It is one of those days when my heart twists inside me like warped metal… feeling immovable and beyond repair.. I think about the View from the Pit sometimes and wonder why so few writers embrace and write about the pit… but I think it is because the pain there is so deep and so very personal that writing/speaking honestly about is like giving a piece of your soul away to strangers… it feels foolhardy, dangerous and way beyond vulnerable. How do I articulate this?…. Hmmmmmm… I have unshakable faith in Christ and I have a hope for a better life beyond this one… but if I did not have my faith I must say I don’t think I would have survived my life. I would certainly not be as close to daylight as I am now. I may sill be in the dark… I may still be in the pit… but I can at least see the blessed sun now and I know that I will one day soon feel the warmth of it on my skin with all of its life giving glory.
Tag Archive: depression
Some days it feels like there are no ears to hear our cries. I have faith that this is not the case, but some days I wish that I had a definite answer… some definite sign that my prayers were heard and that an answer was on the way… Some days faith comes so easily to me and other days it feels nearly impossible…
OK – well that’s a rather lighthearted title but this is a heavy post… I have unearthed new memories… very vivid ones and they are terrifying me. I feel like I am losing my mind and I don’t know what to do with all of these feelings that threaten to drown me.
***Disclaimer: this may be triggering to some – read with caution***
Here’s what I remember:
I am young (Don’t know what age, exactly) and I am being forced face down onto a soft surface (bed? couch?…) and I am wearing a dress and my panties have been pulled down and I am being raped from behind and I am beyond terror and the weight of the man on top of me pressing me down makes it impossible to breathe…
I feel my heart start to race and my insides twist just remembering this and writing it down feels dangerous… like he’s going to read this and know it’s me and come after me (even though I have protected myself with anonymity in this blog) I am so afraid sometimes. I hear a car door outside and jump and my heart will pound and I’ll have to calm myself down and remind myself that he is not coming after me. Some days I wonder how long will I carry this… and when will the remembering be over finally? I thought I was done with that part and I have made peace with the gaping holes in my memory… but they are determined to surface. I pray this is the last of them. I am ready for this chapter to close and the healing chapter to be in full swing. I know I have made lots of progress and I am proud of the work I have done to get this far. I have worked so very hard to be where I am and I do not want to dismiss that with my desire to be all the way better… and I also do not want to be content here… I know there is more out there for me and I desire and deserve all the wonderful things ahead of me.
I have a love/hate relationship with self-help/personal-growth books… On the one hand it is helpful and gratifying to know that it is possible to make it through the darkness and thrive on the other side of it all… on the other none of them really give you the view from the pit. It’s ugly here and no-one wants to look at it. Many of them give the briefest of descriptions of the ‘dark days’ and then focus on their steps/ideas/practices that got them out of the mess they were in. I want to see the pit… did life feel as despairing & hopeless to them as it does to me most days? Were they breathing in and out through lungs filled with un-heard screams? Was the pit every bit as deep and dark and ugly as it feels to me today? I would like to know the view from the pit… Then I can feel better about my chances of making it out alive.
I was walking along the beach in Fort Clinch State Park FL when I saw this large, beautiful (to me, anyway) horseshoe crab…
I saw this crab on his back, tail straight in the air and assumed he was dead…. people were walking all around him – no doubt avoiding him out of revulsion, fear, or apathy – I was afraid he was dead but was pleasantly surprised to see he was ok. I turned him over and watched him make his way to the water and swim off. I know it is a small, insignificant thing the the grand scheme of life – but saving his life made me feel so good inside…
I’ve tossed and turned for hours and I’m about ready to give up on sleep. Night sweats and hot flashes are not conducive to good rest and I feel so wound up and disoriented from this desperate need to rest that I don’t know that I am really capable of coherent thought at the moment. My thoughts race on some Silent-Hill-esque distorted merry-go-round on which the horses are darkly demonic with red eyes and flaming nostrils… rotting flesh and exposed bone… where the calliope is just off-key and so discordant and loud it sets your teeth on edge. This dark carnival of my mind… this sea of faces… I don’t know what to do with it all… here a leering clown, terrifying and somehow familiar under the painted face… there a carnival barker pedaling wares in a voice that triggers unwanted memories and me racing down the freeway trying to escape all of it…. I don’t want these thoughts, memories, fears, doubts and emotions washing over me like a flood tide. I fear I may drown in this. Please, God, don’t let me drown…
I’m having one of those days… one of those days where my heart won’t stop pounding and I can scarcely breathe. My ears are ringing and I hate this feeling. Every little thing is getting under my skin. I feel defensive and easily offended… I feel like a bundle of raw nerve endings. Does this ever go away? Will there ever be a time when I experience my very last panic attack? Will I ever live day after day with no heart-pounding, chest-tightening, jumping at every sound, sweaty palms, can’t breathe intrusions into my psyche?? I don’t even know how to imagine this kind of life. How do I imagine being at home in my own skin? What would it feel like to be at rest in myself? What must it be like to simply sit down and read a good book? To get lost in music? To enjoy a cup of tea or a hot shower without feeling pressure to get up and pace, clean, fidget?? How do I get to the point where I can rest without feeling guilty? How do I kick this voice out of my head that tells me continually that I am not good enough, that I am lazy, that I am not doing enough and what I am doing I am not doing right? Perfection does not equal happiness… Part of me believes once I understand this I may find peace.
I am working through this book right now – Healing your Emotional Self: A Powerful Program to help You Raise Your Self-Esteem, Quiet Your Inner Critic, and Overcome Your Shame. It’s a very good book… I have read about half the book so far and the section I am on right now is dealing with Identifying and Disengaging from our Inner Critic. Some of the phrases Ms. Engel suggests to use (out loud) with your inner critic are the following:
*Shut up!
*Stop it!
*This is poison. Stop it!
*Get off my back!
*This is garbage!
*These are lies.
*These are the same lies my mother/father told me.
*I don’t believe you.
*No more put-downs!
If you are anything like me your inner voice gives a running commentary on every thing you do or fail to do… I know my inner critic has been particularly vociferous of late. I am working to silence those voices that tell me that everything I do is wrong and the thoughts I think are stupid. It’s a long road and I find that the voices are loudest when my anxiety is running the most rampant. Today is a bad day. I must admit, I’m about a 6 on my Levels of Not Okayness and it feels like a struggle just trying to feel at home in my own skin. But all of that aside, I am determined to use the tools I have been given and call on the strength I know I have in side and I WILL overcome this. I am more than my failings and I am not what has been done to me. I am strong and smart and determined to get through this. I will find that inner integrity and I will cling to it like a life raft… I am not crazy or weak… I am enough and I can do this.
Heart torn –
yet not given
the precious gift of death…
I can only breathe in..and out…
waiting…
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore —
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over —
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
~Langston Hughes
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