Breathe Through It
I’ve always wondered what the hell is wrong with the majority of the people in this world. For some unknown reason, they believe caffeine, sunshine, fresh air, a glass of water, or a cup of tea will magically solve ALL of your problems. If only it were so simple!
Have you ever felt better when someone says, “You need to calm down?” Of course, not. It’s so rarely said with good intentions. Usually, it is said to stop you from talking, or to shut a situation down. FUCK THAT.
I recently had a panic attack that was so bad, I had to keep telling myself, “Just breathe through it.” repeatedly. For hours. No, I did NOT feel better trying to minimize what I was going through, or why. In fact, I felt stupid for thinking I could mantra my way out of a panic attack which was impeding my ability to breathe.
Someone finally stopped me to chat, and told me I am so heavily triggered right now, that everything is bothering me on a higher frequency. They suggested talking to my doctor about this, in order to get some support. Stupidly, I brought up the issue, only to hear the most insincere, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I have family for that comment, I do NOT need it from my support system. I found myself angered, and unable to talk about how painful it was to have to bring it up at all. I speak to him again after the holidays, and I am genuinely torn between speaking up or simply going elsewhere for what I need. The second you feel like your needs aren’t being met somewhere, you should not be inclined to blame yourself. I’d like to normalize talking about this because too often, women do not.
The month of December brings up a lot of pain and heartache for me. I cannot just “breathe through it”. It’s been a while since I’ve acknowledged how bad my Complex PTSD is, but it’s bad. and I feel unable to fully cope. Mostly because, medication usually helps, but this year, it is all just hitting harder than usual. Unfortunately, I don’t have a lot to distract me, so it’s present every minute of the day. It’s beginning to cause insomnia, which worries me, because I’m finally going to bed at a decent hour and often getting decent sleep, but not now. Now I am tormented, and I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
Alas, I will probably survive. Or maybe I’ll just breathe through it. 🙄
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“…our family became a place where you screamed for help but no one heard, not ever.” ―Marceline Loridan-Ivens
Suicide Isn’t Stupid: Stigmatizing It Ignores Pain
I Know For Certain…
“I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death. They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make. Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories.” —Leo Buscaglia
It seems like yesterday. I blinked and the day was here. It has heartbreakingly been ten years since my Uncle died, and I miss him fiercely.
I remember the morning my brother said, “Um, I have something to tell you. You’re going to be upset.” I saw the look on his face and catalogued all of the important people left in my life, and then he said your name. I fell down half a flight of stairs to my feet, and crumbled in disbelief. My brother later admitted he was afraid to tell me at all, but knew if I heard it from anyone else, it would be wrong. He was cringing as he watched my reaction and told me how it happened. I would later hear more, but in the immediate moment, I was numb beyond words.
I miss having a completely devoted family member who always had my back. He always looked out for me, in both large and small ways. Because we looked so much alike, people always thought I was his daughter. Even passing strangers would immediately see us as father and daughter.
He gave me an extremely expensive education (Three separate degrees.); which is something he was not obligated to do in any way, shape, or form. He wanted me to follow my dreams with ZERO debt in the end, and he encouraged me to use my voice and make a difference. He believed in me. The gesture came from a sense of love and honor; he NEVER threw anything in my face or abused our relationship.
He was a friend, a confidant, a partner-in-crime, and he taught me so much about life and how to navigate it by learning from his mistakes. He was enigmatic, loyal, full of wisdom, and always sought to help others. He generously gave his time, attention, and would listen to people talk for hours without saying a word. “It costs nothing to listen to someone and be kind.” He genuinely heard them.
My Grandfather and Uncle were the finest men to ever exist. I’m eternally grateful for his role in my life. Te amo, Zio. I will see you on the other side.
The Thirteenth Year
May. The month of darkness. The month of flashbacks, nightmares, anger at being robbed of loved ones… It’s hell. I suffer silently; no one is particularly interested in what I have to say. I remind myself it isn’t personal, some people simply aren’t full-fledged human beings. C’est la vie.
Thirteen years ago tonight, my mother’s heart gave out. I got the phone call, “We’re trying to revive her, but…” The BUT was my mother’s DNR; a point of contention between us for years. I had power of attorney and I remember saying, “Screw the DNR. If she can be revived, you save her life.” An hour later and I knew. I remember looking at the clock, in pure silence, and knowing the exact moment when she left. When I received her death certificate, the time was not a shock, but it jolted me. My life was permanently altered. I feel like I’ve lived a nightmare almost every day since.
One of the most important messages my mother instilled in me was to ALWAYS be honest and speak up for my beliefs. I am not a passive, gullible, peace-keeper; I was built for war and educated argument. My mother knew, before I was born, that I was strong and a force to be reckoned with. That’s the kind of daughter she wanted; one who would always speak her mind, one who would not pretend, and one who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, because she’d know her worth and would not be afraid of walking into rooms and being a strong, powerful, determined individual. I suspect she got what she ordered. 😉
My parents taught my brother and I to focus on facts, and to know when we were being lied to. Not everyone is blessed with intuitive education. I was not taught to hate. I am an intuitive person with a mind which pays attention to details others might miss. Micro-aggressions, body language, any shift in behavior or verbal tone is something I will notice. I am grateful for these things, because I know other parents weren’t teaching such things, and because much of this knowledge has saved my life in many situations.
My mother was the best. I was blessed with someone truly devoted to her children, imperfections aside, because NO ONE is perfect. We’re all human.
I miss you. There are no words for the amount of pain I am still trying to work through. Time does not heal a damn thing. Not in this situation.
Forks In The Road
Welcome to all the new readers, and those who’ve been with me for years or months. 🙂 I’m happy to greet you all.
I’ve been working on a piece about racism and my personal experiences with different forms of it, but mostly, I have started to notice just how worn out I am, which lends to me feeling completely useless. I am not sleeping well; and I am trying not to rely on prescription sleep medication because it either doesn’t work or it leaves me with sleep paralysis. I am burnt out, stressed about life and the future, thinking about all of my relationships, etc. I’ve been trying to allow myself the honesty of all of my feelings privately, which hasn’t been helpful, though perhaps I am too close to say if it’s helping or not. I do know there are abysmal highs and lows these days.
I will be taking some brief breaks for the next month or so. I don’t know if they will be obvious or not, but I think it’s necessary and needed. I think it’s time to get my head into some sense of normalcy and keep pushing for betterment. I hope you will all understand the reasoning. I will still be present, but there will be days when I’m not. I hope it’ll be fine, no matter what.
For the month of March, I will be focusing on a few charities in support of Colorectal Cancer and Women’s History Month. I also have my Goddaughter’s tenth birthday approaching. People always say, “You’re way too young to be a Godmother.” I don’t think they understand what an honor it is to be asked to be a part of a child’s life in such a deeply personal way. There is no age requirement or limit involved. It’s an honor and a privilege, and yes, it is also a responsibility. It says something about me, as a person, that people fully trust me with their child.
I will do my best not to be too “out of it” here, but will also do my best to rally. For now, though, this picture near a local trail says it all. I’m walking towards the color, because everything else feels too harming and bleak.
Wishing you all a peaceful week. Bright Blessings.
Tracking The Time
The loss of my mother haunts me. How could it not?
I know not everyone has a deep bond with either parent, and others have different scenarios of their family dynamic, which I understand, but my mother was my best friend. I was never embarrassed of her or ashamed of her. I took care of her. I helped her with anything and everything. I paid her bills and kept everything up-to-date. I cooked. I took her to doctor’s appointments. I dropped her off at work, walking her to her desk, and repeated the process at the end of each day. Sometimes, my brother was the one doing that, when he was available. We often dreaded it, but we did not complain. Two failed back surgeries left my mother partially paralyzed, so the extra assistance was necessary. Her biggest fear was falling and being wheelchair bound. 😦
I always question what I could have done to save her. I would have given her the heart out of my own chest. Ultimately, her life was in her own hands and she refused invasive medical treatment. Medical treatment my brother would later receive, and still receives. She gave up and her heart did, too. I don’t think she realized how much heartache and pain she would leave behind. Nor do I think she cared. She was too far gone to care anymore. While I understand that, it’s the polar opposite of how she expected me to be. It’s hard to reconcile the fact that she always wanted me to fight, but wouldn’t do it for herself.
So today, on what would have been her 74th birthday, I tried to do normal things. I’m wearing one of her favorite colors of nail polish in homage to her. I do it every year; I try to find a shade of purple that honors her life and what she left behind. But ultimately, as the day comes to a mental close, I am deeply saddened and feel the loss in every part of my life and heart.
If your parents are still alive and you have a good relationship with them, please realize how blessed you are. Some of us aren’t so lucky.
May you seek sweet Serenity, madre. May time heal, even though right now, it still tracks.
People assume you aren’t sick unless they see the sickness on your skin, like scars forming a map of all the ways you’re hurting.
My heart is a prison of, Have you trieds. ‘Have you tried exercising? Have you tried eating better? Have you tried not being sad, not being sick? Have you tried being more like me?’ Have you tried shutting up?!
Yes, I have tried. Yes, I am still trying, and yes, I am still sick.
Sometimes monsters are invisible, and sometimes demons attack you from the inside. Just because you cannot see the claws and the teeth, does not mean they aren’t ripping through me. Pain does not need to be seen to be felt. Telling me there is no problem, won’t solve the problem.
This is not how miracles are born. This is not how sickness works.” ― Emm Roy
Brief Moments Of Joy
I’m having one of those days where I’m upset, angry, hurt, depressed, extremely sad, trapped inside myself, and trying to process each emotion individually. It’s easier said than done. Silent migraines have attacked a lot these past few days. They involve little or no head pain, but everything else makes you wish you could treat it without getting sicker. I’ve used everything from caffeine to try and break it, but now it’s anti-nausea medicine and hydration. I’ve never been so happy to have Lime Cucumber Gatorade in my life. Sounds like a bizarre flavor, I know. When you’re sick like this, it’s heavenly. If you’ve never found this flavor, look for it in a store that sells a lot of cultural foods.
Today, the lyrics from, “Soon You’ll Get Better” made me cry. As someone who doesn’t cry often, maybe I needed to? Maybe I connected too much. 🤷 And sadly, the reason why I connected are for two separate reasons.
Thank you Target (who originally posted a delivery date of next week), FedEx, and Taylor Swift for the brief joy of #ReleaseDay. #Lover #DeluxeVersions 🎉