Having an off day day and thought this would be the best time to blog. I've been wanting too, mostly because I have so much crap swirling around in my altered brain and this seems like a good way to empty it out. Plus it's raining and windy out.
Some of my art.
I just reconnected with Homewood, a facility in Guelph Ontario where I received a lot of help, and realize I miss it there. I miss the safety I felt. Good and kind people.
I am angry about what has been robbed from my life, I didn't choose this. I try not to sound whiny but I have a right to my anger. I am certain PTSD and Depression meet the criteria for contagious (infectious sounds too positive).
I am a horrible friend because I am too afraid to commit, or to offer intimacy. I'm not good at sharing. And I'm convinced that everyone will betray me anyway. I get startled, irritated, defensive and paranoid with the slightest change in my surroundings. I have nightly terrors (I think this is where horror movies come from). I want love but I fear it will be taken away, so I keep those walls firmly installed.
I live on Vancouver Island, a staggeringly (is this a word? No bother I'll just make it up, our culture is replete with new words and budding wordsmiths) beautiful place, yet I hate the sunshine (hahhah! I bet you thought I was going to say rain!) it deepens my guilt. I have read and heard (been told) many times how guilt and shame are harmful feelings to carry around - but I didn't ask for them either, guilt and shame are like little emotional remoras. Virtueless little suckers.
When I challenge the guilt, I can find justification for all of the contributing factors. There is nothing positive that I cannot turn to a negative. My clouds are lined with lead.
WOW, I feel better already!
Well, I am an artist now, which really helps me. It's very meditative and there is little social demand. I can only last a little while around other people, then I start to get agitated and unfocussed, terror steals in and I get the urge to run away. Sometimes grocery shopping is pretty intimidating, especially as I have a gift for selecting the longest lines. My addictions are food and cheap clothing
I guess I want to say that I know there are many of us out there, living with these invisible carry ons. I know a lot of us live in isolation, literal or otherwise. Part of me wants to connect with others who share similar experiences and feelings, another part of me is terrified of being ridiculed and rejected. Yet I wish to write. I wish to hear from others. Being in Homewood helped me feel like there was a place I could belong, that I could feel trust again.
What do others think?