Sometimes I go back and read my blogs and see there are words missing that I meant to fill in later, lines that don't make any sense, rambling and getting off-topic...all of these stylistic errors. But I don't write my blogs like essays. I write them as a stream of consciousness. I purge my words and move on... it's my way of decluttering my mind--of stresses, worries, memories, voices, reminders. Because my mind is the biggest obstacle in my life. I realized not too long ago that the brain is fragile and that I can't wait for everything to resolve itself. I have to make the effort to do so otherwise I find things from the past creeping back into the present, occupying my every thought. My mind takes control of me and sometimes makes me someone I can't even begin to recognize, and I say or do things that I wouldn't in otherwise normal situations.
Occasionally, I will go back and change/edit/add things in order to get more of that cathartic feeling, or to clear things up for myself--but rarely for grammar, punctuation, and all that jazz.
But essentially, I write to get the private, raw truth and not some well-told partial
truth to deflect reality. Sure, I filter what I say at times, only
because there are things that are far too shocking to let out on a blog
with thousands of readers. But I share what I can when I need to.
I write what I think will bring me some semblance of peace.
Monday, September 9, 2013
Sunday, September 8, 2013
The Recluse in Me
Today my mother would have been 52....I wish I had more pictures of her...in total I have fewer than 8-10.
There are three times a year that affect me on levels I can't even begin to understand. Her birthday, Christmas, and March/April. I can have no idea what day it is or what month it is, but my body knows. It still responds. I get sick, feel exhausted or depressed, want to just sit and cry, don't want to interact with anyone, like to stay in a dark corner of my room, find it hard to focus....
I know my little sister feels it too because it seems like our bad days line up with one another's.
I was doing SO well being back at school. I was happy and social and loved my classes. And then I saw my psychiatrist about my nightmares. We tried a little EMDR and found really painful memories I can't bring myself to acknowledge. That was Thursday. Friday, yesterday, and today have been overwhelming as far as emotions go. I didn't go to two of my classes Friday. All I wanted to do was be away from everyone.
It's times like these when I am simply a recluse. People can walk by me and I can make eye contact and not recognize there's a person there. I don't recognize people I know. It's not that I don't want to.
The EMDR is helping I'm sure, but it is tough to get through. There's a reason I bury some memories, and I still don't think I'm ready to get to them. I know I have to in order to get better, but I guess.....I'm scared. Of what I don't remember. Of whatever I've locked up inside. Of myself.
There are three times a year that affect me on levels I can't even begin to understand. Her birthday, Christmas, and March/April. I can have no idea what day it is or what month it is, but my body knows. It still responds. I get sick, feel exhausted or depressed, want to just sit and cry, don't want to interact with anyone, like to stay in a dark corner of my room, find it hard to focus....
I know my little sister feels it too because it seems like our bad days line up with one another's.
I was doing SO well being back at school. I was happy and social and loved my classes. And then I saw my psychiatrist about my nightmares. We tried a little EMDR and found really painful memories I can't bring myself to acknowledge. That was Thursday. Friday, yesterday, and today have been overwhelming as far as emotions go. I didn't go to two of my classes Friday. All I wanted to do was be away from everyone.
It's times like these when I am simply a recluse. People can walk by me and I can make eye contact and not recognize there's a person there. I don't recognize people I know. It's not that I don't want to.
The EMDR is helping I'm sure, but it is tough to get through. There's a reason I bury some memories, and I still don't think I'm ready to get to them. I know I have to in order to get better, but I guess.....I'm scared. Of what I don't remember. Of whatever I've locked up inside. Of myself.
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