It doesn't just
stem from 2 years ago but the beginning of the end does. I'm not sure
what the end is. Is it suicide? Is it diminished health and wellness? Or
will I conquer depression and anxiety and all the matching
dysfunctional baggage that comes along with abuse and mental illness? I
don't know. I'm still trying and I struggle day to day.
The Bear and The Lion
It's
not fair to say that the European UnUnion (henceforth, referred to as
the EU) is the end-all-be-all for my current state. I began cultivating
my current state of poor being as a kid. By most accounts I had a fairly
typical childhood, and I even I think I did. But there was a sleeping
bear who was easily provoked and when The Bear was angry my world was
chaos. I was young, maybe 4 or 5, when I no longer held or maintained a
sense of safety and security. I never learned or understood the vitality
of establishing and protecting boundaries until I was an adult and they
were well abused and compromised. The person who was responsible for
raising me and protecting me was irrational, erratic and burdened by far
more demons and wounds than I can imagine now myself. What I'm trying
to say is that I understand there was never an intention to raise me
this way. This person never had a chance. The Bear was beget by a Lion.
A Girl in Wolf's Clothing
Like
most kids, I learned to adapt and develop some fine tuned coping skills
and mechanisms to exist in this family dynamic. They served me well in
my childhood but have handicapped me as an adult. I recognize as an
adult, I'm the only one responsible for me now and how I deal with my
soul sores and growing pains. I cannot blame The Bear and it's not my
spouse's responsibility. Life is mostly perched in the center of the
spectrum well with in the grey area, and The Spouse has his past and his
carry-on that sometimes springs open and flings dirt and hurt onto us
and our relationship. And sometimes this arouses The Bear in me. The one
that raised me and the one I've become. It's heart breaking. I don't
want to be a Bear though. So, I dissociate and become a Lone Wolf. A
creature that craves a pack but is driven towards solitude to howl at
the sky and release all the words that couldn't be said.
The Primitive Response
My
health is currently paying the price for my failure to deal with these
dysfunctions soon enough. Long term chronic stress wreaks havoc on one's
endocrine system, inflammatory system and over all muscle, bone, and
metabolic health. My adrenal glands have been in overdrive for roughly 5
years straight. I'm only now realizing that they were probably my main
source of survival as a child. I can't help but wonder if I've spent the
majority of my life in a constant state of fight or flight. It's a
poetic turn of phrase which is also the medical industry moniker for the
hormone, cortisol, the stress hormone that evolved to protect our
primitive ancestors from threat and danger. Unlike my ancestors, I never
learned to shut down the production of this hormone. Instead, lack of
safety, security and feeling like I had rank and value, I learned to be
vigilant. I learned to say things just the right way so as not to upset
anyone, even if it compromised my internal value system and identity. I
learned that having an opinion caused more trouble than it was worth. I
learned to give myself away to the point of emptiness. I struggle to
trust.
The physical side effects are numerous. Eczema
on my hands and wrists, my hair falls out and yet in a great twist of
irony I now have hair growing on my chin and upper lip. Cystic acne on
my face, boils on my legs, all of these are fairly common. My sex drive
is dead. I've gained a substantial amount of weight despite a fairly
regimented diet and fitness routine. My heart rate is constantly high. I
go to sleep anxious and worried and I wake up that way.
The Point Of It All
There
was a brief and shining period where I seem to recall being free of the
anxieties of my childhood before the anxieties of my present have
triggered the poor manifestations of these dysfunctions. From the time I
was 26 to 29, I felt alive. I was thriving, vivacious and happy. I had
struggles like everyone does, sure, but I remember the over all sense of
feeling happy and ambitious and lucky. I was healthy. My skin glowed,
my hair was shiny, my body was athletic and strong. My goal is to try
and regain some semblance of that and this blog is an outlet for me to
say the things that I feel go unheard or ignored. I hope that by
bleeding out these words, I'll begin to heal and return to health and
vitality.
