Let Go!
You cannot rescue anyone who is determined to drown. You have two choices. Drown with them, or survive by letting go and reaching for the buoy or life jacket right above you. The survivor guilt can be managed, but death is a permanent end. I am sitting here in awe of the choice I have made within the 16 hours I have been awake with my qualifier. I made the decision to let go and swim to the top of the waves, grab the life jacket, buoy and surf board that have been waiting for me all this time. My qualifier has always enjoyed sinking to the depths of the…
If only!
When I was little, I had no idea the things my qualifier did were abnormal. It has only been in the last few years of being married to someone who is the complete opposite of my qualifier, that I’ve had to adjust my thought process. Looking back, I remember how mad my qualifier would get. He would have this tunnel vision rage, and take it all out on Mom and me behind closed doors. He would clear tables with his arm while screaming at us. He would stare us down into submission, but I never fully gave in to his threats and rage and this only angered him more. Mom…
Her hands trembled for a second. It would only have been noticed by her or her best friend, she always able to see beyond what was actually happening. She’d ask, “why,” I’d answer “lithium!” Which is true, but that’s not why today. She trembled at the thought that her body, so used to failing her, was failing her then. But not failing for the sake of failing or for safety or for recognition of something deeper going on. Her body was failing because she was so close to success. Her tremble was another hiccup, another reminder that if she kept failing it would prevent her from succeeding and she could…
It’s been a while!
I’ve been thinking a lot about how to share my story. I want to be proof that one can live a decent and productive life with mental illness. But I’m sure I’ve said it before, fear of what close family and future friends will think has kept me away from this blog and my IG page. As I continue to work on telling my story I will ask this… what are you willing to lose to be a light for just one person struggling? I thought I knew…. We shall see.
It’s time to write again…
My heart has been exploding with blog post titles. It has been exploding with little quotes my Mamabear is sending my way. My terror of people finding out about my mental illness is something I can’t quite fathom or describe. I just want people to know they are not alone. That even in wanting to help, fear plays a major role in my daily decisions to write or not. I’m a tall person that wears her heart on her sleeve and I’m excited to share what has been brewing inside since I last wrote. We are all rising from the ashes and it is marvelous.
A Five Week Wait
I set out on an adventure this past weekend, to a location in the state that had no cell reception, no TV access or news access. It gave me a chance to almost purge myself of the toxic political combat that has taken over our air waves and TV screens. I sat by the fire when we first arrived, taking in the beauty of the coals under the timber, shimmering with heat. It hypnotized me into a state of sweet surrender, and as I looked up into a sky thick with stars, I began to feel that special feeling of something so much bigger then I, happening out there. Something…
A Pass Through Grief While Enduring Mental Illness