Behind This Mask, I'm Not Me

I don’t even know how to do it … to start, I mean, because the whole thing is so complex and meandering. Like any woman’s brain, one thing leads to another, and like any neuro-divergent, the easiest path from here to there includes a jaunt over the river and through the woods, to grandmother’s house, and yeah, she’s a part of all of this too isn’t she? So, really how do I start?
My supervisor at work says the best place to start is … wait for it… at the beginning! We enforce financial child support obligations. It’s complex too, and one thing always leads through the woods and before the answer is discovered, five more questions pop up. But always she reminds me to start at the beginning. I’m not sure that works in this situation, this revealing of my not so deep, dark secret, but a confession of the one that’s right on the edge of the slippery slope where everyone can and has seen me frolic.… Yeah… the beginning is not going to work.

I’m not me right now. I know me, I know who I am, but I’m kind of lost. There are plenty of reasons why but this is where I’m at and writing has always soothed me and been a part of me and… well, I have a blog, might as well use it...

I have always considered myself an odd duck, the older I get the more I think most people think this about themselves on some level… “I am different than the rest.” So maybe I’m not as odd as I think, but I suspect I fall somewhere on the quirky side of life, because of ADHD? because of upbringing? because of my controversial artist mind? Who knows.

I also know I tend toward depression. Depression coupled with ADHD is more like a frenzied, fury of pent-up energy unsure of where to go or what to do than it is a feeble soul curled up in bed wishing the world away. The best I can describe it is like one of those mini-penny-cars from my childhood. The tiny, rubber-wheeled cars had a slot in the back where a penny could be inserted for weight. The car was spring loaded and after it was pulled back, it could be let loose. They would do wheelies and spin like crazy but never really go anywhere. Forget putting one on a track to get from A to B, or write a book, nope, just a bunch of kinetic energy turned loose for no particular reason.

I have an incredible urge to run, run far and fast, to start over, not so much to escape but to take away the burden that is me… like this… from those I love most. It does almost seem like a better idea to leave than to put them through this. I was a fun chick, I brought joy and love, now I suck the life from people. It’s not what I want to do.

I have my moments of happiness and joy, I have a divergent attention span how could I not? I can be genuinely tickled by something or caught up in passion and everything, everything seems good and right in the world. I can do my job, tell my husband good things, learn, write, help people but the car keeps pulling back and the energy has to do something and usually the frenzy isn’t pretty.

I have a new life. It’s a great life. Together my new husband, Jeremy, and I are realizing things both of us have dreamed of... but it is not what it once was. Jeremy says it’s probably part of the grief cycle, but I don’t want to grieve. I was left! Now I have this great man who loves me so wonderfully and communicates in a way I can understand, why would I want to grieve he who left me any longer or the family that once was but by now would be grown-up and different anyway?

I have lost much of my spiritual strength and fellowship. I never quite replaced the church I had in Arlington but I haven’t found a church home since I left Leavenworth in 2015… that’s a long time with no church roots. Maybe I’m picky but nothing’s been quite right. Well, Calvary Crossroads, but then I moved right when I was settling in. I tried to find something closer but nothing yet. I feel far from God. I don’t memorize like I used to and feel like I’m always on the spiritual defense. I’m exhausted, and I know I brought this on myself but I need a safe place to spiritually land.

I am terrified of being left again! I’ve never been an anxious person, but I actually have anxiety over it and fluctuate between clingy, needy and desperate and ready to pack my bags and go do it on my own so I don’t have to fear being left again.

My gramma is fading away. She’s my steady in life. I do not know life without her. She didn’t answer the phone yesterday when I called, how long until she never answers? How long until she forgets me? It’s hard enough to take care of her bills and finances but the fact that I’m doing it because she’s going away and my aunt is sick makes it so much worse.

And then there’s the thing… all of that purge above is probably just a cover for it, maybe? No, I think they’re valid reasons to be “lost,” but the thing… the thing... is really probably THE issue. But I guess I have another week to prepare to go there, because I’ve used up all my words for this post...

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