Beautiful Disaster

For over 10 years I have been actively in therapy, and under the supervision of my entire medical care team, I have tried a multitude of different drugs targeted to mental health and wellness. I've battled multiple diagnoses, some of which I never really agreed with. About 6-8 months ago, I started researching experimental treatments and even approached my care team about utilizing such options. As it always seems to go, they were reluctant and just wanted to prescribe yet another drug, take another class, participate in another string of group support sessions, or try a different form of another type of traditional therapy.

To say this journey has been exhausting is an understatement. To say that I'm not on the verge of giving up is a complete lie.

I went through the motions of advocating for myself and ultimately decided that I was going to move forward with alternative treatment. I detoxed off all the medications and set myself up to try micro-dosing psilocybin. Unfortunately, like many things in life, shit happens and the purchase of getting said treatments kept getting pushed off. I barely make it, financially speaking, and it is extremely difficult to afford such product when I don't have insurance to cover the majority of the cost.

This last few months have been very difficult for me, not being medicated was eye-opening to say the least. During this time, I've had many significant changes, and handling said change has proved to me that regardless of the type of treatment, there is a great need to be "medicated" in my life.

That said, I still don't believe the plethora of medications that I have tried thus far has truly helped. Sure, maybe the rollercoaster of emotions was manageable, or at least it seemed that way to those around me. Sure, popping pills led to a state of me being comfortably numb, but that was just it. It was easier to mask and pretend great feelings of joy, of contentment, of happiness. But I didn't feel truly alive.

So back down the research rabbit hole I went. Treatment resistant depression is in fact a thing. Also, challenging one's diagnosis, that's a thing. Like really? That last bit was a huge shock, I had no idea. If I had known that sooner, I would have taken those steps ages ago, because then maybe I could have tried ketamine therapy, through my current provider, 2 fucking years ago when it initially crossed my internet feed. I mentioned it to my care team then and was strung along at first, before being ultimately told that there were certain diagnoses of mine that disallowed me from trying it.

Queue my current reality. I requested a change in care team months ago and specifically said I wanted to challenge my current list of mental illnesses. I had an appointment set up, and in the interim I have continued with my previous care team, for my check-ins, that addition of just one medication, for some sort of "stabilization", which has already been upped, and of course talk therapy.

Today I had the intake appointment with my new psychiatrist. It wasn't a super long appointment, just the standard procedure of the "transfer of care" but I was able to get two specific diagnoses taken off my chart which puts me back in the running for ketamine treatments. Also, I found out, that my previous care team had only been prescribing medications for these particular illnesses, with my C-PTSD and Depression being secondary thoughts. Meaning the drugs that have been prescribed over the course of these last 10 years weren't truly right for me. So, I'm back at the drawing board again. However, I will attempt one more time with pills, I will put in the amount of time necessary to get to the "max" dose and see it's effects and if it works, then great. If not, I will advocate harder for the ketamine treatments. To say the least, I'm cautiously hopeful. Just wish it didn't take as long.

Stay tuned next week my loves.

Why did I love him so much?

Better yet, why do I still? He was someone who hurt me so much- emotionally, financially, physically, sexually. Yet, to this day, even though he's is dead and I've seemingly "moved on," I can't help but still long for him.

Don't get me wrong. We had good times. Great times even. We had a connection, an attachment that was formed in building a life together, raising his kids, our kids, and a shared dream of dog training academies and culinary schools. Of a courthouse wedding, a tropical island honeymoon and a baby of our own.

But things change. I guess they really do mean that change is inevitable. It's not easy to just let go and walk away from a life you've built with someone, of dreams shared, regardless if whether they are abusive toward you or not.

Dear Hearts, you see, abuse doesn't typically happen right away in a relationship, and it always escalates with time as your partner who was once so thoughtful and charming becomes so destructive and controlling.

So I held on to those good times. I held on to those good qualities people saw, the qualities I fell in love with. I loved him for who he could be, for the person he was before addiction took over and ultimately ended his life. It's was so strange and confusing to love him as much as I did, as much as I still do. But I have to remind myself that it's not shameful to love someone for the potential that you see. For the wishes that could have been.

I knew him. I really did. We grew into better versions of ourselves together, if only for a bit. His soul was so complex, and he had his own traumas and trials, and for a while, we slayed our demons together. But I have to remind myself that the drugs used to cope with his mental illness was no excuse for him to do the things he did. The abuse was a choice he made. The truth is, even though I loved him fiercely, my love couldn't save him. I couldn't save him. I couldn't "fix" him.

And that's the crux of it Dear Hearts. I've always been a "fixer." Actually better said: I've always had a nurturing heart and matching personality, which is perhaps my greatest flaw. There is a genuine "feel good" feeling from being able to help and make a positive impact on others. My empathetic nature will just take over when I see someone struggling and I know I can make a difference. This is doubly so when it's someone I'm committed to.

But in today's self reflection, I can also see how my nurturing nature is also my greatest curse.

See, I have a need for control. My own thoughts are so unruly and my emotions run wild through my veins, so the opportunity to "fix" others offers a sense of purpose, security, and yes, even power.

I also have terribly low self esteem. My need to "fix" others is a way that makes me feel valuable and important; And yes, it is a way to avoid focusing on my own insecurities.

Also, I think I am attracted to the vulnerability of it all. I have a history with broken men, this has shaped my view on relationships and intimacy. So when their struggles resonate with my own, I see an opportunity to help, which is often to my own detriment.

So how do I turn this curse of mine into a blessing my loves?

Well, I'm continuing to seek professional help. I am learning to establish healthy boundaries and I will continue with these self reflections.

Stay tuned for next week, my Dear Hearts.

Not the regular two seconds hug.

The warm comfort kinda hug.

The body crushing, "I see you," kind of hug.

The type that leaves you feeling a ten times lighter than your actual weight.

The type that makes you forget about all your traumas for a split second, and the bruises in your heart.

The kind that whispers "it's alright, I'm here, I understand and I'm not letting go."

I love you- not because I expect you to return, but because true love is not bound by conditions or the present moment. I love you for what we shared: the laughter, the conversations, and the silences that spoke volumes. Here's to the person I was when I was with you and everything I learned by your side.

Though life moves forward, leading down paths that may never cross with yours again, there will always be a place in my hear that belongs to you. No regrets- only gratitude for having know you, for having loved you, and for realizing that even though you are gone that love will always be a part of who I am."

"When life breaks you, it is because you are ready to be put back together differently. Every piece of you that feels shattered is a piece that will find a new place, a new purpose, a new meaning. Trust that the cracks are where the light gets in. And sometimes, in our brokenness, we find our greatest wholeness. We find the courage to rebuild, to reimagine, to redefine what it means to be strong. You are not broken; you are breaking through."

Maybe I'm not meant to be anyone's favorite.

I'm not ones first choice. I'm no one's favorite. People say I mean a lot to them, but I know they're just saying that to make me feel better in the moment. They will say I am special, but I know they would pick some else over me- they always do. Some pretend to care because they don't want to feel bad for themselves.

I seem to exist to fill empty spaces. I get ignored often, like my presence isn't all that important. They only keep me around when it's convenient for them.

I have thought and felt, then felt and thought some more. Now I just smile and feel. It is now over a month since I saw you last….my love for you has never wained or faltered….in many ways it grows more pure, stronger, deeper….it brings many things but most of all it brings me inner peace. Yes, even amongst the chaos and grief.

I read the following passage somewhere. I know once I may have been this woman, but it is no longer me-

“What a beautiful story we could be. Me standing faithfully by your side, dedicated to you and wanting nothing but your company. Patiently waiting for you to find your way, knowing you would find your way back to me. But I am a weaker woman than that.”

And "we" are no longer together.

But I want you to know- I am stronger than that woman, my love for you is stronger than this. Let me explain.

I understand her wanting, her longing, her needing….I feel those things too, I feel them for you, but I don’t understand her love. Love for me is the strongest feeling and emotion, and so those other feelings pale into insignificance. I don’t have to be with you to feel the love, or for the love I feel to be strong, faithful, deeply soulful, pure, exotic or even erotic….or any of the other amazing feelings my love for you brings. My love for you is inside o me….I cannot be made to love you nor anyone else. Our love for other people comes from within ourselves, it is our own feelings, not someone else’s. If they happen to feel something similar at the same time, that is wonderful for all. 

I have heard several times that we must love ourselves before we can love others. I once believed this to be true, this is no longer the case. I now believe we have to love others before we can love ourselves.

For me this is a truth of faith….and it is spiritual. The truth is this applies not just to you, my love, but to everyone I love truly. To find true love we should run bare foot naked through the flames of our own making. 

You have to be stubborn when you are depressed. You have to be like "no fuck you, I'm staying alive."

And now you can only love them in silence, from a distance.