What a Journey I’ve Taken Through the Madness of My Mind.

This post is dedicated to Ed, of  Salt ‘n Peppah! fame (my linking sucks, so I’m not even going to attempt). Tell Peppah he has his work cut out for him, cause I think I might love ya! Ha.ha..

I’m a little late in posting this morning. I’ve tried to play catch-up with my emails, but the farthest I’ve gotten is replying to comments left for me, and reading ones left for you. Yes, I try and skim over all of your sites and read some of the comments. Dare I say some of them are more interesting than our own posts at times? I’m hoping to get to some of my subscriptions later. Yes, Pissy is a bad, bad, Kitty and has been slacking on her reading. Sorry! 

I actually sat down at my pc yesterday morning with the intention to first read my comments and reply to them, then write a post. I got no farther than one email. It had me smiling, then laughing at his wittiness, and by the end sobbing. Yes, you heard me right….sobbing! No, the eyes didn’t just get moist and I choked up. I literally sobbed into my nightshirt, mopping up buckets of tears that wouldn’t stop flowing. Why? Because of the content of the whole email, the honesty that flowed from his words, a connection I recognized in how we both feel, and most important because of the last thing he said to me… “Thanks for allowing me to share. Thanks for just being who you are. You’re a gift.”  : )

I sat and cried off and on all day yesterday, Ed. I know you’re not privy to all my personal information and not aware of it, but the fact is I’ve waited my whole life to hear those words from someone who has nothing to gain and is being sincere. Early on in my blogging I shared how hard it’s been for me to be a chameleon to appease others. I was not a pretty child in grade school, was always hyper, too loud, too needy, too something. I was always made to feel I was in the way, always being shuffled off from one person to another, and always feeling like I had to be what others expected me to be in order to be a good ‘fit’. I adopted the attitude early on that being me was never going to be good enough, because something was wrong with me. Even after those awkward years passed and I became more approachable, I carried these feelings. They’ve never left.You thanking me for being just who I am unleashed 48 years of very painful memories and validated my worth in one sentence.

This floored me I suppose because I thought I had nothing to lose with this blog and therefore have been completely honest with all of you, shared my faults, showed my weaknesses, my ugly side, and felt at best I might be merely tolerated simply because of my dry humor. I find it incredulous that I’ve spent 48 years trying to play roles to fit the many different ideals that others had about who I should be: Have felt I had to buy love and respect from others by always offering the hand-up and hand-out because I thought I wasn’t the type of person that deserved or could be loved without somehow earning it. I’ve always been the one that gets shit on and taken for granted, because everyone knows I’ll forgive and forget, as it’s better to have someone, anyone, than no one at all. I have done all these things for people who say they love me and have my best interest in mind that treat me badly anyway, and yet I’ve offered you nothing, showed you who I really am, and you called me a gift. A damn gift! It would be an understatement to say that I was beside myself with emotion. I have no other words to describe it.

Perhaps as you described that lying just beneath the surface moment of emotion that was preparing you to finally allow yourself to feel everything you’ve repressed, this too was my moment when I was actually able to be receptive to allow myself to feel something real, and accept a compliment. I know that many of you have been there to comfort and advise me, and I’ve appreciated each act of kindness you’ve shown, but still I don’t think I was receptive to it all. There was this underlying feeling of they don’t really know me…they can’t really know me…because if they did they wouldn’t say such kind things about me. Don’t they realize that I’m broken, I need fixed, something is wrong with me, and I’m not the type of person that people care about? Sadly, I truly thought I wasn’t, but still ached because I always wanted to be. You’ve opened my eyes, Ed, to the possibility that maybe I always was and just didn’t know it. Thank you my friend. You’ve truly touched me in ways I can’t begin to express.

I suspect there’s probably a lot of us who were made to feel the same way when we were growing up. I say this, because I believe the weariness I instilled in adults when I was young was due to my depression, mood swings, though still undiagnosed I believe bi-polar disorder, and the fact I was very precocious and quick with a quip. It wasn’t my fault. It was the chemical imbalance, the poor learned behavior I picked up from others, etc. There was no reason that I should’ve been made to feel I had to be someone other than who I was to be accepted and loved. There was no reason that you should’ve been made to feel you had to be someone other than who you were to be accepted and loved. God, this process of learning about oneself and healing seems to be ongoing and neverending, doesn’t it? I sure hope all of us become the people we strive and hope to be when we grow up. What a journey!

18 thoughts on “What a Journey I’ve Taken Through the Madness of My Mind.

  1. Since I began my own blog, I’ve often been amazed when someone who I don’t know leaves a comment that completely alters the way I see the world. It restores my faith in humanity.

    1. I’m so far behind on my emails due to the lengthy, emotional sabbatical from blogging I’ve had to take. Just wanted to thank you for stopping by my blog and am letting you know I’m on my way over to check out yours. 🙂

  2. Wow.
    Who knew I would need a box of Kleenex by my side reading PissyKittysLitterBox! During Pissy & Ed’s sharing, I had flashbacks from childhood – that were very‘enlightening’ I wont go into the details, but I realized how I was forced to conform, and change. My family should have adopted Stepford Children. But no. Mom gave birth to me instead; the dorky, emotional, imaginative, and can’t-do-anything-right-according-to-mom kid.
    How embarrassing for them!

    1. Yep, sounds like me! I was always told by my mother to get out of her hair, that I was worse than all five of my much-older siblings put together, and made to feel that I should be seen and not heard. Yep…that wasn’t gonna happen!
      You know, you used the word ‘imaginative’ and that right there hits the nail on the head. I truly believe that those of us that are ‘creative’ people, who have our minds constantly spinning with ideas, are prone to being hyper, eccentric, etc. I was always a dreamer, always wanted to go places, do things, and be someone else…and the itch drove me nuts and still does. None of my siblings were or are like that. They’ve always been perfectly content to live in the same town, do the same things, and don’t care about adventure. But then none of them are creative either. I am the only one wired differently. I really think it has something to do with this. I’ve often heard about writer’s and artist’s being eccentric, flamboyant, mentally ill…maybe that’s normal when you’re creative, cause anything less wouldn’t be intellectually stimulating enough, think?

  3. Ugh, those awkward growing up years can still haunt you to the very day can’t they? I guess you could say they’re more of a lesson to some more than others. That which does not kill us, etc. I really enjoy your openness and honesty, you do indeed tell it like it is!

    1. Dysfunctional families can emotionally beat the shit out of kids. Then with poor esteem already instilled in them, they enter school and kids are able to prey on them like vultures. Children are absolutely ruthless with their peers! I had it rougher than some, but not nearly as bad as others. It couldn’t have been that bad anyway, cause I would’ve chose school over my home life anytime. It didn’t take long for me, however, to give up on both. I was out of my home more than in it after sixteen.
      Being honest frees you from pain. At least it does me. I stopped being ashamed of who I am and how I feel along time ago. You have to in order to heal. Shame is for the weak, and I try to always stay strong.

  4. Lou, You are a strong woman. A woman I know I can lean on if I need to! 🙂 What a wonderful post, and I agree with Princess.. this blog is looking great! You may never know how much you mean to your “readers” but they will find a way to show you one way or another 🙂 Hang in there Mama.

    1. I’m trying Mini-Me! I am feeling a lot better, so perhaps the fog has lifted and I’m finally getting past this current spell. The sad thing is, the older I get, the less I need triggers to set off my depression. They just seem to come out of nowhere, grab hold of me quickly, start pulling me down as I’m kicking and screaming to free myself, but a positive aspect is the depression doesn’t stick around like it used to. Perhaps I’ve finally gained control of it, and I don’t let it rule me, but I rule it now. I hope so.

    1. Why thank you, Donna! I take that as a great compliment from you, because your blog just rocks. Alas, I’m not that creative, so Pissy’s blog is more about bellyaching than anything. Oh well, I gotta be me, I guess. 🙂

  5. What a wonderful thank you to Ed, a special angel of awakening for you, and thank you for filling in the blanks on your history since I am new to the blogging world.
    I first fell in love with your blog title…it has to be the best title I ever wish I’d thought up myself ! And then realized that at times, I thought I’d gone to my own blog by mistake by something you’d written. Could you be a sister of the heart and soul?
    I appreciate your honesty, and I am so happy you had a break-thru…we never know what is around the corner as a gift from the universe.
    ☮ ♥. Siggi in Downeast Maine

    1. You know something Siggi, I get complimented quite often on my being so honest, and I find the irony in that hilarious because that is one of the things that people always thought was such a negative trait of mine. I was toooo honest– ha..ha..–always shared too much about myself, was the first to rat myself off when I did something wrong, had an opinion about everything. Now I find it’s actually an asset, and my honesty seems to benefit others. Go figure, huh?
      Ed is easy to compliment. He’s a treasure. I have a natural tendency to gravitate towards men anyway–as most women I’ve met always appeared to be catty, superficial, and competitive–so it’s no surprise that I would feel a bit of a kinship with him, and also that he’s so incredibly honest, and balls-to-the-wall too. I have to admit though, that compliment knocked me off balance. I think I’m just really sensitive right now to everything.
      I feel a powerful kinship with some of you too. When our stories and the way we feel and have dealt with things are so similar, how could I not? That is where the power in numbers comes in. When you feel you’ve been alone with your depression your whole life, have been surrounded by few people who can really grasp how mind-altering it is, and then suddenly find yourself in the company of those who completely understand, you feel you’re finally part of a ‘real’ family, of sorts. Twisted, dysfunctional, but still a kind of family. I don’t think I have to tell you that I feel closer to some of you than I do my own family. That may seem strange, but the truth is all of you know more about me and the way I feel now than they ever did. The reason? Well, I don’t think they ever cared to know… Can you relate?

  6. And as you/we have often said, self acceptance is the core of it all. You don’t have to like all of yourself, but I believe that you do have to accept yourself ‘warts and all’. And I am much better at saying that doing. Reassure other people? Of course. Often. Reassure myself or accept (believe) compliments? A snowy day in hell.

    Thank you for sharing more of your journey and letting so many of us know we are not alone.

    1. Ugh!…isn’t it terrible being your own worst enemy? I know it sucks for me. If it means anything I know exactly how you feel. Of course we could both look at it this way. I think you’re an amazing person, you think I’m an amazing person, yet neither of us see that in ourselves, so maybe we’re just straight up wrong and we’re absolutely fine! **wink..**wink..

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