The expectation of strength comes at a cost sometimes. For example: with the gene mutation (RYR2), it’s recommended not to get too stressed or over exert. I don’t think anyone really knows how hard it is to be a person and not to do more than they should.

Having mental health issues and a past involving emotional neglect, I will always try harder at work than I should. I will try to kick ass and take names. With the express intent that says “Look at how hard I’m working for you. You don’t want to let me go. I’m important to the growth of this company.” It sounds cocky. It also comes from a very desperate place. I need you to like me, want me, need me. If you don’t, that’s what I’ve come to understand about myself already. Damnit.

I wish someone could bottle the excitement and acceptance that animals give to their others. It would be the best antidepressant in the fucking world. I understand how societies past and present highly regard animal kind. Not just for pelts and food. For what they offer. Socially, mentally, caretaking. The animals I’ve encountered have accepted me much more than family I’ve known for years. While it would be strange to see my Uncle jump up and down at the door, barking and begging with excitement as I round the driveway of our house… It’s fun to think about. I never want that. I just know how exceptionally happy to know that animals have loved and trusted me. Unconditionally.

I’ve survived losses that make any person want to beg for mercy. I’ve come very close to death myself. On a few occasions. My sanity has been pushed beyond where the typical should see. I’ve wanted my one surviving child to show up for me. The problem is, she cannot seem to show up for herself beyond the pure need to survive. And, to some extent, I get it. I can’t always rectify it in my head.

I go to work each day to a factory. I am triggered by people being around me and I’m caught unaware. Loud, sudden sounds. I don’t trust people because I’ve seen and met unsavory characters. And if someone tries to seem genuine with me, I wonder what their angle is. They are automatically untrustworthy. I’ve worked for the same company for five years, going on six. I feel separate, every day. I wake up, every day to my alarm clock. I’m safe in bed, I do not feel safe at work. The problem is, it’s not an OSHA safety thing that I have concerns about. It’s concerns for my personal boundaries being disregarded, for judgment and disappointment, for me screwing something up and costing the company money, and above all, the day I’m told… I’m not good enough. The company no longer wants me.

I started to open myself up to a family member I’d contemplated reaching out to. I wanted to after they suffered a loss themselves. They have potential safety in my eyes. It’s opening that door that’s scary. Will that person choose to not believe what I’m saying? Will they side with the people that think I’m full of shit or just making a mountain of a mole hill. I haven’t found that yet of this individual. And for that, I’m grateful. I feel a connection like I hadn’t before. And that’s nice. It continues to give me hope.

I’m tired of being in survival mode. I’m just exhausted. Which means, I have little energy that I can put out in the universe. My universe. I don’t know what I can do or should do. I’m teetering. My self examination isn’t anywhere near concluded. And I started blogging for my mental health release over 10 years ago. Still with WordPress. Just a different account. It’s linked here in my blog pages on this account. You’d have to search, but it’s there. I’ve maneuvered mental health from various backgrounds. Borderline personality disorder, schizophrenia, depression, PTSD, anxiety, panic attacks, and a host of differing issues relating to poverty and my own lack of family support. Or the ability to reach out to family out of fear of having my feelings hurt, yet again.

It’s not just the physical ailments that cost. It’s mental ailments that cost dearly as well. It’s just different.

I do not think that anyone looking at me would say what I say to myself

• You’re ugly, unworthy, stupid, a waste of energy. You bring nothing but pain and sorrow into the lives you encounter. You’re fat and useless. No one wants you, likes you, needs you, or cares. If they care, it’s about them. Not you. You’re overall well being matters little to anyone. And time spent with you is like a fire poker to the rectum.

I didn’t get to these ideas purely on their own. Some of it is evidence by the times people have elected not to be in my life. Regardless of the reasons they don’t, my critic picks the worst. Always. And she sucks.

Strength is hard. It’s incredibly useful. It’s still hard. Take your time with people. Even when you don’t understand what their deal is. People don’t open up like I do here. I think we might get better at that. It’s important to not be self involved if you can help it. Everyone has a story. Do you know theirs?