All I Want to Do is Cut

I honestly don't know what's going on with myself. I feel totally off balance and all I want to do is go back to the cutting... as if that will stop the emotional side of things and regain balance. It's almost becoming a consuming thought. I broke my bracelet, not that losing it would be the reason that I don't go back to it but still it's like the alcoholic saying the serenity prayer in the morning. It was my reminder of where I have been, where I am going, and that I am still in recovery and always will be. I do get a lot of lot of strength from it. I think the only thing right now that stops me from doing it is the fact it has been 5 years now. I don't want to trade in the 5 years clean but I really do want to shut my mind off and make it go away!

I can't pinpoint one specific trigger but I can say there are quite a few different things weighing heavily on my mind right now. For one, if I don't have a summer job then I will be facing eviction. I wish that I could push that fact out of my mind and just concentrate on school but I can't. I have always been one to worry even about things that are out of my control. I mean I have some control over it but I can't start work for another month so really there is no point worrying about it. Doesn't stop me though.

A couple of weeks ago I got a letter from the dean for academic achievement. Should have been great news. And I was proud of myself for about 2 minutes. Then the thought crossed my mind, "even if she isn't proud of me I am." That really put a damper on my mood. I just wish that mom could be proud of me. I'm on the dean's list here. High up in the program. And then it just left me feeling like none of it mattered. After all I am killing myself for good grades and for what? I am the only one it matters too. That was made worse by the fact I was beating myself up for getting an 80% on an assignment. An 80% is still a good mark. But I was really upset with myself for it. I put way too much pressure on myself to do well... and some of that is because I keep thinking that if I do really well I will earn her respect... love even... Unconditional love? What is that? No idea.... Well I do.... but that comes more from my cat than from her....

Skip ahead to this week. This week was St. Patrick's Day. I hate St. Patrick's Day even though I am Irish. Nothing like the anniversary of losing your virginity to a date rape happening on a holiday. Then it becomes kind of in your face and even if you wouldn't have remembered otherwise... now you do. And people want to know what your plans are... and why you are not wearing green... and all you want to do is get through the day and pretend that it doesn't exist. It's been 18 years so most times it's not that big a deal. I am not haunted by the images any longer. But this year it has been different. The day before I was with a few class mates in the cafeteria and for whatever reason the topic of discussion was losing your virginity, parental sex education, menstruation and what not. One of my buddies does not like the topic at all and was pretty uncomfortable. He wasn't alone. For them it was all "ha ha" moments. But for me well... my parents skipped the sex ed conversation since to them you just don't have it before marriage (sorry mom and dad but as of writing this I have now had 35 partners... and very few of them I even gave a damn about). I was neglected so when it came to coming of age I had to teach myself everything which is a source of embarrassment. But really... thanks for the reminder that my first time was rape.... Because my parents didn't seem to think a 13 year old dating an 18 year old was an issue. And by them talking about it... especially so close to the actual anniversary I ended up reliving it and then everything that has happened since. I pretty much bolted from the conversation and then got to relive the sexual violence.

I don't know how to make it stop. I have been restless... not able to get any work done.... angry... upset... hurt... all these emotions. I almost snapped on a couple of good friends just to push them away. A little projection any one? or at least defense mechanisms. I guess I just really want to be numb. I want to feel nothing. Which leads to me wanting to cut in the hopes that it would allow me to be numb.

Random Musings

Call it therapy… Call it venting… Call it whatever. Solace… Withdrawal… These are all words that describe my world at the moment, or at least what I would like. There is something to be said for isolation. I always thought that it was about the number of friends you have and being popular. I have since learned that it is better to have a few friends that you can depend on. And sometimes you just need complete and utter isolation. Time alone to think… to reflect… to heal. My biggest challenge to that comes in the form of technology. For as far as we have advanced it takes away from the peace and tranquility. Now we are just caught up in the television and the internet and all these things that take up our time and allow distraction. It brings with it a whole new form of escapism. No longer do you need drugs or alcohol. Just connect to the internet and spend hours chatting with people, playing games, or various other tasks. They say that it is the global community… but to me it simply brings more isolation.

Believe me I do a fantastic job as it is for escaping. I can avoid things like no other. And I can change the topic without people noticing. It’s a practiced skill. The question is, why do I choose to escape? Why do I avoid cleaning out the closet and getting rid of the skeletons that are contained there? It is much healthier to deal with it and move on.

For everyone there is a different reason. For me I think it stems from fear. I’m not afraid of the skeletons per se. I am afraid of feeling the emotions that go along with it. From the time I was young I was taught that crying equaled weakness so I vowed not to cry… and more importantly not to let anyone see me cry. It was as if they would then think I am a weak individual.

For years I was numb… I felt nothing at all. Now when faced with any type of strong emotion I want to suppress it and go back to being numb. Being numb is where I am comfortable. It’s easy to stay there and not move forward. It’s much more challenging to step out of that comfort zone, face those “issues” and then move forward.

It was this desire not to feel anything that led to me turning to self-injury. Somewhere I learned along the way that it is easier to deal with physical pain then with emotions. By cutting myself it gave me something else to focus on. There was the rush of endorphins and, of course, the fact self-preservation is paramount. Cutting is also about taking care of yourself. I didn’t have anyone taking care of me and as absurd as it sounds it was soothing. So part of the fear is that I will be so overwhelmed that I will go back to the self-injury in an attempt to cope with everything that has happened. It’s not entirely unrealistic since I am still tempted at times.

And dealing with the family also raises other questions. From the time I was little I was taught that you respect your parents. But what if they don’t deserve your respect? I feel obligated to respect them even though they don’t deserve it.

Forgiveness is also key in the Christian faith. And this is one I really struggle with. Do I need to forgive them? They hurt me and abuse has a lasting effect so I don’t want to forgive them. By not forgiving them I feel like I am this horrible person. I feel this even though it was not my fault and the way I was treated was not right. My parents won’t even acknowledge that they might have done anything wrong which makes it even harder.

The Bible also talks about being slow to anger. I know that to face the past and those skeletons is going to involve a wide range of emotions… including anger. Again, I feel like I am this really bad person for being angry with my parents. I don’t like anger… and it is undoubtedly the emotion that I find the most unsettling. Whenever I get angry I immediately want to feel peace. It is by far the single strongest emotion to lead back to self-injury.

So maybe being a Christian is a detriment to the whole healing process. We create this image of our parents as a deity and it is very difficult to change that. And if I face the truth and the pain it means dealing with the emotions to go with it. And it means facing the fact my parents are not god-like and I did not deserve what they did. I was a kid… an innocent kid… and they took that from me. It also means separating myself from Christianity at least until after I work through some of the grief, anger, and pain. Not to say I am giving up my faith... just working through those emotions.

They say the first step is admitting. So I am admitting that I never should have been treated this way. And I am admitting that I struggle with the emotional response to it. And I admit that I struggle with the "Christian" response to it all. After that comes the process of healing and dealing with it. Let’s see if I have the courage to face that process and allow myself to grieve so that one day I might be free.

The Pain Inside

I can't help but think of the lasting legacy of the abuse... and the aftermath. It actually fills me with sadness. Sadness that a parent could willingly treat their child like that. Sad that I still justify it... and tell myself that other people had it worse so I have no reason to be upset. And while it is true that others have had it worse that doesn't make it right. Should I be happy that they didn't break any bones? Emotional abuse is just as devastating... And those scars remain.

I should be really happy about the way things are going at work. And by now I should be really confident in how I'm doing. I still find myself filled with self-doubt. Yet this month, as evidenced in an earlier post on my main blog (click "here") I really showed how much work I can do. I showed that I can exceed expectations. But I still wonder if there was anything else I could've done. Wondering if there was any way to get that last evaluation done. I should just feel pride in myself. Yet, to a certain degree, there is just emptiness... as if it will never be good enough.

Those are the lies.... the ones that I bought into. The lie that says I am not good enough... that I need to prove myself. The lie that says I will never amount to anything. I have a university degree. I am respected at work. Yet I still question it.

I am a peacemaker. So I have a tough time with this... Part of me really wants to get angry. They lied to me... I am not worthless... they tore me down to build themselves up. They made my life hell... and it was all a lie. Lies.. damn lies... But then part of me still wants to be the peacemaker and not make waves. I'm almost 28... haven't lived at home in almost a decade and yet I am still protecting the notion of the perfect family. It's almost like if I keep the secret and pretend it didn't happen then it will be true.

It's also painful to think about the fallout. It's not like an isolated incident where you just get over it. The abuse has shaped my identity and in some ways it could be likened to a nuclear fallout. It's radioactive. Don't worry I am not saying that I am toxc waste... just that the effects are long lasting and far reaching.

I've used so many ways trying to numb the pain... trying to find peace and answers in the storm. Most of them I am not proud of. I was so desperate for love that I had random sexual encounters and took so many chances. That wasn't without it's price... as to date I have been raped by 5 different men... spread out over the last 15 years. It's really easy for me to blame myself for risk taking behaviours. But that doesn't make it my fault. Nothing gives someone else the right.

I don't even like the taste of alcohol and yet I drank, sometimes even to the point of alcohol poisoning. But as they say you can drink and be numb... but it's only temporary. The pain doesn't go away forever. And instead you just wind up with a hangover.

Because of the disorganization in my family life... and the inconsistent messages I learned that emotions were weaknesses that could be exploited. The less I showed emotion the less I was picked on. So I became numb... feeling nothing. And to help me with that I turned to cutting and self-injury. I am still ashamed of that... mainly because of society's view of self-injury. But you do what you have to in order to get by. It has been 3 months now and I take it one day at a time. I also wear an orange and white bracelet as a reminder (one my team manager at work had to fix for me not long ago).

I'd like to say I am past it... but it's not that easy. Abuse leaves lasting marks... often for a lifetime. It's very hard to change your world view and how you see yourself. I think it can be summed up as a legacy of pain.

My Life as a Cutter

WARNING: The following might be graphic and is potentially triggering. So you may not want to continue reading if you are currently feeling tempted yourself.

Some days I really wish there could be peace. I always feel like I am looking for answers. I am looking for a reason. Why did thing happen the way they did? Is it all about fate? Or just randomness? Sometimes there are no easy answers... or answers at all. Just more questions.

In my head I know that my mom lied to me. I know that I was a victim. But as I struggle to stay afloat and avoid bankrupcy there is this still small voice in my head wondering if maybe she was right. Maybe I really am nothing. Maybe I really will amount to nothing. I should be proud of the job I do at work and the fact I've been there for 4 years. But as I struggle to make ends meet pride gives way to doubt.

The more I doubt myself the more I feel like I am surrounded by blackness. When I was younger I learned that the only way I could bring about balance and stop the emotional pain was to cut. The scars are a reminder and are nothing compared to the pain of being a survivor. But there is so much shame in self-injury. I almost lost my job because of it (the irony being that I hadn't cut in 9 months at the time). But every day I still battle it. The temptation is strong, overwhelming at times. I fear that my strength just won't be enough. I fear that I will go back to it.

The only question that I wanted answered is why? Why did this happen to me? It is a question that will never have an answer. There is no why... there is only the need to get past it. To move on with life and learn from the past.

Enlightening Conversation

I've come to the realization that some people just don't think before they open their mouth. The other day I was having a conversation with Jason about tattoos as I was on my way out. Jennifer stood up and started waving frantically, it was like she was an air traffic controller. Some days she just reminds me of high school... and has this need to be the center of attention. So I head over to see what she wants. She wanted to say goodbye and she wanted to tell me about the newspaper article she had been reading. On the front page of the Peterborough Examiner there was an article on self-harm... or at least on a woman who self-injures. Apparently, Jennifer was disturbed by the article. Okay, I can understand the shock and the questioning that is involved when someone first hears of it. And the picture was pretty graphic. But is work really an appropriate forum for that conversation? I am a performance coach... not a therapist. And while I can draw on my psychologist background it's not something I am entirely comfortable discussing, at least not at work with someone I don't know all that well... in the middle of the floor. I don't think the thought ever crossed her mind that a) a lot of people could hear her and b) someone there might use self-injury as a coping mechanism and be put on the spot. Of course, the irony is that it was me that was put on the spot. Jason added his two cents about someone he knows that has a "cutting toolkit." I don't think that put her mind at ease at all... He also stated that most people cut their inner thigh or their bicep. I've looked into it and that's not true... The most common area is actually the forearm. It's only when it has to be more concealed that people start cutting elsewhere. And the inner thigh is more of a suicide attempt because of the vein. But at least he deflected the attention off me. I was feeling pretty self conscious. I was wearing a tank top and I can see the scars on my arm. Plus there were the inevitable questions... "How can someone do that?" So they were both discussing abuse... molestation... etc. And of course that gets me thinking about my own life... the reasons for the self-injury... and it brings back the memories of the abuse and the sexual assault. Then Jennifer asked "How messed up do you have to be to do that?" Obviously that is a value statement. And it shows the stigma that is involved. Someone could numb themselves with drugs, alcohol or sex and we wouldn't ask that question. And while she may not have meant to... that question is directed right at me. I take on the psychologist role and come back to ways people cope and how it was their decision... and how she shouldn't feel bad about it. I don't think she was convinced though... And then she said "What if I end up doing that?" What exactly am I supposed to say to that? Of course I said it wasn't likely... but what can I say to that? That conversation was from Thursday and I am still thinking about it. I had to be careful about what I said since I didn't want to "out" myself. I was not comfortable with the conversation but how do you stop it without running the risk of saying too much? I don't believe work was the place for that conversation. I just wish that people would think before they speak as well.

Daily Reminder

For anyone that might have seen this bracelet and wondered why I wear it... since it's just a cheap bracelet... it's my daily reminder that I am still alive. It also reminds me of the pain of living. Most importantly, it's a reminder that the self-injury is in recovery.

Most people believe it is really easy to just give up. Why would you intentionally hurt yourself? But it's an addictive behaviour and it's effective. It's not an easy road, especially at the moment.

But I have now given myself permission to use the self-injury if I need to in order to survive. I'm not saying that I am going back to it. It's been over a year now :o) But if I am not doing it to appease someone (Val) and not for myself then it's not benefitting me. All that means is that she is controlling the behaviour. I'm not perfect. I am going to fail at some point. Life on my terms... Hopefully I can continue to find other ways to cope... but anyone that wants to stop me can go to hell. I'm not trying to be harsh there. But the people that try and stop me have no problem with me drinking to the point of alcohol poisoning... or starving myself.... yet these are more dangerous then cutting myself ever will be.

Recovery does not imply perfection and no slip-ups. It's fantastic that it has been over a year but it's been over a year for the wrong reasons. I am tempted probably every single day... especially right now as I try to come to terms with my life and the abuse. If anyone wants to hate me or judge me if I do back to it... feel free. I can guarantee that I'll have a few issues with myself as it is. But remember, it's not your life... you do not control me... and we all have our negative ways of coping. So if you plan on condemning me for it... or reminding me of how bad it is (trust me I already know) then you better be offering suggestions on other ways to cope and you better have the time to hear me out.

From the Beginning

I was born 9 weeks early on November 20th, 1978 in Cobourg, Ontario. I was rushed to Peterborough General Hospital with respiratory distress. At that time it was remrkable I even survived. My mom was 16 years old and gave me up for adoption.

Okay so this is not a chronicle of my life history and I won't start that far back. People that know me now probably wouldn't have had the same opinion of me a decade ago. Hard to believe it's been that long. I know that everyone goes through a time of teenage angst and rebellion. I didn't care if I lived or died. You tend to be kind of reckless with that attitude. All I knew was pain, anger, bitterness and even hate. I would head into situations I knew were bad. And sure enough I got burned, which just perpetuated the cycle. I wasn't even sure I'd make it to university. I thought I'd be dead first. A tragic end to a tragic life.

But there were some contradictions in my world. See, from the time I was little, I had to go to church every Sunday. When I was in high school I was also involved in Youth for Christ. I still went to church although it was a different church then my parents. I was a leader in the youth group. I think it was the only stable thing I had going... and probably kept me alive.

For as angry as I was I am surprised I didn't turn to alcohol, drugs or even smoking. Some people who know me now might be a little shocked by that. I didn't start smoking until I was 18 and my dad and sister accused me of lying about smoking. Been a smoker off and on ever since. The longest I've been able to quit for is 6 months. I also started drinking when I was 18. That was a bad year for me. I don't think I tried drugs until I was 20. Even then it's not something I've done very often. So I may have been angry but I didn't rebel as much as one might expect.

Mind you I did find ways to self destruct. In an attempt to deal with it I turned to cutting. It was all controlled and ritualistic. The cuts were basically deep enough to draw blood and then I'd stop. Once there was physical pain your body reacts. It's called self preservation. But it also allows you to become numb emotionally. And it is a little too effective. I lost a lot of friends over it. Whenever I was feeling overwhelmed it was a quick way to calm down. So I used it for over a decade... until it was almost out of control. I was cutting deeper and more often to get the same results. When I scared someone that was really close to me I promised her I would quit. And I did... for 3 years. Now that is actually impressive since I had no other coping mechanisms to replace it with. It wasn't until Adam went psychotic and I was concerned for my own safety that I went back to it. Val knew about it and tried to control the behaviour. That only made it worse. I stopped again but it wasn't for me... it was for her.

My relationships were also on the reckless side. Until I moved to Peterborough and vowed not to be in a relationship I pretty much cheated on everyone, except Al. I ended up in some really bad relationships as well. I didn't value myself at all. The irony is that I still held to the Christian values that premarital sex was a sin. Even though I was pressured I didn't give in. As it turns out I might as well have. Instead, at the age of 13 I was raped by a guy I knew from church. I was still innocent. I believed everyone was good and that this wouldn't happen. It probably took a decade before I didn't want to be drunk on the anniversary, or use self-injury to escape. 5 years later I set myself up again. When you don't drink... downing Crown Royal straight is not the smartest plan. I had no tolerance for alcohol and just set myself up to repeat the experience, which is exactly what happened. It was much easier to blame myself. I knew I shouldn't have gone. I knew I shouldn't have been drinking. So I blamed myself for what happened. So my first two sexual encounters both had elements of violence. After that it didn't matter. Sex had no value or meaning to me. I used it to feel better about myself... to escape the loneliness and the pain. But typically they were just one night stands. I felt nothing... just more emptiness. I would simply dissociate and then move on to the next person.

Even when I moved to Peterborough I still had the same attitude. I didn't give a damn about myself and nothing mattered. I didn't want a relationship... so that I didn't have to cheat or even care about someone else. I was jaded and figured I would just get hurt in the long run. I would go to the bar, get drunk and pick someone up. High risk behaviour... it's like playing Russian Roulette. Then Jamie came long. He was such a sweetheart. I didn't think I deserved him... so I crushed him... Well actually I broke up with him for Adam. Aside from Al that was an innocent high school love Adam was the only other person I ever loved. He still tries to get me to believe in myself... I'm not sure how successful that is though.

I have definitely toned down the risky behaviour although for a little while after Adam and I separated I didn't learn not to pick up guys from work. That break up hurt deeply and, once again, I wanted to feel needed. So I was back to the meaningless one night stands. Then there was Adam's birthday... Or should I say the day before Adam's birthday. That night will definitely not be forgotten. Lori was dropping me off downtown and invited me to stop by Sin City to say hi. I had lost friends when Adam and I broke up. What I had forgotten was that it was Adam's birthday and he would be there celebrating. Now Adam I don't mind... there were other people that I wasn't crazy about seeing... I left pretty quickly and went down to Riley's for Shaun's birthday. I should probably back up here a moment. For one, I had an interest in one of the guys at work and was thinking about a relationship with him. The other point was that the nesting agents were surrounding me at work. I wasn't helping that group but I had talked to a number of them. Mike was at Riley's and was drunk by the time I got there. He had to work the next day so I invited him over to my place so that he wouldn't be fired... he was on a last chance agreement at the time. Part of me was also hoping to get laid. They decided to get high and head down to the strippers. But Mike said he mgiht stop by afterwards... So then I located all the agents that had just finished nesting and kept drinking. Pretty soon they decided to head elsewhere. So we went down to the White House. And this was where things got interesting. When we got there Tristan didn't have any money so I offered to buy him a drink. It wasn't a big deal to me. Tristan was good looking and younger so when we spent the rest of the night talking that was a good thing to me. Even got out on the dance floor. Mike was committment phobic and Tristan was the opposite. He invited me back to his place and, looking back, I wish I had taken him up on that offer. I turned him down since I had already agreed to let Mike sty t my place... and I was pretty loaded by that point. So I walked home. Jarratt, John and a few other people showed up shortly after that. then Mike did show up... he almost started a fight. I was planning to make him sleep on the couch but John was there. I was ready to pass out but he ended up sharing my bed. And one thing led to another... but as I sobered up a bit I realized that he wasn't the one I wanted to be with and felt guilty. The room was also starting to spin so I stopped. He got angry so I left the room. When I came back I thought he was asleep so I went to bed and passed out. I was wrong. Or if he was asleep he woke up again. I don't want to relive that night so I won't fill in the details... but it ended with me kicking him out and a long, cold walk to the police station at 5:30 a.m.

Looking back there are a lot of "what ifs". What if Tristan hadn't been there that night? What if I hadn't invited Mike back? What if I had've gone back to Tristan's? What if... what if... what if... I know there is no point asking those questions because it won't change anything. I can't go back in time and change what happened. But I still can't help wondering. Then there is the debate as to whether or not I should've pressed charges. People like telling me it was the right thing to do. That's easy for them to say... it didn't happen to them. They aren't the ones that had to go through a police interview... then come back to the apartment still hung over and watch the police take pictures and evidence... and then there was the 5 hour examination at the hospital... oh and then a videotaped interview. It took 10 hours before I came back home... and was so exhausted that I just crashed. It was a gruelling ordeal and one, like every other time, I just wanted to forget. But it wasn't just reliving the event that was painful. At work I was a huge target. There seemed to be people that wanted me gone and had made that their mission. There was a rumour that I was a "lying bitch who had him charged out of spite." It made it extremely difficult to go to work. When I went on my LOA there was even a poll as to the reason I was of work... and the rape had the most votes. Now the fact they even had that poll is pretty bad. The charges ended up being withdrawn but that doesn't make it any easier. He was down in the maze the other day visiting people and a shock went through my system.

So some things never seem to change. The worst part about that whole situation (back to the "what ifs") is that Tristan and I are no longer together. After a month and a half we broke up. The reason for that is probably left for another discussion. So, in the end did it even matter? Does anything matter?

I'm not the same person I was a decade ago... I suppose no one is. I thought the world owed me something. I had a huge chip on my shoulder and was filled with anger. I was heading for disaster.... I'm not even sure what happened that changed that. I suspect that the biggest change came when my parents moved across the country. I was suddenly independant and they had no power over me. The second biggest event was when I actually graduated from university. For the first time I could say "I told you so." I had accomplished something. It could also be that I have just accepted my fate. But I have definitely changed, for the better. Some of it comes with age... some with experience.... and some with the acceptance that bad things are a part of life.

Hmm... now I can't even remember why I started this. I would do really well with Freud's concept of free association where you just start with whatever is going on in the mind. It's a good example of my mind being the tortured soul. It's like there is a wall in front me and I can't get past it. Things have gotten better, no question, but there are still some things I have not gotten past. And some days I question whether or not I ever will.

It's been a long time since I've actually done this much soul searching. Even on my LOA it was more about anger over being forced off work and things with the roommate... it wasn't about truth... pain... life. And since I came back to work I have had other things to occupy my time. But I always was a thinker.... one of my downfalls actually. I analyze every thing I do and spend way too much time thinking about things. It's probably the other reason I have trouble letting go. I spend too much time dwelling on it. But it's part of who I am. And I doubt it will ever change.

Vices

As soon as it was confirmed that I would have to see the hematologist I suddenly was craving a smoke. I know the motivation was to calm myself down but it was also because I don't have any good coping mechanisms. So I end up stuck between a rock and a hard place. I am suddenly filled with emotion and don't know what to do with. Then it just builds and sometimes I will become a pressure cooker. But I don't really want to go back to smoking. For one, smoking decreases your white blood cell count. Secondly, I really dont want to go back to that. I don't want to go back to drinking either. I have no desire to have a drink... or maybe it's the seizures that come with going overboard *lol*

The problem is that I am left with one vice that I am really battling now. I don't like this feeling of helplessness and the uncertainty. I have such mixed emotions that I want to go back to being numb. But to do that... or at least to give into that vice... would leave people really upset. I'm not even sure that recovery is even about me. I wonder if I stopped because of the stigma and the opinions of other people. Now self-injury is not a good thing... but at the same time I want to be able to cope however I deem necessary. Or I would at least like to be the one making the choice not to give into it. Right now I don't feel like it is my choice at all. Maybe that is why it is tempting me. It is very much an internal struggle right now. I'm alone... isolated... virtually no support system... and I want to feel nothing. So I will continue to battle through it but I don't see it going any way... since I have 2 weeks until the hematologist and even then I won't have answers immediately. What am I supposed to do? How do I get through this?

Things I've Learned

Talk about life lessons. Some hard truths and some shaped by the life I've had.

1. A kind word is quickly forgotten. An unkind word is remembered much longer, sometimes even for a lifetime.
2. Trusting someone is costly. You have to be vulnerable and trust they won't break that trust. Once trust is gone it's very difficult to get that back.
3. Judge and jury... society can definitely judge you, even for your way of coping.
4. Labels are not a good thing. When a behaviour is labelled then we start shaping our view of that person around that label.
5. "Children begin by loving their parents. After a time they judge him. Rarely, if ever, do they forgive them." (Oscar Wilde) As a child you believe everything your parents say and do not question it. When you learn it's not true it really shatters your belief system.
6. Feel nothing... and do not show emotion.
7. As much as we may want to live with no regrets it is next to impossible to forget the past and leave it in the past.
8. Insanity is simply a deviation of the norm... and who wanted to be normal any ways?
9. "Tears are the silent language of grief." (Voltaire)
10. Bad things will always happen. It is an unavoidable fact of life.

I'm not sure I really want to comment on these life lessons.... since it is a tough thing for me. I don't trust anyone. I am extremely guarded and do not let anyone close enough to actually know me. I think that's why Adam and I got along so well... we both had trust issues.

I'm not sure I will get get over the comments from my youth... and the neglect. I was called a bitch, slut, and many other terms and was told repeatedly that I would never amount to anything. I carry that with me... and may for my entire life. It's very difficult to reconcile that idealized image we have for our parents... and the truth that those were lies. It's easier to blame myself. Then I can maintain that image.

Home is also where I learned not to show emotion... and more importantly, not to feel anything. I prefer to be numb and when faced with emotion then I am definitely out of my comfort zone. I had to be tough. My sister was more emotional and, as a result, she got picked on more at home. I fought back so I avoided more of the abuse.

In spite of the fact I went into psychology I have learned that labels are not always a good thing. I believe that ADHD is over-diagnosed and is creating a generation of kids that are known by their label more then by who they really are. I was given the label of depression when I began my LOA and then all the behaviours were just attributed to the depression.

I'm sure that everyone learns the lesson, fairly early on, that life is not fair and that bad things are always going to happen. With the instability in my home life I was prone to risk taking behaviours and destined to go through some rough times. When I was in high school I was a ghost.... I tried to be invisible. But I was also seeking the love and attention that I didn't get at home. By the time I finished high school I had an ex that was emotionally abusive and one that was physically abusive. On top of that I was date raped, not once but twice in that time. I'm beginning to wonder if I have a sign over my head that says "Perfect victim" since I have been raped 4 more times since I moved to Peterborough. And the only time I pressed charges I sure as hell didn't get any justice. Now I'll be honest... 4 of them were related to alcohol. But that doesn't make it right. And two of them in Peterborough were from the same person. Once involved alcohol and once did not. There will always be an association between sex and violence. So I know full well that bad things happen. Now I just isolate myself and barely leave the house... It's a lot less eventful... aside from the arson in the apartment building.

Lastly... society is very quick to stigmatize certain behaviours and you get judged heavily for them. My orange and white bracelet is a reminder of that. Somewhere along the way I learned that pain was a good way to control emotion and bring about a balance... not in the sadomasochistic way either. Yes I engaged in self injury. I would purposely cut myself until it bled so that I wouldn't feel the overwhelming emotional pain. This one I could control. And I never cut myself that deeply. It was all controlled. I've been told it's attention seeking. I've also been told it's manipulative, meanwhile I try and hide it from everyone. I have been severely judged by other people. And those that do know about it try and control the behaviour which ends up making it worse. The irony is that I can drink myself to death and society would accept it. I could also become anorexic again and it would be more acceptable. Yes I have stopped... but I'm not so sure it's because I wanted to... or because other people wanted me to. Let me cope in whatever way I need to. Until you've walked a mile in my shoes... you cannot fully understand what it's like. Before you want to tell me that there are risks involved... there are risks involved just leaving your house. You could get in an accident. I'm not saying it's not destructive because I know it is but sometimes it's about survival and you do what you have to just to get by.

These lessons have been hard. Life is a number of lessons and often times they are not easy. Not all of those lessons should be true and unfortunatly some of it I will never get over. There was too high a cost in learning those lessons.

Adding Fuel to the Fire

With me being off work Steve has left me alone a lot more... But he is still getting on my nerves. SS really does love adding fuel to the fire. He seems to want me to be constantly frustrated and angry. He knows all the buttons to push too so I fall into the trap. But if I go back angry and frustrated then I'll be right where I started from. The best thing I can do is make the most of my time off... rest... relax... work on Chaord Studios... maybe even go out to BC for a vacation. That way when I do come back I'll be in the right mindframe. I'm still battling the fatigue and some rest would definitely be nice.

Steve seems to see the whole thing as a malicious conspiracy from work. I don't think it was intended to be that way. My frustration really started with the doctor and the fact he doesn't believe fibromyalgia is real. That meant that I didn't necessary get the treatment I needed. So yeah that has been frustrating. It has really been the medical treatment that has been aggravating. At this point I am considering travelling out of town to see a doctor and get a referral to a specialist. I just want to beat the fatigue and return to work.

I made a bad decision that started the whole thing. I took a knife to work and gave it to someone so I wouldn't be tempted to use it. It was a bad judgement call. I will admit that. So I'm the one that started this chain of events.

Steve seems to like encouraging me to cut in response to my frustration... and the fact this is what started it all. It's definitely not what I need at the moment. I've made it to 9 months and want to continue that trend. I don't want to go back to it. And I really don't need him talking about it all the time... or being reminded when I get in the van. It's like an addiction and not one I want to go back to.

I guess I need to stop listening to Steve if I want to relax. Otherwise it's just going to be a tough LOA and just make me more frustrated. Time for me to go with selective hearing. I should be used to that.

Grab Bag of Emotions

I'm not sure how I should be feeling at the moment. I'm still trying to see this as a positive thing... that Chris did it for me. It is giving me time off to get some rest and do some work for Chaord Studios. If I'm ever going to do anything with it now would be the time. I've been doing some work on some new UFC DVDs. It will also be a good chance to do some web site design. So that is a good thing.

But it's also extremely frustrating. I feel like I am getting fucked, without a kiss to go with it. My parents can't even force me to get treatment so why is work able to? They refuse to allow me to go back to work. I've said all along that all I needed was sleep and they finally agreed. But in the last 3 weeks I have seen 3 doctors, the crisis nurse twice, and 2 psychiatrists. No one has indicated that I am a threat to myself or to anyone else... so what is the problem? I feel like my hands are tied and there is nothing I can do about it. It's pretty frustrating.

Off and on there are also flashes of anger. I'm angry about the way I've been treated... forced off work... forced onto treatment... not allowed to return. I might as well have gone through with the self-injury since that is where it started.

Lastly, there is also discouragement. I feel like I am fighting a losing battle. No one seems to be listening. The doctor told me that the "Fibromyalgia is a symptom of an underlying psychiatric condition." Then another doctor told me that I would never be treated for fibromyalgia in this town. With the increase in pain recently and the lack of sleep it's a little discouraging knowing that I won't be able to get treatment for a legitimate medical disorder and instead being told it's all psychiatric.

Of course all of this goes on my record at work, along with the two verbal warnings... so it does seem to be an uphill battle. One I am currently losing. While I am trying to remain positive about the whole thing there are also a lot of negatives.

Anger & Frustration

At this point I am angry enough to go back to the cutting. It's the reason I am off work so why not? And now I am off until I see the psychiatrist again. On one hand I don't want to give them the satisfaction. It's been 9 months now and I gave the knife away so I wouldn't be tempted. On the other hand, I want to prove a point. Cutting for me has always been about coping.. or not feeling anything at all. It's not about suicide. If I were drinking it wouldn't be an issue. I'd still be at work. Yet I am more likely to die from alcohol poisoning then with a knife. While I may not entirely condone the behaviour I am not entirely against it either. I believe there is too much of a stigma associated with it... and there is also a great deal of guilt.

Some of that anger comes from finances. They didn't pay me for any of the time off, not even the sick days. So my pay cheque was only for one week. Doesn't help me pay the bills. No idea when I'll get the money and it won't be 100%. It will be 60% of my wages.

Some of it is the LOA. They didn't tell I could refuse to take it. So I feel a little misled. I was under the impression that I had no choice. Had I known that I might not have been off work. Not to mention there is the whole aspect that they are forcing treatment on me. I had to make sure I was diagnosed with depression so that the doctor would clear me to return to work. So do I really have depression... we'll never really know.

The reason I am on an LOA is supposed to be confidential but it has been anything but. It would be one thing if I was off on a medical leave but since it's a mental leave I would rather people not know about it. Obviously, certain people have to know but at this rate they might as well send an email to the entire site since it has definitely not been kept confidential.

Lastly, there is the whole premise for the LOA. What they told me was that because I had the knife at work and gave it up I was considered a risk to myself or to others and I was on a leave until cleared by a doctor. I have now seen three doctors, the assessment nurse, and a psychiatrist and none of them considered me a risk. So... why am I not back at work? According to the letter they wrote the doctor my performance was lacking at work, I had numerous physical complaints, and then there was the knife. Of course, there are numerous physical complaints I am in chronic pain. I really haven't been sleeping either. That's also part of the reason my performance has been slipping. As for the knife... I had just seen my family.. was stressed with the roommate... and received 2 verbal warnings at work. I was stressed to the max and needed relief. The doctor they sent me to does not believe fibromyalgia is real which really didn't help. And he did not feel my performance at work would improve unless medicated. Then he denied me going back to work until I see the psychiatrist again. So it was obviously not just about whether or not I was a risk. And since my parents can't even force me into treatment why does work have that power? If they were actually treating the sleep... and the pain... and then determining if I really do have depression then I might be okay with it but to feel forced to be diagnosed with depression I'm not cool with.

So yeah I am a little angry right now over the whole situation. I think it could've been handled differently, more effectively. Right now I don't feel like I was taken into consideration. No one ever asked me why I thought I was having problems at work. No one took the time to ask me if I was okay and what I needed to get through it. If I was such a risk why did they wait 3 days for me to come back in? If it was about suicide I could've killed myself while I was off. Then they forced me off work and I didn't feel like I had a choice. The doctor then margninalized me by saying that "Fibromyalgia is typically a symptom of a psychiatric disorder" Then I was forced to see the assessment nurse and was basically given the message that unless I was on a prescription for anti-depressants then I would not be able to return to work. At that point it didn't matter whether I thought I was depressed I had to get the diagnosis to return to work. And to top it off the medication caused too many negative side effects and meant more time at the ER to be told it was normal. Hmm... can't imagine why I am angry with the whole experience. And since it was all over my cutting I do feel like I should go back to it. At least then it might be somewhat justified. I think I'll wait until after I get my medication changed though. That way I can still tell them it's been 9 months and while tempted I haven't acted on it.

Leave Me Be

So now that I am back to the Disturbed song that I posted a little while ago... from "Just Stop"

Just stop enough of the limitless critical comments on my life
Just stop the judgment and all of your pseudo-involvement in my life

All that you want is to criticize
Something for nothing
And all that I want is forgiveness one more time
To be the best in the world

This time it's not directed at my family though... this time it goes out to Val. I'm done. I've had enough. Stop judging me and let me choose the ways I need to cope. Just because you don't agree with it... it's still my decision. You do what you have to in order to cope with what life throws at you. I'm not about to be one of those people wearing the bracelets in support of cutting. But it is just another way to cope... it just doesn't happen to be socially acceptable. All I ask is that you try and look through my eyes for a change and try to understand why I did it. I stopped myself. I got rid of the knife. Instead of being proud of that decision and acknowledging that I'm okay Val expressed her concern to someone else. I don't need a fucking intervention. I'm not going to kill myself. Since I gave up the knife I'm not a risk at all... I am not going out and buying another one.

I am much more likely to die from alcohol poisoning but that is acceptable. I'm sure Val would encourage me to get out... get drunk... and stop thinking about everything that is going on. How is that any better? It is just another way to become numb. One that often leads to worse choices.

I don't eat for 2 days and people don't think I need an intervention. That's just as unhealthy. But anorexia is also more socially acceptable.

I have never had to make a trip to the hospital after cutting... never even remotely been close to serious injury... well okay I guess there was that one time back in my younger days. It's all controlled. In fact cutting is typically about control... regaining it... finding a balance.

I am not going back to the cutting. But leave me alone and let me cope the way I need to, not the way you want me to. Even if that does mean that one day I do back to it. Val is one of the reasons there is so much shame and stigma associated with it. If you can't accept me for who I am (the good and the bad) then you are not my friend. I try not to judge people for the way they cope because I understand that you do what you have to in order to survive. So, stop with the judgements and the condescending attitude. It's not helping me. If you want to be a friend then actually open your ears and listen.. be there and support me. And be proud that I made it through another day without self-injury.

Heather

And all that I want is forgiveness one more time

TGIF

I am extremely happy that it is Friday... thinking I should go offline and just hide for the remainder of the weekend. Might even relax if I did that. Been a rough week so far. Still not as bad as the beginning of 2005 though.

Ongoing issues with the roommate. I really need to find a new one, and fast. While I don't think I can get him out of my life permanently it would still help. At least then I wouldn't have to see him nearly as much. Have I mentioned how much I hate small talk? Looks like he hasn't got that message. Silence is valuable. I don't want you to talk just for the sake of talking. With most people it wouldn't bother me but he irks me more and more every day.

My sister was also in the hospital three times. So that has added some stress to my life, especially since they aren't really sure what's going on and why she is in so much pain. At this point they think it's an ulcer... caused by bacteria eating through the lining of the stomach. But it's a waiting game now, until they know more.

At work I got 2 verbal warnings within 2 days. Something I had managed to avoid for three years. The first one was for sales... or lack of. It's always been my weak point. The second one was for my tone. I admit it was a bad call. And it is something I struggle with. To a certain degree I think it's related to hearing "US desktop" when I answer the phone. I actually dread going on the phones for that reason... especially since they have increased the amount of time I am on the phones. It is a mental block for me. I worked hard to get away from that... going to portables and then Canada/Legacy and now am back where I started. Guess I am going to have to find some way to overcome that and have no idea how to. So it has me feeling a little discouraged at the moment. If that wasn't enough, I also found out that I didn't meet my mandate last month because of a scheduling conflict with one of my agents. I came in early twice to do the ace and was unable to complete it.

Needless to say this week has not been so great for me. I was really tempted to go back to the cutting. Then at least I'd feel nothing at all. That would be better then this uneasy, restless feeling I currently have. I knew better so I gave the knife away. I knew if I didn't I would end up using it. Then I made the mistake of telling Val who had it since she was concerned I might go back to it. I didn't think she would go to that person and try and start an intervention. Do I look like I need an intervention? A stiff drink maybe.. but not an intervention. I got rid of the knife so that I didn't use it. Isn't that good enough? I guess not. Now it's just become a drama. And made me realize, for the last time, that Val cannot be trusted and has no concept of the word confidentiality. I also ended up putting the other person into the middle of it and that wasn't fair to her. I really didn't want that to happen and had hoped that if Val was concerned about me that she would come to me, not go to someone else.

So let's do a quick summary of the week:

Work: Questionable
Friends: Lost one
Family: Sister has ongoing medical issues
Home: Still have the stalker/roommate with no end in sight

Yep it has been a great week. I did finally get some needed sleep today. It was pretty much the high point for me. Overall I am doing better now. I have a couple of days to rest and Steve is back at work so I won't see him quite as much as I had been. I just needed some time off to clear my head and relax. Been crazy with the holidays. Seeing my family always takes a toll on me. So does the Christmas season and I didn't feel like I had much time off around then. In spite of everything I am feeling a lot more positive now. All I need now is to find a roommate... then things will really be looking up. And figure out how to get over the mental block at work. But things could be worse. I could be repeating 2005... or I could be unemployed.... homeless... etc.

"No day but today" (Rent)

Self-Injury

Time for a more revealing look at my life... or at least one aspect of my life. I've touched on it in a couple of posts now. See also, "Labels"and "Broken Promises". Time to delve into the world self-injury. It's not about suicide... or attention. I was a cutter because it was a way to cope. I couldn't deal with the emotional side of things, still can't, and so it was easier to cut and give myself something physical to focus on. When you cut yourself your body automatically reacts as a self-preservation mechanism and works to heal itself. I'd like to say I've stopped completely... but I haven't found anything to replace it with. I haven't cut myself (at least not on purpose) since April but I already broke the promise and bought a knife again. Will I go back to it? At this point I don't know. It's like the creed of an alcoholic... "One day at a time." Baby steps.

Broken Promises

I am my own worst enemy. I know we all have our own demons to face. I made a promise to myself back in April and recently I found myself breaking that promise. I can find 101 justifications for it. I never did like this time of year. It is supposed to be about family and spending time with loved ones. While I am going to see my sister she is about the only family I want to see. It's taken me this long to break the power my parents have... I don't want to give it back. So it's always a lonely time of year. I think that's why the Fibromyalgia always bothers me this time of year as well... the stress and the change in weather. Lately, there has also been a lot of stress brought on by so-called friends and by the whole roommate situation. That has escalated to the point where I barely even want to be home. Things have calmed down a bit now... but it's still getting to me. So what did I do? Went out and bought a knife again. The day I went to work on my day off (yeah which time was that? *lol*) and was helping with the decorations I was wearing a t-shirt and could see all the scars on my arm. The only thing I could thing of was how much hate and anger it took to cut myself. I'm not even sure what is stopping me now. I already broke the promise. Well I do know what is stopping me... I don't want to go back to that. I haven't told anyone since I don't want them to worry about me more then they already do... and I don't want to disappoint them. I do a good enough job of that without adding this into it to. Can I just sleep through the next two weeks... until this year is over?