Sunday, January 30, 2011

Baggage

This profile change is inspired by a foster father who interrogated me about my history to make sure I wasn't a threat to him or his reputation.  Once he was satisfied, he told me to "check my baggage at the door."  I'm not really sure what kind of person knowingly takes in a teenage foster child with a difficult history (that their wife met at a children's psychiatric hospital) and expects them not to come with any baggage, but that's really beside that point.  The point is I cannot check my baggage at the door.  I carry it around day and night, strapped to my body.  It weighs me down and shields me from the cold.  It has become way too heavy and suffocating.  I can't breathe under here!  I can't carry it all by myself anymore.  It's time for me unpack and sort through some of what I've been carrying for more than two decades.

Someone asked me why I blog.  I started this blog to help myself start unpacking.  To begin my journey towards health and happiness.  To help me process what's in my head.  To actually express my feelings.  I'm not able to do that in real life.  Verbally expressing how I feel is extremely hard for me.  Most of my time in therapy is spent trying to slow my thoughts and lower my anxiety enough to speak to my therapist.  It's been almost 9 months of therapy now and I still haven't gotten very far.  I haven't told her very much.  I cannot even figure out what feeling I'm feeling when asked, but I can do it if I'm writing about it.  I don't have to think so much when I write things out.  I might not be the best writer, but that's okay with me.  I'm writing this blog for me.  I am writing to know myself.  I am writing to show myself.

I also blog because it helps me to know other people are reading.  My words are not wasted.  My pain is not wasted.  Other people can connect with what I've written if they want to.  I can share my story.  I can be known.  I desperately want someone to know the real me.  For my whole life I feel like I've been so many different people, but never really ME.  I've never let anyone know who I really am.  I'm not sure if I even know who I really am, but the desire to be known has become so strong that it has overtaken the shame of my life, my story, and my feelings.

I'm actually feeling much better at the moment, but it keeps changing by the minute.  I'm not sure this new medication is good for me or not.  One minute I feel euphoric, almost high and the next I feel complete and utter despair.  This new medication hasn't really made me less depressed.  It's really just made my feelings more intense, good and bad.  The feelings don't really feel like MY feelings though.  It feels like I"m feeling them for someone else, if that even makes any sense.  I do seem to be spending less time in bed these last couple of days so that is good.  I hope the medication levels out eventually because living like this isn't really going to be possible for very long.  I still find myself going to bed and hoping not to wake up in the morning, but my sense of hopelessness seems to be a little less....hopeless.  I don't know why I am here or what I contribute to the world, but hopefully I figure it out soon.  Hopefully I find something inside me that's worth living.  I want to be worthy I just don't know how.