Dark part of healing- tunnel of darkness between old self and new

 Today is my former best friend's birthday, and I miss her.  I wish I could tell her happy birthday but she stopped responding and I think may have blocked me a couple years ago. I wish she had felt comfortable or brave enough to tell me why.

The same thing happened with my sister last year.  And I haven't spoken to my daughter but once in two years. My buddy I like to talk about space and science with hasn't really spoken to me much recently either. Same with just about everyone that was close to me, or who I considered a supportive person in my life has fallen out of reach.

What happened?  Did my borderline personality disorder spiral out of control and no one could take me anymore? Nope. 

I'm healing.  This is a dark part of a beautiful, lonely and painful journey, but I think it's the tunnel between hell and heaven on earth.

I have glimpsed and felt what life is like without CPTSD managing my life, and it's like the difference between a fresh strawberry sundae with homemade biscuits and whipped cream versus a frozen fruitcake shipped internationally and left at port for an extra month. If fruitcake is all I had ever known I'd still be living with the mucky dull sweetness disguised as desert. 

That life I've briefly experienced has been post DBT and between soul crushing betrayals and abuse by those I trusted.

Now I'm swimming in CPTSD on the regular because of events and actions that blindsided me.  I feel like I have to write this to be free of this heartache, to have a recording for Zoe if she ever is interested in my side of the story.  I wish I had discovered what Narcissism was before I lost my daughter, the pain of which has been unbearable and made me so grateful for disability. 

 

I would have been voluntarily off disability had these events not have happened.  I feel guilty almost everyday for not working, I've always been like that. At this point my soul is tired, I feel like I may have committed suicide and this is like my karmic hell, for those people that I thought loved me can hurt me back for how much my suicide hurt them?  But what I actually think is these people are damaged/hurt and incapable of love, and that I am slightly autistic and just don't see games/manipulation.  I have so much empathy, am highly sensitive, cry so easily and already blame myself for everything, making myself an easy target. 

Why would I act that way? My mom, the vodka-drinking, pretty-faced devil I've been working to please for 39 years. Until I quit June 15th of 2018, three months after my ex took my daughter with 18 hours notice.

Me even writing this story is inself an act of defiance.  I was taught at the tender age of 5 what happened if I spoke out.

Post DBT Update

Comment I posted on a YouTube video about Borderline:

I'm borderline, just graduated from a year of DBT and have been symptom free for 6 months.  I went from 'knowing' I'm a horrible human to knowing that we're all equal humans that mess up sometimes.  I'm now my own best friend, my inner dialogue has changed and after several suicide attempts, years of ideation, several psych ward stays and years of loathing myself I now love myself.   Recovery IS possible.  Years of therapy, psychiatrists and a bunch of meds didn't help and really made me feel worse.  DBT rewired how I think and it might help you, as well.

2 year update: I'll be honest, there have definitely been some low moments that were similar to my pre-DBT symptoms, but these moments were far fewer and less severe, and I was able to get myself out without professional help by returning to DBT skills/Effective Moments, yoga/exercise, meditation, gratitude journal and epsom salt footbaths while watching 90's Harrison Ford movies. 

If you're suffering now, please remember you're not alone, there is hope and chances are you're a great person that cares deeply about others. You might not be able to see what's good about you because childhood traumas left your brain trained to judge yourself and others through a negative lens, which colors everything you see without you even being aware it's there.  Negative thoughts give rise to negative emotions and if that process happens automatically, then not only does the person feel negative often, but one also has to process that negative emotion before then trying to see the positive in a situation.

Like if I'm running late to work when someone turns in front of me and proceeds below the speed limit for miles in a no-pass zone, I'm liable to feel pretty enraged at the inconsideration of this other driver- if the negative lens is on my brain. In the process of breaking negative thinking pattern, but while the negative lens is still cast, negative emotions are going to erupt at the thought of this inconsiderate asshole making me and others even later for work. After feeling the negative emotions so they'll pass, I'm left with then looking for why this person may have had a legit reason or another positive view of the situation.

Once negative thinking patterns have been replaced by positive-thinking habits, then when the dude pulls in front of me and drives slower than the speed limit, I automatically think "Wow, this guy must either be new or having a rough day, who knows, but there is absolutely nothing I can do so I'm going to accept the situation."

The second approach bypasses negative feelings that erupts when reading other people negatively and instead leads straight to acceptance, which keeps my emotional state manageable.

DB What?

I wrote For Me, Suicide is Always on the Table a few years ago and never thought that would change.

I always wondered what the fuck DBT was and how could it possible help me not be me.  Here's an example of how I applied it. I've been pretty fucked up recently and wrote this when I wasn't. I'm fresh from the dark side though and reading this helped a little in pulling me back. I doubt it could help anyone else, but man if it could, I'm happy to share.  That is a scary, shitty place to get stuck.

Photo by Fernando Venzano at Unsplash

My 11 year old daughter is supposed to be at Girl Scouts camp this weekend so I was surprised to see her active on facebook. I wondered if camp was cancelled and tried calling but my calls were rejected. I tried messenger and called again with no luck until a text arrived: mom please stop. This stung more that I thought it should. She's a tween and I'm the parent, I should be able to handle this but my insecurities flared up and I wondered if my yelling last weekend drove her away.

I wondered if I should let her be or find out more information and decided to text a question mark.  She called and told me she didn't want to talk me.  My mind immediately assumed it had been right all along and I am a bad mom.


You might wonder why I would jump to that conclusion right away, a valid question. It's because I was raised in an abusive, alcoholic home where the hate towards me was palpable. I'm terrified I will unwittingly carry on the cycle.  I'm not, but the fear is always lurking like a shadow.

Photo by Tyson Dudley on Unsplash

I asked my daughter why she didn't feel like talking and her response was her throat hurt.  I pretended to believe her while pain radiated through my chest. I quickly got off the phone as my thoughts wandered down the familiar path of self-loathing.

It was as if my brain had a distorted lens that I was now looking through. All of a sudden I was interpreting recent events as evidence I'm bad, not liked, rejected, etc. I looked at unanswered texts I sent and suddenly thought I was ignored on purpose. I looked back at recent interactions and viewed my behavior as bad, other's reactions as negative.

Photo by LoboStudio Hamburg on Stocksnap.io

Before DBT I would have continued down that painful path, combing through the mountain of evidence I had collected over the years proving my awfulness.

I used to live in suicide ideation, not by choice but because it was the only thing that made me feel better. It seemed everyday I was tumbling down a dark, suicidal spiral until imagining in detail every gory aspect of the death I thought I deserved. It felt like the only thing I could do to redeem myself for the pain I thought I caused.

Today is different. I've been in DBT for 10 months and have skills to escape the impossible hell that no one who hasn't been there could understand. In case you haven't heard of DBT, it stands for dialectical behavior therapy which is a fancy way of saying there's two sides of the therapy that happen at the same time: accepting myself the way I am while also accepting that I want to change.

Photo by Jessica Ruscello on Stocksnap.io

I've learned the sooner I catch myself and use skills the quicker and easier they work. I stormed out many times during the first few months and was really scared DBT wouldn't be able to help me but eventually it caught on.

If you're curious about the skills, the first one I used today is Describe. It's based on mindfulness and works how it sounds - I looked out the window and described to myself the green leaves rustling in the wind, the grey sky, the mango candle I could smell, the birds I could hear singing. It brought me back to the present moment and out of the past I was wading in. 

Photo by Vidar Nordli-Mathisen on Unsplash

The other skill I used is Check the Facts. I looked at the situation and considered the many possibilities besides what my gut was telling me to be true. I realized that my daughter is in a hotel room with a bunch of other girls her age and probably doesn't feel like talking in front of everyone while they're hanging out. I looked at my sister's unanswered texts and realized it was Friday night and she may have been on a date, tired, distracted - who knows? I thought about my best friend and instead of assuming he must be angry at me for some reason I realized the fact is I have no idea what is happening in his life.

When I first started DBT I doubt I would have caught these thoughts in time. I probably would have ended up dunking my face in a bowl of ice water for 30 seconds - that is also a DBT skill and is fantastic when it feels like your emotions are going to rage out of you. It activates the dive reflex in the body which slows the heart rate and calms you down.

Photo by Jakob Owens on Stocksnap.io

For me, suicide felt like a plague I couldn't shake. I knew in my gut that I was horrible and couldn't fathom anyone convincing me otherwise. The past had happened and there was no other explanation besides it was all my fault.  DBT got me 75% better but didn't fully dispel that belief until I read this answer on Quora.com by Brian Barnett. He explained how those with Borderline Personality Disorder form a subconscious belief that they and their feelings are inherently bad.  This was the answer I needed to see the past in a new light and destroy my belief that I was a horrible human being.

I don't want to come across as someone who has the cure but do want to offer hope to those that might not have any.  I used to scour the internet for anything that could help me, something to let me know that I wasn't alone and that it could get better but I didn't find that, instead it was therapists refusing to help BPD patients and horror stories from loved ones at their wit's end dealing with BPDers, which just crushed me further and validated my belief that I was awful.

Photo by James Pond on Unsplash

It takes me three hours and a ferry ride to get to DBT but not going isn't an option. I live in a rural area and when Obamacare passed I thought I'd be able to get help but couldn't find a DBT group that accepted Medicaid.

I went to the county behavioral health center because it was my only option with Medicaid. I sued them after they refused to fire a therapist that wanted to have sex with me.  I was then turned away from the neighboring county facility while in crisis and about to go through with my suicide plan. I already felt like the world hated me so when the only available help turned me away it brought me that much closer to tragedy. 

After a four year battle I was approved for Disability/Medicare and was finally able to get into a group. My DBT group has an 18 month wait list for medicare patients but somehow I started immediately, I think they sensed I was about to die. 

On the ferry to DBT

If you have Borderline Personality Disorder, struggle with self hatred and think about suicide I want to let you know you are not alone. What I've learned is our emotions and reactions that cause us shame actually make sense given what we've been through. Growing up in the environment that triggered this disorder was not our doing and there is hope for our lives to become worth living.

I seem to be on the other side now and want to help those still suffering. I had a hell of a time getting into DBT and if this is the case for you please leave a comment (anonymous is OK) with your city/state and insurance if you have it. I am interested in forming a nonprofit to bring DBT to those who need it.

Also, I heard Marsha Linehan speak about a grant her team was awarded to put DBT online so hopefully that will be coming in the future.

I greatly appreciate feedback so feel free to let me know what you thought of this post by commenting below.

DBH Facts

2010-2011: I was a patient at Discovery Behavioral Health (known as Jefferson Mental Health at the time). I saw a therapist for around 5 sessions and didn't really connect but continued to see the medication provider until I moved in 2011

2015: Moved back and went to Peninsula Behavioral Health in a neighboring county this time.  Was assigned a 55 male therapist going through a divorce that was sexually-inappropriate with me.  His behavior escalated over time.  In the beginning I asked him to stop.  He didn't.  Then I reported him to the med provider, she told me to give him a compliment sandwich.  Eventually he told me explicitly what he wanted.  I immediately reported him to the Director of Discovery Behavioral Health, Rue, where I had been a patient in 2010/2011. I told her because I didn't trust his facility after they told me to give him a compliment sandwich.  I also called Rue a few days later because that therapist wouldn't stop calling me and his facility told me they couldn't leave their desk to go ask him to stop.  I eventually sued Peninsula Behavioral Health because he wasn't fired.  We settled out of court for 50k in 2016 after he was fired.

4/18/2017: I had been doing really bad for months.  Not showering, eating, cleaning, laundry.  Was extremely suicidal.  Was found by police/ambulance after my mom had them track my phone and taken to emergency room via ambulance.  DMHP (county professional that decides what to do) let me leave the hospital as long as I agreed to go to Discovery Behavioral Health as it's only option when on medicaid. I happily agreed.  My mom had met me at the hospital and is my only support person in my life.  I had been stressing her out with emotional outbursts begging her to let me die. She was visibly relieved about me going to DBH. I warned her not to get her hopes up.

4/20/2017: I was called at 9 am by a 'crisis coordinator' claiming that I could not go to my 10 am intake because Rue said my medicaid was set to the neighboring county (my mailing address is in the neighboring county). I tried to explain that she was wrong,  I had had it switched in December 2016 so I could see my medical doctor.  The crisis coordinator wouldn't listen to me and I hung up in complete crisis.  All I could think about was walking down my driveway to Highway 101 and stepping in front of a semi because I knew I was a burden to my mom and I couldn't disappoint her and tell her there was no help for me.

I called Discovery Behavioral Health back and asked for Rue, the director and the person I reported my sexually-inappropriate therapist.   I told her who I was and begged for help.  My emotions were out of control, I was furious and begging for to let me be seen.  I told her I was going to step in front of a semi but she still said no.

I tried calling the DMHP but couldn't get ahold of them.

I walked down to Highway 101. I called Discovery Behavioral Health and spoke to the crisis line. I told them who I was and what I was doing and hung up.

I was walking to the bottom of the hill to get hit by the fastest semi possible when a sheriff stopped and eventually took me to the emergency room. 

Since I couldn't go to Discovery Behavior Health and I had medicaid, the DMHP on duty found me a bed at a psych ward where I spent 12 days adjusting to new meds.

My mom called Discovery Behavioral Health after she found out I was in the hospital to find out what happened and they told her I cancelled my appointment.  Fortunately you don't have to choose who to believe bc I have an app on my phone that records all my conversations (bc of memory issue due to meds).

5/9/2017- I had a suspicion that I want allowed to be seen because I had reported the sexual therapist and eventually sued Peninsula Behavioral Health. I called Discovery Behavioral Health and asked if a friend from another county could be seen if she was in crisis/suicidal and the crisis counselor said she could absolutely be seen, no problem.  I told him who I was and asked him to have Rue call me.  She never did.

6/1/2017: I contacted ombudsman and submitted a grievance stating that I was being discriminated against and felt unsafe knowing my only option for behavioral health would not help me. 

8/2017: received letter stating my grievance was reviewed and noted.

1/7/2018: Was taken to emergency room against my will by sheriff for stating to my mom I wanted to die.  I had used DBT skills to calm down and was no longer suicidal. 

1/8/2018: called sheriff's to explain what happened and told them how awesome the sheriff was on 4/20/2017 that saved my life.  The sheriff I spoke to was curious who it had been on 4/20/2017 and checked the 911 loss and could not find a call that day,  just the call on 4/18/2017 from my mom.

1/19/2018: Dawned on me that Discovery Behavioral Health had not called 911 on 4/20/17 even though I was in imminent danger.  The sheriff that saved me just happened to be driving by, which now makes sense why he was so confused.  At the time I was so distraught I never realized what had happened, I thought that even though Discovery Behavioral Health wouldn't let be seen at least they called 911. 

So I called Discovery Behavioral Health and asked if they kept a record of calling 911 and when she said yes, I had her check my records to see if they had for me on 4/20/17.  She couldn't find any record of me at all in the computer but told me she had heard of me.  When I asked why they refused to help me and why they hadn't called 911 she got gruff and told me she couldn't help me.  I have this call recorded, too.

Damages: 12 days inpatient that I wouldn't have had to do if they would have seen me.  Extreme emotional stress. I'm *so* lucky to be alive.  I feel unsafe knowing there is no help for me besides unnecessary hospitilizaton if I become suicidal and am on medicaid. I feel retaliated against for reporting the sexually-inappropriate therapist and suing to get him fired and protect others.

Suicidal, Begging For Help and Turned Away

I went to the hospital in the back of a police car yesterday against my will.  This was a first for me.  Last time I was in the back of a police car going to the emergency room I wanted to go.

It started when I woke up feeling bad about my past.  I have a lot of trauma from my parents I haven't dealt with yet and I live on my mom's property so when I ran into her while doing my laundry it triggered a severe wave of shame to overwhelm me.  My mom and I got into a heated discussion when my stepdad came barreling out of the back room with a finger pointed at me.  It felt like he hated me too so I ran out the door.

I ended up under a tree on the property.  It took me about 15 minutes to run through my DBT skills. I still felt sad because DBT does not take away emotion but provides a means to regulate them.  I went to the fifth wheel and was just starting a movie when I saw a sheriff pull into the driveway.

I went outside and was surrounded by four sheriffs.  I have had many positive interactions with this department but this time was different.  They acted like I had done something wrong.  I explained that I had been suicidal and ran away but did my skills and was much better, no longer suicidal at all.  They didn't believe me and forced me to go to the hospital.  The sheriff that drove me to the hospital was cold and short and wouldn't explain to me what law he was enforcing or why I had to go to the hospital.  Luckily I have skills now and was able to not react to his hostility.  Prior to DBT I think I would reacted and instead I accepted the situation so I could get back home to my daughter as soon as possible.  I saw the doctor briefly, explained myself and was promptly released.

The next day I called the Sheriffs to find out why this interaction was so different.  Turns out I had told my mom "give me a gun, I want to shoot myself" which she relayed to 911.  According to the sheriff deputy I talked to all they heard was 'gun' and that's why there were four of them and they were so serious.

It was during this call I learned the most horrifying fact and it has blown my mind.  A couple years ago I was seeing a male therapist that was going through a divorce.  He ended up telling me he thought about me when he pleasured himself, as well as many other disgusting comments.  I reported him to his facility but wasn't taken seriously.  I reported him to the neighboring county's facility, where I had been a patient years earlier.  I eventually sued the facility that employed him and was quieted with a 50k settlement, of which I got 20 after the lawyer and fees.  I wish I had taken it to trial but my lawyer basically said no.

A year after the lawsuit I was doing really bad.  I was in the emergency room three times in two weeks for suicide ideation.  The hospital set me up an appointment at the same facility that I had reported the sick therapist to and had been a patient of previously.

I was barely hanging on, waiting desperately for my appointment.  It had been weeks since I had showered or brushed my teeth.  An hour before the appointment I got a horrible phone call cancelling my appointment.  They claimed my medicaid wouldn't cover it because I don't live in their county but that was false, they were lying.  I tried to explain that I had fixed my medicaid coverage four months ago but it was like speaking to a brick wall.  She kept repeating herself and flat out ignoring what I was trying to communicate to her.

I hung up, cried and cried and started to picture my suicide in detail. I called the facility back and explained to the director but I was so upset and had been so desperate for help I was furious that they were denying me their services.  I begged and told her I was on the verge of killing myself and shared my plan with her but she still refused to let me keep my appointment.  I called 30 minutes later to thank them for pushing me to finally go through with suicide.

When I got to the location and began preparations to follow through with my plan a sheriff drove by and stopped.  I told him what happened and what I was doing and this guy was amazing.  He listened without judgement, validated what he could and offered me a ride to the emergency room which I gladly accepted- I just wanted help.

On top of all that, later that same day my mom called the facility to find out what happened.  She had been with me when they made the appointment and wondered why I was back in the emergency room.  They not only broke the HIPPA laws and spoke to her about me but they lied and told her I cancelled my appointment.  The very appointment that I begged them to keep.

After 12 days in the psych ward I was curious about the facility refusing to see me while in crisis and had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with my lawsuit against the neighboring facility.  I called and stated that I had a friend in crisis that didn't live in the county but was suicidal and they didn't hesitate.  They immediately said to bring her in, it didn't matter what insurance or where she lived if she was in crisis.

Since that phone call I filed a grievance with the ombudsman.  I described that I thought I was being retaliated against and I wanted to make sure that never happens again.  I got a letter saying they got my grievance and I tried to let it go.

Until my phone call with the Sheriff recently.  You see the sheriff couldn't find a 911 call on the day I was on the highway.  There is no report or call at all for me that day.  THEY NEVER CALLED 911.  That sheriff just happened to be driving by, which explains why he didn't have lights on.

Let me reiterate that: the mental health facility that is paid by the county and the only option for medicaid patients not only cancelled my appointment and refused to see me for a completely false reason (they lied, I've checked with medicaid- they lied about that and it didn't matter anyway, I was in crisis) they DID NOT CALL 911 after receiving a report that a suicidal person was in the process of carrying out her plan. Isn't a crisis line obligated to call 911 if a caller is in imminent danger?

I filed a complaint with the state of Washington but they closed the investigation citing not enough evidence to substantiate my claim.  I'm not pursuing a lawsuit because I don't think it would change anything and I don't want to take money that could help someone in need.

Ode to My Life

all around me they look
like something is on my face
I push it aside
but nothing's really there

I don't fit in 
not with anyone
too nice  too mean  to fat  too smart  too dumb
when will it ever end

it's not me they see
it's not me that's there
I'm alone and afraid
that I will never be

I wake up with dread
another night of terror
another night where I don't fit in 
not with anyone

I look up in the sky
the colors astound me
how can so much beauty exist
love too

you don't know
no one ever will
why I can love so much
and yet not a single thing

it's too intense
I can't bare
the pain I cause
I'm the pain

the world is too beautiful
sometimes there's a mistake
and what has been done
never should have been

when a wrong is right
and the mistake is fixed
the pain that was caused
will cease to exist

Proof It Was All In My Head

If you struggle with suicide ideation then this post may be triggering.  Please call the suicide hotline (1-800-273-8255) if you want to speak with someone.  Hopefully they won't put you on hold.

I think I'm really crazy.  I can't tell if I'm making up my problems or if they really exist.  I called my grandparents and am now convinced that I was right all these years.  My family doesn't like me.  The only reason I was ever invited to anything was only because I was family and even then they didn't really want me there.  When I cried to my grandparents that I have a mental illness and that's why I behave the way I do they reacted in anger.  My grandpa said that all I worry about are little things that only affect me.  What he didn't understand when I told him I don't brush my teeth is I can't do anything, literally anything.  Sounds simple, just go brush my teeth but I have so much hatred at myself that I won't let me do it.  It's a constant internal battle.

I hate myself so much that I hit myself a couple nights ago.  I hit my face so many times my jaw is sore and my eyes bruised.  I hate me for being such a bitch and creating all this havoc in my life.  There's something about me that turns people off.


**Update**

I sat in my car this morning waiting for the right semi to step in front of.   I was over-the-moon grateful for being accepted to the DBT program but now I'm convinced it's not working, which is a terrifying thought as it's my last hope.

I couldn't stop dwelling on how much everybody in the world would be much better off if I'd just take myself out.  After a few minutes my phone alerted me to a scheduled call with my DBT therapist.  I felt a little relieved as the phone rang, thinking that she'd be able to help me out of my spiral.  But that's not what happened.

After arguing with her about my interpretation of my life, that absolutely not a single person wants me around, I was so convinced I was right I eventually hung up on her.

My brain takes off, thinking I'm too lazy to walk my dog everyday so she'd be better off.  I'm too lazy to clean my place so my daughter would be better off without my mopey attitude, mood swings and messy place.

It's so embarrassing how filthy everything is but I just can't bring myself to clean.  'I'm not worth it' is what my brain says and unfortunately that's who's in charge.

I sat in my car for a almost an hour on the shoulder of the highway.  After a big semi that pushed my car went by I thought to myself 'Oh, that'd been a good one.  That would have got the job done.'

It was really strange because as I got closer to opening my door I felt better.  The emotional pain I carry in my chest got so tight it was difficult to bare until I decided to go through with it, to let a semi run me over.

I imagined what it would feel like to get hit,  pictured how my body would fly and wondered if I'd die instantly.  The more I thought about it in detail the more the pain lifted away and I felt relieved.  When i realized what I'd decided to do I cried like a small child that got her favorite toy thrown away, except this was my life.

After that hour and a river of tears, I told myself I would have done it already if I was going to go through with it.

The sharpest pain was the thought of hurting my daughter.  My mind immediately, even right this moment goes immediately to how I have mood swings and I was so lazy this weekend, she deserves better, her dad is more stable and every other reason my mind can come up with.

When I got home I messaged my cousin's wife after years of no contact.  I went from seeing my family every holiday to never.  I let this horrible disdain I felt from the family keep me away.  I felt shunned by everyone and had agonizing bouts of intense sadness and fear.  Last week I called my mom sobbing, just aching so hard in my chest with a burning desire to get me out of commission so I stop causing drama and irritating people's lives.  I became hysterical on the phone with her, crying "I'm bad" over and over while feeling it intensely with every ounce of my body.  I let pain take over and that's when my self hatred exploded to the point I beat myself up, hitting and punching my face.

This whole time I've been convinced the family didn't want me around based off of weird looks, sideways glances, small little things to the rest of the world but huge and life changing for me.  At least for now, hopefully DBT starts to work soon.  Any day now...

I had an epiphany today.   I have never been liked in my life.  Ever.  After someone gets to know me they never like me again.   The ending of my relationships happen suddenly but not surprisingly.

People who don't want to be my friend:

* J's group of friends
* J and his parents
* Starbuck's people
* Nordstrom people
* my dad's whole family
* Grandparents (my grandma avoids me)
* Stepmom and siblings
* Family friends

ANYONE that knows me.  I feel like I'm living in a nightmare by can't wake up.  All of my worst fears are true, I'm completely unlovable and always have been.

The only two people that I have contact with are my mom and daughter.  My mom speaks to me because she feels guilty.  My daughter is too young to know better, but she's getting old enough I'm having a poor effect on her.  My lack of hygiene among other things are rubbing off.

The problem is not with everybody else, it's with me.  I'm the problem.

People throw me away and move on to live happy lives.  I'm the problem and I don't know how to not be me.  I've tried, I can't figure it out.

Being Suicidal is Exhausting

What an exhausting morning.  I knew my grandma had lied to my mom last week when she called to find out why they don't have contact with me.  My grandma said that she didn't hear me tell her that I was on the verge of killing myself.  "It's hard to understand you when you get like that" she told me.  I knew exactly what she was talking about.

Borderline Personality Disorder sufferers feel emotions with the sensitivity of a third degree burn victim.  When I feel intense pain or anger my voice becomes deep and distorted, usually leaving me with a sore throat.  Sometimes I don't even sound human.

My pain this morning was agonizing.  So much so that I haphazardly pulled my car over, got out and sobbed uncontrollably.  The sobbing was loud enough a kind motorist stopped.  He stayed with me while I spoke with 9-1-1 dispatch.  I was scarred I would finally do it, finally kill myself.  Im already impulsive so throw a little fuel in my fire and it's over.

My worst fear was true: my grandparents were so angry they were purposely avoiding my contact.  I couldn't believe what I heard come out of my grandpa's mouth.  He was loud and harsh when he told me my phone number changed too much for them to try to call me.  Yeah... I guess getting a new number 2 years ago would make it impossible to call me.  Even after I left a suicidal message ending in rage, telling them I was on the verge of killing myself and to fuck off for never talking to me when I need them the most.

I spent 12 days in the hospital in April and no one came to visit once.  It's not usually something I think about but every once in awhile reality sets in: they visit anybody and everybody they know.  Why not me?  Why couldn't they call me after they found out I was mentally ill?

The problem is I present well.  I've been told over and over that there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with me, even by professionals.  My disability lawyer told me to go get a job the first time he met me, until I went Borderline on him one day.  My grandparents see me holding in depth conversations and appearing fine so they must not realize how sick I am.

Sometimes I don't shower for a week at a time.  I don't brush my teeth or put on clean clothes.  I feel like I don't deserve to take care of myself, like I am a really bad person.  I stay away from people because I don't want to bring them down.  I don't know what to say when someone asks me how I am without sounding like a buzzkill.

At least I know that it wasn't just in my head, my grandparents were really avoiding me.  Although this has thrown off my DBT homework: Checking the Facts.  The idea is to recognize what emotion is causing distress, for me it was sadness.  Then think about my interpretation of the facts then brainstorm other possible scenarios.  Unfortunately in my case my interpretation was correct.

After feeling intense emotions like this morning all I want to do is sleep.  It ruins the whole day.  My eyes are puffy and I'm slow and exhausted.  It's only 6 pm and here come my pajamas.

I hope your day was better than mine.

RIP Dad

My alarm went off at 6am the day my life changed.  I was up late the night before watching David Letterman.  I was groggy and unmotivated to meet the day but had no choice, so after hitting snooze four times I rolled out of bed and sloughed my way to the bathroom.  If I wanted to shower I had to get up before my angry step-dad, Rocky, came pounding on the door.

I stepped into the hot, steamy shower and let the water pour over me.  As I spread shampoo throughout my curls I could feel a clump of what felt like pine needles tangled up in a knot.  I worked the knot until I could feel the mass work free.  Barely awake, I half-assed looked at the clump and what I found left me with a cold shudder down my spine.  I was suddenly awake and staring at a big, black and thankfully dead spider.  Horrified, I quickly brushed it off my finger and watched it swirl down the drain.

I noticed the familiar stench of cigarettes leaking under the bathroom door and it wasn't long before I could hear the heavy footsteps of Rocky.  His footsteps echoed off the walls stained yellow with years of nicotine.  He was a Vietnam vet with brutal emotional scars that caused us all pain.

Boom, boom, boom!!

"Hey, you outta there sometime today or what?!" Rocky bellowed, most likely with a lit cigarette dangling out of his mouth.

“Yep, one minute” I reply.  I hurriedly dried off my short curves, expecting more booms from the door any second. Rocky was cold and mean, pure and simple.  He had no cares in the world except where his next beer was coming from.  It wasn't just the yelling, it was his lack of compassion and his desire to be a dick that left my sister and I scarred.

I quickly brushed my teeth for 10 seconds, rinsed my mouth and rushed out of the bathroom before Rocky really lost his cool.  I slid open the dark closet door and unzipped my clothes keeper. It zipped and I hoped prevented me from smelling like an ashtray.

I rushed out of the house before I smelled like a bar.  My boyfriend Rob would be pulling up any minute.   I waited on the street, under huge evergreens, and watched a pair of ducks waddle towards the creek at the bottom of the mountain.

                                                                                 ****

My parents rarely went to bed sober, but this night was different.  Even though it was Saturday they sauntered off to bed before 9pm.   Rob was with his buddies, my friends went to the mall and I was home by myself.  I watched a movie while resting my feet on the brick of our fireplace.  I was unsettled.  I kept looking furtively at the clock, expecting something to be wrong. I waited for the phone to ring but had no idea why... and then it rang.

It was 10:26 pm, no one ever called at that hour.   I rushed to the phone and was horrified to hear my aunt's voice.  I immediately asked her what was wrong, who was hurt, but she only wanted to speak to my mom.  I sprinted down the hall and burst into my mom's room with the phone in my hand.  I rushed over and thrust the phone into her hand.  Sleepily she asked who it was.  I told her Aunt Shari, my dad's sister.  I was terrified something had happened to my grandparents, who would do anything for me.

“Oh my god... uh-huh … oh, no... no, you tell her” my mom mumbled into the phone.  I kept asking “who?... who is hurt?... who is it?” but mom wouldn't look at me.  Finally she handed me the phone.

***

I fell to the ground mid-stride down the hall.  I couldn't believe what I'd just heard, it had to be a mistake.

“There was an accident, Eliza” my aunt said slowly.  It felt like she drew out every syllable.  I knew someone was hurt, who?  Who could it be?

“Uh-huh, who? Who is hurt?” I frantically blurted out, cutting her off.

“You're dad was in an accident” she told me with pain in her voice.

“Is he ok?” I asked, the dreadful question no one wants to ever ask.  “No honey, he's not” she said, her words dropping off into a muffled sob.  “He's dead” she cried.

And that was it.  That was the moment my heart dropped to the floor, taking me with it.  All this time... all this time I'd been avoiding him, and now he'd never know why.  I'll never be able to see him again, after I'm healed from the rape.  I won't get the chance to show him my bright smile... someday when I get it back.

My mom cradled my head in her lap as I cried.

                                                                            ***

Dad had warned me last October and I didn't listen.

It was a family dinner and everyone was there except my cousin.  My dad and the rest of our family had turned their backs on my troubled cousin.  I thought it was because he was a step-kid in the family.  I wanted to hang out and reassure him.

I went to his house against my dad's rules.   We were listening to Alanis Morrisette's debut album.  He had christmas lights up in his room.   And he raped me.

To be continued...