Who am I? in Phoenix

I have no idea. I don’t know who I am without being abused, without mental illness. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m not like… cured of mental illness. If only it were that easy. But, in recent weeks, I’ve felt almost no symptoms at all of any of my worst illnesses. Oh sure, I still feel that OCD real strong, and the ADHD is always present, but they are the least of my worries at all times. They don’t hurt me and they don’t hurt anyone else, either. But the bi-polar and the PTSD and the anxiety, those things seem essentially non-existent now. I don’t understand it, but I’m loving it nonetheless.

I was triggered this morning by a friend’s broken hand. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen someone who had been so angry that they hit something and hurt themselves by doing it. I lived many years with someone who would do things like that. I lived with the thought that at least it was a wall and not my face. Well, not usually my face, anyway.

My eyes welled up with tears and I was shaking uncontrollably. I actually thought for a moment I was going to have to leave work, that it was going to be a major PTSD episode.

Instead of leaving, I addressed a couple of things with the involved parties. I told them both that I’m out. I don’t want to hear any more, I don’t want to know. I can’t choose sides and I can’t be stuck in the middle, so I have to step the fuck out of the entire situation. As I was addressing the parties involved, a calm came over me. In a matter of minutes, I was completely at peace, utterly comfortable with myself and how I handled the situation.

What could have turned into a day-long episode of massive anxiety attack freak out was instead completely defused in minutes. And I didn’t even remember to take my anti-anxiety pill this morning. I handled a trigger and a pretty serious reaction to that trigger without any pharmaceutical assistance. I feel pretty good about that, and pretty amazed, too. I’ve never handled a trigger like this before. I’ve always needed a good bit of time to process the trigger and my reaction to it and why it’s a trigger and… But this time, I don’t know, something just happened and I handled it immediately instead of having a meltdown first and taking a week of self-reflection to figure out why I had a meltdown. I’ve never identified a trigger so quickly or handled it so… skillfully.

Mind blown, actually. For real.

I also think that this weird thing that I’m feeling that almost feels like a super mild manic episode is actual happiness. I think that I’ve never been so happy before. I think that maybe my mind has been playing tricks on me besides the ones I slowly became aware of over years. I think it has tricked me at times into believing that what I’m experiencing is happiness when it’s not really. Because this level of happiness? And like… being alone? I mean, not alone alone but single? I’ve been giddy happy quite a few times in life. I’ve fallen in love, right? That’s a thing that I’ve done, surely. And I’ve had children and they make me giddy happy all the time. But that romantic-in-love-giddy-happy? Yeah, I think I was doing that wrong. I think I was misreading things.

I think that I’ve never actually known what pure, honest, unconditional love is. I think I’ve fallen in lust and I think I’ve fallen in… I don’t know. I’ve fallen in love with the idea of someone. I’ve fallen in love with what I believed someone to be. Inevitably, every relationship I’ve ever had has failed for this reason.

My first husband (#1)… I married him when I was 18.5 years old. I was in love with the idea of being in love, of being married, becoming a mother… It was what I was raised to be, all I ever thought I wanted to be.

Sperm donor… well, I fell for his bullshit, plain and simple. I fell for what he was selling. He was gonna love me and help me and fix me because I was so broken, so fucked up. He needed someone to need him. Still does. And he truly believed I needed him, that he was the only person who would put up with me and help me. Except he didn’t help. He is a narcissistic asshole.

Second husband (#2)… Again, in love with the idea of him, of what and who I perceived him as. Who I perceived him as. Not necessarily what he actually presented, but how I wanted to see him. There was so much about him that I just didn’t want to see, that I thought I could overlook. I’m not all about trying to change who someone is on a fundamental level, you know? So I overlooked a lot of stuff.

Meat Man (previously referred to jokingly as #3)… Giddy-mad-out-of-my-mind infatuation. Years of loneliness and he was the first man I allowed into the inner walls of the prison of self-deprivation I’d built for myself. I can’t even say he said and did all the right things, just that I was downright fucking ripe for someone, anyone, to notice me, touch me, want to be around me. I was so vulnerable and completely unaware of it.

Those kinds of “love” are all I’ve known. Out of control, erratic, volatile, destructive love.

The kind of almost-but-not-quite manic episode state that I seem to be in, I believe, is the result of feeling a completely alien type of love for the first time. I have never felt so full, so calm, or so whole. I feel like I should get a card or a cake or something and presents because I’m finally done being born. I’m alive now and out in the world and just being. Love doesn’t have to be hard and it doesn’t have to involve concessions and it can be free and unconditional and fascinating and fun. Love means just being. I don’t have to overlook anything and nothing needs to be overlooked about me. Love is just utterly perfect acceptance. It doesn’t feel out of control, it doesn’t feel overwhelming, it’s not frightening in the slightest. I didn’t know that love wasn’t terrifying.

Well, this entry took a turn I wasn’t expecting. I’m gonna let it stand as is because that’s exactly how it was in my mind and I just let it flow out.

I don’t know why I don’t feel bi-polar anymore and I’m fully aware of the chances (likely) that this is temporary, just a glitch. But I don’t really give a fuck because it’s awesome.

I have turned PTSD to my advantage. I can allow myself incredibly vivid memories of both terrible and wonderful things. I can allow the terrible ones and not have a terrible reaction to them anymore because I am able to intersperse so many of the wonderful memories among them, countering them if they become even the slightest bit overwhelming. I can overwrite the terrible memories with amazing ones, and I just keep making new, incredible memories by the day to do it with. I have an insane memory. I can close my eyes and relive memories, everything about them, every feeling, thought, image, and even touch, whether it’s physical pain or pleasure.

This has been an incredibly fun mental wellness technique, especially recently.

Really looking forward to a weekend rendezvous. Okay, “looking forward to it” is putting it mildly. I feel a bit like a live wire. It’s a splendid feeling.

I love my life!