Digging deep

I am going to start EMDR with my therapist. At this point I’ll try anything to heal the deep wounds this life has given me. I want to finally eliminate my PTSD, anxiety, and depression. The weight it gives me leaves me afraid of interacting with the world. I’m trying to weaken the wall I think protects me by going around people more and getting out of the house, making memories… but honestly it’s a forced effort.

EMDR didn’t start yet because I had things on my mind. Fears of what memories I thought would come up with EMDR. I also felt she has no clue what skeletons I’ve got buried away so I decided to introduce her to my dungeon.

I knew I needed to tell her a summary of the darkness I’ve survived. So I tried to start telling her and immediately pulled my hands into my sleeves in an effort to hide. Before I could start the words I took my hands, which were curled into my dark grey long sleeves, covered my face and sobbed for about 45 seconds. Why did I want to hide? To disappear? I was about to open a locked door to another place that left me feeling damaged, broken, embarrassed, dirty and dysfunctional. A place I refused to visit because I decided long ago I didn’t want to be that person anymore. Even in the safety of therapy with a professional just thinking of the first image and knowing how that paved the way to the chaos I call my life, it made me ashamed and god the emotions that flooded my body were so fucking painful. At that moment I wanted to be invisible. I couldn’t look at her face, I’ve seen the reaction too many times and seeing on someone else’s face how awful my story is, well it’s probably more painful than the story itself. Why? Because my normal is not normal, it’s painfully sad.

I finally put my hands down and sat quiet, staring at my shoe for a moment before I could say the words. I’m not sure I even said the word “molested” or just stopped and left silence where that word should have been said. “When I was a little girl…. my brother….(tears welling up in my eyes)..I have memories of moments frozen in my mind, they’ve always been there…” I was molested by my brother when I was 5 years old-he would have been 9, which lasted for years until I finally said no more when I was about 8. I remember feeling relieved he wasn’t mad at me, even then all I wanted was his acceptance. Then catching my brother move onto my then 3-4 year old sister and the fucked up feelings it gave that 8 year old girl. Probably my first feeling of being easily replaced and rejected by a male and the jealousy that followed. This is something that took years for me to acknowledge to myself but never said to anyone until tonight. “It’s normal to feel that way” she said. “Nothing about this situation is normal” I replied clinging to my kleenex blotting my eyes.

I talked about my brother getting suicidal and being placed in a psych hospital when he was 12 or 13, where he lived for a year. During that time he was going through a court trial to testify against the man who did that to him. I didn’t see my brother during this time, I don’t think any of us did. At this point my family went from 6 kids down to 2. My (step)dad’s oldest 2 boys from a previous marriage left along with my 2 older brothers from my mom and my biological father. My mom and dad split up again so then it went to just me, my little sister and my mom-who had understandably lost her mind in this process.

My parents would fight, knock out drag out fights. Police were called, dad would get kicked out, then me, my mom and sister would move somewhere cheaper. Life made no sense until mom and dad reconciled. Then things were beautiful. Mom and dad were happy, no fighting. Life became calm during this time. But it was always short lived. This taught me about relationships. A rollercoaster ride of emotions but sometimes very happy.

This brought me to discussing my relationships. At 15 I moved in with my boyfriend and 3 years later was pregnant, at which point he changed his mind about me. He locked himself in the bathroom, called my parents to come “take me back” and threatened suicide. So here I was at 18 moving back home, pregnant with twins, alone and rejected.

Fast forward.. awful marriage to a different guy. I told about a time we were split up and in a heated argument about him with another woman when he punched me in the mouth breaking my teeth, bruising my jaw for all the world to see that I was an abused wife. I remember my mouth filled with dust which was my teeth. How it was probably just a few short months before I took him back. Why? Because the violence was normal to me and I knew when we got back to us it would be beautiful like my parents. Even if that didn’t last, I needed the temporary beauty. This relationship was so fucking abusive in every fucking way possible.

After that me and my 3 kids lived alone, no men, no dating. Just mom focusing on the kids, healing and surviving. We moved away not only from our home, but the entire area and schools. I created a completely different life and eventually we seperated ourselves from that part of our life. We lived in hiding, registered with a federal address confidentiality program. In 6 years we moved 5 times. It took years to stop seeing myself as broken and abused. So many battles and I won them all. We were in therapy for 3 years dealing with the trauma we survived from my exhusband. My daughter initially the focus as a result of sexual abuse. Then the next several years my son with uncontrollable behaviors. Behavior modification, therapy, outpatient treatment, medication, medication and more medication until we admitted him at 8 into the psych unit at a hospital. Eventually finding out his near deadly birth caused damage to his brain and resulted in a rare form of Rolandic epilepsy among other medical issues. I battled the doctors to help him, battled the school to give him a fighting chance. Then I lost my job of 12 years- this was crippling. My co-workers were my family and stability. And days later found out my other daughter had a brain tumor. Literally fml.

I lost myself completely in this process. I’m ashamed to admit I broke down and let my exhusband creep his way back for a moment. I had no one. Life was against me and I just needed to feel love, even if it wasn’t real and was dangerous. My daughter set a boundary for herself and moved out. I’ve never told her how proud I am of her for that. Or how fucking hard that had to be for her. At the time I was so lost I didn’t see it, I just felt rejection and I lost my fucking mind.

Of course the devil, aka my exhusband, just brought back the chaos and dysfunction to our life. He was great at first but it didn’t take long. Then the reality of what I did sank in, the shame, rejection.. and in that I wanted to die. It became a normal thing for me to sit on the couch, drink vodka and down my xanax while sobbing myself to sleep. Wake up, go to work and do it again when I got home. One night I swallowed so many fucking pills, anything I had with my vodka. My intent was to go to sleep and never wake up but I woke up several hours later.

In April 2015 I stopped drinking. I stopped xanax and started working on getting myself back. I met Bud that September. He was such a broken soul but I saw his beauty through it. I fell head over heels but it was such a fucking rollercoaster with his battles with his demons. My thought was “I can’t judge someone that’s broken, look at me”… What I should have focused on was he wasn’t just a broken soul. Yes, I was broken because my life was one tragedy after another, yet I still was self sufficient, provided for myself and my family more than the basics. His life was broken because of himself but that wasn’t the story he told. His ex-wife was poison and he sacrificed everything for her and their kids, that’s why at 35 he lived in his parents basement and didn’t have a vehicle. The truth? Not even close but he fooled me for a very long time. I’m seeing he is not even close to the great person I thought he was capable of being. He was just another tragic chapter in my chaotic life. Another life lesson.

Now I sit here at 41 years old crawling out of this emotional dungeon clawing to find my stability.

My love hate relationship with xanax

Addiction is not a word I’d use, I guess I’d say I was dependent. A true addict always told me I don’t have a “smidge” of an addictive personality, and I believe in many ways he knew me better than anyone did. But I’m also learning addiction to xanax might just be correct for me.

I’m researching addiction because I’m struggling with a possible relapse to Xanax and it’s made me interested to learn what he feels with his alcoholism. I realized some powerful pieces.

When Bud and I met, I was completely off Xanax for about 5 months. A suicide attempt was the deciding factor to end my dependence on Xanax after having used it daily for probably 15 years. Xanax became my life saver. Dealing with the stresses from life is when I was introduced to Xanax. It helped me relax, sleep, and avoid a complete meltdown and panic attack. One tiny pill and within 15 minutes I could breathe again. I could take it as many times a day as I needed, but I usually saved for bedtime. I’d use it on stressful days to control my emotions. It was literally my chill pill. I knew all the issues on my plate but I was numb to the anxiety they caused.

I was able to keep my sanity after my ex-husband cheated with everyone, including my sister. As crazy as it sounds, I saw him also as my best friend. I spent 10 years with him. But abuse, chaos and control is how I’d describe that marriage and when I couldn’t handle the pain it brought me, I had Xanax.

When my ex-husband sexually assaulted my then 11 year old daughter, Xanax helped me function. I used it multiple times a day to get through the arrest, restraining order and the trial. Which the whole thing dragged out for nearly a year. We all slept in my bed, afraid of him showing up. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, we were always on guard. It was exhausting. But my kids needed to see me calm and collected, brave and confident. I lost so much in this process, including walking away from our home I had been paying on and remodeling for over 8 years. Xanax made that possible.

When my son’s behavior issues became impossible and we went through SO many programs, doctors and therapists my stress level was through the roof. I was raising 3 kids completely alone, working full time and somehow managing all the time for appointments for all of us, including therapy for what my ex-husband did to my daughter. My son was hospitalized and I was so fucking overwhelmed. Between Xanax and my friend Jim, I survived and for the most part always looking like a pretty awesome mom.

When I lost my job and support system of 12 years then immediately learned my other daughter had a brain tumor, Xanax was there for me. It always calmed me down and helped me keep my cool especially when I felt like quitting. It slowed down my mind from spinning with the constant “what-if” fears. But obviously after all these years, I needed more and more to feel the relief from it.

Then when I was desperate, lonely and tired of doing everything alone, I allowed my son to reconnect with my ex-husband. What followed was the realization that man still controlled me. I was lost in his eyes. His eyes always looked at me like none I had seen before, we talked and it seemed so comfortable and I was lost. It was so nice to talk to someone about my son who genuinely seemed interested since most people didn’t. But my son learned the heartbreak that his father really didn’t care about him. He used him as a pawn to get to me, to hurt me. My son learned his father was not a good person and we learned how dangerous he still was.

The guilt that came from this period wasn’t something I could process. My daughter moved in with her dad from fear of the situation. The shame and embarrassment I felt for having lost my mind was too much. And it was all for nothing because he was still just an evil man who I was helpless around. I began drinking with my Xanax and that feeling was so much different than just the pill. It felt like a high, it intensified the effect of the Vodka. I would sit in the living room drinking half a bottle of Vodka and have my pills. I interacted with my kids who were very aware I was drunk. I slept like a dead dog, usually on the couch and got up for work. This became a normal thing. I didn’t want to think about what I had done, how stupid and disgusting I was, how angry I was at myself knowing he still had control over me. I couldn’t face the shame. I couldn’t look in the mirror let alone at my kids.

I hated myself. I was disappointed in myself. I couldn’t face life or people. I became secluded again. The Xanax and Vodka took me to dark places. I would break down balling in front of my kids. I was a drunken depressed mess. I got to the point I wanted to die. I felt like I was such a failure as a mom, as a woman. I sat drinking and nothing worked, I got so damn depressed and black. I took a mixture of pills. Probably 20-30 Xanax pills, several leftover pain pills from a surgery, I don’t even remember how much of what. I just know my intention was awful, I didn’t want to wake up. I didn’t think about how much my kids would hurt, or my mom. Or where my kids would go, how would they heal.. all I thought was “I’m a disgusting human and I don’t deserve to live”.

I woke up about 3 hours later and immediately burst into tears. At 2 in the morning I contacted a friend who was a recovered addict and he guided me to help. He made me see how wrong my thinking was and I deserved help. The next day I stopped drinking and stopped taking Xanax, completely.

About 5 months later, on a whim I set up a profile on a free dating site. It was mostly to hear compliments because I was feeling low. I’d hop on to read messages mostly, not responding until this one. He made me laugh and god I needed that. From the beginning he was in awe with me, he had that same look in his eyes when he looked at me. He studied my every word and move. He was amazed with my beauty, strength and intelligence.

He spoke about me in such a way I started to believe in myself again. I was so brutally honest about my scars and shame but he still loved me. His words were either hilarious or beautiful. We laughed so much and although in the beginning I wasn’t as sure as he was, eventually I was converted to believe in this fairytale love. I not only fell in love with him and his charismatic daughters, he made me love myself. I don’t think I ever wanted anything as much as my future with him. He touched me and my whole body felt it, he was touching my body but caressing my heart. He learned how to help me control my anxiety. I had shared with him my struggle with pills, so he learned how to help me so I wouldn’t need them. He was my rock, completely 100%. I don’t think I ever realized to what extent until Jim died. Bud wouldn’t help me and all I could think is “I need my fucking pills then!”. This was the first tragedy I had to face without Bud since I met him. Then I realized, for 3 years he was my rock, my stability, my xanax. And I can’t get him back, I tried everything and he won’t speak to me… so all I think about is Xanax. How nice it would be to numb these feelings, to rationalize my thoughts, to feel normal for a bit.

I’ve been angry at him, forgave him, desperate for him, and now accepting of the truth.

It just isn’t. Isn’t what he said. Isn’t what I wanted it to be. Isn’t part of my future.

This process made me more aware what he must feel when he slips with his addiction. And I’m sad because I know the facade he chooses to show the world is covering his dark truth. He still slips, he still hates himself, and he is just trying to get through the day. Just like me. I know this struggle so I am sympathetic of how that will effect someones decisions. It doesn’t bring out the best in anyone.

I pray one day he might think about me and find forgiveness where he placed his hate. I pray he knows I believe he is amazingsauce with sprinkles and only want the best for him, even if it’s not me although I wish it was. I pray he knows I never meant to hurt him and I truly wanted the rest of my life to be with him but I accept things as they are now. Maybe I will grow cold to him, but I expect that no matter what happens he has my heart and I will always be waiting for him to come back. But maybe I move on and eventually feel nothing for him.

The truth probably is I will eventually turn off these feelings and move on because I have to escape the torture. And maybe I will always have a spot saved for him because that’s my genuine love for him. Maybe he never really felt that way. But what if he did? What if he just needs to grow from lessons before he looks back to me?

My therapist asked me “why are romanticizing this with him?” and I wasn’t sure how to answer. I keep asking myself and I found the answer. He saved my life, without even trying. He brought light inside my heart and made me imagine a beautiful life and believe in forever and always. He got blood flowing in my heart and connected to my soul. He made me love myself again. I owe my life to him.

I can never turn my back on him. So if and when he ever reaches for me, I will be there. Without judgement or grudges.

I want to live

I want to live.

I want to fill my life with so much love.

I want to laugh my ass off and share my crazy stories with the youngins.

I want lots of pictures of my life full of beautiful memories and great people.

I want to feel love again. Real genuine in my bones love.

I want to reconnect with my inner warrior and finally learn to overcome my anxiety and live again.

Positive change

I’m settling down for bed and thinking of the positives.

Riding in the backseat with my Little Lincoln. He gazes at me with eyes that make me feel like he is an old soul and can see behind my eyes.

I ordered a new phone. I went back and forth for a year, I finally did it. I don’t care what it cost or whether or not I needed it.

I watched a huskers football game. Actually watched it, damn you #24.

My son appears to be doing good with this medication change. What a miracle.

I love my kids and my furr babies and tonight I’m feeling so grateful for their love. They stood by me when I lost my fucking mind. And continue to while I find it.

I have a good job and make good money. I’m considering a new truck soon.

I am so glad I didn’t give up. I’m on my way back to me.

I miss her too

I was looking over old pictures of myself. I was reading some old messages, our conversations. I miss that fierce strong woman. No wonder he’s not interested, this person I’ve become since Jim’s death is not me. I’ve become this weak lonely girl. Needy and depressed. Jesus, the least attractive I ever saw him was when he was being needy and depressed. Tables are reversed and I can totally understand not being interested in me. I am not me right now and god I fucking miss her.

She’s a badass. She says without thinking, she glows confidence. She’s funny and sarcastic, her smile lights up a room. She’s beautiful and has such an aura that complete strangers always tell her their dark secrets.

She doesn’t need anyone and she is happy with herself. Her laugh is loud and sometimes she snorts if she’s laughing too hard but she makes it look good.

She’s fun and carefree and comfortable in her own skin. She’s hot and she knows it. She’s smart and sexy, she knows how to do almost everything.

Kids love her, most people enjoy her. She’s wise beyond her years. Her heart is so good and she loves more than she lets on.

She loves animals and she is such an amazing mother. Her kids adore her. She is so close with her children, its beautiful. She is so beautiful in so many amazing ways.

I miss her so much.

Therapy

I need my grounding back. My stability and my strength. I feel so broken and sitting in therapy today was just raw. I literally felt my chest cut open and gave her a glimpse of what is on my insides. I’m sure she thought this chick is far beyond my abilities but thankfully she hasn’t thrown in the towel yet.

Talking to a complete stranger is nice to just process through my madness. I realize a lot of things on my own while talking about it. Today my head was clearly spinning while I discussed mine and Bud’s relationship and why I value him in my life. I literally burst into tears, my eyes welled up as I said “I miss him”. I felt like a child crying for my favorite toy.

We discussed where I think I might have mishandled myself and why. I talked about my marriage and sex with my ex-husband and how much I lost myself in that relationship and how that is why I was (am) terrified to believe anyone could actually love me. How much I put myself through trying to make that marriage work and how awful things had to get for me to be done. I told her how I literally had to sweep myself up and learn how to glue myself back together. I lost who I was and had to start all over after that relationship, I was alone and so very lost.

She said “what kept you going? Not who, what. Like what activities?” It was never an activity, it was then and still is my kids. I brought them into this world and any shit they had to deal with as a result of my shitty choices was enough. I can’t imagine making them deal with losing me completely. I tell myself to get through the day even if I want to die.

I explained how awkward my relationship feels with my mom. How seeing her and her relationships with people makes me sad and scared to become that part of her. I want to love and be loved. I want to enjoy people.

I dug deep about Bud and our relationship.

Regrets are so fucking painful. I overanalyze every fucking minute wondering if I did this or didn’t do that would the outcome be different. Short answer, I will never know. Yet I continue to beat the fuck out of myself.

Was his love real and I became too ugly? Or was his demons too heavy to battle? Lord knows he had those demons before we even met so I know they aren’t caused by me, yet I still always felt like a failure for not being the driving force to stabilize him, help him be all he could.

Did I matter to him as much as he matters to me? I am crushed our relationship and friendship is in the place it’s in.

Day 6 – grief from loving an addict

I see my therapist again in 3 days. Topics to discuss will include my exhausting up and down. I go from never wanting to see him again to devastation of losing him forever, back and forth.

Last week I asked her why 7 months ago I was able to handle the breakup of my engagement, something I chose to do. I was level headed and knew he needed more help than I was capable of. I knew IF he was going to get better that it wouldn’t be with me because he had proven that, over and over again. I knew he gave me no choice. I knew he took advantage of me. I knew his admiration for me was only when he needed to win me back. I knew he lost interest in love once he won my heart. I knew the more I did for him the more he focused on himself, not us. I knew this decision was the only one I could make if there was any hope. Hope for his health, for his kids, for our love. I knew if we were meant to be that he would get real help and we’d be together. If we weren’t meant to be then he wouldn’t look back and that meant I needed to let go.

I didn’t hurt like this. I went from angry to frustrated to missing him at times, but nothing like this-ever. But then my friend Jim passed away from complications of alcoholism and all my emotions imploded. I felt a pain in my heart and body that I never thought I’d feel again. I lost my mind overwhelmed by loss and regret. Loss of Jim, regret I avoided being around him because of his drinking. Wondering what could I have done different to save him. Crushed by the finalization of death. Thinking of how bad this hurt and knowing it would be 100 times worse if it happened to Bud. Why did I connect the two? Because they’re both alcoholics.

My therapist explained how people who avoid emotions, like myself, eventually it explodes. Like filling a bottle, eventually something tops it off and it overflows or explodes. Jim’s death overfilled the bottle and out came my emotions of my broken engagement with Bud, our broken family, the death of our friendship and relationship. The death of our future. While processing the grief looking at all the bad wasn’t something I could handle. All I could think was “How can I fix this pain? How can I save my other best friend from death? What can I do different now?”

I tried apologizing to Bud, but he wouldn’t even read my message. I must have apologized 20 times with no response and I felt humiliated with rejection. How could he not hear me out? I always listened to him when he was in shambles. And who in the hell ignores an apology completely? My son was struggling with missing Bud and Bud wouldn’t respond to him either, at all. Wtf?! I’d get angry and message him again lashing out, no response. I’d apologize again with same results. I used every way he had tried when I was upset with him, but he wouldn’t budge. I sweetened the pot each time and nothing. I lost myself and I didn’t understand how?

My therapist explained things like this. If your in the middle of the ocean drowning, are you going to fight for a lifeline or do you sit and wait until you sink and drown? You’re going to fight and splash and make noise for a lifeline. Grief of Jim’s death pushed me off the edge and knocked me off my grounding. Now I’m teeter-tottering on a water raft, fighting to get my standing back.

I’ll get there.

Day 3

Day 3 refers to 3 days after my breakdown. Today seems better. I’m waking up on my own, not snoozing through the alarm clock. No tears yet but it’s only 8 am.

I need to remember to write tonight about my session with my therapist but right now I’m just going to list some things I’m learning about myself. Things I need to work on with my therapist.

I am a quitter. I give up too easy. Growing up when mom was mad at my dad she just kicked him out. The breakups never lasted long and they’d get back together happy as ever. Their honeymoon phase. They’d settle into routine life and then the fights, breakup, family move, then back together and happier than before. This was our normal. Unfortunately it taught me how to handle relationship struggles the wrong way. I knew from my marriage I handled things that way but he was toxic, nothing good in that. Bud was different. He didn’t just love me, he adored me. And he took care of my anxiety, my anemia, my allergy issues, he took care of me. He never gave up on me when I was difficult. But I did. I dealt with his struggles the only way I knew how. And to be fair, I don’t know how to deal with his alcoholism. I tried to help with his depression but when he wasn’t even able to have sex because of it, I was lost. I felt rejected and felt like a failure. He was ALWAYS able to help me when I struggled but I was helpless to him. So I did what I knew how, I broke up thinking in a few months we’ll have the honeymoon phase and that worked for awhile until it didn’t work anymore.

I need to learn strategies to deal with relationship issues better. My mom said to me this morning “I just hope you get passed this wanting him because he doesn’t want you and I know how much that is hurting you. You felt this way about Frank before and you got over that so I just hope you get over this”. My thought? She has no idea how much Bud means to me. She just doesn’t get it.

Fake it till you make it

Every day I wake up terrified what the day will bring. Dreading facing the day. I’d prefer just staying curled up in my bed away from the world. I debate “is today the day I say fuck it and avoid life and responsibilities OR is today a fake it till you make it day?”.

Life’s not fair

When I was a kid…I hated when my mom said this.  I knew it was just an easy response to shut me off, I never knew how true a statement it was.

Now I find myself as the mom, and it’s true, life still isn’t fair.

I’m realizing something very important. This project I wanted to start with my kids, the forgotten ones for siblings of special needs kids…It needs to be modified. The forgotten ones needs to include the parents.

My day is consumed by my parenting duties. I have lists I read off in my head, probably 10 at a time…”I need to get groceries-our milk is expired, oh ya I can stop at the pharmacy on my way, and I still haven’t picked up my bras that came in …damn free shipping to store, I should have just paid the $8 and shipped it home! I still need to get to the doctors office to pick up a refill for my ADHD meds (really, no joke, lol) Oh crap, I still need to organize the file for Ryan’s progress sheets from school….speaking of I still need to email his teachers to check in with them..(hold on dear blog while I do that) okay, email sent…where was I? Oh ya, my “to do” list… I still need to get gas for the mower…I’d love to get that lawn mowed before the weekend. That way I can enjoy the weekend. It was so awesome the kids got the lawn mowed for me this past weekend. I love doing it, but it takes time I don’t have…

OK…REFOCUS ON TOPIC

Yes, life isn’t fair. My day is kids, pets, work, house work, chores, kids, family program, etc. Where in the day do I get to be selfish? I recently asked my kids to give me a 15 minute break after I get home from work. This is to allow me time to de-stress, relax my mind and body. But my daughter was hurt by my request, guilting me with “ya it’s terrible I just want to spend time with my mom!” Whether or not she knows it, I need to hear that, but at the same time it hurts my heart… I don’t have enough to give. There isn’t enough time, there isn’t enough energy, there isn’t enough mom. So how can I be selfish and ask for “ME” time when I can’t even give them “KID” time…

VISIT WITH THE THERAPIST

 

Note: I just found this in my pending drafts from 2012 and decided to publish just as it was.