The BIG Cry

Today I cried.

And when I say cry I mean the gates of heaven opened up and poured down my face until my skin was on fire.  That deep-heaving-can't-breathe-can't-talk-numb cry. 

It's been since 2 October's ago that I have cried until I was numb.  That terrifies me.  Not the fact that I cried but the type of all-consuming void that it left me with.

When I was a teenager I scratched myself when I got to this point of hysteria, then I would cover them with a hair-scrunchie because I was ashamed.  I didn't do that and I never will again so don't think that please.  I'm not going to get into that whole story right now because I don't know if I have the strength to fully uncover it but I am going to explain the feelings that surrounded it.

There's a point in the middle of emotional chernobyl that you've lost complete control. You're body takes over.  The pain in your soul hurts so badly that you shut down.  You feel what I would imagine to be dead. 

This was the moment I would scratch or pinch myself as a teen.  Not knowing if you're dead and wanting to feel alive.  I never wanted to kill myself and if that's what you believe cutters to be, my dear you are misinformed.  It is what they say.  You are replacing those emotional pains with something, anything you can actually physically feel.  These moments of anguish happened a lot when I was a teen, not so much as I've gotten older.  That's why I am horrified to cry this hard.

I've been depressed for a LONG time. Somehow Mike managed to get me out to the lake tonight.  We skipped stones and I still felt numb.  Didn't want to be touched, didn't really want to talk, just wanted to sit, give my over-active mind a break, and let my migraine fade away.  He asked me when the last time I felt happy was.  And not the happy for a day or two, but truly sincerely full of joy.  I replied, probably around age 5.  Before I knew of heartache, disappointment, and failure.

I learned empathy and sympathy at an early age.  I knew what a guilt trip was and I understood every aspect of "grown ups" pain when I was a small child.  I despised watching people go through these things.  At this point, as a grown up myself, it's a default mode for me.  I allow myself to be a doormat so I don't have to watch others hurt.  I talk myself into believing it's the right thing to do.  I hide my feelings from people because I will feel guilty if they experience that kind of "default mode" that I feel.  Or at least I think that's why I do it.  If I feel a negative situation coming on, I walk away.  This has made me bitter, lonely, and sometimes I feel selfish from this reaction of ignoring, knowing there was a better way to handle it.  Just not knowing how.

It KILLS me when I see and hear people are cutting.  This is the number 1 reason why I want to go back to school and help kids and teens with emotional issues.  Turn my negative experiences into a positive for someone else.  Children are NOT ruined into this pattern of default if someone will reach out to them.  I want to really make a difference in letting kids know they have other options.  Parents really piss me off when they dump their baggage on their kids.  I feel like my youth was stolen by being emotionally bombarded with grown up things.  I wish someone would have been there to help me learn to cope.  But then again maybe I wouldn't feel so strongly about helping them if I hadn't gone through it.

I still have my scratching scar.  It will never go away.  Every day it's a constant reminder of how much pain and agony I have gone through in my life.  I don't hide it anymore but I do pray that no one sees it.  At least not before I am ready to show them and explain.  Maybe one day I'll be able to look at it from a positive but at this point I'm still ashamed and it's a burden.

So I cry.

I'm starting to seriously believe something is wrong with me.  I don't want to medicate but I am thinking about possibly seeing a therapist.  I don't know.  It seems like everything scares me anymore and all I want to do is hide.

Mike told me that I am too hard on myself.  Honestly, I don't know how not to be.  I try to reach out for help but it always ends up feeling like I'm being lectured or ignored.  Being told things I shouldn't do, not things put in a positive light to help.  I wish someone could help me and just be there to listen and try to understand.  I don't sleep.  I lay in bed staring at the ceiling for hours.  When I do, it's always broken.  Then I get criticized for it.  I feel worthless.  I feel beaten, unappreciated, like I shouldn't try because I'm just going to fail, most days it's hard to pull myself into the shower and out of the house.

The one positive thing I can say about my tears was that I probably needed it.  It wasn't completely refreshing but it has brought some things to my attention that I need to address.  Now I'm just wondering if I have support or if this is just another lonely battle.  Sometimes I truly think that's it's my fault that I have no one around most of the time.  I don't know what I do to them but I'm at the point when I don't know who's treating me right and wrong.  What's the difference between hypersensitive and just wrong?

All I know is it hurts.

I feel safe within this blog.