Beautiful Scars
(V1)
Little Heart
Don't you die
You were the only light
that kept my soul alive
Happy Tears
Why'd you fall
Now you can't feel
anything at all
(Pre-chorus)
And the people passing by say
"Oh what a shame.
She's just an empty shell now
could've had everything."
(Chorus)
But a pretty face is nothing
once it turns to glass.
You know, I thought she truly loved me,
but it didn't last.
A tounge so sharp
it could cut through steel
inconsiderate of the way I feel
I Didn't know...
It would be so easy...
To walk away.
To run away.
with a smile on my face.
(V2)
Little girl
Don't you hide
Your scars are still beautiful
Even in my eyes.
Angry Tears
They never lie
There's a strength in you
It'll help you to survive
(Pre-Chorus)
Screw those people walking by that say
"Oh what a shame.
She's just an empty shell now
could've been anything."
(Chorus)
But your pretty face is nothing
once it turns to glass.
I tried to save the pieces
but it didn't last.
A tounge so sharp
it could cut through steel
inconsiderate of the way I feel
I Didn't know it would be
so easy...
To walk away.
To run away.
with a smile on my...
:(Bridge):
Hanging from that pedestal
That was so high!
Used to be so strong and honest
Now you won't even try!
(Bridge 2)
Nobody's perfect...
Don't feel ashamed.
But you'll lose your loved ones...
Playin' that manipulative game.
(Repeat chorus)
Didn't want to walk away.
Didn't want to run away.
But to survive
Needed to revive
The missing smile...from...my...face...
Monday, December 12, 2011
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
I'm a Judgemental Bitch
Hey! I haven't been blogging the past few weeks because I have developed a video blog project for YouTube. But, I cannot live without typing out my thoughts instead of just blabbing to a web cam. It's nice to have options...
Soo...let's get down to dishing the dirt in the land of crazy. Sometimes I think craziness follows me. Well, that and my poor or impulsive decisions. The following story I wouldn't call a poor decision. I much rather choose to call this an "impulsive" decision. For those of you all who have not seen the vlog or have not been on twitter, I went to detox from benzos (xanax) last week. Just looking over the time I spent writing about xanax, the poems, talking about it, etc. finally made me ask the question, "Who am I without the xanax?" I take a bunch of other shit now, anyway and my Dr. is weaning me off of them so technically I needed to do this. She suggested that I did it at home the slower way instead of doing it in a quick five days. But, I am impatient and I always try to speed things up.
After carefully researching and going through my selection process I found a facility that would concentrate on my psychiatric needs while I detoxed from benzos the HEALTHY way. What happened next couldn't possibly been made up by the best comedians on the planet....
I entered with a suitcase and a pillow. Immediately I was approached with a stack of bullshit paperwork because that is exactly what crazy people on drugs want to do when they are about to detox. It took a motherfucking 7 hours to get through all of the tests, examinations, and verbal abuse by a bunch of self absorbed case workers and IGNORANT nurses!
Intake:
My first impression:
The Icing on the Cake:
He told me I shouldn't leave but he couldn't keep me. "You should stay. You can't just go cold turkey." I said I agreed that cold turkey causes horrible side effects, listed them, and then said that I had 125 benzos at home (that were about to be flushed down the toilet if detox was successful) and I will wean myself off slowly without a fucking horse tranquilizer or whatever they gave me that DID NOT WORK.
"How are you going to do that? You will just take them all and OD when you leave."
"NO. LH dispenses 3 a day and then will do 2 a day and then 1 a day until they are gone in about 6 weeks."
"Can she be trusted?" he said.
"FUCK YOU. She worked in a mental health facility in the middle of the desert for 5 years before coming to Nashville. She did intake for Schizophrenia patients that stopped taking their meds and began self medicating." "Do you know what that is like dip shit?" He did not like being called dip shit but I did not like having my integrity questioned.
I'm a judgemental bitch again because after meeting everyone at the facility I realized that the most knowledgeable person on mental health and drug related issues lived in the SAME HOUSE that I lived in.
I love that woman. I drag her through the mud with my ridiculous delusions and antics and she still stands up for me. I called her, she called a babysitter, she was there 1hr later to "rescue me" from that hell hole or, should I say, IGNORANCE. She questioned me a bit on the way home, dealt with my withdrawals by pulling over when I needed to get sick, etc. until we got home and then snapped a benzo in half. She tossed it in my mouth and grunted, "Drink. I'm tired, dammit."
We went to bed. I am so dramatic but I learned a valuable lesson. YOU CAN'T cut corners and try to detox off of something your Dr. gave you 6 weeks to do at home. I thought I had no self control to do this. I just wanted it to be OVER!!!!
As it stands, I am down to 2.5 mg per day. I am no longer taking them for anxiety and panic but for withdrawal purposes only. I am doing well. I do flip out if I sleep too long and wake up in a cold sweat with tremors. I slept in yesterday and was very ill but I worked through it. I am not going to lie. I am so scared that I am going to have a panic attack and no benzos to get me through it. BUTTTT I hate to admit it. I haven't cut since that crazy detox day and I have only had 2 panic attacks. I have more energy and the wife says that she can "see the life in my eyes again." So, that's amazing!! Now if only we can get the random crying, anger management, delusions, and self hatred under control! ::Sigh:: I know, kids. ONE THING AT A TIME.
WATCH MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL "THE TRUTH ABOUT CRAZY"
Judgementally Yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
Soo...let's get down to dishing the dirt in the land of crazy. Sometimes I think craziness follows me. Well, that and my poor or impulsive decisions. The following story I wouldn't call a poor decision. I much rather choose to call this an "impulsive" decision. For those of you all who have not seen the vlog or have not been on twitter, I went to detox from benzos (xanax) last week. Just looking over the time I spent writing about xanax, the poems, talking about it, etc. finally made me ask the question, "Who am I without the xanax?" I take a bunch of other shit now, anyway and my Dr. is weaning me off of them so technically I needed to do this. She suggested that I did it at home the slower way instead of doing it in a quick five days. But, I am impatient and I always try to speed things up.
After carefully researching and going through my selection process I found a facility that would concentrate on my psychiatric needs while I detoxed from benzos the HEALTHY way. What happened next couldn't possibly been made up by the best comedians on the planet....
I entered with a suitcase and a pillow. Immediately I was approached with a stack of bullshit paperwork because that is exactly what crazy people on drugs want to do when they are about to detox. It took a motherfucking 7 hours to get through all of the tests, examinations, and verbal abuse by a bunch of self absorbed case workers and IGNORANT nurses!
Intake:
- filled out paperwork until I thought my hand was going to fall off. This was to be expected I was aware that intake was not a walk in the park
- Getting yelled at by a nurse because she didn't know what "co-occurring illness" meant. (even though it was on the brochure.
- When I told her I had Borderline Personality Disorder she said, "Well who am I talking to now?" and shook her head at me...I realized she didn't know what that meant either and that she thought I had multiple personality disorder.
- Advised the nurse the DSM-IV description of BPD and she actually told me I didn't know what I was talking about!
My first impression:
- I couldn't help but to have an internal meltdown when my designated nurse told me she had just gotten out of prison "6 weeks ago." I guess I am a judgemental bitch because I became extremely paranoid.
- I met the other women. 50% prostitutes and 50% permanently damaged from EXTREME drug use. They were as nice as they could be, I suppose, but I guess that's what makes me a judgemental bitch again. I couldn't fathom walking the streets for drug money. (we are talking low class hookers folks...not escorts...lol).
- My understanding was that we would not chat about drugs the whole time because that makes the clock tick slower. I was incorrect because even the 4 nurses were talking about the "fun" times and such.
- I was asked if I had kids. I said yes. This old lady told me, "You'll be back here again and one day the state is going to take away your child for being fucked up. Trust me!" If she didn't look so stupid and if I were in public I would have punched her in the fucking kidney. So instead I bit my tongue off (sarcastic smile).
- My body began to go into withdrawal and I started twitching and getting faint. My arms started to tingle and it felt like there were "bugs in my brain."
- I was given a tranquilizer, a plastic pillow, 4 other mystery pills, and told to go lay down until 6 a.m. (bullshit)
- We went outside to a smoking area that looked more like a cage. Completely visible to the street. Although I had quit for the most part I shoved a ciggie in my face so damn fast.
- One of the girls starts making a bird noise, "CA CAW, CA CAW" like a fucking crow.
- I turn and look and there is a drug deal going on in the parking lot. She was trying to "score" thru the chain link fence. (I bolted inside).
- After that wonderful experience we sat at a table and chatted. Everyone "started to feel the meds" kicking in. I looked confused.
- Staring at all of the zombies, I feel nothing. The zombies asked, "Do you feel it??...pretty good huh?"
- I felt nothing except that the tingling and twitching stopped..."You don't feel drowsy?" This seemed to confuse the Zombies. I was confused too.
- Someone actually said, "She must be a hardcore junkie."
- I laughed inside my head. I am a hardcore cheeseball, spaz, and silly chatterbox, but I am so stupid when it comes to drugs. I just wanted to make an attempt to get better.
- Lastly, I "went to bed."
The Icing on the Cake:
- Trembling, I finally fell asleep only to be woken up 45 minutes later to the bitch nurse yelling at me. Apparently I forgot to sign one piece of paper or some shit.
- My "roommate" dropped her dentures on the floor and started shouting. She located the dentures and fell back asleep. She had sleep apnea. I thought she was dying with every breath she took.
- Again, me the judgemental bitch, I am sickened by the denture incident and she begins shouting (she thought she was being robbed in her sleep) and I vomit in the trash can.
- I leave the room and start pounding some water. One of the nurses yells, "Get back in bed! How are you awake and functioning?" I replied, "I dunno," like some dumb idiot.
- Nurse "Bitch" whispered to Nurse "former prisoner" that she needs to be careful around me. "Thats that girl we are going to end up sending to the psych ward because she has that split-personality condition thing."
He told me I shouldn't leave but he couldn't keep me. "You should stay. You can't just go cold turkey." I said I agreed that cold turkey causes horrible side effects, listed them, and then said that I had 125 benzos at home (that were about to be flushed down the toilet if detox was successful) and I will wean myself off slowly without a fucking horse tranquilizer or whatever they gave me that DID NOT WORK.
"How are you going to do that? You will just take them all and OD when you leave."
"NO. LH dispenses 3 a day and then will do 2 a day and then 1 a day until they are gone in about 6 weeks."
"Can she be trusted?" he said.
"FUCK YOU. She worked in a mental health facility in the middle of the desert for 5 years before coming to Nashville. She did intake for Schizophrenia patients that stopped taking their meds and began self medicating." "Do you know what that is like dip shit?" He did not like being called dip shit but I did not like having my integrity questioned.
I'm a judgemental bitch again because after meeting everyone at the facility I realized that the most knowledgeable person on mental health and drug related issues lived in the SAME HOUSE that I lived in.
I love that woman. I drag her through the mud with my ridiculous delusions and antics and she still stands up for me. I called her, she called a babysitter, she was there 1hr later to "rescue me" from that hell hole or, should I say, IGNORANCE. She questioned me a bit on the way home, dealt with my withdrawals by pulling over when I needed to get sick, etc. until we got home and then snapped a benzo in half. She tossed it in my mouth and grunted, "Drink. I'm tired, dammit."
We went to bed. I am so dramatic but I learned a valuable lesson. YOU CAN'T cut corners and try to detox off of something your Dr. gave you 6 weeks to do at home. I thought I had no self control to do this. I just wanted it to be OVER!!!!
As it stands, I am down to 2.5 mg per day. I am no longer taking them for anxiety and panic but for withdrawal purposes only. I am doing well. I do flip out if I sleep too long and wake up in a cold sweat with tremors. I slept in yesterday and was very ill but I worked through it. I am not going to lie. I am so scared that I am going to have a panic attack and no benzos to get me through it. BUTTTT I hate to admit it. I haven't cut since that crazy detox day and I have only had 2 panic attacks. I have more energy and the wife says that she can "see the life in my eyes again." So, that's amazing!! Now if only we can get the random crying, anger management, delusions, and self hatred under control! ::Sigh:: I know, kids. ONE THING AT A TIME.
WATCH MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL "THE TRUTH ABOUT CRAZY"
Judgementally Yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Brain Explosion
Soooo...
First: I "self injured" early this morning (per twitter)..........GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Again, my brain exploded to the point of Youtube freaking out at my latest creation and telling me the file was too large. I realized that I may be able to cram a whole life story in a therapy session, not a VLOG. I am super, super excited about my newest creation and with an expected rocky start I believe that this is the beginning of what should be discussed. I have watched about 35 VLOGS in the past few days on mental illness (to learn) and although I have nothing OUTRIGHT negative to say, I can see that the focus is different. Most of the people are complaining. I complain all of the time so I am not pointing the finger. But, it is my firm belief that if we are going to get something meaningful started and I MEAN WE, US, "CRAZIES."
It is one thing to complain and that is what my idea started as today. BUT, you have to at least throw a bunch of ideas at a wall and hope one sticks. A lot of people may like to read but I wanted to also provide substance through video...and my bitch fest was an EXACT example of how hard it is to NOT complain throughout the entire video. I liked that I failed, I will challenge myself...something I have not done in a long time. I know this blog seems kinda perky tonight...It's probably because I just had a good night with my hubby...
Lastly, the point of the future VLOG project should be about me being a hot mess + all of us a mess + possible days with failures, successes, and ways to prevent things like self harm, panic attacks, etc.
We can all be fucked up mental superheroes y'all....I always wanted to start a revolution!!!!!!!
Exclusive e-mail account to my readers: truthaboutcrazy@yahoo.com That is designated for getting to know each other, ideas (ridiculous or not), my dear friends I have already made, etc.
PEACE,
Truthaboutcrazy
First: I "self injured" early this morning (per twitter)..........GRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!
Again, my brain exploded to the point of Youtube freaking out at my latest creation and telling me the file was too large. I realized that I may be able to cram a whole life story in a therapy session, not a VLOG. I am super, super excited about my newest creation and with an expected rocky start I believe that this is the beginning of what should be discussed. I have watched about 35 VLOGS in the past few days on mental illness (to learn) and although I have nothing OUTRIGHT negative to say, I can see that the focus is different. Most of the people are complaining. I complain all of the time so I am not pointing the finger. But, it is my firm belief that if we are going to get something meaningful started and I MEAN WE, US, "CRAZIES."
It is one thing to complain and that is what my idea started as today. BUT, you have to at least throw a bunch of ideas at a wall and hope one sticks. A lot of people may like to read but I wanted to also provide substance through video...and my bitch fest was an EXACT example of how hard it is to NOT complain throughout the entire video. I liked that I failed, I will challenge myself...something I have not done in a long time. I know this blog seems kinda perky tonight...It's probably because I just had a good night with my hubby...
Lastly, the point of the future VLOG project should be about me being a hot mess + all of us a mess + possible days with failures, successes, and ways to prevent things like self harm, panic attacks, etc.
We can all be fucked up mental superheroes y'all....I always wanted to start a revolution!!!!!!!
Exclusive e-mail account to my readers: truthaboutcrazy@yahoo.com That is designated for getting to know each other, ideas (ridiculous or not), my dear friends I have already made, etc.
PEACE,
Truthaboutcrazy
Monday, October 31, 2011
Helpless?
First, I would like to let you all know that my next blog will have a video attachment that isn't a cute/silly slideshow. I want to "introduce" myself to you all and reach out to as many people as possible. The GREAT part is that I won't be reaching out because I have my shit together. I'm a mess. I want to just exist as someone in cyberspace with an opinion and maybe a few facts....yeah...I'll try to work in a few facts : )
So, do I feel helpless? Today. Yes. But not always. I poured my heart out on what I think would be my first VLOG and I ended up talking so long, at some point my computer was like, "Fuck Off! I Quit!" So, its gone and I don't remember what I have updated you guys on and what I haven't. Total internal temper tantrum happening right now.
But, that's not the reason why I feel hopeless. I am going to keep this brief tonight because I will be "speaking" with you guys very soon. I am so excited. You will still be able to click on it right here on Blogger.
I just noticed a typo that I am going to keep on this page. Apparently, I feel helpless and hopeless. Mmmmm kinda. Exactly one week ago I made a lame attempt at suicide and landed myself in a crisis center. I had changed health coverage so I ended up in an new location that scared me and I was going to see another Dr. Total Panic, Manic, insanity breakdown. I must have been somewhat sane because I tried to run out of the building like a screaming banshee woman and then I turned to my 6ft tall wife and yelled, "That Bitch in the glass window probably has the ability to lock the doors by pushing a damn button!" I started laughing and crying and said, "I'm not going to attack her (pointing at tall wife) she can outsmart me!" I just sat down. @mindofmedusa showed up 5 minutes later to comfort hers (me) and forced jokes and laughter upon me until it was my time to get a 2nd opinion....
I wish to speak with you directly about the rest of my damn day there so...To Be Continued (I fucking hate that term)
Ridiculously Yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
So, do I feel helpless? Today. Yes. But not always. I poured my heart out on what I think would be my first VLOG and I ended up talking so long, at some point my computer was like, "Fuck Off! I Quit!" So, its gone and I don't remember what I have updated you guys on and what I haven't. Total internal temper tantrum happening right now.
But, that's not the reason why I feel hopeless. I am going to keep this brief tonight because I will be "speaking" with you guys very soon. I am so excited. You will still be able to click on it right here on Blogger.
I just noticed a typo that I am going to keep on this page. Apparently, I feel helpless and hopeless. Mmmmm kinda. Exactly one week ago I made a lame attempt at suicide and landed myself in a crisis center. I had changed health coverage so I ended up in an new location that scared me and I was going to see another Dr. Total Panic, Manic, insanity breakdown. I must have been somewhat sane because I tried to run out of the building like a screaming banshee woman and then I turned to my 6ft tall wife and yelled, "That Bitch in the glass window probably has the ability to lock the doors by pushing a damn button!" I started laughing and crying and said, "I'm not going to attack her (pointing at tall wife) she can outsmart me!" I just sat down. @mindofmedusa showed up 5 minutes later to comfort hers (me) and forced jokes and laughter upon me until it was my time to get a 2nd opinion....
I wish to speak with you directly about the rest of my damn day there so...To Be Continued (I fucking hate that term)
Ridiculously Yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Cheap and Evil Girl
Idiot is the girl who had no idea she was suffering...
As most of you know by now, @mindofmedusa and I are #LLBFF's and have caused a lot of trouble in the workplace when we first met, and even more drama after leaving due to medical reasons. One day we are manic, fun, and social and the next thing we knew we were afraid to leave our homes. Bff's that see each other once every 2 months? Thank you twitter!
Anyways, here is a PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT for any government official who questions the integrity of our rapid downfall or the ASSHATS that were clueless on the fact that we could tough it up and thought we were just having a bad couple of days.
Modern Day AbFab Bitches!
Fuck Off Normals!
As most of you know by now, @mindofmedusa and I are #LLBFF's and have caused a lot of trouble in the workplace when we first met, and even more drama after leaving due to medical reasons. One day we are manic, fun, and social and the next thing we knew we were afraid to leave our homes. Bff's that see each other once every 2 months? Thank you twitter!
Anyways, here is a PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT for any government official who questions the integrity of our rapid downfall or the ASSHATS that were clueless on the fact that we could tough it up and thought we were just having a bad couple of days.
Modern Day AbFab Bitches!
Fuck Off Normals!
Thursday, October 20, 2011
This one is for the ladies...
OR this one is for the men who want a bit more insight on the ladies........
I've noticed that there is a topic we haven't really touched on the topic of PMDD. Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) is a topic that most of us have heard of or know a bit about but I was baffled when I noticed the link between PMDD and its contribution to all types of mental illnesses.
Now, the good news? You will notice that your body will bounce back 1-2 days before your cycle or the day that you start. Also, only 8 - 13% of women have this disorder and more than likely we don't all have it. I found out when I went from working out 4-5 days a week at a healthy weight and eating well to not following my regimen. I haven't been so consistent and my Dr. and I have had several long discussions about this ddisorder. He does not know too many people that have this disorder since only 1 out of 10 of his female patients actually show the signs.
Next, he had me keep a journal about my sleep, emotions and behaviors the week before my cycle. No, I did not keep a journal but I basically logged it in my head and updated him with the information. He knew without a doubt that I had this and I was diagnosed because I observed one very important piece of documentation....MY BLOG. Even though it was a bunch of blah blah blah it painted this visual for me. Twitter actually helped too. I noticed different behaviors depending on the week, it indicated when I was suicidal, and it pointed out when most of my panic attacks occurred. Moving forward, I know this is going to totally help my life, my family (on the bad days), and I hope it helps you too!!!!!
So, if you can relate to a lot of this information provided, you may want to take notice during "that time." You may not just be "dramatic and emotional" such as experience regular PMS (ugh). In addition, another way to confirm PMDD is to get your pituitary gland checked out and your thyroid. The two additional tests can basically confirm if you have this or not.
How can I prevent the symptoms or lower the effects?
fascinating regards,
Truthaboutcrazy
I've noticed that there is a topic we haven't really touched on the topic of PMDD. Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) is a topic that most of us have heard of or know a bit about but I was baffled when I noticed the link between PMDD and its contribution to all types of mental illnesses.
- PMDD causes depression; however, if you have already been diagnosed with depression or any mental disease or disorder it worsens the symptoms.
- In addition, it causes extreme disinterest in daily activities, out of control behavior, binge eating, and more importantly SUICIDAL tendencies during the last part of the menstrual cycle.
- Irritability, Extreme Anxiety, and SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) are additional factors that are ELEVATED for those diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder (I or II), Depression, Schizophrenia, Multiple Personality Disorder, Borderline Personality Disorder, and ESPECIALLY individuals who suffer from a mental illness and INSOMNIA.
- The complete sleep cycle is impacted by PMDD. It may be insomnia BUT it may also have the opposite effect...extended periods of sleep and when you are actually awake you feel like a slug.
Now, the good news? You will notice that your body will bounce back 1-2 days before your cycle or the day that you start. Also, only 8 - 13% of women have this disorder and more than likely we don't all have it. I found out when I went from working out 4-5 days a week at a healthy weight and eating well to not following my regimen. I haven't been so consistent and my Dr. and I have had several long discussions about this ddisorder. He does not know too many people that have this disorder since only 1 out of 10 of his female patients actually show the signs.
Next, he had me keep a journal about my sleep, emotions and behaviors the week before my cycle. No, I did not keep a journal but I basically logged it in my head and updated him with the information. He knew without a doubt that I had this and I was diagnosed because I observed one very important piece of documentation....MY BLOG. Even though it was a bunch of blah blah blah it painted this visual for me. Twitter actually helped too. I noticed different behaviors depending on the week, it indicated when I was suicidal, and it pointed out when most of my panic attacks occurred. Moving forward, I know this is going to totally help my life, my family (on the bad days), and I hope it helps you too!!!!!
So, if you can relate to a lot of this information provided, you may want to take notice during "that time." You may not just be "dramatic and emotional" such as experience regular PMS (ugh). In addition, another way to confirm PMDD is to get your pituitary gland checked out and your thyroid. The two additional tests can basically confirm if you have this or not.
How can I prevent the symptoms or lower the effects?
- Take extra calcium, magnesium, B6 and B12 vitamin supplements the week before and the week of your cycle.
- exercise...even if it is going for a few simple walks (those help with damn cramps anyways).
- Drink your tea and get plenty of antioxidants.
- cut down on alcohol and caffeine (ewww yeah right).
- Birth Control may help
- Diuretics (that one surprised me)
fascinating regards,
Truthaboutcrazy
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Xanax (benzos)
I remember when one of you made it all better;
and the promises made to change my life.
I remember when my head started swimming,
And I needed you to stay alive.
I just needed one.
and now it is five.
My blood crawls with rage if I don't have you on time.
What have you done?
I didn't even want you,
I didn't want to feel this way.
What have you done?
I didn't even need you,
just wanted the hurt to go away.
I remember when I called you my savior
Now I hate every piece of you.
I remember when heartache was a daily routine;
and the day I sought after you.
What have you done?
I didn't even want you,
I didn't even want to feel this way.
What have you done?
I didn't even need you,
just wanted the hurt to go away
And so...
I needed you after all,
I didn't really want to fall.
My body craves you after all.
I didn't really want to fall.
But I needed you after all...
(Sigh....)
I remember when heartache was a daily routine;
and the day I sought after you.
and the promises made to change my life.
I remember when my head started swimming,
And I needed you to stay alive.
I just needed one.
and now it is five.
My blood crawls with rage if I don't have you on time.
What have you done?
I didn't even want you,
I didn't want to feel this way.
What have you done?
I didn't even need you,
just wanted the hurt to go away.
I remember when I called you my savior
Now I hate every piece of you.
I remember when heartache was a daily routine;
and the day I sought after you.
What have you done?
I didn't even want you,
I didn't even want to feel this way.
What have you done?
I didn't even need you,
just wanted the hurt to go away
And so...
I needed you after all,
I didn't really want to fall.
My body craves you after all.
I didn't really want to fall.
But I needed you after all...
(Sigh....)
I remember when heartache was a daily routine;
and the day I sought after you.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Bastard
:::::: "I can't breath! Please don't kill me! I'm pregnant!!"
The pillow is lifted off my face...eyes the size of marbles.....
Suddenly, my underwear is on the bed and he has scissors. He is cutting the crotch out of all of my underwear except for a few matronly ones and throws them at me. I'm dizzy.
I start to scream. I'm called a fat slut. I feel a blunt object in the back of my head and then...lights out
He's paranoid again. (a fucking vicious cycle) ::::::::::
Bastard!
I went out on a limb after being gay since I was 12 and decided to make an attempt to conform to society by jumping into a heterosexual relationship. 5 months later I was pregnant. I know it sounds strange but after his father begged me for a grandchild, he eventually got his wish. Everyone was so damn excited. I was petrified and happy at the same time. In the back of my mind I questioned myself on my decision to procreate with the father. I went through a checklist and decided that it could have been worse. Home, Car, Job...yeah...we'd be fine.
I started to get really excited. Morning sickness was a bitch but I dealt with it. I began to read every baby book known to man to make sure I was doing everything right. A week later, there was an accident. I was called to the hospital. My son's father had lost 3 fingers in a work accident. It was tough. He had phantom limb syndrome and was in so much pain. But the worst? He was prescribed Oxycontin (not Oxycodone) for the pain. I was all for it at first...I mean he lost part of his hand. What I didn't know was that he was secretly an addict...not just pills...everything your brain can wrap itself around...he did.
Bastard!
He started chewing the pills up and taking too many. Then he went to the Dr. for back pain and he was doing what we call "Dr. Shopping." The pills were pouring in from every direction. He sold a few to buy other drugs too. I slowly realized I never knew his dark side.
The abuse began when I was 4 months pregnant. I was knocked down so hard I thought the baby was hurt. I was treated like shit until one day we were pulled over and I found out that he had an ACTIVE warrant out for his arrest? Who is this person? Once I found out, his paranoia got so bad he locked me in a room the size of a closet and only allowed to come out to use the bathroom or ask for a meal. Was this the same person? He was taken away to jail a few weeks later when they busted him for dealing drugs to an undercover officer. It wasn't until a month before the baby arrived (early) that he was released. He seamed much calmer and wanted to straighten up. I told him it was his second chance and I will leave if it happens again. I meant it. The baby arrived, and it only took 4 months. He threw me out of a car and since my only family member I had was out of town until the next day I asked to drive and suggested that he relax (didn't know what to say). I forced him to apologize and went home, all banged up to hell, and went to bed. The next day he threw a very large hard toy at my head and I was knocked out again. Angrily, I gathered my stuff and went to work. What he didn't know that I had managed to keep part of my paychecks away from him and was setting up the perfect time to leave.
Sometimes there isn't a perfect time....
Bastard
At the end of my shift I couldn't find my car. I reported it to the security guard and requested a call to the police. Before my dad landed from the airport, got my hysterical message, and made it to my work I had been sitting outside crying for at least an hour. Right before Dad arrived I received a creepy phone call, "I took the car. I put the baby in a Taxi without a car seat, then I called a locksmith, and I found your hidden ATM card. I took all of the money out of your account and took the baby to go buy Crack. Whatcha gonna do about it BITCH?
*Click* The phone goes dead and at this point I am hyperventilating and having somewhat of an outer body experience freak out.
Bastard
::::Fast Forward again::::
The police met Dad, me, and his wife in a separate car at a local clothing store. We came up with a plan to just raid the home. The house that I had decorated, painted, and made a beautiful place for a baby. But that house was not where we were meant to be. We were meant to be safe (not like punching bags). My son was still so tiny. So in 45 minutes we bagged up all that we could and bolted while the cops climbed under the house to catch him....he escaped. It wasn't until many months later that he was locked up for a year and a half. By that time I was able to establish a life for myself and my son.
He moved on after jail as well, got married, had another son, etc. But old habits die hard!
Now: He has no relationship with my son. My son is 7 now. No more Christmas or birthday calls...no letters. My son told me one day he thought I was worthless. I can't believe my kid felt that way let alone articulate it. My poor sweet baby...I had to think fast....
I told him that his dad was sick. I told him he was gone for 90 days to get medical attention and I told him that when he hides in the bathroom he was "getting" sick. I stopped all visits immediately. I found out there was dog feces, a lack of food, and no bed for my son to sleep on. I really thought that rehab was his rock bottom.
Nope.
Vicious cycle.
Guess what? Bastard
Now he has a warrant for his arrest. Sound familiar? My son doesn't know. It's irrelevant.
He is using again. EVERYTHING. Dirty needles, meth, coke, crack, methadone, heroin, you name it and he is on it. Completely wreckless and living in his damn car. A few days went by and kiddo asked about his dad daily. No phone call. After a few weeks he began to ask if he would receive a letter of some sort and after months, he doesn't ask at all. In fact, he cringes if someone brings it up and changes the subject. He is over the moon to say with confidence, "I have a mommy #1 and a mommy #2." Lovely!
Tears of pain. Tears of joy. Tears of mental anguish. Tears of elation. But not one tear was shed over meeting my son's father. Sometimes you endure pain to receive a blessing. A smart, witty, blessing.
So there we have it.
My child.........................is......................a...........bastard.
Thankfully yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
The pillow is lifted off my face...eyes the size of marbles.....
Suddenly, my underwear is on the bed and he has scissors. He is cutting the crotch out of all of my underwear except for a few matronly ones and throws them at me. I'm dizzy.
I start to scream. I'm called a fat slut. I feel a blunt object in the back of my head and then...lights out
He's paranoid again. (a fucking vicious cycle) ::::::::::
Bastard!
I went out on a limb after being gay since I was 12 and decided to make an attempt to conform to society by jumping into a heterosexual relationship. 5 months later I was pregnant. I know it sounds strange but after his father begged me for a grandchild, he eventually got his wish. Everyone was so damn excited. I was petrified and happy at the same time. In the back of my mind I questioned myself on my decision to procreate with the father. I went through a checklist and decided that it could have been worse. Home, Car, Job...yeah...we'd be fine.
I started to get really excited. Morning sickness was a bitch but I dealt with it. I began to read every baby book known to man to make sure I was doing everything right. A week later, there was an accident. I was called to the hospital. My son's father had lost 3 fingers in a work accident. It was tough. He had phantom limb syndrome and was in so much pain. But the worst? He was prescribed Oxycontin (not Oxycodone) for the pain. I was all for it at first...I mean he lost part of his hand. What I didn't know was that he was secretly an addict...not just pills...everything your brain can wrap itself around...he did.
Bastard!
He started chewing the pills up and taking too many. Then he went to the Dr. for back pain and he was doing what we call "Dr. Shopping." The pills were pouring in from every direction. He sold a few to buy other drugs too. I slowly realized I never knew his dark side.
The abuse began when I was 4 months pregnant. I was knocked down so hard I thought the baby was hurt. I was treated like shit until one day we were pulled over and I found out that he had an ACTIVE warrant out for his arrest? Who is this person? Once I found out, his paranoia got so bad he locked me in a room the size of a closet and only allowed to come out to use the bathroom or ask for a meal. Was this the same person? He was taken away to jail a few weeks later when they busted him for dealing drugs to an undercover officer. It wasn't until a month before the baby arrived (early) that he was released. He seamed much calmer and wanted to straighten up. I told him it was his second chance and I will leave if it happens again. I meant it. The baby arrived, and it only took 4 months. He threw me out of a car and since my only family member I had was out of town until the next day I asked to drive and suggested that he relax (didn't know what to say). I forced him to apologize and went home, all banged up to hell, and went to bed. The next day he threw a very large hard toy at my head and I was knocked out again. Angrily, I gathered my stuff and went to work. What he didn't know that I had managed to keep part of my paychecks away from him and was setting up the perfect time to leave.
Sometimes there isn't a perfect time....
Bastard
At the end of my shift I couldn't find my car. I reported it to the security guard and requested a call to the police. Before my dad landed from the airport, got my hysterical message, and made it to my work I had been sitting outside crying for at least an hour. Right before Dad arrived I received a creepy phone call, "I took the car. I put the baby in a Taxi without a car seat, then I called a locksmith, and I found your hidden ATM card. I took all of the money out of your account and took the baby to go buy Crack. Whatcha gonna do about it BITCH?
*Click* The phone goes dead and at this point I am hyperventilating and having somewhat of an outer body experience freak out.
Bastard
::::Fast Forward again::::
The police met Dad, me, and his wife in a separate car at a local clothing store. We came up with a plan to just raid the home. The house that I had decorated, painted, and made a beautiful place for a baby. But that house was not where we were meant to be. We were meant to be safe (not like punching bags). My son was still so tiny. So in 45 minutes we bagged up all that we could and bolted while the cops climbed under the house to catch him....he escaped. It wasn't until many months later that he was locked up for a year and a half. By that time I was able to establish a life for myself and my son.
He moved on after jail as well, got married, had another son, etc. But old habits die hard!
Now: He has no relationship with my son. My son is 7 now. No more Christmas or birthday calls...no letters. My son told me one day he thought I was worthless. I can't believe my kid felt that way let alone articulate it. My poor sweet baby...I had to think fast....
I told him that his dad was sick. I told him he was gone for 90 days to get medical attention and I told him that when he hides in the bathroom he was "getting" sick. I stopped all visits immediately. I found out there was dog feces, a lack of food, and no bed for my son to sleep on. I really thought that rehab was his rock bottom.
Nope.
Vicious cycle.
Guess what? Bastard
Now he has a warrant for his arrest. Sound familiar? My son doesn't know. It's irrelevant.
He is using again. EVERYTHING. Dirty needles, meth, coke, crack, methadone, heroin, you name it and he is on it. Completely wreckless and living in his damn car. A few days went by and kiddo asked about his dad daily. No phone call. After a few weeks he began to ask if he would receive a letter of some sort and after months, he doesn't ask at all. In fact, he cringes if someone brings it up and changes the subject. He is over the moon to say with confidence, "I have a mommy #1 and a mommy #2." Lovely!
Tears of pain. Tears of joy. Tears of mental anguish. Tears of elation. But not one tear was shed over meeting my son's father. Sometimes you endure pain to receive a blessing. A smart, witty, blessing.
So there we have it.
My child.........................is......................a...........bastard.
Thankfully yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
Sunday, October 2, 2011
HATE
I don't have to seek out drama...it always finds me. (haha...whatever) *rolls eyes*
(2 days later and I still shudder from the pain)
Quietly, I sneak into the pub a few minutes late for a laid back night of poker, beer, and meaningless conversation. An even tempered acquaintance of mine who only knows a bit about my illness, invited me to the game.
I've been there before...no issues.
What the people I play cards with don't know (and I don't expect them to), is that a shower, an outfit, makeup, a benzo to calm me down, dinner made for the kiddo, and babysitter are required for me to leave the house.
Then, I have to make it past the door. (yikes!)
So, I actually accomplish the previously mentioned. I get into the car (it is still twilight). I pull out of the driveway and anxiety smacks me in the face. I'm already in the car, I know the drill, just drive. With every curve and every hill I hold my breath. BUT, I know exactly where I am going (I tell myself that every time I start to freak out). I'm late by only a few minutes so its cool.
I arrive. Time for beer, talking smack, and playin' poker. I wave hello to my friend and we start to play. Everyone is having a good time. Just like any other Texas Hold'em tournament, as people get knocked out the tables diminish and people shift around. Someone, with a slightly familiar face, joins our table. Hey! we all say and without skipping a beat, we deal him in, and the game continues on.
By this time we have all built a slight rapport and a nice little buzz from the booze. New Dude, tries to play catch up with the rapport building and takes a slight jab at me. (Someone else) asked me if my husband was playing cards that night too.
Side note: I am not embarrassed about being GAY! In fact, we are the type of couple that goes about are business just like anyone else whether we are in the store or at home; however, drunk guys ask 500 billion questions about lesbians. The conversation takes forever! So, Just for one night. I wanted to blend in with everyone else and just relax:::::::::::
He could tell that I smoothly answered the question with, "This is my night out. Its healthy to be in a relationship if each person has a bit of their own thing occasionally."
IMMEDIATELY: He jumps in and said NO, that guy meant to say, "How is your wife?" I quickly looked at a tough dude at the table and back at him and say, "hahahaha you are so silly I didn't hear half of whats going on...lets talk later." Smiling, I eventually finished my time in the game and walked away.
Round 2: 30 minutes later. I have time for a snack and to check on the baseball game and then sign in and play. I sit at a different table than that little TWIT. While playing I overhear someone say, "I hate when that guy is here...hopefully he leaves early...he's already been kicked out twice."
I remain cautious and carefully choose my next table....Eventually, the players diminish and he ends up NEXT TO ME!!! I begin to start kicking butt and I have a good chance of winning; however, TWIT continues to get drunk, obnoxious, and just plain ridiculous. He jabs at a few others (honestly he held his liquor well).
He then turns to me and starts saying, "Did you and your wife split up...what is going on?"
At this point I just decide to be very honest but speak quietly. I said to him, "I just want a day to blend in and take a break from all the Lesbian hype. The questions, the jokes, the...." HE CUTS ME OFF
It flips, and he decides to start mocking me. The attack begins when someone asked him if he served in the armed forces for our country. (He still does) He says, "Yeah, but I got kicked out for slowly lubing up my body in the morning and prancing around in rainbow underwear." (Glaring at me the whole time). I said, "that sucks." ::::I don't want to egg him on and it was a lame joke::::
No one laughs, kind of gets uncomfortable, and blows it off. Obviously, he sees that AGAIN he is not the damn center of attention. He slowly whispers in my ear, "What's wrong with your vagina? Is it damaged or retarded? Whats wrong with you that makes you want a woman?"
I cannot help to look at him with disgust (looking back he was craving that).
It continues, "You're embarrassed by her, that's why she isn't here." I shake my head and roll my eyes. "Gay people are so queer."
Now remember, no one at the table really knows what the hells is going on so one guy speaks up and says, "I thought you said something about getting kicked out of the Navy....." He cuts him off and yells, "Are we playing a game or what?!" While the cards are being dealt he says, "How do you know that friend of yours here...you guys would make a great FUCK couple." I told him that we used to work together and that he is friends with a few of my friends.
I block him out for about 20 minutes and stare straight at the game. I am focused, trying, to pay for my tab, and, well shit I love poker and that is why I drove there! In my head I think THIS IS MY NIGHT some stupid guy who possibly hates gays is not going to ruin it. I have never let it stop me before...
Out of nowhere I feel warm breathe on my ear...steamy...very close...I hear, "What's your problem lady queer? Can't take the heat. Why are you being so cold?"
I'm uncomfortable. 1 tear streams down my eye, lips pursed, I continue to ignore him. Giving him what he wants won't work. For the next ten minutes I fight back the "ugly cry." He is screaming at a girl that he calls his wife and says, "I'm almost sober bitch, get me a shot!" He waits for her to leave and turns to me again and says, "PUSSY!" The "P" produced a large amount of saliva as he lunged at me and it landed on my ear. He begins to laugh loudly. Another tear streams from the other eye...at this point I really thought someone would notice...the guys at the table don't know if we are playing or if he is being mean to me.
Someone gets up and grabs the manager and said, "There's a girl crying...I'm not sure why." The manager said she would be back in a few minutes. After all, crying drunk women are a dime a dozen. I fold my hand and get up from the table and run to a different room to tell my friend that I really don't want to start trouble but I am beginning to get angry and I needed him to back me up...he saw the tears and went over to the guy and had words. He said it was OK to go back and the guy was going to apologize for being disorderly and his poor judgement.
There is no apology. He just yells, "Everyone I'm done I'm done I'm done....FOR REAL" He stops talking so I said I appreciate the peace and I am fine as long as nothing continues. The other folks and I begin to laugh and carry on. He can't stay quiet any longer and looks at me and snaps, "Queer! Bitch! You stupid slut. You have to run and tell your friend BULLSHIT! I never did anything except sit here and mind my own business! (ummm no)
He spat on me again and called me a bitch right when the Manager came to the table and asked what was wrong. I told her I didn't want to start any problems and that I had to leave. She asked again and I become faint and before I take the easy route and fall. I run out of the bar like someone that stole something. Hysterically crying and shouting its not fair.
The Bouncer tried to stop me from crying. I stopped for him. Told him. He said that spitting and 2 hours of harassment was a hate crime and asked me if I wanted to call the police. I said I just want to go home (screechy cry) and I grab the hand rail. A witness came out and stated he didn't know what was going on because he didn't know why the guy was yelling to begin with and thought he was just being a weirdo saying stuff that didn't make sense. I turn to the bouncer and say, "I'm leaving now to call my partner."
It took me 30 minutes to collect myself and leave the parking lot. Yes, I cry a lot. But I was actually in shock. Did I really get saliva all over the side of my face and called every name in the book. I grabbed a tissue and wiped the right side of my face...
Sure enough..........It did happen.
::::::::I would like to say that although I wasn't punched or kicked, I had a small taste of a hate crime. My heart goes out to all of you that have experienced much worse for being GAY. I have never felt more disgusting and in need of shower since the day I was raped. VICTIMS (no matter what kind) should never have to be forced to feel disgusting because someone else hurt you mentally o physically. We must stand tall and push through it!:::::::
I'm glad I came home to my wife and her cousin. I cannot say with confidence that I wouldn't have beat the shit out of myself that night, or worse, without the support.
Say NO to Hate,
Truthaboutcrazy
(2 days later and I still shudder from the pain)
Quietly, I sneak into the pub a few minutes late for a laid back night of poker, beer, and meaningless conversation. An even tempered acquaintance of mine who only knows a bit about my illness, invited me to the game.
I've been there before...no issues.
What the people I play cards with don't know (and I don't expect them to), is that a shower, an outfit, makeup, a benzo to calm me down, dinner made for the kiddo, and babysitter are required for me to leave the house.
Then, I have to make it past the door. (yikes!)
So, I actually accomplish the previously mentioned. I get into the car (it is still twilight). I pull out of the driveway and anxiety smacks me in the face. I'm already in the car, I know the drill, just drive. With every curve and every hill I hold my breath. BUT, I know exactly where I am going (I tell myself that every time I start to freak out). I'm late by only a few minutes so its cool.
I arrive. Time for beer, talking smack, and playin' poker. I wave hello to my friend and we start to play. Everyone is having a good time. Just like any other Texas Hold'em tournament, as people get knocked out the tables diminish and people shift around. Someone, with a slightly familiar face, joins our table. Hey! we all say and without skipping a beat, we deal him in, and the game continues on.
By this time we have all built a slight rapport and a nice little buzz from the booze. New Dude, tries to play catch up with the rapport building and takes a slight jab at me. (Someone else) asked me if my husband was playing cards that night too.
Side note: I am not embarrassed about being GAY! In fact, we are the type of couple that goes about are business just like anyone else whether we are in the store or at home; however, drunk guys ask 500 billion questions about lesbians. The conversation takes forever! So, Just for one night. I wanted to blend in with everyone else and just relax:::::::::::
He could tell that I smoothly answered the question with, "This is my night out. Its healthy to be in a relationship if each person has a bit of their own thing occasionally."
IMMEDIATELY: He jumps in and said NO, that guy meant to say, "How is your wife?" I quickly looked at a tough dude at the table and back at him and say, "hahahaha you are so silly I didn't hear half of whats going on...lets talk later." Smiling, I eventually finished my time in the game and walked away.
Round 2: 30 minutes later. I have time for a snack and to check on the baseball game and then sign in and play. I sit at a different table than that little TWIT. While playing I overhear someone say, "I hate when that guy is here...hopefully he leaves early...he's already been kicked out twice."
I remain cautious and carefully choose my next table....Eventually, the players diminish and he ends up NEXT TO ME!!! I begin to start kicking butt and I have a good chance of winning; however, TWIT continues to get drunk, obnoxious, and just plain ridiculous. He jabs at a few others (honestly he held his liquor well).
He then turns to me and starts saying, "Did you and your wife split up...what is going on?"
At this point I just decide to be very honest but speak quietly. I said to him, "I just want a day to blend in and take a break from all the Lesbian hype. The questions, the jokes, the...." HE CUTS ME OFF
It flips, and he decides to start mocking me. The attack begins when someone asked him if he served in the armed forces for our country. (He still does) He says, "Yeah, but I got kicked out for slowly lubing up my body in the morning and prancing around in rainbow underwear." (Glaring at me the whole time). I said, "that sucks." ::::I don't want to egg him on and it was a lame joke::::
No one laughs, kind of gets uncomfortable, and blows it off. Obviously, he sees that AGAIN he is not the damn center of attention. He slowly whispers in my ear, "What's wrong with your vagina? Is it damaged or retarded? Whats wrong with you that makes you want a woman?"
I cannot help to look at him with disgust (looking back he was craving that).
It continues, "You're embarrassed by her, that's why she isn't here." I shake my head and roll my eyes. "Gay people are so queer."
Now remember, no one at the table really knows what the hells is going on so one guy speaks up and says, "I thought you said something about getting kicked out of the Navy....." He cuts him off and yells, "Are we playing a game or what?!" While the cards are being dealt he says, "How do you know that friend of yours here...you guys would make a great FUCK couple." I told him that we used to work together and that he is friends with a few of my friends.
I block him out for about 20 minutes and stare straight at the game. I am focused, trying, to pay for my tab, and, well shit I love poker and that is why I drove there! In my head I think THIS IS MY NIGHT some stupid guy who possibly hates gays is not going to ruin it. I have never let it stop me before...
Out of nowhere I feel warm breathe on my ear...steamy...very close...I hear, "What's your problem lady queer? Can't take the heat. Why are you being so cold?"
I'm uncomfortable. 1 tear streams down my eye, lips pursed, I continue to ignore him. Giving him what he wants won't work. For the next ten minutes I fight back the "ugly cry." He is screaming at a girl that he calls his wife and says, "I'm almost sober bitch, get me a shot!" He waits for her to leave and turns to me again and says, "PUSSY!" The "P" produced a large amount of saliva as he lunged at me and it landed on my ear. He begins to laugh loudly. Another tear streams from the other eye...at this point I really thought someone would notice...the guys at the table don't know if we are playing or if he is being mean to me.
Someone gets up and grabs the manager and said, "There's a girl crying...I'm not sure why." The manager said she would be back in a few minutes. After all, crying drunk women are a dime a dozen. I fold my hand and get up from the table and run to a different room to tell my friend that I really don't want to start trouble but I am beginning to get angry and I needed him to back me up...he saw the tears and went over to the guy and had words. He said it was OK to go back and the guy was going to apologize for being disorderly and his poor judgement.
There is no apology. He just yells, "Everyone I'm done I'm done I'm done....FOR REAL" He stops talking so I said I appreciate the peace and I am fine as long as nothing continues. The other folks and I begin to laugh and carry on. He can't stay quiet any longer and looks at me and snaps, "Queer! Bitch! You stupid slut. You have to run and tell your friend BULLSHIT! I never did anything except sit here and mind my own business! (ummm no)
He spat on me again and called me a bitch right when the Manager came to the table and asked what was wrong. I told her I didn't want to start any problems and that I had to leave. She asked again and I become faint and before I take the easy route and fall. I run out of the bar like someone that stole something. Hysterically crying and shouting its not fair.
The Bouncer tried to stop me from crying. I stopped for him. Told him. He said that spitting and 2 hours of harassment was a hate crime and asked me if I wanted to call the police. I said I just want to go home (screechy cry) and I grab the hand rail. A witness came out and stated he didn't know what was going on because he didn't know why the guy was yelling to begin with and thought he was just being a weirdo saying stuff that didn't make sense. I turn to the bouncer and say, "I'm leaving now to call my partner."
It took me 30 minutes to collect myself and leave the parking lot. Yes, I cry a lot. But I was actually in shock. Did I really get saliva all over the side of my face and called every name in the book. I grabbed a tissue and wiped the right side of my face...
Sure enough..........It did happen.
::::::::I would like to say that although I wasn't punched or kicked, I had a small taste of a hate crime. My heart goes out to all of you that have experienced much worse for being GAY. I have never felt more disgusting and in need of shower since the day I was raped. VICTIMS (no matter what kind) should never have to be forced to feel disgusting because someone else hurt you mentally o physically. We must stand tall and push through it!:::::::
I'm glad I came home to my wife and her cousin. I cannot say with confidence that I wouldn't have beat the shit out of myself that night, or worse, without the support.
Say NO to Hate,
Truthaboutcrazy
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Identity Crisis
Those were the days....
Or was it the beginning?
We were on the way back from a 4hr trip to the Casino. It was a blast. My friends all had a bit of Casino induced mania that I would actually categorize as "almost normal." We had so much fun! Most of us actually came out on top and even paid for food and gas on the way home...
I began to realize that the simple mood stabilizer and 1-2 benzos a day were possibly not enough. The slight mania resulted in a cycle down to a super low, and if my memory serves me right, I painted a lot of my friends house immediately after the low. The abstract work has been referred to as, "a scene out of a horror movie."
Let's fast forward a few months later. The Dr. bumps me up to double the mood stabilizer (300 mg of Lamictal or Lamatrigne) and three 1mg xanax per day (one every 6-8 hrs). I started to freak out because I didn't want to climb the painful ladder of abusing medication. I attempted to take matters into my own hands and skipped doses regularly. It caused me to end up in the psych ward (see previous post for additional information).
Additional medicine was required during that visit. I had dreams of getting lost in orange pill bottles, the sound pills make in my purse. I often skipped what I think I don't need, and then Waking up in withdrawal. Vomiting was a regular occurrence due to inconsistent ingestion of meds, non-stop panic attacks. So I would try to overcompensate by taking 1/3 of my bottle 3-4 bennadryl (allergy medicine) and sleeping pills during the day...
I loved that slowed down, nodding off, head rolling, feeling (some of you may have felt this). I lost my job, didn't give a shit, and continued to consult wit my Psych. about bumping up meds or changing them up.
Due to all of the changes I ended up having SEVERAL allergic reactions and sluggish reactions. I tried to drain my blood out of all of my veins because I had a psychotic break and thought my mom poisoned me. My mom is "loony" but she wouldn't poison me. THIS situation landed me back in the "home" or shall I say Psych Ward (see previous post). That about rounds out 2010 for me.
So now....I F'ing don't get it! I worked a total of 2 months and collected 3 months of Unemployment in 2010...drained my savings but didn't do anything super dumb. 2011, so far, I have worked a total of 6 months, and now the microscope from my entire family is on me....My band that made a few bucks here and there and hit it big at the "Smokehouse" and the "Exit/Inn" However, we broke up in April due to very positive reasons. I'm not mad at them...I miss them dearly and I became extremely depressed.
Lets quickly fast forward to 2011. So I have tripled my work activity and the year is not over yet. I have loved ones breathing down my neck for my next move and a tiny amount of money. In other words, my safe and carefree lifestyle is done with (for now). If it weren't for the 3 benzos (xanax) I just took, I would be punching things and screaming (and of course unable to type).
So I have calculated something priceless: I am miserable now. I was miserable at the previous job that had an hour commute there and the same back. BUT, If I was miserable then, now, who gives a shit what job I take...I am pissed at "Corporate America," So, tomorrow, it might be a scam, but I have an interview tomorrow about 20 minutes from my house. I do not want this job, I do not like the genre, but I am going to check out the location and just go for it. I can't lose anything, I can only gain insight. The first 19 weeks are a salary, reliable check, and then there is some other structure but it will pay the bills and get my wife off my back. It may be a scam. BUT unless I start leaving my house and actually checking things out for myself, then I will never know. I am tired of people getting on my case and I am tired of Looking for an answer at the bottom of a bottle.
I'm forced into misery at home, my "friends" are dropping like flies, and I want everyone off my case. So by the end of the week, if I am not working for a boutique, restaurant, or whatever I am going to tomorrow...I am going to do something to SHUT EVERYONE UP!
THE END,
TruthAboutCrazy
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Down and Out
I have a huge passion in my life...music...and a lot of people do. It's an excellent way to express yourself.
I love, love, love to write, sing, and perform. All though my roots are Blues/Rock, I found myself in early 2010 as the lead singer of a indie/punk band. At first, I wasn't the perfect fit...I needed to let go...I needed to let down my extremely damaged and fragile walls. As sensitive to change as I was, it finally happened one night at a "house show" in the middle of nowhere. I found my voice. Then, as quickly as it came, it went up in flames.........
I really feel as though we, as a band, had/have so much potential. A lot of my depression stems from the damage my band endured this year. Our drummer moved to another state and my mediocre bass player moved 2 hours away and was not willing to commit. My guitarist and I are the two that remain. The guitarist is a creative genius and is the producer as well. So we still have our roots but pushing through the adversity as a lonely duo has been difficult. What sucks is that all of that potential is dishevelled right now.
So...since my blog won't let me upload a simple recording I made a little slide show for you guys because the stupid piece of crap "Blogger" would only take a video.
Oh, and I figured since I am always embarrassed and anxious that this would be therapeutic or some shit : )
"Down and Out"
Friday, September 2, 2011
PTSD: Get Out of My Brain!
Hmmm...that news article looks interesting...let's take a look...
(As I read) I wonder why my heart is pounding? I'm completely relaxed. I was in good company tonight. Did I take my meds on time? Yep. Perfect. My heart feels funny. This article is really good and I can completely relate to it.
I think I am having a panic attack. What time is it? Where am I?
I close my eyes and I am no longer in my home. I open my eyes and I am. So, I am not blacking out, hallucinating, etc. This must be a memory. So, I close my eyes again and I realize I am in my grandmother's old house. I am about 6 years old and I am playing in the spare bedroom that no one goes in too often. It smells kind of dusty. I am laying on a bed on my stomach playing with some old toys my dad used to play with when he was a kid. She saved almost all of the toys. The toys were some army toys, a bunch of minature telephones and one large rotary phone. It was a marigold like color. One of the little phones was baby blue (wow I just remembered that).
::I am the oldest female in the new generation of family members. My cousin, he, is the oldest::
As I play with my toys I realize that I am not alone. We are playing together. It's fun. We are talking into the little phones and then hanging up and answering a different one. We are giggling. After all, I am only 6 and he is 9 (I think) maybe 10 or 11.
Our family was in the kitchen cooking...we are Italian so that means 9 people crammed into a tiny kitchen arguing while then men watch football.
Next, he suggests this weird game that I vaguely remember. Something about answering the phone and if I answer the one that he was thinking of I win. The prize was a kiss. "OK," I said. After all, I have seen family members do that so big deal. Right? Well finally I win...or something...my memory is a blur. He leans in and gives me a kiss. I turn my cheek for a family friendly kiss on the cheek.
Ummmm....yeah....that wasn't the plan and this is where the following gets really difficult to share (in fact, this is the 14th hour and 3 panic attacks since I began typing).
He leaned his head in and kissed me on the mouth. I giggled uncomfortably and was urged to keep on playing. The door was closed. The game continued. The roles were changed and I was asked to kiss him. Again, I went for the cheek (remembr I am 6 and I don't quite know what is "appropriate"). He turned his head and lightly grabbed the back of mine. His lips were wet. He kissed me again and again. No tounge. Then we go back to being silly and playing the game. Only this time the large telephone was incorporated into the game. More kissing. I push back. I feel uncomfortable...
The following is a bit explicit. Also, I am not quite sure what sparked this.
He became angry with me and told me that I made him sad and disappointed. Then....he reached for the large phone......grabbed the handle and simultaneously (firmly) placed me on my back.....opened my legs slightly and started ramming me in the crotch with the phone...multiple times...he told me I liked it....it was brief and then it finally ended...I didn't yell because he told me I liked it. Why? WHY? Why did I like this?
He left the room and told me to clean up my toys. I did. I was NOT the perfect kid but I knew my parents would be upset with me if I didn't clean up my toys. I had a few tears in my eyes; however, the confusion superseded all other emotion. Why my crotch? Hmmmm...other than going potty, I don't quite understand the purpose of my crotch. That kissing thing was really odd. I want to tell someone. I see married people kiss on the lips but not kids....
"Mommy...Daddy...." (later that evening in private) "My cousin kissed me." I said. "Awww...how nice dear...he loves you." mom said. "Is that why it was on the lips a lot?" I whimpered. "What?! NO. I don't know what he was thinking...that's not right." mom said. ::Dad whispered:: "Don't freak out in front of her...it will scare her." he said. "Don't let that happen again!" Mom yelled.
Great. I did something wrong and they are mad at me.
After that, I didn't see him. As the years progressed, an incident that just seemed odd at the time, the thoughts began to fade away. However, when I was 14 and visiting my uncle, he was there for the summer. I was spending the weekend with my uncle because my parents were having some adult time I suppose. My cousin immediately had a sparkle in his eye. By that time, I was developed and beginning to look like a woman. The second we were alone he grabbed a magazine and opened it up to a page with a bunch of submissive girls on their knees, stuff on their face, and a penis. He asked me if I had started giving boys my age blow jobs yet and if I liked it. (I was cornered and this happened very quickly). I walked away and told him to leave me alone. "I am not about to talk about this bullshit with my cousin."
A few hours later when I was alone again gettig ready in the guest room for the family to go somewhere. I heard some rap music. I'm not against any type of music. I just had never heard that song before. I stepped outside of the guest room and he was listening to some hardcore song about blow jobs and he was rubbing and massaging his crotch...I immediately turned for the bathroom and vomitted...he got the picture....and stayed away from me. He has continued to not contact me for the rest of my life...thank GOD.
NOW: I knew that he had tried to kiss me and I thought he was a weirdo. That was the only "imprint" left in my mind. Last night, I was reading an article about how self mutilation sometimes stems from childhood molestation, trauma, or any other abuse. I truly thought that my PTSD began with some horrible experiences I had when I was a late teen. I had no idea that this entire scenario had occured. LITERALLY, my brain spewed these thoughts out like an explosive. I couldn't stop it. It was like my brain said, "WAIT you need to know the whole story for once in your life."
I am in absolute shock. I was completely incapacitated today. I am not quite sure where to go from here. I am very thankful that this memory triggered when I was at home and not alone. We were able to take all the sharp objects out of the house and properly medicate me. Afterwards, my wife hid all of the medication. She did agree to leave me a few extra xanax, which is a first, but she knew immediately that this was the most devastating realization in my life. I was sodomized until I bled by a yellow rotary phone. There really is no point in pressing charges 21 years later, or even upsetting my parents. It is what it is. Maybe this acknowledgement of when the abuse began will help me move forward and maybe it won't. I have NO IDEA where to go from here except for the obvious...therapy. Now, I will be honest. I should probably be comitted after this trigger. I have not been able to control my breathing since I woke up this morning and I am freaking out but I am not suicidal. I have asked myself all day if I should commit myself again or not. As it stands right now, I am going to sleep on it, I guess. I literally keep seeing that phone everywhere I go. It is in every room. If I close my eyes, I see the phone. I can't escape it. Thank GOD cell phones don't look like rotary phones (lol). Otherwise I would be attacking everyone and their phones.
I went through EMDR if you have ever heard of it, you know that lasts about a year and you are supposed to go back to where it all began. Unfortunately, the trauma began before I remembered. Obviously EMDR did not work for me even though it works for a lot of people.
Man, I can't shake this. I am literally devastated right now!
In closing, I hope this helps someone and I hope this helps me cope too. All I am able to do is invest in is hope at this point.
100% truthfully yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
(As I read) I wonder why my heart is pounding? I'm completely relaxed. I was in good company tonight. Did I take my meds on time? Yep. Perfect. My heart feels funny. This article is really good and I can completely relate to it.
I think I am having a panic attack. What time is it? Where am I?
I close my eyes and I am no longer in my home. I open my eyes and I am. So, I am not blacking out, hallucinating, etc. This must be a memory. So, I close my eyes again and I realize I am in my grandmother's old house. I am about 6 years old and I am playing in the spare bedroom that no one goes in too often. It smells kind of dusty. I am laying on a bed on my stomach playing with some old toys my dad used to play with when he was a kid. She saved almost all of the toys. The toys were some army toys, a bunch of minature telephones and one large rotary phone. It was a marigold like color. One of the little phones was baby blue (wow I just remembered that).
::I am the oldest female in the new generation of family members. My cousin, he, is the oldest::
As I play with my toys I realize that I am not alone. We are playing together. It's fun. We are talking into the little phones and then hanging up and answering a different one. We are giggling. After all, I am only 6 and he is 9 (I think) maybe 10 or 11.
Our family was in the kitchen cooking...we are Italian so that means 9 people crammed into a tiny kitchen arguing while then men watch football.
Next, he suggests this weird game that I vaguely remember. Something about answering the phone and if I answer the one that he was thinking of I win. The prize was a kiss. "OK," I said. After all, I have seen family members do that so big deal. Right? Well finally I win...or something...my memory is a blur. He leans in and gives me a kiss. I turn my cheek for a family friendly kiss on the cheek.
Ummmm....yeah....that wasn't the plan and this is where the following gets really difficult to share (in fact, this is the 14th hour and 3 panic attacks since I began typing).
He leaned his head in and kissed me on the mouth. I giggled uncomfortably and was urged to keep on playing. The door was closed. The game continued. The roles were changed and I was asked to kiss him. Again, I went for the cheek (remembr I am 6 and I don't quite know what is "appropriate"). He turned his head and lightly grabbed the back of mine. His lips were wet. He kissed me again and again. No tounge. Then we go back to being silly and playing the game. Only this time the large telephone was incorporated into the game. More kissing. I push back. I feel uncomfortable...
The following is a bit explicit. Also, I am not quite sure what sparked this.
He became angry with me and told me that I made him sad and disappointed. Then....he reached for the large phone......grabbed the handle and simultaneously (firmly) placed me on my back.....opened my legs slightly and started ramming me in the crotch with the phone...multiple times...he told me I liked it....it was brief and then it finally ended...I didn't yell because he told me I liked it. Why? WHY? Why did I like this?
He left the room and told me to clean up my toys. I did. I was NOT the perfect kid but I knew my parents would be upset with me if I didn't clean up my toys. I had a few tears in my eyes; however, the confusion superseded all other emotion. Why my crotch? Hmmmm...other than going potty, I don't quite understand the purpose of my crotch. That kissing thing was really odd. I want to tell someone. I see married people kiss on the lips but not kids....
"Mommy...Daddy...." (later that evening in private) "My cousin kissed me." I said. "Awww...how nice dear...he loves you." mom said. "Is that why it was on the lips a lot?" I whimpered. "What?! NO. I don't know what he was thinking...that's not right." mom said. ::Dad whispered:: "Don't freak out in front of her...it will scare her." he said. "Don't let that happen again!" Mom yelled.
Great. I did something wrong and they are mad at me.
After that, I didn't see him. As the years progressed, an incident that just seemed odd at the time, the thoughts began to fade away. However, when I was 14 and visiting my uncle, he was there for the summer. I was spending the weekend with my uncle because my parents were having some adult time I suppose. My cousin immediately had a sparkle in his eye. By that time, I was developed and beginning to look like a woman. The second we were alone he grabbed a magazine and opened it up to a page with a bunch of submissive girls on their knees, stuff on their face, and a penis. He asked me if I had started giving boys my age blow jobs yet and if I liked it. (I was cornered and this happened very quickly). I walked away and told him to leave me alone. "I am not about to talk about this bullshit with my cousin."
A few hours later when I was alone again gettig ready in the guest room for the family to go somewhere. I heard some rap music. I'm not against any type of music. I just had never heard that song before. I stepped outside of the guest room and he was listening to some hardcore song about blow jobs and he was rubbing and massaging his crotch...I immediately turned for the bathroom and vomitted...he got the picture....and stayed away from me. He has continued to not contact me for the rest of my life...thank GOD.
NOW: I knew that he had tried to kiss me and I thought he was a weirdo. That was the only "imprint" left in my mind. Last night, I was reading an article about how self mutilation sometimes stems from childhood molestation, trauma, or any other abuse. I truly thought that my PTSD began with some horrible experiences I had when I was a late teen. I had no idea that this entire scenario had occured. LITERALLY, my brain spewed these thoughts out like an explosive. I couldn't stop it. It was like my brain said, "WAIT you need to know the whole story for once in your life."
I am in absolute shock. I was completely incapacitated today. I am not quite sure where to go from here. I am very thankful that this memory triggered when I was at home and not alone. We were able to take all the sharp objects out of the house and properly medicate me. Afterwards, my wife hid all of the medication. She did agree to leave me a few extra xanax, which is a first, but she knew immediately that this was the most devastating realization in my life. I was sodomized until I bled by a yellow rotary phone. There really is no point in pressing charges 21 years later, or even upsetting my parents. It is what it is. Maybe this acknowledgement of when the abuse began will help me move forward and maybe it won't. I have NO IDEA where to go from here except for the obvious...therapy. Now, I will be honest. I should probably be comitted after this trigger. I have not been able to control my breathing since I woke up this morning and I am freaking out but I am not suicidal. I have asked myself all day if I should commit myself again or not. As it stands right now, I am going to sleep on it, I guess. I literally keep seeing that phone everywhere I go. It is in every room. If I close my eyes, I see the phone. I can't escape it. Thank GOD cell phones don't look like rotary phones (lol). Otherwise I would be attacking everyone and their phones.
I went through EMDR if you have ever heard of it, you know that lasts about a year and you are supposed to go back to where it all began. Unfortunately, the trauma began before I remembered. Obviously EMDR did not work for me even though it works for a lot of people.
Man, I can't shake this. I am literally devastated right now!
In closing, I hope this helps someone and I hope this helps me cope too. All I am able to do is invest in is hope at this point.
100% truthfully yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Guilty
When I was 14 I obtained my first job. My parents divorced, and we couldn't live the lifestyle we once had. I wanted to continue my passion though. Dance and Music...
Age 14: I became a dance teacher's assistant. I taught 3-5 year olds cartwheels and other cute little moves. The pay? Free dance class for my age group and two additional performances included in our recital. I also received a discount on my brother's acrobatic class by ballet dancing with girls my age that had special needs. I continued to teach until I was able to get a "job."
Root Cause: Make my parents proud of me. Help their financial situation.
Age 16: Two weeks after my birthday I immediately began to work. I got my license to drive and took a job as a hostess downtown. Fearlessly I left the suburbs almost daily, parked in a parking garage with piss in the stairway, and walked to a lovely restaurant almost nightly, left late, went to sleep and then went to school. Normal.
Root Cause: My dad helped me get my first job. Be a good girl.
Age 17 - 19: School was getting tough. I needed to switch to part-time. I became a janitor for two years and a cashier at the local market. I didn't mind a messy job. I was making more money than anyone else I went to school with.
Root Cause: Self gratification. Oh yeah, and some really good weed.
Age 20: After that I became a waitress, went to college, dropped out because I became pregnant by a convicted felon that I had no idea was a felon or that there was a warrant out for arrest. He molested me and would get high and light my underwear on fire when he was high because the crack (that my naive ass had no idea he was doing) made him paranoid. He said it was "tainted by other men."
Age 20-21: Then I had my son, went back to work 3 weeks later which is kinda against the law because you aren't supposed to work unless yo are released by a doctor. I started stocking shelves and carrying heavy crates when I wasn't healed yet. But, my son needed diapers. When I was "home" he locked me in a closet sized spare room. I breastfed my son when he was hungry and pumped extra milk for him to consume when I went to work. He only let me hold my son when I fed him. He was taken away from me when I was done. Sometimes I would lie and say he was still feeding to prolong the inevitable. When my son went to sleep, I was abused. I would take prescription pain medication to make the pain go away. I passed out and he went to buy drugs and use. It didn't take long for me to wake up and realize that I had worked my whole life and I left him and moved in with my father. He stalked me for awhile but after he beat the crap out of me I took pictures of the bruises and got a court order for him to stay the "eff" away.
Root Cause: I've always worked, therefore popping out a child that has NEEDS requires someone to pull the weight.
Age 21 - 25: I went back to online school part-time and got a decent job. I graduated in 2007 while simultaneously receiving 4 promotions at the same company. I didn't know much but I learned quickly and kicked ass at what I did. In addition, I met my "LLBFF" and my wife. Life was good and half the time I didn't even realize how good it was. My son's aunt took him every other weekend for supervised visits with his dad who was clean (for a little while). We partied, threw money down at the bar like it was toilet paper we wiped our asses with, and had killer bodies. At work, we were unstoppable. It pissed so many people off that the two smartest girls in the department were also HOT and had great personalities. We were a small close inner circle and didn't need to string people along that didn't matter. Meanwhile, my wife went from a temporary worker to an invaluable component to the business. Again, we were all LOUD, HOT, FUN, and SUCCESSFUL.
Root Cause: Validation. I finally made it? Satisfaction. We all had overcome so much.
Age 25: Diagnosed with Anxiety Disorder, Insomnia, and Bipolar Type 2 disorder. I was manic and depressed at the same time (damn I miss mania). My disorder has evolved since then but whatever...Anyways I was still working. A member of leadership at this point. I was responsible for 18 - 22 people and myself...haha...could barely take care of myself. When I was first given Xanax, I was so manic it didn't even "work." I didn't take extra because I didn't know how "exciting" how it would be in the future. My wife was promoted again, we bought a house, my son started reading when he was 3. Life was good. House parties, shopping sprees, people were jealous of me...but secretly I was ill...
Root Cause: Everyone I know thinks I am successful. Don't "eff" this up.
Age 26: Lost my job. Lost some friends. Lost my future wife for 2 months (can't mess with fate people). Started taking Zoloft and "ripped my kin off" and then Abilify aka the devil...that didn't last long. I went on unemployment, stopped partying so much, submerged myself in my son's school work and went to "the home" twice (see previous post the breakdown, the home, and the Indian).
Root Cause: Legally Insane
Now: I don't even know. I have so many ideas that fear keeps me from executing. Aren't people with bipolar disorder supposed to be entrepreneurs? (lol)
Root Cause: It's complicated.
In closing, my relationship has completely changed dynamics. I need an additional therapist. Somehow, my wife has turned into my parent. When I was working (until yesterday) I was a failure. I was behind on the laundry, the dust began to accumulate because when I was unemployed I cleaned the house more (naturally). I didn't pay a bill or two on time...I am talking a few days off PEOPLE...she is such a perfectionist. I realize now that was one of the reasons that attracted me to her and it has become a standard that I cannot even satisfy. I am not perfection. In fact, I FIND PERFECTION IN IMPERFECTION (remember that...its kinda my famous quote and stuff). Unfortunately, I drive her crazy daily. She holds it in until finally there is a volcanic eruption. She has told me that she feels like a single parent that has to parent me and my son. What? This, I was not aware of...no offense, dear, but our son would be malnourished without you...no one can live off of ham sandwiches and hamburger helper....UGGGHHHERRREEGGGG!
However, she is my hero. If she feels like my parent it is because I placed her there. In my eyes she is on a pedestal that I cannot reach. I stretch, stand on my tippy toes, only to fall on the floor in shame. This situation is nobodies fault. This is what happens when you have two extremely ambitious and loving people that happen to express themselves in two incredibly different ways. Currently, I am jobless (again, as of yesterday). I was afraid to tell her. I was literally petrified because I knew I would feel GUILTY, SHAME, AND ANGER. Why? Why, do I feel this way. She is a good person. She is not abusive. She loves me very much. WHY do I disappoint her to the point that I feel like slitting my wrists.
When you have a mental illness, everyone else in your life has a mental illness too. A mental illness impacts every person you love. They may not understand that is why they are so angry and confused. They may not understand why they want to put their fist through a wall. But they do...they may...and they stick around because they love us. Remember, if they are frustrated, throw a fit, etc. but do not leave (permanently) it is because they love you. Just as hard as it is for us to express ourselves, for us to suffer, and for us to try not to flip out. They are suffering too. Some say a characteristic of mental illness is selfishness. It is, not on purpose, but it is, because we forget that everyone else is suffering too.
Selfconciously yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
Age 14: I became a dance teacher's assistant. I taught 3-5 year olds cartwheels and other cute little moves. The pay? Free dance class for my age group and two additional performances included in our recital. I also received a discount on my brother's acrobatic class by ballet dancing with girls my age that had special needs. I continued to teach until I was able to get a "job."
Root Cause: Make my parents proud of me. Help their financial situation.
Age 16: Two weeks after my birthday I immediately began to work. I got my license to drive and took a job as a hostess downtown. Fearlessly I left the suburbs almost daily, parked in a parking garage with piss in the stairway, and walked to a lovely restaurant almost nightly, left late, went to sleep and then went to school. Normal.
Root Cause: My dad helped me get my first job. Be a good girl.
Age 17 - 19: School was getting tough. I needed to switch to part-time. I became a janitor for two years and a cashier at the local market. I didn't mind a messy job. I was making more money than anyone else I went to school with.
Root Cause: Self gratification. Oh yeah, and some really good weed.
Age 20: After that I became a waitress, went to college, dropped out because I became pregnant by a convicted felon that I had no idea was a felon or that there was a warrant out for arrest. He molested me and would get high and light my underwear on fire when he was high because the crack (that my naive ass had no idea he was doing) made him paranoid. He said it was "tainted by other men."
Age 20-21: Then I had my son, went back to work 3 weeks later which is kinda against the law because you aren't supposed to work unless yo are released by a doctor. I started stocking shelves and carrying heavy crates when I wasn't healed yet. But, my son needed diapers. When I was "home" he locked me in a closet sized spare room. I breastfed my son when he was hungry and pumped extra milk for him to consume when I went to work. He only let me hold my son when I fed him. He was taken away from me when I was done. Sometimes I would lie and say he was still feeding to prolong the inevitable. When my son went to sleep, I was abused. I would take prescription pain medication to make the pain go away. I passed out and he went to buy drugs and use. It didn't take long for me to wake up and realize that I had worked my whole life and I left him and moved in with my father. He stalked me for awhile but after he beat the crap out of me I took pictures of the bruises and got a court order for him to stay the "eff" away.
Root Cause: I've always worked, therefore popping out a child that has NEEDS requires someone to pull the weight.
Age 21 - 25: I went back to online school part-time and got a decent job. I graduated in 2007 while simultaneously receiving 4 promotions at the same company. I didn't know much but I learned quickly and kicked ass at what I did. In addition, I met my "LLBFF" and my wife. Life was good and half the time I didn't even realize how good it was. My son's aunt took him every other weekend for supervised visits with his dad who was clean (for a little while). We partied, threw money down at the bar like it was toilet paper we wiped our asses with, and had killer bodies. At work, we were unstoppable. It pissed so many people off that the two smartest girls in the department were also HOT and had great personalities. We were a small close inner circle and didn't need to string people along that didn't matter. Meanwhile, my wife went from a temporary worker to an invaluable component to the business. Again, we were all LOUD, HOT, FUN, and SUCCESSFUL.
Root Cause: Validation. I finally made it? Satisfaction. We all had overcome so much.
Age 25: Diagnosed with Anxiety Disorder, Insomnia, and Bipolar Type 2 disorder. I was manic and depressed at the same time (damn I miss mania). My disorder has evolved since then but whatever...Anyways I was still working. A member of leadership at this point. I was responsible for 18 - 22 people and myself...haha...could barely take care of myself. When I was first given Xanax, I was so manic it didn't even "work." I didn't take extra because I didn't know how "exciting" how it would be in the future. My wife was promoted again, we bought a house, my son started reading when he was 3. Life was good. House parties, shopping sprees, people were jealous of me...but secretly I was ill...
Root Cause: Everyone I know thinks I am successful. Don't "eff" this up.
Age 26: Lost my job. Lost some friends. Lost my future wife for 2 months (can't mess with fate people). Started taking Zoloft and "ripped my kin off" and then Abilify aka the devil...that didn't last long. I went on unemployment, stopped partying so much, submerged myself in my son's school work and went to "the home" twice (see previous post the breakdown, the home, and the Indian).
Root Cause: Legally Insane
Now: I don't even know. I have so many ideas that fear keeps me from executing. Aren't people with bipolar disorder supposed to be entrepreneurs? (lol)
Root Cause: It's complicated.
In closing, my relationship has completely changed dynamics. I need an additional therapist. Somehow, my wife has turned into my parent. When I was working (until yesterday) I was a failure. I was behind on the laundry, the dust began to accumulate because when I was unemployed I cleaned the house more (naturally). I didn't pay a bill or two on time...I am talking a few days off PEOPLE...she is such a perfectionist. I realize now that was one of the reasons that attracted me to her and it has become a standard that I cannot even satisfy. I am not perfection. In fact, I FIND PERFECTION IN IMPERFECTION (remember that...its kinda my famous quote and stuff). Unfortunately, I drive her crazy daily. She holds it in until finally there is a volcanic eruption. She has told me that she feels like a single parent that has to parent me and my son. What? This, I was not aware of...no offense, dear, but our son would be malnourished without you...no one can live off of ham sandwiches and hamburger helper....UGGGHHHERRREEGGGG!
However, she is my hero. If she feels like my parent it is because I placed her there. In my eyes she is on a pedestal that I cannot reach. I stretch, stand on my tippy toes, only to fall on the floor in shame. This situation is nobodies fault. This is what happens when you have two extremely ambitious and loving people that happen to express themselves in two incredibly different ways. Currently, I am jobless (again, as of yesterday). I was afraid to tell her. I was literally petrified because I knew I would feel GUILTY, SHAME, AND ANGER. Why? Why, do I feel this way. She is a good person. She is not abusive. She loves me very much. WHY do I disappoint her to the point that I feel like slitting my wrists.
When you have a mental illness, everyone else in your life has a mental illness too. A mental illness impacts every person you love. They may not understand that is why they are so angry and confused. They may not understand why they want to put their fist through a wall. But they do...they may...and they stick around because they love us. Remember, if they are frustrated, throw a fit, etc. but do not leave (permanently) it is because they love you. Just as hard as it is for us to express ourselves, for us to suffer, and for us to try not to flip out. They are suffering too. Some say a characteristic of mental illness is selfishness. It is, not on purpose, but it is, because we forget that everyone else is suffering too.
Selfconciously yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Warning: Bodily Fluids, Suicide, and Jesus
I like purple. I am wasting time right now....delaying the inevitable...eyes are burning...should be asleep...
I'm in a suit. I am ready for the day. I check myself in the mirror one last time, make a last decision on shoe choice, admire my perfectly placed jewelry, and I walk out the door. Everytime I touch the door handle my "hypocondrianism" kicks in. I'm ill, I can't breath, my leg hurts, lack of sleep will cause a car accident, this suit makes me fake, I bought the suit on clearance I'm not fake...just keep walking, my left breast hurts (stop) I need to check for a lump, I think I found a lump. I need to go to the Dr., Damn I have no health insurance until November, OMG get in the car! If you lose your job you will have NO health insurance in November, when is November? I hate the cold. Its still hot today, I need sunshine therapy...get in the effing car!
(Driving and performing my exact ritual. Sip drink, back out, turn up the radio to my favorite morning show, laugh and drive...)
Out of the blue I am struck with plans to end it all. Rapid cycling, plotting, pure evil.
I decide its time. Time to end it all. I pull over and make the plan, ok I have the plan. I open the car door and vomit. I get back into traffic and I call my best friend speaking such foreign gibberish even the BFF powers to interpret failed.
I soil my pants...and piddle a bit too...it's bad...I'm not a damn poodle!
Hysterical I tell her about job difficulties and only current thoughts (nothing from the past that contributed to my deathly tendancies) I freak out and pull into an Arabic or Islamic type church (not sure, not an expert, not a hater). I end the call on a "happy note" and proceed to the back of the lot. A dark shaded area tucked away in thick brush is my choice location to "take care of business...Glad I already went potty on myself since that happens when you die anyway...OMG why am I thinking this!
OMG answered. I shall elaborate. As my final moment presented itself, my heart awakened. I didn't see a light or hear a voice I had a "thought."
GO NOW to the really awesome non-denominational church that loves everyone and coincides so closely with my oddly logical spiritual beliefs.
OK SO LET ME BE VERY CLEAR: I do not attend church unless its a wedding or a funeral. I am a "gay for god" and not too many people like that here in the "south."
I went anyway. So weird. I just went. I ended up speaking with the arts and drama director of the church instead of the pastor because it was early and dude wasn't there yet. BUT this guy had the most bipolar insanely crazy, wonderful, odd, beautiful office. We spoke for two hours and I ALWAYS feel like people are judging me (Dr's, christians, co-workers, etc.) I finally had no appointment, no meds to discuss, no requirements, paperwork, just a VERY brutally honest conversation. IT WAS AMAZING. I don't think I am JESUS now, I don't think I "got fixed," but I want to see another day and not suffer another day.
One day at a time, one moment even, but I am glad that I want to breath in life. A few reasons why:
Monday, August 8, 2011
Deep Thoughts: A Comedy
When I am driving and see a squirrel I slam on my breaks, scream, "oh lord," and check my rear view mirror for a fatality...When I see a human I think, "hmmm...what are my options."
On my way to work I enjoy my morning radio show and talking to myself...when I am at work I look at the glass window every ten minutes wondering if it is made of Pyrex or a thin sliver I can jump through.
My step-mother claims to be a woman of GOD and goes to church every weekend...My father loves me more even though I am a "Gay."
Sometimes my son is the only one that understands me...sometimes my son is the only one that will play video games with me.
I hate books because they represent a long-term commitment with their "thickness" and all...I love articles and read for hours on the Internet.
I dream of Disney World...I also dream of Arsenic.
Money = security; however, Money = evil, therefore, Money = Rotting in hell wearing designer shoes. (my personal favorite)
I like to make up songs about any words that rhyme...I like to annoy people at work, the grocery store, and family functions for the mere sake of being annoying.
I like to think demonic thoughts, fantasize about blood and guts...but I hate "horror flicks." Hmmmm...maybe it inundates my mind with fun!
Until next time my fellow demonic darlings...
Truthaboutcrazy
On my way to work I enjoy my morning radio show and talking to myself...when I am at work I look at the glass window every ten minutes wondering if it is made of Pyrex or a thin sliver I can jump through.
My step-mother claims to be a woman of GOD and goes to church every weekend...My father loves me more even though I am a "Gay."
Sometimes my son is the only one that understands me...sometimes my son is the only one that will play video games with me.
I hate books because they represent a long-term commitment with their "thickness" and all...I love articles and read for hours on the Internet.
I dream of Disney World...I also dream of Arsenic.
Money = security; however, Money = evil, therefore, Money = Rotting in hell wearing designer shoes. (my personal favorite)
I like to make up songs about any words that rhyme...I like to annoy people at work, the grocery store, and family functions for the mere sake of being annoying.
I like to think demonic thoughts, fantasize about blood and guts...but I hate "horror flicks." Hmmmm...maybe it inundates my mind with fun!
Until next time my fellow demonic darlings...
Truthaboutcrazy
Saturday, August 6, 2011
Beyond Irrational...maybe.
I think I totally figured it out and I kinda understand why people don't "off" themselves due to the following reason:
I have a beautiful child who has been exposed to my emotional trauma BUT, he has experienced heart wrenching trauma regarding his father including violence, drugs, etc. ...which is why I don't let him see him anymore.
With that said, I was never able to go through with "it" until I had a super, mega, realization. "Take him" too.
(I have to be careful on how I word this because this blog may disappear)
Anyways, what if I finally went through with it and included him on the plan. I would rot in hell (I will anyways for being gay) and he would be free from all of the pain that has been inflicted on him. Morbid, but excellent. This is freaking you out...I can feel it.
Does it cross your mind when you are driving that it will be just that easy? I know it has...don't lie.
I miss cutting...It is totally not fair that I have to pretend the urges are gone because they aren't. I am tired of people telling me they are worried about me and then saying, "I'm not a coddler." I'm not asking for that! Now give me back the sharp object please! Everyone just wants to use my son as a pawn to not hurt, be sad, etc. What does he have to do with my brain. I effing love him more than anything on this planet but there is a wall I have to climb to get to him. He knows it and I know it. He knows I am "sick" and just doesn't understand the "why" BUT he understands patience more than anyone else! Those thoughts alone make me want to give in.
Sacrificially yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
I have a beautiful child who has been exposed to my emotional trauma BUT, he has experienced heart wrenching trauma regarding his father including violence, drugs, etc. ...which is why I don't let him see him anymore.
With that said, I was never able to go through with "it" until I had a super, mega, realization. "Take him" too.
(I have to be careful on how I word this because this blog may disappear)
Anyways, what if I finally went through with it and included him on the plan. I would rot in hell (I will anyways for being gay) and he would be free from all of the pain that has been inflicted on him. Morbid, but excellent. This is freaking you out...I can feel it.
Does it cross your mind when you are driving that it will be just that easy? I know it has...don't lie.
I miss cutting...It is totally not fair that I have to pretend the urges are gone because they aren't. I am tired of people telling me they are worried about me and then saying, "I'm not a coddler." I'm not asking for that! Now give me back the sharp object please! Everyone just wants to use my son as a pawn to not hurt, be sad, etc. What does he have to do with my brain. I effing love him more than anything on this planet but there is a wall I have to climb to get to him. He knows it and I know it. He knows I am "sick" and just doesn't understand the "why" BUT he understands patience more than anyone else! Those thoughts alone make me want to give in.
Sacrificially yours,
Truthaboutcrazy
Thursday, July 21, 2011
A desperate letter to my wife...
I hope you are happy because sending me over the edge worked this morning. Do you think your rude behavior towards me made the guilt go away? No, it made me puke brown sludge from my breakfast. TWICE. Do you think I wanted to lay around and sleep? Wrong. I did not stay home to sleep....
I literally layed this morning WITH MY HEAD IN MY HANDS stressed and SADDENNED beyond what your brain can possibly interpret. Your inability to take the hour an a half that you were at home and aware that something was very, and truly wrong, caused deeper problems than you and I CANNOT even imagine. This morning was a clear cry for help and I am disgusted by the fact that you actually held my hand and "tried" to care until YOU decided that you were infuriated. YOU made this about your own selfish thoughts instead of taking just a few moments to put yourself in my shoes. JUST A FEW MOMENTS WOULD HAVE HAD A BETTER OUTCOME.
I WILL have sick days; HOWEVER, I am extremely proud of my accomplishments. I AM EXTREMELY satisfied with my ability to OVERCOME my adversities to land this job, keep this job, and have the desire to GO BACK as soon as TOMORROW when I can make sense of the deamons that are lurking around the corner. HELL YEAH, this will happen again, my point is that I have always tried to impress you, make you and our family happy, and stop the insanity from ruining our relationship.
YOU, of all people, after all of the years of watching me cope, should understand that my life will not magically become easier overnight. YOU have watched my struggles since August of 2008 when I was first diagnosed. Yes, you gave me a second chance, but I feel as though I pay for it everyday. I have mental adversities over issues that are clearly my own deamons that develop into what is categorized as "guilt."
This is a much deeper seeded issue than you can ever imagine. If it wasn't for my image issues, I would be slittling my wrists, throat, stomach, between my toes, and the back of my legs every single day. Cutting, is not an act for attention, pity, or any other self absorbed categorization. Cutting is a charactoristic of my illness. No two mental illnesses are exactly the same. They are like fingerprints. I continuosly try to let you into the world of my addiction to mutilate. My terrible panic attacks and overcoming what developed into agoraphobic tendencies cause issues to do a task at work, it actually takes me twice as long because of all of the editing, second guessing, checking, re-checking, etc. Am I going to impress the intelligent individuals that I work with? Am I going to embarass myself? A lot of these issues many healthy people deal with AND I GET THAT; however, the impact on my "fingerprint" aka mental illness, is severe.
Have you ever felt like dying inside? Have you ever had too much on your plate? I already know the answer is YES. BUT, imagine that happening about every 20 minutes. It's referred to as the bipolar cycle.
Dr. "I" and I have known each other for 3-years. If I needed to prioritze my conversation to be about something other than what I chose to discuss the other day, then that is what we would have talked about. However, when I ranked my "deamons," that particular category was what had plagued my mind the most. You must also understand, that I have several items on my itinerary when I meet with him. Due to time constraints and ME SIMPLY FORGETTING, it doesn't always happen. I need a therapist in addition to all of this. WE need a therapist, actually, I think that a couple traveling through the process of healing together is something that can actually keep our relationship strong; stand out from the rest. WE talked about the therapist and it never happened.
I lost my train of thought, I had to go vommit again, sorry I didn't ask for your permission to be actually "normal person sick" and "mental person sick" on both days....but "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" right? Always multi-tasking like a good little girl. (this was my sarcastic sentence).
I want to say curse words. I will refrain from calling you names, and adding explicative "adjectives."
Again, I am in over my head. I do not need you to yell and say, "well then just quit." That will not benefit our family. That will not benefit my illness. I HAVE ALREADY SEEN a huge improvement being on a set sleep schedule, developing a daily routine, and actually doing a job that I am passionate about. BUT, it does not take away what still exists.
Today, was a cry for help. I do not need you to fly home from your job to babysit me. It was a strong need for us to build our level of conversation and communication which kinda sucks right now. Being a parent is awesome but it is definitely an inconvenience when scheduling a time to talk. Sometimes a cry for help supercedes any "scheduling" that may need to be done. Sometimes it needs to be a priority. I want to feel as though I am a priority. That statement is not intended to sound selfish. My intentions are genuine.
My cry for help is more of a NEED of respect and understanding as it pertains to SICKNESS. Sick days are unavoidable, I realize in the United States your employer has the ability to take your job away at any time for any reason. I realize that since we are gay I cannot go on your health insurance. I also realize that you cannot help to be ANGRY when you are the only working adult in the household. BUT, please understand, I ACTUALLY want to contribute. Huge difference. I want to provide for OUR FAMILY so that we can enjoy simple things such as cable, electricity, water, shelter, a healthy dinner as well as perks such as vacation and flying accross the country to see our family members that have chosen not to live near us (I have a lot of anger towards my family for moving away) and I know that you miss yours.
I love my job. It is very hard. I am afraid. But the fact that I have a job is an unbelievable gift. I want it but does it want me?
For goodness sake, I have to go to court and prove myself AGAIN that I am the best fit for my son and HE DESERVES child support. Have you thought that maybe the amount of stress from that day is a dark cloud getting closer, and closer, and causing me panic attacks? My throat has been burning from the attacks.
I want you to know that if I didn't love you and my son, I would let my son's father raise him and I would not be with you. I would be on the next flight to live with my parents or Hawaii to live in a tent with no health insurance and go off on some crazy downward spiral. BUT IT IS YOU that inspires me IT IS YOU that makes me want to try and be better. Why? I love you with all of my heart. I am in love with you. I don't love you for convenience. I don't love you because I am crying right now. I don't love you because it is the easy way out. You help me try, better myself, and you have the warmest heart. I just don't know if you feel the same way anymore. Is your heart slowly becoming cold? Are you slipping away? I don't feel like I deserve you. At times, I know you rather be married to a woman stronger than me. However, this is all I have to offer. I don't know what the future holds concerning any of what I have just discussed.
I lost my train of thought which seams to be a trend lately. I had to step away. If you choose to respond to me I will not be using my e-mail for the rest of the day. I have a lot to think about. Thoughts are swimming around my head and it is time I stop. Breathe. Take it all in. I went from 0-60 without preparing to go back to work because I was hired "on the spot."
If you chose to contact me, and I hope you do, I prefer a phone call as responding to this may not fit in a simple text message. But again, the ball is in your court now and that is your decision.
PLEASE SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS YOU GUYS...I FEEL SO LOST!
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