Social Anxiety. What I Just Cannot Do Right Now.

January, 2015
"Somebody please help me right now. Like, really... right now. I'm in a room full of people; okay, four people including myself. That's full to me because we are in my room. My hotel room - that I live in. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. I try to be so nice to people, but they use me.  And people really wonder why I have social issues and anxiety around people. I'm not even in the conversation right now. The three of them are talking and I have no idea what is going on. Actually, I take even that back. The girl across from me is a lot like me. Quiet. Social anxiety. My roomie that I took in to help her out is having a conversation with this chick I just met and was nice and said, yes you can come up for a while. Why am I such a pushover? Why do I STILL feel like it's not okay to say NO. It's like phases I go through. I stand my ground. I let something slide. I've actually learned a lot about myself in the last hour listening to this stuff that has nothing to do with me. It's actually really hard to type this while they are still conversing. I feel like chewing all the skin off my fingers, or pulling my hair out one by one, or screaming at the top of my lungs. I can't listen anymore. Everything they are saying makes me feel all my feelings for Ron and makes me think about how much I miss him. Oh my gosh, my feelings. My heart. Just shut up. I want everyone to leave. I terribly miss 3 weeks ago when I was completely by myself. I'm sliding. I hate this. I don't want to be here."

That is a random sampling of the stuff that goes through my mind at any given moment of anxiety. So chaotic. And yes, I really am sitting among 3 other people right now. I'm going to close my laptop, simply because I can think no further and I'm mustering up nonexistent courage to tell everyone to get out, because I don't feel like I can calm down at all or think right now. My very skin feels like it is vibrating. I want to cry. To be continued...........

SEVEN WEEKS LATER:
It's better. I have moved out of the hotel and into a townhouse, and things are starting to look up. I really love my roommate and her daughter, and other people in the family that I have met so far. I have yet to feel really super anxious since I got here. It's safer. I'm pretty sure I was actually going crazy at the hotel. I was surrounded by drug dealers, users, prostitutes, and even a murderer. It is awful how much that place has changed and gone downhill since I was there in 2007. I had no idea, of course, before I got there. But, it was the only place I could go to get back on my feet after what I deem as my traumatic experience with Ron last year.

It's pretty hard to believe we have been separated for almost a full year now. Two more months. I kind of choked up just now, which was actually a little unexpected. I have felt my heart beginning to heal, finally. I don't get all emotional anymore when I think about him. Rather, it's my horse that I miss that gets me more emotional; I don't miss Ron. At all anymore. The best thing he ever could have done was leaving me at the hospital and never looking back, even though he says it was "the hardest thing he has ever done." I call BS on that one, but it really is okay, because I couldn't take his verbal abuse, screaming, throwing things, alcohol and drug use, and a multitude of other things that started happening anymore. Naturally, he blames everything on me, from the finances to "his reason for drinking." I'm taking a stand and letting everyone know that I did the best I could. I loved him to my fullest, but it wasn't enough. I took care of the house, the animals, everything was always clean, I cooked for him, always made sure he knew I loved him, and sacrificed a whole lot of friends and a good church for him. I will never ever ever do that for someone again. I was completely stupid and ignorant about him. He says he wishes he'd known before that I had bipolar disorder. WHO THE HELL CARES WHEN YOU FOUND OUT? What he should have done was attempted to support me, instead of always making fun of me when I cried.... funny, that's the second person I've been with that has done that. SMH. He always had to point out what was wrong with me; God forbid if he tried to understand and be supportive while I was trying really hard to "fix" myself, until I realized I actually wasn't broken in the first place.

It has definitely affected my social anxiety. While I don't have it at home much anymore, it still increases when I have to go to church or Celebrate Recovery, because he's right there in my face.

From this day forward, I have to pretend that he doesn't even exist. There is no "we'll still be friends." Sorry. You can't just go back to that when you lose what you thought was your soulmate. I honestly believe that will help my social anxiety a lot, because I won't be concentrating on any one person anymore. I'm free to concentrate on myself. And that's okay, not selfish at all.

Do you believe that self-love and self-care are important?

When you have social anxiety, where do you go to calm down?

I can't find the video of the other person I was talking about. :/ But I will try!

Hope VS No Hope.

This might end up long. Then again, it might not. Honestly, I'm writing on a whim, so I really don't know. I didn't write at all on my 'vacation,' so I could concentrate on what could possibly be the only opportunity I had to do certain things with two of my children and have certain experiences. But now... I need to write.  I need to get it all out. The problem is... my words are gone. I feel so lost. So overwhelmed. So desolate, when just 24 hours ago I was still elated. How emotions can change in 24 hours. Welcome to the world of bipolar. I have come crashing down. I'm not ashamed to say so.

Before I go on with that, I do want to share some of the experiences and moments my son, daughter, and I had over the last 10 days. I always need to balance out my life, the good vs the bad. The last week and a half was definitely good. It was more than good. It was the most I have smiled in probably 10 years.  God gave me back a little piece of my life for a short time. Now I'm going to share it with you.

Most people come to Florida for vacation; we left it to go up north. Leaving the heat for a while was extraordinary.

We started in Maine.

Marginal Way; Ogunquit, ME:

Just me:

My son, Aspen:

My daughter, Andrea:

Then we had some time in New Hampshire.

Amazing Concerts/The Soulfest; Gilford, NH:

New experiences; Gunstock Mountain Resort:

Beautiful scenery:

Eventually, New York City. Somewhere I never thought I'd have a chance to go.

View from Central Park:

Time Square:

Then we made the long, rainy, treacherous, drive back to Florida.

I took the kids to their dad's.

And here I am.

The trip was amazing. I could write for days and days about our adventures, and I'm sure I will write about them, one by one. But, tonight... tonight my future is weighing on my mind. Or lack thereof. That looks in black-and-white as pathetic as it would have sounded if I'd said it out loud. "Or lack thereof." Really? How depressing. It's just how I feel. I'm depressed. I freely admit it. Bipolar roller coaster going down! Don't know how many loops are on the ride or how fast it will go, but it's definitely rolling along the tracks. Is it just a crash after having a wonderful time with my kids? Has a dam broken apart that has been holding it all behind bricks this whole time, just waiting to be set free in rolling, thrashing waves? Am I finally REALLY allowing myself to feel the weight of the world on my shoulders and firm reality for what it really is?

I'm angry. Hurt. Sad. Afraid. Unsure. Discouraged. Resentful and bitter, even. All things I need to get rid of, let go of.

Hopeful and hopeless at the same time; so contradictory. 

I am, indeed, a walking contradiction. After all, I have bipolar disorder. 

I sit here on my mattress, once again. I look around me, and I see the dog cage and the front door to a house that is not mine, to the left. I see a book case directly in front of me as I lean against the wall behind me and prop my feet up on the little pink flower box I have sitting on the floor just beside my twin mattress. To the right is the chair I sit in when I work, with the little white table that usually holds my laptop, what seems like a thousand blue Post-It notes, my anxiety medication, and empty Coke bottle with my daughter's name on it, my camera, and a frame that I have stuck pictures into the corners of to remind me every night that I have to keep fighting. I have to try and stay alive. Beyond that little table is another wall, my clothes, and a few other belongings; and that's it. This is what is "my space" right now, and I can't even really call it that. It's the front hallway of someone's house. This is where I "live." This is where I take up space. 

I am still essentially homeless. I may not be sleeping under a tree again or in my van -I don't have a vehicle anymore- but I am still homeless. Don't ever tell me that just because I have a corner to sleep in under a roof that I'm not homeless. I am. You'll never understand and you have no right to judge me or make any such conclusions unless you've been through everything I've been through. I AM THANKFUL FOR MY MATTRESS. I've said it before, and it remains true. I really am thankful. Yet fear is so powerful. Fear tells me I could be sleeping outside at any moment. Fear tells me it's happened before, it can happen again. Fear tells me that I should have known better than to trust someone and get comfortable in a home for 3 years, thinking I would never have to worry about being homeless again, and just like that, overnight... literally... I am.  YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER IS unless you have it. 

I have it. And I'm feeling the weight of it. Combine it with my bipolar disorder and the depression part coming on, and I'm turning into a very large ball of tangled string and I can't find the end of the string. Even if I could find it, I'm afraid if I began to pull it would only knot further.

"You have so much to be thankful for." I'm aware of my blessings, thank you. I do count them. But don't; please just don't say that to me. You don't know what I feel like inside. You don't know the frustration of feeling like you are running in place. Yes, I took my vacation with my kids, and I've already explained that it was mostly paid for before I became homeless again, and that it was an opportunity that I was not willing to pass up. Again, do not judge my decisions unless you fully understand the reasons behind them. If you were me, you would have gone, too. I can promise you that. My priorities are straight. Taking that vacation didn't chance a thing about my situation. It gave me a chance to breathe for a little bit and be with the ones I love the most in this world. It gave me a reason to smile and laugh for a little while. 

It made me feel like my life was normal again. I was a mom, with my children, doing stuff that families do. I put aside my worries for 10 days, and if people want to hate me for that, by all means.. HATE ME. But it won't change a single thing.

I am back. Back to working my butt off as of tonight. Starting from scratch. I don't think people realize that I've lost everything in my life, except that... my life. Even that's been close; unintentionally and intentionally. I can't help but think if I were walking one night and went to cross a busy intersection, and just kept walking, right into oncoming traffic, if anyone would notice. Would they see me step out? Would they brake? Would they just keep going? Would anyone be called? Would they even care? My struggle has been so long and the light seems so far, there are some nights, like tonight, where I do not feel like I have the strength to even care, myself. I have an ex-fiance who kicked me out of a house while I was laying in a hospital bed, because he "needs to prove to himself he can be alone" BUT "still loves me." [That's not love. My opinion.] I have 4 children, but only 2 of them talk to me. The other 2 pretend I don't exist. If you aren't a parent, you wouldn't understand that pain. If you are, you just might "get it." I have no home. I have no transportation. I have no family here, except for a sister that has her own life to deal with and struggles to face. I love her dearly and it isn't her fault we can't spend more time together.

What frustrates me the most right now is the people who made promises that they would help; they haven't. I don't feel entitled. Please don't get me wrong. As I have said, the world owes me nothing. However, promises mean something to me. If you tell me you are going to do something, you should either do it, or should have never said it to begin with. You don't understand what that does to people who suffer from the illnesses and struggles that I do. You don't realize it is enough to CRUSH me when that promise is broken. Whether it's something as simple as saying you will share my fundrazr website so more people can see a brief part of my story and decide whether they want to help or not, or whether it's something more complex or meeting a specific need. I have no expectations; unless you make me a promise. How is it wrong to expect someone to keep their promise(s) or their word? It isn't wrong. This world is just so stupid now that promises mean jack to most people and integrity has been all but lost.

I'm not only homeless. I'm sick. I'm tired. I have a lymph node that has needed a biopsy for longer than I care to mention now. I don't even know if it's related to possible returning cancer or if I just have some sort of autoimmune disease, or maybe an infection. I'm not sure I care anymore. THAT'S HOW TIRED I AM.

I'm so tired that I fall asleep in the middle of work, or during the day. I work from my laptop as a medical transcriptionist, and I get paid by production. Anyone with a mental health disorder can tell you how hard it is to concentrate. Anyone with depression can tell you how hard it is to care. Anyone with an autoimmune disorder or physical illness that deals with fatigue can tell you how hard it is to stay awake. Try combining all of it with the worry that you aren't going to make enough money because you get paid by how much you work to EVER be able to get transportation so you can help your 18-year-old daughter who was born legally blind and desperately wants to be with you more, or EVER be able to save enough just to have the deposits and first and last months rent and money to get started over again even though you know once you are finally in a place you will be able to support yourself, or EVER be able to go to the freaking doctor and get the medical care you need so you can stop feeling so tired and in pain, and just maybe feel like you have quality of life again. TRY STARTING OVER AGAIN AND SEE HOW HARD IT IS JUST TO START.

I hate asking for help. I'm not good at it. I never used to be good at sharing, either, but I stopped caring what others thought of me, so here I am.. sharing my heart out, even though the above probably has tons of horrible typos, grammatical errors, pitiful crappiness, and tiredness written in the stars.

You don't have to help me. You really don't. You can read this and just close your browser. And that's fine with me, because you never promised you'd share. The link to my fundrazr site is RIGHT HERE - JUST CLICK ME. If you do want to share it, awesome. I will be adding a video to it at some point tonight. I also won't be asking for help again. It's the last time I'll be posting the link, so no worries. I'm not going to turn into a beggar; but someone told me recently that I don't reach out enough. So, that's what I'm doing. I'm showing you my reality as of this very moment, and I'm reaching out. And I'm letting you know that despite my past mistakes, I did not ask for this in my life right now; I'm not homeless through fault of my own this time; I'm not asking to be supported for the rest of my life. I'm asking for help starting over. I have hope there are good souls still out there, who like to see people have another chance at life. I feel hopeless right now because I feel alone. The two don't go together, but at the same time they do. I'm a firm believer of paying it forward. That's exactly what I plan to do; because I know that the day will come when I'm in a position to do so. 

I'm at a standstill. A hump, if you will. This is my transparency. Pray for me. Send positive thoughts. Give a little, give a lot. Whatever it is, just do it from your heart. True love is all I ask for.

Signing off.... with hopeless hope.

The Stress.

I have been SUPER good at dealing with stress the last couple of months. When my [ex]fiance kicked me out of the house unexpectedly while I was in the hospital at the beginning of May, I wasn't sure how I was going to deal with things. I didn't know if I'd remain calm, cry it out, or completely lose control of my mental stability all together. I surprised myself by doing relatively well under the circumstances of being told I could not come back to the home I'd known for 2 years and 8 months, to the EXACT day. When someone that is supposed to love you for better or for worse tells you that they "cannot handle your bipolar disorder" and had been trying to figure out a way to get you out of the house, and seized the perfect opportunity of you going into the hospital to do so because you'd "be safe there" (until when?), it kind of cracks you a little on the inside. Especially when you are struggling to heal physically from some literal heart damage. What part of kicking someone out of their home while they are in the hospital is okay, regardless of the reason? He said he has to concentrate on making himself healthier, which I totally agree with. Even though he would promptly deny it, he is a recovering alcoholic. Or was recovering, anyway. He started drinking again, and I will readily admit that I feel partially responsible since I honestly thought it had been long enough to where a beer would be okay. I will never make that very incorrect assumption for ANYONE ever again. EVER. What starts out as 1 beer, quickly becomes 2. Then it becomes 4. Then it becomes daily. Then it becomes frequent 6 packs. Then it becomes someone screaming in your face for just under an hour, telling you how absolutely disgusting you are and reminding you of every single mistake you have EVER made, to you having to clean up their vomit the next morning because you know it won't get cleaned up otherwise. Couple that with anger management issues, and you have quite the cluster-crap. That isn't even the clencher, though. The real slap is the fact that not only does he deny that alcohol and anger are his problems, but instead tells everyone, including me, that I was his problem. Subsequently, "now that you are gone, I have no problems."

I have a few questions.

If I was the problem, why did his breath reek of alcohol a couple of weeks ago when a mutual friend stopped by there?  If I was the problem, why does one of my friends, who eventually became his acquaintance, report that he has engaged in certain activities that he would say he has stopped?  If I was the problem, why was there a newly punched hole in a door that was not there before I was kicked out?

The answer is simple: I wasn't, nor am I, the problem.

So many things have become clear.  So many blinders removed.  Yet, I'm saddened by it, because I realize all the lies.

Real eyes realize real lies.

All the blaming, I almost took it. But it isn't my fault. Thank God I can see that now.  My bipolar disorder was getting worse, yes. That part is totally and completely true; but I can see WHY it was getting worse, and it was all circumstantial. A violent merry-go-round. Being kept unhealthy by an unhealthy person who wouldn't let me in. Who wouldn't get worse in that situation? Gawd.. I think about it, and honestly I'm amazed I didn't succeed in killing myself. That is really, really sad. Sadder still... I love him.  He can blame me if he wants, but I won't claim it. His malfunctions are his own and he needs to deal with his own demons. He will understand one day that what he did was wrong, no matter why he thought he needed to do it. Ironically, as I've grown, become more independent, and have taken steps to build my life, he tries to take credit for it, saying that his kicking me out is what catapulted me into finally taking responsibility for myself. Truth is, I've always been responsible for myself. I just lost my way when I started letting him dictate how I was going to feel and live. I'm taking my life back now, thank you.

Silly me. I thought I could help on the farm, without my own outside source of income, help with his business, and we could grow together. Not so, young, naive grasshopper. You are a fool. You can't help someone who won't let you past the front gate. Every time I thought I broke down an emotional barrier, he would just put another one up. I never stood a chance, and the whole time I was trying, I was really drowning. Being suffocated by the codependency of someone else, why dealing with the codependency inside myself. You cannot help someone who is insistent that they have no problems but you.

Thank you for setting me free, even though you did it in a horribly, horribly wrong way. Thank you for shattering the facade you put up that I would be "safe forever."  Thank you for reminding me that I can never get too comfortable in one place for too long and will always have to worry that one day I could be homeless again, because nothing lasts forever. Thank you for proving that I should have trusted my instincts in the very beginning and kept my belongings separate from yours so I wouldn't have to go through everything later and figure out what was mine. I don't have to worry about what you are doing anymore or try and figure out ways I can help you. I don't have to worry anymore about whether you are going to keep your promises and we'll start getting healthy again tonight.  I don't have to worry anymore about all the stupid little lies that you say you HAD to tell. YOU NEVER HAVE TO LIE, THAT'S A LIE IN ITSELF. And if you really believe that.... I feel so sorry for you.

I'm feeling it now. The weight. The stress. The impending fear, no matter how irrational it is right now. Chalk it up to past experiences, for I know that is where it comes from. I'm thankful for my little twin mattress on the floor in the front hallway of my best friend's house, nestled right by the front door. I'm thankful that I'm out of the elements and have food to eat, water to drink. I'm thankful that within a couple of weeks I found a good job, that while it started off very slowly, has the potential of being a nice life-sustaining income, that may only allow me to live paycheck to paycheck, will still allow me to live, once I'm on my own.

On my own. It's getting to that point that is hard. It's getting to that point that is really bringing on the stress. It seems like the money goes out just as fast as it comes in, and I wonder how I'm supposed to ever save anything.  Whether it's paying my best friend back for the computer she so graciously bought me so that I can work from home as a medical language specialist, using the college degree that I so diligently put myself through school for while I was raising my four children back in the early 2000s. Whether it's doctor appointments and prescriptions, both of which are necessary. Whether it's helping out here and there. Whether it's having to spend money on this or that, that was a basic necessity or something I needed, or a document that needed to be filed, or something I'd procrastinated on paying for. It's always something.

Now, I have a vacation coming up. Yes, vacation, in the midst of all this. Why in the hell would I be taking a vacation right now, you ask? Because when this vacation was planned and almost entirely paid for, I was not in this position. Plans were made, tickets were bought, decisions were practically forged into stone; and come hell or high water I am going on my damn vacation. Also, for the first time in too many years to even count, 2 of my children are coming on a trip with me, and if you had any idea what I've been through in the last decade, you'd understand why I absolutely, positively canNOT give that up! WILL NOT GIVE THAT UP! We are leaving Florida on August 4th, traveling to New England, and are not coming back until August 13th; and that's that!  Judge all you like, it won't change anything.

I will exhaust myself to near death between now and then, sitting here, transcribing, getting paid by production, just so I can make sure they have the best vacation I can give them. I will sacrifice everything I have to have this opportunity with my children that may never come back around, that I have been DYING for, for years now. I will sleep all the way to Maine in the passenger seat of a car if that is the only sleep I will get, if it means we will be a happy family spending extraordinary moments together on the side of a beautiful mountain. Just call us the Von Trapp family!

....and if when we return, I have nothing, I will start over.... again. I pray diligently every day that my time will not run out, physically or otherwise. I have learned through many, many things in my life, that nothing is ever guaranteed. 

So, stressed I am, and stressed I will be. I keep hoping that the right people will hear my story or see my family's need, make no assumptions or form uneducated opinions, and decide to help in some small way, to get me back on my feet... to get us back together. Just give me a freaking chance to start my entire life over, as I've been given no other choice.  To see that I'm doing the best I can with what I have.  To know that I don't pity myself, I'm just tired.

To relieve just a small ounce of stress... help me begin, I'll take it from there.

I hate asking for help, yet I'm forcing myself to do it anyway. CLICK HERE for more information.