Rainey Daze and Crazy Nights

Poetry, Paintings, and Ponderings: Through My Eyes

The Darkness Returns January 11, 2014

A dark blanket has wrapped around me. I don’t know why; everything is going well, and J is on an even keel. For no reason at all, two days ago my spirit plummeted. I feel on the verge of tears. I find no pleasure in my usual activities. I’m taking my medicine and nothing has changed.

It is frightening how quickly moods shift and the darkness takes over. Mine usually begin with something concrete that happens in my life, some problem that sends me spiraling out of control. This is different. Everything is going well in all aspects of my life, and suddenly I want to sit in a corner and cry or slit my wrists. Mental illness is such a sucky beast.

 

Life Goes On June 1, 2013

TRIGGER WARNINGS

She refused to do anything about the rape. After that day, she didn’t want to talk about it. J is  much like me in her ability to bury things deep inside. It kills me to see her do that, because I know what burying secrets does to you. The secrets come out at night and haunt your dreams. They creep up randomly in the middle of the day and make you unable to breathe. Secrets that you keep buried eat away at your soul, swallowing it bit by bit. Trust me, I know.

But burying secrets is a way to survive and keep living. It is a coping skill; a bad one, but a coping skill nonetheless. I was once gang raped by a group of guys who I thought were my friends. I was drunk and high on drugs, so the next morning I buried it away. After all, I put myself in that position. It was my fault. Those were the thoughts I had at the time, so I pretended it didn’t happen. Even when I saw them later in the week, I pretended nothing was different. Inside, I felt dead. I continued doing drugs and drinking heavily for a few more years. I attempted suicide several times. When I wasn’t attempting suicide, I lived as recklessly as I could. Dying seemed better than living.  I was in a bad place for a long time. It was years before I could grieve and even admit to myself that I was raped.

I worry so much about J. She carries so many wounds and she is not tough like I am. She feels every little jab deep in her heart. She is so trusting, yet she keeps getting hurt. J is a good, loyal person with a heart of gold.  She trusted that when she said no, he would listen. It wasn’t a playful, ambiguous no. She was crying. She meant it.

My anger is still boiling. She begged me not to tell anyone, not even her dad or sister. So I have another secret that I must carry, because when I make a promise I keep it. I do not know what will happen if I run into him somewhere. In this small town, it is bound to happen. I know where he works. I could easily find out where he lives. I lay in bed at night and dream up scenarios of what I would do to  him if I could. I will not share with you what my twisted mind concocts because it frightens me to think I can even  dream of such terrible things. But she is my baby, no matter her age. She is handicapped mentally and he took advantage of that. To me, that is more inhumane than the horrors my mind creates.

I am here, drinking my coffee and beginning my day. J spent the night with a friend and is planning her best friend’s wedding. The birds are chirping and the sun is rising. Life goes on.

 

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.

 

 

I Knew, the Way a Mother Knows January 30, 2013

It’s back. Out of the blue, for no reason, it’s back. What is “it”?, you ask? The bipolar demon my daughter fights every day.

We had a good run. It has been a nice couple of weeks. J attempted suicide right before Christmas and struggled her way through the holidays. She began intensive therapy in January, and that seemed to help some. From the second week of January until about a week ago, things were as even and normal as we have around here. I began to notice some mania last week…nothing over the top, but clear indicators.  We talked about it, she agreed and saw the signs. She even began making really good choice to counteract the mania, such as going to bed on time, eating better, exercising, and of course, taking her meds. None of it was enough.

When I found out J got her nose pierced after telling me she was going out for coffee, I knew. Deep in my heart, the way a mother knows, I knew.

She refilled the Xanax prescription, but gave it to me.  I keep the bottle hidden but give them to her when she needs help with her high levels of anxiety. She started having panic attacks yesterday. No reason, you know, that’s how those sneaky little devils are…they come out of nowhere and bite you in the ass. Today was even worse; she was at work and had multiple panic attacks,  a severe migraine, a crying jag that she couldn’t shake, and an inability to maintain. I called hubs and had him bring her some Xanax to get her through the day. Coming home was not an option for her today, so she stuck it out.

She is now asleep. I’m pretty sure that bitch Depression has her in its nasty grip. We are back on the roller coaster ride again.

 

Out of Focus and Stressed Out January 4, 2013

Filed under: about me,all,anxiety,personal,random,self-harm,thoughts,work — rainey46 @ 7:07 pm
Tags: , , , , , ,

 

I’m having great difficulty staying focused lately. At work today, I would have a thought process and decide to do something, and then immediately forget what it was I intended to do. My entire body is tense; falling asleep is impossible without pharmaceutical aide. I feel like a wire stretched so tightly that one touch will cause me to break.

This is a "thought bubble". It is an...

This is a “thought bubble”. It is an illustration depicting thought. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Why is my anxiety level so high? What has me so on edge? I don’t know, but I want it to stop. I need it to go away.  There is nothing major stressing me out at the moment. J seems to have leveled out, at least for now. I enjoy these reprieves when I get them. Money (lack of) is an ongoing concern, maybe that’s it. Bills overwhelm me so much at times it causes instant suicidal thoughts. What’s my life worth? The $50,000-80,000 it would take to get me out of debt? I wish I had a way to quickly earn some money because the medical bills and college loans (still paying for J, even though I had to bring her home when bipolar raised its ugly head) have taken over my life.

 

All I want, all I have ever wanted, is for both of my daughters to be happy and live a decent life. For me, I want less stress and more happiness, or at least comfort, in my own life. Is that too much to hope for? Apparently so. Why does everything need to be so hard for me lately?

 

 

 

 

Steps Into the New Unknown Day December 21, 2012

tw-sign6

 

The doctor in the ER told me just how close J came to really dying this time. She took 1/2 bottle of Xanax and washed it down with Tequila. If she hadn’t started vomiting like she did, she would have died.  If she hadn’t panicked and sent us all goodbye texts, she would have died. If she hadn’t been on her side, she would have drowned in her own vomit.

The night she almost died, I never cried. The next day in the ER, I still didn’t cry. I never even felt the urge. I thought it was because I have been through this so many times that I had no tears left. I thought it was because of the antidepressants that I take.

Today, two days after the fact, I had a break down. I began violently shaking and losing focus on the world around me. Breathing became difficult. Thinking rational thoughts was impossible. After ten minutes that felt like a century, it passed. My breathing became normal and my hands stopped trembling.

Every day I wake up and wonder if this will be the day. Is this the day she kills herself? Is this the day my mind finally snaps because it cannot take another moment living like this? Is this the day hubs walks out because he cannot handle life with a bipolar daughter and batshit-crazy wife?

But every morning, as these thoughts pass through my brain, I think about the other what-ifs: What if this is a day of laughter and joy? What if this day finds J happy, but not manic? What if this day is just an average,  normal day in the life of my not-so-normal family?

This thinking allows me to swing my legs over and step into the new, unknown day.
Steps to the Unknown

 

My Beautiful Girl December 20, 2012

sundown

she longed for~

silence in an unquiet mind

peace in a turbulent heart

healing for a damaged soul.

but she got~

demons speaking more violence

family angry, sad, hurt

poison that almost ended it all.

what she needs~

time to heal deep festering wounds

new eyes to see the truth of a beautiful soul

forgiveness for her humanness.

 

 

Best Present Ever

We are finally back from the hospital. J survived this suicide attempt. (See previous post, here). We spent many hours sitting in the ER, but by the time a doctor saw her she was feeling better. While waiting, she was shaking, clawing at her skin, and mumbling to herself. People around us in the waiting area looked on with pity in their eyes. I didn’t care; all I wanted was some help for J. After a while, she finally got a bed and talked with the doctor on call. When he came and talked to me, I was able to confirm what she told him; the major crisis was over and she was no longer a danger to herself. He released her.

We were able to get an appointment to see her psychiatrist, so when we left the hospital we drove straight there. J stopped going to therapy about a year ago because she (nor I) could not afford it. He told her that he would do the therapy and she could make payments and work on a sliding scale. I am so grateful to him! There are good people in the world!

She is exhausted and I am exhausted, but we are home and she is safe. That is the best Christmas present I could have.

 

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.

 

 

 

My Erotic Mistress December 11, 2012

tw-sign6TRIGGER WARNING:  SUICIDE

 

She is a beautiful, erotic mistress

who beckons me with slender fingers.

Her beauty radiates from her eyes

two deep, dark liquid pools

that threaten to swallow me

if I stare too closely, too deeply.

Her voice whispers seductively in my ear

filling my body with a red-hot desire.

“Just take the leap” she moans

“Close your eyes and give in to me.”

I lean over the edge of the cold railing

Gazing at the water that seems miles away.

“Come fly with me,” my mistress whispers

“Take my hand and you will be free

No more pain; no more heartache”.

I long to please her, so I step on the rail

Feeling her moist, warm breathe

on the bare skin of my neck

sending icy chills up and down my spine.

I shiver and almost lose my balance

In that moment, as I teeter on the edge between

life and death…

I choose life.

My mistress sighs, then leaves me

as I step away from the edge.

Life wins, once again,

but my heart knows that my mistress, Suicide,

will soon return for another try.

 

**NOTE: This is just a poem; I am not currently suicidal. When ideas for poems or fiction come to me, I have to get the thoughts out. I have felt this way, more times than I care to admit. But, just like in the poem, so far life wins.