Gratitude is a funny thing. I talk about things that make my life better. I remember people who have helped shape my life and who continue to do so. I think about ways I have grown and opportunities before me. And I think those things are gratitude sometimes.
Today, though, I think it's something different.
Today I believe gratitude is the ability to wake each morning prepared to live the life I've been given. I believe it's allowing for the mistakes of other people and being forgiving of my own. I believe it's a willingness to accept whatever I have. I believe it's living without malice or scorn toward others because life without people, with all their flaws, would be joyless. I believe it's allowing those slights that will to slip away, while working towards the day when the more stubborn ones that wish to stick around will lessen to the point where they are unnoticed.
Today I believe gratitude is showing love regardless of whether or not it's reciprocated. I believe it's speaking to those who make my life better, telling them exactly why my life is better because of them. I believe it's remembering people who are no longer with me. I believe it's not worrying about whether or not I'm appreciated or wanted because I'm so busy appreciating and including everyone else.
Today, for me, it's about going to a family gathering without spending the previous month wondering if I am happy enough, skinny enough, talented enough, or beautiful enough to spend time with my relatives. It's about looking in the mirror and seeing a person who has flaws and difficulties and accepting that. It's about knowing how far I have to go while recognizing how far I have already come.
Today I am grateful. Happy Thanksgiving.
Thursday, November 23, 2017
So much on my mind today.
I stopped writing after my last post. Not just here. Everywhere. I have other blogs where I'm not anonymous and still others where I write really awful stories and poetry. But a number of things happened to me and I saw no purpose in writing anymore. That hasn't really changed. I'm not sure why I'm here today, but I think it's because one of the things that changed is that I don't feel I can talk anymore about anything important. To anyone.
And I have things to say. I have questions to ask. They're all bottled up inside me. It's uncomfortable. So maybe if I write them, I won't need to say them or ask them anymore.
Tolkien Boy pointed out that our conversations often result in my need to analyze our relationship. He didn't say he didn't want to talk about it. In fact, he said he was fine talking about it. He just didn't want it to be our main topic of conversation.
Darrin said that talking to me is difficult. He said I wait until I feel something deeply and at that point, nothing he says will help. And he's right. I do that. Not on purpose. It just happens.
Therapist suggested that communication might be a good thing for us to work on.
I think if one of those things had happened independently I might have responded differently, but it's difficult to know. But all three things happened within days of each other. There are a lot of inferences my brain can fabricate, given what was said. And it doesn't seem to matter that I know those things are fabricated.
So I still talk. But I make sure I don't talk about me. Really me. Or relationships. Or what makes me happy or sad or upset or content or alive.
I'm not withholding. I understand it seems that I am. But it's not that at all.
I just get confused.
When I talk about a relationship with someone, it's usually because I've become worried or feel vulnerable or unsafe for some reason. There's a lot of guilt behind all that. The person in the relationship has done nothing to warrant my feelings. Often there's nothing that's triggered it. I'm just in a place where I need reassurance or I feel confused and am hoping for clarification. But a lot of times, I just need the other person to tell me the relationship is still important. I'm still important. WE are still important. And that's crap. I know it's crap. Real people don't have to be reassured all the time. They can be comfortable. They get to know one another and stay there because they like it. They don't have to be told repeatedly that things are fine and the relationship is good and they're still loved.
Sometimes I don't know things are bothering me until they build to the point where I have to say something or I'll explode. Especially when it's a repeated thing that bugs me or hurts me or causes me distress. And I don't know how to talk about it before that point. And I'm afraid if I say anything, I'll be accused of being hypersensitive or nitpicky or just wrong. So I don't say anything, hoping it will go away, which it doesn't. And I know that if I wait until I'm really upset, that's a mistake. I also don't really know what else to do sometimes.
And Therapist is right. I'm not a great communicator. But there is a part of me that wonders if people want me to communicate or if I just need to do what helps them feel most comfortable. I think if I never told Darrin the things he does that make me feel hurt, he'd be okay with that. He really doesn't like it when I talk to him about things that bother me. And I don't like it when he gets stressed because of me.
And things haven't been horrible while I've been not talking about relationships or asking for reassurance. Tolkien Boy and I still talk and I love that. And we spend time together, which I also love.
But underneath all of this is the person that still wants to be told I'm valuable. I don't really know what to do with her. What if I'm not really that important? Probably people will still talk to me and interact with me. I don't think Darrin will divorce me. I think people will still email and chat with me online. Life really doesn't change because someone says, "Hey, I love you. I'm glad you're here, and I want you in my life."
And the bottom line is this: No one in their right mind ever wishes for someone in their life who has PTSD. Because PTSD sucks and makes people crazy. People want someone who has hangups and quirks that are understandable and predictable and endearing. PTSD is not endearing. Or understandable. Or predictable.
And I just made PTSD the scapegoat for my failure to communicate. I'm not sure that's fair. It might just be that I'm a communication nightmare wrapped in a cloak of insecurity. I don't really know if I can blame PTSD.
What I do know is this: not talking makes me unhappy. I am unhappy. I am really, really sad. But it's only been a couple of months. I think it will get better. Things take time. I have to remember that.
I stopped writing after my last post. Not just here. Everywhere. I have other blogs where I'm not anonymous and still others where I write really awful stories and poetry. But a number of things happened to me and I saw no purpose in writing anymore. That hasn't really changed. I'm not sure why I'm here today, but I think it's because one of the things that changed is that I don't feel I can talk anymore about anything important. To anyone.
And I have things to say. I have questions to ask. They're all bottled up inside me. It's uncomfortable. So maybe if I write them, I won't need to say them or ask them anymore.
Tolkien Boy pointed out that our conversations often result in my need to analyze our relationship. He didn't say he didn't want to talk about it. In fact, he said he was fine talking about it. He just didn't want it to be our main topic of conversation.
Darrin said that talking to me is difficult. He said I wait until I feel something deeply and at that point, nothing he says will help. And he's right. I do that. Not on purpose. It just happens.
Therapist suggested that communication might be a good thing for us to work on.
I think if one of those things had happened independently I might have responded differently, but it's difficult to know. But all three things happened within days of each other. There are a lot of inferences my brain can fabricate, given what was said. And it doesn't seem to matter that I know those things are fabricated.
So I still talk. But I make sure I don't talk about me. Really me. Or relationships. Or what makes me happy or sad or upset or content or alive.
I'm not withholding. I understand it seems that I am. But it's not that at all.
I just get confused.
When I talk about a relationship with someone, it's usually because I've become worried or feel vulnerable or unsafe for some reason. There's a lot of guilt behind all that. The person in the relationship has done nothing to warrant my feelings. Often there's nothing that's triggered it. I'm just in a place where I need reassurance or I feel confused and am hoping for clarification. But a lot of times, I just need the other person to tell me the relationship is still important. I'm still important. WE are still important. And that's crap. I know it's crap. Real people don't have to be reassured all the time. They can be comfortable. They get to know one another and stay there because they like it. They don't have to be told repeatedly that things are fine and the relationship is good and they're still loved.
Sometimes I don't know things are bothering me until they build to the point where I have to say something or I'll explode. Especially when it's a repeated thing that bugs me or hurts me or causes me distress. And I don't know how to talk about it before that point. And I'm afraid if I say anything, I'll be accused of being hypersensitive or nitpicky or just wrong. So I don't say anything, hoping it will go away, which it doesn't. And I know that if I wait until I'm really upset, that's a mistake. I also don't really know what else to do sometimes.
And Therapist is right. I'm not a great communicator. But there is a part of me that wonders if people want me to communicate or if I just need to do what helps them feel most comfortable. I think if I never told Darrin the things he does that make me feel hurt, he'd be okay with that. He really doesn't like it when I talk to him about things that bother me. And I don't like it when he gets stressed because of me.
And things haven't been horrible while I've been not talking about relationships or asking for reassurance. Tolkien Boy and I still talk and I love that. And we spend time together, which I also love.
But underneath all of this is the person that still wants to be told I'm valuable. I don't really know what to do with her. What if I'm not really that important? Probably people will still talk to me and interact with me. I don't think Darrin will divorce me. I think people will still email and chat with me online. Life really doesn't change because someone says, "Hey, I love you. I'm glad you're here, and I want you in my life."
And the bottom line is this: No one in their right mind ever wishes for someone in their life who has PTSD. Because PTSD sucks and makes people crazy. People want someone who has hangups and quirks that are understandable and predictable and endearing. PTSD is not endearing. Or understandable. Or predictable.
And I just made PTSD the scapegoat for my failure to communicate. I'm not sure that's fair. It might just be that I'm a communication nightmare wrapped in a cloak of insecurity. I don't really know if I can blame PTSD.
What I do know is this: not talking makes me unhappy. I am unhappy. I am really, really sad. But it's only been a couple of months. I think it will get better. Things take time. I have to remember that.
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