Just let me ramble 

Can anyone tell me where May went? And what about the past decade.

I look in the mirror and I honestly do not recognize the face I see staring back.

I always thought my twenties would be beautiful. Something shiny and new.

Instead, I am struck with the realization that soon I will no longer be “young”.

And what have I accomplished so far? And does it really matter? Because who am I living this life for anyway.

I’ve spent a large part of my life at war with myself. It feels really scary to think about that reality.

That I am still trying to claw my way out of a pit I fell into at 13.

And I’m now to the point where this climb feels like home, like something I feel comfortable with.

Maybe these patterns I’m in aren’t the “picture of health” but they’re a far cry better than the hell I was living in before.

I know there are those that wish for a better outcome, that recovery would come swiftly and easily.

And yet, I’m the one sitting down for a meal and looking down at my stomach, the one that used to be flat.

I’m the one navigating my way through the awkward, painful, anxiety filled moments that often dictate my actions.

Scheduling conflicts have made therapist appointments difficult, and yet this is one of the longest stretches of time I can recall that I feel somewhat stable.

I started a new antidepressant and wonder of wonders, I seem to be responding well to it.

I still feel the need to have control over food, and though some days this causes more grief than it should, I move on.

I haven’t cut in months, though I still feel deeply and I still need a channel for my hurt and anger.

Finally, my first instinct when I see what’s happening in the Whitehouse today is to laugh, because what else can I do?

And I still have fears and secrets. Dreams that may never come to fruition.

If I were to make a self-portrait, my lips would not be visible, and instead a lock would be in their place.

Right now, I am still looking for the key, yet not sure if I want to find it.

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8 thoughts on “Just let me ramble 

  1. So glad you are responding well to new meds! You seem to think your dreams are beyond your horizon, but I wonder if you approach them more methodically as long term goals with dated short term goals that gradually lead you toward those long term goals, if your dreams might be more likely to be within reach! Worth some thought anyway!

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  2. Lydia… although I may be older. I look up to you so much. You are so strong. and so so so good at writing. you inspire me. and Im sorry ive been MIA. I also had problems with my meds and am starting to react to this new one. I know what its like to wonder who the hell you are and how the hell you got to where you are at.

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    • Molly, I hope you believe that you’re an inspiration to me too. No need to apologize, I’ve been in a similar trend lately. It really sucks. I hope you find something that works for you soon. My doctor just prescribed Effexor, and so far everything is going smoothly. I wish the same for you!!

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  3. I really identify with the invisible lips/lock analogy. I don’t remember if I blogged about it or not but last week in iOP I finally admitted to the rest of the group how much I hate that I talk. I always talk but I sit there with a paper in front of my writing, over and over, “shut up” “be quiet” “stop talking”. When I was in an ED program earlier this Spring, after I talked I’d hold my hand over my mouth to make sure I wouldn’t say another word. I’m also bipolar and blame my talking on my ever elevated mood but is it? Maybe I just talk. I have an over -riding need to help people and if I don’t hear something being said that I think would be helpful, I say something. Even if it is helpful I condemn myself after for, once again, opening my mouth. By the way, the response of the other people in the group was that I, in fact, did not talk too much. The girls that are mostly quiet (which I secretly envied) said that when I talked it helped them because I said what they couldn’t say. Nevertheless, it’s still hard. When I am home alone I never talk. Some people talk to themselves but I don’t. It’s nice to never open my mouth.

    I assume you’re turning 30? I find it utterly amusing that we are young at 29 and literally one day later we are not. I think the best age change for me was 40. It was like I could just dump half the stuff that seemed important in my 20s and 30s. I can’t explain it, it was just a relief. Turning 50 came with interesting changes. Decade changes are significant. I’m not sure why but they are. 30 is the first of those. I wish you well in your transition. Just so you now, just by being in your thirties, people will take what you say more seriously. Kind of a bonus.

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    • Sometimes I get these pictures in my head of what’s going on inside, reflected on the outside. I actually made a picture, somewhat of a self-portrait, that is me with an antique lock covering my lips.
      I began talking more once I hit the recovery path a little harder. I still think back on conversations (sometimes recent ones, sometimes ones from ages ago) and cringe at what my mouth opened to say. It’s probably a self-worth issue? Why should anyone care what I think and say, right? Plus, talking and sharing opinions and words is vulnerable!!

      Your assumption should be right, however I’m actually 23, turning 24 this August. I still feel like I *should* be in my teens. I spent from the age of 12-ish up, keeping to myself and hurting myself. I think the fact that I feel I missed a lot of typical teenage experiences makes me sad, and I’m still trying to figure out how to be an adult. My twenties are flying by, and I’m still really lost. I agree though, age is obviously just a number! It’s my feelings that are twisted.

      Thank you for being a loyal reader, and for writing even when you might not feel like it.

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      • Self-worth, I can see that. I have a perpetual feeling of being a bother. I’ve been told I’m no longer allowed to apologize, which I do often. I’ve been far better at it though since being in iOP. Many times I’m not apologizing necessarily for what I did (which was just something normal) but instead apologizing for who I am, apologizing for simply existing.

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