My Voodoo Skull Fairy

 

  • Do you or have you ever gotten a tattoo instead of self harming?
  • Have you used the pain of getting a tattoo or piercings to help you “get by”, without you physically harming yourself? To keep you from harming yourself?
  • Do you tend to get more tattoos when you are manic? or depressed?

For me, yes to all the above.

And here is a photo of one. She was not last-minute, I had wanted to get her for a while. But I was manic when I got her. And about 3 more tattoos within a 2 month period. I was also depressed. I do not regret getting her.

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Finding Bekr

************TRIGGER WARNING*************
Weight issues… Mirrors are evil… Finding myself…

I was always the petite one. 5ft, 100lbs. Then with medications, and getting older I started gaining weight… quickly. My blood pressure was skyrocketing. 165lbs was the heaviest I had ever been. Being 5ft, every lb is noticeable. I became miserable. I felt like a fat lazy piglet. This was 2008, since then I was able to lose some weight, it was not easy. I was able to get to 130 lbs. I gain and lose 10lbs, I am constantly going from 130lbs to 140lbs, up and down. Now I am up to 150lbs. BUT this time, I do not criticize myself like I used to and I feel comfortable with my body. What is the difference now? I have no mirrors. I do have 1 in the bathroom, but all I can see is my face. I have always needed a mirror, so I can see how I look before going out. Don’t want to look like a fool ;) I have also had a magnifying mirror (for when I tweeze my eyebrows)… while also noticing every ‘flaw’ extremely close up.

I just started working out a bit, because I do want to lose weight for health reasons. I feel “fat/large” when I see full body pictures of myself and when I put on clothes that used to fit loosely. But again, I am not feeling completely awful about it. My conclusion: Mirrors are evil.
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Moving right along… to me. When I would look at myself in the mirror, and I mean REALLY look at myself, I did not see me. There was something else staring back at me. It was strange, sometimes awful and scary. Other times, I saw nothing, I was just an empty shell. I had no soul… nothing… emptiness…

Last week I was taking photos with my cell phone. I was taking photos with the zoom on, then I decided to take some selfies… I forgot to zoom back out. I did this a few times, and did not realize it until I looked at the photos a little later. So these photos were completely ‘accidental’. I was amazed by what I saw and how I felt. I saw me! Yes, me, a soul a person, everything I am and represent. It was such a wonderful experience, although a bit odd. I saw myself and saw beauty (and yes, that feels weird for me to say/write that). I no longer saw my ‘flaws’ as ‘flaws’, but as experience and life. I have been so critical about every little thing on my body and face. I have always been self-conscious about my smaller puffy eye, I hated it (that eye is smaller than my other one, I think it is a ‘lazy eye’). It looked like I got punched in the eye. I do not see it that way any more. I was born with it, it is part of me, I now accept it. On to my wrinkles… oh my goodness, it felt like my eyes got wrinkly overnight. Crows feet and lines, I no longer felt youthful. I was disgusted by them. Not anymore… I now see them as life. I liked the few freckles I had, never had any issues with those. But I now have some really bad dark/sun spots. I was embarrassed by them. I have a huge one right in the middle of my forehead. Now, I have no problem with it. To me it looks like a heart and/or a butterfly.

Now, every time I look at these photos, I still feel amazement by my acceptance. I have lived. I have been in and through hell. I have been blessed with MANY things. Why fight and constantly criticize my looks, when that is NOT who I am. It is only a part of me. I can’t fight getting older and everything that comes along with it.

It only took 39 years to see myself and accept what I saw, that my ‘shell’ is not really who I am (just a small part). I look into my eyes, and that is who I am. The person behind those eyes. And I have become a pretty cool person. Not like I used to be: a lying, manipulative, deceitful person for self gain. I was not a ‘bad’ person, I just made some bad choices… MANY bad choices, but they have led me to where I am now. I have always been a giving person though. Contradictory, I know… Anyway, I am now full of love and acceptance, of myself and others. My conclusion… again… mirrors are evil.

Here are the photos that helped me find myself (no editing/no photoshop): Pieces of Me

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I am whole :) My Spiritual Awakening

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I am whole :) My Spiritual Awakening

update

I seriously need to do an update. I think about it almost every night, oh I will do it tomorrow… and of course tomorrow never comes.

Debating on whether doing a video update or written update because I have so much to tell you all about. I will probably have to break it down in to a few posts, so it won’t be a long-drawn-out bleh, bleh, bleh. ;)

Just wanted you all to know, I am still here, and doing MUCH better at the moment.

Hugs, peace, happiness, love and all of good stuff <3 Bekr

In Memory of Sammie (Aug.98-Dec.13)

This is my most recent tattoo. This is a picture (doodle) I did of Sammie last year. In honor of her memory, I decided to get her tattooed on my leg. So I could still take her out for walks ;)

Sammie was my baby for 15 wonderful years. She found me in Germany in 1998. She was the runt of the litter, as soon as I saw her, I knew she would be an important part of my life. She traveled the world with me, always faithfully by my side. I love her and miss her so much. Putting her to rest was the most difficult decision I have ever made. But I knew it was time. I decided to be in the room while it was done. My husband and her ‘sister’ Roxy were also there. My heart hurt so much watching her as she slipped away. I did NOT want to let her go, but I had no choice. While it was extremely rough being there when it happened, I am glad I was there, as she made her way to the Rainbow Bridge.

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Thank you!

I just wanted to take a minute to thank you all for the love and support you show me on a daily basis. It truly makes a difference, and I appreciate you all. I am feeling better. Just taking it day by day.

much love <3 Bekr

And the truth shall set you free…

*********TRIGGER WARNING**********

I am tired… Exhausted is more like it. I am miserable here. “But you live in Paradise, how could you be unhappy?” I don’t know, I just am. I hate it here. Yes, it’s a beautiful place, but it’s a different way of life, that I have not been able to adapt to. I thought I could get to a point where I was okay with living here. Hasn’t happened. It’s been one major life event after another, and I’m tired of smiling. I am tired of trying to “fake it until I make it”. It just is not going to happen. All I want to do is cry. I can’t stop thinking of “those” thoughts. Thoughts that I don’t want to be here “Earth” anymore. How I just want to end it because no matter what, it’s all shit. Yeah, I know I talk about hope and yadda, yadda, yadda. About how life is worth struggling through the bad parts to get to the good parts. A part of me still believes that, and I guess that is part of why I am still here. My moods have been moodier than ever :) One day I will wake up and be “good” with everything and have a decent day. The next day, I sleep all day and think of ways to kill myself. I have good moments and awful moments, not much in between.

I’m struggling, I’m drowning… While being watched and holding my arm up, hoping someone will grab onto my arm… YET AT THE SAME TIME, I am drowning and not looking up or holding my arm up, I am peacefully sinking to the bottom. I am so confused and lost. I don’t know what to do anymore. I am scared.

I feel like I am letting people down, because I’m supposed to be this strong person who has survived so much more, so much worse. I don’t want to pretend to be that person, because that is not me. I am hurting so much, and I am terrified of my own thoughts. Many friends have written that I look so happy since moving here. Well, that is my mask… And I use it well, as I have my entire life. I use it to hide. I use it to try and trick myself that I am happy. When honestly I am dying inside.

Where do I go? Where is “home”? Do I have a home? Where the f am I? I do not feel comfortable nor at home here.

Who am I? For some reason I feel I have lost my identity. I feel like an abandoned puppet. Lost in a crowd.

I want to be strong. I want to go to the beach and have a blast. So why can’t I? What is stopping me??? I don’t fucking know and it’s frustrating me.

It’s about time for an update!!!

*********TRIGGER WARNING**** THIS IS A “VENTING” POST************

I will try to make this update as brief as possible. If you have read my blog, then you know how that usually doesn’t work out ;)
In my last update I wrote about my seizure (from lorazepam withdrawal) and how my life was great… at that moment.

  • Sooo… a few weeks after that I got extremely sick, won’t go into the gross details, but I ended up in the Veterans Emergency Room for fear of lack of dehydration. Waited in the waiting room for 6-7 hours, then finally got a bed. Got tons of blood tests, IV for fluids and antibiotics, was in there for 7-8 hours (these times are estimates, because I have no sense of time). They could not figure out what I had, so they just kept ruling things out. Then I had an abdominal CT Scan, they noticed my appendix was ‘irritated’. I was NOT having any abdominal pain. They decided I had appendicitis, but could not decide whether to have it removed or not. I was eventually admitted to Critical Care, or something like that. I had my room and tv. On the 3rd day, they decided I should have my appendix removed, but left it up to me. So, I said, “just take the damn thing out” (because every time I go there for abdominal pain, they always have to rule appendicitis out). Now if I go again for abdominal pain, I can say, “my appendix has been removed, so it is NOT that”. I had a laparoscopic appendectomy done. They kept me another day after that to ‘monitor’ me. I was okay, so was released on the 5th or 6th day. I HATE HOSPITALS! It was so boring. But hey, my ‘symptoms’ did go away, so I was happy. Not so happy that I had to take it easy for a few weeks after the surgery so I would heal nicely and not cause further damage. Taking it easy 2 weeks before a huge move… not that easy. I felt useless, my husband had to lift anything over 10 pounds. I tried to take it easy as much as I could (not very much). But I did not cause further damage, and healed nicely, not completely healed yet. The experience slightly traumatized me. Estimated date this all happened November 5-11. My follow-up appointment was the day before scheduled flight. Doctor did not really do an exam, he just pressed on my side, and said I was good to go. The results were back, and it was a GOOD thing I had it removed, because my appendix would have eventually ruptured and with the timing it probably would have happened around the time we got to Puerto Rico.
  • Mentally I was quite stressed out having to take care of canceling this and that, having to get my 2 furbabies checked out. Selling all of our furniture and items we no longer needed. Kept a few things in storage. Making sure I had enough medications for at least 1.5 month. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

OKAY, I am just going make this as short as possible. I deleted most of it, but kept the above. I NEVER used to write like this, I was always straight to the point, now I am all “blah, blah, blah”

  • Flying Day: Got felt up by the TSA, because my hands tested positive for ‘explosive’ residue… you know because I was not stressed enough, nor have PTSD, nor have issues with being ‘touched/patted/rubbed’ up and down by a complete stranger… They went through all of my stuff (invasion of privacy, embarrassed much… no), pushed me off to the side, Mike had no idea what was going on. Was extremely near my breaking point, shaking, ready to burst into tears from the added stress/anger/fear/shame they were causing; because I figured if I ‘lost’ it, there would be no flights for Rebecca for a while. AND I did have a ‘disability’ card explaining my disabilities. When I bought the tickets, I also made them aware of my mental state. (apparently the TSA does not give a shit about any of that… they separated me from my Emotional Support Dog [having a letter and prescription from my Psychiatrist]… At least I was put in a separate SMALL room when I was ‘fondled’). Had to change Gates 3 times because of airplane ‘issues’. Flights were smooth, was able to have both furbabies on my lap, had to tell Flight Attendants they were emotional support dogs, and they said ‘okay’ and let me be. Got to PR around midnight.
  • Spent almost 5 hours every evening searching online for a rental apartment (home)… took 3 weeks to find a place. Ended up being so worth the time, because we found a great place for a great price.
  • Bought a used vehicle, and got completely ripped off. Ended up having to spend LOTS of money to make it drivable. The person selling it, rigged it to ‘work’ when he sold it to us. Thankfully we had the money to pay to get it ‘fixed’. Find something else wrong it almost every day. We had to laugh about it.
  • Ended up having to put Sammie (my 15-year-old furbaby) to sleep anyway. That was EXTREMELY rough for me. Had her cremated.
  • Got attacked by bugs on my legs. Was not bad, just dots everywhere, until they started to itch. That lasted 2 days with no relief, tried everything, ointments, sprays… you name it.
  • Living right on the beach and not being able to go into the water above my thighs, having to wait to my surgery incisions to completely heal. (not that big of a deal, I know).
  • Going to the VA and having to wait I don’t know how long to see a therapist or psychiatrist. Have an appointment in January with my assigned Primary Care Provider, but no Mental Health appointments, I tried to do a ‘walk in’ for Mental Health, was seen by a nurse and refused to be seen by a Mental Health Professional. I am going to have to make a few phone calls to be seen any time soon, I SERIOUSLY need it. (I find this troubling, because I am rated at 100% total and permanently disabled due to bipolar, YET can’t be seen by a psychiatrist when I go to the VA and say I desperately need to see one.) I am sure I can go to a local Emergency Room, but I am not now suicidal, a danger to myself or others.
  • Last but not least. My husband obviously knows I am bipolar, and is somewhat educated about it. He has stood by side and supported me through some seriously difficult times. Yet, he thought coming here would make me feel better. The sun and sand and all of that. I know he knows better than this, and he says he was just ‘hoping’ for it. This aggravates me and I tried explaining it to him why it bothers me, but I don’t think he ‘gets’ it. He has had his own adjustment issues, therefore less patient. I understand and don’t blame his behavior, he is only human. When we get along, it’s great. When we disagree or argue, it’s AWFUL. My friend at Musings of a Bipolar Hot Mess posted this picture today, I thought was a perfect example of this ‘situation’. I am still ‘me’ no matter where I am…    NOTE: My husband has been supportive though. He has been cooking for me, making sure I eat and take showers, doing all of the laundry… It is just that ‘one’ thing I don’t think he ‘gets’. He is not a bad husband, that is not what I am saying at all, so please do not misinterpret what I am trying to say.

REALLY!!!

  • Anyway, there is more, but I will leave it at this. And PLEASE don’t ask me why we decided to move here in the first place. It is something I am tired of explaining the entire story. In short, it was a decision we made together for our own reasons, and the timing of everything just happened to happen when it did. This was never meant to be a ‘permanent’ move. Just something temporary, for 1 year or so depending on how it went.

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  • Right now, our lease is for 6 months. I am sure things will get better, I remain hopeful. We will both adjust to living here, and so will Roxy (our other furbaby). We will explore, travel and do what we came here to do. Enjoy life to the fullest, enjoy each others company and simply just be.

This post is an update, since it has been some time since my last post. But this post was also a way for me to get everything out. My way of dealing with everything. Me helping me. So this post is basically a ‘vent’ post. It has overwhelmed me, so much going on in so little time. I am just mentally tired and heartbroken day after day… Thanks for ‘listening’.

(not editing, as far as grammar, spelling and such now; not in the mood. Will probably correct errors later, because they annoy me ;) )

Much love and peace! Bekr