New Beginnings, Suicide, Therapy

Who’s Reality?

I started writing about the history of my family but I’ve decided that if it comes up which I’m sure it will then I will disclose things then.

When I came out of that hospital and went to my “first” therapy appointment my world would never be the same, again.

My first day I learned that I had age regressed to age 5 hence coloring all day, I was low functioning, no motivation, and I was still highly medicated. She helped me break down my walls and we dug deep. So deep that I stopped talking to my mom and step dad.

Through months of therapy 2x a week, I had realized I have never really known who I was. Being manipulated and emotionally abused by my parents, bullied throughout my entire school career, eating disorders, suicide attempts, severe depression, alcoholism, drugs, sex, self mutilation.

Note: Emotional abuse is one of the worse kinds, because words stay with you. No abuse is ok at all but emotional leaves your spiritual self wounded.

My relationship I was in was a combination of all 3 of my parents. I had been living in their reality without question since I was 5 yrs old. So why question now, well I was so depressed I tried to kill myself. Living in everyone else’s reality was so overwhelming by the end that I couldn’t do it any more. All the manipulation, all the shameful talk, all the lies. That’s not who I am, but that’s the reality I lived in. So brainwashed that I couldn’t even see it.

Until my therapist.

She asked me to read a book,

The Emotionally Absent Mother: A Guide to Self-Healing and Getting the Love You Missed. By Jasmin Lee Cori

emotionallyAbsent

I didn’t want to feel the way I had been feeling anymore. I was willing to do anything at any cost to be me. I took every suggestion my therapist and psychiatrist gave me. Which meant reading books.

I read this book in less then a month. It was hard to read because it was as if the author was writing this book about my life and what I was going through. Really opened my eyes. And it’s not just about your absent mom, but of anyone who was your caregiver. I was able to relate it to my step dad as well. It was huge for me.

It was as if I had been blind my entire life until this day, when I opened my eyes for the first time. I was able to see things clearly and understand them.

My parents, all of them, had emotionally absent parents as well. Therefore no one knew how to be emotionally available. Everything I went through as a child I went through alone. No one would talk to me about anything, especially feelings.

I will never forget, when I was about 4 or 5 years old a woman came up to my mom and I and she bent down and asked how I was doing. I told her everything that had happened that morning. She laughed and started talking to my mom. When my mom and I walked away, my mom turned to me and said, no one wants to hear all that. Next time someone asks you how you are doing, you just say good.

From that point on I never spoke of my feelings again. Not until I went back to therapy at 9 and even then I didn’t open up much.

To outsiders, my family was the perfect little family. We lived in a nice house, we looked like we had it all together. Not the case at all.

If you think you had a normal childhood, think again. If you are my age and have children and have been on this path before your kids, then they have a chance at what society would consider a normal family (Solely my opinion).

The more I dug around my family history the more angry I got. The more resistant I was to speaking to them. The only thing I wanted to tell them was how much I hated them. Again, I had age regressed to age 5. It would take some serious time before I would begin to grow myself up and learn to forgive.

If you are reading this and if any of this sounds like you or you know someone who lives like this. There is hope and help.

Society makes therapy sound like there’s something wrong with people and quite honestly it’s true, but therapy is healing. It gives you the opportunity to help yourself and learn to heal. Although good therapists are hard to find. So my suggestion is to keep going till you find someone that resonates with you.

Everything that affects us as adults stems from our childhood, no doubt. The root to all of our problems and dis-ease will be found in childhood. If you are in any 12 step program, they ask you to get to the root of the issue. I had been sober for 7 years at this time and have gone through the steps multiple times and never found the root cause until therapy.

If you want to heal, dig deep. It’s the only way…

Blog, New Beginnings, Suicide, Therapy

Death becomes rebirth

I sat in the garage and waited to die.

 

It all began in January of 2015. I attempted suicide and failed. I had a stash of pain pills for my aches and pains, I pulled them out and ate most of them. I decided to end my life in the garage sitting on a crate, hoping to never wake up again.

I will give a brief back story as best as possible.

A week before I had done that, here are the circumstances I lived with.

I was in a relationship where I was constantly questioning my identity as a female. I had a protective dog that couldn’t be around people, and a friendly little guy. We were in the middle of trying to sell our house. I found out my mom had lied to me about so many things. We had fostered a young girl and she left, then we began fostering a young male. BTW amazing kids. I being 35 and never having children of my own, had no idea what I was doing. They were both 16 yrs old when they came to us at separate times. I was also on Paxil, which is an anti-depressant drug. It was helping with my chemistry but not with my emotions.

So a week before, I went to the pharmacy to go pick up my pills. They refused to give them to me and I asked why, they said the doctor denied the request. I freaked out. I’m on medi-cal and if you are low income, they make you jump through hoops to see your primary doctor. Shame on them, because, ultimately, people will die. Paxil has a side affect…may cause suicidal thoughts if abruptly stopped.

Our foster son, was being defiant, as teenagers are. Not knowing how to handle it, I age regressed to 16 and we had words.

The day I took all those pills I had to work with my dad in a another town, but people were coming to the house that day to see it. Therefore the dogs had to go somewhere so that they wouldn’t eat the new owners. Our foster son had the day off and I begged him to just take them for a walk. He refused and I had to bring the dogs with me to work.

I get there and let the little guy run free, because he can, and I tie up the protective one. Well my dads friend came up and I told him to stop, he didn’t. My dog leaped and grab his knee. He screamed and needless to say we had to vacate immediately.

As I drive back through the back roads, all I can do is think about driving off the cliff. But if I did that, my dogs die too. That’s not ok, so when I get to the freeway I drive around 100MPH hoping that I will get pulled over. Meanwhile I am hyperventilating and bawling my eyes out.

I get home, put the dogs outside. Call the realtor and tell him he can’t come over. I grab my pills and sit in the garage. As I sat there I realized I never wrote a letter, so I ran inside and started writing shit like, my sister gets everything that my ex doesn’t want, Krysta gets to go through everything, I love you and sorry.

That is basically what I wrote. lame, haha. I go back outside and wait to die.

I did forget to mention, that I had been sober for 7yrs and would rather die than drink. With that said, I wake up to a voice calling my name. I thought I was dead until I realized I was on my bed. It was my sponsor, my ex found me and freaked out and called her. She woke me up and asked if I was ok. Then proceeded to ask me if I still wanted to hurt myself, of course I did, I wanted to die.

She asked me if I would go to the Exodus, which is a place where you get 5150’d. I said whatever, so off we went. I couldn’t really see and I was all kinds of lopsided.

I stayed overnight and by morning they woke me up and asked me again if I wanted to hurt myself. I said what part of I want to die do you not understand?! They then shipped me off to a larger facility in another city about an hour away.

I will never forget this place, it was just like the movie girl interrupted. Very weird to be in a movie. However, I didn’t know that till 3 or 4 days in because I slept 3/4 days straight. I know my experience in there was 7 days but the timing of everything was non existent.

They didn’t let me keep my underwear, bra, they took everything. I was left without blankets and a pillow case, they left me with scrubs only. Sucked. It was freezing in there. So in order for me to stay warm I slept under the mattress.

When I did finally come to, I was only allowed finger foods and not allowed to go eat in the cafeteria. I vaguely remember talking to a counselor and I do remember them giving me tons of medication. I was so fucked up there.

I watched zombies walk around, girls being carried back to their room by 4 people, girls getting shots to calm them down. It was crazy, no joke. The struggle was real in there.

They were going to let me leave but I needed to start participating in ground activities. I really didn’t want to and the one thing I would have liked doing I missed. I did meet a girl in there and she made me a bracelet, super nice of her.

When I did finally leave, I felt weird. I didn’t want to go home, all feelings were suppressed. But what I ended up deciding to do was go stay with my dad for a few months till I got my senses back. I told my ex I won’t go back to our foster son is gone and it’s just us.

And I know that’s fucked up, but in reality, I would be doing more harm if he and I were both there.

I didn’t have a job so I stayed at my dads house and colored for weeks. I had no energy, no motivation. The only thing I was supposed to do was get into therapy and find a psychiatrist. 2 of the best things I could have ever done.

This was just the beginning.

To be continued…

 

For anyone who suffers from depression or suicidal thoughts…

YOU ARE WORTH IT!!!

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline Phone Number