Sometimes, there are too many choices for me to function well. Today, I was already spent at 9:47 am. What should I be doing? What do I need to focus on? Why can’t I do all the things that need done? How do I even choose what to do? Will I fail if I pick the wrong thing? Can I fail? Surely, some things should take priority over others. But what? Why am I like this? Should I push through it? Will I hurt myself if I try? Should I rest instead? Have the last few days been difficult? Why don’t I know if they have or not? Why can’t I feel things? Is it normal to be numb all the time? Am I ok or in pain? Or stressed? Why don’t I know? Shouldn’t I know? That seems like something people are usually aware of. And on and on and on. My mind is racing, but my body is locking up and shutting down. Dora will probably have to do quite a bit of work today, pulling me back to reality over and over. Let’s see how things go, I guess.
This is based on a challenge I have joined on habitica, and I don’t know what to expect from it. The premise is to reimagine your emotions as people- heroes and monsters, specifically- and to describe them in more detail. I honestly have no idea what this process will be like, but I’m going to try anyway. All entries on this topic will be tagged with EmoHero, if only for my sake. If anyone is interested in looking at or joining the challenge, here it is.
Ok. My tasks are to “turn one of my positive feelings into a hero” and to “list my hero’s strengths and weakness.” Then, if I can find “small changes I can make in my own life to play to their strengths,” I’m supposed to include those as well.
So far, I’ve written about love, caution, and fear. I dropped off the challenge pretty early on, and saw other participants talking about the value of putting in the effort to create several heroes for themselves. Technically, the challenge has already ended, but I’m going to try pushing through. Here we go.
What other good traits or emotions do I even have? (That might sound dumb, but I think it’s pretty typical for people with chronically low self esteem to struggle with this question, so I’m not worried about it.) Moreover, love was an emotion that is essentially pouring myself out for others, so it’s not… I don’t have the words for this. Essentially, pouring out too much of yourself is unhealthy and focusing too much on others and crushing yourself into paste because you think it will help them is unhealthy. I need to find something that is just valuable in and of itself.
Maybe it will help if I list positive feelings in general:
I’ve found a strange middle ground between states of being, emotions, and personality traits, and I’m not going to split hairs trying to divide them. It doesn’t seem worthwhile, and I’m more likely to wind up distracted by that task than to be helped by it. Maybe, Hope is a good choice. (As in other entries, bold is the hero, plain is the emotion.)
As someone who has been actively suicidal multiple times, my idea of hope is inextricably tied to the will to carry on. Hope isn’t really optimism for me, in that it doesn’t involve dreams, plans, or excitement over what’s coming. Instead, it’s something dense and strong, like an iron ingot or an uncharted diamond. Hope carries a huge burden without being damaged, and it is very hard to break. I’ll start with that diamond idea and see where it leads.
Hope the hero could have diamond powers, perhaps, but what does that look like? We have Emma Frost’s diamond skin that makes her invincible or Rarity’s temporary gem-based summoning powers a la Green Lantern. I can’t think of other precedents offhand. What does hope contribute to the total picture? Essentially, hope buys time for other emotions and people to turn the tide. No matter how dire everything else looks, hope keeps me going until I am strong enough to believe in the future again.
That sounds like a shield to me. Hope has the ability to produce and maintain a diamond shield over the rest of the team. Ok. That’s a fine start.
I had to go and check, but Love got shields and healing. If they’re on the same team, then the most obvious interaction I can find is when the heavy hitter goes down, Hope throws up a crystal shield and Love starts healing them. When things are most dire, this combo is pretty helpful, but does Hope do anything when the situation isn’t dire?
For me, hope is primarily active when everything else has failed me, but occasionally I’m doing well enough to feel hope even when things are going ok. I wonder if that sounds silly. I feel hopeful when I’m teetering at the edge of death, and I struggle to hope when things are neutral or going well. Honestly, I’m usually just waiting for the shoe to drop when my life is going well. I know it won’t last, so I’m just waiting for the good times to pass.
Yeah, at this point, I think that the best thing I can say is that Hope has latent powers, because I see the potential for them to take action at other points in the battle (and in my life), but they need to be mentored or trained to develop further. On an emotional level, I’m going to need to continue forward in a stable emotional state that allows room for hope and growth. I’m not sure how to do that except to just keep putting myself out there, keep trying new things, and keep pushing through old walls.
Hang in there, Hope. One day, you’ll know who you are and what you’re capable of.
Well, I actually texted my mom and asked her to make time to talk to me and she did. We met in a restaurant and talked for a while. I was really nervous about whether or not she had made any progress on being defensive, and she has. It was good, even though I didn’t expect it to be.
I brought along the book I’m reading. I told her that I’m nervous about integrating the pockets of emotion that I’ve separated from myself. (There are traumatic events that I can discuss in a flat, rational tone, because I don’t feel anything. From what I can tell, it’s not uncommon for people to become numb when they experience things that are too intense for them to handle. I need to begin the process of feeling those things, accepting the pain. accepting that the events didn’t shape my value, and moving forward.)
I asked her how she reconciled her love for her father with the pain that he caused her during the period of his life when he used alcohol to numb the scars he brought back from war. I listened to her talk through it, and it seemed like she understood that I would need to walk that path with her as well. I think she knows that it will take time, that there may be days that I’m angry, and that this process is more about me than about her. I don’t think she’s threatened by my journey.
Honestly, not much has changed since before we talked, but it was worth doing. If I had let fear make my choices for me, I never would have taken the risk of talking to her, and I would still feel alone and empty.
There’s still a lot of work to do. Healing is dirty and painful and long. Sometimes, things need to break again in order to heal properly. Sometimes, you have to pull out all of the pieces of pain you thought you had dealt with already, look at them again, make new connections or interpret them with new information, and then pack them away when you’re done. Sometimes, you can move on once you’ve had enough new experiences that contradict your old expectations. Sometimes, you go a bit further down before you can climb again.
I’m not expecting a miracle or a quick fix.
I expect to cry and journal, to laugh and paint, to fight and scream, and to break through every wall of pain and fear that’s kept me trapped here. It will be hard. I will need breaks to heal and restore my energy. I will have to take care of my needs along the way or I risk getting sick or falling into a downward spiral.
There’s a balance between taking care of myself because I’m precious and pushing myself to keep going through the pain because it’s the only way out. I will find it and I will keep it, to the best of my ability.
I don’t know what to say, but I’m freezing up, so I need to do something.
There’s going to be a baby shower in my family soon. It’s being held in a private residence, and the people who live there don’t mind if Dora comes, but the people that they’re renting the house from won’t allow it. It’s private space, so the ADA is a bit grey here, and if in doubt, I try to respect private space and the people involved. Access to public space is the intent of the law, after all, and I want to respect people’s choices about their own homes. It’s the decent thing to do.
So there’s some drama there because my cousin, who’s scheduling it, is like bending over backwards trying to find a way to make this work, and I appreciate that. She’s being really kind.
I also feel like I have to go, because I’ve never really been given a choice about these events. From childhood, I have been forced to attend every bridal and baby shower to which I’ve been invited, because, you know, I’m a girl. If I’m honest, really honest with myself, going to these parties has caused me more damage than I care to admit.
For years, I’ve been broken-hearted about my lack of a meaningful love life, and both weddings and bridal showers just served to reinforce my worthlessness. But I had to go, so I went.
And baby showers?
Do any of you remember my old entry called “Diagnosis”? Well, the lady in the painting is me. I received the diagnosis in… 2004, I think. It still hurts. Honestly, that’s mostly because I was basically like ‘nope. into the pain box you go. not dealing with you. nope. nope. nope. you’re just too big and complex and i don’t want to be honest with myself about this topic and no. bye!’
I say that, but at the same time, I got an onslaught of really horrible thoughts dumped into my head about how I was so fundamentally flawed, I couldn’t even be a woman right. Like, somehow the fact that I have glands and organs that just decided to stop working is a sign of how truly flawed I am as a person, since 99% of the females on the planet do not fail in even this basic way.
Add in the fact that my grandmother who is a dangerous, passive-aggressive lady may well be there, and perhaps you can see why my husband suggested that attending the event without Dora might be a bad idea.
So I told my cousin not to worry about it, that I was sorry that I was changing the answer that I gave her just last night, that I would figure something out. But now, she feels bad about the whole thing, and so does her grandmother (a kind lady who smiles easily). And I don’t want her to feel bad, so I should go without Dora.
But I don’t want to hurt myself any more because I already have mountains of pain and lies to dig through and process, so maybe I shouldn’t go at all. If I choose not to go, for my wellbeing, then everything with the location and the invitations she’s already ordered just sorts itself out nicely.
But I’m making people upset by not going, and I don’t know how to communicate ‘it’s ok; i didn’t want to go anyway because i hate baby showers,‘ without sounding rude or… whatever characteristic is associated with disliking things that I am supposed to like.
Yes! I know that I am supposed to be able to experience other people’s happiness with them instead of ‘making everything about myself.’ I have been told already. Thanks. I don’t know how to do that when the events in question are both bound up in unhealed traumas that I never get to make progress on because every time they surface, people essentially tell me that I shouldn’t have them in the first place, so I have to bury them again.
I just… ARGH!
Why? Just why?
I can already tell that I shouldn’t go to this. The healthiest choice I can possibly make is to avoid being hurt any further, whether that makes sense to anyone else or not. The only alternative I have is to go, sit silently, pretend that I’m having a decent time, and just marinate in my pain… like I always have, because it makes people happy to think that I am happy about the same things that they are.
I am so jealous of my husband and brothers for not being invited, not being put in this situation, and not being expected to enjoy this type of thing. It’s just difficult sometimes.
Right now, I just feel scared. Tense. Like someone is going to yell at me. I did so many things right today.
- I woke up on time to get my husband to work and keep the car.
- I got the car to the repair shop early and managed Dora in the crowded lobby.
- I went to the car rental place, answered the questions I could, completed the process, and brought the car home.
- I bought the yarn I’ve been meaning to get so that I can make a gift for a friend.
- I went to the post office at my husband’s request to pick up a package; it wasn’t there.
- I exercised for 40 minutes today, when I really haven’t put forth any effort since the winter started. (For me, <20 degrees Fahrenheit is too intense. I don’t have winter gear that’s actually good at preventing frostbite, and I have bad circulation all year round, so winters are tough enough without feeling my skin change texture after 5 minutes.)
- I went to the post office again, waited in line, showed them the tracking number, and asked them to check on it for me. (They found it!)
- I picked up my husband on time and we made it home safely.
That was all good. All of it. Moreover, Dora was in public, on duty, five different times today. That’s five places where strangers can:
- Talk to her instead of me while she’s supposed to be focusing
- Try to pet her
- Tell me that “it’s fine” when I ask them not to pet her
- Look at me strangely when I body block them and move her behind me so they can’t pet her when they try again after I’ve already told them no
- Ask me who I’m training her for
- Ask me if I know when I have to give her to the disabled person
- Ask me if she’s a therapy dog when her vest says “service dog” and we are in a place where therapy dogs don’t work (restaurants, repair shops, gas stations, banks, etc.)
- Ask me what she’s trained to do (which is simultaneously asking me to explain my disability to them despite us never having met before)
- Try to talk to me while I’m clearly talking to someone else, like the cashier or the government employee
- Continue trying to talk to me after I ignore their first comment (because I’m just trying to move things along for me, the paid employee in front of me, and everyone in line behind me)
- Tell me that I’m going to rip her throat open with her collar if I’m not careful (yeah, that was a fun day)
- Ask me if she’s necessary for a medical purpose and then keep hounding me when I say “yes” because they totally think I’m lying
- Make an offhanded remark about how ‘they should have put up a sign’ (which will presumably say “No service animals allowed here. Go ahead and sue us. We dare you.”)
- Backtrack when they finally understand that she’s a service dog and that’s what I meant when I said that I need her for a medical reason
… I’m sure there’s more, but honestly, I’m tired of thinking up things that have happened to me in the last calendar year. For someone who already had social anxiety, believed she was a toxin that drained life from those around her, believed she was invisible, etc., it’s really been overwhelming.
So… what do I feel guilty about?
Staying home tonight, taking a bubble bath, and trying to relax. I chose to do that because I realized that I was staring blankly into space and once my eyes stop focusing, things only go downhill. Going out in public (again) may have pushed me into a meltdown. Better to take care of myself, right?
So why do I feel so guilty for NOT GOING? No one is blaming me! Why won’t my muscles release? Why can’t I breathe normally or just believe that I’m done for the day? I’m so tired.
Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like I’m making any progress at all. I want to just drop everything, get back on meds, and throw my hands up in surrender. I can’t learn life skills- are you kidding me?! I’m too weak and dumb and useless to change anything!
But sometimes, I manage to do something with ease, and I think that’s where the growth is.
Today, my husband asked me to make a phone call, and I did. No panic attack. No anxiety from just considering it. I just called them, asked for what I needed, listened, scheduled an appointment, and then asked about (and scheduled) the appointment I’ve been too afraid to schedule for the last few weeks.
And I’m still ok. And my husband said thank you when he saw the event show up on our calendar. And that’s it!
And I think that these small events are where the progress happens, but I don’t notice them every time, because they are manageable now. I’ll try to catch more of them as they happen; I need that hope so I can keep going.
One of the worst things about having my cocktail of mental illness/being me is that I can’t control when I hurt people. I mean, I suppose that’s probably true for everyone, but this morning, it wasn’t a matter of me being careless and saying something cruel. Instead, I got thrown off, and started melting down within the first 20 minutes of being awake.
Two impossible situations stood before me and I needed to merge them but couldn’t. Time passed. I was stressing out and hurting The Flutenist, and I knew it, and I got more angry at myself and more ashamed of being caught in this struggle at all, and I got more paralyzed and more frantic and…
It was bad.
Sometimes, stress can empower us- give us extra energy (more blood flow), extra clarity (more oxygen to the brain), and more motivation (tension fuels action). For me, there are days when all of those processes work, but I can’t find an outlet. The energy and tension funnel inwards, my body shuts down, and my mind just becomes a whirlpool of rapid, frantic thoughts.
Nothing gets done. I know I’m stuck but I don’t know how to get out. Or if I can.
But it’s internal; no one but me can affect it or communicate that it’s happening. But I don’t know what to do!
So I almost made him late to work today and I sent him an email while he was at work, explaining everything that had been running through my mind. (I usually regain writing before speech, so it’s my go to response.) I wanted him to know that I knew that I was hurting him and making things worse for him and that I took that seriously. I don’t know why.
It’s been a few hours and I can’t see how that could have helped anything.
I’m so stupid.
Yeah- today has been very bad in terms of self-talk. I’m back-sliding and I hate it but I don’t know what to do. I just!
I wish I were normal.
Or that I could tell where my depression stops and where I start.
Or that I knew what I was capable of.
Everything, every tiny thing, is this epic struggle between being too hard on myself and not pushing myself to grow. I never know whether I’m doing it right or not.