While I was awake last night, I was watching video after video on youtube (some less embarrassing than others) I felt incredibly guilty. A lot of them were about rare health conditions and physical (dis)abilities that people around the world are not only living with but making the best of. So many individuals that live as much more than their circumstances. It threw me into a shame spiral. I am so fortunate to have, at least most of the time, my health. I'm lucky to be able to move through the world with few physical obstacles. I was lying in bed, having made little use of my body that day, while there are others that live for using their bodies in any way they can. Sometimes I sleep all day while others experience each day as a gift, another day to be alive.
I know this is what I was talking about last night, which I guess is evidence that it isn't simple. It's not a competition and I am trying my best. Here I am internalizing the societal erasure of my lived experiences. So often I find myself believing the very things that perpetuate my struggle. Why is it important that I compare my suffering to others? Why do I use that as a way to invalidate my challenges and diagnosis?
I find so many ways to hate myself.
I was awake at first light,
but exhausted from the unrelenting thoughts
of endings and nonexistence
My brain and beast held me prisoner,
as long as I was awake I could be chained to my own self loathing
I waited for permission
my mom told me I could sleep
I closed my eyes
weighed down by disappointment of all the days
I had merely taken up space
There wasn't enough room
in my bed for the two of us
But he still found his way there, tangled up
in my blankets and deep breathing
When I woke again
he was there
Staring at me, with eyes that were my own
I showered today, but it wasn't enough to wash me clean.
I'm covered in filth, the dust of my cowardice
from all of the times I've run away
afraid of failure and loneliness
He has returned, although I hate myself enough for both of us.
Here I am again, complaining. When I only have myself to blame.
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Friday, January 29, 2016
I was supposed to have studied today. But instead I watched the day pass without emotion or a sense of urgency. And here I am, yet again. In this place.
I hate so much that I am this way. I'm tired of asking "why" and also feel like as an adult that it's no longer an appropriate question. It doesn't matter at all why because I need to be something different. I need to get over these hang ups and do what needs to be done. The "why" of it isn't going to get me there. I don't know what will.
I don't know where the end will be. But I need it to be soon. Please, let it be soon.
When I think about living the rest of my life this way, I don't want to live it at all. This is an excuse for an existence. This is nothing, I am nothing.
I'm still so tempted to ask why. But instead, I'll ask "what".
What is it going to take for me to stop this self-destructive behavior?
What is it that I need to get through my head?
What about myself do I hate so much that motivates me to punish myself like this?
What am I doing here, if I'm not capable of anything?
School may kill me. Send help.
I hate so much that I am this way. I'm tired of asking "why" and also feel like as an adult that it's no longer an appropriate question. It doesn't matter at all why because I need to be something different. I need to get over these hang ups and do what needs to be done. The "why" of it isn't going to get me there. I don't know what will.
I don't know where the end will be. But I need it to be soon. Please, let it be soon.
When I think about living the rest of my life this way, I don't want to live it at all. This is an excuse for an existence. This is nothing, I am nothing.
I'm still so tempted to ask why. But instead, I'll ask "what".
What is it going to take for me to stop this self-destructive behavior?
What is it that I need to get through my head?
What about myself do I hate so much that motivates me to punish myself like this?
What am I doing here, if I'm not capable of anything?
School may kill me. Send help.
Tell me again: Who's sick? Who's broken? Who needs a cure?
I'm going to take a really complex issue and pretend that it's really simple for a minute. I'm prefacing with this, so be patient.
I'm gonna break a few things down for you, right now.
FACT: There are groups of people within our society that are oppressed.
Oppression: The domination, dehumization, acts of violence, expoitation of people based on one or more aspects of their identity.
Examples of these identities are: people of color, women, LGBTQIA (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Intersex, Asexual) people, the poor, people with dis/abilities, people with mental illness---there are many more.
These groups that experience oppression, experience it in very identity-specific ways. We are all complex individuals with multiple identities. This means that many people experience oppression as a member of one or more of these groups.
There is no such thing reverse anything. Let's be clear. No reverse racism, sexism etc. etc. etc. I'm not even gonna play with this shit, because NO.
Even though people experience multiple identities (we call this intersectionality, or the ways our different identities intersect and overlap), we are constantly choosing a primary identity depending on where we are or who we're with.
Each of these oppressed groups are working for their rights, they want liberation. It's not a game or competition but because we are so often forced to choose only ONE of our groups, we sometimes have to neglect the others. We are forced to pass the buck, put the shit we're being given onto someone else.
Something I've noticed lately is that no one wants to claim that they're sick or that they need a cure. And duh, who would want to?
Trans activists are saying "Don't tell us that our experiences with gender are a mental disorder or disease. We aren't looking for a cure. We aren't sick". THIS IS TRUE
(Dis)ability activists (I highlight the dis- part because many people find that offensive) are saying "Don't medicalize or try to police our bodies. There is nothing wrong with the way we are, we don't need a cure because we're not broken". THIS IS ALSO TRUE
I'm saying right now, as a person with a mental illness:
I'm not sick
I don't need a cure, not like there is one anyway
I'm not broken
And these other groups, rightly, don't want to be grouped in with us. We're trying to draw attention to the very specific ways we each are oppressed and the realities of our individual experiences.
With that said: In your own struggles, don't leave me with the rest. You're not sick, nothing is wrong with you. But my mental illness doesn't make me sick either. Don't throw me to the wolves, be careful when you're telling the world you don't want to be/aren't anything like me.
I understand the temptation to do this. When I first had to register with the Disability Resource Center in order to receive accommodations in my classes, like deadline extensions and excused absences, I was angry. I don't have a disability, that's not my struggle. I'm still angry because I feel like I've been tossed in with a group that experiences oppression in very different ways than I do, rendering me invisible.
I'm very conscious now though, that being angry doesn't mean that I'm insulted that people might consider my mental illness a disability. I'm angry because my struggles aren't being addressed. I'm not getting the support I need. And when people do talk about my mental illness, they're calling it an invisible disability. That's not what it is, that's not what this is for me. It's MADE to be invisible, because people don't know what to do about me. And as soon as you can call it invisible, you can tell me it's not real. That I'm not authentic or real. And what's left for me then?
And even more I'm angry that because the Disability Resource Center doesn't know what to do for me, my professors do NOTHING at all. They can't see what I'm struggling with, they assume that I'm cheating the system somehow, they skirt around the rules. I spend more time each term keeping my professors in check than I do studying. And you bet I'm fucking angry about it.
This is obviously complicated and I was unable to even make it as simple as I had originally hoped because it isn't. It can't be made so. This is the best I can do.
Now to study, I guess.
I'm gonna break a few things down for you, right now.
FACT: There are groups of people within our society that are oppressed.
Oppression: The domination, dehumization, acts of violence, expoitation of people based on one or more aspects of their identity.
Examples of these identities are: people of color, women, LGBTQIA (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, Intersex, Asexual) people, the poor, people with dis/abilities, people with mental illness---there are many more.
These groups that experience oppression, experience it in very identity-specific ways. We are all complex individuals with multiple identities. This means that many people experience oppression as a member of one or more of these groups.
There is no such thing reverse anything. Let's be clear. No reverse racism, sexism etc. etc. etc. I'm not even gonna play with this shit, because NO.
Even though people experience multiple identities (we call this intersectionality, or the ways our different identities intersect and overlap), we are constantly choosing a primary identity depending on where we are or who we're with.
Each of these oppressed groups are working for their rights, they want liberation. It's not a game or competition but because we are so often forced to choose only ONE of our groups, we sometimes have to neglect the others. We are forced to pass the buck, put the shit we're being given onto someone else.
Something I've noticed lately is that no one wants to claim that they're sick or that they need a cure. And duh, who would want to?
Trans activists are saying "Don't tell us that our experiences with gender are a mental disorder or disease. We aren't looking for a cure. We aren't sick". THIS IS TRUE
(Dis)ability activists (I highlight the dis- part because many people find that offensive) are saying "Don't medicalize or try to police our bodies. There is nothing wrong with the way we are, we don't need a cure because we're not broken". THIS IS ALSO TRUE
I'm saying right now, as a person with a mental illness:
I'm not sick
I don't need a cure, not like there is one anyway
I'm not broken
And these other groups, rightly, don't want to be grouped in with us. We're trying to draw attention to the very specific ways we each are oppressed and the realities of our individual experiences.
With that said: In your own struggles, don't leave me with the rest. You're not sick, nothing is wrong with you. But my mental illness doesn't make me sick either. Don't throw me to the wolves, be careful when you're telling the world you don't want to be/aren't anything like me.
I understand the temptation to do this. When I first had to register with the Disability Resource Center in order to receive accommodations in my classes, like deadline extensions and excused absences, I was angry. I don't have a disability, that's not my struggle. I'm still angry because I feel like I've been tossed in with a group that experiences oppression in very different ways than I do, rendering me invisible.
I'm very conscious now though, that being angry doesn't mean that I'm insulted that people might consider my mental illness a disability. I'm angry because my struggles aren't being addressed. I'm not getting the support I need. And when people do talk about my mental illness, they're calling it an invisible disability. That's not what it is, that's not what this is for me. It's MADE to be invisible, because people don't know what to do about me. And as soon as you can call it invisible, you can tell me it's not real. That I'm not authentic or real. And what's left for me then?
And even more I'm angry that because the Disability Resource Center doesn't know what to do for me, my professors do NOTHING at all. They can't see what I'm struggling with, they assume that I'm cheating the system somehow, they skirt around the rules. I spend more time each term keeping my professors in check than I do studying. And you bet I'm fucking angry about it.
This is obviously complicated and I was unable to even make it as simple as I had originally hoped because it isn't. It can't be made so. This is the best I can do.
Now to study, I guess.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Do You Believe in Magic?
It's strange how sometimes I forget that my experience is unique. I don't mean in the way that everyone's lives are unique; some will never know mania or depression. These are emotional states that many can't begin to fathom. How can you understand or relate to something that you'll likely never know? I don't blame them, of course, how are they supposed to really and truly get it? And it's not like I've found a way so far to translate or make it comprehensible. Not that it's my job to do that anyway.
Sometimes I feel like a tragic unicorn. Bear with me for a moment, okay? There's some magic to it, right? I have an understanding and experience of emotion that is not widely understood. I experience emotion within a spectrum, a continuum that I have yet to find the boundaries of. I have a foot in the door of different emotions all at once. Time passes and sometimes I have forgotten the day or the month and the only way I can figure it out is to work my way backward through a cycle. What day was it that I stopped sleeping? How many days has it been since I left my house? These are questions I ask myself all of the time. It's hard to know what's me and what's my illness, as I think my beast illustrates. But I hold onto the belief that I wouldn't be as self-aware or emotionally intuitive without it.
Last night I went to class, shaking uncontrollably and overwhelmed by the people I found myself surrounded by. It always feels like everyone knows. I'm harmfully aware of my speech, body movements and all of the other parts of interaction. I become so afraid that I'll give myself away; am I talking too much? Is this the fourth of fifth time I've moved in my seat? This goes on for a while.
Today, I've done exactly what I told myself I wouldn't. I'm at home when I should be in class. To miss class won't ultimately harm my grade, I'm still within the allotted absences for all of my classes. But it's another time I've broken a promise, one more time that I'm giving myself less of a chance.
I miss the days that I wrote poetry, here. I haven't done that in a while. And I still haven't found a way to encourage people to talk to me about this. Ask me questions, tell me stories--I want to hear them. I want to know that I'm not alone.
Sometimes I feel like a tragic unicorn. Bear with me for a moment, okay? There's some magic to it, right? I have an understanding and experience of emotion that is not widely understood. I experience emotion within a spectrum, a continuum that I have yet to find the boundaries of. I have a foot in the door of different emotions all at once. Time passes and sometimes I have forgotten the day or the month and the only way I can figure it out is to work my way backward through a cycle. What day was it that I stopped sleeping? How many days has it been since I left my house? These are questions I ask myself all of the time. It's hard to know what's me and what's my illness, as I think my beast illustrates. But I hold onto the belief that I wouldn't be as self-aware or emotionally intuitive without it.
Last night I went to class, shaking uncontrollably and overwhelmed by the people I found myself surrounded by. It always feels like everyone knows. I'm harmfully aware of my speech, body movements and all of the other parts of interaction. I become so afraid that I'll give myself away; am I talking too much? Is this the fourth of fifth time I've moved in my seat? This goes on for a while.
Today, I've done exactly what I told myself I wouldn't. I'm at home when I should be in class. To miss class won't ultimately harm my grade, I'm still within the allotted absences for all of my classes. But it's another time I've broken a promise, one more time that I'm giving myself less of a chance.
I miss the days that I wrote poetry, here. I haven't done that in a while. And I still haven't found a way to encourage people to talk to me about this. Ask me questions, tell me stories--I want to hear them. I want to know that I'm not alone.
Sunday, January 24, 2016
When Doing Everything Right Isn't Enough
I don't want to go back to school tomorrow. I live for the weekends lately, even though my weekends usually consist of sleeping as much as possible, drinking way too much coffee and beating myself up for not studying as much as I had told myself I would. Here I am, another Sunday night and I can say the only way I have deviated from my usual weekend routine is by not drinking as much coffee. And the only reason for that is the lack of coffee my house currently has.
This is the first weekend, however, where I have done no studying whatsoever. Throwing caution to the wind I guess. Week four out of ten and I'm already saying fuck it. I guess that shouldn't really come as a surprise though, because if I'm honest with myself, this is the way I encounter every midterm. Every week four or five as long as I can remember. I lose my discipline, stop studying religiously, start sleeping all hours of the day (I woke up this morning and went back to sleep less than an hour later) and use my first (of many) absences.
It's actually become a bit of a game, really. How fast can Isabel bounce back? How quickly can she get her shit together again, before anyone notices? I guess I've already lost some points, because I've sent my first "extension proposal" to a professor, which just means I've already had to resort to begging.
The commitment I've made to myself this time around is to go to class regardless. Whether or not I get my work done, or if my professor gives me the extension. I'm not going to get anything done during the time I'm supposed to be in class, because I'll be so overwhelmed with guilt and shame, so I've learned. And wouldn't it be great, even if I have to ask for an extension, if I went to class everyday this term?
I was manic last night, I think. Usually I'm sure, but this was so subtle. It's hard to tell sometimes. I can't constantly question my state of emotions, like when I feel good about myself is not the time to wonder "Am I confident or just crazy?". Anyway, this morning when I woke up, I was sure. I had come down over night, which is sometimes how it happens. I've slept all day and I hate myself again, which apparently is my baseline. So I'm okay folks, don't worry. I'm not manic I just am disgusted with myself.
I was telling Katie that the most frustrating thing right now is that I had been doing everything right. Last week I ran out of my meds for a few days because the pharmacy made an error, but even in those few days without and then the day I had them back in my system, there had been no interruptions.
And now, I've been taking my meds and sleeping and eating but I'm here. In this place. Again.
So yeah, there are things I can do to take care of myself and limit my cycling. But there are also times when my beast is going to fuck with me, just cause he can. Even if I'm doing everything right.
You know what that makes me want to do? Nothing at all.
Why should I put in all of this work? What does it actually get me?
This is the first weekend, however, where I have done no studying whatsoever. Throwing caution to the wind I guess. Week four out of ten and I'm already saying fuck it. I guess that shouldn't really come as a surprise though, because if I'm honest with myself, this is the way I encounter every midterm. Every week four or five as long as I can remember. I lose my discipline, stop studying religiously, start sleeping all hours of the day (I woke up this morning and went back to sleep less than an hour later) and use my first (of many) absences.
It's actually become a bit of a game, really. How fast can Isabel bounce back? How quickly can she get her shit together again, before anyone notices? I guess I've already lost some points, because I've sent my first "extension proposal" to a professor, which just means I've already had to resort to begging.
The commitment I've made to myself this time around is to go to class regardless. Whether or not I get my work done, or if my professor gives me the extension. I'm not going to get anything done during the time I'm supposed to be in class, because I'll be so overwhelmed with guilt and shame, so I've learned. And wouldn't it be great, even if I have to ask for an extension, if I went to class everyday this term?
I was manic last night, I think. Usually I'm sure, but this was so subtle. It's hard to tell sometimes. I can't constantly question my state of emotions, like when I feel good about myself is not the time to wonder "Am I confident or just crazy?". Anyway, this morning when I woke up, I was sure. I had come down over night, which is sometimes how it happens. I've slept all day and I hate myself again, which apparently is my baseline. So I'm okay folks, don't worry. I'm not manic I just am disgusted with myself.
I was telling Katie that the most frustrating thing right now is that I had been doing everything right. Last week I ran out of my meds for a few days because the pharmacy made an error, but even in those few days without and then the day I had them back in my system, there had been no interruptions.
And now, I've been taking my meds and sleeping and eating but I'm here. In this place. Again.
So yeah, there are things I can do to take care of myself and limit my cycling. But there are also times when my beast is going to fuck with me, just cause he can. Even if I'm doing everything right.
You know what that makes me want to do? Nothing at all.
Why should I put in all of this work? What does it actually get me?
Tuesday, January 5, 2016
"What in the actual fuck is happening."
That right there folks is the only line of a draft I started on my last attempt at writing here.
I don't have any idea what I was talking about. But I do know that it's applicable to my life most of the time. It's not like it was an epiphany or realization that would have been helpful to have remembered.
So no real loss, I guess.
It's relevant today, as ever.
Winter term was supposed to start, I had two classes I was supposed to go to. But snow, ice and the hysteria that surrounds a snow storm in Portland, meant that the whole campus was shut down.
I'm hoping it'll be reopened tomorrow because I have another four more that I'm waiting to start.
I was kind of disappointed at first, because I had psyched myself up for it. And the beginning of the term is the easiest so I'm looking forward to getting a better idea of what my classes are going to be like.
But after grocery shopping today and trying my best not to fall on my ass carrying them into the house, the one thing I don't want to do tomorrow is go back out there.
I don't want studying and work and getting up early.
I don't want pressure and I don't want failure.
I crammed over the weekend to finish a bunch of work I was missing from one of my classes I took last term, so I could get a grade for the class. It was due today, at the start of this term and I, of course, had put it off until the last minute.
But I felt so relieved to send all of it off to my professor last night, because I had been carrying that weight over the entirety of my winter break.
And then when I woke up this morning and I figured out that I didn't have class, I realized this was the first day of my break (and it wasn't even supposed to be my last) that I was legitimately free from obligation.
So that fucking blows.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Now it's today, the day after I started writing this, the first day of actual classes.
But I started my period last night and my cramps are so bad they make me nauseated and I've been throwing up all morning.
So no class for me.
I'm missing the very first ones. And I have four classes today.
I feel like I'm being stabbed in the gut. I'm so nauseated that water won't even hold in my stomach and I can't move.
And if that wasn't miserable enough, I'm so incredibly anxious about missing my classes today. What if they give someone else my spot? What if I miss so much that I fall behind? What if this reflects on me as a student to my professors?
I know it's not my fault and it's out of my control and blah blah blah.
But it feels so much like something else, so much like all of the other times I just didn't go that I can't help hating myself a little bit.
So, here I am.
That right there folks is the only line of a draft I started on my last attempt at writing here.
I don't have any idea what I was talking about. But I do know that it's applicable to my life most of the time. It's not like it was an epiphany or realization that would have been helpful to have remembered.
So no real loss, I guess.
It's relevant today, as ever.
Winter term was supposed to start, I had two classes I was supposed to go to. But snow, ice and the hysteria that surrounds a snow storm in Portland, meant that the whole campus was shut down.
I'm hoping it'll be reopened tomorrow because I have another four more that I'm waiting to start.
I was kind of disappointed at first, because I had psyched myself up for it. And the beginning of the term is the easiest so I'm looking forward to getting a better idea of what my classes are going to be like.
But after grocery shopping today and trying my best not to fall on my ass carrying them into the house, the one thing I don't want to do tomorrow is go back out there.
I don't want studying and work and getting up early.
I don't want pressure and I don't want failure.
I crammed over the weekend to finish a bunch of work I was missing from one of my classes I took last term, so I could get a grade for the class. It was due today, at the start of this term and I, of course, had put it off until the last minute.
But I felt so relieved to send all of it off to my professor last night, because I had been carrying that weight over the entirety of my winter break.
And then when I woke up this morning and I figured out that I didn't have class, I realized this was the first day of my break (and it wasn't even supposed to be my last) that I was legitimately free from obligation.
So that fucking blows.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Now it's today, the day after I started writing this, the first day of actual classes.
But I started my period last night and my cramps are so bad they make me nauseated and I've been throwing up all morning.
So no class for me.
I'm missing the very first ones. And I have four classes today.
I feel like I'm being stabbed in the gut. I'm so nauseated that water won't even hold in my stomach and I can't move.
And if that wasn't miserable enough, I'm so incredibly anxious about missing my classes today. What if they give someone else my spot? What if I miss so much that I fall behind? What if this reflects on me as a student to my professors?
I know it's not my fault and it's out of my control and blah blah blah.
But it feels so much like something else, so much like all of the other times I just didn't go that I can't help hating myself a little bit.
So, here I am.
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