Eyewitness to a miracle

I’m currently beside myself. I don’t have much time to write right now…but I had to tell this story. It’s kind of ironic that just last night I posted and was really down on everything. I was trying to be positive…but having a really hard time having hope in my own life. Let’s face it…this month has been extremely hard.

                Then today, my mom called me and asked me to go to Target to pick up some paperwork for her. She’s home sick…and was catching up on stuff that needed to be done. I was in a workshop for work…so I went after I was done with it. As I was walking out, I saw a man standing by my car looking at my bumper stickers. As I got closer, I started to unlock it, and walked over to the driver side. The man was still standing there reading. As I got to the door, he asked me how I got the one sticker, and pointed to the one that says “My Voice www.therecoveringskeptic.blogspot.com”. I explained that it was my blog…and that was a way for me to promote it.

                I figured that would be the end of the conversation, but instead the man’s eyes filled with tears, and he just stared at me. He came over and hugged me…and started to explain that he’d been reading my blog for the last few months (actually since it appeared in the paper). And that it had helped him get clean…that he hadn’t used since he had started reading. He told me that it had become a sense of inspiration for his daughter, and a warning to him…that he was tearing his family apart. I can’t even type all that he said to me…because I was in such a state of shock and amazement that I forget half of it.

                He hugged me again because at this point my eyes were filling with tears right along with him. He said how sorry he was that my father had died…but that I needed to know that my writing was helping people. He told me to “keep changing lives…you’ve already changed yours for the better”. He kept thanking me for changing him and telling me how happy he was that he’d gotten to meet me. Multiple times he told me how strong I was, inspirational, and said that the courage I’ve shown in letting people read about my life was amazing.

                I have NEVER in my life felt what I felt as I was talking to this mystery man. In a way, it broke me a little bit. This hard front I’ve been putting on since my dad died…broke down a little bit. But at the same time…it gave me the positivity kick I needed. While he was telling me how thankful he was for me…all I could think was how thankful I was for him. He may have been a stranger…but I’m so proud of the person he decided to make himself. He changed…for his family. He saw what it was doing…and showed real unconditional love. If anyone in this situation has courage…it’s him.

                I feel beyond blessed today. It seems like I got to witness a miracle right in front of my eyes. I may not have “seen” it…and I may never meet that man again. But at the same time…I now feel remarkably connected to this stranger.

                As my mom said to me a little bit ago…”God puts you where He wants you to be”. And apparently He saw that I needed a little bit of help with all of this. I needed some encouragement…and I can’t think of any better way He could have sent it to me.

Chaos

These past few weeks have been hard. Ridiculously hard. I feel like everything in my life went from picture perfect…to completely torn apart. I am fighting harder than I ever have to keep my head above water…and keep myself going.

                It’s strange…I’m watching some of my closest friends go through life changing things right now. And they’re having a hard time dealing right along with me. But even as I’m struggling…I’m more concerned about them. I’m being my usual self and trying to fix everything for everyone else before worrying about myself. I don’t think I’m ready to deal with my own stuff…it’s some strange defense mechanism…helping others to keep myself busy.  

                I’ve noticed something. I have moments where I fall apart and can’t imagine how I’m going to make it through all of this. I get so negative and I worry way too much. But then when my friends are having a breakdown…I have this renewed sense of positivity.

                I’m going to make everything ok. I don’t know how I’m going to do it…but I’m going to get myself back. My dad died…I didn’t. I’m still here, and I’m still so young. I can do whatever I want to with my life.

                So many people tell me I’m strong. And even though I know that I am…I doubt my abilities sometimes. I’m so used to being superwoman. The girl who fixes things for everyone else…and I’m not sure how to fight for myself.

                I’m having a hard time writing tonight. So much going through my head…I feel like it’s going to explode. I’m flying through these “stages of grief”…all while not grieving. I know that doesn’t make sense…but I’ll explain it another time when my thinking is clearer.

                I can do this. And I need to keep reminding myself that. There are so many things I need to write about…about the restraining order, the pictures, music that keeps reminding me of things…hell, even about the encounter I had a few nights ago that set me back quite a bit. But right now my head is a little foggy and I could use some sleep.

2 weeks of change

Life has changed like crazy in the past 2 weeks. It honestly seems like nothing is the same. My perspective has changed, my family has changed, school has changed, work has changed…hell, even the situation with my best friend has changed.

                My dad died. I know I’ve been saying that over and over again…but it still hasn’t processed in my mind. My personality…sense of self…everything has kind of flipped since it happened. I rarely cry, to be honest, I rarely feel much of anything. But everyone once in a while in comes in waves and I find myself sobbing for no good reason.

                Unfortunately emotions have found an alternate way to show themselves. Panic…anxiety…and not sleeping. I eat, and get nauseous almost immediately. I try to sleep…and it takes hours to drift off, and then I wake up in the middle of the night in extreme panic. I go from a dead sleep, to wide awake, not able to breathe, and disoriented. No idea what triggers it…and it’s been happening multiple times a night. I have random dreams of horrible things, flashbacks especially horrifying.

                I went to the doctor’s on Wednesday. Went to talk to the same doctor I’ve had for years about the constant panic, and need for sleep. She had put me on an anti-depressant once years ago, when everything had gotten really terrible with my dad. I was on it for a few months, and then took myself off because I didn’t like the idea of taking them.

                Now this is where I get super honest. More honest than I’ve ever really gotten. And it makes me really nervous to put this in the open. But that’s what I do. I talk about the hard stuff, and I admit that sometimes this whole process of recovery is a messy one.

                My doctor put me back on medication. A lot of medication. I have Ambien to help me sleep at night, Zoloft to help with the PTSD that’s been popping back up, and Xanax for the panic. I took them for the first time Wednesday night…and ended up sleeping for 18 hours straight. To be honest…I didn’t realize how bad of shape I was in. After the anti-anxiety kicked in…my chest loosened, and I felt like I could breathe. I forgot to take it this afternoon…and already could feel my chest tightening up again. It’s amazing the difference it’s already making.

                On the downside, this is going to take a lot to adjust to. I’m constantly tired, my head hurts, and I’m dizzy and shaky. Not good feelings. Doctor said it would take a few weeks for everything to level out and for me to start to feel normal again. I have a lot of work ahead of me…this I know. But in the meantime I plan to spend a lot of time on the couch and in bed…trying to get my mind somewhat straightened out.

                I’m feeling like a burden to people right now. I don’t want anyone to walk on eggshells around me, but at the same time, I know it’s somewhat inevitable. I mean…I’m a walking nutcase. I’m completely unstable…and I can admit it. I’m short-tempered, I’m crabby, and part of me just wants me to be alone all the time. It’s a roller coaster that I seem to have no control over. Just call me a mental patient…because I swear I feel like one.

                I need to work through a lot of stuff. Between missing my dad, grieving his death, trying to support other family members, feeling guilt for not keeping in contact, and being mad over his actions…I don’t know how I really feel. Even now, I usually write with such ease, and my brain is all over the place. I can’t focus.

                I withdrew from this semester at school. I need to get my head on straight, and need to figure out where I stand in all of this before I try tackling all that schoolwork. I’m starting a new job, and considering going back to one of my old jobs to help soak up some time. Once I adjust to these medications, and get back on some kind of schedule, I’m going to work on getting my life back in some kind of order.

                My mom keeps telling me one day at a time…one hour at a time…one minute at a time…whatever it takes. And I’m trying to look at it that way. Because the more I think about far into the future, the more I freak out. There’s so much to do…and for once I’m not feeling like superwoman. I’m not feeling capable of handling all the problems in the world like I usually do.

                I’ll get back to normal eventually. At least I hope so. But right now…I can’t lie about how much this sucks. I want myself back…my fighting, bubbly self. My…never admit that anything is wrong self. The girl who could face everything…even if she was terrified and upset…and still get through it with a smile. No one ever really knew when something was wrong, and I was always able to fix everyone else’s problems…even when my life was going to hell. The more that went wrong…the better I got through. I worked best under pressure. Now…pressure is making me fall apart.

                I would really love to know who the hell this girl is…and how I can get rid of her. I don’t like her. I want my fight back…and I want my stubbornness back. I just wish someone would please come snap me out of this.

I’m determined to come out of this stronger…but it’s going to take time. I am determined to turn this into a positive in my life…like I have in the past with all that my father has done. I need to prove him wrong, prove to him that I’m not all of the things he’s said I am. I need to prove to myself that I’m stronger than I think…and that this won’t break me completely.