Monday, June 22, 2015

Fun with hormonal surges and the spectrum of life

I wasn't sure I wanted to keep writing here - and I may stop and find another place to do this.

Shawn told me he has shown it to others. That they judged my choices in the most negative light. That I'm doing the wrong things. Friends old, or new, shared or not, I'm not sure. I suppose it does not matter. They know only a % of HALF of the equation. And as friend to the man I've put in such misery and pain, they really should be doing and saying whatever they can to support him and his healing with whatever information they've got.

And they are right about the selfishness. I am a malnourished soul/mind who has finally, become self aware enough to understand dramatic change is necessary. Tectonic shift to make way for something so long neglected. I struggle calling this selfishness self nurture and care when I see the wounds it causes.

This is battle between the old and the to be. The casualty I grieve most is Shawn. And at times, the old Chance.

I feel ill today. In the past I would have chucked this up to my brand of insanity just digging its claws into my prefrontal cortex (fucking right between the eyes) and my heart. Maybe that is true.

But after a long, emotional Father's Day weekend, I invited myself over to a friend's where I ramblestumbled into the realization my hormones have gone out of whack. I should have known with the trend I've seen in the past 48+ hours - uptick in anxiety, panic, anger; voracious appetite - for chocolate/mindless snacking; bad headaches; and my skin reverting to that of a brain chemistry afflicted teenager.

I'm ever grateful to my friend, and not just for yesterday.

He's been an amazing support through all of this - I worry, to his detriment from time to time. I've certainly had good people in my life but I have held nearly every one of them at arm's length.

It's rare to let others into the Chancebubble.

But, he's been so extraordinary in providing safe and accepting space for me - to the point that the level of intimacy verges into a territory I'd reserved for my partners or very best friends (the former of which I do not have/am not in a condition to have and the other questionable).

He has been patient. Never overbearing about "coming in", just expressive, clear, gentle. He's like the Chance Whisperer and somehow traversed the bubble barrier without setting off my epic alarm system.

I can tell him - I think I have in various ways - but he will never grasp how powerful or remarkable he's been or what a feat it is to get through the way he has without being eaten alive or sonic boomed into mountain rock.

I will never be able to repay him and I'm not sure I have much in offering anything comparable back. But I have grown to call and think of him as a real friend. When people make it to that tier in my life, I there for them, always, as loving as I can be in the way they need - gentle to brutal, so long as I'm not in peril myself.

I see various experience types in life as belonging to these spectrums of possibilities and degrees. His Chance Whispering abilities - combined with two other mentors, a therapist, a book, and my own relentless determination have helped me see new degrees of those possibilities.

One such spectrum starts in my childhood. My roots took hold in dismissive soil comprising rejection, dismissiveness, shame, emotional abuse - all repressing or murdering self-expression and joy. I write this not to wallow in the negativity and baggage, but to help release my grip.

Because that baggage has no place where I'm going.

Since my childhood, I've ventured out, drawn to people who took me down the experience spectrum where these things grew less in severity. Until I started seeing things like acceptance, love, caring, appreciation, joy.

But still, I unconsciously gravitated toward people and situations that, when combined with my combo of experiences, personality, and brains - still kept me too heavily weighted on one spectrum to truly uproot myself from the past.

General depression/anxiety and mood disorder doesn't make it any easier, either. A fact of which to be aware, not a pity party.

As linear as the spectrum analogy sounds, my progress is so cyclical, albeit at least in a general direction.

I cycle. From strong to weak, weak back to strong, over and over. Every time I cycle back through weak, the old judgment creeps back. If I let it in, I maul myself. Savagely.

But I've gotten better. Way better. I pull myself back, reserve the my urges to perpetuate the attacking I learned as a child. As I grow, it's easier to observe the judgement, dismiss IT instead of myself, and allow compassion for myself until I cycle back toward strong again.

I don't always succeed or do so gracefully. Normal hormonal flux in my literal menstrual cycle always make me prone to relapses in to the depression, mood, and panic issues I already contend with.

Anyway, ,y friend saw this struggle last night (probably at other times too, since I'm pretty transparent with folks I trust). So far he's still there. Just patient. Accepting. Gentle. Smiling.

Not a crutch. An encouraging, positive force, for at least this part of my journey. I keep checking in about that too. Because I don't want to end up where I began.

Combined, these people and efforts are like a cast holding, embracing a broken limb to encourage the bones to mend as straight as possible. I tell Shawn it's like I am this half person and my relationship with him as good as it was at its best, was like a growth inhibitor for me. No one's "fault" - just a shitty reality of our particular combination.

I'm sad that Shawn could not be a part of that at this point in the journey. I'm not sure he will ever understand nor any of his supporters he might be sharing this with. But none of that matters now. I'm going to accept that and let it go.

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