I really should journal. But writing on my blog helps me to focus more, stay on topic slightly more. I’m flying and flit from thing to thing in the best of times. Which I’m sure everyone reading this knows.
It’s that time of month. And it’s hurting. A lot. I want to use some cocodamol to ease the pain. Well, that’s what I’m saying anyways. It’s a whole lot more than that too. I texted my 3 friends and told them so. I texted 2, called one, and voiced message someone who I’m never in touch with and don’t know. I did that because if I use, and if it backfires on me, they’ll have to deal with the fallout. I thought I was going to take some. After messaging them all I’m not. I’m going to write on here for now and try to put some of it down. They won’t really deal with the fallout. The 2 friends I texted are both crazy busy with their own stuff. The friend I called would drop her things for me, but she’s the friend who it isn’t healthy for me to share such things with. It would be the downfall of our relationship. A relationship I cherish. The friend I always used to speak to is living in lala land and I’m so happy for her that she is. She’s living in the world of her baby and budding relationship with her husband, which she is putting loads of effort in.
Last night I wrote a bunch of stuff. I wrote some of it on here, although in reality I was taking it much further than I wrote on here. I don’t know what I wrote. I’m not re-reading it. I woke up this morning and felt as though it was a dream. I slept for 3.5 hours, was up for a while, and slept another half hour before being woken up. The half hour sleep heralded a new day. I was pretty much saying, I think, that there’s a part of me that wants to go back to the life I lived, the life of OD’ing with cocodamol daily and not eating. This morning I woke up and wondered how real it was. It makes sense questioning that. Last night there was a distance between me and myself. It’s the distance I used to live with constantly. The distance where nothing really is real (there is no way for me to actually explain what that means). I was thinking about therapy, and my ex therapist AH who I used to skype, and how if I would see a therapist now (thinking about seeing someone, it’s for another post what I’m wondering), it would have to be in real life, for I’d need the groundedness of actually being there, for there is so little real as it is, and how AH had said that to me after half a year, that he wanted me really to see someone in real life, not through skype, and I didn’t know what he meant when he explained it. I didn’t understand what he was trying to say, and now I’m echoing his sentiments. Although I’m living life present. Now I am. As present as I am, anyways. Which means I don’t really know what goes on for myself. I’m beginning to recognise stuff in my body. I’m felt sad although I can’t explain how I knew I felt sad. Last night it didn’t feel real. There was that distance. Which, if that is so, if there was that distance, it would make sense what I was thinking about. How much I wanted to get up and use. I knew that if I would get up and open the draw, I would take out the cocodamol and use it. I also knew that if I would stay in bed, I’d want to use and wouldn’t. I wrote it all out. I wrote to myself. I scribbled. Had music playing for hours.
So now, I want to take some to dull the pain. That’s the excuse. I wondered if last night was real. Yet somehow I’m able to put down exactly what I was thinking. I guess that answers me. That it was real. It’s just not what I live my life with. I don’t live my life fighting. I don’t live my life wanting to use. I don’t live my life wondering which parts are living my life for me. I don’t live my life with the distance. I was wondering if I was really okay. If I knew what okay looked like. Which says a lot. I know what okay looks like. Okay looks like the way I’m living my life. Present. Being. Acknowledging what I want. Accepting it. Able to move on.
There’s definitely a whole lot of unexplored stuff too that I can’t access. It’s very different to what was. None of what I want now is from what it was in the past. I didn’t plan on this post taking this tangent. Oh well. I used to use because I had to destroy myself. I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I was playing the edge. Between the E that had to destroy herself and the E that wanted to give life a go. I was doing both. By using. By not eating. I had to destroy myself because of the guilt and responsibility. I’ve dealt with a lot of that guilt and responsibility. I’m not the 9 year old I was then. I haven’t dealt with all of it and I’m still living with the ramifications of some of it, but a lot of it I have. It doesn’t rule my life like it did. What is today, well, I don’t know what is today.
So it hurts. And I want to use to dull the pain. That’s my excuse. What’s the reality? The reality is that it’s the perfect excuse. Every single month I think this. That I can use because I’ve got the perfect reason to. So I have a valid reason to use. And I want to. And I’m really tired of the fear of going back there ruling my life. I also want to go back there. I wonder what will happen if I use a couple. I mean, I know I’ll use a couple more later when it still hurts. And again a couple more. So what? So I’ll use. Who cares? I care. I care because I want to. I really want to. I really, really, really, want to.
So why don’t I use? I don’t want to use. I know I’ll go back down there. Especially with how vulnerable and unanchored I’m feeling at the moment. I’ve been spending almost every night freaking out to some extent or another. Last night I ended up crying – which was really good for me. I can’t recall if that was before the first time I fell asleep or once I’d woken up and couldn’t fall asleep. Probably the first for it was healthy for me. And I was more present then. When I’d woken up there was a sense of unreality and distance which wasn’t there before I fell asleep for the first time. So I know I’ll go back there. There is a major part of me that wants to. And another part that wants to want to (I’m not really sure what that means). And, I don’t want to.
I don’t want to. The I that lives my life. The E that is so grateful for all the good. That loves being present. That loves giving. That loves learning. The E that is constantly learning. That is living and just being, with the good and the bad and learning from it all. I’m learning to keep boundaries with people. I’m thinking of the specific people who are the guilt/responsibility that I haven’t yet been able to fully deal with. I’m learning to see what is. As an example. A couple of nights ago I was freaking out and asked someone to help me to do what I was freaking about – nothing major. She said no. She didn’t realise I was freaking. She was making fun of me. She wasn’t really, but I was taking it that way. She offered to help me. She walked out to calm down when I told her the 3rd time to just be quiet – I thought she was making fun of me. Either way, I did what I had to do and after a bit went outside and apologised to her. It was an equal situation. I’d asked her to help, she said no, she realised I was freaking, said she’d help, and yes she was making fun of me and told me she wasn’t being nice to me, I told her to be quiet because I couldn’t handle it when I was freaking out. I went out and apologised to her. She told me I didn’t have to. I told her that I had to apologise because I’d hurt her and she didn’t deserve to be hurt and then went back inside. It’s not something I ever would have done. Accepted what was my responsibility (not hers), apologised and moved on. And yes, one day I’ll react differently to begin with.
What am I trying to say again? That I’m loving the reality I’m living with. I’m loving the life I’m living. The life I’m learning to live. I know there is so much I’m still to learn and work through. I haven’t worked through my relationship with god at all – too much anger. I’ve stopped working through what I believe because I have to work through my understanding of god, which I first need some emotional answers/okayness with. I don’t know what I want to do with my life and I’m looking forward to finding out. I’m learning to take responsibility for my life and let go of what isn’t mine, and be respectful with it. Life is a learning game that I’m learning and actually appreciating that I’m learning.
It doesn’t really make a difference what. I’m appreciating living the life I’m living. I love that I know that it will continue changing. I want to continue working through everything. Using will wreck it all. So I don’t want to use. Using will wreck it all. Which is why I want to use. Now I don’t want to use in that way. I want to use just a couple because of the pain, which I don’t even know if I feel or not. I want to do that because then, I’m not using in the OD’ing escape so I’m not wrecking my life. And also because then, there’s the possibility that if I use a couple once or twice or thrice or more, I will just continue using, and then it will wreck my life – but it’s not a definite that it will, and that side doesn’t actually want the definite wrecking of it all, doesn’t want the destruction to the extent it was, just some of it – I think. So using for the pain plays both sides. Gives both sides an equal chance. Which is why I want to use for the pain. (Sounds eerily familiar).
I don’t know what I will or won’t end up doing. The part of me that is deciding my life at the moment says no. And that’s the part of me that I’ve been giving free reign to. The part that wants to live with both sides says I’m not actually doing anything, so, it just will be what will be.
Kinda, whatever. I’ve put what I’m thinking down, so I’ve put what I’m thinking down. Is it any clearer in my mind? Yes. For this very moment I’m not using. What will I do? I don’t know. My friend replied to me to remember that god can do for me what I can’t do for myself. Do I believe in ‘god’. I don’t know, and it doesn’t make a difference. There is a source. That can or cannot do for me what I can’t. And either will or won’t. I don’t know what I’ll end up doing, and, I don’t need to know now what I will do or don’t do, what will be or won’t be. I only have to live in this moment. Edit, although I’m not sure what to do about the pain.
6 thoughts on “Thinking about….”
Take pride in the fact that you could be using, but you choose not to. Take pride in the fact that although it will help with the immediate -the pain- you realize the long-term effects and choose not to use it. Take pride in the fact that you could be using it, right now, like thousands of other people who will chose to, but you’re not. You’re stronger than that.
I’m proud of you.
power to the local dreamer ||-//
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At least you are not returning to your former ways. Keep writing and get past the bad feelings Eliza.
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Writing does help. Though, yeah.
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I’m glad you have your journal and blog to write your feelings in Eliza – they both serve to ease any anxieties and angst you have.
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They definitely do. I’m especially glad for my blog at the moment for I’m not really using my journal at all.
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