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.