Terrible Day

This morning I was walking around feeling sorry for myself. I was mad because my husband and I had gone to a "mixer' for work last night and we had to leave early. I missed out on winning a door prize that was a trip somewhere.

This morning I was convinced that my life was pretty crappy. I didn't win the prize, I had to wear the same outfit that I have worn over and over, I have a crack in my windshield that I can't afford to get fixed.

This morning I was jealous of my boss and a coworker because they just came back from a trip and each got a gaming system that I want. The one coworker won a tv.

This morning I found out that another coworker I work with just called in and told us his son just died. He was only 8. It was something related to pneumonia and it was fairly sudden. We knew he was ill but thought he was getting better.

This morning I realized I am self-centered and selfish.

Takes one to know one...

This part of me is very difficult to write about. It comes to me when the depth of my sorrow, the enormities of who I can be beats me down and I can no longer bear it.

This part of me is not acceptable, not an appropriate way of handling life, and by no means do I condone it. I have to say it has been over a year since it has happened to me, and I am glad for that.

During the Sleepover there was a young girl in with me. She was not allowed to leave daily like I was. She was pretty but wore her hair stringy and her clothes baggy and large. She was terrible thin, and when she came into the TV room where I was, the large yellow shirt only enhance how ugly she was trying to make herself. Her main reason for staying was for anorexia, one of several girls that were there for that.

She stood beside me while I kind of watched TV.

"Your a cutter too."

I looked up and saw she was speaking to me. The t-shirt I was wearing didn't cover my arms entirely and the self-inflicted cuts that I had made on my arms were visible. In the psychward there wasn't much need to hide who you were.

Her shirt was a v-neck and all over her chest I could see cuts much deeper than I had done on myself. They were many. She lifted her her shirt some and I could see that they were all over her abdomen and arms. She said they were all over her legs as well.

"Yes I am."

It seems to be a gift that we as humans have to pick out those who are like us. My gay friends say they can pick out other homosexuals. Racists and pedophiles seems to find each other in droves. I can pick out another crazy person at a hundred yards.

We spoke for a bit and she told me she had been raped. We didn't talk about the details much. I don't know if she was telling the truth or not. Sometimes at the Sleepover the truth of how we ended up in there became blurred. What was 100 percent true was she was having a very difficult time.

"They don't get it do they?"

"No they don't", I replied.

Most think that we do it for attention, that we hurt ourselves so that others will feel sorry for us. For the most part, at least for my part this is completely not true. I have hurt myself in private and my husband has never known. Sometimes he has not found out until I am nearly healed.

What is does for me is help tame the demons in my mind that are telling me to put the knife to my wrists instead of at the soft skin of my arms. When the abyss has no bottom, the cutting causes a physical pain that shocks and then takes away from the emotional pain. The emotional pain is far worse, the physical has an analgesic effect. The result lasts for a couple of days. When I dress and my clothing rubs against it or someone in my family touches it, it reminds me that there is another pain besides the one that usually controls me.

I have chose to become healthy so I have chosen not to do this anymore. I have taken the weapon that I have hidden in my room and thrown it away. There have been times that I have wanted to, but I simply cannot allow myself to do it. I have little girls that I need to be an example to, and by no means can I allow this to be an acceptable practice for them. They rely on me to be healthy, and I am doing my best to be the best mom that I can for them. I don't want to be that mom, the mom that hurts herself anymore. I do not want to lie to them, to tell them it was our cat that scratched me.

So I am taking this year of not cutting as a positive milestone. I want to me normal so badly.

Not Up To Current Standards

I have spent most of my life with my thoughts twisted. My perceptions have been off and because of this I have learned not to trust what I am thinking.

In my maturing with this illness I have learned to adapt. I asks those around my that I trust if what I am feeling is right, and also watch them to see if what I am feeling is applicable to the situation. This has taken a very long time to happen, and I have a ways to go.

Up to this point my feelings were so messed up and people kept telling me what I was feeling was wrong, so I began to doubt my thoughts and my feelings. And really, though my feelings were and still sometimes are inappropriate, they are still feelings that I am having. They needed to be acknowledged and dealt with. I would have my parents and teachers telling that I wasn't sad, or didn't have any reason to be sad. I shouldn't be angry and that person wasn't being mean to me. This may have been true, but I needed assistance in developing the skills to see the difference between my illnesses perception and what a normal perception should be.

Into adulthood, I struggle with asserting myself effectively because I doubt my decisions and then my thoughts get messed up. Thankfully now I have a husband that I run my thoughts through with and he lets me know if they are appropriate. I have people I trust at work that I get to read my emails and bosses that role play situations with me to help me through.

I see my friends that are ill struggle with this. They have difficulty standing up for themselves when it comes to their health and their life because they too are doubting who they are and their decision making process.

I am lucky to have found a fantastic family doctor that believes me when I tell him what I am feeling. He believes in the truth that your mind get sick too. I have several friends that are all struggling in getting their doctors to understand and help them cope with who they are.

There is no shame in being mentally ill.

I am angry because currently I have two friends that are being proactive in getting their mental health under control and they are being let down by their doctors. One of my friends needs to go for her own Sleepover. She needs to go in as an inpatient and take the time to get leveled out. She is going up and down multiple times in an hour. She is either crying or laughing hysterically. For some reason her doctor is not open to this and because she has been doubting herself for so long that she just trusts her doctor.

Another friend I have seen struggle for a few years. He had thought it was hidden from us but we could see. He is deeply creative and intelligent. He goes through periods of hyper-involvement, like writing several songs at one time or blogging constantly, to completely separating himself from everything. He talks of giving up his music and stops talking to his friends. He has taking the steps to go and see someone because he has decided that he needs some assistance.

His doctor told him he has allergies.

Because my friend is unsure of what is going on with himself he is trusting this. Maybe he does have allergies. (I really don't think so but...Here I go doubting myself.)

There are going to be people who doubt the significance of our disease, even doctors. For some reason even doctors believe being mentally ill is shameful and will do anything to avoid a diagnosis.

Well its not.

It is like they think you are going to marked for life if you are treated for the crazies. It is like the episode of the Simpsons when Homer wears the pink shirt to work and ends up with INSANE stamped on him.

I have been through the psychward and the worst thing that is happened to me is I cannot carry a gun and cannot join the police force.

Well I have already been in the police force and it wasn't so great. What do I need a gun for?

We need to start trusting our feelings and demanding help. As we get better then we will trust the rest of our thoughts.

Soon, we will get the SANE stamp on our hand and wearing all white shirts again.