Rainey Daze and Crazy Nights

Poetry, Paintings, and Ponderings: Through My Eyes

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.

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I Will Survive December 27, 2012

I survived the past 24 hours by sleeping. J seems to be doing well so far today. Her appointment is not until late this afternoon, so hopefully she will have a good day.

Today is a cold, but bright and sunny day. I love the cold and hope the sun doesn’t warm it up too much. If I had my camera I would go outside and look for something interesting to shoot. I really, really miss my camera!

I NEED to clean house and wash clothes, but things like that are not as important to me as they used to be. I guess when you’ve repeatedly wiped the vomit from your daughter’s face after yet another suicide attempt, dirty dishes in the sink kinda loses its position on the Top-Things-That-Are-Important List. I used to keep an incredibly clean house; not so much anymore. When J moved back in with us because she couldn’t handle living on her own, she brought back with her the messiness and disregard of others that she always had. Yes, I raised her better than that; but when depression joins in the party, J is unable to do the simplest tasks. She also becomes very overwhelmed when the mess in her room piles up. It’s after the next round of mania that she can clean it up. Me? I just don’t feel motivated to clean baseboards and ceiling fans anymore.

 

 

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)

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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.