My purpose is to react to the crazy, (and getting crazier), world around us. I'm in Northern California, but have a strong ID with Porto Rico and New York. It has been my experience, that I have a different take on most things, as my mother was seriously mentally ill. Learning to survive the Psychotic Rage teaches a child things they should never, never, have to know.
But as a born again Christian, I have found peace, but not always with my fellow believers. I tend to give the over wrought self-righteous believer a run for their attitude. I do not suffer fools well. Getting it straight about what Christianity truly is, seems to be the major battle ground. Its a relationship with God, first, not a performance for people. You can do all the right things for all the wrong reasons and leave a trail of confusion and sadness in your wake.
I hope to simply react to things around me. I love music (and lyrics), books, personal development (of all kinds), God, most people and animals. I have discovered the joy of computers (I'm a Macintosh user), the internet, digital photography and developing programs in Real Basic. I have known a difficult life, where for almost 20 years, all I wanted to do was die. Finding religion did not (immediately) change that set of problems. Christ, is not a quick-fix. We all want the 60 Second Miracle. If we were to receive it, we would not have the internal maturity to maintain it! I had to learn that the very hard way.
I was born almost three months prematurely. My parents were both alcoholic and my mother was clinically mentally ill. She would fly into psychotic rages over anything. I learned to be very attuned to what others are feeling as a result of this set of early childhood experiences. At 52, I'm finally getting around to learning to listen to myself and not focus so much on everyone else. For so long, I used 'taking care' of another as a way to avoid looking into my own problems and issues. Now I'm learning to make my life something that may actually assist another via demonstration, instead of pontification. I hope as you drop in and out of my musings, that you are bettered for the experience. Three friends of mine have committed suicide. I will cover some very serious issues, as I hope to reach that one really desperate soul before they attempt to end their lives. I tried it, and lived. I hated God, because He refused to let me in His office. Everywhere I went I heard it had been a miracle that I was still alive. (It was). Now, some 20 years after the fact, I live the kind of life I never even dared to dream of having. Growing up in spite of a rough beginning is the hardest job you will ever (unwillingly) embrace. I really resisted getting into therapy, as I felt that 'they' made a mess' and I wasn't going to waste my time, 'cleaning up after them again!'. Only one problem with that thinking. My immediate family had passed on and I was still attempting to destroy myself, experiencing loss of time (I'd swear it was Monday, but it was actually Friday, and Tues. through Thurs. just were not there for me) and I still longed to die.
I gave my Doctor a six week window to show me why life was worth it. (He showed me unconditional affection, and built the beginnings of my new life). G. B. I can never thank you enough for our years together. I finally saw that if I didn't get rid of the disease inside my mind, that I'd eventually kill myself. I'd read enough to realize that suicide is no escape.
One book detailed how a mother followed her still living daughter around, saying she was sorry, while her child's life spiraled down as a result of her mother killing herself. I know that being the final person spoken to, by someone who commits sucide brings on problems of guilt, sadness and anger. "If I'd known... I would have / could have /should have..." Many friends and relatives of people who commit suicide, end up suicidal themselves, because of a misplaced sense of responsibility. I remember screaming at a doctor, who told me to stop rescuing a suicidal group member. "You mean, I should just let her die!" The doctor screamed back: "YOU ARE NOT GOD!". M. S. I will always remember how that rocky session liberated me from a lifetime of taking on things that weren't my problem.
I love my friends. People who have suffered with me through the insanity of my (at times), untreated BiPolar Disorder. People who are standing with and beside me, as I journey forth. People who are teaching me a sense of adventure. People who share their souls with me. My heart overflows with joy.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
There Will Never Be Another 1st Blog...
Labels:
bi-polar,
child abuse,
co-dependency,
commentary,
depression,
friendship,
recovery,
suicide
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