Don't Judge Me (POSSIBLE TRIGGER WARNING)

NOTICE: This post may be a trigger for you.

I think I manage the anxiety I experience rather well. Most days I can keep my darker emotions from ganging up on me and I've done a great job of successfully beating them off. There is a certain threshold, though. Somber turns to despair and I feel defeated, crushed beneath the weight of my own sick brain. Grumpy morphs into a full blown rage and the catalyst will be something ridiculous. Discomfort becomes humiliation and shame as my brain brings to the forefront of my conscious mind everything it believes I've ever done wrong. What happens beyond the threshold is not anything I'm proud of.

I scratch and cut myself. It makes sense to me in the moment. I've done it enough throughout my life that I no longer carry sharp things with me when I feel the stable ground beneath me tremble, a sign that a terrible fissure threatens to open under my feet. Leaving the pocket knife at home interferes with my attempts to cut myself. Most of the time, the appeal of cutting fades away before I can gain possession of an object capable of drawing blood. Sometimes cutting is so terribly seductive that, unable to access anything sharper, I resort to using my fingernails. They don't cut per se; they scratch well, though. They become claws that scrape at the skin of my thighs in moments of desperation.

I don't know if it's seeing the stripes or feeling the sting that helps me keep my demons at bay. I guess it's both. I make more cuts and scratches when my distress is more intense. The more my efforts fail to ease my anguish, the more ferocious my actions become. The physical pain is probably the larger part of it although the blushing lines swelling on my skin do create an odd feeling of satisfaction - gratification blended with disgrace.

Don't judge me for this behavior. I know it's messed up. I don't need to be reminded. I don't even want to talk about it most of the time because the people I confide in almost always focus on the action and make me feel even more ashamed which isn't helpful. The problem isn't the cutting or the scratching. They are symptoms, physical manifestations of the dark hurt and anxiety that have escalated beyond my ability to fend off in a manner deemed healthy by the normal people of the world. Let's deal with the emotions I can't handle and the scratching will go away.

Don't judge me for this behavior. Other peoples' actions are mesed up, too. Making an 11:00pm run to the stop-and-rob for a cheap six-pack of beer because you can't slow down your mind enough to go to sleep is damaging to the body, too. It's just not exposed. Is harming your liver somehow more nobel than injuring your skin? I'm not even referring to alcoholism, just the occassional "had a rough day" gin and tonic. What about smoking when stressed? Over-eating? Going on spending sprees? All of these have consequences.

Don't judge me for this behavior. We all have our coping methods and mine usually heal within a few days.

A Little Politics

U.S. Politics

The link to keep up with news from the White House

http://www.whitehouse.gov/

The link to keep up with news from the U.S. Senate

http://www.senate.gov/

The link to keep up with news from the U.S. House of Representatives

http://www.house.gov/

Texas Politics

The link to keep up with the Texas Legislature

http://www.capitol.state.tx.us/

I hate politics. It's stressful and I hate the way stress feels in my body. Anxiety takes hold and doesn't let go for the longest time. In the meantime, I tremble, feel sick, can't quite think straight. In short, I feel like a bumbling idiot. I know I am smart, well-educated, usually well-spoken, but when stress starts to speak for me I come across as possessing everything except those characteristics.

Understanding the political process from an academic perspective is hard enough. Throw in the human element - all those people with their goals, values, and unique personalities - and voila! You have yourself a tangled pot of spaghetti akin to that found in Strega Nona.

Lines for a Fortune Cookie for NaPoWriMo Day 21

The next time you feel down, someone will tell you to pick yourself back up and get over it.

You will "like" a Facebook page dedicated to mental illness advocacy and education.

Choose your words carefully. Stigma bites and it might come back and bite you.

An important message is waiting for you at http://www.bringchange2mind.org/

Someone close to you has a mental illness. They're just not saying so.

Stress is wearing you down. Slow down before you hurt yourself.

Talk to someone. You need to share and they need to hear.

Are you really OCD? Or do you just like saying that?

You will soon meet someone with depression.

Participate in your local NAMIWalk.

Sing. It's good for you.

Recovery is possible.

Are you crazy?

Meditate.

Just breathe.

Take one step at a time.

Your insurance will cover it.

Imagine your world if she wasn't sick.

Try listening to understand rather than to respond.

Good things will come to you if you follow this blog. ;)

You are the 1 in the 1 in 10 that will experience depression.

Your bad attitude is the reason people with mental illnesses don't seek help.

Every criminal is not mentally ill and every mentally ill person is not a criminal.

Suicide is not funny. Tell that to the next person you hear make a joke about it.

Remember to tell them you love them. Every day.

N is for Nature Deficit Disorder

The idea here is that if we don't have enough outdoors in our lives, then we aren't going to be as healthy as we could be. I wouldn't call it a disorder and I think Richard Louv used the term more as an attention-grabber than anything else. Maybe it's just me, but I consider this just plain old common sense.

Do a quick search for strategies for dealing with stress and mental health and you'll find a plethora of suggestions to go outside.

Spend time in the sunlight. ---- Breath in the air outside. ---- Walk. ---- Bike. ---- Run. ---- Stroll. ---- Lolly-gag. ---- Whatever, just do it outside. ---- Leave the concrete behind. ---- Go to the park. ---- Go to the river. ---- etc.

We know all these things.

I take a walk (or a run) around my neighborhood when I need to shed the stress and frustration of my day before engaging in anything with my family and friends. I love them and don't want my emotional sludge to poison their environment. I know the physical exercise helps but if that was all there was to it then I would just use a treadmill and stay in the A/C.

I dance in the rain. Yes, I really do. Something about being among the drops falling all around me is beautiful and moving. Sometimes I sway slowly with my head back and my face to the heavens. Sometimes I jump and splash like a child enjoying the sound and sensation and sheer joy of it all.

Poets forever have written about the way the leaves of our trees move and shimmy in the breeze. They've written of bare feet on grass, trails through woods, oceans, skies, caves, animals, and all manner of things provided by our planet.

It's instinct to connect with nature and human nature to crave that connection. Without it, we are incomplete.

photo (c) Jennifer Clark 2012

M is for Music

I think it's funny how often science lags behind the things that people already know. Did we really need a scientist to tell us that music helps us manage stress?

I have music that I like to play when I'm angry - something loud with drums and guitars that seems to growl.

I have dance music, romantic music, sleepy relaxing music. I have music that helps me keep an up-beat attitude and other music that, whether I like it or not, moves me to tears.

I play Patty Griffin's "Heavenly Day" when I need to be reminded that things are going to be okay. It's one of my favorite songs and has been for a number of years.


I'm sure there's more to the study than proving that music affects people's moods and can be used to help regulate moods. Considering that people have essentially been using music to self-medicate for as long as humans have existed, all I can say to this is, "Well, duh."

Like I said, there's more to the study. Here's the link to the article I read and it contains a link to the study for those of you who want to check out the other elements of the study. http://io9.com/can-music-be-more-effective-than-drugs-465249779

Hatred

Hatred

rises at the

thought of you standing there

before me with arms outstretched like

I should still be in love with you. I cringe.

I recoil and you advance like

touching me will make right

all the hurt and

hatred.

Anger

rises at the

thought of you watching me,

eyes searching for a flash of hope,

a moment of weakness when you can pounce,

say sorry, and think our lives will

go on like all is right.

You'll see only

anger.

by Jennifer Clark

(c) April 12, 2013


For more information about National Poetry Writing Month go to the NaPoWriMo website.

E is for Everyday

Every day!

It's the same battles with the same people over the same things.

This job is bad for me. It's stressful and it's a stress that I can't walk away from. I must stay. It's my job to stay. No matter how rude and mean another person gets with me, I must accept it without getting my feathers ruffled. Preferably, I will still smile.

Every day!

I don't have the option of sitting down and taking a breather. I can't step away and count to 10. I must stay in the middle of the very thing that is causing me so much grief. My stomach churns and my ears ring.

I struggle with the people I am responsible for, trying maintain their attention. Keeping them focused on the intended topic is like catching cockroaches when someone flips on the light. They would much rather talk about bell-bottoms, staircases, boogers, and underwater basket weaving.

Cell phones are not allowed and I vigilantly watch for them and the ipods they believe they are so good at using on the sly. Texting. Flipping through music. Checking out the latest post on Instagram. Even making the occasional phone call.

Using computers is even harder. Once they are logged on, I must constantly monitor, ensuring they stay on task instead of playing minecraft, shopping, or watching you-tube. I feel like I'm playing a life-size version of the game where you bop the rabbits as they pop out of the holes.

I'm exhausted. Physically and emotionally drained. Every day.