I’ve always had a passion for writing. However, my challenge lies in the fact that my thoughts often scatter, and I may complete only one out of every ten pieces I begin. I have a friend who grapples with constant chaotic thoughts. He finds it difficult to recognize any redeeming qualities within himself. The remarkable thing is, he possesses an unparalleled gift. His ability to put words to paper that evoke all your senses and transport you into the vivid scenes he creates is a talent possessed by few.
He’s been working very hard on himself for the last year or so, giving up things he once thought he wanted, to explore his past, understand who he has become, and discover who he wants to be. He’s utilized advice from friends, his own creativity, a great deal of courage, and therapy to break free from the box that trauma had trapped him in.
I am incredibly proud of him. He acknowledges that he was becoming toxic to himself and those he cared about. Instead of taking the easy route, he summoned the strength to become a better person. His journey is far from over, and he knows it will take years to untangle and overcome behaviors shaped by trauma. But he’s doing it, and I want him to know that, although my life is very busy at the moment & my time is limited… I see you.
He has a deep love for poetry, and so do I. Even though I’m just a small star in the vast galaxy of his talent, I knew that poetry was the language I needed to connect with him. I chose a reverse poem to serve as a reminder of where he once stood and where he stands today. I want him to understand that I see him, I’m proud of him, and I have faith in him. I look forward to watching his ongoing journey toward self-healing and self-awareness.
Read each line from top to bottom. Then read each line from bottom to top.
Happy Friday friends! You know those days we all have when everything you try to do is an epic fail? My “Thursday” was one of those days!
My husband is enjoying a much needed camping vacation. I started “Thursday” off with completing some promotional work online. I was feeling accomplished after getting it done quickly, efficiently and early! I had nothing I had to do for the rest of the day until an interview at 8pm.
After completing my online work, I went to the refrigerator to grab a drink. The minute I opened the door, I immediately regretted it, the smell was overwhelming. I noticed the milk container lying on its side. When I reached for it, I realized the container was bloated, and couldn’t even stand upright. What had started as a container of whole milk had turned into curds & whey, and Little Miss Muffet was no where to be found!
RIP Frigidaire
I quickly cleared out the entire refrigerator and transferred my Orencia injections into a cooler with ice. I have no way of knowing how long they went without refrigeration. My anxiety grew as I called the pharmacy asking what to do. They told me they could send me replacements, but I would need to cover the cost upfront and wait to see if my insurance would reimburse me. Considering each shot costs $1,436, and I would need three replaced, that amounted to $4308. They were so cavalier about the situation. I got the impression they truly believed I had that kind of money just lying around. But let me refocus and get back to the rest of my chaotic “Thursday”!
Following that, the power suddenly went out and my attempts to reset it were not successful. I was beyond frustrated and I shifted my attention to tending to the animals instead. However, while collecting eggs, several chickens managed to escape their enclosure. Despite corralling most of them, their was one little devil that evaded me. As I approached it with the hope of sending it running back to the enclosure, I slipped and fell hard. I was able to catch myself with my outstretched hand, I felt pain immediately. I found myself in the duck pond, which is basically a mud bog, this time of year.
By this time I contemplated remaining there for the rest of the day. Eventually I managed to extract myself from the mud and hobbled back to the house with my cane. I wanted to get inside and quickly ice my hand and wrist. Then I had another moment of complete exasperation when I remembered the power is still out and I can’t even shower. So there I sat in self pity city, hurting & covered in mud for a good half-hour, until my phone rang and interrupted my pity party for one.
The call was from the social worker where my mom resides, they needed me come in to address some matters. I felt paralyzed. I was covered in mud, and feeling overwhelmed and doubting myself. I do not like these feelings and it flipped a switch in my brain. Just do it. With renewed badassery, I dragged my ass back outside. It took all the tenacity I could muster, but I managed to reset the power and get that mother clucking chicken back to the safety of it’s pen.
I did it.
I went back inside and reassured myself, “you do not have to rush to Mom’s. She’s safe and you can go tomorrow. Treat yourself to a hot shower and some ice cream! Just as I headed for the shower another call came in and I realized it was “Wednesday” not “Thursday”. All of the effort I had put in to my work that morning was wasted time. I had done the wrong days work. I would have to backtrack and edit everything.
Before doing anything else, I shower and ice my injury. My shower re-energized me and the swelling in my hand improved after icing. I was feeling better and no longer worried about a potential trip to the ER. Since realizing it’s “Wednesday” and not “Thursday”, and that I didn’t have an interview in a few hours, I made the decision to go to moms after all, and address her needs.
Upon returning home from moms I felt quite accomplished, but exhausted. I video chatted with some long distance friends and allowed myself to unwind. As time passed, the pain in my wrist and hand became increasingly unbearable. I knew I needed to get it evaluated. Yet, my stubbornness led me to wait until the next morning. What a long agonizing night.
Urgent Care
The next morning, which indeed was the actual “Thursday”, I went straight to urgent care. Diagnosis: fractured and they discovered two previously healed fractures. Now I wait for Ortho referral. They marveled at the pain threshold required to endure two broken bones, without even realizing they were broken! Sadly, most spoonies dealing with painful chronic illnesses unfortunately understand. I carried on with my scheduled interview that evening and then relaxed the rest of my “Thursday”. Looking forward to a fresh start “Friday”!
I make no bones about it: My mind can be an awfully scary place sometimes. Sometimes, it feels like I am trapped in the forest. My intentions when I enter the forest are always good: I enter it looking for the peace, the calm and the refuge from the noise, hustle and bustle of the outside world. I start walking along the trails, I hear the birdsong overhead and the babbling of the creeks and streams, the trees are all lush and green and beautiful, the sun is bright and warm, and all cares are tossed to the wayside. This trip into the woods is delineated as my thoughts, cares and love for my friends and those around me.
But inevitably, invariably and ultimately, time gets away from me. The dark of night slips up on me, and I find myself without a tent, flashlight, food, blade or any way of communication, to say nothing of my lacking a lighter for a fire. And the howling is distant but growing closer. The yellow dots of light in the far woods begin to draw closer. The wolves are on their way, looking to claim their most fool-hearty victim once again: Me. But these wolves aren’t just any pack of them: They are my fears, anxieties and worries coming back to ravage me one more time.
This week, I found myself once again being held torn apart by my over-revving, overthinking mind. Silence from friends on Facebook when I checked in. People near and dear to me snapping or giving me cold, hard responses when I spoke to them. Overthinking how my friends were reacting to events going on in their lives. Feelings of not being where I think I should be in life. Fearing I had overstepped my boundaries and overstayed my welcome in my friend’s lives. Fearing about over communicating and being a pest to my friends. Worries about other friends and when I will be able to see them, if I can. Worries about moving and money. Losing sleep. Not eating right or hydrating properly. This week, I was lost in the woods. The wolves in my mind were showing their teeth, growling, ready to pounce on the ill-starred and helpless wanderer that had entered their forbidden territory.
Several nights this week, I found myself pinned to my bed with cold sweat rolling from my brow and my stomach turning flips over scenarios, real and imagined. And I couldn’t reach out. Most everyone I could turn to was sound asleep. By day, I could fend off the wolves fairly effectively, but by nightfall, I was tired and beat, and they pounced, each taking turns biting and ripping chunks of me away to keep as their spoils.
Once again, I let my mind get the upper hand on me, and I was a battered and bleeding pile of bones once again, emaciated by the lostness of I in the forest of my mind, and decimated by the voracious lobos that my thoughts, fears, anxieties, etc had manifested themselves as. I had to once again use what few morsels of strength I had remaining to drag myself out of the woods somehow and either crawl back to my safe place, or try to flag down someone and have them bring me back, despite the silence I had endured.
One would think surrender would be the only option, to just lay down and give in and let my mind have its way with me. There has been times in the not so distant past that surrender sounded like a very tempting and viable option. How much more of me could the wolves take before there was absolutely nothing remaining of me? How much more of my blood had to spill before I realized enough was enough? How many more times would I have to stitch and salve my wounds and go back into that forest to search for the light?
But then I re-realized a very important thing, something that, in my fight for survival, I had let get away from me:
Strength in numbers.
Strength. In. Numbers.
I do not have to keep letting the darkness and the wolves catch me unsuspecting. I have near and dear friends. I had only focused on their silences this week without any context behind them; I had in my scared and myopic state hyperfocused on the silence, when I know that these people would drop everything to help me, if I need it. If I do not have the tools and resources of my own, I can call on them and they can lend them, or better still, I can take these friends with me into the woods. I can take comfort in knowing they have the tools to pitch a tent, build a fire, cook a meal and keep those ugly, leering wolves at bay for the night. I do not have to go into the woods alone. I know that, if my fears and worries and anxieties were founded about them, they would reach out and let me know and would give me options to help them. I know these people have my back. I have strength in numbers. And I don’t have to fight alone. It’s taken me 26 years to realize this, but strength in numbers is something that overcome most anything.
I hope this blog finds you well, and in the comments, tell about some of the people who helps you fight off those wolves when they appear in your own mind!
As always, take care, much love and may God richly bless,
It’s that moment in a social situation when things get awkward. When the person you’re talking to starts squirming & fumbling for words. They are struggling to keep the conversation going. That moment when people are at a loss for words. I realize my illness, my pain, my wheelchair & dozens of other chronic illness-related issues, I live with make “them” uncomfortable. If I’m being honest, saying the wrong thing happens a lot.
These are innocent, benign comments from people with no malicious intent. Many times they think it’s funny and yet they’re completely serious. Sometimes I can shrug it off or laugh it off. Other times, my bitch switch is flipped and it’s on. I’m ready to completely obliterate someone in anger and frustration. Faster than you would think, anger turns to frustration, and frustration turns to pain. Before you know it, I’m launching headfirst into the abyss that leads me down the dark road to depression.
“You’re so lucky you don’t have to work.”
“I wish I could stay home all day, like you.”
When you want to say it, just don’t.
I hear this often. Each time my mind’s eye suddenly sees my day in what it perceives, they think I do all day. There I am on a lavish sofa, the sun gleaming through the windows, making me appear like a starlet under the glow of the spotlight. I have snacks to the left of me, a controller to my right, and I’m snug in the middle with… Netflix. My dogs are at the table playing poker with their friends. My house is a magical place where dirt evaporates and items walk themselves back to where they belong. Once in a while, I glance up from the TV long enough to see my dishes take a bath and dry themselves with my self-cleaning dishcloths. All I do is think about dinner and bam! There it is, ready to serve itself when the time is right. The washing machine collects dirty laundry and bedding, proceeds to wash, dry, put it away, and make my bed. I’m like 5 episodes into my binge-watching by now. This fantasy vision is short-lived, and my brain brings me back to reality.
What they don’t think about is the fact that you can’t work because you can’t function. Your day is consumed with effort through pain, fatigue, and brain fog. There are meds to take, scripts to fill, doctor’s appointments, organizing all of this, and dozens of other equally not-fun medically related things that need to be done. They have not had to consider the implications of being unable to work for an extended period. How do you pay for your bills and healthcare, the isolation, your lack of relevancy in the world, and a multitude of other equally reasonable questions that rattle in your brain, echoing throughout your life?
I don’t work in a regular, scheduled, leave-my-home capacity because I’m unable to. I have physical limitations. I would give anything to be healthy enough to go back to work. I’m not on vacation.
The truth is, when you’re chronically ill, you spend most days just trying to stay alive. Prioritizing what has to get done & figuring out which filth you can live with for today. Because it’s not all getting cleaned. By the time most people arrive at work, your body has already begun to retaliate, to get you to retreat to your bed.
A lesson I’ve learned the hard way is that when someone living with a debilitating chronic illness shares their time with me, I must be very important to them. I know what sacrifices were made for them to give me space in their lives. Don’t depreciate their value. Appreciate every minute they give to you.
Milepost 264.4 on the Blue Ridge Parkway in my beloved North Carolina will find you at The Lump Overlook, one of 195 scenic overlooks on the 469 mile Blue Ridge Parkway. Following a short trail up the hill, you can see for miles into the picturesque Yadkin Valley region. A plaque telling about Tom Dula (Tom Dooley) stands at the trailhead at the bottom of the hill. Wooden fences lines the hill and adds to the charm of the area. Beyond the hill, there is a narrow paved walkway, offering travelers and tourists a second opportunity to peer into the Carolina foothills. The scenery is lush and green in the spring, and alight with many colors in the fall. It is a place where snapshots are taken, and memories are made.
And for me, it is the place where I nearly ended my life.
In August of this year, I hit absolute rock bottom mentally. I have touched on this in previous blogs, but have never fully dove into it. I found myself to be completely frayed in my personal life, and in my work/creative life. I found myself constantly worrying and obsessing over everyone and everything in my circle. Even in doing things I enjoy, I still found myself straddled by the weight of anxiety, of uncertainty, of FOMO, the fear of missing out. It was completely wrecking my life. Being an empath, it can be very hard to tame your care for others down when you need to. And in my case, these feelings were like kudzu, covering every fiber of my being in a thick layer of choking anxiety vines and leafy panic. But I kept ignoring it. And ignoring it. And ignoring it. I kept lying to myself, saying I things under control, when it was gnawing-no, eating-at me, from the feet up.
Many times, I had visited The Lump Overlook in rides on the Blue Ridge Parkway. I remember vividly the view, and how sharp the drop-off was from the aforementioned narrow paved walkway down into the chasm beneath me. I had my mind made up. I was going to free myself from these feelings, emotions, worries, panics and fears by jumping from the overlook into the valley below. I didn’t care how long the fall would be, nor what I may or may not hit as this body cascaded into the valley below. I knew I’d had enough. I had reached the end of my rope. A running start and a leap into the valley from the overlook was going to be the solution to all of my problems, so I thought. But little did I know, a new beginning was about to meet my planned end.
I confessed my intentions to a handful of close friends, even going as far to admit I had begged and pleaded my own brother to drive me to the overlook, so I could carry out what was to be my final wish. Shocked and terrified they must have been, but judgmental and critical, they were not. They sat me down and identified what had caused this to build up, things I had wholeheartedly ignored. The stresses, the worries, the anxieties, the fear of not being present, the pressures of making sure everything ran correctly, and that everyone was appeased, both within the group and outside of it. They made a map of progress for me to follow, with careful and concise instructions going forward. And at times, it’s been damn hard to follow. Even now, I get that wrenching feeling in my gut that I should be present, I should have my sleeves rolled up and that I should be getting my hands dirty in the online network we are running. But I know that, if I was insistent, I’d just find myself right back at where I was, and I would have erased every shred of the progress I have made.
Instead, I take those wrenching feelings and tun them into knocking on doors, looking into options for mental health services, emailing potential therapists, and airing out these wrenching feelings to that same close knit group of dear friends. And apart from that, I am channeling those feelings elsewhere, into writing poetry and short stories, and in recent days, even going as far as submitting one of my poems for publication in a physical, hard-copy book! And I’m always looking forward to the future……..some of my early goals for the next year is to find a solid therapist, to visit some more dear friends, to write and publish a full book of my own poetry, and to take some of my music ideas and get them recorded, with the hopes of having at least an EP of my songs released by the end of 2023! Many bright things await me, and it all came when my end and my beginning met, at milepost 264.4 on the Blue Ridge Parkway ❤
I hope this blog finds you well, and in the comments, talk a bit about how you’ve overcome those feelings of anxiety, the fear of missing out, suicidal thoughts, etc. Your feelings and stories are valid, and well welcomed and cherished!
As always, thank you all for taking some time to read this blog! Take care, much love, and may God richly bless
-Jon
P.S.-Special thank yous to Renee Yaworsky, Diane Coll, Sandie Ingrande and Just Another Badass Warrior co-founder Em Farwell for taking me into their arms and helping me chart a course toward a better and brighter future for myself. Without their care and love and kindness, I do not know where I would be. Thank you ladies, from the very bottom of my heart. ❤ ❤ ❤
I am someone who greatly values the importance and significance of forging soul ties in my life. I cherish these ties I have forged with the many wonderful people who have entered into my life, but the trade-off is that, with an overactive and often lying mind, even the slightest change in someone results in me thinking those close to me are pouring acid over the steel used in these soul ties, thus causing them to rust and weaken, and the bond to ultimately break.
Where this omnipresent and sometimes crippling fear originates from, I could not tell you. One could argue that it originates in the loss of mom 18 years ago, and that it is wrapped in the abandonment issues that must have stemmed from that. Still others could make a case for it being a part of seeing how many others in my life have done me, taking my word and running with it, and in some cases, using it against me. Although I have a much healthier and stronger team of friends and co-creators now, I often catch myself questioning even their allegiances to me, and if they will ultimately kick me to the curb or not.
This is something I’ve struggled with mightily over the span of my life. Especially recently. Whenever my closest friends make even a slight change-a change that more than likely won’t impact anything-my mind still sinks its teeth into it and tries to convince me that I am being put on the shelf, to do no more than collect dust in the lives of those around me. I have forged so many close connections with those I am co-creating with and making memories with, and I love and value those experiences. But lately, I catch myself wondering if I may have poured too much into those around me, and gave my all to those, when I should have been reserving part of me for myself and making my own memories and adventures.
I catch myself watching what I say around my friends, and what I open up about. I find myself walking on eggshells in their presence, worried silly about doing the wrong thing. Every missed call or unanswered Facebook message brings me significant consternation. It’s a forever high-wire act between trying not to say or do the wrong thing, and the fear that I already have. It is what it is, and what it is is hell. I often wonder if the same worry and care and love I have for my friends is reciprocated from them to me. After a life of second-guessing, and knives sticking out of my back many, many times, I sure do have my doubts about who all is in my corner at times.
But, slowly but surely, I am learning to dial myself back and not worry so much about what my brain might concoct. I know that the ones who truly have my back will continue to love and support me, no matter what might happen. And what changes my friends may enact in their lives won’t terminate the friendships and soul ties I have forged with them, more than likely. I am slowly learning to put my trust back into those around me, as more and more have shown their trust in me by opening up about various things in their lives, and seeing those them put their trust in me to carry these tidbits of knowledge with me, and to use them to help them in the grand scheme of things.
Thanks again for taking the time to read my most recent blog! In the comments, please share your experiences about soul ties, and if you have ever fought those fears of soul ties dissolving in your life, and how you got them back, if some of them did dissolve!
As always, take care, much love to you all, and may God richly bless,
I was researching information on recognizing abuse. Out of nowhere, I realized that I’m the victim of abuse. Not only am I abused, but my abuser is me!
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