A moment in a thought

My thoughts, in my life, of adoption and other such things

Depression is a bitch October 1, 2009

Filed under: Depression,life,Mental illness,Self acceptance,thoughts — Jessie @ 1:21 am
Tags:

Yep, you heard me.  It really is.  I have been struggling with depression since I was probably about 14 years old.  I don’t think it has ever really and truly gone away.  Sometimes I like to think that I feel better, and sometimes I REALLY do feel better.  Sometimes I think I might actually be free and clear of being just plain freaking miserable.

But alas, no, the depression always seems to creep its way back.

I have tried antidepressants, and yeah, they do help.  Really they do.  And really, I probably should be on them.  But I have no health insurance, no job at the moment, no money.  So it makes getting things, even simple medications, very difficult.

So I deal with depression.

Someone I know recently told me that in order to not be depressed anymore, I just had to catch myself when I started to feel like I was headed downwards emotionally.  She told me to make a list of things I liked to do that made me happy, and when I started to feel that down turning, to do the things on the list.  She gave me ideas like watching a comedy, and thinking of the really great moments in my life.

Well sure, that works… sometimes!  But not all the time.  Because like I said, depression is a bitch.

It makes me hate me.  Unfortunately I do hate me, especially when I am depressed.

When I am depressed, its hard to see past my faults.  I am totally socially inept when it comes to people.  I don’t understand why this is.  The closest explanation I have is that I never had the opportunities to learn proper social skills.  I didn’t really have any friends when I was little, and the few that I did got so annoyed with me, they would just give up.  I had one, and still have one, who just sorta accepts me for me.  That always amazed me.  But anyway, I didn’t have friends, my parents were USELESS when it came to trying to learn how to be a normal human.  My mother was uber strict about everything, so trying to figure out what was right and wrong was pretty much a hopeless cause since EVERYTHING I did was wrong to her.  In middle and high school I did get some friends.  But they were all like me, loners, hopeless, depressed, stoners who just sort of moseyed on through the day until they could get high, or go to sleep, or do something insanely stupid that would be amusing for a few minutes.  Even then, even with the loners, I was a loner.  I have many of these people as friends on facebook, and even the ones I considered to be some of my best friends, don’t know me at all.  Don’t know the slightest thing about me.  Probably don’t really care.  It hurts to know that I never really connected with ANYONE.  It hurts to know that is probably the main reason WHY I have no idea, now, how to hold on to a real relationship.

I have no social skills.  I am 27 years old and I don’t really know how to be NORMAL.  I mean I am not completely hopeless, but I struggle with basics, like how to react when people say things.  How NOT to say the first damn thing that comes to my head.  When to talk, when to shut up, when to give advise, when to listen.  All these things are learned by trial and error.  I didn’t have any of that, and now that I am older, not many people have the patience to deal with it.  I suppose I am not the only one.  But I guess that many people don’t really CARE that they don’t seem to have these basic skills, me on the other hand, I do.  I thank GOD every day for my Daddy (my bdad) for he is the only one who seems to have enough patience to not only love me unconditionally, put up with me, support me, be my best friend AND try to tell me WHEN I do something wrong, so that maybe I can fix it.  God bless the small miracles in life.

It’s like the core of my very personality is just defective, and try as I might, I can’t seem to make it completely right.

My body sucks, years of depression (theres the bitch again!) have taken its toll on me.  Everyone handles things differently.  I sleep, a lot, and eat.  Its my vice, my addiction I suppose I could call it.  Funny I can spill my heart and soul out but can’t talk about the fact that I have an eating disorder.  Due to this, the general nature of food is when you eat it in excess, you gain weight.  I have been getting fat since I was 12.  I succeeded fairly quickly.  And now my body is something I like to think belongs in a circus with little kids staring at me.  Okay so I am not that bad, but I am fat.  Fat enough to not really fit into clothes right.  Fat enough that I can’t just buy a bra at wal mart anymore.  Fat enough that EVERYTHING is difficult, that EVERYTHING doesn’t really fit.  Things people who are of more normal size don’t think twice about.  Like airline seats, lawn chairs, and sitting next to someone thats bigger than a toothpick at the movies.  Its embarassing, it’s the one thing I hate most about myself.  My Daddy is my saving grace on that too, he eats like I do.  Only somehow blessidly, as he is a man, is not QUITE as fat as I am.  But I am watching him die, from diabetes, from high blood pressure, from heart disease.  Its not a fun thing.  And knowing what is doing it to him, and knowing that I am headed right there.  He is 48 years old, he shouldn’t be as sick as he is, but I am going to be sicker than him.

Depression does this.  And it works in mysterious ways since no two people react quite the same.  But its a disease none the less, one that eats at you from the inside out.

And for me, no one knows.  NO ONE knows.  Sure some people know I am depressed, but no one has a clue when I am in my room alone that really I am curled up within myself.  No one knows how often I wish I wasn’t born, because I feel like everyone I know would have benefited from this.  The really deep depression makes me feel like I just shouldn’t be here, that I was just a god damned f’ up to begin with so why the heck am I here?  What purpose do I serve other than to cause others stress and pain?  It makes me so angry that I just can’t seem to be the person I want to be.  I feel like life was wasted on me.  That maybe my aparents would have been happier if they had just adopted a kid that actually FIT in their family, one that tried harder, did better, and didn’t screw up all the time.  Maybe my bmom would feel better if I had just had the life she wanted me to have, if I just WAS that kid that could fit.  If I was actually a well established human being that she actually LIKED.  The grown up one that could be her friend and not annoy the f@%k out of her.  If I wasn’t born, than no one would even HAVE to know I had been here.  No one would have to have suffered the pain that I cause, no one would be any wiser.  Maybe they would be happier.

Then I wouldn’t have to hurt.

Because G Damn it, depression hurts.  It makes me think these things, it makes me FEEL them inside!

My only blessing is that somewhere deep inside me I do know the truth.  I know that I am worth something, and that my aparents probably wouldn’t have been happy with anyone.  My bmom is probably happy somewhere that I am alive, if for nothing else that she has someone to email all the time, and an eternal connection to my bdad.  That I didn’t REALLY cause undue pain to my bdad just because I am alive.  That I DO deserve to be here, and I DO deserve to be happy.  I DO come out of that shell, I am lucky, because I REALLY DO.  The deep depression, the deep dark nasty life sucking mean bitch depression isn’t there all the time.  I am blessed with that, because sometimes I look back and wonder how the hell I even survived that.

I think I survived because when everything is always dark, you get used to it, you get adjusted.  But now, now I get some light, I get some happy, I get some sunshine, and optimism and love.  I hold on to those for dear life when it gets dark.  Because now that I know what light is, the dark seems so much darker, and so much deeper.  But I hold on to that light.

 

Who am I? September 5, 2009

And what a question that is.

Who am I?  Really, WHO am I?  I have so often wondered the answer to that question.  In the nature of me, and the nature of the diagnosis of BPD the question Who am I comes up quite often.  If you had asked me 10 years ago… five years ago… I probably would have looked at you like you were out of your mind.  I had no idea who I was, or even how to begin an accurate description of me.  I was whatever I wanted to be, a personal chameleon that could fit well into any situation.  Belong with any group of people.  Only I never really did BELONG, just pretended.  And silently hoped that no one would notice the chameleon in their midst.

Over the years I have developed something that would qualify as a sense of self.  I learned to lable things at put them into perspective and say, yeah, this is me, I like this.  I could even tell you reasons why I liked those things.  I have learned to allow myself to be myself, without questioning that too much.  Granted it doesn’t happen often, but it does happen.

Hoever, today, I took a quiz on a dating site, I decided to join a dating site, yay for me.  But I took this personality profile… I have taken lots… I know my profile personality pretty well.  This profile was different, the questions were aimed to be answered as you were as a child, not as you are now.  Because according to this, everyone is born with their core personality in tact.  Being that I worked in child care for 7 years,  I can tell you that this is probably true.  Babies, even little ones, have outrageously different personalities that they always carry with them through their childhoods.  But anyway, so this test is geared at your core personality, the one you were born with.  There was a disclaimer in there about yeah, people change blah blah blah but your core personality always remained.  So I took the test.  There were four personality groups.  Blue, the intuitive, intimate, emotional type.  Red, the powerful, stubborn, relentless type.  White the gentle, kind, dependable type.  Yellow, the outgoing, spontaneous and fun loving type.  I figured I was a shoo in for blue.

I got yellow, not even just yellow but DEFINITELY yellow (thats what they said, definitely yellow).  Yellow?  Where did that come from?  I am not outgoing, I HATE being around people.  I suck in social situations and avoid them at all costs.  I don’t like to be around people,  revel in being alone!  I don’t like having lots of friends, being the center of attention, I am not outgoing, I am not extroverted… all I could think of is WTF?  YELLOW??  The worst is my next was red, then white, THEN blue.  No no no, they got something wrong.

But then I started thinking.  I was that obnoxious child, the one that was always in trouble, and way too loud.  The one that wanted to be the center of attention and loved making people laugh.  The one that put tacks in her shoes because she liked the clicking noise walking down the hall.  The stubborn and crazy and creative kid.  I was that one.

So what the hell happened?

If our core personalities never change, where did mine go?  And the more I started thinking about it, the more I realized its still there.  Just so locked away and hidden it doesn’t come out often.  When I am with my Dad (my bdad for those followers) I am that person still.  The fun loving, outgoing, silly funny person.  The goofy one who loves to make him laugh.  The one who is always being cheerful and telling him to look at the bright side.  The Yellow me.  Yellow.  When I am with him, I can be yellow.

Every time else, I am Blue.  The emotional, feeling, intuitive, craves intimacy blue.  And I am blue with my Dad too, if it weren’t for the intimacy of our relationship (and NO intimacy does not mean SEX, at least not this definition of it) the yellow in me would never have come out.

So who the hell am I, the Yellow or the Blue?

And if core personalities don’t change, why do I gravitate towards blue?

 

Accepting July 3, 2007

Ah, I have been so meaning to blog but just havn’t gotten around to it. 

Technically my computer is fixed, I got the call today to come and pick it up.  However, I am about 80 miles away in a very very country setting. 

Somewhere I can actually see all the stars in the sky.  Its quite amazing to if I might say so myself. 

I am at my bdads… I don’t even need to call him my bdad, he asked me on Sunday if I would feel comfortable calling him Dad. 

Dad

Well that is definetly not the way I imagined all of this going.

I also have a sister, E. who is so much like me its almost scary.  I have never been like anyone in my life, and I now have two people that I am very much like, in very different ways. 

Oh sure, there is also a whole bunch of me thrown in, but I like it, I like having a sister I can relate to.  We have gotten along amazingly well, all of us. 

I even have a Niece, I have never had a niece, and I have to say, I am quite fond of the little kid.  Shes quite cute, really smart, and likes me.  The first time I heard Aunt Jessie I almost melted, I have a niece.  I love her already. 

In these last few days, week or so, I have really done a lot of thinking, a lot of self examining, and a lot of reflecting.  As proven in my last post as well.

I have allowed myself to grow up, I know this sounds silly, as I am 24 years old, already a grown up. 

However, I allowed myself to let go of a lot of the things and issues that have been holding me back, even a lot of the ones that have to do with adoption. 

For the first time in my life, I am not terrified of being abandoned, I know that the people I have are either still going to be around, or they are not.  It isn’t a great feeling, but one I am learning to sit with.  After all, fear accomplishes nothing, being afraid something is going to happen doesn’t help anything, in fact, a lot of the time it hurts. 

I am learning to let go of my fears.  

I have discovered the joy of true self reflection, of truly saying, ok this is my life, and this is what is in it at the moment.  I can either be radically accepting of it, or I cannot.  I have learned that I need to be radically accepting of the things that I am unable to change.  There are a great many things I cannot change.  And I guess I had some childish hope inside that they would. 

Like the big scratch I now have in the side of my car, I can’t change it, I can work on saving up money to get it fixed, but I cannot change the fact that it is there.  I can however accept it. 

It is a little bit of that control that I talked about in my last blog entry.  There are things I can control, and things I can’t.  I have learned that in taking control of the things I CAN change, can control, it has made me feel much more in control of other aspects of my life. 

I can control how I react to certain situations, and I can control the emotional child that I have allowed myself to revert to for so many months now.  I have two choices, to be accepting, or to not. 

I am chosing accepting, I am accepting my life, and my place in it.  I am also accepting my roles and responsibilities of the adult that I am… instead of the child that it is more comfortable to be. 

I already feel better, I feel like I have taken the reins of my own life instead of allowing others to control it. 

And I have found a little niche, a little one about 80 miles away from the place that I live, a place that feels like a vacation from the real world. 

A place where the acceptance of me is only validated by those that surround me.   Even the dogs… and there are four of them.  One of whom is a gigantic great dane that has taken quite a liking to me 🙂