I started this blog as part of my healing. Therapeutic blogging sounded better than actual writing. I can then share my story to let others that are going through what I am going through not feel so alone. Until I was invited to an online support group for adults with mental illnesses, I felt so alone. My diagnosis are both environmental and chemical. I am scared of myself sometimes. I feel out of control of my emotions most days. I have a very loving husband who helps keep me focused on the important things in life and just allows me to cry or scream or just sit quietly with him.
My diagnosis are:
Bipolar Disorder: Bipolar disorder or bipolar affective disorder (historically known as manic-depressive disorder or manic depression) is a psychiatric diagnosisfor a mood disorder in which people experience disruptive mood swings. These encompass a frenzied state known as mania (or hypomania) usually alternated with symptoms of depression. Bipolar disorder is defined by the presence of one or more episodes of abnormally elevated energy levels,cognition, and mood with or without one or more depressive episodes.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bipolar_disorder
Borderline Personality Disorder: Borderline personality disorder (BPD) (called emotionally unstable personality disorder, borderline type in the ICD-10) is a personality disorder marked by a prolonged disturbance of personality function, characterized by unusual variability and depth of moods. These moods may secondarily affect cognition and interpersonal relations.[n 1]
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Borderline_personality_disorder
Agoraphobia: Agoraphobia (from Greek ἀγορά, "marketplace"; and φόβος/φοβία, -phobia) is an anxiety disorder characterized by anxiety in situations where the sufferer perceives the environment as being difficult to escape or get help. These situations include, but are not limited to, wide-open spaces, as well as uncontrollable social situations such as may be met in shopping malls, airports, and on bridges. Agoraphobia is defined within the DSM-IV TR as a subset of panic disorder, involving the fear of incurring a panic attack in those environments.[1] The sufferer may go to great lengths to avoid those situations, in severe cases becoming unable to leave their home or safe haven.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Agoraphobia
PTSD with delayed onset: Posttraumatic stress disorder[note 1] (PTSD) is a severe anxiety disorder that can develop after exposure to any event that results inpsychological trauma.[1][2][3] This event may involve the threat of death to oneself or to someone else, or to one's own or someone else's physical, sexual, or psychological integrity,[1] overwhelming the individual's ability to cope. As an effect of psychological trauma, PTSD is less frequent and more enduring than the more commonly seen post traumatic stress (also known as acute stress response).[4] Diagnostic symptoms for PTSD include re-experiencing the original trauma(s) through flashbacks or nightmares, avoidance of stimuli associated with the trauma, and increasedarousal—such as difficulty falling or staying asleep, anger, and hypervigilance. Formal diagnostic criteria (both DSM-IV-TR and ICD-10) require that the symptoms last more than one month and cause significant impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.[1]
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ptsd
MDD: Major depressive disorder (MDD) (also known as recurrent depressive disorder, clinical depression, major depression, unipolar depression, or unipolar disorder) is a mental disorder characterized by episodes of all-encompassing low mood accompanied by low self-esteem and loss of interest or pleasure in normally enjoyable activities. This cluster of symptoms (syndrome) was named, described and classified as one of the mood disorders in the 1980 edition of the American Psychiatric Association's diagnostic manual. The term "depression" is ambiguous. It is often used to denote this syndrome but may refer to other mood disorders or to lower mood states lacking clinical significance. Major depressive disorder is a disabling condition that adversely affects a person's family, work or school life, sleeping and eating habits, and general health. In the United States, around 3.4% of people with major depression commit suicide, and up to 60% of people who commit suicide had depression or another mood disorder.[1]
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Major_depressive_disorder
Right now I see a Psychiatrist once every two months, am on some medications. I also see a therapist when I can afford to go. i am fighting for Disability Medical coverage, its been a few months. I will be starting DBT therapy when i get medical also.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Abused
(There may be some gaps in this part as I had a lot of brain trauma and do forget the sequence of some events)
You would have thought that after growing up in an abusive household that I would have been more careful in my choices of men. I stayed with my sons' father and for about the 1st 8 mos of my sons life we had a good relationship. I was in heaven, I had someone who loved me and a child for me to care for. The void seemed less.
When my son was 8 weeks old we moved from NV-IN. We went through hell, no jobs, no one to help us.
When my son was about 8 mos old, his father and I got into an argument, he again hit me. This time doing more damage to my head and making me black out. This became an everyday occurrence. A few month later I left him and moved back to NJ with my family. I was not happy and decided to go back to him.
This honeymoon period lasted a few months. At this time I became pregnant again with my 2cnd child. We became homeless and ended up in a shelter. We then moved from IN-CA to be near his family again. I consider this the moment our life really went down hill. Being further from my family and closer to his was torture. He had me where he wanted me, he beat me daily. I held on, for my kids. I made things seem like we were alright. I lost all friendships because of his controlling behavior. I would spend another year of torture with him.
On December 18th, 2002 my life was almost ended by his hands. I was in the living room talking to a friend. My little girl just over a yr old holding onto my leg, my son just 3 yrs old asleep in the bedroom with his father for a nap. Out of nowhere he came out of the bedroom and wrapped his arm around my neck, strangling me. He did not let go until I was unconscious then he dropped me on top of my 1 yr old baby. I was unconscious for a while, and when I came to he was in the closet burning our clothing. I think he thought he killed me and was going to burn out apartment. I crawled into the kitchen to find the phone cord cut. I went into the kids room to look for an old phone we let them play with. I was able to call 911. I did not know that my friend had grabbed my kids and took off to a neighbor and already called 911.
After the police arrived, he admitted what he did and smiled right at me from outside while he was handcuffed. I was taken to the hospital and observed for a few hours and then sent home. Most of the time between that day and January 3rd when I moved myself and my children to MD are a blur.
He was charged with Domestic Assault, Child Endangerment and Obstruction of Justice. They dropped the assault charges and he got 3 yrs probation and 90 days in jail. I did not have to testify. I have not seen him since his arrest.
You would have thought that after growing up in an abusive household that I would have been more careful in my choices of men. I stayed with my sons' father and for about the 1st 8 mos of my sons life we had a good relationship. I was in heaven, I had someone who loved me and a child for me to care for. The void seemed less.
When my son was 8 weeks old we moved from NV-IN. We went through hell, no jobs, no one to help us.
When my son was about 8 mos old, his father and I got into an argument, he again hit me. This time doing more damage to my head and making me black out. This became an everyday occurrence. A few month later I left him and moved back to NJ with my family. I was not happy and decided to go back to him.
This honeymoon period lasted a few months. At this time I became pregnant again with my 2cnd child. We became homeless and ended up in a shelter. We then moved from IN-CA to be near his family again. I consider this the moment our life really went down hill. Being further from my family and closer to his was torture. He had me where he wanted me, he beat me daily. I held on, for my kids. I made things seem like we were alright. I lost all friendships because of his controlling behavior. I would spend another year of torture with him.
On December 18th, 2002 my life was almost ended by his hands. I was in the living room talking to a friend. My little girl just over a yr old holding onto my leg, my son just 3 yrs old asleep in the bedroom with his father for a nap. Out of nowhere he came out of the bedroom and wrapped his arm around my neck, strangling me. He did not let go until I was unconscious then he dropped me on top of my 1 yr old baby. I was unconscious for a while, and when I came to he was in the closet burning our clothing. I think he thought he killed me and was going to burn out apartment. I crawled into the kitchen to find the phone cord cut. I went into the kids room to look for an old phone we let them play with. I was able to call 911. I did not know that my friend had grabbed my kids and took off to a neighbor and already called 911.
After the police arrived, he admitted what he did and smiled right at me from outside while he was handcuffed. I was taken to the hospital and observed for a few hours and then sent home. Most of the time between that day and January 3rd when I moved myself and my children to MD are a blur.
He was charged with Domestic Assault, Child Endangerment and Obstruction of Justice. They dropped the assault charges and he got 3 yrs probation and 90 days in jail. I did not have to testify. I have not seen him since his arrest.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Running Away
When I was 18, I decided to give my parents another chance. I moved back in with them, giving up many things. I had 2 jobs, was in college and was doing well. I gave all of that up.
My father went on a rampage and beat my mom. I had him arrested and then talked my mom into taking off to Las Vegas to be near her family. On a hot day in August we took off from NJ-NV. It took us 7 days to get there, sleeping at night in my car. I did not know it but my mother was smoking crack cocaine the entire trip. She also drank when I was not looking. I have anxiety driving, so she drove the whole way. We were lucky to get there in one piece.
Moving to LV was going to be my new start, I was going ot be someone I never was. I remember thinking that I was going to be opposite than I was my whole life and live my life the way I wanted to instead of being good all the time. I met a friend of my cousins and we hit it off from first our first meeting. I fell head over heels in love. I had never had a serious relationship, but he was different. He was a huge teddy bear who promised to take care of me and get me away from my drug addicted mother. I believed him.
I moved in with him almost immediately. After about 2 months I found out I was expecting a bundle of joy. I was nervous and excited at the same time. I was only 18, but a baby might help fill that void I still felt. It was abot 7 mos into my pregnancy with my son that the 1st beating occurred. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was all over a stupid soda. He beat me so bad that my mouth was busted and I bled, fearing a miscarriage. I ran out of the apartment, running as far as I could. I waited an hour and then went home. I got in the tub to clean up the blood and he walked in. He cried and apologized. I should had known it was all a lie, growing up with an abusive dad, but I believed him.
He did not hit me again while I was pregnant, and I assumed our life would go on with no problems, boy was I wrong.
My father went on a rampage and beat my mom. I had him arrested and then talked my mom into taking off to Las Vegas to be near her family. On a hot day in August we took off from NJ-NV. It took us 7 days to get there, sleeping at night in my car. I did not know it but my mother was smoking crack cocaine the entire trip. She also drank when I was not looking. I have anxiety driving, so she drove the whole way. We were lucky to get there in one piece.
Moving to LV was going to be my new start, I was going ot be someone I never was. I remember thinking that I was going to be opposite than I was my whole life and live my life the way I wanted to instead of being good all the time. I met a friend of my cousins and we hit it off from first our first meeting. I fell head over heels in love. I had never had a serious relationship, but he was different. He was a huge teddy bear who promised to take care of me and get me away from my drug addicted mother. I believed him.
I moved in with him almost immediately. After about 2 months I found out I was expecting a bundle of joy. I was nervous and excited at the same time. I was only 18, but a baby might help fill that void I still felt. It was abot 7 mos into my pregnancy with my son that the 1st beating occurred. I remember it like it was yesterday. It was all over a stupid soda. He beat me so bad that my mouth was busted and I bled, fearing a miscarriage. I ran out of the apartment, running as far as I could. I waited an hour and then went home. I got in the tub to clean up the blood and he walked in. He cried and apologized. I should had known it was all a lie, growing up with an abusive dad, but I believed him.
He did not hit me again while I was pregnant, and I assumed our life would go on with no problems, boy was I wrong.
Friday, December 28, 2012
Deep Down
Deep down inside I have longed for friendships, family etc. I have allowed others to believe that I am fine the way I am. I am not! I would have loved to have been popular growing up, but I was the odd ball instead. I was made fun of daily. Mostly because I just did not fit in. I thought of death daily during my teen years. I reverted to cutting myself from time to time. Hiding my cuts from everyone on my thighs or stomach, which was always covered up. I picked at my scabs, making myself bleed and leaving lasting scars. My entire body is covered in scars. I ate everything in sight, making myself extremely fat. I was obese from middle school on and continuing now. I finally gained a few friendships my senior year of high school only to lose them a few years later.
(my actual arm today)
When I was 16 and in foster care I cut my wrists, I remember how good it felt to do it. I remember the blood pouring from my wrists. I remembering that when I die my parents would feel bad and cry over my grave apologizing for how horrible they were. I wanted them to hurt, to long for their daughter, to suffer an eternal guilt. I survived. I then resorted to ODing on pills, anything I could find. I wanted gone, this life to be left behind, the pain to be left behind. I tried many times while in foster care, even spending months at a time in psychiatric hospitals. Diagnosed with depression and given so many medications that made things worse or did not work at all.
One placement I was in sticks out in my mind because of the abuse going on in that place. The name was Denbeigh Home for girls in King of Prussia, PA, then name St Francis Home for Girls after I left. Since I was a ward of the state at this time, they did whatever they wanted to with me. No one really checked up on me or seemed to care when I spoke up. The verbal, physical and sexual abuse continued until I ran away and ended up in a residential facility until age 18.
During my time in foster care i was placed on dozens of medications and I do not remember much of those years. I am probably lucky since what little I do remember is horrible.
The Early Years...My life in a nutshell.
As far back as I can remember I was hated by my mother. It was like I was never wanted. I could do no right. I only felt love and acceptance at my grandparents, but even when I was with my grandparents there was a void, a hole that nothing could fill.
I can't count how many times from the age of 5 until I was 10 that I was reminded by mother that I should have been aborted. I still to this day feel she was right.
( age 5)
I tried many things to be accepted by my parents. I was just not the "perfect" child they had in mind. They were drug addicts, smoked and drank daily. My father was extremely abusive toward my mother. Although no women deserve to be abused, my mother brought a lot of it upon herself, sometimes throwing things at my father and egging him on until he finally hit her or chucked something at her head.
(age 6)
I have two brothers. Both younger than me and both the apples of my parents eyes. They could do no wrong. My youngest brother, the baby, was my baby. I took care of him, watched him when he was just a baby even though I was only 6 when he was born.
(my baby brother and my mom)
I remember my mother making me take him when he was about 2 yrs old in his stroller to my play dates. I would walk him down the long road, pushing him and talking to him like he was my child. He was in a way my pride and joy. At night, if he had a nightmare, it was my bed he ran to. Yep, he was my buddy.
When I was just 10 yrs old, I was left to watch both my brothers aged 4 and 8 and my parents friends 2 children. I remember having to make dinner and when I was done I could not find my 8 yr old brother. He was no where to be found in the house and I could not leave the other 3 alone as they were young. My parents happened to stop home in between bar hopping shortly after my brother disappeared. Of course when I told them they flipped on me and blamed me. A few minutes later he was found across the street at a friends house.
(age 10)
That evening would be my last i that household. My mother packed my stuff in trash bag. I clearly remember the slew of profanities that came out of her mouth with many choice words that she called me. I became immune to those words and they did not sting much anymore. I remember my brothers crying, and my dad just sitting there allowing my mom to talk to me that way and pack my stuff.
It was December, and the snow was falling pretty hard. We lived in Philly and my grandparents in Jersey. We had to cross the Walt Whitman bridge in the snow storm. My mother, still drunk drove me the half hours from her house to my grandparents arriving at almost 10pm. My grandparents go to bed early so I knew they were sleeping and may not even hear the door. My mother threw me and my stuff out of the car and not waiting to make sure I got in safely, took off. My aunt and her boyfriend happened to be downstairs watching a movie and let me in.
I was home, to be spoiled and loved for eternity. Sounds like a happy ending right? Well for me it was not good enough. I stole from my grandparents and aunt, started smoking cigarettes and experimenting with sex. I was only about 12 when started making friends in school. I was the odd one. I hated showering or wearing clothes that were "cool". I lived in an area where the people had money, so kids wore designer clothing and had there hair and nails done daily. I was not and still am not into my looks. I did not care about my weight which ballooned into obesity after I hit 13. Food was my best friend.
As I got older, I hurt even more from the rejection of my parents. I did move back and forth from my grandparents to my parents year after year. When I was 16 my parents split up for the umpteenth time and my mom and me and my little brother took off to Florida to live with my aunt. I hated it there, my mother was so fake acting like she was a perfect "Christian" and then getting drunk and doing drugs behind every ones backs. I ended up moving back to Philly with my dad and middle brother.
Year after year I would go back and forth, searching for something ot fill the void in my heart and getting hurt day after day. My grandparents finally had enough and allowed me to go to foster care. It was there that my mental illnesses came out at first I do believe. I was put on so many medications and taken from placement to placement. I ran away a lot and got in trouble. The search for acceptance never ending.
Finally at age 18 after I aged out of the system my grandparents took me back. I finished high school a year later.
I can't count how many times from the age of 5 until I was 10 that I was reminded by mother that I should have been aborted. I still to this day feel she was right.
I tried many things to be accepted by my parents. I was just not the "perfect" child they had in mind. They were drug addicts, smoked and drank daily. My father was extremely abusive toward my mother. Although no women deserve to be abused, my mother brought a lot of it upon herself, sometimes throwing things at my father and egging him on until he finally hit her or chucked something at her head.
I have two brothers. Both younger than me and both the apples of my parents eyes. They could do no wrong. My youngest brother, the baby, was my baby. I took care of him, watched him when he was just a baby even though I was only 6 when he was born.
I remember my mother making me take him when he was about 2 yrs old in his stroller to my play dates. I would walk him down the long road, pushing him and talking to him like he was my child. He was in a way my pride and joy. At night, if he had a nightmare, it was my bed he ran to. Yep, he was my buddy.
When I was just 10 yrs old, I was left to watch both my brothers aged 4 and 8 and my parents friends 2 children. I remember having to make dinner and when I was done I could not find my 8 yr old brother. He was no where to be found in the house and I could not leave the other 3 alone as they were young. My parents happened to stop home in between bar hopping shortly after my brother disappeared. Of course when I told them they flipped on me and blamed me. A few minutes later he was found across the street at a friends house.
That evening would be my last i that household. My mother packed my stuff in trash bag. I clearly remember the slew of profanities that came out of her mouth with many choice words that she called me. I became immune to those words and they did not sting much anymore. I remember my brothers crying, and my dad just sitting there allowing my mom to talk to me that way and pack my stuff.
It was December, and the snow was falling pretty hard. We lived in Philly and my grandparents in Jersey. We had to cross the Walt Whitman bridge in the snow storm. My mother, still drunk drove me the half hours from her house to my grandparents arriving at almost 10pm. My grandparents go to bed early so I knew they were sleeping and may not even hear the door. My mother threw me and my stuff out of the car and not waiting to make sure I got in safely, took off. My aunt and her boyfriend happened to be downstairs watching a movie and let me in.
I was home, to be spoiled and loved for eternity. Sounds like a happy ending right? Well for me it was not good enough. I stole from my grandparents and aunt, started smoking cigarettes and experimenting with sex. I was only about 12 when started making friends in school. I was the odd one. I hated showering or wearing clothes that were "cool". I lived in an area where the people had money, so kids wore designer clothing and had there hair and nails done daily. I was not and still am not into my looks. I did not care about my weight which ballooned into obesity after I hit 13. Food was my best friend.
As I got older, I hurt even more from the rejection of my parents. I did move back and forth from my grandparents to my parents year after year. When I was 16 my parents split up for the umpteenth time and my mom and me and my little brother took off to Florida to live with my aunt. I hated it there, my mother was so fake acting like she was a perfect "Christian" and then getting drunk and doing drugs behind every ones backs. I ended up moving back to Philly with my dad and middle brother.
Year after year I would go back and forth, searching for something ot fill the void in my heart and getting hurt day after day. My grandparents finally had enough and allowed me to go to foster care. It was there that my mental illnesses came out at first I do believe. I was put on so many medications and taken from placement to placement. I ran away a lot and got in trouble. The search for acceptance never ending.
Finally at age 18 after I aged out of the system my grandparents took me back. I finished high school a year later.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)