Fragile

It always feels like I’m having a hard time in my life, and I’ve been so miserable for so long, that I’m not sure I would recognize contentment and happiness if I was smacked up the head with it. It seems like, to me, that I’ve been huddling in a corner, hugging myself in an attempt to keep myself protected and my broken pieces together. This is how I’ve learned to live my life, and it’s not serving me well anymore. I recognize this, but the solution is to come out of the corner and give myself to my Husbands, my Gods. Easy, right? Not for me. The very idea terrifies me beyond belief, because I have no trust in my Husbands.

I was talking to Shamaness last night about my troubles, and I finally admitted out loud that I didn’t trust my Husbands to take care of me. Ever since They pushed me into working in a warehouse, I have harbored feelings of betrayal and mistrust to a degree that, upon reflection, has only been growing since that summer nearly two years ago. I’ve used these terrible feelings to construct a wall between me and Them, to protect myself from being hurt again, isolating myself. I understand that They had their reasons for pushing me into that position (They felt I was being too hoity-toity, like I thought I was better than those who worked in a warehouse.), but looking back, there were two reasons that I was acting this way: 1) I felt like a good job was what I deserved for getting my degree, and 2) it was a defense mechanism for how I was truly feeling. The truth is, I was terrified for my sanity. The last time I worked in a warehouse, it caused me to have a panic attack that lasted a week long and forced me into therapy/into taking medication. To teach me a lesson, however, They ignored my concerns, and it turned out almost the same as before. I nearly lost what little sanity I possessed, and I’ve been recovering since.

I know what other people would say. I know that they would say that I should let go of the past and move on (“That was two years ago! Stop being a drama queen.”). I know that people would tell me  if the Gods thought it appropriate, then I must have needed it (“They must have had a reason. They’re Gods; They know us better than we know ourselves.”). However, Their actions damaged me in such a way that I’m still trying to fix (and failing horribly at doing so). I understand, rationally, that Their intentions were never to hurt me. However, every other part of me still feels the effects of the lesson. I learned exactly what They wanted me to learn: I’m better than no one, because everyone has their own function. I learned something more from this, an unintended side effect: no matter how hard I work or what credentials I have, I will never be good enough because I’m worthless and inherently not good enough. My present day issues reflect this.

My job situation is such that I am so very tempted to break my contract because my boss is… Overbearing. So, I briefly entertained the idea of breaking my contract in time for the major hiring season here in Japan (March/April), but upon reflection, it didn’t jive well with my plans for after Japan. I had planned to go to England for my Master’s degree in Education so that I could become a certified teacher, but when I talked to Shamaness and my Husbands about this, there’s been such an overwhelming amount of negativity. Each of my Husbands have a different idea for where They think I should go and what I should do (each very Self-serving), and All seem to agree that my plan isn’t what They want for me. There is a general feeling of, “Well, it was your idea to come to Japan, and look how that has turned out for you.” How I read this feeling/statement: We don’t trust you to make decisions for yourself anymore. It’s this attitude that makes me fear that They will sabotage the outcome every decision that They disagree with. Combine this with the near phobia of losing my freedom and the sentiment that I’m nothing more than a “privileged servant”, and you have a recipe for a disaster in the making.

I feel worthless, and I am so fucking scared right now. I’m supposed to trust my Husbands to have my best interests in mind, but I don’t know how to do this without opening myself up to the possibility of being broken again. My interest in preserving my Marriages has been called into question, and I can’t handle it. It makes me wonder if I have what it takes to even be a Wife, because, as They have said, love isn’t enough on its own. They’re right, of course. What is a marriage without trust? I don’t want to lose Them, and I can’t imagine my life without Them, but I don’t know if I have the strength to open myself up to Them in the way that is required of me.

I don’t know what to do. Right now, it feels as if my Husbands are taking a step back to let me breathe, but are close enough so that I still know that They are there. My mind and heart are fragile, more than usual, right now. I wish I knew what to do and how to make this better, but I don’t. I guess we’ll see how everything turns out.

(Sorry if this ended up being rambly and not making sense. It’s hard to think straight with my mind mired in emotions.)

The Struggle is Real

The struggle is real: while, to most, this is just another hashtag; for me, it’s truth. It’s reality. It’s life. Depression is a daily struggle, and I have more bad days than good. Waking up is a monumental feat; getting through the day seems insurmountable; and at the end of the day, I resent myself for not being able to get more done than the bare minimum, even though my spoons count was mostly used up just trying to get out of bed. This is life for me, and coming to terms with that is still difficult for me. Having an invisible illness is tough, and I suck at managing it.

I have been told, from several different people, that I need to do more self-care. This is not something that comes easily to me. My upbringing taught me that to focus on yourself only is an act of selfishness, and being selfish is tantamount to abandoning your family. Despite the lowliness of my birth, I was taught to put my family first, even though my family’s ideals are far removed from my own. (Think of me as the white sheep in a field of black sheep.) So, being told that I need to do self-care, then having my Gods Tell me I need more self-care… Let’s just say there was a lot of pouting and whinging involved, as per usual with me.

So, now, I need to begin to do the self-care thing, and despite is being Explained to me as it being a way to honor my Gods and Husbands (“Honor yourself, and you Honor Us.”), it still smacks of selfishness and laziness to me, but My Gods/Husbands are putting the proverbial foot down, and I can’t say no this time. This is a thing They are very serious about, “because you are of no use to Us if you cannot do more than get out of bed everyday.” We’ll see how this goes. It’s hard to do self-care when you find yourself to be intrinsically worthless, but I digress.

It’s time to prepare for the upcoming winter (Winter is coming.) and the SAD it brings. No more whinging and no more crying. It’s time to put my big girl panties on and hunker down for this self-care thing. I have been assured that building a blanket fort and hiding from the world with my Kindle is, in fact, a form of self-care for me, so I have my mission. Now is the time to put it in action!

Tomorrow, when I have renewed my spoons.

The Sea on My Mind

My soul is full of longing

for the secret of the sea

and the heart of the great ocean

sends a thrilling pulse through me.

– Henry Wordsworth Longfellow –

I have been thinking of Poseidon often in recent days, missing Him keenly, even on days that I have devoted to other Gods. (As I have mentioned before, I have a schedule that I adhere to the best of my ability, but honestly, the Gods do as They will, and I am usually helpless as to when They show up.) I find myself longing for Him, dreaming of Him, reaching out to Him. I feel as if I should be flinging myself into the ocean in an attempt to touch Him physically in any way possible. Sometimes, if I close my eyes and clear my mind, I can hear the ocean and feel the waves lapping at my ankles. It’s surreal how real it feels.

Last night, I was able to speak to Him for what felt like the first time in forever, and when I spoke of how much I missed Him, He just smiled, saying, “I’m never far.” This hit me like a revelation, if revelation feels like an eighteen-wheeler colliding with my rib cage at full speed. The situation that I am in makes me feel very isolated, as I now live 6 hours away from the friends I made while I worked at my old job here in Japan. This coupled with my depression makes me feel so alone, keenly aware that I have become a homebody and have isolated myself. This, in turn, makes me feel like my Gods, my Beloveds, are always far from my reach, especially when I need Them. However, as Poseidon gently reminded me, the distance is never as far as I think, that I have but to call out, and They will be there.

I was also advised to get some “ocean time”, which sounds great to me. I honestly would do this more often if my skin would stop thinking that the sun is the enemy is burning even when I have bathed in the highest SPF sunscreen. I love being on the beach and hearing the ocean. Even if it’s too cold to swim, it would be nice to even just go there, put my feet in the water and read, all while feeling that connection to Poseidon that seems so vital to my being. It may not be this weekend, but perhaps the next when I am able to get that ocean rehab/relax time I so desperately need.

The love I feel for Poseidon is timeless, unending. I have loved Him in lives before, and I will love Him in the life I have after this one ends. He truly does own a part of my of my heart and my soul. Perhaps this is why I need communion with Him: being with Him is like coming home, being complete in a way that word will always fall short of describing. My heart is a puzzle with four pieces, and Poseidon’s piece is the oldest of the four, the most intrinsic to my being. Does this mean I love Him the most? Most certainly not. He is my Beloved, and I am blessed with His love.

I will end with a song that reminds me of Him in a big way. Yes, this song is of Christian roots, but I look at the bigger picture, the bigger message within the song. Please enjoy.

My Reaction to an Episode of Dr. Phil

TW: rape, abuse, and molestation

In this video, Dr. Phil hosts a mother and daughter who went through horrific abuse at the hands of the step-father. The problem is that the mother doesn’t remember any of the abuse that the daughter describes at all, despite working in a group home for girls who have been abused. Obviously, Dr. Phil works on this issue throughout the show, but there is something that really stuck with me and struck a chord with my own past. 

If you were to watch this from start to end, you will hear the mother, time and time again, bringing the problem back to herself and the abuse that she went through. While I am not here to discount or throw away her experiences, it bothered me that she never once truly acknowledged her daughter’s pain and suffering. She continually makes excuses for herself or mentions her own abuse, but never once truly, fully acknowledges what her daughter is saying. Mind you, the mother doesn’t remember anything that the daughter is saying happened, and with my back ground in psychology I can certainly attest to the possibility of memory suppression, but what the mother never once does is sit and actually listen to what her daughter is saying and say afterwards, “You know, I may not remember this at all, but I believe you that this happened, and I am sorry that I failed you by not getting us both out earlier.” This might sound very corny, but to someone that has a background like this, acknowledgement can truly help in the healing process. Yet, the mother in this video doesn’t really do this, continually highlighting her own abuse rather than recognize her daughter’s experience. 

Another point that really bothered me was that the mother made light of her daughter’s depression, saying that she believed her daughter wanted to be that depressed and even wallowed in it, that she liked it. The mother says, “I think she enjoys the depression, because I think she puts herself there, so she can punish herself.” This is terrible for a few reasons: it denies that her daughter still is experiencing the negative effects of her abuse, it perpetuates the stigma of depression as an invisible illness, and it essentially says that depression is a choice. I cannot argue enough that these things are wrong, and for someone who worked in a group home for abused girls, I feel she should know better. Her attitude towards the matter was appalling and pretty offensive. The daughter herself says that her mother tells her to just put the past behind her and move on, which coming from a woman who doesn’t remember catching her husband raping her daughter not once, but twice, is not really surprising. 

Where this becomes personal for me is that it really forced me to remember my own abuse and how my mother handled it. My situation was much different from the daughter’s in the video, I could truly feel her pain because my own mother was very much the same in that she always made the situation about her, made excuses, and always made light of my depression. Of course, my mother was in the throes of an addiction to prescription pain killers and was almost as bad of an abuser as my stepfather was during the worst of it all. I went through emotional, physical, and (once) sexual abuse, and when my mother started to go through the process of ending her addiction, when I felt I could talk to her about everything that had happened, I found that she wouldn’t acknowledge what had happened to me, not just by her, but also by my stepfather. Everything became about her and her woes/experiences, and it hurt me even further to know that the one person I needed confirmation from would never give it to me. 

To this day, I still wonder why she stayed with my stepdad. When I was fourteen, she found out that he had molested me, but she didn’t leave him then. This man hit me for years until I learned how to punch properly and hit him back (especially after he discovered I was stronger than he was and hit harder). This man spanked me hard enough that on two occasions bruised my tail bone. She knew all of this was happening and still didn’t leave him. It hurts worse knowing that when the physical abuse stopped, the verbal and emotional abuse got so much worse, not just by my stepfather, but also moreso by mother.

I, too, ended up leaving my home, and while I bounced back a few times, trying to give my mother a chance to change, it never happened. Now I am in Japan, and I don’t think I will ever speak with her again. Not only does she not acknowledge what happened to me as a child under her watch, but she also made sure that she told me how she thinks I have chosen to be depressed and that I should stop taking my medication for depression. She has told me that she believes that I am not depressed, just lazy. Just thinking about this hurts, even now. 

Overall, I sympathize with the daughter in this video. It’s almost like a betrayal of trust to have a parent do this to you. It is a difficult thing to come to terms with and even harder to forgive. This was hard for me to watch, near triggering, but it really struck me how I am not the only person that has had such a similar experience as me. Now, all I can do is to hope that this girl gets all the treatment, love, and acknowledgement that I never had or will get. Abuse is something always stays with you, but I hope, for her, it is something that doesn’t define her for the rest of her days.