(Not) Losing Your Shit

I can’t see straight. I’ll probably edit the BLEEP out of this at some point, but for right now, it’s eyes closed and Grammarly.

I’ve got a great draft on “brain scramble” and how to survive it, but I believe (most of) this state can be experienced by anyone who’s massively overwhelmed. That’s not finished because I’ve been in some higher-than-normal level of cognitive impairment since late February.

Everything is stuck in draft—including the blog transition!

Here’s an article from the company I started my professional-caregiving with on part of what’s happening inside my brain from my TBI. What are the odds?

Not sure if this post is an outro or a way back in. Feeling a little lost.

My point isn’t to whine, but I guess I’m going to.

Atop the physical and neurological bs spike—part weather, part stress, part knowing deep down it was coming before I got word the battle was lost—I recently lost my best friend Angel, who just missed what should’ve been her 37th birthday, and my family is going through what I can’t help but see as a nasty cycle that’s triggered the deuce out of some root issues I was just starting to address head-on. This time, I get to experience it as my adult self, my younger self, and through the eyes of an even younger, delicate kin—without yet another someone I’ve always been able to count on to listen and stand by me.

Two tired and laughing besties, Angel covering her face.
Forced “uncute” morning selfie, while she laughed at my ridiculousness and absurdity. I can almost still hear it.

Deja vu doesn’t even begin to explain what’s happening here. Helplessness, grief, pain, regret, anger, blame, guilt, survivor’s guilt. (Thank you Dawn Hosmer and “Bits & Pieces” for reminding me to label these monsters, as well as showing the danger of living with unclear boundaries.)

It’s Groundhog’s Day, and everything I’ve put into little boxes in my mind to get this far in life wants out, NOW—which is unreasonable in so many ways. It’s very nearly killed me and still lurks behind, just waiting for me to loosen the grip. It’s more than frightening.

Time for some serious soul work.

My attention is scattered and depression/anxiety/zero appetite/IBS(?) have me down to weighing NOTHING but the gravity is about 9Gs. It’s a random number, an estimation I suppose, but I’m sticking with it until I can fix my posture and drop some baggage.

I’m making some (way too f-ing slow) progress on clearing my personal space, focusing on how this happened, and how to get back out.

Counting my list of handicaps and obstacles is almost enough to pull me six feet under but—aside from my loving friends, family, and truly strange occurrences—something in here says, to bizarrely quote Eazy-E, “Stop, no, and don’t”.

So, I’m hangin. Maybe upside down and using my toes to grip, but what the hell?

There’s a whole world that needs fixing and—once I find my oxygen mask, which seems to have been given away more than can be replaced—I want to do all that I can to be a force for good.

No more “you first, I’ll just suffocate” and no more beating the crap out of myself for what isn’t even mine. Just dropping the bullshit so I can use my own hands. I’m done asking for permission and acceptance because I don’t take it when it’s offered most of the time, anyway.

This is my life, my pain, my problem and you know who’s the only one who can not just pull but keep me out of the water? Some weirdo named Heather using every tool she’s got.

Whether I’ve got to be a Zen master or Phoenix, it’s happening. This burning skin is no coincidence. The ironies aren’t lost on me.

So, while I’m turning back and taking care of my little self the way someone else should have years ago, and standing up for the woman I am now, I’ll be on Twitter or taking short, painful walks—because I’m not done here yet.

Torso shot, Union Jack tee shirt that reads “Friends with Benefits” and a monarch hanging out on my hand.
The butterfly who came to say hello a few days ago, perhaps as a thank you for keeping a garden of milkweeds and making them and (dozens of bees) a home, maybe liked the shirt, or possibly just a “Hey girl, I see you”…

*While I wrote that caption, a toad came from nowhere just to chill with me for a minute.*

Maybe I’m batshit crazy but it’s nice to have friends.

(Addendum: I still let this sit in drafts for a lot longer than I’d like to admit… someone make me stop doing this!)

15 thoughts on “(Not) Losing Your Shit

  1. Hi Heather! I’m really sorry you’re suffering thesedays, but I’m glad you decided to write about it (and, by the way, your new friends sound lovely!). I’m sorry, also, for the loss of your friend. That’s gotta hurt.

    It helps me to think of this life as just a temporary stop in my overall spiritual journey. It helps me to think I will soon see all my lost loved ones. But might as well make the most of what I’ve got, while I’ve got it. It also helps me to think of whatever sounds I received as a child, that are still with me and seem to be impossible to heal – these wounds are there for a reason. Maybe they’re meant to be the impetus for my self-growth and ultimately what I’m meant to do in this world. These are all ideas that help me, and I hope they’ll help you, too.

    Also, I just finished reading “An Untethered Soul” by Michael Singer, and loved it! Sending you love and luck.❤️

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thanks, Nida. I very much believe this is but one stop too (even if we’ve lived it before and will do it again, not sure…) and our suffering is meant to teach.

      I’ve heard of that book before and have to check it out. Love, luck and lizard licks to you! 😊

      Liked by 2 people

  2. Thank you. This is exactly what I needed to read. I needed someone, anyone to actually understand what I am going through. Not because I wanted someone else suffering, but I need someone to explain it differently…. in a way my brain can understand.
    We are NOT our mistakes. We are able to be a good person, by making an effort to avoid them as best we can, with the tools we have. At that moment. Just because we didn’t have them before and couldn’t avoid a crisis, now we have the tools. With that being said it is so easy to first blame ourselves for every single fucking thing. I swear to gawd. I overanalyze every single thing I do out in public because I am afraid of being a fraud. I end up hearing myself say things. Things I did not want to say. Things that make me seem a certain way. Gosh… I’m rambling LOL
    Thank you for reaching out to me. Thank you for being there for me when I reached out to you. You have given me some very much needed hope in my life. I mean, how does one move forward after making a mistake like I made? While texting you I was leaning against the closet door, crying my soul out to the point of not breathing. You kept me from doing something I would not be here to regret. I don’t know if we are ment to be shooting stars in each other’s lives, or something more substantial. Either way, I am always here for you. (And anyone else who may be struggling)

    Thank you Heather. 💚💙💚💙

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Hey Heather, Sorry to hear you have had such a rough time. With no new posts from you in a while I wondered what was going on. Sounds like you are dealing as best you can. Slow progress is still progress. And you haven’t given up or given in, so that’s a good sign.
    The stockpile of unpublished drafts is an all too familiar situation I can relate to.
    Stick to it, and know you have supportive people out here.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. I won’t pretend I know how you feel, though you’re doing your best to let us see that. But I’m sorry to hear you’re in a bad spot (or, well, a worse spot than usual?), and the best I can do is sending you a hug and all the good vibes. Life is hard enough (well…for some it’s harder than average *looks in the mirror*) without all the added baggage. You deserve to be able to drop it, at least for a while.

    Liked by 1 person

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