Suicide

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.

Trial and Error

Ugh, the amount of high's and low's I experience per shift in L&D has given me a terrible case of whip lash. One shift goes great, while the very next night is absolute hell and I can't seem to do anything right.

Last night's shift was a crazy combination of both.

I admitted a patient who was there for an elective induction, but did not want any of the meds to get labor started...

Then I immediately got another pt who needed an epidural pronto and then her blood pressures bottomed out and she went from a 5 to a 10 and delivered in 1.5 hours.

About 3 hours after the delivery, as I was getting caught up on charting, my preceptor came to me and asked if I minded taking ice water into the delivered patient, and asking what they decided to name the baby since they had waited until after the birth to pick a name. I went in, asked what the name was and you know what? They named their baby after me! I was with them for a total of maybe 5 hours, missed her whole recovery because of my other pt, and they honored me by naming their baby after me. Yes, I happy cried and teared up in the room. I don't think I have ever been so honored by anyone, let alone someone that I barely knew.

I came out and sat down to chart when my other pt pressed her call light. I went in and she said she thought her water broke. Okay, so normally we are supposed to check them when that happens so that I could report to the doctor. Well, this particular doctor was planning to come in and check her and break her water about 30 minutes after when she SROM'd. So, I figured I would check her (as normal) and go let him know. Well, I got REAMED for that because apparently he likes to check his own patients when he is at the hospital. I had been told this at the beginning of my orientation, but I am still in the task-oriented phase of learning and I did what would normally be done.

I'm trying to let it roll off my shoulders and just learn for next time, but it's still frustrating to me that we bend over backwards for doctors, and yet they yell at us for something so small as a preference. Nobody was hurt, nothing bad happened, and it didn't change the course of treatment at all...

I will do it differently next time. I will do my best to remember the little nuances and remember every doctor's preferences as best I can... but I'm still going to complain about the way that we are chewed out for stupid shit every day, just because the doctor is having a bad day or likes some random things done a very specific way.



Deep breaths. He'll be mad at me for the next several weeks and I will have months of proving myself to him and the other doctors. I hate this part, but I am also the most motivated when I feel like people are expecting me to fail, so I guess we'll see how it goes. L-rd willing, I don't struggle too bad.

Last Days

I resigned from my NICU job here in Small Town and have gotten several offers in College Town. So, it appears as though I'm moving back to that dreadful city. I tried to work closer to my parents so that I could live with them, but they took forever to get back to me, jobs are still pending review. Meanwhile, I have had several decent job offers in College Town and so now I'm looking at houses there.

This is exhausting. I've cried more in the past two weeks than I have my year here. I thought I was sick of this place and that it would be easy to leave, but nobody makes you feel more appreciated than when they know you are for sure leaving. Nurses and practitioners that used to get mad at me for small mistakes in critical situations (that didn't effect the outcome, nor did they really matter they are just their preferences), were all hugging me and telling me that I was a great nurse.

T hat got me thinking that so much of our identity at the hospital is simply being a "good nurse", "good CNA", "good doctor", or "good _________". Fill in the blank with whatever your title is and that's your new identity as a person within those walls. It's a difficult thing to be seen as your job title instead of as you as a person, but I guess that's all they know me as.  Many of the night shifters have expressed how much they'll miss me, so that was really nice. I signed off with my parents for the last time and told them to keep in touch on our NICU Facebook page. I've cried, hugged more people than I thought possible, and I was blessed to be able to run into most everyone I wanted to say goodbye to and found the rest on Facebook.

My last week at work was wonderful. I got to do all of my favorite things, say goodbye to mass amounts of people, and my unit threw me a going away party. I felt so special and so loved. G-d orchestrated the night to let me help with breastfeeding, let parents give a bath to a little baby that dad hadn't gotten to help bathe before, I went on a delivery, got to visit with the L&D, postpartum, newborn nursery, and women's center ladies. I also got to snuggle all of my favorite little babies that are on the unit. It's crazy to think of how much I've learned this last year to be able to help teach our newer nurses some of the skills they haven't done yet. I've started to realize how much extra they taught me because I was asking to learn and do more. My charge nurse that let me have that 1:1 baby that ended up dying really took me under her wing and tried to get me as much experience as possible.

I'm going to miss our people, our babies, and this town. I've really enjoyed living here and have just now gotten to the point of having friends (because they are new and actually go do stuff with me). This decision was so difficult and going through with the move is crazy difficult. However, the pro con list is sufficient enough to sway me to try another beginning closer to my family. Mostly, the decision has come down to grandpa just having a few months because he's been doing so poorly, and my grandmother being overbearing. I love her, but I definitely need boundaries and to be allowed to be an independent adult. Now I'm off to learn all the doctors and nurse practitioners at new hospitals. I am looking for a house when I didn't think I would have to move for another year. I am moving back to College Town when I swore I would never do so because of the past I left behind there. I am praying that I don't run into the guys or their families. I am also praying that as I try to incorporate myself into new units, that I am accepted, make friends, and that I'm able to keep up with the 2 part-time jobs that I've chosen so that I can work towards L&D experience, while not losing my NICU skills and the baby snuggles I've come so accustomed to. I was so excited and happy to move down here and it's so difficult to leave.

I pray the L-rd guide me, protect me, and cover me with his grace. This is a scary road, and I hope it gets me closer to the goals I have for myself and ultimately the plans G-d has for me.

On the bright side, I've tried many of the churches there, have my couple of favorites, I know the good and bad areas of town to live in, and have some friends there. It's not going to be completely new and scary. I just need a security system with cameras, a new face and name, and now furniture because I sold all mine! It'll be nice to move somewhere and have a basis of living there, a basis of my job duties and skills, and a slight social circle. I'm terrified of the flashbacks and nightmares that have already started and of running into the guys and their families. Exboyfriend's sister works on the floor that I will be starting to work in the NICU at and that terrifies me. She didn't like me before and she sure as hell won't like me now that I've submitted police reports and sexual assault allegations against her brother. I'm praying she got a new job somewhere else and that I will never see her. I don't know what I would do if I ever did run into her and I'm seriously considering using a nickname while I'm working there. I pray the Good L-rd wipes her memory of me and that I'm just some new person on the floor.

Because I'm An Idiot

Let's preface this with the fact that we had a recent baby boom and are busting at the seems.

I keep making stupid newbie mistakes. Now, is this because I'm not paying attention? Not really. Mostly, I'm making mistakes without even knowing I'm making them because these are things that I was not taught in orientation. Now that I am on my own, I get in trouble for making said mistakes because I am now responsible for the actions I do, whether I know it is against the rules or not.

This was brought about by getting "in trouble" (my words, not theirs) for overfeeding my kid. In our unit, children can go to ad lib and/or on demand. This, to me, means they can eat however much they want (ad lib) whenever they wake up and start fussing (on demand). Nobody taught me otherwise, until today.

I had my charge nurse feed one of my kids because I was crazy busy and also way late on charting. Well, she ended up looking at my charting and told me I was way overfeeding my kid. Apparently it is an unspoken rule that ad lib actually means 160-200 mL/kg/day. Now, average this out by how long the kid goes between feedings (2-4 hours) and you get your ad lib ranges of what to feed depending on how long they slept. Who knew? Well, I guess everyone did... except me. So, this kid's max was 100 (actually  this is only for going 3 hours in between, for 4 hours it's 133 mL) and I was letting him take as much as he wanted, in the ball parks of 120-150. So, not too much over, and I admitted my mistake to day shift during report, to my friends, and to our unit manager. However, I still feel like a complete dumb ass because I just know this is going to end up being a thing that gets talked about for weeks. The doctor is going to be upset, I'm going to get a lecture, maybe a group email, and it'll be because of me and because I have no clue what the hell I'm doing. Some kids do get ordered to be ad lib with no max. Apparently this is something that is uncommon and ad lib means 160-200.

Ya live and learn, I guess. Poor day shift must think I'm a complete moron because I know the other girls on night shift think I am.



In other news we got our yearly reviews done... everyone is pissed. We have a peer review system, but not everyone fills out reviews for other employees. Plus, the reviews from the employees are used as the sole summation of your work on the unit. So, there is a lot of bias. If you get your review "randomly" (I don't think they were all random) put into a folder to be reviewed by someone on our unit who doesn't like you, your raise will depend on how mean they felt that day. On the flip side, we have some employees who don't do well at work and cut corners who get reviewed by their friends and end up getting raises that they maybe shouldn't have gotten as well as better reviews than they worked for. So, no matter what, you get screwed. So, I got an okay eval, but my friends did not. Their evals went to a girl who is not nice to us and clearly does not like any of us new girls. Therefore, my friends had terrible reviews and did not get the same type of raise I did. It might be by just a few cents, but the reviews are on file for the rest of their career at this hospital. They are not getting good marks because their "grader" is spiteful, rude, mad at us for going to HR about her, and biased.

Add in that I'm tired, probably PMS'ing, and cannot seem to have a good night, and even though I'm sleep deprived, I will probably end up not sleeping well. That sucks because I have been at work every night for a week and still have another 4 days to go. I kid you not, I will have 13 days clocked, in a row because I'm stupid and kept coming in "for just one more night" because we were slammed with kids.

Sometimes I do dumb things.

Mostly, I do dumb things regularly. It's a wonder my review didn't turn out worse than the most negative things being written is that "she gets frustrated". Well no shit. I'm a new grad, I've been on my own for 3 months (out of orientation), and I get frustrating assignments because they are trying to get me experiences with tougher assignments. They say that in the review. Half of our staff is frustrated and frazzled most of their nights at work because they are 1) high strung on their good days and completely out of control on a mediocre day or 2) assignments are not given to be balanced so that stress is evenly distributed across the entirety of the staff for the shift. Assignments are given with no regards to patient needs and nurse responsibilities.



On a more positive note. I emailed the nurse midwifery program I want to attend. They emailed back quickly and asked if I wanted to start in August 2017... I can't move yet, but I kind of want to start school so I'll graduate in 2020. It's a happy year especially with high school graduation being 2012, college graduation being 2016; 2020 fits my little trend!

The only thing I can think is: I can't even be a nurse and do things correctly on a regular basis, what makes me think I can be a practitioner and write orders as opposed to simply following practitioner orders? Everything takes practice and experience, but it's scary!



Ah well. I'm off to sleep so that I can show up to struggle through another crazy shift.

Let's not even talk about my new desire for a kid. I keep getting attached to my little patients that  I tear up when they get to go home. It's bitter sweet, but I love these kids more than I should be loving patients. Then I want a kid, but then I'm over-come with dread and fear of the things they could/might go through in life. Then I start crying because I get scared thinking about what it would be like to have to go through meeting a guy and hoping he won't be evil to me like the other guys have been. And, if he's not evil, then I am scared to tell him the evils I've survived and I'll have to delve into why I don't think I'm pure... and... and... and...

I think I just need some sleep. I'll catch up with y'all later.

Best Buddy

Do any of y'all recall hearing about my Best Friend? I met him freshman year of college and we've been through quite a bit.

At the beginning of this blog, I used to write about how I thought he had a crush on me and we would hang out a lot. Fast forward about a year to sophomore year, and he and I "tried" dating. It lasted three weeks before I broke it off. We didn't talk much for awhile, but he contacted me again sometime between the end of Junior year and the beginning of Senior year. Weird thing about certain friendships, you can pick up right where you left off, as if nothing ever changed.

I shared with him what exboyfriend and exfiance did to me and he was crushed. It was the first time I've seen him get misty and the normal smile was not in his eyes. Regardless, he has stuck with me through my rants and raves, my days of self pity, and various legal situations where my counselor told me I needed a friend. Best Friend was that friend. He even offered to buy me a milk shake after a 5 hour wait at the police station with me. He just sat in the lobby, by himself, as I talked with an officer in the back. He didn't complain or seem irritated in the least. At the end, he gave me a hug, told me he was soooo proud of me, and listened as I rehashed the amazing work the police officer did to help me.

It doesn't matter what parts of the story I tell him or refuse to share with him, he is nothing but kind, supportive, and so very sweet. He knows when to be quiet and listen. He knows when to shut me off because I'm going down a bad thought process road. He knows when to give me time to process, or when I need to be around somebody. He asks before he hugs me. Most of all, he is working to rebuild my sense of self.

We were texting the other night, as we often times do, when he started asking questions. Questions about our short relationship (thought he has a girlfriend right now, he says he was just curious), some about what happened with the other guys, and some light-hearted questions to break up the seriousness of the conversation.

At one point, he asked, "Why, if you are so stubborn, did you not just leave these guys when you say you wanted to?" This question, in all honesty, made me get a bit defensive. I sent about 9 text pages about how I know I seem weak, staying with a guy even though I tried to break up over 4 times with him. I know it makes no sense to stay with someone who continually hurt me so badly. I know that the relationships are terrible and it makes no sense that I would have two boyfriends abuse me in terrible ways when I could have been with someone sweet. It makes absolutely no sense, even to me. However, I continued and told him that I was fighting. All those times he forced himself on me, I was fighting. All those times that I would break up with him, he would promise to be nicer and better, then I would take him back and he would be even worse because I "broke his heart," I was fighting.

I was fighting to stay alive. I was fighting to stay sane. I was fighting to make sense to myself and to do the best I could in the terrible prison I was in.

I don't know if he was shocked or sorry for asking that question in such a way, or maybe he knew that I was absolutely not bullshitting him at that point, but he replied saying: "I completely believe you. Of 4 women in my life that I actually believe 100%, you are one of them. I didn't mean to make it seem like you were foolish for not leaving. I can't imagine what it was like to be in your shoes. I'm so happy you stayed strong and came back into my life, it's such a blessing. I know you are so much stronger now. I want to thank you for fighting through, just in case no one else has thanked you for that. I can't imagine what it would have been like if anything worse (I know it can't get much worse, so you know what worse is [murder or suicide]) had happened to you."

At that point I cried. I cried. I ugly cried. I'm crying right now just reading it again.

He thanked me for surviving. He thanked me for sticking around and not letting life kill me, not letting these assholes cause me enough pain that I end my own life. Not letting exfiance hurt me enough to kill me.

He thanked me for fighting.



Friends, if you have survived abusive relationships, sexual assault, rape, depression, suicide attempts, self-harm, traumas, or any other life-threatening struggles, thank you for fighting. It a struggle, day in and day out, but you are here. Know that, even your friends and family who don't know what you've been through, are grateful that you are still alive and fighting. They may have no clue you're even struggling, but someone somewhere (me included) is glad you're sticking around.

Thank you for still being here.

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.

***Probably Don't Want to Read This One***

*****This post is going to be all anger and some really bad language. Just don't read it if you don't want, it's going to be bad.*****









I hate sex. I hate it, I HATE IT, I HATE IT!!!

Yes, it is supposed to be some beautiful thing that brings about closeness in a relationship with your spouse and it results in babies occasionally.

You know what else it does? It ruins lives when forced upon someone.

Now, something that I was so excited to share with my husband and only my husband has been used to completely ruin my life and desecrate my body. It fucked up my brain and has utterly ruined my life.

I will never be okay.

Have I had sex? I don't know because I didn't choose to allow that to be done to my body!!!

Am I a virgin? I have no fucking clue because a penis has been in my vagina, but I DID NOT want it there!!!

I don't even know what I am. I don't know what I can be classified as. I don't know how to proceed to answer these seemingly simple questions because how to you answer when these things have been forced upon you?

Guys don't like the answer of "I don't know" to the question of if I've had sex or if I'm a virgin. Honestly, what the fuck am I supposed to say? How do I be honest and yet keep the pain from my past concealed for awhile longer?

I hate sex.

When i find a nice guy to simply talk to, it seems futile because they want sex because they've gotten it from other girls.

I hate sex.

I hate sex because it left my parents with me. Because of sex and some damn sperm finding my mom's egg, I'm here and they had to get married. Messed up life plans, stuck them together, and fucked it all up.

I hate sex.

I can't watch most movies, read many books, even drive down the street without flashbacks.

I hate sex.

I have nightmares and crying spells, even on my best days, because of some guys fucking penis being shoved into me.

I hate sex.

I HATE SEX!

I HATE SEX!!!

Ups and Downs

Roomie's boyfriend turns out to be pretty cool. I'm keeping my distance from everyone right now.

Brother got a 1 a.m. text from me freaking out because nobody is ever going to want me and my brain hates me so it's bringing up all of the terrible things from my past to show me, all at once, in an attempt to kill me slowly. It's not working.

I finished a bottle and a quarter of wine off today once I got home. I'm hoping I'll fall asleep soon.

I have homework but I honestly don't care because my brain isn't even working right now.

Counseling went about how I thought it was going to. Crying and increased flashbacks/nightmares are normal at this point. I'm normal. It's okay for me to be frustrated, but I made a lot of progress in a really short amount of time and now it's time to regress again.

Great.

I'm tired but I'm gonna go for a walk.

Daylight Savings, Again

Stupid Daylight Savings Day was trying to throw me off. Too bad for it, I'm exhausted from my battles with insomnia, flashbacks, and anger. Ha! You can go try to mess with someone else Daylight Savings.

Next week is spring break. This week was not supposed to have much going on for school.

Roomie's boyfriend is coming into town for a week... tonight. She should be back any moment from the airport with him. I don't handle strangers well. I handle strangers in my place of residence even more poorly. I'll probably go up to visit my parents for a couple days this week. I guess we'll see because Dad is upset with me again.

I "ditched" class today because we had a guest speaker and my brain is in no way prepared to be able to learn anything because my sleeping is getting worse, my nightmares and flashbacks are getting worse, and my attention span is shorter than it's ever been. I have no mental faculties. I was getting better but last weeks fiascoes set me back about 2 months of progress and put me back even farther than I was when I had not even begun counseling yet.

I was told that a friend admires my ability to blow life stressors off. Well, y'all know the truth about my thoughts, I just don't keep harping on things when around her so as to not stress her out or bore her to death. It's also probably not healthy that I blow everything off. My counselor tells me I'm really good at dissociation which is a fancy way of saying that I get into auto pilot when I become stressed because I no longer have any ability to deal with stress. I've been maxed out for my little brain's threshold of bad things happening so any type of stress shuts ME off and I don't know where I go, but I'm not in my right mind.

I asked my friend what she meant by saying that blowing things off was a good thing. She said she wished she could do it because she feels like she becomes too emotional. Well, I don't have emotions anymore. Honestly, it's a good day if I can start crying when I become overwhelmed instead of going about life numb. She doesn't understand but I decided to take it as a compliment and know in my brain how dangerous her comment was. She meant it as a good thing, but I know that it is because I'm sick and my brain is messed up. That'll be our secret. Yes, this friend knows about what happened with the guys and she knows I'm seeing a counselor. However, those who do not live this life do not have any way of understanding the struggles and dangers I'm facing.

Counseling is tomorrow. I'm going back numb. Counselor is going to say that it's normal to go back in steps. She's going to tell me it's okay and that I'm getting out of the numbness and other steps faster than I have before. I'm still frustrated that I had to go back. I am frustrated that I'll never be okay, I'll never be fixed.

Lately I keep noticing couples around me. I know that I'm not ready for a relationship. I know that the last two ended horribly and I'm now messed up for the rest of my life because of them. However, I'm getting discouraged because all I wanted was a prospect of a future with a possible husband and potential children. Lately my future looks bleak. I know these are negative self-thoughts and I'm supposed to work away from these. I've gotten tools to try to help me fight these bad thoughts. However, they seem totally rational and understandable to me. I know they are negative, but they feel so real. Who is anyone to tell me that my life will have a happy ending? Who's to say that there will be some guy, someday, that will treat me with respect and forgive me for my checkered past? I'm pretty certain I wouldn't believe it if an angel of the Almighty were to come to me and show me a vision of a happy future for my life with a great guy and children. I just don't believe it and it's okay. I don't want to be told otherwise. My brain will cycle through and eventually have hope for a short amount of time, but for right now my brain is angry and hurt and overwhelmed with negativity.

Needs and Wants List

Believe it or not, this list took me a long time to write up. It also brought a lot of tears from some reason. Regardless, here is the list of my needs and wants for my life:

Needs

• Food
• Water
• Sleep
• Shelter
• Safety
• Graduate nursing school
• Some kind of job
• Clothes are good...
• Showers are nice...
• Cars are handy...
• I need to be okay with me, eventually

Wants

• Friends
• Happiness, even just a little bit eventually and every once in awhile
• Really great L&D or NICU job after graduation
• Move somewhere new
• Maybe become a traveling nurse in a couple years
• A quiet mind back
• Nightmares to chill out
• Family that's not batshit crazy
• Report the guys
• Forget all 3 of them, at least the pain they caused me
• Have hope for a future
• Have fun again
• Stop being scared every time someone knocks on the door, trucks, certain parts of town (because of the guys) and just about everything else in my life
• To be "okay"
• Stop having so many "Sad" days
• Stop feeling numb all the time, I want to be happy again
• Stop being so angry all the time
• Not feel so dirty, broken, shameful, unworthy, unlovable, unwanted, undesirable, rejected, and worthless
• Stop feeling crazy
• Stop feeling like I'll turn crazy
• Be able to laugh without feeling empty after

Yes, I know a couple of the wants are not realistic and are things that I cannot control. I get that. These are just the things that I had pop into my head.

Brother to My Rescue

I talked with Mom today about reporting the guys. She couldn't really talk and express her thoughts because Dad was home and he still doesn't know what happened. In fact, he's still mad at me about exfiance.

It breaks my heart that I cannot go to my dad for support with this stuff because he would have a heart attack or stroke, probably both. He would call his brothers, and all of them and all of the buddies he calls would end up in jail with either murder charges or charges for severely beating exboyfriend's and exfiance's asses.

While I understand and appreciate the sentiment, all I want is for him to hug me and tell me he's sorry that it happened to me. I want him to tell me he is there for me and wants to support me. I want to know that he still sees me as his little girl even though I've been dragged through the mud and the muck and am defiled in the worst ways possible. I want him to tell me he believes me and that we will get this whole mess sorted out legally and nobody but the guys that can't keep their dicks to themselves will be ending up in jail and probably, eventually, prison.

That's what I want. But that's not how life works.

So, I told my Mom that I have been seriously considering reporting these guys today. That took a lot of guts on my end and I was hoping she would be supportive. She couldn't even say what was on her mind but she told me it is a bad idea because it will get back around to the uncles, their families, Mema, and then Dad. Therefore, she said, it is better for me to not report it so that Dad and the family don't find out and don't have backlash.

Excuse me for believing that reporting these assholes was going to better the world somehow. Forgive me for finally being able to see beyond not wanting to hurt them in their lives even though my life is completely ruined, I have worse psych problems than before, and I'm hanging on by a fucking thread! Apparently trying to lock these fuckers away so that they don't do this to any other girls is the wrong thing to do an I should deal with this bullshit on my own for the rest of my life, because I'm going to die alone caring for everyone else but me. Pardon me, it was my bad. Social justice cannot be served in the way that would prevent this from happening to others. Legal justice cannot be served to prosecute them at all.

Maybe my life should just fade away so that my family and friends won't have to suffer through the psychological problems of having people doubt my PTSD symptoms, my stories, the bruises he gave me that I used to hide, the cuts that have turned to scars that I continue to hide, and the fact that I don't want to wake up anymore. No, I won't kill myself, but maybe if I moved to another state and changed my name, then nobody there would have to know. I wouldn't be traceable. Then, maybe for the people I leave in this state, their life will be easier and they'll be none the wiser. I'll be a runaway but nobody will bat an eye because life will be about a billion times easier.


With my mind reeling from the phone call with Mom, I called Brother. She mentioned that I should because we had a football game on today (the Super Bowl...) and she suggested that he come over to my place to watch it since he's having problems with his roommate. Heading her advice for this, I called him up, but I figured he was probably at work. Turns out he was. We exchanged the customary small talk but I brought up reporting the guys. He asked if I had been thinking about it, and I told him I have been for a few months now. Really, I've been thinking about reporting them since the them was only a him after the first one. But I've been more seriously considering it in the last few months. He told me I should do it and that he'll support me if that's what I feel like I need to do, or he said he'd continue to support me if I feel like it's okay that they don't get reported.

I broke down and started telling him about the conversation with Mom. For the most part, I try really hard to not cry around him because he doesn't need that kind of stress.

I am an ugly crier. Like uglier that ugly. There is snot, blubbering, and eye leakage EVERYWHERE! Even on the phone, the listening party gets snot and tears on their shirts. I don't know how, but it's a gift I have.

In the process of me telling him that she told me not to report the guys because of dad and the family, he told me that he understands that. I do too. We have spent most of our lives sharing the good with Dad and avoiding the bad because he doesn't take it well. However, he suggested calling Mom, telling her to act like she doesn't know anything, and then me sitting both parents down and telling them together. I feel bad lying, but it seems like the best way. I told him I'm scared Dad is going to blow up the way he did when I wrecked my car and how he blew up when exfiance went up to ask for Dad's blessing. Brother told me that if Dad says anything negative or hurtful or how what happened to me is ruining his life (as he usually argues everything that I do ruins his life) then I just leave. I get in my car and I head to Brother's house. However, that way Dad would be finding out when Mom is finding out (supposedly) and so maybe he will take it better. I still think he's going to have a CVA and an MI (CVA-cardiovascular accident, aka stroke; and MI-myocardial infarction, aka heart attack). He may also call up his brothers and go through the previously mentioned story that lands him and a bunch of guys in jail before the guys that actually hurt me can end up in jail or prison.

I love my dad. Truly I do. I am a daddy's girl to the bone and love spending time with him. I absolutely love my Dad. He has a laundry list of mental illnesses and that makes life difficult. And, for selfish reasons, I absolutely hate that I cannot tell him the things that are going on in my life. I want so desperately to tell him everything. I want to explain why I call exboyfriend and exfiance dicks when I tell stories about them. Dad defends them every time, saying that he "likes the kid" and it's like a fucking knife to the heart. He doesn't know what he doesn't know, but if your daughter calls someone a dick and she does not do that on a regular basis and she is typically very happy and forgiving, maybe there is a problem there.

I hate that I cannot do what I need to do because I have to worry about dad reacting poorly. Oftentimes, his reaction is worse than whatever situation I am going through. For instance, my wrecking my car. I was shaken up, but I survived with no injuries. I was stressed majorly, but able to compose myself to do what I needed to do and call a tow truck, my mom, and get my car fixed. When he answered the phone for my mom, my heart sank. When I got home from my mom picking me up, he yelled at me for a solid 20 minutes because I was ruining his plans and his life. I was being an inconvenience and he made it sound like I got in a wreck on purpose just to fuck with his life. I guarantee you, I did no such thing. It's an accident. Accidents happen. I'm almost certain he's been in a few wrecks himself. I backsassed him and told him to not worry about it because I was going to fix it. I didn't get in the wreck to be an inconvenience and I am an adult and can fix my own mistakes.

He proceeded to ignore me for a few days until I brought up a conversation with him.

When exfiance went up to ask for his blessing, he told exfiance yes. Then called me and told me it was a huge mistake. He yelled at me, over the phone, for a solid 45 minutes on the day of the big date I had planned for exfiance and didn't let me talk at all. He kept talking about how I wasn't mature enough and that he regretted his first marriage from when he was 25 to some crazy lady in town. Whatever, that's not my fault. I wanted to yell back at him but there is no reasoning with him. He told me the same things over and over and over again until he had to go back to work. The essence of which was: I am not mature, I'm an idiot, I'm too young, he hates his life, he regrets his first marriage, he regrets his second marriage, and he regrets having kids.

I ended up saying yes when exfiance asked at the restaurant and I had the ring on my hand for a couple days. I ended up going home a day or two after the date and he refused to look or talk to me because he heard through my mom that I had said yes. I broke up with exfiance a couple days after that and Dad still didn't talk to me for weeks until I started talking to him.

Do you see the pattern? Do you understand why we don't tell him anything? Yes, we should tell him stuff, but we can't because he loses his shit every fucking time. It makes our situation 20x more miserable than if we just suffer through it alone. Then he wonders why we don't tell him anything...

Brother asked if telling them together and leaving if there was a problem sounded do-able. I told him I think it was a better idea than just flat out telling Dad, but I told Brother I don't think I can do it. Planning for it and actually carrying out the plan are two completely different things. I'm having panic attacks just thinking about telling Dad and they get worse as time goes on. However, I get so much more nervous when I am about to do it. I almost crapped my pants just asking my dad if I could go to prom. Telling him I've been ruined? I think I'd pass out from shame and nervousness. Brother ended the conversation by saying that he would go with me to take care of Dad and be my support. He told me before he offered to come with, to ignore Dad and let him (Brother) take care of Dad if he flew off the handle, like he normally does. Brother is the one who got Dad to start talking to me after exfiance asked for Dad's blessing. Brother told him to stop taking it out on me and to trust in the way Dad and Mom raised me. After that, and several weeks of reflection, Dad told me that that helped him "forgive me". *Just remember, everything that happens is my indirect way of making sure that I completely fuck up his life (that was complete and total sarcasm).* So, Brother is going with me, if I ever get the balls to go up and talk to them about everything.

And, where he comes from, domestic violence and rape are not called by those names. The country is old-school and they believe football players can do whatever they want as long at they take their team to state. Husbands can hit their wives because their wife must have done something to piss him off. Children can be physically punished to the point of bruises, broken bones, and other serious problems because they must have fucked up badly enough that they needed that kind of punishment.

Granted, not every person that lives in the country believes this way, but I've heard the mean things they say about a high school girl that reported her boyfriend for raping her a few years ago. They say that she was just mad that he broke up with her. She's just trying to get attention. He didn't do anything wrong, she made up stories to get him put away. And others. There are so many others.

When you hear about domestic violence, child abuse, and rape stories, how many of these occur in the country or in the woods? A lot. It's because not a whole lot of people are around, it's easier to do your own thing without anyone ever figuring anything out. Plus, their mindset is usually very different.

That makes me feel a bit crazy. Am I being over dramatic and making stuff up? How will this effect my uncles, aunts, and cousins? Will I be able to ever go back there? What if I run into a family member or friend of one of the guys? How much worse can my name be drug through the mud? THIS IS NOT A CHALLENGE TO ACTUALLY SEE HOW MUCH WORSE IT CAN GET!!! These are just the wonderings in my brain. This stuff keeps me up at night. I wake up in cold sweats.

I keep waffling between knowing that they need to get locked up to wondering if people will believe me to being terrified of what will happen with my Dad and extended family.

I talk to my counselor about all of this on Tuesday. I can make it until then, I think.

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.

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.

Fiance's Plea

He found the scars.

He asked what they were from, I refused to answer so he told me to leave. As I was leaving, he called me back.

He guessed the whole thing. He understood and he knew before he even asked. He was asking, hoping I wouldn't tell him what he already knew.

He held me and asked questions that I hated to answer. Reasons were always there when it was happening, but when asked I had no words to explain.

I cried. I cried like I haven't in months.

He is angry. He is sad. He is hurt. Most of all, I think he's scared. He, like everyone, thought he would be able to fix me. He told me counseling is stupid and a waste of time, when I was going. Now that I'm not going and he understands how bad I've been struggling, now he is begging me to go back.

Thing is, I already know what the counselor will say. So, why would I go?

After sleeping on it, and wondering about my reasons for hours, they are coming back.

• I hate what has been done to my body at the hands of other people.
• I hate that I have lost all my friends because they dug too deep then high-tailed it out, leaving me alone. So alone.
• There are rumors being spread about me by my own extended family, but none of them will tell me what is going on. The only thing they say is that there are rumors and that I should go ask someone else in the family what they are.
• I cannot stand going to class because of a select few people who trample all over the rest of the class. 
• I start crying at work because I don't think I do well at my job, my patients do not really care if they get better, I'm with them to keep them safe from themselves. Thus, the nurses and rest of the staff avoid the room at all costs.
• I do not see any type of "light at the end of the tunnel" after graduation, or in the rest of my life.
• I used to want to get married, have kids, and start a future. I no longer want to bring other beings into the world and I don't see how anyone will want to marry someone who is no longer pure. Plus, I don't want my kids to go through what I've been through, or worse.
• I don't want to be here anymore.

I Swear, I'm Gonna Drop Kick Somebody

Fiance went back to work a couple weeks ago. Fortunately, instead of traveling a couple states away, he was able to stay in our same state, just drive a couple hours to the new site he was assigned to. Since he is so close, I went up to visit him over the weekend. In talking while I was there, I started crying. I couldn't really explain to him why between sobs, and also because my mind was just drawing a blank. I can't put into words the feelings I get sometimes, I just knew that I was sad and angry and for some reason the tears started pouring while I was there with him. So, he hugged me until the tears stopped, then we went out for lunch.

A couple days after that, once I was back home, he was texting me but I was asleep and my phone was on silent. He texted once, then texted again an hour later. A few hours after that, he asked if I was okay because I wasn't responding.  A short while after that text, I woke up and looked at my phone. 5 texts! Only three were from him, one from roomie, and another from Dad. Anyway, fiance and I started talking and I told him I had just been asleep. However, we started talking about how I was doing, why I was mad and sad (because of ExBF). He asked me to go back to counseling.

When I first started counseling, he told me he thought it was a waste of time. I agreed because after three sessions, I had gotten nowhere in the sexual assault area of my life and I was sick of wasting time and money driving from Hometown down to College town (an hour to an hour and a half of driving). So, I cancelled my appointments and stopped going. Four months later, my flashbacks are not so bad and I'm not having so many nightmares anymore. Despite these things, my depression is the darkest it's ever been.

Before going into the relationship with fiance, I told him I have depression and bipolar. He told me that he doesn't believe in those and that I should just get over being sad. He also asked if I've ever been clinically diagnosed by a doctor, to which I replied I have not. Why do I need to go get a doctor diagnose me when I have the DSM-V book with all symptoms and I know that there is a family history of bipolar and undiagnosed bipolar that is being treated as depression? Logically, I don't feel I need an official diagnosis because that just puts a label on me that I don't want. Then meds will be prescribed to me that I don't want to be on and I will have a whole host of other problems that I do not want or need to deal with.

Now, he is probably the 5th person that has asked me to go back to counseling but nobody listens to me to know why I refuse to go back or to listen to the problems that I have at whatever time they ask. They think that counseling is a "fix" for my "temporary" problem. That's ridiculous. If you've read my earlier posts, you can see that this problem will never go away. Seeing as I had depression before the whole ExBF thing, that just means that my base-line depression is worse than it was before. I'll survive and learn to deal. I'm not going back to counseling, that was bullsh!t.

So, I tell my friends nothing, they are now starting to worry. That's bullsh!t too because they don't want to hear what I have to say but they feel like they need to know what's going on in my life. Oh my gosh people, pick a freakin' side! If you want to know, then deal with what I tell you. You don't have to live with it, I do. You'll survive (not you, my friends). If you tell me you don't want to know what's happening in my life and in my head, then don't frickin' ask! I have no way of winning with anyone because they don't understand that they are asking for contradictions to happen.

If one more person asks me, I'm just going to flat out tell them that the last time they asked what was going on, they tried to tell me what to do and then asked me to stop telling them things. Then they started pulling away and not being around me anymore. So, I stop telling them things, and then they want to start digging in my business again. I'm going to tell them that I can't handle learning to depend on people and then get ditched by them because they can't handle my sh!t. So, I am choosing to deal with it on my own the way I have my whole life. I will tell them that I will listen to their good and bad news, their struggles, and what they are excited about. But I am going to ask them/tell them not to be offended when I don't open up to them because I tried that and it obviously didn't work at all.

And if one more person tells me to go to counseling, sit in a chair, and start babbling on about random crap that pops into my head, I will drop kick them. I know they mean well, but I need to be able to feel like I am making decisions in my own life. They might be bad ones, but I'm learning. I can't do what everyone tells me to do because everyone tells me to do something completely different with my life and none of them have lived in my shoes. I also need to have some illusion that I have some control over what happens to me from now on.

Being sexually assaulted takes away any semblance of maybe having control over what happens to your own body, so I need to not feel out of control anymore. Honestly, everyone tries to take away what little power I have over my life and my healing by telling me what to do because they don't think I can make my own decision. That tells me that they believe it is my fault that I got into the situation I got into. They don't know how I fought, how scared I was, how my brain shut off, and I pretty much blacked out. These are all coping mechanisms and completely normal psychological responses to trauma. Hindsight, I wish I could have changed a lot of things and completely prevented it in the first place. Alas, that is not possible and right now I hate my life because of it. Don't take away my last chance of feeling like I might be able to make it through this without completely shutting down and not leaving my bed for food or water. I'm one step away from not having the strength or energy to take another breath, don't take that away from me.

I love you all (yes you, those who read my incessant babbling). I know you all mean well and want to help me. Mostly, it helps that you read this, or don't. This blog is pretty much my diary. I appreciate that I have somewhere to vent about everything, and anything that is going on in my life.

Compassion Fatigue

I absolutely love working in the hospital. It is so great getting to work on so many floors with so many different nurses, CNA's, and other staff members. It makes clinicals so amazing because I already know everyone and I have gotten quite a few job offers of sorts.

After the incident with EXboyfriend, I had been going down the sleep slope of compassion fatigue. I feel like I care for everyone else, and I do so with all that I have in my heart, but nobody cares for me. Everyone demands so much of me but nobody is willing to shoulder any of my burden, they won't even listen about my burden. So, I am getting increasingly more isolated (even from "close" friends and family) and yet everyone is demanding more and more from me.

I get it, everyone has their own problems and everyone needs help. I totally understand. However, why does it seem okay for everyone to just expect everything from me? Often without even asking if I'm willing to do things, they just assume that I will be available because apparently I have no life and no needs of my own.

• I don't have weekend plans so I can drive my 5 different friends who are on 5 completely different flights to the airport that is 2 and a half hours away, on a Friday night and Saturday morning, no less. 
• Sure, I will pay attention in class while you screw around on Pinterest in the back and then give you a play-by-play of exactly what happened in class and every important piece in information you need to know. 
• Sure, I will puppy sit all the puppies and not have any chance at a relaxing weekend or any chance at sleeping in. 
• Sure, I will be forced to make all the decisions for my school group and friend group and then be criticized at every turn because what I finally chose doesn't work for anyone but nobody else has a fucking idea of what they want to do. 

Because I have no life. I'm not allowed to have personal time where I don't have to be fake for anyone so that everyone can live in the illusion that I am okay because they can't handle me not being okay.

I'm not allowed to be selfish for one second. I have to take care of patients who need complete, total care and deal with nurses and CNA's who sometimes don't step foot in the room because the patient needs a sitter so I should be able to completely handle the patient all night long, alone.

I have to keep my shit together, not have any kind of support from anyone, be able to support everyone around me, and slap on a smile so that nobody knows what's going on in my dungeon of a mind.


So, I fight a battle nobody knows about. I have scars nobody has seen and nobody can ever understand. I am completely alone in this world carrying burdens that nobody will help me with. I carry pain with me that nobody can comprehend and I fight for every breath I take. I cry when I'm alone because for the first time in about 6 months, I am finally able to and sometimes I just need to feel something instead of the rage growing inside of me and the numbness from being completely unable to handle any of the immense troubles that weigh down every step I try to take. I am being crushed. I am being consumed absolutely alive by flames while simultaneously drowning and I get no relief anywhere or from anyone.


Oh, so this all led me to quit my job. I have to finish out another two months, or so, but I sent in my resignation letter to my boss last night during my shift. I don't know if I'll be able to be a nurse because I can't even take care of my own basic needs like sleeping or eating properly. How am I supposed to care for anyone else? My heart feels so empty anymore, I don't know if I have the capacity to care for anyone else anymore.

That was my news. Saying that I quit my job was the original purpose of this post but I went a little crazy... I'm sorry guys.

Irony About ER Screenings

I don't know about you, but at the hospitals I do clinicals at (there are three), the ER and most floors have a screening for domestic violence, self-harm, suicide ideation, and depression. The questions are simple:

1. Do you feel safe at home?
2. Do you feel safe in your relationship?
3. Are you depressed or feel down?
4. Do you harm yourself?
5. Do you ever wish that you would die or try to kill yourself?

Little questions like that are considered a screening. Now, they are kinda trick questions. By this, I mean that if you answer any of them wrong, then the proper authorities have to be informed and then your life is about to get a whole lot more stressful. If you say that you harm yourself or have thought about/tried to kill yourself, you now get to be under a 72 hour M1 hold in the hospital with the company of a sitter who watches your every move, every moment of the day (even when you use the bathroom). You then also have that in your chart and on your record. If you say you do not feel safe at home or in your relationship, then you might have the police come in and chat with you or child protective services come do a whole long investigation. Yikes.

I have been thinking a lot about this since having been in the ER as a patient and as a student nurse. We ask these questions, thinking they will be a help in some shape or form, but are they really? How easy is it to answer "no" to these questions when your heart is screaming "yes" (or vice versa, depending on the question) just because you know what will happen or you are scared to admit any of these things to yourself? When I went in, I answered appropriately to all questions to avoid the outcomes that would result upon answering any of them "incorrectly". After the assault, I was majorly depressed, I wished that G-d would allow me to die, and the temptation to begin self-harm again was at an all-time high. However, I knew that saying any of these things in the hospital would result in me actually being admitted to the hospital for a few days so that they can see if you're emotionally and mentally able to be released out into the world. So, what good do these questions really do? I have seen so many nurses go into a room and not ask these questions to the patients because the nurse felt it was unnecessary to do so.

In my last med/surg clinical group, my instructor brought up a good point about getting help for depression and suicide: there aren't really great systems to get help. If you go somewhere and say you're depressed and struggling to not hurt/kill yourself, people will lock you away, then you learn to not seek help for your emotional struggles which will likely lead to suicide. If you go somewhere to talk to a counselor, professor, or whomever else you choose to confide your struggles to, you can explain your symptoms of depression, but leave out that you are struggling to stay alive, but then you cannot receive the help you truly need because you have one of the deepest, darkest secrets that will eat a hole right through you until you either end up dying, or you somehow find hope to survive long enough to get out of the depression.

For me, the depression lasts years. I don't go anywhere for help because counseling didn't work in the past, I know what happens if you say the wrong thing and I'm scared of going through that, friends don't know how to support me when I can't figure out how to be happy, and nobody understands, they think I'm being dramatic and a whiner. So, I live with the knowledge of the things I've done, I wear the scars, and I battle with myself daily. When friends ask what is wrong, they usually persist in the beginning of the friendship to figure out what is happening in my mind, once they find out, they stop asking and I stop telling. This usually causes big rifts and eventually we move on from each other. Yet, I am still saddled with the constant war, fatigue, struggles to remain alive, sleeping for several days straight to escape without dying, distracting myself when I feel so numb that I know hurting myself would at least offer a chance at coming back to reality and feeling something, and I deal with it all by myself because people don't stick around once they get a glimpse of the darkness they tried so hard to uncover.

That's probably one of the hardest things to deal with: losing friends because they don't feel close if you don't tell them every single thing that runs through your brain, but once they figure out what you deal with then they no longer want anything to do with you. I end up feeling used, hurt, sad, angry, more depressed, and I deal with a lot of guilt because they tell me how hard it is to watch me and listen to me go through my depression cycles. I've watched a lot of people cry at my expense because of that and I am about to lose another roommate because of that.

In my defense, I try to keep it a secret and keep it at bay. Pretending to be happy and carefree is not all that hard, but my face doesn't keep secrets at all and so they start digging. It happens every time I get a friend and we start to get close. Going through this just makes me want to stay superficial with everyone I meet because they like me when it's just a "hey, how are you?" kind of friendship. Unfortunately, girls don't really stand around and bullshit like guys do, they want to explore feelings, family life, and other happenings that involve deeper levels of intimacy. And so, the cycle continues and it pushes me deeper and deeper into my pit. I keep more secrets from everybody, and I refuse to trust anyone because everybody lies.

So, that is where I am and what I've been thinking about for several months now. Something needs to be done in this country to fix the "suicide prevention" system that is currently in place because there are an awful lot of suicides and even more suicidal people out there and nobody seems to be getting much help where they feel safe to share what's truly going on in their minds. I want to change things, but I don't even know where to begin. Maybe it could prevent deaths like Country Boy's, maybe he could have had a better chance.

No Replies Necessary

Today I am having a hard day. Today, I need to vent in a place where I will not see the judgement on everyone's face, and where I will not hear the backlash and get lectured on it later. So, please no replies to today's post. I love you all, I respect your wish to help me and not see me hurt, but sometimes it's okay to just let someone deal with stuff alone. Today, this post, these are one of those times.

I broke up with Fiance Wednesday. I wasn't planning it and I wasn't expecting it but I did. We had planned to hang out. We hung out for awhile, and then he needed to go. Towards the end, while he was driving me back to my car, he was lecturing me about stupid stuff. I was getting irritated and I have been struggling with our relationship for several months now. He ended up asking me (for the millionth time) if I was done fighting.

That is usually his way of letting me know he sees that I am frustrated and that I'm having a hard time attempting to stay in the relationship. That day I was done. He asked if I was done fighting and I said yes. He asked if that meant that we were over, I said yes.

We got to my car and spent the next half hour talking, holding hands, hugging, and he kissed me a few times. I cried, like a lot. Like, a lot a lot. Then I got in my car, he drove away and I sat there for awhile getting to a place where I could be able to see while driving.

I spent the rest of the day crying and being with friends. I only told my brother, Beauty, and my new Roommate. They seem supportive of me but nobody knows what to say to me. I spent the next day sleeping and crying. We continued to talk a little bit and I got a lot of things off my chest because he kept asking questions so I answered them honestly. He went out drinking both nights and texted me the whole time he was out. Friday he ended up calling me and we talked for awhile. He asked more questions and I answered truthfully still. He went out drinking again then came to my apartment drunk. We talked for two or three hours out in his truck. He begged me to take him back. I told him to ask me when he was sober.

He ended up asking me again the next morning. I told him I don't know. We keep talking, he keeps asking "what's the plan?". I keep responding with I don't know. As of right now, we are trying to work things out, but my heart's not in it, he knows that because I've flat out told him so.

New Roommate has been watching me through all of this. A couple weeks ago we were drinking at home and she started asking questions. Those questions ended up revealing that the relationship I have with him is not the healthiest and she is now scared of him. I get it. I would be reacting the same way if I was watching her go through this, but I feel like I am in control. I see what is going on behind the scenes, that she doesn't see, and I know that he and I have had a really rough ride but I know that I can walk away when I need to. I've done it already, I can do it again.

He's upset that the relationship is not the same that it was before we broke up. I told him that I need time to figure stuff out and trust him again. He didn't do anything like cheat on me, I just found some stuff out, that he admitted to, but didn't want to tell me. I feel slighted and stupid. Shit happens.

In church, we're talking about how G-d takes us through wildernesses and then allows things to happen to us to see how we'll react and to see if we will still trust Him. I don't necessarily think this relationship is a wilderness right now, I know that my current situation is largely caused by my poor choices. However, I am reminded of Job and how he was righteous and G-d saw that he was doing well. G-d then allowed him to be tested to ensure that his heart was pure and true. Well, if I am in a wilderness, I do believe I'm probably failing the tests. I'm probably failing all of the tests. My heart is angry, I'm impatient, I don't want to talk to anyone, I was to isolate myself, and I am picking up some habits that are slightly frowned upon. I'm tired guys. Right now, my life is really hard and I feel like I've messed it up beyond repair. I know that G-d can work miracles and fix everything, I'm just not seeing it right now. That's okay, He does everything in His own timing and I await the day when I get to see how He works a miracle through this incredible mess I've made. Unfortunately, I'm not able to hold my breath that long because I've been waiting months and I'm not seeing it. In fact, it's gotten worse over the past couple of months. So, I wait expectantly hoping for a miracle, but riding out the storm I've found myself in.

I'm angry, I feel completely used up, graceless, unforgiving, frustrated, exhausted, irritated, and I wish that I didn't have to live this life. The only thing keeping me going is knowing that I love the L-rd and I hope with all of my heart that this will be over and the L-rd has some kind of purpose for my life. I don't know what the purpose is, I can't even begin to imagine that anything can be made from this disaster. Anything is possible with G-d, He's the only way anything'll work.

And the Plot Thickens

For about two months now, I have been barely surviving. Mid April I was sexually assaulted/raped by my first ever "real" boyfriend. School and life went on while I felt I was stuck. I still feel stuck and like I'm just going through the motions.

About a month ago I met a new boy who I thought was great. Things are turning with him...

About two weeks ago I got a breakup sounding text with an ultimatum from Roommate telling me that she "couldn't live like this". She was talking about me. When I asked her what was going on and we talked it all out, turns out she's been making a lot of assumptions about what I was doing. Her mom called me and chewed me out for about 12 minutes. Then Roommate and I talked the next day. Stories are not adding up and the mom said really hurtful things. Keep in mind, Roommate's mom is the one who introduced me to Rapist and now she is mad at me for the time I was in a relationship with me. Does that make any sense? NO! They are getting mad at me for not changing and fixing my behavior for the past five months but they haven't been telling me anything until one time so how I was supposed to know I was doing anything wrong? Plus, they say I've changed. I have changed, rape does that to a person. I am also not taking nonesense from people anymore. I'm sick of getting walked all over and being expected to just take it. I was playing wife to Roommate (cooking her dinner, doing little errands for her, helping with family projects like gutting a basement, etc.). So yes, I've changed because she wasn't returning the favor. How was I supposed to know that was something I'd get yelled at because she expected me to be a spouse while getting nothing in return. WE'RE NOT MARRIED! We were roommates who's goal was to split living expenses so we can hopefully survive college. The relationship was not supposed to be a one-way street of me bending over backwards when I have my own life that I need to deal with. She's mad about me not making dinner? I'm mad about not being respected and having to answer to her for everything I do while she can do what she wants whenever she wants. Long story short, after the text, she stopped texting for about a week while I was with Mema shadowing in the NICU again. I scrambled to find a new roommate because the original one obviously didn't want to live with me anymore. When I got back, that's when Roommate's mom called me to see what was going on because Roommate wasn't answering any of the serious texts I was texting her even though they were all apologies and wondering what was going wrong. When I told the mom that I had found another roommate she got all angry and started yelling at me because now she was going to have to pay the other half of her daughter's bills. Well lady, you don't really have to. Plus, she's the one who decided she didn't want to live with me, I offered but she wants to live alone. I just took it though. I'm learning to be an adult and it sucks because some adults don't even know how to adult.

Wednesday I got in my first car accident after a really, really rough night at work. Dad yelled at me when he found out when I was hoping for just a little support or even a "are you okay". So, I may or may not have back-sassed him just a little bit in hopes that I was standing up for myself. I think I was. New Boyfriend drove 2 hours to come up to where I crashed so that he could tow my car to my dad's mechanic shop. Next day I went to a super sketchy part of town and pulled the parts of a wrecked version of my car all by myself. Now there were lots of miracles in this whole ordeal. The car I hit was not damaged and the guy was so sweet about everything (he was probably a dad/grandpa). My car had minimal damage, it looked bad, but I was able to help my dad and we fixed it with the help of his body work friend. The car I found at a scrap yard to pull parts from was the exact same color and car as my own and it was even in better condition. Not only that, but it had shown up the day before so I was almost the first one to get parts from it. Praise the L-rd! There's no way His hand is not on this, guiding me through, even though I messed up. I didn't even cry at the crash, nor did I feel I needed to. I worked my way through all my problems and the car is nearly back to working order we just have to finish putting the radiator in it and I'll be able to drive it again.

Friday I went to the local amusement park with New Boyfriend and a couple of his friends (Boyfriend from now on, previous Boyfriend will now be referred to as ExBF). When he got to the door to pick me up, he asked me to change because he didn't like that I was wearing my long boy's shorts as a swim suit. I told him he could go alone if he didn't want me wearing that because I wasn't going to change. He said no, let's go, so we did. At the park we left most valuables in the car and took my backpack with just a few things in it. I almost brought my wallet but they told me to leave it in the car. I accidentally packed my phone. After a few water rides, we went back to where we had left the backpack and they got their cigarettes. I don't smoke, but they do. We did one more ride and weren't gone for more than 30 minutes but the backpack was gone when we got back. It was in a heavy traffic area with a bunch of other backpacks around so I don't know why/how they targeted mine. We went to lost and found, nothing. I realized after a couple hours that my phone was in there and not in the car. That is bumming me out the most. I had a couple pictures of myself after my SANE (rape) exam because my nurse was so sweet and had given me a snoopy band-aid that made me feel a little better. Silly, I know. But that picture was a symbol of strength for me because I sought help after a really traumatic event. I also had some other pictures on there that I wanted because they were of my crunched car from two days before, a couple of my boyfriend that I liked, and just other pictures. Plus, I feel violated all over again because someone has access to all of that info. I mean, they probably wiped the phone without looking through it, but come on! Do I really need more stuff going wrong in my life? Even after the backpack was stolen and I was grumpy, I pushed that aside so the others could hopefully have fun. They were upset too because they had their military ID's in it and some cash. But boyfriend and I had a couple fights. He texted me yesterday once I got a my old phone working with my same number (because the stolen phone was only a couple months old) and he told me sorry. I just don't understand why he does not nice things and then apologizes for it the next day but when he notices I'm mad the day he makes me angry, he acts like I'm being dramatic. I'm done hiding my feelings and my hurt. I tell him straight out that he's being mean. I feel like such a girl for getting mad at him, I've never been like this, but I'm sick of being a doormat and someone that others can yell at and still expect me to take it with a smile and then do whatever they want to do. I'm not Burger King, you can't have it your way with me. Yes, I will compromise and talk things through, but I'm not compromising my beliefs or myself anymore.

To top it all off, both parents come to me with their marriage problems. They always have. I don't know how I became the family therapist, but it's been like this since I was about 5-6. Except then, the marriage was much happier. Now, they are both talking about how they don't know how they can stay together. That's fine, if they want to live on their own, that's ok. I'm an adult, that isn't going to cause me great harm like it would have when I was a kid. Plus, I've seen them both very unhappy for a very long time. However, when they make personal attacks on the other one, I can get mad at mom and tell her to fix it. She will apologize and move on. Dad, not so much. I hate personal attacks.

Life would be hard enough dealing with a breakup, but it's not just a breakup. My world is crumbling down around me, my relationships are burning without me knowing how or why, events in my life keep making me question whether I can survive anymore. Yesterday I lost it. My mom and I had just gone to get my old phone reactivated and I broke after weeks and weeks of just plugging along. I vented to her about ExBF, Boyfriend, ex-Roommate, the wreck, the theft, my phone, the fight with dad, their marriage problems, and probably some other stuff that I can't remember right now. I just wanted a simple life. I just wanted to graduate, wait to kiss a boy until my wedding day, maybe have a few kids if the L-rd allowed me to get married to a simple and sweet man, and have minimal drama. Well, that is not the outcome of my life. I've had more drama than I can deal with in a lifetime all packed into about two month's time and there is more in my past that I still have to deal with.

My flashbacks had gone away, I thought I was doing better. Nope. Flashbacks have come back and they are even about Country Boy, not just ExBF now.

I don't know how to live anymore. I would never do anything to end my own life, but I'm ready to never leave my bed again. I don't want to go out, I don't want to put on this fake smile, I don't want the memories/the hurt/the pain anymore. I don't trust anyone anymore. I'm so over everything. G-d remains constant in my life and I know I've fallen away from Him. I'm not outside His reach, in fact, I'm still in His hands, but how do I go on? Breathing is hard, I don't have the energy to do anything, I'm not hungry anymore, and I have little will to do anything. I don't think life should be this hard and yet I know others are going through more and they still find joy and happiness in the midst of their terrible circumstances. So why then, can I not handle these little things?