Well that's fun

[Kanalah]

Was actually having an okay day and then my depression roundhouse kicked my face.

Sorry for the rant but I don't have anyone else I can talk to.

For some reason I ended up fixated on a time when I had somewhat of a brush with death when I was a teenager and thinking that that was when I was supped to die, instead of sticking around and bothering all these other people. I just feel like I'm causing everyone around me pain because I'm still breathing.

(Brush with death backstory: So after my parents got divorced my younger sister had this explosive anger management problem.She usually took it out on me, and Mom didn't care, she just said not to provoke her. Sis did end up on a two week psych hold for pulling a knife on her own slumber party guests because they didn't do what she wanted. Anyways, so the two of us are home alone after school as usual, and she pulls out a butcher knife and starts going after me. She's stabbing holes in the walls and chasing me through the house. I barricade myself in the only room with a locking door. She starts stabbing the knife through the door. I thought about calling 911, but sis has a bad habit of picking up the other phone and shouting profanity, so I did the only thing I could think of at the time, which is to scream at her to calm down. Sis hears mom coming home, so she runs and puts the knife away and turns on the TV. Mom yells at me for screaming so loud she could hear me outside. I tell her what was going on and I get in trouble for "agitating" sis. I remember saying "Oh so next time I'll just let her stab me so you can yell at me for bleeding all over the floor." I got grounded for that. )

So yeah, part of me thinks I should have died there so that sis would have gotten the help she needed sooner, mom would've been exposed as a hoarder (house was full of trash!) and I wouldn't be stuck hiding inside my house for fear that my existence bothers other people.

[Teysa]

I know I speak for everyone here when I say that you are not a bother. We all love you and wish for your happiness and continued existence. If you have the phone number of anyone on this board call them. For that matter, PM me and I'll give you my number. Don't worry about the time. None of us want to lose another cherished member of our community.

[Seshat]

I'm glad you talked with us. We care. We'd rather you were here.

The quilt from you is on my lap /right now/. It has absorbed so many tears, both from pain and depression, that you could make a lake from them.

If you weren't here, if you'd died then, I wouldn't have this quilt, would I?

[XCashier]

For some reason I ended up fixated on a time when I had somewhat of a brush with death when I was a teenager and thinking that that was when I was supped to die, instead of sticking around and bothering all these other people.

I learned about Intrusive Thoughts from, of all things, a SubNormality comic (it's Winston Rowntree, so very, very wordy, but thought-provoking). Here's the part of the comic I'm talking about.

Anyway, when I read that comic, it was the proverbial light bulb over the head. Everything made sense. I wasn't a bad person, it was just my brain bullying me.

Many people experience the type of bad or unwanted thoughts that people with more troubling intrusive thoughts have, but most people can dismiss these thoughts.[1] For most people, intrusive thoughts are a "fleeting annoyance."... Such bad thoughts are universal among humans, and have "almost certainly always been a part of the human condition"...People who are clinically depressed may experience intrusive thoughts more intensely, and view them as evidence that they are worthless or sinful people.

You are correct; it is the depression talking. Depression lies. That's something you have to keep reminding yourself. Depression is such a vicious, nasty liar that it ought to run for political office.

You are a worthy person. You are kind and decent, creative and artistic, you've been there for others and have given of yourself time and time again. Next time depression starts its bullying again, give it the mental middle finger and remind yourself that you are worthy.

[Victory Sabre]

Your mom is toxic, and was even when you were a kid. Your sister was toxic when you were kids. You grew up in a toxic home environment.

That all being said, you have grown into an amazing woman. You are an artist. You work hard. You produce quality quilts. Think about the person you've become in spite of the roadblocks put in your path. I'm sure it's not been easy, but you've done it.

[Nunavut Pants]

So very much what they said!!

I'm on long-term support for chronic depression as well. I know, to some extent, how it can feel. And it does get better, in varying amounts.

"Should" is often a pretty bad word. Try to replace it with what you DID. In this instance, you survived and tried as best you could to change the situation. Sounds like you did pretty well to me!

[MoonCat]

Your mother is horrible. I'm sorry, it's true. But she did one good thing.

SHE MADE YOU.

You are a lovely person, you're an artist, a crafter, and a survivor. I read that story and I believe that you survived that day because you were supposed to. I'm sorry you've had to go through such awful things. You are stronger than you think. Please vent here all you need to, and remember that people here care about you! {{{all the hugs}}}

[Kanalah]

Thanks guys, I'm feeling better today.

I mentioned to one of my coworkers today that I was feeling "worthless and stupid' really bad last night and she said. "That's why we take good care of you here, so you'll know that you're a good person. Maybe we need you to work more hours so you'll remember better."

[pudddykat]

I was thinking about you over the weekend, or well ever since I read your post. I couldn't think of the right words and others seemed to have it covered. Then the words came to me. Quilts. Everybody is a metaphorical quilt. Every square representing experiences, moments, likes, loves etc. Your posts show that you know the worth of your quilts and won’t compromise on the price or materials. Your metaphorical quilt is even more precious. I remember a post where you mentioned that you like to take fabrics that wouldn’t be considered the most beautiful on its own and turn them into something beautiful. Life is a lot like that, a patchwork of various fabric stitched into something special.

Though you came from a toxic home at least one patch represents the moment you realized that it was them not you. Another patch is realizing that your mother added nothing to your shows, in fact she needed you more than you needed her. Her insecurities don’t have to be yours. You have children who you love, and you know you are a damn good mother even if they don’t realize you are. You are a damn good wife even if your husband does not realize you are or appreciate the fact that he is deficient not you. You are strong and very well made and even depression can’t take that away from you. Like a quilt you offer warmth, strength, softness and a story. More people (including our online community) have been touched by you than you realize. Maybe you should make a special quilt for yourself with pieces representing your strengths and goodness, things you have overcome, favorite things, things that you are grateful for, things that make you happy. Then when depression kicks you wrap yourself in your quilt to remind you of who you are and why you are needed. (I still need to save up some money to order a quilt from you someday so you really can’t go anywhere)

I have overcome anxiety and an eating disorder and I am at a point where 85-90% of the time life is pretty good. 100% is not realistic but 85-90 is pretty damn good. I now take my meds without really thinking about it because it is part of the routine. I have not forgotten how much courage it took to take the first one despite be so unsure and all the niggling fears about psych meds. There will always be an eating disorder (I call mine barbas) in my life but most of the time I can tell him to F*&^ off. All of that is just to say I, a lot of us on here really, understand.

[morgana]

Puddy, that was amazingly profound. Thank you for that wonderful metaphor.

Kanalah, even if you aren't loved in your offline life, you are much loved here. Here there will always be ears to hear, and shoulders to lean on.

and

[DGoddessChardonnay]

Puddy, that was amazingly profound. Thank you for that wonderful metaphor.

Kanalah, even if you aren't loved in your offline life, you are much loved here. Here there will always be ears to hear, and shoulders to lean on.

and

Truer words were never spoken. YOU are loved here, even if you don't always realize it.

I know what it's like to want love and approval and not get it. I know what it's like to want to have a normal life and can't. Still can't quite understand how some things come so easy for some, yet impossible for others. Perhaps it's because something else was meant for me? I'm 46 and still mystified by it.

I still to this day carry scars on the inside from feeling like a misfit, especially when I was a teenager. I didn't do what others thought I should do. I stayed to myself for the most part. I wasn't happy unless I was in my room, writing fanfic and enjoying my imaginary world. I ended up with a stepmother who wanted to judge me and proclaim me unstable b/c of it. She had semester of Psychology in college (which she never finished, BTW) and thought herself an expert. My Dad was basically clueless (still is in my book) and just follows her lead. I attempted to stand up to them, but they wouldn't have any of it.

Mom stepped up and quickly shooed them out the back door one evening after they came over and my stepmother started in on how I was too different . . . and even suggested I needed professional help. I actually talked Mom into letting me talk to a psychologist just once . . . if nothing else, to shut up the stepmom.

That was the most boring hour I ever spent. I rambled on about the issues they were causing, how I'd rather stay in my room and away from others my age (whom I had nothing in common with and shared no interest with at all.) He sat there and listening without saying one word . . . I finally stopped because I felt like I was talking to the wall and was fed up.

His opinion to my mom (which I overheard) was that it was my stepmother who had the problems, not me. Still didn't make me feel much better though.

Didn't stop my stepmom (or my dad) from shutting me out when she got pregnant w/my youngest sister (she had a daughter already before she married my dad - he adopted that child and didn't tell me about it until 2 years after it was done.) I wasn't allowed to go to their house (they didn't want me around, or my brother for that matter. They had it in their heads that my brother wasn't mentally challenged - it was the way Mom was raising him and I was the one who needed help. Always the scapegoat for them, it seemed.) My youngest sister was just a few months old before I met her for the first time . . . I didn't know her birthday until she was 3. She's now 28 and just like her Mama . . . can't tell you how many times she's probably been in town to see them but I don't hear from her.

And when I pointed that out to her last summer, she had the gall to sound surprised . . . put yourself in my shoes and see how they feel. Had no response from her on that one (imagine the nerve, I'm sure.)

I'm probably better off not talking about those people that call themselves "family." I don't even know why I started, when I do I ramble on and on (part of the change, maybe? Not sure)

I try to tell myself that I have value . . . I try to remind others they have value, hoping that I can believe that for myself. More days than not, I can tell myself that I am worthy and deserve better than other people's bullshit.

I try to get along with them now, but from a safe distance . . . otherwise I may end up on a segment of "Snapped" (although I think I'd rather be interviewed by Candace DeLong for Deadly Women.)

Just remember . . . depression does lie. It does that to me every now and again. What I would do (and need to get back into this) is to wrap myself up with something I enjoy . . . such as writing. Come up with something outlandish and over the top for a certain pair of sisters to get into. In other words, the world may never be safe again.

From what I've read of your posts, your quilting is your escape . . .it's that one thing you can lose yourself in completely without leaving reality. Each square is a pin on a map of where you've been, where you want to be and where you hope to be eventually.

Let the depression out . . . and take in the love and peace to fill that void.

[Seshat]

If you decide to make a quilt representing your history, please put in a piece representing the quilts you made for many of us, after Plaid's suicide. You have helped us, and you deserve a reminder of that.
If you still have the fabric pieces to do it, maybe make up a small quilt with a piece of fabric from each of the quilts you made at that point. Hang it on a wall, and make it a reminder of how much you help others.

I have a photograph on my bedroom wall, of a family friend holding a painting I did for her baby son. "Elijah's Zoo". She'd briefly mentioned at one point that the curtains for his room had a lion and a giraffe and a turtle and a zebra and an elephant - so I did a painting with cartoon-versions of each of those animals, and the word 'Zoo'.
Her expression in that photograph is one of absolute delight. It reminds me that I can and do make peoples' lives better.

If you make yourself a reminder of our quilts, I hope that it can be such a reminder for you. That you can, and do, make peoples' lives better because you're in them.

[Kanalah]

You guys are making me cry.

I do keep all of my thank you notes from people that were gifted quilts, I have to remind myself to read them when I start to feel worthless. Normally I can feel it coming on, but this one just came out of nowhere in the middle of work and I didn't have my usual coping stuff in place.

You guys are so awesome, I wish you all lived closer so my RL would be a lot more supportive too.

[RootedPhoenix]

*hugs kanalah* You are greatly loved. Love you. <3

[Kanalah]

One bad "side effect" of the abuse I dealt with as a child is that when someone is rude or mean to me, I can't just ignore it. I'm trying my best to just let it go, but my brain just goes back to when I was a kid. Had some of the kids being rude at work today and I was overwhelmed and it was just like: "Yeah it's alright if people are mean to you because you're nothing but trash and people don't have to be nice to you. You should just go away and stop bothering everyone, you're worthless and you don't deserve to live and everyone hates you."

It sucks because people think I'm being uber-sensitive or something and I'm not, I just have 19 years of horrific abuse to deal with.