…now you don't.

I feel like I'm losing my mind. There's no other way to describe it as accurately and succinctly.

April was a hard month. Lots of pain that just wouldn't be budged, increased sleep walking, further weakness and increased discouragement and depression… and all that after getting my wisdom teeth out the month before. I cannot pinpoint a specific time that things turned for the worse, but that's always the case isn't it?

Nothing, though, nothing could have prepared me for the experience of this past week. I have trouble when I'm particularly weary with full body muscle spasms that jerk me around like I'm having a seizure, and I also have a tendency to fall into a half-sleep that's deep enough to dream a little but not awake enough to know that the situations are fictitious. I end up with these conversations I've had with other people, but they turn out to be one-sided. It's quite embarrassing, actually.

This week, I've had a lot of fantasy conversations, but more than that… I've begun hallucinating again. Auditory hallucinations are commonplace for me, and have been my whole life. I tend to hear music playing that no one else can hear but me, wherever I'm at. Visual hallucinations started as a child as well, because I remember distinctly having to take naps in my step-grandparent's spare bedroom on Sabbath afternoons, but I hated nap time so much because I was at least 6 or 7 and I wanted to be up and reading or something! The walls were covered with portraits of family members throughout the years, as bunches or singles. As I lay there in the afternoon half-light that filtered through the drawn curtains, I had nothing to do but stare at the photos and watch as they talked to one another. Their lips would move, heads turning, facial expressions would change; full blown conversations were going on, but I didn't know to read lips so I couldn't follow along. There was no way I could tell anyone about that, ever, because I knew that it would sound super crazy and the line of success/dysfunction that my family crept along was tenuous, at best. I didn't want to be made fun of or told that I was crazy, so I kept it to myself. I finally told my psychiatrist this past year, though.

And now we come to my current dysfunctions, the ones that are giving me so much trouble and leaving me questioning my own senses. In truth, the problems are much the same, but now they're the adult version, having apparently grown up alongside me.

One of the big problems with my diseases is the fatigue. Sometimes I deal with insomnia, but more often than not I sleep more than the average person is supposed to need to. When my mind is fuzzy with fatigue it is much easier to space out, but when I come to I remember snippets and snatches of conversations… or thought sequences… or were they dreams? Yeah. Dreams. That's gotta be it. And so it goes.

What will happen is that if a friend says something, I will formulate a response in my head, and then they'll answer, and I build the experience on the back and forth that comes next. Only… lately, I've been actually hearing what before used to be just thoughts in my head. And when that conversation is playing in my head (the one that stopped being relevant about 20 seconds prior) I join in with my retorts and comments, of course! To the other person, it seems as though I'm just spouting gibberish and nonsense, which, to be fair, is the truth when you can't hear the other side of the conversation. For instance: Drogo was playing a computer game he purchased through Steam called Elite: Dangerous. It's about space, but it's really well done and I love watching him play it. Yesterday, however, while I was watching him attack another ship in the particular solar system he was occupying, I noticed that there was some kind of theme music that seemed to "caption" each shot he laid on the other ship with a funny taunt laid out to a simple tune. (I don't remember any of this, just a few moments here and there.) I laughed at the awesome lyrics and said something about how I loved the captions to his shots, and he looked at me very strangely. I was like, "There is a song playing right now that emphasizes the shots your getting off… right?" Well, no. No there wasn't. And throughout this past week I have been hearing more and more things that aren't there.

I'll hear Corey say something and without really processing it my brain will formulate a response that just tumbles on out… and makes, like, zero sense. It's a lot like playing "Telephone", except that the other person has no idea that they're playing or indeed what they said in the first place! Often I'll jerk myself awake out of a doze because my body is trying to physically imitate what my shallow dream has me doing, like eating ice cream maybe, or handing a stack of paper to someone, petting the cat, whatever. The physical action has loud noises or words that accompany it, and the combo of those will jerk me awake so that I can try to play it off as myself coughing or rolling over or something hide, but a split second later and I'll be off chasing the White Rabbit again. Even if I'm awake, I can find myself grabbing for whatever is bothering me without realizing I've even done it yet, or suddenly breathing hard and blinking rapidly to jerk myself out of doze mode and back to the present.

The visual hallucinations, well, it's that moving picture thing again for certain. There are no portraits on the walls of my home, but there are plenty of other things to distract my eye. Generally, it is the movement of stationary things, like shadows scooting across the floor or at the outsides of my vision, sometimes right in front of me; spots of dirt or some-such, even the natural patterns in the walls or tile take on movement and writhe like small insects. There doesn't even have to be a pattern to it when all of a sudden a dark blot of movement streaks by your thigh, and  by the time you look over it's already long gone. Or how about seeing the blankets themselves move of their own volition right at the back corner of your vision, only to find them stationary when you whirl to look. Let me tell you, it is freaky when all of a sudden you think you're surrounded by bugs! Ticks and ants and other creepy crawly things! Aaaaugh! I'm always relieved to see the truth of that one. Another common one is thinking that I see one of the cats walk past and then be obscured by the table, but when I go to look at that corner there, it's empty. No cat there. Gahhh. Y'know, maybe I'm not crazy. Maybe my cats are just ninjas!!! Occam's Razor. Yep. That's got to be the answer, then. :P

Yesterday was bad. Like, bad bad. I was very actively hallucinating, more than I ever have before, visually, audibly, and with sensation on my skin as well. That one is common, but it never ceases to be startling when you suddenly feel drops of scalding water or ice water flick against your skin for no reason, or when you are positive that there is a bug crawling on your arm/leg/toe/face/etc. I am definitely going to be bringing this up to my psychiatrist tomorrow, but there are some other physical symptoms that I feel are connected somehow and are giving me just as much trouble as the hallucinations but are more alarming. My eyes… for some reason, they'll just stop focusing, and everything gets blurry, especially anything from the end of arm's length toward me. Can't read, can't write, can't tell which pill bottle is which sometimes… It's terrifying. Each time I wonder if that will be the time it lasts, that my vision won't revert. I don't know what to make of it at all. Frequently I will be struck with what I have dubbed "eye seizures", which is where my eyes won't focus right, but they're still mostly in focus. My vision simply shakes from side to side and prevents me from latching on to a more distant focal point. Eye seizures are for further distance, and the unfocusable eyes are impossible for

The next problem I'm having is that my legs will just collapse beneath me. As I mentioned before, I do sleepwalk, more and more intensely these days, and it has been while sleepwalking that I've noticed the most collapsing. More so this past week, however, Friday being the worst of it, I have a split second's warning that my legs are about to give way when I feel this pulsing throb of weakness that shoots through my entire being. As the spasm of weakness passes, my legs buckle after the apex and I must clutch something, anything to keep me upright. Even then it's not pleasant, for my heart is pounding, I feel weak and exhausted in every inch of me, and my chest is tight while my heart hammers away. Sometimes there's chest pain, sometimes no, but always it feels like a dark balloon expanding within my chest, and once it pops a thick, sludgy wave washes through me and pulls me to the floor. Dizziness explodes behind my eyes and the room swims around me in crooked, clumsy laps.

Even as I type, I am struggling with some of these things. The dizziness, the throb of weakness and pounding heart, the rapid drift back into dozing only to be woken up again and again. I snap awake, limbs shaking and heart pounding, eyes blinking rapidly and looking around for context clues as to where I am.  My lungs pull in the sharp, short breaths of one who has forgotten to breathe just a bit too long. My head jerks around, the ratchet movement keeping me awake for the moment, my outstretched hands moving likewise, rapid but aimless, as I find myself trying to grasp for a literal lifeline. The searing moment of clarity is driven into my skull like a railroad spike, but I know that all too soon I will be adrift upon the shallow, troubled waters of this unsatisfactory sleep.

Also, as a side note, I just want to mention that my mouth is all kinds of ulcerated and painful on the inside; sores on my tongue, roof of the mouth, cheeks; abrasions and tender and inflamed areas that leave me clenching my jaw in pain when anything other than water passes through my lips. My glands have been swollen for a week or more. I cannot feel much in the skin from my cheekbones down to my collarbones. It is cold, and it is numbed, though I know not how. My memory is absolutely shot. I lose track of sentences while I am speaking, fumbling to a stop because I'm not sure how I wanted to end it, much less what the idea I was trying to convey was. I finally got my first menstrual cycle since December, which had me freaking out and hoping I wasn't pregnant and that the tests I took weren't faulty. I think I really scared Corey yesterday with my inability to remain standing and the severity of my hallucinations. Sometimes I can play it off like I'm talking to the cats, but usually not so much.

Oh! I broke my phone last night. See, the twitches aren't just about my legs jerking around as if they'd been hit with the rubber reflex mallet. That's part of it, but another, much bigger problem is that I will be holding something normally, say a mug of tea or a bowl of cereal, but suddenly my entire arm with jerk wildly and I now have hot tea all down my front, or a puddle of cereal and milk in my lap. It sounds funny to read, I know, but in actual practice? It sucks. Do you have any idea how many times I had to start the washer recently?! Too many. Anyway, yesterday I picked up my phone from the couch, and bam! Arm and hand jerked, my (admittedly ghetto) phone flew to the tile flooring in a very direct manner, and it broke in half, exposing the guts. Later that night I figured it out (still not sure how, really), and while I'll need another phone, I still have this one… even if it is being held together with black electrician's tape ;)

So that, my friends, is what is going on with me right now. I don't know where the boundaries of reality and fantasy intersect anymore, and I genuinely feel like I might be losing my hold on reality. Seriously… how scary is that?! All I know is that I keep resurfacing, gasping for breath and shaking my head rapidly to clear it. It works for a few microts, but it's scary as hell because down, down, down I go as soon as I'm not actively forcing myself awake. Even so, there are times that doesn't work either. How can I trust anything anymore when I can no longer rely on my 5 senses to guide me? Funny how the brain is so powerful, but not powerful enough that it can escape when turned upon itself, eh?

Prolly more thoughts on this later, I dunno. Right now I'm just copying and pasting a post I sent out in one of my closer-knit fibro support groups this morning.

Well, I sure feel invalidated as hell this morning. I posted that AWESOME picture that I tagged y'all in (I'll include it here for those who I'm not friends with outside of the group) and not only does everyone think that I'm sitting here with a knife to my wrist apparently, I got a message in the wee hours of the morning and one that was there when I signed on this morning, and I dunno if you guys will catch the same vibe as I do but I'm totally getting the message that "you're too negative and you focus on your pain too much; knock it off and be cheerful, eh?" which is incredibly discouraging and angering and all kinds of things that I really just don't know how to articulate. Thoughts?

Last night's message: "Hello? I'm I don't know who you are and you don't need who I am but I am one of R's friends and somehow I've been able to see your posts on my bulletin... is something wrong? I've been kinda feeling down too but I shouldn't be.

Sorry so many typos on there lol.

I meant to say we don't know each other. I've been seeing the... negative stuff you've been posting. So I wanted... to know what was wrong... if you wanted to tell me. I can understand if you find it weird to talk to someone you don't know about something so personal but... I'm going to be moving out of AZ in May and I'mm feeling kinda down too so I thought it would be worth a shot."

This morning's message from a different person (Note: she had asked to be untagged in the photo because it looks bad for her, professionally as an actress.): "Yeah it was a cool piece but yeah most of the people who still use Facebook are actors directors producers etc so I stopped putting anything on there about pain or pretty much anything negative or if I do I try to make it funny. I stopped my blog a couple months ago my pain is what it is it's been two years this is where it will likely stay thinking about it just gives it power. Can I suggest something for you to read? Maybe you are not at a point where it's something yiu can absorb I wasn't ready when I bought it a few years ago read three pages and out it away but the secret has changed my life even before I read it. I started living the law of attraction and yes I still have a bad day but I'm very cautious about what I think and say bc what you think about you bring about. I'm a therapist and never got any if this but so much has changed w my pain my acting everythjng that I have to believe there is truth. Google it and try it for a couple weeks maybe it will help. I don't go to meetings lol I don't do anything other than watch my thinking patterns Just a thought from what I see in your patterns "

I responded, and I'll post that too if you want, but this response to MY response just makes me even more frustrated (but I KNOW that wasn't the intent, to attack, I guess I'm just sensitive???).

Note: Here's my response, for clarity's sake. "I get what you're saying, and that's something that I *do* try to live in my life. I'm very conscious of my thought patterns and I monitor my thoughts and feelings quite closely (hence why I blog and talk to my husband and besties all. the. time.). For me, though, it's more than just "don't think of negative things" whatever. I've learned that--and this is just for me, you understand, because I tried it the other way and it just made me miserable-- it is more healthy and productive to acknowledge whatever negative thoughts or feelings I have, think/talk through them, and then move on with my life. I don't wallow except on rare occasions, because everyone needs a pity party day once in a while I think, especially ppl who hurt all the damn time. But for me it's best for my mental and emotional health to acknowledge the stuff that ain't so positive, try to find something funny in it, and keep going.

The "don't think about negative things and you won't bring negative things into your life" dealie just doesn't work for me. And that's okay. I'm glad it has done a lot for you. For me, I put as much love and light out into the world as I can, and I get a TON back in return. But I don't dare gloss over the bad parts because it all just festers and creates "disease" in my life. Not the physical disease, of course (though our emotions and whatnot DO have an effect on our physical health as I'm sure you're well aware), but… oh, how to explain it? Anyway, I've known waaaaaay too many people that pretend nothing is wrong, ever, and we should only think and talk about positive things, etc. for me to want to go back to that kind of thinking intentionally. (And it could be that what I've experienced/read/seen is a distortion of what YOU are talking about… I mean, connotation is a hard thing to convey. You say "banana" and we will each have a different image that pops into our head and different feelings about the word though the core concept is the same. Try that with the word "love" or "happiness" and things get crazy lol) It's been my experience, working with abuse survivors, that acknowledging the negative stuff and processing it appropriately is what robs it of power, not pushing it away in favor of focusing on the positive. I believe that there's a balance of the two that can and must be achieved for optimal emotional and mental health. Maybe that balance doesn't always come across on Facebook, but this IS the place where a lot of my support system is located, and also where I try to raise awareness about the very real nitty gritty of what it's like to live with chronic pain, chronic depression, chronic illnesses and diseases, and PTSD and other abuse survivor related issues. On a totally unrelated note, have you ever thought about creating a facebook page strictly for your professional life? One of my artist friends has done that because of some of the same things you mentioned-- potential employers/buyers, professional peers, etc. It's a way for her to display her portfolio and other business related stuff without it getting cluttered in with her personal stuff or lost and vice versa."

"Thoughts are def hard to convey here bc yes I def still acknowledge the bad things and I've had a lot. I had a bad couple days and I have allowed myself to feel upset and angry it's more how I think about it that changed. I guess my perspective is different. I found out heartbreaking news about my ex acknowledged it would make me sad processed it talked to a couple people quickly but cautious of the words I used when talking about my future for me not the universe and then it passed. Everyone is different. I guess I've been thru so much bad in my life including men hurting me and pain obesity and have fought so hard I finally just found a balance or something that works. I don't tell most people about it bc it sounds too new age even to me lol. But I thought I'd ask but I get it's not for everyone. I'm also alone so I have to do things different. My support system is here but not much emotionally and I have no spouse or anyone to talk to or depend in to listen it say it will be ok. It's all up to me and that's ok. I've never been my own rock and I'm learning
Well I'm glad u have a way that works . Feel better"

So I guess I'm just super irritated because I'm always very self-conscious about how I come across, whether it's appropriate or if I'm being too negative or angry, etc. I know she's just trying to help, but it feels just as invalidating as someone who knows just what I choose to present to the world regarding my pain coming up and telling me that I've probably been handling it all wrong and this is what helped them and I should consider doing it that way. Wait, come to think of it… that's happened to me countless times, with all of my diseases. And my food allergies. And it pisses me off, guys! I'm just like, you know what? Even if I chose to be completely negative and wallow in my misery and my pain and my agony and not try to find the positive and do my best and find humor in the situation and be totally authentic about my struggles and where I'm at, that is my right. That is my right as a sick person and that is my right as a healthy person. So stop fucking telling me how to handle my shit, okay?!

I was so pleased with myself because I've progressed so far on acceptance of my fibro diagnosis and that I'm not going to find an underlying disease to treat and miraculously recede my fibro to livable, which is a hope that I was clinging to until the "just fibro" appointment earlier this month. I've come across some well of determination, hope, and inspiration that I thought had dried up long since, beaten down by the daily grind of such incredible levels of pain and other miseries, and life is looking up for me. And then… this.

Maybe it's no coincidence that just when I seem to be getting my feet under me in whatever battle I'm fighting (emotions, facing and processing and healing from abuse, fighting depression, my health, my food allergies, etc.) something comes along that tries to knock me on my ass again. Maybe I am just too open and authentic. Maybe I leave myself vulnerable to attack. Maybe I leave myself vulnerable to those who think they know better. God, why are there so many of those people in the world?!

Anyway, I'm quite irritated, angry, frustrated, guilty and not sure if it's legitimate guilt or totally illegitimate and false… Because of the crazy dysfunctional environment of most of my life, I have a hard time telling false guilt from legitimate guilt, and I tend to take on guilt that isn't mine and shouldn't be aimed at me at all. So I never quite trust the guilty feelings anymore, because I know that it quite probably isn't true or to be trusted. Generally, I'm above reproach. ;) So this is why I blog and openly put things out there in social media, to get the feedback of the wide network of people that I trust. I thought I could trust this chick; she's a fibro warrior too, a psychologist, an abuse survivor… but she took the opportunity to slip the sword between the ribs, probably all the while thinking that she was just helping me let out the bad blood and balance my humors! And that just goes to show that you can't trust everyone with your pain. According to her theory, I suppose I should stop this blogging and sorting through my thoughts. Which, as we all know, is baloney for me, as this blog is the thing that has helped me sort through my thoughts and feelings in a semi-coherent manner for years. I suppose that's what smarts the most-- the suggestion that my coping methods aren't good enough, that I've been doing it wrong this whole time and any progress I've made is incidental.

Enough ranting for the day, I suppose. I just had to get all this out there, and boy do I feel better! Whew. It's no longer roiling inside me in a jumbled mess, confusing me and making me heart-sick. Ahh. I seriously feel as though I can physically breathe better now.

Suck it, actress lady. You have your ways and I have mine, and mine are fucking awesome. And no, I'm not still bitter. :P

It's weird. I don't know exactly how to explain it, but I feel so completely lost right now. I'm all out of sorts… and I don't even know why.

I'm tired. I know I'm tired. But it's like I'm so tired that I don't want to sleep. And I'm hungry (I think), but I don't feel like eating.

Also, I'm worried about meds. The perennial, anxiety-inducing worry of mine. I have pain pills now, yes, but not enough to get me through to see the pain specialist, even if I take them only every 6 hours. Will the new rheumatologist see that I need continuous pain meds and give me a script? Will the insurance let me cash it in? Will I have to spend a few days here and there throughout the week with little to no meds at all in the hopes that the pain docs will write me a script at our initial consultation? I don't even know what to expect. I need consistency in this, and in switching my care from the less than mediocre, I feel as though I am throwing myself off a cliff with no idea what awaits me in the abyss.

I wish I could just worry about, you know, "normal" things. Like holding down a job. Pursuing a career. Going to school. Planning a family. Taking care of my house. Saving up for vacations. Enjoying hobbies. But it seems as though my entire life, every minute of every day, is dominated by the draining, overshadowing worry of, "What if, by taking this pill to relieve my suffering now, I am dooming myself to even greater suffering in the future?" I am drained. I am tired. I am tired of worrying about how I'm going to survive. So very, very tired. I wish I had doctors that would champion for me, that would worry about this for me, or that would make the situation so that I would not have to worry.

I'm so tired… so very, very tired of being sick. Of being in pain. I'm all out of sorts. Now that the initial surge of joy from getting my pain killers has passed, the waves have receded and left me once more run aground on the rocky shoals of "what if".

Do you know what it's like to live in fear that the economy will tank, or there will be some national disaster or something because then you will not be able to get the meds that are keeping you alive, that are making life even semi-bearable? I literally live in terror of that thought.

I suspect that it's the looming closeness of the appointment with the new rheum that has got me all worked up. The unknown, it mocks me. Can this doctor help me? Will we begin finding answers at last? What is wrong with my body? Is it treatable? Is it curable? Is it fatal? Is there irreparable damage? Will you take me seriously? Will you help me, and not expect me to do your job for you? I'm so scared… scared of another dead end and even further declines in my health. How much further can I sink? Where will I go? How sick do you have to get before your body or your mind (or both) finally says "Enough!" and just stops? How miserable does life have to get before you just kind of snap and try to end your own suffering? So far I've managed to resist the temptation. It's been hard. Very, very hard. I have stayed, though, because of those who love me and want me to stay.

I don't think they realize what a sacrifice I am making for them by staying, by living in this body and abiding with this pain and sickness day after day. Every day that I am alive is a monumental declaration, a neon sign that says, "I care about you more than I care about not hurting anymore. I will continue to hurt so that you do not have to feel the agony of losing someone dear. I languish for you, dear heart, for you mean the world to me. Your happiness is more important than my own. I hope you know that." I would dearly love to put an end to my pain. Oh, yes. I would. But I care too much. I love too much. I don't have it in me to hurt the ones I love like that. So… I try to find the happiness here, with them. I try to find the smiles and the joy and the laughter. I try to find what makes it worthwhile staying here… and I have. In many ways, I have.

I do like living. I would like it better if I could actually live, I think, but it's pleasant enough. At times. It would probably be even more pleasant if I could at least have a piece of pie once in a while.

So I have a "confession" to make. (I put confession in quotes, because the word connotes the sense that I've done something bad that I am admitting to, but I don't consider this particular thing to be bad, actually. It's just the word that most accurately conveys the type of discussion I'm about to have with myself.)

I'm done with Christianity.

I went to church a week and a half ago, and it was nice to see all the people that I'm familiar with and that care about me. That was the good part. I did get sick and have to leave just a few minutes into the sermon, but I kind of expected that. What I was looking for was... I dunno. Some kind of fulfillment. I have so much nostalgia attached to church and the singing of hymns, of listening with rapt attention to the sermon and following along in my Bible. I miss that culture sometimes, I really do. SOULS was a good time, despite all of the difficulties I experienced and the twisted ideas I came away with. I miss the camaraderie, the  passionate pursuit of a common goal. I miss the music. Oh, do I miss the music... I miss the intellectually stimulating conversations, the inside jokes, the whole culture of Adventism. I miss belonging to something.

But I didn't find that when I went to church. I didn't find anything but my friends, and even that wasn't enough. I watched the service through new eyes, and I was disappointed to find that it no longer seemed to fit in with the reality of my world. I wanted it to. I wanted it all to make sense like it used to, but it just didn't. It doesn't. But I was willing to overlook that, to try to get back into it.

Today, though, E and I went to one of the high risk charter high schools to do a presentation on teen dating violence. While we were going through the teen power and control wheel (see picture below), we were talking about abusive control. E was talking, and she was describing how a partner manipulates the other with, "If you love me, you'll _______" to get them to do what the abusive partner wants. When E said that phrase, "If you love me," the words that immediately leapt to mind to complete the phrase was a Bible verse-- John 14:15. "If you love me, keep my commandments."

That's a sentiment that's always kind of bothered me. That, and the follow-up chapter, John 15, especially verse 14: "You are my friends if you do whatever I command you." Well, duh. Of course I'd be friends with someone if they did whatever I told them to! That's always what I thought when coming across those verses, and it bothered me.

Don't get me wrong-- I think the Bible has a lot of good things going for it. There are plenty of fabulous principles to live your life by. Waiting until a mature, monogamous, long term relationship to have sex? That's good sense that's been backed up by neuropsychology. Not killing other people? Yeah, that's a pretty good idea too. Taking care of your body, treating it as a temple, a special thing? Also a great idea.

But the more I learn and heal from my past abuse the more I see why I've had such a hard time dealing with God and religion and church... because there are so many abusive, controlling overtones and triggers. Sure, some people can deal with it, and that's great. My friend J? Religion works for her. The God thing works for her. That's how she lives her life, and she's a fantastic person, and I'm really happy for her. But I just can't do it. I can't get behind someone that says, "If you love me, you will do _______." John 15:10 says, "If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commands and remain in his love."

"I will love you if you do what I say. If you love me, do what I tell you to." No. I don't think so. Sorry.

So I guess that makes me an agnostic now. I believe in a higher power, though whether that's an actual conscious intelligence or just the greater balancing force of the universe, I couldn't say right now. But I definitely believe there's more going on than just our teeny tiny little humanness down here on Earth.

Maybe someday I'll get back to Christianity. Maybe I won't. I couldn't say for sure right now. But I am relieved to have made up my mind one way or another, though I didn't expect it to come so quickly and decisively, and definitely not in the middle of a session on teen dating violence! What a place to have an epiphany, huh?

I'm not going to go announcing this from the rooftops, but I just hope that I don't lose too many of my Christian friends over this... but I guess that if they don't love me if I'm not a Christian, then a.) they weren't really my friends in the first place, and b.) they're not living up to that Christian standard they profess? I know I won't have any problems with my atheist or pagan friends. Shoot, they'll probably be happy for me. C says that he's glad that I'm getting stronger. What he means by that is that I'm thinking for myself, making my own decisions despite the possibility of disapproval from others, and I'm not doing the codependent people-pleasing thing any longer. I'm glad, too. Honestly, I'm scared of the potential rejection and backlash (and I'm really dreading possible evangelism attempts), but I know that I can be true to myself and stick to my guns. I can. But oh... I'm nervous. Please, nobody give me a tough time...

Yesterday was a seriously confusing set of emotions for me. Very complex, very intertwined, and very pervasive. It left me feeling both invested in and totally invalidated, which is a strange and repulsive mixture. I don't recommend that you try it anytime soon.

Remember how I was all excited that BJ and I were doing lunch and shopping? Well, we did. We also had a lot of time to talk while doing those things, and it was during lunch (our first activity) that things started going downhill for me.

I have come to the conclusion that BJ is not actually a safe person.

This is hard for me to come to grips with, because I have always assumed that she was. Indeed, for a long time she has seemed to be, especially given the largely dysfunctional and toxic people that I was surrounded with. She has been a safe person for me for so long that to have that status shifted is, well... very unsettling. It's almost like an identity crisis of sorts.

I suppose I should clarify what I mean by "safe person", just to be on the safe side. (Heh.) A safe person is someone whom we can have a safe relationship with, versus someone who is toxic and unsafe. According to authors/Drs. Cloud and Townsend, this is how you can identify a safe person:

"So, what are safe relationships? A safe relationship is one that does three things:

1. Draws us closer to God. (Matthew 22:37-38)
2. Draws us closer to others. (Matthew 22:39)
3. Helps us become the real person God created us to be. (Ephesians 2:10)

When John (Townsend) and I asked people to describe a “safe person” to us, they gave us these descriptions:

• A person who accepts me just like I am.
• A person who loves me no matter how I am being or what I do.
• A person whose influence develops my ability to love and be responsible.
• Someone who creates love and good works within me.
• Someone who gives me an opportunity to grow.
• Someone who increases love within me.
• Someone I can be myself around.
• Someone who allows me to be on the outside what I am on the inside.
• Someone who helps me to deny myself for others and God.
• Someone who allows me to become the “me” that God intended.
• Someone who helps me become the “me” God sees in me.
• Someone whose life touches mine and leaves me better for it.
• Someone who touches my life and draws me closer to who God created me to be.
• Someone who helps me be like Christ.
• Someone who helps me love others more."

Okay, clearly these guys are Christians, and maybe I'm not looking for someone to blatantly Bible me into being a better person, but you get the idea.

You see, BJ's house was always a haven of refuge for me from my crazy home life. Even when I was "drifting into the world" as a teenager, I always felt unconditionally loved and accepted by her and her family. When I went away to SOULS, she expressed some concerns that I wasn't learning the whys and wherefores of things, but that I was conforming to peer pressure, and she was somewhat right. (She reminded me of this during our talk.)

In recent years (or year), however, it feels like... I dunno. It feels like I'm responsible for her emotional happiness and stability in some ways, though the cues are so subtle that I'd be hard pressed to put it into words. Honestly, I'm hard pressed to put any of this into words! I know, I know, me without words. Hard to believe, right? *sigh*

There are two driving issues here: one is my health, and the other is my spirituality/life choices.

BJ is a nurse, and somehow it feels like we always end up talking about my sicknesses, especially now that fibromyalgia has reared its ugly head. She can't seem to wrap her mind around why I'm so sick, and I keep getting those cliche phrases that I hate so much, such as "You're too young to be sick like this!" Today she mentioned multiple times that she doesn't understand why I got so ill so suddenly, why my health suddenly took such a nose dive. Heck, I don't understand it, either! It just happened. But I always, always get this creeping feeling like somehow it's my fault... like I did something or am not doing something right... but yesterday, she was so bold as to say that she thinks I got fibromyalgia because I left God. Wow. Really? Really? That's harsh, man.

The thing is, when I feel even subtly attacked, I find myself falling over myself to explain myself more and open up further depths of my soul to her, as if sharing more truth will somehow help her to understand and accept and stop blaming me and bringing out the guilt. (I wonder if her kids go through this, too?) It doesn't. It just complicates things further.

We were talking about my future as a massage therapist, and how C takes care of me so well, and I mentioned that there is a possibility that I may end up bedridden from fibromyalgia, as I know people in that boat. She immediately and vehemently protested this, insisting that I shouldn't focus on that, that I shouldn't even be considering or contemplating it. No matter how much I explained myself or insisted that I'm not choosing this outcome, but that it is indeed a reality that I must face and accept, she maintained her position that even acknowledging it is the same as choosing it, and I shouldn't even allow myself to think about that, and that I'm going to get better and that I'm underestimating what God can do... (as if he would heal me anyway, 'cause it's not like I haven't asked him a billion times before, back when we were on good terms, but I digress...) Basically, she completely dismissed my illness and insisted that I'm going to get over it. At least, that was my interpretation of the situation. As there are two sides to every story, I fully admit that I could have been completely misreading her.

I explained it like this-- if you have cancer, you have to face the fact that a possible outcome is death. That doesn't mean you're choosing it, or even that it's highly likely, but it's still a part of reality. She came back with a fiery and intense rebuttal of, "Only if you have terminal cancer is that the case. Any other kind of cancer, you have other options."

Look, it's not like I want to be this damn sick all the time. I miss hiking, and I miss cleaning my house. I miss doing more than two or three "things" in a day. (I struggled with fatigue already, but that was small potatoes compared to my life these days.) But I really, really resist the attempts to whitewash my reality and my future and exclude reality from my plans and my thoughts. She told me that I was spending too much time researching fibro online, basically saying that I was focusing on the negative aspects of my illness too much. Um, no. I get down in the mouth from time to time, but I'd like to think that I'm actually rather optimistic about being in severe pain every waking moment. I just felt so... dismissed. Invalidated. Disrespected, I guess. Like she was saying, "No, your interpretation of reality isn't correct. It's too pessimistic. Here, let me replace it with my own. This is the right one. Now, don't go back to your way of thinking! It'll only hurt you." I felt as though she was implying that, if I get sicker (or because I've gotten this sick in the first place, and because it came on so suddenly), that somehow it's my fault and that I was probably focusing too much on the negative and not wanting to get better well enough or something like that.

On that note, check out this funny cartoon! (One of my friends, M, showed it to me when I came home all distraught over my encounter with BJ, after I had explained the whole thing to them... or vented, more like.)

The second issue is my spirituality/life choices. I already mentioned how she thinks that I'm sick because I'm drifting from God, or at least that the two timings coincide quite suspiciously. (Because I got sick so suddenly, remember... because it's not like there are any illnesses out there with sudden onsets. Lord forbid I not be able to pinpoint the exact second I got ill and link it to a specific incident. Okay, sorry, sorry... sorry for the sarcasm.)

Basically, I'm not making choices with my life that she approves of, because I've left the path that she deems to be the path of life. She insists it's not about church, but that it's about God, but... I feel that the two are too synonymous in most people's minds to really make a difference. She's devastated because I'm living with my fiance before we're married, but the Bible doesn't say anything about that. The church does. I'm sure EGW probably does somewhere. But God doesn't. Sex before marriage? Yeah, there's stuff in there about that. I know that one, and I'm not going to go into my reasons for why I'm okay with it in certain situations right now. That's not what I need to talk about here. (Besides, there are other things that I'm okay with that God demands people be stoned for, so God and I... we have our differences above and beyond my anger issues with him.)

She told me that I broke her heart, just like her kids have broken her heart, because she/they (she and her husband) gave us everything, hoping that we'd learn to love the Lord and follow him but we've all walked away and she feels like a failure, and... also that I can never again break her heart or hurt her like I already have, because her heart is already broken so badly.

First of all, I resent being "gifted" with the ability to devastate someone like that with the choices that I'm making with my life. Do my choices affect others? Most definitely. Am I responsible for that? Partially yes, and partially no. Others (we're talking mature, responsible adults here, not dependents) also have a choice in how they will respond to my actions, whether they will let themselves be devastated by my choices or simply sad, maybe disappointed. I told her very clearly that I am not making rash decisions, that they are well thought out and wrestled with, and that I have total and complete peace within my own mind about the path that I'm pursuing. She hates that I'm marrying into atheism; I don't mind it. She says that it's going to affect me; I openly acknowledge that it already has, and I quietly acknowledge that I'm grateful for the dose of realism and cynicism. I stated that I am striving to live as authentic of a life as possible, and I am not interested in hiding who I am, where I am, and even why I am.

I just feel that, if I am not making the decisions she feels to be the right ones, then I'm a profound disappointment and I've crushed her soul. No one likes feeling that way, because it's not about my choices, it's about me and my self-worth. I am a disappointment, not my choices. I never, ever feel this way with my mom, with R, or with the S's. They have somehow mastered the art of loving, accepting, and enjoying me, even if they disagree with or are disappointed in the choices that I'm making. BJ has yet to learn this, and I begin to understand why I have felt this strange sense of alienation between her and her youngest son throughout the years. I didn't get why he had this strange, subtle resistance to his parents, especially his mom... but now I do. I feel it, too. You can't thrive in that kind of environment. It's stifling. Her mind is so closed that she can't comprehend that someone else's path might lie along a different track than the one she's taken. She found salvation such-and-such a way and in such-and-such a place; how could you possibly find it elsewhere? It doesn't exist. And if you are outside her understanding of "right", then you will break her heart. *sigh* I'm tired just thinking about it.

The thing is, as long as we kept things light and fluffy, we were fine. We enjoyed ourselves, and had a grand time. It's when things get beyond surface level that trouble brews. I realized last night that I have to draw some boundaries... I just can't let her in to the deeper parts of my life anymore.

I discussed this with C last night, and he told me that he was proud of me, and that I handled it well. I stood up for myself (I didn't go into all the details here, because they're not really important, but I did outline pretty much the whole conversation for him.), whereas a while back I would have quailed beneath her disapproval and cowtowed to her wishes. He pointed out that I'm much stronger than I used to be, even if I don't see it all the time.

Honestly, I am pretty proud of myself, too. I am a little daunted, though, by the task before me of setting boundaries with someone that I've been so open with for so long... but I have to. For both our sakes, I think.

Best part? In days past, I would have been so affected by her words that I would have doubted the decisions that I've made and begun the familiar dance of vacillation. This time, however... I never wavered. I know in my heart that I'm making the right decision for me, regardless of what anyone else thinks, and I'm going to go through with it.

That's not to say that our conversation didn't affect me, because it did. I went to the bathroom and cried. There were "a lot of feels", as my friends would put it. So many feels. Though I managed to tuck it away deep inside me for the duration of our day together, I was swirling in a muddle of torment that evening when I got home. I was able to talk about it with a couple of buddies and with C, so that made processing it a bit easier, and the emotions eased up as I realized what was really going on. I seem to always make the jump to assuming that I'm in the wrong. Always. If something's going on, it's probably my fault.

But the guys helped me to see that such is not always the case. As M pointed out, it seems that the situation was all about her-- her broken heart, her disappointment, the fact that she gave everything and I "betrayed her", so to speak... her confusion about my illness...

Everyone else agrees with me about the whole "facing reality and all the potential outcomes of my illness" situation, by the way. They feel that she is trying to avoid or alter reality... but really, do you blame her? Someone that she's loved and nurtured for over twenty years is suddenly super sick, and talking about how they may end up bedridden someday from this sickness. Wouldn't you panic, too? I mean, who wants that for anyone that they love? I can see why she would deny that possibility and insist that I focus only on the potential for healing. I can see that. I just don't think it's appropriate or helpful.

While I could see her concern and care for me and her sympathy for my pain in her actions throughout the day (not letting me lift things, being considerate of walking distances and having me wait at the front of stores so she could pick me up in the car),  I still don't feel that same support from her that I do from J, or from C, or from my mom, R, and the kids... or even from the guys, for that matter. I don't know what it is, but I just can't consider her to be a part of my support system. She supports me with her actions, but she tears me apart with her words. There is no verbal expression of sympathy or concern for my pain or illnesses, just sighs of sadness and, "Oh, C..." (which, of course, totally mimics disappointment and makes me feel like I've done something wrong in being sick...).

Okay. I'm done. I've waded through this enough. I love the woman, but she's not safe for me anymore. I have to close off that harbor and not anchor there any longer. I can sail through and visit, but I can't unload on the docks.

This is either going to be much, much harder than I think, or much easier than I'm anticipating. We'll see how it goes.

I got to brush up on my snow driving today. The kids actually got a snow day off of school, due to a blizzard that came through, and the governor declared a state of emergency because the weather is so bad in some places! I feel like I did nothing but drive back and forth between the house and Mom's work today, though. She works really close, so I dropped her off at work, then came back home. A few hours later, she called and asked if J and I could come in at noon instead of three for our haircuts, so I drove us there. J's highlights were going to take 45 more minutes after I was finished, so I drove back home... only to be called back 15 minutes later. I picked J up and took her back home, then drove her and K to the salon, intending to pick Mom up from work at the same time and have her go pick the girls up when they were done. However, she thought that I was going to wait around, but I reminded her that Jr. was home alone with Peanut, so I drove us back to the house, and then she took the car back to the salon. A total of... 4 trips to the salon and back, all within a few hours.

I got to take care of Peanut for the next few hours, as Mom and K went shopping (in a blizzard?!) for art supplies. K is going to paint a multiple-canvas piece to give to her boyfriend for Christmas, so they can hang it up in their apartment. Spending time with my little niece has been nothing less than a joy, even with all the work involved. I can say without reservation that I am looking forward to being a mother. I realize now how much work babies are, and when I do have children, that will be my full-time job. I do not have the energy reserves to take care of a baby and also pursue a career. But that's okay, because I truly do love the domestic life, as much as that thought makes me laugh. I've spent so long railing against the idea of wanting a husband and a family... that to admit to wanting it, to admit to being good at that kind of thing, well... it feels very odd. Like I'm betraying long-held values, or something. Anyway, I guess it's good to realize now that I'm going to be a good mother. It gives me confidence. If I can only carry a baby to term...

While I was caring for the baby, I decided to make myself useful (because I can't just sit around for days on end without being productive), so I tidied up the living room, as I'd done for the bathroom and kitchen the day before. I tried to put the baby down so I could vacuum, but she wasn't having any of that. She just kept fussing and wanting to be held, so I carried her in one arm while I vacuumed with the other, and do you know what happened? No, I didn't drop her... she fell asleep! Can you believe it?! With the vacuum roaring right there beneath her. Unbelievable. (And yet she won't sleep if you lay her down in her cradle? Uh-huh.)

I also got the rest of the tree decorated for Mom tonight. It's difficult to hang ornaments with a baby in your arms, you know that? Fortunately, Mom and K came home, and I passed the baby off to her mother.

I drew up a rough timeline for Mom and I, so that we can be sure to accomplish all the wedding stuff that we want to while I'm here. I have two weeks before I leave, but there are holidays and birthdays in between that take away days, not to mention the baby (who is a major black hole when it comes to accomplishing anything). K should be taking the baby back home with her soon, so that'll help... though I'll miss that little tootsie roll.

I want one.

Also, I just found out that Grampa is still in the hospital, dealing with complications from his surgery. I sincerely hope that he will make a full recovery. The visit I made to see him in the hospital felt very significant somehow, but I just can't bring myself to believe that it could possibly be a "goodbye" at all... He can't die. I need him.

I'm also troubled by the difficult time that the S family is having... there's so much hardship for them, and I feel so helpless. I feel like I'm in a very awkward position, because, I mean... I'm "family"... right? So it's like I'm a part of them, it affects me too, and I care so much... but I'm not really family. And I'm not there. There's no way for me to help carry the burden, no tangible way that I can see to express my love, care, and concern without weighing them down further... I just don't know what to do, what to say... Every time I call, I get D, because no one else is home... and I love talking to him, I want to talk to him, but I know that he's weak, and I don't want to cause him harm.

I'm stuck in this weird limbo, and I don't even know how to relate to them anymore. I don't want to add to their burdens in any way... so I mostly just leave them alone.

Should I ask them not to bother with the wedding? I know D can't travel well anymore... and C and the girls are under a lot of stress... Maybe it would be best for them if I relieved them of the musician position? Then they wouldn't have to come down to Y, wouldn't have to deal with the expenses and the emotional toll it will take... I don't know. I just don't know.

Talked to C last night. I miss that fella. When I told him that, he admitted sheepishly that he was kind of hoping that I would. :) He was pleasantly surprised to hear my take on the spring program being cancelled, and I could tell that he was proud of me for seeing the positive aspects of what is happening. Did I mention that I'm taking yoga as my third class? I've been reading a lot about the importance of regular exercise in pain management for fibro, and especially the benefits of yoga, so if I can earn college credits while taking charge of my health, count me in! With a (hopefully) easy schedule this coming semester, I may even be able to take on more hours with the HJ, and earn a little more income. I'm especially sensitive to that right now, because the program being delayed means that C will have to support me longer than I initially thought... and we all know by now that there's no hope of my getting assistance from the state in any form... Maybe if I'm able to get on disability in the future? I know a couple of people with fibro who have managed to get disability, and it really helps them. We'll see. I think that would be a serious blow to my pride. :-\

I'm tired. Haven't been sleeping much, though the hours that I've gotten have been pretty good. Bowel health is still in the pits, though. I've had to do a couple of colon cleanses since I've been here, and have found to my shock that I'm just now passing food that I ate days before I left. Gross! No wonder my guts feel sour, like stuff is fermenting in there-- it is! I've realized, though, that it's not all my colon to blame, as I thought previously. My small intestine is clearly falling down on the job, so I will need to do some research to see how I can stimulate small intestine function. After doing a clean-out twice today, though, I'm catching up... I just got through Monday's supper, so hopefully the rest will come through soon. I wonder if that yogurt is helping or harming? Either way, I was also passing more blood than I'm comfortable with. Maybe I should get another colonoscopy sometime this year? Just in case. I mean... Grampa is in the hospital for colon cancer, after all... and several members of my family have remarked on how thin I've gotten, which is totally unintentional on my part. I'm just... losing weight, I guess. (I mean, not that I mind! What woman doesn't like to lose weight without trying? lol)

Anyway, it's off to bed with me.

Today, I worked on pricing all my wedding details and creating a running total. I've literally priced every single detail, down to the charcoal for the grills and the water we're going to drink. And the ice cube trays. Etcetera.

Anyway, the only things I have left to price are the cards for inside the guest book and the food itself (i.e. how much the meat will cost, how much the pomegranate juice for the tofu will cost, etc.)

So far, the running total for the wedding (without the cards and the ingredients) is $1,357. It seems like a lot, but... it's really not. Not when you think about how many, many of the items I'll be purchasing will continue to be re-used and repurposed throughout their lifetime. And also when you consider that the average cost of a wedding in this area runs between $17,000 and $28,000. (Goodness gracious, really?! I could get my bachelor's degree with that!)

I suppose that it seems like much more to me because I am a partially unemployed student with no savings to speak of. Wait, wait... I believe I have $5 in my checking account. And $3 in my wallet.

Yep. I remember panicking when I dipped below $100 in my savings/checking account. Well, those days are long gone. I haven't had triple digits in my bank account in months.

I didn't get the job I was hoping for because my class is at a critically inconvenient portion of the day for the employer. That's okay. I know it will all work out... HJ is picking up, and next month our grant money comes in, so I'll actually be getting pay on a regular basis. That'll be keen. Also, the hopeful employer extended the offer of babysitting in lieu of the nanny job, so I'll take that. Not to mention the "writing gig" that I'm trying out for. (You know, if only I could donate plasma, this would be a whole lot easier!!)

This week was really good for me in regards to balance. My mindset has shifted somewhat dramatically, and now I am trying to be intentional about acknowledging and rewarding the work I've put in throughout the day, as well as learning to break my tasks up into manageable chunks. Rather than trying to clean the whole house in one day (in addition to doing all my homework from all my classes), I'm breaking it up. Living room one day, kitchen the next, bathroom another day, vacuum another day, etc. I can still tidy things up, sure, but the in-depth doesn't have to happen all at once. Especially if I'm feeling tired.

Oh, maybe that's where the shift came from. I've given myself permission to take naps.

Anyway, this week went so well that I was thinking, Yeah. Maybe I can take on another job! I mean, it's part time... This could work. This could really work!

Tonight showed me just how fragile my system still is. *sigh* False confidence. Oh, well. I did really good this week, and I'm proud of myself. I'm just not invincible yet.

I watched a movie called Bastard Out Of Carolina. It's about a young girl's experience with abuse. I'd heard from so many ppl working with the HJ that I needed to watch it, so I finally borrowed it from E.

It was like reliving my childhood in a span of 2 hours.

It's grotesque how closely my experiences mirror hers.

I really don't even want to talk about it, suffice to say that, should you decide to watch it, you will be disturbed. Probably not as much as I, but maybe even more so. It depends on where you're coming from.

But it was hard. And I'm paying for it now, physically. Eating food sends my intestines into cramping spasms, and I know I ought to be sleeping, but I'm... restless. Wired.

I had to stop the movie several times, go into the room where C was, and just cry and talk stuff out. It was good in that it got us talking very in depth about methods of child-rearing, our philosophies on punishment and its administration, etc. (Again, we're still tracking right along together.)

He's going to be such a good daddy. No joke. I wish I could have been raised by him. (But then I wouldn't get to marry him, so I'll be content with my lot.)

There is a rape scene towards the end of the movie, and my reaction surprised me. I'd already been experiencing the same emotions as I did throughout my childhood... the fear, uncertainty, tension, disgust... the gnawing uncertainty is the worst, I think. You never know from day to day, from hour to hour, what you'll find. Inconsistency is a hard thing to endure as a child when all you crave is stability.

Anyway, back to the rape. I just... sometimes things come up that make me wonder if something didn't happen somewhere in my life that I have blocked out... if I wasn't raped in some way? Because my thoughts upon seeing it were, Oh, yes. That. Not, "Oh my goodness, that child! Someone stop that monster!" but rather, "Huh. Yeah. That's what that feels like, alright."

How do I know?

I don't know. I have no idea. But I just... I don't know.

It doesn't matter, I suppose, because even if it did happen, I don't remember it. And right now, I'm just trying to deal with what I remember... and it's not good. (Comparing notes with C... apparently my childhood was even more screwed up than I realized. I am so sad for the little girl that was me. It's not right, what happened. Even if G had never touched me sexually, the way he treated me--us?--was not right. Children should not have to live in that kind of environment.)

I'm sad about the past, and angry, too... but I'm looking forward to my future in a fresh, new way. Something about an impending wedding really helps you focus on the future, on your goals... on what life has to offer.

By the way, I'm super glad I'm American. I really am. Because it means that I can have goals, that I can strive for something better, rather than just suffering with my load in abject silence like so many women must. I am glad for the chance to heal, and glad to be in a country that supports this.

I wrote E a letter today. I'm not going to send it to her, but I am going to read it to her when I go to work next. These thoughts have been forming and percolating for a while, now, but it took this latest "collapse" to really put flesh and bone to the thought.

And maybe I won't read it to her at all.

Then again, I probably will. One thing that characterizes our relationship is honesty... even if I feel like I'm going to break her by being honest, most of the time... it's such a weird relationship at times. She feels needy, but not in the "I need you" sense. More in the "I need you to be okay because I'm not" sense. I don't know. It's weird. Just... weird. The longer HJ goes on, the more she gets that way. Like, she used to be so strong, and now she's so fragile. Maybe that's the weird thing. And part of me chafes at having to be the strong one, because I need someone strong to lean on. She used to be that for me. Now she's not... and I find myself afraid to tell her the dead honest truth because it might make her sad, and she can't handle any more sadness... lakjlksliurklensksiio!!!!! And that's how I feel about that.

Anyway, here's the letter. I went back and censored it a little. Some. I get a little more gutter mouthed when I'm angrily impassioned... only now I have the freedom to express it a little more. I still like to keep it low, though. I don't want to develop a potty mouth.

"Dear E,

I’m going to be very honest in what I’m about to say, and I need you to listen without offense or hurt or personalization. Don’t judge, just listen.

I find myself in a strange position, working with The HJ. (No, this is not a letter of resignation!) As I’m evaluating my life, trying to bring all aspects of it into balance, I’ve realized that I totally dread leading groups on Tuesdays for the girls. Why? It’s not that I don’t love them; I do, very much. It’s a few factors, really. First of all, I can barely control them. Barely. You don’t see it, because they shut up and listen while you’re in there. But when you’re not, it’s a never ending battle for respect, a never ending battle to get them to focus and listen and pay attention and not get sidetracked in conversations or stories, or what have you. They won’t realize that this is not a social club. I’m not there to exclusively be their friend. We’re there to learn and support each other. Maybe I have the wrong expectations from them. I don’t know. But I do know that I can barely, barely control them during group, and I dread that fight every week, especially when I’m stretched so thin myself. (More on that later.) I don’t have the energy or the reserves it takes to keep them in line, because I’m not operating from a base of health. Every week I just want to say, “F*** it,” and let them walk all over me and run group however they want to.

I don’t have anyone backing me up. I don’t have someone to look to that will emphasize what I’m saying, that will be by my side and lock arms with me. I don’t have anyone to share strength with. I have to give and be 100% of the control, the effort, and the strength. I don’t have 100% to give, except on a very, very good day, and those are rare.

I don’t have training. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. No wonder it’s a social club-- I can’t provide the focused structure that someone with training could provide. I have no infrastructure to work with, no resources to pull from when there’s a crisis, or even a question. I. Don’t. Know. And I hate that. I’m fumbling through the dark. It’s like the blind leading the blind. And I know you have a hard time hearing that, because it reflects on the fact that you “threw me to the sharks”, as it were, but it’s the truth. I am good with people. That’s what’s gotten me this far. But we’ve plateaued, E, and we can’t go any farther unless I know more, unless I am trained somehow. I know you’re trying to encourage me when you tell me I’m good at this, when you tell people I’m a fantastic group leader, but I’m not. I’m mediocre at best, but I could be phenomenal. I have potential, that’s for sure. But I’m existing on potential alone right now, and it’s not enough. You can’t keep telling people or agencies that our groups are being run by qualified, trained peer support specialists. It’s bullshit. I’m not trained, and it shows. I’m just good with people. I’m also good at presenting an appearance, for a limited duration of time.

I feel like I “have” to do this because there’s no one else. I don’t want to let these girls down, let you down, let myself down... so I have to. It’s a good thing, and you don’t not do good things. Right? Riiiight. So even if I don’t want to, it’s such a good thing that I must do it, especially since I’m the only one that can at this point. (Despite the aforementioned points which make it very, very difficult to do.) You know what? That’s exactly the mindset I’ve had for years while “serving the Lord”. It’s a good thing, so you have to do it. Even if you don’t want to. Because it’s good. And if you don’t, you’ll be letting people down. You’ll be letting God down. So do it, already. No, it doesn’t matter that you don’t want to, you have to. That’s where I’m at with this, and I automatically, unequivocally revolt against that mindset. I don’t want to do it even more, just because I feel like I have to. It’s no longer free choice, so I don’t want it. Not to mention the fact that I’ve had that grant money dangling in front of my nose like a carrot for how long now? It’s, like, my only hope, the only way I foresee making enough money in the future to pay off my debts and save up for the wedding without totally burning myself out. I’m economically trapped into this, too... lured by the promise of a soon-to-be paycheck.

I mentioned earlier about being “stretched so thin”. Part of the reason I feel like I “have” to do this is because the HJ is stretched so thin and doing so much. We’re trying to grow when we can barely sustain what we’re currently doing. Do you realize how much bullshit that is? What good can we possibly be to those who need us if we’re constantly falling apart? I’m talking about you and me, E. We’re sick, both of us. Physically. We’re sick, all the time, and why? Stress. There will always be people who need help, because we live in this sick, sick world where people destroy each other. We can’t help anyone, though, if we’re falling apart.

I’m sorry, but I’m getting tired of this. Enough. Enough with the “I’m so stressed, but oh well, I must soldier on” attitude. Enough with being a martyr. That’s one thing that pissed me off about “working for the Lord”-- the martyr attitude. “Dear me, I’m impoverished. It shows I’m serving my cause well.” “I’m stretched so thin I’m about to snap, but it’s all for the glory of God, right?” “I can’t feed my family, but I’m in ministry, so oh well. God will provide.”

Do you really think it gives credit to God when you’re sick, when you’re broke, when you’re falling apart because you’re trying to do all the good things without being sensible about it? Do you? Because I sure as hell don’t.

We’re spread so thin that everything is scattered, everything ends up being half-assed. We can’t do things well because there’s so much to do. And guess what? Money’s coming in, so we’ll have to do more, to prove that we’re worthy of being funded. You know what? We are worthy of being funded, even if we only have one support group every other week. I’m a believer in quality over quantity, and as our quantity increases, our quality is going down. If we continue the way we are now, at this pace, this way... The HJ will crash and burn. No one wants to join a party where people are crying. “God will provide.” Sure he will. But we have to do our part as good stewards. The way things are going now is not sustainable, and if there’s one thing I’m learning while trying to juggle all this stuff that’s shown up in my life, it’s this: you can’t drive yourself into the ground in the present while waiting for the miraculous “someday” that will bring relief. It’s not going to happen. Why? Because you are creating your “someday” right now, while you’re driving yourself into the ground, while you’re training yourself to operate this way. “Someday” is today.

I know this will sound ridiculous, and selfish, and totally absurd, and horrific, but... I think the HJ needs to take a furlough. I think we need to suspend groups for a month or two or whatever to get our personal selves straight, to get the training we (I) need to really make this work, to get everything solid and in order, so that when the money does come in and the grind gets tougher, we’ll be ready for it. We’ll be able to act like the professionals we portray ourselves to be rather than frazzled women doing our best but not able to really do anything as well as it ought to be done. (I’m not saying this as an attack on any of your efforts, because I know you pour yourself wholeheartedly into everything you do for group. But I am saying this as a sort of wake-up slap in the face-- you can only pour so much of yourself into so many places before you run dry. You have to keep giving smaller and smaller portions to each thing as you acquire more things to pour yourself into.) You’ve made sacrifices, and you point that out. I agree that some sacrifices need to be made, but I think you’ve made yourself a martyr unnecessarily. I think I’m making myself a martyr unnecessarily, and I think that’s not what this kind of thing needs.

I need counseling. I have so much crap coming up in me all the time that I can’t see clearly enough to deal with anyone else’s crap. What kind of peer leader is that? I can’t bear the girls’ burdens because there’s no room on my back. Most of the time, I don’t care. Why? Because I’m drowning. I can’t teach them how to deal with their anger when I have not even really begun to acknowledge my own deep, simmering volcanic chambers of anger. I can’t teach them proper coping mechanisms when mine suck. 

You need to learn how to take care of yourself. You can’t tell other people to take care of themselves, then run yourself into the ground. Your body is hurting you for a reason. Pain is a red flag, a warning signal. Fatigue is a red flag, a warning signal. E, you’re sick. You cannot sustain what you’re doing long-term. 

And then there’s God. We’re a faith-based organization. What kind of picture of God are we presenting as we drag ourselves along, pathetically pulling at our empty pockets and scraping the last of our emotional reserves to deal with one more crisis...over and over again? That God wants us to go and go and go because we’re helping people and it doesn’t matter if we’re falling apart as long as we’re helping people? 

E, I don’t want to be a part of that. I left that when I quit Bible work, when I quit church. I fight against those ideas with every fiber of my being. I’ve had my soul sucked out by “good things”, and I’m not about to go through that again, no matter how much I love you and those girls. My self preservation instinct is too strong for that.

We’re doing good things, yes... but there’s also a lot of bullshit. It’s time to get rid of that, to really look at things, and to see that something has got to change. It’s got to. We can’t keep going on like this, and I don’t think God expects us to. Even if you think things are fine, I  can’t go on like this. I need training. I need a reservoir of strength to draw from. I need tools, skills, help.

I think we need to quit running around like chickens with our heads cut off for a while, and just stop. The world will not end. The HJ is a good thing, and it is meant to be. The world will recognize that. We don’t have to frantically and desperately push ourselves on the world around us until we collapse, gasping for breath. How much more effective would a steady pressure be compared to sporadic thrusts?

And maybe the idea of stopping to rebuild, regroup, regather is threatening to you. Maybe the idea of just cutting back temporarily is more palatable? I saw a billboard today that said, “Stopping for water keeps you going.” If we (if I) don’t “stop for water”, stop for what is so desperately needed, then we (I) will collapse. We will faint of dehydration and be found later, bones bleached in the sun... and those who find us will wonder what happened.

I love the HJ, and I love you. But I don’t want to be a flake, I don’t want to bow out because the pressure is too much, and I don’t want to see the HJ go under because the founder (CEO, whatever) burns out. I don’t want to see these girls not getting what they need because the one who is supposed to be feeding them doesn’t know how. 

Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

I feel like we’re going insane, E. I feel like we’re going insane."