Rainey Daze and Crazy Nights

Poetry, Paintings, and Ponderings: Through My Eyes

Shattered May 24, 2014

When she goes off the deep end, I break inside. Every tiny little piece of carefully built hope shatters.

I live every single day with fear, hope, and dread. Fear of what she will do, fear of the unknown horrors the day may bring. Hope that we will both come through this day unscathed. I live with dread. Dread invades me with every text or call. But I also live with happiness. Happiness fills my heart and soul when we roll through problems and make it to the other side. I’m happy when the day goes well.

She started drinking again; binge drinking alone in her room. I suspected it, but had not confronted her. I called her at 3 in the afternoon because I needed her to meet me somewhere. She had to admit to me that she couldn’t because she was drunk. (She just got off work at 2:45.) I couldn’t help myself; I was filled with rage. I didn’t let it out at her though; I simply made a statement that she was drinking a lot lately and then said I’d talk to her later and hung up.

She, of course, could not let it go. Text and phone calls began…”Are you upset?” “Are you mad at me?” I tried to ignore, but I finally answered the phone. I didn’t let it all fly, but I told her the truth…I am angry. I am angry because you are choosing an old crutch…drinking..that I thought we’d conquered in the past. I said I wish she would learn how to live through the tough times in life without using a crutch that made things worse.  She got very mad at me and said I was being mean and I had no right to be mad at her because she wasn’t doing anything to me and why did I say these things to her? I reminded her that SHE called me, and I was trying to keep my distance until the anger passed. She hung up.

I was looking forward to this nice, 3-day weekend. In fact, I left work a little early yesterday so I could get home. Instead, I drove around for a while, did some shopping, did anything to avoid going home to her because I could feel the storm brewing.

We avoided one another at first. A couple of hours passed before she came at me, screaming, “Are you not going to talk to me?” I told her I was still angry and felt it was better if we didn’t talk right then. She kept on. Usually I can remain in control of my emotions, but honestly, I’m just tired. Work has been hard, living with her is always difficult, and I feel the tiredness like a disease deep in my soul. I tried to explain to her that I am allowed to have emotions, too, and I’m tired of holding them in because of her. I didn’t unleash the fury of what I felt, but she saw a peek. She turned it around on me and said I made her feel like crap for having addictions. That I was the only one she had to turn to (which is not true). I told her I couldn’t be her “only one” that sometimes I needed a break. She became furious and stormed out, got in her car, and left.

She began sending “I’m sorry” and “I just want to die” messages to her sister and a friend. I couldn’t even find the energy to be worried. Does this make me a horrible person? I didn’t really even get scared because it felt like another manipulation game. She was trying to punish me for being angry.

She eventually came home…after I gave in and played her game. “Please come home so I will know you are safe,” I wrote in a text. Her sister went out and found her and convinced her to go home.

We had an event that my daughters and I were to attend this morning. They went without me. I just don’t want to be around her, or the world right now. She is fine today, happy and having fun. Me? I’m tired. I’m shattered. I’ll be here alone, trying to put the pieces back together so I can make it through the next storm.

 

 

No Means No May 27, 2013

She was raped. That son of a bitch raped her last night. I am boiling with fury and probably shouldn’t be allowed to blog right now but I have to let it out somehow or I will hunt him down and cut off his dick. If you are offended by my language then please don’t read this post. I am seriously trying to keep from going after him. I do not need to go to jail, because then who would she have? Her dad, who lives in la-la land? Or her sister, who gets angry every time J’s bipolar/anxiety prevents her from being “normal”?

I have always joked that if someone raped either of my daughters I would take him in a house and nail his dick to the windowsill. I would then set the house on fire and hand him a knife and tell him, “You get to choose. My daughter did not.” I thought I was joking. Now I know I was not. I want to inflict terrible pain on him. I want to see him beg for mercy. How could that son of a bitch do that to her? She is already so fragile….years of work probably undone because he wanted to get off.

To think, this was a “nice boy” whom I knew and LIKED!!! It wasn’t one of the losers she found on the dating sites (nothing against dating sites, but J is known for picking losers and it never turns out well); this was a “local” guy who seemed very earnest and straight-forward. My heart is broken for her. She will not press charges because they will never stick. And I agree; they will not stick.

J told him no. Forcefully. Repeatedly. But she did not fight. She did not scream for help. She kept saying no and crying but did not stop him. My guess is because of her incredibly low self-esteem she just let him finish. She was so hurt and confused when she told me. My poor baby.

No means no.

 

 

 

I Am a Good Person May 1, 2013

I am  a good person. Everyone makes mistakes, right?

I am a good person. I just make a lot of mistakes.

I am a good person.  Why do I do such stupid things, then?

I am a good person. Everyone would be better off without me.

I am a good person. I made such a mess of my life.

I am a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

I am  a good person.

If I keep saying it, will I ever really believe it?

 

 

 

It’s Coming March 14, 2013

It’s coming. I can feel it, breathing down my neck. It’s not here yet, but it is close. When I gaze in the mirror, I can feel it hovering just out of view. When I walk down a long hall and turn the corner, I can almost catch a glimpse. As I stare into my own eyes, I feel it staring back, right there behind the dark brown flecks of my irises. Just the thought is wearing me down.

There is nothing I can do. It will come, it will stay as long as it wants, and it will leave just as abruptly as it came. It will tear me apart if it wants, and leave me in tiny little pieces that I can never, ever make fit perfectly again. I will fake it for as long as I can so that no one else can see the turmoil it brings. I will fake normal so no one will know my secret. But I know, and IT knows.

How long is my uninvited and unwanted guest going to stay?  Will I make it? Will my life be so interrupted that nothing is ever the same again? Only it knows.

I hate depression.

 

 

Today I was Brave January 14, 2013

I did something brave today.

Be Happy

Be Happy (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

And I am freaking proud of myself (for a change). Remember my post “I’m Sick of Me“? I wrote it on a day when I plunged low into the depths of despair and depression. I lied to someone; someone I respect and care for tremendously..my boss…and she found out. I became trapped by the tangled lie with no way out. I respect her so much that I just wanted the earth to swallow me whole. When I looked at her I felt sick to my stomach.

Today, I finally saw her in private. I calmed myself as much as I could and went in and shut her door. I looked her in the eyes and apologized for lying. She looked surprised, but said it was fine. She did ask me why, and I told the truth. It was a stupid lie about something I forgot to do.

IT FELT SO DAMN GOOD! It was incredibly hard for me to do, but it would be harder to NOT talk to her about it. I could not let a lie hang between us, even if she forgave me. I had to face it, and I did.

I am a grown woman. I have lied before, both little white lies and bigger, more serious offenses. It is nothing new or earth-shattering. Facing up to lies is something you learn to do as a child, but it is never, ever easy to do. Lies are born out of desperation or because you are afraid the truth is too difficult for them (or yourself) to face.

Today, I was brave.  I faced it head on. Now my steps are a little lighter and I feel better about myself. Did it take away the lie? No, but it is no longer looming in the front of my head, telling me what a bad person I am. I can say, “Lesson learned.” And I can be proud of me!

 

It is Tomorrow December 26, 2012

It is tomorrow. We made it through the night and into a new day. J called her Doctor and made an appointment for her first intensive therapy session. I am proud of her for being so brave, because this has to be so scary for her.

I am just glad the holidays are over. Putting on a brave face and faking any degree of normalcy is so incredibly hard! I did (based on some advice from friend here on WP) keep everything very low-key; few decorations, few presents (gift bags only; no wrapping), little cooking, and little interaction with extended family. I still feel as though I am in a dense fog and I still feel dead inside. I did cry  yesterday, so I guess that is something.

It is hard to live with someone who has no understanding or tolerance for my moods or what J deals with daily. I’ve given up explaining my dark moods to him; as far as he is concerned, I am feeling “sick”. I don’t have the strength to explain or defend how I feel emotionally. All I want to do right now is sleep, write, or zone out. So that is what I will do.

At least the dogs understand; they sense my moods and have curled up here beside me.

Fog

 

Unsuccessful Suicide December 19, 2012

Various pills

Various pills (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

tw-sign6

My daughter tried to kill herself again today. I never thought I would write that statement, but here I am. She took a bottle of pills. Again. She waited until she was at home, alone. Hubs and I were about 20 minutes away having supper at a local Mexican Restaurant. After she took them she got scared, so she started texting “goodbye” messages to all of her best friends. She sent me one, too. “I really love you and dad” it said. My phone was in my car, so I didn’t see her message until I was driving home. Along with her message was about 5 from her friends trying to make sure she was okay and that I was with her. I called her, but she didn’t answer. Next I called the friend who lives closest, Angel. Angel was already on the way over to the house to check on her. I drove like a maniac, running 80-100 all the way home.

Angel and her boyfriend got there right before me. She told them she took some pills. I was about to call 911 when J started vomiting. She was very groggy and could barely lift her head. She vomited over and over, so I felt like enough came up that she was out of danger.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t get upset. But every time this happens, another part of my heart dies.

I am just tired. We have gone through this so many times now, that I hardly feel anything. It’s just another day in my life. My daughter tried to kill herself again. She didn’t succeed. Tomorrow I will go to work. Life goes on.

 

 

 

Survivor November 26, 2012

Child sexual abuse effects and INFECTS too many lives. It changes the normal path of thinking when a child has to deal with the conflicting feelings that arise.

I was abused more than once. I suffered the guilt, the pain, the shame. I still feel it when it rises up in the middle of the night and threatens to choke me. It is decades later, and I still feel it.

But I survived. I am still here, and I am fighting.

Why? Because after all of this time, I am slowly beginning to think I might be worth it.

A Self-Portrait

 

Early Signs of Mania and Choices I Made August 6, 2012

Trigger Warning: Drug and alcohol use, abortion, and gang rape

I was sixteen years old when I first left home. (I ran away before, but the police brought me back). My mother and I  had spent the past few years butting heads and I was tired of living by her rules. The more I rebelled, the tighter she tried to hold me. By this time I had smoked weed, drank any alcohol I could get my hands on, and popped whatever pills I could find for about a year. I rebelled more and more as the memories of childhood sexual abuse came to the surface. My mother accused me of lying about it for “attention”, which just drove a bigger wedge between us. I think this was also my first instance of mania. I was wild and crazy, just a party girl looking to have a good time.

I had a friend I smoked weed with named *Greg. Greg was a sweet, quiet guy and we hit it off. A few months later, I was pregnant. Deciding to get married, we told his mom and dad. My parents? I had so much anger in me I simply told them I was getting married and leaving. Being all of sixteen years old, my dad had to go to courthouse and sign for me to get married. I still remember the anger and pain radiating from him as he stormed from the room.

We immediately moved in with Greg’s parents. We slept in his childhood room that was still decorated for the high-school senior that he was. He had a part-time mechanic’s job. I didn’t have a job, but none of this bothered me. I knew it would work out fine, and I had visions of being this great mom living this perfect life. That’s why I think I was manic during this period.

Not long after moving in, Greg’s mom talked with us. She was this uneducated little country woman, but she had a way  of talking that was very sweet and gentle. She convinced us both that having a baby at that point in our lives was a mistake. She loaned us the money and gave us the number of a clinic that performed abortions. We decided to go through with it that next week. I had not spoken to my family since I left, so I had no one to talk to about my choices other than Greg’s mom.

Again, I think I was manic throughout this entire period. Otherwise I don’t think I could have done this and survived. I always considered abortion as a woman’s option, but never, in my sixteen-year-old mind, did I think it would be an option I had to consider. So I focused on my “great life” Greg and I would have after this “procedure”.

I won’t go into details about the abortion. Just know it was horrible and something I have to live with for the rest of my life. Manic or not, I chose to go through with it.

Afterward, I felt empty, as though my soul was left behind in that clinic. This began one of the darkest periods of my young life. If I had been wild before, I was now the poster child for “Girls Gone Wild”. The drug use became worse as I grew more and more out of control. I found a job at a burger restaurant and we found a place of our own. I attended night school so I could get my high school diploma. Greg worked two jobs. Most of our money went toward rent, electricity, and alcohol, and drugs. We began selling weed to help support our habit. For months we ate egg sandwiches and whatever I could bring home from my work. Every day, I got high, drunk, or stoned on something. Every weekend, we went to wild parties thrown by his older friends.

His friends, Kevin and Robert, had their own apartment and they knew how to throw a party. We were always welcome, and at the time I thought it was because they just liked us and were such good friends. I felt the way they looked at me, but it was no different from how men always looked at me. I didn’t think much about it, really. I wore sex like a costume because it was a weapon for me, flirting shamelessly.  No one looked at me, the real me, if they were too busy looking at my body.

One night the party was wilder than usual. Some new drugs came in and they were strong. We danced and partied like always. Greg and I had no money for drugs that weekend. so Kevin and Robert gave them to us. They also kept giving Greg drinks until he was too drunk to function. They told us we could stay the night since we were too wasted to drive. We had never stayed, but we both thought it was a good idea. I remember dancing and first Kevin, then Robert, slipping me more drugs. I remember very little about the next few hours.

Around three in the morning Greg and I stumbled to the bed in the spare room. We both passed out immediately. Within twenty minutes, Kevin and Robert snuck into the room and picked me up. I remember waking up and they told me we were going to party some more. I think I passed out again, because the next thing I remember I was in a different bed and completely naked. Kevin was on top of me.

I was so stoned everything around me seem to be flashing in slow motion. I looked over Kevin’s head and saw five guys surrounding the bed. I tried to say no, but I don’t know if the word even came out of my mouth. I did push against him, but I was no match for him. When he finished, the next guy climbed on top of me. I was crying and pleading with them to let me go, but they laughed and told me “we’re just having fun” and “you know you like it”. I even yelled for Greg, but he was passed out. They didn’t let me go until they all had a turn.

Robert led me back to the spare room and put me back in bed with Greg. I cried myself to sleep.

I never told Greg or anyone else what happened that night. I was too embarrassed and thought it was my fault for being a flirt. Not long after that, Greg and I decided to go our separate ways. I continued to self-medicate for many years, trying to forget the choices I made and where those choices led me.

*All names have been changed to protect the innocent…and the guilty.

 

Permanent State of Chaos July 30, 2012

My new job starts in just 18 days. I don’t know how I feel about it; I guess mixed feelings describes it best. Actually, I haven’t allowed myself to think about it much at all. That’s the way I handle everything that is scary or unpleasant, you see. I put it inside a little box, seal it up tightly, and shove it to a dark corner of my mind. The only time I think about these scary things is late at night when I cannot sleep. Then my mind goes to each of these little boxes (I have hundreds), pops the tape loose and throws all the scary things in one big whirling cyclone. Various items get thrown out and exposed for me to see and worry over. “Unpaid bills”  I have no money, what will I do….. “J is getting closer to the edge” I don’t know how to  help her… “Your closet is a mess” I know, I know, I just need to buckle down and clean it out… “You need to call your mom” I feel so guilty…I should call her more often…”You have a new job to get ready for” I don’t know how to begin…

My mind is in a permanent state of chaos. It is so easy to sit here and say, ” I need to do A, B, and C. If I do these things, I will have less to worry about and less stress.” But I cannot seem to be able to make myself do A, B, or C! Everything, even semi-small tasks, seems too overwhelming. I know this will pass, but it upsets me that I waste so much of my life.

I am trying to take baby steps. I went to my new job today and spent some time sorting the boxes in my office. The former employee left boxes and boxes of supplies and materials and it is my job to sort it…before I move my own belongings in. It is extremely hot here (again) today, and the air conditioner was not on, so I didn’t stay long. It felt good to have something accomplished and to get out of the house. Baby steps, right?

Now I am back home with several hours before bed. I still need to make supper (something quick and easy, I think; it’s too hot for anything elaborate), but I have time to do something else. Maybe I will call my mom just to say hello. Then, I could clean just one shelf in my closet. One shelf wouldn’t be so bad, would it? If I do that, maybe, just maybe, the chaos in my mind would not be so bad tonight.