Finding the Real Me to Love!

Trigger warning: I talk about death and mental health and how it has changed my life. I do not wish for anyone to be harmed by my thoughts of myself.  I am in a very healthy place now.  

 I like writing and I like writing challenges. I like having to think out of my comfort zone which is fantasy and fiction. In “the remarkable real challenge” the idea is to write a story where your authentic self shines through. WOW this one is tough. Not because I don't like to talk about my self. I do it all the time when I stream or do a vlog or write in my blog. It is the idea of your authentic self. The meaning of authentic is: of undisputed origin; genuine. I am thus going to try to share my genuine self.

I suffer from mental health issues and well having an authentic self is a huge obstacle for me. Not because I don't have one, I do, but more because most people don't like the real me or at least this is my perception of others' view of me. As we all know, how we see ourselves is not always at any point closely related to how others see us. To add that I have BPD and well…that messes all up with my perception of self as well as receiving messages from others' cues about self.

When I first read the prompt, I thought 'oh I am not going to do this one'. I giggled to myself and felt a bit sad because I know sometimes I don't see the meaning of things the same way as others. I usually start out at the same starting line as everyone else and somehow I end up taking the wrong turn and no matter how I try to pull myself back to the 'correct path', it just keeps getting weirder. It was a struggle when having to do graded work in college. I get so excited about the writing of something and my little odd brain takes a weird rolly polly way of getting to the point or sometimes missing the point all together.

As I looked at the explanation of the things they used as examples, I thought, 'hmmm, nope don't think I can do this'. But it was the last part that made me want to try. The one big part of the real me:’ ‘the go-getter’, ‘don't stop, don't question’, ‘just do me’ part. My roadblock is this statement: “We, along with our partners at Charles & Colvard, want to fall in love with the real you.”

The thought bouncing around in my head with the rest of the squirrels and popping kernels of thought, ideas and concepts was “which real you/which real me?” Next came: 'how do I make someone or anyone fall in love with me?’. I have struggled my whole life trying to get people to see me and like the real me. I usually have to be a chameleon around others and do as they do, just try to blend in. I tended to hang with the fringe groups and even there, I always felt left out and alone. Many people throughout my life would encourage me to break away and be me, only to be slapped down over and over sometimes by the very people who made the suggestion in the first place. Duck and hide, duck and hide is my norm. Sometimes I failed to have the ‘umph' to push forward. Being unaccepted can be soul killing at times.

This is why I thought I could go with the easy answer of “ the constant struggle of mental health”. Sadly I don't think that is my greatest achievement in my life as I am still working on it. I don't think that will ever end. Many people in my life have said, ' my mental health shouldn't be the sum of you; and while I agree with the ideal of that, I have found it is a very big part of me.  I do think it's like a suit I wear. It changes sometimes without me thinking about it, like someone else has laid out my outfit and I am required to wear it whether or not I like it. Or maybe it is the flavor of me; everything I do in life, every decision, every choice and every path I travel is seeped with my emotions and my broken thinking. I sometimes have to ask others if this is how they would react; people I trust. Or research how others have acted or chosen when faced with the same thing. The logical thought is;  every one's life is different, so how can I get a true sense from other people? I am not sure, just that it helps me get a good perception of how it should be, not how it is. .

How do I chip away at those blocks to find the real me?  What is my defining moment, bringing forth the real me or at least the development of the real me. I am not sure one event creates the realness of any person but rather a combination of events. Sure it can be one big event followed by lots of little ones or a bunch of little ones building up to a big one,  the grand slam of an event to produce a sense of self.

I will say one of the big questions asked by a lot of therapists I have met: 'who is the real you?' And to this day, I still have problems answering that.  I can’t just point out a bit and say; there it is, see it hidden behind not so pleasant bits of me?  Sometimes I have to practice answering questions with as few words as possible. This isn't one of those questions, I haven't ever been able to do that. My usual answer is: I don't know, I have to think about it. 

 I am not sure I will ever have a true solid answer, a never going to change, carved in rock forever answer. My thoughts, personality and even my emotional state are all in twined like a bunch of strings all knotted together. I might find the string leading to the real me, only to lose it at some point. I would have to say the real me, is the person who pushes through the rough times to be able to live a life worth living. I have had a lot of hard times, some brought on by accident and some from my own choice making. Always lurking in the background are crazy-making thoughts. Those thoughts push me to make bad choices; ones to destroy my quality of life. There is the outward me who acts the way she was taught and the inner me who struggles with those ways to create my own person with my own ideals of how I should be.

I would love to say there was one great big event in my life which shows you who I am but there isn't. Just lots and lots of little ones. Dealing with depression since I was child, and having Borderline Personality Disorder mixed with social and phobia anxiety makes life a big bouncy mess. I think though if I was able to pinpoint one thing, it would be the trait of pushing, of being my own advocate against the social norms put on me by my parents, teachers, peers and society. I think learning to advocate for oneself is the biggest challenge a person can have. Where I stand now and look back on my life; it is this ability along with pushing and pushing and pushing to get what I want done shows the best example of the real me.

The real me, is a woman who had to learn to live, and while living be able to advocate for myself, to stand up for myself as well. All through my life, there has been the issue of life vs death. Starting with a family filled with dysfunctional-ism and abuse, moving into a social life filled with confusion and bullying layered with episodes of disconnection and sadness.

Considering I almost died when I was 8 years old, I feel it is fear of death or failing at life which made me want to be better as a person.. I was sick with pneumonia and no one knew till it was almost too late. I didn't know at the time, how bad it was either so I couldn't ask for help, till I couldn't ask because I couldn't breathe. My memories of the time, isn't so much about fighting but trying to exist. I remember laying in the back of the car, while my parents argue about what to do, how bad it was and what was happening.

The only times I can remember my parents working together was any time is when either  my brother or me were in danger. Sadly I didn't feel love just anxiety and a type of anger. I always felt like the anger was towards me, for not being the perfect child they wanted. Being sick was just another thing which made me less than perfect.

What I remember of being sick in the hospital created a rather surreal memory, just bits of fear, anxiety and dislike. I disliked the food, the room and even the nurses. This was because they brought the shots, three times a day, in my legs till my legs were so sore, bruised and I was unable to walk for a long time past the hospital stay. Wet, soaked feeling of being in a steam tent for breaking up the phlegm in my lungs. This past event causes issues with sleep the rest of my life, for I can’t  fall asleep unless I am wrapped up and warm. Being this sick left other issues as well, long after my seven day visit in the hospital. Putting me behind in school, distancing me further from my peers and taking about 3 months to heal fully. I remember having problems breathing for a long time and I am now what is called a shallow breather.  This brings its own set of anxieties and fear.

This is where, you the reader, would ask, ok, ok what does this have to do with the real you? Was this the big event causing  you to find your real self? Well no and yes. As a child, I wasn't well liked, socially awkward and bullied. In the hospital and afterwards, the bullying only got worse. And sadly being sick further prevented me from making friends at all. What I did learn was to make friends with adults and do the best I could to hide from my bullies. Sometimes it worked but more times it didn't. My one regret is I only learn to be as cruel as my own tormentors, as my family and worse as my friends.

Truly I do not mean for this to be a sad story even as I tear up as I write it down. So I apologize to you, the reader, as we travel through the rolling, bouncing around, winding path of though my brain likes to do. I do not like thinking about the years when I had no power  and failed to understand it didn’t have to be like this.  I didn’t have to resort to being mean to figure out how to be compassionate rather than hateful towards others, even if I thought they deserved it. 

Learning to stand up for myself was a long time coming and learning how to make friends was even harder. For a period of time I struggled so hard, wading through life, drifting down paths of destruction through drugs and manipulation. Struggling to find my real self., to find a way to feel good about myself, to feel content with myself. Upon puberty, I learn to fight back, to stand for myself and to learn not to use others to feel better. The drugs only hurt me more while giving me the strength I needed.  A jumbling time of hate of self and struggling with pain, despair and confusion within and out. A rather hurtful time, I hated so much I don’t have a lot of memories I can remember or which to share.  Everyone around me remembers things about me from that time, I don’t recall.

 I know the next event in my life from this time is an important part of the creation of my own true self.  And  while I don’t see it as a true  achievement, it was a turning point in my existence. A time of death compounded by a life not worth living.  At the age of 17 years old, I attempted to kill myself with alcohol. I purposely drank and drank till I blackout, with the sad hope of never waking up. I have a very clear memory of looking into the bottle to the bottom and wishing not to be.  Just not exist anymore. It tears at my soul still to think about it. I sometimes cry for the young girl who felt so alone to have such a wish.  It is only by sheer luck, I wasn't killed due to various occurrences, including my father trying to choke me and my peers leaving dumping me in the driveway. The next morning I woke up in a puddle of vomit covered in deep cuts filled with glass, dirt and pebbles from falling down and rolling on the concert.  As well as deep dark bruises including a fingerprint necklace around my neck.

It was upon waking up and realizing how narrowly I escaped death, I realized I wanted to live and not just live as I had; I wanted to love myself as well. I wanted to see myself grown, to have children and learn to develop relationships. I really wanted to be better than my parents, to understand myself and live a great life. I vowed to learn how to be a better person and teach my children how to be better people as well.

I would love to say this turned out to be an easy path. I quit drinking and doing drugs, I went to college and began the long, hard path of education. I achieved a lot of little things though it seemed for every little thing I achieved, I would feel I fell backwards a lot. I traded addictions for others, like food, drama and money spending. I push, push, push myself to do better every time I slid down the road of depression and despair. I was lonely a lot and I jumped from job to job, in and out of college, battled homelessness and my own brain. And while learning to advocate for myself and learning to create boundaries helped a lot, I still couldn't shake the “hole in my soul” feeling. I didn't know I suffered from depression, my mind created bad chemical mixtures which cause inter pain, isolation and confusion. Not understanding what is happening to you, is a terrible thing for anyone. Even as I learn to love myself to the point of being arrogant, I also had bouts of self doubt, self loathing and reprimanded myself for feeling sad, lonely and stupid.

The biggest event in my life I am the most proud of is becoming a parent. I failed at all other relationships, because it is very hard to love a person who is mentally ill. I am not saying it can't be done, just that it takes a lot of work, understanding and commitment from both people, and sometimes it can just be a bit too much. Even when the other person is also mentally ill and should understand, have compassion and empathy war with comparison. “I did this, so should you.” “Just get over it, I did.” And because mental health can be both predictable and spontaneous, most people get overwhelmed and frustrated, so moving on, even if they love the person to the moon and back, ends up being the best for both of them.

Being a mother though saved me, it forced me to look past my own pain, and hardship to help another person be the best person they can be. I had a clear idea of how I wanted to help my child though not always how I would go about doing so. At about 6 months of pregnancy I began to feel the old touches of madness floating in the back of my brain and reported it to my doctor. I was told to see a therapist even though the doctor stated it was perfectly normal to feel these feelings. I didn't see a therapist right away due to fearing them.

I know it is silly to fear therapists It was a fear put there by my parents for different reasons. My father, because he was sure if a therapist knew what was going on in my life, they would lock me away. He convinced me no matter how bad my life was, if I got the authorities involved I was setting myself up for a world of hurt. My mother, because she really didn't believe in mental health issues, it was just people being lazy. Her father was diagnosed Manic Depressive during WWII and she just saw him being lazy because sometimes he could do all the adult things required of him. Other times he was like a big baby being taken care of by his wife, while my mother had to take care of the other children forsaking her own life wants and needs. My mother felt therapists just took your money while telling you things you wanted to hear and filling you up on pills.

I push past my fear though. I wanted to be the best I could for my child. After my daughter's birth I went to see a therapist. I ended up not liking him though later in hindsight, he did have some great insights of me. The most being, I suffered from depression and my view of the world was flavored by this. He also told me; while my perception of the world might be fuzzy, it could be my own lack of social skills which was keeping me from making friends. I ended up pushing all the feelings down and just having “lazy” days. This worked well for about 13 years, when I became pregnant again. I thought I was ready for the roller coaster ride of problematic emotions.

Those 13 years were a very roller coasting kind of living with me fooling myself into thinking I was in control. I push through a lot of things,  to achieve just good enough results. I was arrogant enough to believe I shielded my daughter from the worst of it, while that wasn't really the truth. I just disassociated (conveniently forgot the pain and only focused on happy memories or at least less than perfect memories) and  proceeded to convince myself that all was well with us both. Till I met a man who would push me hard to realize what was going on in my life by him being dangerously emotionally abusive and threatening my life many times. This man who at one time had become my best friend and I was sure would be the ONE.  In the end the only good that came from him was our son.  Another child who taught me a lot about mental health and autism.

So reader, I am not trying to give you my life story, just hitting on the events which have created the person I am now. The up and down road, a person with mental health suffers with. The doubt, pain and as I have stated the confusion. Even when you know what is wrong with you, the bubble you live in gives you a skewed viewpoint of reality. I truly believed I had it all controlled until the next big drama point in my life and it all fell apart like a paper house in a downpour.

Four years before my son arrived in my life, I started back to college, this time I pushed and I graduated with an AA, after 18 years of going and dropping out. Then I started on my BA. Sadly I failed to accomplish this  the first time around. It was at this time I got a therapist who helped me the most in my life. When I started back to college, I had an anxiety attack which triggered a PTS flashback. It paralyzed me in such a way, I had to decide if I really wanted to go back to school. I did, so I got a therapist, which is a long road in itself. This therapist helped me find the real me. To connect with myself and figure out how to help me be as successful as I could be. To come to the understanding, I was mentally ill and there was no cure.

The biggest myth told about mental health is: it is curable. What can happen is you can learn to manage it, change behavior to do things less harmful, understand what to do when a bout hits you and know why it is happening. Some types of mental health issues can be managed to the point a person never suffers from them again, while others have cycles. Some of the cycles are predictable, while others jump the tracks all the time to make a new cycle. Suffers and their loved ones search and search for the miracle cure. They spend money and time to do so not understanding the best thing you can do is learn  how to manage your illness. I have had doctors and other therapists argue with me, as there are many theories which suggest,  if you just do the right things, the right way, in the right time, it will all go away and you will be right as rain. For some people the belief this is true is enough for them and some of them lie to themselves. This kind of thinking is more harmful from my point of view. Hope is a two sided knife, one side won't hurt you, the other will.

I learn all about the two sides of hope and how that one sharp side even when you think you know how to handle it will cut you. I struggled with my mental health while dealing with a drug addicted lover who told me over and over, he would kill me and steal my son. He would teach my daughter to hate me, as she was already there because of how I had left her home with him while I went to school. I packed my house up and seeked help with a Domestic Violence shelter and removed him from our lives. Sadly the court didn't believe me and I, once again failed by authorities who were supposed to protect, and had to learn to do as people wanted to be able to keep my kids with me.

And even while I share this with you, it isn't a great achievement but rather a result of poor choices. I believe I knew when people were abusing me, but I didn't. I believed I had good boundaries but I didn't, I believe I was a good person, but I wasn't. I believed I was standing up for myself, but I wasn't. It was a hard reality I had to face, but I did it. I once again pushed through the fear and doubt to move to a safe place in my life. Only life still wasn't all sunshine and lollipops. The reason: I still suffered from mental health issues.

A series of little achievements came again. I learned to advocate for my children, I learned to see what was happening in my life and theirs. I learned to look ahead and work as hard as I could to do the best I could for them and me. In 2014 I graduated with 2 Master degrees in psychology. My goal was to create a school for children with behavioral issues and help them be successful as they wanted. To give them the tools I had lacked in my life.

This dream, though like so many others,  wasn't to be. In 2015 I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. I had to let go of my dreams to create new one. It still tears at my heart and makes me cry when I think of all the hard work I had to do. I struggle every day with a chronic pain disorder which is as invisible to others as my mental health is. I currently deal with Bi-polar depression, PTSD, social driven anxiety and phobia anxieties. These trigger Fibro attacks and the Fibro attacks trigger mental health issues. The Fibro makes it hard to take medication, so I quit all my meds. I have a skin disorder both painful and hard for people to look at. (Luckily I have gotten it mostly under control now after almost 40 years), I have issues walking so much so I had to use a walker, another thing I learned  which I push through on the good days so I can dance too. I had five years of being 75% bed ridden, till I just said NO!

There is a lot of myth to the treatment and the cure of Fibromyalgia. Like mental health, it isn't curable. It is treatable, though the treatment as with mental health is dependent on each person. Meaning not everything works for everyone. I struggle with my treatment plan which is very holistic. Food( hard with a food addiction), exercise ( can be a trigger while it helps thus causing more pain at times at less intervals of time)  and a behavioral plan( how to deal with the triggers).  All of which is a struggle every minute of my days. Every day is a new day and I just try to push through them.

Work for me isn't possible. Even if I could get my treatment plan to work right, I would only be assured I could work maybe three days a week, about 2hours steadily and then I need a break.  Each break gets longer each time till I am resting more than I am working. Stress is the biggest trigger for me. Accepting this was one of the hardest things, because it triggered my own self doubt of being a lazy, weak person. I just wasn't trying hard enough. I had to learn to let it go. To learn to not worry, and do the best I could.

So to get back to the point of this all. The real me, is sometimes a rather sad broken person. I have a little girl personality at times, making it hard to understand what people want from me and getting over excited when people want to deal with me. Other times I am a roaring witch of an adult,  who knows I am better than that, or them. There are bits of other types of personalities roaming around based on one where my brain has gotten stuck in its emotional development. I know I am a person who is intelligent, compassionate and fair. I also know very well all the deep dark doubts and self loathing just hiding below the dark pool of depression in my head. I have learned to recognize when the evil side of me is trying to hurt me and how to give my own self healing time.  Sometimes I fail to see it in time but I have learned to forgive myself and be positive to myself.  Sometimes it is ok to cry even if it is just spilled milk.

And at last I have come to the conclusion of my mind wandering. Reader, I am sure I fail the point of the challenge, as I can not in truth find one achievement in my life which illustrates the real me. Instead it is many different ones because each of the events in my life contributed to make me who I am. One of the best things about me, the real me is I don't quit. I won't quit on myself, on my loved ones and on most people I meet who need a person to help them on their journeys. Sometimes people can't take me in long bouts or even short ones and sometimes they fail me due to my own expectations. For the most part though people know I am there to help them push if they need it, to encourage them to do the best and to accept them when they feel like they have failed. I know the boundaries of helping people, so I don't enable them but rather lift them up to try again.

I don't know if any of this is enough to get you to love me. In the end it doesn't really matter, because I do love myself and that is so much more important. It would be grand to be loved by others, I am smart enough to feel lucky in the love I have from my kids, my grandson, my favorite people  and myself.  In the end it is all I could wish for; for myself and for you.