Almost had it....almost
I had to take a moment away from removing the pins from my shoes. It has not been easy and that is just how it is. I started it at 1:30 this morning when Lora and Matt brought me home and could only manage to remove a few. As I work on it this morning, each pin brings the same thought - you failed, you knew you wouldn't make it and here is the proof.
I made myself get up this morning and go take a shower. I stood there under the hot water and looked at my hand, crosshatched razor cuts, over and over. My first thought was not compassionate, it was simply, "you could have done better, in the past you did better, you are even loosing your touch on hurting yourself." I was mad at myself, not for what I had done, yet because I didn't do it better.
As I stood there rubbing and scratching against the marks until they began to bleed again, a whole collection of negative thoughts and emotions traveled through my mind with the pain. Somewhere in there a voice of reason and compassion tried to get through, yet it was not the stronger of the two. "Do you feel ashamed, worthless, guilty, horrible, and disgusting yet??" as if it was not going to stop until my answer was a definitive "yes". Even that answer has not quieted things down.
I got dressed. Put on my white t-shirt. It's my "safe" shirt and I often wear it under my other shirts. Not sure what is so special about it other than it just makes me feel safe. Maybe it is the way it fits - it it just tight enough that it is not too small, yet does kind of hug you. It is a thicker shirt and is soft against my skin. It is something about the tactile response that calms me down a bit. The fact it came out of the dryer and was warm just added to it. I throw another shirt on over the top of it.
I picked up the can of antiseptic and sprayed it on my hand, I knew it would burn and it didn't fail. This is where a person in their right mind would start blowing on their hand to make the stinging stop and I just let it burn and cause me pain. Again with the thoughts, "think of everyone you have disappointed with your little stunt, you deserve to hurt, you lost your get out of jail free card for compassion." I think about the bottle of muscle relaxers in the car. I can make the voice stop too. I have more power than it, just dangerous power. I just take a deep breath.
I bandage up my hand then grab my gloves and cut the fingers out of them. I slip them on. So much easier to say "my hands are cold" than have to explain the bandage. I return to taking pins off my shoes.
It got loud again, so loud. I tried to sleep it off and each time I awoke it was not long before it came back. I should have called someone, I should have emailed someone, all the above. I didn't want to bother anyone. After Thursday, I felt like I had already pushed my boundaries of asking for help. As well, I figured if I kept reporting that I was ok, that I was better, then it would be true. It was at some point although as the day went on, I started slipping.
I don't know if the yelling and screaming was good or bad. As I laid on Lora's couch last night just about to fall asleep I had the thought, "it was just the kids playing and having a good time, that is all it was." I don't know if that was the truth or not or just something trying to make the irrational, rational. If it be the case, I really messed up. Essentially, after starting a good relationship with the kids, telling them they can come and go as they want, that they are safe, I pretty much stood up and told them shut the hell up and go away. I let them get close and comfortable and I bit. That just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.
I had a dream last night. In walked a strong guardian. Wings of hunter green and black, strong and majestic. Long flowing red hair and standing with a sense of confidence and valor. It was like I was standing behind them watching things. They were dressed in armor that was not overbearing, yet it was protective. I recognized the uniform very quickly, it is mine. It was me, it was my spirit. It was that piece inside of me that I often talk about being "who I was" and "who I will be again someday."
She gathered all the kids and told them everything was alright, there was no reason to be afraid, they were safe. They all gathered as if a big group hug with someone they had not seen for a long time. It was precious to watch. There was such love, compassion, and trust. They laughed and smiled, it was good. I may have ran them off, yet maybe I didn't hurt them after all. I could keep the ugliness, the hate, the disgust with me and away from them. No matter what happened to me, they were alright.
She motioned to me, there was no speaking yet it was understood as a "you too, come here." I was hesitant, I was the bad one. I was the one who keeps hurting myself, causing myself pain, afraid to turn to others. I am the one who betrays myself and convinces myself that others will be done with me, I will be alone. Again, I am motioned and I am invited.
I come up to have an arm placed around me. I am held tight and kissed on top of the head. I am told, "I love you and they love you." I lean in closer and she holds me closer. I am told, "I will take care of things now, yet you have to let me. You don't have to do this alone. You only have to trust me and let me."
And then the dream faded away.
At one brief moment of waking this morning, one of the kids were there by the tree. My guess around 8 years old with a smile of innocence and no worries. A simple message, "It's ok Blewy, I am still here, you will be ok." I was there, sitting in the grass with my knees pulled up to my chest and my arms holding them tight. I was leaning close and tight against the tree, drained emotionally, physically, and spiritually. They went off to play, I just stayed there, still afraid that if I moved, the darkness would find me again.
It's going to be a hard day. My hand throbs, my heart aches, that "pit in the bottom of your gut" feeling is well and strong. I am afraid, I am sad. I am heartbroken. I think about facing Chris and the disappointment gets fueled. The thoughts roll in, "after she took time for you Thursday, this is what you go and do?" I feel like a lost cause, a waste of time. A piece of me longs for the next email, even if is just a hug and a "keep taking care of you." I tell myself that the days of anticipating that rare "I am proud of you" email are long gone, and still some young voice in me says that if she answers, then she isn't mad at me.
A simple text last night to 35, I didn't make it, I am sorry. I tell her where I am and that I am safe. In a reply she tells me not to apologize, get rest and we will talk today. I haven't checked in with her yet today, I am afraid to.
My whole self is scared and unsure today. I hurt and I long for comfort. I long for some assurance that what happened last night, happened and it is over. That everything in the world is still ok, that everything in me is still ok. I will heal, please someone tell me that I will heal.
For now, I have pins to remove. 88.5, I almost made it. I really wanted to see 100. No, there is no next time. The pins don't start accumulating again. In a container they all go. Maybe down the line I will be able to celebrate how far I did make it, not how close I was to the finish when I faltered.
I made myself get up this morning and go take a shower. I stood there under the hot water and looked at my hand, crosshatched razor cuts, over and over. My first thought was not compassionate, it was simply, "you could have done better, in the past you did better, you are even loosing your touch on hurting yourself." I was mad at myself, not for what I had done, yet because I didn't do it better.
As I stood there rubbing and scratching against the marks until they began to bleed again, a whole collection of negative thoughts and emotions traveled through my mind with the pain. Somewhere in there a voice of reason and compassion tried to get through, yet it was not the stronger of the two. "Do you feel ashamed, worthless, guilty, horrible, and disgusting yet??" as if it was not going to stop until my answer was a definitive "yes". Even that answer has not quieted things down.
I got dressed. Put on my white t-shirt. It's my "safe" shirt and I often wear it under my other shirts. Not sure what is so special about it other than it just makes me feel safe. Maybe it is the way it fits - it it just tight enough that it is not too small, yet does kind of hug you. It is a thicker shirt and is soft against my skin. It is something about the tactile response that calms me down a bit. The fact it came out of the dryer and was warm just added to it. I throw another shirt on over the top of it.
I picked up the can of antiseptic and sprayed it on my hand, I knew it would burn and it didn't fail. This is where a person in their right mind would start blowing on their hand to make the stinging stop and I just let it burn and cause me pain. Again with the thoughts, "think of everyone you have disappointed with your little stunt, you deserve to hurt, you lost your get out of jail free card for compassion." I think about the bottle of muscle relaxers in the car. I can make the voice stop too. I have more power than it, just dangerous power. I just take a deep breath.
I bandage up my hand then grab my gloves and cut the fingers out of them. I slip them on. So much easier to say "my hands are cold" than have to explain the bandage. I return to taking pins off my shoes.
It got loud again, so loud. I tried to sleep it off and each time I awoke it was not long before it came back. I should have called someone, I should have emailed someone, all the above. I didn't want to bother anyone. After Thursday, I felt like I had already pushed my boundaries of asking for help. As well, I figured if I kept reporting that I was ok, that I was better, then it would be true. It was at some point although as the day went on, I started slipping.
I don't know if the yelling and screaming was good or bad. As I laid on Lora's couch last night just about to fall asleep I had the thought, "it was just the kids playing and having a good time, that is all it was." I don't know if that was the truth or not or just something trying to make the irrational, rational. If it be the case, I really messed up. Essentially, after starting a good relationship with the kids, telling them they can come and go as they want, that they are safe, I pretty much stood up and told them shut the hell up and go away. I let them get close and comfortable and I bit. That just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside.
I had a dream last night. In walked a strong guardian. Wings of hunter green and black, strong and majestic. Long flowing red hair and standing with a sense of confidence and valor. It was like I was standing behind them watching things. They were dressed in armor that was not overbearing, yet it was protective. I recognized the uniform very quickly, it is mine. It was me, it was my spirit. It was that piece inside of me that I often talk about being "who I was" and "who I will be again someday."
She gathered all the kids and told them everything was alright, there was no reason to be afraid, they were safe. They all gathered as if a big group hug with someone they had not seen for a long time. It was precious to watch. There was such love, compassion, and trust. They laughed and smiled, it was good. I may have ran them off, yet maybe I didn't hurt them after all. I could keep the ugliness, the hate, the disgust with me and away from them. No matter what happened to me, they were alright.
She motioned to me, there was no speaking yet it was understood as a "you too, come here." I was hesitant, I was the bad one. I was the one who keeps hurting myself, causing myself pain, afraid to turn to others. I am the one who betrays myself and convinces myself that others will be done with me, I will be alone. Again, I am motioned and I am invited.
I come up to have an arm placed around me. I am held tight and kissed on top of the head. I am told, "I love you and they love you." I lean in closer and she holds me closer. I am told, "I will take care of things now, yet you have to let me. You don't have to do this alone. You only have to trust me and let me."
And then the dream faded away.
At one brief moment of waking this morning, one of the kids were there by the tree. My guess around 8 years old with a smile of innocence and no worries. A simple message, "It's ok Blewy, I am still here, you will be ok." I was there, sitting in the grass with my knees pulled up to my chest and my arms holding them tight. I was leaning close and tight against the tree, drained emotionally, physically, and spiritually. They went off to play, I just stayed there, still afraid that if I moved, the darkness would find me again.
It's going to be a hard day. My hand throbs, my heart aches, that "pit in the bottom of your gut" feeling is well and strong. I am afraid, I am sad. I am heartbroken. I think about facing Chris and the disappointment gets fueled. The thoughts roll in, "after she took time for you Thursday, this is what you go and do?" I feel like a lost cause, a waste of time. A piece of me longs for the next email, even if is just a hug and a "keep taking care of you." I tell myself that the days of anticipating that rare "I am proud of you" email are long gone, and still some young voice in me says that if she answers, then she isn't mad at me.
A simple text last night to 35, I didn't make it, I am sorry. I tell her where I am and that I am safe. In a reply she tells me not to apologize, get rest and we will talk today. I haven't checked in with her yet today, I am afraid to.
My whole self is scared and unsure today. I hurt and I long for comfort. I long for some assurance that what happened last night, happened and it is over. That everything in the world is still ok, that everything in me is still ok. I will heal, please someone tell me that I will heal.
For now, I have pins to remove. 88.5, I almost made it. I really wanted to see 100. No, there is no next time. The pins don't start accumulating again. In a container they all go. Maybe down the line I will be able to celebrate how far I did make it, not how close I was to the finish when I faltered.