Know When to Hold 'Em, When to Fold 'Em

Chances are that if you are reading this, you know these things to be true about me: I am literally terrified of being alone, I struggle with knowing my limits, and I rarely ask for help. When I started blogging again back in February, I promised myself that this blog would be first and foremost a safe space for me to write what needed to be written at any given time. As I just mentioned, though, I am quite terrified of being alone, so even in my writing I crave to share and receive acknowledgement of my existence. I also don't always get social norms and sometimes share too much with those close to me, which is what this post is about to do. But if you are reading this, the most likely thing is that I shared this post with you directly and that you already are aware of much of the contents. So enjoy and give me feedback?

I am not one to recognize my limits. I am a perfectionist and have an inner desire to be seen as strong and almost heroic. I love to help others as well, even to a point where I put the needs of others before my own. I almost never say "no" when people ask favors or give me tasks. I sometimes pile my plate so full that I end up burning the candle at both ends or put aside self care so that I can have more time to dedicate to other commitments I have made. I admit this isn't healthy, but you know you do it too, my friends.

Anyway, I extended myself beyond even what I thought was possible between March & May. So, on top of putting off self care after a traumatic life event, I just threw on not only my own job loads, but several others as well. Things happened as a result: I had several anxiety attacks (I didn't know that's what they were at the time), I had a week where I consumed almost an entire bottle of rum (at least 3 nights of that week I was literally drunk), and I started being very reckless. But I pulled it together and finished the semester and I told myself summer would be my salvation...but you already know it wasn't.

So, a few weeks ago, here's what I had decided: I am flawed and broken to a point that can't be fixed; I am toxic to everyone that I love and it's killing them; I would be better off dead. "I would be better dead." It resonated in my brain. It called to me. I literally started having urges, like an itch I couldn't scratch enough. It got worse at night. I couldn't sleep. I started thinking when. I started to question how. I even Googled some things...which, by the way, the top response when you start Googling suicide methods is the number to the Suicide Prevention Hotline. I'm terrible at keeping things locked up, though, remember? So, I messed up and shared with some of you (still sorry I did that to you, especially the one who got the majority of the crazy middle of the night texts...so sorry, my friend...)

Anyway, there were some discussions, a staged intervention, more discussions with my husband. I needed help. I've needed help for months. But I hate asking. I hate admitting that I need it. I didn't want to burden any of you...but I did anyway...

So, fast forward to a week ago after much discussion, much soul searching, and even some prayer: I admitted I needed help enough to seek it medically. You likely already got the full story on my lengthy appointment with my OBGYN. You know I'm now on a daily dose of "happy pills" (an anti-depressant). You may already be getting to enjoy the benefits of this medication, because with just a week of taking it, I can already see differences. It's going to still be a delicate balance some days, but hopefully it will get easier with time.

What was the point of all that rambling? Maybe it was to record things honestly with myself. Maybe it was to just waste your time. Really and truthfully, it was to help me admit these things: it's okay to ask for help, it's okay to admit that your plate is too full, it's okay to not be a super hero. Self worth will always be a struggle for me, as will being able to let go of control and ask for help...but I'm working on it. Self care is a struggle for me, too...but I'm trying to change that. It helps, though, to see that others have these same struggles. It helps me help myself if you are not only willing to help me but ask me to help you, too. I may be broken and medicated, but I can always help those that I love (nudge, nudge, that's YOU if you are reading this...unless you are a bot or just weirdly obsessed with reading blogs and you don't know me...).

So, in the words of Kenny Rogers: "Know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em...know when to walk away, know when to run...you never count your money when you're sittin' at the table, there'll be time for countin' money when the dealin's done."