Hiding From Writing

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Sometimes I keep secrets from myself. Things I’m not ready to face or deal with. When I write, it all comes out. So I avoid writing because I don’t want to know. If I can avoid it, eventually it goes away. For a little while at least.

Right now I’m avoiding my journal. It’s a difficult place to be: avoiding what needs to be done. I can’t continue to live like this. But what can you do other than hide when you are terrified of your own mind?

Trouble is that you can only hide for so long. My heart wants to be healed. Wants to be whole. Something inside of me is calling upon me to take action. Bold action. There’s a part of me that is ready to heal and move forward. But that broken piece has been part of me for so long…I’m scared of what I might find if I go digging in a graveyard.

So that’s part of the reason why I haven’t been around. My intention at the beginning of the year, to love, write, and heal seems like a joke. As anyone who struggles with mental illness knows, the ups and downs are the only constant. For every up, there’s been a down. And for every down, a corresponding up. Thankfully, I’ve seen a lot of ups lately, but right this second I feel like I’m stuck in a downward spiral. More soon.

Hello 2015: Love. Write. Heal.

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Hello beautiful people! It’s officially 2015! There is so much beauty in new beginnings!

2014 is over. It’s the past. And good riddance! Don’t let the door hit you on the way out. Actually do. 2014, go kick rocks with socks on. And don’t come back!

I would say that 2014, especially the summer, was the hardest year of my life. It was an even worse summer than when I had a nervous breakdown two years ago. It was even worse than the summer when my brother died, eight years ago.

In 2014, I watched my best friend get raped right in front of me. I fell apart. I watched her fall apart. Later I had the privilege of being raped myself. Twice. Exactly 1 month apart. First by a drug dealing gang member, then by a lying asshole who took advantage of my vulnerability and fear. Then the bestie and my favorite baby moved halfway across the country. She needed to go for her own sanity. But it still broke my fucking heart. I spent much of the year lonely and in a deep depression. My anxiety is at an all time high. It’s never been this bad before.

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But, and there’s always a but, these negative experiences have led to some beautiful moments. For example, if this whole chain of events hadn’t been put in motion, I never would have met the man. My life was not on a path to cross his. But Autumn brought us together and it’s been absolutely wonderful. Another silver lining? I’ve gotten closer to my friends and made awesome new friends who I have a feeling are going to stick around for a while. There aren’t words to express how happy this makes me.

I remain optimistic about 2015! Good things are happening and I expect that trend to continue. I’m turning 31, which excites me to no end. And I’m surrounded by people who care about me.

I’ve never been big on new years resolutions, but I do like to decide on an overall theme for the year and try to live those values. My theme for 2015 is: Love. Write. Heal. I’m determined to love hard and freely, write my ass off with brutal honesty, and do the work to heal myself from my emotional wounds. And those are my wishes for all of us this year:

May we give and receive love freely. We deserve it.
May we be brave and write honestly about what hurts.
May we let go of fears and limiting beliefs that get in the way of our healing.

Happy 2015 to all of my fellow tea drinkers!

I Promise All of You

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Hi guys! Today you’re in for a treat! No, I’m not giving out prizes or any other bs like that. But, it is something rare and special: It’s my promises to all of you (and to myself) about what you can expect from me and this blog.

First of all, please recognize that everyone’s experience with depression is different. Some people feel angry, some are sad, and some feel utterly hopeless. All of those feelings are okay. Really. There’s no right way or wrong way to be depressed. This blog chronicles 1 person’s experiences with severe depression. I simply cannot (and absolutely refuse to attempt to) speak for all of us who are suffering. It’s impossible for me to accurately assess what is going on in someone else’s head. That being said, sometimes you may find yourself agreeing with me or seeing bits of your story in mine. Those moments of human connection are beautiful, so make sure that you leave a comment when something I’ve said really resonates with you. It makes me happy.

Next, I can promise brutal honesty about my ups and my downs. My life isn’t pretty. In fact, it’s kind of a mess. Nevertheless, what you read here is raw, real, and honest. I refuse to clean it up to make it more palatable for anyone. Which is the reason why this blog is anonymous. There’s a level of honesty here that I don’t want people in my real life to see. They would worry and I don’t want them to worry, so I let it all out here. This is where you’ll truly see ugly truths, rather than beautiful lies. And that’s just how I like it.

I’ll try my best to post at least weekly. No guarantees on that though because I don’t need more stress or pressure in my world. I’ll post as often as is reasonably possible, depending on where my head is at. I’m not going to just abandon Teacups of Teardrops, but if things get really bad, I may have to take a hiatus. That’s not the plan right now, but hey, it could happen. I’m just giving you a heads up.

Finally, I promise that if you contact me, I’ll respond. Always. Maybe not right away, lol, but eventually I do respond to all emails (TeacupsOfTeardrops@gmail.com) and comments. I’ve been dealing with depression my entire life. Since I was 8 years old. I understand the lows well. If there’s a topic that you want me to cover, just let me know and if I can speak from personal experience, I’ll try to craft a blog post about it.

And please don’t hesitate to comment and share my blog with a friend, depressed or otherwise. We are all here to support each other in this tiny non-judgmental corner of the Internet.

I love you all

The Teary Tea-drinker

I Want To Share Something With You

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Have you ever read something that touches you so profoundly that all you can do is sit there with tears streaming down your face?

I felt that way this morning reading this post on The Manifest-Station. Go read it. You won’t be disappointed. It’s raw, honest, and relatable.

You’re welcome.

Happy Families (ugh)

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Hello tea drinkers, I hope your morning is off to a better start than mine. I talked to the man early this morning and I was left feeling like I have to end things with him. Not because he did anything wrong. He didn’t make me feel bad or hurt my feelings in any way. It’s just that our conversation made me realize just how close he is to his family, and I feel like I can’t compete with them to hold an important place in his life.

Yes, logically I do understand that there is no real competition for attention and affection, because it’s a different kind of feeling that you have for a lover or romantic interest. However, the illogical part of my brain doesn’t believe that. Not really.

To be completely honest, family has always been a sore subject with me. I’m not close to my family at all; I never have been and probably never will be. Aside from my brother (who happens to be dead) I’ve never felt like I belonged with them. My sister was my dad’s favorite and my brother was my mom’s favorite. Then there was me, the odd child out. Now that I’m older, I tell people that I was just a very independent child, but the truth is that I was independent because I felt lonely and unloved. And honestly, I still feel like that lonely little girl with only herself to rely on. I never felt like I had a real family that actually loved me.

So there it is. Another secret. Actually, that’s not the secret at all. The real secret is that when I see families that are happy, close, and love each other, I look at them with a mixture of envy, sadness, and disgust. I know that I’m not the only one. Many of my friends feel the same mixture of ambivalence when they see happy families as well.

It’s not that I hate families, I just don’t understand them. And yet I desperately want one of my own. Well actually, let me clarify, I want a husband. Not children. Children terrify me because of the issues I have with depression and anxiety. I’m afraid that I will struggle to bond with my own child. So there’s that. But when I think of being part of a two person family, my heart feels at home with the idea.

I have this desperate longing to be married. To be someone’s favorite. To be important. To be picked. To be loved. And as I work through these feelings in therapy, I realize that these are the feelings and needs of a little girl. Adult relationships don’t quite work that way. But in my head, I can’t quite seem to separate it out.

So back to the man. Realistically, I understand that he can love his family and love me too, and eventually (hopefully) I’ll be part of his family as well. I know that love is in abundance and there is more than enough to go around. But my real thoughts and feelings revolve around a sense of lack. I feel that if he loves them, he can’t/won’t love me. That’s been my experience with family my entire life. For me, family equals exclusion. And that’s been true for me as a child, as an adult, and as a long-term girlfriend; I’ve never felt included or comfortable in a family setting. Him being so close to his family scares me. I feel like I’ll always be in competition with everyone else and that I’m going to lose every time.

So where does that leave me? I mean besides crying all morning and eating brownies for breakfast, lol. I obviously have deep insecurities when it comes to family and I don’t know how to address them. Do I talk to the man about this? Do I wait and talk to my therapist next week? I don’t know what to do. Any suggestions?

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Just a Little Update

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Yeah, yeah, I know that my posts have been pretty sporadic. Sorry about that y’all. It’s been a long week: huge argument with the man (we’ve already made up and it’s back to rainbows and butterflies and shit), my rape-iversarry came around again (I was raped twice this summer, exactly a month apart from each other. Now, I’m a mess on the 19th of every month), I’ve been reevaluating my religious beliefs and have begun to identify as non religious, and finally with the support of my boyfriend I am exploring my sexual identity (from the standpoint of a woman comfortable with her sexuality, rather than a confused victim).

So yeah, it’s been an interesting few days. I’m still deciding whether some of these changes are positive or negative.

One positive change that I can tell you about is that I dyed my hair back to my signature red. This was a HUGE step in the right direction because it means that I’m no longer terrified of my first rapist of the summer.

At the time of the first rape on August 19th, I had chunky blonde streaks in my hair. I was so afraid of my rapist finding me that I dyed my hair boring brown to blend in with the crowd a bit more. Well honey, those days are over! I’m back to having shades of burgundy and bright red streaks. I’ve had red hair in some form or fashion since my graduation from high school (except for the handful of times I decided to go blonde) so I finally feel like I look like me again. This is definitely a good sign.

I have other stuff to share with you, but it’s the early morning hours and I only slept 3 hours last night. I’ve been awake since midnight and it’s now after 5am. Oh well, I really did try to get some sleep. I hope that all of you tea drinkers were more successful in getting some sleep than I was.

Have a great day and we will talk soon!

Ciao dolls!

Permanent Disability?

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I wasn’t sure if I wanted to write about this, but since I talk to you all about everything else, why not be honest about this too?

I applied for permanent disability and SSI last month. They sent me 2 huge packets that I’m still struggling to complete, and 1 packet for a friend to complete. I’ve been overwhelmed and putting it off, but they HAVE to go out in tomorrow’s mail. I plan to use this morning to take a klonopin and fill everything out. My anxiety is ridiculously high right now, and has been for weeks. This paperwork is triggering major anxiety for me.

Because I was having so much anxiety, I contacted a law office that specializes in dealing with disability and SSI. The paralegal I met with was really nice, but she let me know that my case will be extremely difficult to win. We are looking at a 2.5 to 4 year process and she said that most likely I’ll lose my case. Honestly, it was discouraging. I haven’t worked in 2.5 years because my depressive episodes are lasting longer and are more intense than ever before. Why can’t anyone see this?

Even writing this post is difficult because just thinking about going back to work gives me panic attacks. So that’s where I’m at. About to turn 31 and unable to support myself. The doctor I had before could see that I was permanently disabled, but I lost my insurance when we were discussing me applying for disability and SSI. Then I didn’t have insurance for 1.5 years. Thanks to the Affordable Health Care Act, I have insurance again, but I’m starting from scratch with all new doctors and new meds. The process is slowly killing me.

I wish that mental illness was as obvious as physical illness. Nobody would say shit to me if I were in a hospital bed. I just don’t know what to do. The doctor who I really want to see is my mom’s doctor. He’s known me for 8.5 years, ever since I started managing my mom’s medications. He has seen me change. But he works at the County Dept of Behavioral Health. I tried to be seen there at the beginning of September, but I was turned away because I didn’t have enough suicide attempts or hospital stays. Yes, they really told me that during my evaluation. And I highly doubt that my current doctor will say that I’m permanently disabled. She doesn’t know me.

So that’s my predicament in a nutshell. I’m getting those papers completed today so that I can mail them off first thing tmrw. But I’m stressed out and extremely unhappy about it.

I Think I’m Falling In Love…Eek!

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Yes, you read that right. The Teary Teadrinker is catching feelings for somebody special. And I am absolutely terrified.

You see, this guy has me breaking my own rules, such as no long distance relationships and no starting something new during a tumultuous time in my life. He lives 100 miles away and I’m in the middle of a major depressive episode. So you can see how I might be a little nervous, or absolutely terrified. Whatevs.

So far, he’s been a positive influence in my life. He listens when I cry and he points me in the right direction when I lose my focus. He’s been a major source of support for me during a time when I desperately need it. I honestly don’t know where I would be if he hadn’t come into my life when he did, because I was ready to completely give up on myself. All in all, he’s pretty great. Not perfect, but then again, neither am I.

But, (and there’s always a but) I worry that my feelings for him are fueled by traumatic bonding. (Been there, done that, spent 10 years trying to get rid of that t-shirt!) I worry that experiencing such strong feelings so early in a relationship doesn’t bode well for our future. I worry that it’s way too soon to start falling for him. I worry that I don’t know him well enough to trust him. I worry that he doesn’t feel the same way. Conversely, I also worry that he’s going to leave. I worry that he doesn’t really understand what he’s signing up for with me. I worry that my frequent depressive episodes will scare him away. I worry that I’m making more of our relationship than it is. Can you tell that I’m a giant ball of anxiety right now?

And my biggest worry is that all of my conflicting worries will be what drives a wedge between us.

So many feelings that I haven’t felt in a long time are coming up for me. I feel excited, terrified, exhilarated, terrified, happy (eek!), terrified, content, terrified…are you noticing a pattern yet? All of my positive feelings contain an undercurrent of fear. And the fear isn’t about him, not really. I’m afraid to love anyone. I’ve kept my feelings so closed off and bottled up. I did that on purpose. I never thought that I could begin to fall for anyone so quickly. I’m a pretty brutally honest person, but I’m at a loss for what to say here.

I guess what I want to know is, how do I maintain a healthy relationship when I’m not in an emotionally healthy place myself? When I don’t know what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like? When I analyze his words and actions to the point of overanalyzing? When I find it difficult to trust anyone else because I don’t really trust myself? When my life feels like it’s just crumbling around me?

I don’t really know how to answer those questions, address my fears, and soothe my worries. But I’m damn sure going to try to make things work. I’m talking through it with both my therapist and my rape crisis counselor. I’m being honest with him. I’m writing out my feelings. I’m working hard to get emotionally healthy. I need to do it for me, but I’m also doing it for him.

To be honest, I think he’s worth it.

Love and light

P.S. Is anyone else out there trying to navigate dating while managing your mental illness? Do you have any advice for me? Help!

Who Is The Real Expert?

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Hello my fellow tea drinkers!

I hope that life is treating you well. Sorry I’ve been MIA, life, you know? Anyway, I have a question for all of you.  Who do you consider to be the experts on your mental and physical health?

I hope that your answer is that you are the expert on you. Obviously, this is simply my opinion, but it’s what works for me. I have all new doctors (and new medications as well) and I’m realizing more and more how important it is to me that my doctors are my allies, rather than authority figures. I’m the one who is with me 24/7/365. I know what is normal for me and what isn’t. I know when my body is trying to communicate with me. I’ve dealt with depression since I was 8 years old. I can feel my depressive episodes coming on and I can tell beforehand whether this time will be mild or serious. I need doctors who are willing to listen to me, not ones who are condescending.

And for the record, good doctors are hard to find, but they are out there. You just have to keep looking. For me, taking care of my mental and physical health is a full time job and I am damn serious about doing my job well. I constantly read up on my conditions and try to apply the latest research to myself. I’m an educated patient. Some doctors feel threatened by this. Other doctors love it, and those are the ones I stick with. The others can go screw themselves. I’m serious.

I recently changed doctors and my new doctor is kind of a bitch. We didn’t click at all. And I was in her office for 3 hours. And she didn’t refill my Norco. And she wouldn’t give me sleeping pills. And I just didn’t like her. She didn’t hear what I had to say. She actually got kind of offended when I tried to explain to her what was going on with my body. Bitch. I had high hopes for her, but now I have to find another doctor. Thanks for nothing, lady. I hate this whole process. It’s ridiculous. So there’s that.

Anyway, my point is that she doesn’t know me at all and I’m expected to just trust the judgement of a complete stranger? No. I don’t think so. I’m not willing to do that. When you give away your power to the “experts” it usually results in you getting screwed over. I’m not saying that doctors don’t have value, I’m just saying that we all have the right, and really an obligation, to be proactive about our health. I am the expert on me and nobody can take that away. I’ll change my doctor 10 more times if that’s what it takes because no one is in charge of my health and wellness except me.

The Weekend

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This weekend I was oddly lonely. Usually, when my family is gone and I have the house to myself, it’s a time to be happy and rejoice. This weekend, I didn’t feel like rejoicing at all.

In fact, all I wanted to do was numb out completely. I’ve been crying less, which makes me sad. It’s a release that I need. And now that I’m thinking about it, I’m on the verge of tears, so I guess that’s good.

Anyway, this weekend was full of numbing with pills and alcohol. I had 1 mangorita, so don’t get your panties in a bunch, it’s only 8% alcohol and I took a norco, which I have a prescription for. It was enough to take the edge off the weird loneliness and have a few hours of not feeling anything.

I may have taken more than 1 Norco. I can’t lie to you guys, you have probably done it before yourself so don’t even pretend like you have room to judge.

That was Saturday. On Sunday, I didn’t even know that my mom and sister were leaving. Thanks for the invite guys. Not. It’s not that I wanted to go. I would have said no anyway, but they leave me out of everything they do. Maybe because I ALWAYS say no? Lol, maybe, but still. I’m super sensitive right now and they (well my mom, since I never expect my sister to act like a decent human being) hurt my feelings.

I feel like a dumb ass teenager (no offense to the teens out there). But it’s like, really? You’re complaining that everyone is leaving you alone when every time they talk to you, you make it clear that you want to be left alone? Okay, because that makes perfect sense…

Anyway, I didn’t have any alcohol on Sunday so I took an extra Norco. I’m abusing my meds. There, I said it. But it’s mostly because the Norco doesn’t work for my back pain, but it does make me sleepy. Maybe I should quit with the Norco and get real sleeping pills. Prescription strength. But trazadone didn’t really work for me. I guess I’ll have to ask one of my many doctors.

Oh, and I ran out of klonopin this weekend and the pharmacy won’t fill my prescription until next weekend. How the fuck am I supposed to last an entire week and a half without my anxiety pills? Fuckers. Now I have to call my insurance company and put on my angry black woman voice and get shit done. I hate this. Maybe I’ll go the sympathy route this time and start crying on the phone. That might be more effective. Yes, I think I’ll try that.