I’ve not written in so long. I’ve honestly missed this community and keeping up with the lives of so many here. It feels good to know you aren’t the “only one” struggling through life.

I’ve missed you, but i resolve to blog more this year– because it’s cathartic and i just need the opportunity to release so much.



Life just SUX

I often wonder when things are going to get better.. not GOOD, not GREAT… just BETTER. For the love– I’m 45 am still living like a damn college student. Every month we pay bills (most of them) and then scrape by until the next check. It absolutely sucks– and it’s my fault.

My little visit in April to the hospital & my vacation from work– for the whole freakin month– drained us. I’m blessed that my job prorated my check & divided my “loss” over 6 months, but it also took $500 out of my pay. It may not seem like much to some, but that’s a car payment & water bill. And losing that has so screwed us every month.

Yes. I feel guilty. I can’t provide all the things I want for my kids. I can’t pay all my bills. I spend 1/2 of each months worried about having enough gas & money for emergencies. And I blame me for breaking down & costing us so much.

I just wish things were better.

Life ain’t good

Things are low.  Things are usually low, but bad these days.  We have no money and school starts tomorrow.  The car is in the shop and fixed, but we don’t have $3300 to pay for it.  The pain of failure looms so heavy right now.  So heavy, actually, that “options” are looking like good ideas… 

I could make my death look like an accident.  I’ve got plans… could I do that?  How long would they need to wait for a payoff? 

I have a cancer policy that pay $10,000 if I’m diagnosed with cancer.  Is praying for some “simple” cancer crazy? Again, how long would a payoff take? 
Seriously, I’ve given up expensive meds already.  What else should I give up to just make sure this family survives? 

Life ain’t good.

The weight

I’m so exhausted of this weight around my neck… this weight of darkness.  I’d like to say my days have been filled with joy and happiness of the upcoming excitement of my daughter’s upcoming high school graduation, but I simply can’t pull myself from the weight of my own depression that seems to have attached itself from my legs, neck and waist dragging down.  It’s completely relentless.

I just wish there were at least moments I could pull myself above the murky waters above to at least FAKE it, but these days I can’t.  Finding funding for university has proven to be impossible and seeing myself as the parent that can’t provide for my child who has done HER part is such a beating… it’s all just too much.  I can’t escape those old thoughts that being “gone” makes me far more valuable than being here.

The weight…. 

but my daughter deserves a beautiful graduation.

I hate depression.

Dr. appointment 

Oh fun.

Today I’m meeting with my psychiatrist… Not the one who put me in the mental institution.  Not the one who treated me while I was there.  Not the one who had rights while I was in.

He generally has interesting points of view about the whole situation– and not favorable ones.

I have to retell my story & explain why I didn’t call him.  I have to tell him all my symptoms and tell him what was happening.  Yeah… ugh

Can’t wait to hear what he thinks.


Well, it happened again.  

I have major depressive disorder and things haven’t been going so well.  And after months of struggling, I ended up in the hospital again on April 5.  Specifically, I ended up there because I had a plan to end my life and I was struggling with hallucinations.

This time I stopped taking my meds in December because I could no longer afford to pay for my meds,  bills and still buy gifts for my kids.  After our nephew died in November, we needed some happiness and I made the choice to leave meds off the list of needs… and I hate taking them.

January came along and so did more bills.  February offered no more opportunity to get ahead nor did March so I could not afford my medications.  (To be clear, I currently take about 35 pills a day on a “good day” and between 38-44 pills, 2 creams, 2 inhalers & a breathing machine for “bad” days.)  

I did visit my psychiatrist during this time and explain my situation.  He was understanding and he gave me a number to call for a discount and some samples until I could fill my prescription.  Unfortunately, I just couldn’t afford the cost even with the discount… $190 is still too much when money is tight.  So I would take a few pills here and there… a definite no no with psychotrophyics. 

So, by February I had begun to have auditory hallucinations.  They were a bit frightening at first… and sometimes upsetting, but manageable for the most.  But by the end of February, the visual hallucinations began and things got weird.  March brought odd hallucinations of cats, dogs walking in front of my car, people I’d never seen and shadows that scared me senseless more than once.  I could usually talk myself out of the fear and I never lost touch with reality, but things weren’t easy.

By April, I was depressed, struggling to get thru each day, and tired of fighting my own mind.  On the night of April 4, I’d decided to play a game with God.  As it turns out, I lost– or I guess, since I’m here, I won.  That night, I hallucinated again.  It was the only time I saw someone who had passed away and the only time a hallucination spoke to me.  This one time, my nephew was sitting in my living room in his ‘normal spot’.  He asked me why he was in the living room & wanted to know why I had been thinking about dying that night.  I had no answer.  When I put my head in my hands to think, he disappeared.  The next day, I went to my psychologist & turned myself over.

I spent 8 days inpatient and 15 days outpatient at the facility.  I lost almost the whole month of April… from April 5- May 3 from work.  Now,  I also must go to the counselor lead groups on Monday from 6:00-8:00 for the next 12 weeks.  I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and psychosis… go figure.  I was given new drugs, met great new people, lost weight & learned new strategies to work on my life.

This time I wasn’t as angry.  This time I didn’t fight the system & I wanted to learn.  This time I wanted to take something from the groups to make life different.  This time I understand that, no matter how hard I try, how good I am, how much I work, I’ll probably end up in the hospital


Help me, please!

I need HELP.. and answers.

Short and sweet, something is wrong.

I’ve been dealing with PTSD and my incredibly shitty childhood for a while now.  I’ve done an ok job, but I’m freaking out, literally.

I just watched a movie and was SEVERELY triggered. (Girl had a flashback of being molested and, although it was implied, it was obvious).  I felt it coming & tried to leave quickly.

As I walked out, I became very dizzy (as if I were drunk) and very nauseated.  My heart began to pound.  I faught not to dissociate in the lobby… it was horrible.

I’ve had panic attacks, but this just felt different.   Is this a response to being triggered? I just can’t shake it!


Things people Say

Dear lord… sometimes well meaning people can say the most hurtful things without understanding.  They try to make it better, but…

For instance-

God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.”  This, first, implies that God caused the abuse.  Personally, I want to believe God had nothing to do with the years of incest I survived.  In that case, God didn’t ‘give’ me anything, so he doesn’t control that element.

“It’s all in the past.  You have to pick up and move on.”  Pick up and move on?! Oh, like I broke a heel or failed a test?  Don’t you think I WANT to just move forward as if it were some small event? Of COURSE I wish I could.  I’m TRYING! 

Pray about it.  Give it to God.”  I wish.  I mean, it’s not like I don’t TRY.  But, if I were honest, I’d say I don’t always have much faith that God even knows who I am. I’m a Christian.  I do pray & attend church & study the Bible.  But do I believe He takes time to hear me? As for my childhood, I always want to reply with questions.  Don’t you think I prayed every time I heard him turn my doorknob?  Don’t you know how I prayed with tears in my eyes when I felt his hands touch me?  Don’t you understand how I believed I was his plaything because  I wasn’t ‘christian’ enough?  I wish prayer could just fix it… but it didn’t prevent the abuse, so…

I try to understand that people just want to help but just don’t know how.  For the most part, I just don’t share my pain or my ‘story’ because so few truly understand.

I guess that’s why I share here…