Guard Your Heart

I just don’t think people understand how hard I have to fight daily for my sanity, my peace. It took a lot of years of training myself to not be reactive and to learn how to respond to situations that could destabilize me. Like so many of us I had a difficult upbringing, I don’t think my life story is unique so I try not to go around with labels of childhood trauma. But I spent so many years being the strong one and allowing everyone else to breakdown while I picked up the pieces of life and trudged on.

My mom was arrested; everyone cried and I had to soothe my siblings. How could I too cry?

My cousin died; everyone cried, I couldn’t. I washed his bloody clothes and cleaned the bloody room.

My grandfather was old and sick and very demanding; I tolerated and empathized and cleaned him and his room. And I did it with a smile knowing that one day I too might get old and grumpy.

I survived days, months, weeks and years that we’re meant to break me.

So when I fall apart over the seemingly “little things” I cry so hard for all the tears I didn’t shed all those years. I feel the pain of two decades in 1 hour and it hurts. It’s heavy, really heavy and I just wanna learn to put it down.

Lately, I have been avoiding staying in my room because when those doors close I feel as though I am suffocating. It forces me to face all my problems and that’s ok, but anxiety has this fucked up way of talking really fast and saying everything all at once and it’s like a 2 year old screaming at you while asking 101 questions you really don’t have the answers to and quite frankly I can’t always quiet that voice on my own.

So I leave home. I go to the mall, sit at McDonald’s or Starbucks. Last evening I went to the movies after and it was a great movie, funny and insightful. The entire time I was sitting there I kept flexing my shoulders, taking deep breaths just trying my hardest to relax but my shoulders were so tense, my chest was tight and my throat just felt like it was closing in…πŸ˜”πŸ˜­ I’m trying god damn it!

To add insult to injury the humans in my life keep letting me down. I literally have two people currently that I can rely on and there are times when I don’t want to be a bother to them because quite frankly I am a lot to handle.

I have never had a secure attachment in my life. I just don’t trust humans; they (we) are unreliable, disloyal and selfish. We are motivated by our own desires and greeds and consequently are designed to keep hurting each other. (Of course this is just my opinion; after all it’s my blog)

Whatever, I can’t change people. I can only change myself. So yeah, I avoid anything and anyone that fucks with my peace; my sanity, because truthfully I don’t know what I’m capable of if triggered. Some folks dive off the deep end never to return. I’m trying to stay on board so if I don’t talk to you PLEASE DO NOT TALK TO ME. I DO NOT LIKE YOU, I DO NOT TRUST YOU AND I AM DOING US BOTH A FAVOUR BY AVOIDING YOU.

Just please, leave me alone. I avoid prison, you avoid death. It’s a no brainer.

I Can’t Sh*t in Peace

Honestly, just cut a girl some slack. Every minute of every single waking hour you are constantly badgering me. Yes yes, I understand your concerns and they are valid but please I just want to be able to take a dump without you barraging me with 101 questions and what ifs. I just want to feel like I can breathe without hearing your bickering. I used to have solace in my dreams but now even there you are. You’ve perforated my hiding place and now I feel naked, stripped of my solace. I put my hands over my ears and will you to be quiet or at least beg my ears to not capture the never ending sounds of your “neyeng neyeng inna mi ears ole”

I sit, I get comfy, I cover my shoulders, I breathe in and out deeply, I squeeze my tummy a little, I push as hard as I can, I beg my body please stop listening to this erratic child and listen to meeeee!!! God damn it!!

*Breathe Imani* it’ll be fine. You’ll shit later. Fuck. I hate Anxiety. 😩

Long Journey

They say the journey of a thousand miles begin with the first step. I don’t know about anyone else but the first step is always the easiest for me. A colleague; Shane Patterson an amazing visual artist once asked, what is your impetus? In short, I told him it was the fact that I was very aware of my own mortality. I am distinctly aware of the fact that I am dying and that I could literally give up this mortal flesh any minute and so I live life full. I take life by the horns and I ride. I do all the things I want to do, try all the things I want to try, I throw my whole heart into my passions and I love, I love fiercely.

The downside to this pathological passion for love and life is that I hurt deeply when life throws me curve balls. I’m resilient in that I face them knowing full well that I am going to overcome them but aye boi, that doesn’t make it any easier.

You see, I am happy, immensely so. I am grateful to have met and married someone who loves as deeply as I do. I married the water to my fire and no he doesn’t try to doze me.

He quenches my thirst and soothes my soul when it aches. I just don’t find very many people I can trust. I don’t think it is paranoia. I think these are valid feelings that stem from my trust being violated by most people. It comes from being blatantly lied to and stabbed in the back. I remember a quotation that said something along the lines of “real friends stab you in the front” and I relate to that.Honestly, with my illness and personality I guess I have found myself in some really bad situations and 9 times out of 10 it was a friend or stranger who helped me out. I don’t ever want to forget those people. No matter what. I pray that no matter how high up the elevators of life take me that I remember those who helped me up when I was down.

And I pray for the strength to love those who looked at me while I was down and walked away without offering to help me up. I pray for the strength to be better than those who have hurt me, I want to “kill them with love” as the popular saying goes.

And that my friend is my prayer tonight. To love those who willfully hurt me and those who turned their backs on me. And to never forget the ones who gave to me from what little they had.

With my deepest love,

– Faith.

Mental Health & the Church

Abba’s Heart is for You

https://thestilledsoul.wordpress.com/2019/09/20/abbas-heart-is-for-you/
β€” Read on thestilledsoul.wordpress.com/2019/09/20/abbas-heart-is-for-you/

This is such a timely message that resonates deeply with me as one who has departed from the church because of how my illness was perceived. I was told I was oppressed and or possessed by demons and that if I don’t get right with God I was going to die and go straight to hell. It is this version of Christianity and religiosity that sent me in search of God outside of religion. And I think we often forget that God exists outside of the church, or mosque, or temple or synagogue. I think Christians have confined God to a box; the church. But hey, I’m just a sinner wth do I know? πŸ€·πŸΎβ€β™€οΈ

Yes, He’s My Sugar Daddy

“Sugar Daddy that?”

“What happened to him? Accident? Disease”

“Come like him sit pon a rass piece a wealth deh man”

“Nuhbada tell mi seh mi too fass, but wah happen to yuh husband?”

This is an offence; that’s why you are single. 😁

The gall, audacity and blatant lack of etiquette and ignorance is appalling. These were messages I received from some of the lesser learned folks in my friend list. The more polite ones simply said Congrats. Which for me was just fine.

Honestly, I have less than 5 close friends. I don’t quite like people but I was raised to be polite. But please, don’t insult my husband nor I with such crude and incredulous interrogations. Who the flying fuck are you sir or madam? We are merely associates. Were you not taught that it is rude to ask such deeply personal questions of someone you hardly know?

Please refrain from this line of questioning, I will simply ignore you lest I be dragged any further down to your level.

The end.

Now kindly pay attention to your lane.

Signed,

The Sugar Baby πŸ‘ΆπŸΎ 😁😌😏

Near Death August

And I don’t mean mine; not this time at least. I survived August. I stayed out of prison πŸ˜„. I say this while laughing but God knows it was no joke. I had the most cruel thing I can imagine being done to me by a friend, a confidant done to me. I trusted this person with all my vulnerabilities and boy did that backfire.

Lesson here; you can only rely on yourself so you better be reliable.

Me? I’m never trusting anyone like that again. And I’m not the type to say never but I know wholeheartedly that I can never give anyone the power to hurt me like that again. I allowed this person and the situation to take control of my facilities for the better part of 2 weeks. I was a crying angry mess. Had I the money to fly to where the person lived they would be a dead person and I would be behind bars and what would that have accomplished? Not a damn thing.

I contemplated many a days to voluntarily check myself in to a hospital to get some additional help because I was truly struggling. I had been stable for the most part, taking my medication religiously, eating right and exercising, maintaining good rapport with my support system. I was doing well. Then I got a swift, heavy blow that knocked me off my feet. I was furious, but most of all I was hurt. I felt stupid to have put so much trust in a “stranger” why? Because they trusted me at a time when I needed it. They welcomed me into their family and stood up for me at the expense of losing their own family. I was proud to call them friend. And that, that’s why it was so hard on me.

Well, I survived. I lived to tell the tale. I just want to thank the universe for an amazing support system of friends and family who were there for me throughout this ordeal. I am so grateful for my friend Pudi who listened to me rant over and over and over again and he never complained. I am so so grateful for our friendship.

For those who prayed for and with me during this difficult time; thank you.

For those who encouraged me to remember all I have been through in the past and that I survived those, I applaud you.

I was resilient. I persevered. I am alive and happy not because things worked out but because I didn’t cave in to my illness. I survived.

So I encourage you today to dig deep; find the courage within to love, to live and to dream. Your feelings are valid but do not let them control you.

#dweetfraid #chiselon #faithinit

With much love,

Faith β€οΈπŸ˜‡

The Hands that Holds the Mask

The hands that holds the masks are tired.

I have rotated between left and right

I have shifted pressure between fingers

I have tried pinning it on

Man, I have done it all

But the hands are just tired.

I just cannot hold up this facade anymore

I have resolved to show me more

Though I’ll still smile in my darkest hour

At night I sit and cry helplessly in the shower.

#faithinit

What if?

I always say that if I were to die right now I can die peacefully knowing that I LIVED. I took life by the horns and I rode this motherfucker. I mean, I took all opportunities presented me and I sought out new ones. I gave it my best shot. That’s just who I am. A gentle fervency.

You know, I love fast and I love hard. I don’t always say it though, I wait, but I show it. If we were to go by the 5 Love Languages I’d say my primary love language is physical touch, then quality time, followed by acts of service. They say we learn to love from our parents and if I were to dissect my own upbringing I’d say for most of my life I felt most loved by my Dad, as he would always show his affection through hugs, kisses and spending quality time with me. I felt adored and it has had a significant impact on my self perception. It was later in life when I became quite sickly that I learnt to understand and accept the way my mom shows love; her acts of service. She would try all sorts of remedies to make me healthy, she would wake up and make me lunch and beet juice because it was thought I had low blood pressure and a low blood count. I remember vividly how she cried and slapped my cheeks for almost half and hour non stop all the way to the hospital when I first fainted at home πŸ˜„ Sounds painful and it was, but I now know it was love. She did everything to make me comfortable when I was weak, she prayed and fasted with me night and day. Yeah that’s my mom. She might not say the words “I love you very often” but she definitely shows it.

Well, I am reflecting on love today because of where my heart is. I am hurt and torn and disappointed in myself. I have done some really dangerous things in the name of “fun” and “yolo”. I don’t know that I regret these decisions but I think I often forget that all actions have consequences and that sometimes these consequences may be lifelong. Well, I learnt. Or I am learning.

I feel like it’s just like lending money to someone. Don’t do it unless you can afford to lose it. Any money at all, do not gift or lend or invest it unless it is money you can afford to lose. Same thing with life and having fun. Unless you can live with the worst case scenario don’t do that thing.

I try not to write in absolutes but as I did this time, I implore you to take it with a grain of salt. Use your own critical thinking skills to decide if it makes sense.

Withmuch love!

– Faith

P.S. Keep on #faithinit and #chiselon ❀️😘

I Wanna Write

“I wanna write” my soul cries.

“I wanna write”, it’s how we release our tensions

Putting pen to paper, oh how time flies.

“Ahhhhhhh…breathe”, liberate the breath held by so many suspensions

I write because it’s cathartic, it’s my therapy. Sometimes emotions gets so overwhelming that I feel choked. It’s as if I’m being held by the neck mid air by the strong hands of feelings. I use both hands to release this monsters grip as I whisper gently from the heart “write love, write.”

Sometimes feelings is so wound up that his fingers move as though they’re arthritic, they are sore and slow. But once he starts writing the veins and arteries of the heart dilate and they become warmer and more fluid. That’s what it does, writing I mean, it gets the blood flowing. The mind gradually becomes freer, less friction in the head space.

Ah that deep sigh. I live for it. Meditate, realign, focus on centre…breathe….

Restrained

I fear my emotions

Expressing them I mean

I’m afraid to laugh too much

To cry

To feel anxiety

To feel sad

To feel stressed

I’m afraid to feel too much

For I’m known to lean in to such

Half hearted? Oh no

I always lean in for more.

What if I can’t stop laughing?

Or I can’t stop crying?

What if anxiety and sadness overcome me once again

Would this really be my happy time then?

So no, like Kanye’s smile

I let it rip

But I always catch myself from a potential slip.

Depression is like Locked In Syndrome

Source

But instead of the body being paralyzed it’s the mind…

Imagine living in a physically functioning and “healthy” body but being so far lost in yourself that it feels like you’re either on auto pilot or invaded by a new host. This host is more like a child like version of yourself that is terribly afraid and unable to fully function in the version of your world that you are presently living in. A negative copy of self.

Well, I guess I’m just trying to put it into words and synonyms help.

I’m happy to be out, but the negligence of depression is quite evident and I’m just trying to pick up the pieces, dust off the old saddle and get back on the horse. I just can’t help but think I’m going to go hard and fast for a few amazing months and then πŸ’₯ the rug gets pulled from under my feet… yet another time. But hey, I’m trying to be tough without getting too calloused.

9 or 6

I opened my last post with the intention of sharing how different everything seems when I’m low vs. high, but as you know, things don’t always turn out the way we intended.

Well, I’m going to try to share that now. You see, I hardly write and stay away from people and situations that require the use of any complex mental energy when I’m low, primarily because:

1. Everything is harder to comprehend. I know the words coming out of your mouth, I understand them to some extent but I falter somewhere during the feedback loop of the communication channel and it all just seems scrambled. Nothing I say sounds like it makes sense. It seems convoluted and may never actually be an answer to the question(s) asked.

2. I reread my old entries and they make no sense. They don’t seem valuable or worth sharing and I berate myself for putting it out there like that and making a fool of myself on widely public platforms.

So I delete my instagram, deactivate my Facebook, I don’t Snapchat, I limit the status sharing and overall communication on WhatsApp and I try to hide my brokenness from the world.

I don’t know that I’ve managed to put this in the right words to convey the effect of depression on the neuropsychology of the brain. Cognitively I am not the same person. I don’t have the same abilities. It is why I often ponder about the similarities between bipolar disorder and multiple personality disorder now known as Dissociative Identity Disorder. The difference though I think is that for the most part the bipolar brain remembers everything if even not in fine details and there is a closeness between the diverging parts of the self. Self at angst.

Everything is different even though it is the same. The simplest to the most complex of things; light, darkness, intimacy (of course I’d have to mention that), the sun, the rain, the trees, loved ones, people, everything. Things literally metamorphose. I even feel as though my vision gets worst when I’m high and the need for my glasses increases. It’s weird, it’s my experience…

Well that’s essentially my view, sometimes 9 sometimes 6.

Midnight Musing

I haven’t shared for a while and I suppose from previous posts you might have had some ideas of why. Well, I was terribly depressed with very few good hours that were indeed few and far between. I can say was now, today June 14, 2019 at 11:43pm because I am now having more good days with a few bad hours which are getting to be fewer and further between. I am happier.

I’ve often pondered which I fear more; the highs or the lows, and to be honest I think now I can say that I fear the lows more and I don’t just love the highs because of the elation but because I feel more like myself, or the self that I can relate to, the self I remember and the self others eulogize. The self I describe in my About section. The self that has dreams and ambitions.

You see, for the last 3 weeks I have been seeing more of her. She’s beautiful, confident, spunky, friendly and outgoing. Oh, but she’s a bratty, seductress who’s short tempered and long winded. She looked in the mirror and did not like what was done to our temporal host. She thinks I’ve let it go unkept, living in filth and who has the wardrobe of an old maid. Sighs. Let’s just say the train lights are blinking and she’s coming full speed ahead.

I’ve ticked off all the warning signs. I know she’s here in the station and she’s not about to depart anytime soon. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited. I’ve been anticipating her arrival for months. She gets shit done and we have a lot of unfinished business to attend to.

So I guess we know who the better writer is. That sad old drunk only journaled 3 or 4 times and here I am; guns blazing ready to dig in and spill my thoughts on paper (I mean screen). Bleh whatever 😝

Β‘Vamos a bailar! πŸ’ƒπŸΎ

Hasta pronto mis amigos,

Besos y abrazos πŸ˜˜πŸ€—

P.S. (I think it’s this side of me that likes other languages and has interests)

Let’s see what this season brings. **fingers crossed for a partner**

#faithinit #chiselon

This was her debut for the year 2019.

Landlocked island

I wish it were enough

Knowing you are loved and cared for

Knowing there are better days ahead

Knowing that your entire world could “change” in a year or two.

It hardly matters that there are people to reach out to

Perhaps it is indeed selfish

Hemispatial neglect.

Every inhale a betrayal to beggars of mo’ time

Thief.

Don’t Count Me Out Just Yet

Yeah, you heard right, I mean read or whatever. πŸ˜„ I’m still here. Still kicking.

I have a friend of mine who would message me not to engage; (which I appreciate by the way) she would sometimes just say “Max”

And I’d say “Lav”. Then she’d respond “Just checking that you are still alive” πŸ˜„ Makes my entire day whenever I get it. I appreciate that gesture you know. I like people who can make fun of the otherwise serious things. I enjoy making fun of whatever situation I am in mentally, physically, or any other ally. It takes the edge off and I certainly love to laugh.

I am here man. Things have been steady and stable. I push through my days and I find that once I get up when the alarm sounds in the morning and do what I need to the day passes, it’s easier to take on. So if I have learnt anything in the last few days or weeks, it’s that;

1. I’m still here. And once I am, the journey continues. So when I say don’t count me out just yet, I mean it. It’s not over until it’s over.

2. Being sedated has it perks. I wake up grateful everyday and I go to bed with the same attitude. I am happy I make it through my days, I get the job done and I sleep well at nights.

3. Writing is writing is writing. I mean, I appreciate the eloquent and erudite writers out there, for me however, it’s often just about putting pen to paper and writing. And that’s ok.

So in the same breath of imploring you (dear universe) not to count me out just yet, don’t count yourself out yet either. I know our individual situations differ and you’re right; it’s easier said than done. Keep saying it anyway and do your best to make your words matter (literally). Keep on putting one leg in front of the other, walking is walking is walking.

Wave and smile at stranger, do something for someone without them asking; especially your parents and loved ones. Check in on a friend, share a funny meme (those are the best), be goofy if it makes someone laugh, hug someone (also the best) and breathe.

The universe is conspiring in our favour. Trust me. πŸ€—

Urge to Hurt

Sometimes I stay put. I lay in bed and flood my mind with random videos and images on YouTube and elsewhere. The voices get loud sometimes and the urges get so strong. I want to punch myself, to run until I collapse, to clamber our my eyes,…to die. To just no longer exist. I hardly slept last night, it was dreadful waking up. Dreadful. Why? A stupid question I know.

I just try to stay still. Not move. If I don’t move I can’t hurt myself right?

Well, I just don’t know if I can do this. Live you know. Things are relatively ok now, but it’s idealistic. Realistically it isn’t a long term situation. There is so much to say but I’ll refrain.

I wonder if I’ll ever be able to maintain a long term career, like do one thing consistently and be able to support myself and family…that scares me. Sometimes I don’t know the things I know I know, I can’t put my thoughts together well. Well at least I think so and feel that way but those around me say I seem ok and I’m coherent. On the inside though I’m frazzled. Fraying by the edges. Shaking.

What if my family gives up on me, as in they’ve had enough of this? Of me? My inconsistencies and instability? I’m scared…I’m terribly scared. Who will care for me when I can’t care for myself? 😭

I avoid my family and even friends for this very reason. I’m trying not to be overbearing because I know they want to see me thriving, as do I, but honestly, some days I can just survive, some days I’m barely surviving…

I just want to go

Life: A Coherent Mess

I don’t know. Lately I have been thinking a lot about whether or not a diagnosis has helped me. Personally, I don’t exactly think so. I think it has made me into a person that explains away my complacency. I have an explanation for why I stay in bed for days, why I don’t groom my hair for weeks, why my room is a mess. I have an explanation for my poor fiscal management, for how am not keeping in touch with my family and friends.

You know, when I was in high school and I didn’t complete an assignment for whatever reason I never lied to my teachers? I would just look them dead in the eye and tell them I didn’t do it. Why? They’d ask and I’d just say, I just didn’t do it. End of discussion. I just do not like excuses. I like accountability. I like people who take their responsibilities seriously. I do not like making excuses and quite frankly I think this whole thing has become an excuse.

This is not to say that it isn’t real, or it doesn’t impair my abilities sometimes. It is to say that before a label I pushed through. I got up and found ways to keep getting up and showing up and getting the job done. And I always did excellent work.

I remember Mrs Coates; my high school history teacher used to say I was “dry yeye” which in our vernacular meant I was bare faced, shameless, wrong and strong πŸ˜„. It meant I knew when I was in the wrong but I was rarely if ever remorseful. She was honest.

I went through the Jamaica Defence Force’s Officers Selection Board as I wanted to serve a term as an officer in the army. I like being in charge of others. Maybe it’s a consequence of being a first born with so many younger siblings and cousins, I can’t say. But I love it. It gives me purpose. It is easier for me to wake up everyday and execute because I know that there are people who are depending on me to show up and guide them, help them figure things out. I enjoy collaborating; once I get to spare head the operations of the team πŸ˜„ I am my best self then.

Can I tell you something I haven’t said out loud? Well, I did a day ago when I was having a moment with my friend Lav but she doesn’t take me serious in those times because I’m just having a moment. Well it has been on my mind a lot and it could be Mother Nature’s clock thing or maybe I spend so much time taking care of other people’s children and I enjoy it so much but the feeling isn’t passing. I think I want a baby πŸ˜„πŸ€£ *whew* there I said it. Finally. I want a baby.

I always tell people their feelings are valid and they should air their thoughts if even just to self. Which I guess is what I do when I journal. I air my thoughts. Except my journal is public and that scares the shit out of my family and friends.

I am aware of what I share. Trust me. Anyhow, I don’t want to raise a child alone, plus I have a few other things to take care of; student loans, further studies, new business, personal savings, independence, life basically. Life. I don’t think that has deterred anyone from having a child before so I don’t see why it should deter me. We figure things out, that’s what we do as humans, as animals, as living things. We figure things out as they come.

So when I’m dating, I’m not doing it for the excitement, or to avoid feeling lonely or just to have an activity partner. I’m dating intentionally. I’m looking for a partner, a friend, and someone who’ll make a good parent.

We are so worried especially as women about how others perceive us based on our sex and dating lives. I have people in my life keeping count 🀣 and I just say kudos to you all. Thanks, I guess… because I don’t care. Sex is as essential to life to me as drinking water and eating food. Just like you shouldn’t just drink any water or put just about any food in your body I think it’s the same for sexual partners. Be conscious and intentional. I am. It may not look that way to those watching but how is that my problem? I am not settling because I am watching my numbers or I want something social media worthy, or because my family thinks s/he is nice or because it’s ok and could be worst. I’m plucking a grape from the bunch, tasting and Mmmm aaaahhh well – ing and taking my precious time to find the one that is just right. 😊

So yeah, I started this with wondering about whether I am pushing myself less because I have an explanation for my feelings and constant cognitive changes, I dived into my desire to have a baby, and my quest for finding the right fit. πŸ˜„ Life is just like that; Beautifully messy. Art and poetry.

Feel the sun today. Take note of where you are and thank the heavens for the things you have now that you once prayed for and air your thoughts out. Put it on paper if you don’t want to talk it over with anyone else. Just air it…

Me? I’m alive and you best believe I’m grateful for that.

Chin up buttercup! #chiselon #faithit #dweetfraid

With immense gratitude,

~ Faith

Pasta

Umph….

I guess I’ll never get that pasta huh?

Or wait forever

Forever sounds dramatic

I am after all a drama queen

I guess knowing what you want sucks

Or maybe I just haven’t been going about it right

I keep asking for honey garlic spareribs

Yet when I get steak; I eat it anyway

I mean, I don’t like complaining and sending things back

It’s not in my nature

I try to think that maybe God knows what I need

That right now I need steak that’s why I got steak when I asked for ribs

And blah blah blah

Blah!

I’m just gonna stop this nonsense.

I’d rather starve and wait

For the damn honey garlic spareribs

Thank God I can cook

Haha. God.

The irony.

Kmft.

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