A Brief Summary Of Mood Swings

Sometimes I am peaceful and content. Happy to sit and read, or sit and watch TV, or go for a walk, or have a conversation. These are wonderful moods.

Sometimes I am bored and nothing can satisfy me. I have no interest in literature, in film, in the outdoors, or in anyone who happens to talk to me. These are frustrating moods.

Sometimes I feel beautiful and I don't mind people seeing how beautiful I am.

Sometimes I feel as though I am trying to be beautiful, but am failing, and everyone can see that not only am I not beautiful, but that I dared to try to be beautiful.

Sometimes I just feel ugly, but okay with it. I don'd mind people seeing my ugliness.

Sometimes I feel ugly, and I am ashamed.

Sometimes I am sad, but willing to smile at people and try my best. These are adequate moods, and possibly the most frequent ones.

Sometimes I am sad because of sadness, because I see so many terrible things in the world and I can't do anything about them. I am so sad that I cry and I feel like nothing will ever change, nothing will ever get better.

Sometimes I am sad because others are happy, and for some reason I can't manage to be happy even though I have no excuse to be sad. My life is more okay than a lot of other people's. I should be happy, but I can't be. So I am even more sad.

Sometimes I am confused and flustered because people look at me and talk to me and ask me questions and I don't know what to do. It gets difficult to breathe and I try to hide. These are dangerous moods, scary moods.

Sometimes I am angry, usually at myself. But because I can't fix myself, I start to get angry at everyone else too because I am just frustrated. I lash out at people even though they've done nothing wrong, and then I feel guilty and get even angrier at myself.

Sometimes I hurt so badly that I don't care anymore and I become reckless. I want to cut away my pain, drown it in alcohol or chocolate, physically beat it out of my brain. I want to throw myself away however I can in an effort to not be me anymore, because who I am disgusts and shames and disappoints me that I just want to be someone else.

Sometimes I hurt so badly for so long that I want to die, to go to sleep forever. To lay down on the floor and never get up. I'll think about the ways this could happen, the things that could bring this about. I get scared and stop thinking about it. These are dangerous moods, scary moods.

Sometimes I am indescribably happy, somehow able to see the rainbows and the little glint of light in the darkness. I want to spread this happiness, so I do. I want to live, so I do. I want to do everything, so I do.

Sometimes I don't want to talk about myself, because I don't want people to freak out. I don't want to go back to the psych ward, so I don't talk about the occasional, fleeting thoughts of suicide. I don't talk about how badly I want to hurt myself. I don't talk about my problems and insecurities because I believe no one can do anything about them, so what's the point?

Sometimes I am brave, and want to talk about myself. I want to share my story and accept help, and to lend help when I can. I want to turn my pain into beauty, to become a phoenix rising from ashes. I don't want to be a broken reed.

Sometimes I am sad.

Sometimes I am happy.

Sometimes I am.

Sometimes I am not.

--Dexter

An Inspiration To Us All

Confession:

I want to inspire people.

I have always wanted this in some form or fashion. In some ways, this is why I dance. I want to inspire people to feel. To feel something. I want people to see me dance and feel. I selfishly want to be the reason for their response, the source of their inspiration.

These days, I want my whole life to be an inspiration. An inspiration to others suffering from depression and anxiety, an inspiration to other survivors of abuse and assault, an inspiration to others fighting addiction. I want to be a person who can help, but in order to help, I have to have it all together, don't I? I have to have survived, right? I have to have beaten all of my problems to a pulp in order to help others do the same. Don't I? Don't I have to be perfect?

Because I'm not. I pretended to be for a while, and I did so very well. I didn't hurt myself. I socialized. I fought my anxiety and left my room. I ate three meals a day. I confronted triggers with a careless ease. I had it all together.

But not really. And now I have it even less together. Come February I will not celebrate a one year anniversary of no self-abuse. I walk quickly from class to class in the fear that people will look at me too long. I cry myself to sleep because my memories hurt so much and I feel utterly helpless to do anything about it. I hate myself for being so pitiful, so hypocritical, so needy, so self-righteous.

Me? An inspiration?

More like an example of what NOT to be when you grow up, kids.

I know I don't have to do this by myself. I know I can't. I know that God is the only one who can.

Sometimes it's just so damn hard to accept that. Sometimes it's damn hard to even know how to accept that. I don't doubt Him, and yet I still find myself wandering around hopelessly. I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like I'm desperately trying to stay above water even though I've got on floaties and giant puffy vest. Even though I'm in no danger of sinking, my head still ends up underwater. I'm all upside down and discombobulated and I don't even know how I got that way.

Who doesn't want to be an inspiration to others? And yet who never finds themselves floating on their tummies, staring at the murky depths of the sea?

Sure, you're floating. But you've still got water in your lungs.

I should take up emo poetry.

People tell me I'm too cheerful to be goth. Maybe it's the pink hair. It takes care of being cheerful so I don't have to.

--Dexter

PS. This all sounds really depressing. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have ventured into...

DEXTER'S DEMESNE

*cue dramatic sound effect, i.e. shattering glass, throbbing heart, shotgun blast, etc.*

PPS. I'm experimenting with giving myself a catchy intro to all of my posts (see previous PS).

The Perfect Moment

There is no such thing as a perfect moment, she has learned that much in her short life. However, there are very very good moments. Moments so good that it becomes a sort of fantasy, a dream, a desperate utopia that she can never again reach. Those moments become idolized in her mind, so that eventually they do become perfect moments, because she has ceased to remember the imperfections.

She’d gotten Star Wars mugs, one with Han Solo and Chewbacca and another with Greedo and Boba Fett. She didn’t want to use the mugs at first because they were special, and she wanted to save the first time for a special occasion. The special occasion ended up being the next day. She chose Han Solo because he’s her favorite, and she made the hot chocolate with milk instead of water because she wanted it to be perfect. She curled up with her hot chocolate and watched Spider-Man cartoons.

The hot chocolate was not perfect. It was delicious, certainly, but it had many faults. It was not as rich and creamy as her imagination had told her, and it was somewhere between lukewarm and hot. Still, it came from a Han Solo mug and she gulped it before it got too cold, enjoying every minute of it and knowing that it was not perfect.

A few hours later she struggles with the homework that is due the following morning, trying to make herself do it and remember it and master it. But all she wants is to rest, to put her head down for a minute or a year or an eternity. She wants to be done with everything. With school, with life. She wants to curl up under thick blankets and never wake up again. She finds herself daydreaming about Han Solo mugs of hot chocolate, and she wishes with all her heart that she was in that moment again, blissfully sipping the perfect cup of hot cocoa.

She just wants another perfect moment.

Positive Affirmations

Ever since I was in the hospital, I've been doing positive affirmations, but I've been doing it my own way. Positive affirmations are when you look at yourself in the mirror and tell yourself something good about yourself, basically. "Whispering sweet nothings to my reflection," is how I once put it. Although the point is that it's not nothing, it's true.

I'm not exactly one to say things to myself in the mirror, but I do do them. When I do my Bible study, I always finish with writing down my positive affirmation. And let me tell you, it is hard. The first month or so of it were full of times when I almost didn't write it down, when I couldn't bear to put down the words, when it took me several minutes for me to scribble it as fast as I could. Because I just don't believe it at first. Of course, that's why they exist. To get you to believe the truth.

My very first positive affirmation was "I am brave." I was recovering from sexual assault as well as confronting my lifelong anxiety problems, so I had a ton of fear to deal with. I told my reflection it was brave a few times, and wrote it in my prayer journal daily. Eventually, I got to where I could write it pretty easily. Eventually, I got to where I believed it. Eventually, I got to where it started to show.

After a while, I needed to add a new affirmation. My second one was "I am beautiful." I have always entertained the fantasy in the back of my mind that I am secretly gorgeous and fabulous and all of that, but of course I've never believed it. I've always been afraid to try because I feel like I'll just show off how ugly I am. But I started writing it down along with "I am brave." It was just as hard as "brave" had been. But it got easier. Now it's second nature. Now, I can even look in the mirror and be okay with what I see (on good days, of course).

Today, I added another affirmation. "I am loved." It took me a long time to write it down. My faith has been somewhat stagnant recently, my personal Bible studies off and on. It feels extremely arrogant and presumptuous to say that I am loved. It feels like I am forcing other people to love me, like I am telling them that they love me and they can't do anything about it.

But it is true. I am loved. I am loved by God, I am loved by the Captain, I am loved by my family. By my mother, who I've honestly never quite understood and I admit I've questioned her love before. I am loved by my siblings, who I've also never understood. I am loved by my father, who I had never once questioned before but now have suddenly started to doubt. I am loved.

I don't know what the heck is going on in my heart and soul right now, honest. I do my Bible study at random, sometimes going weeks without opening my Bible. I don't always make it to church. I love God. I know He loves me. I don't doubt Him at all. Maybe I don't feel good enough for Him right now (which is silly), or maybe I've let myself get too caught up in my personal miseries.

Whatever it is, I'll get through it. You'll get through it. I am loved. You are loved too.

--Dexter