Can someone tell me what to do with my pain? I don’t want to write in a fucking journal. My pain is beyond that. As the tears flow down my cheeks. Some land on my phone, as I am blogging this from my cell phone. I feel hate. I feel pain. I feel angry. I feel worthless.
What does one do when reality echoes self loathing and self loathing echoes reality? I am so close to making it to the time when I am eligible for insurance on my new job. I am so close to the edge.
I don’t want to watch the news. I don’t want to go to work. I am tired of pretending I am not miserable. I am tired of fighting my hatred and pain with logic. WTF for? What does logic solve?
Really? A reality show about people with bad teeth? Next there will be a reality show about people with IBS…irritable bowel syndrome. I must admit, the one on the Lifetime Channel about the supposed background about the making of the “supposed” Bachelor/Bachelorette has peaked my interest. So far I have refrained from drinking the kool aid. I won’t lie, I have been known to be a guilty pleasure addict.
I just finished eating too much. Due to my past gastric bypass, this is very uncomfortable. I made a drink do strong I am sure it would knock most people off their ass. I reopened the wound on my stomach. I am waiting for the season premier of the 3rd season of Hannibal to air. My mind is still reeling from the frustrations of the work day.
I have surpassed being lost or stuck in my mask. What happens next. My psychologist would say,”that is up to you. You control your emotions not the other way around.” Bullshit!! I can’t control if they are a whisper or a roar. My ability to control how I react to them is based on how much fuel is in my tank. I am running on fumes. At least I have been for the last 3 nights.
God knew I needed to laugh. If you admit to the guilty pleasure of “Reality TV, ” watch Chrisley Knows Best on USA. I laughed so much my stomach hurts. God gives me what I need to keep going!! Comedy is my LAST choice of genres, but Gid controlled my remote tonight.
I was so mentally exhausted I was on the verge of tears. Then I started cooking grilled pork chops and homemade mashed potatoes.
I have stances and opinions on racism. I have stances and opinions on religion. I am a Black 53 year old Baptist woman. I even grappled with typing Christian or Baptist.
I am a Person who self injures. I am a Person who has dealt with chronic/major…whatever decade …they can change the name a million times ….I have been depressed for more than 4 decades; call it whatever the fuck you want. I have had suicidal ideations for 2 decades. MY relationship with God is MY relationship. I decided when I was 16 that a bunch of people in the Southern Baptist Convention had no right to call me a sinner because I liked to dance. THEY drew that conclusion. God never conveyed that to me. I remember being a child and thinking, “I am going to hell because I masturbated.”
I could go on and on, but will try to make this short. I rarely if ever dealve deeply into religion or my race. Because IT DOESN’T MATTER in relation to this blog. I could share my feelings, rage, hurt….on race relations, on being fat, on what is society’s definition of beauty. What the hell for? Those are symptoms of a larger problem. I share pain, hope, fear, tears, blood. Notice I lead with the word PAIN. I don’t give a fuck if you are ignorant due to homophobia, stupidity, racism, atheism, your definition of Christainity….
Caitlyn Jenner….more power to you. If she has found a way to lessen her pain to the point that she no longer wants to die, more power to her. PAIN comes in so many different guises, so many different symptoms.
How can you love you when you can’t be you? Everyone has their own pasts, their own truths. Their own ways of trying to conceal, to hide, to stay afloat. I really hate to be preachy. I turned on the TV tonight and listened to people that didn’t even know Bruce Jenner and don’t know Caitlyn Jenner debate and argue.
There is too much in my head. I can’t get it out. Lord, please make this next month go quickly. I need my medical insurance benefits. I need to be back in therapy. Too much doubt. Too much fear. Too much not believing in myself. Too tired of pretending I can control my emotions.
This is my second week out of training. I have not cried this week at work thus far. I wake up, get ready for work on auto pilot. Fear sets in about 30 minutes after I wake up. I will bypass the step by step.
Skipping to the part where my head is spinning from too much thinking. I can see the door leading to my cubicle and I wish I could make the hall l-o-n-g-e-r. I can’t turn and run, so I take a deep breathe and walk to my cubicle.
I am down to two wounds. That is not enough. I don’t mean not enough progress. I mean not enough to help the chaos in my head. I still have my cuticles to dig into. A small sense of satisfaction. I am sure I am not the only one who yearns for a switch. A switch we could click to slow things down. To make it easier to breathe….easier to live. I joke about Vodka being my switch. I know better of course, but what is that horrid quote people say all the time? “It is what it is.” I HATE that fucking quote. An old supervisor of mine loved to say that. A supervisor at my next job said it. Just last week my supervisor at my new job said it. I was thinking WTF. Did they all attend the same management seminar?? Then low and behold, I turned on the TV and heard those words again. Maybe I will write those words on a piece of paper with a marker and tape it to my Vodka bottle.
I have written a couple of poems. I have glanced at my DBT book on the couch. Mind you, not touching it, not reading it. The glance was just quick enough to instill guilt. I hear my psychologist’s voice in my head. I see his smile as I come up with new words and ways to avoid saying something positive about myself. I love to make plays on words. I give myself a verbally brilliant backhanded compliment. He shakes his head and smiles. Then I say “that was a good one huh?”
This is my last Saturday off for ETERNITY. Of course I am exaggerating. I am with a new company. It took me three years to work my way up to weekends off and no phones at the Chase call center. I have to work my way up with this new company.
So, it is 3:30 in the afternoon in South Central Texas. The sky is dark as if it were 7pm. Rain, rain, rain is all we have had….the same is forecasted for the next 7 days.
I need to self injur. I am trying to fight the urge by drinking. Not what my beloved therapist would suggest. I should be going through my DBT skills. Umm, no. Blah Blah. I like my idea better. Drink until I fall asleep, thus not breaking my skin until it bleeds.
My hope is to fall asleep to reality TV. Watching disgustingly rich people expose their dirty laundry so that I can tell myself, ” See, your life isn’t so bad.” HaHa😄 This particular mood is but a myriad of the emotions I will cycle through today. At some point, I will celebrate how good my first week out of training went. I will give myself a break. Sit on my patio and enjoy the serene sound of heavy rain. I will throw my head back, close my eyes, and experience moments of peace.