I Don’t Know What to Call It

Disclaimer: If you are reading this and you are a family member of mine you may find this topic and story upsetting or uncomfortable. You may want to skip this post.

I like how WordPress prompts you to share your story…but sometimes I’m not sure I have a story. I often feel empty of words when I want nothing more than to share. But right now, I have a story to tell and share with you.

I was 14 years old…only 14. Do you remember 14? I remember it pretty clearly, which is impressive to me because my memory can be cloudy at times. It was summertime, sometime around the 4th of July. In fact, it may very well have been the 4th of July. Hence the reason I have never liked the 4th of July, until the last two years. I’m so grateful I have new and wonderful 4th of July memories now. 

At that young age of 14 and on that night I was drinking alcohol and spending my free time (which I had plenty of) with some girls who lived with very little supervision and drank more alcohol than any 14-15 year old should ever drink. Little did I know how those first summer nights of drinking would lead me down a path of torturous regret for the next 20-25 years. (I don’t feel like doing math right now, so we’re just guesstimating here about the time spent with alcohol wreaking havoc on my life.)

I grew up with a sense of anxiety in my belly. I’m not sure exactly when it started but I’m guessing sometime around the time my parents divorced at age 6. I battled for a sense of fitting in, for belonging, from such an early age. I believe with my heart and with all of my genetic predispositions that this anxiety and emptiness made me the perfect candidate to become one of alcohol’s many victims. It perforated my blood and brain matter leaving me mostly defenseless against the conniving snake, alcohol. Like an open wound begging for a bacterial infection, I was of particular vulnerability.

As young girls with our own personal struggles in our hearts and souls we found the attention of older “boys” particularly attractive and they found us attractive, too. Not to mention they had a Jeep! What teenage girl didn’t think a tan boy with a Jeep was attractive in the early 90’s? One in particular found me to be of special interest or perhaps it was more like an animal finding easy prey, I’m not sure. His name was Jack, not really, but that’s what I’ll call him here. I don’t know anyone named Jack, so that sounds good.

I remember little but a few things stand out from that night. Beer, an endless supply of beer, a sandy beach by a lake, fireworks and strangers everywhere. I felt lost. I remember feeling lost. Then, later,  a dark dining room floor…carpet, confusion, pain and helplessness and that boy/man, 21-23 year old Jack. But most of all, more than anything, I remember shame. 

  

A shame that wouldn’t leave, for years upon years, because it became layered with more shame and regret, and incidents and a variety of abuses (both self-inflicted and not) piled on top of one another.

I don’t know what to call that night. My first time? A nightmare? A bad memory? Or was it something more…was it rape? I still don’t know what to call it 25 years later. 

Later that same summer I experienced an event easily identifiable as date rape. I remember scenes from that night as well…like a movie (gratefully not a full length feature) playing in my mind. A montage of feelings, smells, and images that have haunted me since. 

I don’t know what to call this, me writing these memories out, but I know that too many women and men have experienced dark moments like mine and have not been able to share. I know too many sit in silence. I know we human beings need or want to know that we’re forgiven, EVEN if it’s not our fault. 

I’m grateful now that I know I’m forgiven. God’s grace covers me and fills me. I no longer have to sit in that slimy dark pit of shame. I’m free.

But I wonder how many don’t feel free. I wonder how many teenagers have experienced something like this already this summer and last summer and the ones before who are stuck in despair.

Maybe one of them will read this somehow and just know that they aren’t alone. Maybe they will talk to someone. Maybe they will find freedom much sooner than I did.

Find Your Spark

Spark

Click on the word “Spark” above.

This is one of the most beautiful videos I’ve seen.

Find your spark. Light it up. Shine. Glow. Live in the moment. Be you. Give yourself grace. Darkness will again be light.

Moving Through the Moments

I have had the most tear-filled weekend this weekend that I can recall experiencing for months. It’s not a secret to some who are close to me that I can be sensitive and emotional, but tears don’t surface for me all that easily, usually. In the midst of one of the most blessed times I have ever experienced in my life I am also facing some of the hardest challenges internally and circumstantially that I have faced in a long time. It’s odd to be in the face of a miracle and abundant gifts and at the same time to experience issues that literally bring you to your knees.

So with that background, I am here to tell you about what I am learning about moments of great pain and unrest. These moments of intense internal or emotional pain may seem to appear as if they come out of nowhere at times and sometimes it truly is like receiving a hard slap in the back that just plain knocks the wind out of you. It can be deep and sudden and when it comes and hits hard, it truly feels like it may just be the end of you. In that moment, when you are stricken with intense grief or sadness or a feeling of hopelessness, it feels as if there is nothing else besides that pain. It feels infinite and it feels too deep a wound to close up. The feelings are so intense that you may begin to wonder, can I possibly move past this pain? If it’s been a while since you have felt a pang of pain like this then you might not relate, but if you have, you know exactly what I am talking about. I know I am not alone.

Today, I just happened to experience it. I was overwhelmed very suddenly and I had to go into my bedroom and close my door and literally drop to my knees. I dropped and began to sob.  In those moments I felt that the pain I was experiencing was unbearable, that it would not get better, that there was no light.

Despite those horrible moments, here is what I learned today and other times that emotional pain has felt unbearable… it truly does pass. It does. It passes. The pain won’t necessarily be completely gone because there is likely a very real issue or challenge to deal with, but the intensity and severity will lighten and ease up. It will pass. There will be relief.

There are a couple of things that I have found can help to speed the process up of moving past the moment and I think these are even doable in the midst of all the pain.

1) Cry for a bit. You have to get it out, it’s good for you. What isn’t good is stuffing it back in because then it comes out in a lot more unattractive ways than even your “ugly” cry. (And yes, we all have what we might refer to as our ugly cry face when the crying gets real “good.”)

2) Tell someone. (Preferably not your children because they will jut get upset, too.) But seriously, tell someone. Even if you text them, let someone know that you are hurting. And if you are lucky, you will connect with them via phone or in person and then you really will feel an immediate relief. When we connect our burdens are lightened. It’s kind of a beautiful thing. And, if things are super rough, call a hotline. Which I know is hard to do, but if you can’t reach anyone and you might be at the brink just call someone like the folks at Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK.

3) Pray. Lift it up and look up, especially if you are down on your knees anyway or maybe like me, you start on your  knees and end up laying in the middle of the floor with your mascara all over the place. Looking up to God is easier from that vantage point. And, it helps to cry out to Him. It helps to tell Him how you are feeling. You may not get an immediate answer, but I have no doubt our prayers are heard.

I know this now, after having gone through many seemingly unbearable moments, that the most intense part does pass. Once that part passes we can move on to how we handle the problems or challenges that we need to face or we can just take some deep breaths and calmly enjoy the rest of our evening as best as we possibly can. Either way, please know this… the moment will pass.

Stay With Me

I must admit life feels lonely these days. There are moments when the silence and wonder of it all is perfectly peaceful and there are times when it is downright painful. I realize more and more just how much I like companionship. My children are fabulous and most wonderful adventurers in life, but you know, adult companionship just provides an extra level of engagement.

It’s interesting to look back over the years, the times when social anxiety and depression were at its worst and how isolated I would become. Sometimes it wasn’t even completely apparent on the outside, but inside I would be retracted, pulled inside my own mind and gut. On the outside I would smile, on the inside I was a tear-stained face. I became afraid to go to class in college. I didn’t even want to order a pizza on the phone. I grew to be almost afraid of the mall, and I love shopping! (Now I dislike the mall for entirely different reasons… can we ban all aggressive and over-bearing shopping mall kiosk sales people, please?)

I have always been better in one-on-one settings than in groups. It is part of my personality and who I am, but I see how I have improved at socializing and enjoy it more, perhaps again, or perhaps for the first time. It was not unusual for me to completely duck out of social engagements that involved large groups of people in years past, but for the last couple, there is more of an excitement (rather than the previous dread) that surrounds the idea of a social event. I have observed myself branch out in ways that I once never imagined I would be able to do, much less enjoy. It is a significant marker of better emotional health and confidence, it is a sure sign that I have grown and feel better. I embrace this and marvel at it in moments, because the change feels quite dramatic at times.

So, here I am, ready and willing to be more social, but lacking the companionship that would make life so much richer. It can be a by-product of depression, anxiety and the like, to have fewer friendships. I am certain that I have missed out on some connections in years past because of this. The friends I do have are exceptional and truly treasured, but at times my circle feels small. As my world online has expanded exponentially, it’s still challenging to form a new off-line social community for myself when I am a “thirty-something” adult with children, especially since I don’t have a babysitter!

So, the raw truth is that I’m lonely. I am facing new challenges, holding on to hope and looking forward to good things ahead. I am staying strong (most days!) and doing my very best to be the healthiest I can be, but I crave companionship. I admit it. Does that make me a weak woman in the midst of these circumstances? I don’t think so, I think it makes me human and honest.

One of the greatest gifts in life is to know that when you are most afraid or most uncertain you have someone to reach out to, someone who might grab your hand and pull you in for hug. I am so grateful for the handful of people in my life that I can call up late at night if needed;  their gift of friendship, love and support is absolutely priceless. Those friends and family, support online and off, are most treasured to me, so if you’re reading this, please know it.

If you are lonely or need a friend, don’t hesitate to send me a message on Twitter or leave a comment here, and as soon as I am able I will make sure to let you know that you are not alone in this world. Some of the worst moments in my life have been eased and made bearable because of reaching out to a friend online and letting them know that I just need the comfort of knowing I’m not alone. We have to reach out and let others know, it’s the only way to get the comfort that we need.

If you have happened to come here reading, I ask that you stay with me if you’re able. Leave a comment, share your thoughts on experiencing loneliness in times of crisis or in day-to-day life. Have you suffered from the loneliness and isolation that comes from depression or living with chronic illness? If so, how have you coped with it and what eased the ache for you? If you, like me, have come a long way from where you once were, share that with me too. I like to rejoice with others about their triumphs. I am certainly happy to celebrate my little victories and happy to celebrate yours too!

A song that I have come to love recently is called ” Just Breathe” by Pearl Jam. I thought I would share the lyrics and the song with you. Within the lyrics you will find “stay with me” repeated a couple of times as well as the reminder to just breathe. Sometimes that is all we can do, sometimes we have to be reminded to do it! (You know what I mean if you have ever been there.)

Just Breathe

Yes I understand that every life must end, aw huh
As we sit alone, I know someday we must go, aw huh
I’m a lucky man to count on both hands
The ones I love
Some folks just have one,
Others they got none, aw huh
Stay with me
Let’s just breathe.
Practiced are my sins,
Never gonna let me win, aw huh
Under everything, just another human being, aw huh
Yeh, I don’t wanna hurt, there’s so much in this world
To make me bleed.
Stay with me
You’re all I see.
Did I say that I need you?
Did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn’t now I’m a fool you see
No one knows this more than me
As I come clean
I wonder everyday
as I look upon your face, aw huh
Everything you gave
And nothing you would take, aw huh
Nothing you would take
Everything you gave
Did I say that I need you?
Oh, Did I say that I want you?
Oh, if I didn’t now I’m a fool you see
No one know this more than me.
As I come clean
Nothing you would take everything you gave.
Hold me till I die
Meet you on the other side

Related articles

• How the Diagnosis of Social Anxiety has changed my life! (bubbajames.wordpress.com)
• How to Handle Loneliness (everydayhealth.com)
• Social Anxiety and Bipolar Disorder (everydayhealth.com)

Am I Oversharing? That’s Okay.

A huge part of who I am and what I write about involves divulging some pretty personal stuff. I’m certain there are people who have read this blog before and thought, “I can’t believe she just told that to the whole online world!” Believe me, there are times I think that too.

I often reflect on this and have to remind myself why I do it.

If telling you about the mental anguish I have experienced or am experiencing makes you uncomfortable, that’s okay. If explaining to you that I have experienced sexual assault makes you feel weird or nervous for me, that’s okay too. You may not like to read that I have been so depressed before that I attempted suicide and guess what, I don’t like it either. It may be really unpleasant to hear about the pain I have endured, you may even think I’m whining. And that is totally okay, too.

For every story I tell, there are thousands of others that are far worse than mine. There are people who have endured and experienced pains like none I can imagine. But there are also people who know experiences much like the ones I have had or are experiencing a trauma or a dark depression for the first time in their life; they may find comfort in what I have to say. Someone may have just received a diagnosis of fibromyalgia and need to know that it can be very hard, but they can live life with it. There are people who know what it is like to live with fibromyalgia and chronic pain who help me by responding to my posts about living with this illness. There are people who stand up and say, we are not alone, all because I share. There are people who just feel comforted, as do I, to know that another person gets what it is like to face the challenges of anxiety, depression, PTSD, self-injury, etc. and for them I write. Even for those who have endured much worse, I write. I write to let them know that they have my support if they choose to speak out. I want them to know that I believe in them and that they can find healing.

Sometimes I ask myself… am I over-sharing? Did you really need to know that I was molested when I was 7 years old by an elderly man? Nope. You may not need to know that, but by putting that out here, maybe, just maybe, someone will say, “Me too, and it really changed me. It really had an effect on me that I can acknowledge now.” Who knows?

For all of these reasons and more I continue to spill it here for you… and for me. It is the best salve for my wounds. It helps me to know I am not alone, it helps me to know that if I can say it out loud then I can move through it and on to the good things in life. If I can share my struggles with you, then I can face them and I can choose to live free of them. Perhaps this is the greatest reason I write, after all, not that many people read this blog!

So it’s okay. It’s okay to over-share. Feel free to join me, there is no judgment here.