The fog hasn't lifted all day. The sun was out earlier and I had a short venture out. Now it is just cold and murky. You find me today feeling pretty battered and bruised. Not physically but mentally. The week had mainly gone well but I knew I'd be staring into the mirror of failure late yesterday afternoon.
Sure enough the mirror showed and I did not like the reflection I saw. All I saw was the failure of both past and present. I gambled everything I had more than twenty years ago to become a teacher. Ultimately that was a journey that didn't work out. Maybe it was the wrong journey. Maybe I wasn't ready. Maybe I wasn't good enough. Or just maybe my long history of mental illness made it impossible.
Now nearly twenty years into a career in mental health I'm still flawed, scarred, scared and anxious. People heap praise on me from time to time. Apparently some are inspired by me. Many say they owe their lives to me. But it never seems to be enough.
Long ago I knew an emotional kicking from my own side would come. People talk of resilience but sometimes that is not enough. My emotional armour has chinks. And I'm only too aware of them.
What I have tried to do all these years is teach people not to make the same mistakes I did. That old adage of if only I'd known then what I know now is so very true. As I reflect on who I was at times I'm repulsed. It doesn't matter that everyone tells me how far I've come and how much I have achieved. In the dark moments when I fail it is hard to keep hold of that.
Last night was tough going. Today still feels raw. I must engage that resilience that people tell me I have. So doing a little bit at a time I've clawed my way back.
Ahead lies stir fried prawns with chilli and basil, the Rams playoff game tonight, a few glasses of wine and then glorious roast beef tomorrow.
Take care out there my friends.
I Heard a Voice.
I love my Mum but she's very bossy unlike Dad. I don't know whether she's bipolar or NPD but she is definitely not neurotypical. Dad is so neurotypical in contrast to the rest of his religiously obsessive family. Mum's family is a mix of neurotypical and extremely neurotic and/or BPD. I don't mind that I'm BPD; I enjoy the intense emotions (and fortunately I'm not violent). My motto is "Don't strike anything that breathes, has a pulse, and has a soul." So when I get mad I kick table legs, yell at Republicans on TV (lifelong Democrat, I am!) and punch pillows; it's against my rules to hit people. But I digress. I wish my Mum was not bipolar or BPD or whatever she is because she's my Mum, and it's hard to deal with her bossiness. She and Dad live at "Waterside" Independent Living Facility and I live in the independent living building at "Climping" Life Care Facility. I used to visit my parents until Voldemort, oops I mean the coronavirus, upended our lives. Of course Mum and I were never on the same wavelength. But COVIDmort has made me more BPD and made Mum more neurotically bipolar. I'm relieved that we have President Joe Biden, no more monster man denying COVID and spewing hate. But life is still more challenging than my highly sensitive personality can handle, so I need to vent and rant. I'm glad to be alive, don't get me wrong, but that doesn't mean I want to be strong. I like being hypersensitive. It makes me feel alive! I wish Mum understood. I wish my cranky curmudgeon neighbors at Climping understood. It's hard to cope with being bossed around by Mum and my neighbors. I don't even have siblings, so that makes matters even more difficult. Poor lonely me. *cries* I hope I win the lottery someday so I will be able to afford an emotional support aide. Not a pet; a human. I like animals but I don't want the responsibility of taking care of one. I want an emotional support companion of the human kind.
ReplyDeleteThe reason I'm telling you all this is because I like to vent and because I can relate to some of what you have written in your blog. Our mental difficulties are different(I don't hear voices or see things), but we're both stressed out in different ways, and I can relate. (I hope that comment doesn't offend you.) Plus I'm a King's College Choir aficionado even though I'm not of English heritage. I've been an Anglophile for 28 years now. I'm also an enthusiastic amateur organist.
I hope I'm not bothering you. Have a safe and healthy day (that's what I tell everyone ever since COVIDmort bullied his way into life.)
I forget my password often and I delete old accounts when that happens, and open a new account. Like a real-life Neville Longbottom.
ReplyDelete