Decidedly INSANE is not how I imagined I’d end 2015. I had done so many things that were beyond my wildest dreams. My career was on fire in a new city where I was making a solid name for myself. There was great love in my life. I felt wonderful about how I looked; thinking I was aging well because I was taking care of myself. I had this regimented life of self-care and because of it; I could gracefully get through PMDD more often than not. I was able to take my daughter on vacation despite my PMDD as well as celebrate her 15th birthday by having her Quinceanera (Sweet 15); a party I had dreamt of throwing her since I first held her pink newborn body in my arms. I was literally on top of the world in September. I was showing up for my life and creating memories with my children, my friends and I hoped that my mother would come despite her telling me weeks earlier that she wouldn’t be celebrating with us.
This milestone is a tradition that although I never experienced for myself, I hope my daughter will pass down to her own daughter if she should be so lucky to have one. However an extraordinarily happy time it was, I was PMDD and not only waiting to bleed as I celebrated, I was still hopeful that my mother would show up. My emotional inner turmoil was hard to manage at times as I carried in the pit of my heart the familiar feeling of sadness and dread that I had harbored as a child.
I watched my children celebrate each other. Their smiles expanded and their laughter and grace for each other eminated and was proud. I created an environment for them to be able to love and celebrate each other. My daughter’s friends were celebrating with people god had sent me who along the way have become more like family to my kids and me than our very own blood ties. Still, I noticed surrounded by all of these people enjoying themselves, celebrating, laughing and dancing I could not quiet my inner child’s cry for her mommy.
Childhood wounds that were cut deep and not completely healed to say the least will painfully resonate. My ego began to weave a story about my expectations around my family. I thought I shouldn’t be disappointed and that I had no right to be angry if they don’t show up because what’s important to me isn’t necessarily important to them. It’s my daughter and they don’t need to show up for her because I am. Telling myself these stories in order to compartmentalize my life is how I managed rejection and abandonment in my childhood. I had no idea that I would continue to suffer for the next few months, as these old destructive feeling came to surface after so many years of working on my life’s new story line.
Since the Quince, my mother has not spoken to me. She has decided that we no longer have to communicate. This is not a new story. However, the message to me is that I should not question or desire of her anything she is not willing to give. I pushed her to show up and she had already made up her mind. The last time she made this decision, we didn’t speak for 6 years. While it’s a loss for me as someone’s daughter, I get it; it is really easy to fall into old patterns of behavior. The insidiousness of the old story in my head comes in in a whisper …. even when you are healthy she throws you away!
And the psychic change erupted….
I began distracting myself as to not sit and feel the sting of rejection. My derailment began very innocently; indulging in food that i know I shouldn’t eat. I began to dismantle any semblance of structure i had placed in my life to be decidedlySane. The excuse of a knee injury kept me out of the gym for some time. I couldn’t spin and had no interest in doing anything else; needed the loud music to fill my mind. Avoiding the quiet, avoiding the intamacy led me to not want to practice Bikram in the winter because I told myself it wasn’t convenient when really it’s because I didn’t want to be able to sit in my head or be vulnerable with my feelings. Then, I decided that I hated my gym, it was always messy and the classes were a hit or miss (I only took spin there), so I switched gyms and am now going to a more expensive gym that is meant to take my workout routine to the next level. These are the stories I tell myself whilst running away from myself. It’s clean and spacious enough for me to get lost on any floor. The most recent excuse is that its literally too far away from my apartment and is really only convenient if I go before or after work. However before work isn’t going to happen because it’s too cold in the morning these days. I’ll do that in the Spring…I became the perpetual bullshitter! Setting up road block after road block…this is what my life used to look like so if I had failed at anything, it wasn’t my fault. It was everyone else’s and my PMDD would begin to feed the demons.
The insanity spread now into the second core part of self-care for my PMDD and I stopped juicing every morning. l had been working too late and was too tired/lazy to get to the supermarket for fresh veggies and fruit. Therefore, not only can’t I juice, but also I order take-out because I haven’t any food or desire to cook.
I was spiraling out of control and old patterns of behavior were tearing down all that I had worked so hard to put in place for myself so that I wouldn’t want to kill myself in PMDD. Late dinners meant I got to bed after midnight which meant that I could not get up early enough to meditate any more. Not being able to meditate was fine with me because I was avoiding myself anyway, but it also meant that I wouldn’t have healthy breakfast. I began ordering something greasy from the diner and 10 extra pounds later my body is achy; I’ve only been to the gym 4x in 3 months instead of 5x a week! I am tired. I feel unhealthy and this is how I’ve gone into PMDD these past 3 months.
I am breaking dishes. I am screaming from the rejection. I am angry that after all these years she still gets to cut me out of her life and I have imploded.
After being in enough pain and not recognizing myself anymore. I decided to pull up my big girl pants! Why did I punish myself for wanting a normal relationship with my family, when perhaps this is actually quite normal? It is what it is. In the end it is not worth me suffering and spiraling out of self-care. Rejection should not equate me abandoning myself. My pity party lasted a little too long to say the least. No excuse, I went through my process and am very grateful that my partner didn’t run away from my insanity, but stood before me to help me not hurt myself anymore than I had already been hurt. I am grateful, I have such great love in my life. I have people that depend on me being healthy. I adore these people. They are the family that I’ve created for myself. I am going to have many more celebrations to share with those that care enough to show up and be in light and love. However I will not have much to celebrate if I stay stuck in old patterns of behavior.
I hope someone can relate to the feelings of self-worth being attached to an old story that we told ourselves when we were very young. That story isn’t necessarily the story anymore.
…that was not me. I am decidedlySane