I'm Falling to Pieces

The original title for this blog was going to be "Sorry seems to be the hardest word to say", but after speaking with a therapist today, I realize that my apologizing would be for the wrong reasons.

I shouldn't have to apologize for the feelings that I have...but I should apologize for refusing to talk to anyone. For that I am sorry.

I like to think that I'm usually the one that listens...that when you need a friend, I'm the one you turn to. My best friend from high school used to refer to me as his 'shrink'. He called me that as recently as 3 weeks ago.

That's a hard title...even if it is in jest. I have often been the voice of reason and comfort.

But I refused to seek out my friends to turn the tables. To cry on their shoulders, to have them help me lift my burdens.

I feel like an idiot and humiliated. Let me break down my Saturday for you...

Sent a suicide note to several people on FB. My dear friend JD blew up my phone trying to get me to talk to him, which I started to do.

Tiffany Goodrick showed up on my doorstep and cried with me, prayed for me and loved me. She then kidnapped me to the beach where we walked and talked. I got to have an interesting dinner with her and Rusty and then I came home. I also made plans to go to church the next day with Tiffany.

I took a shower and was trying to relax. I was ignoring phone calls and texts. Erik tried talking to me, but I wouldn't open up to him. Mostly because he just doesn't listen. I love that guy to death, but he's the worst person to talk to. I think it must be the ADD. But I digress...

Just as I was getting ready to go to bed, the police showed up and Erik pushed me out of the door. I was taken to Palomar Hospital and involuntarily admitted.

At that point I was just upset because a suicidal person wouldn't have made plans...and I wasn't feeling suicidal. Several hours later, I was taken up to the Mental Health Facility.

As some of you know...I'm quiet. I'm generally a homebody and somewhat of a loner. I prefer to be alone.

However, I love to be around people and have fun. If you get me talking about a subject that I'm passionate about, I won't shut up.

The doctor on call there came to speak to me and she wasn't sure if she would release me. The more we discussed my feelings, the quicker she was to determine that this is situational depression.

Webmd.com describes situational depression as: “a short term condition that occurs when a person is unable to cope with, or adjust to, a particular source of stress, such as a major life change, loss or event."

Let's see if we can break this down.

January 2009, I miscarried. I never sought counseling. Chuck and I act as if it never happened.
In October of that year, we broke up. Ending a year+ relationship and basically ending an almost 3 year friendship. November I moved to Missouri, where I lived with grandparents that I never knew and family that I had never met.

Let's jump to March 2010; I left Missouri without as much as a goodbye. I came back to California and proceeded to not get a job that I had basically been assured I was guaranteed. I started dating someone who proceeded to cheat on me, thus solidifying my opinion that it has to be me, because they all have before. And I learned that my body is no longer producing eggs...which means that the 7% chance I was clinging to is now gone.

I was feeling...I am feeling as though my friends have moved on. People are getting married, having kids, excelling in their careers. I'm at a complete standstill.

All of that compiled on top of each other is hard to come to terms with. Not talking to anyone about it makes it worse.

Chuck can tell you specifically that I keep everything bottled up inside and then when it’s practically bursting out of me, that is when I open up.

Instead of letting myself go when I can't hold it anymore, I just continued to cram it all down and ignore it.

When I spoke to the therapist today he told me that I spoke of how awesome my friends were. How I try to only surround myself with people that I like and create positive energy.

Blah.

He also told me that if I think so highly of all these people, then I should be considerate enough to talk to them.

I’m not sure that it’s consideration that I should have to speak to others. I think it really comes down to trust.
I do not trust easily. Period.
Even with people that I have known for 22 years (Tiffany)…I still have issues.
I’m pretty sure I know where those issues stem from, but I don’t need to tell you all everything on here.
I just know that I will continue to take the Prozac that was prescribed, because it breaks down the anxious feelings that I have and then makes me want to talk, without the fear and stress of being rejected.
I can say that I know that I will continue to see this guy. Personally, I think he’s a little kooky, but maybe it’ll be like the crazy helping the crazy.
No, I don’t think I’m crazy. I think I’m depressed. I think I let past hurts affect how I live my life in the present. Not a good deal.
Moving on and learning to open up and trust people is a goal. Being happy has been a life goal.
I think I need to start smaller. Getting over all the stress and other issues first may lead to happiness.
Mostly, I’m embarrassed. Going from point A where I’m sad to point Q where I’m sending letters and contemplating which knife to use and how much to drink beforehand so it kills some of the pain is not me.
As one friend pointed out to me: I’m great. I helped him when he needed a friend and support. I have a lot to offer people and I should realize that I have a purpose.
I’m sorry that I worried and scared a lot of you…I was worried and scared myself. I have never felt so out of control before.
I thought that would be the one thing I could control, but apparently I can control my life.
At least that’s what I’m trying to believe.