rambling

What if this thing going on inside my head is just another bad day?

What if I only need to have a big time of Retail Therapy?

I think I only need a personal assistant who can do all the chores.

I think I only need a million to spend everyday just to relax?!

So, do you think I need a profesional help?

#rambling #deppression #therapyornottherapy

#MultipleSclerosis
#rambling

I’m ambivalent about my need to make lists. On the one hand, it helps me clear my head out at each night as I prepare for bed.

On the other hand, even tho I promise myself not to get frustrated, I do when I accomplish most nothing the next day. And that stress feels like more of a drain on me than completing everything on my list!

Then I feel defeated and the inner struggle begins. Do I stop making a list of the “extra” things I’d like to do, like finishing the laundry, or was it starting the laundry, I don’t remember....?

Or do I keep list making and work on not getting stressed/ frustrated.

Or maybe I make the list and then tear it up into tiny little pieces before I go to sleep.

Or maybe I only write this one thing on the list: Breathe

My mother tells me she loves me, but is it the truth?
My mother hasn't seen me in two years.
My mother only calls me when she wants a shoulder to cry on.
My mother says "if you're still speaking to me, maybe I did ok at being a mother."
My mother abandoned me.
My mother abused me.
My mother turned a blind eye to warnings from family members about leaving me alone with her step father.
I once told my mother her husband used to beat me.
She said "I kind of thought so."
She was there.
She participated in the beatings.
Anything I tell her it is met with "I thought so."
So what happens when I tell her that her step father sexually abused me for more than 6 years right under her nose?
"You know, I thought so"?
You thought so?
So why did you do NOTHING ABOUT IT.
I can't handle hearing those words come out of her mouth. Not about that.
I understand parents are people too. I understand my mother has trauma in her own life.
My mother was abused.
My mother was raped.
My mother has an eating disorder.
My mother has had it tough.
The difference between us is I will not sit comfortably in abusive situations.
My mother is at home there.
My mother isn't a mother.
My mother is a broken child who finds comfort in being controlled by a man who does not love her.
I raised myself while my mother was swallowed whole by a man who beat her near death.
If I ever told my mother what she did to me, it would break her.
I can't do that to my mother.
She is my mother.
Even if it would help me to heal, she's my mother.
My psychiatrist says I'm protecting her by doing this.
My psychiatrist says she is a perpetrator, why are you protecting her?
She's my mother.
I love my mother but I do not like her.
I do not want to become her.
I miss her though.
#rambling #Abuse #CPTSD #Bipolar2Disorder #motherlessdaughters

This weekend i had one of my worst days. Saturday i slept all day because of alprazolam and it ended in my boyfriend coming over because i was calling crying saying how i couldnt handle it anymore. Today I just slept and cried the whole day. Im in a pretty demanding school program and im good at it, but I just felt so guilty for doing nothing this weekend.
Has anyone been in this situation how do you deal with the guilt of thinking you´re not deserving of anything #Depression #SuicidalThoughts #justtired #rambling

I guess this is something people think about all the time, and is no doubt said over and over again. I am sure there is a million thoughts on here saying the same and some articles as well. But when it comes to chronic illness, one size does not fit all....

We don’t all experience the same symptoms, we don’t always experience our illness in the same way, and we don’t always take the same meds/therapies.
This is something I have been thinking about more and more about the more I see people being accused of “faking” their illness or disability. But here’s a few things:

. Someone in a wheelchair may not need it all the time. Some people with walking aids may not need them all the time (like me)

. What I feel is the worst aspect of my illness/disability may be totally different to someone else with the same thing. I have fibromyalgia and for me the fatigue is the worst, pain, mental health, IBS etc come in very close seconds. But the fatigue is the worst as there’s no medication, stretch, heatpad or anything else that can magically ease it for me.

. Just because something worked for someone else you know, doesn’t mean it will work for everyone. That’s great that it worked for your neighbours aunts bosses daughters fiancée, but that doesn’t mean it will work for everyone.

. Just because someone else you know can still work and run marathons doesn’t mean we all can.

There is so much more I could rant and rave about but I won’t. I just needed to get this into words somewhere

#Fibromyalgia #ChronicIllness #InvisibleDisability #InvisibleIllness #rambling

Made it through another day.
Granted I slept until 2pm today. But I did get up and make myself lunch and did some meal prep for the rest of the week. My body (joints) hurt so bad. And my brain and my heart hurt even worse. The stress I’m under right now is literally putting me in pain. My family doesn’t care, just wondering if I can fit their needs. God forbid I let them down. My friends are starting to chose sides (see previous posts if you’re bored.)
I’m not suicidal I just wish I didn’t exist for a while. If it weren’t for my sweet fiancé and my cats... just rambling.
#Depression #Anxiety #RheumatoidArthritis #BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #FamilyAndFriends #Pain #rambling

I’m feeling better today. I talked to several people about some of the things that are bothering me and it helped! Some of the things aren’t really viable concerns and are more like made up problems that I shouldn’t even be worrying about. Other things are there because I’m not addressing bad behaviors that I have. Navigating these thoughts in my head is a tricky thing. I have been making some notes in my phone and planning to write a letter to my wife who had no idea that I’m struggling so much. I may not give her the letter, but I hope the writing will help me figure out what’s really going on and help me to talk about it, since I have a really REALLY hard time talking about stuff with her. I pick up on her facial expressions and panic and forget what I want to say. So hopefully this letter helps and hopefully I start writing it soon. I work 60 hours a week and I’m pretty much tired and unmotivated the rest of my waking hours, except fishing on Sunday, which I’m addicted to... can’t not go fishing on Sunday... maybe I should sleep in and write instead... Monday is a holiday, I’ll do it then!! #rambling #Misplaced pryorities

It returned. It crept up on me, in a period of nothingness - the transitionary lull between New Year and the Dreaded Return to University. I suppose I had been expecting it, in a subconscious, repressed-but-reluctantly-accepting way, yet it still felt like it hit at completely the wrong time. I’d have anticipated a post-Christmas ache, a stab of ‘everyone-is-having-a-better-time-than-me’. Yet, it let itself in, unannounced, on a very uninspiring Saturday afternoon at the beginning of January, which had been marked out as A Session Of Essay Productivity - The Moment In Which I Would Finally Start Applying Myself. No prizes for guessing that this plan went straight out the window as soon as doubting thoughts started creeping in, ensuring plenty of brain space was cleared for the countless hours that ensued with my thoughts fixated solely on the return of that unnerving, deep-seated fear. A fear which had previously sent minor shockwaves, instigated tiny setbacks and intensified pre-existing insecurities; a fear which returned in battalions, ensuring my entire being was consumed and filled with the enormity of it - of The Unknown.

Throughout my eating disorder, the unknown had felt controllable; I’d achieved a set of exam results which enabled me to apply to the Universities I’d always dreamt of, I believed myself to have a strong support network and fully expected that, as a result, anything I sought in the future was going to be straightforward to gain - with relatively little required in the way of effort. But fast-forwards four years and things ‘post-recovery’ are very different. The Unknown is now far more terrifying to me than I could ever have imagined, and on this particular afternoon it crippled my mind and body completely. I stumbled upon the deeply troubling conclusion that I had no idea what I was doing with my life, what I wanted to do with my life or where to look - or even start - when trying to achieve change. Yet, I knew for certain that I was dissatisfied with my life, and couldn’t fathom the thought of continuing to exist as I was; I could so easily identify the multitude of sadnesses in my soul, the ache for friendships and stability and a few moments of true tranquility but knew that my issues were copious, multi-faceted and mostly so deeply ingrained that they had become background noise, making them all the more difficult to confront. What do you do when you can’t face the present, but have no vision of the future or the possible pathways you can take? You become frozen with fear of The Unknown - fear of stagnancy, of burdening others with your uncertainty and your lack of ‘drive’. You shed tears of frustration at your own mediocrity, at the lack of guidance in your life and the need for answers - but from where? You sit, as I am doing now, trying to write down a coherent description of the pain you feel, the desperation and the hollow depths of fear. But even that is not enough. Nothing is ever enough. #MentalHealth #Fear #rambling #Stagnancy