Discomfort

For the longest time I would never walk around without socks whether inside or outside, whether summer or winter. I don’t particularly like my feet, but I would even where these socks when I was alone. Some how bare feet left me feeling vulnerable, exposed. Even in my own home.
I’ve spent much of my life trying to cover up what brings me discomfort. I was made fun of a lot as a child as I have numerous freckles on my face and arms. I tried to scrub them off once w my moms makeup removal soap.  I cried in my counselor’s office every day at school before being picked up by my mother.  Tears made me and her uncomfortable. I pretended to be sick during a playoff game when I was the only girl on my little league team because the boys ganged up on me. I was uncomfortable being a better player than they were and so were they.
I was never taught to share my feelings of discomfort. I was never taught it was okay to have these feelings and what to do w them. As a result I found cutting, bulimia, and alcohol. Though temporary relief, I was willing to take what I could get.
On April 5th 2013 I drove to a bridge not far from my house w every intention of jumping. I got as far as leaning over the railing and feeling the wet wind on my face. I wanted to die. I had never known such psychic pain. I couldn’t imagine living another day with such discomfort. I didn’t jump that day, but have wanted to many times since. I have made several intricate plans to do so. Most times I have found myself in the mental hospital as a result. I often feel tortured by suicidal thoughts. When I am entrenched in the darkness, yet again, it’s the only way I believe I can be set free. For me, bipolar disorder is a tease. I will have several really good days. Sincerely laughing, wholeheartedly smiling, seamlessly productive at work, feeling ultra connected to my husband only to wake up the next day feeling none of that. Rather feeling the heaviness of my body, the slowness of my mind, the tears behind my eyes and the defeat in my breath and not know why. Just a huge mood shift without my permission.  It’s exhausting.
It’s uncomfortable not knowing who I am going to be from day to day. The sparkly, witty, smiley fanatic or the sad, agitated, desperate fanatic.  This roller coaster of emotion takes it toll on me and I want to stop the ride. For good.
However, god or an angel or a higher power reminds me every once in a while I am still needed here. I went running down by the river w my headphones last weekend. It’s a busy area w families pushing babies, walkers and runners. I passed this family who appeared in some sort of distress but I figured they were working it out. However, as I ran back by them the second time I stopped after a few feet. There was a problem. The little boy had somehow twisted his pant leg so tightly in the pedal he could not move. Try as I might the clothing wouldn’t budge. I had passed by a gentleman fishing down on the river bank and ran to see if he had a knife. He did and after several tries, I was able to cut the little boy free. The mother didn’t really speak English, but I could see in her eyes she was so grateful I took the time to stop as most people were passing them by (as I did the first time.)
On my run I was making plans to jump off that bridge. I was making a list of things that needed to happen such as pay some bills, add my husbands name to my bank account. I was thinking what I would say in a note. I was feeling like a burden to friends and family, unworthy of their love. I was convinced that I did not belong here. I was of no value to anyone.
Now I must share w you as I took off from this family to resume my run I had a smile on my face. It felt good to stop what I was doing to be of service. In that moment I had purpose.  In my heart, I knew this was a god shot. But, in my mind it was dumb luck that I was there and stopped. It proved nothing of my worth or reason to be here.
Either way, in that moment I felt free.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Discomfort

  1. I can completely relate to this post – I have flashes of being my old self and then it slips away to the depths.
    I took myself off to the library the other day to try and find yet more books to free my mind from the anxiety. While I was checking out my books, an old lady on the machine next to me was really struggling with the technology – it felt so good to be able to help her and that she trusted me with her purse to pay her overdue fines. It’s things like that that bring my spark back because she was so grateful that I had spent 5 minutes of my day helping her! Keep looking for those windows of opportunity fanatic – thinking of you 🙂 xxx

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s