My last few posts have been difficult for a number of reasons, all of them self inflicted. This is what I do to myself time and again. I seek out those things which can, (and do), cause me the most pain. When I was younger, it would be seeking physical as well as mental or emotional pain in an effort to break through the growing numbness. To free myself of the depression, free myself from the abyss. I suppose, as I am still in this world, it must have worked to some degree or other, but now I wonder at the cost. To myself, to those around me as they watched me self destruct.
In this case I sought out the most painful thing I could think of in a effort to force a reconnection with the real person inside. I was again slipping under the suffocating mask I had lived with for so long, and I’ll admit, I was desperate to keep it from happening. My coping skills are terrible, where others would find a constructive way to regain their balance, I seek the most destructive. For me, it was the most emotionally traumatic event in recent memory.
This was my phoenix moment.
Even now I cannot read the words I wrote in the days and weeks which found me and my world being ripped apart in a blazing orgy of self destruction without braking down all over again.
And I forced myself to read it again and again.
I have to admit, I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can only pull the trigger so many times before I finally find the bullet.
Sitting here, reading what just wrote, I have to ask myself if this is something I should share. This glimpse into my mind, my heart. This entire blog has been about finding words to express what is inside, what I have, am and will go through as I seek to rebuild myself, not in the image of the past but as my hope for the future. At first I thought to keep it private because I feared being judged by others. I have seen what can happen when one tries to be honest and open in a public forum online. Then I thought, I can’t be the only person dealing with this. There must be others who understand.
Now I wonder, do all these posts seem too much like self pity? Do I come across as someone who just wants to be a miserable wreck?
Yes, I have good days. Yes I make some small progress. Yes, there are times when I am truly happy. Yet it seems all I do is write about the bad days, all the lows. All I do is speak of destruction.
I fear speaking these things, sending out this message. I fear the people who have made an effort to support me, though words, thoughts and prayers will soon got fed up and walk away in disgust.
I know personally what a toll dealing with this can take. So often I am exhausted, physically, mentally, emotionally.
A person can only take so much.