The Fog

It’s often hard to explain mental health issues to people who have never been afflicted or interacted with someone afflicted by them. They just don’t have the capacity for understanding, or at least haven’t with the explanations I’d tried to give before now. Lately, since my new diagnosis and this life-changing drug, I’ve found the best way for me to describe my personal journey. 

All my life I’ve been walking in a fog of anxiety and depression. A dense, damp fog that surrounded and clung to me like a thick blanket drenched in cold water. Even though I knew there was more to life than anxiety and depression, I couldn’t see beyond that fog. 

Over the last six years, as meds that worked were introduced, I took a few steps out of the fog, revealing shadows of the life outside. They were dark and blurry, indistinguishable at times but visible none the less. After the worst of the side effects brought on by the introduction of a beast called Lamotrigine, every week when we upped my dose, I took another step out of the fog. 

I still struggled each time we increased it. The thoughts running through my mind did not always sound like me, I had insomnia and nightmares when I did sleep. Still, I took a step out of that fog every time.

A weight lifted off me, giving me the ability to control my emotions and my thoughts that up until then had free reign inside that stifling fog. 

It was liberating.

My bipolar diagnosis was like finding the key puzzle piece that brought the picture of my life together in a way that finally made sense. The medication was a lifeline, a refuge, a trail of bread crumbs leading me to safety.

I can regret the choices made in my darkest hours, I can’t for the life of me regret the moments that led me to this place. The realizations, the freedom and control that have come from it, have been worth it. 

I believe people come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. I thought he’d be a life time…maybe he was simply here for a reason…to help me find that missing piece. 

I should walk away, but I’ve still sent ridiculously long emails begging for another chance. I betrayed him in an unforgiveable way and should let him go so that he can find someone who deserves the investment and care that he gives…but I can’t seem to. 

Has anyone else out there betrayed someone they loved and then struggled so hard to watch them walk away?

How did you move on?

How did you let go of the line that bound you together? 

Fate or Coincidence

I found him first, and then he found me

Two worlds collided, the reason unseen

He’d call it coincidence, and I’d call fate

Whatever reason we met for our date

He led with his mind and I, with my heart

Yet there was chemistry right from the start

He’d meet every argument with research and fact

I relied on instinct, prone to overreact

He knew what he wanted, and I was unsure

He’s filled with confidence, where I’m insecure

His life, like his home, is uncluttered and clean

For me it’s been complicated, a sight best left unseen

For him, everything sits in its chosen place

Yet my cluttered life I still struggle to face

He gave me everything, and I threw it away

A few bad decisions I regret to this day

He’ll never forgive me, I’m not sure he should

I’d still beg on my knees if I thought that he would

It’s hard to imagine how things could be

If I’d never betrayed him, or if he’d never met me

There’s no going back, as much as I’ve tried

My life feels so empty, I’ve no tears left to cry

Still life goes on, at least so they say

One step, then another, I’ll soon find my way

Lies

2F21B6A0-B8E1-4838-847E-08EA2C29462F.jpegEvery time I sit down to write, I think about this blog. Its name, “My Little-Known Truth”, speaks to me in more ways than the journey you started following years ago. I think that’s why I stopped writing here. When my life took a turn, when the focus was no longer on that side of me, it felt like this was not the place to be putting down my thoughts.

The reality, my reality, is that no one really knows my truth, because I’ve rarely let anyone know the real me. I don’t think I really knew me until a few short months ago. It’s hard waking up one day to realize you’ve been lying to everyone. Literally everyone, including yourself.

I’ve led a segmented life for as long as I can remember. When I interact with my family it’s in groups, because no one can get along, no one wants to come together. My friends don’t know my family, only the stories I’ve told them. I have different groups of friends, none of whom know anyone outside their group.

Even with my relationships I’ve kept things with them separate from everything else. It takes a certain length of time before I’ll introduce them to friends, another length of time before I’ll subject them to the disaster that is my family. Generally speaking this is fine, but sometimes it’s an issue especially when they think it’s because I’m holding back.

The truth is I am holding back. Its been like that forever. If I look and try to find the why, now it’s clear. I’ve been living a series of lies, each segment of my life will see a part of me, but no one sees the whole. I tell people what they want to hear, I do the things they want to do, and I pretend to be the person they want me to be, because it’s easier and safer than being me.

So, who am I? I am a broken woman from an abusive home. Outside of that I’m not quite sure.

As a child I would spend hours, days, months, years, pretending that I was one of the characters in the stories I wrote. I convinced myself that I looked different, came from a different place, with different parents and a different life. So much so that I can remember looking in the mirror and being surprised to see the girl reflected there.

My mom switched my last name several times. Legally I had one name, but she would use her own last name when she talked about me or registered me in things like school or extra circular activities. At eight, a year after she married my step-father, they used his name for me at school and outside of it, but it was never legally mine. In twelfth grade, the school forced them to change it back to my legal name or I wouldn’t graduate. That was the start of my lies, one that continued into my early twenties when I took my god parents name (not legally), because it was a way to escape my unhappy story.

I’ve pretended for so long that the things that happened to me didn’t. For many situations I’ve got myself convinced that what I remember isn’t real, that it didn’t happen. It did. I’ve hid mistakes I’ve made and told half truths about them to a few people, but never the real story because the truth is fucked up…really fucked up.

I feel the need to tell the truth. I think it’s a part of fixing the things inside me that make it hard to be a good partner, a strong woman, and an effective employee. So, although the tone of this will change, I will still be writing things that are connected to what I’ve written in the past. I plan on posting some of my stories, and some other pieces of my life. This is no longer going to be about one piece of me, but all sides.

They say that people want to read about the journey. So, this is my journey, my story, my truth, unabridged and in all it’s fucked up glory. I hope you’ll stay, I hope you’ll walk the journey with me. Most of all, I hope that something in here resonates with you; because that’s the piece that connects us. Everyone has different struggles, but we all struggle, and sometimes all we need to know is that someone else out there is struggling too.

Until we meet in real life, you can call me Cordelia.

 

Brutal honesty; written a few weeks ago

Sometimes I think I’m in too deep.

Like when he looks at me and says, “Are you scared of me?”. I know what he means, and I know that out is only a six letter safe word away.

I always tell him part of the truth, that no I’m not afraid of him, but at the same time I leave out so much.

Like, “I’m more afraid of what you have come to mean to me,” and “I’m afraid of what I will do when this is over.”

I know that day isn’t tomorrow. I have till the very least the spring equinox. Probably a lot longer after that, but the thought stays with me.

I thought I could do this without getting too involved, I don’t think that is a reality any longer.