Alone

I feel so alone......it feels unbearable......every time I bear my heart to someone, bad things happen......terrible things happen that break me into millions of pieces and kills me.  No one can handle my heavy heart......not one person can carry it with me.......I fight for people......I fight for them in their struggles......I go into battle for them when the enemy attacks them.......but who will go into battle for me when my demons attack me?  Who will fight for me on my behalf?  I have to fight the enemy alone......I have to face the world alone......

No......I don’t fight alone.  The saints fight for me on my behalf.  The angels fight for me on my behalf.  The Theotokos fights for me on my behalf.  Christ fights for me on my behalf.  Even though I can’t bear my heart to anyone in this world in this life, even though my heavy, fragile, glass heart is too much for everyone here, it’s not too much for those in heaven.

I often feel I’m cursed for having this bleeding heart of mine.  Perhaps it’s not a curse though.  I have a big, tender heart.  Though it’s fragile, it also endures.  It desires to help those who often cannot help themselves.  Those who the enemy targets to try to steal, kill, and destroy.  I cannot rescue people the same way God can, but I do take on others burdens.  I go into prayer and I fight for them on their behalf, never expecting anything in return.  That’s just how I am.  I won’t rely on other people to help me carry my heavy, fragile heart anymore though.  I will rely on those in heaven to help me carry it.  I will rely on Christ to help me continue to endure my endless pains.

Little Girl

Every time it seems my heart starts to heal, it gets crushed again.  My heart breaks so much, I have not felt such intense pain in a couple months.  I have never cried so intensely.  Life is cruel to me, giving me hope one moment then taking it away the next.  Giving me a reason to keep going then destroying me.  That scared little girl who is always with me, just wanting to be loved and feel safe.  She doesn’t know how to grow up because she’s stuck from the ghosts that abused her.  That little girl wanted to grow up and help people.  She wanted to save the world.  Yet she cannot even save herself. Arms scarred up, body bruised, matted hair, tears rolling down her face.  She beats her head and her breasts, Rocking back and forth on the bathroom floor, wailing like a banshee in pain, and wondering what happened to her life?  What happened to her dreams?  Voices telling her to off herself, she’s begging God, “please God just put me out of misery!”  She lays on the floor breathing heavily and spastically.  She can’t catch her breath.  Her heart beats so fast, as if it’s about to jump out of her body.  Her chest hurts like something broke, something she held dear.  She lays there unsure if she can even get up to vomit or if she’s going to end up laying in her vomit.  Continues to beg God, “please make it stop!”  Her heart bleeds, and she wonders, “why did God give me this cursed heart?”  All she wanted was to feel loved and safe, was that so much to ask for?  Then a voice tells her, “love is a lie, a fantasy, a delusion.  There’s no such thing!”  That scared little girl, out of breath, feeling defeated, empty, alone, and dying, turns to the voice and says, “away from me Satan!”  That little girl tries to pick herself up from the floor, and in her tears and battered body cries out, “God, even if no one in this world can love me, even if I can never feel safe with anyone again, I know you love me and will protect me; even when I cannot protect myself.”  For a moment, that little girl became a brave woman.  Though the brave woman doesn’t come out often, buried, she is in there somewhere.......

Fighting Together

I’ve spent much of my life fighting alone.  Growing up I got bullied a lot and no one defended me.  I had some friends, but they typically didn’t last very long for me.  It’s also really difficult for me to trust people because of abuse and abandonment.  When I start to trust and get close to someone, I push them away or I test them.  I crave intimacy and closeness with people, but I often fear it.  It terrifies me because I’ve been hurt so many times.  I’m so used to being alone though, even when I’m surrounded by a lot of people, that I don’t really know how to do life with people.  The battles life throws at us, I’m so used to fighting them by myself that I don’t know how to let people in.  How do I let people in?  I’m trying really hard to allow people (well, some people, I’m trying to be very selective with who I let in my bubble) to be there for me.  I honestly hate being alone.  I’m trying to trust a select few.  While I need to trust more, I need to make sure I’m trustworthy too.  I need to not let my fears overtake me.  Life is full of hurt.  Sure I can keep everyone at a distance and stay safe, but is that really living?  Is trusting no one really living?  Let me answer that for you:

It’s not living.

We need people to do life with.  We don’t need a lot of people.  If you have only a few people in your corner, you are richer than most people in the world.  Cherish those relationships, and never take them for granted.  Don’t ever cease thanking them for being there for you.

To those who have been there for me, who have endured with me, thank you.  I will work hard at not only allowing you in and trusting you, but I will also work on being someone you can rely on and trust too.  Thank you for everything, you are worth the risk of me being hurt.

Rain and Rainbows

I’ve been trying to heal from something that’s been really difficult for me (if you haven’t read my last blog entry).  I’ve been cutting again, among other things I’d rather not discuss at the moment.  I seem to be getting worse and sicker.  I keep everyone at a distance - my friends, family, priest, therapist even.  I’m having a difficult time trusting everyone.  I second guess everyone, including myself.  Everything I say to someone I’m afraid I said something wrong and panic; afraid they will leave me high and dry too.  When people say they care about me, I question their genuinity (if that’s a word).  I spend many days crying, afraid I’ll be alone, even though I push people away.  When one person breaks my trust, everyone loses my trust.  I know that’s not fair for other people, and I do apologize to the people effected by that, as well as my reckless behavior.

I was talking to a friend today (a fellow Borderline friend).  It’s been raining a lot lately in my area, which I don’t mind because I find rain relaxing.  She was talking about how she misses the sun, when I said something kinda profound.

“You can’t have rainbows without the rain.”

I know it sounds cheesy and cliche, but think about it.  Rainbows come out after a storm.  So it is in life.  You can’t know the good times in life without knowing the hard times.  You can’t know the people who help heal you without knowing shitty people.  So if you’re going through a dark time right now, don’t give up hope.  No matter how severe the storm seems, there’s a beautiful rainbow around the corner.  The clouds will eventually clear up, the winds will eventually calm down, and the rain will eventually stop.  Don’t give up.

Drowning

I’m drowning in my own blood.....
It’s quickly filling my lungs.......
I’m gasping for air.......
I’m trying to reach for your hand........
You watch me drowning with a grin on your face......
You pull your hand away from me.......
You were my angel who rescued me........
Now you’re my angel of death.........
Your wings which once carried me away from my sorrows......
Now your claws slash me into pieces.......
I gave you my heart.......
You threw it on the ground, smashed it, and spit in my face.......
Why have you done this to me?
Why am I so worthless to you now?
What have I done to deserve this?



I can’t breathe anymore.......

One Year

I know I haven't written in a few months.  My dog Nessie passed away February 1st this year.  Honestly, it was one of the hardest days for me.  There have been a few times since then I almost cut.  I wanted to numb the pain of losing her, among other things going on as well.  Just last week even my husband had to take a salad slicer blade away from me because I was going to use that to cut.  When Nessie died, I told myself that instead of cutting because of her death, she was going to be my inspiration to get my nine month chip.  It was difficult, but I made it.  When I got that chip, I wrote her name on it so it would always be a reminder that she helped me get that chip.  That was in February.

 Last night, May 27, 2019, I got my one year sobriety chip for not cutting!  I didn't think I would make it honestly.  I self-sabotage so often, especially when I've made any progress in anything, but with the support of friends, family, and Christ's grace, I made it!  This is the longest I've gone without cutting in years!

 I started cutting when I was 16 - on Valentine's Day.  I cut for three days and then when my mom found out; I was put in the hospital.  I didn't really cut after that until after I got married.  Shortly after I was diagnosed with PTSD, around Thanksgiving of 2010, I had a close friend who had been like an older brother to me.  In high school we talked all the time.  I really trusted him.  He was the first person I told I had Autism when I was diagnosed with it.  After I got married though, he stopped talking to me.  I didn't understand why.  He didn't even want to come to my wedding.  I finally asked him why he wasn't talking to me anymore and he answered, "I don't care about this relationship anymore" and blocked me.  I have not spoken to him since.  I was so devastated by his abandonment, that I started cutting again.  It was off and on after that.  Then a little while after moving to Tennessee, I met a minister.  He was like a father figure to me.  I really trusted him too.  Things got really bad between us though.  He started to emotionally abuse me.  I started cutting more during that.  I had two suicide attempts in the same year during that as well.  My cutting got more and more frequent.  It got to the point where I was cutting at least three to four times a week - some times more.  My family and husband got really worried about me and we talked to my psychiatrist at the time about it.  He told them to just let me cut and eventually I'd grow out of it.  I'd be cutting and there was nothing they could do about it.  I wanted to stop, I knew it wasn't good, but I didn't really have good coping skills (I'm still learning).

  The thing about cutting is when my emotions get really intense, cutting numbs me - instantly.  The sting from the blade cutting my skin, the blood dripping, somehow it soothed me.  Medically-speaking, cutting releases endorphins.  After I cut, I emotionally don't feel anything.  I feel numb.  When your emotions so often get really intense, it can feel good to not feel anything.  This isn't healthy though.  I remember talking to a therapist about it and she said, "You won't find any healthy coping skills that numb you like that."  It's disappointing for sure.  There are risks to cutting though.  You can get infections, and if you do it a certain way, you can possibly kill yourself (I know how to not kill myself doing it though). 

Anyway, a couple years ago, after we moved to Georgia, we started going to a Celebrate Recovery program at our church at the time.  I even got a sponsor.  I started going mainly to work on my cutting.  While there though, I realized I had other problems too (such as codependency).  The longest I've gone without CR was 11 months.  Then when I started going to CR, I went 8 months.  Then a year ago, we were involved in a major car accident.  That was extremely frightening for me.  We had been t-boned on my side of the car by an SUV.  The fire department had to cut my door off to get me out of the car.  I really thought I was going to die.  There was glass everywhere and I couldn't breathe.  I thought maybe some glass had stabbed me or something.  For a little while, I wasn't suicidal after that because I figured if God really wanted me to die, I would've died in that accident.  The suicidal feelings did come back though and I've struggled with them daily since.

 When the eight month chip came back around, I was scared because I thought, "I blew it right after I got my eight month chip last time, what if it happens again?"  I was determined to not let that happen again though, and I had a lot of support to help me along the way too.  The closer I got to my one year mark, the more excited yet more anxious I got.  Like I said, I have a tendency to self-sabotage.  Then the day finally came.  I stopped by at a friend from church's house.  She's a professional with hair and makeup and she said she would do my hair and makeup for my one year chip.  She asked me what I wanted and for my hair and I showed her a picture online.  For my makeup I wanted something similar she had done on herself on Facebook.  She did an EXCELLENT job with my hair and makeup.  When she showed me when she finished, I nearly cried.  I felt like I looked like a model!  I even felt like I had that "airbrushed" look!  None of my imperfections were showing.  For once in a really long time, I felt like I looked beautiful.

 After that, I was on my way to CR and when I got there, I was so relieved because I had finally done it.  I made it a year!  People couldn't even recognize me!  One friend came to CR early from her vacation just so she could be there for me when I got my chip!  My dad came too!  My mom wanted to be there, but couldn't because she had to travel out of state for a funeral.  When I got that chip in my hand, I felt like I had made a huge victory.  I got nervous when I went up to get it, but when I went back to my seat, for once, I was really proud of myself.  I could tell my dad was proud of me too, and that was a really good feeling too.  My next chip will be 18 months sober, and if God could help me get to one year, surely He can help me get to 18 months too! 

I'll be writing two more blogs after this that I know of.  Oh yes, another reason why I haven't written in a while is because we recently moved!  We're still in the same city, but different apartment complex.  We are still in the middle of unpacking.  Once everything has been unpacked, it will be easier to work on writing more again.  God bless!

Nessie

Dearest Nessie,

I remember just like yesterday when we got you as a puppy nearly 17 years ago.  It was August, after my 12th birthday.  I had always wanted a dog but never could have one.  Then one evening mom and dad told Zach and me we were getting you.  I was so excited!  I had just come home from a summer youth camp.  We were living in Virginia Beach then.  Mom and I drove down to North Carolina to pick you up.  We had all picked your name, Nessie.  Since your breed comes from Scotland, we wanted a Scottish name for you.  Mom and I got to the house we were picking you up from.  You were only a few weeks old.  We saw all the different puppies in the house, but when I saw you, I instantly knew you were the one coming home with us.  Most of the puppies were sleeping, but you were jumping up and down trying to get our attention.  You were the smallest in the litter.  I held you in my arms and you fell asleep there.  We brought you home and you looked so tiny even in the grass!  You were so small that you couldn’t reach your food in your bowl!  Aunt Courtney came over to see you too, do you remember her?  She brought a toy over for you that was even too big for you!  Aunt Courtney spent the night the first night.  You cried the entire night!  You didn’t really like other dogs, except for Scottie.  He was your buddy!  Remember when Aunt Courtney and I would take you and Scottie for walks together?  You’d go over to Aunt Courtney’s house sometimes and play with Scottie.  You had so much fun with him.

It was a great joy to grow up with you.  I went through a lot of bullying growing up.  I often felt so lonely through that.  But you were there for me.  I always felt I could relate to animals more than people.  You were (and are) the best dog a girl could ask for.  I couldn’t have asked for a better dog growing up.  I’m so glad you were my first dog.  I wish I took you for more walks, I know how much you enjoyed those.  You used to be so full of energy and life.  When we lived in Virginia Beach, I remember you used to run in figure eights in our big backyard.  It was so funny to watch you out there.  I remember when you used to challenge the bigger dogs.  You were certainly a big dog in a small dog’s body.  At Christmas time, mom and dad have a decorative snowman that plays music - you’ve always hated that thing.  It’s funny to see you go after it - it’s even got teeth marks in it!  Whenever something was out of place, you always noticed it.  You would bark at a plastic grocery bag that’d happen to float into our yard until it was gone.

I have so many good memories of you.  When Nick and I first started dating, you were very jealous.  When we’d sit together on the couch, you’d always sit between us.  I’m glad you like him now.  I wanted you to be a part of our wedding, but mom and dad said no.  I suppose you would’ve been pretty miserable if you had been though; smelling all the food there and not being able to eat any of it.

Now you’re 16.5 years old and tired.  It’s difficult to see you sometimes.  You’re so tired and physically so weak.  You hardly eat - something you used to love to do (must’ve taken after me).  You have so many health problems, I know your quality of life isn’t very good anymore.  I know mom and dad are doing the best they can to give you a good life.  I know soon, I will have to say goodbye to you, and it kills me.  I find myself crying often.  Even last night, I cried myself to sleep.  I don’t want to feel my emotions.  I’d rather numb them, but I can’t do that either.  I’ve always feared the day I’d lose you, and I know that day is coming soon.  When I have to say goodbye to you, I’ll try to be strong for you.  When you’re gone, I’ll try to be strong and not give into my dark thoughts of self-harm.  You wouldn’t want that I’m sure.  I’ll try to be strong, and hope one day I’ll get to see you again.  That when the day comes I see Jesus, you’ll come running to me too.  I know you can’t read this, and I know you’re a dog, but you’re not just a dog - you’re my dog.  You will always be my dog.  You’re a good dog, the best!  I will miss you so much, and though I forget many things, I will never forget you.  Thank you for being my best friend for so long.  May we meet again on the other side.

Love,

Allie