Yesterday, I mourned the loss of a 19 year old young man. I didn't personally know the guy, but my YoungLife students had had classes with him. They were friends with him.
The devastation in their eyes was heart wrenching, because I've been there.
I sat there, listening to them try to process the heaviness of losing such a young friend. I listened to the stories, and the questions, and the tears. My heart broke listening to his younger sister's recounting of his last day as he tried to spend some time with his sister before he left. I listened to the ways he quietly, silently, said his goodbyes. His sister said he made his bed. He never made his bed, but he made it before he went on his last late night drive.
I called my mom as I headed over to the crisis hangout after getting the news. One of my students requested we have a time to be able to facilitate them being together to process, cry, or just be with each other through their hurting. She asked me if I was okay. At the time, I was like, "of course I'm fine, I'm worried about my kids!" Then she asked if I was being triggered and she told me o be careful driving, especially with all of this going through my bead during my hour drive to the meet-up. (The hour drive is because I'm temporarily required to be out of my roommate's house due to construction, so I'm staying with my dad.) I told her that I would be careful and that I was feeling okay. She told me to call if I needed anything.
At first, hanging up, I was touched, but a little confused. Why was she so concerned about my triggers? We haven't talked much about this. She knows how hard it was when Country Boy died, because she received my millions of phone calls as I tried to process his suicide. However, she normally doesn't seem to acknowledge my traumas, and she doesn't really use the lingo. As I continued to drive, and process (because driving is a time brains commonly use to process due to the eye movements), I began to cry. I had memories, flashbacks, and tears my whole drive. I was glad for the time in my car to be able to sit with memories and feelings. I had time to sing worship songs and pray. The tears could come and I could prepare.
My heart hurts.
While talking to these sweet students, I learned that it was the 5th suicide of a friend for some of them and the 10th suicide for others. A 14 year-old lost her brother. A mom and dad lost their only son. A cop witnessed someone take their own life as he turned to get his business card.
This young man experienced such immense hurting and darkness in his life that he felt he had no way out.
At the ripe old age of 19. Fresh out of high school and life was imploding for him. His days felt like his life held no hope, no way out of his problems and pain. He felt he had no lifeline.
Yet, his friends and family and even people he doesn't even know are all reeling in his wake.Tears are being poured out for this immense loss. There is a hole in hundreds of people's hearts. There are rippled of effects from the drop in this pool of community. He experienced the loss of a couple of close friends by suicide. No doubt adding to the pain he experienced. But, for him, this seemed to be his only solution.
My heart breaks. My heart breaks for the loss of my friend. The shoulda, coulda, woulda's are still painful for me. Though there is not the same intensity at the sting of the loss of him, there are still moments I think I see him. Or times I believe I see his truck. Memories of him as I drive the roads and see the places I visited with him.
My heart breaks for his family and friends that will now have to try to continue on in life without his presence. They will have to battle with their own regrets and replaying of his final months. They will battle against denial, sadness, guilt, anger, questions, fuzzy memories, and wondering why. Faith will be called into question. The benevolence of G-d will be scrutinized. is parent's marriage will be tested like never before and his sisters will forever grieve with the rest of his family as they meet each milestone along the remainder of their lives.
They will be haunted by his memories, his smell, his room, and his pictures.
I am grieved for them that they are beginning this long and arduous journey. This path that nobody want to travel and nobody can prepare for. You can get help along the way, but ultimately each of his loved ones that he left behind are having to fight through the darkness he left behind.
I can see his side, within reason. And I've been on the grieving end. Even still, it all hurts. No matter what, it sucks. It sucks because a life was taken far too early. A life was lost way before he grew old.
There was a choice to end his suffering, that also ended in suffering.
I don't believe the choice he made was entirely selfish. I don't think he made the choice to be revengeful or to hurt anyone else. I also don't believe this was a choice he made lightly. He tried to ease the minds of those he left behind. No doubt it grieved him, thinking about those that would be hurt by his passing. Chances are, he didn't realize how many would be effected by his choice to leave this world.
My heart hurts for him. My heart hurts for the many, many others that I have grieved for that have died by suicide.
Now, I ask that you join with me to pray for his family and friends. Remember them as you continue on. Remember those you've lost or who have been impacted by the heaviness and pain caused by suicide. Pray for the parents, siblings, and friends of those who have passed on in such a manor. Remember that we all carry pains that nobody else knows about. Please, please, try to use your filter of grace to see these events when you encounter them. Me, of all people (who becomes angry at the need to use my grace goggles sometimes) is pleading with you to consider the pain of those that died.
Also use gentle words when attempting to comfort those left behind. It's okay to say nothing. It's okay to say that you are sorry for their loss. It's okay to tell them that you are hurting for them. Don't tell them suicide is selfish, it's not.
My heart is hurting.
Showing posts with label country boy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label country boy. Show all posts
Friday, February 1, 2019
Friday, March 23, 2018
I Thought Life Would Look Different
I turn 24 in approximately 10 days.
You guys know, I don't like birthdays. I'm not a huge fan of the extra attention, looking back on yet another year that has come and gone, nor remembering how much I had planned to do before getting to this point.
When I was younger, I had hoped to at least be married by now. But, I'm solidly single. I've been single for several years now, and no prospects of that changing any time in the near future.
I had hoped to be in Small Town; learning more, training new staff, and working up the career ladder there.
I had hoped to be accepted into graduate school and working towards furthering my education.
Naively, I had also hoped to have started having kids by now. I want to be a young mom, but I watch those years go and go and go.
I know, I'll only be 24. Someday I will look back and remember how foolish I was for wanting to pile on all of the adult responsibilities at the same time, but I'm feeling impatient. I'm thinking of the ways that a marriage would benefit me for housing, companionship, and general support in the simplicities of life.
Then again, I begin thinking of how difficult relationships are... You have to share in a marriage. Share a kitchen, a bathroom, a house, a bed, and your life with another person. This other person was raised differently than you. Sure, you may love them, but everything that they have come from is different than what you came from. Different family dynamics, different expectations, different bedtime routines, different views on life, different food/cooking preferences, and different ideas of how marriage is supposed to work.
As if that weren't enough, you have to share your day with them. Share thoughts, feelings, and emotions and try to continue to connect with them... every day.
And, if that all doesn't have your feathers ruffled, you're supposed to share your body with them as well?
I know, I know. Here's yet ANOTHER stinking post about how stupid trauma has effected my life and how I am sad about what it's done. I should be able to just get over it eventually, right? Didn't that time that I should have been over it come and go? Shouldn't I be moving on? Finding joy? Starting life over and hoping for the best?
Well, kind of. I guess I'm still mourning. I'm mourning the loss of what was stolen from me. I'm mourning for the dreams that I killed and buried all those years ago. I'm mourning the years of life stolen from me, as I have been climbing my way out of a deep, deep pit I was forced into. I'm mourning the life that cannot be, the goals that cannot be fulfilled, and the plans that I had.
G-d has different plans, better plans than I could ever imagine. He's got plans that will hopefully make a beautiful tapestry out of the tangled ends that I have come to. He's got plans that are so far beyond my comprehension, that I will never understand them.
However, I'm allowing myself to mourn this anniversary of life.
3 years ago, I came to this season with excitement, but low expectations, for my 21st birthday. I decided to celebrate my birthday that year and tell some people. I decided to allow people to make a big deal about me. 3 weeks later, my life came to a screeching halt. I had innocence forcefully torn from me. I was held down and my pleading was ignored. Unthinkable things were done to me and it put my life on pause. For 3 years, I have been stuck in survival mode. I am beginning to break free and start to live again. However, I have lost 3 years of my life, completely. Sure, I graduated, worked, and G-d brought me through. But I didn't live.
In 7 days marks the 4th anniversary of Country Boy's death by suicide. It, in itself, was highly traumatizing for me. Upon that loss, the trauma has continued to pile on. That loss started the Complex in the Complex PTSD. He was 19. Didn't even make it until he was 20. He didn't wait until he was 21. He carried a lot of grief and pain with him. It crushed him. I still remember the pain in his eyes. The hope he had that someone else understood his grief when we started talking about death on that little date at the Starbucks in Target. I made up some crap story, but deep inside, I wanted to tell him of my struggles with suicidal thoughts too. It never occurred to me that other people struggled with it too! I didn't want to bring him down on our mini date! I didn't want to burden him with more grief and worry than he already had.
You see, I shouldn't be older than 19, in my head. I "functioned" from 19 to 21, but L-rd knows I wasn't living. My life slowed down with the death of Country Boy. At the moment of my first assault with exboyfriend, my life came to a standstill. Time with exfiance was spent fighting to breath another day, and continued to stand still.
So now, I get to my 24th birthday feeling like a failure. Where has my life gone?
You guys know, I don't like birthdays. I'm not a huge fan of the extra attention, looking back on yet another year that has come and gone, nor remembering how much I had planned to do before getting to this point.
When I was younger, I had hoped to at least be married by now. But, I'm solidly single. I've been single for several years now, and no prospects of that changing any time in the near future.
I had hoped to be in Small Town; learning more, training new staff, and working up the career ladder there.
I had hoped to be accepted into graduate school and working towards furthering my education.
Naively, I had also hoped to have started having kids by now. I want to be a young mom, but I watch those years go and go and go.
I know, I'll only be 24. Someday I will look back and remember how foolish I was for wanting to pile on all of the adult responsibilities at the same time, but I'm feeling impatient. I'm thinking of the ways that a marriage would benefit me for housing, companionship, and general support in the simplicities of life.
Then again, I begin thinking of how difficult relationships are... You have to share in a marriage. Share a kitchen, a bathroom, a house, a bed, and your life with another person. This other person was raised differently than you. Sure, you may love them, but everything that they have come from is different than what you came from. Different family dynamics, different expectations, different bedtime routines, different views on life, different food/cooking preferences, and different ideas of how marriage is supposed to work.
As if that weren't enough, you have to share your day with them. Share thoughts, feelings, and emotions and try to continue to connect with them... every day.
And, if that all doesn't have your feathers ruffled, you're supposed to share your body with them as well?
I know, I know. Here's yet ANOTHER stinking post about how stupid trauma has effected my life and how I am sad about what it's done. I should be able to just get over it eventually, right? Didn't that time that I should have been over it come and go? Shouldn't I be moving on? Finding joy? Starting life over and hoping for the best?
Well, kind of. I guess I'm still mourning. I'm mourning the loss of what was stolen from me. I'm mourning for the dreams that I killed and buried all those years ago. I'm mourning the years of life stolen from me, as I have been climbing my way out of a deep, deep pit I was forced into. I'm mourning the life that cannot be, the goals that cannot be fulfilled, and the plans that I had.
G-d has different plans, better plans than I could ever imagine. He's got plans that will hopefully make a beautiful tapestry out of the tangled ends that I have come to. He's got plans that are so far beyond my comprehension, that I will never understand them.
However, I'm allowing myself to mourn this anniversary of life.
3 years ago, I came to this season with excitement, but low expectations, for my 21st birthday. I decided to celebrate my birthday that year and tell some people. I decided to allow people to make a big deal about me. 3 weeks later, my life came to a screeching halt. I had innocence forcefully torn from me. I was held down and my pleading was ignored. Unthinkable things were done to me and it put my life on pause. For 3 years, I have been stuck in survival mode. I am beginning to break free and start to live again. However, I have lost 3 years of my life, completely. Sure, I graduated, worked, and G-d brought me through. But I didn't live.
In 7 days marks the 4th anniversary of Country Boy's death by suicide. It, in itself, was highly traumatizing for me. Upon that loss, the trauma has continued to pile on. That loss started the Complex in the Complex PTSD. He was 19. Didn't even make it until he was 20. He didn't wait until he was 21. He carried a lot of grief and pain with him. It crushed him. I still remember the pain in his eyes. The hope he had that someone else understood his grief when we started talking about death on that little date at the Starbucks in Target. I made up some crap story, but deep inside, I wanted to tell him of my struggles with suicidal thoughts too. It never occurred to me that other people struggled with it too! I didn't want to bring him down on our mini date! I didn't want to burden him with more grief and worry than he already had.
You see, I shouldn't be older than 19, in my head. I "functioned" from 19 to 21, but L-rd knows I wasn't living. My life slowed down with the death of Country Boy. At the moment of my first assault with exboyfriend, my life came to a standstill. Time with exfiance was spent fighting to breath another day, and continued to stand still.
So now, I get to my 24th birthday feeling like a failure. Where has my life gone?
Saturday, February 17, 2018
Low Pressure System = Raining Babies
I went to a hot springs resort for a few days with my mom and brother about 2 weeks ago. Everything at work was fine before work, but when I started back with labor and delivery... the unit broke. We had so many emergency situations, babies that were not at all tolerating labor, and excessive amounts of blood. Of the last 8 days, I worked 7 and most of those were spent with me stressing over the moms and babies around me. I don't know what happened!!!
We had a low pressure system/pretty bad snowstorm role in and had 6 deliveries in one night and 3 as soon as shift change was complete in the morning. An emergency c section nearly every night and sometimes 2. We had several OB hemorrhages and even bleeding moms come back into the hospital from being at home.
This was my week and I'm so glad it is starting to simmer down for the patients. Now we just have to deal with our staff being sick and recovering from this ridiculous flu that has taken over everybody.
Meanwhile, I've felt so much lighter in my person struggles with sexual assault and trauma, plus the bullshit exBest Friend pulled.
I texted him, because he had been on my heart for awhile, but that ended quickly. He started making jokes about "doing it again" and saying it was a "fun night". Utter betrayal. I guess I was hoping for understanding, for support, for anything of what I though he had been. I needed the guy that drove me to the police station and waited in the lobby for 5 hours. I needed the friend that fought so hard to make me feel better and helped me to study when freshman year of college was getting to be too much.
I don't understand how I held out for his friendship for so long. I've struggled for so long with the way that he's treated me, and others, and his philosophies of life. He was never abusive or mean, but he definitely expected others to take care of him, even though he's a grown ass adult. He's one of those people for other people having millions of dollars, and he wants to live the rich life, but he's not about to go work a different job where he can work up the ladder. Nor would he want to work anything more than his max of 8-4 or 9-5, but let's be real here, he gets out a few hours early every day because he's salary. Then he expected me to make time, out of working 2 night shift jobs with shifts of 12 hours (so essentially, he wanted me to sleep a mere 4 hours a day for 6-7 days of the week). Plus, I was supposed to pay for me and/or him, when we went out places.
Moral of the story, it's been rough because I miss what life used to be, but I must have been delusional about what kind of friendship we had. Think about it, he only hung out with me because he wanted to date me. It's impressive to keep that crap going for over 5 years, but it helped that the crush took a little while to develop in college, and in nursing school, I didn't see him much. Then he had a long term girlfriend. So, what was our friendship anyway?
Lately, between my support group, personal counseling, bible study, and various other places, it seems as though I need to share my story. I'm trying to be articulate about what has happened, but more than the trauma, I was to articulate what G-d has done to get me through. I feel like I've come further in my healing in the past couple of weeks, after weeks of hardcore, constant wrestling with G-d. The yelling at Him; crying, scratch that, sobbing so hard that I couldn't breathe; and otherwise wracking my brain and demanding He tell me why things happened to me the way that they did. Begging Him for peace and comfort and help. I'm still working on some stuff, and He's still showing me things and working on me too. It'll take the rest of my life, but for the first time since Country Boy died (in March 2014), I feel like I can breathe. I feel like I am now being challenged to know and be able to explain why I have the hope and faith in G-d that I do, despite what's happened.
We had a low pressure system/pretty bad snowstorm role in and had 6 deliveries in one night and 3 as soon as shift change was complete in the morning. An emergency c section nearly every night and sometimes 2. We had several OB hemorrhages and even bleeding moms come back into the hospital from being at home.
This was my week and I'm so glad it is starting to simmer down for the patients. Now we just have to deal with our staff being sick and recovering from this ridiculous flu that has taken over everybody.
Meanwhile, I've felt so much lighter in my person struggles with sexual assault and trauma, plus the bullshit exBest Friend pulled.
I texted him, because he had been on my heart for awhile, but that ended quickly. He started making jokes about "doing it again" and saying it was a "fun night". Utter betrayal. I guess I was hoping for understanding, for support, for anything of what I though he had been. I needed the guy that drove me to the police station and waited in the lobby for 5 hours. I needed the friend that fought so hard to make me feel better and helped me to study when freshman year of college was getting to be too much.
I don't understand how I held out for his friendship for so long. I've struggled for so long with the way that he's treated me, and others, and his philosophies of life. He was never abusive or mean, but he definitely expected others to take care of him, even though he's a grown ass adult. He's one of those people for other people having millions of dollars, and he wants to live the rich life, but he's not about to go work a different job where he can work up the ladder. Nor would he want to work anything more than his max of 8-4 or 9-5, but let's be real here, he gets out a few hours early every day because he's salary. Then he expected me to make time, out of working 2 night shift jobs with shifts of 12 hours (so essentially, he wanted me to sleep a mere 4 hours a day for 6-7 days of the week). Plus, I was supposed to pay for me and/or him, when we went out places.
Moral of the story, it's been rough because I miss what life used to be, but I must have been delusional about what kind of friendship we had. Think about it, he only hung out with me because he wanted to date me. It's impressive to keep that crap going for over 5 years, but it helped that the crush took a little while to develop in college, and in nursing school, I didn't see him much. Then he had a long term girlfriend. So, what was our friendship anyway?
Lately, between my support group, personal counseling, bible study, and various other places, it seems as though I need to share my story. I'm trying to be articulate about what has happened, but more than the trauma, I was to articulate what G-d has done to get me through. I feel like I've come further in my healing in the past couple of weeks, after weeks of hardcore, constant wrestling with G-d. The yelling at Him; crying, scratch that, sobbing so hard that I couldn't breathe; and otherwise wracking my brain and demanding He tell me why things happened to me the way that they did. Begging Him for peace and comfort and help. I'm still working on some stuff, and He's still showing me things and working on me too. It'll take the rest of my life, but for the first time since Country Boy died (in March 2014), I feel like I can breathe. I feel like I am now being challenged to know and be able to explain why I have the hope and faith in G-d that I do, despite what's happened.
Sunday, August 13, 2017
Trigger Happy
Today was a rough day. Work was not bad, I had a nice preceptor. I learned a lot, and orientation is going well, considering it was only my 3rd day. However, I swear that every trigger I have was hit today.
Dealt with domestic violence reports all morning. Talked about the local domestic violence safe house/counseling program that I was able to go to for counseling. That discussion took me by surprise. I didn't tell anyone that's where I went, but first thing we did in the morning was order a consult so that one of our mom's could be referred to that program. Knife to the heart.
Dirty jokes at the nurse's station almost had me in tears. Deep breaths as I suffocate in the wide open.
We had a baby born from a sexual assault. Another jab.
My friend's nephew died by suicide today because he couldn't handle life after his dad had passed away a few months ago. Flashback to Country Boy, and my heart nearly stopped.
First thing that came on t.v. was a show about a girl who was being abused by her boyfriend, and it almost sounded just like my story with ex-fiance. What are you doing to me L-rd???
I change the channel to find something a little less triggering and one of ex-boyfriend's favorite movies comes on. Just let it be done, let me escape this life.
From the people, to the smells, to the sounds and songs, to the jokes, and everything else that happened today; I was bombarded with triggers. I excused myself during some of the conversations to go get my aromatherapy, but it wasn't the one that is strong enough to get me out of my flashbacks. I don't know if I will be able to work postpartum if this is going to keep up.
A couple days ago I had a drink with a friend and learned that ex-fiance (who told me he was moving to another state "because I called the cops")is actually still here. I haven't even started the other job where ex-boyfriend has family working, who know me and probably despise me now. That probably won't be a good situation if they are still working there.
I don't know what I was thinking!!! How am I supposed to be able to survive living here, with all of my past a part of my every day journey to the bottom of a deep chasm that I had climbed out of when I moved to Small Town last year.
Survival was barely feasible there, 8 hours away from this place. What on earth would make me believe I could survive by facing my dark past at every turn of every day?
Dealt with domestic violence reports all morning. Talked about the local domestic violence safe house/counseling program that I was able to go to for counseling. That discussion took me by surprise. I didn't tell anyone that's where I went, but first thing we did in the morning was order a consult so that one of our mom's could be referred to that program. Knife to the heart.
Dirty jokes at the nurse's station almost had me in tears. Deep breaths as I suffocate in the wide open.
We had a baby born from a sexual assault. Another jab.
My friend's nephew died by suicide today because he couldn't handle life after his dad had passed away a few months ago. Flashback to Country Boy, and my heart nearly stopped.
First thing that came on t.v. was a show about a girl who was being abused by her boyfriend, and it almost sounded just like my story with ex-fiance. What are you doing to me L-rd???
I change the channel to find something a little less triggering and one of ex-boyfriend's favorite movies comes on. Just let it be done, let me escape this life.
From the people, to the smells, to the sounds and songs, to the jokes, and everything else that happened today; I was bombarded with triggers. I excused myself during some of the conversations to go get my aromatherapy, but it wasn't the one that is strong enough to get me out of my flashbacks. I don't know if I will be able to work postpartum if this is going to keep up.
A couple days ago I had a drink with a friend and learned that ex-fiance (who told me he was moving to another state "because I called the cops")is actually still here. I haven't even started the other job where ex-boyfriend has family working, who know me and probably despise me now. That probably won't be a good situation if they are still working there.
I don't know what I was thinking!!! How am I supposed to be able to survive living here, with all of my past a part of my every day journey to the bottom of a deep chasm that I had climbed out of when I moved to Small Town last year.
Survival was barely feasible there, 8 hours away from this place. What on earth would make me believe I could survive by facing my dark past at every turn of every day?
Monday, August 8, 2016
Pure Rage
Let's start this post out nicely... I don't want any comments. I love you all, but no comments on this post. Mostly, I probably shouldn't be posting this but 1) I need to vent, 2) I'm trying to be straight with y'all about the struggles of life in case somebody out there in the virtual space of the world feels the same way, I don't want them thinking they are alone, and 3) there is too much rage, moving through my mind too quickly, for me to be able to hand-write the shit I'm feeling in a paper journal so that I can burn it later. Thus, my online outlet which you can choose to read, or not. Completely your choice. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF CURSE WORDS USED THROUGHOUT!!! Are they necessary? Not usually, but every once in awhile it is absolutely required. Right now, just know that this post will be long, and it could be about half the length if I didn't use so much profanity.
No. I should be screaming these things from entirety of my being, into a canyon somewhere, where nobody can hear me, where I later collapse into a ball of a shell of a girl who's merely trying to hang on in a world where she doesn't belong living a life she does not understand at all.
*****PROCEED WITH CAUTION*****ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK*****
No. I should be screaming these things from entirety of my being, into a canyon somewhere, where nobody can hear me, where I later collapse into a ball of a shell of a girl who's merely trying to hang on in a world where she doesn't belong living a life she does not understand at all.
Let's also preface this by saying that for the past several days, I'm in one of my moods. Yes, I have several moods that rotate throughout my days. None of them are really actually good. Some have "good" moments, I suppose, but I cannot find the good in my life. Present mood: contemplating the purpose of existence and how my life fits in with the plan of creation. I've been feeling dissociated and in a haze for the last week and a half also. I felt that necessary to point out as well.
Another nursing school buddy got married, I think today. Which, btw, is an odd day to have a legit wedding, seeing as it's Monday. But I digress and continue on with my ridiculously long post about things I've said in the past but am still mulling over in my obviously not healed mind...
Another girl got married. Now, I am happy for her, I truly am. She was a great girl, she's super smart, and she's been with this guy for a long time. She wasn't pressuring him to get married or engaged, and she seems relatively grounded.
I'm upset at the death of my future. I'm upset that my dreams of a future, and what I wanted for dating and marriage didn't even have a fucking shot at happening because two assholes decided that my wishes are not worth honoring. I'm fucking pissed that I didn't get a say. I'm enraged that nobody is fighting for me and that nothing will come of the pain I've been forced to survive. Can G-d handle it? Absolutely. Is He not the one who is in charge of revenge and setting wrongs right? He absolutely is! That's not what I'm saying. I don't even know what I'm saying any more but I know I'm upset.
The hand of tragedy and trauma is dealt randomly, I think. I don't know, maybe it's not. Maybe we are predestined to be forced to live through shitty circumstances that make us want to die on a daily basis, but somehow we're supposed to see how long we last before saying that we've had enough and throwing in the towel. Maybe, somehow, we're paying for the sins we've committed, or the sins that some person in our family tree committed a hundred years in the past. Maybe our suffering is somehow part of some atonement process that doesn't actually atone for anything because our suffering can pay for no sin or mistakes, but we still have to go through that. I DON'T FUCKING KNOW! I do know, however, that even though I sin, I don't know what mistakes justify a person having to live through fucking trauma, rape, incest, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, gas lighting, constant ragging, the death of innocent people who have done nothing wrong, or any other trauma. Most trauma makes no fucking sense. Most of it has no noticeable purpose, no rhyme, no reason, nothing! Nothing! NOTHING!
Why, then, are we still having to live through such things. More importantly, why do some people go through life without ever experiencing trauma, or major life troubles, while others get clobbered around every FUCKING CORNER???!!!!!??? I'm not saying I'm necessarily one of them, but 3 people resulting in more traumas than I can count in a year and a half is a little fucking excessive to me.
I don't know, maybe that's just me. Eventually, I'll get over it. Except not. No. This shit never goes away until the day my heart stops and I get to be done. Perhaps then I will be free from these hellish memories and the pains that stab me in the chest. Hopefully, someday, I will be cut loose of the chains that bring me back to my pits of despair when I think of the beautiful wedding night I wanted, the dreams of being STD/STI free with no doubts in my mind about my status in that area, and I will put to rest my living nightmares that play over and over in my head, constantly. Did I have a choice of having a beautiful wedding night? No. Can I know for certain right now that I am presently STD/STI free? I have no fucking clue and I get panic attacks daily thinking that I may have one and not knowing. Yes, I can go get tested, but I'm still just not ready to drag myself to my death sentence just yet. Will I ever be free from these nightmare memories that run on loops in my brain? Not until the day I die or the day somebody develops an amnesia treatment that only lets you erase certain memories. Honestly, I'm not holding my breath for that treatment, but the end of my days is rapidly approaching, I'm sure.
You know what's hilarious to me, though? (Now, keep with me because that was solid fucking sarcasm). I have watched over 5 stand-up comedians over the past couple of hours that are on Netflix and all of them make jokes about rape and molestation within the first 5-10 minutes.
Back to being serious, there is absolutely nothing funny about rape, molestation, incest, sexual assault, domestic abuse, beating your wife/husband/girlfriend/boyfriend/child/parent/etc. There is nothing funny about abuse, at all! There's nothing funny about PTSD, war, slavery, or any other things like that. What bugs me the most, is that people who have never fucking lived in my damn shoes is going to make jokes about my life being ruined because the act that cause my life to be ruined is apparently funny to them. It's hilarious to them! The whole crown erupts with laughter when these people make these jokes! It makes my blood boil, it sends me into immediate flashbacks every time, and then I look at how our society deals with such troubling topics and the lack of sentencing and punishments make sense. My life makes less and less sense, but it makes sense that the fucking statistics grows for the events of rape that occur each day because it's all just a joke.
My suffering is a joke. It's something I have to keep hush hush, because it bums people out. Nobody wants to hear my woes. I'm just regretful of allowing the guys to enter my body, because I let them do it. I must have wanted them to do it. My response to that: NOBODY WANT TO BE FUCKING RAPED!!! NOBODY WANTS THEIR LIFE TO BE RUINED AT THE HANDS OF SOME ASSHOLE WITH A FUCKING PENIS BECAUSE THEY FEEL THEY HAVE A RIGHT TO ENTER MY BODY. NOBODY WANTS CONSTANT WORRIES ABOUT THEIR STD/STI STATUS WHEN THEY HAD WANTED TO REMAIN VIRGIN, OR EVEN IF THEY WERE WILLING TO HAVE SEX AT SOME POINT, THE ONE TIME THAT THEY SAY NO AND THE GUY DOES NOT RESPECT THAT, THERE IS TRAUMA. SOMETHING, IN THAT PICTURE, IS NOT RIGHT.
What's so hard to understand about that? Apparently, it about as difficult as rocket science to understand... for many people who have never experienced rape, sexual assault, abuse, or any of the other many listed things already mentioned, or one of the hundreds of things I never even mentioned because there is too much!!! There's too much.
What has rape cost me? It's cost me: friends, family, sanity, sleep, good dreams, peace, any hope of love, joy, gladness in my adult life, excitement for post-graduation happenings, hope of having children, and my future, among other things.
I'm angry that some people live such beautiful, wonderful, sweet, amazing lives while I'm stuck in this. I'm overwhelmed at the constant waves of shit washing over me. I hate that just when I start to feel like I'm doing better, I get bombarded again with my hellish reality. I hate that I don't feel worthy of a happy life, and I feel guilty even, for what has happened, even though I can rationalize the events as me not being at fault for the actions that took place.
While most girls my age are dreaming of their futures, I'm sitting here wondering what I have done to deserve such shit. I wonder why it is that I'm here, what purpose my life plays in the Grand Scheme of things. Mostly, I'm left feeling overwhelmed at the magnitude of evil rising up around me on every side. I am suffocated by the fears of what a health check would bring. My past haunts me and chases my happiness away. The simple joys of life are completely lost on me, and I'm simply treading water in the middle of the biggest, stormiest ocean in the universe. I find myself praying that 1) I am free of disease and health complications and 2) that my life ends soon and that somehow, somebody remembers me with fondness.
I've been thinking about all the people I've lost in my life. They didn't die, most of them haven't, but they've left me or I've left them for various reasons. If my former friends heard I died, or came across my obituary, would they say I got what I had coming? Would they be glad I was gone because they didn't like me? Would they be sad at how things ended? Would they mourn the loss or get over it quickly by saying "Oh, that's sad. Was it suicide?" Would they come to a funeral, if there was one, or would they visit my grave and visit/yell at me the way I do with Country Boy? Would they remember me for being sweet, kind, and dreaming of a bright future? Or will they recall my bipolar, my grouchiness, and the way in which I made them upset by enforcing boundaries and refusing to take their shit. Would they ask how I died, prying for if my death were self-inflicted? Or would they hope that suddenly, my troubles were gone and I no longer lived with the shame and pain and scars this life has given to me. What would my obituary say? Who would even read it? How could my family even invite anyone to my funeral? Nobody would come except family, and then friends supporting my family. I would have no friends there because there is nobody left.
Does my life even make a difference? For anyone? (All rhetorical questions, you don't need to comment.)?
So what is the point of my sufferings? What is the point of anyone's sufferings? I know I'm not the only in pain over the hand this life has dealt. Of the numerous times I was supposed to die over the course of my life, from the time I was conceived until now, why was I not allowed to just fucking die??? I could have died free of pain. I could have died pure. I could have died and not even experienced the fight of life. Instead, I was kept alive. I keep having to be kept alive. I keep having to fight another day and suffer through.
I know the Good L-rd provides. He provides for my needs, my happiness, my joy, and everything good in this universe and beyond. He gives every good things. I know He gets me through the trauma, He gets me through the night, and He keeps me alive for another day. What I don't know, and what I don't understand, is why the hell I cannot just go ahead and cease breathing so I can be put out of my misery? Why can my heart not just take a permanent break and allow me to slip away? What is the purpose of allowing me to continue to suffer with the after-math of the consequences of sin. Not even just my sin! I'm suffering from the consequences of other people's sins too!!! Shit like this happens every day. Not so good people suffer no issues, while others suffer for personal sins as well as for the sins of the not so good people.
I keep feeling compelled to start working on forgiveness so I can try to move on. I think it's from the L-rd. I want to be ready to do that. I want to be ready to shoulder the pain and move on, but right now, the baggage is too heavy to be able to move away from anger and head towards full forgiveness. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
I deal with being scared of what problems I have with health and my mental well-being on a daily basis. I fear the future because I see little chance of my story ending well any time soon. I know I'm not supposed to worry about the future, because what will I change by worrying about the future? Nothing. However, a happy, good future will take a billion and five miracles and I feel that's just too excessive for one person to be given in a lifetime. It doesn't matter what I feel I deserve or don't, it's ultimately up to G-d. I have no say. I'm just saying that statistically, the odds are not in my favor and I long for release from my pains and struggles bestowed upon me in this life.
I'm tired. I'm going to bed.
While most girls my age are dreaming of their futures, I'm sitting here wondering what I have done to deserve such shit. I wonder why it is that I'm here, what purpose my life plays in the Grand Scheme of things. Mostly, I'm left feeling overwhelmed at the magnitude of evil rising up around me on every side. I am suffocated by the fears of what a health check would bring. My past haunts me and chases my happiness away. The simple joys of life are completely lost on me, and I'm simply treading water in the middle of the biggest, stormiest ocean in the universe. I find myself praying that 1) I am free of disease and health complications and 2) that my life ends soon and that somehow, somebody remembers me with fondness.
I've been thinking about all the people I've lost in my life. They didn't die, most of them haven't, but they've left me or I've left them for various reasons. If my former friends heard I died, or came across my obituary, would they say I got what I had coming? Would they be glad I was gone because they didn't like me? Would they be sad at how things ended? Would they mourn the loss or get over it quickly by saying "Oh, that's sad. Was it suicide?" Would they come to a funeral, if there was one, or would they visit my grave and visit/yell at me the way I do with Country Boy? Would they remember me for being sweet, kind, and dreaming of a bright future? Or will they recall my bipolar, my grouchiness, and the way in which I made them upset by enforcing boundaries and refusing to take their shit. Would they ask how I died, prying for if my death were self-inflicted? Or would they hope that suddenly, my troubles were gone and I no longer lived with the shame and pain and scars this life has given to me. What would my obituary say? Who would even read it? How could my family even invite anyone to my funeral? Nobody would come except family, and then friends supporting my family. I would have no friends there because there is nobody left.
Does my life even make a difference? For anyone? (All rhetorical questions, you don't need to comment.)?
So what is the point of my sufferings? What is the point of anyone's sufferings? I know I'm not the only in pain over the hand this life has dealt. Of the numerous times I was supposed to die over the course of my life, from the time I was conceived until now, why was I not allowed to just fucking die??? I could have died free of pain. I could have died pure. I could have died and not even experienced the fight of life. Instead, I was kept alive. I keep having to be kept alive. I keep having to fight another day and suffer through.
I know the Good L-rd provides. He provides for my needs, my happiness, my joy, and everything good in this universe and beyond. He gives every good things. I know He gets me through the trauma, He gets me through the night, and He keeps me alive for another day. What I don't know, and what I don't understand, is why the hell I cannot just go ahead and cease breathing so I can be put out of my misery? Why can my heart not just take a permanent break and allow me to slip away? What is the purpose of allowing me to continue to suffer with the after-math of the consequences of sin. Not even just my sin! I'm suffering from the consequences of other people's sins too!!! Shit like this happens every day. Not so good people suffer no issues, while others suffer for personal sins as well as for the sins of the not so good people.
I keep feeling compelled to start working on forgiveness so I can try to move on. I think it's from the L-rd. I want to be ready to do that. I want to be ready to shoulder the pain and move on, but right now, the baggage is too heavy to be able to move away from anger and head towards full forgiveness. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
I deal with being scared of what problems I have with health and my mental well-being on a daily basis. I fear the future because I see little chance of my story ending well any time soon. I know I'm not supposed to worry about the future, because what will I change by worrying about the future? Nothing. However, a happy, good future will take a billion and five miracles and I feel that's just too excessive for one person to be given in a lifetime. It doesn't matter what I feel I deserve or don't, it's ultimately up to G-d. I have no say. I'm just saying that statistically, the odds are not in my favor and I long for release from my pains and struggles bestowed upon me in this life.
I'm tired. I'm going to bed.
Friday, June 24, 2016
Legit Panic Attack
I was taking a shower today, after running around my house getting everything in it's place, when I started being bombarded with memories. Bad memories.
I started asking G-d, "Why me? What did I do? How is this my lot in life? Why do I have to deal with this? Why did you not just let me die?" etc., etc.
About two questions in, I could feel my heart pounding, breath getting shallow and quick, eyes went into tunnel vision. I felt like I was going to pass out, but I couldn't calm the anger and the hurt. The next 30 minutes consisted of me yelling, praying, sobbing, shaking, hyperventilating, and shaving my legs... all at the same time. How do I manage to be such a great multi-tasker? I have no idea.
I keep thinking about what I want to say, in case my reports ever go to trial. I want to say so much, but I know I will freeze on the stand and my brain will freeze if I begin to draft my victim impact statements now but boy, can I scream everything I need to say when I'm in the shower!
Exboyfriend's town called a couple days ago telling me they had gotten a report from College Town that I had been sexually assaulted (raped) in their town. College town had no jurisdiction in Exboyfriend's town and so it had to be transferred.
I've been dealing with that for a week. At first I was nervous about how this would effect him, then I remembered how much his actions have effected me and my whole life. He forever changed the course of my life with his poor choices that weekend. Oh, I wish I would have kicked him, fought him, and called the cops right then. Unfortunately, I was completely in shock. I was paralyzed and in a daze that whole weekend.
Because of Exboyfriend, I met Exfiance. He didn't introduce me, but I was going out a lot, looking for a good time to get away from the terrors living and replaying themselves in my head constantly.
It's crazy to think that one person can make you hate yourself. They can make you hate your body, your memory, your life, and hate the fact that you wake up each morning to fight another losing battle of a day. They can make you hate yourself enough that you stop feeding your body, you start taking pills, smoking, cutting, or otherwise abusing the very vessel that holds the essence of who you are. One person's choices can make you fight to not pick up the bottle, not down the pills, not pull the trigger, and not crash into a ditch.
So now, I am here. A shell of who I used to be. I can never me back. I can never have the same ability to see the best in people. I can never have the same easy smile and no assumptions that people are only out to hurt me. I can never feel pure, whole, and complete. I can never erase the memories. Who knows if I have some disease that I won't be able to get rid of in addition to the rest of it.
It makes me wonder why we, as a collective people, fight so hard to keep people from suicide. Not saying I would do it, but I understand what it is like for me to not want to wake up another day. Why do we insist on saving those who so clearly see no point in being here on this earth? Why do we call the police if someone is talking about suicide at home/work or place patients on a 72-hour hold at hospitals if they come to us saying they want to die? Why do we put people on antidepressants? Which can potentially make the suicidal ideations worse and help give the people enough energy to go through with the suicide. If people are so miserable with the hand they were dealt or produced for themselves, why are we holding them earth side?
This doesn't mean that I don't support getting professional help and trying to reach out to those having a hard time, but why make people live if they have no quality of life and are sick of being here? There is not a day that goes by that I don't wish that I could have helped Country Boy, but if there was a chance for him to have been able to reach out for help, he didn't extend that plea to me. He had a plan and he carried it out. For him, there was no use in living in a world without his dad. He had too much pain to bear on his own and he couldn't figure out how to share it. Meanwhile, I have a lot of pain (in my own opinion) and even with sharing it, I feel I am constantly drowning. Today, with my panic attack, it showed that my head is no longer staying above the water. The stress of reporting, painful memories, moving, not being able to work, having bills that I cannot pay, and stress I can't even describe is overwhelming me.
It's so hard to surrender your anxieties to the L-rd when your life is stripped from your grasp. It's so hard to ask for help when nobody can hear you from the depths of your chasm. I know I have no control over my life, but I feel like I'm in a car with a sleeping, drunk driver and the car is swerving on it's own. However, the ride sucks so badly I hope it crashes soon so that the drive will come to an end, I don't even care about making it to wherever I thought we were headed.
I started asking G-d, "Why me? What did I do? How is this my lot in life? Why do I have to deal with this? Why did you not just let me die?" etc., etc.
About two questions in, I could feel my heart pounding, breath getting shallow and quick, eyes went into tunnel vision. I felt like I was going to pass out, but I couldn't calm the anger and the hurt. The next 30 minutes consisted of me yelling, praying, sobbing, shaking, hyperventilating, and shaving my legs... all at the same time. How do I manage to be such a great multi-tasker? I have no idea.
I keep thinking about what I want to say, in case my reports ever go to trial. I want to say so much, but I know I will freeze on the stand and my brain will freeze if I begin to draft my victim impact statements now but boy, can I scream everything I need to say when I'm in the shower!
Exboyfriend's town called a couple days ago telling me they had gotten a report from College Town that I had been sexually assaulted (raped) in their town. College town had no jurisdiction in Exboyfriend's town and so it had to be transferred.
I've been dealing with that for a week. At first I was nervous about how this would effect him, then I remembered how much his actions have effected me and my whole life. He forever changed the course of my life with his poor choices that weekend. Oh, I wish I would have kicked him, fought him, and called the cops right then. Unfortunately, I was completely in shock. I was paralyzed and in a daze that whole weekend.
Because of Exboyfriend, I met Exfiance. He didn't introduce me, but I was going out a lot, looking for a good time to get away from the terrors living and replaying themselves in my head constantly.
It's crazy to think that one person can make you hate yourself. They can make you hate your body, your memory, your life, and hate the fact that you wake up each morning to fight another losing battle of a day. They can make you hate yourself enough that you stop feeding your body, you start taking pills, smoking, cutting, or otherwise abusing the very vessel that holds the essence of who you are. One person's choices can make you fight to not pick up the bottle, not down the pills, not pull the trigger, and not crash into a ditch.
So now, I am here. A shell of who I used to be. I can never me back. I can never have the same ability to see the best in people. I can never have the same easy smile and no assumptions that people are only out to hurt me. I can never feel pure, whole, and complete. I can never erase the memories. Who knows if I have some disease that I won't be able to get rid of in addition to the rest of it.
It makes me wonder why we, as a collective people, fight so hard to keep people from suicide. Not saying I would do it, but I understand what it is like for me to not want to wake up another day. Why do we insist on saving those who so clearly see no point in being here on this earth? Why do we call the police if someone is talking about suicide at home/work or place patients on a 72-hour hold at hospitals if they come to us saying they want to die? Why do we put people on antidepressants? Which can potentially make the suicidal ideations worse and help give the people enough energy to go through with the suicide. If people are so miserable with the hand they were dealt or produced for themselves, why are we holding them earth side?
This doesn't mean that I don't support getting professional help and trying to reach out to those having a hard time, but why make people live if they have no quality of life and are sick of being here? There is not a day that goes by that I don't wish that I could have helped Country Boy, but if there was a chance for him to have been able to reach out for help, he didn't extend that plea to me. He had a plan and he carried it out. For him, there was no use in living in a world without his dad. He had too much pain to bear on his own and he couldn't figure out how to share it. Meanwhile, I have a lot of pain (in my own opinion) and even with sharing it, I feel I am constantly drowning. Today, with my panic attack, it showed that my head is no longer staying above the water. The stress of reporting, painful memories, moving, not being able to work, having bills that I cannot pay, and stress I can't even describe is overwhelming me.
It's so hard to surrender your anxieties to the L-rd when your life is stripped from your grasp. It's so hard to ask for help when nobody can hear you from the depths of your chasm. I know I have no control over my life, but I feel like I'm in a car with a sleeping, drunk driver and the car is swerving on it's own. However, the ride sucks so badly I hope it crashes soon so that the drive will come to an end, I don't even care about making it to wherever I thought we were headed.
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
Regrets and Learning
If y'all recall, I "broke up" with Jersey.
For the past couple of days I have been struggling with the decision because of her haunting words of, "karma is a bitch."
Today, class was a bit uncomfortable, but not as bad as it has been while waiting for her to come and attack me.
Tonight I went out with Millie and we got on the subject. Millie is in a clinical group with Jersey and I guess Jersey went to a simulation lab after our "break up" and was crying the whole time. She was venting to another classmate when Millie walked by them in the hall. She ended up staying and heard all that Jersey had to say. Jersey said she felt attacked, and then started listing off my many faults and why she felt I was being unreasonable.
This is understandable.
I agree that the timing was wrong. Thinking back on the situation, I should have probably scheduled it for a different time, but I don't know when else I could have done it and I can't fix that now.
Talking with Millie gave me no comfort. I still feel terrible. I feel like I somehow embodied everything that hurt me in Jersey's personality, my old Roommate, and the girls I lived with freshman year. I somehow turned into the mean girl that I have despised and worked so hard to get away from all these years.
I hate myself for that.
I keep second guessing myself and my decision. I feel like I am absolutely crazy and that I made a huge mistake. Regardless of how I try to rationalize it, I simply cannot fix the situation in my head and I feel really bad.
This brings me to a huge conundrum... In the future, do I ignore when friends are dumping on me, and turn the other cheek? In these relationships, the friendship usually ends up phasing out gradually as I go to less and less gatherings with them and do not talk with them as much. OR Do I continue to stand up for myself and leave a path of destruction, hurt feelings, and people in tears? This option allows me to have my thoughts and feelings heard, but I feel bad and I become more stressed than if I just let it ride and take the yelling.
I don't know whether to apologize or accept that she needed to hear what I had to say. People complain about these things behind her back a lot, but nobody every tells her these things. Granted, I do not like being assertive and I do not think that it works on me. It doesn't fit.
I had too many good days in a row. Today was decidedly a nice day, up until about 5 p.m. tonight when my brain decided to remind me that it was Country Boy's birthday. I shared a shot with him and then went out to drinks with Millie. Beauty ended up coming, too, but not until way later.
Thing is, I'm having a lot of troubles with Beauty lately. She continues to ignore my texts, though I don't text about complaints. When I text her, it's to invite her out or let her know that some assignment is due or to simply say something nice. She responds to maybe 1 out of every 5-10 that I send her. Meanwhile, she tells me that Lexi complains to her all the time about me. This means that they are probably hanging out quite a bit. That's good, they need to be able to hang out with friends. I'm just getting frustrated with the fact that I am being ignored, but I'm the first one to be called when there is something wrong and they are having troubles with their car, school, or life.
What would happen if I were to die? Would anyone miss me?
I'm not someone that anyone tries to go out of their way to hang out with, by I am on speed dial for literally any issue that arises.
It's okay to ignore me, but you better believe I am expected to respond to every text within a couple minutes of receiving it.
I'm just another body in a seat until someone has a question about what happened in class.
I'm just some girl that is expected to take a whole load of shit when someone is having a bad day. Heaven forbid I need to vent to anyone but my mom! I have to just take the dumping, with a smile on my face, then go about fixing all of the person's problems even if the problems weren't actually my fault to begin with.
If I were to die one night and didn't show up for class for a couple of days, would anyone notice? Would Beauty regret the texts she ignored? Would Jersey regret unloading all of her life frustrations on a friend who she knew was fresh out of a break-up and had been recently traumatized? What would Millie do? How would my friends from the Farm Store that I worked at as a first job respond? Would any of the girls that I went to elementary school even think twice if my name were in an obituary? Would my seat simply be an open seat in the back, or would it then be looked upon with any flicker of sadness?
Would anyone even notice?
How would I be remembered?
Would it be for the awkwardness I show everyday? For my clumsiness? My traumatic couple of years? How I have pissed people of left and right through college? For the struggles I talked about with my couple of people who sat next to me? For being the "quiet" girl in clinical?
Would I be remembered at all?
For the past couple of days I have been struggling with the decision because of her haunting words of, "karma is a bitch."
Today, class was a bit uncomfortable, but not as bad as it has been while waiting for her to come and attack me.
Tonight I went out with Millie and we got on the subject. Millie is in a clinical group with Jersey and I guess Jersey went to a simulation lab after our "break up" and was crying the whole time. She was venting to another classmate when Millie walked by them in the hall. She ended up staying and heard all that Jersey had to say. Jersey said she felt attacked, and then started listing off my many faults and why she felt I was being unreasonable.
This is understandable.
I agree that the timing was wrong. Thinking back on the situation, I should have probably scheduled it for a different time, but I don't know when else I could have done it and I can't fix that now.
Talking with Millie gave me no comfort. I still feel terrible. I feel like I somehow embodied everything that hurt me in Jersey's personality, my old Roommate, and the girls I lived with freshman year. I somehow turned into the mean girl that I have despised and worked so hard to get away from all these years.
I hate myself for that.
I keep second guessing myself and my decision. I feel like I am absolutely crazy and that I made a huge mistake. Regardless of how I try to rationalize it, I simply cannot fix the situation in my head and I feel really bad.
This brings me to a huge conundrum... In the future, do I ignore when friends are dumping on me, and turn the other cheek? In these relationships, the friendship usually ends up phasing out gradually as I go to less and less gatherings with them and do not talk with them as much. OR Do I continue to stand up for myself and leave a path of destruction, hurt feelings, and people in tears? This option allows me to have my thoughts and feelings heard, but I feel bad and I become more stressed than if I just let it ride and take the yelling.
I don't know whether to apologize or accept that she needed to hear what I had to say. People complain about these things behind her back a lot, but nobody every tells her these things. Granted, I do not like being assertive and I do not think that it works on me. It doesn't fit.
I had too many good days in a row. Today was decidedly a nice day, up until about 5 p.m. tonight when my brain decided to remind me that it was Country Boy's birthday. I shared a shot with him and then went out to drinks with Millie. Beauty ended up coming, too, but not until way later.
Thing is, I'm having a lot of troubles with Beauty lately. She continues to ignore my texts, though I don't text about complaints. When I text her, it's to invite her out or let her know that some assignment is due or to simply say something nice. She responds to maybe 1 out of every 5-10 that I send her. Meanwhile, she tells me that Lexi complains to her all the time about me. This means that they are probably hanging out quite a bit. That's good, they need to be able to hang out with friends. I'm just getting frustrated with the fact that I am being ignored, but I'm the first one to be called when there is something wrong and they are having troubles with their car, school, or life.
What would happen if I were to die? Would anyone miss me?
I'm not someone that anyone tries to go out of their way to hang out with, by I am on speed dial for literally any issue that arises.
It's okay to ignore me, but you better believe I am expected to respond to every text within a couple minutes of receiving it.
I'm just another body in a seat until someone has a question about what happened in class.
I'm just some girl that is expected to take a whole load of shit when someone is having a bad day. Heaven forbid I need to vent to anyone but my mom! I have to just take the dumping, with a smile on my face, then go about fixing all of the person's problems even if the problems weren't actually my fault to begin with.
If I were to die one night and didn't show up for class for a couple of days, would anyone notice? Would Beauty regret the texts she ignored? Would Jersey regret unloading all of her life frustrations on a friend who she knew was fresh out of a break-up and had been recently traumatized? What would Millie do? How would my friends from the Farm Store that I worked at as a first job respond? Would any of the girls that I went to elementary school even think twice if my name were in an obituary? Would my seat simply be an open seat in the back, or would it then be looked upon with any flicker of sadness?
Would anyone even notice?
How would I be remembered?
Would it be for the awkwardness I show everyday? For my clumsiness? My traumatic couple of years? How I have pissed people of left and right through college? For the struggles I talked about with my couple of people who sat next to me? For being the "quiet" girl in clinical?
Would I be remembered at all?
Friday, April 1, 2016
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...
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.
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.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
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.
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.
#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.
Wednesday, February 24, 2016
Daily Challenge
I crashed out last night after coming home from clinicals. I was exhausted!
So, I was unable to talk about yesterday's bunch of stuff and tell you my funny story.
Counseling was good. I talked about Jersey and my "difficult" professor. They took up about 10-15 minutes of the session, but I guess it was worth it because I realized some things by discussing it with someone who isn't a friend with Jersey and isn't in class with the professor. Yay! New perspectives!
Counselor says I'm doing well. We're going to start working on rationalizations. She told me that I'm doing really well and working really hard. She likes my college bucket list, Roomie's Thanksgiving List challenge, how I am doing with "friend" struggles, my dealings with the professor, and she told me it's okay to be flip-flopping all the time.
Apparently I go from having rational thoughts to survival mode frequently, and that is because my brain is confused with the PTSD. Survival mode is in the back, in the occipital lobe (from what I remember from anatomy and phys) while logical thought (where I used to live most of the time because I like it) is in the frontal lobe. So, my brain is trying to be normal, but then it decides it doesn't like how I used to be because it's too hard, so then it switches back to survival mode in the back. Meanwhile, I am left with my head spinning, whiplash, and major confusion and frustration at my lack of ability to be who I remember I used to be. C'est la vie, for the time being.
Normally, after counseling, I go to sit at Country Boy's grave. It was so cold yesterday that I stood there for 5 minutes, in my clinical whites because I have clinicals after, and started shivering so I left way early. I told Counselor that I felt it was weird and morbid. She told me it was actually really good because cemeteries are quiet, outside, peaceful, and there are plenty of ways to ground myself with nature, should I feel like I need to. Plus, I get vitamin D with being in the sun. Maybe next week it'll be warm enough to actually be able to sit with him again.
I ended up showing up to the hospital over an hour early. This was a great accident, because one of the other girls from my group was already there. We have a test tomorrow and so we were able to start studying and I learned a lot!!! Maybe I will do okay on this test. I hope so anyway. I just need to be able to stay in my frontal lobe and stop switching back to the occipital lobe for a couple more days so that I can study solidly and remember the information for this class that I need to know for the test and my future career.
Clinicals went well. When we first go there, I asked if I could go change into greens, just so I would be ready if I ended up being able to go to a c-section or something. My instructor said that was okay, so I went with the other girls who were on L&D with me and we went to change. You should know, that I am tall, and I have wide hips. Wide hips are from genetics, and also from a little "extra padding," a.k.a. fat. Plus, I'm 5'8" and mostly legs, with a short (proportionally speaking) torso. When we went in to go get scrubs, the only sizes that were left were extra-small tops and small bottoms along with the 2x and 3x tops and bottoms. Good grief. I spent 10 minutes looking through every pair of bottoms to find a pair that was medium or large. No such findings came about. So, I tried on the 2x and my friends told me no. I tried on the small pants and they were bursting at the seems around my ass and thighs. They also came up about halfway up my calves, WHEN STANDING!
I walked into the pre-conference room with my whole clinical group and I fake-whined to my instructor: "Instructor, I need new pants!!!" They all burst into uncontrollable laughter. Granted, it was hilarious, but regardless of how thick my skin is, some things still hurt. So, when they calmed down a little and my instructor gave me her badge so I could go get scrubs that fit, they burst into laughter as I was walking out. That stung a little bit because I'm self-concious about my butt and thighs. I fit into an x-small top, but my butt needs a medium and my long legs need a large. To have people crack up as I walk out and they can see my butt makes my high anxiety and ability to be easily embarrassed get sent into over-drive. I play a good sport, but that doesn't mean that someone laughing along doesn't get hurt in the end.
So, just the thing I needed on an already difficult day... people laughing. It was funny, I'll give you that. It just made me over-think it for the rest of the day and even still, a day later. Just breathe.
10 Thanksgivings (from yesterday):
So, I was unable to talk about yesterday's bunch of stuff and tell you my funny story.
Counseling was good. I talked about Jersey and my "difficult" professor. They took up about 10-15 minutes of the session, but I guess it was worth it because I realized some things by discussing it with someone who isn't a friend with Jersey and isn't in class with the professor. Yay! New perspectives!
Counselor says I'm doing well. We're going to start working on rationalizations. She told me that I'm doing really well and working really hard. She likes my college bucket list, Roomie's Thanksgiving List challenge, how I am doing with "friend" struggles, my dealings with the professor, and she told me it's okay to be flip-flopping all the time.
Apparently I go from having rational thoughts to survival mode frequently, and that is because my brain is confused with the PTSD. Survival mode is in the back, in the occipital lobe (from what I remember from anatomy and phys) while logical thought (where I used to live most of the time because I like it) is in the frontal lobe. So, my brain is trying to be normal, but then it decides it doesn't like how I used to be because it's too hard, so then it switches back to survival mode in the back. Meanwhile, I am left with my head spinning, whiplash, and major confusion and frustration at my lack of ability to be who I remember I used to be. C'est la vie, for the time being.
Normally, after counseling, I go to sit at Country Boy's grave. It was so cold yesterday that I stood there for 5 minutes, in my clinical whites because I have clinicals after, and started shivering so I left way early. I told Counselor that I felt it was weird and morbid. She told me it was actually really good because cemeteries are quiet, outside, peaceful, and there are plenty of ways to ground myself with nature, should I feel like I need to. Plus, I get vitamin D with being in the sun. Maybe next week it'll be warm enough to actually be able to sit with him again.
I ended up showing up to the hospital over an hour early. This was a great accident, because one of the other girls from my group was already there. We have a test tomorrow and so we were able to start studying and I learned a lot!!! Maybe I will do okay on this test. I hope so anyway. I just need to be able to stay in my frontal lobe and stop switching back to the occipital lobe for a couple more days so that I can study solidly and remember the information for this class that I need to know for the test and my future career.
Clinicals went well. When we first go there, I asked if I could go change into greens, just so I would be ready if I ended up being able to go to a c-section or something. My instructor said that was okay, so I went with the other girls who were on L&D with me and we went to change. You should know, that I am tall, and I have wide hips. Wide hips are from genetics, and also from a little "extra padding," a.k.a. fat. Plus, I'm 5'8" and mostly legs, with a short (proportionally speaking) torso. When we went in to go get scrubs, the only sizes that were left were extra-small tops and small bottoms along with the 2x and 3x tops and bottoms. Good grief. I spent 10 minutes looking through every pair of bottoms to find a pair that was medium or large. No such findings came about. So, I tried on the 2x and my friends told me no. I tried on the small pants and they were bursting at the seems around my ass and thighs. They also came up about halfway up my calves, WHEN STANDING!
I walked into the pre-conference room with my whole clinical group and I fake-whined to my instructor: "Instructor, I need new pants!!!" They all burst into uncontrollable laughter. Granted, it was hilarious, but regardless of how thick my skin is, some things still hurt. So, when they calmed down a little and my instructor gave me her badge so I could go get scrubs that fit, they burst into laughter as I was walking out. That stung a little bit because I'm self-concious about my butt and thighs. I fit into an x-small top, but my butt needs a medium and my long legs need a large. To have people crack up as I walk out and they can see my butt makes my high anxiety and ability to be easily embarrassed get sent into over-drive. I play a good sport, but that doesn't mean that someone laughing along doesn't get hurt in the end.
So, just the thing I needed on an already difficult day... people laughing. It was funny, I'll give you that. It just made me over-think it for the rest of the day and even still, a day later. Just breathe.
10 Thanksgivings (from yesterday):
- First test of the week is done and I was able to take it with really smart people (it was a group test).
- I had great night shift nurses and got to see an ultrasound/fetal echo.
- Counseling went well.
- I was able to go to Country Boy's grave site, even if just for a few minutes.
- I'm finding friends in unlikely situations and places.
- I started studying and did really well in our version of jeopardy (for the studying).
- Roomie is helping me on my road to recovery and we are setting goals before they are even assigned for counseling homework!
- Fake friends are dropping off while solid friends are coming to the surface because the fake friends are wearing them out too.
- My clinical instructor is absolutely wonderful.
- I am nearly done with one set of clinicals for the semester and my very last set of clinicals starts in about a week or two.
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Acceptance
Turns out Country Boy was cremated, but then buried. So, when I went right after his death in 2014, I could have visited him. However, they told me he had just gotten cremated and that they were sorry. Whatever, not a huge deal. Exfiance called again because I told him he didn't have a grave. Turns out he does. His ashes were buried near his dad's and the rest of his family that had passed away already.
When I called to see where he was, the lady told me to come into the office when I arrived and she would give me a map. So I went in and got the map. I wondered around in the area he was supposed to be for nearly 20 minutes and couldn't find him. So, I sat at an unmarked plot wondering if he had a headstone because they hadn't gotten one for his dad for about a year after he died because the wife just couldn't handle making it that official. After sitting for another 15 minutes and feeling stupid because my mind was wondering and wondering how they buried couples... I decided I should leave. As I was walking back to my car, I looked down and finally found his headstone.
It wasn't where I was told to go, the map kinda lied. As soon as I saw it my stomach dropped and tears flooded my eyes. I sat at his grave for over an hour thinking about him, his dad, his mom and sister who were now left with no guys from their family. I yelled at him for leaving me and not taking me with him. I told him we could have gone together if he would have taken me for a car ride. I apologized to him for being mean and I apologized because I believe I may have said the last thing that caused him to go over the edge and finally go through with it.
I was supposed to have hung out with him a couple days before he died but I cancelled because my other friends cancelled on me and I was "going out" with Best Friend at the time but didn't want to tell Country Boy. So, when CB asked if I wanted to hang out since I was cancelled on, I said "no thanks". That was it. That was the last time I talked to him and he died a few days later. I know he was struggling with his dad being gone and he seemed to have severe depression. He had moved out of his mom's house because of too many memories of his dad. He moved out to where my uncle and Exboyfriend live (also where exfiance lives, coincidentally enough) with his aunt and uncle because he loved the country. Well, that was it.
I had wanted to text him those few days and I had urges to, but I never did because he usually ignored my texts when I texted first. I don't know if he didn't want to talk to me, he was trying to make it seem like he was busy, or if he really was busy. I spent so many months waiting for him to text me. He would contact me, talk with me for a couple days, then go completely radio silent for several weeks. That was hard for me to live with. I was sick of getting my hopes up and checking my phone every 5 seconds because I was waiting for him to talk to me again. However, I should have texted him those days. I was waiting for his birthday. I found out a week after my 20th birthday and a few days before his that he died. Nobody told me, I just found his obituary online.
I told exfiance (Jacob) that he was not allowed to tell me that being sad that CB died was selfish. I'm allowed to be angry and sad and cry because I am grieving still. It's been almost two years and I still think about him almost every day. I still see him in the faces of a lot of actors and people I run into on a daily basis. I see his truck occasionally and I remember him when I do some of the stuff he used to like to do. Jacob finally told me okay that I'm allowed to cry and I guess he didn't realize I blamed myself (I didn't need his permission but he needs to not tell people how to feel!). I talked with him last night and told him the story at the beginning of this post. I thought I had told him all this but he said he didn't know before that I blamed myself. After that he understood why I'm angry and sad and cry so much. He said I should be understanding about why the kid killed himself, but I told him that I'm going to feel how I feel. I understand he was going through rough stuff and had depression before but it was getting worse now that his dad had died unexpectedly, but I'm sure there was much more going on. I'm not apologizing for that anymore and I'm not pushing it away so that I can be strong for other people. Now it's my time to sort out my head because there is too much all mixed up in there right now.
The hour I spent at CB's grave was good. It was healing. I felt stuff that I haven't felt in a long time and I was able to cry. I don't know why, but I've been needing to very for a long time but the tears won't come. I feel so numb and just there but not present. It's weird to me to want to cry and also weird that I cannot. Yesterday I did. I yelled and apologized and just sat in remembrance. I also said sorry for not coming sooner. Someone left a cigarette on his grave. It was unlit so I know it was on purpose. I know he wouldn't want flowers so a cigarette made a lot of sense. He wasn't even 20 yet. I have a feeling I'll probably go there a lot in the next few months when I need a place to think. I used to drive up into the woods and think of him often, but it somehow feels better to imagine him being there and able to hear me.
I had this thought about a song I haven't heard since I was a child. Since I was so little, I knew it was a sad song but I never understood it. At the grave I just had "Whiskey Lullaby" playing over and over in my head. Why is it helping me feel better? I have no clue. I have played it nearly a hundred times since the visit and it helps me more and more each time.
I don't know why I keep getting songs popping up in my head. I don't know if the L-rd is putting them there or if my brain is making connections or spazzing out or what. But these songs are helping me little by little.
When I called to see where he was, the lady told me to come into the office when I arrived and she would give me a map. So I went in and got the map. I wondered around in the area he was supposed to be for nearly 20 minutes and couldn't find him. So, I sat at an unmarked plot wondering if he had a headstone because they hadn't gotten one for his dad for about a year after he died because the wife just couldn't handle making it that official. After sitting for another 15 minutes and feeling stupid because my mind was wondering and wondering how they buried couples... I decided I should leave. As I was walking back to my car, I looked down and finally found his headstone.
It wasn't where I was told to go, the map kinda lied. As soon as I saw it my stomach dropped and tears flooded my eyes. I sat at his grave for over an hour thinking about him, his dad, his mom and sister who were now left with no guys from their family. I yelled at him for leaving me and not taking me with him. I told him we could have gone together if he would have taken me for a car ride. I apologized to him for being mean and I apologized because I believe I may have said the last thing that caused him to go over the edge and finally go through with it.
I was supposed to have hung out with him a couple days before he died but I cancelled because my other friends cancelled on me and I was "going out" with Best Friend at the time but didn't want to tell Country Boy. So, when CB asked if I wanted to hang out since I was cancelled on, I said "no thanks". That was it. That was the last time I talked to him and he died a few days later. I know he was struggling with his dad being gone and he seemed to have severe depression. He had moved out of his mom's house because of too many memories of his dad. He moved out to where my uncle and Exboyfriend live (also where exfiance lives, coincidentally enough) with his aunt and uncle because he loved the country. Well, that was it.
I had wanted to text him those few days and I had urges to, but I never did because he usually ignored my texts when I texted first. I don't know if he didn't want to talk to me, he was trying to make it seem like he was busy, or if he really was busy. I spent so many months waiting for him to text me. He would contact me, talk with me for a couple days, then go completely radio silent for several weeks. That was hard for me to live with. I was sick of getting my hopes up and checking my phone every 5 seconds because I was waiting for him to talk to me again. However, I should have texted him those days. I was waiting for his birthday. I found out a week after my 20th birthday and a few days before his that he died. Nobody told me, I just found his obituary online.
I told exfiance (Jacob) that he was not allowed to tell me that being sad that CB died was selfish. I'm allowed to be angry and sad and cry because I am grieving still. It's been almost two years and I still think about him almost every day. I still see him in the faces of a lot of actors and people I run into on a daily basis. I see his truck occasionally and I remember him when I do some of the stuff he used to like to do. Jacob finally told me okay that I'm allowed to cry and I guess he didn't realize I blamed myself (I didn't need his permission but he needs to not tell people how to feel!). I talked with him last night and told him the story at the beginning of this post. I thought I had told him all this but he said he didn't know before that I blamed myself. After that he understood why I'm angry and sad and cry so much. He said I should be understanding about why the kid killed himself, but I told him that I'm going to feel how I feel. I understand he was going through rough stuff and had depression before but it was getting worse now that his dad had died unexpectedly, but I'm sure there was much more going on. I'm not apologizing for that anymore and I'm not pushing it away so that I can be strong for other people. Now it's my time to sort out my head because there is too much all mixed up in there right now.
The hour I spent at CB's grave was good. It was healing. I felt stuff that I haven't felt in a long time and I was able to cry. I don't know why, but I've been needing to very for a long time but the tears won't come. I feel so numb and just there but not present. It's weird to me to want to cry and also weird that I cannot. Yesterday I did. I yelled and apologized and just sat in remembrance. I also said sorry for not coming sooner. Someone left a cigarette on his grave. It was unlit so I know it was on purpose. I know he wouldn't want flowers so a cigarette made a lot of sense. He wasn't even 20 yet. I have a feeling I'll probably go there a lot in the next few months when I need a place to think. I used to drive up into the woods and think of him often, but it somehow feels better to imagine him being there and able to hear me.
I had this thought about a song I haven't heard since I was a child. Since I was so little, I knew it was a sad song but I never understood it. At the grave I just had "Whiskey Lullaby" playing over and over in my head. Why is it helping me feel better? I have no clue. I have played it nearly a hundred times since the visit and it helps me more and more each time.
"Whiskey Lullaby"
She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind
Until the night
[1st Chorus]
He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said I'll love her till I die
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby
(Sing lullaby)
The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind
Until the night
[2nd Chorus]
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind
Until the night
[1st Chorus]
He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said I'll love her till I die
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby
(Sing lullaby)
The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind
Until the night
[2nd Chorus]
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby
I don't know why I keep getting songs popping up in my head. I don't know if the L-rd is putting them there or if my brain is making connections or spazzing out or what. But these songs are helping me little by little.
Friday, January 22, 2016
Rebound
As you guys know, exfiance and I still talk. Since that's kind of a long name, let's call him Jacob (no, that's not his actual name). Yesterday, he went to counseling because we had a bet, he lost it, and his forfeit was to go to counseling. I believe he needed to go when he was a child but he just never did. He had trauma growing up, similar to what happened to me but also vastly different. Regardless, trauma needs counseling most of the time and he certainly does.
I guess he and his counselor talked about me and why the two of us broke up. Jacob ended up calling me last night and telling me that he believes I was never really "in love" with him because he was just a rebound and distraction from my first rape. It has occurred to me that he may have been a rebound, but I had feelings for him. However, when he continually lied to me, that's when the love dwindled away because I had been loving him for the lies, not for him actually showing me his past scars. I think he may have started as a rebound, but I developed true love for him. Having him tell me he didn't think I ever loved him hurt. It hurt a lot.
While we were going out, there were times that he would compare me to his dead wife. He would say she was pretty, but I think you're prettier. Or he would tell me what she did to calm him down or what she did that he liked. Little things they developed like a counting game with squeezing each other's hands just to let the other one know they were there and thinking about them regardless of whether they were driving, fighting, whatever. At one point, he told me he loved me probably more than his wife. I didn't think much of it and I highly doubted it, but it stuck in my mind. Last night, he told me he didn't love me nearly as much as he had loved his wife. He covered it up by saying they grew up together, knew each other for way longer, and went through much more together than he and I had. Okay, this makes sense, I guess but it hurt to hear it. I mean, who says that? I would suspect he would love her more, but you don't say that to someone! Especially someone who is barely surviving and doesn't feel loved by anyone right now, especially friends or guys.
We keep talking and venting about our counseling sessions. I don't know why, but we do. In fact, we're having deeper conversations than we did when we were dating. It's really frustrating, actually. Anywho, he asked how I have been doing. I told him the following story:
Yesterday, I started my OB class and I have been excited about this class since I started college! I absolutely love watching births and seeing pregnant women and babies and everything that has to do with moms and babies. We started watching a birth in class (a video) and my eyes started tearing up. These weren't happy tears at a baby being born, these were tears of pain because the woman had her feet in stirrups and it reminded me of my SANE exam.
The next birth video was in a birthing center and my eyes teared up again and they almost spilled over. The video ended and I watched the wall for most of it because I was on the verge of sobbing. I couldn't catch my breath, I was hyperventilating, my heart was pounding, I was sad that I don't believe I will ever have babies, and I'm disappointed I was having so many troubles in a class that I have so been looking forward to forever! I want to be a midwife for goodness sake!!!
Whew, so that video ended and I kinda kept my composure. Lecture continued and we watched a third video towards the end. This was a water birth at home. About a minute into the video, my eye were filled with tears, I was having all the symptoms that I had in the second video and the tears started spilling. I jumped from my seat (which was in the back right next to the door, thank the L-rd) and I nearly ran to the bathroom. I got in there and there were other people. I washed my hands to make it seem like I was okay, but I absolutely wasn't. Then, all of a sudden, Beauty comes walking out of a stall. I dried my hands, looked up and said "hey! it's you!" The concern on her face was evident, she asked if I was okay. I said I was fine, booked it out of that bathroom and speed walked to the bathroom in the back of the building. Oh my goodness, I lost it! I was in a stall, sitting on the toilet, trying to keep my sobs as silent as possible and cried for about 5 minutes. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't stop shaking, I was losing my mind and it was terrifying! I waited for the other girls to leave, emmerged from my sanctuary and washed my hands, splashed cold water on my face a few times, and composed myself enough to go back to class. I zoned out for the rest of class just so that my body could sit there to keep my friends from wondering if I was okay.
On the phone with Jacob (exfiance) later that night, I explained all of this to him. He was kinda sweet about it and the most important thing is he listens to my rambling about my lack of coping with life right now. He asked me a few questions and we got to a point where I was explaining that I haven't been sleeping more than a couple hours each night because I can't fall asleep and I keep having flashbacks about him, exboyfriend and Country Boy. We discussed Country Boy's suicide and Jacob told me that I shouldn't be sad about him committing suicide. He said that me being sad and crying about it is selfish. I know it's selfish, but at the same time I need to be able to cope with what happened because it affected me terribly. You don't tell people not to cry or be sad if something happened in their life or they had a friend/family member die! You just don't do that!!! I ended up getting really mad, but Jacob just kept talking and I kept crying.
He ended by reverting to saying that I never loved him. He said he's not mad because he knows I have been in "survival mode" (according to my counselor because of the severe PTSD). He says he's proud of me for getting good grades and continuing with school even though my brain isn't functioning properly and barely surviving right now. He told me he thinks I'm a "badass bitch" because I keep on going even though most people would be staying in bed all the time and they would have given up a long time ago. He's proud of me for not killing myself and for not cutting in a few weeks. He says he's proud of me for getting help and for dealing with all of the troubles in my life without telling people about them.
I think that's one of the hardest things to do. If you have a broken leg or some reason to get surgery, people understand you taking time to recover and build yourself back up. They usually respect your privacy and the fact you need space. They are also more likely to want to help you with food, cleaning, groceries, etc because they know you may need help. The thing with rape is, you can't tell everyone. Well, you could, but it's likely to cause you more problems than it is to help you at all. I have chosen to tell a couple friends for support, but the vast majority of the people in my life (most of my friends, bosses, professors/instructors, patients, extended family, and even my dad) have no idea what's wrong with me. They see that I'm changing, withdrawing, sad, grumpy, and all around not being myself, but they don't know why. So, they tell me to suck it up and then get angry when they are not top priority on my list. But what am I supposed to do? I was burned out with all of the needy people in my life before any of this bad stuff happened. What am I supposed to do now that it is all I can do to wake up in the morning and consider getting out of bed?
We went on to talk about one of Jacob's friends from back in the day passing away this week. He tarted talking about a bunch of other friends that had died through his life, including his "father figure" who he really looked up to. Turns out, the father figure guy had a nephew that had committed suicide about the same time Country Boy did. They both also had the same name. We realized this all for the first time last night. Jacob had helped his father figure get the kid down from his noose once he was found. So Jacob asked for a picture of Country Boy to see if it was the same kid. He was freaking out last night saying it was so creepy and weirding him out that my friend that died might have been the same guy that he helped get down after the other kid's suicide. After I sent him the picture today, he said they weren't the same kid. It's a little bit of a relief.
Jacob also found out that Country Boy ended up being buried. About a month after he had died, I went to the place where his funeral was held (after clinical that day and I was in my whites), but they told me he had been cremated. Well, turns out Jacob called the funeral home and he was told Country Boy had been buried there. Okay, looks like I'm going there to see his grave tomorrow.
Jacob and I closed the conversation with him saying he'd pray that I would be able to sleep at a decent time last night. He called back like 2 minutes later saying: "Hey, I know this is going to sound weird, these aren't my words and I don't know what I'm saying, but do you remember the guy that you told me about? You know, the one that Satan made a bet with G-d that the guy wouldn't stay good, so G-d allowed him to be tested by Satan just to see if he would stay good?"
Me: "Job?"
Him: "Yeah! Well, while I was praying, I got this feeling that you are that guy. You are being tested. Now, this is going to sound really weird and I don't understand the words, but you are supposed to stand fast with your religion. Don't give up and keep doing what you're doing"
Me: "Okay, I'll try to keep my faith."
That was it. He doesn't talk like that ever. He's been reading a devotional book he got from me based off of the Love Dare book, but it's the year-long one. It still has challenges each week, but it also has a lesson and verse for each day. I'm surprised he's still doing it. I'm even more surprised he's gone to counseling and says he's going to keep going. We'll see. I don't foresee us getting back together, ever. I feel like the L-rd told me that he will change, but I won't see the fruits of this (my) labor but the story ends well for him. I hope it ends well for me too, but I guess we'll see.
Well, y'all keep on keepin' on. Stick with the faith and know that the L-rd is working, even if you feel like your whole life is going up in smoke. G-d is working on a billion things for every one thing He lets you have a glimpse of. I believe that's true for me too. Blessings guys.
P.S.
His prayer, along with mine, actually worked. Maybe it was psychological, but I think the L-rd helped me a lot. I fell asleep within about 10 minutes of hanging up from the second phone call.
I guess he and his counselor talked about me and why the two of us broke up. Jacob ended up calling me last night and telling me that he believes I was never really "in love" with him because he was just a rebound and distraction from my first rape. It has occurred to me that he may have been a rebound, but I had feelings for him. However, when he continually lied to me, that's when the love dwindled away because I had been loving him for the lies, not for him actually showing me his past scars. I think he may have started as a rebound, but I developed true love for him. Having him tell me he didn't think I ever loved him hurt. It hurt a lot.
While we were going out, there were times that he would compare me to his dead wife. He would say she was pretty, but I think you're prettier. Or he would tell me what she did to calm him down or what she did that he liked. Little things they developed like a counting game with squeezing each other's hands just to let the other one know they were there and thinking about them regardless of whether they were driving, fighting, whatever. At one point, he told me he loved me probably more than his wife. I didn't think much of it and I highly doubted it, but it stuck in my mind. Last night, he told me he didn't love me nearly as much as he had loved his wife. He covered it up by saying they grew up together, knew each other for way longer, and went through much more together than he and I had. Okay, this makes sense, I guess but it hurt to hear it. I mean, who says that? I would suspect he would love her more, but you don't say that to someone! Especially someone who is barely surviving and doesn't feel loved by anyone right now, especially friends or guys.
We keep talking and venting about our counseling sessions. I don't know why, but we do. In fact, we're having deeper conversations than we did when we were dating. It's really frustrating, actually. Anywho, he asked how I have been doing. I told him the following story:
Yesterday, I started my OB class and I have been excited about this class since I started college! I absolutely love watching births and seeing pregnant women and babies and everything that has to do with moms and babies. We started watching a birth in class (a video) and my eyes started tearing up. These weren't happy tears at a baby being born, these were tears of pain because the woman had her feet in stirrups and it reminded me of my SANE exam.
The next birth video was in a birthing center and my eyes teared up again and they almost spilled over. The video ended and I watched the wall for most of it because I was on the verge of sobbing. I couldn't catch my breath, I was hyperventilating, my heart was pounding, I was sad that I don't believe I will ever have babies, and I'm disappointed I was having so many troubles in a class that I have so been looking forward to forever! I want to be a midwife for goodness sake!!!
Whew, so that video ended and I kinda kept my composure. Lecture continued and we watched a third video towards the end. This was a water birth at home. About a minute into the video, my eye were filled with tears, I was having all the symptoms that I had in the second video and the tears started spilling. I jumped from my seat (which was in the back right next to the door, thank the L-rd) and I nearly ran to the bathroom. I got in there and there were other people. I washed my hands to make it seem like I was okay, but I absolutely wasn't. Then, all of a sudden, Beauty comes walking out of a stall. I dried my hands, looked up and said "hey! it's you!" The concern on her face was evident, she asked if I was okay. I said I was fine, booked it out of that bathroom and speed walked to the bathroom in the back of the building. Oh my goodness, I lost it! I was in a stall, sitting on the toilet, trying to keep my sobs as silent as possible and cried for about 5 minutes. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't stop shaking, I was losing my mind and it was terrifying! I waited for the other girls to leave, emmerged from my sanctuary and washed my hands, splashed cold water on my face a few times, and composed myself enough to go back to class. I zoned out for the rest of class just so that my body could sit there to keep my friends from wondering if I was okay.
On the phone with Jacob (exfiance) later that night, I explained all of this to him. He was kinda sweet about it and the most important thing is he listens to my rambling about my lack of coping with life right now. He asked me a few questions and we got to a point where I was explaining that I haven't been sleeping more than a couple hours each night because I can't fall asleep and I keep having flashbacks about him, exboyfriend and Country Boy. We discussed Country Boy's suicide and Jacob told me that I shouldn't be sad about him committing suicide. He said that me being sad and crying about it is selfish. I know it's selfish, but at the same time I need to be able to cope with what happened because it affected me terribly. You don't tell people not to cry or be sad if something happened in their life or they had a friend/family member die! You just don't do that!!! I ended up getting really mad, but Jacob just kept talking and I kept crying.
He ended by reverting to saying that I never loved him. He said he's not mad because he knows I have been in "survival mode" (according to my counselor because of the severe PTSD). He says he's proud of me for getting good grades and continuing with school even though my brain isn't functioning properly and barely surviving right now. He told me he thinks I'm a "badass bitch" because I keep on going even though most people would be staying in bed all the time and they would have given up a long time ago. He's proud of me for not killing myself and for not cutting in a few weeks. He says he's proud of me for getting help and for dealing with all of the troubles in my life without telling people about them.
I think that's one of the hardest things to do. If you have a broken leg or some reason to get surgery, people understand you taking time to recover and build yourself back up. They usually respect your privacy and the fact you need space. They are also more likely to want to help you with food, cleaning, groceries, etc because they know you may need help. The thing with rape is, you can't tell everyone. Well, you could, but it's likely to cause you more problems than it is to help you at all. I have chosen to tell a couple friends for support, but the vast majority of the people in my life (most of my friends, bosses, professors/instructors, patients, extended family, and even my dad) have no idea what's wrong with me. They see that I'm changing, withdrawing, sad, grumpy, and all around not being myself, but they don't know why. So, they tell me to suck it up and then get angry when they are not top priority on my list. But what am I supposed to do? I was burned out with all of the needy people in my life before any of this bad stuff happened. What am I supposed to do now that it is all I can do to wake up in the morning and consider getting out of bed?
We went on to talk about one of Jacob's friends from back in the day passing away this week. He tarted talking about a bunch of other friends that had died through his life, including his "father figure" who he really looked up to. Turns out, the father figure guy had a nephew that had committed suicide about the same time Country Boy did. They both also had the same name. We realized this all for the first time last night. Jacob had helped his father figure get the kid down from his noose once he was found. So Jacob asked for a picture of Country Boy to see if it was the same kid. He was freaking out last night saying it was so creepy and weirding him out that my friend that died might have been the same guy that he helped get down after the other kid's suicide. After I sent him the picture today, he said they weren't the same kid. It's a little bit of a relief.
Jacob also found out that Country Boy ended up being buried. About a month after he had died, I went to the place where his funeral was held (after clinical that day and I was in my whites), but they told me he had been cremated. Well, turns out Jacob called the funeral home and he was told Country Boy had been buried there. Okay, looks like I'm going there to see his grave tomorrow.
Jacob and I closed the conversation with him saying he'd pray that I would be able to sleep at a decent time last night. He called back like 2 minutes later saying: "Hey, I know this is going to sound weird, these aren't my words and I don't know what I'm saying, but do you remember the guy that you told me about? You know, the one that Satan made a bet with G-d that the guy wouldn't stay good, so G-d allowed him to be tested by Satan just to see if he would stay good?"
Me: "Job?"
Him: "Yeah! Well, while I was praying, I got this feeling that you are that guy. You are being tested. Now, this is going to sound really weird and I don't understand the words, but you are supposed to stand fast with your religion. Don't give up and keep doing what you're doing"
Me: "Okay, I'll try to keep my faith."
That was it. He doesn't talk like that ever. He's been reading a devotional book he got from me based off of the Love Dare book, but it's the year-long one. It still has challenges each week, but it also has a lesson and verse for each day. I'm surprised he's still doing it. I'm even more surprised he's gone to counseling and says he's going to keep going. We'll see. I don't foresee us getting back together, ever. I feel like the L-rd told me that he will change, but I won't see the fruits of this (my) labor but the story ends well for him. I hope it ends well for me too, but I guess we'll see.
Well, y'all keep on keepin' on. Stick with the faith and know that the L-rd is working, even if you feel like your whole life is going up in smoke. G-d is working on a billion things for every one thing He lets you have a glimpse of. I believe that's true for me too. Blessings guys.
P.S.
His prayer, along with mine, actually worked. Maybe it was psychological, but I think the L-rd helped me a lot. I fell asleep within about 10 minutes of hanging up from the second phone call.
Tuesday, January 19, 2016
Hopeful Beginnings
Counseling began today. I went in for paperwork and we went right into a session. Praise the L-rd! It was killing me that three session and a screening interview at the other place got me no where. I even told my new counselor that I was frustrated with the other lady for not really getting anywhere. I get the need to build rapport and ease some people in but I am ready to get down and dirty and get help. This kind of a thing doesn't need slow progress into it. I needs a quick acting, intense help to get people past their trauma into a functioning mindset again.
Well, I was officially diagnosed with severe PTSD today. It makes me sad, but it also makes me feel less crazy because nobody believed me when it was self-diagnosed. Now it's believable because my counselor gave me the title? Maybe if she finally diagnoses me with my anxiety disorders, depression and/or bipolar II, then people will believe me about those ones too. Goodness, I have the book psychiatrists, counselors, etc. use to diagnose stuff. I'm not making shit up.
Anyway, counseling went well. After she glanced (and I mean glanced) at my paperwork, she asked straight away: "So, what's your story?" I went through it all and she started connecting dots nobody else really ever has. I am so blessed to have been able to be assigned to her. Thank you L-rd! I talked about Country Boy, EXboyfriend, EXfiance, and all of my fears that I put in my post "Forgiveness?" She noticed that spring is likely to be a tough time for me; Country boy died, I broke up with Exboyfriend and met Exfiance all in the spring months, just a year apart. She warned me that this spring would likely be rough because I'll probably start remembering dates or the rapes, and deaths, and everything else that went to hell in a hand-basket within a couple month's time. I had already suspected that because this past March was tough a whole week before and after the anniversary of his death and then also the week before and after his birthday. These all coincide so from mid-March to mid-April I'm a complete mess. Now that will extend from mid-March to mid-May and it will all come back again in July. Great.
She basically told me I've been living in survival mode since the first rape (over 9 months). My only homework was to make sure I was eating, and eating things that actually count and provide fuel for my body so that I could start to work on the mental healing.
So, I really like her. I spent most of the hour crying and she finished saying: "You seem like such a sweet girl. Someone who tries to see the best in everyone and also someone who takes everyone else's baggage. That's a heavy load. You also seem to blame yourself for a lot of things that aren't in your control and they aren't your fault." Between her saying these things and her asking for my story, I felt so comforted and understood after this session. I didn't feel this way after talking with the first psychologist/psychiatrist person I saw. I'm so grateful to be able to be with this new lady.
Thank you L-rd for providing this woman, right when I needed her, right in the nick of time.
Exfiance knew I was going to counseling and he called right when it was over. We started talking about if he was excited or nervous for his session in a few days. He said he'd probably tell the therapist to "fuck off" and then leave. I told him it's dumb to even go if he wasn't going to put any effort forth. He said he was only going to "fix us".
OH MY GOSH!!!
How many times do I have to tell him I'm not getting back together with him? I told him I didn't want to get back together with him. He questioned if I was doing the right thing. I said yes. He said he was trying to do the right thing for us. I told him that he was trying to do the right thing for him and that him trying to get me back was not in my best interest but his. Haha, that pissed him off and he told me he was going to hang up. I said okay! Bye! Hahaha, I don't want to say I win but I definitely did. I'm so over his shit and he thinks I'm dumb enough to go back with him! Sorry, but no. You need to leave me alone you fucker.
Again, I'm sorry for the bad language right after praising the L-rd for His provisions. I'm working out anger... and a lot of other stuff.
Regardless, the pervasive song that keeps popping into my head is "Held" by Natalie Grant. I haven't heard it in years but it keeps popping into my head at random times. Praise the L-rd for this too!
Two months is too little.
They let him go.
They had no sudden healing.
To think that providence would
Take a child from his mother while she prays
Is appalling.
Who told us we'd be rescued?
What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?
We're asking why this happens
To us who have died to live?
It's unfair.
Chorus:
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
This hand is bitterness.
We want to taste it, let the hatred numb our sorrow.
The wise hands opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow.
[Chorus:]
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
Bridge:
If hope is born of suffering.
If this is only the beginning.
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?
[Chorus:]
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know, that the promise was when everything fell, we'd be held
This is what it means to be held.
Well, I was officially diagnosed with severe PTSD today. It makes me sad, but it also makes me feel less crazy because nobody believed me when it was self-diagnosed. Now it's believable because my counselor gave me the title? Maybe if she finally diagnoses me with my anxiety disorders, depression and/or bipolar II, then people will believe me about those ones too. Goodness, I have the book psychiatrists, counselors, etc. use to diagnose stuff. I'm not making shit up.
Anyway, counseling went well. After she glanced (and I mean glanced) at my paperwork, she asked straight away: "So, what's your story?" I went through it all and she started connecting dots nobody else really ever has. I am so blessed to have been able to be assigned to her. Thank you L-rd! I talked about Country Boy, EXboyfriend, EXfiance, and all of my fears that I put in my post "Forgiveness?" She noticed that spring is likely to be a tough time for me; Country boy died, I broke up with Exboyfriend and met Exfiance all in the spring months, just a year apart. She warned me that this spring would likely be rough because I'll probably start remembering dates or the rapes, and deaths, and everything else that went to hell in a hand-basket within a couple month's time. I had already suspected that because this past March was tough a whole week before and after the anniversary of his death and then also the week before and after his birthday. These all coincide so from mid-March to mid-April I'm a complete mess. Now that will extend from mid-March to mid-May and it will all come back again in July. Great.
She basically told me I've been living in survival mode since the first rape (over 9 months). My only homework was to make sure I was eating, and eating things that actually count and provide fuel for my body so that I could start to work on the mental healing.
So, I really like her. I spent most of the hour crying and she finished saying: "You seem like such a sweet girl. Someone who tries to see the best in everyone and also someone who takes everyone else's baggage. That's a heavy load. You also seem to blame yourself for a lot of things that aren't in your control and they aren't your fault." Between her saying these things and her asking for my story, I felt so comforted and understood after this session. I didn't feel this way after talking with the first psychologist/psychiatrist person I saw. I'm so grateful to be able to be with this new lady.
Thank you L-rd for providing this woman, right when I needed her, right in the nick of time.
Exfiance knew I was going to counseling and he called right when it was over. We started talking about if he was excited or nervous for his session in a few days. He said he'd probably tell the therapist to "fuck off" and then leave. I told him it's dumb to even go if he wasn't going to put any effort forth. He said he was only going to "fix us".
OH MY GOSH!!!
How many times do I have to tell him I'm not getting back together with him? I told him I didn't want to get back together with him. He questioned if I was doing the right thing. I said yes. He said he was trying to do the right thing for us. I told him that he was trying to do the right thing for him and that him trying to get me back was not in my best interest but his. Haha, that pissed him off and he told me he was going to hang up. I said okay! Bye! Hahaha, I don't want to say I win but I definitely did. I'm so over his shit and he thinks I'm dumb enough to go back with him! Sorry, but no. You need to leave me alone you fucker.
Again, I'm sorry for the bad language right after praising the L-rd for His provisions. I'm working out anger... and a lot of other stuff.
Regardless, the pervasive song that keeps popping into my head is "Held" by Natalie Grant. I haven't heard it in years but it keeps popping into my head at random times. Praise the L-rd for this too!
They let him go.
They had no sudden healing.
To think that providence would
Take a child from his mother while she prays
Is appalling.
Who told us we'd be rescued?
What has changed and why should we be saved from nightmares?
We're asking why this happens
To us who have died to live?
It's unfair.
Chorus:
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
This hand is bitterness.
We want to taste it, let the hatred numb our sorrow.
The wise hands opens slowly to lilies of the valley and tomorrow.
[Chorus:]
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
Bridge:
If hope is born of suffering.
If this is only the beginning.
Can we not wait for one hour watching for our Savior?
[Chorus:]
This is what it means to be held.
How it feels when the sacred is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know that the promise was
When everything fell we'd be held.
This is what it is to be loved.
And to know, that the promise was when everything fell, we'd be held
This is what it means to be held.
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
Worst Part About Break-ups
Seeing as this is the second official break-up I've had from a guy, kinda my third (if you count the kid I "dated" for three weeks by avoiding him the entire time). However, the worst parts about a break-up for me are 1) missing the guy's family, 2) having so much left unsaid and so many questions unanswered, 3) missing the guy's company, and 4) being angry about what they did/didn't do. Now, they are all fairly equal in my brain, but I go through cycles where each one seems more prominent at any given time.
1) I miss their families terribly. Trial-run's mom loved me. Country Boy's mom (even though we didn't date) loved me. Exboyfriend's whole entire immediate and extended family loved me. Exfiance's mom absolutely adored me and even took me shopping. Unfortunately for me, I loved all of these people too! Breaking up with the guy automatically breaks me off from being loved by their families, but I almost miss their families more than I miss the guy because I felt so wanted and accepted into another person's life. Their families thought I was good for the guys and their families typically hadn't liked other girls they had brought home and so they were somehow surprised that they liked me when I was brought around. I miss that and the relationships I had developed with the family members. I loved that when the guy and I were fake arguing in front of them, the family members usually took my side. Haha, they were all jokes, but some of the fake arguments had roots in discussions where I had supported my side and the guy didn't understand until his family took my side.
2) This is the worst. Since Country Boy died, I obviously have so much left unsaid to him.
When I broke up with Exboyfriend, I only told him that what he did was not okay. I wish I could have told him that what he did was rape and that he absolutely needs to not do that to anyone else. I wish I could let him know how badly I'm messed up because of that, but I don't want to mess him up or make him feel guilty. I'm scared that could lead to another suicide like Country Boy.
With Exfiance, I have been terrible. I have been yelling at him over text and questioning everything. He told me the other day that he was sick and tired of me questioning what he's told me. I apologized for taking my anger out on him and being a bitch. It's not like I was harassing him, but he would text me and that would always end up with me picking a fight because I'm ridiculously angry at him for lying to me and hurting me for so long. I'm mad at myself for believing and defending him.
The other night, when I was up at 0200 the night before my class because I can't sleep lately, I wrote a text and decided not to send it because I didn't want to hurt him more than I have. I don't believe in revenge or hurting people just because they hurt me. However, since I couldn't tell him, I figured I would put it here so that I get it out. So, here it is: "I hate that I no longer get to be around your mom or your family in *other state* because I absolutely loved them. I hate that I have to get over the fact that the future I built in my head with you was all bullshit and will never happen. It makes me angry that I can't stop myself from wanting to talk to you, even though our relationship was based on lies and it wasn't ever really a healthy relationship by an means. I hate that my siled treatment doesn't last more than a few hours or a day with you. I hate that I haven't been able to sleep in days, even though I need to so that I can maybe escapre the constant noise and self-doubt in my head. I'm so angry at you and I hate that you made me cry. But, sometimes I hate that I can't cry because I'm out of tears and my heart moved on a long time ago. I hate that I'm so angry and that as soon as I had started feeling better from him (exboyfriend) and started trusting you, you found me and now I'm even worse than I was before. I hate yelling at you but I feel like I need to tell you these things. I hate having flashbacks of you, and him (exbf), and Country Boy every single stupid day. Several times an hour, in fact. I hate that I feel like there's nothing else for me to live for because I am completely convinced that I will never be happy, or be able to escape what has happened, for the rest of my life."
I know, I sound like such a bitch! That's why I didn't send it. This would have caused so much pain and damage to him. So, I never sent the text and I never will.
3) I miss their company. I miss all of them. Country Boy died way too early and he made me angry, but that was not reason for him to take his life and I still feel like it was at least partially my fault that he killed himself. Trial-run guy was my best friend for most of freshman year and a good chunk of sophomore year, but we don't talk much anymore and I miss his friendship and the way he would laugh at what I thought was funny, even if they were icky nursing stories or stiff he didn't understand. I miss exboyfriend for his calm demeanor and the way he showed me off to his friends and he was so proud to dance with me. I also miss the small-town life I got with him. I miss exfiance for the way we texted and called each other frequently. I would tell all of them about my day and what I was excited or upset about. I miss that sharing and having someone to talk to. I miss looking forward to hanging out with any of them and feeling special when we had a date planned. If only the best of each of them could be synthesized into one guy, I think we could work. That's unrealistic though.
4) Despite the good, I'm still angry with each of them. I'm angry with them for expecting sex from me. I hate that it was so easy for them to push me aside when they didn't "feel" like being with me or they found something more fun to do on a day we had plans. I'm angry at Country Boy for killing himself. I'm angry at my actual two boyfriends for abusing and assaulting me. I hate that they all made me love them for different reasons and then pushed me away slowly but surely and then they blame me for the break up.
I hate that I miss them. I strongly dislike that this is my history and the life I have to deal with. I hate that regardless of what happens in this life, I know that someone else has it worse. That makes me feel shallow, insignificant, and weak. I despise feeling that I'm not good enough. It breaks my heart daily that I still love all of them, even though I have been terribly hurt. I don't understand why I remain alive and keep waking up each morning. Why are break-ups so incredibly difficult? Why is this the path I walk? I'm terrified that I am the one to blame for all of my problems.
Still, I know the L-rd provides and cares for me.
This is the biggest mystery to me of all.
1) I miss their families terribly. Trial-run's mom loved me. Country Boy's mom (even though we didn't date) loved me. Exboyfriend's whole entire immediate and extended family loved me. Exfiance's mom absolutely adored me and even took me shopping. Unfortunately for me, I loved all of these people too! Breaking up with the guy automatically breaks me off from being loved by their families, but I almost miss their families more than I miss the guy because I felt so wanted and accepted into another person's life. Their families thought I was good for the guys and their families typically hadn't liked other girls they had brought home and so they were somehow surprised that they liked me when I was brought around. I miss that and the relationships I had developed with the family members. I loved that when the guy and I were fake arguing in front of them, the family members usually took my side. Haha, they were all jokes, but some of the fake arguments had roots in discussions where I had supported my side and the guy didn't understand until his family took my side.
2) This is the worst. Since Country Boy died, I obviously have so much left unsaid to him.
When I broke up with Exboyfriend, I only told him that what he did was not okay. I wish I could have told him that what he did was rape and that he absolutely needs to not do that to anyone else. I wish I could let him know how badly I'm messed up because of that, but I don't want to mess him up or make him feel guilty. I'm scared that could lead to another suicide like Country Boy.
With Exfiance, I have been terrible. I have been yelling at him over text and questioning everything. He told me the other day that he was sick and tired of me questioning what he's told me. I apologized for taking my anger out on him and being a bitch. It's not like I was harassing him, but he would text me and that would always end up with me picking a fight because I'm ridiculously angry at him for lying to me and hurting me for so long. I'm mad at myself for believing and defending him.
The other night, when I was up at 0200 the night before my class because I can't sleep lately, I wrote a text and decided not to send it because I didn't want to hurt him more than I have. I don't believe in revenge or hurting people just because they hurt me. However, since I couldn't tell him, I figured I would put it here so that I get it out. So, here it is: "I hate that I no longer get to be around your mom or your family in *other state* because I absolutely loved them. I hate that I have to get over the fact that the future I built in my head with you was all bullshit and will never happen. It makes me angry that I can't stop myself from wanting to talk to you, even though our relationship was based on lies and it wasn't ever really a healthy relationship by an means. I hate that my siled treatment doesn't last more than a few hours or a day with you. I hate that I haven't been able to sleep in days, even though I need to so that I can maybe escapre the constant noise and self-doubt in my head. I'm so angry at you and I hate that you made me cry. But, sometimes I hate that I can't cry because I'm out of tears and my heart moved on a long time ago. I hate that I'm so angry and that as soon as I had started feeling better from him (exboyfriend) and started trusting you, you found me and now I'm even worse than I was before. I hate yelling at you but I feel like I need to tell you these things. I hate having flashbacks of you, and him (exbf), and Country Boy every single stupid day. Several times an hour, in fact. I hate that I feel like there's nothing else for me to live for because I am completely convinced that I will never be happy, or be able to escape what has happened, for the rest of my life."
I know, I sound like such a bitch! That's why I didn't send it. This would have caused so much pain and damage to him. So, I never sent the text and I never will.
3) I miss their company. I miss all of them. Country Boy died way too early and he made me angry, but that was not reason for him to take his life and I still feel like it was at least partially my fault that he killed himself. Trial-run guy was my best friend for most of freshman year and a good chunk of sophomore year, but we don't talk much anymore and I miss his friendship and the way he would laugh at what I thought was funny, even if they were icky nursing stories or stiff he didn't understand. I miss exboyfriend for his calm demeanor and the way he showed me off to his friends and he was so proud to dance with me. I also miss the small-town life I got with him. I miss exfiance for the way we texted and called each other frequently. I would tell all of them about my day and what I was excited or upset about. I miss that sharing and having someone to talk to. I miss looking forward to hanging out with any of them and feeling special when we had a date planned. If only the best of each of them could be synthesized into one guy, I think we could work. That's unrealistic though.
4) Despite the good, I'm still angry with each of them. I'm angry with them for expecting sex from me. I hate that it was so easy for them to push me aside when they didn't "feel" like being with me or they found something more fun to do on a day we had plans. I'm angry at Country Boy for killing himself. I'm angry at my actual two boyfriends for abusing and assaulting me. I hate that they all made me love them for different reasons and then pushed me away slowly but surely and then they blame me for the break up.
I hate that I miss them. I strongly dislike that this is my history and the life I have to deal with. I hate that regardless of what happens in this life, I know that someone else has it worse. That makes me feel shallow, insignificant, and weak. I despise feeling that I'm not good enough. It breaks my heart daily that I still love all of them, even though I have been terribly hurt. I don't understand why I remain alive and keep waking up each morning. Why are break-ups so incredibly difficult? Why is this the path I walk? I'm terrified that I am the one to blame for all of my problems.
Still, I know the L-rd provides and cares for me.
This is the biggest mystery to me of all.
Tuesday, November 3, 2015
Sleep Disturbances
Let's start off by discussing how precious sleep it so me. First of all, I sleep an absolutely ridiculous amount. This is because of depression, I work nights, and it is my drug of choice when life is getting too hard and I need to escape. Lately, life is very difficult, I worked last night, and depression is probably at an all time high and the longest duration I think I've ever had it in my life. Therefore, I require a lot of sleep.
Oh, an I'm in nursing school. If you are not in nursing school but plan to be, just know that some of your vacations will be spent sleeping because you get NONE during school, especially if you work and go to school and ever want to see any other human being while you are in the program. Get used to living with coffee running as the fluids in your vasculature, blood is now overrated.
Did I mention I worked last night? Before work, I typically sleep from noon until about 5:30 so that I can get sleep before work so I will not be dozing off during my shift. Seeing as I sit in a dark room with a patient I am trying to get to sleep, but I need to not sleep, this nap is crutial to me keeping my job! Yesterday I got to sleep around 2, slept for about an hour before getting woken up. Oh the rage. Words do injustice to the anger coursing through my body after being woken up. I get grumpy anyway when I'm woken up. HOwever, when I am woken up after it was incredibly difficult to fall asleep, and it took another 45 minutes to get me back to sleep in the middle of the day, I was furious. I was woken up so that the dog could come and jump on my bed because roommate does not like her being alone when she leaves. The dog is fine alone, we leave her completely alone for hours and hours during the day when we have stuff to do, she will be fine for a couple of hours while I sleep so that I can work.
Today I had to go run errands before coming home after my shift. I waited at both of the stores I needed to go to because I got to both of them before opening time because I got off at a terrible hour in the morning and nobody should be up that early. I tried for the rest of the day to lay down and take a nap after that, but I just couldn't do it. I finally got to sleep around 4 then the damned dog came in 30 minutes later whining to go out. Exasperation consumed every atom that makes up my being and I woke up to take the dog out. After 15 minutes of her sniffing around, she still hadn't gone to the bathroom at all! Oh my goodness! I was so beyond pissed. I brought her back in and told her to go to her kennel. So pissed!!! It took another 30 minutes to go back to bed (keep in mind I've been up for about 24 hours with no sleep and that makes me incredibly grumpy anyway) but having sleeping problems makes it worse. I get to sleep, stay asleep for about an hour and a half and wake up to roommate asking me to wake up to come pick up a bug she killed in her room. Yeah. I absolutely adore this girl, but the lack of sleep I'm getting is making my depression get exponentially worse by the hour and so my life is getting darker and gloomier by the moment. At this point, I am about to lose my shit because I was woken up from my very short nap to pick up a FUCKING BUG!
Please excuse the bad words, I need a little chesed (grace) because there is a lot of anger in my heart and the lack of sleep is contributing to the addition of more and more grumpiness as each day passes.
These two incidences, plus getting woken up because the dog starts barking and playing around when she gets home and the volume in the apartment raising to extremely high levels, typically once I am down for a much needed nap. In addition, being woken up at 0600 on my fucking days off so the dog can eat a treat on my bed and snuggle for a solid 3 seconds before roommate leaves, I am so beyond past my level of being ticked off. I'm also not supposed to sleep as much as required by my depression because seeing me only come out of my room to pee and eat occasionally, because I am sleeping the rest of the time, makes her worried and I made her cry because of that.
I need sleep! That's all I want. I want to sleep in a bed where the dog doesn't keep peeing in it. I want to sleep in on my days off when the apartment will be silent and I can maybe catch up on sleep without roommate worrying about me because she won't be there during the day. I want to sleep before work and know that I can get a decent nap in before work without getting woken up. I want to be able to sleep after my 12 hour long night shift because I am stressed and exhausted, without getting woken up by barking by an excited dog, barking and whining because the dog is bored and wants to go outside to sniff around, and other things that wake me up unnecessarily because I haven't slept in a very long time. ALL I WANT IS SLEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm so at my whits end with life, it's just not even funny.
Add all of these things to the recurring nightmares and strange, vivid dreams I keep having about exboyfriend, Country Boy, and fiance and my life is getting very little sleep, let alone restful sleep.
Oh, an I'm in nursing school. If you are not in nursing school but plan to be, just know that some of your vacations will be spent sleeping because you get NONE during school, especially if you work and go to school and ever want to see any other human being while you are in the program. Get used to living with coffee running as the fluids in your vasculature, blood is now overrated.
Did I mention I worked last night? Before work, I typically sleep from noon until about 5:30 so that I can get sleep before work so I will not be dozing off during my shift. Seeing as I sit in a dark room with a patient I am trying to get to sleep, but I need to not sleep, this nap is crutial to me keeping my job! Yesterday I got to sleep around 2, slept for about an hour before getting woken up. Oh the rage. Words do injustice to the anger coursing through my body after being woken up. I get grumpy anyway when I'm woken up. HOwever, when I am woken up after it was incredibly difficult to fall asleep, and it took another 45 minutes to get me back to sleep in the middle of the day, I was furious. I was woken up so that the dog could come and jump on my bed because roommate does not like her being alone when she leaves. The dog is fine alone, we leave her completely alone for hours and hours during the day when we have stuff to do, she will be fine for a couple of hours while I sleep so that I can work.
Today I had to go run errands before coming home after my shift. I waited at both of the stores I needed to go to because I got to both of them before opening time because I got off at a terrible hour in the morning and nobody should be up that early. I tried for the rest of the day to lay down and take a nap after that, but I just couldn't do it. I finally got to sleep around 4 then the damned dog came in 30 minutes later whining to go out. Exasperation consumed every atom that makes up my being and I woke up to take the dog out. After 15 minutes of her sniffing around, she still hadn't gone to the bathroom at all! Oh my goodness! I was so beyond pissed. I brought her back in and told her to go to her kennel. So pissed!!! It took another 30 minutes to go back to bed (keep in mind I've been up for about 24 hours with no sleep and that makes me incredibly grumpy anyway) but having sleeping problems makes it worse. I get to sleep, stay asleep for about an hour and a half and wake up to roommate asking me to wake up to come pick up a bug she killed in her room. Yeah. I absolutely adore this girl, but the lack of sleep I'm getting is making my depression get exponentially worse by the hour and so my life is getting darker and gloomier by the moment. At this point, I am about to lose my shit because I was woken up from my very short nap to pick up a FUCKING BUG!
Please excuse the bad words, I need a little chesed (grace) because there is a lot of anger in my heart and the lack of sleep is contributing to the addition of more and more grumpiness as each day passes.
These two incidences, plus getting woken up because the dog starts barking and playing around when she gets home and the volume in the apartment raising to extremely high levels, typically once I am down for a much needed nap. In addition, being woken up at 0600 on my fucking days off so the dog can eat a treat on my bed and snuggle for a solid 3 seconds before roommate leaves, I am so beyond past my level of being ticked off. I'm also not supposed to sleep as much as required by my depression because seeing me only come out of my room to pee and eat occasionally, because I am sleeping the rest of the time, makes her worried and I made her cry because of that.
I need sleep! That's all I want. I want to sleep in a bed where the dog doesn't keep peeing in it. I want to sleep in on my days off when the apartment will be silent and I can maybe catch up on sleep without roommate worrying about me because she won't be there during the day. I want to sleep before work and know that I can get a decent nap in before work without getting woken up. I want to be able to sleep after my 12 hour long night shift because I am stressed and exhausted, without getting woken up by barking by an excited dog, barking and whining because the dog is bored and wants to go outside to sniff around, and other things that wake me up unnecessarily because I haven't slept in a very long time. ALL I WANT IS SLEEP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I'm so at my whits end with life, it's just not even funny.
Add all of these things to the recurring nightmares and strange, vivid dreams I keep having about exboyfriend, Country Boy, and fiance and my life is getting very little sleep, let alone restful sleep.
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