makingchaoscreative

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So I am finally at a point in my mental health adventure where my therapist brought up medication. Society has conditioned me to think that meds don't fix anything, logic and science, however, say the opposite. Now I know that it isn't normal to have a thought like "Wow it sure is nice out, would be neat to have a garden!" And then proceed to avoid regular responsibilities and spend large sums if money on plants because of that one fleeting thought. I know NOW that is called hyper fixation and is an ADHD thing. My therapist wanted me to start small with just a stimulant to help with stuff like that, not even tackling my other fun brain stuff. Well, that was over two weeks ago. The nurse lady is backed up and the longer it takes to meet with her the more nervous and anxious I am getting. I just am really hoping medication helps me to continue to improve.

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Here again tonight. Overworking myself and I am sunburned and exhausted. Not doing the self care thing well. Setting myself up for a chaotic mental health week. I miss my girlfriend and a whole bunch of emotions in that realm make it hard to function. Still haven't heard from the APRN, supposed to be starting med for the first time ever and the anticipation is both killing me and stressing me out. Gonna hopefully fall asleep now. Good night world.

[makingchaoscreative]

Today was really long. That's it. Just long.

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So today I gardened for the first time in a few years. It was pretty neat. I also worked very hard and now I am exhausted but managed to remember to check in here before falling asleep. Slowly but surely practicing some self care!

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My brain won't quiet to a coherent post, however for the sake of being consistent, here is this post. I worked really hard today and I am exhausted. Did not have a particularly good brain day, but I made it through. Tomorrow is another day.

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So, the irony if starting this thing 48 hours before Mental Health Awareness month began is not lost on me. And here goes yet another ramble of thoughts that plauge my mind.

TW: Rape

It is very strange to be a product of such pain. It has evolved into a lot of internalized self-hatred. My mom was drugged and raped at a bar and voila, here I am. When you are 8 and you ask why you are the only one in the family with brown hair and you don't look like your fathers family at all, the concept of rape is not something that holds any weight, it is simply four letters that make a word. So, when you ask your mom while you are different and she simply says "well, that is because you have a different dad." And you follow that with wanting to know who he is and why you haven't met him and she says simply "I don't know who he is." You just go back to life as normal satisfied with that answer.

As you grow, you ask on occasion and the "I don't know" turns into an "I'll find out." Now you have no idea that that is impossible so again, you drop the subject. I don't recall quite when I learned what that meant, but the impact on the full concept was not immediate, rather a slow drip poison infecting myself image, dissolving all everything good I thought of myself without even realizing it.

My mom died when I was 16, unexpectedly and quickly. What followed was nothing short of hell, but that is a topic for another post. As my world exploded into nothing but utter madness the terrible thoughts that had been festering all this time rose to greet me, welcomed me with a suffocating hug.

The thoughts that are constant are:

"You are a mistake."

"You do nothing but cause suffering."

And a combination of the above. So, now when faced with some sort of problem that could be logically solved, my brain lets me know that I, in fact, am the problem. The cause of all unhappiness in the world. Me. The funny thing is all our TV shows and movies where the main characters parent are evil are oh so relatable for me in the worst way.

A few years ago I sent off a DNA swap to see if maybe I could identify a family I didn't know I had. Now every few months when I get the email that "# of new relatives have joined!" I get a twisting gut feeling of "what if it's him?". Then, then I start thinking what if it ACTUALLY is. What would I want? Do I want to know the man who raped my mom, his family? What good could come of it? The not know is what stresses me. What if I have met him? What if he is dead? Does he know about me? The truth is I don't know. I want him to pay, but an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. Emotions are so complicated. It is very strange to be a product of such pain.

[makingchaoscreative]

All I managed today was getting through the day. I did ok. I ate food, drank water, and got some work done. It is okay to have less productive days. I even remembered to come back to this blog I started. My therapist keeps telling me to be kind to myself, so here is me trying. All I managed to do today was survive and that is ok, I did ok today.

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What I wish I could tell you - Trying to put it in words.

I don't know what I am doing. I am making it all up as I go along. I am struggling even on my best days.

I don't know what a healthy relationship looks like. Every, save a select few, in person experiences have been negative, abusive if I'mto be candid. Everyone I love has died or left. I have longed for the cliche fairytale life only to realize that too was a lie. So how did I end up with you?

I have never been in love before. I have loved people, my siblings and dear friends, but to fall in is an entirely new experience. It is scary, emotions suck. Thanks to trauma I am not too good at them, being numb is so much easier. Yet I find myself wanting and trying and practicing them in efforts to be better for you.

Better for you. Not for me, for you. That sounds pathetic and every person I know will tell you "if you can't love you, you can't love someone else". I don't love me, not at all. I am, however, completely and utterly in love with you. I look in the mirror and what stares back is a stranger. I look at you and I feel at home. In the few moments we have captured together on film - that girl is someone I would like to know. As it stands, I am an amalgamation of people, places and experiences. I don't feel like a person. I don't feel as though I deserve you, your attention, your affection, your time, your presence. Of all the humans on this planet you found a shattered one and said "yup, this one".

When we are together I try so hard, so very hard to be present and mindful. To enjoy the moment. This extra effort has been rewarded by feeling the happiest I have felt in a long time, maybe ever. Ha, me happy, what a foreign thought. A fleeting one at that, my anxiety makes sure work of any and all joy by days end. On my good days I can tune it out, but the whispers are still there. How do I communicate that to you? How do I tell you that I want to curl up next to you and hold you when we go to bed? That kissing you is in fact that electric spark all the storybooks talk about and I do feel it down to my toes. That your smile makes me melt. And apparently being touch starved is a thing?! And then there are the anxious voices that won't go away in my head, howndo I share those with you?

How do I tell you that the fact that I always reach for your hand bothers me? Do you not want to hold mine? I've asked you before and you said it was fine. Fine. Just fine. With that my brain takes it runs with it - is this all in my head too?! Is this one sided? Am I making her uncomfortable? Is she mad? Is she sad? I don't want to think too far into things, but I can't help it - I'm sorry. I apologize for everything, and it's due to the trauma I've been told. In 8 months, you have kissed me twice, and every other time I have kissed you. Do you not want to? I ask everytime because I am overly concerned about consent. You wouldn't if you didn't want to, would you? And if you don't want to, would you tell me? At this point is it assumed that it is my job to initiate any and all physical contact? It feels and sounds terrible to say, but would a little more effort from you be to much to ask? I want to be wanted, and sometimes I feel like I am just tolerated. We don't get to see eachother everyday, what with living 100 miles apart and all, but we make it work I think. How do I tell you that it breaks my heart, it hurts so much, when I have arrived at your house after a 2 hour drive and you aren't there, and when you do arrive you don't even acknowledge that I'm there while I am stifling the urge to tackle you to the ground in a hug because I have missed you so. Is it selfish to want that? To want you to come home and greet me? And I know my dogs are cute, but when you come to me I am eagerly watching the clock and waiting for your arrival, yet the first thing you do is greet my dogs and play with them. I know that I am the more affectionate one and that is fine, but sometimes it feels like I am the only one.

I love you so much. Everything about you so much. I wish you wouldntry a little harder to learn to communicate and help yourself. I am not here to babysit you, I am here to grow with you. This all sounds dramatic and it really is small stuff, but small stuff matters to me. Everything matters to me. I'm clingy and nervous about making a mistake because I don't want to loose you too. Trying to put these thoughts into words is nervewracking as I don't want this taken the wrong way, I just hope I've made clear what I wish I could tell you.

[makingchaoscreative]

My therapist told me to write a blog, and here we are. I figured the depths of tumblr would be safe and that my stream of conciousness type of writing would be ok here. Here goes nothing.

So I guess it really is "all in my head". The fancy phrasing or a diagnosis formally- ADHD, Anxiety. PTSD, Depression, Executive Dysfunction - I simply thought that was how brains worked. It isn't, by the way. Just how mine and few like it do. I thought a label would make me feel better, they always have in the past! It helps some, but now, now I am just painfully aware of my brain not working properly. Now everytime someone says "are you going to finish that story?" and I have absolutely no recollection of what was going on my only thought is "Again, you did it again." The more aware I become of how broken my brain is, the more it frustrates me. The more I wish I could focus, I could calm down, I could stay motivated. The reality is that some times, a lot of times, I simply can't. I've been told I'm not broken due to the negative connotations of the word, and I disagree. I feel broken. Shattered. It sucks. It sucks to go 23 years of your life thinking that "everyone goes through this" when they don't. It is just you, and it really is just in your head

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Bunny falls asleep

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27 People On Tinder Who Absolutely Deserve A Swipe Right

http://firstmemes.net/27-people-on-tinder-who-absolutely-deserve-a-swipe-right-1

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So sweet via /r/aww http://ift.tt/1vfWdB2

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When you pause cartoons at the right moment.. Don’t forget to share us to your friends