To say this last week has been rough is an understatement.
Upon my arrival back to land of great rapids on Saturday, I spent most of the weekend huddled on my couch, crying. It was pretty clear to me by Sunday night that the drugs were not working as they aught, so I called my GP to get my dosage upped. New script should be within the next few days.
It was reprehensible of me to do what I did to TheBassist, and as such, I took down the post of the public banning and then got in touch with him to hash things out. He is a very generous soul towards me, accepted my apologies via my sniffling, and we talked. Really talked. It’s clear that right now our lives cannot be anything more than cursory acquaintances and so it shall be. I still need him to be a part of my life for a number of things, and we’ve set boundaries and the like. I know many of you have opinions on such things, which is fine. But keep in mind he and I are both comfortable with how things are now designed and I’ll please ask that you respect these boundaries. If you comment on it, I’ll listen, take it under advisement but more than likely, I will not respond.
I’m feeling pretty clear headed for the first time in weeks.
I have a lot of work to do and part of the disease is the constant self-sabotaging that I keep doing to myself and to others. When I burn bridges, I burn them deep and hard. The old puerile beliefs that I am not as good as others, that everyone will leave, that no one listens, that the world is against me still hold strong despite the drugs, the therapy, and self-care. I knew this a year ago. I knew this five years ago. I work hard and then collapse, and most, not all, of my work slides back. I recognize I cannot hide from myself any longer and to continue to do so may mean to the extreme as my death by my own hand.
No one can save me but myself and I was continually naive to think otherwise.
I have to take responsibility for my actions, both the good and the bad. That’s a hard thing to swallow, especially when you’ve spent as much part of your life building up walls and not letting anyone in. It also means that I have to own the things I’ve done, also the good and the bad. To that extent, I’ve decided to not change my name and own being Lisa Rabey. To own that I’ve made some very good choices and some very bad choices. Both of them are all of me. As Kate pointed out, the name change wouldn’t have lasted much since I’m very much a public person and not a private one. I will always be Lisa Rabey no matter what, name change or not. With that in mind, I took back my old Facebook account under that name and deactivated the name change one.
A lot of you have been very kind towards me about all of this going on in my life. I’m entirely humbled by all of you who have accepted me despite even myself. To that, I dedicate my new favorite jam to all of you:
Souls cannot be taken, they’re large and they’re loud
One thought on “Souls cannot be taken, they’re large and they’re loud”
Good for you. Seriously. I feel like you and I live parallel lives, albeit in an alternate universe (that’s not Belgium). I’m dealing with serious depression/medication issues, readjusting to shit, and having some of the same “physical” issues as you. I more than get you girl. Anytime you want to vent, holler. I’m here.
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