Nowhere To Go: Managing Your Mental Illness When You are Homeless

 

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My biggest fear prior to being homeless was having to cope with triggers when I was homeless. It’s one thing to have a depressive episode from the comforts of your home but it’s an entirely different thing when you have nowhere to go when you are homeless. There aren’t any safe places. Everywhere you go is a danger zone. This fact kept me in misery for far too long. I have off and on been potentially homeless the last few years. Looking back I wish I had the courage to just take that jump and go into homelessness earlier. Sadly I wasn’t prepared or ready to face the dangers like I am now.

The biggest hurdle to being homeless was the fear and it’s one of the big issues I face with, I always have. Fear has kept me from living since my Mom passed away in 2012. I stayed near my family and didn’t move because I lived in constant fear that they would die to. It was extremely crippling and it made me absolutely miserable. Of course there is a lot more to my mental illness than fear but that’s a biggie. Once I pulled the bandaid off from going to the hospital and then the shelter the situation was no longer as scary. Actually overall it’s not scary at all. Now when things happen like the fight in the day shelter things quickly escalate into frightening but overall it’s not fear or fright that really gets to me. It’s the uncomfortableness and lack of privacy that gets me. You lose all normalcy to life. The first week is scary. The second week is uncomfortable and the third week it starts to get to you.

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What I miss most is the comforts of a home. Today was the first time I have stepped foot into a home in over six weeks and it was only briefly. Today’s temperatures are going to be over 94 with the heat index over 100 degrees. So I had a guy want to hookup with me. Usually I’m like no thank you but today it was hot and he had air conditioning. Plus he picked me up in his nice car that had really cold ac. We get to his house and it was nice. The best part was his huge comfy bed that I lay in for a good thirty minutes. It was like heaven. I felt like I was floating on cotton candy. While things didn’t go as planned with the hookup I at least got to have some comfort for just a little bit. Plus he dropped me off at the library and gave me a cold coke. So I haven’t done a lot of walking.

You start to crave the normal things to life and when you don’t get them it starts to eat away at your psyche. Overall my mental health has been very good since I was out of the hospital last month but this week it’s started to deteriorate as I was starting to get more overwhelmed by being homeless. It didn’t help that Wednesday I had confrontations with two not so nice people. As hard as I tried those two negative interactions left a crack for the depression to seep into. I just haven’t been able to shake this depressed feeling. It’s not one thought either. I just feel depressed and it’s not just because I’m sick. Though I do think that is adding to it. What people don’t understand about depression is that it’s not always an effect of a trigger. Sometimes you just wake up feeling bad. There is something about your brain chemistry that’s off and it sends you into a fog for the rest of the day.

It’s tough to not let things bring you down when you suffer from depression and that’s even more complicated when you have a mental illness. The past three weeks my depression has been okay, it’s not really been at the surface as I had many other things to worry about but now it’s in the mix. It’s overwhelming because I’m having to fight so many other things and now I have to add fighting my negative thoughts and feelings. Add the extreme heat and I just feel like I’m about to go mad. I was dreading today because of the heat. The weekends are the worst because the day shelter isn’t open so you have to walk to get somewhere cooler. On Sundays the buses don’t run until 9am so I had to wait outside for an hour and that is just a miserable feeling. To not have anywhere to go, so you just have to sit in a place you don’t want to. It doesn’t help with how you feel.

Being homeless you are forced to go outside of your comfort zone and that’s even more so the case when you have something like PTSD. Thankfully so far my PTSD has been in check but it’s always a concern. You have times when you are in a PTSD bubble that being around others becomes problematic. Friends and family become strangers and strangers become enemies. You aren’t able to trust anyone. Your world turns into a war zone and there is NOWHERE to hide. So for now that’s in check and I’m thankful for that.

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I think what’s most unsettling is that even though life has been really tough for the past three weeks I have felt the best about myself in a very long time. I have felt so empowered by this experience and it’s lifted me up in some tough times but the last couple of days it’s been a constant struggle. I wake up feeling horrible. Every muscle in my body hurts. It’s tough just walking a few steps. My mind is as thick as pea soup. I feel so defeated and discouraged. I’m worn out with no relief in sight. I hope it’s just the bronchitis because I’m not liking this at all. This will be my third day on antibiotics so I hope I get better soon because this feels unbearable. At times on the verge of losing it, at least it feels that way. It’s these thoughts of not being able to handle life like this.

You just want to scream but no words can escape. They are all stuck in the puzzle of your mind, with jagged little shards of glass poking out. I can handle a lot but it’s the physical pain that’s lately that’s been getting to me. I have to walk. I don’t have a choice. It’s not a fun feeling to have to push through. Feet turn into miles and hills into mountains.

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It’s not helping that it’s taking longer than I expected to get my own place. I was approved for a one bedroom apartment of my own a week ago but the manager of the complex has no urgency. Originally the move in date was going to be the 21st and that’s fast approaching. The main hurdle is getting my Doctor to sign some paperwork to prove that I’m disabled, otherwise I will not being able to move in because it’s only for the elderly and those with a disability. For whatever reason my Doctor hasn’t been getting the faxes and it’s not because he’s not trying. He’s just as frustrated as I am and the lady at the office doesn’t seem to care.

On the 23rd of June will be my thirty days at the shelter, which is the length of stay at this shelter. You can get a two week extension after that but that’s it. So that has me worried because the other two shelters are pretty dangerous especially for someone who is transgender. The homeless shelter is going to pay for the next six months of rent and they need information from the complex manager that she’s not giving. So all of this will just add days to my homelessness and it’s extremely frustrated. In the back of mind I’m thinking, maybe it’s not going to work out. That’s my depression talking. Until I get my doctor to sign that paperwork I won’t be at ease. Without it I won’t get this apartment. It feels like everything is hanging on this paperwork and it’s driving me loco.

I wish they could cut the depression out of me or cure it. If it was always induced by a situation or event then it would make it so much easier. Thinking positive would work like everyone else think it does. The medicine helps but it really just mutes the severity of the symptoms. Being that I have nowhere to run and hide I’m learning to be resourceful. The other night when I started to sob I got the staff person to get me a private place to go. Leaving situations is another thing I have started to do. If I feel uncomfortable I just leave, no matter where I am at. I have days where I don’t feel like walking so I stay in the day shelter but then something happens and I’ve bolted at the door. When I realize that I can control things it improves my mood dramatically to know that I have choices. I’m not stuck anywhere, even in my mind.

I just want to get the heck out of the shelter and into my own place. It’s so close but so far away. After eight years I will have my own place again and it’s a freedom I miss deeply. This time will be different because I won’t lose my place when I spiral into a deep depression and can’t work. In the last fifteen years I have moved over twenty times because of that. That is no way to have stability and I’m desperate for it. It’s the instability that’s played havoc on my body both physically and mentally. I will finally have a safe place that I can call home. One where I won’t fear losing due to the inability to pay my rent. I can have friends over and I can lay in my comfortable bed all day if I choose to do so. I’m ready for some relief. I’m ready for a break.

 

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Lonely Shade of Steel

Of all the feelings I think lonely is the toughest. You can be surrounded by a group of people and still feel lonely. As many of you know, this has been a very tough week for me. I’ve constantly been living in the land of triggers. I went almost ten years without triggers (at least to this degree) and all of a sudden I’m getting them constantly.

I have the apartment to myself for the weekend and it’s reminded me how lonely I am. The world kept turning as I stay frozen in grief, depression and all that much. The world moved on without me. Tonight as I sat with my neighbors I could hear their loneliness too. They’re in similar situations as me. For many of us the interactions during our nightly get togethers are about the only ones we have. If it weren’t for the meetings most of us would never leave our apartment.

So while I have this strength of steel lately it doesn’t take away the loneliness and it’s not just romantic loneliness, which is a portion of it. Here I have a weekend alone and no one to spend it with. Everyone has moved on without but me. I’m still trying to get my life together. I’m so desperate for human connection that I find myself trying to hold onto our nightly visits as long as I can. I wonder what it will be like once winter sets in. That scares me, thinking I might lose these connections… at least until spring.

Being single and the thought of being alone for the rest of your life is rather frightening. I tried to fill my loneliness with pizza and netflix but it didn’t cover up my loneliness. I love musicals so I watched Rent for the first time in years. It’s one of my favorite musicals of all time. Re-watching it again tonight brought back a lot of nostalgic feelings. As tough as that period was for me I wish I could get it back. I was so full of life, ready to take on the world. I want to be in love again.

Seeing Angel and Colin together just added to my sadness. I wish I had that. I’ve certainly been in love but it’s always been one sided. I sometimes wonder if my chance went by and is long gone. I wonder will I die alone like my father said.

Depression deprives you of so much and one of them being friendship. In your darkest days you do whatever you can to push everything and everyone away. The last four years I’ve built this gigantic wall around me and it’s left me with a barren garden. The ground is hard as rock and the briar has grown so thick that you can’t see through it. Granted I’m working on mending my garden but that takes time. Friendships aren’t built overnight and all my good friends live far away. Everyone is busy with their lives (which is understandable) and here I am alone.

There’s this balance of wanting to be seen and wanting to be invisible. When you want to be seen you’re invisible to the whole world but the times you want to be invisible you’re seen. Invisibility is how a survivor keeps safe but it can also cause great harm. It can also leave you really lonely. I wish it were easier to make gay friendships. The options are pretty slim and what is out there is very focused on sex. I sometimes wonder do gay men have platonic friendships and if so where do they meet them? The bars use to be a meat market and now online has become the new, improved meat market. You can find the best new piece of man with a touch of a button or a swipe of a screen. I look online and I see a lot of lonely guys.

Being a gay man in a rural area is tough. We don’t have the diverse population that big cities have. What gay population there is it’s very skewed. Most are just looking for sex and the guys that say they’re looking for friendship won’t even respond to your message. I remember back in the day (yes I’m old) when you could have intelligent conversations online. Many of my friends I met online but that was years ago. That’s the problem when you run from your problems, you leave behind a trail of friendships. Thankfully Facebook connects us all but it’s not the same as having friends to do things with.

I miss having platonic friendships and for me it’s very important to have. Sex complicates things and I enjoy having that off the table. I can’t separate sex and the dirtiness so it’s why I need my friendships to be pure. It’s also why I’ve struggled with love. My last relationship was no different. At first things were great until I got triggered by something that happened to us while out at another couples place. I pretty much watched as my boyfriend (at the time) had sex with someone who was suppose to be my friend. Due to being a sexual abuse survivor I just stood there paralyzed not being able to say or do anything. After that I could barely touch or kiss my boyfriend. Our love had been spoiled and it was never the same. I didn’t realize until a year afterwards what happened. The event sent me in a downward spiral. So that’s been my track record with love. It’s been over six years since I’ve dated. Sometimes I think I’m okay with being single and other times I don’t.

I miss the intimacy and is something I’ve really haven’t had much of. It’s always been so brief and it’s usually been guys after one thing. Being overweight is tough enough let alone being fat in the gay community. Most the guys want nothing to do with you because you’re weight and the ones who like you’re weight only want you for your body. Neither group wants your heart. That just piles onto the feelings of being an object. So it’s been easier for me to stay single.

I miss the friendship. I miss the laughter. I miss hanging out with a group of friends at my place. I miss the get togethers. The nightly meetings with the residents is great but I need more. I can’t talk to them about everything. There is this age gap and they wouldn’t understand certain things. I’ve seen a few younger women who would come out to the pool. I wish I had the courage to befriend them. I miss having women friends. I wish there was a gay best friend app/site, where you can find your fag hag or vice versa. I make a fabulous gay best friend.

I’m usually always down at the picnic table nightly with my neighbors for an hour or two, and I still get lonely. Even though I’ve opened up to a few of them by telling them I’m gay I still don’t feel like I can be my true self. I certainly don’t feel comfortable with telling them about my mental illness. Most of the group is in their 60’s and they’re reserved. I love spending time with them but it’s not the same hanging out with someone who you can be free with and talk about anything. Like they were talking about movies and I mentioned that I loved Ghostbusters. I could tell that it wasn’t their cup of tea. Even one of the residents was like oh those movies. I find myself censoring myself on certain things like anything related to being gay. They were talking about girdles and something about men not having to worry about that. I replied well that’s how I keep my girlish figure and that turned a few heads. I certainly wasn’t going to tell them that I did drag, as they’d probably not understand that. Maybe they would, who knows.

I have this big void in my life and I’m not sure what to fill it with. I feel so isolated from everyone. I really dislike suffering and that’s what I’ve been doing. I miss my family too. So I’m feeling a bunch of stuff this week and I’m trying hard to hold on for dear life. I keep repeating over and over that I’m strong as steel. I had to do that earlier at the picnic table when I was triggered by something one of the ladies said. I had to repeat it over and over, as I didn’t want them to see me triggered. I could feel myself dissociate. Thankfully I was able to use my ground exercises and was able to control it. That’s all I need them thinking I’m crazy. I love them but they love to gossip. They know everything that goes on at the complex.

I really understand what my Mom felt like all these years. She was also very lonely and it was very tough for her after my father divorced her. After my sister and I moved away I know she felt abandoned. I would do anything to go back and do things differently. Though the last years of her life the both of us would spend a lot of time together. I honestly thought she’d live another twenty years or so. I saw us like Dorothy and Sophia from the Golden Girls but that wasn’t the way it was meant to be.

I can’t wait to start therapy again. It’s become very clear that I need to get back into therapy with all the triggers and flashbacks as I have been having. It will be nice to have someone to talk to about the tough things in my life. I don’t have a lot of people to turn to. People will say things like you’re not alone. I get what they’re saying but the reality is that I am alone.

Til It Happens To You

You won’t know how I feel… Couldn’t be more of a powerful statement and for anyone who’s been at the end of victim shaming it really rings true. It’s common to hear things like it gets better in time or pull yourself together when you’re falling apart. We live in a society that interrogates the victim rather than the abuser. If you grow up in that world how else would someone feel if they’ve endured the abuse and are faced with coming forward.

From the start of Lady Gaga’s performance of Til It Happens To You my eyes began to leak to the point where I thought my eyeballs were about to burst from the sockets. I could hear my voice in her vibrato, it was loud and clear.

I went years of being silent, afraid what would happen if anyone found out. The silence ate away at my soul, it forever altered me. To this day, I still remember that first night going to my parents bedroom door and stopping myself from knocking. I was afraid that they wouldn’t believe me. I mean who would believe that my cousin was sexually abusing me, him being male as well. So I wiped away my tears and fell asleep on the couch. When morning appeared I tip toed back into the lion pit (the bed where I was abused) in order to not alarm anyone.

I woke up like nothing had happened and continued to do so for a week until our supposed vacation had ended… but the hell had just began for me. While most boys were going through puberty naturally I was forced into submission of it all. My innocence stolen in a matter of minutes. That was my first interaction with sex and it was more damaging than a lightning bolt to the brain.

For years, I hide it all… I grew up believing that I deserved it, that it was my fault. Why else would it happen to me? My body turned into a piece of meat, property for whoever wanted it. I gave away my soul like a stack of newspapers. I burrowed myself into that black abyss for the next seven years. I watched life pass me by. I desperately wanted to scream bloody murder by my lips were paralyzed. I had to put on a brave face and act like everything was okay but it wasn’t.

I was groomed into believing that was what love meant, to have it all taken from you. You’re not worth the salvation. So you suffer on, cry into your pillow and go on. No one even noticed that I cried myself to sleep almost every night. It was like my tears were attached to a silencer.

For SEVEN years I watched him raised up by my family. They all adored and loved him. I was the chunky, overly sensitive black sheep. I actually grew up believing my parents didn’t love me, that’s how damaging abuse is. If I didn’t speak up how else would they have known. They had no idea that I was dying inside every time they did something for him or praised him. My cousin was the star quarterback, the captain of his basketball team. The girls all wanted to be with him, the boys all wanted to be his friend.

I grew up believing that NO ONE wanted me…

To the point where one day I just exploded. One too many cracks in the dam to support any more tears. I was proven right. I had reason to doubt other’s believing me, as it came true. A father is suppose to protect his children, instead he went hunting with my abuser the next day. I was told to forgive and forget. How can you forget something like that, not the abuse but your Dad telling you that your feelings didn’t matter. It’s not something you ever get over. Another boulder piled on my grave.

Boys will be boys, others in my family said. Just get over it. He would never do that. I was shunned and exiled. How dare I speak up? My place was to stay silent, take the abuse. That’s how courage was repaid.

More times than not survivors pay the price of coming forward. Rather than lifted up others tear us further down. They’d rather add to the pain than face the reality and truth that something like this could happen. Sweep it under the rug.

“Until your world burns and crosses, until you’re at the end of your rope… til your standing in my shoes I don’t want to hear nothing from you… because you don’t know… til it happens to you… you won’t know how I feel…”

That’s what I’ve been yelling for so long. I’ve screamed so loud that my vocal cords are scorched. You do whatever you have to survive and I have. I won’t ever hear the words I need to hear from the people who’ve done me wrong and even then it would be too late. I’d rather have Lady Gaga sing to me any day. Her words are like kisses upon my pillow. That’s the power of coming forward, other’s hear the ballads of your bravery. Those who are struggling and so desperate to for some comfort. Someone to believe them, and not tell them it’s their fault. Most people don’t come out and say it’s your fault but it’s in the reflection of their words and actions.

For the last two hours I have listened to the song on repeat. Each time the melody is just as loud and clear as the moment before. I’ve cried so much I’ve ran out of tissue. The song is the anthem of the unbelieved, the castaways… There will be others who just won’t get the message, who will say things like what a mediocre song. This song isn’t for them. It’s for you and me. It’s for any survivor of sexual abuse/assault.

There’s great power and taking a stand. Just like when the survivors joined Lady Gaga on stage holding hands with messages like not your fault and survivor written on their forearms. Having a voice is such an important tool for a survivor something so many take for granted, the ability to speak up and be believed. While NO might only have two letters in it, it’s one of the most powerful words ever spoken. We’ve had that right taken away for too long. This song is saying NO… to being silent… to speaking up…

Often times I feel my voice disappear. I can sing it loud and clear when it’s standing up for someone else. I’m a great champion for others… myself not so much. I’ve tolerated less for so long that I’ve forgotten there is any other way. That’s what is so great when others stand up it gives you the strength and courage to do the same. Whether it’s reporting it for the first time or the hundredth time. Healing is a lifelong battle for a survivor. There will times that your sea is calm. All it takes is one big wave and you relive those moments all over again.

You can’t control flashbacks (of the event) anymore you can control whether or not it’s going to rain.  Your brain is the camera and that negative is forever polarized into your consciousness. Often times it won’t take much. It could be a smell or a sound and instantly you’re back where it all began. I still can clearly picture the house where the abuse happened. There are a lot of things that I’ve forgotten as I’ve gotten older, that isn’t one of them. I remember the shower where I tried the filth off. Soap doesn’t reach your soul. I can close my eyes and see every part of that cabin. Anything to not see the act in that bed. Focus on the wall, on the curtains just don’t look down. Hide beneath your pillow and pretend you’re sleeping.

Until it happens to you, you’ll never know just how damaging sexual abuse is… and how prevalent it is. If we don’t speak up, nothing will change. That’s why the message of this song is so very important. To say to society it’s not okay to be marginalized.

It gets better in time we are told. I’m almost forty and it hasn’t got better but damn it all I’m determined to be happy. I fight daily, more than anyone will know. I shouldn’t have to fight so hard but that is the reality of life. I’m tired but I will keep on moving forward. My life has to mean something. If I can give comfort to another brother and sister who’s hiding from the same kind of demons then that will be my purpose.

I’m tired of feeling damaged, broken… unlovable… Currently I’m in the fuck it attitude. I’m done trying to convince others to believe me. I’ve spent most of my life desperately trying to plead my case with people who are both blind and deaf to my tears. I’ve done just about everything to drown out the pain to the point where I just want it all to end.

In the end, no matter why, I’m still here. There is great strength in that statement. I could be homeless tomorrow but I’m still here. I can’t let those who’ve hurt me win. I just can’t. I don’t want my life to have been in vain. I see Lady Gaga living her dreams (and her fears) and that gives me courage that one day I can do the same. Turn my pain, the hell into art in order to help others. I’m learning to embrace the light one day at a time.

I don’t know how I’m going to obtain it or when but I’m going to hold on until I achieve it. The future is unknown and I’m not confident about most things lately but there is one thing I’m certain about… My future is going to be better than my past. I will keep walking until I find my home.

If you’re reading this and have felt the same know that we walk the same path. I know how it feels to be alone, to feel so desperate it drives you mad. Hang in there. You’re worth it, as I am. I know how you feel…

Huggs

 

The Illusion of Fear

fear /fir/
noun
  1. an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.

Fear is a learned behavior and usually the result of getting hurt. Fear can protect you but it also can cause harm. It can keep you from living a fulfilling life.

I grew up in a family that was fear based. We were groomed to fear God and life itself. That’s the goal of fire and brimstone. The more you feared God (going to hell), the better your chances of getting into heaven. For me, that fear kept me in hell. At one point in my life I was so frightened by God that hearing his/her name would send me into panic attack mode.

To get away from that fear I pushed God away. It was the only way to cope with the idea of burning in flames for eternity was to stop believing in anything. I didn’t realize until recently how damning that was to my soul as well.

While I put the fear of God away it manifested itself in other fun ways. I replaced one fear for another like they were candy bars in vending machine. When you’re groomed to fear it’s often difficult to see anything else. As an adult various experiences confirmed that I had something to fear.

I would venture out into the world like a scared, little rabbit. Something would spook me and send me hopping for dear life back down the rabbit hole. For most of my adult life I’ve been single because of fear. The few relationships I’ve had always ended badly with me being devastated and heart broken. All my experiences with love resulted in misery so that hard wired into my brain that I had something to fear. I couldn’t risk getting hurt so it was easier to be single. I went over ten years of being single and the relationship that ended that streak was the worst relationship to date.

I almost stayed in an abusive relationship because of fear.

I’ve thought a lot about fear, for an example spiders. Spiders scare the hell out of me and I’ve often wondered why? What makes a spider scary but a ladybug cute. The thing about fear is that it’s not always based off experiences it can passed on from one generation to the next. The tipping point for me with spiders started when I watched the movie Arachnophobia. That scene in the barn freaked me out. I won’t give you the heebie jeebies by describing what happened. If you haven’t seen it let your imagination fill in the blanks.

Everyone has fears. My greatest fear was losing my Mom. I was so frightened to lose her that I made her invincible. It never dawned on me that she would die when she did. So you can imagine that when she died my fear spiralled out of control.

I was so afraid that something bad was going to happen to my family that I turned into a hermit. I would go weeks without ever leaving the house. I encapsulated myself in a fear bubble and it slowly sucked the life out of me. When my Mom died it opened the floodgates to anything happening. So if someone who I thought was immortal could die so could anyone else.

One of my favorite quotes is from the movie Strictly Ballroom, “A life lived in fear is a life half lived.” I’ve lived a half life.

In the last year I’ve worked really hard in therapy to overcome this fear but it still holds a knife to my throat. It no longer has me held hostage but I still give it more power than I should.

When you’ve surrounded yourself with fear for a good portion of your life it’s difficult to come out of the shadows. It’s quite like being in a dark room for a portion of time and immediately walking into full sunlight. Not only will it blind you but it can knock you off your feet. It can also send you fleeing for the comfort of the night but it’s a false sense of security as it keeps you from the warmth of the light.

I think the key to overcoming my fears is to face them head on. I’m frightened as hell to venture back into the world but I’m tired of being paralyzed by the fear. I’m safe but I’m miserable. This isn’t the life I want to lead. My Mama wanted more for me. I deserve more for myself.

Whenever I face my fears they’re never as gigantic or scary as I’ve imagined them to be. Illusion is the only thing fear has to hold onto. It’s all smoke and mirrors.

 

The Difference a Year Makes

It’s been a while since I have wrote on my blog. I just passed my one year anniversary of my suicide attempt and I have been reflecting on the last year. While I can’t say that I’m happy I can say that I’m in a better place mentally than I was a year ago. While I still struggle with depression it’s not as extreme and when I do have a flair up the episodes don’t last as long.

Someone asked me what changed things? I must admit I struggled with answering it and I still do. I think the biggest difference is taking an antidepressant, as well as therapy. I’m in the process of trying to find work and as scary as that is I’m ready to have purpose again. You can only hide for so long before you go stir crazy and that’s where I’m currently at.

I think the main reason I struggled answering the question of what changed is that I’m still in the process of changing as I haven’t got to the point where I’m happy. I must admit most of the time I’m miserable. I hide in my room a lot and I know that’s not very healthy. I miss having friends that I regularly see and do fun things with. That’s the struggle with living out in the middle of no where there’s nothing to do or see. It also presents a problem when meeting someone as most people don’t want to drive that far. Also not having a car puts a damper in going the distance.

I’ve learned once you get yourself in a deep hole it takes time to dig out of it. I’m learning to work on my patience and having faith. Having a job will be a huge step to my happiness. They say money doesn’t make you happy but not having any can make you miserable. A job will lead to a car and a car will lead to meeting new people…

I won’t lie that I still occasionally think about you know what… but it’s usually a quick passing thought when I’m feeling rather down. I’ve noticed lately having this coping skill of taking deep breaths when I’m feeling panicky or rather down. It’s been occurring rather naturally without thought. I also feel a stronger presence to my Mama. When I take those deep breaths I feel like she’s there with me.

A long time ago I learned to disconnect to cope with trauma. When you repeat a pattern over and over, year after year it becomes apart of you. Changing that pattern isn’t an easy task as it becomes hard wired in the clockworks of your mind. I’ve failed over and over but I never gave up. I made the conscious choice to reach out for help when I had the pills up to my mouth. I desperately needed help and that was the only way I could connect to it.

When you’ve been disconnected for a long period the harder the impact when you plug yourself back into an outlet. I’ve tried over the past nine years to get plugged back in but every time I would get shocked and run back into seclusion. Living a heart-centered life can get you hurt, especially if you don’t have a solid foundation and a toolbox of coping skills. That’s been my greatest flaw. I have tried to build a life on a flimsy foundation and an empty toolbox.

This weekend I took a leap of faith by entering an art competition called ArtPrize in Grand Rapids, Michigan. I have always been artistic in some form or another. It’s always been my dream to have a career that I can utilize my creativity but I’ve always shied away from pursuing it because I didn’t feel I deserved it.

I put off registering for ArtPrize for days as I was afraid. Afraid of succeeding, afraid of being seen. Being a survivor of sexual abuse there’s a fine line between being seen and not being seen. I think about when I abused I was a happy child full of life and love. I was vulnerable. I catch myself still feeling like I’m that 10 year old boy still. I must remind myself that not only am I an adult now but that was a long time ago. I no longer have to hide because I can defend myself. All these years I’ve been the first to stand up for others but have rarely stood up for myself. I’ve waited a lifetime for others to stand up for me… when it was me that needed to stand up.

Registering for ArtPrize felt like running through the finish line. I’ve forced myself to not only look fear right in the eyes but to also push right through it. Fear is like a ghost. It’s just an illusion and much smaller than it appears. The further you push it away the bigger it becomes until one day that ghost turns into a monster and takes total control of your life. Whenever you try to change a destructive, negative pattern it will alert an internal warning system. That ghost will do whatever it takes to keep control.

So it’s doesn’t surprise me that today has been a rather difficult day. I had the sky is falling moment and my urges were telling to me to abort the mission and run back into hiding. I’ve noticed this determination to not give up. Perseverance to push through the storm. You can only put up with enough misery before you throw your hands up in the air and say that’s enough!!! Well THAT’S ENOUGH!!!

I can have my dreams and live a happy life. I deserve, everyone does. My goal is to live life fueled by my passion and live it through my dreams. I know the pain I’ve endured was not in vain there was purpose for it. I hope to be able to use my art and creativity to inspire and touch those who have been in my shoes. Those who feel lost, down and out…. who feel they’ve been left behind and forgotten.

My biggest challenge will be breaking the pattern that I deserved the pain and the actions that caused it. For too long I believed I was this hideous, unloveable monster. While I can’t say that I don’t see and feel that monster but I’m determined to shed that unwanted skin. I have and will always be a teddy bear. Someone who goes through life with an open heart, not afraid to be a big kid. Sure there are things I need to change in my life and most of it is just shedding away the negativity. There is a lot about me that I don’t need to change and that’s what’s deep within… my heart and soul… Those are gifts, not curses.

I believe the biggest thing that’s changed from last year is that I now I have hope for a better life something I didn’t have before my breakdown. I was drowning in my sorrow, pain and grief. Without hope I had no reason to live as all I could see was darkness. Hope has shined a light back into my life. I must continue to work on letting my own inner light shine.

Light is meant to shine, not hide in a box. Human’s are like flowers as they need sunshine and water to grow, without it they will surely wither away to nothing. I had convinced myself for years that I was a just a weed but now that I’ve brought back water and light into my life I realize that I’m a flower. Now I just need a space to grow and blossom into the rose I was meant to be.

The Voices Inside My Head

So I woke up this morning feeling funny/off. Full of negativity. It’s probably cause I had a realization last night about wanting to move on from my current situation. Anytime I have something positive happen to me it’s usually followed by a negative thought or feeling.

So I woke up feeling worthless. It’s funny how the voices inside your head will do anything they can to keep you down. They fight with all your might to keep you from what you deserve.

I’m in this transition where I still have these innate feelings to hide. It also probably doesn’t help that I’ve had little contact with people in the real world. Tonight I actually have plans to go see The Rocky Horror Picture Show in the theatre and there is a part of me that wants to tell my friends that I can’t go, even though I really want to go. The voices tell me to stay home, that it’s not worth getting out of my comfort zone.

I have to stop listening to these voices. So many times I’ve taken them as fact, when in reality all they are is fiction. Made up stories that I tell myself.

Yesterday I saw the picture below and it might as well have been me, for this is how I see myself… Not beautiful, certainly not sexy. Hideous is more of an accurate way to describe my body. Voices are like fire, the more you feed them with gasoline the more they spread and destroy. They start of as a whisper until they become a roar.

I’ve been at war with myself since my breakdown in May between my healthy and hurt self. The hurt part of me wants to stay in the comfort zone while the healthy side of me wants to move on. The harder I pull the more resistance I get. I guess I just have to let it be. It’s like when you are drowning, the more you thrash around in panic the quicker you’ll sink to the bottom.

I can’t let these voices win, nor give them a stage. Positive reinforcements via repetition will be the key to overcoming these voices. Replacing them with good voices. Saying to myself these voices are not real, nor do I have to listen to them.

My voices are not my reality. Just because I feel I’m ugly doesn’t make it true and that’s just one example. I’ve built my life upon these lies. I’ve tolerated less because I thought that’s all I deserved. I let these voices control me because I believed them, like a child whose abused.

Some people don’t understand how growing up feeling less can impact you as an adult, even I am just getting to the point where I do. I didn’t just turn into this person who hated himself, I grew into this person. I’ve held onto every bad thing everybody has ever said to me and that negativity has ate me alive.

You can have a million people tell you that you are worthy but all it takes is one person to tear you down. As a child that’s all you know. God is a parent in the eyes of a child and when one of them puts you down constantly you think that’s reality. While my Mother gave me love, my father gave me fear. It’s was like a form of brainwashing.

It goes back to if my father didn’t love me, that must mean I am unworthy of his love and if I don’t deserve my fathers love then I’m unlovable. Certainly my love life has mirrored and reinforced those fears. I’ve been blinded by what other’s fears, insecurities and flaws, to the point where they became my own. As a child I had no way to know that my father’s inability to love me had nothing to do with me and everything to do with him. The same goes with anyone in my life who has hurt me deeply.

I have to remind myself that I am no longer that child trapped in that house of lies.

I can build my own house built on the foundation of love. A place that I can call home.

I must realize that I have my own voice and these other voices don’t belong inside of me anymore. I am no longer a child anymore, no longer defenseless. I have the ability to speak up and say NO, even if I have to scream at the top of my lungs!!!

I must do whatever it takes to drown out other people’s voices, stop allowing them to rent out space in my brain. Stop believing and caring about what other people think, feel and believe about me. I mean who gives a fuck, right? So what if someone think’s I’m fat or ugly, that doesn’t make it true. Some people do a great job of projecting their fears and insecurities onto other people. It’s easier to put someone down, than to feel it yourself.

Well I’ve had it, no more. I’m worthy of love. I’m beautiful. I will continue to say these things until they sink in. I’m worthy of love and I’m beautiful. So are you!

I’m worthy… and it’s eviction day for anyone that thinks otherwise. Voices be gone!

 

Ready…

I’m ready for a new start… something different. I’ve been hiding for a long time. It didn’t just start when my Mom died last year, I’ve been doing it for as long as I have known and it’s gotten old…

I’ve put up with a lot in my life and tolerated less in my life. I have had enough and can’t keep tolerating less for myself. Expecting that everyone will let me down and then allowing those feelings from taking risks and putting myself out there. It’s a fact of life that people will let you down, they will hurt you and nothing you can do or say will ever stop that. If you put people up on that pedestal they will always fall.

A long time ago I put other people as my center and no wonder I crumble every time I am hurt!!!

Either way I am harmed. At least when I am out in the world I am enjoying life but staying in this cave just brings me more misery. I think I continue to hide as a way to punish myself. I think the only way I could rationalize certain things happening to me, like the sexual abuse, is that I deserved it. Like why would God let something like this happen to me and the only way I could rationalize it away was that I deserved it.

So I have lived most of my life feeling like I deserved the bad things that happened to me to the point when good things would come into my life I would go running away like I was on fire.

I’ve lived life like a victim.

Now I feel like I have nothing left to lose. I’m ready to move on from the past and all the bad feelings that go along with it. The biggest lesson has been that I deserve a lot more than what I have lived. I’ve allowed other people to hold me back. No one else but me did that. It was me and it will be me who allows wonderfulness back into my life.

Losing my beautiful Mother in a way was a wake up call for me. At first again I thought God was punishing me by taking the one good thing in my life but I realize now it was my Mother’s greatest gift for me. She always saw the best in me, even when I felt the worst.

I’ve realized that I don’t need my Mama to hold me up anymore because I am strong enough to do it on my own. No one can tear me down any longer and I can do whatever I desire… to my heart’s content!

There’s so much I want to do, so much I’ve wanted to do and I’ve realized I can do it all and then some. I just have to let the energy flow and allow the wind to blow me where ever I’m meant to go.

So I have to be patient and understand that everything is a process and getting out of this cave will take some time. I just have to remember that I’m doing what it takes to get out of this darkness once again and hope that the next time I feel like hiding I will fight with all my might to not allow the darkness to pull me under, once again…