It Hasn’t Been a While Since Writing Here(and fuck that song)

These days are up and down. I don’t feel any better at all. The panic attacks are getting worse. I walk around with cold flashes hitting me like torrential waves. The sadness is back in a hard knot. And I’m angry all the time at how the girls and i have nothing, and the people who should have had shoulders for leaning didn’t care and I let it break me (see? Both assigning blame elsewhere but still all the guilt for allowing it!Fanfuckingtastic!)

I slept two hours last night, and I’m still wide awake after all this time. However,  I’ve had energy today. Which had me doing dishes and sorting clothes to get rid of. And dancing at 3am to Tori and the Mac and Sarah McLachlan.

But now I hear birds chirping and I want to write. I worked on an article to submit to Dear Hope and I’m… Not pleased exactly but the words were coming the way I wished for. It took a lot out of me. I need to be calm and breathe and sleep. Also call and place yet another complaint about how all this medication seems to be doing is making me braver about telling folk off, but the payment is fetal position in a blanket cave on the couch for four hours so I don’t feel as if it’s helping.

Anyway, good morning. How are you? I’d honestly like to know.

Other People Do

My life feels like a series of mistakes. Part of my self esteem issues definitely come from that.

It seems like I haven’t been a person in a long time.

My ex-husband had.  OK. Has. A drug problem. Because even when you’re medicated correctly for it, it’s always there. It controls everything eventually. Even things like “Am I going to buy food today” were iffy.

I tried hard to be understanding. Because I grew up seeing people live with it. And I knew he had a lot of emotional issues. But I cared.

I tried. I still try. I am not in a relationship with him. But I still feel responsible for taking care of him. In his bad moments he has blamed me for how bad it got. And even when fighting him about it I took the blame into my soul. Saying “It’s not my fault,” but feeling like I deserved living the half life with him.

I have a friend. We dated back when I was still a kid. Below 21. I’m a different person now. So is he. We were talking for like a minute. Do you want to know the thing I enjoyed best about it?

We didn’t have feelings for each other. He likes me all right. But I was mostly convenient for the moment.

But that’s okay. Because I’m not in love with him. I won’t be in love with him. I won’t be hurt.

I’d kind of like to have that. Someone to hang out with, but not hurt over. If he messages, cool. If he doesn’t, cool. I want to have what other people have.

And no, no sexual talk or shit. No typical bpd crazy stupid decisions. Though he did try. And I’d answer certain questions honestly because I’m trying to be honest about stuff and when he pushed it I’d laughingly and kind of gloss over it. Because I didn’t want… Idk. I mean, I really miss sex. But I just didn’t want to. Not yet anyway. Not him.

But not John. So that’s a good step in the right direction.

I want to be a person again. I’m not a drug addict.  I don’t want to live like one.

I just want to have someone to stave off the loneliness with.

I’m not healed. I mean, I do. I still miss him. Every moment. Every moment it aches. But I have to face that he’s gone. The boy I loved wasn’t real. And that’s it. I am settled in the facts. I will always miss him. But everything about us is gone. I just want to find something similar. I miss connection.

I don’t know if I like the medicine they started me on. I’ve had at least one panic attack a day. My blood pressure is fluctuating noticeably. The numbness is gone.

I want to be other people. I want what other people do. I just want to live a whole life.

How can I get that?

A text

I sent mom a long text. It’s an ultimatum. Not because I’m angry, but because I need to stop the cycles of misery I’m in with the people who are supposed to love me.
Posting it because I need to remember when I’m lost again:

I’m texting because I can’t seem to get my thoughts out on the phone. I am going g to tell you the same thing I told Nathan.
I am not well. And you picking fights with me is not helping. Your first priority is to take care of yourself and that’s fine, that’s good. But you have to let me do the same for me. Every time you send me a hateful text letting me know just how much I fail as a person my blood pressure skyrockets. And I’ve never had that problem so it is hurting my body really badly. And since I’m fat and weak it is  sprinting toward “stroke and die”  if this doesn’t mean anything to you, then do me a favor and just tell me. It will be awful because I do love you, but I don’t want to die more. I am not feeling sorry for myself. I am not being a bitch. But I’m not letting you keep control over how we are to each other because the yo-yo of “I only love you when things go my way” is killing me. If you want us to be in each other’s lives, you have to let me try to fix myself. And that might mean I can’t answer the phone sometimes. But you have to stop.

I am not, nor have I ever said you can’t see the girls. Cali has a phone and they both can talk to you on it anytime.

They can come over whenever you all want

You and Nathan are the ones who threaten to steal my children when you don’t get your ways.

I don’t want to fight. But I have to give an ultimatum.

I can’t live this way and be healthy. We can get frustrated with one another without it becoming a huge end all fight.

If you want you and I to still talk,  I do too. But you have to face that I’m in bad shape too, and my first priority has to be me and the girls, then you, then anyone else.

I slept for thirteen hours last night because I crashed and I have energy finally but I hurt all over like I’m pmsing, migraine, car crash, pancreatic, and galleries attack all in one. And I’m not used to the blood pressure stuff because mine has always stayed low and it’s scaring me.

I love you and I don’t want to fight but I’m not going to back down from anyone else, partly because I’m so agitated from the high bp but also I’m tired of being jerked around by everyone else’s mood swings.

D-d-d-down

New meds. My new shrink took me off Amatriptaline and started me on Abilify.  Thinking it’s supposed to make the manic episodes easier.

So far it’s just messed heavily with my blood pressure. And when it normalizes I sleep for hours and wake up crampy and sore. I’ve not had many bp issues before so it’s all a big shock to my system. Of course I haven’t had it long enough to see many good benefits yet. So I’m not going to ragequit it just yet.

To be honest, if people weren’t selfish hateful ffdbs here I’d be okay.

Wow. OK. Like, things like the above have started coming out. I’ve always been the mouth shut person. I don’t judge. I try to be kind. And it’s not because I’m actually nice. It’s because I want to be liked. The depression is bitterness at myself for being such an inner bitch.

I want to be a supervillain. Regina on Once Upon a Time. That’s the closest to my mental state. Only i keep it in because I don’t have fabulous magic powers.

I was going to share something from my Facebook page that shows this, but I can’t. I’m on the phone and it won’t copy and paste. Go look it up if you’d like. Add me if you want as well, just throw a message letting me know where you came from. I don’t add just random people who want to puff out their friends lists. But if you’re from here you’re part of my extended online tribe. Amy Linebaugh Mays is my name on there.

Upsey Daisy

I am not well.

I haven’t slept for days. I tried. It’s not happening. I have melatonin at the pharmacy but no way to get it. And I had to discontinue the Elavil so I’m without any antidepressant in my brain and it’s scary just how On my brain is, but with no direction.

I used to do this. But I could lose myself in writing and it was so electrifying. But I still can’t write. Even though at this moment the hurt is gone and the hope isn’t a memory. I can’t.

I was finally able to get in with a psychiatrist. Seven months. But I went in and for the first time, someone looked past the depression and said “We need to calm down your brain.  You can’t level out if you end up crashing so down you can’t function.”

So. Abilify. I’m worried as hell about the side effects. There are some scary ones. Like  “Over ten percent has excessive weight gain” and “Cases of sudden unexplained death”. Which, given the whole severe manic anxiety thing, I think, “I know how my crappy dice lands.”  This dread and terror and the whole empty please for my brain to relax. To wish for slices of normalcy. Why not me?

Please let me sleep. Please. And a good dream?  They’ve been so dark lately. So exhausting. I need rest.

Please.

Down

I lost it. 

Just a few minutes ago. 

I had been numb enough for a few days. Even saying out loud, “You know… I’m glad I’m going to stay single.  I’m glad everything happened and I don’t have to deal with relationship crap. I’m better off.”

Meds, I’m sure. I’d even believed it. Then the stupidest thing. We’ve been watching Parks and Recs. Stupid show. But there are some amusing bits.  Then Ben knelt in front of Leslie and she said, “Wait. I want to remember this moment.  I want to remember how perfect my life is right now.”

My life is empty.  I’ve been struggling just to get out of this chair. But I got to the point that I didn’t care. Because I am used to everything being shitty. I’m used to being worried that I can pay my bills up til the last second. I’m used to being tired. I’m used to hurting all the time. I’m used to knowing that I am not someone would ever want, so I don’t have to worry about being in a relationship and being abandoned.  I know that ten years from now I’ll still be alone. I know that it won’t get easier. Ever. It will just keep getting worse until I drown.

But I saw what anyone else can have. And it made me break.

“I hear sound, echo in the emptiness. All around, but you can’t change this loneliness. Look what you’ve found I’m going down.”   -Down, by Something Corporate

Impermanence

Nothing is permanent and nothing is trivial.

Heartaches fade. Memories blur. You stop hearing their voices and the dreams with them begin to comfort rather than hurt.

You can’t clutch to anything. Hold them loosely in your grip, so when they go there’s less damage.

Love freely, love deeply, and don’t take anything for granted. We are owed nothing in this world, not even the next breath.

I’ve lost everything and everyone, started over, more than once. I miss more people than I have right now.

But I’m still breathing.

I don’t know how. Each loss, each new beginning, they get harder. My body wears down, my heart hardens.

Right now I’m surviving. Right now I’m alive. There’s nothing to look forward to. No one i can count on but myself.

But then Kiera curls up against me. Or Cali puts her hand on her hip and tilts her head, huffing in exasperation.

I’m still here.

I’m not happy. I don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again. I don’t know where my life will be even a month from now.

Impermanence. Importance. Love and loss and existence.

I am alone. I am alive.

I am alive.

Dread

My worst secret, the most horrible terrible secret, is that I am terrified. About death. About dying. About after.

I used to have faith. I don’t even remember going to church very much, but I would pray and talk to God constantly.  I believed in the Plan, and souls moving on and Heaven holding loved ones and if you were kind and good and believed you would be surrounded in that joy and peace.

I want to believe. I want to have Faith. But I am so scared. What if it’s wrong?  What if it’s false hope and there’s nothing?  The thought of not existing, of my daughters, my mom, the people I have loved, not existing, horrified me and keeps me up pacing and sobbing at night. I used to love the night. I used to feel peaceful. But now I’m just filled with sorrow and homeless dread.

How do people hope? I want to have faith. Howdy you have faith? I know some people are agnostic and atheist or any of the numerous beliefs all over the world… Who is right and who is wrong and how do the ones who believe we cease stand breathing because I am so scared and I feel alone and abandoned by everyone and Everyone and how do they keeping? How do they keep breathing?

No one has ever talked about this feeling with me. Well… I’ve tried. I would be John or Nathan to tell me. Tell me it’s okay and my fears are false and it will be okay. But Howland I really be assured unless someone shows me? How do people have faith? How do they let go and just believe?

Untitled

I can’t stop crying.

I’ve been up since 3 and I’ve cried pretty much continuously.

I will never belong. I will never be a priority.

My heart hurts so much right now.

It wasn’t a bad day. It was a good day. I was glad to spend time down there.

But I will never belong. 

I want to forget. My soul is a burn victim. The surface is blackened and dead and underneath it’s just raw meat and screaming nerves.

I don’t want to care. I don’t want to hurt anymore. I need to lose this before it drains all the color from my life and On dies into Kansas.

Didn’t I used to be strong? How have I survived this long with my emotions being so fragile?

How do people feel happy? Or calm. Peace. Faith. How does faith feel? What is it like to look forward to tomorrow?