Wednesday, July 24, 2013

It's just a hug.

I need to keep this post brief.  Hell, I may or may not even publish it publicly, as it's deeply personal.

After many months, my doctor and I think we've found the right "cocktail" for me when it comes to my meds.  In a way, it's a blessing.  The things that I've been going through emotionally and mentally have been stabilizing; I can control my moods a bit better and the "roller coaster" doesn't swing as wildly as it used to.  And if I do tend to feel a bit down in the dumps, I notice it a lot quicker than I used to and I take action to rectify my mood.

In a way, it's a curse, because the combination tends to knock me out at night.  And if I don't take it at a specific time of night, I'm either dragging ass all day long the next day, or I just don't get up at all (this happens mainly on the weekend).  For me, this absolutely SUCKS!  I'm a night owl, I like to stay up late, as I feel there just aren't enough hours in the day to do all of the things I want to do.

As of the 15th of July, I had been unemployed for over 8 weeks and during that time, I seriously considered whether or not to file for Social Security and full benefits from the VA as a condition of my illness prevented me from getting and sustaining a job for any great length of time.  At last count, the one job I had for longer than 18 months, was when I was a journalist in Nebraska.  I felt defective, lost, and alone.

Since then, I've gotten a job at an awesome company that's investing a healthy amount of time in me to train me on their products, their company's culture, and their selling techniques in order to succeed in their company.  The training is brutally honest, tough, and mentally & emotionally taxing.  I go home every night from training, praying to everything that's Holy that I'll be able to not only graduate from training, but to make it through their "nesting" process.

When I get home, currently, I have my daughter to deal with (which is NO easy process by any stretch of the imagination), I have three roommates to contend with (that's a story for another time), and then I have this need for an emotional & mental *dump* if you will, so that I can feel safe & secure in my own mind.

I still feel insecure & unsure about telling people about my condition face to face for fear of the negative stigma & connotation that may be attached to it.  And writing about it in blogs, or sharing images, phrases & sayings on Facebook tend to make me feel better.  It may be because I feel somewhat disconnected, like I'm hiding behind a computer screen.  But I don't know.  I really don't.

I've made more emotional connections with people online, which I feel are beneficial, but my physical needs still aren't being met.  I mean, hell, just getting a hug sometimes takes an act of Congress, and I'm left stymied because a hug is such a simple, yet powerful thing.  They're free, they're comforting, empowering, strengthening, and they can solidify relationships of all types.

I may have written about something similar to this in a previous post, but at the moment, the meds are kicking in, and I can't remember.  Things are a bit fuzzy.  But once you've opened that window, let someone into that personal part of you where you tell people about what's really going on inside you head, those people not only close themselves off, they shut that window, thus closing or severing that emotional connection you need to survive.

I find it ironic.  People treat those with mental illness like they're defective, broken.  Maybe they are broken, but not in the way others think.  And it's not like mental illness is contagious like the flu.  But that's how you're treated.

Just once, I would like to tell someone about my illness and have them accept me for who I am, and just hug me.  Tell me they understand and let me be me.  Don't ask me to change how I am, because I can't.  I shouldn't have to either.  Just hug me, and understand.

No comments:

Post a Comment