Ten Years Blogging

I started blogging ten years ago today. Wow! Where has the time gone?

When I look at old entries, I’m amazed at the change. Ten years ago, I was beset by despair. Today, I live in hope of things getting better.

As regular readers know, January was hellish for me. On January 4, my dad called me telling me – much to my surprise – that he’d recently discovered I was gay and therefore he and my mother were disowning me. I say I was surprised, because I’d come out to my mother more than twenty years before. I always assumed she’d told my dad, but obviously she didn’t.

Then in late January, I found out that in the reorganization at my work, I was being demoted and would have my salary slashed. January was plain hell for me.

Ten years ago, I would have had dire reactions to these events. This year, I had some strong emotions, I took some days off work, but I never thought of giving up. I have tools today to help me in times of trouble: medication, meditation, therapy, exercise, diet, and sleep. I used all but exercise to get myself through the pain of those events, and I’m not beating myself up about not exercising.

Ten years ago, I wrote about living in the hell that was my head. Today, my head is pretty calm. It’s not great, but it’s not scary. In all honesty, I have to admit that the thought of being unlovable since my parents disowned me did occur to me just this past weekend. I talked about it in therapy yesterday. It’s a false notion. My parents are warped. Hopefully, I won’t date warped men.

I have one thing to say about this anniversary: recovery is real. People who live with serious mental illness can and do recover and lead meaningful lives. If I recovered, other people can, too.

Turning the Corner

I had a great therapy session yesterday, and I slept nine hours last night. I feel great!

I worked through some important points in therapy yesterday. I’ve been working through them for a long time, but the anger I had yesterday was the catalyst I needed to complete the work.

I have been obsessed with finding a boyfriend. To hell with that! I’m going to date and just leave it up to the Universe. I’m just going to have fun. The boyfriend will happen when it happens. I have released the obsession.

I am worried about the reorganization that is happening where I work. It’s causing me problems directly in the form of compensation. You know what? I’ll figure it out. I do not know what’s going to happen, but I’ve decided I can’t worry about it right now. Somehow it will work out.

I am fabulous! Fuck anybody who disagrees!

Heaviness

My heart is heavy. I had two real traumas in January. The first was when my dad called to disown me. The second came much later in the month, and it had to do with my job.

The agency where I work is being reorganized. As part of that reorganization, my job is being reclassified, and the little office I run is being made part of a new office. The result is that my salary is being slashed by a lot. The reorganization takes place July 1. At that time, the new office will come into effect. It will have a new office manager, and I will be eligible to apply for it, but there is no way to know in advance if I will be successful.

I spent much of last week reeling with this news. There were days my anxiety was so high I had to take sick leave at work. The slash to my income is too high for me to manage. If my application for the new management position is unsuccessful, I will have to take a roommate to afford my rent. I have analyzed my budget, and I can’t make ends meet by simply cutting expenses.

I have done several things to prepare. I have immediately slashed spending. I still have a number of months to go at my current salary. I will save every stray penny that I can.

I just feel very heavy.

Through it all, I realize that I’m quite strong. I have weathered two real traumas, but I’m still standing. I haven’t isolated. I’ve been out on two dates. One man came to my house, and I made him a cup of very good coffee. I met another man for coffee. I was able to tell both about my troubles and demonstrate that I’m resilient.

I’ve been seeing my therapist weekly.

I’ve been sleeping a lot, which can be a sign of depression, but sleep is one of my recovery tools, so I take this as a good sign. I say “a lot,” but it really just is a healthy amount. It’s not too much.

I’m taking all my medications as prescribed, and I have made an extra appointment with my psychiatrist to tell him what’s going on. He needs to know about these things to help me monitor myself for signs of debilitating relapse into depression or hypomania.

I’m meditating as much as I can. I’ve started walking down to the cathedral during work breaks and getting some even breathing in that time.

My diet is unchanged. I eat healthy food. I don’t drink soda. The only thing that is close to junk food I’m eating these days is trail mix, which is mostly nuts and raisins with a few M&Ms.

I’m going to AA meetings when I can. That’s about two or three times each week. It’s good to be around other people working on improving themselves.

One thing I’m not doing is exercising. I’m just not doing it, and I’m not going to beat myself up about it.

Despite two real traumas, I’m going to be OK. Right now, I’m allowing myself to feel heavy. This is grief.

Just Sigh

I did something daring for myself last night. I went out. I went to a popular gay bar. I struck up a conversation with a young lady visiting from out of state. She was in town to visit a friend. I sat and watched the crowd.

There was a two-person band playing. They were fun and energetic. I got up and danced once by myself. I was invisible. Nobody looked at me. Nobody joined me. I danced the whole song.

This morning, I couldn’t meditate for the first time in four years. I think I’m angry at the Universe, but I can’t feel the anger. That’s not unusual for me.

It took courage to go out alone. It took courage to dance alone.

I went to a LGBT meditation group this week, and part of the time we shared in small groups about how we love ourselves. I shared that I loved my courage. I really do have a lot of it. I live with enormous amounts of fear, but I still get up and keep going. I don’t quit. I love my courage.

This morning I feel damaged, but I know this is just a feeling. It will pass. I have things to do today. I will do them, and I will enjoy myself. I will bravely walk through the feelings that I have right now, and I will be in good spirits.

Action and Emotions

Healthy boundaries are important for anyone. I don’t have the best track record at maintaining them, but I am getting better at it.

I recently put in place some new boundaries regarding two exes. The result is I feel peaceful. I took action, and it’s paying off. It wasn’t big action. It wasn’t anything drastic, but I feel much better.

This result makes me realize that I don’t have to completely upend my world to get good results. I can take small steps and feel much better as a result.

I knew this well in the past, but I somehow forgot it. That’s OK. I remember now.

Changes

There are a lot of changes happening in my life, and I’m really proud of the fact that I’m walking through it and not freaking out.

The therapist I’ve been seeing for four years suggested that I explore other therapists to help me deal with childhood trauma that is resurfacing. I went to see two new ones. One of those was horrible. She spoke for 75% of the session and spoke in very prescriptive terms most of the time. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced with a therapist. The other potential therapist turned out not to handle trauma, so that was a non-starter.

I will see the therapist who’s been helping me with sleep issues this week. She’s excellent, and she does general psychology as well as her sleep specialty. It’s possible that she can help me.

All this helps me understand how difficult it is to find providers that fit. Getting a good relationship with a provider is so important and can be so hard some times.

I have a relatively new supervisor at work. She was a colleague before, and then she got promoted. Now she’s my supervisor. That change has taken a long time to get used to. It was complicated by the fact the office is reorganizing, so my position began to answer to a new level in the hierarchy. It’s all more change.

I broke up with one man around Easter time. I started spending a lot of time with another man, but that relationship was very ambiguous. I was the only one of us calling it dating. He disappeared a few weeks ago. The colloquial term used to describe a person in a relationship disappearing is ghosting. Ghosting is a form of rejection. The person doing the ghosting is avoiding what they believe will be unpleasant. The person ghosted is simply left with questions. My questions faded quickly, and I was left with the rejection. I got over it very quickly. It only took a couple of days.

I have had coffee with three new men. All those dates went very well, and one went particularly well. We’ve been out for a second date that was a lot of fun, and we have plans for more. I’m really pleased with this. He’s emotionally available. We met on a dating app, and his profile states he wants a relationship. This is a good change.

The period of extreme stress at work is completely over. I feel so much better with that behind me. I slept well last night for the first time in a while. It felt so good. I’m hoping it’s the start of a trend.

There’s been so much change in my life in the past few months. I’m really proud that I’ve managed not to go overboard with anxiety. I’m doing really well handling all this.

 

Ah Ha!

I survived the incredibly busy 3 weeks of work. It was monumentally draining. I’m still pretty tired.

The man I was spending a lot of time with has disappeared again. I’ve had one short text in two weeks, and that was ten days ago.

“The man I was spending a lot of time with…” I had to say it that way, because I was the only one who called it dating. That seems important. Hell, it is important.

I really enjoyed our time together. Honestly, he’s a good man to be around.

However, once again I’ve chosen a man who is emotionally unavailable.

I’m actually OK with the fact it’s over. I really am. I feel fine. I’ve been to coffee with two new potential men in the past two days. I have no clue if either of these will develop further. Only time will tell, and I’m completely fine with gaining two new friends out of the meetings.

And I had an “ah ha” moment:

I choose emotionally unavailable men, because I still believe that I am unworthy of love.

That hit me today. It’s startling in its simplicity. It seems completely obvious.

When a man is emotionally unavailable, it’s a form of rejection. I search for the rejection to reinforce what I learned as a child that I’m unworthy.

Today, I will step into the assurance that I am worthy of the love of a good man.