*Jazz Hands* Mom

I tried to leave my house today. I wound up hyperventilating and in tears.

The more I have to write about my past for therapy…the more it dredges up the memories of all the times that people left…the more I remember that no one wants me around for the long haul and even those who are supposed to love you couldn’t love me…the more I think it’s better if I just hide away. Everyone will be better off.

I just have to say, it is a very strange feeling to wish you didn’t have to live this life anymore and, simultaneously, be afraid to die.

If you know me, you probably know about spoons.

If you don’t know me…or don’t know about the Spoon Theory… seriously, it is the BEST THING EVER for explaining what it’s like to live with a chronic illness. So… here you go…and you’re welcome… https://butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/

But, for those who don’t want to read, basically the Spoon Theory states that energy is like spoons. For every activity you perform in your life a spoon is needed. Healthy people have as many spoons as they want. They can flit from project to project, activity to activity, responsibility to responsibility….they may get a little tired, but they’ll be ok after a good night’s sleep. People with chronic illnesses do not have the same unlimited supply of spoons. Some days we have tons…but the next day we may have none. We can’t borrow from tomorrow’s spoons without serious repercussions. We can use all of our spoons in one day, but the next day we may be sick and won’t have a collection of spoons stocked up to help us get by.

So…we learn to conserve spoons. (A lot of people think the Spoon Theory is negative, but to me this is why it’s a positive…) We learn to save spoons for important things like spending time with people we love. So, we may not be able to clean our house every day…we may not be able to say yes to every social invitation…some days we may not even have the spoons available to hold a conversation with you…but, when possible, we make sure we have a spoon saved up for those special moments with the people who matter to us.

I…am currently out of spoons. Like…I thought I’d seen no spoons before from my bad Lyme flare days. But then I got a second chronic illness…and apparently I didn’t know what NEGATIVE spoons felt like. lol But, lately I’ve been running super low on spoons…the past few days I dream about going to sleep from the moment I wake up because I feel like I don’t have enough spoons to make it through my day. Today…for the first time…I’m having a full Lyme flare at the same time as a bad heart day. And I could be feeling bad for myself, but instead…

*whips hand out from behind back* Look at this trusty spoon I was saving. Because life can’t be all parenting and work and school and exercise and and and…we need our people and sometimes our people need us.

So…I took that spoon I’ve been hoarding…and I asked one of my best friends to have a movie and dinner night with me. At home. Just relaxing. But together. Because one spoon isn’t taking us dancing…but it’s enough that I can remind someone that is important to me that I’m still there and enjoy some time just chilling with her.

Tomorrow could be another bad day. And I’ll have used my spare spoon…but, I choose to look at it as I used it in a way that increased my mental/emotional health…which, in the long run, may give me more spoons later.

So, in short…please send spoons. I need them. But, if you ever need me, I’ve probably saved a spoon for just such a moment.

Today is a rough day. I haven’t felt well for days, I’m feeling a bit hopeless about the future, I’m feeling like people are better off without me around…I’m JUST close enough to the bottom to feel all the pain, but JUST high enough off the ground to decide that that’s the best time to try to turn it around.

So…This is me..

Turning On The Light.

So, please don’t mind me while I attempt to shed some light on the things that are eating at me. Sheri Style.

I feel like shit. Thanks to how I’m feeling physically, I’m getting more sleep than ever!

I’m exhausted. Not as exhausted as I would be if I didn’t get that sleep I just mentioned!

I’m overwhelmed by homework. I’m on my second to last semester…the workload is heavy…but the end is in sight.

I’m honestly terrified by what’s happening to my body and I’m feeling like people don’t want to hear about it. In 3 weeks I see some of the best doctors in the world. They definitely want to hear about it…and maybe even help me feel better.

I‘m starting to feel like I don’t know who to trust or who cares about me. I have 3 people that I know care about me and I can trust. That’s more than some people get in a lifetime.

I can’t do all the activities I love to do. I’m being forced to slow down. Which is good for my grades and my relationship with my daughter. It’s also good for my heart…on a physical level AND an emotional one as I’m being forced to deal with things I haven’t dealt with yet.

The amount of things that keep coming at me is overwhelming and I don’t know how much more I can take. God is trying to show me that I’m not fat or he wouldn’t want to have to carry me so much.

There are too many things out of my control right now and that scares me. I’m finally starting to come to terms with the fact that “God helps those who help themselves” and “Let Go and Let God” CAN live simultaneously.

I’m scared that my body is failing for good. The fact that I’m scared shows me that I don’t want to die. There have been times in my life when I thought I did, so this is a good thing.

I’m feeling like a lot of people only want something to do with me if they need something from me or because I make them feel good. Now that I’m down, I feel like they have no use for me. I’m learning that I can’t be everything to everyone. Nor should I be. And those who only want something from me shouldn’t be missed.

I’m afraid I’m going to be single forever. Cats like me.

So, there we go. Some silver linings. Sheri Style. Now I’ll just keep coming back and reminding myself of these things.

Everything happens for a reason…and until I can find the actual reason for the past year…I’ll just keep turning on the light when I find myself in the darkest of places.

There have been little things I’ve been holding onto as my life has been changing with this new heart issue.

I’ve had to slow down my running. A lot.

I’ve had to give up my solitary time in the woods for now.

I’ve had to admit to needing to sit after standing too long in a store.

I’ve had to make appointments and take medications and change little things in my life.

I’ve had to ask for help.

But, again, there were little things I was holding onto. Like maybe…just maybe…this wasn’t going to be my life forever.

Today I gave one of those away.

My last volunteer code for a Spartan race. Seems silly, right? Who cares? It’s just a race.

It’s not just a race.

Obstacle Course Racing was a big part of my #EffYouLymeIWin movement. I was never supposed to be able to do those, but I did. I did things the doctors said I would never do. There were parts I couldn’t succeed at, but I could damn sure try. And I wasn’t winning any elite races, but I was out there doing things and beating the odds.

The pinnacle of that, for me, was the Spartan. Getting out there…getting my ass kicked…and happily laughing and yelling AROO!!!!!! the whole way.

That code…doesn’t expire. I could use it this year…I could use it next year…I could use it at any time for my next Spartan.

But…I gave it away.

Because Lyme was one thing. Certain parts of me hurt or didn’t work…but I could still get out there and try.

POTS…POSTURAL Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. Again…POSTURAL. That says it all. I can’t even go from laying down to getting out of bed to go to the bathroom without feeling like I’m going to pass out. I definitely can’t go from running…to climbing…to crawling…to running…to…you get the point. That’s a whole lot of postures and a whole lot of up and down.

It’s just not possible. And it never will be.

So…that’s what I feel like I just gave up. I gave up the hope that my life will ever be 100% what it was. I’m going to get the right doctors. I’m going to get the right medications. I will get certain things back, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. But they can’t cure it…which means certain things will never be done again.

I am no longer Spartan.

And I’m ok, but yeah…now it’s real.

Today’s Preface to the Blog – I’m making myself #gigglesnort at the title I gave it…because, let’s be real…don’t embrace an introvert. We don’t like it. This is my dancing space, this is your dancing space. GET OFF ME!! 😉

ANYWAY…Hi, my name is Sheri and I’m an introvert.

People LOVE telling me that I’m not (because they know me better than I know myself), but I am one of the most introverted people you’ll ever meet. Yes, I’m good at putting on a face in large groups…I can be boisterous and loud (too loud sometimes)…but it’s actually rather hard and probably why I struggle to find a middle ground (and people think I’m too much)…

In an effort to not make people uncomfortable with how quiet I am, I make them uncomfortable with how loud I am. Sing it with me, y’all… ♫ I don’t know why I go to extremes… ♫

Actually, on this one, I do. I was always REALLY quiet as a little girl. I was literally voted “quietest person” in my 6th grade yearbook. I liked people, but I didn’t talk. As one of my childhood friends put it later in life, “You wouldn’t even talk to your own best friends…”. That’s how quiet and shy I was. Then I met my dad’s family…Italian men/boys…A LOT of Italian men/boys. They have a belief that quiet people can’t be trusted and pushed me to be extroverted. I also couldn’t be heard over them unless I was LOUD. But, I was so painfully shy it was SUPER hard for me to force myself to not be shy. Then…around 7th grade I had an epiphany. If I knew everyone I’d never have a reason to be shy. So that became my goal. FORCE MYSELF to be friendly and get to know everyone so I didn’t have to be in uncomfortable shy situations.

And that’s how the Sheri that everyone assumes is an extrovert was born.

I can people. I even look like I’m good at it. And, some days, I even do enjoy it.

But, LORD it takes a lot out of me.

I’ve been realizing more and more lately that that’s a big chunk of what’s been going on with my head. For over a year I really pushed myself to PEOPLE. And I enjoyed it…but I didn’t give myself nearly enough recharge time.

Here’s the thing. I’ve always said, “I love persons. I love humanity in general. It’s groups of people that are the problem.”

Give me one or two people to talk to and hang out with…that’s my sweet spot. I can hang out all day. (I’ll still need a little recharge later, but it’s not HARD. It’s enjoyable.) Let me talk to people on a deep level. Let me know them. I want to understand who they are…why they are who they are…what they dream of and what they fear…I want to know it all.

But I can’t do small talk. I need real. Surface small talk makes me anxious.

Why am I writing about this this morning? Because this morning that introvert part REALLY became clear.

I was walking with a new friend…I laughed and said I was sorry that I wasn’t very talkative… “Please don’t be. I’m an introvert. I like quiet.” Me: “THANK GOD! OMG that’s so good to hear. I’m so used to being around the extroverts that I feel like I have to keep talking.”

So, we walked. A little chatting, but mostly quiet.

Then a couple others joined us. They were walking ahead and talking about life, my new friend and I were hanging back quietly. She looked at me and whispered, “See…they can do the talking, we can just hang.” “This is so much better!” And we did still chat. We talked about our kids, we talked about working out, we learned things about each other. Even with a new friend, it was more than surface.

Which also made me realize…Introverts don’t waste words. We know that we only have so much talking we can handle…so we make it count. We don’t chat about trivial things because that’s a waste of our social battery.

So…this morning that’s my epiphany…I’m going to stop fighting who I am. Not to say that I’ll never be around a crowd anymore, but…

I’m going to embrace the introvert. I’m going to allow myself to not feel bad when I can’t do large crowds…when I’m uncomfortable because I’m surrounded by too much small talk…when I need to be around only one or two people who are willing to actually talk on a deeper level with me.

That’s who I am. And there’s nothing wrong with who I am.

And, those who love me, will love me enough to let me truly know them so that I can be comfortable with them in all my introverted shy ways. ❤

Once upon a time, in a very close place, a raging hermit left her beloved gym solitude and joined a group of women who wanted to work out…together… *shudder*. (Spoiler alert. I’m the raging hermit.)

At that first workout, as is this groups tradition, I was given a new name. I was asked to tell them about myself…and to remember that whatever name I agreed to would be what they called me…forever…and everywhere they saw me. I told them of my love of comics…superheroes…especially Marvel … They asked what Marvel character I most closely related to.

Dude. The nerd rant I went into…epic.

Domino. Definitely Domino. Her super power is luck. But for every lucky thing that happens, it also hurts her. She has no family and made her own out of friends. She knows what it is to feel alone…and out of place…and different…even amongst those that she appears similar to. She dates assholes. Lol (I didn’t say that, but it’s true. Lol) And she never gives up.

So…they named me Domino.

And boy were they not kidding about that becoming my name.

That workout group became a lot more to me. It became my community…my village…I met my best friends there. All calling me Domino.

And, as Domino, I built a name for myself. The girl who was down for any adventure. The girl who would try anything. The girl who would do anything she put her mind to.

I was proud to be Domino. Proud to be known as Domino. Proud to be called Domino.

But Domino wasn’t the whole Sheri. And, as SHERI started to struggle with health issues and lost some of her ability to be the Domino everyone knew…

I started to feel unknown and misunderstood. It fed into the anxiety because the person that they knew…wasn’t the person they were getting anymore…and it was scary and uncomfortable for all involved.

I started to feel like I didn’t belong if I couldn’t be Domino.

I started wanting to stay home and out of that world.

I started to seriously consider leaving that world for good.

But…me being me and knowing myself as I do…I built in a safeguard. You see…I will disappear for ME, but not if I’ve made a commitment to someone else.

I always honor my commitments.

So, with one of my best friends, I made a commitment to run a new location for our workout group. Starting it from scratch.

And I have spent the last few weeks dreading it…wishing I hadn’t made that commitment…but knowing that I would do it because I promised.

Today was the first day of that new location. We named it The River (because it’s at a park on a river…we are very creative… 😆 ).

Today I put on my best Domino face and showed up…because I committed…kind of expecting no one else to really show…because my head has been telling me everyone hates Sheri and she doesn’t belong if she’s not Domino…and then…17 other ladies showed…17 other ladies came out and supported me. Not Domino…Sheri. They all complained about how hard it was while laughing and hugging me. We had fun.

I wasn’t fully Domino. I wasn’t there fastest. I wasn’t the strongest. I had to catch myself from passing out a couple of times and my heart went to dangerous levels once or twice. But I did it. The social and the physical. And I did it as…maybe a new Domino…one that’s a little more Sheri…one that’s less likely to go ninja on a bad guy like her namesake…but may actually fall over like the other Dominos. Lol

And, surprisingly, I’m glad I knew myself well enough to make that commitment as a safeguard against myself.

There is very little that’s a positive about an anxiety spiral. BUT if there is one bonus, it would be this.

Every time I get to the point of anxiety where I can NOT handle ANY more…the stupid shit that I’ve been anxious about suddenly becomes more clear. In a, “Wait…why the fuck am I stressing about THAT?!?!” kind of way.

Pretty sure I got over the worst of my exes during an anxiety spiral. It was about a year after we broke up and man….I was still constantly anxious about what he was saying or doing or whatever else. Then came an anxiety spiral, and…BAM! Ain’t nobody got time for that!

This time…my anxiety spiral is pushing me to stay in my own lane. What does that mean? Let me ‘splain.

There are people who, lately, make me feel very anxious. Not for anything they’re doing wrong, but usually because I’ve got it in my head that they’re mad at me or don’t like me. And when I get anxious about something…BOY HOWDY CAN I OBSESS!

Why didn’t they like my social media post when they liked someone else’s?

Why didn’t they text me back?

Did I do something?

Are they mad?

Am I terrible?

Do they hate me?

Y’all. It’s pathetic.

But…then came this walloping anxiety spiral and…honestly…I don’t have the capacity to be in someone else’s lane.

Are they mad at me? Maybe.

Do they hate me? Who the hell knows.

Can I pinpoint any specific hurtful thing I could have done to make them mad at me or make them hate me? Not that I can think of.

So, is it really my problem? Or am I borrowing trouble and paying a little too much attention to what’s happening in their lane?

Yeah. That part.

So…I deactivated most of my social media about a week ago. (This is longest I’ve lasted without Facebook in probably a decade…pathetic, but true…lol). The social media that I can’t deactivate for whatever reason, like a 40 year old virgin…I do me.

What are people doing? Don’t know.

Who are people hanging out with? Don’t care.

Who liked someone’s picture? I did. Didn’t look to see who else did.

Oh, look. Someone that makes me anxious posted something…and….driving away. Not my lane.

Who did or didn’t like what I posted? OK, actually, I’m human and not perfect…that one I still notice. But I’m not obsessing.

So, yes, where I’ve been at recently sucks ass. But this part…definitely my silver lining so far. Maybe I can stick to this freeing way of dealing.

I like my lane. It’s pretty.

I have been giving myself a lot of time to think. And here are some things that I have figured out…either in my own head…or as I tried to write out what I was feeling to my counselor.

It’s all about people.

Like…I know this…it’s people that scare me. This isn’t new. But, there’s this other layer…

I’ve always said that, when I have my nightmares…it’s not a rehash of the events that happened. It’s my mother…taking everything away. “Everything”. That’s the word I always use. But…if I think about it…what she always takes away is people. I’ll have made amends with someone…she convinces them I’m no good. In my most vivid one ever, I was pregnant with twins. She brutally murdered them after they were born. I’ll be in a new relationship, she convinces them to run. I’ll make new friends, she convinces them I’m a terrible person and they leave.

Obviously just dreams, right? That’s what a normal person would probably tell me. But they’re not. This is the woman who called my ex husband the day we got engaged and told him not to marry me. “She’ll be a terrible wife and an awful mother.” This is the woman who went and sat at my work for 2 hours when I was younger and, with crocodile tears, sat there and lamented how her daughter hated her…I walked into work the next day and everyone despised me for “breaking my poor mother’s heart”. (Mind you, this was shortly after she denied me insurance coverage during a medical emergency because “oh I dropped you after you started all of your bullshit”.) This is the “mother” who bought braves tickets for an ex boyfriend I had to call the police on for harassment…to apologize for me being a bitch.

You get the point. Time after time after time…she has taken people away from me or attempted to.

So…when I go into a PTSD spiral…

Honestly? I have this HORRIBLE simultaneous feeling of wanting to run away and just wanting SOMEONE to care enough not to let me. My desperate wish is to be…enough…that people will love me enough to hear my tears. But at the same time I’m afraid to hope for such a thing because I never had it.

I’ve tried to figure out why this time is worse than it’s ever been.

1. Pretty sure the heart medication has something to do with that. No joke.

2. I never expected anyone to be there before. But I have a saying that’s always repeated in my head. “Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to believe.” If you don’t believe anyone is there, it doesn’t hurt when they’re not. But I started to believe. I started to believe I was enough for people…that I was loveable…that I was worth sticking around for. And…To be fair…I have some friends who love me very much. Or…parts of me. But not this part of me. And so they’re letting me run. Out of love for me. But…my counselor thinks I’m not telling them that it’s hurting me. That I’m pretty sure I could die this morning…and no one would notice until Bella gets home Sunday night. That I could say, “I think I’m going to end it.” and my friends would say, “If that’s what you think will make you feel better.” And that hurts because I’ve done my best to pull my friends out of their own darkness… And, as some of my friends may read this, I’m not blaming you. I’m trying to work out in my head exactly how broken I am…or if I’m really NOT communicating. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Which sucks for a know it all. Lol

My daughter…well, her counselor has told me I’m her safe place. That she’s so mean to me sometimes because she’s angry and afraid, but she knows I’m the one person who won’t give up on her. I realized in the past week…Bella is MY safe place, too. She’s the person I can joke and laugh with no matter how much the rest of the world is falling apart. She’s the person that makes me want to be strong. She’s my light in the darkness. (She’s also the one who teases me (not incorrectly) that my friends know I’d never do anything to hurt myself because, “You’re too nice and you’d never want to inconvenience someone by leaving a mess for them to clean up”. 😆 )

So. Yeah. People. Apparently people are “everything” to my subconscious. Losing them is what wakes me up screaming. Being near them and not belonging is what breaks my heart. And there is one 15 year old person who may be my savior.

A few notes on this blog before I begin.

1. Don’t Google sugared shit. You’re welcome.

2. Remember I told you about 11th grade lit teacher, Mrs. Tatum? Thanks to that class, the word epiphany is my second favorite word. (First place will always go to voluptuous.) Mrs. Tatum walked into class one day and said, “I had an epiphany last night!!” At which point, smart-ass David Scott said, “Oh no! Did it hurt???”. And now every time I use or hear the word epiphany I giggle.

ANYWAY…I had an epiphany this morning!

My Friends and I joke that I’m silver linings girl. Given enough time I can find something positive in just about any situation.

But, to me, silver linings are a positive about the particular situation that isn’t positive on it’s own. For example, I was kidnapped. Fucking sucks. No denying it. But the silver lining is that, by being kidnapped, I’ve been able to help other kids (and adults) through their own trauma. I love being that person. So, there’s a direct correlation. Good from bad. Silver lining.

And then…there’s sugared shit.

Here’s my example of sugared shit:

3 days after my divorce was finalized (well over a decade ago) my brother got married at a destination wedding in Mexico.  I went. I honestly had a great time and ignored my own grief and celebrated my brother’s happiness. All the way through the days leading up to the wedding and the wedding itself. The next morning my family planned on going on a four wheeler excursion. I decided not to go. I needed some alone time to just feel. My dad got mad. To him that was wallowing and ruining everyone else’s good time. (Seriously, if you’ve ever been around me when I’m sad…TRUST ME…me being around you is what will ruin the good time.) His exact words were, “Oh just go buy some new eye shadow and be happy.” <~~~~~I present to you, “Sugared Shit”.

Sugared shit is faking happiness.

Sugared shit is saying, “I’m going to bury this thing that’s hurting me and not address it. I’ll be happy about other things instead.”

Sugared shit is not giving yourself time to actually process your feelings and FIND the positive that’s going to make it ACTUALLY ok.

Sugared shit leads to eventual emotional diarrhea….You push down all of these emotions…you pretend they aren’t there because, “Hey, I have other things to be happy about, right??”…and those emotions fester…and gurgle…and explode…and no one even knows why you exploded because, “Damn…she was so happy yesterday…I can’t think of anything that happened since then that set her off…” <~~~~~Because it happened 5 years ago but she tried to pour sugar on the shit instead of finding a positive that turned it into not shit.

In case you can’t tell, I can’t do sugared shit. I don’t even WANT to do sugared shit.

I want to process. I want to feel. I want to twist and turn the scenario around…until I can see that silver lining that’s peeking through.  That way, when I see it again in five years, I get to see my own smile reflected back at me in the beautiful polished silver sheen of true acceptance.

So, obviously…as I mentioned the other day…I’m in a PTSD spiral…and have come to realize there are still things from my past that I need to address.

So…I haven’t been able to connect with my therapist lately…I sent my psychiatrist an email this morning. I told him how I really feel and I asked him if he could give me a recommendation for a new therapist…one who specializes in complex trauma.

He responded and told me that he’s REALLY proud of me for recognizing what’s happening and seeking help…and that most people wouldn’t. So, that part was nice. lol

The one person he could recommend hasn’t gotten back to me. But I did reach out to this TalkSpace thing that I have available to me through work. Therapists that you can see virtually and even have email correspondence. I signed up…I got paired to a therapist…their intake form asked about my trauma and what has been happening recently to set it off…

Y’all…I WROTE. And WROTE. And WROTE. It wasn’t even until I was mid-explaining the last 7 months that I realized how fully triggered I’ve been and how much I’ve really been trying to handle.

And now…all I can picture is this therapist getting this message and her jaw dropping wider and wider…(which will actually be a nice change from actually having to WATCH that happen whenever I try a new therapist in person…lol).

Sooooo…either the men in the white coats are going to be knocking on my door soon or I’m actually going to get to talk to someone.

Wish me luck…