RealMental

**I want to dedicate this post to Leah, one of the founders of this site.  And, to thank her for continuing her path to wellness and not hiding in the shadows.  She’s given us a home here at Real Mental; a place to tell our stories, a place to heal, and a beacon of light in the dark world of Mental Illness.  xoxoxo

There’s something that I’ve always known about myself, and it becomes more and more clear with each passing year.  Certain things come more in focus.  On one level it’s good to understand yourself just a little bit more, it’s comforting to snag a truth that you know you will never unlearn.

Another level is it usually means saying goodbye to a particular part of your life, a part of yourself maybe even people you love.

I would tell you that I’m a seeker, but not so that I elevate myself above others.  It’s something that chose me.  Words aren’t the matter, simply a way to try and define the condition.

Being a seeker means that you will often find yourself alone even around other people.  Alone in that your mind operates a little differently.  Or, could it be we’re just more honest and forthright about ourselves, having moved beyond the fear of being accepted.  Either you get it, or you don’t.

There are others out there that are seekers, sometimes we even find each other and cheer the other along during times of darkness when we’re fighting the knowledge that seekers always seem to find.

Changing behaviors, improving ourselves is like turning an ocean liner.  You turn but you don’t see the results of that turn for a long time.  Personally, I like to see immediate results of my turns, to know that there’s a reason for it, not that I’ve chosen to suffer for no reason.  Or wonder if the turn was just a waste of my time and I should’ve just stayed in the dark where it was safe.

Why can’t you be happy, why do you have to ask yourself all these questions, why can’t you let go of the past?

Except, I can’t stay in the dark and be content.  If I could, I wouldn’t turn in the first fucking place.  I envy those that can stay in the dark, walking along the same path they’ve walked along since they were born.

The age of blindness is behind us, it’s been turning for a long time, the masses are only now beginning to see the results of it.

I’m not built that way, I can’t honor something that isn’t true.  My eyes are open.  The duration of a new bend is the most painful, the one where I scream and become angry.  Once I move beyond it, I know once again it is as it is supposed to be.

I compare it to the air after a hurricane, clear and bright.  Debris has washed away, new things are about and old things are gone.  A cycle that I’ve walked through emotionally time and time again.

Hindsight gives me the hope and strength to do it once again.  Friends that understand offer support and love.  They don’t question the process, they just love me through it.  Either it’s because they understand, or they don’t but they trust that what we tell them is real to us.

The ones that do not understand cannot be held accountable for their ignorance.  The anger they hurl is their own, ignorantly thinking that projecting it elsewhere, it will rid them of it.  Over and over again they continue to do the same thing expecting different results.

Changing the course isn’t a process for cowards.  The ones that act in spite of their fear, demonstrating courage, are the ones that successfully turn the ocean liner leaving footprints for those that come after us, hopefully making the path a little easier.

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Darkest before the dawn, as they say.

I wonder, when will the light shine again,

when will the path be crystal clear and back on track?

I’m in charge of that, don’t want to be.

Not today, or tomorrow.  No sirree.

Suffering is a normal part of the human condition, we are not meant to be jolly all the time.  No, we are not.  The fairy tales, THEY LIE.

The sorrow, the sad, the confusion, the ick.

It lives inside of me waiting for the moment when I am weak.  It moves in, full stealth mode and brings the whole ick battalion.

Been here, done this, survived and got stronger.

Ride it out, hang on, keep my pace.

Save my face.

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One of the definitions of betrayal is, “to disappoint the hopes or expectations of; be disloyal to: to betray one’s friends.”

There are certain people in your life that you just assume won’t betray you.  A family member, an old friend, your parents, pick your confidant.

As I listened to you talking about me like I wasn’t even there, I felt sick to my stomach.  I wanted to run but I had no where to run to.

The things you said, they hurt my heart.

I wanted to trust you, I wanted to believe that you wouldn’t betray that trust.

I talked to my therapist about it, he said the fact that I got sick to my stomach was a sign that I’ve grown.  That most healthy people would be sickened by your behavior.

In the past I would’ve just overlooked it.  Kind of like ignoring the proverbial elephant in the room.  I learned that skill from being sexually abused, it’s a survival mechanism and came in handy.

The only way for me to get around what happened is to believe you are a very sick person.  I hold no resentment, no contempt.

It’s one of those really hard lessons that you only need to learn once, that I am unable to trust you with intimate pieces of my life.

For your own good, for my own good your secret is safe with me, along with all the others.  I won’t declare revenge and threaten you with my insider information.  That would not serve anyone, but mostly I have no desire to do that.

I’m taking that as another sign I’ve made progress on this whole being human thing.

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I tried hard to fix what was broken, I did.  I looked for clues, I did my work, I talked, I wrote, I cried.

My heart broke when the truth revealed itself to me.  I tried to hide from it, bury it deeply inside of my body, I didn’t want anyone to see it.

That was successful for a long time.  I tried to blame you, the reasons were all turned around and put back into my court and I couldn’t deny this was a truth I could not hide.

Looking for things that were wrong for so long until I found them, then I looked for ways to put them up high so no one could find them.

We’re in too deep, it has to remain as it is until one of us dies.  It will hurt too much, I can’t take much more hurt.  It will bury me eight feet under next to my Dad.  What have I done wrong?

I dotted my i’s and crossed my t’s, I checked and rechecked, went to the Doctor and went to God.

To stay in the condition would mean choosing you instead of me.  I thought that choice was the answer for me and I forgot who I was, what strengths I had, the hurdles I’d climbed before, and that I can overcome adversity no matter what’s on the table.

I sat, I cried, I wrote, I lied to myself.

I thought of him and how he did the same, exchanging his life for another.  It made him happy to do so, or it was what he wanted us all to believe.

A message from somewhere deep, rose up to greet, whispering in my ear, “don’t do that”.  “Right or wrong, it’s been so long, don’t walk the same road you saw me on”.

I love you, my heart would burst to prove to you if it could.  It’s time for me to sever that tie and find myself and I don’t even know why.

The beyond this will be beautiful, the beyond will be better than any of us could have hoped for.  I hate to be the one to change the tracks, it was the last choice, and when everything turned to black, I knew then it was only choice to bring my life back.

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When I first realized that I needed change my course I was afraid.  My mind asked if I was doing what I’ve always done, escaping my perceived strangle-hold.  I’ve never flourished or thrived when partnered.

Does this mean I’m eternally broken?

Aren’t humans supposed to couple up and live happily ever after?  If I listen to the inner voice that lives inside of my mind and body, it tells me that this may be true for others but it’s not true for me.

After years of investigating, getting my heart broken, and breaking others’ hearts I’ve learned a lot.  I’ve learned that when I am unattached, I can move mountains.  I can build bridges and soar through the sky.

I miss that part of myself that is capable of great things.  I miss the loneliness that feeds my creativity and moves me to the next level.

I don’t need you, or anyone else to complete me.  I can complete myself far better than anyone else.

I know as I type that the panic of not having a special someone by my side is going to be excruciatingly painful for me.  I’ve been here before, it’s horrible and ugly and I’ll hate myself for not being a better person.  It will not be pretty.

When we love, there is no escaping the inevitable pain that accompanies it.  It’s a part of the package, the sacrifice you make to let your heart soar.

I’m afraid, I don’t know what to do next, and I don’t like not having a direction.  I question my sanity, why on earth would I choose to leave the safety of my life at this point?

It would be selfish of me to continue, knowing I’m not as fulfilled as I should be, you deserve better.  It would be selfish of me to keep you here.

I’m sorry for the upset and chaos that this will bring into our lives, we’ve certainly seen too much of that over the years.

Looking back, I once thought it would make us stronger.  What I realized was that it broke us in ways that cannot be repaired.  I’ve been grieving much longer than you, as I’d hoped it was something I could find a solution to.

If I could block it out, and change how I am, I would.  I’ve tried medications, therapy and behavior modification just to make it all fit.

It’s not something that can be repaired because it’s not really broken.

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As a survivor of sexual abuse, I wasn’t sure that I would ever be able to fully enjoy a sexual experience as an adult.  For a long time, I didn’t know what to enjoy it even meant.  The side effects were shame, guilt, panic, and suicidal thoughts.

The first time I had sex, I was drunk.  That set the theme for me from that point on, I couldn’t participate in any type of sexual activity unless I was drunk or on some type of mind altering drug.  Even then, the “ick” came through at the end of the experience and sometimes lasted for days.

Then, I got sober and EVERYTHING became harder to carry out.  I was used to functioning high during the day and drunk at night.  I was in a relationship at the beginning of my sobriety and it wasn’t going so well at the time.  Within the year, we would have broken up for the last time after many attempts over a five year period.

Between that time and me being five or six years sober, sex usually meant I would have some type of panic attack.  Before, after, during.  A lot of times during and I would cry.  I tried to warn my partners that sometimes I get a little weird and cry.  Most of them seemed to understand and were compassionate.  (I now know that this is a common experience for most women and even some men.)

Around three years sober, I found myself wanting to die more than I wanted to live and I went to get some help.  For the next three years, I saw this therapist and she guided me through the Courage to Heal Workbook.  I hated almost every hour of it, and would frequently cancel appointments with her.  We did some major work in that whole area and I thought it was going to kill me.

In one of the early sessions I asked her if she thought I would ever be able to move beyond the problem, she told me I would if I did the work.

I believed her.

She said it would always be a part of me, but if I did the work I could rearrange the reactions and find coping skills for the parts it left behind.

No one had ever said that to me before.

During that three year period with her, I was single and celibate.  It didn’t help that I gained a bunch of weight and basically didn’t care much for my outside appearance.  This is a typical side effect when you are working through major stuff like that.  It won’t last forever.

It was a really, really fucked up time for me and I knew I was transforming myself for the good, but afraid of what I would end up with.  It would prove to be one of the most important things I could’ve ever done for myself, and beyond my wildest dreams.

I would’ve liked to just fast forwarded to the good part (being able to enjoy sexual relations) but there wouldn’t have been a good part if I hadn’t trudged through the bad part.

Oddly enough as I got better towards the end of the three year work, I started losing weight without even trying.  I started cleaning my apartment, getting rid of things I didn’t need and my life seemed to almost get itself in order.

This would prove to be a benefit for doing the actual work in therapy, one I hadn’t anticipated.

As for my sexual situation, that got better too.  MUCH BETTER.  I tried things I’d never tried, I was fully present, and I finally got what people were talking about, and I wanted to make up for lost time.

I’ve wanted to write something like this for a long time, I want people to know that we can recover in a way that allows us to enjoy certain aspects of life.  By no means am I “cured” and I’ve had flashbacks here and there (depending on what is going on in my life at the time) but it doesn’t paralyze me anymore and I can talk myself through most situations.

It does not paralyze me any more.

We all deserve a healthy sex life, and I’m certain that all of us on some level, whether you were abused or not have struggled with sexual issues.  I blame religion for a lot of it.

It’s a taboo subject (much like mental illness), and the only way I have found to heal is by discussing it with a trusted source that helped me to find my way back to the present in order to enjoy so many things we never dreamed of actually enjoying.

Sex is CAN be good and it CAN be your friend.

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One day I hope to have all the hurt out of my body.  I don’t rest well in my skin when I know I have hurt stuck in there.  I get illnesses and depression.  I know that some hurt has to stay where it is until it’s ready to come out.

This hurt, this particular hurt controls me.  Maybe I let it control me.  I expected you to protect me, to protect her, protect the ones you love.  My expectations getting in my way again, causing me to have resentment.

People cannot give what they do not have.

I thought by taking care of you that it would take care of the all of us, maybe I’d even learn to let you take care of me.  I know I’m not perfect, I have my own issues.  This really is my issue, because I am no longer able to deal with it.

I thought you were ready to do that work too.  It’s ok that you aren’t, I understand that knocking down walls isn’t for most people.  I also realize that I’m probably not meant for a long term commitment.  Not because I can’t commit, I’ve certainly proved that to myself once and for all.  Maybe I expect too much from my partners.

A Doctor recently told me after hearing my story, “You’ve come too far to settle”.  I nodded my head and agreed with her.  Not in some “superior” way, in a way for my own journey.  I HAVE come a long way from my humble beginnings, and my fucked up scars.

My heart aches for the loss we’ve suffered, and I’m not sure that it’ll ever stop aching, it goes really really deep.  It’s attached to some major core stuff for me and I’m powerless over it.  I’ve tried to make it something other than what it was.  Truth seeker that I am, I wasn’t successful.

Just a simple call or text can send me spiraling out into crazy land.  I love her, I love her so deeply it’s alarming even to me.

I can honestly say that I tried every avenue possible.  This isn’t me running away like it used to be.  I dug in my heels and willed it to get better, then I sought outside help.  I can comfortably say that I did the very best I could, tried everything I could, experienced heart wrenching pain for the both of us but to no avail.  A partnership only works if both are willing to work at it.

There are two sides to you, and 99% of people only see the one side.  I’ll be the “bad guy”, I know that’s important to you.  I’ve carried that title for many years now, and was blamed for things that I had no involvement in.  I let it be like that because I didn’t know another way and I thought it was the solution.

I’m not a bad guy, I’m just a regular person trying to survive just like everyone else.  And I can only take so much medication before I become a zombie.

I’m worth more than that and I’m grateful that I finally saw the truth, before I lost myself forever.

I love you.

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