I’m not alone 

The thing that comes with hiding everything is loneliness. No one ever knows the truth. No one knows anything. I’ve always been surrounded by people. I grew up in a big beautiful family. How did I manage to make myself feel so lonely? I did that by hiding everything. I did that by telling anyone what they wanted to hear or not saying anything. Then, I went back to hiding in my horrible dark world. Alone. That was my norm. Sometimes it still is my norm. It became a habit. A hard habit to break. 

It started out as fear. Sometimes it was embarrassment. Most of the time I didn’t want to take anyone down with me. I didn’t want to share the pain. It was bad enough I had to carry it. I remember actually thinking that as a child. Most of the times I would just shut down. I wouldn’t say a word. You could sit there and ask me questions or talk to me and I would be mute. I remember wanting so bad to talk. I remember telling myself in my head, “Open your mouth! Say something!” I just couldn’t get anything to come out. Sometimes it was probably out of stubbornness. Most times  it was deeper than that. To be honest, sometimes I still shut down like this. Not often, but it does happen.  Old habits… 

It seems as I grew older and older my secrets grew to be  bigger and bigger. From not liking oatmeal and having nightmares, to sexual and drug abuse.  I never stopped hiding. I kept it inside of myself where only I could be hurt by it. I alienated myself. I was surrounded by people and completely alone. It started off as unintentional and then became the only way I knew how to be. Alone in my misery.  I know, misery usually loves company, but I guess I must be a decent person. I only feel that way about dieting, exercise, sad movies, etc. Then, I believe everyone should suffer with me. 

I’ve had to work hard at being honest with myself and with others. I have to work hard to say things out loud and put them into other people’s worlds. I have to work hard at not wanting to be alone. Whether it’s alone in my misery, hopes, goals, fears,etc., I’ve had to learn how to let people know and see that. I still want to be alone most days. However, now I can’t shut up it seems. Perhaps I’m making up for lost time. As I heal and discover, I find myself being able to share more of my life and myself that I worked so hard to keep hidden. There’s also times where I’m still not ready to talk or share things. Some days I wonder if I’ll ever be able to lay it all out on the line. If I let my depression take the wheel, it would and has convinced me before that I’ll always be alone in this. It’s easy for me to run away and convince myself I won’t ever find peace. That I will forever be in pain by myself. That no one will ever know these things I carry inside of me. My head will turn on me with the quickness. I need my reality checks. I need my list of what my life is now. I need my husband asking me questions that annoy me. I need to keep sharing. I need to keep being honest and not just try to shut people up or shut myself down. It’s taking me time and I know more time than most, but that’s how I roll. I’m healing and learning. It’s great being able to tell people I don’t really care for Adele’s music, I can’t ride a bike, I tried to kill myself more than once, I still believe in  and pray to God, I suffer from anxiety attacks, Beyoncé doesn’t empower me, driving still scares me, I’m a woman whose body rejects pregnancy, I’m an addict, I’ve never seen Star Wars, I’ve been losing weight for 1.5 years and I’m still overweight,  I’m Pro-Life, I feel all alone in a room full of people, I met my husband in rehab, I believe America is the best country in the world, I once stole 9 barglasses from applebees, etc. I told you guys. I can’t seem to shut up now. I know, I’m not for everyone. I’m not even for myself most of the time, but I’m as real and honest as I know how to be. It’s really taken me a lot to be able to say anything honest about myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been more genuine or true to myself. I wish I wouldn’t have wasted so much time alienating myself. I wish I could go back and let people into my world. I can’t do that, but I can let them in now. I can come out from hiding and be honest with them now. I’m lucky that I’ve had this long to come clean and try to welcome my loved ones into my secret world. I can only hope I’m blessed with more time. I want my mom and loved ones to get to experience the real deal. I realize I’m trying to make up for lost time, but I feel like if I’m lucky enough to be alive, why wouldn’t I spend that time with those most important to me? Making amends and healing by action. Making the most of my time.  Sharing the “real Gabi” finally.  I’ve been alone for way too long.  What am I doing alone in Houston? I think I’m doing this all wrong…. 

Success story 

I planned on continuing last week’s blog about my weight loss journey. Every time I started to write, I felt pulled towards another direction and fell flat. So I’m going to head another direction with this post and I’ll plan on sharing the rest of my weight loss journey next week. 

When I decided to start writing a blog, I knew that it was going to be raw. I knew it was going to be heavy and it was going to be about things not even those closest to me knew. I worried that I would be judged,misinterpreted, and dismissed. Most importantly, I worried that my family would be hurt and embarrassed. 

 Then, I thought about all the reasons I wanted to do this. I’ve treaded lightly in real life and on social media with talking about my drug abuse, infertility, post partum depression, etc. I put it out there in hopes of someone reading it and discovering that they are not alone and to  possibly give hope to someone. I made the decision to start sharing these  in depth pages in my book, because it doesn’t only have the potential to help someone else, but it helps me too. I’m sharing in hopes of inspiring compassion in others. I’m sharing in hopes of someone reading and maybe becoming more understanding of someone they would generally dismiss.  I’m sharing, because I am not alone. These are things and feelings that so many have to face and we are too ashamed to speak up. I’m sharing, because I haven’t shared in 32 years. 

I did think of the fact that the things I write would be hard for my loved ones to read. Especially my mom(hi mother) and brothers (not that they read, but still), but the thing is that I am writing this blog as a survivor. I have hit the filthy bottom and lived in horrible darkness, but I speak now as someone who has come out on the other side alive and strong. My blog is not meant to inspire sympathy or to hurt. I am sharing a page here and there of my story, but there’s a whole book of pages. Pages filled with good memories, smiling faces, hope, bravery, love, etc. 

6 years ago when I decided to start dealing with my shit, I dealt with the issues we could see. As time has gone by, new issues arise or old memories come up and I’m left to deal with those. I’ve had to go back and reread pages in my book.  I had to hurt, cry, deal, learn, etc., through all my shit that has continued to come up. The things I have and will write about are things I have already faced and learned from. I write my posts in past tense. My life is in a different place now and so am I.  Yes, I continue to struggle with depression and anxiety, but that is something that I  will continue to learn to live with and handle for the rest of my life I’m sure. 

I’ve received quite a few messages and calls about my posts. Family members and friends asking questions and expressing sadness. I love that people are asking questions and wheels are turning. I don’t love the sadness, but I know that comes with it. It is sad. I am sharing sad things. All I can ask if that we don’t get stuck in the sadness and we look at the big picture. All of this brought me to an incredible life. I’ve lived more in the last 6 years than I did the previous 26 years. It’s therapeutic for me to write about my suffering and my success. I truly hope that one person can read any of my blogs and feel that they have a fighting chance. I hope that one person can read and feel a sense of comfort or hope. I hope that one person can read and be kinder to someone. Most importantly I hope that I’m able to get across that this is indeed a successs story I’m sharing. I write to you all as a somewhat level headed adult. I write as a wife, mother, sister, daughter, cousin, niece, or friend. I can’t tell you the honor in being called these things. No matter the darkness I endured, I’m still able to be all these things to everyone. Most importantly I’m able to be myself.