When I dropped out of High school I was months away from 18. So that still requires a legal gaurdian to sign you out. My father went with me that day. My Mom being a highschool teacher doesn’t have as flexible hours as my father.
When we got there they took us into the principals office. Where all of a sudden a realize I’ve been bombarded by an entire education team. The Superintendent, Prinicipal, both Vice Principals, counselors, teachers, school board reps… it was a circus all lined up in a horseshoe of overbearing male posturing. I waited to see who they had assigned to be ring leader.
Of course, the nice Principal and very nice vice Principal who had both known me since I was little had been given tthe job to do most of the speaking. I wonder how they were convinced it was right to treat me the way that followed? They tried reasoning and twisting and political speak.They all started chiming in as my father and I defended our points valiantly, though depressing that we had to fight to begin with. I was raised by a politician and I understood their bullshit wording and the reasons behind the frantic fae smiles. They didn’t think I’d done my research. Sorry folks, there’s a reason your losing one of the smartest kids in your school. Cause they wouldn’t find a way within NCLB to get my credits to work.
Yet still had the gall to try to convince me to “Withdraw with the intent to homeschool.” Which isn’t the same thing as dropping out of the system. The difference being I don’t count in their state report card as in their drop out rates.
Oh no sirs! We kept trying to explain, not that we got to talk much. Which is saying a lot coming from a professional talker. Finally they did something that still baffles me and I am not sure is legal or forgivable.
They removed my Father from the room to talk to me alone. I am VERY very lucky I don’t get intimidated. Cause they then tried to convince me it was my parents making me do it. I flipped out on them. I’ve made all the big choices in my life since I was old enough for my parents to explain things and for me to do my own research and understand it.
How dare they minimize me that way, I was not someone to be “handled.” I refused to speak with them farther until they brought my Dad back in the room. But first I chastised them looking them each in the face, verbally reminding them of the promises, the contracts they’d signed agreeing to all of this. They had broken every promise toward my education they made when I first started High school.
Then I went silent and waited.
They started up again and I got mean. I flipped out. I heard later that the entire school’s front office heard me (I don’t have a quiet voice, it projects naturally, and I was furious at that point) knock them all down a peg. Ending with the fact that this was my decision. “Hand me the papers to sign and bring my father in so he can sign his half as well. Because I absolutely will count against your drop out rate. Because I DID the work. I did more than your students who are about to walk, but you won’t let me from a technicality that you aren’t willing to help us find a way around. Bad form. You’re educators. Not the people who derail those who want an education. When dealing with a student who has the system setup against them it’s important to have their back and find the loopholes and back doors in the system to help those students be the success stories they should. I don’t mean cheating, I’m talking about finding a way for them to have an equal chance. But you all, everyone of you, failed with me. So more than anyone I know, you deserve to have my number count against you on that dropout rate!”
They brought my father back in.
A few of them had tears in their eyes, all of them were apologizing.
All of them deserved to feel that way. They deserved to not get to cushion their emotions behind a desk. To recognize that if at any point one of them had tried to help figure out the new system when it came to me, we wouldn’t be there.
Will I still be who I am and want to be if I stop giving people chances? There are so many pros and cons to both sides. Not getting hurt, not experiencing something amazing, not being taken advantage of, not learning something, learning something painfully. The list goes on. But the biggest con for me; will I have lost my love for the faults in humanity and every individual’s ability to rise above it?
But would I still be the me who I believe in when I look in the mirror? The person who believes that others can change if anyone bothered to let them… and if cigarettes are any indication or break ups for that matter, it can take quite a few times before quitting- a pattern, a behavior- finally sticks. I certainly know it takes a lot of times messing up, depressingly often, for years, before there is any noticeable changes in myself. Even when they are something that I work on everyday.
I talk too much, I come off too strongly to people. This can be very off putting. With the abuse I’ve been through I have been told how awful these traits are to the point where I realized I haven’t believed I’m worth being friends with for quite a long time. The worst part is, it isn’t like anyone else I know doesn’t just reconfirm they don’t like these essential parts of me being who I am. I just wish one person not my parents would tell me that those parts of me are good.
Do I change these things to fit other people? To not deal with the heartache of being so lonely? If I do that, will my heart ache for who I am stifling, my true me? Maybe they are all just right, maybe I am the problem… I am too much. Is that a bad thing though?
If so… how do I change this part of me that is so strongly ingrained in to who I am? If I don’t change then do I put up with the heartache, attacks, bullying of all the people who claim to care? Before of course disappearing from my daily life, but not before they put in their two cents, with the rare occasion I do see them and the bullying starts again? They have already been walking away claiming to be the victims- as I have been lashing out at them for being dragged into my now old group’s nasty drama then having their self absorbed drama/hormone induced narcissism (I know, mildly hyperbolic, but really mildly sadly) jumping on me and blaming me for it.
I want nothing of those people. I want to start new. I want to start listening to my gut and not letting my mind, circumstance, and other people I trust too talk me out of those truths I know
Every time I don’t listen to my instincts I get royally screwed over. Almost always with that person escaping as the victim cause they are “pretty little liars,” but being as blunt as I am… I must be the bad guy right? I won’t play their gaslighting games anymore. I’ve seen therapists long enough for them to tell me I haven’t an ounce of narcissism in me, that they are projecting, that I am being gaslighted. But I still keep making new friends who do the same to me over again. When will it end? How do I actually walk away from these toxic people when they are as ingrained in to the small town life that I live as they are?
An example of why I can’t walk away from a big part of our old group of friends is that in order for my husband to get promoted at work I have to play nice to- nasty narcissists who are manipulative and abusive in order to get what they want. Who somehow, until recently, would gaslight me into believing it was me. I swore I was cutting these people out of my life. But I can’t not if I want my husband to get a salaried job and not just be on minimum wage. Thank goodness for Obamacare or I’d be screwed with no healthcare until he gets moved up. But if I don’t play small town politics with these crooks like they are friends then any chance for advancement is going to be a nasty fight.
Thank goodness the top bosses aren’t in that drama nonsense. Because if it goes wrong, which I’m hoping it’s my anxiety thinking there’s no chance it won’t, these bosses should be able to recognize that this person who is above my BFG and training him has a personal issue with me and is taking it out on BFG. I have an issue with my husband NOT having an issue with the things this guy has done to me and to BFG and other friends at this point– all for this guy’s own gain. But that is so very separate an issue from that of playing politics of a corporate wife, even on the barely above minimum wage level. Because this being a small town, me deciding not to keep toxic people in my life limits who I see drastically. Other than for networking for BFG’s work. Which being as small a town as it is means seeing almost ALL of them, so trying to cut out the toxic people is practically lip service to myself… at least I haven’t run into my ex-husband in all this. That would be the toping on the cake.
I’m done giving these people chances, but I have to keep playing like they matter to me, I have to keep giving them chances, as the more I see them or interact with any of them– the worse my now continuously self-perpetuating abuse cycle in my head grows, just by hearing the things they have to say to me, seeing their faces, knowing to my BFG what they did just doesn’t matter to him even if it matters to me. Other than that it may cause problems for him with work and said people. But my husband needs the promotions for our family. Am I being selfish to ask that these people not be in my thus our lives?
My psyche and ability to move past my PTSD sooner rather than later or never versus my husband actually having a job that supports us as a family? Do I ever have a choice that’s a good one or will it always be to sacrifice one piece of myself or another? So do I screw up our family’s future possibly by taking away chances from the people who have already burned me or do I keep being me, letting them in… knowing in the end I will walk away far more damaged than I was before? I ask this as if it is really a question, but perhaps it is all rhetorical, perhaps I really have no choice, after all I am only being me
I like to think of my life like a book series. Not all of the books have a positive ending. But you never know how the characters will figure out that next scenario until starting the next book. Well in my life so many things happen and I have to move on, walk away, shift goals, choice, options, hopes and dreams… but there’s always the next book.
I would like to think of restarting writing the blog and starting back up with my proper health plans, I’ll explain later, as starting this new book. But I feel like I need to somehow finish writing the last book. No matter now painful. More than that I am at a point where I need to actually be working through the damage done to me by my past in order to be healthy for the people in my life now.
But I don’t know where to even start. Not about the last book or even how to start writing about the first chapter of this part of my life. So it’s likely my posts will be erratic for awhile (disorganized)- while I figure out the flow of this again. Until then, I hope my unorganized thoughts help others as I figure out these experiences and how I’ve changed from them, through writing it down to you.
What is there to hold on to when it feels like there is nothing left?
So often this is a question I come upon with the path I have to walk. What am I supposed to do when it feels like I’ve tried everything, the doctors are at a loss, and my life just keeps becoming less.
When I say less I’m referring to the idea of quality of life (QOL) for people with chronic conditions. We still can have an amazing QOL, but rarely does it match up in style when compared to a healthy QOL.
Part of Lupus is a mind game. The sicker I get the more grey my world gets. The more grey my world gets the more trouble my body has fighting off the Lupus and the sicker I get. It’s a cycle. So at which point can I or someone who cares reach through the grey and drag me out? At what point does the depression level affect the state of the Lupus flare, rather than just being a natural reaction to the state I’m living in at the time.
It’s remarkable how going through this disease really is a cycle. I ws saying so close to these exact words earlier to my BFG and the Singer. I don’t understand why healthy eople just don’t quite see it the same way. Let’s see if I can find better words as well as way to combat these feelings while sick and cycling in a post to come soon!!!
Finding ways to stay positive in a seemingly downward spiral that feels impossible to stop: 2016 Post to come!!
Sometimes your mind goes in too many different directions and sometimes it is at a stand still and can’t seem to go in any direction at all. That’s anxiety and depression. In today’s age we have so many arguments about those diagnoses. Are they being over diagnosed? Are they not a disease, but an excuse? Are they caused by society or brain chemicals or maybe a bad background? So much debate.
But the biggest thing I hear is everyone has it. Maybe. Maybe we all feel that crippling feeling of not being able to move… for a moment. Maybe. Maybe we all feel that feeling that every single direction has to be the right one and oh no what do I do? Maybe. Maybe we all feel that numbness of nothingness that feels like something beyond what anyone who hasn’t felt it could fathom feels empty. But I think there is a difference. Just like in all experiences. We can say in almost every situation; “you can’t know.” Where doesn’t that phrase work? … You haven’t lost a tooth! … oh, wait are you talking to a 3yr old? See what I’m saying? I think anxiety and depression are two of those things, like all other experiences, that some but not all people can say they have experience with.
I think I recently would have liked to claim (to myself at least) that my anxiety came from being in abusive relationships. But, honestly, I remember being anxious before that. The difference was, I had a support system that helped me feel safe. I rarely felt anxious within the bubble that my life was. It wasn’t until dealing with abuse that I learned how truly crippling having anxiety can be, how essential family (people you love, who love you) is to dealing with any form of illness physical or mental, how that bubble wasn’t set up the way we have set up our world. I’ve heard words that imply “our world isn’t for the weak.” But I would like to counter that and say that– perhaps we have set up a world that isn’t for the people who care to feel for others.
But I have certainly never claimed to be clinically depressed, situationally for sure. It is hard to be stuck in bed for weeks or not able to be at school with your friends growing up and not feel depressed during those times. It wasn’t until recently that I would say I, perhaps feel, what a minute part of feeling depressed clinically can be like. I lost my baby. But it is so much more than that. I lost what and who I thought I was going to be, what I thought I was going to do. Just like when I speak to people who have been diagnosed with one of the diseases I have, who I was going to be died with my baby. So now who am I heading toward in life? All of those patterns and goals I mentally prepared for, for months. The fertility treatments, the bed rest, the budgeting, the picking names, reading as much as possible, and getting excited.
I have come to realize it may be inappropriate for me to minimize my situational depression just because it isn’t the same thing as clinical depression. That’s the thing, it isn’t the same thing. Instead of comparing, then feeling guilty, because “compared to [them] I don’t have an excuse” I need to realize that I have something else (though similar) going on and I have to figure out what that means if I want to have the will power and knowledge to change the negative feelings and patterns this situation I’m in have caused.
I have found I have what sounds like a weird form of being suicidal. Though I don’t know how it is weird when there are books like Into The Wild. I don’t want to die. I want this life I have to die. I see no point in this life continuing. It makes more sense to walk away from this life and start another one all over again? Wouldn’t it be easier?
In the end it wouldn’t. “Becoming someone else” or “who you truly are” or however you want to put it is difficult in our society. It’s next to impossible. You can’t even change your middle name in some states in the U.S. If you walk away from people- you will be found by technology, the government, just google yourself- it doesn’t really matter what you’re running from, you won’t get away. If you don’t leave; the other people in your life will continue to see you as they have since forming your relationship. No matter what changes have happened in your life and how that has shaped who you are since meeting.
So the option I am left with is the same option I have had every time I reach this point in my life. Curl into the fetal position with a panting squirming cocka-poo who is trying to breathe for a few hours/days/ weeks/months.
Where I lie– Not thinking, thinking, over thinking, feeling numb, over feeling, feeling numb because I felt too much– cycling at a level that gets to the point where “I don’t even know” and “I’m as confused as you are” are the only answers I can come up with when asked questions pertaining to what I’m doing or what I’m thinking about.
Then figure out what my life will be now that this branch of experiences has been sawed off. I find a way to give myself make-work, that is useless work, that doesn’t make me feel any more worth something, but it’s doing something. Then I move to that something sparking an interesting, lighting me up…. and I GO!
I run with this wonderful new discovery of self. This awesome ability do whatever skill I have discovered, be it learning to knit socks, train dogs, or finally learning how to not interrupt when someone else is telling a story (I haven’t gotten that one yet). With this discovery the ball often never feels like it will stop rolling. I tend to stay in that state. Happy. Ready for anything. That’s what I always assuming anyway. Until something like this happens to my life and I am left asking anyone and everyone if they have any idea what coping strategies I’m supposed to be using to move forward in life and being left with nothing but the wall of caring, loving, sympathy and absolute cluelessness about it… the same situation I’m already in.
The problem with my THIS is that it doesn’t have only one layer to my situation. When you think the story is finished there always seems to be another but… and in this labyrinth of just one more hurdle at every turn I am getting tired.
If what is said is true about anxiety and depression. That we all feel it, at THAT LEVEL, can it be an excuse by each individual or is it truly a societal symptom? Maybe we do need to take a look at society and the direction mass mentality is going.
Personally I feel an individual should never have to ask for help it should just be given, but that isn’t how our society is set up, right?
Our society is losing itself to depression and anxiety, we aren’t do anything. Treating it as its own disease rather than the symptom it appears to be. We are all crying silently for help.
Because when it comes down to it… Why are we doing nothing but chemically medicate?
They always say that you should take as long as you need to grieve. Yet at the same time society expects you to be over it in a month, saying a month feels like I’m being liberal. Yesterday was my due date. Did no one else remember or did they just not know what to say? I don’t blame them. I’m not sure I would have known before going through it.
The day of the due date, that would never be real for me, was almost completely structured out. All focus going to someone else. Our darling Deer’s birthday weekend, always a special event. My mind was distracted! So many people to talk to and laugh with. Though it was certainly not her intent Deerheart just made it impossible for me to feel alone that day and the days leading up to it. Without it ever coming up in a discussion, because she’s amazingly good at making everything about her.
I lost the baby in November, I should be moving on. Figuring my life out without children now, right? But I haven’t gotten there yet and I’m not sorry. I’ll get there when I have the strength saved up to power forward. I just don’t have that built back up in me yet.
But now the weekend has ended and I’m back home and back to my own thoughts and I have one single image/idea intruding into every thought and action I do. There’s supposed to be a baby in my arms right now.
I’m on Foodstamps. Yep I said it. Apparently this is something I’m supposed to be ashamed of? Well I’m not. As a matter of fact I’m proud of myself for being an adult and realizing that with my health conditions earning a living wage would be really good luck, but luck alone. In general, it will be next to impossible to find somewhere to work that will work with my conditions so that I can keep the job.
Instead I am unemployed and still looking for a job that understands Lupus. Until then I still have to eat. My BFG brings in an income. But when his income goes toward; bills, rent, pets, gas, etc. food being on that list can make life seem a little scarier. Instead I don’t have to worry. I know I will be able to figure out bills every month (payment plans are lovely aren’t they?) and I’ll still have a budget that ensures food on the table every week. The paper work and background checks and having my entire life rifled through before the state determined I qualified was so extensive I honestly would applaud anyone bored and brilliant enough to ACTUALLY cheat the welfare system. Because that’s what would be needed. A lot of bored especially. I’m not sure if ANYONE enjoys bureaucracy, enough to want to spend as much time on the paper work and red-tape as is required to receive foodstamp,s unless they really need to put the food on the table.
This article is about a soldier on Foodstamps. He is trying to dispel the “typical societal belief” that Foodstamps are abused and not needed by most in the program.
Yay! BFG and I got a dog this week! Stupid dog… he’s huge, and does not meet any of my requirements for a dog. I guess that’s a part of being in a relationship though, compromise. We’re still looking for my little cuddle bug. Until then, I’m stuck trying to teach this big high energy pit/lab mix what it is to cuddle. He does seem to be taking to it; it’s rather entertaining to watch him try and curl up into a little ball next to me. Sometimes he tries to get onto the same couch cushion I’m on and hopes I won’t notice. I honestly don’t think he realizes how big he is.