Hey, Miss J!

Preface: Despite the most recent battle I’ve had the last 6 years, I’ve finally come to the conclusion that my value does not depend on an arbitrary identity that I should have had. Did I want that identity? With all my heart I did, but that’s not my reality.

I’ve had a very good friend tell me this, and I appreciate it, because it comes from a place of love. She suggests I not discuss some of the more graphic aspects of my illness, such as the strange dreams I’ve had.

I love her. From the bottom of my heart, I do, but I also remember that while I lacked “talk” therapy for the last few years, I needed to get stuff out.

She mentions it as a point of my faith, because truth be told, it would seem like I’m shameless.

It’s unseemly to behave as I do on a daily basis, and she has no clue what’s going on in my head.

I do and wish I didn’t.

I’ve had to explain to her and another dear friend that while there are many things I can beg for… and I’m asking for help more than I have before. I feel bad about being so resistant to it. I’m still used to struggling on my own, but I know there are definite benefits to prayer.

I noted this to both, Jesus stated in Matthew 9:12 that those who were healthy didn’t need a physician, but those who are ill do. There are many benefits to prayer. I can spill all of who I am without fear of being humiliated. Despite how close I am to my friends, there are certain things that I will not speak about. It’s the same on my blog. There are things that I cannot speak about.

With my psychiatrist, I can speak to her, but again… it’s limited.

With my Heavenly Father, I can pour myself out. I feel horrible so often and feel like I’m a bother, but I know that he doesn’t tire out like humans do. He’s always ready and willing to listen. 24/7 on call.

What I meant with my friends is that in the case of my mental illness, I cannot continue to tell myself that it will leave me alone if I pray. I spoke of that years ago to a very old friend now… who told me the same thing I say now. That I needed medication.

Another frien—see the pattern here? There are many who have helped me along the years. I’ve had many dear ones suggest I seek help.

And I did.

And I’m still alive.

I’m still good at pretending to be okay.

There was a lot of information here that I will take my time to unpack. I don’t know if I’ll ever be comfortable sharing fully on here. The “private” version of this contains information that I will share with my psychiatrist. It also has a lot less than this current post has both below this line and at the beginning of the blog post.

I can choose what I want to share and what I want to say.

And where I want to.

Choice is a gift we all have. What I try to meditate on and remind myself is that there are consequences to every decision I make.

Be it fine or foul, there are always ramifications.

Life isn’t a video game. There is no restart button.

Years ago, I made a decision to point out my conscience in relation to a topic on a Discord forum.

Bad decision? Yes, and quite tactless. And everyone there was horrified because I was not in agreement with the masses.

As upset as I was to be banned, because I was, I’m also grateful. I was already getting sick of being there.

I’ve been a victim of mental, emotional and sexual abuse. I would put myself in terrible situations because I wanted someone to care, because of loneliness.

Was it a bad decision to go to that Discord there to begin with? Yes. I am not so desperate (now) that I would put myself in a situation like that again.

That was my mistake, because I should have been speaking to the one person who could and would willingly help me. Without telling me to go with my gut. My gut could have led me to so many darker paths…

I’ve had many life-altering choices in life. As much as I wish sometime that I had a do-over, whatever else I decided might have had a more frustrating outcome than I already have.

Speech Theraphy has helped me in so many ways.

Something else to consider: I share a lot of information online, so if I don’t feel comfortable and have a private blog post, it lends weight to how difficult it is for me to deal with.

I appreciate having the option of a private blog post. It grants me feelings I can’t quite describe.

I can vent and get my muddied thoughts out before I open my mouth and embarrass myself.

If it wasn’t obvious, I’ve never had a blog post that’s hidden.

I can sense my mental illness is going to only worsen, so it might become more of a regular thing. In this case, I’m being public about it.

Why?

I want to.

I want both blog posts to have a similar title.

~J. Lyst

Now that’s out… it’s cleansing.

So cathartic…!!

I can go back to trying to ride out the rest of my day mostly peacefully.

Addendum: This blog post is longer than the one with the unmentioned content.

Ironic.