It’s a little after 11 pm. I’ve been awake since my ex texted me at 7:45 this morning because he was running late getting our daughter to school from his side of town. More about that sitch later, maybe. Or not. We’ll just have to wait and see how it goes.
Anyway, despite the grammar nazi, perfectionistic, wordsmith I tend to be, this post is just going to be me emptying my brain, so that, maybe, hopefully, oh LORD PLEASE, I’ll actually get some restful sleep tonight. So, editing will not be a priority – at all. With that in mind, I’m just going to start typing. Then you, dear readers, may get a small glimpse of what it’s like to live with my brain. Here goes everything!
I’m totally exhausted, but, it’s not as much of the bad kind of exhausted as it usually tends to be. No, this exhaustion is from actually being productive and accomplishing a whole bunch of things in the past 36 hours. Hmmm. Probably a clue that the bipolar is cycling a wee bit.
I just spent about four days in bed, hibernating alone in my bedroom, caved in with the depression. I binge ate bad for me foods. No, I mean BAD for me! I’m supposed to be working on changing my healthstyle, starting with nutrition because I tripped back over the A1C line into Type II Diabetes, again inside of a year and a half. Also, the thyroid hormones are out of whack. Plus, triggers. PTSD issues abound. Constantly dealing with conflicted relationships with my son, my oldest daughter, and the father of my youngest daughter, not to mention trying to be a functional, semi-decent mom to my youngest, during the time of year when the most significant life events from my past, which contributed to the PTSD in the first place, is a bitch. Factor in that the time change means night falls by 5 pm, it’s getting colder and wetter, as well as darker and it’s only going to grow from here until Winter Solstce, I guess I should just be thankful I’m still functional enough to string more than two words together. Actually, there were moments today.
Yesterday, everything just rose up into my conscious awarenes, all at once, and my eyes just started leaking, of their own accord, intermittently throughout the day, despite my opposing will.
Between my son’s 29th birthday last week, the tensions of sharing a tiny, 2 bedroom apartment with my 22 year old daughter, her 22 year old boyfriend, and their two babies (20 mos and 8 mos), and ongoing codependent conflict between me and my ex, it’s actually a God-given miracle that they haven’t come to take me away . . . yet.
I just found that video. I’m not typically a fan of what I would consider to be thrash metal music, but, I just couldn’t stop smiling throughout watching this video. While my situation isn’t about my insanity being triggered by my lover leaving me, (actually, the opposite) I could definitely relate to these ladies. As a matter of fact, I think I’m still smiling because this is one of the layers of me, underneath the weighty masks I wear on the daily.
Here’s the version I was originally looking for:
Anyhooo . . . where was I? Oh, yeah. Depression sucks! Big, green ones.
Then Paris, ISIS, us vs. them, Christian Libs vs Christian Reps, Christians vs Muslims, Anti-Religionists vs True Believers, Homeless Vets vs Syrian Refugees, and, let’s not forget the four stooges: Donald, Ben, Bernie, & Hilary. Xenophobia, Sexism, Racism, Classism . . . ism after ism.
A friend of mine is a Child & Family Therapist, who does a lot of work with families from domestic violence and traumatic abuse situations. Recently, she’s had to take a step back and do some serious self-care because her work was affecting her own mental health. It’s considered secondary trauma or “Vicarious Traumatization,” from working with trauma survivors and hearing them recount, relive really, the trauma and abuse they’ve experienced. Read more about it here.
I mention this because, in some ways, I think, with the internet; 157 different news media outlets repeatedly reporting on violence, trauma, and terrorism, 24/7; 15,000 Op Ed blog posts responding to these reports; politicization of these traumatic events; and the ensuing propagandizing to appeal to the most basic and motivating of human emotions: fear. This fear is directed to trip the faulty wiring attached to the largest thinking error we post-modern, pre-apocolyptic, first world denizens inherently embody: entitlement. Our social media lives set us up for vicarious trauma. We’re even less equipped to cope than trained mental health professionals.
Speaking of social media . . . a new FB acquaintance of mine posted something today that cut right to the heart of this.
Where was I going with all of this? Sorry, I got distracted by the compulsive need to edit. *sigh*
That’s right, the exposition beneath my relatively rapid cycling of depression and hypomania with a large, unhealthy dose of PTSD triggered anxiety.
My primary trauma is being triggered by ongoing trauma and iced over by vicarious trauma.
I was compulsively binging on FB notifications and posts. Seeing the conflicting sides and opinions of current events posted by people I’m in relationship with who are in conflict with me and one another. Despite the fact that I kind of, really, owe my current level of growth, healing, and functionality to WordPress and Facebook, I was drowning, suffocating, and frantically fighting against going under because I couldn’t take my eyes off the notifications and news feeds.
I reactivated a former FB profile with the psuedonym I used when establishing this blog, three years ago.
I reached out to a limited number of people from my primary profile, who I feel the safest witheplained what I was doing and why, before just sending them a friend request from some random chick. Everyone responded favorably.
ok. the brain dump worked, nodding off at the keyboard.
12:38 am, goodnight. . . zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz