When the Shit Storm Comes for You. . .

It comes and it comes massively. It has no regulation and no miscommunication. It comes for you since you have poked the bear, and dared to wait behind a birch to see the creature come to life, snarling and growling at you, teeth bared.

When the shit storm comes for you, you better be prepared. Grab your shot gun and your rifle, your courage and your self-doubt. Pick up your rain boots and carry your sketchbook beneath your arm.

When the shit storm comes for you, review your mistakes and your inclinations. What intentions did you have to provoke the bear? What could you have said differently or more concisely? Is this a problem that began with you, the onlooker, or one created purely by the shit storm itself?

When the shit storm comes for you, you better prepare your strength. You will have to use wit here, not emotion, otherwise you’ll wind up with more regrets than you had going in. The storm will test your spirit, it may be one hell of a long journey, and it’s okay for you to recognize that you have an out–if you step to the side by three footfalls, the storm will be over and it won’t be pouring down on you out there. The shit storm is limited to one zone of space.

It’s up to you what you choose to do with it from there.

 


This is a slight follow-up post to the one I made nearly 12 hours ago this morning (actually a little longer). I’m still shaken up by the mixed response I got, understandably so! I spent this holiday weekend a little bit with my nose turned up because I didn’t get to see the most excited doggie every, Angelo, at the doggy daycare today πŸ˜› Poo!

There were still some nice doggies there, they were just more into playing than getting patted, and the person I’ve gotten to know who works there wasn’t on shift (curse you long weekend!!) So it was just okay for today. ❀ At least next Sunday will come by sooner.

Later on, I came back home and took a couple naps during the afternoon, spending some time just milling around on Youtube then some more time reading my book.

Then my parents and I went out for the early evening, I got to read in the car more in my book which is awesome because normally I get car sick and can’t, annnnd it’s also when the shit storm hit.

I was in Michael’s the Arts & Crafts store (a beautiful place, along the lines of Joann’s Fabrics and Hobby Lobby) browsing around, fully in the moment, looking at fancy baskets and tote bags and knowing I only had $10 with me so I’d have to keep within that budget (my parents were in the Target next door, so I was on my own) and I was looking at jars and bird cages (I love bird cages) and then found the sketchbook aisle and was going for a second sketchbook area when I checked my phone for the email notification.

Annnnnd found the shit storm, waiting with the thunder booming and the shit about to hit the fucking fan. The shit storm itself is irrelevant (I mean what the metaphor of the shit storm actually means in reality), just so you know.

But feeling gutted like a fish, I straight up entered the good old “Crisis Mode”. You know when everything just FLIES out the window and you can’t think straight? Oh yeah, that one. That mode.

I couldn’t focus back into the present moment just happily and nonchalantly looking at sketchbooks I’d like to upgrade to once my current one is finished. This was the few and rare times I didn’t have much to cope with me either. I had a small purse with my cell phone, my Ipod (didn’t even think of using it, there was music in the store though and that helped a bit), my glasses cleaning wipe, a orange pen and the book I’m reading. That’s it. I considered calling a friend or a hotline but was still too out of it to make any actual decisions.

I knew I could contact my parents but I don’t want to get yelled at for what this community and blog site has happily brought into my life thus far. I thought briefly of people I could email but that too, wasn’t further explored. I tried just looking back at the sketchbooks and flipping through them, walking slightly up the aisles, looking for the cameras around and if there were any people because the first thing the shit storm stirred up was the notion of scratching myself.

Except, I couldn’t really de-pants myself right in the middle of the store. So I thought about going to find a bathroom and gouging the crap out of my thigh. Just to regain some traction, some present moment bullshit, some release… some pain. But I didn’t find or go looking for a bathroom.

I wound up just scratching a little on the back of my hip (I was wearing a short T shirt so…) and scratching from the outside of my pants. It didn’t do much either way, except break my safety contract I made with my T and possibly push me towards another hospitalization sooner rather than later.

Although I will say there is no way I could have anticipated this shit storm. It was never on my radar whatsoever. After I said my twenty cents, I walked away from the matter, lighter than before and just moving on about my day.

But when the shit storm comes for you….

I did wind up picking out some butterfly washi tape and a stamp set, but then set them back and got the big sketchbook I was looking for when my Mom came into the store and found me again (I kinda found her, too, so that was good). I also got a hummingbird canvas coloring thing which is fancy!!

Then we all went out to dinner at the 99 restaurant, mmmm sirloin tips!! And I had to just carry on from there. Which was tough because I am not one to pretend or lie about how I’m feeling or doing and straight up if you would have seen my face inside of Michael’s you would have been able to tell I was NOT okay. But I managed, especially with a LOT of love and help from Body Electric. ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ Her message was something I could hold onto as the rain from the shit storm eased up as I thought and thought and planned out my response. My dance with the shit storm.

And, here I am now, a little scarred from the shit storm but holding on anyways. I’m writing up another post as an update and to continue sharing this journey of recovery. Part of me still wants to self-harm, but I’m definitely glad I wasn’t home or home alone when I got the shit storm warning call. Otherwise, the damage could have been MUCH worse.

 

I am also glad that my inclination from this storm was more self-harming than suicidal. I’ve had times when people didn’t understand the OCD I deal with and felt both “Here, let me explain it annnnd now I’ll just go hang myself, thanks!” But that wasn’t there this time, hooray!!

It also reminds me of this one time I got an angry (understandably) email from a Photo Club member (in which I hadn’t been good with integrity or management team) that jarred me severely where as I read it I could FEEL the OCD agreeing and pointing out how shitty I was and how I should just kill myself and I reached for my dinner’s knife and got to rolling up my sleeve before I stopped myself and thought “Whoa there, I am NOT about to self-harm because of what SOMEONE ELSE has said to me, am I?” And that zapped me out of it! HOORAY.

 

So yeah. Not the best of the best responses. But definitely not the worst either. Relapse or lapse, I’m not too concerned about it. I’d say it was more of a reactive response. A way to cling onto the moment and cope with a sudden dramatic shift in attention and mood. This does tell me that I am really beginning to struggle though. I gotta get my own shit together. Plan out my own shit storm. Rofl.

Welp, that’s it for me this time! At least this was more of something creative and life update-y than ….a shit storm πŸ˜‰

I will not apologize for my content, as that would be to deny my own thoughts and feelings, which, I’m very tired of doing. Take THAT brain! *flicks a booger at my brain* IIIIII am sorry for that depiction though. It’s the first thing that popped up! T_T XD

 

Hope you ALL are doing well!!! ❀ ❀ ❀ If you ever need to chat, feel free to message me. Some of you peeps are becoming my own lifeline and I really, really appreciate that. ❀

I’m off to voyage through the weather now! *steers the ship like a BOSS grinning madly in the wind*

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