I don't even know where to start. But, I do know that I won't be falling asleep any time soon, no matter how many sleeping agents I've taken, since I've counted my deep breaths to 133 and I'm still awake.
I have learned that I can not, and will not, fall asleep when I have pride like a motherfucker; I know deep down that there's a more virtuous solution to a problem, but I like the comfort of my own habits, so I choose comfort over genuine joy instead. Insomnia is usually how the universe lets me know that I'm wrong about something for once, and that some shit in my life needs changing unless I want to keep dying inside due to my pride.
For once, I am trying my best to listen to the God of the universe: put a more virtuous and joyous life over choosing to live a comfortable life while drowning in pride.
After completely dissociating from my personal relationships (yet again, all too similar to my behaviors accompanying my relapses in mental health), I was left to my own devices... YouTube!
Facebook was where I first opened up to the whole world about my mental health problems. After having been trapped in my parents' house without the freedom of meeting the friends I wanted to meet, my old friends may recall me likening my own house to a jail cell. Though it was not literally a jail cell, it felt that way to me, and I preferred to physically be in a jail cell than to emotionally feel like I'm in a jail cell while physically being at "home."
When I had built up enough anger at my parents, I would literally run away on (bare) foot, only to be brought back home, either by them or the cops. My rebellious, loud-mouthed, younger self understood on a more concrete but abstract level that a home with no love is nothing but a jail cell to a child. (I'm literally sat here right now, struck with awe at how smart I used to be...)
Granted, this bred a mine for anonymous internet trolls and cyberbullying, mostly by those that secretly resonated with the things I was posting about.
I knew I needed psychological help, very early on, due to emotional disturbances I could not find triggers to. I kept telling my parents this, over and over again. They thought I was just seeking attention. More than attention, which is truly what I needed at the time, I was truly seeking professional help. This is the thing with them. They don't seem to be able to wrap their heads around seeking help unless forced to do so... Glad I developed my own mindset from way early on in my childhood, so that I could stay sane and still seek out the help I needed until I exhausted every single door.
I watch Dr. Phil videos on YouTube every now and then just to pass the time. (It's a great way to pass the time and get your brain cranking with external stimulus if you're looking to become a Ph.D. student in clinical psychology, but just my opinion.) One of the biggest things I've noticed pertaining to me right now was him asking parents of troubled teens, at what age/when things started to be clues that should've been red flags for them. My parents had all the clues since my first early childhood trauma. I was almost always paranoid that a man that looked slightly like my abuser, who showed no particular interest in me whatsoever, was into me in a perverted way, and men/people just became intimidating, unattractive, and scary. That's when I started to socially withdraw, and form my own opinions of the world so early on, since the age of four. And I have lived with that same mindset all these years of my life, running my life fueled by those same anxieties.
My clinical psychologist was right. I'm not bipolar, nor hypomanic. Humans can not have periods of mania without crashing for longer than a month. He never said this explicitly, maybe because he wasn't sure and he thought it wasn't his place to tell me, but I think these cycles of intense depression and anxiety I go through every four years are just me living flashbacks of the year after I was abused at four.
Over the break in-between semesters, there was a day when I wanted to find more out about myself, to see if I could pinpoint timeframes for when I'd have the most emotional disturbances. I wanted to see if I could connect them to any wounds that the sunlight of the spirit had awoken in me, with their timeframes. It only took me three months to finally figure it out, but I did just now: First trauma at age four, dissociate until age five, recuperate, crash again every four years (9, 13, 17, and 21 years old so far).
My Role in Life?
But when I had gone through my yearbooks, there was a note that I had brushed off quite a bit back then, which said, "keep blogging!" Little did I know, at the time she was also silently going through the same pains I was going through, and it was a relief for her to see someone like me speak out and put it all out into the public for the world to see how truly crappy "Asian parenting" really is. I was also told by my Probation Officer (PO) that I seem very smart and intelligent, and that it would be best for all parties involved if I just e-mailed from now on instead of leaving voicemails, since I always go into uncontrollable rages/emotions on the phone.
I guess this is my role in life for now, at least until I get a legitimate job in my field once I finish my schooling. And maybe this is my social (vs. antisocial: ex. drug abuse, etc.) way of getting my emotions out there in an educational and sober spirit, at least until I completely heal.
I would like to say that Vocal is now my much more matured version of me getting the word out there about whatever I feel so passionate about, to people I couldn't even reach without this platform. So a special thanks to Vocal for even existing in the first place.
I'm not going to hide this shit from you guys, as I've been quite open about my sexual orientation so far. I know deep, deep down that my attraction towards my gender and away from the other is in response to the early childhood abuse trauma. I definitely find myself more interested in girls than guys when I'm in a high-stress situation, and I'm just looking for warmth/love.
Not sure how I'm digesting this one. I think I just didn't digest, and it decided to spew out real quick... No action needed to take on this immediately, really...
A new, more well-rounded and universal image (of love) of a Higher Power is becoming my God. My God is not authoritarian. If anything, he's the perfect dad I have yet to meet on Earth.
This sobriety shit really works! I may still be emotionally fucked up due to still getting out of my PTSD flashback, which I guess takes a year every four years, but I'm pulling myself out with 100 days of sobriety from alcohol! Something I never knew would be possible since my first binge drinking at 15. With sobriety, I am able to see the roots of my wounds and behaviors much more clearly.
Now, I'm just waiting for a therapist that specializes in PTSD to call me back. My HP's got this on his/her own timing. I'm stayin' out of this one since I've already done what I have to do by leaving voicemails.
In sobriety, I finally have the sane mind with a frontal lobe that actually works to tell me that a certain behavior is just me reacting to my anxiety triggers, and actually gives me freedom to choose to engage or disengage from the behavior. This new HP is great, guys. And I'm so glad to have found this one through recovery. I had such a limited concept of what God could be. But God is all, because He is.
It's crunch time!
I remember my last drink before these 100 days was at around this time, after waking up from a hangover after Thanksgiving dinner, to go to day 2 of MCYPAA 39. And now, my 100 days are over. A huge shoutout to my HP for keeping me alive, and as well as I can be given all of my current conditions, through 100 days of sobriety from alcohol! Now, please keep me sober just for one more day for that 101. Thanks! Love you! <3