despair

All posts in the despair category

End of the Dream for d’Verse

Published April 7, 2018 by Nan Mykel

Can’t pick up rocks no more

’cause something’s under there

just a-waiting to suck your blood

and pull out all your hair.

 

Can’t trust nuttin’ any more

It’s all rotted through

The young’uns won’t never know

how wishes might come true.

 

 

Reaching Out – Excerpted re-blog

Published May 3, 2017 by Nan Mykel

It doesn’t matter – Yes it does!

sunset-681840_1920

What you do matters. What you want matters. How you feel matters.

I’m ready to start my list and I figured out why it is so difficult. Remember those stuck points from cognitive processing therapy?  It seems I am still stuck, big time, on a major one.

“It doesn’t matter” or, related but even bigger,”I don’t matter”

Those two thoughts run rampant in my head, causing downward spirals into negative thinking, but even worse, causing numbness, thoughts of worthlessness, causing my protective shields to go up full force and dissociation to engage.

How do I get past this one when it is so huge? I need to build off those sparks I wrote about previously. Those moments when life sneaks through and I do feel something. I must be in here. And then I parent myself. What if my daughter had no desires? What if she thought it didn’t matter what she wanted? What if she thought she didn’t matter?

Okay. Wow. That hurts, unbelievably so. To even imagine for a moment another child having these thoughts is unbearably painful and brings tears to my eyes. But for me – for me it is truth. Okay. So this is how I will get my motivation and feel something, and get my head on straight. I’ll tap into this pain, because this pain is feeling alive. This pain brings me strength as it washes over me and I realize if only for a moment that if my beautiful children matter, then I must have to. I must still matter. It is just so hard to hold onto that. And now I know I matter most because I have taught my children they do matter. They know it in every cell. They will never question it or hear this in their heads. And I matter to Hubby. I now understand his pain when I say I don’t. Wow. Okay.

So if I take that realization, that raw emotion, my inner strength – how do I make a list of what I want? This is still really hard….

My horrible, messed up, insane brain – a reblog

Published May 3, 2017 by Nan Mykel

Glad you care about others on the internet. So do I. Visit me too?

https://roots2blossom.wordpress.com/

Broken.....Yet Cherished

Possible TW:  suicide ideation, and general crazy thinking

I have been trying to figure out why I haven’t been on here for a long time.  I tried to make excuses (I’m needing to move towards making ‘real’ friends out in the ‘real’ world, I don’t know what’s really going on inside my head so how can I put it into words, etc) but they kept just being excuses.  Maybe the truth is I have learned to care for fellow bloggers and I was 1) afraid of contaminating others 2) wanting to please everyone and try to act healthy, which I am far from right now.

When I read others posts where they say “I had a good day…I wasn’t suicidal” my first thought, for a very long time now, has been “that is not my idea of a good day”.  I wake up every day wanting to be suicidal, searching…

View original post 530 more words

I GET UGLY SOMETIMES

Published August 4, 2016 by Nan Mykel

image17streetartScreen Shot 2016-02-12 at 12.13.03 PM

 

My head knows that folks are most open to ideas or opinions delivered in a friendly, calm, thoughtful and maybe humorous manner.  Lord knows I try, but when I feel I’m being hornswaggled and told half truths (which makes the other half suspect) and moreover treated as though I’m both gullible and  discountable, I get ugly. And when I get ugly I’m ever easier to discount. I’ve seen it in these blogs. Those who complain the most get fewer and fewer “visits.”

 

Telling It Like It Is

Telling It Like It Is

me and momlavender nan

I guess I have a problem now. Since I’ve worked to be congruent and assertive, it’s hard to keep the rest of myself at bay.  Any suggestions?  (Of course I’m referring to the  cutback of sheltered workshops for the intellectually disabled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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