I have bad days, but I also
have my good days. When I have those
good days, it is a breath of fresh air.
When I have bad days, it is a 10 on the earthquake Richter scale. I compare my impulses to those of aftershocks
that are not only unpredictable, but possibly can result in a tsunami if I do
not take the necessary steps needed to ground myself with my toolkit I keep
readily available. Unfortunately, the
toolkit becomes meaningless if I have not practiced mindfulness activities to
help lower my stress levels.
When I have my bad days, it is
so difficult to ask for help. I have
lost hope a long time ago that asking for help or being honest with how I am
feeling will be met with compassion rather than swift response that usually
results in over- zealous or lack of understanding (or attempt to understand)
what I am going through. Instead, I hold
onto the invasive memories I wish to disappear permanently from my memory. I hold onto the secrets that I am too
embarrassed to share. Why share them now
when it has only made life harder for me?
I get tired of the looks of confusion when I tell my story. I get tired of the questions that follow me
sharing an event that has happened. I
get tired of the judgement. I judge
myself the harshest, I don’t need help in that area of my life. I question my choices. I don’t need help in that area of my
life. I am confused at my own story. I don’t need help in that area of my
life. I need compassion. I need understanding.
When I have my bad days, I
hear him, I feel him, I smell him. Then
I remember, it is no longer just him.
These days I am angry at myself.
I hate myself with a passion. I
want to destroy the person I am, the person I have become, the person that I
see in the mirror. I want to hide. I want to punish myself. I want to have the control and be my own
punisher. I want to at least have that
power and control. Nothing else matters
but the force of self-destruction that has engulfed my every being. Nothing good in my life matters. Nothing is strong enough to make me feel like
I deserve any good in my life. When I
have my bad days, he is in control. I
didn’t listen. I was not strong
enough. I chose to not accept my life as
he had chosen, therefore, I am the reason why it is unraveling
uncontrollably. I have lost control and
no longer in control.
Then there are the days when I
have accepted what has happened, what is happening, or what is to happen. These are the days I remind myself to be
strong and focus on my goals. These are
the days I remind myself of all the wonderful things I am grateful for. These are the days that bring me a sense of
peace and serenity. These are the days I
realize that even though there is chaos and hurt I am dealing with, I am still
in a better place than I could be in if I continuously give up on myself. These are the days that help be feel the
fresh air against my face, pounding the sidewalks fiercely and with a
purpose. These are the days when I know
my life will get better.
My good days are so beautiful
and refreshing. They are filled with
moments of laughter and smiles. They are
filled with happy tears when I am showering and dressing myself with an
attitude reminding myself that I am strong, I am loved, and I am a
survivor. These are the days when I
don’t feel like my past or current situation has control of me. These are the days when I easily remind the
adult me to care for my inner child and remind her how much she is loved. My good days are so beautiful and refreshing.
Then it happens, again. It happens and once again, I have bad
days. I stay isolated, I don’t want
people to see my shame. I don’t shower. Undressing becomes unbearable. If I manage to force myself in the shower, I
am covered in red scratches all over. My
focus becomes scrubbing the dirtiness from my skin and within. The shower never feels better because the red
scratches reminds me that I can never ever be clean. The pills become my savior. The alcohol will make me forget. I can close my eyes and black out. All the while praying that someone will save
me and know that I am hurting. Then, at
the same time, praying that I can escape the pain and end it all. No one wants to hear it. There is no help, there is no
understanding. Only questions and
judgement.
Then as usual, I come out of
my self-pity stupor and I work towards having good days. There are a few people who have not yet tired
of helping me. So, I rely on them to
build myself up and become strong again.
I finally cry and able to admit the truth. I finally tell someone and able to release
the poison from my body and mind. I then
am able to feel better and begin to at least begin to work towards better days. I am finally not willing to give up on
myself, my opportunities, and all the things that I have not yet
experienced. I am finally able to leave
my room and shower without emotional paralysis.
I am finally seeing the brightness from the outside and willing to feel the
air brush against my skin.
Slowly, I begin to experience
good days, and yes, they are so beautiful and refreshing. I hear my laughter and feel my facial muscles
form into smiles. I feel so grateful
that my tears are filled with happiness.
I start to look forward to choosing my outfits for the day and putting
make-up on. I am once again feeling
strong, loved and a survivor, not a victim.
These good days, I feel in control and my inner child is once again
feeling validated and understood. These
good days are beautiful and refreshing!
10/25/2018
MGJG
