Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Burning of the Soul

I haven't written in almost a month.  I was doing really well, and everything seemed to be going fine, and then I fell apart again.

You see, guinea pigs are expensive.  6 guinea pigs cost about $250 a month to feed when you add up the hay, pellets, and fresh veggies they need.  We couldn't afford that anymore.  So we made the difficult decision to give them up.  That's when I fell apart again.  I told my therapist, I can't keep having psychotic breakdowns everytime something bad happens in life.  That's no way to live. 

We gave the guinea pigs up to one of the best adoption centers in the Northeastern US.  Within 2 days all 6 girls had been adopted.  I have mixed feelings.  I am glad that they will have the nutrition that they need.  I am glad they will have someone to love them the way I couldn't when I got depressed.  I'm glad they will have someone to clean out their cages instead of me who could just not keep up.  I am also relieved that I no longer have that responsibility.  But I am broken-hearted.  I loved them, all 6 of them, with their own individual personalities.  My husband and I have cried on and off for weeks.

But the truth is, we had to stop being selfish, and do what was in their best interest. 

Now I don't know where I'm at.  I'm feeling depressed for sure.  But I'm not sleeping.  I have nightmares and stress dreams.  I am awake or half awake most of the night.  Then during the day I can barely keep my eyes open.  I am still having hallucinations, though they aren't as bad as before.  A few weeks ago, I heard the Devil singing Christmas Carols on the way home from a brunch with my in-laws. 

Today, I felt like painting.  But I didn't want to paint a landscape, or a happy picture.  I painted a self-portrait, with fire for hair, and blood for tears, pouring down my face.  Am I in danger?  No.  Am I sad?  Yes.  But I am not going to hurt myself.  I have expressed my pain creatively.  I perhaps have scared all my friends, but they will soon forget about the strange painting their strange friend did.  They always do. 

There is so much going on.  I don't know how I can present as "normal" when my mind feels like it's tearing itself apart at times.  I have found some good distractions.  I saw Star Wars.  I'm reading Carrie Fisher's book Shockaholic.  I am going to read some of Wil Wheaton;s work, and Jenny Lawson's book Furiously Happy, next. 

I will be okay.  That's the important thing.  I am sad now, and as much as I hate the saying (I want to punch the people who say it), this will pass. 

I have survived 100% of my worst days. 


No comments:

Post a Comment