57

That Deep, Gaping Hole

Hey sunshine,

How’s it hanging? Hopefully you’ve been having a sunny week like me. Hopefully you’re finding those little sparks of wellness throughout your day, even when the darkness is thick. For me, things continue to be up and down, but I’ve made some surprising efforts that I’m really proud of.

I keep telling myself that the most important thing is to be tolerant of this rollercoaster that I’m going to be dealing with for perhaps the rest of my life. Sometimes my emotions change gradually, but sometimes it’s like teleporting from one state to another without realizing what happens. Euphoria, despair, contentment, distress, hope, grief. It all comes for me in turns, like someone is spinning a wheel inside of me just to see where it lands. Sometimes I see it coming, sometimes I don’t. I am learning that because of the way I grew up, I learned to defer my emotional reactions when in a distressing situation.

Sometimes, my mind seems to immediately squash down anything that could hurt me, holding it down until the trigger passes, sometimes without me noticing at all. But of course, that distressing emotion usually fights its way free eventually, until it makes itself known. Then I’m upset without knowing why, because what actually upset me happened hours or days ago. That’s what makes it feel random, unexpected, and debilitating.

Yesterday was good until the afternoon. I slayed and got so much stuff done, but it didn’t feel like enough. My strings got cut after lunch, and I felt myself drifting and not able to get myself organized again. I’m nervous and doubting some projects I’ve started, whether they’ll have any impact, whether I’ll be able to support myself. Things are dire right now, but everyday for weeks I’ve been doing my best to push through while giving myself grace. But it never feels like enough, because the results are anything that people can see. Certain people in my life think I should be better by now and able to be normal again. It’s been enough time, hasn’t it?

I wish they could see what I could see! I know I’m not achieving as much as everyone else, but I’ve been practicing discipline and perseverance. I’m doing things I never would have thought possible a few months ago. I’m looking after my body, making my bed every day. I have a morning and a night routine. I’m writing again, just a little. I have left the house every fucking day for almost three weeks. On my walk yesterday, I felt so heavy for most of it. Just lonely, you know? I found a few places on the trail to just sit and stare at the water, listening to sad songs and wondering if I was going to cry. I didn’t though. I got up and kept going. I even had a conversation with a family yesterday! Three whole people! And an adorable baby.

Unfortunately one of those people was someone from my writer’s group. She asked me where I’ve been, and I remembered that it was Thursday. I told her I felt bad for not baking anything, so that’s why I didn’t go. She said that if I go home right now, I’d have time to bake and go to group. This was a dilemma, though, because I was in the middle of my walking goal. I really wanted to finish it. While I walked, I thought about what I would make. I was nervous, but decided to try a pie, since it was Pi Day. I planned it all out while I finished my walk, and I was somewhat confident I could get it done, even if I was late to group.

I got home and got to work, got three burners going, and was cooking like a typhoon. I kept watching the clock, and as the time ticked down, I wondered if I would make it. But the process was still fun. I’ve been doing some vary chaotic cooking and baking these last few weeks, based on the new diet I’m on. Since I can’t find many base recipes that work, I have been making stuff up on my own through trial and error. It’s such a rush when it sort of pays off, and I make something resembling what I set out to do. I’m becoming a culinary adrenaline junkie.

I ran out of steam to try and go to group though. The kitchen was an absolute disaster, and my pie would never set on time. As much as I didn’t want to disappoint my group mate, I decided not to push myself. I’ve had a certain routine the last few weeks, and it’s so difficult to pivot when something changes. It takes a lot of energy that I just didn’t have.

So I cleaned up, left my pie to set, and went to do my workout. Or try, anyway. My heart was unbelievably heavy from the weight of so much happening. I was spiralling fast, mostly because I had to let my son know I wouldn’t be able to visit him this week as planned, since I didn’t have enough gas money. Feeling like a bad mother is usually enough to bring me to my knees, whether it’s coming from me or someone else. My body was physically heavy, I got changed but then just laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to fight the attack of self-loathing.

I’m not one for positive affirmations, but one that I’ve been clinging too since I’ve been working on a new book is the concept of forging a truce and alliance with myself. I’ve been my own enemy for so long, but the part that hates me and the part that craves wellness are destroying me. So when the overwhelming sense of worthlessness and uselessness surrounds me, I try to give myself a comforting touch and say, “We have a truce.” This is particularly useful at night, when the thoughts are usually the worst. I’ll rub my nose, a part of myself that I’ve been made fun of, and think of myself as a small child. Children can be shitty, but they only get better with love and kindness, not harshness.

“We have a truce,” I tell myself, the anxious part, the anguished part, the lonely part, and the hopeless part. I try and recognize that the part of me that wants to dive into self-destructive behaviours is really just trying to love me in her own way. She wants us to find relief from the bad, by binging food or TV or staying in bed all day. She’s the child that is scared to try, and wants to feel better right now.

But I remind myself that our truce means that I don’t get to hurt us anymore. I don’t get to sabotage all the rebuilding we’ve been trying to do. When I hear the voices, memories of people telling me what a shitty parent or employee or human being I am, I tell us that we have a truce with them, too. Those ghosts in my head are the phantoms of other people’s pain, and listening to them will just turn me into what they call me. If I give in to the pain, I will not be able to contribute to my family the way I want. I won’t be able to show up in the world the way I want.

All of that is easier said than done. But for me, it’s easier not to try and convince myself that I am not a shitty person. I can admit that I have been a disappointment, a failure, and a disgrace to myself and others. But if I don’t want to continue to be that, I need to reach for the good parts of me. As much as I usually don’t want to admit that there’s anything good about me, I’m pretty sure it’s true. Feeling it is a challenge, especially when I’m comparing myself to others, but one good thing about me is that I want to be good. By keeping the truce and focusing on the alliance, I can let go of things that “don’t serve me.” Corny, I know, but I had to come to that conclusion in my own way.

So, while I stared at my ceiling and battled the voices, I took the time I needed to find my way back to some sort of motivation. I got up and started my workout, and at first I was doing the bare minimum, my heart not in it at all. I felt fat and ugly and wondered what the point even was. Fifteen minutes in I was near tears and ready to quit. I told myself it was okay, that I had done a little movement and that’s what mattered. I decided I would go for a few more minutes.

Then, somehow, I started to feel a little less bad. I put some energy into my movements. I caught myself laughing a bit when I couldn’t keep up with the video, and stumbled. Gradually, I found myself giving more and more, until I was going harder than guides in the video. I felt great. Powerful. Unstoppable. And I was like, fuck yeah, I’m going to keep working on myself and getting more powerful. I’m doing this so that I can build up my mental strength and achieve some sort of career to support myself and my son. I’m reconditioning myself so that I can play at the park with him before he gets to old to pester me to join him. I don’t want to sit there on the bench like a lump, winded just by walking from the car. I am doing it because it helps me sleep somewhat better, and I want to be able to be present for him during the day. I am doing this because I want to leave a mark on this world for the better, even when no one understands what I’m trying to do. I’m doing it because when I feel self-confident and well, I have so much more energy for the things I love.

There is good in me. Even when I can’t see it or don’t want to admit it. And the bad is there either to protect the good or because it has a warped sense of what’s good. I can sort through it and find a way to live authentically. I will not allow others to make me feel bad when I have a bad day. I won’t let it get to me when they ask whether I’m better “yet.” I won’t be ashamed when I still fall into despair or insomnia on occasion even though I’m working so hard to address my issues. Even when I’m at my best, I will almost certainly still have the occasional meltdown. I won’t listen when they say, “I thought it was working. What happened?”

Life happens. Hurt happens. It won’t ever stop. But I’m trying to push through for a few more minutes. Then a few minutes more.

• YouTube
• Twitter
• WordPress
• Facebook
• LinkedIn
• Mail
• Spotify
• Instagram
• Link
• Patreon