to fix it so stop asking me. Seriously – stop asking me.

If you are the bagger at the supermarket, don’t ask me if I want paper or plastic. You choose for me. Go ahead! Make a decision based on your carbon-based instincts! Do I look like a paper or a plastic-type person? PICK ONE! But if you are wrong, I will cut you.

If I’m at the book store looking for a specific book, doing pretty well on my own, and you come up to ME and ask ME if I need any help but then point me in the direction of someone else after I go to the trouble of explaining what I’m looking for, I will cut you. Why did you ask me in the first place? Why make me explain myself twice? Just leave me alone.

When I’m on my way out the door and I’m a little nervous for my outing and you come up to give me a hug, don’t tell me that you think the towel from my shower must be a little sour. I won’t cut you, since you are my husband, [this part has been removed at the request of my husband.] I’ll show you sour.

When you see me at the store and I look like my head it mostly detached from my body and you witness me actually bumping into the shelves because walking down the large open part of the isles has become too difficult, how about you come over and tell me that the buttons on the front of my shirt are undone too far? How about letting me know that my breasts are having a little show of their own and everyone has a front row ticket? Because if you don’t, and I notice it on the drive home, I’m going to turn that car around and come back and cut you.

Ornery much? I don’t even want to be in the same room with me.

Posted on

Two Self-Image Links

I’ve noticed a couple of sites over the past few months that have to do with hard subjects.

The first one is I’m Just About to Get Skinny by Christi Nielsen. She talks about her struggles with her self-image. Her posts are very honest and moving and include a photo to help drive the point home. Susan first sent me this link because she knew it would appeal to me not just as an artist/photographer, but also as someone that still struggles with self-image and eating disorders. Now, before you freak, rest assured I haven’t’ acted on an eating disorder impulse in over four years and I doubt I ever will again. But for many years, I was a starving or binge eating or puking person. And when something is a part of your life for 12 years, those thoughts and impulses continue to cross your mind long after you stop acting on them.

The second site is 05mm.org. Photographer Keith Clark specializes in photography of architecture and built environments but his new project about self image is the one that caught my eye*. He asks people to come into the studio and pose showing and highlighting their favorite body part. And he asks them why. What a great concept. He was recently highlighted locally and invites anyone in the Indianapolis area to come over and be a part of the project.

The two images that spoke the most to me were about self-harm. This one and this one. Again, a self-harmer for years and years, I wouldn’t do it anymore but the impulses still travel through my brain. I have scars all over my body and get looks and sometimes questions but I’m not embarrassed by them anymore. And that feels good.

*I can’t remember who linked to this first. So, thanks, you.

Posted on

I'm So Mad, I'm Laughing

I suck. I laugh at inconvenient times. Like when my husband is getting mad at me. But not strangers. Apparently, I only laugh when someone that I love and care about is getting angry at me and strangers? They can bugger off. I’ll return their looks and yells one for one and then somehow end up on top, walking away victoriously confident that I was just on the winning side of some serious hiney-spanking. This is, of course, if I can’t avoid the altercation all together. Which, I would seriously prefer since I promote LOVE, people, not hate.

But Joe and I have been going through our Stuff. Everyone has their Stuff and the past few months, it’s been our turn to empty out the closets and clean under the beds and ask serious questions like ‘When did I buy this shoe? I hate purple and anything made out of pleather.’ or ‘Are you sure you have to bring that up every time we talk about Frank Zappa?’ and ‘Why the hell do you always laugh when I’m getting mad at you?’ The answers are, respectively, 1. Never, I made that up for this illustration 2. YES and 3. I have no idea. None.

Can we just talk about appropriate responses for a minute?

Sad = Empathetic
Happy = Pleased
Excited = Excited
Angry = Giggling Listening and responding with ‘What I hear you saying is…..‘quickly followed by mind blowing make-up sex.

When someone is pouring out their innermost feelings about how they feel about you, your relationship and the future – not the best time to laugh. I have tried not to laugh, which has the same effect as when my parents asked me to say the prayer for dinner when I was eight. I started giggling and could not stop until I was sent out of the room. At which time, my parents would call ‘You can come back in now.’ and I would sit down at the table and immediately start to giggle again. And then I got grounded for two months.

I hate this even more than I hate that I have two really thick, black hairs that grow out of the bottom of my chin that require persistent plucking. I hate watching his eyes go from angry-at-me to hurt because I would SO prefer the angry-at-me.

I have found no plan to fix this. I would like to have a plan on the ready so this angry/laughing/me-bursting-into-tears-of-regret cycle can end.

Posted on

Hey There, Y'all

I got an email from China (a woman, not the place) who asked me to write about what a bad day felt like to me. She didn’t think that my bad days could be anywhere near as bad as hers because she feels so bad that she “just can’t think or feel or she might die.” I wrote back that it wasn’t a contest of any kind but if she wanted, in a few weeks, I would write about what a bad day felt like to me.

I have a bad day one or two times a month. This is what they feel like to me. I also have lots and lots of Good Days and I’ll be writing about that next week sometime. Everything I tell someone that writes me an email regarding how I get through a bad day is exactly how I do it. I’m not just making stuff up. I actually do the things that I say work, because they work for me. Of course, that doesn’t mean they will work for you. Everyone is different.

I could have not shared this with all of you. But wouldn’t that be hypocritical? To be the one always giving advice on how to work through big issues and get to a good place emotionally? To pretend that I’m always fine and never feeling depressed? Because I do. Sometimes, and this is for everyone on the planet, you have a bad day and you feel like shit. Now, maybe you don’t get as dark as I do. And I don’t even get as dark as I used to. But you probably know what I’m talking about.

Thanks for all the well-wishes and encouragement. I am so thankful to have so many readers that care about me. I sure wish that I had prefaced the entry with a little “Hey There, Y’all” so you would have known and I promise to do that in the future.

Posted on

Bad Days

I wake up in the morning and before I even open my eyes, there it is. That weight laced with desperation. That sinking feeling that tells me nothing is ever going to get better and I might as well just give up now. Give up at what, I’m not really sure. Not that it matters.

I contemplate actually opening my eyes. But what is the point of that? Why would I want to see things better? Smarter just to lay here and try my best not to listen. And definitely not see, think. Anything. Maybe I can go back to sleep. It’s only 5:15am. Plenty of time to sink back in.

My brain does not cooperate. My own worst enemy. Why? Trying to not think ends up worse than thinking. Pushing away the thoughts that at first sneak around behind and then try to cover my head, soon begin simply jabbing at my gut and my thighs. Prodding sharply. I give in and acknowledge them. And then they cover me up.

Nothing will ever get any better. In fact, it’s already getting worse. It doesn’t matter what I could ever try to do. Ever. All the projects I get excited about and then plan. All the projects that I hope will somehow make a difference in someone’s life. They amount to nothing. Nothing. And no one cares. And why should they? I mean, really? Who am I to try and do anything, anyway? I’m just one more person in the world that thinks farther than they can actually reach. But realizes it too late to save themselves the public embarrassment.

I’m beginning to suffocate. If I don’t open my eyes, I’ll die.

What do I think I’m doing with my life? I should go back to school. I should want to go back to school. I should go get a regular job where I drive to an office and see normal people that do work-type things and drink coffee. I should want to want a regular job. I should make sure I have health care. I should have an IRA and heavy savings accounts. I should take vacations twice a year for 3.5 days each and be happy that I have an office to go back to. I should stop trying to make something out of nothing and give it up already. I’m not really a business owner. I’m not really a project director or designer or good at talking with clients or anything to do with what I am supposed to do. My work is crap. Total crap. No one wants to see it. No one likes it. I could never be one of the people that are talked about later as someone that contributed to something great or amazing or worthwhile because everything I do is so mediocre and inconsequential. Trying to create another place for people to get together online. Who the fuck cares? The code is crap. The design is crap. It won’t ever get done. If it does get done, it will suck and no one will want to be a part of it anyway. I’m not painting anymore but if I did, no one would buy them. And if I tried to paint again, I wouldn’t be able to. I think I’ve lost whatever talent I had before.

If I don’t get out of bed, I will never get out again.

I have spots on my arm that haven’t healed in over 6 months. I think I scratch them when I’m sleeping or nervous. I don’t know why they don’t heal. What is wrong with me? People notice them and I can see in their eyes how ugly I am. Hideous and weird. And fat. So, so fat. And my writing sucks. I write a blog that is just like a million other ones. And I write things that are of no importance to anyone. And the people that do write me, I can’t even answer. At least, not all of them. So many that I can’t even write back. So many people that need help and want someone to hear them and tell them that they are OK. And they are OK. I just don’t have the time to tell them that. I’m such a failure. I should be writing them all back so they know. But who do I think I am writing anyone? What could I possibly have to say that would make a difference? I don’t really know anything. I have no good advice. I don’t know ANYTHING. I only know what I’ve gone through and half the time, it makes no sense to me. We’re never going to have enough money. Rent will be due and we’ll be late. Projects are due and we are late. The electricity will get turned off if we don’t make it by 5pm. Can’t pay the bills. Can’t pay the bills. Can’t pay the bills. Can’t breathe.

In the shower I try to wash it all away. But I could scrub for hours and it wouldn’t work. Hours. There is just too much. Somehow, I’m supposed to go downstairs and begin my day and do stuff. Stuff that doesn’t matter and that I suck at.

Posted on

"Dear Leah,

Your participle is dangling.”

Well, that explains a lot.

Tonight, Joe and I are going to the Geek Dinner. Anyone else going?

Also, I added the new front page for Project Cathartic. I’m still working on the religious survey questions, but they are SO going to get done before the end of my lifetime, I swear.

Today is one of those days that I could spend only crying and wiping my nose. Instead, I may do laundry and shower. It’s a toss up.

Posted on

Ask Leahpeah 'Questions' Edition Part II

Would you consider yourself a good mom?

Wow. That is one of the hardest questions I’ve ever been asked. Not just because of my mental history and what I had to do in relation to my kids, but because when does any mom have an easy time of saying, ‘Hell yes. I’m an awesome mom!’? You think about all the mistakes you’ve made and how inadequate you feel at times. You remember when you lost your temper and yelled and how you watched their little faces crumple in an instant or when they came to tell you something and you were busy talking on the phone to your friend and you made them wait so long that they left the room and then forgot what it was they were going to tell you. Missed opportunities. Failings. They are so easy to spot.

I guess we’d have to figure out what makes a Good Mom. I know I make a lot of mistakes but I always try to apologize as soon as I figure out that I made one. I try to make sure they eat healthy and get enough exercise and don’t spend all their time in front of the TV and computer. I listen when they talk to me and try really hard to keep the preaching and lessons to a minimum. I work hard to try and provide them with a home and the other things that every kid needs. Have I touched on all the main areas of what it means to be a Good Mom? But more than all of those things, I love my kids like crazy. And, I like them. I think they are the greatest people in the entire world. I would rather spend an evening with them playing games or hanging out that do just about anything else with anyone else. Sure – I make a TON of mistakes along the way but I don’t think that makes me a bad mom. I think it makes me human.

You talk about integration on your site, and I understand that to be the melding of all the personalities back into one. My question is: “How is that process done?”

The actual integration process was done in a therapy situation over the span of a few weeks but the preparation for that took years. There are certain values that have to be met first like no more secrets between alters and everyone being the same age. All the parts have to agree that it is the best choice and have no reservations. As you can probably guess, that sometimes takes a long time. But, once those things have been done, it’s surprisingly easy to slip everyone into the same space. I don’t think I can really describe that part because I have no idea how it happened, I just experienced it, except to say that it felt empowering and I suddenly felt strong and capable. As it turned out, in the beginning it was a slightly over-inflated sense of self, which had to be evaluated and examined to be healthy.

If you had it to do over again, would you still chose to be integrated, or would you rather be the seven?

Yes, I would choose to do it over again. I would never wish to become un-integrated. I’m much happier and healthier as one as opposed to seven. I answered this question more fully in a previous post.

I’m curious as to why you think this happened in your life? Was there a defining moment when you separated from yourself? Or did it just happen? I know that you were molested, and that often will create the separation process as a means of survival, but I’m curious as to where you feel that process began?

The reason I initially split was not because of molestation, although that did happen repeatedly afterwards. I split because of some medical procedures done to me starting at the age of 4 where no anesthesia was used.

You said you aren’t taking any medication anymore. How do you not get depressed? I think if I didn’t have my meds I would kill myself.

I do get depressed. Case in point would be yesterday. I spent the better part of the day feeling very low. Some of the thoughts in my head: “I am such a failure.” “I will never feel happy again.” “People hate me and they should. They should hate me. I hate me.” “I’m not good for anything.” If someone had handed me a loaded gun, I would have considered what to do with it for a moment.

But, I know myself too well now to not understand what is happening. The truth is: I’m having a bad day. And me having a bad day feels like that. On those days, my perception of life is all screwy and I know that. So, where earlier in my life, pre-integration, I would have felt all of those thoughts and feelings weighing on me so, so heavy and not been able to get out of that dark cloud for 2 months, literally, now I can think through it.

I tell myself the truth. So, “I am such a failure.” becomes “Today I feel like a failure.” Which is totally different. In the first one, I’m telling myself what I am and in the second one, I’m telling myself how I FEEL. The first one is a judgment that may or may not be true. But the second one is the truth because your feelings are just your feelings and aren’t wrong or right. They just are.

After acknowledging the feeling, the next step is to create something positive from it. Our minds are amazing things and we reach the potential we set for ourselves. If you can imagine something and hold that as an intention, you can create it in your life. If the message I tell myself is “I am a failure.” then it will be true. Instead, try creating something positive like, “I do many things that are of worth.” I was amazed at the stuff I was telling myself when I wasn’t paying attention. Really, awful things that you would never say to another person but there I was saying them to myself over and over. Just start paying attention to what it is you tell yourself. Jot them down in a little notebook.

Hokey? Maybe. But I really do believe in affirmations. They have changed my life. Here are two more examples of what I’ve taught myself to do in a matter of minutes.

“I will never feel happy again.”
“I feel really, super sad today.”
“I eagerly anticipate working through these feelings of sadness.”

“People hate me and they should. They should hate me. I hate me.”
“I feel like I have no friends today. I feel unworthy of love. I don’t feel love for myself right now.”
“I am learning to love myself and those around me more every day.”

Back to the loaded gun. Yes, the thought of killing myself would go through my mind. But it wouldn’t stick. I know myself too well. I know that in 5 minutes, that mamma bird is going to fly by the window and I’ll look outside and appreciate the green of the lawn. It may only last a second but it will happen. Or I’ll glance up to see what time it is and my eyes will catch the frames over the fireplace where my kids’ faces are smiling at me. I know that the deep, overwhelming sadness I’m feeling will pass if I help it along. And I would hate to miss out on the good stuff.

I think the problem for me was when I didn’t acknowledge the truth of the situation. I was not supposed to be sad so I told myself that I wasn’t. It was a lie. I knew it was a lie and once you start telling lies to yourself, you get caught up in this self-medicating and distraction nightmare. If you aren’t supposed to feel sad and you do, then go grab the meth and smoke it until you don’t feel anything anymore. Oh wait, it’s been 3 hours and I’m feeling something again. Must be time to get loaded/self-harm/fill-in-the-distraction.

You spend so much time distracting and lying that you start to not have a life except for trying NOT to feel. Things pretty much snowball and suck at that point and it could take months or years to recover both physically and mentally. I’m not willing to go anywhere near that again so I do the really hard work of telling myself the truth minute by minute. For me, it’s worth it.

However, if I felt myself getting to a place where I couldn’t talk my way through things anymore and I felt the heavy clouds moving in and camping out for the duration, you can bet I’d be putting myself back on medication in a second. Meds once saved my life and that is what they are there for. But as long as I can continue using the methods that are working for me now and I don’t consider crying for 4 hours straight while I’m feeling so awful every so often (usually not more than once or so a month) a problem, I won’t be going back to them anytime soon.