I woke up at 3 am this morning; I thought about taking my seroquel after 30 minutes of still not being able to go back to sleep, but then realized if I did that I won’t be up till noon and for some reason I rationalized that that wasn’t okay. So I tossed and turned, turned some more fading in and out of sleep. I had a dream that everyone and everything was against me. They didn’t like who I was, what I did, what I believed in, how I felt, how I looked, how I was dressed. They wouldn’t listen to a word I was saying then put me on this horse which somehow was carrying 10 people and I was furious because I was afraid all these people were either going to break the horses back or kill it from exhaustion. They were sitting so far up on his neck that he couldn’t even lift his head. Then they started warring on how could I be a Buddhist/Christian who accepts others for what they believe even if it is not a path that I follow. They made me feel, demoralized, stupid, pathetic and quit honestly worthless and useless. I couldn’t stand the dream a minute longer, I woke up to see only a few minutes have passed. Then I started to ponder about this dream, why would I be so scared from people rejecting me and not scared at all when I have dreams of people killing me. For some reason death doesn’t scare me, after working in the hospital I realized it is just part of life and the journey goes on to hopefully what you think it is supposed to be. I am rather fascinated with what happens next, if anything happens next. Anyways being rejected by someone, by anyone really scared the hell out of me. I tend to take it uber personally. I remember when I was first diagnosed I basically rejected myself for a long time before I learned you have to accept the disease before it gets better. Soon after my acceptance I realized eventually I have to let family and friends know, you know, just incase they have to put me in a straight jacket, ha! Jk, I hope! I was mortified, I didn’t want to, I kept it a secret a long time and isolated myself from everyone and everything. I stayed in the house for over 6 months. I was beyond crushed. Soon after my hospitalization I became even more accepting and told my family and it wasn’t till just recently that I “came out of the closet” and announced it on FB. Was I in mania, no, I was just tired of living a fake life, either accept me as me or just let things be. Rejection is so hard though, I think that is why many of hide behind our smiles, cry behind our laughter and put the mask on that everything is okay and it is not and it never will be. This is life baby, enjoy the ride!
When I finally decided to get out of bed I thought, this is going to be a day from hell. Then I thought, well if you think that it is. Then I thought, my tongue is going to deceive me, then I thought, it may, but nothing has happened yet. My next thought was I may feel crappy and feel like I am swinging, but I am going to make it the best damn day I can! So here I am writing you….hell will always be there, but you can make your own heaven, even if it’s a bumpy ride there.
I have this in my quotes, but I wanted to share because each time I read it, it moves my soul…To a good day!
Don’t be fooled by me.
Don’t be fooled by the face I wear
for I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
masks that I’m afraid to take off,
and none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that’s second nature with me,
but don’t be fooled,
for God’s sake don’t be fooled.
I give you the impression that I’m secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water’s calm and I’m in command
and that I need no one,
but don’t believe me.
My surface may seem smooth but my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don’t want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That’s why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation, my only hope,
and I know it.
That is, if it’s followed by acceptance,
if it’s followed by love.
It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It’s the only thing that will assure me
of what I can’t assure myself,
that I’m really worth something.
But I don’t tell you this. I don’t dare to, I’m afraid to.
I’m afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,
will not be followed by love.
I’m afraid you’ll think less of me,
that you’ll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I’m afraid that deep-down I’m nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without
and a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that’s really nothing,
and nothing of what’s everything,
of what’s crying within me.
So when I’m going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I’m saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I’m not saying,
what I’d like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can’t say.
I don’t like hiding.
I don’t like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
but you’ve got to help me.
You’ve got to hold out your hand
even when that’s the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you’re kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings–
very small wings,
very feeble wings,
With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator–an honest-to-God creator–
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from my shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.
Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach to me
the blinder I may strike back.
It’s irrational, but despite what the books say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.
~Charles C. Finn