Sunday, November 18, 2018

The Pain-Filled Stall (To Be Heard)

It's been three months since I've written; here, anyhow. I've written in private extensively, just not here. Today it became painfully clear that it's time to stop avoiding obedience.

Is the road clear? Am I okay to share now? I honestly don't know but I can't wait another minute to. I haven't been blogging or posting live Facebook videos due to the fact that I haven't been able to share this publicly because of fear. Fear of what someone may say, how they may judge or blah, blah, blah----a million other things to be afraid of.

As I was speaking in Bible study at the jail this afternoon, I caught myself say, "people are gonna judge. It doesn't matter what you do. They can be saying one thing to your face & feel a completely different way." Amen? I would like to believe that everyone says what they mean and means what they say but I'm not that naive. That's not how the world works.

Here goes...

On September 20th, I had  to admit myself to St. Simon's By The Sea. It's local rehabilitation center known in my area for help with substance abuse. Here's the thing, I didn't use. I wanted to. In my mind, I felt weak. Like I should have been able to deal and/or cope on my own, but I couldn't. I found myself on a daily basis, sitting in my kitchen floor crying, for no real reason at all, but everything all at once.

I'd been having thoughts of suicide & that's not like me at all. I typically love life & the people I'm surrounded by, so when suicidal thoughts rear their ugly head, I know I've made it to a dark place & it's time to do something different. I've been in that dark place before a few times throughout my life & when I get "there", there's not much lower I can go. It's time to seek help.

Honestly, it's been brutal since Laurel was born. I thought I could "handle"it. I thought it would end sooner or later but it hasn't. The day before I checked in, I called my obgyn, rode to Brunswick for an "emergency" visit & told him I needed to schedule a hysterectomy; twenty minutes ago. I told him what I was experiencing & he said, "well Alisha, what if it doesn't change anything? "And of course, I'm like, what do you mean? Long story short, he recommends that I see a psychiatrist. I tell him I'm not crazy, but I respect his opinion and will do what he thinks is best.

All my life I've been conditioned to just take things. To stuff them. To keep on stuffing them. Early on because children should be seen and not heard, pretty much. My teen years & early adulthood mostly because women shouldn't be "as loud as I am and have an opinion".

"You just stand over there & look pretty," I've been told. 
If you know me, then you know that went over about as well as a bull in a China shop.

 I have stopped myself, I can't tell you how many times over the last two months, from writing this because of judgment so if that is why you're here, so you can spread the word about what a kook I am, STEP OFF. If you feel the need to tell me about how emotional I am, you can SHUT IT & STEP OFF. I absolutely have no time for that garbage. The voices that have expressed it, have been loud enough for me to mention and I'm sick of it. You dig? 

Basically, I've been on-and-off of antidepressants & nothing has worked. In the nut ward ( yes, I called it that the whole time I was there & still do), I was able to speak with a psychiatrist about what was happening & he decided on a medicine that he thought may work for me. It makes me flat. I love being extra. Extra is who I am by nature. I love me like I am. I just don't want to be either angry all the time, or crying in my kitchen floor. I have no idea why that's the place that I go to lose my shit, but I do. Yes I said shit. Poop isn't an adequate description. I reiterate, judge somebody else. 

I stayed at SSI by the sea for four days, When I came home, I wasn't sure anything would be any different, but slowly, the medicine started to work and I am able to enjoy the little moments again.  

The anxiety attacks are less and less and the good times are more.  
It's likely I'll forget the major part of what I wanted to talk about, but I think this is sufficient, for now. God is using this to grow me & help others, I am sure of it. I do feel a bit better now that I am not crying all of the time. I was isolating & wouldn't go anywhere. I would cancel events. I wouldn't visit with friends. It still happens, but not nearly as much. 

If there is someone you know that is suffering PLEASE, reach out to them. Tell them how much you love them. Encourage them to seek treatment. 

So often we say (referring to someone who has committed suicide): I never knew anything was wrong. 

If someone is giving you cues that something is wrong, quit being so quick to judge & listen. HELP THEM. Start by praying for them. Telling someone to "get over it" is NOT HELPFUL. Believe me, if I could just get over it, I wouldn't being experiencing this for this long. 

The only way that I made it this far is God & for the people who consistently pray for me. 

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Philippians 4:13

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