Anybody Out There?

I'm back if anybody is still out there.  I have so much to say but it is really late but here goes.  Last year in May Jay hit me and threw me out. Luckily by the grace of God a family from the church took me in and then I got my disability money. Robert and I are divorced as of 9:15am April 18, 2013 and he is paying me as well.  Robert and I talk when we have the time.  Jay is still in my life but sadly still an addict.  I don't think he realizes how much I cared about him or how much I did for him. Even though I was living with the family from my church I continued to provide for Jay out of sheer stupidity.  I thought I was getting him food and gas so he could go to work but as it turns out he was wasting it at bars and liquor stores.  What was I thinking? I know, I know.  I did get my own apartment but had to move out because of a woman that was stalking me and threatening to kill me.  I would kill to have a place of my own again because I made the rules and I was in control and did as I pleased. Sadly right now I can't afford it. There just is no way.  Right now I'm living in a double wide with a roommate named Shelly.  I would have loved living with Shelly if she did not criticize me so much or do things that she knows are wrong. It's a never ending cycle I always seem to find people who ruin my life whether it's physically or emotionally. The family from church adopted me and they call me their daughter.  I call them Mom and Dad out of respect and they continually encourage me to be a better person.  Right now I have no plans to work.  I'm just going to live on the disability for a little while.  I talked to my step-father yesterday.  He actually called me out of the blue and we have a civil, dare I say, pleasant conversation.  He said if I can set some goals and show him I am serious in nine months I may go back to school.  I am thinking about teaching because I am excellent with children.  I am helping Robert with his schooling.  I just completed a ten page paper on global warming.  It almost made me loathe writing.  Which is sad because writing is one of my strongest passions.  I'm even writing an article for a magazine about Mental Health. I'm excited.  I wish I could say I was doing better and am more stable but then I would be a liar.  Shelly never has a nice word to say to me these days and I find myself hiding in my room away from everybody else because I detest confrontation.  I try very hard to hold it all together but I am used to failing and I expect it will happen again.  I haven't met anybody special yet but Robert and I were separated living in two different states for nearly four years and it's been over a year since I lived with Jay. I know it's apart of my BPD to be attached to someone because in them I find my identity and I know that is wrong.  I am going to therapy but I just don't feel comfortable sharing about myself. Besides shes a Masters student so she will be gone in June and I'll have to start all over with a new therapist.  It really sucks having to open up old wounds continuously.  I'm not sure what else to say. My grandfather recently passed away and I am suffering and grieving. He raised me as a teenager and taught me so much. I feel like I will never get to Heaven and see his smiling face. How could I possibly when I let Shelly do things she shouldn't?  I know God is there and I know he loves me but I also know I have turned my back on him and done whatever I wanted to even though I knew it was wrong.  I would give anything to find stability and have a peaceful life. Despite what others say I do not I repeat do not love chaos.  Yes it's what I know but no it's not what I crave. I honestly believe I can only go up from these ashes and rubble and become the person I was meant to be.  If anybody still looks at this I would love to hear from you. It's been a very long time, but God willing I will keep you posted.

The Sad, Sad Truth

It's been awhile since my last blog.  Too much has happened and it hurts to be reliving it through this post.  For starters I failed miserably at trying to slit my wrists open after Jay antagonized me and told me to off myself.  I didn't need his encouragement because I had already planned to do it when I found out I might be homeless for the third time in my life.  He called the police and played innocent as always and then didn't bother to bring me things I needed while in the behavioral health unit.  Being in the BHU was actually like a vacation away from everything hurtful I had ever experienced.  As a Borderline I am a frequent and well-known patient at our local psychiatric ward.  I have been there four times in the past two years.  I know that sounds pathetic but it's what I know and have known for a large portion of my life.  I had a blast laughing with other patients until I realized I wasn't really funny I was a bully just like them.  The last time I was there Jay was concerned and compassionate actually willing to work on ourselves and our living situation.  This time he visited for all of fifteen minutes and then got piss drunk at the bar and then came home to download porn on the only working computer we have.  I find it hard to understand why most clinicians cannot differentiate between situational depression where my environment and home life are what make me dig into myself and clinical or chemical depression where I'm simply imbalanced.  The doctor found it hard to believe I was laughing and enjoying myself after trying so hard to end my life.  When triggers and verbal abuse along with living with an addict are taken away even for a short period of time I am actually quite a happy person.  The reality is I have a shitty home life, a shitty family, and a failing support system.  I came home to a disastrous apartment with Jay so far out of his mind that I regretted immediately making the decision to leave the hospital.  Since then things have steadily gone downhill.  I didn't get rent money from Robert so I played telephone with my family praying someone would assist us.  Instead I got my step-father barking at me and trying to blame all my family's fuck-ups on me.  I retorted with the fact that according to my grandmother he reportedly was the one that molested me to which he promptly told me my grandmother would never say such a thing and that I was known to be a liar.  Truth be told I am in every sense of the word honest when asked or prodded and I would never lie unless it was to protect myself from a dangerous situation real or imagined.  My brilliant failure of an uncle took it upon himself to heap even more hurtful words into the situation and told me that I don't have a "handle" on life.  By the grace of God I had our counseling service give us money so that I would not yet again wind up homeless.  Jay can always go home to his family if something were to happen, I on the other-hand, will have to take to the streets and sleep by the creeks or the river.  I don't want to go through something so horrendous and have every intention of ending my life if it comes to that.  Last weekend Jay invited his alcoholic friend over and they remained wasted on whiskey for four days straight with me crying and begging him to be reasonable.  I had no idea someone could black out and still participate in a conversation but Jay is anything but ordinary.  He cut his leg up badly after a shoving match between him and his friend and I wound up sitting in the emergency room while he was bandaged and given a tetanus shot.  It wasn't how I wanted to spend my holiday but I tried to remain supportive.  Jay went straight home and got wasted again.  This weekend has been just as hellish.  In an attempt to restore sanity to the household I poured out his new bottle of whiskey only to have him pulverize my treasured Kindle with his fists.  The Kindle split in half and apparently the insurance does not cover accidental or intentional damage.  Next time I won't even bother purchasing the insurance because it's ineffective.  Earlier in the week Robert and I fought with him saying he was going to find a way to divorce me because I took his charge card and bought a gift card in order to buy food and gasoline.  Robert reluctantly changed his mind and didn't call the bank to cancel the card.  Now I am waiting on the card to arrive in the mail tomorrow through Wednesday so that Jay can get to and from work.  He hasn't thanked me once.  Not once for putting my meager friendship with Robert on the rocks so that he could continue to drink and waste money on video games.  I realize how fucked-up I sound and how ludicrous the situations I have allowed myself to be dragged down into are, but I am doing my best to survive until I am granted my disability and able to leave everyone else behind.  It won't be a lot of money but it will be enough to get a place of my own where everyday is not some sort of battle. The past few weeks haven't been all bad or pure insanity some good things have pierced through but they never seem to be enough.  I reconnected with an old friend and started attending church again.  I'm even helping teach a group of children about God in what we call Very Exciting Bible School.  I feel like a joke.  I feel like my prayers are answered with the bare minimum response from God and somehow I just barely skate by in my existence.  How can I possibly teach a child the parable of the prodigal son when I feel like and probably am an abandoned daughter?

"YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

It's been awhile since I blogged and so many things have taken a turn for the worst, but it could always be all the more worse.  I left my job as a glorified waitress because of the strain it was placing on my illness.  My intent was to remain on-call, but my boss snuck behind my back and took me off the payroll.  This would seem all fine and well as I am applying for disability except that with the military everything is more of a hassle.  I had a few choice words with my former boss and let him know the reason his business is failing is because he lacks a backbone and tries to be everybody's buddy.  I believe karma will do the rest for me.  No one leaves this earth without paying for how they treat others and he will be no different.  I do miss having a purpose when I get up in the morning, but I don't miss being stigmatized as the "crazy girl" at work.  About the same time I was leaving my regular hours I started experiencing pain radiating from under my right breast into my back and the top of my right shoulder.  I wasn't sure what was going on and I waited thinking it was some sort of strain from having the stomach flu.  The only thing is I didn't have the stomach flu.  I had gallstones which made me vomit repeatedly and made any sort of food unpalatable.  I continued down the line thinking it was some mutant virus I had contracted from the local Taco Bell until one day after jogging/walking at the gym the pain became so intense I called 911.  My first thought was a hernia, but before that I thought the stomach bug I had contracted was affecting my already hepatic liver.  The ER doctor did an X-ray and sure enough these excruciating stones smiled back at him.  Unfortunate for me I currently have no health insurance so the question of surgery was answered with a flat out "no".  I begged my parents for the $2,000 it would take to remove my gallbladder, but they were of no help.  Through clenched teeth I told my mother I would never forgive her for choosing her life of luxury over my then declining health.  At the time I meant it and as I write this my anger reignites.  I spent a very long painful month in the apartment barely able to do anything.  I called upon a lot of friends and asked them to pray.  Miraculously I was excepted by a clinic for the uninsured and they scheduled an ultrasound.  Already I was starting to have pain free days and to my excitement and astonishment the stones completely disappeared on their own.  This is no small feat as they had no where to go to leave my body.  I can only assume God worked a miracle.  I should mention that during this time I was also institutionalized for paranoia and visual hallucinations.  Jay was more than supportive, but unbeknownst to me it was an act. Jay has stopped all shenanigans except popping prescription pills which I now try to keep under lock and key.  He feels that I am too controlling and the relationship has very nearly ended.  I spend most days trapped in the one bedroom apartment he shares with me and he makes it his daily conquest to avoid all contact with me unless he wants a pill or I raise Cain and force him to pay attention to me.  He's started giving me access to my credit card in hopes it will shut me up and let him go on pretending I don't exist.  If he's not at work he is on the computer gaming.  Then he goes to bed without so much as a word to me.  It's painful and as far as anyone can tell I haven't changed into a bitch or some evil succubus that we know of.  If anything I have tried to be more loving and more devoted.  On more than one occasion he has told me he hates me and that he hates living with me.  I literally have no where else to go until my SSI kicks in which won't be for another long five months.  My family has never been a resource and they continue to invalidate my needs and any wishes of returning home are juvenile at best.  I spend everyday in this tiny apartment cooking and cleaning and maintaining it in hopes that Jay is just going through a phase and will return to his once bright and manic self.  I'm delusional.  I know I am.  I am being taught for the third time in the past six years that you cannot make someone love you no matter how hard you try.  This all started out of self preservation.  I needed a place to live and Jay wanted a relationship.  How quickly those days are gone.  As Jay fell more out of love with me and drew into himself I grew more in love with him only to be pushed about.  I'm still married to Robert and the relationship is sound just not a romantic one.  As of late I spend my nights on the phone with Robert crying and begging him to explain to me why no one seems to love me the way I feel they should.  He placates me with gifts and tells me that in a few short months I will have the reins of my life in my hands.  I recently had another scare and so Robert's gifts have been very much needed.  I ingested propylene glycol and went into anaphalyaxis.  Before anyone starts worrying let me clarify.  This common ingredient in anti-freeze has been put in more edible products than you can imagine.  It's in cake mixes, ice cream, and just about every cosmetic that is not organic or natural.  I drank it in a Mio water enhancer.  I started drinking it in the evening and by the middle of night I was again calling 911.  I was shot up with epinephrine, various steroids, and Benadryl.  I just finished the steroids and now occasionally have to take a Zyrtec when I encounter the substance. The whole experience has left me on edge.  Thanks to Robert I have slowly begun replacing every household item that has parabens or propylene glycol in it.  Most people don't realize that here in the United States something is not taken out of our products until it is proven harmful whereas in the rest of the world something is not allowed into a product until it is proven safe.  Methylparaben and Propylparaben as well as propylene glycol are in so many products and they are known to be toxic and are being explored as carcinogens. That's all I have to say for the moment, but knowing how my life currently is I am sure I will be back to blog again about how horrendous things are.

Girl, Interrupted (More About Me)

For as long as I can remember some form of mental illness was apart of my life.  In grade school I had good or "clean" pencils and bad "dirty" pencils.  At thirteen I was scouring my hands to get rid of germs.  It didn't help that my father thought an appropriate punishment for a C in History was to scrub the entire bathroom daily for three consecutive months.  I felt as if my mind was not my own.  I would repeat a thought in my head incessantly until I was in tears.  By fifteen I had been uprooted from my closest friends to a rural Midwestern town.  The daughter of an up and coming military officer, we came and went at the U.S. Army's beck and call.  It was by no means and easy childhood for myself or my siblings.  After a decade and a half of stares and bullying, saying I was depressed would be an understatement.  The taunt that echoed in my head through the years- "psycho bitch".  I loathed the bus rides home.  I not only retreated to my room, but deep down into the darkness of myself.  Towards my seventeenth birthday I had long laundry list of diagnoses.  Originating with Hypochondria going through Multiple Personality Disorder (now known as Dissociative Identity Disorder), Histrionic and Narcissistic personality disorder, depression, Bipolar Disorder (types 1 & 2) until finally they settled upon Borderline Personality Disorder and Major Depressive Disorder without psychotic features.  Did I mention I spent half a year in a youth residential care better known as a mental institution?  Just don't ever call me crazy.

For the Record...

Where to even begin?  I am a married 27 yr. old with a severe mental illness, but I live with a man who is not my husband.  Said man has a different just as severe mental illness and happens to be a recovering addict.  Recovering as of two weeks so who knows if this time it actually sticks.  Life wasn't always like this.  Although I can't accurately recall a time when I wasn't living from one chaotic moment to the next.  I never give up hope, but as the years go by I am starting to realize I am in a never ending cycle.  The pattern seems to repeat every fours years and while I always seem to skate by I'm never unscathed from the fall.  I'm not an idiot and I don't lack self-respect in any way, shape, or form.  I know exactly where I want my life to be and how to get there, it's the getting there that seems to have me in a bind.  I have tried to dig myself out of my hole.  It's been my dream to study and eventually teach Anthropology.  Unfortunately there isn't much use for a degree in Anthropology.  Right now I have mile-high debt so I don't even remotely have the chance to return to school and earn a degree in something useful.  I've even tried to get on disability in hopes of getting the medical care I so desperately need but for whatever reason the fact that I am intelligent alludes others into believing I actually have an illness that affects day to day life.  While most people are worried about which smartphone to get I spend my days focused on which food bank we can use this month and if and when Jay the Addict will fall off the wagon again and resort to threatening me and kicking me out of our apartment.  If I believed in luck I would say I am one of the unluckiest people on the face of the planet.  I do have a job albeit one with very few hours.  I work as a glorified waitress on a military post that caters to international clientele, but that story is for another time.  Jay the Addict is usually on the computer day and night obsessed with his online gaming, luckily because he too works, Thursdays are the one day out of the week I can spend all night online.  I have allotted every Thursday night to share my plight and opinions on my heavily dysfunctional life with the world. Enjoy.