TW: Thinking about the thoughts of using.

Trigger warning. Please do not read this if it could trigger or disrupt you in any way.

I was thinking. About how much I think about using cocodamol. Just a few. Just to see if it helps. I liked bgddyjim’s post. It got me thinking. How using, which I think of so often, even just to see, will ultimately end in suicide. Well, I’ve always known that.

I realised that thinking of using is an instinctive thought. And it makes sense it is so instinctive because it is something that has helped me in the past and would help me in the present. I know if I start it’ll end up with suicide because eventually I’ll go back to the plan I had (which involved using), which however much is/was designed to fail, it was designed with different things in mind and I don’t see why it wouldn’t work. The thoughts of self harming (which are pretty much as constant as using – it goes, I wonder what would happen if I use or self harm) are more real, especially because, well, no because. It’s just that I do more. I’ve not done anything that would scar and I hope I don’t – I really don’t want more scars. I guess self harming doesn’t take me down the same tracks (to suicide) as using does. And I don’t count anything I do to myself as anything related to self harm. (I guess yay me for finally acknowledging that what I do probably comes under the category of self harm – even if and though I dont think that’s really why I’m doing it.) I guess it’s a bit like my issues with food. It’s not okay and will have to change one day but I’m leaving it on the backburner and not making it into a bigger deal than it is, and when I can deal with it I will.

My goal for the new year is to by the end of the next year have thrown away all that I have collected. Thinking about it, I haven’t bought any more in a long while. Thinking of using can be really real. I can and do visualise myself taking some. Opening a box and taking a few. I can feel, smell and sorta taste it. More often than I’d like. But in reality it isn’t what I want.

More than I want to use, I want to be okay.  More than I want to cut off from it – my world, life, everything – I want to be present and learn to live with all that I don’t know. So, it’s the realisation. That I’ve been thinking of using lots, and it’s quote on quote normal. It makes sense that I’ll think of doing something that helped me in the past and would help me. It doesn’t mean I’ll act on it. It doesn’t mean I have to act on it. It doesn’t have to define me.

And I get to choose. I have a choice. I choose, for this moment in time, I choose life. I choose, for this moment in time, to see all the possibilities, all that could be. I choose, for this moment in time, to believe in hope, in change, in growth, in a future. I choose, for this moment in time, to believe that I’m worthy of that future and that even if I don’t deserve it, I can get to live with it anyways. I choose life. For this moment I choose life.

Random ramblings 89, Part 3 (anxiety?)

Continuing today…

I feel like I can’t breathe.

And, I kinda want to use. The thought has been floating around my mind the past few days. Not just nights. Also about self harm, but that’s easier because it’s much less. I don’t want it in the same way.

I’m sure that if I actually use (cocodamol) it won’t give me what I want. I don’t know what I want. Oblivion. I don’t think destruction. I dunno. Tired and on edge. I drove to calm down and it helped but only until I came home. I wish I could just go to sleep. But sleep won’t happen. And trying to sleep will just mean thinking and fighting using.

Work went really well today. I spent an hour last night downloading resources which was really helpful. One of the groups I’ve been struggling with, the student who disrupts it is finally feeling safer. From another group I got a love letter from one of my little girls and it’s surprising to me how much I appreciate it. And I’m just hoping they all learn and get to where they can. They all worked well today.

Today has been busy and good. And really on edge, the I can’t breathe, everything is really tight kind.

I’m grateful for new days. I’m grateful for this space and all who take the time to read and respond, who join me on this journey. I’m grateful for my understanding of the world. I’m grateful for possibility.

Tomorrow is a new day.

Love, light and glitter

Randomness #82516

I’ve been meaning to write for a while, and I haven’t, for I just don’t know what to say. If there is anything to say at all. And I doubt I’ll be making any sort of coherent sense.

I had a phone appointment with SG2 on Tuesday. She does energy work. I told her that the main thing I want to deal with is Rosh Hashanah – the jewish new year – which I’m really not looking forward to. Constantly when I though of RH (Rosh Hashanah) my thoughts were ‘I don’t want to be here for RH’ and I didn’t know what those words meant. When I spoke to her she told me that it’s because of what was when I was 23 – did anything happen then. I told her nothing was then, but maybe she means when I was 22. For it’d tie in. That RH was a year I didn’t plan on living past. I didn’t want to be there for a new year. So it’d make sense that this was connected for I had no clue what I was thinking or why. Then she did some clearing, and I realised that she was right about when I was 23. I guess it’s what Lavender refers to on her blog as a traumaversary.

2 years ago Rosh Hashanah. It was when I was using – OD’ing daily (it started at a bit and every day I upped the amount. It wasn’t intentional, it was just what happened) and when I wasn’t eating. It ended on RH. For those days I was sick – running to the bathroom the entire time which made me really weak. I was debating whether to use more or not. Eventually I didn’t dissolve any more because I was too weak to. The fear. That I had destroyed myself. The knowledge. That I’d done this. The debate whether I should use more or not – I wasn’t trying to kill myself at the time, I was playing with the edge to listen to both sides, the side that wanted life and the side that wanted death. I really wasn’t trying to kill myself. I actually wasn’t really unwell, just running to the bathroom constantly – like every 10 – 15 minutes – and completely exhausted from it. It felt like I was really ill.

I don’t know why I’d be dreading the day if everything that was on the day 2/3 years ago was incidental. It wasn’t about the day or the meaning of the day. It just happens to be that on that day I wasn’t well and stopped using cocodamol for I didn’t really want to kill myself. I just wanted to use. Stopping using didn’t take away the need for destruction.I still wanted to destroy myself. In some ways I still do. Want to. Which is why I wasn’t eating. I don’t know when I started eating again. I didn’t appreciate all the back handed compliments I got – wow, you look so good, you lost weight. Or the questions – have you done surgery or something. Especially because it wasn’t a choice. I couldn’t eat.

I’m still scared for RH. Though it’s not with the same panic that there was earlier. I don’t really know how I’m going to get through it. I plan on having lotsa books and puzzles around. Usually I’d say food, too. But since I spoke to SG2 on Tuesday I haven’t been eating much. I do want to lose weight, but it’s not about losing weight. I think it’s about going back there. Going back to what was. Though actually, not necessarily, considering that in the past couple of years I’ve never stopped the cycle I do with food (purging, stopping eating, eating healthily, eating too much junk). I wonder how RH will pass. I wonder how RH will end up.

I know I need to get help. I always thought I didn’t need it. And, I think the choices I made were right for the times I made them. They were right for then. Doesn’t mean they’re right for now. I need to build an identity of my own. I need to believe I’m allowed to. I want to work through what I believe about god and judaism and there is way too much emotional intensity attached for me to work through it any longer. What I’ve worked through until now has definitely been helpful. I would love to feel safe. I wouldn’t say I feel unsafe. Which I used to. I don’t know if I do or don’t feel safe either way. I’d love to be able to be honest with myself and tune in more. I’ve been using the daylio app (thanks Amber for the suggestion) although I don’t know if there’s a point. I rate pretty much everything as ‘okay’. Or tired. Very rarely will it be less, but like really rarely. Even if I’m freaking out or have done anything stupid, it’ll still be rated as ‘okay’ because that’s the reality. What am I rambling about? So either way I want to figure out what exactly I want – help wise – and how I’ll go about getting it. I can’t really do anything about it for the next month – a bit more than a month really – until after sukkot, other than think about it I mean. I don’t really know what I do want. I know what I don’t want – traditional talk therapy would be an utter waste of time.

I wrote this to distract myself because I ate. But, I don’t know. I don’t know if it matters. So I’ll TU. Food isn’t something I’ve ever really tried to deal with.

On to something nice, I’m loving my room, the space, the peace, the cuteness, the colours, and that it’s been hoovered so looks clean even if it isn’t. I love seeing the trees outside and hearing the wind blowing.

I don’t know whether I should post this or not bother, it doesn’t say what I thought it would. I thought originally that I’d write about what was then, but I haven’t.

Love, light and lotsa glitter

May your Friday Sparkle
Everything is better with a little sparkles and shine

A heart drawn with the words 'It is glitter Friday'. Well, the words are spelled incorrectly in the image, but other than that...

Thinking about using.

Why did I use?

To destroy myself. I had to get rid of myself and the way to do so was through playing with the edge.

Why did I escape?

Because of the guilt. I escaped with everything and anything. A lot innocuous. I never lived in the world. I was never present. Coz of the guilt for existing. The guilt for being. The knowledge that by living I hurt others. That by living I made others suicidal. By living I’m a threat to others.

What have I learned about the guilt/destruction since stopping using?
Guilt.

I’m not guilty for existing. I still believe I am. More and more there are parts of me that know I’m not. I’ve learned that it’s others issues. I learned that I knew I was guilty. Until I stopped using i never knew that I was guilty. It was only stopping that let me see it. Not stopping. Stopping one thing and going to something more sdestructive. That’s what I did until I was playing with death.

Guilt. I knew I was guilty for thinking. I knew I was guilty for feeling. I knew I was guilty for speaking. I knew I was guilty for existing.

I know. I know no one intentionally taught that to me. I know people who lived through hell (unlike my life which was a relatively happy place) and their belief wasn’t guilt. For honestly there was/is no guilt necessary. I know I’m not responsible. (some part of me knows) I know it’s not my issue. I’m learning to let go of all the responsibility for everyones lives that I always carried, and to, begin to, take responsibility for myself – something I never, ever did.

Destruction

I’ve learned that the need for destruction was an act of love on my part. I wanted to give myself what I deserved. I wasn’t trying to kill myself, but destroy myself. Stopping using taught me that. Stopping self harming taught me that. For then I knew why I wanted to.


I’m the person who can give myself what I need. Something I’ve been learning for a while. All the letters I have written to myself. Writing to myself has helped me to access a part of me that I never knew existed. I had never known I was capable of being so kind, gentle and compassionate with and to myself – the person I hate, abhorred, despised most in the world. The only being I really hated. Myself. I could honour myself. Show myself love.


What have I learned since I’ve stopped using?

Once I stopped using, cocodamol was the last thing I turned to. I stopped escaping. The destruction was still there, still played a role in my life (self harm, eating disordered behaviour if not full blown) but I didn’t escape.

  • I learned to acknowledge what I want.
  • I learned to accept what I want.
  • I learned that most people I turn to will let me down
  • I learned to be present. I first learned I wasn’t present by being present. Being present in the world is one of the biggest things I’ve gained. I’m actually here. It’s using this thought that helps me understand last night – I didn’t feel present. Being here. I chose not to tune out. I can’t always choose not to.
  • I’ve learned how far I still have to go (that’s a diff point). I’ve sen how fair I’ve come. Being present means I can be there. I can actually be there. Without wondering if I exist or am just an illusion.
  • I’ve learned, begun learning, to tune into my body. More like, my body sometimes feels safe enough to give me a message. I only get messages of constriction – the not breathing, chest hurting that can spread everywhere (sometimes a pit in the stomach).
  • I’ve learned to accept what I want to do to myself. Some of what I want to do is too gruesome for me to think about without freaking – unless I’m wanting it now, in which case I let myself want it.
  • I’ve learned that there is a pause. There is a pause that never used to exist. Between what I want and what I do. Because I was so not not present I never knew what I wanted to do until I was in the middle of doing it. Now there is some awareness. A thought. Knowledge.
  • I’ve learned there is choice.
  • I’ve learned that I like touch even if I can’t let others touch me.
  • I’ve begun learning that there is such a thing as feelings and emotions even if I can’t access either.
  • I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve seen how I can’t handle some things and I can others.
  • I’ve learned that I’m way stronger and more courageous than I believe.
  • I’ve learned that I’ve social anxiety.
  • I’ve learned how to ground myself.
  • I’ve learned that I know. I know.
  • I’ve learned that I exist. I exist as a person. I’m allowed to want. I still don’t know what I want. I’ve learned I can want though.
  • I’ve learned that life is a journey of learning. A journey that maybe it’ll be okay to exist for.

I’ve learned. I’ve learned. I can go on and on.

I’ve learned and still learn so much. Every time I want to use or self harm I learn something new about myself. I see – if it’s possible to – why I want what I want.. Which is how I learn what I need.

I don’t know why I want to use so much now. I know it’s not the need for destruction. I know it’s not the escape. It’s a need. A need for – ? I can’t face it now.

If I use. I never will face what the need is or know why I need it. If I don’t use I have that chance. Of learning something new about myself.


My period really does hurt. Not that I feel it as I’m writing this. I don’t know that I won’t use at all over the next week. I don’t know that I won’t use. And, something I’m forgetting, I don’t have a week ahead of me. I only have the moment I’m living. It could be one of those moments I’ll choose to use. My choice now doesn’t have to be based on a choice I’m not yet facing.

One thing that really helps me is grounding myself in the present. I know I said I’m so grateful to be present, yet often enough, I’m not realy present.

I’m tired. I want to cry. I want to use. In some ways I do want destruction, but it’s not the same need it was. I want to self harm. It’s not the same. I don’t understand it. I don’t need to.

I don’t know if I can or can’t do it. I don’t know if I will or won’t get there. I do know that as I said I don’t need to base my choices in the present on the outcomes of a future that doesn’t yet exist. Every moment is a new moment. Even if it all feels the same. Which is doesn’t. For I’m flipping constantly. Between wanting to take a couple of cocodamol – it’s just so, so present and real, and a need – and being okay as I am in the moment. No moment is ever the same. And I have no idea what will or won’t be. Which is as it’s meant to be. I’m not committing to anything. I don’t want to get there. I don’t want to face why I so don’t want to. I want to fail. I want to end up using. I’m allowed to want that. And I can focus on what else I want. I want to be okay. I want to stay okay. I want to keep all I’ve learned and keep learning and taking new steps. The duality. Which can and does exist. Just is. As I. Just am.

Thinking about….

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.

Random 273

Tried to sleep but was thinking and shaking so was up. I’m not sure if I should really post this.

I’m stupid. Still shaking after an hour plus. It gets annoying when it goes on and there’s no discernable cause. So I went onto my private diary to write about it for tired of whinging and whining where people can see. And began reading the first few posts I wrote there. The letters I wrote to myself are awesome. Just, I wish I could cry. I’m not there now – it’s when I was OD’ing daily – and just, I dont know. I cant stay on there for it has triggered me. I’m in a good place. I’m tired – it’s late. I want to trigger myself. I dont really.  I want to want to go back there. I want to want to use. I sort of want to use. It was hell and I never want to go through it again and I’m not sure how I survived. Purely on a physical level. I lost a heck of a lot of weight at the time. Constantly got ‘compliments ‘ that you look so good, you lost so much weight. I hadn’t known people thought I didnt look good. Now I knew what they thought.

The playing with the edge. The contradictions. The need for destruction and desire to live life and acting on both and trying not to cross over either line.

The sides are still there. Now I’m beginning to tear. If I let myself, cry. I just don’t talk about it coz its pointless. I don’t engage with it much either. I let it be. I write what I want to do to myself in graphic detail. Never in public of course. If it wasn’t myself writing itd be the most triggering thing possible. I’d never known I could be gruesome. Sometimes I’ll sketch what I want to do to myself. I draw horrendously. It’s cathartic. Makes it real what I want. Real enough that I don’t have to engage with it.

I’m tired. And sad. I’m saying I’m sad but in actuality I’m not sad at all. I don’t actually feel anything. Well, I slightly can’t breathe but that’s been for a couple of hours. I’m shaking which has been for as long. And it’s not negative. It just is.

This is turning into way more of a journal entry than I planned. I want to go back there. I don’t. I want to want to. I don’t know. Yeah, tomorrow is a new day. Just that there is nothing wrong now so I don’t need the tomorrow is a new day.

I was thinking earlier that I wanted to write a post on safety. Well 3 different posts of things I want to write. Part of what I was thinking about when I was trying to sleep and shaking. One of the things was  is, the conversation I had with S. Before putting down the phone she asked me if I felt safe. I replied that I didn’t feel unsafe. And she said she guesses that is as much as shell her from me. I never feel safe. I don’t feel unsafe. And that is actually one of the most amazing things ever. That I’m okay. That I don’t feel unsafe. What was I trying to say? Oh, that I don’t feel unsafe right now. Which is good. Coz I am okay.

Not sure what I am trying to say.

Sadness

I’m sad. I wonder if I have a way to express what I’m thinking. Unless it flows, and the words just work, it doesn’t happen. I don’t do analysing what I write. Either I write. Or I don’t.

I’m sad. Have been since Thursday. Since he killed himself. He killed himself. I didn’t know him. It hurts me so much. That he didn’t see another option. It hits really close to home. He’s from the community I’m as of now still a part of. The community she was in when she killed herself a few months ago. It hurts. I’m sad.

He’ll never have another chance. He chose this. He chose death. He didn’t know that there was a better option. He didn’t know that if he held onto life he may actually be grateful for that choice. One day. Is the years in between, from choosing life, to being grateful for the choice, worth it? I don’t know. I just don’t know.

I’m angry with him. For choosing death. When I chose life. I held on. It’s not fair that he shouldn’t have had to do that.

I’m sad. And I’m actually, surprisingly, living with the sadness. I’m living with it. I’m breathing it. I’ve never done that before. Never felt what was going on before. My head hurts with it. My heart hurts with it. I’m spending every night crying or shaking or not sleeping. Shaking in the sense of letting go. Shaking can be because of adrenaline, or it can be the bodies way of letting go. That’s what I’ve been doing. Letting myself experience it. Some of the time. The rest of the time I’m ignoring it. Just living through the day. Enjoying the moments. Being grateful for the days. And then when it comes to the evening when I no longer have time ignore it, feeling it. Living with it. I don’t know what it means like to feel anything. I don’t know how I know what I feel. I don’t know where it is. What it is. I just know that it is. That I’m living it. That I guess I’m proud of myself for doing so.

I’m tired of being sad. I’m tired of feeling it. I’m tired of feeling. I know that if I take some cocodamol, or if I self harm, I won’t be sad any longer. If I use I’ll be living in the zone, the zone I’ve forgotten what it feels like, cut off, distant, hazy. If I self harm I’ll be experiencing something different, something other than the constant, seemingly never ending sadness.

It’s not really never ending. The sadness isn’t as intense or as all encompassing as it was. I guess. However never ending it seems and however tired I am of it.

I’m sad. He killed himself. He didn’t see another choice, so chose the only thing he knew was there. And, that’s that I guess. He chose death. And I’m sad. My head is seriously throbbing with it. I relate way too much and there’s way too much of my own life tangled into this, even though I’ve not been able to untangle the threads and see what is about him and what is about me.

Love, light and glitter

Eliza

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I don’t have anything to write. It doesn’t help that I understand what is going on and why, it doesn’t make it easier. I just want it to stop. And I can’t stop it. I can’t make myself believe I’m worth it, however much I know it. I can’t change what my life was or how it taught me to know I’m guilty for existing. I can learn it’s not so, it’s not reality, I cant change how much trying to act on my life hurts and makes me want to destroy myself. Doing good brings up all the subconscious beliefs that have run my life until now. Acting against it makes me fight. I’m tired of how much I want to destroy myself and self harm. It wasn’t so intense when I wasn’t trying to create my own life.

Rant over.

Edit: I know that so long as I don’t actually mess up in any way it’ll pass and I’ll be okay. I know that my reaction makes sense even though that doesn’t help any. When I was telling my friend the other night what was going on she told me she thinks its something or another can’t recall the official term for it. I found it funny as she explained how I would then react, for yeah I know, I’m living with it. Just finished reading a book and heading to sleep. Here’s to keeping to good things and staying away from the negative. And hopefully if it doesn’t pass soon will figure out what to do then.

Rambling update 497. Awesomeness. The world. Life

The world is an awesome place to me.

I’m exhausted at the moment. Completely exhausted. Just been busy (and not sleeping much). But it’s all good. The world feels like a good place. I’ve been writing out the letters to myself. I wrote out the one from a few weeks ago, and, I was so overwhelmed and sad. I sounded overwhelmed and sad I mean. It was strange to reread it, to see how ‘much’ the world was for me then. Strange because I recall the last month as being a really okay month. I recall the time before I went away as being okay. Well all the time except the bit when packing (I freaked out when I was packing, I mean the not breathing, shaking for hours kinda freaking out). So it’s strange to read something that expresses me as that overwhelmed.

I’m grateful. I love what is. I was also reading another letter I wrote to myself, in which I was saying about making a life for myself. I know I’ve written about it here before. Whether I believe I’m allowed to want for myself. It’s awesome to see how much it’s shifted. How much I’m beginning to believe I can. Well yeah, beginning, but it seems possible, it seems doable. I feel like maybe I’m allowed to design a life for myself. Maybe I’m allowed to want. Maybe I’ll be able to choose what I want for myself and live with what I want for myself. I don’t know what I want. I guess that is, at the moment, what it’s about. Finding out who this Eliza is. Finding out what I actually want. Getting to know myself. I know lots. And I know so little. So much of my life is about others. It’s always had to be about others. I know, as I’ve said before, I’ll go to the other extreme of being really selfish, and, it’s okay. I’m curious. I wonder what my life is going to be like. I wonder where my life will lead me.

Something for really another blog post, but which I’m going to include here. Touch. I want touch. I want to touch people. I want to be touched. Lol, not by my family or workmates. I saw my friend today and the one thing I wanted was to hold her, for her to hold me. I couldn’t ask her for it. Actually, just before she left I told her that I want a girl or boy friend, for I want touch. I don’t know how to describe just how major that is. That I actually want touch. There are, according to I can’t remember whom, 5 primarily love languages. I think that one of my primary love languages is touch. It’s something that anyone who knows me will laugh about. I’m the person who has been really rude and stepped back from hugs. I’m the person who freaks when people touch me. I’m the person who made a fool of myself asking my boss not to tap me on my shoulder yet again (she’d done it 3 times!!!!!!!).. I still freak. I still can’t handle touch from a lot of people. Yet, I want touch. Which, is so very major.

I’m completely exhausted at the moment. The world is an awesome place. I had a great time when I was away. I was busy every moment. I had no time to myself. I was extremely overwhelmed. I loved it. I’d ideally give myself more space, but I’d do it again. When I was away I was whatsapping a friend. I must have been in pain because her response to me was that it’s so hard to be in pain because it must be a major trigger for using. Something like that. Which in reality is really intuitive of her. Pain is usually more than a major trigger. Pain is something that brings me to thought spiral – some of the thought spirals being entertaining, like, you know that if my period starts I’m going to kill myself? Noticing the spirals and how far I go can really be humorous. She said it’d be a trigger. And my thought to that was just ‘huh’? It’s so not. It wasn’t a trigger. At all. I was away. The thought of using didn’t cross my mind at all. I can’t really take over the counter painkillers. To be honest, other than for using and OD’ing constantly, I’ve rarely used painkillers. I’ve been in agony and haven’t used painkillers. I don’t theoretically enjoy numbing myself. The point of using is only to use. It was cool to notice. How I just hadn’t even put the two together. I was in pain, and hadn’t thought about using at all. It didn’t cross my mind.

And I’ve really been rambling.

Oh, something else I’d love thoughts on. My other blog – elizareasonstolive.com – has a number of LTM’s (letters to myself). I’d post a couple of them, and unsure whether to post them here or there. Of course I’d love thoughts.

I left this post when I had to run out. It’s strange how fast a good mood can shift. I’m resentful. More like frustrated and tired by some miscommunication. I called someone and gave details, they were meant to call me back, I waited for a couple of hours before calling, turns out they didn’t as they didn’t realise I was able to do it (I had power or whatever the word is, which, I did, that it was in my authority), so I’d waited for a couple of hours, wasting time, and now I’m exhausted, because I wasn’t even able to finish what I started and it’s late. Something I have to realise, and know, well which I know somewhat, is that I can be sad and mad and awesome at the same time. I can be exhausted and frustrated with what happened and completely okay. And I can still head to sleep now, even if I’m heading up later than planned. And whatever is meant to be will be regardless. The duality can coexist (in my world of black and white thinking I find it really hard to see how both can be there at once. It just, isn’t. Though my world is a constant contradiction often enough. I’m trying to let it be both).

Love, light and glitter

Peace unto you all…… What am I rambling about?

Eliza

I feel like I’m failing

I feel like I’m failing.

I feel like I’m failing because I want to use

What I’m failing to take into account is that I’m not using – and that even if I do end up taking cocodamol, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, I haven’t failed now.

I feel like I’m failing because food is an issue

What I’m failing to take into account is how I’m stopping it being a real issue. However much it’s an issue, and is annoying, detestable, abhorancable (I know that’s not a word), I’m not letting it take over, I’m taking charge as far as I can. And one day it really won’t be an issue (or if it is, it’ll be an issue in less of a way than it is now).

I feel like I’m failing because I always feel alone.

What I’m failing to take into account is that I often am alone, and that’s okay.

I feel like I’m failing when I’m surrounded by people who are friends with each other and somehow, despite them all being friends with each other (my workmates, family etc) I’m just not a part of it.

What I’m failing to take into account is that with some people I work with, I am friends/friendly. What I’m failing to see is that it’s not my issue if they’re friends with each other and not me. That even if it IS something wrong with me that makes it so, I didn’t choose it, and it doesn’t define me. That they’re friends, that they talk and I’m just not a part of it, the jokes I just don’t understand, the outings I’m never invited on, don’t define me, it defines them.

I feel like I’m failing my students.

What I’m failing to take into account is that they’re learning. They may do better with another teacher. Equally, they may be doing best with me.

I feel like I’m failing since I still don’t know what I believe.

What I’m failing to take into account is that everything takes me forever to work through, and, it’s okay. It means that what I know is really real. It means I can explain to anyone what I know and believe, and why I believe it. It means what I know is mine. That I don’t know the rest, how many people honestly do? Not all my friends can explain to me why they believe what they do – even if they know what they believe. I’m going the other way around. Working it through until I know whatever the end result will be. That I don’t know it now isn’t a failing. It means I’m a work in progress. Yes, 2 years later.

I feel like I’m failing when I’m sitting in my room instead of downstairs with others

What I’m failing to take into account is the time I’ve spent and do spend with others. That time to myself is a good thing, not an issue.

I feel like I’m failing because I never have any clue what to do with my time or myself. I’ve hours of time and no idea how to spend it (well 4 – 5 hours a day).

What I’m failing to take into account is that I’m working most the day. That of the 5 hours, one is winding down (which is why I said 4 – 5), another I’m allowed to do nothing (to add to the other 3 hours I do nothing and am okay with), and that I don’t need to know what to do with my time or myself. I’m failing to see how up until a year and a half ago my life was spent escaping. My life was spent in another world. At times it was online. At times books. At times cocodamol. I was never present. I was never here. I’m failing to see that it’s going to take me time to realise that I have time. It’s going to take me time to learn how to fill the spare time.

I feel like I’m failing because I’m not doing things I want to do like exercise

What I’m failing to take into account is that I’ve never been able to self motivate myself. I never needed to. In school I got by with attending some of the lessons, skipping the rest, not learning, and passing the government tests (passing well, but with only A/B’s). I’m failing to see how I’ve never had to work. I’ve never had to push myself, and now when I want to, it’s hard to. I’m failing to take into account how much I AM pushing myself. How I’m taking basic care of myself which is really tough for me. How I’m eating. How I’m reaching out to people. I’m pushing myself a lot. All the things I want to do to fill my spare time with and can’t bring myself to do, it’s not a failing, because I’m using all that energy for other things. And self motivation takes a lot of energy for me.

I feel like I’m failing because I have to push myself to do simple things like brushing my teeth.

What I’m failing to take into account is that I wasn’t brought up with self care. That I wasn’t brought up doing these seemingly simple things, and that getting to a place of doing these things will take energy.

I feel like I’m failing because I’m so negative all the time.

What I’m failing to see is how much I change everything to the positive. How the negativity I give off is actually far outweighed by the positivity, that it’s me who is giving weight to the negativity and blaming myself for it, rather than it being as much as it is.

I feel like I’m failing because I still feel guilty for being alive.

What I’m failing to see is that a belief that has been built upon since I was a child is going to take a long time to erode. What I’m failing to see is how I definitely feel less guilty for living then I used to. I’m failing to see how the self destruction, the need for it, whilst still there, is a lot less – in proportion with the guilt.

I feel like I’m failing

I’m failing to take into account all the ways I’m not failing.

I feel like I’m failing.

I know that I’m not failing.

I feel like I’m failing.

I know I’m still here.

I feel like I’m failing.

Yet I’m continuing on.

I feel like I’m failing.

No matter how much I feel like I’m failing, it’s okay.

I feel like I’m failing.

And that’s okay. I feel like I’m failing. I’m not failing. I’m here. And, it is. I feel like I’m failing. And one day I’ll know that I haven’t failed.