Introspective

WARNING: Family beware. As far as I know, my sister is the only family that reads my blog, but if there are any others out there, beware this post may be hurtful. It is not meant to be as it is about me not you. Hear that? It's not about you.

WARNING#2: Long post to follow. I'm cleansing. If you are looking for light hearted, you might want to skip this post.

I have been very introspective lately. Looking into myself as I do quite a bit. I was just reading the latest post over at Purple Goddess and it added to my self inspection. (Note: I am linking to her because I enjoy her blog not because I am calling her out.)

She says, "Because really, how often does one find herself, in her early 30s, trying to figure out who she is? Didn't we all think that we had gotten that over with in high school and our early 20's? Do we ever really think we are going to have to do it AGAIN, as an adult?"

I commented something to the effect of the following:
I don't think we ever stop finding ourselves. Every year we experience changes, some small and some large. Large changes generally create a larger ripple that causes changes in our lives more rapidly, but small changes are different. Small changes build up over time and we find that we stop one day and look at ourselves and say, "When did I become this different person? When did my beliefs/actions/reactions change to certain situations." We find that we are different people all of a sudden without us even realizing it. The process of finding one's self is a continuous, never ending process as long as we continue to learn and grow and feel new things and have new experiences. All that we do and see and experience everyday changes who we are. Imagine how the Grand Canyon was created over millions of years. The water cut through rock, slowly changing the course of the Canyon. People are the same way. Our experiences cut through our rocks, our souls, our personalities and change who we are. It is the people who are rigid, who do not allow their rocks to change, that do not learn from mistakes and let new things change them, it is these people that lose the continuous finding of oneself. They lose in the end I think, because I imagine when they have no where else to go, they do the ultimate searching for themselves and don't know how to find it.

I try to continually find myself and better myself and always be honest with myself above all else. My motto in life is "Live life so you have no regrets." Not all of the experiences in my life have been good ones. I have struggled a lot of my life to find myself, but I have learned that all of those experiences have shaped the person I am today and most of the time I like that person so I value all of my experiences. Good and bad. There are times when I long for the heartbreaking ache you get in very low times, because these are the times when I know I have made the best changes in my life. These are the times when I have taken control and made a decision and learned from my mistakes and moved on and found my newest self. These aches are the etching of our rocks, without them, our canyon would not grow and change and become the beautiful thing it is today and tomorrow and the next day.

I cannot remember exactly when depression became a conscious part of my being, but it was some time early in my childhood. I was a quiet child. I was born pigeon-toed and therefore fell down a lot. Most of the time when I was walking around, I did so with my head bent to the ground so that I was less likely to trip over things. We moved a lot when I was young and I had a hard time adjusting to new people and places. I tended to blend into the background. I was a people pleaser so I tended to do what I thought everyone wanted me to do. I was a chameleon. I did not have an opinion, give me whatever opinion you would like for me to have. I was a timid child, growing up in a household where my mother yelling was akin to the roar of a lion and I would cower. I tended to cower any time any one was upset with me or criticized me whether it was constructive or not. My parents split when I was one and therefore I had two sets of parents to keep happy. I spent the majority of my childhood torn between two very different worlds. I was who each parent wanted me to be while I was with them. I had no real identity and didn't realize that it was possible. But not only was I a people pleaser, I expected other people to make me happy. This is a sure sign of a problem. I was like this until I was in my early twenties. A lot of my behavior I believe came from watching my Mother.

In junior high I had disappointments, but I usually got over them fairly quickly. I slowly learned to be myself and experiment with who I wanted to be. I did this by making friends of all different types. Friends never seemed to be able to fulfill all my expectations and I spent a good deal of time dealing with my disappointment. Because I expected more than was even reasonable (again asking that they make me happy) I was almost always disappointed.

In high school I finally was becoming my own person to some extent, but I still had unrealistic expectations of others. I also lived in fear of my step-mother and had fairly strict rules in my parents house. (parents being my Dad and Stepmom) My senior year, my depression dug in and got the better of me. I pushed all of my friends away and withdrew. I then turned around and said that my friends had abandoned me. I cried a lot, but always put on a fairly strong front so no one ever really knew what I was going through, even me sometimes.

In college I finally truly had the opportunity to decide for myself who I wanted to be. I did not have anyone in my life that had previously been there before. I was a couple hundred miles away from my parents, but by the middle of my sophomore year I had pretty much cut all ties with my parents.

I met my college best friend my freshman year and we did everything together. She was my 2nd true soul friend (the first being in high school, but I couldn't appreciate it then). We were attached at the hip. In my first senior year, (I had three), her real senior year, we had boyfriends that were also best friends. Her relationship didn't last long, mine did. She eventually got a new boyfriend, but the damage to our friendship had been done. We grew apart in the way that friends do when boyfriends come between them. When my relationship ended, she had moved on and I had no one to turn to, so again I turned inward. For some reason as much as I always saw my mother as weak, I also always viewed her as the strongest person I knew. I have always been stubborn about asking for help and I am sure I always will be to some extent. It used to fall into the too much expectation bucket. I expected people to know when I needed help. Now I am just stubborn and prideful. I am better though.

When Mel and I went our separate ways and my break up occurred, I was around 22 or 23 years old, lost again all of a sudden. I took a look at my mother and her life and all the struggles she had in her life and realized that she continued to fight the same battles over and over, never seeming to learn from her mistakes. I decided then and there that I was tired of being a victim. I was tired of expecting others to make me happy. I was ready to truly become myself, to truly love myself. My turning point I think in my depression at the time was the day I decided I was going to a movie. I didn't really have anyone to go with, so I went alone. I saw The Evening Star, probably not the best choice of a movie to see alone when you are depressed, but I made the decision and stuck to it. My reasoning was "I want to see a movie so I am going to see a movie and not having anyone to go with should not stop me from going to the movies." So I went. It was a little sad, but it was empowering. But this was only the beginning.

In my 5th year in college, life seemed to be going well. I was used to working my butt off to pay for college and used to being broke and some times irresponsible with my bills. I was stressed at the time, but this seemed to be the state of my life.

I was leaving Austin to come back to Houston for Easter when, wham, I pulled out into a semi-blind intersection and got T-boned. All hell broke loose. At the time of the accident I had a warrant for an unpaid speeding ticket. When the accident happened I flipped out and called the only close friend I had at the time and he couldn't come get me. I was standing in the middle of the road screaming and begging the woman that hit me (accident was technically my fault, failing to yield to oncoming traffic) to not call the police. I was completely irrational. Long story short, the cops agreed to let the warrant slide since they saw how freaked out I was. Neither party was hurt, but I was emotionally flipped out. My sister took me to Houston because that was the only thing that was going to appease me at that time.

A couple weeks later I got sick. It started with 103 degree fever and ended with me bedridden for almost a month. During this time I was going to the doctor almost on a daily basis, but they couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep and eventually I could hardly walk. I lost 20 pounds. I had to drop out of school and move out of my apartment and in with my sister. I could not drive. I had to take baths because I didn't have the strength to stand in the shower. Eventually my diagnosis was Bronchitis, sinusitus and severe depression. The first two would have not knocked me out had it not been for the latter. I was placed on antibiotics and antidepressants. I eventually recovered. During this time none of my friends visited or really even called. A close friend recently told me that she didn't realize how bad I was. I guess I didn't really tell anyone how bad it was. My Mom and sister and my parents were the only one's who knew the whole story and truly I don't think any of them really understood how depressed I was. I gave up. I didn't care any more. I am one of the most optimistic people despite my depression and I would never harm myself, but I became apathetic and I just didn't care any more.

Since that time I have battled with depression and probably do so more than I care to admit. I hate being on medication and avoid even headache medicine unless it is absolutely necessary. I will however never allow myself to become that weak and apathetic again. I will get on medication if I absolutely must. If I find that my thoughts are only negative and I cannot chase them away; if I find that I have thoughts of harming myself, even though I know I will not; if I find that I am no longer in control, then I will look to medication.

Why the cleansing? Well, lately I have been thinking about the possibility that I am borderline bi-polar. I have always thought that my Mother is bi-polar and if not bi-polar, at least borderline. During our pre-marital counseling with our priest, I made a reference to this and his response was, "Most likely you are too." A lot of members of my family have battled with depression. I hate the helpless feeling and I hate that I cannot just fix it.

Who am I now that I have been married for a year and am a part of a couple? Who am I now that I have a circle of friends, more than one actually? Who am I now that I have established myself in a career?

I am not looking for a solution just yet, I am looking for my newest self. Patience is a virtue that I am actively seeking within my own life. I am rediscovering myself.