Best version of myself.

What if one day everything in life was so good that there was nothing left to write about? The pain and constant aching subsided for so long that what once felt unattainable, was actually real life. What if the constant barrage of thoughts swirling around in your mind just slowed down to such a pace that you could see each thought, acknowledge it, and bless it. Send it on its way to a land where worries appear to be grains of sand. Those boulders of fear had somehow become a beautiful white sand beach. What if you made a list of your fears, and then actively worked at smashing them. What would happen to the art of writing when you are at peace with yourself?

That’s where I am at.

It’s hard to write about the present, without the fuel to the fire. My fire has changed and that’s a clear sign of my growth. I am no longer fighting for my life. I set goals. I am working on being the best version of myself. Sometimes I wonder if these grand feelings of happiness inside are me, or if they are a product of being a person with bipolar. I don’t live in fear of happiness anymore though. Before I was adjusted to this happiness I would fight it. I would fear happiness because I just assumed me being happy meant that I was having a manic episode. That if something great happened to me it would send me into mania, and I would eventually crash. Everything is so balanced right now in my life – that I no longer fear happiness. I no longer fear being present and enjoying the great things that are happening in my life. I am able to participate in life more than I ever have before.

I am working on the best version of myself.

 

Value.

I feel sad that I have stopped writing.

But I feel elated at the fact that I am healing. I can see a pattern when I think back to all the times that I was unable to stop myself from writing because there was such force behind it – that if I didn’t write I felt like I could implode on myself. But because I am doing so well now, I no longer feel that pressure.

I wish there was a middle ground where I could explore my feelings even during these peaceful times in my life. That I could find the desire to write, without the urgency. That I could share the path to healing because it is really important to note the progress.

Everything in my life is so great right now. I am enrolled in two summer classes because I am working towards my application for my BSW. I have finished my diploma in social services and will be graduating with distinction on June 5th, which is coming up fast. Just before I started school I had mentioned to my boyfriend how cool it would be if I was an honours student. He didn’t want me getting my hopes up, but I wanted something wild and impossible to strive for. And here I am, living it. I will walk across that stage knowing that I did put every ounce of my being towards becoming an honour student.

My past is starting to feel so much more distant than ever before. I don’t just feel like a person with bi-polar, a person who used drugs and alcohol to self medicate her mental illness for over 20 years. I don’t feel like a label anymore. I actually feel like I can be more than my past.

I feel like one of those broken pots that has been put back together with 24 karat gold. I truly feel like I have value now, but the truth is that I have had value all along. It just has taken myself and many others awhile to realize it.

Dreams are weird.

Over the past few years I keep having these reoccurring dreams about owning too much fish tanks, stacked on top of one another. The tanks have been ignored for so long. I don’t feed the fish inside of them or pay any attention to them. In some of the tanks the fish have deformities that make me nauseous to look at them. These tanks are in my dreams too often. When I wake I feel in a state of panic because this hideous creatures have taken up space in my mind again. Why are they there? What do they mean? The longer time goes the most they grow and breed and overpopulate.

Last night the fish tanks were back, but I was staying in someone else’s house and the tanks were taking over their livingroom. There was more of them than usual and the fish were getting so big they nearly filled the tanks. For the first time in a dream I made an executive decision to deal with this thing that I considered a problem. My brother was there and I asked him for help because I was looking for a pain free method of releasing these fish from life. There deformities were too great. We started off with the smallest tank, which could be carried in two hands. He had some liquid in a bottle and he told me if he dropped it in the top of the water it would pass through each fish and they would go peacefully.

I didn’t even bother to look in the tank until it was too late. It wasn’t a tank. In fact it was a bird cage with the most beautiful little creatures flying around in it. They were once ugly deformed fish and now they were flying. A drop of the liquid hit the top perch in the cage and a bird, which I didn’t know was a bird – was sitting underneath. The liquid landing on his head and he fell to the ground. I started panicking and crying because had I known that these creatures who were deformed were growing into something else – I would have just set them free. That maybe the reason I never added water to their tanks, or fed them food was because they were going through a metamorphosis and soon would no longer require me to tend to them.

I woke up in shock because I had those fish tank dreams for so long and for the first time those fish had become something else. The most beautiful small exotic birds I have ever seen with my eyes.

Dreams are weird.

Level up.

I feel a bit strange. Like I’ve been so tired that it feels like I’m coming down off something. I have tried listening to my body and if I need to sleep then I do, but it’s not quite passing.

Everything is normal and the weather is beautiful but…what?

Do you think it might be possible for it to take nearly 19 months to finally realize that I am really in school? That I am about to graduate with my diploma. I’m getting closer to the career that I never even dreamed I could possibly have.

That I’m so overwhelmed by the mass of assignments and projects to complete in the next few weeks. That I feel like I might be in shock. I feel sort of numb. I kind of want to tap out for a minute. But then that minute passes and I’ve got my phone in my hand and I’ve gone down a wormhole and I can’t find my way back out.

So I take a few minutes more and I procrastinate. Which is odd because I don’t usually do that with school. I liked to be on top of readings and assignments. I like to have everything under control and this is the first semester where I have felt like I’ve let go, right until the last possible minute.

I don’t know how to balance work, school, life and now that I’m trying to fit more life into the equation I feel unbalanced. I feel uneasy about where I stand right now in life. I feel overwhelmed.

I am stressed. But a different kind of stress than I am used to because this stress is a bit paralyzing.

I am doing this. I have been doing this for coming up to four years now. I am killing it in the life department and sometimes days don’t look like others. And sometimes stress comes to me in the form of over performing. And now I am learning it can also come to me in the form of a slow crawl followed by a hurricane panic to the finish line.

I am so close to my first checkpoint I can feel the ground giving way under my feet. I’m not scared of the hole that is opening up below me because it is my next path.

I’m about to level up.

My roots and my seed.

Here I am laying in the bath, with my candles lit. My tea is in its mug. The door is open because Tally the cat likes to join me. My arms are over the edge of the bath because this entry is planning to be a very important one and I don’t want to drop my phone in the water mid way through.

There has been many thoughts in my head lately, and everytime I think about writing I always end up back to my daughter. And the first thought that comes into my mind, and so it has been for months…

I would follow you into the dark.

And it plays over and over again in my mind. Like the part of a song that you cannot quite shake. And it’s always about her. It’s always been about her. But there is nothing more than that phrase. It’s like a poem that doesn’t want to be finished. It doesn’t know where it’s going.

And then there was me, driving to visit my grandma in hospice on January 12. Then all these feelings came up, about how I don’t know anything about my grandma. How I never cared to ask, during our visits together. I took this for granted. I took my grandma for granted and I knew nothing about the history of her family and there was this hole in me. So I asked grandpa some questions and he filled in as much as he could, but it wasn’t enough. Because by the time we got to see grandma for our visit, she was not there. The dementia and cancer had taken over her body and the only thing she was interested in was her great granddaughter Sophia. Like they were both children, they were drawn to each other.

That’s something i just adore, when i see two young children together meeting for the first time. They might not be able to talk to one another but there is an understanding.

I feel that with my daughter. I feel like there is an understanding. Even though we don’t talk to one another, that we can’t talk to one another – there is something there.

So we said see you later to grandma on that day. We planned for our next visit a month later but the winds were bad and I didn’t want to risk the drive. I hoped that she would stay long enough for at least one more visit.

I have never been told to prepare to say goodbye to someone before. Its always been after the fact, and I’ve had to deal with them passing. How does one say goodbye? I don’t know.

On March 2nd we made the drive again. We expected grandma to be sitting in her chair in the dining area. She was not. She was in bed and the nurse said she was very tired. When we saw her she seemed closer to saying goodbye. She was hollowed and she stared at my boyfriend and then started to close her eyes. I sat beside her bed and nurses starting bringing in chairs for all of us. I had a feeling this meant it was almost time. I felt cheated. I felt so sad because I am a part of this lady and I don’t even know her. It’s too late to ask her questions. All the answers are going to pass with her. We talked to her and gave her kisses.

At the point we were leaving I said goodbye and kissed her on the forehead. All of a sudden she was trying to life her head up. So I moved back towards her and held her hand. Talked to her more. Then moments later said goodbye again. This scene repeated as each time she tried to lift her head. I was mad at myself for leaving. I felt like I should have stayed.

I told her that we would see her later. While I wasn’t sure of but I thought that saying it would make her stay. And be healthy again. Or reverse time. Something.

Monday night at work my uncle texted and said that it was almost time. They were called into the hospice. I wanted to leave work and run because I wanted to be there. But I wasn’t.

She held on for the night and my uncle messaged me in the morning and said she was hanging on. This felt like a sign to me so me and my brother arranged to meet at the hospital. I skipped class and I drove, my tank on empty not realizing what was happening. Somehow I managed to pull into a gas station and get gas and back on my way. I wanted to say goodbye. I was going to say goodbye to the woman that I didn’t take the time to get to know enough, but she is a part of me and I am a part of her.

I pulled into the parking lot and cracked a hard boiled egg and stuffed it in my mouth. So hungry. I missed lunch. It was now 1:00.

I walk up to the door and I buzz once. No answer. I buzz again. They answer and I tell them I’m here to see my grandma. I tell them her name. They buzz me in. A women is walking towards me at the second gate. I don’t know why because i know where grandmas room is.

She tells me. She passed around noon. She passed minutes after me and my brother were discussing coming to see her. He was pacing his house during the moments of her final breath and I was sitting in my car trying to figure out what was the right thing to do.

Everything was a blur. I told her I wanted and needed to say goodbye. The nurse told me that grandma had already been moved downstairs as they were told nobody else was coming to say goodbye. I was. I was coming to surprise her.

She told me she was in the morgue. I said I didn’t care. I needed to see her. We walked and we walked more. We went to a room with a fridge door and she asked if I really wanted to do this because it will be hard. I was not prepared.

Yes.

And I spent 10 minutes holding her hand there in that hallway. Crying bawling. Asking the nurse why she was still warm. Her hand was alive and so soft. And everything else was gone. She was like a statue.

The nurse brought me and my grandmas body into a prayer room and I spent more time with her. Touching her face. Tracing along her features. Holding her hand. Clutching her. Kissing her forehead. I couldn’t help but ask her over and over again.

Where did you go?

Crying. Uncontrollably because I cant quite believe that a life can just cease to exist. Where does it go? Where did she go?

How can I exist from a person and not know anything about them? Where did she go? Who was she? What were her dreams? Was she happy? Is she ok now?

I feel such a huge loss for not knowing anything about her, because shes on my bio-dads side of the family. But shes my grandma. And there is a piece of me in her, and a piece of her in me.

I will follow you into the dark is because I am in the dark. I don’t know so much about my own family and it feels like a vast emptiness. I am in the dark and maybe it’s just comfortable to me now.

The disconnect with my own blood has left my mind feeling all sorts of confusing thoughts. The permanence of death and the fragility of life. The importance of my family, my roots and my seed.

Hope.

I wish I could find the words to express how proud I am of myself. It wasn’t too long ago where I was sitting in my bed crying and fighting myself to stay in school. Or even before school started and wondering if I could even manage. Or all the times I questioned my path while I was even succeeding in school. How far should I go? Am I strong enough to do this?

Imposter syndrome is a real thing because even working in this field already that I am about to graduate with a diploma in, I don’t feel like I am a professional yet. I feel like I am something else entirely and it is not good, nor bad. It is just different. It feels like I am running in a parallel dimension to my clients. Like I recognize what they are going through, I can feel it in my bones – but I can also feel the warmth of my clothes on my body. I can smell the freshness on my skin. I can feel my skin that is now smooth. I can see that now I have eyebrows. These are surfaces things, but for someone who has experienced the opposite of them – they are huge. I know when I leave work I will get into my car. I will drive to my home. I will cook the food from my fridge. I will do all the things that I missed out on for so many years. Something inside of me has hope for each one of the people that crosses my path. Because I can still feel in my bones, the core of my soul – the actual truth about what it’s like to feel so desperate that you will do anything to change.

I have so much hope for these people and that lives so deep inside of me.

But also, I feel like the luckiest person alive to be living such a good life today- because of the work that I put in and all of the people that helped me along the way.

How it is.

Everything feels right, right now and all the time. All the little imperfections of my life. All the errors of my past. All the loss, the desires, the wants, the needs. Everything is so heavy and yet somehow weightless at the same time.

The thoughts that fill my head every day are only fleeting. Because right here, right now I am happy.

I will continue to strive for the things I want, but it will not consume me. There is no pit in my stomach, that cannot be true. Because I am filled with love and gratitude. I will be happy in my present. I will work towards having the best life for me. I am going to look inwards and move forwards.

Often I get so caught up in thought, I find myself forgetting what it was like. It’s nothing like now. Everything has changed, including myself.

Everything is exactly how it is.

Thank you.

My blessings come to me in the most mysterious of ways. Today I took my road test to get rid of my N, and I was panicking so much prior. I have lived in doubt for so long that my instant reaction to every situation is to doubt myself. This is a hard habit to break. The test breezed by and I managed to pass. This felt amazing because I never pictured myself driving, never mind with a full license. Owning my own car. Driving.

Afterwards I went to my boyfriends parents place. They had just picked up his daughter from the airport and so they were opening Christmas presents. I sat down and visited and just before we left his daughter brought out a bag with gifts. She gave two to me and I’m not sure how many to her dad because I was so touched and lost in the moment that I couldn’t believe I was getting a gift from her. I opened the first one to find a sampler of teas and the aroma filled my lungs. My God, how did she know I liked teas so much? How could a 12 year old remember? So I asked her. And she told me she did remember that I liked tea. I felt warm fuzzy inside. The next thing I opened was a special tea brewing portable mug for my teas. I felt honored to receive this gift from her. The color even matched my old travel mug I had in my purse. The one that desperately needed replacing. My heart grew today as I received these gifts from her.

We went to the mall afterwards and I took her to lululemon to buy a pair of pants. I was waiting outside the change rooms and a woman who I recognized was also standing by waiting. She made a comment to me about buying my daughter such a great gift. I paused. Because that was not what was happening, but in a way it felt sort of true. I also paused because of where I knew this woman from. She said again about me buying my daughter a great gift thinking I had not heard her the first time, to which I replied oh she’s my boyfriends daughter. And to be honest I should have said she’s my step-daughter but I felt like I should not have that honor to say yet. She proceeded to talk and I walked towards her. I think I know you. But it wasn’t that I thought. I knew. I knew who she was because I have thought about her for years. I wrote about her in my book. This woman helped me change myself. She was instrumental in my success. She was my probation worker in 2013 and she walked alongside me as I decided to quit using crystal meth.

She looked at my puzzled. She did not recognize me. I leaned in. Are you a probation worker? Yes. Yes she was. And right there in the store the hair on my arms stood on end. I told her how much of difference she made in my life, all the things I was doing. All the things. She hugged me three times and I hugged her back. It felt like the universe was just so perfectly aligned at that single moment it brought us together. I have thought about her so much over the years and wished I could tell her how important she was to me, and today i finally got to do that.

Thank you, Carol.

The space.

There is an emptiness that is inside of me. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. I just want it to go away but it’s always there.

I never pictured myself wanting to be healthy, living a good life like the way that I am. But here I am. Literally living the good life. Everything is so perfect but there is a hole in my belly, right where they cut me. I feel like I should delete this entry already. I feel like I am being selfish. I feel like this is already too much. This will get cryptic. It has been awhile since I have had to speak in code. But I will remain feeling this emptiness until we are reconnected.

Can you imagine how she feels? I cannot because I don’t know how she feels about this arrangement. I have no idea what any of her thoughts are because… I don’t know. I can’t assume but I don’t know what she wants. I don’t know if there is a timeline. I don’t know what she has been told.

So I wait. And I overachieve in everything in do, because deep down inside I don’t feel like I’m good enough for anything. In school I doubt myself. In my practicum I doubt myself and it’s pointed out that I am lacking confidence because I am when it comes to working with youth. I am not good enough for them ( this is what my brain tells me ) so back to the drawing board.

I overachieve, over and over again. I try to be good enough. I’m doing this all for her. That’s not right, I should be doing this for me? Why can’t I feel like I am enough?

Because I don’t know where I stand and I’m still standing here with this hole in my belly.

And I actually can’t imagine this emptiness going away because it’s been with me for about 16 years to the day.

How does she feel about what’s happening? Do you even know what she wants? No. I assume this is it. My assumptions are eating me alive.

This emptiness, it’s not all that I am – but it takes up much of the space in my body.

Needs to be said.

There is something that has been brewing inside me for awhile. I have kept this little storm secret from most as I don’t want to seem ungrateful to the path that once served a purpose. I don’t want to say it out loud, because there is a permanence in words.

I feel empowered by the new life that I am living. I feel honoured to be alive. I feel so hopeful to continue to be of service to people by becoming a social worker. I feel a greatness in my life that I had only ever experienced by the hand of drugs and alcohol. My life has purpose and by focusing on my strengths I can help others do the same.

I have learned so much in school, during these last four semesters, and the thing that stands out the most is the strengths-based approach. This resonates with me so deeply as that’s how my recovery started to begin with over five years ago.

But in the recovery program that I have been a member of for the past three and a half years, I have been told time and time again that step one means that I am 100% guaranteed to drink again. This doesn’t sit right with me. This never has. I do understand that I am powerless over alcohol, but that’s once it enters my body. Step one is taking away all power from me, and in the following steps I turn that power over to something greater than myself and I get that too, but what about how empowered I feel about who I am as a person now? What about my strengths as an individual. I don’t want to be powerless anymore, because I am NOT. I was the one that put the drink and drug down. I was the one who decided to get my driver’s license. To start volunteering. To go back to school. To stay in school. To get a new job. I am the one that makes all these decisions in my life and I stick with them, so I feel empowered. I feel blessed to be alive to make these decisions, but I will not continue to look at my deficits everyday and allow them to take control of me.

I have learned that each person has a different path in their recovery, and some many never get the chance to see that path. But it’s not up to me to push the solution to what helped me, onto other people.

I found myself judging people who said they quit drugs, but still drank. Those who chose to smoke pot instead of opiates. Those who were on the methadone maintenance program. I found myself judging those who were not truly free of substances in the eyes of what I was told, and here I was taking medication myself for my bi-polar and anxiety.

I am not leaving you recovery, but I’m done with focusing on my deficits. I know this will upset some of those in my fellowship but I am no longer powerless over my life.