Mental knots

Day three (technically four now because I’ve spent several days writing this post) being back in the Bay Area.

When my plane took off from DC, I cried for what I was leaving behind. For the people I had worried and hurt countless times. For all the moments that could have been precious memories that I instead turned into nightmares. (The fact that I had hardly slept the night before may have heightened emotions.)

Six hours later as the plane landed (ungracefully) on the runway, I was crying again. This time, of relief. I had gotten some sleep! My cat had survived the flight!

And I could finally take a deep breath – I had arrived to my safe place.

Here, I am reminded of who I am as a person. I am grounded. I can check in with my mental state from a relatively objective perspective. I don’t feel the need to self-destruct.

Being back this time is different though. I am not here on vacation, or to hangout in-between jobs.

I am on a mission: to make it so that no matter my surroundings, I will be in a safe place. Basically, to make it so that my mind will be my safe place. (PSA: A stranger’s windowless van should never be a safe place.)

Days one and two being home felt surreal and relaxing. Today however, it is dawning on me that I have no idea how to accomplish this mission.

You know how earphones always seem to become instantly knotted once thrown in a bag? My mind feels like 3000 earphones were thrown in together. How do I even begin untangling this mess? (Weird metaphor I know; it’s because I just spent ten frustrating minutes untangling my own earphones.)

I will never fully understand my mind. None of us will understand our own minds. But my hope for rehab is to at least get a better understanding of why (for Christ’s sake WHY) I’ve been my own worst enemy lately.

Or is it lately?

One time as a kid, I did poorly on a test. Being the massive nerd that I was, I felt the need to punish myself by repeatedly hitting my head against a wall in my bedroom. No-one told me to do this – it was self-inflicted. I specifically remember feeling the need to punish myself because, that’s what I deserved.

That story sounded way less weird in my mind… But I digress.

I feel like when people think of self destruction, they think addiction, self-harm, purposely putting oneself in dangerous situations, etc.

But what about maintaining relationships with people that you know aren’t bringing anything positive to your life? What about letting people dictate how you live your life?

Isn’t anytime you let your self doubt dictate your life a form of self destruction?

Elaborating on this idea… Growing up, my friendships fell into an odd pattern.

The very first friendship I remember was during my kindergarten years. I had one best friend, and I did anything she wanted. Why? Because “if you don’t do X Y & Z, I won’t be your friend anymore”. Might I add that she also tried to “get rid” of my sister by pushing her down the stairs & attempting to drown her… (Obviously, I was too young at the time to realize how fucked up the situation was, to say the very least. Kids can be brutal!)

No hard feelings against the girl. In fact, today, I feel bad for her – she was an only child and obviously had never learned how to share / what having a friend meant. Ever since that first friendship however, I can basically organize my life into chapters; with each chapter being devoted to a specific person.

The “best friend” I demeaned myself for in order to please. The relationship I dropped my life and moved across the country for. Etc.

I thought that as I got older, things would change. But even just a few years ago when I first moved to DC, I was completely manipulated by a roommate. She took me under her wing and made me feel special. She told me I wasn’t just her best friend – I was her family. She even convinced my mom (aka the most important judge of personality to me) that she had my best interest in mind.

You know what ended up happening between us? As soon as I started hanging out with other people, she made my life a living hell. Literally, overnight.

It went from her telling me we should spend holidays together to her calling me an “attention seeking whore” in front of everyone in our house. From her telling me we were sisters to her locking me out purpose, even as I knocked desperately on our glass kitchen door in frigid DC winter weather.  From her confiding in me, and me in return, to her using my secrets to try to get others to turn against me. To her building me up as a person to her being on a mission to destroy every ounce of self confidence I had.

(Ironically, she was a decade older than me and was studying to be a mental health practitioner.  Go figure….)

What I don’t like about this “pattern”, I’ve found, is that it makes me sound like the victim; like some weak idiot that’s been consistently preyed on for no reason. (Maybe the fact that I give off “prey” vibes is another mental knot I need to untangle?)

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All of the above thoughts are me trying to think of what direction to go during therapy at this rehab place. Is that normal? Should I be anticipating where a therapist will “want me to go?”

As I typed that, I thought “duh no. They are professionals, and THEY, not YOU should be guiding the direction of the conversation.” How the hell though, is some stranger supposed to navigate my mind when I can’t even do it myself?

I had a therapist last year, and I managed to convince even her that I didn’t need therapy. After a few appointments, she told me: “I don’t anticipate you needing many more sessions with me”. Once she said that, I couldn’t bear to prove her wrong (I didn’t want her to think she was a bad therapist.)

I think a big hurdle I’ll need to get past while in rehab is actually opening up instead of pretending I’m fine. I’m sure we’ve all been there – not wanting to expose our weak spots. But these are MENTAL HEALTH AND ADDICTION PROFESSIONALS FOR FUCK’S SAKE. (I’m internally yelling at myself, by the way.)

I guess I don’t want to open up because my biggest fear right now is that there may be literally nothing wrong with me. What if I’m just bored and subconsciously trying to make my life more interesting by being a shitshow? My life has been, for the most part, good up to this point– what could possibly be causing these self-destructive tendencies?!

Every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it. I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free. – Michelangelo

During therapy, will I be carving out what (problems/trauma/god knows what) has been lurking in the depths of my mind, or will I be hacking at a piece of marble until it looks like something recognizable? Aka convincing myself and others that there is a [problem/trauma/god knows what] dictating my actions, when really it’s just me being a selfish idiot?

This is a long and rambling post, I know. But, it’s me trying to prep the untangling process that will (hopefully) happen in rehab.

I’ve never had a month where all I need to think about is… my thoughts? (I’ve been drinking, not thinking…)