I'm scared

For the past few months my mother has been going to a doctor because she had some blood tests that didn't come back normal.  She has some levels with her liver that show something is wrong.  So an ultrasound was done and masses were found on her liver.  I live over 1000 miles from my family so I have to hear all of this over the phone.  My mom has been down-playing the severity of what's going on.  She's trying to protect me because she knows that I am automatically thinking the worst.  She keeps saying "don't worry", "wait until we know more", etc.  So she was referred to a hematologist but when she received the pre-appointment paperwork it said The Cancer Center.  So her appointment is tomorrow, she got a call to reminder her of the appointment and at that time she was told that she should bring someone with her "for support".

I'm sorry but does any of this sound like it's something not to worry about?  I am so sick about all of this right now.  My husband is scared of how I'm handling everything.  He actually said that he thinks I'm fragile.  First his sister commits suicide and now this thing with my mom.  I asked him what he means by 'fragile' and he said that he's scared that I'm going to fall apart.  He pointed out that I've fallen apart (meaning becoming suicidal, disassociating and ending up in the hospital) when life isn't very stressful.  Some times I just lose my shit and get locked up.  Right now I feel fine but that doesn't mean anything because I've gone from great and functioning to hospitalized in less than 24 hours.

I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do.  I'm trying to stay strong because my mom is scared that this is going to push me over the edge, my husband is scared that this will break me.  I'm kinda scared too, but I'm clinging to my sanity.  I can't afford to fall apart.  Who can?  I'm scared because I can see it happening.  It makes me feel weak.  Life isn't fair to anyone.  Why do I get to check out?  It's times like these that I really despise my "mental illness".  I know what's happening, I see it coming; but then it hits and I have zero control.  I'm just stressing myself out more.

something to look forward to

It's really hard adjusting to the fact that someone you loved committed suicide.  It's been 17 days and I still want to cry.  It's really given me a new outlook.  I've attempted suicide 3 times, all 3 landed me in the ER and all 3 landed me in long-term psychiatric hospitalizations.  My sister-in-law was always someone that I could share those darkest feelings with without feeling judged.  I knew she understood; unfortunately she understood too well.  I know that I am in an okay place right now.  My medications are doing their job and I'm stable.  I'd like to say that I won't end up in a hospital again, but lets be real- I never thought that I would end up in one to begin with!  Let alone 5 separate times.  This is not who I wanted to be when I was a little girl but I'm slowly becoming okay with who I am.  It's about time- I'm closer to 40 than 30 at this point!

Today is my step-daughters 17th birthday!  God I feel old saying that.  I've been in her life since she was 5.  We never went with the whole "step daughter or mother" thing but I can't claim credit for her existence; but I can claim some credit for who she is today.  She's had some rough years and I worry about her at times.  She ran away from her mother's house a few times (when she was 13), got arrested, was doing drugs, having sex, got hospitalized and started cutting (that broke my heart!).  She got some counseling and was on medication for a while.  She's been doing good for the last 4 years.  Then last year one of her friends committed suicide, that was a rough time for her but she worked through it.  Then her aunt committed suicide a few weeks ago, that's been a little harder to work through but I think she's doing okay.

The thing that I'm looking forward to is- in 9 days we're going to Universal Studios for a whole week!  It's to celebrate my daughters' and husbands' birthdays.  We all need to have some brainless fun!  Universal is perfect for that and I can't wait.

I am so tired of the roller coaster.  I have a day like yesterday where I am full of self hatred and now I have today where I just don't care.  Going from such hate to nothing is exhausting.  You wouldn't think it would be, I mean- I'm not actually doing anything.   In trying not to cut I've spent the day resorting to the rubber band thing.  I snap my wrist when I want to cut.  I'm not sure I'm doing it right because the inside of my wrist has horrible welts on it and I actually drew blood.  But the point is to not cut, right!?  So I guess I've been successful today.  That's something...

I'm still desperate to get wasted.  I've always preferred drugs over alcohol.  Legal or illegal is irrelevant.  When I was younger I smoked weed (a lot), I tried acid and shrooms (not for me- I'm already crazy without the help), and I did coke (powder)for a while.  I've always done pills and alcohol.  I even smoked crack for a while.  I'm one of those people who will do anything.  If it's offered to me I'll try it.  Thank god no one ever offered me heroin because I know that I would have loved it.  I know because my favorite pills are opiates.  I have actually had dreams about shooting heroin and I loved it.  I would wake from those dreams craving it.  I would pray that when I went back to sleep, my dream would continue.  Tell me I'm not fucked up.  I don't know what's going to end up happening.  I've gone to doctors "med seeking" in the past but I hate doing that.  You know what I prefer to do?  I hurt myself so that I legitimately need the drugs.  The thing is- I have an enormous threshold for pain.  Fuck............I really don't know what to do with myself right now.  If my husband knew how I was feeling he'd start calling around to find an inpatient unit that has a free bed.  I need to get my shit together.

not this again

I am so tired right now.  Tired physically and tired mentally.  I'm tired of having to take pills everyday just so I can go out into the world and pretend that life is great because no one wants to hear when life isn't great.  I'm tired of the fact that I want to hurt myself constantly.  I'm wanting to drink more and I'm thinking about how I can get drugs to make me numb.  I have to be careful right now because times like these land me in the hospital 90% of the time.  My husband is noticing which means that I'm not doing so good pretending.  A month from now I'm going on vacation for 12 days, maybe that's why I'm weakening.  I have a temporary end in sight.

Does anyone else have much experience with different medications?  I've been on approximately 20 different meds over the last 10-15 years.  Right now I'm on Lamictal, Seroquel, and Wellbutrin.  I'm always on 3-5 different meds at any time.  I'm wondering if there's something out there that I haven't tried.  There must be.

I know I'm feeling bad for myself and it's pretty pitiful.  I just get resentful sometimes and I know that I need to find a way to deal with the things that eat at me.  But sometimes I can't deal.  I'm angry that I have to take pills everyday just to pretend that I'm normal.  Even with all these drugs in me my mind still screams "suicide" constantly.  I hate the men that raped me and sexually abused me!  I hate the fact that they are living their lives.  I hate that they killed me inside and have probably forgotten that I even exist.  I meant nothing to them yet they still haunt me today.  I can't forget that they exist and I wish I could!  God I fucking hate myself some days.

something to think about

I had a good talk with my Mom yesterday.  We talk every Thursday at 5 pm.  We have to schedule it the same day and time every week or else we won't talk.  She would like to talk to me 3-4 times a week but I can't handle that.  Once a week is too much for me to handle some weeks.  Mom and I have worked very hard at developing the relationship we have now and it's means a lot to me, the relationship we now have.  She's worried about me because I've stopped seeing my therapist.  I told her that I was not going because I was tired of going over the same shit over and over again.  I have had so many therapists, psychiatrist, psychologists and social workers over the years.  I've told the same stories over and over again.  I open myself up to these people, pour out my heart and feelings, expose all pain and bullshit and you know what happens?  Nothing!  I leave after an hour of sharing and I feel like total shit.  I want to cry, then I want to cut, then I want to drink so I don't cut, then I get home to my husband and he asks "how'd it go?" and I tell him it was fine.  I tell him it was fine because I don't want him to worry.  I pretend that everything is good.  The problem is I can only pretend for so long and then I fall apart.

So-  I told my mom that I was done going.  She pointed out that this is a pattern for me.  She's right.  I do good for a year or two.  I stay on my medication and check in with the psychiatrist every three months.  I work and go through life telling everyone that I'm fine. (do you know what 'fine' stands for? F-(fucked up) I-(insecure) N-(neurotic) E-(emotional))  I believe it most of the time, but without fail I start to fall apart.  I continue to go through life showing and telling everyone how good I'm doing when in reality- I am on the edge of complete meltdown.  Finally I end up getting some drugs (I'll go to a doctor and complain of some pain and get a prescription for Percocet) or I'll start drinking.  Then it only takes about a week.  At some point within that week I will completely lose my shit.  I'll end up in a room crying, high, drunk and suicidal.  At that point my husband will find an inpatient psychiatric unit and I will be admitted for an average of 2 weeks.  While I'm locked up my meds will be evaluated, I'll be stabilized and some do good counselor/social worker will set me up with therapy and then send me on my way.  Then I return to the real world, put my wall back up and go back to pretending that everything is FINE.  Repeat every 2-3 years.

Mom's worried because I'm getting older, mid thirties (creeping up on 40).  I don't want to keep doing this.  I don't think I'll end up in the hospital again but I say that every time.  I never thought I'd end up in a psychiatric hospital against my will EVER.  So- Mom wants me to think about continuing therapy.  She points out that I should be dealing with the tough stuff while I'm doing well, while I'm strong enough to handle it.  She's right.  Am I going to listen to her?  Probably not.  But I promised her that I would think about what she had to say and I have.  I'm 'talking' it out with you and I still feel the same way.  The key for me is- not only have I stopped seeing my therapist but I've also lost my psychiatrist.  If I don't go to therapy then I can't see the doctor that prescribes my meds.  I've cut myself back, dosage wise, of a couple of my meds to buy myself some time.  I think I have about 2 months of meds left.  If I run out of my meds I will end up back in the hospital.

I don't want to go back into the hospital.  This last stay took a major toll on me.  I was so obsessed with suicide for months after I was released.  I literally spent hours thinking of nothing but suicide.  I would cry for hours talking to my husband about how I was feeling because some days I started to make plans to follow through just so that I would stop thinking!  There is nothing worse that having your own brain be your most dangerous enemy.  Having every ounce of your body telling you to kill yourself.  I almost had to check myself back into the hospital because I was scared of myself.  So, I must not run out of my meds!

sick thoughts

Am I alone in obsessing about hurting myself?  When I'm at work my mind constantly revolves around killing myself.  I have a rude customer and I want to end it.  A customer touches me, just in handing me money, and I cringe with disgust.  I look around at all the people shopping and all I can think are horrible thoughts.  I wish they were all dead.  I wish there was an apocalypse and most of the world died.  This is not healthy.  I'm only happy at home.  If I never had to leave my home I would be in heaven.  Once I start thinking about hurting myself, whether it's cutting or suicide I end up obsessing for days or sometimes weeks.  I know the name for it- suicidal ideation but that doesn't tell me why I do it.  It drives me crazy.  I truly wish I could move somewhere rural and I could work from home and then I could decide when I have to deal with people, on my terms.  Someday, hopefully.

relief

I finally gave in.  I just cut.  I didn't cut too much.  Just enough to feel better.  Not enough to feel good but better.  My husband will be home in 2 hours and I'll have to let him down, again.  Sometimes I fucking hate myself, now is one of those times.  So much for feeling better.

struggle

I'm still struggling with not cutting.  I haven't cut in a while, I don't count scratches I do at work when I'm about to explode because customers are treating me like a fucking idiot.  Just because I'm working retail, it doesn't mean that I don't have a college degree.  It means that I am willing to do what it takes to pay my bills.  If I can't do the work that I went to school for, because there are no job opportunities where I live, it doesn't mean that I haven't had a career.  Whatever, people suck.  What I was saying is that I'm trying really hard not to cut, as I've mentioned before. 

My husband is annoying me right now because he can tell that I want to cut, so he keeps asking me if I'm okay.  By "okay" he means- "have you cut?"  He knows that if I cut I will feel good, he can actually hear the relief in my voice, he'll call to check in with me and as soon as he hears my voice he knows if I've cut.  It's kinda freaky that he knows me so well.  It's awesome but freaky. 

My husband is an emotional eater, as am I.  When he's stressed out he eats junk food and then he'll feel better.  I don't give him a hard time for stress/over eating.  I understand how much better it makes him feel, it's not healthy but-it is what it is.  I kinda feel like he's being a hypocrite by getting upset and making me feel guilty for cutting.  Cutting is my overeating.  Why is it okay for him and not for me?  If we were drug addicts and my drug of choice was heroin and his drug of choice was meth; it would be like him saying- "it's okay for you to do meth because I do meth, it's not okay for you to do heroin because I don't like it." 

Am I just trying to justify my cutting?  I don't think so but I am also desperately wanting to cut so maybe I'm not thinking straight.

.

"Borderline individuals are the psychological equivalent of third-degree-burn patients. They simply have, so to speak, no emotional skin. Even the slightest touch or movement can create immense suffering."

Read more: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,1870491,00.html#ixzz1VsYOL5R0

the path of life

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.

Trigger Warning

I have been desperate to cut lately.  There are a few reasons why.  One-  I haven't cut really 'good' in a long time.  By good I mean a lot of cuts and a lot of blood.  Two- I've cut back on one of my meds, a mood stabilizer, because I can't afford to go the my psychiatrist so I can't get refills and I need to make the meds I have last.  Three- I am slowing accruing more debt, a major stress for me.

My husband freaks when I cut.  He understands why I cut, well he understands the best that a non-cutter can understand.  The thing that scares the shit out of him is trying to imagine the amount of pain I must be in that cutting/hurting myself is better than that pain.  So- when he sees a cut he knows that I'm not okay.

I have been self injuring for over 20 years.  I started out punching things, breaking bones, burning and then I discovered cutting.  Cutting is my favorite.  I love to see fresh cuts all over my arms.  Especially on my forearms.  I love my scars, seeing them makes me feel good.  Every scar I see reminds me that I AM strong enough to keep going.  I used to drink a lot, I've done a shit load of drugs.  I lost around 5 years of my life to drugs and alcohol; but I'm okay with that.  I love drugs.  I just can't do them and maintain a full time job at the same time. 

But I digress-  some years ago I moved from the northern part of the country to the southern part.  The #1 change- the weather.  Living in the north allowed me to wear long sleeves, you know where this is going, right?  I haven't been able to do any good cutting on my forearms in years.  I can't wait to move to a colder climate so I can resume my old cutting habits.  How sick is that?  Of course, I want to move for more reasons than cutting but that's another post.

I try so hard to not cut.  This is for my husband, not me.  If I had my way, I would cut everyday.  Just because it makes me feel good.  I would love to feel good about something every day.  Feeling good about anything is a rarity for me.  Right now I am frustrated and all over the place.  I guess this is another thing that has been making me want to cut. 

I have not been able to function without meds for a long time.  Every time I try to get off meds I end up in the hospital because I become suicidal so quickly.  Everyone's response to that is- stop trying to go off your meds!  Does anyone else feel this way?  Can anyone relate to how it feels to have to take 6 pills a day just to be "normal"?  It really upsets me.  I should just accept it, right?  My mom says-"If you had diabetes you wouldn't think twice about taking insulin, right?"  "If you had cancer, you'd go to chemo, right?"  Right!  I get it.  But it doesn't change the way I feel.  I get angry that I have to take anti-psychotics, anti-depressants, mood stabilizers...  Why is it so upsetting!?  So ever now and then I take it upon myself to lower my douses.   Yes, I know- I'm not a doctor.  Yes, I know- stupid, stupid, stupid.  But this is what I do.  I think- I've been doing good for a while.  It's been a year or two since my last hospitalization.  I've been stable for a couple of months/years now.  So I cut back.  Then I fall apart.  I fall apart so fast!  Usually within a week.  Then I do something stupid, I obsess about suicide.  Every singe thought is about suicide.  How good it would feel to kill myself.  How good it would feel???!!!  That is a crazy person's thought!  But then I drink and then I try to follow through.  It's usually a pitiful attempt, not really a full attempt.  I've only (only?!) had 3 really good attempts that landed me in the hospital for months.  Yuck, that's another post too.

Okay- I need to stop rambling because I don't even know where I started with this.  This is why I started this blog though.  So, if you're reading this- wow.  Tell me what you think.  I really do listen.

home

It went well.  I didn't drink too much, that's an accomplishment for me!  Of course, all my other friends got wasted.  It's strange being the sober one, boy people act like fucking idiots when they are drunk.  I love them anyways.

Me

This is going to be my attempt at venting.  I need to be able to say what I need to say without being worried about being judged.  I mean judged by the people who love me.  I don't care what other people think.  The only reason I'm doing it here is because maybe someone out there will relate.  Finding other people who feel like I do is so healing.  So, I guess I'll start with my story.  This will take some time so I will be writing it in pieces.  It may also be a little jumbled but I'm going to write it the way it comes to me.  I'll start with the basics, the stuff that really doesn't define me in any way.


I am female.  I am in my mid 30's.  I have been married for almost 10 years.  I haven't had any children but I am a step-mom.  I live in the US.  I graduated high school.  I have an associates degree and I am half a semester from my bachelors degree.  I've worked with the homeless, the mentally ill and addicts.  I am "mentally ill" myself but I'll go into more detail on that later.  I love tattoos.  I am very anti-social, to the point of being unhealthy.  I am very cynical, stubborn and sarcastic.


I welcome all feedback and comments but if you are being mean just to be mean I will block you.  If you have something to say and you can back it up, then I welcome you.  I will not hold back here.  I have to do that everyday in my "real" life just so that I can hold a job and be "responsible".   I will not promise to write everyday.  I do not promise anything.  Every word written here is my opinion only.  I represent only myself and I speak only for myself.  Consider this my disclaimer.  I hope this works well and I hope it is productive but if it's not I will end it without warning.  So be warned!