Tag Archives: sarcasm

Becoming

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My mother often jokes about the crayon marks on the wall- you’d think that in a 150 year old house, with a husband that does custom paint jobs on cars, my artwork would have been painted over in the last twenty years. However, it perseveres, abstract renderings that my mother claims will make the house worth more when I’m famous. I think of this sometimes when I traipse through the living room… What will these be worth when I’m successful? That phrase then sticks in my head, wandering over and over, taking laps through the same worn paths. Half the time I can’t tell whether the thought “when I’m successful” boils down to “when I’ve achieved something of significance in my life” or “when I’ve done it right while attempting suicide.” I’m sure both would add value to the scribbles on the wall, entirely different kinds, but still, something.

I’ve attempted suicide twice in the last two months. Maybe this is too honest, maybe I shouldn’t be sharing this. But things don’t change by letting them sit in silence. When I get chastised for joking about another attempt(as I do), I’ll often reply “I’ll try harder next time.” How this becomes a joke for me can be unclear to others, I know, but I can’t help it. I’ve wanted to die for as long as I can remember. It’s all I know. I think it’d be evidence of being more unbalanced if I COULDN’T joke about it.

Cognitive distortions. I’m told these are the things that tell me I am worthless. I currently only see them as truth. That is the way it will be until I put in the very, very difficult work of training myself otherwise.

Someone once told me, “If you could see yourself through other people, you’d know you are worthwhile.”
My reply was “If I could see myself through other people, those people would need to go to the hospital.” Snark is a defense.

The hospital is a place I’ve been several times. It doesn’t seem to help for very long. Therapy is a place I‘ve been several times, through several programs. It doesn’t seem to help for very long. Hey, I’ve even had an exorcism. That sure as hell didn’t help.

A last ditch effort was ECT, electro convulsive therapy. The phrase makes most people immediately jump to a Cuckoo conclusion, but things are very different now than were portrayed in that film. It’s highly civilized and ultimately very hopeful. I got several weeks of what may have been normalcy out of it. I’ve also gotten a fair amount of damage to both my long and short term memory systems, some of which may shake out, some of which is permanent. However, once again it didn’t seem to help for very long. I did more damage to myself than I ever have before, after having been normal and happy for awhile.

Now I’m starting DBT, Dialectical Behavior Therapy, which is all about teaching people to respond to stress, harmful impulses, bad thoughts, etc. in healthier ways. I’ve just started, but I’m feeling very hopeful. I’ve already gotten a bit of practice with one of the techniques. It’s an intense program, and a commitment. A patient signs up for an entire year of the program, which, for me, meets an hour away and twice a week. It will be worth it if I can achieve healthier mannerisms through this process, naturally, but if this also fails me, then I have run out of options.

I am determined to make this year mean something.
I will learn.
I will learn to believe, believe the good things that people tell me that I am.
Because I am stronger than I can see.
I am more than I believe.
I am above the sum of my faults.
And I am worthwhile.
I am creative.
I am kind.
I am talented.
I am loved.
I am smart.
I am funny.
I am giving.
And I am capable of changing the way I think about myself.
I am capable of becoming what I am.
I can’t think of anything that would make me more successful.
Wish me luck this year.

A letter for me.

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“Write me my affirmations.” I directed Alyssa. There wasn’t a whole lot for her to do at the meeting while we fiddled with the laser downstairs.

“But I don’t have anything to write on.”

I sighed, knowing that I would gladly leap to solve any problem she had, but probably shouldn’t. “You are not helpless. You are a very clever girl. I have faith in you.”

“Okay, MARK.” She spat her husband’s name at me with a tone I recognized, on that I had used before, substituting the name Josh instead. It took me until this moment to realize what a weak argument that was.

“Wow, that’s really your response?” I had already started walking backwards out of the room and could no longer see her.

She raised her voice. “If you’re gonna say things like him, I’m gonna call you on it.”

“Maybe he’s just right.”

She yelled vivaciously from the other room, full of defiance and spitfire. “NO. THAT COULD NEVER BE THE CASE.” I smiled as I went down the stairs, wondering if she’d actually work on it. After all, I had given her the assignment of writing down positive things about me about two weeks ago.

–

She came down to the shop a little while later, and began playing with my hair. She smirked, saying that she was gonna “Pippi Longstocking” me. As she pulled my hair into short, tight braids, I sighed and resigned myself to my fate. Then, presumably bored, she traipsed upstairs again to see what Denise was up to.

I wandered the space. I found a chunk of plexiglas that someone had lasered something out of, leaving several inches of wasted space in the material. I picked it up and walked over to Mark. “One thing that I really hate about this place is that there’s not a single person that has a clue how to use materials effectively.”

He was less miffed, and being his traditionally sassy self. “Out of all the things that are wrong in the world, including your hair, that is what you focus on?”

“You’re one of them, you know.” I said, thinking back to several times that I’ve seen him set up materials.

“Yes, I’m one of the things that are wrong with the world.”

Despite the fact that he’s one of the most important and productive people that are involved with the makerspace, there’s no point in engaging with him while he’s having an incompetence fit. I headed back upstairs.

–

First thing I did was head to the fridge to grab a soda. As I walked towards her, Alyssa hissed at me and shielded the papers she had strewn out around her. I guess she really was working on my letter. I smiled and went towards Denise instead.

–

When the first set of puzzle piece structure was finished in the laser, I asked Mark “Is there a method to the madness here? Which ones are which?” Each segment had 6 pieces and the pair of them were slightly different. He explained the order and I opened up the laser to pick them out. Knowing the difference between the pieces, I felt confident that I knew what I was doing, so I just scooped them together and plucked them up randomly.

“So I guess it doesn’t matter even if there was an order.”

I smiled brightly and shook my head.

Mark sighed as he put in the next sheet. “Thanks sweetie.”

–

When Alyssa handed me an envelope, I beamed at her. I was very excited. It was thick with several sheets and had my first and middle name on it in cheery, loopy handwriting.

“If that’s not still sealed by the time we leave here today, I take back everything I said in it.”

“Okaayy…”

–

Denise left early, wishing us the best as it had taken her and Stacey 6 hours to put together the tab and slot structure. Mark went to the auto parts store, hoping to fix the forklift. This left Alyssa and I alone with all the paperboard pieces of the prototype. We worked industriously and listened to Andrew Bird.
After Mark showed up again, I stole his abandoned pair of glasses and put them on.
He didn’t when he sat down. I came to the end of the first side of the construction, and began to fiddle with the second spiral. “Yeah, you can do this part. I don’t wanna.”

Alyssa graciously began inserting and bending tabs, very quickly becoming adept at it. The spiral spun and spun and spun some more. Mark fiddled on his phone, periodically showing something interesting to us or reading bits of an article. Alyssa was reaching the end of the spiral again, about a half hour later when she exasperatedly said “Are you really not gonna notice that she’s wearing your glasses?”

“Why should I care?” Ever so generous, that one.

We spent a little time fiddling with the various lenses and then came the question.

“What do we do now?”

“I guess we go home.”

They began packing up. Mark stalked up behind me and wordlessly pulled his glasses from my face. I glared at him. “What?” There are times I feign anger just so that I get to enjoy the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles defensively.

We hugged, we left, I came home, I wrote. And now I have a letter to read.

I can’t wait.

Something

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I don’t remember what exactly we had been talking about when Alyssa looked at me and said “You’re destined for greatness.”

“Yeah, okay, JOSH.” Kind of sad that the best response to that was to point to another person with similar hopes about me.

“You have too much going on in you to not be meant to do something.” The emotion in her eyes was genuine.

I brought up a story from the night before. “You should’ve heard what Josh said when I mentioned trying for that job. He goes on, ‘When they ask you to weld aluminum to titanium and then stainless steel and loop it around again, you smile at them and say “I got this. I did that last week.” Because you can. You tell them that you’re the best damn welding engineer in the city. In the state. Because you KNOW you. You know your learning curve, you’re smarter than 99% of people out there. You got this. You just gotta know it.’ I just looked at him, a little stunned(only slightly thinking about the metallurgical sins he mentioned) and said ‘You really believe that.’ He gave me his you’re-the-smartest-idiot-I-know grin and said. ‘I do. ‘”

“Yeah, he’s right. There’s no reason that you can’t be the best in the state.”

“There’s a lot of people out there that are smarter than me.”

“Josh and I both see something in you- and we’re negative people. For you, we’re hopeful cynics.”

I cocked my head and nuzzled in with “I collect the delusional.”

“We’re not delusional. We just see the potential in you. And how brilliant it must be, if the negative people see it in you.”

I kissed her, she wrapped her hands behind my neck and told me to leave.

“I’m getting mixed messages…”

She smiled, kissed me, and then let go of my neck.

“Go home. Write me something.”