Archive | March, 2016

Strength

31 Mar

strengthThere I was, decorating cakes. Putting a good coat of icing on the cake. I had just had a talking to with one of my employees about behaviour and trust and the right way to do things at the bakery. Trust is a major issue. If I can’t trust you then I question everything, my choices and theirs. I was quietly contimplating on how my employee thinks that I am. Does he know the struggles that I have had and what I have dealt with? Does he know that I will not ever be treated like a doormat again? Does he know that I will not tolerate anything less than hard work and dedication? Does he know how many other employees have treated me like shit and I put up with it for so long?

I changed my mind after been bitten so many times by people. No matter the amount of beating down I have taken, I always try to see the best in people. I always see the good and it takes me a while to notice the negative things. I was friends with someone for 30 years before I realized she was a truth twisting narcissist who only was interested in her own benefit! Now, that is either stupidity or blindness on my part! I still only see the good, but I learn quicker now on what is genuine and what is not. I learned to be a little more weary with trust.

Then I was thinking about my own strength. I do not know anyone who is stronger than my own mother. She has dealt with a lot of terrible things in her life, people pushing her down and taking advantage of her, tragedy and so on. She has lived through it, she is strong because she had to be strong.

She is so strong on the outside, that it is almost to the point of being her weakness. Now, she has to stay strong because that is what people expect. But inside she is warm and fuzzy and loving. The more she loves you though, the less you see of the inside. She has to be the strongest for the ones she loves. I love her dearly and I would take a bullet for her, but I do not wish to be like that in that regard.

I am a big pile of mush. I hug, I cry, I love, I talk, and talk, and talk….. but I don’t find this a weakness. I am strong. Even though I am soft and squishy, I have a core that is pure strength. My strength is taking help when I need it. Saying sorry when I have made a mistake, giving my child a hug when they are crying, talking to others about what I have gone through to help them. My strength is facing my demons, it is reliving my pain in order to heal. It is telling the people that I love, “I love you”.

I am strong. It takes strength to talk of my pain. It takes strength to tell the world. To know that everyone (almost) that I know and call friend or family will read my very words. Some will be shocked at what I write, others will not. But this most of all takes strength. Strength is not pulling a 7 ton car with your teeth. Strength is not denying yourself to feel your emotions. Strength is different for everyone. My cousin is showing his strength right now by surviving multiple surgeries and fighting. He has been fighting in the hospital for over a month. Just a teenager, and he has shown more strength than I can even imagine. Go Josh! https://m-crohnsandcolitiscanada.akaraisin.com/11470/team/105893

That being said, I know my strength, I know my mother’s strength, I know Josh’s strength and the strength of his parents and grandparents and siblings. Because those that are strong while dealing with an illness, they also need to feed on the strength of the loved ones who would take on their fight if they could.

Know your strength. If you have not had to show it yet, you are lucky, or live under a rock! ha ha! But know that during your life, you will see just how strong you are.

 

 

Must…… Function.

30 Mar

Today is already a hard day. Each time something is talked about at therapy, it opens a wound. I was talking to my husband about everything last night and I put it like this…. therapy is like I broke my leg years and years ago, it didn’t heal right. I have been relying on other things like putting all my weight on my other leg, and n0w the doctor must rebreak my leg in order for it to heal right so I can get along normally. That is my analogy for therapy.

I woke up this morning, not feeling the greatest. A million different things in my head. The pain. The sadness. The fact that I have to go through this all by myself. I have to make the journey through everything again, alone. I have to travel there in order to tell someone else about it. It’s cold there. I feel like I am a helpless child again, not worth much to anyone and even though people are around me, they have their backs turned. This world that I have to journey into is a graveyard. It is the site at which joy does not exist. This journey is painful, cold, lonely, and I must travel the whole length. If I do not keep going, I am sure to fall, I am destined to sink into the ground like quicksand if I stop. If I sink, I do not know what or who will be dragged down with me. I must keep going.

I guess it sounds like therapy is terrible, and it feels that way the day after, but it is going to help. Even though the day after is pretty dark, there will be light. I will learn coping skills, I will learn how to ground myself and how to stay out of the darkness. I think that the hardest part is what is happening right now. The re-opening of the “can of worms” as it were.

It won’t be like this forever.

If I have been harbouring these painful memories and in turn, becoming anxious and depressed, I must change. I have scraped through this far, but I am at a point in my life that pretending to not feel the pain is not an option. If nothing and nobody changes around me, I must be the one to change. I need to help myself. Nobody else will.

You keep hearing me talk about all this pain, and painful memories, and you wonder, how much could she have actually gone through in her life? Well, without telling you everything, I have survived a molestation as a young child, the death of my father as a baby, I have witnessed my cousin beating up his sisters, blood and all. My first real sexual experience, he raped me, he also physically abused me. I survived a car accident, in which I remember my cousin’s face in the windshield, and I was the worst injured, in which I needed surgery and ended up in the hospital for two weeks and a healing process afterwards. There is more, but it’s more painful than what I just shared. Every stage of . my life has had some sort of major trauma in which it effected me terribly. Until I got married. Only then, did I feel normal, not in danger and completely safe. My husband has created a safe zone for me. He helps me through all of this. I am okay to go to ground zero as long as he is with me. I need his hand in mine.

I woke up this morning, and said ” It’s already a rough day”, and he opened his arms and hugged me, to let me know that he is right there with me.

nopeThis journey is hard, and I have to remember that I have to function. I dont want to. Today is the day to curl up in my bed and say “nope” to everything and everybody. Some of you may understand what I am going through and have felt this exact same way. It’s normal. I am allowed to feel this, I fight and tell myself that it’s okay to feel these feelings. I need to understand myself and listen to myself instead of arguing inside my own head. I must function. I have to work, I have to pick the kids up from school, I must make supper…. and I will…..it won’t be easy, but I must.

Why should this be easy anyway? Is anything in life that is worth having easy to get? Nope. I don’t want the things that are easy, how would I treasure and appreciate anything if it was easy to get, if I didn’t have to work hard for it?

I will get up, I must function. I will fight for this. I am worth it. My family is worth it. Fight, Amy! Fight!

Everyday is a challenge. Everyday is a gift. Everyday I will go on. I will survive. I have survived this much so far, but now I have so much more to lose if I stop. Head up, chin up, emotional pain, I will look you in the face. I will take you on, you bastard. I’m going to be ready. Let’s go!punch

The Long Hard Road

29 Mar

Now that I have come to terms with some things that have happened to me, or things that I have witnessed in my life, I have also come to terms with the fact that I need to heal and for that, I need therapy. Therapy should be for everyone. It is not taboo and it is as healthy for us as going to the doctor for a physical check up. Body Mind Spirit.

Since I have started therapy, I really have found out how fragile I can be. I used to try to push memories down and not deal with things, which made me a different person. I fought hard to always be right, I needed complete control of all things in my life. I was a neat freak to the point of OCD. I still am a little OCD. Organization…. I love it. I love totes and paper, lists and full shelves of various household supplies like toilet paper and lightbulbs.

Since I have been married, which will be 12 years this summer, my protective walls have slowly been coming down. It took a good 9 years for me to be completely trusting of my husband. I know this sounds a bit strange, but if you have been hurt to the depth that I have, then you would understand. Since my barriers came down, I have been able to let myself feel every emotion I was pushing down since I was young. With the pain of all the traumas that I have had, I started to remember other traumas, which in turn became a big cluster of thoughts and worries in my head. I had no idea I had an anxiety disorder for years. It felt like a bee hive in my head, and the thoughts that I continually had were very disturbing. Little things really turn into big things when dealing with anxiety. In turn, I could feel my anxiousness turning into depression and I knew I had to act fast. That is a slippery slope to try to get yourself out of.

I chose to find myself. I chose to be the person I know my children deserve, the wife my husband deserves and the person I need myself to be.

Therapy is hard. It is one of the hardest things that I have done so far. I have to come to terms with everything bad that has happened, who did these things, the reactions and solutions my family had sought out for me and the outcome of it all.

This is fatiguing to my brain. This is strenuous for my heart and I want to curl up in my bed and stay there. My thoughts run wild and I dwell and rethink the session for the next day and a half. But, my therapist tells me that this is a good sign. This is a sign that I am working to better myself, my mental health is important and it is comforting to hear that this pain and fragility is normal.

Issues may be hard to deal with, but at least they are being dealth with. They are no longer festering in my psyche. They will not become a bigger issue that I won’t recover from in the future.

I do this for not only my family, but ultimately for myself. If I don’t, who will be there to take care of the precious people in my life?