Sometimes I am amazed where my life has taken me in the last 10 years. That's how long I've been with my husband. He and I met at work and it was literally love at first sight or rather first date. He worked at a different location but for the same company. He says that one day he noticed me and that was it. Honestly, I didn't really notice him until he asked me out on our first date. I didn't even know his name and when he called me on the phone, at work, I wasn't even positive what he looked like. I was that oblivious to the people around me. Have I mentioned that I'm not a people person? Anyways, he asked me to go see Aerosmith with him- of course I said yes! I'd figure out who he was when he picked me up for the date, right?!
Well, he was the most respectful man I had ever met and I didn't know what to do with that. He walked me to the front door when he dropped me at home that night and he didn't even try to kiss me. He asked me if I would like to go to dinner some night and I agreed. We had a very "normal" dating period, maybe for a week or two, where he didn't try to even hug me. I was starting to wonder if he really wasn't interested because I was used to men only wanting me for sex and for a while I thought that that was all I was good for.
He finally asked my permission to kiss me goodnight one night and we've been together ever since. We never once 'broke up' or 'needed a break' or questioned our relationship in any way. Less than a year from our first date we were married. He bought the ring in our third month of dating, he knew right away. We were on our honeymoon on the actual one year anniversary of our being together.
Just over a year into our marriage things kinda fell apart. I hadn't cut or self injured in any way for over 3 years. I thought I was over it, I never even told my husband that I SI'ed because I was that sure it was a non-issue. I told him everything about my history with depression and he knew about all of the abuse in my past, I thought that I had shared everything. But one day he got really mad about something and he threw the car keys. Let me preface this by telling you that he is the most gentle man and non violent man I have ever known. This angry outburst and the physical outburst shocked me. I had to leave my house immediately so I went for a drive. I ended up in a park and the next thing I knew I was ripping up my arm with a paperclip, the only thing I could find in my car. It just happened. Just like that I was cutting again, almost like I never stopped. At the time I didn't know what had triggered it but after going over it in therapy I realized that his outburst caused me to flashback and disassociate to the violence in my past. He has never reacted in a physical way when angry ever since then. He knows what triggered my return to cutting. I have struggled with it ever since then.
A few months later we were evicted from our apartment and we lost our car. We had to move in with my mother in law because we were homeless. I was seeing a psychiatrist at the time for my depression and I was on Paxil at the time. I had also been diagnosed with PTSD by then as well. Within about a month we got enough money together to get an apartment but by then I was already falling apart. Not too long after we moved into our new place I lost it. I took a whole bottle of klonopin and started butchering myself. My husband was at work at the time and somehow I ended up at my mother in laws. (I know now that I was having a psychotic episode) My mother in law called my husband at work and then called 911. When the cops showed up I guess I was a little uncooperative and I was telling them to get the fuck away from me. An ambulance showed up and took me to the ER where I was evaluated. I was then sent to my first psychiatric hospital. I woke up the next day in a locked room and was scared to death! I ended up spending a week inpatient and then 2 weeks outpatient. I also lost my job. Believe it or not, I was working for a Mental Health agency at the time and not one of my "friends" from work ever spoke to me again.
During this hospitalization I heard the words Borderline Personality Disorder for the first time and those words have followed me everywhere ever since. Leaning about BPD was kind of like a light bulb going on. All of my life suddenly started to make sense. For the first time in my life I realized that I wasn't just "crazy", I had BPD. It was a relief to finally have some answers but it also created so many more problems in my life since then.
The months following my first hospitalization I was unable to work. I was unable to function at all. All I did was drink, do any drugs I could get my hands on and cut myself daily. I also proceeded to spend almost 2 more months in the hospital. I attempted suicide twice by od'ing. After my first attempt I was sent to a womans trauma unit and that changed my life. I meet other cutters for the first time. I was shocked. I didn't even know it was a psychiatric symptom. I thought I was that fucked up, that I was the only one. This is long before cutting became popular. Before kids were doing it because it was cool. I'm shocked at how mainstream self injury is now. It makes me sad how common it is.
Due to my multiple hospitalizations we lost another car and became homeless again. We lost all of our belongings because we couldn't afford to pay for our storage unit and I had to bring my cats to a shelter because we had no where to live. To this day I hate and blame myself for us loosing everything. I still have nightmares and cry over the loss of my cats.
The only good to come from all of this was I finally got on the right meds. I stopped drinking and drugging myself to death because I started to feel okay for the first time in my life. I've been hospitalized 2 more times over the past 4 years. I guess I need a 'tune up' every now and then. One thing I hate is how comfortable I get when I'm in the hospital. I'm almost afraid to leave by the time I'm discharged. Being in the hospital is like being able to finally breathe. I don't have to pretend when I'm there. I don't have to act like life is great and everything is okay. I can let down my wall and relax. I spend so much energy everyday pretending that I'm happy and I am so exhausted by the end of my day.
I really get off track don't I?! I guess to bring this 'story' full circle I should say this- Through unemployment, evictions, repossessions, hospitalizations, homelessness and 3 attempted suicides my relationship is stronger than ever. My husband loves me more than anything and I still think he is the most wonderful man in the world. I'm scared everyday that he might get fed up and leave me. But he always reassures me that if he was going to leave he would have a long time ago and he's always saying how he meant every word of the vows he took when he married me. "Through sickness and health." I know that I am a very lucky woman. We had no idea how sick I would be.
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