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Outside Looking In

Outside Looking In…

… 16 is hard enough for anyone navigating adolescence… 

16 was when I simultaneously experienced a trifecta of physical, emotional, and mental illness, an onslaught of catastrophe and epic proportions. I now know during this time period I began experiencing the beginnings of Bipolar Disorder, Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Chronic Pain Syndrome, and worsening PTSD.

An onslaught of hormones were dumped into my body… sometimes I felt like there were two of me residing together… similar to The Cherokee parable of The Two Wolves… vying for dominance. 

Meanwhile, without fanfare, an invisible subliminal initiation began. Simultaneously and insidiously infiltrating my body and mind… totally separate from the usual plethora of adolescent challenges. Tenaciously, the good wolf fought and had my back for my soul.

There was the typical teenage happiness, friends, crushes, ups and downs, school, favorite activities… they couldn't dismiss the negative high school “friction drama,” raging hormones, insecurity, moodiness, anger... Yet, these help balance the scales. All normal, even though sometimes uncomfortable, and unwanted.

Normal sadness, anger, mood swings, etc. seemed to morph into an unrecognizable me. Subliminally the good wolf watched over and shielded me, ensuring that my fears never overrode my reality. 

Peering into the bathroom triple door mirrors, I saw three images. On the left was the girl I knew before puberty, and the hurricane of hormones that invaded my body. On the right was a slightly out of focus woman I envisioned I'd become. I knew I would need to work hard to bring that woman into focus so she'd become my reality. In the middle I was caught in a kaleidoscope, transitioning and transforming into multiple versions of myself. Sometimes erratic twists into dark and ugly versions I abhorred and feared. 

Yet, most of the time there were fluid and smooth turns that revealed bright and colorful visions of me. A tiny voice filled with the promise, “this too shall pass.” I had no idea of the good wolf's presence, and how she embraced me as if I were her pup. She fiercely protected me, as I tried to protect my family and friends. The good wolf made sure that my fear of hurting others would never come close to my worst daymare. 

I have no idea when or how… completely unaware that I found myself on the outside looking in… my nose pressed against the window pane, my fingers scrabbling for purchase… aghast at the wolves fighting to dominate my life and… terrified the bad wolf, gathering remnants of traumatic events, the raging hormonal dump, and the unknown maelstrom of mental illnesses, would win the battle. Behind the window pane I helplessly watched as I struggled to keep these “aliens” at bay, so as not to inflict them on anyone. Thus, the need to protect others began as the need to protect them from me and the bad wolf's influence. 

I immersed myself into every extracurricular activity I could join. Sports, especially, were my solace and salvation. My coach believed in me, and her unwavering encouragement, acceptance, and approval helped the good wolf tip the scales in my favor. My coach had no clue of the inner battle rampaging… She only saw the good wolf’s influence at the forefront. My English teacher wrote admiring how I was involved in so many activities… His final comment was, “oh for a school full of Sherry Bartons.” Still to this day, tears run down my face, thinking “Mr. Ashe, if you knew what my world was like then, you wouldn't want multiple Sherry Bartons suffering.”

The good wolf grew stronger and the bad wolf weaker. She began driving the bad wolf to the boundary edges. The bad wolf stood on the precipice, its balance unsteady and precarious… refusing to accept defeat. Intent on using my struggle with my Mom to infiltrate her way back in. She failed, the good wolf always had my back. 

What used to work… no longer existed. I watched as my mooring broke loose, now adrift… my safe harbor just fingertips away. My negative thoughts and feelings fueled a state leaving me vulnerable, unsafe, and utterly exposed. 

Sometimes, there was a whispered forewarning rattle… a fleeting indecipherable signal, there was a straw that would break the camel’s back, that I ignored. That infantesimal straw was a catalyst, striking like a rattlesnake releasing its venom…  The build up felt like a lava bubbling under the surface and erupting, burning and incinerating everything in its path… especially me.

16 turned into 17, and then 18. Each passing year my baby steps of growth slowly whittled away some of my angst and fears. 

I discovered that liking myself is far more important than loving myself. It also means being aware I'm an intense person, and I feel things much deeper than the average person. I still have baggage that needs to get unpacked. And that's okay to have, but not okay to NOT deal with them. I acknowledge there are two life alternating traumas that still challenge me, which are invisible to others, unless I tell them. Both my intensity and baggage unintentionally can and have derailed and pushed away my most important, vulnerable, and closest relationships. 

It's my responsibility, and only mine, to continue working on these two irrational fears of rejection and abandonment by understanding what and how they get triggered. This also means I must address personality disorder traits forged from my childhood mental illnesses and trauma. These personality traits were cemented in my efforts to simply survive. A child could never have the maturity or knowledge to have or develop healthy coping skills. The survival skills I used as a child wreaked and can still wreak havoc in my adult life. 

The best I can do is be transparent and honest about them and my intensity with any and all new relationships. I hope by sharing these with others, this information will provide them with a foundation of understanding, thus minimizing pushing people away. As well as I must own them when they pop up leaving the recipient wondering where the  did that come from? 

This requires consistent and unwavering honest communication. I believe and prefer informed choices. I know my worth and what I bring to the table far outweighs these irrational fears. Sadly, these fears exert a lot of power. 

This is my life, filled with hope, resilience, perseverance, and faith in God, my Higher Power, that I would never be given more than I could handle, and of course my baggage. Now I know that my strength is a gift, a treasure I got from Mom. Even in the depths of depression, I had the ability to see light at the end of the tunnel, see light shining through murky waters, and faith I was never given more than I could handle. Although, sometimes I thought he overestimated my abilities to do so. I found ways to transform these awful and traumatic events, the subsequent regrets and even shame into strengths… I no longer wish these events never occurred. I chose to view and transform each one as “gifts.”

They enable me to connect with others, especially those who are hurting. I help them take back or create their power with the confidence that they truly know their own right answers. They can create the life they envision. 

These “gifts” played a role in shaping me into the woman I am today. A woman full of hope, empathy, compassion, thoughtfulness, with the ability to see the light within the darkness, strength, and  resilience. I'm genuinely happy with unhappy moments. It also means I jump in with both feet, and the recipient will have my bone-deep loyalty, a desire to protect them from pain, fierce devotion, and above all my love. 

This is me. I like her... a lot.

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