Confusion, feels, and general badassery

So I recently finished reading Codependent No More which was a homework book assigned by my therapist, M. At first I was all, "um, totally not codependent dude." He insisted. He told me I was stable enough to handle it. Stable enough to handle a book? He also told me not to read it on a day I was feeling vulnerable. Okay . . . .

I read it. His warning was accurate. It was difficult. Had I read it earlier, when my bipolar wasn't under control . . . I shudder to think what would have happened. This book . . .

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

The confusion, anger, feelings, pain and grief  that flooded me. I can't even comprehend, I don't even know . . . It's bad. It's all bad. The feels . . . good God the feels. M, what the fuck.

See, I've spent my entire LIFE suppressing this. All of this. All of this anger and pain and hurt and confusion. All of these God dammed FEELS. Suppressed. Boxed up. Hidden away in the darkest recess of my mind. Ignored.

Except . . . except they weren't totally gone. Not really. Because of my interactions with my mom. Because of my learned behaviors from my upbringing. And recently, M has been poking and prodding. He's the one who described me as ACOA, had me educate myself, stirred the beast from its slumber. He open the proverbial can of worms and these worms are ugly mother fuckers.

Everything I'm feeling right now, everything I'm desperately trying to hold in, shut up, suppress . . . it's leaking out. It can't come out. It can't. No.

But I fucking need it to come out. It has to. I'll never get better, never be truly recovered if it doesn't come out. And it terrifies me. I don't know what to do, where to start, how to deal. The anger . . . the anger I'm feeling right now. At my mom, my dad, myself. At the world. At how unfair everything is. At how, had I known this shit earlier, I could have saved myself some heartache.

Then there's the guilt, the shame. The pain, the grief. Loss. The origins of my unhealthy behaviors, habits, thoughts - all apparent. But still, denial. It's confusing.

This is shit I need to work through, and it's going to be hard. So hard. I'm scared and confused. I'm trying to hold everything in still. Honestly, I'm trying not to explode until I see M on Tuesday. I need guidance and support. This is a ton of ugly worms to sort through. From my earliest memory of my mom's alcoholism (age 6) to now (I'm 35) . . . 29 years of repressed emotion and anger and pain.

What have you gotten yourself into, M? Hopefully you fish because you now have a fuckton of bait.

Just a quickie.

No, not that kind. Get your head outta the gutter.

I've had lots on my mind lately. Trying to sort out my anger issues as of late, the feeling of almost being in tears most of the time, feeling overwhelmed with everything. It's frustrating, it's annoying. I'm also wrestling with knowing that I'm having another ACOA talk in therapy next week. I need to. I need to get through this and move on but holy FUCK is it gonna suck. I'll be writing more on this, at some point, just not now. Gotta sort it out still.

Right now I'm actually writing for a mini vent. See, J is in kinda a foul mood. Just an off day for him. Everyone has them (I swear the whole last year and a half has been nothing but off days for me). He's been working hard, doing stuff around the house and I get it.

But my problem is that I let the moods of other people influence my mood and bring me down. First, with J especially, I think it's my fault. He tells me it's not, just an off day. But won't elaborate. Then, for some unknown reason, the fact that he's down makes me resentful, then annoyed, and then down myself. Then I withdraw and want to be alone.

Which is where I am now. I didn't really have a breakfast (coffee, yogurt, handful of chocolate covered pretzels), didn't eat lunch (well, a slice of cheese), and I don't want to eat dinner. I don't care. I don't care if I eat or not. I get like this when I feel like this. Fuck you food!! *holds middle fingers out triumphantly*

So I took a break and ate a banana. Go me. My jaw is bugging me. It keeps popping. Fuck you jaw. My dentist said physical therapy is next step. Yay.

Stupid mood and stupid jaw.

Hey look! It's Tuesday!

Thank you, Captain Obvious.

I had therapy today, and I always seem to want to write when I have therapy. It makes me all intuitive and philosophical.

Or it just makes me want to get more shit out. I'm not philosophical - come on now.

Therapy today wasn't anywhere near as rough as it was last time (which was 2 weeks ago and was an ACOA talk). But I still feel horribly, emotionally drained. Like, I just need to sleep to escape all these feels.

Yes, I get Loki feels too. But those are different. Because Tom Hiddleston. 

I've been feeling a little more down and irritable lately. I have this sneaking suspicion it has a lot to do with not working with Mr. Chancy Pants anymore. I think I'll still be grieving off and on for awhile. And it's okay for me to grieve. I need to remember to give myself permission to do that. If I hold it in, well, that'll make it worse and will likely cause an emotional explosion. So where does that leave me?

(Yeah, Loki again.) It means I may actually be emotionally fragile sometimes (like I am right now), for seemingly no reason. I'm dealing with grief and loss while still trying to wade my way through managing the bipolar bit of my mood swings and all of the other emotional baggage and healing I've been working on. 

Sounds fun, yeah? Jealous?

Eventually, hopefully, I'll make sense of all of this and I'll push through and be me. And eventually, hopefully, I won't have to work so hard. 

My hubby and I are evil. Apparently.

It's true. We're evil heathens. Bad people who terrorize children and corrupt there minds.

Or at least that's what our neighbor would have you think.

See, Halloween is our holiday. My hubby, J, and I do Halloween like other people do Christmas. We go all out. Our yard is a month and a half long tribute to the macabre - cheesy and sometimes gory macabre. We have a graveyard with a gallows, skulls on spikes, a tree with eyeballs, and the Mystery Machine along with zombified Scooby and the gang. Our yard is pretty badass. Seriously.

Look:

See? Badass. This isn't even close to all the stuff we have. There's more. Lots more. And it will be up soon. Because awesome. J has made most of this. Probably 90%. And let's be honest - we're damn proud of our yard. We have people stopping all the time to take pictures. We have friends and neighbors telling their friends to come and see our display. 

But our neighbor across the street? Yeeeaaaaahhhhhhh, not so much. We'll call them R and his wife B. Now, R has never had an issue with the display. He's even complemented us on it. But B. . . that's another story. She's not a fan. 

She's also a bitch. No, really. A package for her was delivered to my house. So I did what anyone would do, I kept it. No. Joking. I took it over to her house, rang the doorbell so I could give it to her. You would have thought I was the devil incarnate coming to rouse her from her slumber. She was rude, unappreciative, and stared at me like I was an idiot. Fine. Next time I will keep your damn package!! 

So anyway, last night my doorbell rings. J was helping our son with some boy scout stuff at the table so I answered the door. There stands B, in tears. I was a bit dumb founded. It was butt ass cold and she asked if she could come in. Uh, suuuuure. She starts by waving her hands in front of her face (like she's fanning herself) because she's so "emotional" that she needs a moment to collect herself. She proceeds to describe how our yard is terrifying her children, that they can't even go outside, that they have nightmares every night and scream and have to sleep with her and R every night. She understands that we like Halloween or whatever, but if we could please take down the display or at least move it to the backyard because, from one mother to another, the terror needs to stop. 

Um, what? Wait, weren't your kids just playing outside 2 days ago? For hours? Without looking traumatized at all? Yeah, they were. I was good though. I was nice. I nodded where I thought I should nod and tried not to blurt out everything I was thinking (for example, she said her children scream that Scooby is going to eat them. My thought? Scooby just wants his Scooby snacks. It's not my fault those snacks happen to be the dismembered limbs of his victims). I told her that J and I would talk about it but not to expect anything. She thanked me, still crying and then hugged me. You don't just hug me. You don't. No. But I didn't cringe, I didn't shove her into the door repeatedly. 

J was listening the whole time and told me he was waiting for me to go off on her. I was proud I didn't! We talked about it, joked about it, posted it on facebook for all our friends to marvel over. And marvel they did! The consensus was that she should chill the fuck out.

Because here's the thing. Our yard? Really isn't scaring her kids. She doesn't agree with our display. She thinks it's vulgar and evil and bad. And that's what she's telling her kids. J talked to R today. He kept saying how B wants to keep the kids sheltered, how B doesn't want them to be exposed to something so bad. So J said, "so basically you guys are villainizing us and making your kids think that we're bad people." No! Of course not! Actually? You are. R made it known that this was all B - she doesn't approve. She even went to our other neighbors (ones that we know pretty well) and asked if they would approach us about it or would help her start a petition to have the display taken down. But, sadly for her, these neighbors like us and love our display. As do most people. 

So now, for them at least, we're the asshole neighbors. I'll be honest - I hope B approaches me again about this - because I won't be so nice this time. Especially after learning about the petition. And our display? Staying up. And hey - we still have a ton more to add!! And add we will!!

Bitter Sweet

Today was, most certainly, bitter sweet. The end of one chapter, the beginning of another. I could come up with more metaphors, but I won't. So, on to the good stuff!

Today was my last day working with Chance. I've been working with him (and J and N) weekly or bi-weekly since February. Seven months. I can't even believe it's been 7 months. I originally looked into equine therapy at the urging of my therapist, M. He knew of my love for horses and the dreams and thoughts I had been having of them at the time.

So I looked online and found the Pikes Peak Therapeutic Riding Center.

I believe I emailed first. I was set to call and speak with N to set up a meeting and then I was hospitalized. I met with her and J shortly after I was released and was introduced to the horses. I was drawn to Chance, or him to me (or both), and he became my boy.

I groomed, I learned how to lead, to have him follow me without the lead rope on, to take him over/through little obstacles, to drive, and to do basic ground work. I was learning horsemanship (I've ridden, but working with a horse is much different). But more than this, I was learning mindfulness. To be in the moment and experience it - truly experience it without worrying about anything else.

J and N encouraged me, listened to me, guided me. They pointed out how my emotions were almost mimicked through Chance at times. How he reacted differently based on my state of mind. If I was distracted and not in the moment, he wouldn't follow. How when I relaxed, or became more focused and present, he was more in tune with me, following me, chewing and licking. J and N drew similarities between different interactions/activities with Chance and what I was experiencing or working through. The three of them, in spite of my stubbornness, opened my eyes and my heart.

Through them, I found myself. I found myself. That's a powerful statement. The past year and 10 months has been the most difficult time of my life - I lost myself, I almost killed myself. And a horse and two amazing people helped me find myself again.

Which brings me to why today was so bitter sweet. I feel I'm at the point to move forward, to continue to grow. And even though this terrifies me (greatly), it's something I need to do. But this means not working with Chance one on one. Not having these bi-weekly meetings that I look forward to, not experiencing the connection and peace and happiness I get from being with him.

I'm staying on at PPTRC as a volunteer, working with disabled children and adults and the horses, and I'm very excited about that! It will be rewarding and fun and I like knowing that I can help, in some small way, someones else's recovery. And I'll still see Chance, and maybe even "play" with him every once in awhile. But it's not the same as working with him one on one, him and me, and there is a sense of loss with that.

And grief.

I am grieving this loss, and it's hard. As I knew it would be. My goodbye with him today was interesting and moving and wonderful and terrible. After I said my goodbyes, took off his halter and started to walk away, he followed and came close, as if he hadn't finished yet. And I wept, softly and silently.

I couldn't convey my deep appreciation to J and N - I would have lost it. Completely. So instead, I hugged them and kept my tears for the parking lot. And boy did I cry. I had to pull over the sobs were so uncontrolled. It was guttural, deep and ugly. It's how I cried when I lost my dad. It was a release of that grief and loss and was necessary. I've teared up several times since - I get a whiff of that wonderful "horse smell" on my clothes which always makes me feel calm and content and then I remember . . . and I tear up.

But the grief will pass, and I'll still be with horses and I'll still see Chance. It'll be different, but it will be good. Moving forward, finding me. And I know, for a fact, that these disabled kids and adults I'll be working with will have much to teach me as well.

Thank you, Chance. And thank you J and N. Thank you all for helping me find me again.

Kinda confused . . .

So, I'm annoyed. Which, let's be honest, has been a staple emotion for me lately. Among others. But this whole "positive-fake-it-till-you-make-it-stay-in-the-moment" shit is wearing me out.

Here's my problem:

I'm supposed to stay in the moment, right? Mindfulness? This is what I've been learning with Chance and have been really trying to practice. Not worrying about the future or past. Not dwelling on things. And really working on changing my manner of thinking.

Well, that's all well and good, except when my mood is down. When there's that hint of depression sinking in. Because alright, I'm down, I'm in the moment, I'm experiencing it, acknowledging it, not over thinking it and then move on. But my mood is still down. So I'm in the moment, experiencing, acknowledging, not over thinking and I move on. But my mood is still down. I'm sure you can see where this is going.

So I'm down, and I'm in the moment, so let's be positive! Let's think positive! Let's join a conversation, get up and move, write down things to be thankful for! But my mood is still down. Now, I'm supposed to be in the moment and experiencing my emotions as they're happening. So I'm doing good in that regard. Yep, I'm down. I get it. But I can't let myself stay down. Because that can start the downward spiral I'm desperately trying to avoid. And how long is too long to "stay in the moment" of that down mood? When should I worry?

You know what happens next? I get frustrated. Because I don't know the answer. So I try and stay in the moment and do positive things to get away from that down mood. Occasionally, that's worked. The past almost week and a half, it hasn't. So now I'm down, and frustrated, and I'm trying to stay in the moment while trying to change the moment and that's tiring. And confusing. And I beat myself up over it because I'm probably making this too hard and I can't seem to figure it out.

I know I'm more depressive by nature. I know this. I'm trying to change this. But this has been so GOD DAMNED HARD it's not even funny. Another frustrating thing? I feel like I'm overall doing better. That I've made strides. That slowly (very slowly) I'm getting there.

But J doesn't see that. He says that at times I'm a little more talkative. That's it. Which, me being me, I take as maybe I'm not doing as well as I thought. Which is a toxic thought. I try and ignore that, but it likes to fester in the back of my mind.

I guess I just hate that I seem to be going in circles like a hamster on its wheel, accomplishing nothing. I have to break this cycle and, quite frankly, I have no idea how.

I also think I'm in a mixed episode. That doesn't help.

Today is supposed to be different

I'm here at work and it's loud and annoying and I don't even know what my mood is doing today. Everyone here (the labor nurses) is talking about the stupid Obama Care and I kinda want to stab them all. Shut up. Just . . . shut up. Seriously. 

I'm everywhere bad today. I'm down, I'm frustrated, I'm annoyed and cranky and I feel like I'm going to lose it. I'm trying, really trying to fake it till I make it. I'm really trying to stay positive and ignore my feelings and surroundings. Today, it's hard. Today is a day I would spiral, a day that I could spiral. I'm trying not to. 

Which is why I'm writing right now. There are a few things I'm frustrated with at the moment but I can't even concentrate. I want to hide. I want to go home and sleep. Last week was shitty - this week isn't supposed to be. I'm trying. I will make it a good day. God willing.