My momma didn’t tell me

Having one of those Why The Fuck Did I Get Out Of Bed In The First Place? days.

I detest that blasted “fuck my life” expression as I am well aware that my life, when you think about it, is pretty good. I am not homeless. I am not starving. I am a citizen of – and live in- a safe and beautiful country. I know I am loved by family and friends.

That, by any account, is a blesses life in all the true sense of the word, religion notwithstanding.

But right now I am mighty tempted to scream fuck my life at the top of my lungs.

But most of all, and really, this is what it all comes down to, FUCK MENTAL ILLNESS.

You know what I mean?

Losing Time

Well, I was going to write a post.

I think I sat in front of the computer about 1.5 hrs ago.

I think.

I didn’t write anything and I don’t even remember what I was going to write about.

1.5 hrs have gone by.

I lost that time.

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The Bullying Game

Well, I guess I can say I’ve gone through all the Stages of Loss and Grief in the last five days.

There was isolation, there was bargaining, there was depression, there was anger (oh, there was anger!) and I reached acceptance about 20 minutes ago.

I planned on writing a post this morning on compassion, as I reached acceptance while having breakfast. But that’ll have to wait because I’m afraid there was a new development (is that a redundancy, new development? like added bonus?).

Anyway, the redundant new development sent me back into depression, another little bit of bargaining (if only I had waited a little longer to release the two spayed females), lots of crying, an anxiety episode and lots of anger.

I had therapy/counselling today at 11 am. I was running late and only made to the bus stop when my counselor and I agree it was better to reschedule so I could have a full hour.

Decided to walk to the pharmacy to pick up my medication instead. When I came home, I found this on my door

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When The Beast Breaks Free

I write this with tears in my eyes.

I have talked before about my anger issues. As a child and a teenager I was angry all the time. I didn’t know why I was angry. I just was. Even worse, I didn’t even know I was angry. I wasn’t aware that anger was burning deep inside me, killing me from the inside out.

I didn’t get into fights. I didn’t hit anyone. But I was much too stern and I kept everyone at arm’s length. The smallest of things was enough to set me off and I’d yell an angry retort and stomp away to go simmer in my room.

Being a gifted child didn’t help either. To me, everybody was utterly stupid and I looked at pretty much everyone with contempt. It is quite normal for everybody to see themselves as the norm. I didn’t think of myself as gifted. I saw myself as having a “normal” intelligence. So, if I was a regular, average kid , then everybody else had to be stupid because, how else do you explain the fact that they don’t understand things as easily and as quick as you do? Math class was the worse. I was always angry during those. I couldn’t understand how my classmates didn’t understand such basic concepts. It took me a while to realize I was smarter than the rest. It probably didn’t happen until 6th grade, when the nuns started to assign students to me for tutoring. I don’t know how we all survived that. The poor other kids, because I didn’t hit them for being slow and I, because I managed to not hit anyone and not call anyone names. My charges were terrified of me, but they improved. And the more they improved, the more the nuns would assigned more girls to be tutored by me. By ninth grade, girls were coming to me out of their own volition and I helped them all. I started to get an inkling on how to control The Beast, whatever it was. How to keep it at bay.

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My very own brand of Murphy’s Law

Well friends, I always try hard to stay positive and away from negative thoughts.

Today, however, I am losing that battle.

So I apologize in advance cause I am in the mood for ranting today and nothing else.

<rant>

I am tired of struggling. I know everyone’s lives are difficult, if only in different ways. Everybody has it though. But I am tired of my kind of though.

I am tired of being in pain. I am tired of hospitals. I am trying of medications. I am tired of this weird body I got.

I am tired of nothing being easy for me.

I am tired of things going wrong so often. Probability theory tells me that I should expect half of the happening in my life should go wrong. Hindsight bias tells me that I probably overstating the wrong outcomes and ignoring (or underplaying) the good ones. Quite possible. But still, it feels like -in my life, anything that can go wrong WILL indeed go wrong.

murphys-law-ecard

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SSG doesn’t understand

Posting from my phone today. Too tired to even grab my laptop.

Yesterday evening, something had me annoyed. My Twitter feed was full of people complaining about Ben Affleck being chosen as the new Batman. I kid you not. For a while, every single tweet on my feed was about it. Wish I had taken a screenshot of it.

Generally, I have a very low threshold for shallow complains like those. Last night, I was downright intolerant of it.

Normally, I would have filtered it out but I decided just to close my HootSuite tab instead.

Then this appeared on my FB feed today

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Sorry Ruby, I’ll try and find the source some other time.

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My heart weeps

There are no words.

How do you console a mother brutally robbed of her son, with no hope for justice.

How do you comfort a woman – a mother of three, whose life has been destroyed because she was in danger and dared to try and warn the offender.

What do you tell those three children who now have to grow up with no hope of having a somewhat normal childhood and no hope of having a right sense for justice.

What do you do when women get their eyes gauged out or their fingers cut off by their husbands because they dared to dream of an education. When girls get shot because they have a thirst for knowledge.

What do you tell countless other children and women around the world. How do you protect them. How do you keep them safe.

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Maybe this is my secret?

So, I deal with Mental Illness(es). Clinical Depression, PTSD, anxiety. However -and unless I’m going through a particularly dark period, I am a fairly cheerful person. Bubbly even*.

I have been asked several times what my secret is. I usually say it’s a combination of lucky events like a great support network of family and friends, an incredibly supporting therapist, etc.

And today, I saw this on Facebook:

I did a google search for this image trying to find the original poster so I could give credit where it’s due but found only several Facebook posts with no link or credit. If you know the source, please let me know

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Anger

I was finally able to take a little time to catch up on blogs. Boy, am I ever happy I decided two years ago to start my own blog. What a journey it’s been. It is truly a privilege to read all these beautiful stories. Sure, some are sad, but beautiful nonetheless. Cause they speak of human beings trying (and many a time succeeding) to rise above the miseries of life.

One of the posts I read was Anger.

I tried to write some sort of encouraging comment but was instead transported to some sort of a trigger-induced limbo.

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