Yesterday, I mourned the loss of a 19 year old young man. I didn't personally know the guy, but my YoungLife students had had classes with him. They were friends with him.
The devastation in their eyes was heart wrenching, because I've been there.
I sat there, listening to them try to process the heaviness of losing such a young friend. I listened to the stories, and the questions, and the tears. My heart broke listening to his younger sister's recounting of his last day as he tried to spend some time with his sister before he left. I listened to the ways he quietly, silently, said his goodbyes. His sister said he made his bed. He never made his bed, but he made it before he went on his last late night drive.
I called my mom as I headed over to the crisis hangout after getting the news. One of my students requested we have a time to be able to facilitate them being together to process, cry, or just be with each other through their hurting. She asked me if I was okay. At the time, I was like, "of course I'm fine, I'm worried about my kids!" Then she asked if I was being triggered and she told me o be careful driving, especially with all of this going through my bead during my hour drive to the meet-up. (The hour drive is because I'm temporarily required to be out of my roommate's house due to construction, so I'm staying with my dad.) I told her that I would be careful and that I was feeling okay. She told me to call if I needed anything.
At first, hanging up, I was touched, but a little confused. Why was she so concerned about my triggers? We haven't talked much about this. She knows how hard it was when Country Boy died, because she received my millions of phone calls as I tried to process his suicide. However, she normally doesn't seem to acknowledge my traumas, and she doesn't really use the lingo. As I continued to drive, and process (because driving is a time brains commonly use to process due to the eye movements), I began to cry. I had memories, flashbacks, and tears my whole drive. I was glad for the time in my car to be able to sit with memories and feelings. I had time to sing worship songs and pray. The tears could come and I could prepare.
My heart hurts.
While talking to these sweet students, I learned that it was the 5th suicide of a friend for some of them and the 10th suicide for others. A 14 year-old lost her brother. A mom and dad lost their only son. A cop witnessed someone take their own life as he turned to get his business card.
This young man experienced such immense hurting and darkness in his life that he felt he had no way out.
At the ripe old age of 19. Fresh out of high school and life was imploding for him. His days felt like his life held no hope, no way out of his problems and pain. He felt he had no lifeline.
Yet, his friends and family and even people he doesn't even know are all reeling in his wake.Tears are being poured out for this immense loss. There is a hole in hundreds of people's hearts. There are rippled of effects from the drop in this pool of community. He experienced the loss of a couple of close friends by suicide. No doubt adding to the pain he experienced. But, for him, this seemed to be his only solution.
My heart breaks. My heart breaks for the loss of my friend. The shoulda, coulda, woulda's are still painful for me. Though there is not the same intensity at the sting of the loss of him, there are still moments I think I see him. Or times I believe I see his truck. Memories of him as I drive the roads and see the places I visited with him.
My heart breaks for his family and friends that will now have to try to continue on in life without his presence. They will have to battle with their own regrets and replaying of his final months. They will battle against denial, sadness, guilt, anger, questions, fuzzy memories, and wondering why. Faith will be called into question. The benevolence of G-d will be scrutinized. is parent's marriage will be tested like never before and his sisters will forever grieve with the rest of his family as they meet each milestone along the remainder of their lives.
They will be haunted by his memories, his smell, his room, and his pictures.
I am grieved for them that they are beginning this long and arduous journey. This path that nobody want to travel and nobody can prepare for. You can get help along the way, but ultimately each of his loved ones that he left behind are having to fight through the darkness he left behind.
I can see his side, within reason. And I've been on the grieving end. Even still, it all hurts. No matter what, it sucks. It sucks because a life was taken far too early. A life was lost way before he grew old.
There was a choice to end his suffering, that also ended in suffering.
I don't believe the choice he made was entirely selfish. I don't think he made the choice to be revengeful or to hurt anyone else. I also don't believe this was a choice he made lightly. He tried to ease the minds of those he left behind. No doubt it grieved him, thinking about those that would be hurt by his passing. Chances are, he didn't realize how many would be effected by his choice to leave this world.
My heart hurts for him. My heart hurts for the many, many others that I have grieved for that have died by suicide.
Now, I ask that you join with me to pray for his family and friends. Remember them as you continue on. Remember those you've lost or who have been impacted by the heaviness and pain caused by suicide. Pray for the parents, siblings, and friends of those who have passed on in such a manor. Remember that we all carry pains that nobody else knows about. Please, please, try to use your filter of grace to see these events when you encounter them. Me, of all people (who becomes angry at the need to use my grace goggles sometimes) is pleading with you to consider the pain of those that died.
Also use gentle words when attempting to comfort those left behind. It's okay to say nothing. It's okay to say that you are sorry for their loss. It's okay to tell them that you are hurting for them. Don't tell them suicide is selfish, it's not.
My heart is hurting.
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Showing posts with label suicide. Show all posts
Friday, February 1, 2019
Friday, March 23, 2018
I Thought Life Would Look Different
I turn 24 in approximately 10 days.
You guys know, I don't like birthdays. I'm not a huge fan of the extra attention, looking back on yet another year that has come and gone, nor remembering how much I had planned to do before getting to this point.
When I was younger, I had hoped to at least be married by now. But, I'm solidly single. I've been single for several years now, and no prospects of that changing any time in the near future.
I had hoped to be in Small Town; learning more, training new staff, and working up the career ladder there.
I had hoped to be accepted into graduate school and working towards furthering my education.
Naively, I had also hoped to have started having kids by now. I want to be a young mom, but I watch those years go and go and go.
I know, I'll only be 24. Someday I will look back and remember how foolish I was for wanting to pile on all of the adult responsibilities at the same time, but I'm feeling impatient. I'm thinking of the ways that a marriage would benefit me for housing, companionship, and general support in the simplicities of life.
Then again, I begin thinking of how difficult relationships are... You have to share in a marriage. Share a kitchen, a bathroom, a house, a bed, and your life with another person. This other person was raised differently than you. Sure, you may love them, but everything that they have come from is different than what you came from. Different family dynamics, different expectations, different bedtime routines, different views on life, different food/cooking preferences, and different ideas of how marriage is supposed to work.
As if that weren't enough, you have to share your day with them. Share thoughts, feelings, and emotions and try to continue to connect with them... every day.
And, if that all doesn't have your feathers ruffled, you're supposed to share your body with them as well?
I know, I know. Here's yet ANOTHER stinking post about how stupid trauma has effected my life and how I am sad about what it's done. I should be able to just get over it eventually, right? Didn't that time that I should have been over it come and go? Shouldn't I be moving on? Finding joy? Starting life over and hoping for the best?
Well, kind of. I guess I'm still mourning. I'm mourning the loss of what was stolen from me. I'm mourning for the dreams that I killed and buried all those years ago. I'm mourning the years of life stolen from me, as I have been climbing my way out of a deep, deep pit I was forced into. I'm mourning the life that cannot be, the goals that cannot be fulfilled, and the plans that I had.
G-d has different plans, better plans than I could ever imagine. He's got plans that will hopefully make a beautiful tapestry out of the tangled ends that I have come to. He's got plans that are so far beyond my comprehension, that I will never understand them.
However, I'm allowing myself to mourn this anniversary of life.
3 years ago, I came to this season with excitement, but low expectations, for my 21st birthday. I decided to celebrate my birthday that year and tell some people. I decided to allow people to make a big deal about me. 3 weeks later, my life came to a screeching halt. I had innocence forcefully torn from me. I was held down and my pleading was ignored. Unthinkable things were done to me and it put my life on pause. For 3 years, I have been stuck in survival mode. I am beginning to break free and start to live again. However, I have lost 3 years of my life, completely. Sure, I graduated, worked, and G-d brought me through. But I didn't live.
In 7 days marks the 4th anniversary of Country Boy's death by suicide. It, in itself, was highly traumatizing for me. Upon that loss, the trauma has continued to pile on. That loss started the Complex in the Complex PTSD. He was 19. Didn't even make it until he was 20. He didn't wait until he was 21. He carried a lot of grief and pain with him. It crushed him. I still remember the pain in his eyes. The hope he had that someone else understood his grief when we started talking about death on that little date at the Starbucks in Target. I made up some crap story, but deep inside, I wanted to tell him of my struggles with suicidal thoughts too. It never occurred to me that other people struggled with it too! I didn't want to bring him down on our mini date! I didn't want to burden him with more grief and worry than he already had.
You see, I shouldn't be older than 19, in my head. I "functioned" from 19 to 21, but L-rd knows I wasn't living. My life slowed down with the death of Country Boy. At the moment of my first assault with exboyfriend, my life came to a standstill. Time with exfiance was spent fighting to breath another day, and continued to stand still.
So now, I get to my 24th birthday feeling like a failure. Where has my life gone?
You guys know, I don't like birthdays. I'm not a huge fan of the extra attention, looking back on yet another year that has come and gone, nor remembering how much I had planned to do before getting to this point.
When I was younger, I had hoped to at least be married by now. But, I'm solidly single. I've been single for several years now, and no prospects of that changing any time in the near future.
I had hoped to be in Small Town; learning more, training new staff, and working up the career ladder there.
I had hoped to be accepted into graduate school and working towards furthering my education.
Naively, I had also hoped to have started having kids by now. I want to be a young mom, but I watch those years go and go and go.
I know, I'll only be 24. Someday I will look back and remember how foolish I was for wanting to pile on all of the adult responsibilities at the same time, but I'm feeling impatient. I'm thinking of the ways that a marriage would benefit me for housing, companionship, and general support in the simplicities of life.
Then again, I begin thinking of how difficult relationships are... You have to share in a marriage. Share a kitchen, a bathroom, a house, a bed, and your life with another person. This other person was raised differently than you. Sure, you may love them, but everything that they have come from is different than what you came from. Different family dynamics, different expectations, different bedtime routines, different views on life, different food/cooking preferences, and different ideas of how marriage is supposed to work.
As if that weren't enough, you have to share your day with them. Share thoughts, feelings, and emotions and try to continue to connect with them... every day.
And, if that all doesn't have your feathers ruffled, you're supposed to share your body with them as well?
I know, I know. Here's yet ANOTHER stinking post about how stupid trauma has effected my life and how I am sad about what it's done. I should be able to just get over it eventually, right? Didn't that time that I should have been over it come and go? Shouldn't I be moving on? Finding joy? Starting life over and hoping for the best?
Well, kind of. I guess I'm still mourning. I'm mourning the loss of what was stolen from me. I'm mourning for the dreams that I killed and buried all those years ago. I'm mourning the years of life stolen from me, as I have been climbing my way out of a deep, deep pit I was forced into. I'm mourning the life that cannot be, the goals that cannot be fulfilled, and the plans that I had.
G-d has different plans, better plans than I could ever imagine. He's got plans that will hopefully make a beautiful tapestry out of the tangled ends that I have come to. He's got plans that are so far beyond my comprehension, that I will never understand them.
However, I'm allowing myself to mourn this anniversary of life.
3 years ago, I came to this season with excitement, but low expectations, for my 21st birthday. I decided to celebrate my birthday that year and tell some people. I decided to allow people to make a big deal about me. 3 weeks later, my life came to a screeching halt. I had innocence forcefully torn from me. I was held down and my pleading was ignored. Unthinkable things were done to me and it put my life on pause. For 3 years, I have been stuck in survival mode. I am beginning to break free and start to live again. However, I have lost 3 years of my life, completely. Sure, I graduated, worked, and G-d brought me through. But I didn't live.
In 7 days marks the 4th anniversary of Country Boy's death by suicide. It, in itself, was highly traumatizing for me. Upon that loss, the trauma has continued to pile on. That loss started the Complex in the Complex PTSD. He was 19. Didn't even make it until he was 20. He didn't wait until he was 21. He carried a lot of grief and pain with him. It crushed him. I still remember the pain in his eyes. The hope he had that someone else understood his grief when we started talking about death on that little date at the Starbucks in Target. I made up some crap story, but deep inside, I wanted to tell him of my struggles with suicidal thoughts too. It never occurred to me that other people struggled with it too! I didn't want to bring him down on our mini date! I didn't want to burden him with more grief and worry than he already had.
You see, I shouldn't be older than 19, in my head. I "functioned" from 19 to 21, but L-rd knows I wasn't living. My life slowed down with the death of Country Boy. At the moment of my first assault with exboyfriend, my life came to a standstill. Time with exfiance was spent fighting to breath another day, and continued to stand still.
So now, I get to my 24th birthday feeling like a failure. Where has my life gone?
Saturday, July 16, 2016
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.
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.
Friday, June 24, 2016
Legit Panic Attack
I was taking a shower today, after running around my house getting everything in it's place, when I started being bombarded with memories. Bad memories.
I started asking G-d, "Why me? What did I do? How is this my lot in life? Why do I have to deal with this? Why did you not just let me die?" etc., etc.
About two questions in, I could feel my heart pounding, breath getting shallow and quick, eyes went into tunnel vision. I felt like I was going to pass out, but I couldn't calm the anger and the hurt. The next 30 minutes consisted of me yelling, praying, sobbing, shaking, hyperventilating, and shaving my legs... all at the same time. How do I manage to be such a great multi-tasker? I have no idea.
I keep thinking about what I want to say, in case my reports ever go to trial. I want to say so much, but I know I will freeze on the stand and my brain will freeze if I begin to draft my victim impact statements now but boy, can I scream everything I need to say when I'm in the shower!
Exboyfriend's town called a couple days ago telling me they had gotten a report from College Town that I had been sexually assaulted (raped) in their town. College town had no jurisdiction in Exboyfriend's town and so it had to be transferred.
I've been dealing with that for a week. At first I was nervous about how this would effect him, then I remembered how much his actions have effected me and my whole life. He forever changed the course of my life with his poor choices that weekend. Oh, I wish I would have kicked him, fought him, and called the cops right then. Unfortunately, I was completely in shock. I was paralyzed and in a daze that whole weekend.
Because of Exboyfriend, I met Exfiance. He didn't introduce me, but I was going out a lot, looking for a good time to get away from the terrors living and replaying themselves in my head constantly.
It's crazy to think that one person can make you hate yourself. They can make you hate your body, your memory, your life, and hate the fact that you wake up each morning to fight another losing battle of a day. They can make you hate yourself enough that you stop feeding your body, you start taking pills, smoking, cutting, or otherwise abusing the very vessel that holds the essence of who you are. One person's choices can make you fight to not pick up the bottle, not down the pills, not pull the trigger, and not crash into a ditch.
So now, I am here. A shell of who I used to be. I can never me back. I can never have the same ability to see the best in people. I can never have the same easy smile and no assumptions that people are only out to hurt me. I can never feel pure, whole, and complete. I can never erase the memories. Who knows if I have some disease that I won't be able to get rid of in addition to the rest of it.
It makes me wonder why we, as a collective people, fight so hard to keep people from suicide. Not saying I would do it, but I understand what it is like for me to not want to wake up another day. Why do we insist on saving those who so clearly see no point in being here on this earth? Why do we call the police if someone is talking about suicide at home/work or place patients on a 72-hour hold at hospitals if they come to us saying they want to die? Why do we put people on antidepressants? Which can potentially make the suicidal ideations worse and help give the people enough energy to go through with the suicide. If people are so miserable with the hand they were dealt or produced for themselves, why are we holding them earth side?
This doesn't mean that I don't support getting professional help and trying to reach out to those having a hard time, but why make people live if they have no quality of life and are sick of being here? There is not a day that goes by that I don't wish that I could have helped Country Boy, but if there was a chance for him to have been able to reach out for help, he didn't extend that plea to me. He had a plan and he carried it out. For him, there was no use in living in a world without his dad. He had too much pain to bear on his own and he couldn't figure out how to share it. Meanwhile, I have a lot of pain (in my own opinion) and even with sharing it, I feel I am constantly drowning. Today, with my panic attack, it showed that my head is no longer staying above the water. The stress of reporting, painful memories, moving, not being able to work, having bills that I cannot pay, and stress I can't even describe is overwhelming me.
It's so hard to surrender your anxieties to the L-rd when your life is stripped from your grasp. It's so hard to ask for help when nobody can hear you from the depths of your chasm. I know I have no control over my life, but I feel like I'm in a car with a sleeping, drunk driver and the car is swerving on it's own. However, the ride sucks so badly I hope it crashes soon so that the drive will come to an end, I don't even care about making it to wherever I thought we were headed.
I started asking G-d, "Why me? What did I do? How is this my lot in life? Why do I have to deal with this? Why did you not just let me die?" etc., etc.
About two questions in, I could feel my heart pounding, breath getting shallow and quick, eyes went into tunnel vision. I felt like I was going to pass out, but I couldn't calm the anger and the hurt. The next 30 minutes consisted of me yelling, praying, sobbing, shaking, hyperventilating, and shaving my legs... all at the same time. How do I manage to be such a great multi-tasker? I have no idea.
I keep thinking about what I want to say, in case my reports ever go to trial. I want to say so much, but I know I will freeze on the stand and my brain will freeze if I begin to draft my victim impact statements now but boy, can I scream everything I need to say when I'm in the shower!
Exboyfriend's town called a couple days ago telling me they had gotten a report from College Town that I had been sexually assaulted (raped) in their town. College town had no jurisdiction in Exboyfriend's town and so it had to be transferred.
I've been dealing with that for a week. At first I was nervous about how this would effect him, then I remembered how much his actions have effected me and my whole life. He forever changed the course of my life with his poor choices that weekend. Oh, I wish I would have kicked him, fought him, and called the cops right then. Unfortunately, I was completely in shock. I was paralyzed and in a daze that whole weekend.
Because of Exboyfriend, I met Exfiance. He didn't introduce me, but I was going out a lot, looking for a good time to get away from the terrors living and replaying themselves in my head constantly.
It's crazy to think that one person can make you hate yourself. They can make you hate your body, your memory, your life, and hate the fact that you wake up each morning to fight another losing battle of a day. They can make you hate yourself enough that you stop feeding your body, you start taking pills, smoking, cutting, or otherwise abusing the very vessel that holds the essence of who you are. One person's choices can make you fight to not pick up the bottle, not down the pills, not pull the trigger, and not crash into a ditch.
So now, I am here. A shell of who I used to be. I can never me back. I can never have the same ability to see the best in people. I can never have the same easy smile and no assumptions that people are only out to hurt me. I can never feel pure, whole, and complete. I can never erase the memories. Who knows if I have some disease that I won't be able to get rid of in addition to the rest of it.
It makes me wonder why we, as a collective people, fight so hard to keep people from suicide. Not saying I would do it, but I understand what it is like for me to not want to wake up another day. Why do we insist on saving those who so clearly see no point in being here on this earth? Why do we call the police if someone is talking about suicide at home/work or place patients on a 72-hour hold at hospitals if they come to us saying they want to die? Why do we put people on antidepressants? Which can potentially make the suicidal ideations worse and help give the people enough energy to go through with the suicide. If people are so miserable with the hand they were dealt or produced for themselves, why are we holding them earth side?
This doesn't mean that I don't support getting professional help and trying to reach out to those having a hard time, but why make people live if they have no quality of life and are sick of being here? There is not a day that goes by that I don't wish that I could have helped Country Boy, but if there was a chance for him to have been able to reach out for help, he didn't extend that plea to me. He had a plan and he carried it out. For him, there was no use in living in a world without his dad. He had too much pain to bear on his own and he couldn't figure out how to share it. Meanwhile, I have a lot of pain (in my own opinion) and even with sharing it, I feel I am constantly drowning. Today, with my panic attack, it showed that my head is no longer staying above the water. The stress of reporting, painful memories, moving, not being able to work, having bills that I cannot pay, and stress I can't even describe is overwhelming me.
It's so hard to surrender your anxieties to the L-rd when your life is stripped from your grasp. It's so hard to ask for help when nobody can hear you from the depths of your chasm. I know I have no control over my life, but I feel like I'm in a car with a sleeping, drunk driver and the car is swerving on it's own. However, the ride sucks so badly I hope it crashes soon so that the drive will come to an end, I don't even care about making it to wherever I thought we were headed.
Friday, April 1, 2016
Another Damn Birthday
My birthday is tomorrow. I'll turn 22.
In the past, I have avoided people knowing my birthday because I didn't want anyone making a big deal about it. From that stemmed my own little personal game of my friends not knowing what day my birthday is and avoiding working the day before/day of/and day after my birthday. These have just been traditions I have kept for years.
Last year, I was very open about my birthday because I turned 21 and wanted people to come out and celebrate with me! In the U.S., for those of you outside, 21 is the legal drinking age. As you can imagine, this warrants a bit of celebrating.
Well, fast forward to this year and my birthday is now a day of mourning. I think about last year and how excited I was. I had lots of friends coming out to celebrate with me, I had a boyfriend who was still treating me well, I was getting through school and I had just survived Country Boy's first anniversary. His first anniversary went much better than this year's, though. I had a drink for him that night, but mostly I was just young and excited. I thought my life was turning more exciting and could only get better.
I was so terribly wrong.
Come back to the present with me, and let's mull over why my birthday is now a day of mourning...
I miss her. People say I can get her back, but those people have also never been through what I've been through. She was kind, excited about life, and always willing to help. Her, I can get back. She had also never experienced more trauma than a friend's suicide. She had memories, but not intense flashbacks. She was mourning, but it was reasonable and normal, especially for the trauma associated with surviving a friend's suicide.
Go back to the year I turned 19, and I miss her even more. No suicide. Best Friend liked me and we hung out all the time. I was in the dorms and was around friends as much as I wanted to be, all I had to do was walk down the hall. I thought it was a great victory going the entire day with nobody knowing it was my birthday, especially living in such a short proximity to my friends. Then, at about 10 p.m., while hanging out with Best Friend talking, I spilled the beans. He gave me a hug and got a little bit upset that I hadn't told him sooner. I was so excited for everything! I was about to get into nursing school, I was looking at apartments and making life plans. I was confident and excited that a guy liked me and spent so much time with me. I had just gotten away from the most toxic roommates I have ever met and I was living by myself. School was going well and the world was still a bright and shiny place ready for my stamp on it and the adventures that were sure to come my way.
Come back to the present and I don't want to see the future. I'm convinced nothing good can make me be able to heal fully from my past. I don't want to meet a guy and start dating because then I have to tell him I'm not pure and I'm not what he wants. He'd have to deal with my PTSD, my whole shitty season of every year from March until the end of July, and if we ever had kids I've got so many risk factors for being a terrible mom that it's not even worth attempting to survive pregnancy and a birth because that poor kid would have no fighting chance at a good life.
Of course, it is impossible to explain this to friends They don't understand and I pray they never understand this pain. I pray they have all the happiness in the world. Mine was stolen, but may they know nothing but happiness. May they keep the sparkle in their eyes and their love of life. I hope this for all of you as well.
For those of you that have been through trauma, I am so sorry. I am sorry for all of your losses. While losses include the deaths and the loss of people, remember that it also means the loss of your sense of identity, body integrity, and anything else that you have lost that hits you hard. Yes, it is okay to mourn the loss of who you once were if that was taken, hurt, and otherwise damaged. I am sorry for your loss, as I am sorry for mine. Though I don't know exactly how you feel, because we all perceive and feel things differently and circumstances are always a little bit different, know that I understand it is painful beyond words.
So, tomorrow is my birthday. It is a solemn occasion and a day of mourning. I survived Country Boy's 2nd anniversary and everything that could have gone wrong going wrong with that. Here's to hoping I survive tomorrow, if I must.
In the past, I have avoided people knowing my birthday because I didn't want anyone making a big deal about it. From that stemmed my own little personal game of my friends not knowing what day my birthday is and avoiding working the day before/day of/and day after my birthday. These have just been traditions I have kept for years.
Last year, I was very open about my birthday because I turned 21 and wanted people to come out and celebrate with me! In the U.S., for those of you outside, 21 is the legal drinking age. As you can imagine, this warrants a bit of celebrating.
Well, fast forward to this year and my birthday is now a day of mourning. I think about last year and how excited I was. I had lots of friends coming out to celebrate with me, I had a boyfriend who was still treating me well, I was getting through school and I had just survived Country Boy's first anniversary. His first anniversary went much better than this year's, though. I had a drink for him that night, but mostly I was just young and excited. I thought my life was turning more exciting and could only get better.
I was so terribly wrong.
Come back to the present with me, and let's mull over why my birthday is now a day of mourning...
- My body has been assaulted in the most intimate ways, by two separate asshole guys, more times than I can count.
- Country Boy is still gone and his death anniversary is right before my birthday so I am still recovering from that grief again.
- My friends are all busy so I could stay in bed, but the couple of friends that are not busy and that know my birthday is tomorrow are not letting me stay in my bed.
- I'll never be the girl I was a year ago. For that, I mourn the most.
I miss her. People say I can get her back, but those people have also never been through what I've been through. She was kind, excited about life, and always willing to help. Her, I can get back. She had also never experienced more trauma than a friend's suicide. She had memories, but not intense flashbacks. She was mourning, but it was reasonable and normal, especially for the trauma associated with surviving a friend's suicide.
Go back to the year I turned 19, and I miss her even more. No suicide. Best Friend liked me and we hung out all the time. I was in the dorms and was around friends as much as I wanted to be, all I had to do was walk down the hall. I thought it was a great victory going the entire day with nobody knowing it was my birthday, especially living in such a short proximity to my friends. Then, at about 10 p.m., while hanging out with Best Friend talking, I spilled the beans. He gave me a hug and got a little bit upset that I hadn't told him sooner. I was so excited for everything! I was about to get into nursing school, I was looking at apartments and making life plans. I was confident and excited that a guy liked me and spent so much time with me. I had just gotten away from the most toxic roommates I have ever met and I was living by myself. School was going well and the world was still a bright and shiny place ready for my stamp on it and the adventures that were sure to come my way.
Come back to the present and I don't want to see the future. I'm convinced nothing good can make me be able to heal fully from my past. I don't want to meet a guy and start dating because then I have to tell him I'm not pure and I'm not what he wants. He'd have to deal with my PTSD, my whole shitty season of every year from March until the end of July, and if we ever had kids I've got so many risk factors for being a terrible mom that it's not even worth attempting to survive pregnancy and a birth because that poor kid would have no fighting chance at a good life.
Of course, it is impossible to explain this to friends They don't understand and I pray they never understand this pain. I pray they have all the happiness in the world. Mine was stolen, but may they know nothing but happiness. May they keep the sparkle in their eyes and their love of life. I hope this for all of you as well.
For those of you that have been through trauma, I am so sorry. I am sorry for all of your losses. While losses include the deaths and the loss of people, remember that it also means the loss of your sense of identity, body integrity, and anything else that you have lost that hits you hard. Yes, it is okay to mourn the loss of who you once were if that was taken, hurt, and otherwise damaged. I am sorry for your loss, as I am sorry for mine. Though I don't know exactly how you feel, because we all perceive and feel things differently and circumstances are always a little bit different, know that I understand it is painful beyond words.
So, tomorrow is my birthday. It is a solemn occasion and a day of mourning. I survived Country Boy's 2nd anniversary and everything that could have gone wrong going wrong with that. Here's to hoping I survive tomorrow, if I must.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
It'll Never End
As mentioned in my last post, my day began at about 3 this morning. Not pleasant.
I made it through the sim lab and my group did really well. The instructors were surprised and kept saying they didn't think we would do so well because my group wasn't very interactive on Monday during the skills lab... I think it was supposed to be a compliment but it came off terribly. Whatever, we rocked it and now I'm done with that.
All day, Country Boy has been on my mind. All week, in fact. This morning, before hopping in my shower, I went back and looked at some pictures of him. A few tears fell, but I'm still too overwhelmed in my life to be able to cry much. I went through sim lab and my brain was not working. People kept talking to me and I couldn't even focus. I saw their lips moving, but I couldn't hear anything.
Last night exfiance called me 3 times... They didn't ring through, because I blocked him. However, I woke up at 1:30 a.m. wondering why my phone was lit up, but I decided to ignore it. At 3, when I woke up for sure, I saw the little symbol for voice mail. I was confused, wondering why anyone needed to leave me a voice mail so early in the morning and I panicked wondering if it was family or a friend who needed me. Nope. It was exfiance. I didn't listen to his message because I was scared he would have called me and left a voice mail while he was pretending to die or while he committed suicide just because he knew how badly Country Boy's death affected me. Sick thought process, I know, but he's done terrible things to me and he messes with my head. If you go through something like that (and I pray you never do and never have), you begin to wonder what kind of bullshit they are going to unleash on you this time.
I waited until my roommate woke up, and then I told her about it. She offered to listen to the message to screen it for me. Essentially, it said everything his 9 text messages from Easter said to me. Again, those too were blocked and I didn't get them until a day or two after Easter Sunday.
I didn't listen to the voice mail until my lunch break between simulations today. I went out to my car and listened to all 3 fucking minutes of the bullshit message. The messages (voice mail and texts) went to the effect that he has been attending the church I go to for the last month. He says he wants me to go see him at church and sit with him... He says he's changed and that I'm amazing and all this bullshit. Seriously, he told me I brought him back to the L-rd. What the fuck?!?
Honestly, I hope he did find the L-rd but I don't believe him at all. I don't believe a fucking word he uttered the entire time I've ever known him. I don't believe any of the nice things, I don't believe any of the crazy stories, I don't believe the apologies, or anything else he ever said. I don't. So, you can go pound sand fucker. Leave me the hell alone. STOP TRYING TO TALK TO ME!!!
So sick of it.
After sim was done and I was driving home, I was barely keeping the tears from falling. I was handling myself until I saw his truck. Not Country Boy's, not exfiance's... the other one. I saw exboyfriend's truck passing me on my way home. Fuckin' A. Of course, this is going to happen on one of my shittiest days. He works on the exact opposite side of town. Why the fuck is he on my way home?!?
I lost it. The tears started, my panic attack began in earnest, and my brain shut down with that last straw. It was the last straw to break my mind from how it had been dealing with all of the overwhelming nonsense I had been dealing with all day. Seeing exbf's truck is what did me in.
I got home and Roomie asked how I was doing. My chin and voice began quivering as I told her the extremely shortened and condensed version of the shit I survived today. She stood there quietly and told me she was sorry. She suggested I go climb into bed and watch a movie or take a nap. My beautifully happy and cheery roommate didn't know what to do. She doesn't know what to do when I don't even know how to handle my life circumstances. I don't blame her.
She left a few minutes later for work and her dog followed me into my room. I collapsed on my bed crying because I was finally done with the shit show that was my day. Oh my goodness, the dog flipped out! She jumped on my bed, started licking my face and acting all frantic. She licked me and tried to climb in my lap (she's 50 lbs) for a solid 10 minutes, as the tears streamed down my face. She kept making me pet her and push her from my face because she was taking away my tears. She jumped down, ran out of my room, but returned about 30 seconds later and began barking at me! She put her front two paws on my bed and started barking and whining at me in her scared bark. I pulled myself together, stopped crying and then the dog left my room. I don't know what else happened, but my eyes opened about an hour and a half later, and I didn't know where I was or what time it was. I woke up another hour and a half after that in the same condition, but laid in bed answering my 9 text messages that had accumulated, as I stared at my ceiling for an hour.
I don't know how to explain times like this, but when I have a bad enough day, I can stay in bed and stare at the wall or ceiling for hours with no thoughts going through my head. I snap out of it a couple hours later, but it only felt like 5 minutes at the most. No thoughts, no emotion, no ability to move my body. I legitimately shut down all the way and can do absolutely nothing.
Days like this, I don't even need alcohol. I know that on a day like today, drinking would simply get me stuck in the sad, terrible existence of my brain when my brain is literally refusing to think about it. My brain is overwhelmed and refusing to think about the stressors because it's unable to handle it anymore. Why would I drink and remember if I can just disappear into nothingness?
Today, everything that I needed to not happen, all happened... Today, was one of the hardest days to survive. Today, but not just today, I wished Country Boy would have taken me with him. I get mad at him for leaving me here.
I just don't want to be here anymore.
This is bullshit.
I made it through the sim lab and my group did really well. The instructors were surprised and kept saying they didn't think we would do so well because my group wasn't very interactive on Monday during the skills lab... I think it was supposed to be a compliment but it came off terribly. Whatever, we rocked it and now I'm done with that.
All day, Country Boy has been on my mind. All week, in fact. This morning, before hopping in my shower, I went back and looked at some pictures of him. A few tears fell, but I'm still too overwhelmed in my life to be able to cry much. I went through sim lab and my brain was not working. People kept talking to me and I couldn't even focus. I saw their lips moving, but I couldn't hear anything.
Last night exfiance called me 3 times... They didn't ring through, because I blocked him. However, I woke up at 1:30 a.m. wondering why my phone was lit up, but I decided to ignore it. At 3, when I woke up for sure, I saw the little symbol for voice mail. I was confused, wondering why anyone needed to leave me a voice mail so early in the morning and I panicked wondering if it was family or a friend who needed me. Nope. It was exfiance. I didn't listen to his message because I was scared he would have called me and left a voice mail while he was pretending to die or while he committed suicide just because he knew how badly Country Boy's death affected me. Sick thought process, I know, but he's done terrible things to me and he messes with my head. If you go through something like that (and I pray you never do and never have), you begin to wonder what kind of bullshit they are going to unleash on you this time.
I waited until my roommate woke up, and then I told her about it. She offered to listen to the message to screen it for me. Essentially, it said everything his 9 text messages from Easter said to me. Again, those too were blocked and I didn't get them until a day or two after Easter Sunday.
I didn't listen to the voice mail until my lunch break between simulations today. I went out to my car and listened to all 3 fucking minutes of the bullshit message. The messages (voice mail and texts) went to the effect that he has been attending the church I go to for the last month. He says he wants me to go see him at church and sit with him... He says he's changed and that I'm amazing and all this bullshit. Seriously, he told me I brought him back to the L-rd. What the fuck?!?
Honestly, I hope he did find the L-rd but I don't believe him at all. I don't believe a fucking word he uttered the entire time I've ever known him. I don't believe any of the nice things, I don't believe any of the crazy stories, I don't believe the apologies, or anything else he ever said. I don't. So, you can go pound sand fucker. Leave me the hell alone. STOP TRYING TO TALK TO ME!!!
So sick of it.
After sim was done and I was driving home, I was barely keeping the tears from falling. I was handling myself until I saw his truck. Not Country Boy's, not exfiance's... the other one. I saw exboyfriend's truck passing me on my way home. Fuckin' A. Of course, this is going to happen on one of my shittiest days. He works on the exact opposite side of town. Why the fuck is he on my way home?!?
I lost it. The tears started, my panic attack began in earnest, and my brain shut down with that last straw. It was the last straw to break my mind from how it had been dealing with all of the overwhelming nonsense I had been dealing with all day. Seeing exbf's truck is what did me in.
I got home and Roomie asked how I was doing. My chin and voice began quivering as I told her the extremely shortened and condensed version of the shit I survived today. She stood there quietly and told me she was sorry. She suggested I go climb into bed and watch a movie or take a nap. My beautifully happy and cheery roommate didn't know what to do. She doesn't know what to do when I don't even know how to handle my life circumstances. I don't blame her.
She left a few minutes later for work and her dog followed me into my room. I collapsed on my bed crying because I was finally done with the shit show that was my day. Oh my goodness, the dog flipped out! She jumped on my bed, started licking my face and acting all frantic. She licked me and tried to climb in my lap (she's 50 lbs) for a solid 10 minutes, as the tears streamed down my face. She kept making me pet her and push her from my face because she was taking away my tears. She jumped down, ran out of my room, but returned about 30 seconds later and began barking at me! She put her front two paws on my bed and started barking and whining at me in her scared bark. I pulled myself together, stopped crying and then the dog left my room. I don't know what else happened, but my eyes opened about an hour and a half later, and I didn't know where I was or what time it was. I woke up another hour and a half after that in the same condition, but laid in bed answering my 9 text messages that had accumulated, as I stared at my ceiling for an hour.
I don't know how to explain times like this, but when I have a bad enough day, I can stay in bed and stare at the wall or ceiling for hours with no thoughts going through my head. I snap out of it a couple hours later, but it only felt like 5 minutes at the most. No thoughts, no emotion, no ability to move my body. I legitimately shut down all the way and can do absolutely nothing.
Days like this, I don't even need alcohol. I know that on a day like today, drinking would simply get me stuck in the sad, terrible existence of my brain when my brain is literally refusing to think about it. My brain is overwhelmed and refusing to think about the stressors because it's unable to handle it anymore. Why would I drink and remember if I can just disappear into nothingness?
Today, everything that I needed to not happen, all happened... Today, was one of the hardest days to survive. Today, but not just today, I wished Country Boy would have taken me with him. I get mad at him for leaving me here.
I just don't want to be here anymore.
This is bullshit.
2 Year Anniversary
Today marks the 2 year anniversary of Country Boy dying. Unfortunately, with him, I get a solid three days each year that I lose my sh!t because all three are anniversaries.
#1 - the last Sunday of Spring Break (that's when he died)
#2 - March 30 (that is the actual date that was the last Sunday of Spring Break)
#3 - April 11 (his birthday, just a week and some after my birthday)
He wasn't even 19. He just needed to find enough reason to live another two weeks and he couldn't find it.
I haven't been sleeping well this last week. Last night, I fell asleep at about 9:30 p.m., woke up every couple of hours, then woke up and couldn't fall back asleep at about 3 a.m. It's now 5:45 a.m. and I still shouldn't be getting woken up by my alarm clock until about 6:30...
Yesterday afternoon (March 29), Brother took me to the cemetery. I bought a small bottle of whiskey and shared it with Country Boy. His alcohol tolerance is much better than mine, which is good because I couldn't only handle about half of the tiny bottle and he got every other swig. We went yesterday because Brother has to work until late tonight and the cemetery is creepy at night and also in a sketchy part of town. I might go back and sit with him today, but it depends on how much energy I have after a full day of sim lab for peds.
Counselor says I'm doing well. I started making a binder with all of the handouts and exercises Counselor gave me. I'm hoping that when I move, I'll remember my binder on my Bad Days. She is probably one of the strongest, most bad ass women I think I've ever met. Yet, she still told me that she couldn't imagine how hard it must be to live knowing that my attackers are on the loose. It sucks, but I'm here and kicking. I'm barely going, but I'm not doing what Country Boy did to my family and friends. As much as I would love to no longer be here, I'm not going to be a trauma to those I love or even just know.
She made me feel strong. By Counselor telling me she couldn't imagine living in my shoes, after I've heard how strong she is, it made me feel like maybe I'm dong okay. People tell me I'm strong, but it just makes me feel weak when they say that. There are the pity eyes and that tone they say it with that break me down, especially on my weak days because those are days I can hardly breathe. So, when I feel weak, and people flat out say I'm strong, I don't believe them and I assume they're lying. For some reason, having her tell me I'm handling this sh!tty life, by myself (and G-d), and I'm still finishing school and plugging along, it was a boost. (*I apologize for the structure of that last sentence, I'm typing through tears, sleep deprived, mourning again, and otherwise struggling*)
I had an interview yesterday. They said it went really well but that I have to wait for the hiring manager's boss to get back to her to make sure I can be hired. I pray the L-rd lets me know what needs to happen. It would be nice to be able to start house shopping and planning for my post-graduation future, but the move to this particular location holds a few complications... I'll keep y'all posted though!
Well, I suppose I better go get ready for sim lab. I get out late this afternoon and then I'm headed to the bar with a couple friends. I don't know how today will go. The past week has been hell, but not as bad as last year. Last year, I survived the day. This year, it is uncertain but I will survive to the best of my ability. I look like sh!t though.
#1 - the last Sunday of Spring Break (that's when he died)
#2 - March 30 (that is the actual date that was the last Sunday of Spring Break)
#3 - April 11 (his birthday, just a week and some after my birthday)
He wasn't even 19. He just needed to find enough reason to live another two weeks and he couldn't find it.
I haven't been sleeping well this last week. Last night, I fell asleep at about 9:30 p.m., woke up every couple of hours, then woke up and couldn't fall back asleep at about 3 a.m. It's now 5:45 a.m. and I still shouldn't be getting woken up by my alarm clock until about 6:30...
Yesterday afternoon (March 29), Brother took me to the cemetery. I bought a small bottle of whiskey and shared it with Country Boy. His alcohol tolerance is much better than mine, which is good because I couldn't only handle about half of the tiny bottle and he got every other swig. We went yesterday because Brother has to work until late tonight and the cemetery is creepy at night and also in a sketchy part of town. I might go back and sit with him today, but it depends on how much energy I have after a full day of sim lab for peds.
Counselor says I'm doing well. I started making a binder with all of the handouts and exercises Counselor gave me. I'm hoping that when I move, I'll remember my binder on my Bad Days. She is probably one of the strongest, most bad ass women I think I've ever met. Yet, she still told me that she couldn't imagine how hard it must be to live knowing that my attackers are on the loose. It sucks, but I'm here and kicking. I'm barely going, but I'm not doing what Country Boy did to my family and friends. As much as I would love to no longer be here, I'm not going to be a trauma to those I love or even just know.
She made me feel strong. By Counselor telling me she couldn't imagine living in my shoes, after I've heard how strong she is, it made me feel like maybe I'm dong okay. People tell me I'm strong, but it just makes me feel weak when they say that. There are the pity eyes and that tone they say it with that break me down, especially on my weak days because those are days I can hardly breathe. So, when I feel weak, and people flat out say I'm strong, I don't believe them and I assume they're lying. For some reason, having her tell me I'm handling this sh!tty life, by myself (and G-d), and I'm still finishing school and plugging along, it was a boost. (*I apologize for the structure of that last sentence, I'm typing through tears, sleep deprived, mourning again, and otherwise struggling*)
I had an interview yesterday. They said it went really well but that I have to wait for the hiring manager's boss to get back to her to make sure I can be hired. I pray the L-rd lets me know what needs to happen. It would be nice to be able to start house shopping and planning for my post-graduation future, but the move to this particular location holds a few complications... I'll keep y'all posted though!
Well, I suppose I better go get ready for sim lab. I get out late this afternoon and then I'm headed to the bar with a couple friends. I don't know how today will go. The past week has been hell, but not as bad as last year. Last year, I survived the day. This year, it is uncertain but I will survive to the best of my ability. I look like sh!t though.
Thursday, March 17, 2016
The Wishes I'll Never See Fulfilled
There are days that you may wish you could go back and relive. There are times in your life that you wished you could go back and redo. There may be times that you wish you never had to live through.
Well, I wish I could go back 3 years ago and not live these past few years at all.
I know, this is a wish that will forever go unfulfilled. I was also told that this is not productive thought because of it's impossibility. It doesn't change the fact that I keep praying I wake up from my nightmare and take it as a life-lesson through sleep to never repeat it in actual life.
I want to go back to the days of college when I was so full of life, looking forward to the future, and excited at the amount of friends I had and the excitement I had when I was first accepted into the nursing program.
I was pure. I was hopeful. I had a whole world full of possibilities just waiting outside my door.
Today I am damage, beaten, weary, and waiting for the day when the Good L-rd decides to free me from my real-life nightmare.
It's hard today to not fall into my bad habits that have helped me to cope with my struggles thus far. However, I want to be able to wear short sleeves and a bikini when I go on my graduation trip with my family, so my physical coping methods are out of the picture. I probably couldn't drink enough to actually get anywhere in the way of numbing because it just shuts off the smart part of my brain and brings forward all of the terrible things I want a break from. Sleep doesn't help because from the time I lay down, through my sleep, and up until I begin my day, my head is filled with the worst things I couldn't even imagine I would have survived, but I did live through. Painting and coloring only get me so far before memories invade again.
I have no relief.
I could have gone for a walk, but it's dark now and I'm scared exfiance would be waiting outside my apartment.
I've had several friends tell me lately that I didn't seem like I was having a bad day, even though I had told them hours earlier over a text that I was having a really bad day. They tell me that I look fine and seem to be enjoying myself.
Well, I've been lying too long. I've gotten it down to a science and have a tendency to push everything out of my head in order to prevent telling those around me what has happened. I don't want to bring down the fun mood by spilling all of my dirty laundry for those who had no idea of my life's happenings before that point. For some, it is the first time they've ever met me. No need to bring them down with my internal scars.
Just for fun, let's go over my "checkered past," shall we?
I have:
No, I don't feel sorry for myself but I do wish these weren't my burdens to bear. Some are self-inflicted, and those have stopped. Those are also burdens I'm ashamed of, but I know that I caused them to myself so I can't blame anyone for those. However, it is hard most days to not drop back into those habits. Sometimes those bad things I did were the only thing to keep me grounded in the world, if even for a moment.
I know, I know! I'm not supposed to think like this! But some days I can't help it. I mean, c'mon! There has to be a break eventually, right? You would hope...
I don't foresee life getting much better for me. Oh, I pray that it does! But, honestly, sometimes I can be so far in the pit of despair that there is no way to see anything but the darkness overwhelming and engulfing me.
I just want to be put out of my misery. I've got no fight left.
Well, I wish I could go back 3 years ago and not live these past few years at all.
I know, this is a wish that will forever go unfulfilled. I was also told that this is not productive thought because of it's impossibility. It doesn't change the fact that I keep praying I wake up from my nightmare and take it as a life-lesson through sleep to never repeat it in actual life.
I want to go back to the days of college when I was so full of life, looking forward to the future, and excited at the amount of friends I had and the excitement I had when I was first accepted into the nursing program.
I was pure. I was hopeful. I had a whole world full of possibilities just waiting outside my door.
Today I am damage, beaten, weary, and waiting for the day when the Good L-rd decides to free me from my real-life nightmare.
It's hard today to not fall into my bad habits that have helped me to cope with my struggles thus far. However, I want to be able to wear short sleeves and a bikini when I go on my graduation trip with my family, so my physical coping methods are out of the picture. I probably couldn't drink enough to actually get anywhere in the way of numbing because it just shuts off the smart part of my brain and brings forward all of the terrible things I want a break from. Sleep doesn't help because from the time I lay down, through my sleep, and up until I begin my day, my head is filled with the worst things I couldn't even imagine I would have survived, but I did live through. Painting and coloring only get me so far before memories invade again.
I have no relief.
I could have gone for a walk, but it's dark now and I'm scared exfiance would be waiting outside my apartment.
I've had several friends tell me lately that I didn't seem like I was having a bad day, even though I had told them hours earlier over a text that I was having a really bad day. They tell me that I look fine and seem to be enjoying myself.
Well, I've been lying too long. I've gotten it down to a science and have a tendency to push everything out of my head in order to prevent telling those around me what has happened. I don't want to bring down the fun mood by spilling all of my dirty laundry for those who had no idea of my life's happenings before that point. For some, it is the first time they've ever met me. No need to bring them down with my internal scars.
Just for fun, let's go over my "checkered past," shall we?
I have:
- cut, scratched until I've bled, and other forms of self-harm (8th grade)
- attempted suicide 5 or more times (8th grade)
- avoided eating except for dinner every other few nights for a solid 6 months or so. I lost 25-30 pounds in a month or two (high school)
- lived through a friend's suicide
- been in 2, count them TWO! abusive relationships in the year of 2015 (I'm talking the beginning of January to the very end of December)
- relapsed into self-harm
- dealt with the unmedicated bipolar ramblings of various family members that typically result in me being blamed for their miserable lives, countless times
- gone through 3 different roommate situations that were very unhealthy and ridiculously stressful
- began drinking occasionally to calm my mind and pain temporarily
- been raped so many times I can't count them all
- been drug through the mud*, beaten beyond recognition*, damaged beyond repair*, and been so mentally tortured that I wished my previous suicide attempts could have stuck (*not really physical situation if they have the *, but the pain is similar, just lasts much longer)
No, I don't feel sorry for myself but I do wish these weren't my burdens to bear. Some are self-inflicted, and those have stopped. Those are also burdens I'm ashamed of, but I know that I caused them to myself so I can't blame anyone for those. However, it is hard most days to not drop back into those habits. Sometimes those bad things I did were the only thing to keep me grounded in the world, if even for a moment.
I know, I know! I'm not supposed to think like this! But some days I can't help it. I mean, c'mon! There has to be a break eventually, right? You would hope...
I don't foresee life getting much better for me. Oh, I pray that it does! But, honestly, sometimes I can be so far in the pit of despair that there is no way to see anything but the darkness overwhelming and engulfing me.
I just want to be put out of my misery. I've got no fight left.
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Acceptance
Turns out Country Boy was cremated, but then buried. So, when I went right after his death in 2014, I could have visited him. However, they told me he had just gotten cremated and that they were sorry. Whatever, not a huge deal. Exfiance called again because I told him he didn't have a grave. Turns out he does. His ashes were buried near his dad's and the rest of his family that had passed away already.
When I called to see where he was, the lady told me to come into the office when I arrived and she would give me a map. So I went in and got the map. I wondered around in the area he was supposed to be for nearly 20 minutes and couldn't find him. So, I sat at an unmarked plot wondering if he had a headstone because they hadn't gotten one for his dad for about a year after he died because the wife just couldn't handle making it that official. After sitting for another 15 minutes and feeling stupid because my mind was wondering and wondering how they buried couples... I decided I should leave. As I was walking back to my car, I looked down and finally found his headstone.
It wasn't where I was told to go, the map kinda lied. As soon as I saw it my stomach dropped and tears flooded my eyes. I sat at his grave for over an hour thinking about him, his dad, his mom and sister who were now left with no guys from their family. I yelled at him for leaving me and not taking me with him. I told him we could have gone together if he would have taken me for a car ride. I apologized to him for being mean and I apologized because I believe I may have said the last thing that caused him to go over the edge and finally go through with it.
I was supposed to have hung out with him a couple days before he died but I cancelled because my other friends cancelled on me and I was "going out" with Best Friend at the time but didn't want to tell Country Boy. So, when CB asked if I wanted to hang out since I was cancelled on, I said "no thanks". That was it. That was the last time I talked to him and he died a few days later. I know he was struggling with his dad being gone and he seemed to have severe depression. He had moved out of his mom's house because of too many memories of his dad. He moved out to where my uncle and Exboyfriend live (also where exfiance lives, coincidentally enough) with his aunt and uncle because he loved the country. Well, that was it.
I had wanted to text him those few days and I had urges to, but I never did because he usually ignored my texts when I texted first. I don't know if he didn't want to talk to me, he was trying to make it seem like he was busy, or if he really was busy. I spent so many months waiting for him to text me. He would contact me, talk with me for a couple days, then go completely radio silent for several weeks. That was hard for me to live with. I was sick of getting my hopes up and checking my phone every 5 seconds because I was waiting for him to talk to me again. However, I should have texted him those days. I was waiting for his birthday. I found out a week after my 20th birthday and a few days before his that he died. Nobody told me, I just found his obituary online.
I told exfiance (Jacob) that he was not allowed to tell me that being sad that CB died was selfish. I'm allowed to be angry and sad and cry because I am grieving still. It's been almost two years and I still think about him almost every day. I still see him in the faces of a lot of actors and people I run into on a daily basis. I see his truck occasionally and I remember him when I do some of the stuff he used to like to do. Jacob finally told me okay that I'm allowed to cry and I guess he didn't realize I blamed myself (I didn't need his permission but he needs to not tell people how to feel!). I talked with him last night and told him the story at the beginning of this post. I thought I had told him all this but he said he didn't know before that I blamed myself. After that he understood why I'm angry and sad and cry so much. He said I should be understanding about why the kid killed himself, but I told him that I'm going to feel how I feel. I understand he was going through rough stuff and had depression before but it was getting worse now that his dad had died unexpectedly, but I'm sure there was much more going on. I'm not apologizing for that anymore and I'm not pushing it away so that I can be strong for other people. Now it's my time to sort out my head because there is too much all mixed up in there right now.
The hour I spent at CB's grave was good. It was healing. I felt stuff that I haven't felt in a long time and I was able to cry. I don't know why, but I've been needing to very for a long time but the tears won't come. I feel so numb and just there but not present. It's weird to me to want to cry and also weird that I cannot. Yesterday I did. I yelled and apologized and just sat in remembrance. I also said sorry for not coming sooner. Someone left a cigarette on his grave. It was unlit so I know it was on purpose. I know he wouldn't want flowers so a cigarette made a lot of sense. He wasn't even 20 yet. I have a feeling I'll probably go there a lot in the next few months when I need a place to think. I used to drive up into the woods and think of him often, but it somehow feels better to imagine him being there and able to hear me.
I had this thought about a song I haven't heard since I was a child. Since I was so little, I knew it was a sad song but I never understood it. At the grave I just had "Whiskey Lullaby" playing over and over in my head. Why is it helping me feel better? I have no clue. I have played it nearly a hundred times since the visit and it helps me more and more each time.
I don't know why I keep getting songs popping up in my head. I don't know if the L-rd is putting them there or if my brain is making connections or spazzing out or what. But these songs are helping me little by little.
When I called to see where he was, the lady told me to come into the office when I arrived and she would give me a map. So I went in and got the map. I wondered around in the area he was supposed to be for nearly 20 minutes and couldn't find him. So, I sat at an unmarked plot wondering if he had a headstone because they hadn't gotten one for his dad for about a year after he died because the wife just couldn't handle making it that official. After sitting for another 15 minutes and feeling stupid because my mind was wondering and wondering how they buried couples... I decided I should leave. As I was walking back to my car, I looked down and finally found his headstone.
It wasn't where I was told to go, the map kinda lied. As soon as I saw it my stomach dropped and tears flooded my eyes. I sat at his grave for over an hour thinking about him, his dad, his mom and sister who were now left with no guys from their family. I yelled at him for leaving me and not taking me with him. I told him we could have gone together if he would have taken me for a car ride. I apologized to him for being mean and I apologized because I believe I may have said the last thing that caused him to go over the edge and finally go through with it.
I was supposed to have hung out with him a couple days before he died but I cancelled because my other friends cancelled on me and I was "going out" with Best Friend at the time but didn't want to tell Country Boy. So, when CB asked if I wanted to hang out since I was cancelled on, I said "no thanks". That was it. That was the last time I talked to him and he died a few days later. I know he was struggling with his dad being gone and he seemed to have severe depression. He had moved out of his mom's house because of too many memories of his dad. He moved out to where my uncle and Exboyfriend live (also where exfiance lives, coincidentally enough) with his aunt and uncle because he loved the country. Well, that was it.
I had wanted to text him those few days and I had urges to, but I never did because he usually ignored my texts when I texted first. I don't know if he didn't want to talk to me, he was trying to make it seem like he was busy, or if he really was busy. I spent so many months waiting for him to text me. He would contact me, talk with me for a couple days, then go completely radio silent for several weeks. That was hard for me to live with. I was sick of getting my hopes up and checking my phone every 5 seconds because I was waiting for him to talk to me again. However, I should have texted him those days. I was waiting for his birthday. I found out a week after my 20th birthday and a few days before his that he died. Nobody told me, I just found his obituary online.
I told exfiance (Jacob) that he was not allowed to tell me that being sad that CB died was selfish. I'm allowed to be angry and sad and cry because I am grieving still. It's been almost two years and I still think about him almost every day. I still see him in the faces of a lot of actors and people I run into on a daily basis. I see his truck occasionally and I remember him when I do some of the stuff he used to like to do. Jacob finally told me okay that I'm allowed to cry and I guess he didn't realize I blamed myself (I didn't need his permission but he needs to not tell people how to feel!). I talked with him last night and told him the story at the beginning of this post. I thought I had told him all this but he said he didn't know before that I blamed myself. After that he understood why I'm angry and sad and cry so much. He said I should be understanding about why the kid killed himself, but I told him that I'm going to feel how I feel. I understand he was going through rough stuff and had depression before but it was getting worse now that his dad had died unexpectedly, but I'm sure there was much more going on. I'm not apologizing for that anymore and I'm not pushing it away so that I can be strong for other people. Now it's my time to sort out my head because there is too much all mixed up in there right now.
The hour I spent at CB's grave was good. It was healing. I felt stuff that I haven't felt in a long time and I was able to cry. I don't know why, but I've been needing to very for a long time but the tears won't come. I feel so numb and just there but not present. It's weird to me to want to cry and also weird that I cannot. Yesterday I did. I yelled and apologized and just sat in remembrance. I also said sorry for not coming sooner. Someone left a cigarette on his grave. It was unlit so I know it was on purpose. I know he wouldn't want flowers so a cigarette made a lot of sense. He wasn't even 20 yet. I have a feeling I'll probably go there a lot in the next few months when I need a place to think. I used to drive up into the woods and think of him often, but it somehow feels better to imagine him being there and able to hear me.
I had this thought about a song I haven't heard since I was a child. Since I was so little, I knew it was a sad song but I never understood it. At the grave I just had "Whiskey Lullaby" playing over and over in my head. Why is it helping me feel better? I have no clue. I have played it nearly a hundred times since the visit and it helps me more and more each time.
"Whiskey Lullaby"
She put him out like the burnin' end of a midnight cigarette
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind
Until the night
[1st Chorus]
He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said I'll love her till I die
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby
(Sing lullaby)
The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind
Until the night
[2nd Chorus]
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby
She broke his heart he spent his whole life tryin' to forget
We watched him drink his pain away a little at a time
But he never could get drunk enough to get her off his mind
Until the night
[1st Chorus]
He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away her memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength he had to get up off his knees
We found him with his face down in the pillow
With a note that said I'll love her till I die
And when we buried him beneath the willow
The angels sang a whiskey lullaby
(Sing lullaby)
The rumors flew but nobody knew how much she blamed herself
For years and years she tried to hide the whiskey on her breath
She finally drank her pain away a little at a time
But she never could get drunk enough to get him off her mind
Until the night
[2nd Chorus]
She put that bottle to her head and pulled the trigger
And finally drank away his memory
Life is short but this time it was bigger
Than the strength she had to get up off her knees
We found her with her face down in the pillow
Clinging to his picture for dear life
We laid her next to him beneath the willow
While the angels sang a whiskey lullaby
I don't know why I keep getting songs popping up in my head. I don't know if the L-rd is putting them there or if my brain is making connections or spazzing out or what. But these songs are helping me little by little.
Friday, January 22, 2016
Rebound
As you guys know, exfiance and I still talk. Since that's kind of a long name, let's call him Jacob (no, that's not his actual name). Yesterday, he went to counseling because we had a bet, he lost it, and his forfeit was to go to counseling. I believe he needed to go when he was a child but he just never did. He had trauma growing up, similar to what happened to me but also vastly different. Regardless, trauma needs counseling most of the time and he certainly does.
I guess he and his counselor talked about me and why the two of us broke up. Jacob ended up calling me last night and telling me that he believes I was never really "in love" with him because he was just a rebound and distraction from my first rape. It has occurred to me that he may have been a rebound, but I had feelings for him. However, when he continually lied to me, that's when the love dwindled away because I had been loving him for the lies, not for him actually showing me his past scars. I think he may have started as a rebound, but I developed true love for him. Having him tell me he didn't think I ever loved him hurt. It hurt a lot.
While we were going out, there were times that he would compare me to his dead wife. He would say she was pretty, but I think you're prettier. Or he would tell me what she did to calm him down or what she did that he liked. Little things they developed like a counting game with squeezing each other's hands just to let the other one know they were there and thinking about them regardless of whether they were driving, fighting, whatever. At one point, he told me he loved me probably more than his wife. I didn't think much of it and I highly doubted it, but it stuck in my mind. Last night, he told me he didn't love me nearly as much as he had loved his wife. He covered it up by saying they grew up together, knew each other for way longer, and went through much more together than he and I had. Okay, this makes sense, I guess but it hurt to hear it. I mean, who says that? I would suspect he would love her more, but you don't say that to someone! Especially someone who is barely surviving and doesn't feel loved by anyone right now, especially friends or guys.
We keep talking and venting about our counseling sessions. I don't know why, but we do. In fact, we're having deeper conversations than we did when we were dating. It's really frustrating, actually. Anywho, he asked how I have been doing. I told him the following story:
Yesterday, I started my OB class and I have been excited about this class since I started college! I absolutely love watching births and seeing pregnant women and babies and everything that has to do with moms and babies. We started watching a birth in class (a video) and my eyes started tearing up. These weren't happy tears at a baby being born, these were tears of pain because the woman had her feet in stirrups and it reminded me of my SANE exam.
The next birth video was in a birthing center and my eyes teared up again and they almost spilled over. The video ended and I watched the wall for most of it because I was on the verge of sobbing. I couldn't catch my breath, I was hyperventilating, my heart was pounding, I was sad that I don't believe I will ever have babies, and I'm disappointed I was having so many troubles in a class that I have so been looking forward to forever! I want to be a midwife for goodness sake!!!
Whew, so that video ended and I kinda kept my composure. Lecture continued and we watched a third video towards the end. This was a water birth at home. About a minute into the video, my eye were filled with tears, I was having all the symptoms that I had in the second video and the tears started spilling. I jumped from my seat (which was in the back right next to the door, thank the L-rd) and I nearly ran to the bathroom. I got in there and there were other people. I washed my hands to make it seem like I was okay, but I absolutely wasn't. Then, all of a sudden, Beauty comes walking out of a stall. I dried my hands, looked up and said "hey! it's you!" The concern on her face was evident, she asked if I was okay. I said I was fine, booked it out of that bathroom and speed walked to the bathroom in the back of the building. Oh my goodness, I lost it! I was in a stall, sitting on the toilet, trying to keep my sobs as silent as possible and cried for about 5 minutes. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't stop shaking, I was losing my mind and it was terrifying! I waited for the other girls to leave, emmerged from my sanctuary and washed my hands, splashed cold water on my face a few times, and composed myself enough to go back to class. I zoned out for the rest of class just so that my body could sit there to keep my friends from wondering if I was okay.
On the phone with Jacob (exfiance) later that night, I explained all of this to him. He was kinda sweet about it and the most important thing is he listens to my rambling about my lack of coping with life right now. He asked me a few questions and we got to a point where I was explaining that I haven't been sleeping more than a couple hours each night because I can't fall asleep and I keep having flashbacks about him, exboyfriend and Country Boy. We discussed Country Boy's suicide and Jacob told me that I shouldn't be sad about him committing suicide. He said that me being sad and crying about it is selfish. I know it's selfish, but at the same time I need to be able to cope with what happened because it affected me terribly. You don't tell people not to cry or be sad if something happened in their life or they had a friend/family member die! You just don't do that!!! I ended up getting really mad, but Jacob just kept talking and I kept crying.
He ended by reverting to saying that I never loved him. He said he's not mad because he knows I have been in "survival mode" (according to my counselor because of the severe PTSD). He says he's proud of me for getting good grades and continuing with school even though my brain isn't functioning properly and barely surviving right now. He told me he thinks I'm a "badass bitch" because I keep on going even though most people would be staying in bed all the time and they would have given up a long time ago. He's proud of me for not killing myself and for not cutting in a few weeks. He says he's proud of me for getting help and for dealing with all of the troubles in my life without telling people about them.
I think that's one of the hardest things to do. If you have a broken leg or some reason to get surgery, people understand you taking time to recover and build yourself back up. They usually respect your privacy and the fact you need space. They are also more likely to want to help you with food, cleaning, groceries, etc because they know you may need help. The thing with rape is, you can't tell everyone. Well, you could, but it's likely to cause you more problems than it is to help you at all. I have chosen to tell a couple friends for support, but the vast majority of the people in my life (most of my friends, bosses, professors/instructors, patients, extended family, and even my dad) have no idea what's wrong with me. They see that I'm changing, withdrawing, sad, grumpy, and all around not being myself, but they don't know why. So, they tell me to suck it up and then get angry when they are not top priority on my list. But what am I supposed to do? I was burned out with all of the needy people in my life before any of this bad stuff happened. What am I supposed to do now that it is all I can do to wake up in the morning and consider getting out of bed?
We went on to talk about one of Jacob's friends from back in the day passing away this week. He tarted talking about a bunch of other friends that had died through his life, including his "father figure" who he really looked up to. Turns out, the father figure guy had a nephew that had committed suicide about the same time Country Boy did. They both also had the same name. We realized this all for the first time last night. Jacob had helped his father figure get the kid down from his noose once he was found. So Jacob asked for a picture of Country Boy to see if it was the same kid. He was freaking out last night saying it was so creepy and weirding him out that my friend that died might have been the same guy that he helped get down after the other kid's suicide. After I sent him the picture today, he said they weren't the same kid. It's a little bit of a relief.
Jacob also found out that Country Boy ended up being buried. About a month after he had died, I went to the place where his funeral was held (after clinical that day and I was in my whites), but they told me he had been cremated. Well, turns out Jacob called the funeral home and he was told Country Boy had been buried there. Okay, looks like I'm going there to see his grave tomorrow.
Jacob and I closed the conversation with him saying he'd pray that I would be able to sleep at a decent time last night. He called back like 2 minutes later saying: "Hey, I know this is going to sound weird, these aren't my words and I don't know what I'm saying, but do you remember the guy that you told me about? You know, the one that Satan made a bet with G-d that the guy wouldn't stay good, so G-d allowed him to be tested by Satan just to see if he would stay good?"
Me: "Job?"
Him: "Yeah! Well, while I was praying, I got this feeling that you are that guy. You are being tested. Now, this is going to sound really weird and I don't understand the words, but you are supposed to stand fast with your religion. Don't give up and keep doing what you're doing"
Me: "Okay, I'll try to keep my faith."
That was it. He doesn't talk like that ever. He's been reading a devotional book he got from me based off of the Love Dare book, but it's the year-long one. It still has challenges each week, but it also has a lesson and verse for each day. I'm surprised he's still doing it. I'm even more surprised he's gone to counseling and says he's going to keep going. We'll see. I don't foresee us getting back together, ever. I feel like the L-rd told me that he will change, but I won't see the fruits of this (my) labor but the story ends well for him. I hope it ends well for me too, but I guess we'll see.
Well, y'all keep on keepin' on. Stick with the faith and know that the L-rd is working, even if you feel like your whole life is going up in smoke. G-d is working on a billion things for every one thing He lets you have a glimpse of. I believe that's true for me too. Blessings guys.
P.S.
His prayer, along with mine, actually worked. Maybe it was psychological, but I think the L-rd helped me a lot. I fell asleep within about 10 minutes of hanging up from the second phone call.
I guess he and his counselor talked about me and why the two of us broke up. Jacob ended up calling me last night and telling me that he believes I was never really "in love" with him because he was just a rebound and distraction from my first rape. It has occurred to me that he may have been a rebound, but I had feelings for him. However, when he continually lied to me, that's when the love dwindled away because I had been loving him for the lies, not for him actually showing me his past scars. I think he may have started as a rebound, but I developed true love for him. Having him tell me he didn't think I ever loved him hurt. It hurt a lot.
While we were going out, there were times that he would compare me to his dead wife. He would say she was pretty, but I think you're prettier. Or he would tell me what she did to calm him down or what she did that he liked. Little things they developed like a counting game with squeezing each other's hands just to let the other one know they were there and thinking about them regardless of whether they were driving, fighting, whatever. At one point, he told me he loved me probably more than his wife. I didn't think much of it and I highly doubted it, but it stuck in my mind. Last night, he told me he didn't love me nearly as much as he had loved his wife. He covered it up by saying they grew up together, knew each other for way longer, and went through much more together than he and I had. Okay, this makes sense, I guess but it hurt to hear it. I mean, who says that? I would suspect he would love her more, but you don't say that to someone! Especially someone who is barely surviving and doesn't feel loved by anyone right now, especially friends or guys.
We keep talking and venting about our counseling sessions. I don't know why, but we do. In fact, we're having deeper conversations than we did when we were dating. It's really frustrating, actually. Anywho, he asked how I have been doing. I told him the following story:
Yesterday, I started my OB class and I have been excited about this class since I started college! I absolutely love watching births and seeing pregnant women and babies and everything that has to do with moms and babies. We started watching a birth in class (a video) and my eyes started tearing up. These weren't happy tears at a baby being born, these were tears of pain because the woman had her feet in stirrups and it reminded me of my SANE exam.
The next birth video was in a birthing center and my eyes teared up again and they almost spilled over. The video ended and I watched the wall for most of it because I was on the verge of sobbing. I couldn't catch my breath, I was hyperventilating, my heart was pounding, I was sad that I don't believe I will ever have babies, and I'm disappointed I was having so many troubles in a class that I have so been looking forward to forever! I want to be a midwife for goodness sake!!!
Whew, so that video ended and I kinda kept my composure. Lecture continued and we watched a third video towards the end. This was a water birth at home. About a minute into the video, my eye were filled with tears, I was having all the symptoms that I had in the second video and the tears started spilling. I jumped from my seat (which was in the back right next to the door, thank the L-rd) and I nearly ran to the bathroom. I got in there and there were other people. I washed my hands to make it seem like I was okay, but I absolutely wasn't. Then, all of a sudden, Beauty comes walking out of a stall. I dried my hands, looked up and said "hey! it's you!" The concern on her face was evident, she asked if I was okay. I said I was fine, booked it out of that bathroom and speed walked to the bathroom in the back of the building. Oh my goodness, I lost it! I was in a stall, sitting on the toilet, trying to keep my sobs as silent as possible and cried for about 5 minutes. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't stop shaking, I was losing my mind and it was terrifying! I waited for the other girls to leave, emmerged from my sanctuary and washed my hands, splashed cold water on my face a few times, and composed myself enough to go back to class. I zoned out for the rest of class just so that my body could sit there to keep my friends from wondering if I was okay.
On the phone with Jacob (exfiance) later that night, I explained all of this to him. He was kinda sweet about it and the most important thing is he listens to my rambling about my lack of coping with life right now. He asked me a few questions and we got to a point where I was explaining that I haven't been sleeping more than a couple hours each night because I can't fall asleep and I keep having flashbacks about him, exboyfriend and Country Boy. We discussed Country Boy's suicide and Jacob told me that I shouldn't be sad about him committing suicide. He said that me being sad and crying about it is selfish. I know it's selfish, but at the same time I need to be able to cope with what happened because it affected me terribly. You don't tell people not to cry or be sad if something happened in their life or they had a friend/family member die! You just don't do that!!! I ended up getting really mad, but Jacob just kept talking and I kept crying.
He ended by reverting to saying that I never loved him. He said he's not mad because he knows I have been in "survival mode" (according to my counselor because of the severe PTSD). He says he's proud of me for getting good grades and continuing with school even though my brain isn't functioning properly and barely surviving right now. He told me he thinks I'm a "badass bitch" because I keep on going even though most people would be staying in bed all the time and they would have given up a long time ago. He's proud of me for not killing myself and for not cutting in a few weeks. He says he's proud of me for getting help and for dealing with all of the troubles in my life without telling people about them.
I think that's one of the hardest things to do. If you have a broken leg or some reason to get surgery, people understand you taking time to recover and build yourself back up. They usually respect your privacy and the fact you need space. They are also more likely to want to help you with food, cleaning, groceries, etc because they know you may need help. The thing with rape is, you can't tell everyone. Well, you could, but it's likely to cause you more problems than it is to help you at all. I have chosen to tell a couple friends for support, but the vast majority of the people in my life (most of my friends, bosses, professors/instructors, patients, extended family, and even my dad) have no idea what's wrong with me. They see that I'm changing, withdrawing, sad, grumpy, and all around not being myself, but they don't know why. So, they tell me to suck it up and then get angry when they are not top priority on my list. But what am I supposed to do? I was burned out with all of the needy people in my life before any of this bad stuff happened. What am I supposed to do now that it is all I can do to wake up in the morning and consider getting out of bed?
We went on to talk about one of Jacob's friends from back in the day passing away this week. He tarted talking about a bunch of other friends that had died through his life, including his "father figure" who he really looked up to. Turns out, the father figure guy had a nephew that had committed suicide about the same time Country Boy did. They both also had the same name. We realized this all for the first time last night. Jacob had helped his father figure get the kid down from his noose once he was found. So Jacob asked for a picture of Country Boy to see if it was the same kid. He was freaking out last night saying it was so creepy and weirding him out that my friend that died might have been the same guy that he helped get down after the other kid's suicide. After I sent him the picture today, he said they weren't the same kid. It's a little bit of a relief.
Jacob also found out that Country Boy ended up being buried. About a month after he had died, I went to the place where his funeral was held (after clinical that day and I was in my whites), but they told me he had been cremated. Well, turns out Jacob called the funeral home and he was told Country Boy had been buried there. Okay, looks like I'm going there to see his grave tomorrow.
Jacob and I closed the conversation with him saying he'd pray that I would be able to sleep at a decent time last night. He called back like 2 minutes later saying: "Hey, I know this is going to sound weird, these aren't my words and I don't know what I'm saying, but do you remember the guy that you told me about? You know, the one that Satan made a bet with G-d that the guy wouldn't stay good, so G-d allowed him to be tested by Satan just to see if he would stay good?"
Me: "Job?"
Him: "Yeah! Well, while I was praying, I got this feeling that you are that guy. You are being tested. Now, this is going to sound really weird and I don't understand the words, but you are supposed to stand fast with your religion. Don't give up and keep doing what you're doing"
Me: "Okay, I'll try to keep my faith."
That was it. He doesn't talk like that ever. He's been reading a devotional book he got from me based off of the Love Dare book, but it's the year-long one. It still has challenges each week, but it also has a lesson and verse for each day. I'm surprised he's still doing it. I'm even more surprised he's gone to counseling and says he's going to keep going. We'll see. I don't foresee us getting back together, ever. I feel like the L-rd told me that he will change, but I won't see the fruits of this (my) labor but the story ends well for him. I hope it ends well for me too, but I guess we'll see.
Well, y'all keep on keepin' on. Stick with the faith and know that the L-rd is working, even if you feel like your whole life is going up in smoke. G-d is working on a billion things for every one thing He lets you have a glimpse of. I believe that's true for me too. Blessings guys.
P.S.
His prayer, along with mine, actually worked. Maybe it was psychological, but I think the L-rd helped me a lot. I fell asleep within about 10 minutes of hanging up from the second phone call.
Shameful Secrets
I regret to inform you guys that I like a Justin Bieber song... I swear, I listen to country and christian most times but I was hanging out at my Brother's job and he put on a song called "Love Yourself". I fell in love with the song because it's a decent message and reminded me of the break up with exfiance. I asked Brother who it was by and he dropped the news like the world was ending because he knew I would be upset by it. Regardless, it's a pretty solid song and I've listened to it about 900 times today.
I was helping Roomie cook supper and started playing it. When I play it then I feel the need to sing or hum along. I thought I was really being quiet but she said I have a good singing voice and it made me so happy! She teaches piano, knows how to sing on key (which I absolutely do not) and she learned guitar but doesn't like it because it hurts her fingers. I happen to like calluses on my fingers and so I'm still aspiring to learn piano and guitar and then maybe convince myself to get some singing lessons with someone... someday?... maybe...
I am happy today. It's been a really long time since I've been just okay and today I got the feeling back. I was supposed to be doing homework but my friend is a foster mom for a 10 week-old black lab puppy so I may have dropped by her house to assist in the foster parenting of the little guy. Oh my goodness, oxytocin overload! And it is absolutely wonderful. Oh, the friend is Big Red.
Big Red is really good at keeping her boundaries (which are very different from mine). She is great at speaking her mind, communicating, and also knowing how to say things so that they are clear but not really hard for the other person to accept. So, I had her ready the messages between the friend that was being not nice to me. Actually, let's name her because I keep talking about her. Ummm, let's call her Jersey.
Okay, so, Jersey is the friend who "yelled" at me in person and over text after the first day of class because Beauty and I went to the mall. I told you guys about the whole falling out/me finally standing up for myself thing that went down yesterday. As it goes with most drama in girl circles, as I am finding out recently, drama between two friends quickly gets discussed with all members of the group by al parties involved directly. From there, the outlying friends that get a take on the drama from the parties involved then attempt to play middle-man to decrease drama and attempt to save friendships. So, Beauty is trying to get Jersey to calm down and she is trying to tell me that Jersey is upset because I didn't tell her that yelling at me is okay when she "apologized". Side note, it's not an apology if you say "sorry, but..." I thought that would be common sense, but apologies aren't really something that people do anymore. I do, but I belong in the 1800's.
Anyway, Big Red read all of the messages to and from Jersey and I. I told her to be honest if I was being unreasonable, mean, a bitch, etc. I trust Big Red to be straight with me because she always is. She doesn't beat around the bush or candy coat it. She also has no problem calling people out when they are being weird or mean or anything.
After reading everything, she told me that I was okay and I worded my side tastefully, reasonably, and kindly. She told me Jersey is over-reacting and she supports my decision to cut Jersey from my immediate friend group. I'll still be nice to her and sit near her in class. Hell, I'll even invite her to stuff when I invite all of our friends. However, I will no longer be making a huge effort to make it to her events, nor will I be sharing any type of personal information with her anymore. You also better believe I'm deleting her off of Facebook once I graduate and move away. She is someone who gets a kick out of Facebook stalking others and I am not okay with that. I don't really share anything on there anyway, but she has a knack of reading into what is posted or liked and then she makes up stories that she believes as fact and she begins rumors and troubles...
So, I am happy today.
Exfiance hasn't messaged me today. He hasn't spoken to me since yesterday morning, in fact. Maybe he finally got the message that we're not getting back together and I'm sick of playing his games? The other part of me is scared he would commit suicide just to get back at me. I'm terrified that I would have to live with his blood on my head. I'm almost certain I couldn't handle another suicide being my fault.
That does honestly terrify me. However, I'm still happy today. I'm making boundaries, enforcing them, and liberating myself.
...but then there's Bieber and I am not coping with liking his song very well... it'll be okay guys, this is just a phase and it's just one song. Right? I hope!!!
I was helping Roomie cook supper and started playing it. When I play it then I feel the need to sing or hum along. I thought I was really being quiet but she said I have a good singing voice and it made me so happy! She teaches piano, knows how to sing on key (which I absolutely do not) and she learned guitar but doesn't like it because it hurts her fingers. I happen to like calluses on my fingers and so I'm still aspiring to learn piano and guitar and then maybe convince myself to get some singing lessons with someone... someday?... maybe...
I am happy today. It's been a really long time since I've been just okay and today I got the feeling back. I was supposed to be doing homework but my friend is a foster mom for a 10 week-old black lab puppy so I may have dropped by her house to assist in the foster parenting of the little guy. Oh my goodness, oxytocin overload! And it is absolutely wonderful. Oh, the friend is Big Red.
Big Red is really good at keeping her boundaries (which are very different from mine). She is great at speaking her mind, communicating, and also knowing how to say things so that they are clear but not really hard for the other person to accept. So, I had her ready the messages between the friend that was being not nice to me. Actually, let's name her because I keep talking about her. Ummm, let's call her Jersey.
Okay, so, Jersey is the friend who "yelled" at me in person and over text after the first day of class because Beauty and I went to the mall. I told you guys about the whole falling out/me finally standing up for myself thing that went down yesterday. As it goes with most drama in girl circles, as I am finding out recently, drama between two friends quickly gets discussed with all members of the group by al parties involved directly. From there, the outlying friends that get a take on the drama from the parties involved then attempt to play middle-man to decrease drama and attempt to save friendships. So, Beauty is trying to get Jersey to calm down and she is trying to tell me that Jersey is upset because I didn't tell her that yelling at me is okay when she "apologized". Side note, it's not an apology if you say "sorry, but..." I thought that would be common sense, but apologies aren't really something that people do anymore. I do, but I belong in the 1800's.
Anyway, Big Red read all of the messages to and from Jersey and I. I told her to be honest if I was being unreasonable, mean, a bitch, etc. I trust Big Red to be straight with me because she always is. She doesn't beat around the bush or candy coat it. She also has no problem calling people out when they are being weird or mean or anything.
After reading everything, she told me that I was okay and I worded my side tastefully, reasonably, and kindly. She told me Jersey is over-reacting and she supports my decision to cut Jersey from my immediate friend group. I'll still be nice to her and sit near her in class. Hell, I'll even invite her to stuff when I invite all of our friends. However, I will no longer be making a huge effort to make it to her events, nor will I be sharing any type of personal information with her anymore. You also better believe I'm deleting her off of Facebook once I graduate and move away. She is someone who gets a kick out of Facebook stalking others and I am not okay with that. I don't really share anything on there anyway, but she has a knack of reading into what is posted or liked and then she makes up stories that she believes as fact and she begins rumors and troubles...
So, I am happy today.
Exfiance hasn't messaged me today. He hasn't spoken to me since yesterday morning, in fact. Maybe he finally got the message that we're not getting back together and I'm sick of playing his games? The other part of me is scared he would commit suicide just to get back at me. I'm terrified that I would have to live with his blood on my head. I'm almost certain I couldn't handle another suicide being my fault.
That does honestly terrify me. However, I'm still happy today. I'm making boundaries, enforcing them, and liberating myself.
...but then there's Bieber and I am not coping with liking his song very well... it'll be okay guys, this is just a phase and it's just one song. Right? I hope!!!
"Love Yourself"
(Justin Bieber)
For all the times that you rain on my parade
And all the clubs you get in using my name
You think you broke my heart, oh girl for goodness sake
You think I'm crying, oh my oh, well I ain't
And I didn't wanna write a song cause I didn't want anyone thinking I still care
I don't but, you still hit my phone up
And baby I be movin' on and I think you should be somethin'
I don't wanna hold back, maybe you should know that
My mama don't like you and she likes everyone
And I never like to admit that I was wrong
And I've been so caught up in my job, didn't see what's going on
And now I know, I'm better sleeping on my own
Cause if you like the way you look that much
Oh baby you should go and love yourself
And if you think that I'm still holdin' on to somethin'
You should go and love yourself
But when you told me that you hated my friends
The only problem was with you and not them
And every time you told me my opinion was wrong
And tried to make me forget where I came from
And I didn't wanna write a song cause I didn't want anyone thinking I still care
I don't but, you still hit my phone up
And baby I be movin' on and I think you should be somethin'
I don't wanna hold back, maybe you should know that
My mama don't like you and she likes everyone
And I never like to admit that I was wrong
And I've been so caught up in my job, didn't see what's going on
And now I know, I'm better sleeping on my own
Cause if you like the way you look that much
Oh baby you should go and love yourself
And if you think that I'm still holdin' on to somethin'
You should go and love yourself
For all the times that you've made me feel small
I fell in love, now I feel nothin' at all
Had never felt so low when I was vulnerable
Was I a fool to let you break down my walls?
Cause if you like the way you look that much
Oh baby you should go and love yourself
And if you think that I'm still holdin' on to somethin'
You should go and love yourself
Cause if you like the way you look that much
Oh baby you should go and love yourself
And if you think that I'm still holdin' on to somethin'
You should go and love yourself
And all the clubs you get in using my name
You think you broke my heart, oh girl for goodness sake
You think I'm crying, oh my oh, well I ain't
And I didn't wanna write a song cause I didn't want anyone thinking I still care
I don't but, you still hit my phone up
And baby I be movin' on and I think you should be somethin'
I don't wanna hold back, maybe you should know that
My mama don't like you and she likes everyone
And I never like to admit that I was wrong
And I've been so caught up in my job, didn't see what's going on
And now I know, I'm better sleeping on my own
Cause if you like the way you look that much
Oh baby you should go and love yourself
And if you think that I'm still holdin' on to somethin'
You should go and love yourself
But when you told me that you hated my friends
The only problem was with you and not them
And every time you told me my opinion was wrong
And tried to make me forget where I came from
And I didn't wanna write a song cause I didn't want anyone thinking I still care
I don't but, you still hit my phone up
And baby I be movin' on and I think you should be somethin'
I don't wanna hold back, maybe you should know that
My mama don't like you and she likes everyone
And I never like to admit that I was wrong
And I've been so caught up in my job, didn't see what's going on
And now I know, I'm better sleeping on my own
Cause if you like the way you look that much
Oh baby you should go and love yourself
And if you think that I'm still holdin' on to somethin'
You should go and love yourself
For all the times that you've made me feel small
I fell in love, now I feel nothin' at all
Had never felt so low when I was vulnerable
Was I a fool to let you break down my walls?
Cause if you like the way you look that much
Oh baby you should go and love yourself
And if you think that I'm still holdin' on to somethin'
You should go and love yourself
Cause if you like the way you look that much
Oh baby you should go and love yourself
And if you think that I'm still holdin' on to somethin'
You should go and love yourself
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
Worst Part About Break-ups
Seeing as this is the second official break-up I've had from a guy, kinda my third (if you count the kid I "dated" for three weeks by avoiding him the entire time). However, the worst parts about a break-up for me are 1) missing the guy's family, 2) having so much left unsaid and so many questions unanswered, 3) missing the guy's company, and 4) being angry about what they did/didn't do. Now, they are all fairly equal in my brain, but I go through cycles where each one seems more prominent at any given time.
1) I miss their families terribly. Trial-run's mom loved me. Country Boy's mom (even though we didn't date) loved me. Exboyfriend's whole entire immediate and extended family loved me. Exfiance's mom absolutely adored me and even took me shopping. Unfortunately for me, I loved all of these people too! Breaking up with the guy automatically breaks me off from being loved by their families, but I almost miss their families more than I miss the guy because I felt so wanted and accepted into another person's life. Their families thought I was good for the guys and their families typically hadn't liked other girls they had brought home and so they were somehow surprised that they liked me when I was brought around. I miss that and the relationships I had developed with the family members. I loved that when the guy and I were fake arguing in front of them, the family members usually took my side. Haha, they were all jokes, but some of the fake arguments had roots in discussions where I had supported my side and the guy didn't understand until his family took my side.
2) This is the worst. Since Country Boy died, I obviously have so much left unsaid to him.
When I broke up with Exboyfriend, I only told him that what he did was not okay. I wish I could have told him that what he did was rape and that he absolutely needs to not do that to anyone else. I wish I could let him know how badly I'm messed up because of that, but I don't want to mess him up or make him feel guilty. I'm scared that could lead to another suicide like Country Boy.
With Exfiance, I have been terrible. I have been yelling at him over text and questioning everything. He told me the other day that he was sick and tired of me questioning what he's told me. I apologized for taking my anger out on him and being a bitch. It's not like I was harassing him, but he would text me and that would always end up with me picking a fight because I'm ridiculously angry at him for lying to me and hurting me for so long. I'm mad at myself for believing and defending him.
The other night, when I was up at 0200 the night before my class because I can't sleep lately, I wrote a text and decided not to send it because I didn't want to hurt him more than I have. I don't believe in revenge or hurting people just because they hurt me. However, since I couldn't tell him, I figured I would put it here so that I get it out. So, here it is: "I hate that I no longer get to be around your mom or your family in *other state* because I absolutely loved them. I hate that I have to get over the fact that the future I built in my head with you was all bullshit and will never happen. It makes me angry that I can't stop myself from wanting to talk to you, even though our relationship was based on lies and it wasn't ever really a healthy relationship by an means. I hate that my siled treatment doesn't last more than a few hours or a day with you. I hate that I haven't been able to sleep in days, even though I need to so that I can maybe escapre the constant noise and self-doubt in my head. I'm so angry at you and I hate that you made me cry. But, sometimes I hate that I can't cry because I'm out of tears and my heart moved on a long time ago. I hate that I'm so angry and that as soon as I had started feeling better from him (exboyfriend) and started trusting you, you found me and now I'm even worse than I was before. I hate yelling at you but I feel like I need to tell you these things. I hate having flashbacks of you, and him (exbf), and Country Boy every single stupid day. Several times an hour, in fact. I hate that I feel like there's nothing else for me to live for because I am completely convinced that I will never be happy, or be able to escape what has happened, for the rest of my life."
I know, I sound like such a bitch! That's why I didn't send it. This would have caused so much pain and damage to him. So, I never sent the text and I never will.
3) I miss their company. I miss all of them. Country Boy died way too early and he made me angry, but that was not reason for him to take his life and I still feel like it was at least partially my fault that he killed himself. Trial-run guy was my best friend for most of freshman year and a good chunk of sophomore year, but we don't talk much anymore and I miss his friendship and the way he would laugh at what I thought was funny, even if they were icky nursing stories or stiff he didn't understand. I miss exboyfriend for his calm demeanor and the way he showed me off to his friends and he was so proud to dance with me. I also miss the small-town life I got with him. I miss exfiance for the way we texted and called each other frequently. I would tell all of them about my day and what I was excited or upset about. I miss that sharing and having someone to talk to. I miss looking forward to hanging out with any of them and feeling special when we had a date planned. If only the best of each of them could be synthesized into one guy, I think we could work. That's unrealistic though.
4) Despite the good, I'm still angry with each of them. I'm angry with them for expecting sex from me. I hate that it was so easy for them to push me aside when they didn't "feel" like being with me or they found something more fun to do on a day we had plans. I'm angry at Country Boy for killing himself. I'm angry at my actual two boyfriends for abusing and assaulting me. I hate that they all made me love them for different reasons and then pushed me away slowly but surely and then they blame me for the break up.
I hate that I miss them. I strongly dislike that this is my history and the life I have to deal with. I hate that regardless of what happens in this life, I know that someone else has it worse. That makes me feel shallow, insignificant, and weak. I despise feeling that I'm not good enough. It breaks my heart daily that I still love all of them, even though I have been terribly hurt. I don't understand why I remain alive and keep waking up each morning. Why are break-ups so incredibly difficult? Why is this the path I walk? I'm terrified that I am the one to blame for all of my problems.
Still, I know the L-rd provides and cares for me.
This is the biggest mystery to me of all.
1) I miss their families terribly. Trial-run's mom loved me. Country Boy's mom (even though we didn't date) loved me. Exboyfriend's whole entire immediate and extended family loved me. Exfiance's mom absolutely adored me and even took me shopping. Unfortunately for me, I loved all of these people too! Breaking up with the guy automatically breaks me off from being loved by their families, but I almost miss their families more than I miss the guy because I felt so wanted and accepted into another person's life. Their families thought I was good for the guys and their families typically hadn't liked other girls they had brought home and so they were somehow surprised that they liked me when I was brought around. I miss that and the relationships I had developed with the family members. I loved that when the guy and I were fake arguing in front of them, the family members usually took my side. Haha, they were all jokes, but some of the fake arguments had roots in discussions where I had supported my side and the guy didn't understand until his family took my side.
2) This is the worst. Since Country Boy died, I obviously have so much left unsaid to him.
When I broke up with Exboyfriend, I only told him that what he did was not okay. I wish I could have told him that what he did was rape and that he absolutely needs to not do that to anyone else. I wish I could let him know how badly I'm messed up because of that, but I don't want to mess him up or make him feel guilty. I'm scared that could lead to another suicide like Country Boy.
With Exfiance, I have been terrible. I have been yelling at him over text and questioning everything. He told me the other day that he was sick and tired of me questioning what he's told me. I apologized for taking my anger out on him and being a bitch. It's not like I was harassing him, but he would text me and that would always end up with me picking a fight because I'm ridiculously angry at him for lying to me and hurting me for so long. I'm mad at myself for believing and defending him.
The other night, when I was up at 0200 the night before my class because I can't sleep lately, I wrote a text and decided not to send it because I didn't want to hurt him more than I have. I don't believe in revenge or hurting people just because they hurt me. However, since I couldn't tell him, I figured I would put it here so that I get it out. So, here it is: "I hate that I no longer get to be around your mom or your family in *other state* because I absolutely loved them. I hate that I have to get over the fact that the future I built in my head with you was all bullshit and will never happen. It makes me angry that I can't stop myself from wanting to talk to you, even though our relationship was based on lies and it wasn't ever really a healthy relationship by an means. I hate that my siled treatment doesn't last more than a few hours or a day with you. I hate that I haven't been able to sleep in days, even though I need to so that I can maybe escapre the constant noise and self-doubt in my head. I'm so angry at you and I hate that you made me cry. But, sometimes I hate that I can't cry because I'm out of tears and my heart moved on a long time ago. I hate that I'm so angry and that as soon as I had started feeling better from him (exboyfriend) and started trusting you, you found me and now I'm even worse than I was before. I hate yelling at you but I feel like I need to tell you these things. I hate having flashbacks of you, and him (exbf), and Country Boy every single stupid day. Several times an hour, in fact. I hate that I feel like there's nothing else for me to live for because I am completely convinced that I will never be happy, or be able to escape what has happened, for the rest of my life."
I know, I sound like such a bitch! That's why I didn't send it. This would have caused so much pain and damage to him. So, I never sent the text and I never will.
3) I miss their company. I miss all of them. Country Boy died way too early and he made me angry, but that was not reason for him to take his life and I still feel like it was at least partially my fault that he killed himself. Trial-run guy was my best friend for most of freshman year and a good chunk of sophomore year, but we don't talk much anymore and I miss his friendship and the way he would laugh at what I thought was funny, even if they were icky nursing stories or stiff he didn't understand. I miss exboyfriend for his calm demeanor and the way he showed me off to his friends and he was so proud to dance with me. I also miss the small-town life I got with him. I miss exfiance for the way we texted and called each other frequently. I would tell all of them about my day and what I was excited or upset about. I miss that sharing and having someone to talk to. I miss looking forward to hanging out with any of them and feeling special when we had a date planned. If only the best of each of them could be synthesized into one guy, I think we could work. That's unrealistic though.
4) Despite the good, I'm still angry with each of them. I'm angry with them for expecting sex from me. I hate that it was so easy for them to push me aside when they didn't "feel" like being with me or they found something more fun to do on a day we had plans. I'm angry at Country Boy for killing himself. I'm angry at my actual two boyfriends for abusing and assaulting me. I hate that they all made me love them for different reasons and then pushed me away slowly but surely and then they blame me for the break up.
I hate that I miss them. I strongly dislike that this is my history and the life I have to deal with. I hate that regardless of what happens in this life, I know that someone else has it worse. That makes me feel shallow, insignificant, and weak. I despise feeling that I'm not good enough. It breaks my heart daily that I still love all of them, even though I have been terribly hurt. I don't understand why I remain alive and keep waking up each morning. Why are break-ups so incredibly difficult? Why is this the path I walk? I'm terrified that I am the one to blame for all of my problems.
Still, I know the L-rd provides and cares for me.
This is the biggest mystery to me of all.
Thursday, October 22, 2015
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:
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.
- Do you feel safe at home?
- Do you feel safe in your relationship?
- Are you depressed or feel down?
- Do you harm yourself?
- Do you ever wish that you would die or try to kill yourself?
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.
Monday, September 21, 2015
The Break
In lieu of LOTS of recent fights with the fiance, I suggested a break. I learned a couple of things today: 1) many of us, including myself, do not believe in breaks (I knew this before but right now, I feel it is appropriate) 2) there are great misunderstandings between genders as to what a "break" in a relationship is.
Do you guys watch Friends? I hope you do, it's a delightful show. Anyway, Ross and Rachel start dating and they start having a lot of problems. Rachel decides she needs a break. To her, this means they simply do not talk for awhile. For Ross, a break means that the relationship is on pause but it is like a break-up so he can now go see/sleep with other people. And so he does... and then Rachel is devastated and hurt and angry. This whole fiasco is simply because of the differences in understanding between genders.
To me, a break is where the relationship is still intact, but the couple is simply not talking to each other for a time so that they can hopefully both do some thinking and reevaluating. To fiance, a break means that we are broken up. I cleared the air and explained what I was actually wanting in addition to calling it a break but he got all sorts of upset and angry because he thought I was breaking up with him (for the third time). Now, I get why he would be hurt, especially with it being the third time, but I feel like I was clear when I told him what I was expecting a break to be and what I needed from this time. After the air was clear and he was understanding that we are simply not talking for a few days/weeks we hung up the phone and that was that.
Not even 5 hours later, and as I was writing this post in rage, he called. The terms of the break was that I would call him when I have thought about my stuff and after I was ready to talk to him whenever that happened to be in the next few weeks. He called and told me he couldn't live without me. It's going to take some time for him to prove that to me because I am tired of not being treated right. However, I move forward with cautious optimism. I pray that our relationship works, but I know that I am strong and self-sufficient and I do not need a man. They are a blessing, and we learn a lot by being tied to another human being in such a way as marriage, but being single has it's blessings too.
Interesting turn of events, I really wasn't expecting any of that. I was literally just about to start on the last paragraph (starting with: "not even 5 hours later"; but it wasn't going to be written to start out that way...) and he called.
Y'all, please pray for me and pray for fiance. We need tender hearts to be able to serve each other and listen to the L-rd. We both need the L-rd, desperately.
Meanwhile, I could desperately use a break from school. I am beyond stressed out, my days are running together, and I have so many assignments due all the time! I ended up dropping my sexual assault class because I was getting nightmares and flashbacks. Needless to say, the Professor and Dean approved the dropping of the course. So, I now have more time!
New Roommate is so absolutely supportive. She listened to me rant and rave and be sad and depressed and angry and everything for about 2-3 hours today. She just sits there and listens and encourages me. She knows everything that has happened, watches me when I can't leave my bed for days on end, and she still has such a tender spot to try to help me through all of this by allowing me to ask her for what I need her to do. Oftentimes, I simply ask her to listen. Sometimes I ask her for advice and she helps to "nurse" me back to being semi-mentally healthy by helping me find ways to stay busy, encouraging me to spend time out of the house doing activities I enjoy, making sure I am eating and she even assessed my self-harm ideation status because she knows I've had a rough past, even though she didn't know how rough until she asked if I had ever had those thoughts. I am almost certain she has no idea I have tried to kill myself on several occasions back in 8th grade. Guys, she is so sweet and tender and I don't want to ruin her with my cynicism and anger at the world and at life. However, I am so beyond grateful for the way G-d has allowed her and I to meet each others needs when we both needed roommates and how we've been able to pour into each others lives with the love and G-dly advice only Believers can give to each other. Now, she is Catholic and I am Messianic Jewish, but we serve the same G-d and believe in the same Messiah. We are called to love each other and that is certainly what I plan to do because I absolutely adore her!
Do you guys watch Friends? I hope you do, it's a delightful show. Anyway, Ross and Rachel start dating and they start having a lot of problems. Rachel decides she needs a break. To her, this means they simply do not talk for awhile. For Ross, a break means that the relationship is on pause but it is like a break-up so he can now go see/sleep with other people. And so he does... and then Rachel is devastated and hurt and angry. This whole fiasco is simply because of the differences in understanding between genders.
To me, a break is where the relationship is still intact, but the couple is simply not talking to each other for a time so that they can hopefully both do some thinking and reevaluating. To fiance, a break means that we are broken up. I cleared the air and explained what I was actually wanting in addition to calling it a break but he got all sorts of upset and angry because he thought I was breaking up with him (for the third time). Now, I get why he would be hurt, especially with it being the third time, but I feel like I was clear when I told him what I was expecting a break to be and what I needed from this time. After the air was clear and he was understanding that we are simply not talking for a few days/weeks we hung up the phone and that was that.
Not even 5 hours later, and as I was writing this post in rage, he called. The terms of the break was that I would call him when I have thought about my stuff and after I was ready to talk to him whenever that happened to be in the next few weeks. He called and told me he couldn't live without me. It's going to take some time for him to prove that to me because I am tired of not being treated right. However, I move forward with cautious optimism. I pray that our relationship works, but I know that I am strong and self-sufficient and I do not need a man. They are a blessing, and we learn a lot by being tied to another human being in such a way as marriage, but being single has it's blessings too.
Interesting turn of events, I really wasn't expecting any of that. I was literally just about to start on the last paragraph (starting with: "not even 5 hours later"; but it wasn't going to be written to start out that way...) and he called.
Y'all, please pray for me and pray for fiance. We need tender hearts to be able to serve each other and listen to the L-rd. We both need the L-rd, desperately.
Meanwhile, I could desperately use a break from school. I am beyond stressed out, my days are running together, and I have so many assignments due all the time! I ended up dropping my sexual assault class because I was getting nightmares and flashbacks. Needless to say, the Professor and Dean approved the dropping of the course. So, I now have more time!
New Roommate is so absolutely supportive. She listened to me rant and rave and be sad and depressed and angry and everything for about 2-3 hours today. She just sits there and listens and encourages me. She knows everything that has happened, watches me when I can't leave my bed for days on end, and she still has such a tender spot to try to help me through all of this by allowing me to ask her for what I need her to do. Oftentimes, I simply ask her to listen. Sometimes I ask her for advice and she helps to "nurse" me back to being semi-mentally healthy by helping me find ways to stay busy, encouraging me to spend time out of the house doing activities I enjoy, making sure I am eating and she even assessed my self-harm ideation status because she knows I've had a rough past, even though she didn't know how rough until she asked if I had ever had those thoughts. I am almost certain she has no idea I have tried to kill myself on several occasions back in 8th grade. Guys, she is so sweet and tender and I don't want to ruin her with my cynicism and anger at the world and at life. However, I am so beyond grateful for the way G-d has allowed her and I to meet each others needs when we both needed roommates and how we've been able to pour into each others lives with the love and G-dly advice only Believers can give to each other. Now, she is Catholic and I am Messianic Jewish, but we serve the same G-d and believe in the same Messiah. We are called to love each other and that is certainly what I plan to do because I absolutely adore her!
Monday, March 30, 2015
More Suicides!?!
Dad's friend's wife just committed suicide. Nobody knew she was depressed until they found her suicide note. She sat in a closed garage with all of their cars running and I think the husband found her. I'm still numb.
It's been a year since Country Boy died.
At lunch mom wondered how nobody could tell she was depressed. I mentioned that many people don't know when others are depressed and brought up that I have been depressed since 5th or 6th grade and she didn't know. She got sad and asked if I had ever had suicidal thoughts. I told her I tried at least 5 times in 8th grade. Mom started crying. Brother was there and he didn't know what to do. I didn't either and I still feel so bad for breaking my mom's heart like that but shouldn't she know? I went and sat next to her because we were in a restaurant and I knew she needed a hug. Now she asks me how I'm doing all the time. She told me that if I ever feel sad or if I am not happy when I get married that I shouldn't try to kill myself but should call her instead. She hasn't told Dad yet. We don't know if that would help him decide to get treatment for his depression/bipolar or if it would just hurt/anger him and possibly push him over the edge.
Life is such a struggle but no excuse to kill yourself. On a selfish note, my list of suicides needs to stop growing.
It's been a year since Country Boy died.
At lunch mom wondered how nobody could tell she was depressed. I mentioned that many people don't know when others are depressed and brought up that I have been depressed since 5th or 6th grade and she didn't know. She got sad and asked if I had ever had suicidal thoughts. I told her I tried at least 5 times in 8th grade. Mom started crying. Brother was there and he didn't know what to do. I didn't either and I still feel so bad for breaking my mom's heart like that but shouldn't she know? I went and sat next to her because we were in a restaurant and I knew she needed a hug. Now she asks me how I'm doing all the time. She told me that if I ever feel sad or if I am not happy when I get married that I shouldn't try to kill myself but should call her instead. She hasn't told Dad yet. We don't know if that would help him decide to get treatment for his depression/bipolar or if it would just hurt/anger him and possibly push him over the edge.
Life is such a struggle but no excuse to kill yourself. On a selfish note, my list of suicides needs to stop growing.
Suicide Anniversary
Friends, I have made it a year since Country Boy committed suicide. Granted, I didn't learn about it until April 9, but we are celebrating me surviving a very rough year in my life.
I want to hang out with people today to keep my mind occupied but everybody's busy. Oh well, I'm surviving the day and only cried for about 30 seconds twice. That's pretty good!
I was told today by Beauty that I am made of "wife material". What is that? She said that because every guy that goes out with me is convinced he needs to marry me. Is that just because that's what guys do or is that because of me? Boyfriend told me I'm the best girlfriend he's had (out of 3-4 before me) but I don't know what that means either.
We got to go shooting this weekend and out of like 20-30 clays that we launched, I hit one. ONE! That's terrible! The first time I went shooting I hit all but 2-3 out of 20. Good gracious I've gotten worse. I also got to help feed the cows! Oh my gosh, I love cows. There are new little babies that are only about a week old and they get so excited they start running around with each other for no reason. So cute! They gave me cow kisses. I like cow kisses. The older ones also follow me around and that was even before I gave them cake/treats! Ugh, I just cannot get enough of them.
Also, I got a letter in the mail today telling me I got a scholarship for $3500! I wish I would have applied to more last year because this scholarship is usually not given for more than about $1000-$2000 so maybe I could have gotten a lot more help last year and stayed out of such huge debt. Oh well, the L-rd will provide for me to get out of my crazy debt. Yay! In order to get the scholarship, I even had to have an interview. Since I was at clinicals the only day they had the interviews, they ended up allowing me to have a phone interview. I was so scared they didn't like me or that they weren't happy about having to do it over the phone but they gave me such a big award. L-rd willing I will get lots of other scholarships and maybe be able to start paying off some of my interest on the unsubsidized loans I've had to take out.
So, my rough day is getting better and I'm much stronger than I was a year ago. My life has changed dramatically from that point. Granted, I thought my world was turned upside down because Brother told me he was moving out, a week later I broke up with the boy I was "trying" a relationship with, and then Country Boy killed himself a week after the break up. That on top of a very long, really bad bout with depression, two jobs, and a general life meltdown, I was not in a good place at all.
I want to hang out with people today to keep my mind occupied but everybody's busy. Oh well, I'm surviving the day and only cried for about 30 seconds twice. That's pretty good!
I was told today by Beauty that I am made of "wife material". What is that? She said that because every guy that goes out with me is convinced he needs to marry me. Is that just because that's what guys do or is that because of me? Boyfriend told me I'm the best girlfriend he's had (out of 3-4 before me) but I don't know what that means either.
We got to go shooting this weekend and out of like 20-30 clays that we launched, I hit one. ONE! That's terrible! The first time I went shooting I hit all but 2-3 out of 20. Good gracious I've gotten worse. I also got to help feed the cows! Oh my gosh, I love cows. There are new little babies that are only about a week old and they get so excited they start running around with each other for no reason. So cute! They gave me cow kisses. I like cow kisses. The older ones also follow me around and that was even before I gave them cake/treats! Ugh, I just cannot get enough of them.
Also, I got a letter in the mail today telling me I got a scholarship for $3500! I wish I would have applied to more last year because this scholarship is usually not given for more than about $1000-$2000 so maybe I could have gotten a lot more help last year and stayed out of such huge debt. Oh well, the L-rd will provide for me to get out of my crazy debt. Yay! In order to get the scholarship, I even had to have an interview. Since I was at clinicals the only day they had the interviews, they ended up allowing me to have a phone interview. I was so scared they didn't like me or that they weren't happy about having to do it over the phone but they gave me such a big award. L-rd willing I will get lots of other scholarships and maybe be able to start paying off some of my interest on the unsubsidized loans I've had to take out.
So, my rough day is getting better and I'm much stronger than I was a year ago. My life has changed dramatically from that point. Granted, I thought my world was turned upside down because Brother told me he was moving out, a week later I broke up with the boy I was "trying" a relationship with, and then Country Boy killed himself a week after the break up. That on top of a very long, really bad bout with depression, two jobs, and a general life meltdown, I was not in a good place at all.
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Intense Weekend, I Could Have Died
I spilled the beans to Boyfriend yesterday about the ultrasound. I am not sure if I started it the right way, but I said everything I wanted to say and left out what I shouldn't have said, like about breaking up with him if it's really bad.
He took it like a champ. I think he saw that I was terrified and he knows I don't cry (hardly ever and NEVER in front of anyone else) but a couple tears threatened to stream down my face. He hugged me and I was able to hide it, so I thought, but he told me it was okay for me to cry. He's a worrier too, and I am not used to relying on anyone else for strength, but somehow I can with him and he stayed strong for me and encouraged me. He told me that we would go through this together and I believe that he will/would stick with me through whatever this is. That's new for me. I'm used to being the strength for my friends and for being there for them through/at doctor appointments and scary life things. I am not equipped to let someone else do that for me but I had one friend come with me to my ultrasound and I spilled my fears to her afterwards. I laid it all out on the table with Boyfriend. Mom has gotten all of the information from the very beginning for stuff that I never talk to anyone about.
When I was on my way to his new house this weekend with Roommate in the passenger's seat next to me, we hit black ice. We were on a paved country highway, I was going about 10 mph under the speed limit and we had just passed a few on-coming cars on the two lane highway (one lane each way). I corrected the car successfully about 3-4 times before we did a 180 and ended up in a ditch backwards. If we had been 10 feet further down the road we would have rolled the car and fell off a 15 foot drop off. If we had been a minute earlier we would have hit the oncoming car and I could have killed both of us and whoever was in that car. If we had been a minute later, we would have gotten hit by a semi truck. Roommate's step-dad and cousin were at their house and they came pulled us out. If they had been looking out of their window, they could have watch the entire thing! That's how close we were to them. Praise the L-rd for His hand on us and the scare of a lifetime but support seconds away. When I got back to their house I decided not to continue on to boyfriend's house and the L-rd whispered to my heart that He wasn't going to let me die just yet. With the health scare I am currently going through, that was surprisingly comforting for the moment and I was able to sleep through the night really well when I hadn't hardly slept the night before.
Last night at work I kind of helped save my patient's life! He was on an IV of 125 mL/hr and had not voided for about 12-18 hours because the doctor had the catheter pulled the day before. This is not logical to me but whatever. The pt has dementia and was combative. When I arrived he started coughing with a really wet cough and spitting out what he coughed up. The nurse was notified and he kept suctioning the pt but did nothing besides that. I had just learned about fluid overload in class so I already had my suspicions. Almost every patient on the floor last night was off the wall! There were bed alarms going off all the time and a bunch of sitter patients without sitters because we just didn't have enough staff and yet we were over staffed according to hospital parameters.
As the night progressed I kept pointing out the cough to my nurse and I kept sitting the patient up so that he could clear his throat, but he should have been NPO because he can't swallow right now. I pointed that out and it was dismissed. At about 0400 I checked the pt's O2 sat because I was curious how he was doing, even though I had just taken vitals an hour before. His O2 was 75%! I called the nurse and was told to slap 2L on him. He went up to 86% so I called again. Half an hour later another nurse comes in and tells me to turn it up. 4L only got him to 89% for a moment and then he started desat-ing really quickly. I run to grab a non-rebreather and cranked it up to 15L but that still only held him at 86-89% with me telling him to cough over and over.
Also at about 0400 we did a bladder scan and it showed he had 1000 mL+ of urine in his bladder. The nurse was called but he didn't come in until 0500. 1600 mL drained in a matter of minutes! The nurse was not in for the rest of the night to check on him even though I had continued to report things and the other CNA's (all of which are nursing students and there were 3 more CNA's in addition to me) told him they thought the pt was fluid overloaded. Nothing got done. When the day shift nurse came on she started to do stuff but quickly got pulled away to another emergency so the day CNA/sitter came in and we took over. She is a student nurse too so we called respiratory therapy and the RT that came up was impressed that two CNA's/Nursing Students handled everything the way that we had and we had gotten to the bottom of it when our nurses were too busy with other stuff.
Thinking back, I should have reported a lot more to my RN or gone to the charge, but it didn't occur to me to do so in the moment. I take a lot of the blame for my pt last night decompensating so much, but if I had not been in nursing school and hadn't checked his O2 an hour after vitals (normally spaced 4 hours apart) then it would have been so much worse. So, I go back and forth between believing it was my fault and being frustrated that I was not listened to. I will trust myself more next time and try to better advocate for my patient. He made it through the night and I am so beyond grateful that the L-rd taught me everything I needed to know in class before experiencing what I did last night. I'll have to tell my professor and clinical instructor about it tomorrow.
Talking to mom this morning, I learned she was diagnosed with endometriosis at about my age. I don't know why she didn't tell me before today, it would have been a handy bit of info about a month ago when I called her with my symptoms... Oh well. She told me she wasn't supposed to be able to have kids. I asked if that made her happy when she found out she was pregnant with me because I had grown up feeling guilty and thinking that I ruined her big life plans because she had a baby and then got married because I was born. She told me she was so excited and very shocked because she didn't think it could happen. I've been crying all day because it was the first time I realized that she wanted me from the very beginning and I have no reason to feel guilty about being born. I don't think I've cried so much since Country Boy died and that's be a year on March 30. Well, except maybe when I had a breakdown last semester and started hyperventilating, but that was still about Country Boy. I cried hardcore for at least 2 hours that day and then it was a pretty constant threat of the damn breaking and me crying at any point after that for a couple days.
She wanted me from the very start. She says I am a miracle because wasn't supposed to get pregnant. Then the doctors wanted her to abort because they thought I had a brain tumor and I wasn't supposed to live past 2. I've been in countless situations where I was supposed to die but I always come out without a scratch. Not even a single broken bone (well, my clavicle was broken when I was born but it fixed up real quick and I can't even tell). I could have died in the near crash this weekend but didn't. The L-rd kept me alive through at least 5 suicide attempts and the last one I had taken 50 pills that were either half ibuprofen and half acetaminophen or all acetaminophen, I can't remember. I know that 10 acetaminophen ended a girl, who was my age when I tried it, in the hospital and she was sicker than a dog when she was brought into the ER. The worst thing that happened to me is that I would sleep for about 14 hours and then wake up really tired.
I don't know why G-d is keeping me around, nor do I understand why He performs so many huge miracles for me all the time, but I'm sure glad He does. He whispered to my heart that he has big plans for me but in true G-d fashion, He won't tell me what those are. That makes me laugh though, every time.
Oh, and Nurse Dee, I don't know if you got my comment on your comment awhile back but I sure wish I could hug you. I don't like giving hugs but I give them to special people. We don't know each other in person, but you are such a blessing to me. Thank you for your continued encouragement and sound advice! I think I have found the balance, for now, between being a little bit worried and keeping busy. I will keep you updated and I will email you if something happens that I need extra support on. Thank you Nurse Dee, I truly appreciate your kindness and support through this past year or two. It means so much to me.
He took it like a champ. I think he saw that I was terrified and he knows I don't cry (hardly ever and NEVER in front of anyone else) but a couple tears threatened to stream down my face. He hugged me and I was able to hide it, so I thought, but he told me it was okay for me to cry. He's a worrier too, and I am not used to relying on anyone else for strength, but somehow I can with him and he stayed strong for me and encouraged me. He told me that we would go through this together and I believe that he will/would stick with me through whatever this is. That's new for me. I'm used to being the strength for my friends and for being there for them through/at doctor appointments and scary life things. I am not equipped to let someone else do that for me but I had one friend come with me to my ultrasound and I spilled my fears to her afterwards. I laid it all out on the table with Boyfriend. Mom has gotten all of the information from the very beginning for stuff that I never talk to anyone about.
When I was on my way to his new house this weekend with Roommate in the passenger's seat next to me, we hit black ice. We were on a paved country highway, I was going about 10 mph under the speed limit and we had just passed a few on-coming cars on the two lane highway (one lane each way). I corrected the car successfully about 3-4 times before we did a 180 and ended up in a ditch backwards. If we had been 10 feet further down the road we would have rolled the car and fell off a 15 foot drop off. If we had been a minute earlier we would have hit the oncoming car and I could have killed both of us and whoever was in that car. If we had been a minute later, we would have gotten hit by a semi truck. Roommate's step-dad and cousin were at their house and they came pulled us out. If they had been looking out of their window, they could have watch the entire thing! That's how close we were to them. Praise the L-rd for His hand on us and the scare of a lifetime but support seconds away. When I got back to their house I decided not to continue on to boyfriend's house and the L-rd whispered to my heart that He wasn't going to let me die just yet. With the health scare I am currently going through, that was surprisingly comforting for the moment and I was able to sleep through the night really well when I hadn't hardly slept the night before.
Last night at work I kind of helped save my patient's life! He was on an IV of 125 mL/hr and had not voided for about 12-18 hours because the doctor had the catheter pulled the day before. This is not logical to me but whatever. The pt has dementia and was combative. When I arrived he started coughing with a really wet cough and spitting out what he coughed up. The nurse was notified and he kept suctioning the pt but did nothing besides that. I had just learned about fluid overload in class so I already had my suspicions. Almost every patient on the floor last night was off the wall! There were bed alarms going off all the time and a bunch of sitter patients without sitters because we just didn't have enough staff and yet we were over staffed according to hospital parameters.
As the night progressed I kept pointing out the cough to my nurse and I kept sitting the patient up so that he could clear his throat, but he should have been NPO because he can't swallow right now. I pointed that out and it was dismissed. At about 0400 I checked the pt's O2 sat because I was curious how he was doing, even though I had just taken vitals an hour before. His O2 was 75%! I called the nurse and was told to slap 2L on him. He went up to 86% so I called again. Half an hour later another nurse comes in and tells me to turn it up. 4L only got him to 89% for a moment and then he started desat-ing really quickly. I run to grab a non-rebreather and cranked it up to 15L but that still only held him at 86-89% with me telling him to cough over and over.
Also at about 0400 we did a bladder scan and it showed he had 1000 mL+ of urine in his bladder. The nurse was called but he didn't come in until 0500. 1600 mL drained in a matter of minutes! The nurse was not in for the rest of the night to check on him even though I had continued to report things and the other CNA's (all of which are nursing students and there were 3 more CNA's in addition to me) told him they thought the pt was fluid overloaded. Nothing got done. When the day shift nurse came on she started to do stuff but quickly got pulled away to another emergency so the day CNA/sitter came in and we took over. She is a student nurse too so we called respiratory therapy and the RT that came up was impressed that two CNA's/Nursing Students handled everything the way that we had and we had gotten to the bottom of it when our nurses were too busy with other stuff.
Thinking back, I should have reported a lot more to my RN or gone to the charge, but it didn't occur to me to do so in the moment. I take a lot of the blame for my pt last night decompensating so much, but if I had not been in nursing school and hadn't checked his O2 an hour after vitals (normally spaced 4 hours apart) then it would have been so much worse. So, I go back and forth between believing it was my fault and being frustrated that I was not listened to. I will trust myself more next time and try to better advocate for my patient. He made it through the night and I am so beyond grateful that the L-rd taught me everything I needed to know in class before experiencing what I did last night. I'll have to tell my professor and clinical instructor about it tomorrow.
Talking to mom this morning, I learned she was diagnosed with endometriosis at about my age. I don't know why she didn't tell me before today, it would have been a handy bit of info about a month ago when I called her with my symptoms... Oh well. She told me she wasn't supposed to be able to have kids. I asked if that made her happy when she found out she was pregnant with me because I had grown up feeling guilty and thinking that I ruined her big life plans because she had a baby and then got married because I was born. She told me she was so excited and very shocked because she didn't think it could happen. I've been crying all day because it was the first time I realized that she wanted me from the very beginning and I have no reason to feel guilty about being born. I don't think I've cried so much since Country Boy died and that's be a year on March 30. Well, except maybe when I had a breakdown last semester and started hyperventilating, but that was still about Country Boy. I cried hardcore for at least 2 hours that day and then it was a pretty constant threat of the damn breaking and me crying at any point after that for a couple days.
She wanted me from the very start. She says I am a miracle because wasn't supposed to get pregnant. Then the doctors wanted her to abort because they thought I had a brain tumor and I wasn't supposed to live past 2. I've been in countless situations where I was supposed to die but I always come out without a scratch. Not even a single broken bone (well, my clavicle was broken when I was born but it fixed up real quick and I can't even tell). I could have died in the near crash this weekend but didn't. The L-rd kept me alive through at least 5 suicide attempts and the last one I had taken 50 pills that were either half ibuprofen and half acetaminophen or all acetaminophen, I can't remember. I know that 10 acetaminophen ended a girl, who was my age when I tried it, in the hospital and she was sicker than a dog when she was brought into the ER. The worst thing that happened to me is that I would sleep for about 14 hours and then wake up really tired.
I don't know why G-d is keeping me around, nor do I understand why He performs so many huge miracles for me all the time, but I'm sure glad He does. He whispered to my heart that he has big plans for me but in true G-d fashion, He won't tell me what those are. That makes me laugh though, every time.
Oh, and Nurse Dee, I don't know if you got my comment on your comment awhile back but I sure wish I could hug you. I don't like giving hugs but I give them to special people. We don't know each other in person, but you are such a blessing to me. Thank you for your continued encouragement and sound advice! I think I have found the balance, for now, between being a little bit worried and keeping busy. I will keep you updated and I will email you if something happens that I need extra support on. Thank you Nurse Dee, I truly appreciate your kindness and support through this past year or two. It means so much to me.
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