Past

I continue to try and make sense of what happened to me, as if understanding what happened will make it better. Nothing will make what my family did to me okay, but I deserve to love the rest of my life, even when I lost 18 years of it. I have always been somewhat quiet about certain events that happened throughout the years, while some I only remember tiny bits.

Throughout the many years I was with my grandma, there were multiple occasions that things became sexual. I don’t remember many times fully, only pieces of them. There is only one memory that I remember from start to finish. Its easy for me to block out some of the memories simply by telling myself they didn’t happen, which sometimes I do to protect myself from them.  It’s frustrating trying to make sense of what happened when truthfully there is no sense to it. There was no reason I deserved it, and I didn’t understand what was actually going on back then.

I remember my grandma sitting in corner of the living room in a large chair that was beige with colored lines throughout it, as if the entire outside of the chair was made with thin yarn. She sat there as I vacuumed and when I finished I put the vacuum away, unaware I had missed a spot in front of the couch. She looked at me and told me that I had missed it purposely because i’m lazy and don’t care, when in reality I truly just didn’t notice. I tried to explain that it was a accident and I would vacuum it, but no matter what I said it would not be the answer she wanted. She told me to come towards her, with the motion many people do with their finger gesturing you to come to them. I knew immediately what was going to happen but I always hoped that maybe I would be wrong, maybe I wouldn’t be hurt. I was hesitant to go closer like she was asking just in case should was going to hit me. The longer I stood away from her, the more she became aggravated, which added to a already bad situation. Finally she started yelling at me “Get over here, now!” and at that point fear started to creep in because I knew exactly what was going to happen now. I slowly took baby steps closer to her, praying she would take mercy on me, even though that never happened. When I was within two feet of her she reached out and grabbed my wrists, gripping so hard that later I had bruises. She pulled me the rest of the way to her. To the right of the chair when looking at it, there were two white laundry baskets stacked with folded clothes. She pulled me across her lap, hitting my face on the top laundry basket. She pulled down my pants and started spanking me. Usually I was lucky and she only did it three times, but this time she kept going. I think she stopped after around ten times. I thought she would just let me go and that would be the end of it, but not this time. She continued to hold me down, and I didn’t know why because this was the first time she didn’t just let go. A few seconds later I felt why, and I was frozen from shock yet crying from pain. I was in fifth or sixth grade, and never felt this kind of pain before.  She wasn’t using a object, only her hand. This was my second time ever feeling this, and two fingers was way to much, and she knew that, but she did it anyway. I could feel them causing incredible pressure and pain caused by her nails. She was do “a sexual motion” as ill put it. At one point the pain started to switch to feeling good, as she was “rubbing” me as she was doing it. It felt good but I didn’t understand why I couldn’t just stop myself.  Once I climaxed she stopped and pushed me off of her on the floor. I quickly pulled my pants back up and went away from her. She acted like nothing happened and went to the kitchen to do dishes. I just sat on the floor, crying, from the remaining pain and knowing I was powerless.

5/9/18

I thought that once I got comfortable with being here in PHP that everything would simply become easier. Truthfully I think the exact opposite is happening. The farther I come in program the more I begin to feel every emotion that has been hurting me for so long and its so uncomfortable, especially since I haven’t let myself feel them for so long. I always say I have a hard time letting my walls down for others to come in and understand me but the more I think about it, those walls are more like flood gates and its just kind of a matter of time until the emotions overflow over the gate and i’m forced to deal with them, instead of letting myself feel then bit by bit so the gate doesn’t overflow. I think that maybe thats what i’m finally really tying to do, let myself feel my emotions so they don’t end up overflowing.

Yesterday I met with my case manager and it was really hard to deal with honestly. I had wrote all of the self harm I do and then the exact opposite of it. The I wrote the consequences, risks, and pro’s to doing the action. When I was finished it was about two pages long which was honestly sad to look at. When I met with my case manager she read what I had wrote down and we talked about it, and I basically broke my own heart. For so many of the self harm action I wrote such distorted things in the pro column like “I feel the pain I think I deserve. Punishment. I will like myself more”. It was so sad to then read the actions such as no restricting, no cutting, no bruising, and reading things like “I won’t get the punishment I need, I will have no release, I will have to feel” in the consequence column. Like I never realized how distorted so many of my thoughts were until I was made aware of some of the things I wrote down. The thing is, the distorted thoughts that I wrote down weren’t from me, they were the exact things that grandma would do to me, and the things that I now do to myself because I keep thinking into the past. I let so much of my past control my present and I know if I don’t start to make changes then my past will continue to control me into the future. I want to know who I am without depression, without my grandmas voice in my head and me letting it control me. I have a option to not let it control me but I am, and I’m mighty and have the power to change that. I can regain control over myself and find who I really am. I will regain control of myself and see myself for who I really am, not my past.

I think a small piece of me is scared to find out who I am without all of these things hurting me. Probably because it makes me uncomfortable because I have never had it before and its such a big change, one I never truly thought I would be ready for. Sometimes the things you fear the most are the best things for you. I just have to come to terms with that now, which will take time, but there is no better time than now. I am really fucking mighty, hear me roar. 

4/11/18

“Was this self harm or a suicide attempt?”

How are you supposed to answer that question when you don’t even know yourself. What about when you tell everyone it was self harm because that is what you always say…. but maybe it wasn’t. What was actually going through your head as you sat there staring at the pills in your hand wishing you could take more? Were you truly hoping you would be okay, or was that your automatic response because you are too scared to show people that you truly arn’t okay? What then? I told you guys what happened this past weekend and typing that out was really hard for me, because I truly didn’t know if it was just self harm or if that actually could be considered a suicide attempt. I wasn’t ready to even consider accepting the thoughts that were going through my head at that time. I always see everything in black and white but this is different. This I keep trying to see in black and white and I feel like it falls into a grey area that I have no way of understanding. How do you even know what to ask to get help when you don’t even understand what the topic is.

Sitting there staring at the pills I was texting two people, however I didn’t tell them what I was doing in that moment. I told them ten minutes later when I realized I had no control over anything that would happen from that point on in my body. I knew it wasn’t a overdose, and truthfully that entire night I wanted so badly to take all of the pills I had, but I didn’t. I knew what would happen if I took all of them, but I didn’t know what would happen taking a certain amount. Is this too little? Is this too much? I was scared because there was so much that I didn’t know, and those two people I was talking to knew I was scared. The difference, one asked me if this was a suicide attempt and the other automatically assumed it was self harm. One questioned me when I quickly said it was self harm because she knew it could quite possibly be complete BS. The other was too focused on what was going on in my body physically to ask what was happening mentally.

I am suicidal, but that doesn’t mean I will for sure act on it, but it means I’ve considered. I have stood in the mirror and wondered if this was the last night that I would live or if I would get up tomorrow morning and go through the same routine I do everyday. Im strong, but do not underestimate the weak part of me. I know my depression is not me clearly thinking, but I listen to it, and some days it is more convincing than I admit to others. This is not a suicide note saying that I am giving up this week and I see no hope, this is a note asking that you see more than the words I say, because I will get hurt by protecting myself from others, and nobody will truly know what happened. This is a note saying I need you but I will never say it because that means I have given up a tiny piece of control that I am holding onto. I know some of you who read this blog and others of you I don’t know but wish I could. Understand me when I say this because this is the truth, I do not need to go to the hospital, I will not go into any program no matter how many messages you send me, but I need your help to keep me safe and I trust you to do that. Honestly, I don’t give a fuck if you only send me one text a day asking “How are you feeling”, but those of you who know me in person and have the privilege to read this, I need you, don’t make me invisible. That one text a day may mean a lot more than you think it does.

Im scared of hitting publish because I don’t know how some of you will react when reading this, and i’m not sure I am ready to actually know your reaction to it. Please be gentle.

 

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3/8/18

Two post’s in one week, that hasn’t happened in quite a while. This way, as you can tell from my last post, has been somewhat rough. Early this week I considered suicide, and I know it wasn’t me thinking clearly. I guess that’s the part that is the hardest to deal with when going through all of this, I am constantly fighting my depression, anxiety, and CPTSD. I am NOT my depression, anxiety, or CPTSD, but that does not mean that they aren’t there.

I see it like this, there are four people: Yourself, Depression, Anxiety, and CPTSD. We are all separate. Now, imagine that you are standing in a huge room filled with people sitting, but you standing in the middle with Depression, Anxiety, and CPTSD standing all around you. You are doing nothing wrong, but suddenly Depression, Anxiety, and CPTSD start screaming at you on the top of their lungs, so loud that you can’t even hear yourself think while everyone else is talking loud and acting like nothing is wrong.

Depression is screaming “You are worthless, pathetic, nothing. Why are you even still hear, why don’t you just kill yourself because you are worth nothing anyway.”

Anxiety is screaming “Oh my god we are gonna die you need to run this is a emergency I don’t know what is wrong right now but something will be wrong and what if they see you what will they think oh my god oh my god run!!!!”

CPTSD is screaming “Remember that time you were sexually abused, what about that time your dad threatened you, or that time your parents made you stand in the living room in bra and underwear and checked your body for cuts and still called your feelings invalid. Don’t forget those, but just in case I will remind you every ten minutes.”

No matter where you go, Depression, Anxiety, and CPTSD are with you, surrounding you. That is what it feels like for me all day everyday. Its like these three people are in your head screaming at you and never stop, all while you are trying to make them stay quiet so you can be “okay”. The worst part is that nobody else knows what is going on in your head other than the few people you have told that have been through it themselves. It’s a fight I go through everyday and never know how hard the fight may the next day. Lastly, imagine going through this every single day since you were a child. Sometimes you just need a day to take a breather and rest, but you don’t get that chance with this. You just have to remain strong and tell yourself that someday things will be better, even though there is always a piece of you that doesn’t know that for sure.

To those of you that read this and know exactly what I am talking about, I am so sorry you go through this. Nobody deserves to know what any of the feelings I post on here feel like, and if you ever think about giving up, remember that you are not alone and while you might now see a good future now, someday you will and you will be so happy you kept fighting. I love you and I will always support you because you are a beautiful person who deserves the world. You are so strong, never forget that.

2/19/18

The past couple days have been really hard, and even though I know it will all get so much better, it still sucks feeling like….. nothing. I was really proud of myself when I gave up almost all of my blades. That was something I never thought I would actually push myself to do and I was very very anxious after, broke down crying twice, but was still so proud of myself. There was only one other blade left in the kitchen and I thought I would be strong enough to resist how bad I wanted it, and I was for about a week. I cut last night, and honestly, if the blade was sharp, I would have kept doing it. I hate admitting that, because nobody wants to admit that they want nothing more than to cut themselves, but if I don’t own up to it, I’ll never get through it. It’s hard knowing that every time I self harm, I question why I even stopped in the first place. “Why can’t I just keep doing this, it helps? What’s so wrong with this? I’m not suicidal so it isn’t that big of a deal anyways.” This plays in my head on a continuous cycle that I can’t seem to slow down until I hit rock bottom.Where I feel nothing to the point I can’t even bring myself to get off the floor, the point depression takes over. It hurts, feeling nothing. Its a indescribable feeling when you are in so much pain physically and mentally but you can’t express any of it. I know right now i’m at the point where I just really wish I could cut again but, I know this is going to lead into suicidal thoughts. I’m not even scared I am going to commit suicide, because I know I never will, but thinking about suicide just straight up sucks. I hate that my solution to everything is to find a way out, whether its via self harm, suicide, or just running away from my entire life. Why can’t I just own up to life and deal with my problems instead of thinking of every possible way to escape.

On Wednesday, the advanced seminar starts, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I am such a detail oriented person and with this I have pretty much no details. Also, considering I just self harmed yesterday, I know I will be thinking about it during the seminar. I know I will be safe during it at least. I know this sounds dumb but I’m kinda scared I’m gonna cry.

When I would cry when I was younger my grandma would always scream at me more and call me a cry-baby and a worthless child and to just suck it up. My solution was to just hide whenever I cried. That’s why I always do my best to just shut down my feelings, if I don’t express them then maybe sometimes they don’t exist, which I know is complete BS. It’s not so much that I don’t want to feel, its more that I shut down, a lot…. and I’m not always aware I’ve done it.

As I’m typing this right now I’m breaking into pieces, and not even because something hurt me. I’m breaking down because right now all I want is to escape from life, in the form of self harm. I so badly just want that release and I can’t and excuse my language, but it really fuckin sucks right now.

Even though I feel like a pile of worthlessness right now, i’m sitting here writing this, because no matter what words I say, it will still be better than what I could be doing to myself. I am choosing to take care of myself even when I could be doing the thing I keep thinking about. I am proud of myself for choosing to type this, I am proud of myself for choosing to love myself.

1/30/18

“Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”

When translated, “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?” means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”. As I see things fall down around me and/or remember the times I watched everything go wrong and was powerless, I think to god to help me. Over the past few weeks however, I have started to wonder where god has gone, and if he is there to support me anymore. Everyone I talk to say that god does not punish us for what we have done wrong, yet I still feel that he’s doing exactly that. If god is not supposed to give us more than we can handle, then why did he give me all of this? Maybe I can’t handle this, so why did he give me this. I strongly believe that god has a set plan for all of us and that everything happens for a reason. If this is the case, then what is the reason for this? For my father to have cancer, for me to have gone through years of abuse when all I could do was take it. Is there truly a reason for all of that?

I want to trust god to take care of me and be there when I need him most, but considering I am doubting my beliefs now, how am I supposed to trust him when I need him the most. Everything is easier when we have exact reasons for everything that happens, but we can’t always have that. I keep trying to see that god doesn’t punish us for our wrong’s, but while I can see that in everyone else, I still feel like that’s what he is doing to me. I’m starting to feel truly alone, with not even god supporting me.

I always wish there was a reason all of this happened to me, a reason more than that my family knew what they were doing and just kept doing it anyway. I remember very clearly some of the times I was being sexually abused, many of the times things were physical, and way too many of the times it was emotional. I hate remembering those times and know that there might not be a actual reason I went through it other than some people have bad childhoods. I will never know if there is actually a reason for what happened no matter how many times I remember it all, no matter how many times I stay up at night praying. The only way I cope with not having a reason is telling myself that having gone through this will make me a great social worker someday and maybe I will be able to help those that went through the same pain I had to.

On a different note, I have always encountered people who didn’t believe in mental health, but I guess it was just never something I really encountered from someone I didn’t know. Today however, someone really offended me when telling me that my anxiety and depression was “just made up stuff that there shouldn’t be meds for.” and  she continued to say “I don’t believe in all that, all you need is to calm down, and just do some acupuncture.” It felt like she was completely invalidating my feelings and what I was even there for. She told me to just use a heating pad…… as if I wasn’t already doing this every day and night…. AND STILL FEELING PAIN. I was honestly just very annoyed with my experience there as a whole. What made it even worse was that was just the RN.   That wasn’t even the actual person who would do anything! When that person came in, she asked the general questions and said either I have to do the exam today because its a waste of time to wait according to her, or to take Motrin and see this helps. As if I don’t already do all of these things. Which I informed her of. Lets just say that I am never doing anything through health services at the college again. My first two times there were great but I’m done after this experience.

Once again, on a completely different note, there are a few memories that I keep thinking about and I don’t really know why they keep coming up. I don’t notice anything in particular that could be triggering them so its weird that they keep coming up like this. The first memory I really keep thinking about is the first time that I attempted suicide, and it hurts remembering every single detail of what happened. The second memory or I guess topic that keep thinking about is the sexual abuse. I admit this still bothers me a lot but I am scared to actually say what happened. If I don’t talk about it I guess then I can keep denying it happened. If I don’t get triggered to remember more, then maybe it didn’t happen. I know its probably wrong to think about it this way but no matter how hard I try to understand just got bad things are, I go numb and everything feels fake.

As of January 29th, I have gone two months and three weeks without self harm, and the urge to self harm is finally starting to go down a bit. I know there will probably be times when the urge to do it gets just as high as it was before, but even having two days in a row where I don’t have the urge to do it is amazing. I have had a lot of ups a downs the past couple weeks with my own emotions, and my dad. I know I never updated on my dad and I guess I was just so stressed that I forgot everything I even wanted to say in the process of typing these. He was in the hospital for about a week and is finally back home. It is definitely going to be a very rough journey from here on but we will do it the best we can. The one thing that really honestly helped me feel so much better was seeing some of the people I was at the seminar with back in November. It gave me a reminder to that I am cared about, that I am not alone. It gave me a big reminder to hold onto hope, a reminder I definitely needed.

 

The truth 1/16/18

The past couple months I have been getting pretty aggravated with my dad. Although   I never really liked my mom more than my dad, the more my father treats my mom like she’s a failure, the more I wish I could tell him how I actually feel. I will never be able to do that though, which kinda sucks. Everyday I notice my dad acting like my grandma even more, which just makes me wish I could yell at him more. Part of me wants to just be kind to my dad and pretend that everything is fine, but the other part of me can’t get over the fact that I wish I could tell him everything he has done to frustrate me my entire life.

“Dear Dad,

I wish I could simply say “I love you” and pretend that nothing ever happened between us. I wish I could look at you and see a wonderful, loving father figure that has never done anything to make me cry myself to sleep. I wish I could say that you mean more than the world to me. I wish I could say everything I just listed was true, but that would be a completely lie. The truth is, you made me feel like I was a worthless child that meant absolutely nothing in this big world. You made me feel like I didn’t deserve to live because I couldn’t make grandma happy. I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for what you did to me growing up but if I do, that does not mean that what you did was okay. I don’t forgive you for the first time I tried to really tell you what grandma did to me, and you just yelling at me that I was lying. I don’t forgive you for every single time you told me I needed to “be better” because the rest of the family were screw ups. I don’t forgive you for leaving me with grandma when you knew that she was screaming at me, swearing at me, and hitting me. I don’t forgive you for never helping me, for not seeing everything that led to me attempting suicide as a fifth grader. I hate remembering all the times when you were a good dad because it reminds me what you have turned into. You used to take me to all the swap meets with you and would buy me a sign from each one to hang on my wall. I loved doing that with you all summer, it was something I always looked forward to. I loved doing the paper route every Sunday with you and grandma, even though I usually fell asleep 30 minutes into the actual route. I loved spending quality time with you, the times when you didn’t yell at me, didn’t make me feel worthless. I miss that you. I want that dad back, I want the loving father that is deep inside you back. Why did you turn into someone who makes me feel like a disappointment. I don’t want to lose you and have the last months with you consist of you making me feel like a disappointment, you treating mom like a failure, and us feeling like we have already lost you in a way. I love you even when I hate you.”

I’ll be honest that there are a lot of things that I want to scream at my dad, but that’s something I will never do….again. I did it a lot when I was younger, to both my dad and my grandma. Well, and to my mom too. I was being raised by wolves and I started to be one myself. It wasn’t til my freshman year of high school that I started to understand that things were wrong, but not until my sophomore year that I fought for myself. I never thought I would end up here. Is it wrong for me to be mad at my dad for acting like a jerk (totally not the word I wanted to use)? Where is the line between getting mad at him for being jerk, and having to let it go because he has cancer? Am I being a bad person for being so mad at my dad and the world?