It's crazy to think that I'm at my one-year anniversary after my White Robe Vision.
For those who don't know what that means... A year ago I was in church singing along to the worship band. I had been struggling with anger, and depression, and aloneness, and everything that you can imagine someone would struggle with after mounds and mounds of trauma. To say that I was in a dark, scary place would be the understatement of a lifetime. I was singing, pleading with the L-rd for a miracle and for forgiveness when I had this image, a vision.
It was me in the fetal position, dressed in sackcloth with ashes and dirt covering me. I was sobbing. My view was as if I was standing watching myself in this dark but not scary space, but I also knew what it was like as the me that was on the floor sobbing. I don't know how I could be both, but I was.
Anyway, Yeshua (Jesus) walked over and helped me up. He handed me a pile of white clothes, a white robe. Instantly, I was dressed in white, holding His hand, and clean from head to toe. I knew in that moment that I was clean, forgiven, redeemed, and precious to the only One that truly matters. The weight that was literally suffocating me was lifted. I felt the physical sensation of being lighter and of being able to breathe. Tears, happy tears, were falling from my eyes and I was at peace for the first time in YEARS.
The high of this vision fueled my healing in counseling, my passion in bible study, and my joy in life. Since I was feeling better, much much better, I started EMDR. I don't know if I just got to the point in my "healing" where my brain started to process the anger and grief, or if it was because I was processing things in EMDR and therapy, but my joy was replaced by anger. Pure rage and grief and the darkest depression I have experienced in such a long time.
Not only was I battling the memories and nightmares that has stopped a short few months before, but I was suddenly from the highest high down in the my darkest pits. Even darker than I had just gotten out of! Suddenly the urges to start smoking again came back. The desire the slice my skin and jump on Tinder resurfaced. My prayers to not wake up in the morning or for me to die in some quick fashion started pouring from my heart again. My pleas for this life to be over or for me to wake up from this nightmare were back. The enormity of the betrayal I faced from ex-best friend hit me full-force. The horrors I survived and lived through hit me like a ton of bricks. My actions, reasons, and reactions all flooded into my memory boggling my mind with the crap that I've been through. Realizations of what my childhood was like, things I had forgotten were dredged up. Past hurts and scars and darkness all covered me at once. Crashing over me like tsunami-sized waves.
Now, after nearly 8 months, these waves are still skyscraper high, but I've sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor where the waves can't effect me so much because my brain has gone blank. I have a vague recollection that bad things have happened. A small understanding that I am hurt and have been damaged mocks me in the early hours when I wake up, or in the moments before I fall asleep. My heart squeezes and heat rises as my brain recalls the nightmares that I just had throughout my sleep were real events that happened. Anger overwhelms me and forces me from bed to try to go find some mind-numbing entertainment from the boob-tube.
I want to believe G-d has good in store. My heart craves the day when my life is redeemed and I maybe see some fruit that the sh!t that I *unfortunately* survived is going to be worth something to someone. Surely there is a reason behind the suffering. Surely there is a way that this can be helpful for something. Surely my life, my experiences, my pain and sorrow will not be a waste!
It's crazy to think that a year ago would start the roller-coaster that has been this past year. To go from so passionate and on fire for the L-rd, to questioning His beneficence towards me. Hope was replaced with rage and ecstatic joy was replaced with soul wrenching despair. My new found zest for life was, again, brought into the deepest of me begging for my life to end.
I'd like to say that my life is back to me being excited and on fire for the L-rd. I wish I could tell you all that life got back to smooth sailing, that I am happy and excited again and that I finished out the year with minimal lasting pain. Well, I could, but that would be a lie. Just when I started to think I was on the mend, my story would be used for goodness and I might be needed in this world after-all, I was knocked down again. Knocked down by someone who was supposed to be a mentor, a leader, a helper in the faith. At that point, the hits kept coming from every side. I confided in her about some recent family wounds and that was used against me, as ammo for the attacks. Ex-best friend joined in the attacks, people from work, patients, family, and anyone else that was in close proximity to me. They ganged up, at the enemies command, and I was bombarded by the tsunami waves that I thought I was avoiding by remaining on the ocean floor. There's no escape though.
Here, looking back on my year, I'm proud of myself for not falling back into self harm, not succumbing to the craving for a cigarette, and for not putting myself back onto Tinder. I fought like hell to still show up, to try to be as present as possible, and to put myself out there for others. I'm working harder than ever to find some good, some purpose, and some meaning in my suffering and loneliness. I am searching for hope and belonging somewhere. But I don't belong here. I don't belong on this earth. I will forever be a stranger, a loner, wandering along on this blue rotating rock. This is not my home. This is not where I will make sense. This is not where the answers will be found, where I am redeemed, or where my purpose lies.
My heart is so tired. My soul is weary. I don't know how much longer I can hold out here.
My anniversary of one of the most powerful gifts the L-rd has every given me is marked by a season of such despair and difficulty that I'm sent back into the pits of existence when I desperately desire to no longer exist. How can this be? It doesn't make sense!
Showing posts with label fighting a battle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fighting a battle. Show all posts
Sunday, January 27, 2019
Saturday, July 16, 2016
Best Buddy
Do any of y'all recall hearing about my Best Friend? I met him freshman year of college and we've been through quite a bit.
At the beginning of this blog, I used to write about how I thought he had a crush on me and we would hang out a lot. Fast forward about a year to sophomore year, and he and I "tried" dating. It lasted three weeks before I broke it off. We didn't talk much for awhile, but he contacted me again sometime between the end of Junior year and the beginning of Senior year. Weird thing about certain friendships, you can pick up right where you left off, as if nothing ever changed.
I shared with him what exboyfriend and exfiance did to me and he was crushed. It was the first time I've seen him get misty and the normal smile was not in his eyes. Regardless, he has stuck with me through my rants and raves, my days of self pity, and various legal situations where my counselor told me I needed a friend. Best Friend was that friend. He even offered to buy me a milk shake after a 5 hour wait at the police station with me. He just sat in the lobby, by himself, as I talked with an officer in the back. He didn't complain or seem irritated in the least. At the end, he gave me a hug, told me he was soooo proud of me, and listened as I rehashed the amazing work the police officer did to help me.
It doesn't matter what parts of the story I tell him or refuse to share with him, he is nothing but kind, supportive, and so very sweet. He knows when to be quiet and listen. He knows when to shut me off because I'm going down a bad thought process road. He knows when to give me time to process, or when I need to be around somebody. He asks before he hugs me. Most of all, he is working to rebuild my sense of self.
We were texting the other night, as we often times do, when he started asking questions. Questions about our short relationship (thought he has a girlfriend right now, he says he was just curious), some about what happened with the other guys, and some light-hearted questions to break up the seriousness of the conversation.
At one point, he asked, "Why, if you are so stubborn, did you not just leave these guys when you say you wanted to?" This question, in all honesty, made me get a bit defensive. I sent about 9 text pages about how I know I seem weak, staying with a guy even though I tried to break up over 4 times with him. I know it makes no sense to stay with someone who continually hurt me so badly. I know that the relationships are terrible and it makes no sense that I would have two boyfriends abuse me in terrible ways when I could have been with someone sweet. It makes absolutely no sense, even to me. However, I continued and told him that I was fighting. All those times he forced himself on me, I was fighting. All those times that I would break up with him, he would promise to be nicer and better, then I would take him back and he would be even worse because I "broke his heart," I was fighting.
I was fighting to stay alive. I was fighting to stay sane. I was fighting to make sense to myself and to do the best I could in the terrible prison I was in.
I don't know if he was shocked or sorry for asking that question in such a way, or maybe he knew that I was absolutely not bullshitting him at that point, but he replied saying: "I completely believe you. Of 4 women in my life that I actually believe 100%, you are one of them. I didn't mean to make it seem like you were foolish for not leaving. I can't imagine what it was like to be in your shoes. I'm so happy you stayed strong and came back into my life, it's such a blessing. I know you are so much stronger now. I want to thank you for fighting through, just in case no one else has thanked you for that. I can't imagine what it would have been like if anything worse (I know it can't get much worse, so you know what worse is [murder or suicide]) had happened to you."
At that point I cried. I cried. I ugly cried. I'm crying right now just reading it again.
He thanked me for surviving. He thanked me for sticking around and not letting life kill me, not letting these assholes cause me enough pain that I end my own life. Not letting exfiance hurt me enough to kill me.
He thanked me for fighting.
Friends, if you have survived abusive relationships, sexual assault, rape, depression, suicide attempts, self-harm, traumas, or any other life-threatening struggles, thank you for fighting. It a struggle, day in and day out, but you are here. Know that, even your friends and family who don't know what you've been through, are grateful that you are still alive and fighting. They may have no clue you're even struggling, but someone somewhere (me included) is glad you're sticking around.
Thank you for still being here.
At the beginning of this blog, I used to write about how I thought he had a crush on me and we would hang out a lot. Fast forward about a year to sophomore year, and he and I "tried" dating. It lasted three weeks before I broke it off. We didn't talk much for awhile, but he contacted me again sometime between the end of Junior year and the beginning of Senior year. Weird thing about certain friendships, you can pick up right where you left off, as if nothing ever changed.
I shared with him what exboyfriend and exfiance did to me and he was crushed. It was the first time I've seen him get misty and the normal smile was not in his eyes. Regardless, he has stuck with me through my rants and raves, my days of self pity, and various legal situations where my counselor told me I needed a friend. Best Friend was that friend. He even offered to buy me a milk shake after a 5 hour wait at the police station with me. He just sat in the lobby, by himself, as I talked with an officer in the back. He didn't complain or seem irritated in the least. At the end, he gave me a hug, told me he was soooo proud of me, and listened as I rehashed the amazing work the police officer did to help me.
It doesn't matter what parts of the story I tell him or refuse to share with him, he is nothing but kind, supportive, and so very sweet. He knows when to be quiet and listen. He knows when to shut me off because I'm going down a bad thought process road. He knows when to give me time to process, or when I need to be around somebody. He asks before he hugs me. Most of all, he is working to rebuild my sense of self.
We were texting the other night, as we often times do, when he started asking questions. Questions about our short relationship (thought he has a girlfriend right now, he says he was just curious), some about what happened with the other guys, and some light-hearted questions to break up the seriousness of the conversation.
At one point, he asked, "Why, if you are so stubborn, did you not just leave these guys when you say you wanted to?" This question, in all honesty, made me get a bit defensive. I sent about 9 text pages about how I know I seem weak, staying with a guy even though I tried to break up over 4 times with him. I know it makes no sense to stay with someone who continually hurt me so badly. I know that the relationships are terrible and it makes no sense that I would have two boyfriends abuse me in terrible ways when I could have been with someone sweet. It makes absolutely no sense, even to me. However, I continued and told him that I was fighting. All those times he forced himself on me, I was fighting. All those times that I would break up with him, he would promise to be nicer and better, then I would take him back and he would be even worse because I "broke his heart," I was fighting.
I was fighting to stay alive. I was fighting to stay sane. I was fighting to make sense to myself and to do the best I could in the terrible prison I was in.
I don't know if he was shocked or sorry for asking that question in such a way, or maybe he knew that I was absolutely not bullshitting him at that point, but he replied saying: "I completely believe you. Of 4 women in my life that I actually believe 100%, you are one of them. I didn't mean to make it seem like you were foolish for not leaving. I can't imagine what it was like to be in your shoes. I'm so happy you stayed strong and came back into my life, it's such a blessing. I know you are so much stronger now. I want to thank you for fighting through, just in case no one else has thanked you for that. I can't imagine what it would have been like if anything worse (I know it can't get much worse, so you know what worse is [murder or suicide]) had happened to you."
At that point I cried. I cried. I ugly cried. I'm crying right now just reading it again.
He thanked me for surviving. He thanked me for sticking around and not letting life kill me, not letting these assholes cause me enough pain that I end my own life. Not letting exfiance hurt me enough to kill me.
He thanked me for fighting.
Friends, if you have survived abusive relationships, sexual assault, rape, depression, suicide attempts, self-harm, traumas, or any other life-threatening struggles, thank you for fighting. It a struggle, day in and day out, but you are here. Know that, even your friends and family who don't know what you've been through, are grateful that you are still alive and fighting. They may have no clue you're even struggling, but someone somewhere (me included) is glad you're sticking around.
Thank you for still being here.
Monday, April 25, 2016
Making Happy Anniversaries
Today marks the first year anniversary of me getting my SANE exam.
It may not seem like much, but today marks the one year anniversary of me starting to fight for me.
Today is a good anniversary.
So, as I sit at home celebrating alone, I remember how far I've come and how far I have yet to grow. I can see good in most days instead of living in my dark pit of despair. I look forward to little bits in my future, thought I'm not sure how life is going to turn out. I pray that my life gets better and more joyful. I guess we'll see.
Until then, raise a glass and celebrate with me! I'm strong and growing and have survived some pretty shitty stuff. I made it a year longer on this Earth.
It may not seem like much, but today marks the one year anniversary of me starting to fight for me.
Today is a good anniversary.
So, as I sit at home celebrating alone, I remember how far I've come and how far I have yet to grow. I can see good in most days instead of living in my dark pit of despair. I look forward to little bits in my future, thought I'm not sure how life is going to turn out. I pray that my life gets better and more joyful. I guess we'll see.
Until then, raise a glass and celebrate with me! I'm strong and growing and have survived some pretty shitty stuff. I made it a year longer on this Earth.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
The Wishes I'll Never See Fulfilled
There are days that you may wish you could go back and relive. There are times in your life that you wished you could go back and redo. There may be times that you wish you never had to live through.
Well, I wish I could go back 3 years ago and not live these past few years at all.
I know, this is a wish that will forever go unfulfilled. I was also told that this is not productive thought because of it's impossibility. It doesn't change the fact that I keep praying I wake up from my nightmare and take it as a life-lesson through sleep to never repeat it in actual life.
I want to go back to the days of college when I was so full of life, looking forward to the future, and excited at the amount of friends I had and the excitement I had when I was first accepted into the nursing program.
I was pure. I was hopeful. I had a whole world full of possibilities just waiting outside my door.
Today I am damage, beaten, weary, and waiting for the day when the Good L-rd decides to free me from my real-life nightmare.
It's hard today to not fall into my bad habits that have helped me to cope with my struggles thus far. However, I want to be able to wear short sleeves and a bikini when I go on my graduation trip with my family, so my physical coping methods are out of the picture. I probably couldn't drink enough to actually get anywhere in the way of numbing because it just shuts off the smart part of my brain and brings forward all of the terrible things I want a break from. Sleep doesn't help because from the time I lay down, through my sleep, and up until I begin my day, my head is filled with the worst things I couldn't even imagine I would have survived, but I did live through. Painting and coloring only get me so far before memories invade again.
I have no relief.
I could have gone for a walk, but it's dark now and I'm scared exfiance would be waiting outside my apartment.
I've had several friends tell me lately that I didn't seem like I was having a bad day, even though I had told them hours earlier over a text that I was having a really bad day. They tell me that I look fine and seem to be enjoying myself.
Well, I've been lying too long. I've gotten it down to a science and have a tendency to push everything out of my head in order to prevent telling those around me what has happened. I don't want to bring down the fun mood by spilling all of my dirty laundry for those who had no idea of my life's happenings before that point. For some, it is the first time they've ever met me. No need to bring them down with my internal scars.
Just for fun, let's go over my "checkered past," shall we?
I have:
No, I don't feel sorry for myself but I do wish these weren't my burdens to bear. Some are self-inflicted, and those have stopped. Those are also burdens I'm ashamed of, but I know that I caused them to myself so I can't blame anyone for those. However, it is hard most days to not drop back into those habits. Sometimes those bad things I did were the only thing to keep me grounded in the world, if even for a moment.
I know, I know! I'm not supposed to think like this! But some days I can't help it. I mean, c'mon! There has to be a break eventually, right? You would hope...
I don't foresee life getting much better for me. Oh, I pray that it does! But, honestly, sometimes I can be so far in the pit of despair that there is no way to see anything but the darkness overwhelming and engulfing me.
I just want to be put out of my misery. I've got no fight left.
Well, I wish I could go back 3 years ago and not live these past few years at all.
I know, this is a wish that will forever go unfulfilled. I was also told that this is not productive thought because of it's impossibility. It doesn't change the fact that I keep praying I wake up from my nightmare and take it as a life-lesson through sleep to never repeat it in actual life.
I want to go back to the days of college when I was so full of life, looking forward to the future, and excited at the amount of friends I had and the excitement I had when I was first accepted into the nursing program.
I was pure. I was hopeful. I had a whole world full of possibilities just waiting outside my door.
Today I am damage, beaten, weary, and waiting for the day when the Good L-rd decides to free me from my real-life nightmare.
It's hard today to not fall into my bad habits that have helped me to cope with my struggles thus far. However, I want to be able to wear short sleeves and a bikini when I go on my graduation trip with my family, so my physical coping methods are out of the picture. I probably couldn't drink enough to actually get anywhere in the way of numbing because it just shuts off the smart part of my brain and brings forward all of the terrible things I want a break from. Sleep doesn't help because from the time I lay down, through my sleep, and up until I begin my day, my head is filled with the worst things I couldn't even imagine I would have survived, but I did live through. Painting and coloring only get me so far before memories invade again.
I have no relief.
I could have gone for a walk, but it's dark now and I'm scared exfiance would be waiting outside my apartment.
I've had several friends tell me lately that I didn't seem like I was having a bad day, even though I had told them hours earlier over a text that I was having a really bad day. They tell me that I look fine and seem to be enjoying myself.
Well, I've been lying too long. I've gotten it down to a science and have a tendency to push everything out of my head in order to prevent telling those around me what has happened. I don't want to bring down the fun mood by spilling all of my dirty laundry for those who had no idea of my life's happenings before that point. For some, it is the first time they've ever met me. No need to bring them down with my internal scars.
Just for fun, let's go over my "checkered past," shall we?
I have:
- cut, scratched until I've bled, and other forms of self-harm (8th grade)
- attempted suicide 5 or more times (8th grade)
- avoided eating except for dinner every other few nights for a solid 6 months or so. I lost 25-30 pounds in a month or two (high school)
- lived through a friend's suicide
- been in 2, count them TWO! abusive relationships in the year of 2015 (I'm talking the beginning of January to the very end of December)
- relapsed into self-harm
- dealt with the unmedicated bipolar ramblings of various family members that typically result in me being blamed for their miserable lives, countless times
- gone through 3 different roommate situations that were very unhealthy and ridiculously stressful
- began drinking occasionally to calm my mind and pain temporarily
- been raped so many times I can't count them all
- been drug through the mud*, beaten beyond recognition*, damaged beyond repair*, and been so mentally tortured that I wished my previous suicide attempts could have stuck (*not really physical situation if they have the *, but the pain is similar, just lasts much longer)
No, I don't feel sorry for myself but I do wish these weren't my burdens to bear. Some are self-inflicted, and those have stopped. Those are also burdens I'm ashamed of, but I know that I caused them to myself so I can't blame anyone for those. However, it is hard most days to not drop back into those habits. Sometimes those bad things I did were the only thing to keep me grounded in the world, if even for a moment.
I know, I know! I'm not supposed to think like this! But some days I can't help it. I mean, c'mon! There has to be a break eventually, right? You would hope...
I don't foresee life getting much better for me. Oh, I pray that it does! But, honestly, sometimes I can be so far in the pit of despair that there is no way to see anything but the darkness overwhelming and engulfing me.
I just want to be put out of my misery. I've got no fight left.
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Not As Crazy As I Believe
I talked to a good buddy of mine. She's in nursing school with me and she knows Roomie (new) really well. I was talking with her, let's call her Millie (I just made up that name). We were talking about plans after graduation and where we wanted to live.
Then we got on the subject of why I was thinking about not moving to Mema's town to work in her hospital anymore. I told her that it seems that every time I live with someone, then it seems to wreck the relationship. Explaining further, I told her that I can come to class and be okay, and maybe even happy because I'm with my friends. Then, I can go about my day and deal with my own nonesense without them seeing that. However, when I live with people, I can't get away from them and they start to see my dark side. They watch the moods, the crazy amounts of sleep I get, my eating habits, and they know about my general moods at all points of the day/week.
This usually ruins my good friendships because nobody can handle me when I'm trying to handle my own stuff. That leads to questions. I can tell them I don't want to talk about it, but then they get upset that I'm not opening up. Other times, or after a long time of building trust, I start to share a molecule of an elephant with them. There are hundreds of elephants (problems) in my backyard (my mind) and I only share a molecule of ONE elephant with them. Nobody seems to be able to handle this little tiny bit and so they shut down, stop talking with me, and I feel like shit for sharing with them because now they have to carry that burden. This adds another elephant to my backyard.
So, I have two options: 1) don't share, continue to handle my own stuff because I know I can, and spare them the pain of dealing with any part of my burden, but deal with them being sad because I won't open up or 2) get close to them, share a bit of my life after awhile, start to trust them and rely on them to be there for me, and lose them when they realize that I'm not someone who can be saved and what I deal with is heavy, so heavy.
There's no winning.
I went through all of this with Millie and she told me she totally understands. She also told me that she doesn't share with Roomie, and also that Roomie has tried to dig into her (Millie's) life before too. I have been told that Beauty is good at digging and has tried to dig into many other people's lives as well. So, I'm not the only one finding these two friends of ours doing these things. Therefore, I'm not as crazy and I believe I am!
Also, we were sitting after clinicals, talking about some of the projects we are doing together as a clinical group. Some of the girls mentioned one of the other members and started venting about her frustration at the way the member tries to change everything we do and tell us all what to do. Now, the ones that were venting about this person are people that I get frustrated for doing the exact same things, but I'm glad that I am not the only one finding this about this particular member of the group. Out of 7 of us, there are 3 moms (all very used to taking control and all fighting for the control of our group all the time), 2 type-A people that assist in giving me headaches, and one other girl who, like me, does not give a flying rip about what we do. The other girl and I are just trying to survive the semester without banging our head against a wall all the time from the frustration we have at constantly being told 17 different things to do by the 3 taking control and the two type-A-er's.
I thought I was going crazy because I figured everyone was all hunky dory with everyone else in our group. Turns out, the same things and people that frustrate me are the same things/people that are irritating others. I'm not as crazy as I believe!
Ultimately, that realization was nice to have today. I'm glad that I'm not the only one thinking all these things and experiencing these stresses.
One of these days, I'll learn my lesson. One day I will learn that no matter how close I get to someone, I cannot tell them what's going on in my head. One day, I will go somewhere new, where I no nobody at all. I will start over and they will know nothing of my past. I will be cheery around them and save my baggage for myself and unload it when I am home alone. One day, I will learn. People can't handle the molecule, or even atom, that they ask to know. They just can't handle it. One day, I will learn this.
For now, I will get used to the loneliness that I had put aside because people wanted to get close. I will learn to deal with my shit on my own, again. I will move on and try to keep fighting another day. It will get easier again. I will be fine.
Then we got on the subject of why I was thinking about not moving to Mema's town to work in her hospital anymore. I told her that it seems that every time I live with someone, then it seems to wreck the relationship. Explaining further, I told her that I can come to class and be okay, and maybe even happy because I'm with my friends. Then, I can go about my day and deal with my own nonesense without them seeing that. However, when I live with people, I can't get away from them and they start to see my dark side. They watch the moods, the crazy amounts of sleep I get, my eating habits, and they know about my general moods at all points of the day/week.
This usually ruins my good friendships because nobody can handle me when I'm trying to handle my own stuff. That leads to questions. I can tell them I don't want to talk about it, but then they get upset that I'm not opening up. Other times, or after a long time of building trust, I start to share a molecule of an elephant with them. There are hundreds of elephants (problems) in my backyard (my mind) and I only share a molecule of ONE elephant with them. Nobody seems to be able to handle this little tiny bit and so they shut down, stop talking with me, and I feel like shit for sharing with them because now they have to carry that burden. This adds another elephant to my backyard.
So, I have two options: 1) don't share, continue to handle my own stuff because I know I can, and spare them the pain of dealing with any part of my burden, but deal with them being sad because I won't open up or 2) get close to them, share a bit of my life after awhile, start to trust them and rely on them to be there for me, and lose them when they realize that I'm not someone who can be saved and what I deal with is heavy, so heavy.
There's no winning.
I went through all of this with Millie and she told me she totally understands. She also told me that she doesn't share with Roomie, and also that Roomie has tried to dig into her (Millie's) life before too. I have been told that Beauty is good at digging and has tried to dig into many other people's lives as well. So, I'm not the only one finding these two friends of ours doing these things. Therefore, I'm not as crazy and I believe I am!
Also, we were sitting after clinicals, talking about some of the projects we are doing together as a clinical group. Some of the girls mentioned one of the other members and started venting about her frustration at the way the member tries to change everything we do and tell us all what to do. Now, the ones that were venting about this person are people that I get frustrated for doing the exact same things, but I'm glad that I am not the only one finding this about this particular member of the group. Out of 7 of us, there are 3 moms (all very used to taking control and all fighting for the control of our group all the time), 2 type-A people that assist in giving me headaches, and one other girl who, like me, does not give a flying rip about what we do. The other girl and I are just trying to survive the semester without banging our head against a wall all the time from the frustration we have at constantly being told 17 different things to do by the 3 taking control and the two type-A-er's.
I thought I was going crazy because I figured everyone was all hunky dory with everyone else in our group. Turns out, the same things and people that frustrate me are the same things/people that are irritating others. I'm not as crazy as I believe!
Ultimately, that realization was nice to have today. I'm glad that I'm not the only one thinking all these things and experiencing these stresses.
One of these days, I'll learn my lesson. One day I will learn that no matter how close I get to someone, I cannot tell them what's going on in my head. One day, I will go somewhere new, where I no nobody at all. I will start over and they will know nothing of my past. I will be cheery around them and save my baggage for myself and unload it when I am home alone. One day, I will learn. People can't handle the molecule, or even atom, that they ask to know. They just can't handle it. One day, I will learn this.
For now, I will get used to the loneliness that I had put aside because people wanted to get close. I will learn to deal with my shit on my own, again. I will move on and try to keep fighting another day. It will get easier again. I will be fine.
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
Compassion Fatigue
I absolutely love working in the hospital. It is so great getting to work on so many floors with so many different nurses, CNA's, and other staff members. It makes clinicals so amazing because I already know everyone and I have gotten quite a few job offers of sorts.
After the incident with EXboyfriend, I had been going down the sleep slope of compassion fatigue. I feel like I care for everyone else, and I do so with all that I have in my heart, but nobody cares for me. Everyone demands so much of me but nobody is willing to shoulder any of my burden, they won't even listen about my burden. So, I am getting increasingly more isolated (even from "close" friends and family) and yet everyone is demanding more and more from me.
I get it, everyone has their own problems and everyone needs help. I totally understand. However, why does it seem okay for everyone to just expect everything from me? Often without even asking if I'm willing to do things, they just assume that I will be available because apparently I have no life and no needs of my own.
I'm not allowed to be selfish for one second. I have to take care of patients who need complete, total care and deal with nurses and CNA's who sometimes don't step foot in the room because the patient needs a sitter so I should be able to completely handle the patient all night long, alone.
I have to keep my shit together, not have any kind of support from anyone, be able to support everyone around me, and slap on a smile so that nobody knows what's going on in my dungeon of a mind.
So, I fight a battle nobody knows about. I have scars nobody has seen and nobody can ever understand. I am completely alone in this world carrying burdens that nobody will help me with. I carry pain with me that nobody can comprehend and I fight for every breath I take. I cry when I'm alone because for the first time in about 6 months, I am finally able to and sometimes I just need to feel something instead of the rage growing inside of me and the numbness from being completely unable to handle any of the immense troubles that weigh down every step I try to take. I am being crushed. I am being consumed absolutely alive by flames while simultaneously drowning and I get no relief anywhere or from anyone.
Oh, so this all led me to quit my job. I have to finish out another two months, or so, but I sent in my resignation letter to my boss last night during my shift. I don't know if I'll be able to be a nurse because I can't even take care of my own basic needs like sleeping or eating properly. How am I supposed to care for anyone else? My heart feels so empty anymore, I don't know if I have the capacity to care for anyone else anymore.
That was my news. Saying that I quit my job was the original purpose of this post but I went a little crazy... I'm sorry guys.
After the incident with EXboyfriend, I had been going down the sleep slope of compassion fatigue. I feel like I care for everyone else, and I do so with all that I have in my heart, but nobody cares for me. Everyone demands so much of me but nobody is willing to shoulder any of my burden, they won't even listen about my burden. So, I am getting increasingly more isolated (even from "close" friends and family) and yet everyone is demanding more and more from me.
I get it, everyone has their own problems and everyone needs help. I totally understand. However, why does it seem okay for everyone to just expect everything from me? Often without even asking if I'm willing to do things, they just assume that I will be available because apparently I have no life and no needs of my own.
- I don't have weekend plans so I can drive my 5 different friends who are on 5 completely different flights to the airport that is 2 and a half hours away, on a Friday night and Saturday morning, no less.
- Sure, I will pay attention in class while you screw around on Pinterest in the back and then give you a play-by-play of exactly what happened in class and every important piece in information you need to know.
- Sure, I will puppy sit all the puppies and not have any chance at a relaxing weekend or any chance at sleeping in.
- Sure, I will be forced to make all the decisions for my school group and friend group and then be criticized at every turn because what I finally chose doesn't work for anyone but nobody else has a fucking idea of what they want to do.
I'm not allowed to be selfish for one second. I have to take care of patients who need complete, total care and deal with nurses and CNA's who sometimes don't step foot in the room because the patient needs a sitter so I should be able to completely handle the patient all night long, alone.
I have to keep my shit together, not have any kind of support from anyone, be able to support everyone around me, and slap on a smile so that nobody knows what's going on in my dungeon of a mind.
So, I fight a battle nobody knows about. I have scars nobody has seen and nobody can ever understand. I am completely alone in this world carrying burdens that nobody will help me with. I carry pain with me that nobody can comprehend and I fight for every breath I take. I cry when I'm alone because for the first time in about 6 months, I am finally able to and sometimes I just need to feel something instead of the rage growing inside of me and the numbness from being completely unable to handle any of the immense troubles that weigh down every step I try to take. I am being crushed. I am being consumed absolutely alive by flames while simultaneously drowning and I get no relief anywhere or from anyone.
Oh, so this all led me to quit my job. I have to finish out another two months, or so, but I sent in my resignation letter to my boss last night during my shift. I don't know if I'll be able to be a nurse because I can't even take care of my own basic needs like sleeping or eating properly. How am I supposed to care for anyone else? My heart feels so empty anymore, I don't know if I have the capacity to care for anyone else anymore.
That was my news. Saying that I quit my job was the original purpose of this post but I went a little crazy... I'm sorry guys.
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