The Secret About Me

I am very adept at putting “normal” on my face and hiding my real self from most people. However, sometimes anxiety strikes me and I become overwhelmed with whatever it is that I am feeling overwhelmed about.

Why am I this way? This is how I feel…

It feels like so many people during my life have taken so many chunks of me that I am continually morphing into less of a person – mostly because the very same people that have taken those pieces, harshly judge me, causing me to feel that I am less – not worthy – and broken.

It feels like these particular people who have “picked me to death” throw stones at me and with each stone which is thrown, it feels like I am becoming less and less.

Fear consumes me; fear of more painful rejection, fear of making mistakes, fear of being punished, fear of being abandoned, and fear of being lost. My fear is the child of low self esteem who was conceived from the actions and words of unkind people.

All my life I have had to become less so certain people in my life could become more. Because, to them, to become more was to take away from someone else. You know that type.

So I struggle. I struggle with anxiety. I struggle to rid my thoughts of those horrible memories and to fill my mind only with that which is kind, and good, and true, and beautiful.

I must forgive. I must forgive my attackers and I must forgive myself. I am working on it. Sometimes, it is just so hard. So damn hard.

Now that I have told you my secret… I’m not sure if I can hit “Publish” — because it is so much easier to hide.

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One of Those Days

Sometimes it isn't easy to fight against all the negativity that has come our way in our lifetime. There are days that all that negativity in my life bans together to gang up on me. Today is one of those days.

Do you ever feel like all the harsh words and wrongful deeds ever done to you and all the mistakes that you have made in the past, are all tumbling down on top of you? It sure feels like that to me today. I keep hearing all these negative and hurtful things being said to me and seeing all the mistakes that I have made.

I REFUSE TO LISTEN TO THOSE NEGATIVE THOUGHTS!

Instead, I am allowing the sonshine to fill up my beautiful and tortured soul.

Picture from Pinterest. (Thank you Pinterest).

 

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Victim Victim Fool Fool!

In non-functional families (I am trying to avoid using the term, “dysfunctional”), there is always at least one person that is in the victim role. Unfortunately, in my family, that would be me.

I grew up being the victim sometimes gracefully but most of the time, not so gracefully.

My personality is such that I automatically trust trusted people. I was stinkin' nice. Always believing in the “golden rule.” Treat people nice and they will treat you nice.

I spent my childhood being chased down the street by my sister with a butcher knife in her hand because I “borrowed” some of her clothes without asking. We fought constantly and often used our fists. She was selfish and self-centered, and I was always in the “survival” mode around her. For some reason, my mother thought this was okay.

I learned to avoid her as much as I possibly could. I learned that my mother would always take up for my sister – to her, she was perfect and I was the “problem” child. I stayed at my grandmother's as much as I possibly could.

With my sister's abuse and the emotional abuse from our father, our home was my nightmare.

In today's world, people think of victims as fools. We are fools because we are considered mindless and weak. (Maybe that is my problem, I am mindless and weak).

When I married I looked forward to being away from the place I was constantly being victimized. Finally! I would be loved, wanted, and needed, and would never again be a victim. What I found, however, is, I did not know any other way to be, but as a victim. When I divorced him, he victimized me even more.

As victims, our self esteem is destroyed and we learn to go inward with all of our emotions; our anger, our fears, and all of our emotional pain.

Because if we don't, again, we are considered weak and are victimized mor

That word, “victim” not only defined me, it chased me, it terrorized me, it abused me, and it threw me into the darkness of severe depression and mental illness. I fought it, I screamed, I kicked, I just wanted to die, but most of all I wanted to survive WITHOUT being a victim! But how? How does one stop being in the role of victim?

Love…maybe that is the answer! I will find someone who really does love me and will treat me with love and respect. I will find a man that will “adore” me and who I will adore. There is a problem with that. Soon you become the victim of gossip and wagging tongues. You are called a “whore”, a “bad” girl, a “hussy”, someone no right-minded good man would want.

For awhile alcohol seemed to do the trick. Alcohol “seemed” to keep me from being the victim. I didn't have to feel all the emotional pain of being victimized. There is a problem with that too. Soon, you become the victim of the alcohol.

I have learned, there is no shortage of victimizers. And, there are no shortage of victims. I have learned that victims are always human. Although many victimizers are humans, some victimizers are not always in “human” form. We can become victims of love, alcohol, drugs, money, greed, work, and you fill in the blank.

What there is a shortage of in this crazy and mixed up world is… kindness, love, and understanding. Until this world is filled with more people with these qualities, there will always be plenty of victims and victimizers.

This is our final day for the Zero to Hero Challenge. I have learned a lot from this challenge and am looking forward to future challenges to further my blogging skills. Thank you to all my readers and friends that have stuck with me through this challenge. I wish you all much success in all your future endeavors, as well as, in your blogging future.

 

The Secret

The news was devastating. My heart broke into a billion pieces and the blood began draining out of me, drip by agonizing drip.

Lies all lies! Horrible cruel lies!

My entire world came crashing down.

The monster raged into my world with his contemptuous claws, gripping my mind with such vengeance, it became impossible for me to escape. I was trapped; trapped in a terrifying abyss of unspeakable fear and egregious pain. This monster took my heart and ripped it out of my chest with such vengeance, the pain was unbearable. My mind became a chaotic mess of terrifying fear and excruciating pain. The vengeance unleashed on me was unbearable. There is only two words to explain this formidable monster. Hell, pure hell and abomination. Heinous and terrifying thoughts raced through my mind constantly, robbing me from any peace and from all precious sleep.

It had come true. My worst fear had come true.

DO NOT TRUST ANYONE. NEVER TRUST ANYONE AGAIN. NEVER LOVE ANYONE AGAIN.

My mental illness raged inside of my mind, “I have a secret, a horrible terrifying secret that I can tell no one. Absolutely no one. Constantly pacing, “I have a secret. I cannot tell anyone. I have a secret. Desolation unspeakable horrifying desolation.”

The terror is indescribable. I could not escape it. And, there was no sleep nor no peace with this diabolical monster, only pacing…feverishly pacing just to contain this horrifying secret.

Pacing, continued pacing, up and down the hall while my mind was slowly being destroyed, bit by terrifying bit.

The nurse didn't say a single word, she just began pacing with me. Just the two of us, pacing up the hallway and pacing down the hallway. Back and forth. After quite some time of pacing and and without stopping, she quietly asked, “Will you sit down and talk with me?”

(NO! I CANNOT! I HAVE TO KEEP PACING! I MUST KEEP THIS SECRET!) “No.” I answered, “I cannot.”

Again, she gently asked,”Please… come sit with me.”

I sat down at the table with her, terrified and confused. She sat across from me, took one of my hands and calmly asked, “What's wrong?”

My fear was so overwhelming all I could do was whisper, “I cannot tell you.”

“Why can't you tell me?” she asked.

(How can I possibly tell her about this monster, this this..heinous monster, that is forcing me to keep this horrible secret? If I tell, this excruciating pain I am feeling and everything going on inside my head, will become real and be unleashed on others).

“I can't tell you. If I tell you it will come true.” (It was already true for me)

“No. No, it won't. It won't come true. I promise, it won't come true,” she assured me.

Something inside me told me, it was time. It was time to trust. It was time to expose this heinous monster.

Maybe it was her kindness, or her soft reassuring voice, or maybe it was because I knew she wanted to help me. I knew she knew the pain and terror I was in and wanted to help me out of it.

I fought back the tears. I fought back all the fear. I fought the monster. I took a deep breath and as I exhaled, I whispered, “It's the end of the world.”

“No it isn't,” she assured me. “It isn't the end of the world.”

I looked into her eyes, searching…are you sure? Can I believe you?

Yes.

At that very moment, I could feel…

my healing had begun.

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Day 27 of Zero to Hero Challenge. Our challenge for today was to revisit a post and rewrite it, or to visit one of our challenges from the past 27 days and improve on that.

I chose to rewrite this post because it is such a profound experience of my past, and basicially one of the reasons I am blogging.

My mental illness was caused from severe depression in combination with a chemical imbalance.

Mental illness exists and it happens to ordinary people. People need to have a better understanding of mental illness. Those who are suffering need to know they aren't alone and that healing is possible. They need to know it isn't hopeless. Families need to know their loved ones aren't hopeless.

We all need to know; there really is a light still shining inside all that darkness.

Daily Prompt: A Close Encounter to the After Life

My family owns property next to a river which is fed from a lake nearby. During the summers our family would gather there and spend the weekends together.

One Saturday morning, as I was driving to the river, I came upon a part of the road that had drop-off cliffs on both sides of the road.  Prior to getting to this particular part of the road, I had to come over a hill. It wasn’t until I topped that hill did I see that there was a van stopped in the right lane of the highway. The driver and the passengers of the van had abandoned the van in the middle of the highway and had walked down the cliffs to gather firewood.

Immediately, I looked to see if I could go around him safely. However, there was a large car coming in the opposite direction making that impossible. I checked my rearview mirror and a truck was topping the hill behind me, at a very high speed, destined to hit the back of my car. I was stuck behind this parked van with vehicles coming in both directions. There was no way to escape the destiny of a four vehicle crash, without driving off the side of a cliff.

I proceeded to honk my horn in one long syllable.  I put my head on the steering wheel and started talking to God. “God, I’m coming to meet you.” I had no doubt that I would soon be dead, as well as the man in the truck and the woman in the car coming in the opposite direction. The situation was grim. At that moment, I turned it over to God, and released my fear.

All of a sudden, the driver of the van, hopped into the driver’s seat and sped off! If he had been even five seconds later, it would have been too late.  He avoided causing a fatal accident by a mere FIVE SECONDS!

Once the danger was over, my anger raged.  I gladly shared with him my middle finger all the way up to my turn off.  Hopefully, I got my point across!  (IDIOT! STUPID STUPID IDIOT!)

I made it to the river property but it took me the rest of the day to stop shaking.  (And my middle finger will never be the same. :D)