Re: Lawlessness45's Diary
Posted: July 3rd, 2014, 10:40 am
7-3-14
Dear Diary,
I’d either need to go back to walmart or find some other job that pays relatively decently. Options:Ross, Walmart, Safeway, King Soopers? God just writing that makes me cringe. Going back to walmart…ick…but that was one of the better paying jobs I had, sadly enough. And it always seems to come back to money. Money rules the world. But, I get to decide how my story ends. And it doesn’t end with me being at Wal-Mart. I could work there until I find something better. Of course, getting stuck there is more likely. Don’t know why thinking about it causes such anxiety. I think I am just still scared of people. Scared of being treated so poorly. It’s hard to not let that affect your self esteem…geesh….I don’t want to think about this anymore. Here I was feeling great, better than great and I’ve gone and gotten myself all down again just by bringing this up. It’s probably a sign that I’m not ready for this yet. That I can’t view it objectively or remove myself/self worth from it enough to be looking at it.
I think I’m going to try staying here 6 months. Then re-evaluate. That would put me getting back in CO at the end of December, beginning of January. That seems like a long time, but in the grand scheme of things it’s relatively short. A lot of what happens depends on what the Social Security lady says on the 11th of this month. If I can get SSI, that will allow me to work, but not work so much I want to blow my brains out every time I think about it. Gah….lets put that on the back burner for now. But I keep bringing it up. I must just like torturing myself.
Had an interesting night last night. Just…ended up thinking about what happened to me. Even since my dad mentioned it the other day, it’s forced me to kinda admit it’s still there and I’m not over it. I mean, it’s only been 2 months since I admitted what happened to me was abuse. My parents are dealing with it in their own way. I trust them to figure it out for themselves and come to terms with it. They can do it. I didn’t think they could at first. But now I recognize that they are fully capable of dealing with that kind of information. Even more so because they experienced it themselves. Fucked up how that happens, isn’t it? I was totally shocked to find that out. Almost wish my mother had talked to me about it when I was younger. Maybe I would’ve remembered more of what occurred sooner. And I wouldn’t have been so absolutely terrified to tell my parents what happened. Not when I was a kid, but as an adult. I didn’t start to remember things until 2-6 months ago anyway. But, I was so…shaken up about the whole thing. So terrified that I wouldn’t be believed, that it would hurt her/them so badly. I wanted to spare her/them that pain. Both of them that pain. But the truth is out, and they have survived.
I feel good today. And for the last 3 days, I’ve felt normal. Big word for me. Normal. I have energy, don’t want to sleep all day and am getting things accomplished. Little things, like making phone calls, but they are accomplishments none the less. I even read a book this morning. I haven’t read for pleasure in nearly 2 years. But I was able to sit down at breakfast and read. My brain was quite enough to let me read. And I even followed everything that was written and said. I’m ridiculously excited about that. That is just one more sign that I’m starting to feel better. That I’m coming back. I started taking one of my meds at night and my doctor upped my abilify and I think that combination has helped tremendously. That and the fact that I’m not trying to ignore my life and everything in my life. It’s more like I’m trying to live my life, instead of just sitting in it, passive. I’m not running around frantic, but I’m not just sitting anymore either. It’s more like a really slow walk. But it’s something.
I had an interesting thought last night. It was as I was writing. I was kinda angst ridden at first, just with remembering. But, then I wrote this, in a sort of free form write until you stop type thing:
Barbed wire. Tight against the soul. A boa constriction stealing all breath, all life from this hollow frame. Hollow no more. Claiming what is mine. Rising from the mud and ashes. Reborn. Perhaps? Yes, reborn! Reborn in the body of a Hero. A Hero. With galaxies in her hand, trembling her wake. Galaxies defended and put right with her courage. I am her. I am the galaxies. I am chaos, ordered once more. I am who and I am. A hero. A saint. A masterpiece. A masterpiece. Lines of vibrancy outline my frame, and glories my mind. For I am healed and healing. A broken vessel no more. But a liquid. Fluid as the sun and moon and stars. Fluid, like peace and war, ever changing but desperately constant. I am the hero of my own story. I AM the HERO.
And I’ve been saying that to myself ever since. I am the hero of my own story. Silly little line, but it awoke in me images of knights and soldiers, defending a kingdom, soldiers defending humanity from the overwhelming force of an alien invasion. I am my own hero. If I can just keep this in mind on the days where I feel more like the villain, I I can make it through. I get to decide how the story goes and where it ends. I may not get to pick the setting, characters, or conflict, but I get to decide the hero’s actions. I want them to be worthy of story and song, worthy of the hero herself. I can’t let her down. Not when she’s come this far.
Lawlessness45
Dear Diary,
I’d either need to go back to walmart or find some other job that pays relatively decently. Options:Ross, Walmart, Safeway, King Soopers? God just writing that makes me cringe. Going back to walmart…ick…but that was one of the better paying jobs I had, sadly enough. And it always seems to come back to money. Money rules the world. But, I get to decide how my story ends. And it doesn’t end with me being at Wal-Mart. I could work there until I find something better. Of course, getting stuck there is more likely. Don’t know why thinking about it causes such anxiety. I think I am just still scared of people. Scared of being treated so poorly. It’s hard to not let that affect your self esteem…geesh….I don’t want to think about this anymore. Here I was feeling great, better than great and I’ve gone and gotten myself all down again just by bringing this up. It’s probably a sign that I’m not ready for this yet. That I can’t view it objectively or remove myself/self worth from it enough to be looking at it.
I think I’m going to try staying here 6 months. Then re-evaluate. That would put me getting back in CO at the end of December, beginning of January. That seems like a long time, but in the grand scheme of things it’s relatively short. A lot of what happens depends on what the Social Security lady says on the 11th of this month. If I can get SSI, that will allow me to work, but not work so much I want to blow my brains out every time I think about it. Gah….lets put that on the back burner for now. But I keep bringing it up. I must just like torturing myself.
Had an interesting night last night. Just…ended up thinking about what happened to me. Even since my dad mentioned it the other day, it’s forced me to kinda admit it’s still there and I’m not over it. I mean, it’s only been 2 months since I admitted what happened to me was abuse. My parents are dealing with it in their own way. I trust them to figure it out for themselves and come to terms with it. They can do it. I didn’t think they could at first. But now I recognize that they are fully capable of dealing with that kind of information. Even more so because they experienced it themselves. Fucked up how that happens, isn’t it? I was totally shocked to find that out. Almost wish my mother had talked to me about it when I was younger. Maybe I would’ve remembered more of what occurred sooner. And I wouldn’t have been so absolutely terrified to tell my parents what happened. Not when I was a kid, but as an adult. I didn’t start to remember things until 2-6 months ago anyway. But, I was so…shaken up about the whole thing. So terrified that I wouldn’t be believed, that it would hurt her/them so badly. I wanted to spare her/them that pain. Both of them that pain. But the truth is out, and they have survived.
I feel good today. And for the last 3 days, I’ve felt normal. Big word for me. Normal. I have energy, don’t want to sleep all day and am getting things accomplished. Little things, like making phone calls, but they are accomplishments none the less. I even read a book this morning. I haven’t read for pleasure in nearly 2 years. But I was able to sit down at breakfast and read. My brain was quite enough to let me read. And I even followed everything that was written and said. I’m ridiculously excited about that. That is just one more sign that I’m starting to feel better. That I’m coming back. I started taking one of my meds at night and my doctor upped my abilify and I think that combination has helped tremendously. That and the fact that I’m not trying to ignore my life and everything in my life. It’s more like I’m trying to live my life, instead of just sitting in it, passive. I’m not running around frantic, but I’m not just sitting anymore either. It’s more like a really slow walk. But it’s something.
I had an interesting thought last night. It was as I was writing. I was kinda angst ridden at first, just with remembering. But, then I wrote this, in a sort of free form write until you stop type thing:
Barbed wire. Tight against the soul. A boa constriction stealing all breath, all life from this hollow frame. Hollow no more. Claiming what is mine. Rising from the mud and ashes. Reborn. Perhaps? Yes, reborn! Reborn in the body of a Hero. A Hero. With galaxies in her hand, trembling her wake. Galaxies defended and put right with her courage. I am her. I am the galaxies. I am chaos, ordered once more. I am who and I am. A hero. A saint. A masterpiece. A masterpiece. Lines of vibrancy outline my frame, and glories my mind. For I am healed and healing. A broken vessel no more. But a liquid. Fluid as the sun and moon and stars. Fluid, like peace and war, ever changing but desperately constant. I am the hero of my own story. I AM the HERO.
And I’ve been saying that to myself ever since. I am the hero of my own story. Silly little line, but it awoke in me images of knights and soldiers, defending a kingdom, soldiers defending humanity from the overwhelming force of an alien invasion. I am my own hero. If I can just keep this in mind on the days where I feel more like the villain, I I can make it through. I get to decide how the story goes and where it ends. I may not get to pick the setting, characters, or conflict, but I get to decide the hero’s actions. I want them to be worthy of story and song, worthy of the hero herself. I can’t let her down. Not when she’s come this far.
Lawlessness45