Sadness has settled on me like a cold, mid-winter snowfall.
A chill quivers in my bones, as hypothermia threatens my heart.
Somewhere, the sun is blazing. This I know to be true.
But for this moment, winter has come calling,
again.
Winter Is Calling
Tag: sadness
■ The Mask I Wear ■
by A.W Ellis
They say I’m strong, they see me smile,
“A beacon of grace,” they said for a while.
They nod, they cheer, “You’re doing so well,”
But inside, I’m trapped in my own private hell.
The world keeps spinning, I play my part,
But grief carves scars deep in my heart.
My laughter sounds hollow, my words feel fake,
Each breath I take in is a chore to make.
They see the mask I’ve carefully drawn,
A veil of strength to greet the dawn.
But behind the facade, the truth resides,
There’s a storm of sorrow I cannot hide.
The nights are lonely, my tears run free,
I speak to shadows no one can see.
My whispers are silent, filled with words I can’t say,
Its a weight I carry every single day.
I wish they knew, I wish they’d see,
This pain that’s silently drowning me.
To share my truth, though, it feels far too stark,
So I’ll just wear my mask and sit in the dark.
Strong, they call me, but thats definitely not true,
I’m just surviving, like all people do.
One day, perhaps, the mask will fade, if I could just find peace in the life that’s remade.
Is Surviving A Testament Of Strength?
I ventured outside today. Not because I wanted to though. The last thing I wanted to do was put a coat and boots on to go walk around in the snow. I went out because I needed to. I’ve barely moved from the couch in 3 days. This year is not off to a good start.
First, we had the first-ever earthquake here in Central Newfoundland. Very minor. But there has never been an earthquake here. Then we had a major 3-day storm. Our driveway was washed out and our roof had some damage. Thankfully it was minor. Then I ended up spending 9 hours in the ER, for dehydration.
Through all of that, I’ve been struggling just to keep breathing. CPTSD has been kicking my ass. Between the paralyzing panic attacks, nightmares, disordered eating (restricting, binging, purging), chronic pain, and insomnia every breath I take requires effort. Putting in effort takes energy, and energy is something I have very little of. Or maybe it’s just a lack of drive or willpower. Either way, I don’t have much of anything right now.
But today I managed to tap into something inside of me that gave me a little boost. I was wiping away tears as I was putting my boots on. The dogs were so excited to have mom play ball with them. They’ve really been feeling the effects of what I’m going through and that has created such a massive amount of guilt for me. I try and tell myself that I really am doing the best that I can right now but it feels so fake.
The fresh air was amazing though. The sound of the waves along the shore was incredibly comforting. I miss walking there with the dogs. Another reason I dislike winter so much. When I get cold it triggers my CRPS and sometimes I’m in pain for several days after. It’s frustrating. Especially when more than half of the year is cold here in Newfoundland. So outdoor activity is quite limited. It’s a big factor in the decline of my mental health once the fall months are upon us.
Today the cool air was welcomed. It wasn’t windy, which made it much more manageable. It was as if by breathing it in I was bringing back a little glimmer of life. It even energized me enough to later vacuum, sweep, and mop through the house.
It was discouraging though to find myself standing in the middle of the room, on 3 separate occasions, completely dissociated, and I had to check my phone to see what time it was. Everything has just been so surreal. Over the last year, 40 years of trauma decided to all come flooding back at once, at times leaving me completely incapacitated. It’s been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to go through. I’ve shed more tears these past few months than I have my entire life.
So yeah. It’s been tough. But I guess surviving all of this is a testament to my strength? Maybe. I dunno. But I do know that growth doesn’t always look like success. Sometimes growth involves holding on when everything just feels so damn heavy. At least for me, it does.
The old me would have given up long ago.
Be Gentle
Another restless night, tossing and turning, yearning for relief from the pain that’s raging in both legs and head. The demon of pain strikes much harder when vulnerabilities are high.
Tired.
Emotionally drained.
Quesy from a day of unhealthy erratic eating.
Cold.
Be gentle …
The demon of self contempt emerges from the shadows, tempting me to engage in the game we so often play. He pounces on me. Stupid! Fat pig ... More derogatory comments about being fat and choosing a Dairy Queen ice cream over black coffee. WEAK.
My quivering voice whispers, “Be gentle …” in return.
Be gentle …
You precious soul. I see you. I feel your pain. Breathe through it. I am with you.
Demons become angry, cursing me for allowing the presence of gentleness. Get out, they growl. How dare you show up here NOW. You’re too late. The damage is done.
Grief comes out of the shadows. Too much has been lost, she weeps.
Anger bursts forth, with vengeance. DON’T you dare give in. Gentleness doesn’t belong here.
Be gentle …
Out of the shadow creeps memory. Thoughts of the nightmare start toppling over one another. My body shivers and shakes, building momentum by the second.
Be gentle …
Fire shoots at me from the demon of harm. New pain sears it’s way into the flesh of my upper thigh and I gasp, breath catching in my throat.
Be gentle…
You darling child. I see how much it hurts. Here, hold my hand. Give me that flaming dagger. Let it go.
“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” (Psalm 23)
Heavenly Father sits beside me on the cold tile of the bathroom floor and together we watch the demons fade into the darkness at the sound of His voice.
Be gentle.
Hope Strengthens, Fear Kills
Those words were shared in an email response that I received from my psychologist last week. It had been a difficult session and afterwards, I spiraled. I emailed her in the midst of my upset and her brief reply ended with those words – Hope strengthens, fear kills.
Yes. I am scared. Terrified – of my own brain. I have no control whatsoever of the way it reacts to things anymore. Its like I’m dealing with a completely separate entity. I’m going about my day as if im babysitting some overly dramatic child that can’t be left alone for 2 minutes or else it’s going to get into something it’s not supposed to.
I got up after a nightmare that night and spiraled into the danger zone. I remembered that Magda (psychologist) had pointed out a couple of wins from the previous week (which I really appreciated) and she said that what I was doing was helping me grow my window of tolerance. In my frustration that night, I was like, “F* my window of tolerance. I’m not doing this”.
I want to be numb. I want to go back to the days when I was void of all emotion. I used to be so frozen inside but it’s like I’m thawing out now. I don’t want my thoughts to be so loud or sounds to be so clear. When my head was heavy and foggy and I barely even remembered conversations I didn’t have to deal with any of this stuff. My brain dissociated for a reason.
I feel like I’m going crazy. The fear is strangling me. Choking me. Killing me …
I’m afraid of what’s going to happen to me. So much fear, that I’m going to just snap, go totally crazy, lose my sanity entirely.
Fear. Its trying to kill me. The fear of uncertainty. Not knowing from one minute to the next what I’m going to think or feel. The fear that I’m not strong enough … that I might find myself completely alone and have to navigate it all by myself – again … that I’m going to collapse under all the pressure … fear that I’m going to start but never be able to stop crying …
Fear kills.
BUT ….
she also said that hope strengthens. Hope. I need strength. I need hope. I’m not going to find either if I just wait around for it to fall into my lap though. So I must make it my daily goal to seek out hope. I know it exists in more than just the ink on my wrist. I see it around me. I see that other ppl have it. Its just that it never feels like there’s any for me.
If you want something in this world you have to go after it right? Well, I want to be strong. I want hope to fill me and strengthen me.
And dammit, I deserve it!
Saying Goodbye To Summer Is Making Me SAD
Oh boy. I’m really feeling the effects of the seasons changing this year. It’s like the end of summer has brought about some sort of strange grieving process.
When the alarm on my phone starts calling me up in the morning I open my eyes and with disappointment I discover that there is no sunlight bouncing on the walls now. Daylight is only just beginning to brighten my room. Over the past few months though, I’ve been waking at this same time to fresh, natural light and through the open window I hear the birds singing their good morning songs for me. This morning I was greeted with a chill in the air, that sent a shiver from head to toe, and silence. It will be months and months before my bedroom is bright, and sunny, and … welcoming at 6:00am again.
Upon waking every morning this week, my heart rate picks up speed and nausea rises from my stomach, stopping near the back of my throat just short of overflowing it’s wretchedness into my mouth. Repeatedly I swallow in an attempt to push it back down but it refuses to fully recede. It lingers there well into the late morning, making it difficult to get my daily doses of prescription meds into my body without gagging.
This morning I switched on my therapy light lamp. Does it actually work the way it claims? I have no idea. But it can’t cause any harm. So I will continue to bring as much light to my surroundings as possible. Darkness is not my friend and as I make my way through the next weeks and months I know that there will be much more of it. One can’t fight darkness with darkness. Only light can do that. So whether it be therapy lights, candles, lamps, the fireplace, or strands of twinkling lights strung from corner to corner, I know I need to start fitting it in wherever I can.
I hate this overwhelming feeling of dread that is growing inside of me. Every day it seems to fill another crook or crevice, weighing me down just a little more than the day before. Thoughts fill my head, convincing me that I will not make it through another unbearably cold and nasty winter. That I don’t WANT to make it through … And as the day goes on things feel increasingly pointless and the desire to take an extended nap has become quite appealing.
Then evening comes. As it approaches it brings with it an almost unbearable heaviness in my chest and a sick, unsettled feeling deep in the pit of my stomach. The beautiful colors of the late evening sunsets brought such warmth and peace to my heart over the past months. But now, those same vibrant bursts of color stretching across the sky bring tension and panic to my nervous system. Tears burn my eyes as I reach to turn on the lights inside my house and I angrily brush them away. No!! Not this. Not now. There must be NO tears. My stomach twists, tightening every organ on its way up to my throat, threatening to bring vomit. I swallow, gag, and swallow some more, wishing everything that I’m feeling would just go back down to wherever the hell it came from.
And so it begins. I fear what the upcoming weeks and months have in store for me. For now, the only thing I can think to do is to pull on a hoodie, slip my feet into a pair of fuzzy socks, and give myself permission to feel hugged by their warmth. I will light a couple of candles, take a few slow deep breaths and curl up on the couch next to my husband and fur babies. And as I try to draw whatever comfort I can from their presence I will remind myself that in this moment I am OK. I won’t think about next week or next month or Halloween or Christmas. Because right now, none of that matters. This is the only moment that counts and in this very moment, I am OK.
Craving Wellness
I am not gonna lie; I am not always okay. I will always tell you I’m okay, but sometimes I’m not being completely honest.
Sometimes, I just want to disappear. I want to stop living. Sometimes, I feel like I am not going to be alright. Like everything feels wrong, and I am so sad. I am really good at pretending that I am okay when I’m not.
At night, the darkness haunts me. The pain is trying to suffocate me when I close my eyes. I am just so lost right now. My smiles are fake and I feel like such a fraud. I’ve been wondering what went wrong. Why is this happening? Why am I so unhappy? Why do I feel so tired whenever I wake up?
I am so sick of this. I keep thinking that maybe someday I am going to heal. Maybe I will eventually feel whole, as opposed to broken. I will experience what its like to be happy and content. I crave wellness …
but I just can’t reach it. I don’t think its ever going to happen for me. I can’t stay like this. I don’t want to be in pain anymore. I don’t want to be sad over and over again.
I’m tired of reaching for something I want so bad but never being able to grab it.
Time Is Funny Like That
Do you ever wonder if you’ll ever get over it? Yeah, me too.
Chances are, if it was something that ripped your soul in half, it’s gonna leave a mark.
No. You won’t forget it.
Will you get over it? Maybe not.
But you will get through it.
Because time is funny like that. It drags you along, kicking and screaming, whether you like it or not.
Grief Is Complicated
Loving someone long term means you get to attend a thousand funerals, for the ppl they used to be.
Ppl are constantly changing. We become exhausted being ourselves so we change. Our opinions, our routines, our hair color, our style, our attitudes, our likes and dislikes … always changing, always evolving. Who you are in this very moment is different than who you were 3 months ago.
We regularly grow out of ourselves. Our spark dies out. And when we see it happening to our loved ones we grieve for them. We miss who they used to be. We long for the parts that made us fall in love with them in the first place. Sometimes the new version is even better than before. While other times we struggle to hold on to whatever we can from the past version because this newly invented person standing before us has no resemblance whatsoever to the one we held so much respect for.
Hundreds of funerals are to be had for one single person. Sparks die, over and over again. It’s up to us to travel alongside our loved ones as they go from each version and to honor what emerges along the way. Sometimes it will be an even brighter flame than before. While other times it will be a mere flicker that temporarily floods the room with a necessary darkness.
I’ve been learning a lot about relationships in recent weeks and have been experiencing a deep sense of grief. I miss the man my husband was when we first met. I miss the man I married 13 years ago. My heart aches for the past versions of him that are no longer alive. But as I grieve for that which is no more, I feel a slight jarring in my soul as I realize …
Maybe this is an opportunity to fall in love all over again.
I am reluctant, I admit. But am also holding on for dear life, too afraid of the unknown to let him go. I need him. I don’t want to be alone. It’s selfish of me, I know. Even though he hurt me in the worst possible way I still don’t want to let go.
Darn it. Grief is complicated.
Will You Remember I Existed?
Most days I feel as if I could just disappear and no one would notice, like midnight rain. And I’m not gonna lie, I prefer that for the most part. I’ve never been good with people, with expressing how I feel, and with letting anyone inside the walls I’ve built around me.
But there are these rare moments when I wish I created deeper connections with others. Moments when I long for conversations that feel like I’m having a glimpse of someone else’s soul, or sharing a piece of myself, even if it’s something as simple as a favorite song.
Most of the time I feel like no one would ever notice if I opted out of this world. But there are also days when I wish someone would just think of me and remember the sound of my voice or the way I laugh. It’s just a comforting thought, I guess, knowing that in this beautiful world full of busy people, I existed and somehow, I mattered.
I guess one could dream.
Yearning For Safety
Oh, how I wish self compassion wasn’t so hard for me. It’s like my brain purposely goes against it. It doesn’t come natural. There’s a part of me that tends to speak in a compassionate way yet she gets knocked down repeatedly. Kind words spoken to self makes the demon mad.
When things are quiet in my mind and I sense safety in my body my thoughts are more productive, kinder towards myself, hopeful, truthful, encouraging, calming … they’re healthy. But more often than not my system is fired up. I yearn to feel safety but it’s a very rare thing for me.
I try and make the best of what I have. But the slightest little thing pushes me into high alert and my system begins firing threat signals. A sound, a smell, a cell phone notification, a car door, a movement, a bodily sensation … these things all crush my sense of safety and my body takes over. My heart rate shoots up, trembling overwhelms my body, sleeplessness haunts me at night and exhaustion plagues me by day.
I want solitude. I want healing. But it’s so far out of reach that it’s a waste of time to even try.
Yet … that still, small voice whispers, hold on.
Holiday Blues
Christmas was … different … this year. I usually enjoy the overall feeling of the season but its like that christmassy feeling was non-existent this year. I don’t know if its because I was in the hospital or maybe its because my pain level has been so high, but December month brought a lot of sadness.
A different kind of sadness though. The kind where it felt as if my heart was literally aching. I found myself frequently holding back tears. There’s been such a deep yearning in my soul. A longing for things I dont have and can’t do. Its the kind of sadness that comes with grieving for a lost loved one, wishing you could have just 5 more minutes with them. Except no one has died. It’s a sadness that reaches right down to my core.
All the hype about the holidays portrays big, happy families gathered around each other, enjoying lots of food and presents, baking cookies, decorating trees together, small children full of excitement, couples building snowmen and having snowball fights, shopping and buying all sorts of things, and so on. All the images say we should be happy. But what about those who have no family near them and they have very small social circles? Or those who are unemployed and can’t afford to buy things for anyone outside of their immediate family? What about couples going through a divorce? Or those in abusive relationships and live in fear of saying the wrong thing? And, what about those who are not able to have children of their own?
David and I went to this one particular event together. A community dinner served by the Evangel Pentecostal Church that was followed by a selection of musical performances. There was another family at our table with their 5 year old little girl and she became the highlight of our night. The joy just emanated from her. She was wearing an adorable red dress, her hair in pig tails, complete with red bows. She was so happy, so excited, so … innocent.
I had a lump in my throat the whole evening, making it very hard to swallow my meal. Santa came and called the kids up front and she was just vibrating with excitement. We watched her as she went up and as she looked over at her mom, waving as they took her picture, I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. It felt like my heart was just shattering inside my chest. I had to excuse myself and blindly made my way to the bathroom, where I covered my mouth and spent a good 5 minutes sobbing, silently. After touching up my make up I went back to the table and sipped coffee as if nothing had ever happened.
Sometimes infertility hits ppl at the most random times and this christmas was one of those times for me. I feel like I have to keep it to myself because I know David deals with a lot of guilt about not being able to give me a child of our own. If he was to see me during these moments it would just make it much worse for him and I don’t want that. Except I also don’t like how isolating this is. I wish I knew how to turn this into something we could go through together. I wish I could let myself be vulnerable and let my own husband see those hurting parts of me. Except I retreat into my shell and hide … the only thing I’m actually good at.
I’m Still Here
For the first time in weeks I feel a little bit like myself again. Its probably been more like months but the few weeks have been especially challenging. My mental health has been on a steady decline since the summer came to a close and then I took a nose dive and crashed head first into rock bottom.
There was no one single incident that took place to push me over the edge. I’d been fighting to hold on for a while and my rope just grew so thin that it broke. I’ve been so tired. Just the simple daily stuff has even been too much. Folding laundry had been leading to meltdowns. Once 2 then 3 baskets became filled with clean clothes I’d sit and cry because there was no basket for the dirty stuff. My husband walked in one day and found me sitting on the couch with a towel in my hand, sobbing. I had gotten out of the shower and our 3 laundry hampers were filled with clean clothes so there was nowhere to put my towel or dirty clothes. Folding it felt so far beyond what I was mentally able to process. I thank God for my incredible husband who stepped in and took it over, while I sat there crying and holding on to the towel.
Eating. Drinking. Walking. Talking. Even breathing felt pointless.
And sleep. I don’t know how long I had been without sleep but I know I was into night 3 at least because my husband was working his 3rd 12 hour shift that night and I hadn’t been to bed at all during that stretch of time. I had been purposely avoiding food and water because in the back of my mind I was thinking that the weaker I could make my physical self … the more tired and worn out and deprived I could become … the faster my body would give up at the end.
I had every aspect of my death planned out. How I was going to do it, where I would be, what I would be wearing, precise timing of everything, who would find me, details about my funeral wishes were written down and placed in my wallet with my ID and other important cards, etc
What I didn’t take into consideration was how weak and worn out I actually was. And the apathy … I didn’t care. I was completely shut down. I had been experiencing waves of emotion in between the numbness but for 3 days straight I was a zombie. I just gave up caring.
So those things paired with all the despair and brokeness I had been feeling resulted in a week long stay on the intensive care unit then a transfer to a different hospital an hour away, which is the only place that has a psychiatric inpatient unit in our district. And that’s where I’ve been for the past few weeks.
Being in the hospital is a challenge all by itself. But today I ventured out of my room and wandered into the main lounge where several staff members were putting up the Christmas tree. A security guard came with a guitar and began singing. After a while I joined in and for the first time since my Nan’s funeral 2 years ago, I sang in front of a group of people.
Today, I feel hope.
What I Say
I say I’m fine but …
I think I’m going insane.
I say I feel good but …
I’m in a lot of pain.
I say it’s no big deal but …
It’s actually a lot.
I say I’m okay but …
I’m really not.
I’m (not) OK
This song hit me like a ton of bricks last night. See, I have this thing about always saying I’m ok. If I was on the floor, crying, and bleeding I would still look up at you and tell you that I’m ok. It seems like those are the only 2 words that exist in my vocabulary sometimes.
So last night I was in a pretty dark mood and instead of seeking out positive things to draw out a lighter mood, I was like … screw this DBT stuff. I was angry but no idea why. And the sadness was so heavy that it was almost tangible. I opened up youtube and just started going from one song to another and then this one started playing.
It amazes me how music can so accurately speak for me when the words aren’t there. At the beginning of every session my therapist asks me how I am doing and my automatic response is … I’m okay. Every. Single. Time. Because I don’t have the words to accurately answer her question. To be honest, I don’t think I know how to be anything other than ‘okay’.
So for now, I’ll let the lyrics of this song say it for me. And while it plays quietly in my ear I’ll just keep smiling and telling you … I’m okay.
Tonight the monsters in my head
Are screaming so damn loud
But I built walls so high
So they never even make a sound
It’s a mask, it’s a lie
It’s the only home I’ve ever known
‘Cause being who I really am
Has only left me more alone
I am not okay
And I need you to see it
I have so much to say
And no one to hear it
The reason I keep quiet
With so much at stake
I always feel like a burden, let it silence me
You’ll never understand
Why it’s so hard to say
I’m not okay
I wish I had a scar
Had a bruise on the surface, any kind of proof
That everything I feel is more than just some sad excuse
My life’s invisible abuse
I’m either judged or have to hide
The only symptom you can see
Is I don’t wanna be alive,
I am not okay
And I need you to see it
I have so much to say
And no one to hear it
The reason I keep quiet
With so much at stake
I always feel like a burden, let it silence me
You’ll never understand
Why it’s so hard to say
I’ll never have the words, I can’t explain this hell
But what if it kills me
If I keep it to myself?
To myself
I am not okay
And I need you to see it
I have so much to say
And no one to hear it
I am not okay
I am not okay
I’m never safe
It’s not a phase
If I finally break
Would you still stay?
Taken Off Guard By Grief
Sometimes all I want is a little comfort. Just a tiny sliver of it for a few short moments and I would be grateful. Because the ache of missing someone is just so incredibly intense. I didn’t want to get out of bed today. In fact I haven’t wanted to physically move at all. I did manage to move myself from my bed to the patio outside, where I curled up on the bench and spent hours just staring up at the sky. The sun was perfection. The temperature was perfection. The occasional perfect breeze blew across my face, just enough to remind me to take another breath. Secretly though, I wanted nothing more than to stop. Breathing I mean. To stop … existing.
The thoughts and feelings are haunting me every single minute that I’m awake. Sometimes I just don’t have the energy to fake a smile, because the emotions are way too close to the surface and it feels like the tears are about to slip out at any minute …
But no, thanks. I have managed to come this far today. I’ve made it past 5:30. So I just want to eat some hot soup. Or maybe I can manage some toast instead. But please, please don’t make me go anywhere. I’m just so tired. I know this feeling is temporary and that it will pass, just like the rain that was falling out here last night.
It’s just that sometimes that old familiar longing to have you alive, back here on earth and back in my life again takes me off guard because nothing can ever replace a friend once suicide takes her away. 💔
Her Complex Musings 
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