White Robe Vision Anniversary

It's crazy to think that I'm at my one-year anniversary after my White Robe Vision.

For those who don't know what that means... A year ago I was in church singing along to the worship band. I had been struggling with anger, and depression, and aloneness, and everything that you can imagine someone would struggle with after mounds and mounds of trauma. To say that I was in a dark, scary place would be the understatement of a lifetime. I was singing, pleading with the L-rd for a miracle and for forgiveness when I had this image, a vision.

It was me in the fetal position, dressed in sackcloth with ashes and dirt covering me. I was sobbing. My view was as if I was standing watching myself in this dark but not scary space, but I also knew what it was like as the me that was on the floor sobbing. I don't know how I could be both, but I was.

Anyway, Yeshua (Jesus) walked over and helped me up. He handed me a pile of white clothes, a white robe. Instantly, I was dressed in white, holding His hand, and clean from head to toe. I knew in that moment that I was clean, forgiven, redeemed, and precious to the only One that truly matters. The weight that was literally suffocating me was lifted. I felt the physical sensation of being lighter and of being able to breathe. Tears, happy tears, were falling from my eyes and I was at peace for the first time in YEARS.

The high of this vision fueled my healing in counseling, my passion in bible study, and my joy in life. Since I was feeling better, much much better, I started EMDR. I don't know if I just got to the point in my "healing" where my brain started to process the anger and grief, or if it was because I was processing things in EMDR and therapy, but my joy was replaced by anger. Pure rage and grief and the darkest depression I have experienced in such a long time.

Not only was I battling the memories and nightmares that has stopped a short few months before, but I was suddenly from the highest high down in the my darkest pits. Even darker than I had just gotten out of! Suddenly the urges to start smoking again came back. The desire the slice my skin and jump on Tinder resurfaced. My prayers to not wake up in the morning or for me to die in some quick fashion started pouring from my heart again. My pleas for this life to be over or for me to wake up from this nightmare were back. The enormity of the betrayal I faced from ex-best friend hit me full-force. The horrors I survived and lived through hit me like a ton of bricks. My actions, reasons, and reactions all flooded into my memory boggling my mind with the crap that I've been through. Realizations of what my childhood was like, things I had forgotten were dredged up. Past hurts and scars and darkness all covered me at once. Crashing over me like tsunami-sized waves.

Now, after nearly 8 months, these waves are still skyscraper high, but I've sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor where the waves can't effect me so much because my brain has gone blank. I have a vague recollection that bad things have happened. A small understanding that I am hurt and have been damaged mocks me in the early hours when I wake up, or in the moments before I fall asleep. My heart squeezes and heat rises as my brain recalls the nightmares that I just had throughout my sleep were real events that happened. Anger overwhelms me and forces me from bed to try to go find some mind-numbing entertainment from the boob-tube.

I want to believe G-d has good in store. My heart craves the day when my life is redeemed and I maybe see some fruit that the sh!t that I *unfortunately* survived is going to be worth something to someone. Surely there is a reason behind the suffering. Surely there is a way that this can be helpful for something. Surely my life, my experiences, my pain and sorrow will not be a waste!

It's crazy to think that a year ago would start the roller-coaster that has been this past year. To go from so passionate and on fire for the L-rd, to questioning His beneficence towards me. Hope was replaced with rage and ecstatic joy was replaced with soul wrenching despair. My new found zest for life was, again, brought into the deepest of me begging for my life to end.

I'd like to say that my life is back to me being excited and on fire for the L-rd. I wish I could tell you all that life got back to smooth sailing, that I am happy and excited again and that I finished out the year with minimal lasting pain. Well, I could, but that would be a lie. Just when I started to think I was on the mend, my story would be used for goodness and I might be needed in this world after-all, I was knocked down again. Knocked down by someone who was supposed to be a mentor, a leader, a helper in the faith. At that point, the hits kept coming from every side. I confided in her about some recent family wounds and that was used against me, as ammo for the attacks. Ex-best friend joined in the attacks, people from work, patients, family, and anyone else that was in close proximity to me. They ganged up, at the enemies command, and I was bombarded by the tsunami waves that I thought I was avoiding by remaining on the ocean floor. There's no escape though.

Here, looking back on my year, I'm proud of myself for not falling back into self harm, not succumbing to the craving for a cigarette, and for not putting myself back onto Tinder. I fought like hell to still show up, to try to be as present as possible, and to put myself out there for others. I'm working harder than ever to find some good, some purpose, and some meaning in my suffering and loneliness. I am searching for hope and belonging somewhere. But I don't belong here. I don't belong on this earth. I will forever be a stranger, a loner, wandering along on this blue rotating rock. This is not my home. This is not where I will make sense. This is not where the answers will be found, where I am redeemed, or where my purpose lies.

My heart is so tired. My soul is weary. I don't know how much longer I can hold out here.

My anniversary of one of the most powerful gifts the L-rd has every given me is marked by a season of such despair and difficulty that I'm sent back into the pits of existence when I desperately desire to no longer exist. How can this be? It doesn't make sense!

2 Year Anniversary

April 18 and 19 was my 2nd year anniversary of my first sexual assaults. I worked. I thought these days would get easier, but also that it was be more difficult than they were. I know that this makes no sense unless you're in it. But for me, this is the only way to describe the past few days.

At work, we had a girl come into the ER in labor. She came in with abdominal pain. After routine tests, it was discovered that she was 1) pregnant and 2) in active labor. After being told this information, she confessed she was raped. According to her well known dates, the baby was calculated to be premature by about a month. So, ER nurses called us and called L&D because NICU would need to go to that delivery and would possibly be taking the infant back to our unit.

I don't know what happened with that baby or with the girl, but I was at that delivery. The baby was born at full term. There was also the father in the room. I'm not saying she was lying, but I'm not able to know what the full story is either. The girls on my unit were angry, saying that she lied because the father was there.

Guys, that could have been me. I knew the father. I likely would have sought out prenatal care and I definitely called my mom. Well, the ER nurse that did my SANE exam made me... but still. I told my mom about the assault the night after it happened. I drove up to Home Town and went with her to dinner where I couldn't hold it in any longer. I told her in an Olive Garden then wept in her car, in her arms for hours. After ex-fiance raped me over a dozen times, I took the Plan B pill. It is against my beliefs but I couldn't be stuck to the evil guy that would continually invade my physical boundaries and my body. Plus, I had taken one after ex-boyfriend assaulted me and I was examined by a SANE nurse.

I wouldn't have allowed them in the room, if I had needed to give birth. I don't know if I would have told them. I don't know if I would have kept the baby. I just don't know.

I pray for the girl's sake and the sake of the baby, that she was lying, so that she doesn't actually have to live through this trauma that I deal with every day and I can't even make an hour of not remembering something that happened to me in the year of 2015. I was abused and battered and raped and in terrible relationships with two separate guys for the entire year of 2015. I hope for her sake that she was fucking lying. If, not, my heart hurts for her. She has no idea the pain that is coming. However, if she lied, I am angry. I am angry that people see this "label" as an easy way out of consequences that may be bestowed upon them by parents that would be pissed that their child got pregnant at the age of 17 and didn't tell them (the parent) about it until the mom was so concerned about her daughter that they went to the ER at 1 a.m. 

Add in to this trying time of my year that the show "13 Reasons Why" is a very popular show and everyone seems to be talking about, discussing, and judging this poor girl and her decisions and her life. I know it's fictional, but it's not far off from my actual life story. I haven't watched the show, I won't. I know the premise of the show and I've read summaries of many of the episodes. It's not far off from how my story could have been.

Regardless of the year or which of my traumas is coming up on anniversary, somehow, my whole life and everything around me has a tendency to constantly remind of whatever it is I went through at this time a few years ago.

Great.

I have started looking for a counselor, don't worry. I'm fixin' to go back. I told my mom, which just ended up freaking her out, but I promised her it was just for a "catch-up". We'll see how it goes.

I went home to Home State a couple weeks ago. My first day back, I was car shopping with my mom when we got a call that her dad was in the hospital. Crap. Normally, it would be stressful enough having grandpa in the hospital for alleged "stroke-like symptoms". However, my mom's mom could be diagnosed with narcissistic personality disorder, as per the DSM-V. She could also be diagnosed with about 97 other personality disorders, and I'm only barely being dramatic. Anyway, she was the one "relaying" the information to my aunt and didn't want to tell my mom because my grandma hates my mom. Yes, she hates her own daughter. Well, after lots of family drama, sneaking into the hospital to visit grandpa when she wasn't there, and spending my whole vacation explaining the adult medical world to my family despite letting them know I "don't do big people". I left my "vacation" exhausted, worried, and frustrated that I spent all my time at a different hospital, taking care of my grandpa (whom I absolutely adore) while trying to dodge my grandma (not to be confused with Mema, whom I work with here in the NICU where I currently reside). I saw my uncles and cousins who don't know who I am because they haven't seen me in 15 years because they are mean and grandma actually likes them and hates me. Grandma then got my number and has begun calling me. *facepalm*

It turns out grandpa was taken to the hospital with stroke-like symptoms and we found cancer in his lungs, liver, and brain. The brain lesions are what was causing his confusion. He had been coughing for a few weeks and began taking Mucinex. He began experiencing R sided numbness and weakness. We thought it was a symptom tied with the confusion, but turns out that extended use of Mucinex can/will cause that. Seeing as he took 5 bottles of Mucinex over the course of a month, it is much more likely the weakness was caused by that.

He is now in the midst of his 10 back-to-back radiation treatments. Following those, he will receive several rounds of chemo and still not have a particularly long time to live because he has small-cell carcinoma. Even if he goes into remission, the cancer will likely come back and with a vengeance.

Despite all of these things, grandpa is so frickin' cute. Even when he was confused, he was happy, pleasant, polite, and worried about his children and grandchildren. Despite being married to a horrible woman who constantly yells at him and berates him, he chooses to be happy and he chooses to stay with her because, as a Catholic, he believes he is doing the right thing by G-d. I so admire this man for staying happy, despite all that has happened to him over the course of his life. He takes things in stride, does what he can for his children, and just tried to by honorable in the eyes of the Good L-rd. Plus, he's so stinkin' cute!!!. Just excited for pudding and to see all 5 of his children in a room for the first time in decades. He has tons of grandkids and several great-grandkids. He worked until last year when he retired at the age of 75 from a job where he was a grounds keeper for a local park system in Home State. He worked hard, outside, for decades. He used to keep 3 jobs at all times to care for his family (granted, grandma did nothing and stole all of his money... but that's beside the point). He's worked hard and suffered his whole life, but he finds joy in getting pudding and juice. I love this man. I am so blessed to have gotten to see him while I was there. I gladly traded my vacation to stay with him while I could.

Making Happy Anniversaries

Today marks the first year anniversary of me getting my SANE exam.

It may not seem like much, but today marks the one year anniversary of me starting to fight for me.

Today is a good anniversary.

So, as I sit at home celebrating alone, I remember how far I've come and how far I have yet to grow. I can see good in most days instead of living in my dark pit of despair. I look forward to little bits in my future, thought I'm not sure how life is going to turn out. I pray that my life gets better and more joyful. I guess we'll see.

Until then, raise a glass and celebrate with me! I'm strong and growing and have survived some pretty shitty stuff. I made it a year longer on this Earth.

Life Goes On

I survived both/all three? first year anniversaries from my assaults. I write both, because it was over two days. I put three, because there were three assaults.

Anywho, I survived them. Yesterday was hard, but I made myself eat (dinner...), I used my essential oils, I had a glass of wine, Roomie and I made a list of 10 reasons why I am better off without exboyfriend, I bought myself flowers, and I skipped the class I could (peds) and did the things I absolutely had to do (world religions). Then, after all that, I woke up this morning. I may have struggled yesterday, and today, but now my two days of anniversaries are done and life will go on for awhile longer... unfortunately.

Today in counseling, we discussed how I probably don't need to be going in very much anymore. I'm cutting down to once a week next week. I know that counseling is only supposed to be temporary, to get you able to survive in life alone again, but I'm sad that this season is coming to a close. Counselor asked what else I felt like I needed to work on and I couldn't think of anything. I mentioned self-esteem, but we determined I am way better in that department than I was ever before in my life... I brought up rational thought and confidence, and we determined I was growing well in those areas as well... I'm becoming more assertive, setting boundaries, and I'm learning how to cope with my traumatic past. She told me she thinks I'm graduated from PTSD to post-traumatic growth. Look it up, I guess it's a real thing.

I saw it mentioned on some documentary that I woke up to, because I sleep with my television on. The psychiatrist on the documentary was saying that post-traumatic growth is being able to be better than baseline after your healing begins after a trauma.

So, imagine your life at baseline. You have a traumatic event and it plummets you past the deepest valley you could ever imagine for yourself. You are suspected to be in post-traumatic growth when you slowly work back up to your baseline (before your trauma) but then somehow surpass that level.

I was reading somewhere online that mentioned that post-traumatic growth can be suspected (that sounds negative, but it's actually a really good thing) when: you find joy in the smaller things in life, stressful things don't phase you as much, you can reflect on your traumatic experiences and they don't completely floor you, you are happy again or happier than you were before (because you understand the value of life), and there were others but I cannot find the article nor can I fully remember. But, whatever the points were, I met them all!

Yes, each day is still full of triggers and many days are a huge struggle, but I get through them and don't stay in bed all day! I am beginning to look forward for my future again, and I am beginning to forgive myself and understand that I could have done nothing to make the situation better. It wasn't my fault. This understanding is still very much a struggle most days, but I'm believing it more days than not.

I have a hope. I have a future. I have a life to live and people to prove wrong. I have guys to give the biggest middle finger to of living a life they told me I could never live.

Counselor and I discussed how I feel guilty but also relieved to say that I hate these guys. I hate what they did to me. I hate that they ruined my life. I hate that they have no traumatic aftermath and I have no permanent healing ever, for the rest of my life!

These fuckers destroyed my life, fucked up my brain, invaded my body in the most brutal of ways, and my life will never be the same. I'll never be innocent again. I will never get back what they stole. There is a good chance I will never get justice.

So, living my life the way they told me I never could is my best payback. L-rd, give me a loving, kind, gracious, wonderful husband that shows me the way ladies and people are supposed to be loved! L-rd, provide me with the sweetest, most beautiful, kind, smart, wonderful, blessed children! L-rd, bless me in my nursing career and pave the way for me wherever I may go! Open doors that I never dreamed were possible, even when I was completely "pure" and not polluted by the pure evil these assholes forced upon me. L-rd, show Satan that he does not win by blessing my life and allowing me to live ridiculously joyfully and happy for the rest of my life! L-rd, redeem me and give me justice! Most of all, L-rd, do not turn your back on me. Do not leave me or forget me. Remember the things I've had to survive and give me years of peach, joy, happiness, excitement (only good excitement), love, contentment, and absolute bliss.

Baruch HaShem! Bless you L-rd for all you've done for me so far and heal my heart, my body, and my mind oh L-rd.

Painful Memories

Tomorrow marks the anniversary of ex-boyfriend's first assault on me. A year ago, I was excited on this night. It was a Friday, I believe and I was probably at his new house watching a movie with him. Actually, he went to bed early so we were probably back in his bed, falling asleep or already sleeping by now.

He didn't try to touch me this night. I was still blissfully ignorant of the danger lurking within him.

The most he probably did was try to grab my butt or my boobs while he made out with me. I was uncomfortable sleeping in his bed, but he wouldn't let me sleep out on the couch. I was also dumb enough to believe that sleeping over would be okay. I was naive enough to believe that I was safe with him.



I've been wrestling with terrible thoughts in my head. For as long as I can remember, I was told to love those who hurt you and hate nobody but Satan.

I've been struggling to wrap my head around the evil that was done to my body and the fact that these guys think that they did nothing wrong.

I have been struggling to keep my mind from saying that "I hate them."

I hate what they've done to me. I hate that they have no fucking clue that my life is ruined. I hate that if the news ever got out that they did these things to me, nobody will believe me and they will blame me for making up stories. I hate that the law is on their side in this backwards legal system. I hate that they will likely have no punishment because what could potentially happen in the best case scenario for me or worst case scenario for them? NOTHING! Absolutely, fucking nothing.

Justice is bullshit. The legal system is not working for victims, it helps nobody but those who have broken the law. So, what's the point in reporting? There is none.


I'm so fucking over this shit. I can't sleep. My mind is being bombarded with the evil acts these assholes have done to me. The only comfort I have is absolutely nothing. There is no comfort. There is no justice. There is nothing I, or anyone, can do to right these wrongs.

L-rd, give me peace and comfort in the coming months as all of my anniversaries come to bombard me and swallow me whole. Quiet my heart and give me restful sleep. Allow me to somehow forget these evil guys. Somehow, in the coming judgement, bring me justice, oh L-rd. Give me something to tell me that the suffering I have unfortunately survived this last year is not in vain. Oh L-rd, redeem me and punish those who have wronged me and invaded my body. Ad-nai, forgive my past trangressions and remember what has happened. L-rd, remember those who love you and deliver me from the evil bestowed upon me.

Why was this given to me? What did I do that warranted that type of punishment? Or, what kind of sick test was that?!? WHY???



Ironically, tomorrow's pediatric lecture is on childhood abuse and will most likely mention sexual assault because that seems to be a popular topic in that stupid class. As such, I am not going. I refuse to go. The peds instructor makes sick jokes about rape, suicide, abuse, and other "hot button" topics that immediately make me cry. How will I handle such topics from now on? I will just refuse to go to class! Fuck you, lady. L-rd willing, you've never lived through these terrible things. As someone who survived multiple suicide attempts, is living through grieving a friend's suicide, having been abused by boyfriends, and raped by two separate guys on numerous occasions, YOU HAVE NO PLACE TO TALK!!!

No decent person makes jokes about abuse, rape, or suicide. Don't fuck with those topics. If you have to talk about them, and I think it's important to discuss them, then you treat them with the respect and seriousness they deserve. Get people who are experts and who are tender to the issues to come and teach the lecture, if that is required.

Don't fucking mess with me and don't tell me you know when you don't lady (peds professor and Jersey.)

Some of you, out there in the blog-o-sphere, unfortunately understand the pain of living through traumatic events. Though we have not lived the same life, I am sorry for your suffering. We can't fully comprehend each others pain and journey, but I know what it is like to live my trauma and I am sorry for anyone who has to live through their own. For anything you've been through, I am, from the bottom of my heart, sorry.

For those of you who haven't, I am so very glad that you haven't. I do not wish this on anyone. Having said that, please do not tell those of us who are survivors of trauma that you know what we are going through. If you say anything, tell us that you are sorry and then slap that pity look right off your face. We don't need pity. We are still a person, just like anyone else. Unfortunately, we were dealt a hand in life where we were forced to be a bit stronger than the average person. That does not mean we need pity. Giving us that fucking pity look and babying us after we tell you only makes the situation worse. Don't distance yourself from us or treat us differently besides avoiding the triggers we ask you to avoid. Besides that, treat us normally, but silently give us more patience as we heal.

Another Damn Birthday

My birthday is tomorrow. I'll turn 22.

In the past, I have avoided people knowing my birthday because I didn't want anyone making a big deal about it. From that stemmed my own little personal game of my friends not knowing what day my birthday is and avoiding working the day before/day of/and day after my birthday. These have just been traditions I have kept for years.

Last year, I was very open about my birthday because I turned 21 and wanted people to come out and celebrate with me! In the U.S., for those of you outside, 21 is the legal drinking age. As you can imagine, this warrants a bit of celebrating.

Well, fast forward to this year and my birthday is now a day of mourning. I think about last year and how excited I was. I had lots of friends coming out to celebrate with me, I had a boyfriend who was still treating me well, I was getting through school and I had just survived Country Boy's first anniversary. His first anniversary went much better than this year's, though. I had a drink for him that night, but mostly I was just young and excited. I thought my life was turning more exciting and could only get better.

I was so terribly wrong.

Come back to the present with me, and let's mull over why my birthday is now a day of mourning...

• My body has been assaulted in the most intimate ways, by two separate asshole guys, more times than I can count.
• Country Boy is still gone and his death anniversary is right before my birthday so I am still recovering from that grief again.
• My friends are all busy so I could stay in bed, but the couple of friends that are not busy and that know my birthday is tomorrow are not letting me stay in my bed.
• I'll never be the girl I was a year ago. For that, I mourn the most.

I miss her. People say I can get her back, but those people have also never been through what I've been through. She was kind, excited about life, and always willing to help. Her, I can get back. She had also never experienced more trauma than a friend's suicide. She had memories, but not intense flashbacks. She was mourning, but it was reasonable and normal, especially for the trauma associated with surviving a friend's suicide.

Go back to the year I turned 19, and I miss her even more. No suicide. Best Friend liked me and we hung out all the time. I was in the dorms and was around friends as much as I wanted to be, all I had to do was walk down the hall. I thought it was a great victory going the entire day with nobody knowing it was my birthday, especially living in such a short proximity to my friends. Then, at about 10 p.m., while hanging out with Best Friend talking, I spilled the beans. He gave me a hug and got a little bit upset that I hadn't told him sooner. I was so excited for everything! I was about to get into nursing school, I was looking at apartments and making life plans. I was confident and excited that a guy liked me and spent so much time with me. I had just gotten away from the most toxic roommates I have ever met and I was living by myself. School was going well and the world was still a bright and shiny place ready for my stamp on it and the adventures that were sure to come my way.

Come back to the present and I don't want to see the future. I'm convinced nothing good can make me be able to heal fully from my past. I don't want to meet a guy and start dating because then I have to tell him I'm not pure and I'm not what he wants. He'd have to deal with my PTSD, my whole shitty season of every year from March until the end of July, and if we ever had kids I've got so many risk factors for being a terrible mom that it's not even worth attempting to survive pregnancy and a birth because that poor kid would have no fighting chance at a good life.

Of course, it is impossible to explain this to friends They don't understand and I pray they never understand this pain. I pray they have all the happiness in the world. Mine was stolen, but may they know nothing but happiness. May they keep the sparkle in their eyes and their love of life. I hope this for all of you as well.

For those of you that have been through trauma, I am so sorry. I am sorry for all of your losses. While losses include the deaths and the loss of people, remember that it also means the loss of your sense of identity, body integrity, and anything else that you have lost that hits you hard. Yes, it is okay to mourn the loss of who you once were if that was taken, hurt, and otherwise damaged. I am sorry for your loss, as I am sorry for mine. Though I don't know exactly how you feel, because we all perceive and feel things differently and circumstances are always a little bit different, know that I understand it is painful beyond words.

So, tomorrow is my birthday. It is a solemn occasion and a day of mourning. I survived Country Boy's 2nd anniversary and everything that could have gone wrong going wrong with that. Here's to hoping I survive tomorrow, if I must.

It'll Never End

As mentioned in my last post, my day began at about 3 this morning. Not pleasant.

I made it through the sim lab and my group did really well. The instructors were surprised and kept saying they didn't think we would do so well because my group wasn't very interactive on Monday during the skills lab... I think it was supposed to be a compliment but it came off terribly. Whatever, we rocked it and now I'm done with that.

All day, Country Boy has been on my mind. All week, in fact. This morning, before hopping in my shower, I went back and looked at some pictures of him. A few tears fell, but I'm still too overwhelmed in my life to be able to cry much. I went through sim lab and my brain was not working. People kept talking to me and I couldn't even focus. I saw their lips moving, but I couldn't hear anything.

Last night exfiance called me 3 times... They didn't ring through, because I blocked him. However, I woke up at 1:30 a.m. wondering why my phone was lit up, but I decided to ignore it. At 3, when I woke up for sure, I saw the little symbol for voice mail. I was confused, wondering why anyone needed to leave me a voice mail so early in the morning and I panicked wondering if it was family or a friend who needed me. Nope. It was exfiance. I didn't listen to his message because I was scared he would have called me and left a voice mail while he was pretending to die or while he committed suicide just because he knew how badly Country Boy's death affected me. Sick thought process, I know, but he's done terrible things to me and he messes with my head. If you go through something like that (and I pray you never do and never have), you begin to wonder what kind of bullshit they are going to unleash on you this time.

I waited until my roommate woke up, and then I told her about it. She offered to listen to the message to screen it for me. Essentially, it said everything his 9 text messages from Easter said to me. Again, those too were blocked and I didn't get them until a day or two after Easter Sunday.

I didn't listen to the voice mail until my lunch break between simulations today. I went out to my car and listened to all 3 fucking minutes of the bullshit message. The messages (voice mail and texts) went to the effect that he has been attending the church I go to for the last month. He says he wants me to go see him at church and sit with him... He says he's changed and that I'm amazing and all this bullshit. Seriously, he told me I brought him back to the L-rd. What the fuck?!?

Honestly, I hope he did find the L-rd but I don't believe him at all. I don't believe a fucking word he uttered the entire time I've ever known him. I don't believe any of the nice things, I don't believe any of the crazy stories, I don't believe the apologies, or anything else he ever said. I don't. So, you can go pound sand fucker. Leave me the hell alone. STOP TRYING TO TALK TO ME!!!

So sick of it.

After sim was done and I was driving home, I was barely keeping the tears from falling. I was handling myself until I saw his truck. Not Country Boy's, not exfiance's... the other one. I saw exboyfriend's truck passing me on my way home. Fuckin' A. Of course, this is going to happen on one of my shittiest days. He works on the exact opposite side of town. Why the fuck is he on my way home?!?

I lost it. The tears started, my panic attack began in earnest, and my brain shut down with that last straw. It was the last straw to break my mind from how it had been dealing with all of the overwhelming nonsense I had been dealing with all day. Seeing exbf's truck is what did me in.

I got home and Roomie asked how I was doing. My chin and voice began quivering as I told her the extremely shortened and condensed version of the shit I survived today. She stood there quietly and told me she was sorry. She suggested I go climb into bed and watch a movie or take a nap. My beautifully happy and cheery roommate didn't know what to do. She doesn't know what to do when I don't even know how to handle my life circumstances. I don't blame her.

She left a few minutes later for work and her dog followed me into my room. I collapsed on my bed crying because I was finally done with the shit show that was my day. Oh my goodness, the dog flipped out! She jumped on my bed, started licking my face and acting all frantic. She licked me and tried to climb in my lap (she's 50 lbs) for a solid 10 minutes, as the tears streamed down my face. She kept making me pet her and push her from my face because she was taking away my tears. She jumped down, ran out of my room, but returned about 30 seconds later and began barking at me! She put her front two paws on my bed and started barking and whining at me in her scared bark. I pulled myself together, stopped crying and then the dog left my room. I don't know what else happened, but my eyes opened about an hour and a half later, and I didn't know where I was or what time it was. I woke up another hour and a half after that in the same condition, but laid in bed answering my 9 text messages that had accumulated, as I stared at my ceiling for an hour.

I don't know how to explain times like this, but when I have a bad enough day, I can stay in bed and stare at the wall or ceiling for hours with no thoughts going through my head. I snap out of it a couple hours later, but it only felt like 5 minutes at the most. No thoughts, no emotion, no ability to move my body. I legitimately shut down all the way and can do absolutely nothing.

Days like this, I don't even need alcohol. I know that on a day like today, drinking would simply get me stuck in the sad, terrible existence of my brain when my brain is literally refusing to think about it. My brain is overwhelmed and refusing to think about the stressors because it's unable to handle it anymore. Why would I drink and remember if I can just disappear into nothingness?



Today, everything that I needed to not happen, all happened... Today, was one of the hardest days to survive. Today, but not just today, I wished Country Boy would have taken me with him. I get mad at him for leaving me here.

I just don't want to be here anymore.

This is bullshit.

2 Year Anniversary

Today marks the 2 year anniversary of Country Boy dying. Unfortunately, with him, I get a solid three days each year that I lose my sh!t because all three are anniversaries.

#1 - the last Sunday of Spring Break (that's when he died)

#2 - March 30 (that is the actual date that was the last Sunday of Spring Break)

#3 - April 11 (his birthday, just a week and some after my birthday)

He wasn't even 19. He just needed to find enough reason to live another two weeks and he couldn't find it.

I haven't been sleeping well this last week. Last night, I fell asleep at about 9:30 p.m., woke up every couple of hours, then woke up and couldn't fall back asleep at about 3 a.m. It's now 5:45 a.m. and I still shouldn't be getting woken up by my alarm clock until about 6:30...

Yesterday afternoon (March 29), Brother took me to the cemetery. I bought a small bottle of whiskey and shared it with Country Boy. His alcohol tolerance is much better than mine, which is good because I couldn't only handle about half of the tiny bottle and he got every other swig. We went yesterday because Brother has to work until late tonight and the cemetery is creepy at night and also in a sketchy part of town. I might go back and sit with him today, but it depends on how much energy I have after a full day of sim lab for peds.

Counselor says I'm doing well. I started making a binder with all of the handouts and exercises Counselor gave me. I'm hoping that when I move, I'll remember my binder on my Bad Days. She is probably one of the strongest, most bad ass women I think I've ever met. Yet, she still told me that she couldn't imagine how hard it must be to live knowing that my attackers are on the loose. It sucks, but I'm here and kicking. I'm barely going, but I'm not doing what Country Boy did to my family and friends. As much as I would love to no longer be here, I'm not going to be a trauma to those I love or even just know.

She made me feel strong. By Counselor telling me she couldn't imagine living in my shoes, after I've heard how strong she is, it made me feel like maybe I'm dong okay. People tell me I'm strong, but it just makes me feel weak when they say that. There are the pity eyes and that tone they say it with that break me down, especially on my weak days because those are days I can hardly breathe. So, when I feel weak, and people flat out say I'm strong, I don't believe them and I assume they're lying. For some reason, having her tell me I'm handling this sh!tty life, by myself (and G-d), and I'm still finishing school and plugging along, it was a boost. (*I apologize for the structure of that last sentence, I'm typing through tears, sleep deprived, mourning again, and otherwise struggling*)

I had an interview yesterday. They said it went really well but that I have to wait for the hiring manager's boss to get back to her to make sure I can be hired. I pray the L-rd lets me know what needs to happen. It would be nice to be able to start house shopping and planning for my post-graduation future, but the move to this particular location holds a few complications... I'll keep y'all posted though!

Well, I suppose I better go get ready for sim lab. I get out late this afternoon and then I'm headed to the bar with a couple friends. I don't know how today will go. The past week has been hell, but not as bad as last year. Last year, I survived the day. This year, it is uncertain but I will survive to the best of my ability. I look like sh!t though.

Suicide Anniversary

Friends, I have made it a year since Country Boy committed suicide. Granted, I didn't learn about it until April 9, but we are celebrating me surviving a very rough year in my life.

I want to hang out with people today to keep my mind occupied but everybody's busy. Oh well, I'm surviving the day and only cried for about 30 seconds twice. That's pretty good!

I was told today by Beauty that I am made of "wife material". What is that? She said that because every guy that goes out with me is convinced he needs to marry me. Is that just because that's what guys do or is that because of me? Boyfriend told me I'm the best girlfriend he's had (out of 3-4 before me) but I don't know what that means either.

We got to go shooting this weekend and out of like 20-30 clays that we launched, I hit one. ONE! That's terrible! The first time I went shooting I hit all but 2-3 out of 20. Good gracious I've gotten worse. I also got to help feed the cows! Oh my gosh, I love cows. There are new little babies that are only about a week old and they get so excited they start running around with each other for no reason. So cute! They gave me cow kisses. I like cow kisses. The older ones also follow me around and that was even before I gave them cake/treats! Ugh, I just cannot get enough of them.

Also, I got a letter in the mail today telling me I got a scholarship for $3500! I wish I would have applied to more last year because this scholarship is usually not given for more than about $1000-$2000 so maybe I could have gotten a lot more help last year and stayed out of such huge debt. Oh well, the L-rd will provide for me to get out of my crazy debt. Yay! In order to get the scholarship, I even had to have an interview. Since I was at clinicals the only day they had the interviews, they ended up allowing me to have a phone interview. I was so scared they didn't like me or that they weren't happy about having to do it over the phone but they gave me such a big award. L-rd willing I will get lots of other scholarships and maybe be able to start paying off some of my interest on the unsubsidized loans I've had to take out.

So, my rough day is getting better and I'm much stronger than I was a year ago. My life has changed dramatically from that point. Granted, I thought my world was turned upside down because Brother told me he was moving out, a week later I broke up with the boy I was "trying" a relationship with, and then Country Boy killed himself a week after the break up. That on top of a very long, really bad bout with depression, two jobs, and a general life meltdown, I was not in a good place at all.