I’m a school teacher. I’ve been doing it for 27 years. And I lost. At least that is the way it feels. I fought this entire year and I finally couldn’t do it anymore. I was teaching high school math in an inner-city school in the midwest. It’s not Chicago – I’ve taught there. I’d take it over where I am.
I just couldn’t do it anymore. I looked around at all the other teachers and thought that …. well, I thought a lot of really negative shit about myself. And, in the end, I’m just not strong enough to deal with the crap the kids were slingin’.
We have academies in the 9th grade where I was. And, I had the lowest functioning group. 1st grade reading level forced by my state to teach them Algebra. It’s tough when the curriculum is a reading based curriculum. But that isn’t even the problem. The discipline issues are nuts. And in the end…. I just couldn’t deal with them. I just couldn’t handle it anymore.
The anxiety was too overpowering and I was unable to walk into my room. A room full of 14 year olds. Intellectually I was furious with myself knowing that I was letting kids dictate my future. I felt like a little kid. I still feel like one now.
My illness won. After 27 years of battling mornings of anxiety and fear… it finally took over and I have finally lost.
Everyone tells me that my health is more important. I realize that it is. But when you fight daily for so long it feels like you have lost everything. I don’t care what anyone says. And there isn’t a medicine in the world that can fix that.
I don’t know if I will go back. I don’t know if I can… the option has to be there by law. So much is wrapped up into that…. I’m sure they don’t want me back. What emotions will be there next year……. I can’t really deal with it right now. I’m just not strong enough for it.
I just don’t know…… I know that I feel like I have lost to a disease that I have been fighting my entire life. That is all I know right now.
During one of many group sessions a therapist suggested to all of us that we keep a picture of ourselves with us at all times. The picture had to be of us when we were really little – 3 or 4. And, we when we were feeling self destructive or depressed or talking particularly shitty to ourselves, we had to take it out and look at it…. and then ask ourselves if we would treat that little person in the picture that way.
Mine was a picture of me in kindergarten – which of course I can’t find at the moment. It was that little person that I wouldn’t want anyone treating like shit.
The idea behind the dance in the video was that he see himself as his younger self for just a moment… long enough to pull himself up out of a dark moment and carry on.
Every now and then I can still do this.
………………………………… When I want to.
When I want to. I think those words are so powerful with this disease for me.
I stayed home from work yesterday. Because I wanted to.
So easily I slip into an excuse that I need the day off to get my head straight. I’m not “feeling” well. My medicine isn’t right. I’m just not right in my head or my skin.
But the bottom line is… I just don’t want to do it. I take the easy way out.
I am so fortunate. I mean seriously fortunate. I have struggled in my past. I have scars inside and out to prove it – not that it’s necessary to have them – or to need to prove it. By the grace of whoever or whatever (totally different post) I have come through some serious situations. I am on the upside of my disease for now. And I am grateful for sure. And, because of that there is no reason for me to slack.
So easily I can use a day like yesterday to start slipping backwards… letting my head get in the way. Listening to the negativity… rolling over and going back to sleep instead of moving forward and taking charge.
I needed to get up and look into the mirror and see my little self saying… “Get the hell outta bed and go! You have worked to hard to slide”.
I realize that this isn’t scary and edgy – comparatively. But it is my edgy for today. I know myself and I know that I can turn a corner in about 2 seconds if I’m not careful.
Excuses are easy for me to make – easy for me to follow through on and really most people expect them from me.
I don’t want to let my little person down.
It’s hard to see her. But, she is there. She’s… he’s… there in all of us if we want to look.
What if I decided to never talk to that person ever again?
What if I decided to walk into that meeting like it didn’t matter if those people thought my hair was a hot mess and my chosen outfit came out of an 1980’s throwback closet – except I didn’t know I was throwin’ back?
What if …
What if I woke up one morning and chose to accept that I could? That I could control the Paranoia Patol?
I have had issues all my life. Welcome to the club. But, Paranoia has been the biggest Bitch of them all.
It has created the most anxiety. It has caused more problems with relationships – of all kinds. It has ruined multiple jobs…. It has controlled my life in so many ways.
It just comes barreling into my life like a bulldozer and says “No, no, no! I don’t care what you think! You are wrong!”
I don’t care how in “control” of my bipolar/borderline I think I am -obviously I’m not it takes over. In fact, the better I feel, the worse my paranoia gets.
It’s like mental health has to be outta whack all the time…. Something has to be messed up.
Or maybe paranoia just naturally comes out of that? After fighting it for so many years your like “no way can I be feeling good! Something has to be fucked up. Let me find it!” And, if I can’t find I’ll create the shit! Oh, I am good at that!
So lately, I have been repeating those two phrases above to myself when I start to question my boyfriend – or when I have that urge to talk to the person who is really not good for me. Is it helping? Long term? No clue. My anxiety sure seems to subside though. And, we all understand how awesome it is to NOT have to deal with that little bitch of a problem.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been here to write. Feels good to be back and get some things down.
He told me that he would stay except he can’t trust me. Not me… me being sick. The lies I tell when I’m in a fog. The times I’m down and can’t climb out quickly enough to put the happiness back on my face. The potential of hell that is there. He can’t take the potential. That’s what he can’t deal with… the what if… the possibility of when it “could” all fall apart… the other shoe falling…. the embarrassment it could cause.
It took him all summer to play with my head… told me he loved me.. missed me… couldn’t move on without me… it took him all summer… to play with a sick girl’s mind. Someone he professed to love for a very long time. Someone he knew he needed to be careful with… and in the end… he was just vicious.
Therapy Man tells me that it’s the only way he could walk away – Angry and mean. I told Therapy Man that it just wasn’t him. He was never like that. Therapy Man told me… yes, that is exactly who he has always been.
This isn’t the first or the last time someone isn’t going to stay because I’m sick. Most of the summer I did my own thing. I have actually been broken up with him since January, but was seeing him off and on throughout the summer. I have such horrible abandonment issues that completely letting go of him seemed impossible. Completely letting go of anything in my life seems like an impossible task.
I have so much to say and can’t really figure out how to say much of it. Letting go… moving on with someone and being sick at the same time… knowing that they won’t or might not be able to deal with it??? Why bother because the pain is just too much.
I don’t know. Hearing him finally say that… and, maybe that wasn’t really his reason. God, I have trust issues mixed in all of the other bullshit in my life. Fuck!
Just…. fuck!
Therapy Man told me that if it weren’t for the men my life I wouldn’t need his services. And, I know he’s right… in a sense. If it weren’t for BPD… I wouldn’t need him. It is a painful disease. So much wrapped up inside of it… Layers and layers of pain.
I have no emotion meter… it’s either Bitch or Sweetheart. No in between…. It’s hard to have a relationship with myself let a lone with anyone else. But it’s so lonely if I don’t. And… being alone leads to other things that are unhealthy. so Jesus. What do you do?
I don’t know. I just don’t know. Just survive the pain and move I guess. Smile a little everyday? I suppose.
I have been running away from this place. I feel good. Danger boy is back on a very regular basis. Nothing has changed in the relationship, other than I see him a lot more than I ever did in the past. So… there’s the evidence that he’s my drug. He is here and I feel fantastic. With that said, I don’t have entries to write.
Nothing has changed in the relationship and nothing else has changed either. I’m dead in the water. When he’s not around I don’t do anything for myself. But I want to… I’m still frozen in my disease. I’m still using him to feel. Using him to avoid my own life. Soooo fucked up!
Picking me apart like I’m some appetizer at some bullshit party that no one gives a shit about…
So he tells me… I’m either a doormat or a bitch.
He says there’s nothing in between. “Gotta find that in-between, Jami.” That’s what he says. If I want to be successful? Successful? Whaaaat? It’s not a fucking game? What the fuck?
Good to know though… should I finally decide to open back up for business. Seriously? What?
I’m in this space right now where poor Borderline Betty is just rearing to attack. Every other sentence (in my head, thankfully) either starts or ends with a variation of “Fuck”. Yeah, she’s a special one.
Yep, that’s my girl… That’s how she’s feelin… and this is how’s she’s lookin these days.
Little potty mouth that she has…
Seriously tho, the kids at school are being so mean these days!
I have confiscated 5 phones this week alone! And on those phones are pics of me!!!
I think it’s sick! Why take a pic of your 48 year old teacher?
That’s what I wanna know?
And the school isn’t doing a damn thing about it!
I would think I could do something about it 😦
That’s why Betty is a little pissy!
Anyway… I’ve sorta been feeling like I’m trapped in this crazy space lately! Probably an irregular polygon. Sorry, I’m geometry teacher And, a bitch apparently. But, I think that is because I keep forgetting to take my thyroid medicine. What can I say. I forgot to fill it. Apparently, that’s not one ya want to mess with. I had no idea.
Irregular Polygon
FYI: this is probably why my students
hate me!
Anyway… I am in this space that scares the shit out of me right now. No drama. Normal life and no drama fucks me up. It shouldn’t. I mean normal life should be good. But, when you have lived on the edge of fear for eternity – normal isn’t normal. So I am walking aimlessly… without a cause. Borderline Betty wants a cause. And, if I’m not careful she will create one. Trust me when I tell you this people… All hell can break loose when she does that shit! Oh….
And so should I run? Maybe I am running.. Should I keep running? I wonder… and I wonder how long I can keep it up? I also wonder what exactly I am running from.
I haven’t written in a while. I don’t have that pull or ache and that scares me. I know – ridicules. Who wants that? But, that is what usually brings me here to write. I had a face to face with my therapist this week. He is a 5 hour round trip for me and so this winter it was a tricky drive. I didn’t make it much. I’m healthier when I actually see him than talk to him on the phone. It’s been a weird winter.
Yeah… bad winter… My ex told me last night that we just have bad winters… Now he says that. After he goes along with the break up. It’s ok. We weren’t meant to be together anyway… blah, blah, blah and all of that good stuff.
So, I’ve been sick for over a month now… I should quaify that.. physcially sick. Like stomach flu and then a cold and then a “just can’t get my ass off the couch because my head says yes but my insides say NONONO” sick for over a month now. And it’s been a bitch. I went to the doctor once and he said “yep, your sick” and sent me home. Gee, thanks! So I just haven’t been back. So, I’m sitting in Therapy Man’s office – actually laying on the couch – I know, could I get anymore cliche, and I tell him I think I’m actually sick. He thinks I’m just physcially worn out from all the drama. Only he used a much more therapy-ishly smart word for it. I hate it when he tries those words on me. But, he did say I should get it checked out.
And so, we went about trying to figure out if his hypothesis could be true….
1) Broke up with Danger Boy in September
2) Broke up with real boyfriend in early February – needed to do it much sooner
3) Lots – o – mush in the middle of all of that with borderline issues because I am a borderline bitch
Isn’t that the damn truth! So Therapy Man and I realized that I have 5 balls in the air right now… well, 10 figuratively speaking haha… I suppose I have to categorize this post under sex/love addiction. I didn’t realize that there is actually a place to go for love addiction? I’m grateful for that. I don’t know much about it, but it fits me much better than sex addition I think – although PLEASE understand that I’m not sure about any of it at the moment. It’s all very new to me.
I just know that I have an addiction for sure! And it sucks… and it’s hurtful to others! And… I need to get a hold on it. Therapy Man talks about it here and there. He never really sticks with it. I think because I am so obsessive about things that if he did, all I would for the next 6 months is fixate on being a sex/love addict and forget completely (I mean completely) about living my actual life. So, anyway, I decided to look it up. I don’t like labels. I don’t fucking like diseases, but when ya have to get real about somethin’ ya just have to.
So um…. this is a tidbit of what I noticed.
For love addicts, love:
Is all-consuming and obsessive – Check
Is inhibited – Check
Avoids risk or change – Check
Lacks true intimacy – “true intimacy” Check and check
Is manipulative, strikes deals – definitely a Check Mark!
Is dependent and parasitic – I’m a bug!
Demands the loved one’s complete devotion – oh… me demanding??? Fuck yes!
But…. so much pain in the end… ohhhhh
in the end…… uhhhh….
in the end I go to Therapy Man and he fixes me as I lay on the couch. 🙂
And I listen to my mind tell me to Run even tho I never do.
Oh, I listen to the song… lots, but I never listen to the lyrics! They are good ones for sure! I should listen! But, I still try. Woe is me. Hopeless romantic bitch! Someday my prince will come. I won’t recognize him because he will be nice – well, obviously, he’ll be a prince! Maybe the white horse will tip me off… I doubt it. I’m pretty blind to good things. I don’t know. In the mean time I will continue to go to visit with Therapy Man. Read up on sex and love addiction. Play with Paisley (see latest and great pic below) and live… hopefully illness free.
maybe I should just buy a piano?
*************************************
“Run”
Here’s some advise for the next one
Don’t let him lead you to the dark
Don’t tell him all your secrets
He’ll leave you with a broken heart
He’ll try and tell you that he wants you,
Just to keep you on the line
And right when you’re about to move on
He pulls you back every time
Here’s advice for the next one
RUN RUN RUN
Darling, I know that you’re just like me
You give your love up way too fast
But what is gone, it’s gone forever
And there’s no coming back from that
He’s got this perfect way about him
He’ll make you think that you come first,
But you’ll get lost in the challenge
You’re trying not to get hurt
Here’s advice for the next one
RUN RUN RUN
Don’t even search for that four-letter word
You’ll never get it out
You try, and try, and try
But he’ll just shut you down
Don’t wanna say I told you so
So please go now
“I have never been
So insulted in all my life
I could swallow the seas
To wash down all this pride
First you run like a fool
Just to be at my side
And now you run like a fool
But you just run to hide
And I can’t abide”
Took a few steps in the right direction and then got run over by a bus… yep, that’s about how it happened.
I have blogged for a long time. No, no, no… I have journaled since I was little girl. I started “blogging” in the late 90’s when I had to actually write my own code – is that what you call it? Designed my own site. For the life of me, I do not know how I had the attention span to accomplish that task. But, I did it. I like it a lot. I used Geocities. I was “Missing Peace” then as well.
Even then, as new as the concept was to me – and it was fairly new I think. Maybe not. There was some consciousness in the idea that you were no longer just writing for just yourself… that you were taking the pen – so to speak – off the paper and out of the book and putting it on the screen and were now letting people into your life. It wasn’t rocket science then. And then… we didn’t tag things like we do now. I certainly wasn’t writing bipolar posts or borderline posts intentionally. Whoever read it… read it. Whatever we said… we said and it didn’t matter what people thought or how they took it. Maybe we were more conscientious about what we wrote? I don’t know.
Now we tag things. We do it in every possible media experience we have – if we choose.
So my question is this? (and this may seem like it’s getting personal – because it is 🙂 )
If you put yourself out there in these spaces? You even go as far as inviting people back into your own space in some cases?
You leave a place for them to comment on your thoughts – your writing? Even when you make the first move…
Do you not willingly or not also leave space for critique (if you need to call it that) from people in those spaces? Most of whom you do not know – shall we call them the “Crazies”?
(No one deserves to be attacked for sharing their thoughts, ever. Please understand this has nothing to do with that.)
I’m just asking?
Because if I left the door open to your space, which I have no desire to do… it would be sickly obvious that without the crazy you could not exist. You act as though you don’t know anything about the “Crazies” you wrote about. Your site screams volumes of craziness and chaos…
For some reason you need them to see you in your Tom Ford suits. Yet you aren’t writing about yourself, remember? The sad truth, Dear, is that they don’t care what you are wearing.
You are a simple distraction for them. You distract them like everyone else on their “following” list distracts them. Or you wouldn’t be on that list. They purposely chose to let you into their lives.
You take them away from the bullshit in their life for a moment. And, maybe they relate to you. Maybe they don’t. Because that’s what they needed in that moment. Maybe they decide to press “like”. Maybe they don’t. Maybe they decide to “comment” – which is all it is – or they don’t.
You come here for the exact same reasons they do. This place, Geocites, and all of the other places past and present are for the same thing… To Share and to RELATE. You can tell yourself otherwise, but don’t. It would be a waste of your time.
We ALL have a lot to share. And here, very specifically, we get to decide what we want to share and who we want to to share it with. Don’t abuse that right.
And, the “Crazies” are going to notice that some of it’s good and some of it sucks. Yes. They comment on some of it and could care less about the other. They do this on your site and all of the others they “follow”. Yes, there are others. I’m sorry.
Don’t leave space for comments if you don’t like to hear what the “Crazies” have to say. But, again, without those “Crazies” you might be in trouble.
It’s still not rocket science, Dear.
What intrigues me most… is the overwhelming amount of positive commenting that oozes from your comment section. Yet, you bitch about it. Yet, you write about the crazy in your life. No, no.. that’s right, it’s not about your life?!?! Please, sir… in your Tom Ford suits… don’t insult “the reader” any longer. We are only here for the distraction.
Negative comments happen. If in fact they do? But, again, that’s all they are. Comments. Not poetry critiques. And, certainly this is not a critique (reminding you that this only came after you sent me to your site from my own):
“Yep.. this is where the idea came from for Naming The Storm… Great minds and all of that shit, right?”
And just saying… if you want to be respected as a poet… any kind of artist… then take a critique, any critique, wherever it came from. A worthy poet would have come up with something better than a piece attacking critique from the “Crazies”.
How “crazy” vain you are… standing there in you Tom Ford suit…
And, a bitch apparently. But, I think that is because I keep forgetting to take my thyroid medicine. What can I say. I forgot to fill it. Apparently, that’s not one ya want to mess with. I had no idea.
Missing Peace 