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...

What if it's true?

The nasty things about myself that I'm afraid might be true are confirmed when someone doesn't return a call, text or doesn't invite me to something.  Laughing at me, criticizing in any way- cut right through my heart and leave me in pieces.  The only thing that's kept me from only attempting suicide twice over all these years is the frail hope that the demon in my brain is wrong about me.  When someone doesn't love me back (perceived by the tiniest shift in energy from that person, usually having nothing to do with me I later find out, they're sick or lost their dog, etc) all those beliefs become my reality and I can't shake the knowledge belief dark stormy cloud of self-disgust that permeates every aspect of my life.

Yesterday Was a Bad Day

Nightmares have been terrorizing my sleep for the past couple months.  I think it's just another outlet for the constant barrage of negative thoughts about myself.  Yesterday in particular was a bad day.  Once again I was wishing for death, begging my friend to put me out of my misery.  He's an amateur chemist and a genius so I'm pretty sure he could cook up something that wouldn't get him in trouble.

During those moments of intense suicidal thoughts, it is a constant flood of intense pain.  It starts in my heart and radiates through my chest, down my abdomen and fades down my legs.  The pain is an eight on an emotional scale from one to ten.

I'd tell you about how my day started, but I can't remember.  I have no idea when I woke up, or if I made my usual coffee.  What I do remember is driving to my therapy appointment and imagining driving my car into each telephone pole.  I thought about what it would feel like to die, imagining in bloody detail my death.  I wanted to open my car door and fall out into oncoming traffic going 55 mph. I wasn't sure they were going as fast as I wanted if they were going to hit me.  I wanted it as awful as possible.

Next, I remember sitting in my therapist's office.  I felt rotten and hating everything she said.  All I could talk about was suicide and how bad I wanted it.  I asked her to help me die.  After about 10 minutes I left.  She called after me, asking me to stay but I just told her to leave me alone.

I remember driving away from the appointment, seriously considering driving to Alabama or anywhere else a long way away.

Hours later, sitting in my dark fifth wheel with all the curtains drawn, I heard a car door down my driveway.  Terrified that it was a bad guy, I called my friend to see if he had maybe decided to surprise me.  He hadn't and the more we spoke the more hysterical I became.

Once again the intense suicidal thoughts flooded my brain.  The pain radiated through mybody and it was all I could think about, the only thought that made me feel better.  Thinking there is a way to stop the pain is the only relief in those moments.  That's when I begged for his help in ending my misery. He listened and showed concern in his voice.  Just as quickly as they came, the suicidal feelings subsided.  My ill brain still knew that he was only speaking to me to be nice, though.  I would not allow myself to feel like he, or anyone, cared about me.

My first two attempts at suicide happened during one of those intense, painful suicidal flood of thoughts and emotions.  Both times, after I swallowed the pills, I felt so relieved to know that the pain would end soon, and I and everyone around me who I thought I tormented, would be free of my terribleness.  

Today I'm great.  Go figure that one out... please?  Because I have no idea why I'm better.  My meds are the same.  I took the same fish oil, multivitamin and biotin I take every morning.  I had the same coffee.  I took a shower.  Now that I think about it, I think it's been a week and a half since I last showered.  When I'm in a depression, I am in a complete fog of thoughts and I lose all sense of time.  I had no idea it had been that long.  I knew I was gross but didn't feel I deserved to be clean.  It's weird.

One more thing, I figured out another way to describe how depression feels to me:  First a constant flood of bad thoughts about myself.  Remember bad things I have done, bad things done to me, feeling bad about thinking about myself feeling bad, etc.  Then I search for evidence that these horrible thoughts may be true.  I take situations and twist everything so that I'm somehow bad and then feel a flood of pain that the bad thoughts are true, and that I'm horrible.  All while feeling bad for thinking about myself so much.  It sucks.

I'm sitting by a fire again.  My very own fire, built by yours truely.  I'm not quite as happy as last time.

My sister graduated with a top-notch degree today.  I'm so proud of her.  She's overcome dyslexia and her childhood.  She's gone from needing help to giving the help.

My issue is seeing her family.  They used to be my family, a long time ago.  I was 10 when her dad, who I knew as my dad, left me.  Our mom left him because he was terrorizing me.  One of the nicer things he said was telling my mom she can't even stand "the Bitch"... me.

I never stopped loving him.  Not when he took my sister to Disneyland a couple months after the divorce, ignoring me when he picked her up for the trip.  Not when he ignored the stranger whom had just touched my boobs.  Not when he slammed my face into the bottom of the tub because I didn't clean it well enough. And I didn't stop loving him years later, when he hung himself.

When he left me, so did his family.  They went on the trip to Disneyland, too.  Did anyone even ask about me?  Were my cousins looking for me or did they forget about me, too?

Seeing them today, I'd say I was completely forgotten.  That means both of my dad's, real and the one that felt real, are gone, leaving behind family that abandoned me, too.

So while I'm sitting by a lovely fire on a nice night, I'm not feeling very warm.

Sittin by the Side of the Fire, Watching the Moon Pass Right By

I'm in a really good spot right now, both literally and figuratively speaking.   I'm sitting by a campfire on a clear, tepid night with my sweet dog laying faithfully at my feet.

I'm really having the time of my life right now.  I can't believe it was a month ago I was sitting in a psych ward tying a sheet around my neck because all I could think about was how horribly rotten of a person I am, but I'm not a horrible person at all.  I'm just a person.  I wish my mental illness knew that.  She's obsessed with the badness of me to the point I'd call it a form of narcissism.  With as much as she thinks about me (us), you'd think I was the president of the U.S., although that title has lost its value with the last election.  Now I'm not so sure I want to be compared to that baffoon. 

I'm camping with my dog and myself, and I have to tell you, I'm *loving* it.  I have everything set up perfectly. I have nice camping gear that's organized.  My dog is an absolute sweet heart.  My fire is amazing.  The weather couldn't be any better.   It's just cool enough that it feels good on my back with the fire up front.  The bugs weren't even bad for no more than a few minutes.  Note to self: buy skin so soft.

It's quiet with nothing but the crackle of the fire, grasshoppers chirping and the buzz of an airplane, with an occasional rustle from the one neighbor I sort of have, who cooked the yummiest smelling dinner ever.  It smelled almost as good as my birthday dinner, which was the best food I've every had. Ever. Even the caviar was good, who knew, besides the 1%?