New Year, New Fight

Happy New Year.

I am seeing this new measure of time as a good thing, but it will come with an enormous amount of work. My usual, bring-it-on attitude has faltered in the recent months. While I'm still excited about starting 2013 in healthy, happy ways, it's that work I mentioned that I'm having trouble keeping my mind from.

Crohn's remission is something that I've patiently waited three long years for.

I thought that if my body was better, my life would be better.

I've had difficulty going to friends and family with the darkness that's been in my head, my heart. It's documented that after surviving traumatic experiences, people suffering from chronic illness are susceptible to major depression. I continued to stay as positive as I could, given the trying situations that were thrown my way, because I thought that I could be strong enough to avoid it. But with that attempt at such prolonged patience came very much anger. I knew that there was a chance that I could become seriously depressed. You start to mourn the life you lost after being so sick.

You start to hate things you spent years loving. And forget about what made you so happy, you could shit.

For weeks, my routine has steadily dwindled to lying in one place, just as I had when my body gave out on me. I look back at pictures, like the one below, and wonder why anyone would choose to revert back to such a sad place as that. After all of the fighting that I did to get myself back. The truth is, I must have just gotten comfortable there. It was easier to stay inside and sleep than to engage in interaction with the people that I know. It's nothing personal, but being around anyone makes me uncomfortable and question my every move and word.

Stockholm Syndrom.

I've lost interest in conversation with good friends, my family, and the growing responsibilities that I've been so looking forward to- in ways that I hope most of you will never understand. 

I've lost faith.

Despite his desperate pleading for me to get help before I finally did, I just about pushed the love of my life right out of it. 

I've stopped caring about hurting myself. I've stopped caring about everyone, and everything. And I'm so, so sorry.

I've stopped caring about being alive.

Writing this is the last possible thing that I want to be doing right now.

As hard as it is to put this out for everyone to see, I feel somewhat responsible to do so after sharing so much of my journey with Crohn's Disease with other sick people. 

Stale Cabbage took me away from my Crohn's and into a place where I made the rules. I was the boss. My posts were funny to me, they made me giggle at my secret wit. Writing these entries gave me the opportunity to show myself that I wasn't just some sick person. There is a wealth of knowledge at our fingertips to use in healing. I used it to my advantage and stayed the course in getting to that place once. 

I'm making the decision to do it again.

Dear friends, please know that there is nothing worth keeping to yourself that may hurt you. In the sunshine of this new, January morning, I am creating a relationship with myself. If you are thinking of hurting yourself because you lost hope for who you are, could be, are having trouble regaining your life, or are still unable to pinpoint exact reason, please contact someone who loves you. There ARE people that love you.

I am proof that you can find your voice and attempt to save yourself.

For my friends and loved ones:

Some of you may have noticed drastic changes in my attitude, and my withdrawal from social interaction. Please understand that I am seeking help, and am in the hands of wonderful doctors and close friends who know me well and are aware of these sad changes. My healthcare team does not take healing from something I've gone through lightly, and we were more than prepared for such an event. I am heartbroken to have been affected by something so nightmarish, but will continue to heal as I can. 

I know full well that here is very much love in healing.

Rabbit Rabbit.

Here's to Round 2.

Trees And Apples

They say where one grows, the other doesn't fall from. I call bullshit.

When someone mentions Father's Day, I'm usually uncomfortable enough to ease into another topic very quickly. I have a few great dudes to look up to, don't get me wrong. My uncle Eric is my godfather, and he's awesome. My World Series of Poker-playing gramp is the man, and I can call my step-dad up anytime and gab about anything from video games to menstrual cramps [really]. These cool guys aside, I am estranged from my biological father.

I have the mindset to run from anything that hurts. Even after so many years without a solid relationship with my dad though, I'm still not used to the fact that he couldn't be what he should have. I find it difficult to understand how it's possible for anyone who becomes a parent to not want to drop everything they're doing and do right by their little one. I guess he tried when I was small, according to family, but I can't remember that far.

I have plenty of friends who are children of divorce, and we all turned out alright. Some are like me, and don't talk to one of their parents at all. We probably know enough to get out of situations that we'd rather not bring children into, at the very least. I consider that to be pretty valuable, because I can look to a good man like my boyfriend and expect nothing but smiles if we have babies together. If you know Steven, you will agree. Still, there's this guilt in me. Almost as if- even though I know that I didn't do anything wrong- I should still go to my father and let him know that I carry a loyalty to him.

More bullshit. That feeling just isn't fair.

At this point, reconciliation is a fairy tale. I've come too far after getting sick to waste time stressing about it, and that sucks... But I simply can't afford it. I'm building a career, and finally  healing from a monster sickness. I wonder if he even knows that. 

I'm not quite sure why I'm even posting this now. I haven't been able to find my way for what feels like lifetimes. I wish I had my dad to show me the right way. I wish he knew the right way. And I wish that I wasn't so angry that he never has.