Unlovable

 

I feel so unlovable at times.  It's hard to explain but the feeling is real.

Some say I'm funny, smart, pretty and have a good heart.  I don't see that some times.  I see an unlovable person.

Men have left me, cheated on me, abused me and used me.

I have been left in the wake of the chaos wondering why.  I've been told that I deserve so much more than I've gotten but it never happens.

It becomes so hard to trust that the next one won't be like the others.  I am taken advantage of and tossed aside like a used tissue.

Wounds cut deep and they take long to heal.

Why would someone want to love a mess like me?

Who would be brave enough?

What would even attract them to my soul?

I know it is hard to believe that I think this way.  Feeling unlovable is an incredibly painful experience.  

We all deserve love and to love but it doesn't always happen like the fairy tales and that's kind of sad.

Therapy helps with dealing with my thought process at times but when my guard is down, I let myself feel a little self pity. 

When a person if feeling unloved, they usually believe that other people are the cause or source of the feeling.  IN reality, feeling unloved is ultimately the result of an unresolved conflict within ourselves.

No one is capable of fixing me, I have to figure out what unresolved conflict is in me and resolve it.

.

Little Girl Lost

 

I am often asked why I am still single.  I'm told that I am smart, funny, beautiful, fun, etc.  It is hard to explain to someone who asks why.  I know why.

I hesitate to write this as it may seem that I hate my family or others but it isn't true.  I love everyone.  (Well, not that crazy bitch...some of you know who I mean.)

In all seriousness, no one is really at fault for how I feel.  We cannot change the past but we can have an understanding of how things were and how we now deal with feelings and situations.

And with that being said....

I've been in therapy for awhile before I had a full understanding of why I choose men who abandoned me.  My therapist was very good at asking the right questions and interpreting my answers in order to help me stop the cycle.

After my last break up I was deeply hurt.  I thought everything was good and never thought that he would do what he did to me.  But he did.

I sought out help.

What I learned is why I am still single.

My choices in relationships all stemmed from my relationship with my parents.  I had learned that my mother was extremely narcissistic and controlling.  I was conditioned to understand that receiving her love was more like a transaction.  If I didn't conform to her wishes, her love was taken from me.  I saw her do it repeatedly to others and my biggest fear was losing her love for me.  

It was such a fucked up way to grow up.  I thought that if I was a certain way, I would be loved, not just by my mom, but by everyone.

I had met my aunt and uncle for lunch once and my aunt told my kids that I was such a loving child.  Every time that they would come to visit, I would run to them for hugs and kisses.  Tears stung my eyes.  Thinking back to those times I realized that I was such a love starved child, I just wanted to be hugged and feel unconditional love from someone.

I never was hugged by my mother.  Her hugs were always cheek to cheek.  I never heard praise.  It was usually a comment that "you could have done better" or she would make it a point to tell me that she always did it better.  

At the time I never thought it was a wrong way to be loved.  For me, it was normal.

When I became the age for dating and boyfriends, it became a nightmare.

I was in the mindset that love came with conditions and expectations and if those weren't met, then it wasn't love.  Being in relationships was always incredibly stressful for me.

My father was pretty stand-offish.  I do think my mom had some contribution to the relationship I have with my father.  She demanded that she came first and if I didn't chose her, there was always mental hell to pay.

I wish that my father was more caring.  It seems that he wanted perfect kids, correcting our English, no laughing at the table, no asking how our day was. (At least that is what I remember.)  He never hugged us or tucked us in at night.

My father always seemed to love everyone else.  He was always good to others, willing to help them and even hug them.  I held in so much anger because these people got the attention from my father that I had wished he had given me.

My parents fought verbally and sometimes physically.  

Not only did I have a fucked up view of love, my view of relationships was even more fucked up.

Again, at the time, it was my normal.  I figured that the Brady family was abnormal and no one really lived like that.

I cannot go back and redo my choices in relationships.  I am sad that I gave two men two very beautiful children and those men were incapable to see me needing their love.

I am thankful that my children didn't grow up not getting hugs and goodnight kisses.  I did make it a point to never let my kids grow up like I did.

I am also sad that I didn't get help sooner.

The difficult thing now is learning to accept love from others.  I cannot even explain how hard it is to allow people to love me without thinking that there is a condition attached to it.

I had been getting better.  I tell friends that I love them and I feel them love me.  I am even learning to love myself for the shit show I think that I am.

There was a huge set back recently that sent me into a tailspin.

My father was visiting.  I have always looked forward to seeing him as I thought we were working on the relationship that we have.  We have had talks about the past but I don't think he really understands the toxic environment that we were all in.

He had a little too many spirits and told some of my new friends that I was not a good person and that I was a "jerk".  That was so hurtful as I didn't want them thinking that I was just putting a fake side forward.

Someone walked in the club and he wrapped his arms around her and said how good it was to see her.  I held back tears.

He told people that I hadn't seen in 30 years that I didn't deserve the car that my son bought me.

I probably will never understand why he feels the way he does or why he doesn't see the hurt he caused me.  I also don't understand why he never took what we talked about to heart.

I love my dad but at the same time I don't want to let him hurt me anymore.

It's hard.

For most of my life I have feel like a very unlovable little girl just desperate for someone to love me.

As the same time, I have walls up so high because I don't want to keep being hurt.

I've been keeping to myself and licking my wounds as I have been doing for many years.

Someday I hope that someone will see me though a little hole in my wall and just love me unconditionally.  Because if they can do that, they would have all the love that I've been holding back.

A Mother's Cry

 

This is probably one of the hardest things I've written about.  I've started it many times and put it aside because I was never sure if I could even put it into words.

I also didn't want anyone judging the situation.  It is a tough situation to even think about going through but then to actually live it....

Mind you, what I am about to write about happened a few years ago and we are all fine now.  I am writing about it because I am sure other moms have gone through it, are going through it or will go through it.  I just want you to know that you are not alone.

I thought it was odd that she asked me for an extension cord.  She said that she needed it for her curling iron.  I had a long day and didn't really question her.  After several minutes...hell, it could have been an hour but the time doesn't matter, she came out of the bathroom and admitted to the lie and said that the cord was to put into the tub with her.

As a parent, I didn't know what to do.  I knew she struggled and we had tried to get help but help was just almost impossible to find.  School counselors were focused on SATs and college meetings.  I was told that they were too busy to even refer us to someone who could help.  I had called behavioral health and got her in to see an older guy but he really couldn't relate to poor body image and teenage breakups.

I tried to help but she accused me of making it about me.  I only tried to relate to what she was going through but she didn't see me as ever being a teenager.

When she admitted the intent of the extension cord, I calmly said that I was glad that she told me and we talked for a bit.  She went to bed.

I was up all night thinking why the fuck couldn't I help my own child.  I felt like a failure.  I made the decision to seek the ultimate help.

I can't really remember if she went to school the next day but again, the timeline doesn't really matter.

I made the decision to take her to the emergency room and seek for some way to help her.

She had serious body image issues.  She binged and purged.  She was a shell of what she once was.  She worked out constantly.

She had bullies at school who were into cyberbullying her.  Her ass was too big, her arms were too hairy, and whatever else.  

She self harmed.  Her arms were cut with scissors or a knife.

She was angry and depressed.

and I couldn't help her.

My beautiful child was a mess.

She didn't fight me on going to the hospital.  Which surprised me but I think she was just ready to get help too.

In the emergency room they ran blood tests and checked vitals.  Finally a doctor came and talked with us, mainly her.  She explained everything that was going on with her and her thoughts.  I was startled to learn that it was worse that what I was seeing.  My heart broke even more.

I stepped out with the doctor and he asked what I was thinking.  I started to cry and said that I think she needs to be admitted to the pysch ward and if she doesn't agree, I will have her forcibly placed.

As a mother, this had to be one of the hardest decisions I had to make. 

I talked with her a bit about my decision and at first she was scared about how it would all work.  She then opened to the idea and agreed to go.

It was hard leaving her there but I also knew that she was safe.  That first night I slept so good knowing that she was safe.

The first few days were hard for her as she never liked sleeping away from home but as she got involved in the program, I began to see improvement.  She was there for about 5 days.  

We put a plan into place so that she could come home.  We learned to talk about things.  We worked with a counselor.  Her medication was adjusted.

I'm not saying that everything was perfect after that.  There have been some large bumps in the road but we have tools to deal with them.

Despite everything she was a straight A student.  She is bright, funny, and beautiful.

I am proud of my daughter.

How I Deal With It

I have written about my battle with depression many times.  I've written about the time I wanted to end my life.  

I write about it because I know there are others who feel the same and they feel alone.  I write to let them know they aren't alone.

I have been asked recently about how I deal with it.  I am asked if I am cured.  I am asked if I still have feelings of ending my life.

First, I don't believe that there will ever really be a cure for depression.  I've dealt with mine since I was about 14 or so.  There were factors that came into play that I don't really talk about.  It isn't because I'm embarrassed or I don't want to talk about them.  It's just that some of the factors have names and I don't feel angry or hatred towards them so I don't want anyone else judging them.  

Second, I deal with depression by recognizing my triggers and avoiding them.  Triggers could be memories of past trauma or even when I let my own head starts overthinking.  Sometimes I even see the "factors" of my past and I have to pretend that things didn't happen.

I also practice self care.  Practicing self care is a huge key in managing depression.  I have learned to immurse myself in creativity.  I use it as an outlet.  I create beautiful things and that makes me feel good.  I read.  I write.  I walk.  I take time outs for me.  I go to the lake and dip my toes.  

I've accepted myself for who I am and if others don't like me, that is their problem, not mine.  There are times when my own mind lies when I look in the mirror.  I hear that I am ugly, fat, stupid, unlovable and so on.  Those lies are just echoes from my former self.  

And.... they are just lies.

I also have learned to accept love into my heart.  I don't mean a romantic love but a pure love from family and friends.  I surround myself with good people and I love them back. 

I've learned to ask for help.  There are numbers that I can call and talk to someone immediately.   I reach out to friends and family. 

Do I still have feelings of ending it all?

I haven't in a very long time.  I've made many changes to my life to ensure that it doesn't happen.  Sometimes I wonder if I will have a moment of irrational thought and that would be all it takes.

It was hard work learning to step back from that ledge.  It continues to be hard work.

But good things come from hard work.

Suicide Hotline

800-273-8255

Semicolon

 

He saw my tattoo.

A butterfly with a subtle semicolon for a body.

The butterfly symbolizes a beautiful change.  

The semicolon is a symbol that means that an author could have ended a sentence and chose not to.  

The semicolon is now recognized as a symbol of affirmation and solidarity against suicide, depression and other mental health issues.  It inspires strength in the midst of suffering.

He saw my tattoo.  He noticed the semicolon fairly quickly.  I was surprised since many do not see that detail.  Especially a man...

He asked about it.  I am really open about how the tattoo came about.  I talk about how there was that one moment of irrational thought where I was really ready to end it.

The mental pain is hard to deal with and you just want it to stop.

He then shared his story.  We were in a room with so many people but it was like we were the only two people in the room.

He put his hand on my back and I could almost feel his energy, his pain, his suffering.  I could also feel his relief to be talking with someone who understands.  

Throughout the night he would come and stand next to me, touch my arm or my back.  He kept apologizing for it.  I told him that there is no need to apologize.

It is a great comfort to know that you are not alone and what you feel or what you are going through is hard. 

May is Mental Health Awareness Month.

It is important every month but times are really tough lately with the damn virus and the world is all turned upside down.  It is especially hard on teens.  

Please be kind to one another.

You never know what battles someone is fighting.

A Walk Among the Dead

 

I walked among the dead today.  I always have found peace in an old cemetery.  The headstones bear witness to so many years of change.  Weather worn and broken, they are testimonials of those who have walked this earth and those who were loved.

When walking in this particular cemetery, I realized that many of the stones weren't any older that the last 1800's.

Sad really....

No flowers adorn them.  Not anything that tells us that these people are remembered any longer.

I touch the stones as if they would speak to me.  Wishing I could hear the voices of long ago.  

There were babies laid to rest.  There were spouses who were loved and cherished.  I didn't see anyone who was over the age of 67.

Times were hard then, harder than now. 

Looking online at the records for this cemetery told some stories of those who are buried here.

I wondered if I was the only one to visit these graves.  Are there others who come?

Often I wonder about my own mortality.  I am not afraid of death.  I had already died once.  Many have gone before me.

I am afraid of being buried.  My wishes are not to be left in a box in the ground.  Do not put a marker where I am.  Scatter my ashes to the wind and let me go.

I do not want to be left where no one will remember me.  I do not want my headstone to crumble.

Remember me as I am now.

A butterfly came to me as I was walking.  I stopped to watch it.  I felt a peaceful energy from it.  

The cemetery where I took these pictures is the Schoolcraft Cemetery in Calumet, MI.  

This was the first time that I had really walked around.

The following are just the pictures that I took.

One Very Irrational Thought

 

I never regret posting about how I deal with my depression.  If it helps just one person, then it not only helps them, it helps me.

I have my quiet days.  They are further and farther apart now that I have moved back home.  

I think because I feel more loved and accepted here.

A lot of my depression stems from my own demons in my head.  They tell me that I am ugly, fat, stupid, unlovable.... pick any type of insult and my demons say it.

I wrote a blog entry on the night that I had a moment of irrational thought and almost committed suicide.

You can read it here ------>  Click on these words.

I still think about that moment and how desperate I was to just end it.  

People ask about my butterfly tattoo on my left forearm.

It is in my favorite color and it has a small semicolon for a body.

A butterfly is a symbol of change for me.  They are beautiful and fragile.  They can be joyful to see.  They are graceful and most have limited life spans.

We all have limited life spans.  Some of us live to be in our 100's.  That is still a limited time.

I'm glad that I didn't limit my own life span.

Depression is some ugly shit.

It can be managed but I seriously don't think that there is really a cure.

I know that I will never be completely done with it.  I am better with fighting it now.

Learn your triggers and avoid them.  

Phone or visit a friend.  You don't have to tell them why if you don't want to but it helps to just hear someone who fills the part of you where depression lays.  

Journal or just write about what you are feeling.  Keep writing until it passes.  It helps you recognize the triggers.

Love yourself.  I know it's hard because of the lies you are hearing.  You just have to find the strength to tell them to shut the fuck up.

An emotional support animal or even a plant helps.  You have to take care of them, if you aren't living, who else will do it?

Take time for yourself.  I drive to the big lake and just dip my toes in.  It doesn't matter if its cold.  It grounds me.

I also walk in cemeteries.  They are very peaceful.  I touch old headstones and try to connect.  This person is someone who was loved very much and I wonder who visits their graves now (other than me).

I paint.  I make a big messy mess and create the hell out of something.  It awakens my energy.  The colors collide and form some amazing stuff.

I also just couch potato.  Doing absolutely nothing allows me to speak to my inner self and watch some cute dudes on tv.  (haha)

To be back where my friends and family helps so much.

To be able to visit my sister and laugh until we are both crying is amazing.  I am so thankful for her.

To spend time with old friends is extremely comforting.  My old self is resurfacing and it feels great.

To make new friends is the best.  

I treasure all my relationships.

I am allowing myself to be loved.  I make no apologies for who I am and I am accepted anyway.

I love myself and this is the very key.  I love myself enough to take care of me.

Suicide is a very permanent solution to a very temporary problem.  

You are not alone.

If you would like to learn more about Project Semicolon, click here.

Project Semicolon

Suicide Hotline

800-273-8255