Once Upon a Time...
Posted: Sun May 11, 2014 7:55 pm
Well, we all have our stories. This is mine thus far.
I had a wonderful childhood with an older brother and two loving parents. They did, however, fight a lot. But we lived in a beautiful house in the country, with a dog, cat, abundance of food. It was pretty perfect. I suppose the environment was a bit hostile from the fighting that went on. And my mother has PTSD...but God bless her still, she's an amazing woman. Anyway. Who's to say what happened. I hate to blame any of my own doings on my upbringing. Maybe my brain is just wired funny. I can't exactly recall why, but I start self-harming when I was 13. I began to experience depression, although I wasn't entirely aware of it. I was a top grade student...top of my class, to be honest, with a large circle of innocent, vibrant girl friends in a small town. I always had problems with nightmares....sleep wasn't my favorite hobby.
I guess it all started going really down hill when I dropped out of high school in grade 11 and took off with my boyfriend across the country. (ha, you don't say!) Long story short, we returned months later. I quit self-harming because it bothered him. I quit smoking. But...those habits were replaced with a disgusting need to control everything. I lost all of my friends after dropping out and became terrified of people. I started having anxiety attacks. My parents got a divorce....that didn't help. I married at 19, moved to Ottawa with hubby and went to college as a mature student. 4 years later, we divorced.
I have a decent enough job at a dental office. My social anxieties are gone. I'm a social butterfly now. I never panic. I'm very chill. I take things in stride. I did try anti-depressant drugs during the time of my separation....those were fun. Napped often. Felt like a warm blanket. But I felt....even more apart from myself and the world, so I stopped. The doctor told me at the time that I had borderline personality disorder. I'm not sure if I even believe in that. The diagnoses, or the title itself. Why don't they just title everything in the same category? "You are suffering from messed up disorder."
Mm hmm. I reckon I am, Doc.
Anyway. I haven't self harmed. The smoking is off and on. The dreams are continuous - not always nightmares but so often deranged. I drank far, far too much over the winter. I feel afraid of nothing. I don't care to kill myself, because that would hurt my family. Also, I don't think I could follow through with it. But I often fantasize about it. Part of me is driven, ambitious, romantic and child-like. The other half is dead....and marinating in an ocean of pain, doesn't see the point in anything when everything leads to death in the end. Seems silly. I mean really, I laugh at it. A dark sense of humor, I guess. I can understand that this is a problem and it does affect my life and well being. I understand logical thinking. I often lift other people's spirits, which is too ironic, given the state of my own. I was recently told by a coworker that I am very positive and bring a good feel to the atmosphere at work. I sort of had to shake my head at that. It's not that I'm being fake. I LOVE people. I love to lift them up. I love to laugh. All of that is genuine. But then there's....this disgusting side of me. I don't understand how the two dwell in one body, but they do. I also feel completely separate from myself sometimes.
I get away with all of this, anyway. Awesome social life, I'm fit, I workout, I'm artistic and I'm constantly getting promotions at work. So maybe I should just shut up about it because all things on the exterior are going quite well.
But it's there, inside of me. Very much so. And I'm trying to live with it. How do you know if you're doing a good job. I mean...if "life" is good...then are you doing well, or not? Because the inside of myself...it's not good. It's really not good.
I had a wonderful childhood with an older brother and two loving parents. They did, however, fight a lot. But we lived in a beautiful house in the country, with a dog, cat, abundance of food. It was pretty perfect. I suppose the environment was a bit hostile from the fighting that went on. And my mother has PTSD...but God bless her still, she's an amazing woman. Anyway. Who's to say what happened. I hate to blame any of my own doings on my upbringing. Maybe my brain is just wired funny. I can't exactly recall why, but I start self-harming when I was 13. I began to experience depression, although I wasn't entirely aware of it. I was a top grade student...top of my class, to be honest, with a large circle of innocent, vibrant girl friends in a small town. I always had problems with nightmares....sleep wasn't my favorite hobby.
I guess it all started going really down hill when I dropped out of high school in grade 11 and took off with my boyfriend across the country. (ha, you don't say!) Long story short, we returned months later. I quit self-harming because it bothered him. I quit smoking. But...those habits were replaced with a disgusting need to control everything. I lost all of my friends after dropping out and became terrified of people. I started having anxiety attacks. My parents got a divorce....that didn't help. I married at 19, moved to Ottawa with hubby and went to college as a mature student. 4 years later, we divorced.
I have a decent enough job at a dental office. My social anxieties are gone. I'm a social butterfly now. I never panic. I'm very chill. I take things in stride. I did try anti-depressant drugs during the time of my separation....those were fun. Napped often. Felt like a warm blanket. But I felt....even more apart from myself and the world, so I stopped. The doctor told me at the time that I had borderline personality disorder. I'm not sure if I even believe in that. The diagnoses, or the title itself. Why don't they just title everything in the same category? "You are suffering from messed up disorder."
Mm hmm. I reckon I am, Doc.
Anyway. I haven't self harmed. The smoking is off and on. The dreams are continuous - not always nightmares but so often deranged. I drank far, far too much over the winter. I feel afraid of nothing. I don't care to kill myself, because that would hurt my family. Also, I don't think I could follow through with it. But I often fantasize about it. Part of me is driven, ambitious, romantic and child-like. The other half is dead....and marinating in an ocean of pain, doesn't see the point in anything when everything leads to death in the end. Seems silly. I mean really, I laugh at it. A dark sense of humor, I guess. I can understand that this is a problem and it does affect my life and well being. I understand logical thinking. I often lift other people's spirits, which is too ironic, given the state of my own. I was recently told by a coworker that I am very positive and bring a good feel to the atmosphere at work. I sort of had to shake my head at that. It's not that I'm being fake. I LOVE people. I love to lift them up. I love to laugh. All of that is genuine. But then there's....this disgusting side of me. I don't understand how the two dwell in one body, but they do. I also feel completely separate from myself sometimes.
I get away with all of this, anyway. Awesome social life, I'm fit, I workout, I'm artistic and I'm constantly getting promotions at work. So maybe I should just shut up about it because all things on the exterior are going quite well.
But it's there, inside of me. Very much so. And I'm trying to live with it. How do you know if you're doing a good job. I mean...if "life" is good...then are you doing well, or not? Because the inside of myself...it's not good. It's really not good.