Skip to main content

Who am I?

Who am I? Deep down. In the centre. In the rational part of my mind. Who am I really? Am I who I fear I am? Stubborn, selfish, a failure, needy, a burden, not good enough, unliked, a bad mother, a failure. What would a friend say about me? I can't really think. I know who I wish I could be. I wish I was good enough. I wish I had the confidence in myself to fight for what is true without being swayed into thinking I shouldn't. To be thought of as kind. To be confident I am precious to God. To be productive. To feel I have purpose. My trouble is finding evidence for these things. Whilst I desperately want to be a Christian, I'm struggling. I feel abandoned. I feel ostracised by my church and unable to engage with God because it is too painful a reminder. I am ashamed of this mindset. I'm not productive. Most days I don't leave my house. I've not worked in months and can never see myself going back to a job I loved. I'm not kind. I'm bitter and angry. I'm self absorbed. My husband is my carer and a recent assessment states the huge pressure he is under because of me. My friends have given up because they realise I am not who I have pretended to be. I'm told to be balanced. Look for alternative views. Obsess over the positives for once. Be compassionate to myself. How? I don't know. All I can see is that I tried to be that person I wanted. I tried so hard I had a nervous breakdown. I'm not that person. I can't imagine anyone saying anything positive about me. Why should they. It's not their responsibility. Even my mum thinly veils her compliments I am precious and loved with her view I am rude, uncaring and convinced I am right. But it's ok. It must be a manic episode. It's not a health issue. It's my character.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Elusive Recovery

How do you get better? How do you recover? Do you suddenly wake with hope? Do you feel differently? Do you just notice after it has happened? What is recovery? Is recovery real?  How long does recovery take? Is it even possible? How will I know what recovery looks like? Why does it take so long? So long I gave up hope. What do I need to do now? To end this nightmare forever. I don't know how much longer I can bear this. How can I continue? To face another day. It feels like this will never end. They say it happens slowly. That recovery is possible for me. Do they really know that? Can it really be true? Is recovery possible? Is there a flicker of hope? Or is it just a fairy tale that's not truth? Each day that passes by, Hope slips further away. I feel this is life forever. The tunnel light seems dimmer. No hope, no light, just darkness forever more. I cannot see past this. The pain overwhelms me. I'm deep in a pit of despair. Recovery is a ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Tomorrow a Poem.

Tomorrow is a new day, Full of new promises, When you rush through the day, Tomorrow is always there to say, Don't worry tomorrow it can be done, Tomorrow we can try again. Tomorrow's exciting promise, Every morning when you wake. A bit more time to finish today. More time to play They say Don't leave till tomorrow, Why you can do today. Sometimes tomorrow seems the same. Tomorrow is so different from today. No joy before you settle down, Tomorrow you'll still feel like you'll drown. What if tomorrow never came? What if today was the end. Would you regret the things you put off? Would you ponder if that phonecall, That text, that knock on the door, Shouldn't have been tomorrow's chore? Would you beg for another tomorrow? Would you mourn your yesterday. Today someone needs you. That phone call can't wait. A chat, a cuddle, a hand to hold, Responding may mean more than gold. So don't put it off, don't delay. Someone...
2 comments
Read more

A bed day

Today is a bed day. It's one of those days when I know I am safe if I sleep. It's a day when the energy to unload the washing I started 2 days ago evades me despite knowing there are no clean jumpers for school tomorrow. It's a day when the pyjamas are spread round the lounge, last night's washing up remains littered around the kitchen. The curtains are closed. It's a day when I hide under the covers wishing I had never made a stupid contract not to harm myself with my therapist. It's a day where bed really is the only thing I can manage. Where I would love a friend to come and hold my hand but I can't reach out to anyone to do so. Today is a day when I realise why my mother spent so much of my childhood in bed and fear my children will grow up with the same feeling of abandonment that I did. Where I feel both pain, shame and loss all at once. Today is a day my husband will carefully check I am still breathing when he comes in. Just in case. Today is...
Post a Comment
Read more