Janice M Cali
Lost Me, Hate Me, Who am Me
Who the Hell am I?
I hate me. I hate that I can't do my own hard work, move things that need moving, lift the things that need lifting. I hate me for letting myself become weak, for losing the strength in my arms and legs. I hate the fact that someone hit me with a car, well hit my car with a truck, and put me in the hospital for almost three months and a nursing home for almost nine months. I hate the drunk driver that put me in the position I'm in today, weak, in pain, and hating myself for what I have become and allowed myself to become.
Right after the accident I fought, I fought to learn to walk again, I fought to learn to think properly again, I fought against being in a nursing home, I fought the nurses who told me to get used to a wheelchair, I hated the nurses who kept telling me to take it easy.
Now, I don't fight like I used to, I don't keep myself going past my physical capabilities, I quit when the first twitch of pain comes on. I know I can fight through it, sometimes, but I don't. It's lasted too long. Almost 10 years of constant pain from that car accident and now other problems that acerbate that pain. Arthritis in all my joints (except my knees, they're metal), my spine riddled with it; fibromyalgia, it hits what the arthritis doesn't, and the depression that makes me stay in bed because I can't find a reason for getting up.
But most of all the rage at everything. The smallest thing enrages me, why? I don't know, I really don't. I was a smart, talented, beautiful woman once, now I don't know what or who I am. I don't recognize the person I've become. I still remember the woman I was at 32, the one the world was open for, who could and would do anything, the one who would spend an entire day at her easel, painting, good paintings, one or even two a day, the ideas came so fast, but now I can't stand, or even sit at my easel, not even for five minutes, it's gone because I didn't use it? Because I'm afraid I don't have what it takes to be what I was? And the woman at 40 who ran a computer room, ran it well, supported a user community of 250 or more, could analyze a new operating system and determine what it would do to cause that user community headaches and fix those problems. The woman who would work an 80 hour week and then go out and play with her friends, now I'm lucky if I can work 10 hours a week, without becoming physically and mentally exhausted. What happened to that woman? How did I lose her?
I've always hated weakness in myself, and now I live with it daily and rage against it, but am either too scared, too weak, or too unwilling to try to find that fight I once had. Me, the survivor, the one who always beats the odds. I'm the woman who survived a head-on collision with a truck and lived, I'm the woman who survived an infection that almost destroyed my ability to walk, almost caused me to lose a leg, but didn't, I'm the woman who survived more surgeries than 100 people have in a life time, the one who has had more blood transfusions than most people donate in a life time, the one who almost died on the operating table and remembers it, and then almost died after the surgery only to wake up to nurses and aides taking my blood pressure looking for the diastolic reading.
The things I've survived are unreal, impossible to imagine and yet I survived them. And still I think of myself as worthless because of the things I can't do, won't do, I don't know which. When did I become scared of being me? When did the fear set in? I've fought fear before and won, I have accomplished a lot in my life, but it's the things I haven't accomplished that haunt me, that make me wonder why I'm such a loser. Yes, I think of myself as a loser, frequently, almost all the time. I hate myself almost all the time. Where did I go? At three years old, I was happy, smiling, outgoing and I loved the world. When did all that stop? When did I start hating the world around me and me being in it?
How many times did I fall in love only to discover that I didn't love that person, that he wasn't the person that I should or could spend my life with? How many more times must I continue to search for the missing part of my life, the one that will make me feel like life is worth living? That missing part isn't a person, I know that, I've known that for longer than I can remember, what I don't know is what that missing part is, the inability to truly love, except for my dogs, the ones who return my love unconditionally?
I just don't know what I'm looking for and I'm getting very tired of the hunt, I'm getting to the point that I don't want to search anymore. I want peace and quiet in my mind as well as my environment. I want to be the person I once was, happy, outgoing and able to think circles around the rest of the world, or at least a large part of it. Arrogant is it to want that? I don't know and I'm not sure I care.
Just let me find something, someone, whatever that gives me a reason to continue to fight, to start to be me again, to find the person who survived all the things I've survived. Sure there are other survivors out there, people who have survived so much more than I can even imagine, and I admire them, I wish them luck with their lives, but that has no meaning to me at this time.
Happiness, belief in myself, faith in my abilities, does it even exist for me anymore? I don't know. I have to continue to search I guess, but how long? How long can I keep looking for those things I need to make my life what I believe it can be. Oh, yes, I know that those things are internal, not external. I just can't find them.
If you should see me, or find me, would you please let me know where I am?
Infognito
Screen Trek
QUOTE ME NO QUOTES!
my name is fog
my mother used to say, we don't go to hell when we die, because we are already in it.
When my mind swims back into the mire of self-pity, I quietly agree with her.
Our lives are vastly different;
you are a woman,
I a man,
you are hetero, (I presume)
I am gay,
you have had a very disciplined life,
I have not,
etc etc etc
However, we do meet on some planes, it would seem;
we both suffer regret,
we both suffer physical pain,
we both suffer mental pain,
we both suffer depression,
and,
we once had active and useful lives, filled with interesting and challenging things to do, loved by friends who were always glad to see us, be with us and invite us to their parties and other places...
and now...we are here...
we cannot be the person that once was, for our collective experiences, good and bad, have brought us to this point, no other, and at this time, no other, and we can draw bitterness and self-loathing from the ether, to punish ourselves for what we cannot possibly change, that is, the past. We learn to enjoy it, in a twisted way, too.
I nearly succeeded in a suicide attempt.
I was in a coma for a week, they told the few that visited me not to bother to come back, that I was a vegetable, strapped down and tubed up, and, I looked like Mister Potato Head, a pal told me later.
Seven days later, I came to, while walking down the corridor of what turned out to be an asylum. That was an interesting experience.
I had been walking and talking for three days beforehand, all in a total chemical blackout.
The director of the asylum threatened me indirectly, by telling a friend that, if I continued to insist that what happened to me in Sydney was true, they would put me on the highest dose they could legally get away with, a chemical straight jacket it is known as... a very convenient way of warning me to keep my mouth shut, about what I had accidentally discovered.... and no, I will not go into that.. I am alive today, free to a degree, yet still watched.
Lots of things occurred to me as I read your entreaty, however, I also know, when in the middle of the emotional maelstrom, kind words of comfort offer little as to how to get out of the predicament, in fact, they become as annoying as the phrases, "Tomorrow is another day", "It'll pass", "Stop feeling sorry for yourself, get up and get on with it!".
None of that helps, neither does "I know just how you feel!"
No they don't.
But at least they care enough to try and assuage our pain, fears and anguish, but it does nothing to change the problems we have.
However, there just may be one way, meditation.
Not the religious based kind, but one where you can, without having to do lots of practise, start enjoying the relief it gives immediately.
I was introduced to it when at our national theatre school, by a campus psychologist, to whom I visited to try and get over stress and anxiety.
He hypnotised me, and walked me down into a beautiful garden, and there I sat in the comforting warmth of a summer day, puffy white clouds floating slowly across the sky, gorgeous blooms all around.
I then put the practise into action, once in the morning, one short one at midday, and one longer session of 30 mins in the evening,
I was left feeling clear headed and refreshed, able to cope with all sorts of things, all without anguish and with a new found energy. For short immediate relief, while at work, he had given me a word to associate with this experience, and so, I could instantly access that feeling whenever or wherever, by closing my eyes for a minute and saying the word once.
Sadly, at the time, it still wasn't enough, as I was already using drugs and alcohol and I pined for their brain deadening thrill.
I stopped meditating, and proceeded through the next near thirty years consumed by self-loathing, doubt, condemnation and the misery of addiction and all its awful side effects.
I am free of drugs and alcohol today, 15 and a half years clean and sober, yet this new life has been difficult, but I have not picked up a drink or drug.
I just survive today, just, maybe subsist is a better way of looking at it?
I hope to get back to my meditation, but, don't wait for me to start, do it for yourself.
You will be amazed how quickly you will gain equilibrium, energy and peace.
Then, once you have settled into the practise of it, you may go exploring a little further on that plane.
Good luck Janice
... peace unto you..
and keep posting!!!
cheers
fog
Thank you so much for sharing your experiences and your wisdom. My therapist keeps trying to get me to meditate, and I want to, but I can't stay focused on it long enough to get into a calm state. I will keep trying however. I hope you can do the same soon.
I'll keep posting, promise!
Janice