One Step Back Again

I've slipped up.  There are things in my life that I have worked so hard on, and made so much progress on, that are a big giant mess again.

And I've ignored it as long as I can.  Or not noticed.  Or not cared.

But I do care.  Even though it's difficult, I want to change things.  I want to swim upstream because I've tasted the other waters and they were satisfying.

When you are in the flow of things and stop swimming, the tide carries you backwards.  The idea is to notice before you get too far away from where you want to be.  And to keep heading in the right direction.

So I'm back on track, or working to be anyway.  Back to work.  No more floating along wherever life takes me. 

Even if I have to ask for help -- because we all need a life preserver every now and then.

Emotional Vomiting

I really don't know what else to call it.  It's what happens when I am overflowing with emotions and I feel like they are going to consume me, devour me, if I don't get them out.  That's where I am right now.

I've considered some of the coping mechanisms from my past:  scratching a few deep lines into my arms, burning myself with the curling iron, taking something with a sedative effect (an extra Xanax maybe), as well as others I'm still not ready to talk about.

If I were a drinker, I would go out and get plastered.  That sounds pretty good right now.  Anything to stop feeling what I'm feeling now.

But I will try to do it in a healthy way.  I will face and process the pain, even while wanting to slam the laptop on my own fingers.  I will write.

It hurts so bad.  My heart.  It feels like a black hole, sucking and gaping.  Aching.  Empty.  But still so much pain.

I feel so unwanted.  So rejected.  So unvalued.  Like I mean nothing.  Like I am only good for serving others.  Like if I can't do what they want then I am a waste of skin.  Like I am selfish for wanting anything.  Like I don't matter.

I feel like I am standing in the middle of a high school gym full of people and they are all laughing at me.  Pointing and laughing.  Calling me names.  You're stupid.  You're wrong.  Why are you here?  No one wants you here.  No one likes you.  You are ugly.  You are worthless.  You don't belong here.  You are weak.  You are lazy and good for nothing.  We will use you, take what we want, and throw you back into the trash where you belong.

Look at you sitting there, crying like a big baby.  You're so thin-skinned.  You make such a big deal out of everything.  It's not all about you, you know?  Suck it up like the rest of us.  We have problems, too, and you don't see us whining.  We don't want to hear about your silly little problems.  You're world isn't ending so quit being so dramatic.

Pull your self together.  You're such an idiot.  Sometimes life is hard; get used to it.  Deal with it.

You're not worth my time.  Get out of my face -- you make me sick.

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Author's note (the next day):  Writing it out helped.  I am feeling stronger emotionally today.  I am feeling less vulnerable.  I am not going to hurt myself.  I am okay.

My Husband's Feelings

I don't claim to know what he feels.  (Okay, sometimes I do; but just when we are arguing and he claims he isn't upset -- not here.)  But I would like to share what he has expressed.

If I were reading this blog, and someone else were writing it, I would wonder how the husband feels.  If he knows.  So I want to answer that question.

He does know.  He reads this blog and everything else I write and publish.  He knows I write about things from our past that are not pretty.

He supports me and is proud of me.

It's difficult for him to read sometimes.  He doesn't like remembering how ugly it was.  He doesn't like that he did those things.  I'm sure there is embarrassment, even though he hasn't said so.

But he also thinks it's incredibly brave.  He understands that it's important to talk about these things, to help others see.  Some of your comments have helped him see just how important it is, how it has touched your lives and helped you.

When I write something particularly offensive, like my last post, I talk to him first.  I do not ask permission; that would be going backwards.  That would be going back to when I was afraid to do something without his okay, when I was so worried about him and his feelings that mine didn't exist.  Or worried about making him angry.  Or representing him badly.

I tell him what I want to write about.  Then I ask him how he feels about it.  I tell him how I will approach it.  I ask if he is ready.  He shares any concerns he might have.  He tells me what he'd prefer I not share, which is usually what I wouldn't have shared anyway (you know, gory details).

And then I write as honestly as I can.  Before I publish I always look it over to see if I feel good about it.  If I feel I represented everything accurately.  If I stayed true to my promises to him.  Then I publish.

He does not read them before I post.

Then I immediately call or text him to let him know it's done.  I want him to read it so that he knows what others are reading.  So he knows exactly how it unfolded.  And, yes, I go into a little PTSD, worrying that I am in trouble until he signs off on it.  That's going to take some time to get over.

I feel that it's important to consider his wants and feelings as I do this.  I don't think it interferes with the process.  But I am working on my marriage and to just throw him under the bus would not help that.

I just wanted anyone reading this to know where he stands.  I have told him that if he ever wants to write a post here, he is welcome.  Writing isn't really his thing, so he doesn't think he will want to.  But the offer stands.

I hope this helps a few people understand a little better.