Glenna McCarthy's Blog, page 3

My Mind, A Dangerous Place

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A Place, my place

A place where I fit

A place I can hide

A place that’s mine

I would cover it

with colors of comfort

I would soften the blow

with pillows fluffed

and welcoming

but the reality is

my mind has been tainted

and contaminated

I have seen too much

and thought too hard

I have studied monsters

and in the process

I have been consumed

There is no safe, fluffy place

as long as my mind

holds me captive

Identity

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Growing up was not fun for me

I guess I had a chemical imbalance

and saw the world as sad, and threatening

I did not see the rides, the toys, the fun

I saw the pain

I walked by homeless (derelicts)

and felt drawn to their meaning

and connection to the world around them

I saw everything in black and white

and felt my hands shake with anxiety

as far back as I can remember

I wanted to feel loved, safe and connected

but the attention I got was emotional, and

physical abuse and was not spared the reality

that I was an inconvenience to all

I wondered why my family didn’t want me

why they send me away at 12 to a children’s home

but I refused to be thrown away

so I found a way to be relevant

NEGATIVE ATTENTION

I acted tough, the keyword is act

I made sure I became a (real inconvenience )

but at the end of the day

I just wanted

a home

a team

a connection

a place to feel safe

 

Am I worthy?

Relate and impressed

Post-Modern Humanity

I remember a really crucial turning point in my own recovery from cptsd was in early 2015, just about half a year after discovering what was ailing me, and this question popped into my head.

“Even if I never recovered an ounce more than I am right at this moment, am I worthy of being loved (by both myself and others)?”

I decided the answer to that question was ‘yes’ for me personally and I also believe the answer is ‘yes’ for most people, though they may not all believe it. After I answered my question it furthered my resolve to learn how to be more consistently self compassionate.

If you’re looking for specific ways to practice self compassion, below is a list of the fourteen most common ways we tend to abuse ourselves in thought and ways to correct that thought to something more realistic and helpful.

PERFECTIONISM ATTACKS

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MUGSHOT to MASTERS DEGREE

RECYCLED HUMAN

HIV and PTSD and Felonies have been a reality for me for quite some time

Today, I have survived HIV for 29 years. A lot of people assume that I made it this long because I took care of myself, but that is far from the truth. I had no understanding of self-care or love.

I now work as a peer outreach specialist, and I go to all the places others would like to forget, like psych wards, and I see people others would like to ignore: people with addictions, people who are sex offenders, people who are homeless, etc.

I do not play favorites because I am in the human services field. I’m just like a fireman who does not decide which person is worth saving when he is evacuating a building. Also, I know how it feels to be an outsider, so I do not discriminate.

Once again…

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MUGSHOT to MASTERS DEGREE

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HIV and PTSD and Felonies have been a reality for me for quite some time

Today, I have survived HIV for 29 years. A lot of people assume that I made it this long because I took care of myself, but that is far from the truth. I had no understanding of self-care or love.

I now work as a peer outreach specialist, and I go to all the places others would like to forget, like psych wards, and I see people others would like to ignore: people with addictions, people who are sex offenders, people who are homeless, etc.

I do not play favorites because I am in the human services field. I’m just like a fireman who does not decide which person is worth saving when he is evacuating a building. Also, I know how it feels to be an outsider, so I do not discriminate.

Once again I remind you that I have been HIV positive for almost three decades. I remember when people with the virus were treated like lepers. Because of that and for other factors as well, I gave up.… Well, guess what?

I’m still here, and I have accomplished so much. My next venture is getting my LMSW (licensed master social worker) in a year or so. My point is that although I am happy that I am getting ahead emotionally and finding my future to be financial security, I will never forget the time when I needed genuine help and it wasn’t there.

I am not going to repeat that cycle.

Peace

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Counselors Story

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Since I cant smell the Roses

I guess I can only show others

to do what I cannot

I can’t have an orgasm

Without the help of my hand

I cant see the point of having babies

and bringing the unsuspecting into

this dark twisted world

 

Somewhere along the way

I lost myself

I lost a sense of hope

I lost having faith

I went from being a

Nervous kid into

an angry adult

 

I never lost the ability to have Empathy

because I feel like an empath that

can feel others pain in an instant

sometimes a dull pain of yesterdays

then a jolt of present poisons

that I try to ignore

 

I guess I was never meant

to get married and have children

I guess I was never meant to feed into

The American Dream

but there are others that

still want to be touched

and love someone and build a family

 

So I guess my purpose is to

guide others away from self-medicating

away from the chutes and ladders of

Oppression and make sure they get

chance to smell the roses since

I cannot…

 

DREAMSCAPE

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I froze and couldn’t inhale

As if my oxygen was

Waiting for your cue

 

Don’t let me down

Don’t make my world darken

And put me back in that cold void

Called reality

 

I wanted to feel connected

I wanted to feel included

I wanted to feel that I had a safe place

To hide, a place I could finally feel was a

Home

 

I guess my dreams were not so misconstrued

Being a nomad without a destination

A lock without a key

A gun without a bullet

An emergency number that could not be remembered

Even a drug that could not be consumed

 

Lost, missing, lacking, empty

Trying to run away from one place

When you have nowhere to run too

 

Then you awaken to try and shake off

a feeling that those dreams are a

representation of your life

I finally realized I dont have

to wait for your cue

or your acceptance

because you were a figment

of my imagination

Just a sleepwalking

DREAM

 

 

 

RAT RACE

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I have a lot of shame

from my past

And although I have changed

That voice of doubt and with

The help of my inner cynic

can make me an emotional wreckage

 

Gotta keep on moving

I am sailing in a sinking ship

I have to find a lifeboat to

Help me find the living and proceed

 

I want to be a hero

I want to be a superhero

I am an extremist

But I will settle for mediocrity

Because in all honesty, I don’t have a choice

 

All the angles, and all the agendas

That are hidden behind causes

that sound so just…

I have joined the living

But I see this is still a rat race

So I am looking for the puzzle

To fit my piece

 

The AUDIBLE version now on Amazon

Smell the Roses

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I was once told in prison while I waited to go to a hearing for an infraction that I can either do my time the HARD WAY or The Easy Way but the statement fell short, not to me not acknowledging the logic of the comment but for the fact that I never knew how to do anything the easy way. I had been living in my own personal prison for so long where my mind and body have not been in sync for as long as I can remember.

At seven years old I started cutting myself because the pain was more identifiable and was less painful than my emotions, the anxiety made me chew the inside of my cheek like it was a sandwich. I wanted to feel normal, I wanted to feel safe, and I wanted to feel loved as a child. Unfortunately, that was not my reality.

Life felt like an accident about to happen, almost like a punishment. I saw pain and unease when I looked at the people on the streets. Why doesn’t anyone else see that something is wrong? I would tell myself. Why is everyone so carefree? In my naive assessment of the world, I felt alone and different. I did the comparing, envied, pitied, shamed, blamed and the anxiety turned to anger. Being overwhelmed tuned to overcompensating with the help of drugs to give my alter ego a stage.

There are no perfect answers to the problems of the world and ourselves. I used to blame it on my mother, brother, and family in general because they were emotionally unavailable and I was the black sheep. Life still feels coarse at times but I finally got clean, got an education and learned how to smell the roses. Life may not be perfect but I no longer expect it to be,