Being Human

I found a new show on Netflix that I rather like... I think... At least I can relate to the characters which could be construed as a weird thing. As I was watching the first epidsode and considering the storylines, etc... It hit me. I can relate to vampires and werewolves more than I can to "normal" humans... Enter Aidan and Josh. Sally, the ghost is just a bonus.

I started feeling "down," for lack of a better term, a couple days ago. I know it is best to stay away from people during this time because not long after the down feeling shows up the agitated, angry, hates the world feeling pops in to join the party. Friday, I did okay. Stayed away from the Feeds and Group on FB. Stayed in my room. Left messenger off. Didn't talk to anyone on the phone unless I absolutely had to. Yesterday, I get this big idea that maybe I have been going about this in the wrong way. Maybe I need to go into the group and just stick to my Spatties. They make me laugh. They can lift my spirits. BAD IDEA! I ended up attacking someone trying to protect a friend and made things worse. My mistake... Won't make it again... People need to fight their own battles... and a good joke is NOT going to help me in anyway. If it could, there would be far less suicides in the world. Less people would find the need to cut or drink or drug out... My problem isn't mental... something that I just thought up... My problem is physical...

How can I relate to Vampires and Weres? I don't always have control of my own body... If I ever do... I take so many medications for my age that I get pity looks from nurses when they send me to see a new specialist. Next weeks new flavor is a new G.I. Specialist. Great! Another person in the world to be obsessed about what goes down my throat and comes out my ass! But ask my ex-husband and his family... ask some of my family and ex-friends... there is nothing wrong with me except I am "lazy" and "messed up in the head." WTF?! Why would ANYONE choose to live like this?! Why would anyone put themselves through all the doctors and tests and medications and surgeries and lectures if they had a choice?!

Well, I do have a choice... 5 years ago, I made the wrong one and was lucky enough to succeed in living through my second and hopefully final suicide attempt! Why not say I had a "failed suicide attempt"? Because I lived, and living is not a failure it is a success... if it is done right, but living with my issues is not easy. The "morning after" my attempt I woke up... Ironically, it was January 1st. I realized that I had a purpose in living... many actually. I know that all the illnesses that I have fought and lost or won have been leading me toward my future path. But... that is for another day...

I do fight... everyday! One of the girls from the high school I graduated from became "Miss Missouri Outstanding Teen" this year and went on to compete on the National level. Her platform is inspiring, but just once I want to see a competitor with platform based on Mental Illness Awareness... Purging the negative views placed on Mental Illness that are so rampant in society. Educating everyone that we can't always help what we say and do, but the pain and regret and guilt are always there no matter what...

We are all animals. Our bodies are subjected to disease that destroys our organs... ALL of them... Hearts, brain, thyroid, liver, gall bladder, lungs... EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM. They fuck with our minds... make us feel things like anger and depression and euphoria with no tangible reason. We can either hide, put a mask on, or let it all hang out. Problem is that we are not accepted as we are... We tend to hurt or piss people off without meaning to... I removed my mask 5 years ago. I will NOT put it on again. It was eating me alive... I came to that conclusion as I stood in the doorway to my hospital room, starring at the double, metal, locked doors of the mental ward I was staying in.

We are animals... like the Werewolf on the show... trying to hide what we really are so that we can be accepted and loved and not abhorred. That is why I hide. I have a part of me that I have no control over. It attacks when it wants. I lash out if not contained to my room and from FB... That part was announced to the world 5 years ago. I have one sister who won't speak to me unless she has to. She says I hurt her too much with my attempt. My other sister will never forgive me either. We talk occasionally even though we live less than a block from each other, but it is only superficial crap... My attempt will always be that big, fat baby shit green Elephant in the room. Friends? Real Ones? I run from them... I have since 2003 when one of my favorite friends was killed along with her husband, also a friend and both of her parents who were great people. I run from friends to avoid pain. Yesterday proved that online "friends" can hurt me just as much as the ones I could see if I were to find a way to step out that front door and start to live again. But that would involve me taking chances. I'm not ready...

We are animals. "The moon no longer holds sway over the lycans." A line from Underworld, the first one... the one that got me addicted. The moon holds sway over every living creature. Some have heard nurses, doctors, aides, etc. talking about how the moon can cause a woman to go into labor... it causes mating rituals along with other "animal" things out in nature... it causes "mental" patients to get crazier than they already were... Old Wives Tales? Nope. I worked in an Alzheimer's unit for around 6 months while I was pregnant with my daughter. We dreaded that time of the month. One month, I was 7 months pregnant, I was helping a male resident along with another aide to go to the restroom. A female resident thought this was her husband, and I was taking him away from her. He was NOT her husband, of course, but she wouldn't listen. She slapped one of the other residents with a wet washcloth to get to me and then proceeded to punch me in the stomach. The pain took me to my knees and then to my OB Doc. Abby was fine, but I was scared shitless from that moment until months later when she survived an accidental overdose on my part... Nose drops... EMT/CNA... and I didn't read the box... When she lived, I knew she wasn't going to leave me like all the others had... She was my miracle. But I still feel the moon... the way she affects me. I can't sleep. I get anxious and angry and depressed... I am a Yo-Yo.

I don't write these posts on this blog to get pity. I write them to vent... to try to get people, "normal" people to understand just a little bit of what "we" go through... to influence others to FIGHT to live and to stop hiding from themselves and get the help they need so they can live a semi-normal life on the days that our bodies allow us... to speak out to others so they may help me in the fight to rid the world of the negative social stigma so that, hopefully, the voiceless can be heard and helped... to save lives...