this may be as honest as i will ever be and i am not posting this all over the place just yet cos i don't really want certain people being able to read this since i know they just don't understand about mental illness.
i knew something was wrong from a very early age. i was always nervous, anxious, and afraid. i was afraid of being left. at 3, my parents divorced in a very violent way that i happened to witness. after that, my mom started seeing someone that truly was an amazing friend to have. he taught me to read, we built pillow forts, made radio shows, went to the park... he was perfect except for his closeted alcoholism. being 4, i didn't know what a budweiser can looked like, but one day, i went into this drawer on a book shelf of mine and noticed it was full of crushed up beer cans. i told my mom because i didn't know what these were. that's when things got weird. we had to change the locks. my mom was always out on dates and my sister and i were left with babysitters that would put "all my children" and other various soap operas on for us. i would vomit on the way to kindergarten every morning on this same tree by the playground. i never felt safe. my dad and grandmother were always telling me how horrible my mom was and in turn, my mom would always tell me how awful my dad was. i felt alone. we moved around a bit and i was always the fat new kid with no friends. when i did get friends, they didn't like me enough i guess, and one day in my early pre-teen years, they ganged up, came to my house, barged in and just started telling me how fat i was and how horrible of a person i was. so we moved again. i got in fights with boys, fights with my new step dad, fist fights with my sister...
i never wanted to leave the house but i didnt want to stay there either. i retreated into my mind and was at home with music and movies. then my mom and her husband got super into jesus stuff and that was pretty much the life i was forced to lead.
this is where shit is so ass backward. here i was, a fat kid with like no friends except for some kids my mom dubbed "satanic" because they had different colored hair, were gay, and liked nirvana but accepted me for me and i was forced to follow this jesus lifestyle because i was depressed.... depressed to the point where i thought of death every night. in fact, i would pray to this jesus to take my life every night at bedtime. i would cry myself to sleep after taking a few tylenol pm just in hopes that i would slip away unnoticed. it never worked. i thought about cutting but i was too afraid of blood. i made friends in church group so i decided to play the game and "live for christ" and all that jazz. i never understood it. i never "got" it. i never felt this "all consuming love" of "father god" or anything like that. i felt like the misunderstood fat kid that just wanted to go have fun with some friends and be weird.
needless to say i ended up at a bible college, still as morbidly depressed as when i was 13. i would spend hours in chat rooms on AOL when that was the new thing, talking to people that had no idea who i was or what i looked like simply because there, in this stupid and pathetic cyber world, there was no concept of being super mean and cruel. i would sit in the playground on the back 40 acres at the college and take a key to the bookstore i worked at and scrape my skin til it was raw and i saw specks of blood. i was always doing something wrong. i was constantly "sinning" and i was miserable and not good enough for these christian people or god himself.
after a long line of lonely nights in sadness, repeating the same behaviors and pleas for death while i tried to sleep off the melancholy feelings, something snapped..... i started drinking. i was thinner, guys liked me and i could drink. this only masked the issue for a short while and i found myself subletting an apartment from a friend while he was in japan, asleep in his bed with a knife and a bottle of rum. i woke up the next morning and decided i needed to find some purpose or something.... not sure what i found except my ex... that was the most destructive 4 years of my life resulting in a beautiful child but a whole mess of feelings.
you see, i was always accused of cheating.... always. he could flirt with girls right in front of me but if i let a guy buy me a drink at a bar because i looked sad or was having trouble getting the bartender's attention, i was immediately accused of attempting to fuck said stranger. i was told how fat i was after i gave birth. i was accused of cheating if i wanted to look pretty and dress nice.
so after we split, i went back to what i knew.... drinking and sex. a few drugs were mixed in this time. it numbed me right up.... until i had to move to the burbs to get away from being broken into. this is when my sadness peaked again. i felt alone and sad and empty. until i started drinking again of course. i moved back to uptown, found people to drink with and go to shows with, and spent my time masking my pain with sex and booze.
it leads me to where i am now... years later i still am not sure if i am fat, thin, normal, or what have you. i have no idea if i am cute or pretty or ugly. i have no idea really what i like to do or where my personality goes sometimes. i put myself in terrible relationships that are no good for me because im used to being used and only being talked to for sex and nothing more. i cant drink anymore just cos it did me wrong a few times over the summer and im pretty over it.... i think everyone is only going to be around me for a short time and can't wait to escape and leave me. it leads to horrible thinking patterns. it causes me to behave in a way that is so irrational and leaves me scratching my own head wondering what in the fuckity fuck i am really doing....
and then there's my kiddo. i dont want her growing up following my same path. i want her to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is lovely and amazing and worth more than what anyone says to her... that she deserves more than some wishy washy, coward of a guy that is afraid of a committed relationship because he thinks she's a psycho like all of his ex's that just used him and cheated on him. i want her to be sure and confident and aware and kind with no doubt in her words, actions, or steps. i want for her all of the things i hope to find for myself.
last week i was in the pit of despair and actually took a dull steak knife and cut up the top of my forearm. i did it repeatedly because i was not thinking rationally, not sleeping, had a change in my medication, had a seasonal change occurring, and just felt... out of control mentally. needless to say, it scared someone away, drew a few friends closer, and set me on this path of really needing to get my shit sorted before it's too late.
and let me specify here that i did not want to die... i felt like a balloon so full of air and pressure that i would pop unless some of the pressure was released.... 55 slashes later... im shaking my head at some itchy scabs and scar tissue...
so now i have therapy every week, i am trying to find a healthy balance with my meds, and i have to go to DBT once a week for 6-9 months. DBT is dialectal behavioral therapy. this is basically teaching me new coping and thinking skills for when my brain runs off on an irrational tangent.
i dont expect said person to speak to me again honestly. im sure how i was speaking and acting was scary. im grateful for the friends that stuck by me and loved me and encouraged me to get help. i decided it was time to decorate and organize and downsize my little apartment and even begin a venture of selling my delicious cupcakes for some extra $$.
every day is hard, but every day is a little easier than the last. sometimes i wake up at night and just feel alone and rejected and sad. but morning comes every day and i force myself out of bed. im forcing myself to be productive with my time and explore hobbies and talents that i put on the backburner.
so, im exposing all of myself, bare bones and all to you whoever it is that is reading this. i will post updates here and there to let you know how DBT and therapy are going, how cupcake sales are going, and how healthy i am getting day by day.
in all of this i hope to be able to think more clearly and not assume someone is untrustworthy until they prove me wrong.
i hope to be able to find myself beautiful and not have that be determined by a pants size or a fat roll.
i hope to love myself in the same manner i love others.
i hope to speak kindly to myself in the same manner i speak to others.
i hope to be free and rid of this negative weight that has just been here for far too long.
it's been 5 days today since i last cut myself. it's been 5 days today since i spent an entire day in bed, sad, and crying. hooray for 5 days and onto many more.