The day I nearly lost my mind.

Not that it's a difficult stretch by any means, but....
Again with the doctor's office. I dread doctors offices because there's usually a gathering of most of my triggers in one big room.

It's Cancer and Hematology office so there's all kind of noises. Wheel chairs squeaking, chart carts hustling by, the coughers and sneezers, The usual cacophony of people interacting with each other. Some talking louder so they can be heard above the din, Then there's the mobile IV drip poles.... clunk clunk clunking across the floor.  The automatic door whooshing open and closed. People heading to the cafeteria across the hall and bringing back plates of food (omg the smells)

Just the normal every day triggers that put one on edge just ready to topple over.

And then it happens....... THE PACER. The one person who has to pace back and forth for half an hour around the foyer. Back and forth back and forth back and forth....... *KILL*  And it wasn't a slow pacing step either, it was really rapid.

I tried to avoid looking at him. Not happening.
I tried thinking maybe he has some disorder that makes him restless and he can't settle down, GRRR
Back and forth back and forth back and forth.

Maybe he's just nervous. Some people pace when they're nervous. This is the Cancer center after all.
Back and forth back and forth

OMG STOP PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY, STOP.

And then my name is called and all's well in my quiet little room by myself. Actual doctor visit went smoothly, I need more iron *eye roll*  I finally get my cab ride home after a little wait time; which is nice for a change. But knowing that I have to deal with another doctor visit the next day has me still on that razor's edge.

Only I don't..... I no sooner sat down and the next days doctor office calls to confirm my appt for which I'll need to be sedated. I'm nervous about that but dealing okay....sorta. They tell me I have to have someone drive me there and wait for me through the procedure.

I get rides by cab, I tell her this "Well do you have someone who'll be with you that can make any critical choices in case something happens?"

NO!    All I have is my 28 year old mentally disabled son who would never be able to make any decisions like that.

"You don't have a neighbor or friend that could do it?"

No!

"Then we might not be able to do the procedure I'll have to ask the doctor"

"Is this the same sedative that was used the last time I was there, because my son was waiting for me that time?

"Yes it's the same, but it's policy to have someone responsible on hand, would he be able to make those kind of decisions?"

No.

"Well I'll talk to the doctor, but I doubt we'll be able to do it."  Click and hang up.

WTF MAN???????????????

An hour later she calls back and says the doctor said "NO! we can reschedule for sometime when you have someone responsible."

You can reschedule all you want to it's going to be the same outcome. I HAVE NO ONE.

"I'm sorry there's nothing we can do then, maybe social services can help find someone for you." Click and hang up


DAMMIT YOU WANT ME TO LEAVE MY LIFE IN THE HANDS OF A STRANGER???? NO FUCKING WAY.

I'm not trusting my life to some random stranger. Not happening.

So I ended up with very mixed feelings. Joy that I don't have to endure that procedure, but royally pissed off about the 'restrictions'  

They've gotta take into account that there are a lot of people like me who just don't have any kind of support network backing them up and we need vital testing too.

What about us?

Today was not the day

I just...... ugh .....today.

I'm finding right now I need to stay away from certain sites today. My triggers are tripping all over, yet at the moment I'm calm enough, other than the shaking.
I've been having some major depressive thoughts again, and even worse... found out that sometimes my son thinks about suicide. Not that he'd actually do it but that it's entered his mind. That's distressing.

I've thought about it often enough. I've been in denial for so long, but looking back I'd have to say the thought of death was pretty much always there. Even as far back as age six I realized that I wanted to die. It's funny I always told all my doctors that the thought of suicide had never entered my mind, and that's mostly true. But the idea of just dying or not being has always been there. If I couldn't have a better life than the one I had, I'd rather just die. No one wanted me, no one needed me, Even my parents just up and abandoned me. My grandparents raised me but I never felt like I was wanted there.

But not today.

Maybe it's just the melancholia of the upcoming holiday's. I don't celebrate. Any of them. I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything. Yet I can't help but feel a bit of nostalgia for the old days. Yeah they never really wanted me there, but I was. I had some good food, occasionally got let into conversations, or I'd just catch a hint at one and chuckle quietly only to be glared at for daring to listen to them.  I wasn't invited to play the games, and hated watching the sports. I'd sit somewhere quiet and read to myself. No one bothered me, no one asked what I was reading, they didn't care because it wasn't bible centered. I wanted more out of reading.

Yet it's still there. I want to die.

I'm alone. But I have a son and a kitten. It still feels alone, unwanted, unwelcome.  I'm tired. I don't wish to exist. I have to go on though.

Growing up feeling so unloved and unwanted was hard, but I'm still here. Even if sometimes I don't want to be.

Today I'm full of confusion. I kinda miss those family get togethers not for the way that I was treated, but just to share with other people. The comradery, the sharing. The tables laden with food. I've cut that part out of my life.

People fill me with fear, they're judgmental, they're liars, they try to shove their beliefs onto you. I don't want to live that life. I don't want to live any sort of fake life.

Maybe someday, but this is not the day.

Views from a Doctors office.

I casually strolled into my doctor's office the other day. High on the joy of being able to wear heels again after an astonishingly long 10 year span.

They're dated because I haven't worn anything but flats for such a long time, because I have a crumbling spine. DDD, osteo-arthritis, spinal stenosis, collapsing discs between the vertebra, with bone on bone pain.

But I thought "WHAT THE HELL?" It's just to my doctor's office, only a little walking needed. I won't be in the heels more than 2 hours.

It was amazing. I felt more confident and taller. So much taller. I'm tiny (5'2") and round (but I'm losing some of that)

So as I'm waiting I notice my usual SPD, Misophonia and shades of Irlen syndrome ticks kicking in. Out of the corner of my eye I see her: the hair twirler, chatting away on her smart phone in between chomps of gum. 

Then I notice the snifflers starting, a few coughs, throat clearing, nose blowing noises. The lights are dim but numerous which counters the effect of the dimness. I can't read magazines under these circumstances.  And then the worse.... it starts gently, quietly...... the cacophony of noise as a mass group of people begin to chat. They're discussing religion and choirs and such. Not an unusual topic really for a Cancer center. What ever gives you peace of mind, right?  

Well not me. I hate this type of conversation passionately. As I've said numerous times before I was raised in that type of environment and glad to have gotten out alive as one would say. I find these topics distressing as I've run away from organized religion as fast as I was able to go.  Others may find peace, but I just see the meaningless of it all. It's literally running on blind faith in something created by man.

Time to plug in my MP3 player to drown out the noise behind me. But then I can't hear if they call my name. So one ear plugged up and one out, trying not to let the babble behind me work under my skin as it so often does.  

It's also now about 45 minutes past my appt time. Finally I get called back and wait in the tiny room for another  ..................um 45 minutes. 

So here it is an hour and a half past my appt time and I'm getting frustrated beyond belief. I'm not a patient patient. I hate being left to wait.

Finally released from doctor care with a 'free from cancer' clearance. Down stairs a player grand piano is tinkling away softly in the lobby.  MP3 time again.  Almost in the clear until a woman in a wheelchair starts moaning and mumbling. It grows in volume as they usually do. Soon she's nearly screaming and flopping her arms around.  Her transportation soon comes and whisks her away, but I'm left thinking. Her outbursts didn't bother me as much as most other noises. Why?   Perhaps that one little rational part of my mind that's usually overcome by sound and visual stimulation realizes that the poor woman simply can't help what she's doing. There's something faulty in her wiring and I can deal with that because I'm wired wrong myself. Who knows perhaps I'll end up being her. No one knows.Oddly enough I'm able to ignore all but her most vocal outbursts. But I don't give the same leeway to others who make noises and sights that trigger me into a meltdown. Their habits and outbursts are controllable to some extent.  A baby crying doesn't know better but the pitch and volume of their screams assault my hearing and overload my senses. The running uncontrolled child being ignored by it's tuned out parents is still a controllable situation. The hair twirler: unconsciously done gets a half pass, but the gum chomping and cell phone use that's controllable, and unnecessary. The god fanclub behind me, while annoying could have kept it down. Their enthusiasm got the best of them. Understandable to an extent, but non the less annoying. 

Doctor appt survived with a few mini meltdowns. But I guess knowing that my blood is also now cancer free is good. They're still trying to find out why I'm so anemic despite being on an iron supplement.

I really dislike going out because it's always so painful. I'm just glad that my time in public is limited to doctor appts and grocery shopping. 

Something I HATE

I hate when others will tell you "Others have it worse than you."   Ya know what? Fuck you. Someone else may or maybe not having it worse does not negate what I'm feeling.

This is one of the reasons I don't post a lot of my problems on FB. There's always that one who's gotta throw that tired, overused line out there.

First of YOU do not have any idea what all I'm going through. You don't know what silent, invisible illness's diseases and syndromes I personally deal with.

This is actually a very mean thing to say to someone who's a chronic illness sufferer. Each person's own personal struggle with what ails them is their own private hell. You don't compare it to someone else. No matter if it's true that someone else has it worse. When you tell a person that you are making them feel little and unloved, not special. It's saying that what you're dealing with doesn't matter, after all someone has it so much worse.

Don't you think we know that? Maybe that's why a lot of chronic sufferers don't open up about what's all wrong with them. They don't want to be judged, they want a little understanding.

Don't be so dismissive. Understand that we know very well there's others that are worse off. We care but we're more concerned with our own personal misery and just want some simple understanding.

It's not fair to make that comparison.

Weird side problems with SPD

I think..... I don't know I'm still figuring this out.

My son always wants to get me gifts for the holiday, I tell him it's not necessary but he insists. This year I found a solution. Buying coffee cups on ebay. I've gotten a couple of nice ones so far and they're tucked away in the closet to be wrapped later.

But I've hit a snag.  I'm finding some triggering things that made me sit back and go "HMMMM!!!!"

I'm looking for a specific type of mug. Abstract or floral patterns are great. Ones with company logo's are fine. I can not abide the ones with faces on them. The ones in the shape of jolly santa, or shaped like a fish where you'd have to drink out of the mouth...... UMMM NO.... even the ones with cartoon characters make me uncomfortable.

Looking back I can see that I've always had plain or floral pattern ones and strictly stayed away from any 'face' type mug. I never knew why, now I do.   I think this goes along with the SPD pattern.  I hate to see people eating and  the sounds bug the hell out of me. I avoid looking at people eating it's gross. But to drink my coffee out of those type mugs   NO WAY IN HELL.  

I'm getting upset and flustered looking for the right kind of mug for cripes sake.  I don't like being like this.

I'm an SPD Adult.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away. There was a girl who wasn't good at anything. She was shy and awkward and never fit in anywhere. By the time she grew up and had a child of her own she felt she was the most worthless piece of trash in the pile.

Noises bothered her, no one understood. She spoke proper english all the time, and got taunted for the funny way she spoke. She didn't make friends easily. People would pretend to be friends only to turn around and play with her feelings or tease her behind her back.

The force was not strong with this one.

She often wondered why she never fit in. Why some things bothered her so much that she would break down in tears daily. She didn't understand the way things worked sometimes. She felt out of place and wrong. Born in the wrong era or time.

One day when she was old and decrepit she came across an article about a child with sensory processing disorder. Things suddenly clicked. Someone suggested she read the book "Too loud, too bright, too loud, too tight" by Sharon Heller PhD.  So she ran to the Amazon site and bought a used copy.

Once she started to read the world opened up. Suddenly her world made sense. She wasn't weird after all. She was wired wrong. It WASN'T her fault that she didn't fit. It had a name. And so did some other 'quirks' that she had.  They all had names. They all were real. There was some sort of balance in the force after all.

Misophonia,Phonophobia/Ligyrophobia, Irlen syndrome, Dyscalculia,  SPD. depersonalization and derealization disorders. Depression, Bi-polar, PTSD, Panic/anxiety, ASD (aspergers) ADHD. Most of these are recent realizations. I've suffered for years before with the depression, bi-polar, PTSD and panic/anxiety. All the others are not new symptoms but things about me that have actual names that I can give them.  I'm working with my psychologist on these little quirks of mine.

These sound like silly things to a 'normal' person but these are the things I struggle with on a daily basis. I'm not healed or cured by any means. It's a long hard journey. 

I now know why I was so uncomfortable around people, why sounds or brightness bothered me, why smells would make me sick, why some food tasted wrong or felt wrong.

I have a long way to go and I'm trying my damndest to be strong. I know I'm not, I'm weak and prone to times of massive self loathing and self doubt. Negative seems to be my default setting in my mind. I always see the negative in a situation. Like the rest that's going to take time.

I have cut out all the toxic people in my life. I did it for my own mental health. But I'm not brave and I sometimes wish I had them back just to have someone to talk to even knowing that all I would get from them is to be put down and tortured more, I don't need that. I'm better off without them.

I've found a wonderful group of people who have similar problems. That's helped too; knowing that I'm not alone.

I'm an SPD adult.

Why I stay emotion neutral.

I don’t believe in love, and the negative emotions are difficult for me to deal with. All I feel is anger and fear, mostly aimed at myself.

I have vague memories of my abuse.

Mostly done by my stepmother….She tried to kill me several times. I was under the age of 3.

• I went to visit my grandmother who noticed that I had marks around my neck. I said that Kay strangled me.
• I remember standing at the top of the long steps and suddenly I was at the bottom in a heap.
• She used her dogs to terrify me. They were attack trained German shepherds.
• One day I thought I was helping to beat the rugs and was using a broom. She tore out the door, grabbed the broom out of my hands and chased me around the yard, hitting me on the head, neck and back. 
• Gave me dog tranquilizers to keep my quiet when my grandmother came for a visit.
• Couldn’t tolerate combing through my long curly hair (it was down to my waist) So she used the dog clippers to shave my head bald.
• She beat me for any supposed misdeed.  Even for things that her son had done. I got the blame and beat for it 
• Every time she gave me a pill, I’d spit it out and it would fly across the room, she’d smack my face and force the pill down my throat.

One of my dad’s other girlfriends also tried to kill me one night when I was staying over so he could have his “visit”

She came in to tuck me in while I was already asleep…..placing the pillow over my head and tucking the sheet and blanket in tightly. I woke up and panicked. I cried for my dad and he undid the blankets. We left soon after that.

I remember the things happening but nothing of what happened afterward. I have huge memory gaps.

I eventually went to live with my grandparents. My grandmother would tell me I would be sitting on a rolled up rug that was in the living room, watching tv and I’d just pass out suddenly into my cereal. I don’t recall this.

Things weren’t necessarily better. There was no such thing as mental illness unless it was profound retardation. With my grandparents and family it was all solved with church, the bible and prayer. None of this worked for me.

I hated church. I was different (now finding out about aspergers) I didn’t fit in there because it just never felt right. I was bullied by the other kids, and ignored or blamed by the parents. The other kids would make fun of me because I was different and always trying to fit in but they wouldn’t let me. Some of those same kids went to my school which is a whole different level of torture. But I never felt safe in church. It all felt so fake. I no longer have anything to do with religion. It’s not a safe place to be.

School: What a living nightmare. I couldn’t escape the bullies because they lived down the street, they lived next door. I was a walking target from the moment I left the house. Yes it was mostly name calling and that may seem trivial, but it never let up. Every day all day long the names would flow. Or I’d get shoved, or tripped on the steps. My hair pulled, my cloths pulled and undone.  They made fun of the way I looked, the way I dressed, the way I talked, the way I walked, how my hair looked, my glasses, my weight was the biggest thing. I got made fun of for the lunches I brought from home. The lunchbox I used, the way I decorated my notebooks.

Maybe I was too sensitive. I was awkward I didn’t mix. I didn’t get invited to people’s houses. I was terrified to have people come over to mine because my grandmother would start preaching at them. No one wanted to hear that. I had no friends. No one who had my back.

Lonely. All alone.

And then the family…. the moral, upright christians who would give the shirts off their backs to anyone but me. I was an unwanted accessory when I had to live with my grandparents. My aunts and uncles treated me like a slave. I wasn’t allowed to play with their children’s toys I wasn’t allowed in their room, unless the kids were there of course. I wasn’t trusted. Had I done anything? No I just existed. They didn’t like my mother, so they didn’t like me.

I had to beg to visit on sundays so I’d have someone to play with. or beg them to come visit me. I didn’t have much so not many wanted to come to my house.

At the family gatherings I got put to work setting things up or washing the dishes all by myself. They didn’t involve me in the games and discussions. So I’d sit at the table and pick at the left overs. Only to be accused of stealing food.

But if some missionary or downtrodden person needed help they were first in line. Completely ignoring the ghost in the family. They even had a meeting one time *unknown to me* where they sat down and tried to decide what would happen to me if the grandparents were to die while I was still young.

Not ONE of those so called loving christians wanted anything to do with me. I’d have probably been left to live on the street. Underage. They didn’t care as long as they weren’t stuck with me.  I was told this to my face at one holiday gathering by one of my cousins. I was gutted.  I knew my place in life and it was not with them.

I never received hugs and kisses. No affection at all.

So yeah I don’t believe in love. I do the best I can with my son but I know it’s not enough. But I was determined that he wouldn’t grow up like I did. Every one tells me how loving and caring he is so I guess I managed it.

I'm just worthless right now.

I feel it starting. I don't even know the reason behind it but I feel it. I'm wanting to withdraw from everything.  For the most part I don't want to talk to anyone. I'm sitting on needles, all tensed up and ready to spring. One little noise, one more thing goes wrong I'm gonna break. I don't even know why I'm writing this here. I don't expect anyone to be able to help me. I go though is more frequently than I can count. I go beyond the SPD/Aspie norm of withdrawing from society. I just shut down. I want to shut down. I want all my pain to stop. I want my brain to shut up I want to sleep. I don't want to be responsible anymore. *sigh* I don't know. I won't do anything and I don't mean to scare anyone. I just needed to write this down.

Visual image of bi-polar

To me this is what bi-polar feels like.

1. The dark side represents the depression: It's dark and everything is muted in color and tone. Things don't seem quite right. It's not completely dark, there are little bright spots but they're muted and dull. There's no real fulfillment from anything.  There's a dark cloud that covers everything. It's dark, scary and always hidden. I hide my depression from the outside world with a smile or a joke. It has to be hard to read me when I'm like this. I don't want to show that face to the world.
2. The bright colored side is the mania: It's bright and busy. Sometimes overwhelming and noisy. Things and feelings are all over the place. It's messy and wild. My nerves feel all strung out and over stimulated. The mania is good for when you want to get things done. It's chaos. It's insane. It's cleaning spree and twitchy skin over twitchy nerves. Everything twitches and buzzes. I don't like to go out when I'm in this mode because it can lead to reckless behavior. It wants to spend, it wants to scream and hit things. I hide when it happens.

To me this is what bi-polar feels like it's dull and chaotic at the same time. Two sides of the same coin. Always off balance. Even with medication the balance always is in flux. Bi-polar is a strange beast that lives in my head.

Call of the lost.

Some where I lost myself

and I don't know how to get home

Every day I've been having this feeling of loss. Like I've forgotten something. Or lost something that I just can't remember. I just have this hollow feeling inside and I don't know what to do to fill it. 

Life just doesn't seem to hold much interest, even being on the computer; which is usually one of my greater joys is failing to entertain and do much for me. 

I'm triggered by small things. I jump at strange sounds. I'm flinching when there's flashing commercials on. I've been sleeping A LOT. 

My doctor would say that it's my depression that making me feel so tired all the time, and I acknowledge that, but this is beyond even that. I feel like a part of me is missing. I feel a genuine loss of something.  I hunger for something and have no idea what to sate it with. 

I feel like everyone is avoiding me because I do nothing but complain and whine. I'm sick and I'm tired. Unless someone is dealing with chronic illness's there's no way that they'd understand what it's like to just not have a normal life.

That's what I want. A normal life. One where there's no pain. One where I'm not the shy, awkward outcast. 

I avoid strong emotions the best I can.  So I handle things differently. 

I was shocked and stunned by the latest celeb death due to depression, yet I can't morn it. I've lost my family due to them shutting me out. Yet I'm happy about it. My mom died in Dec and I'm thrilled she's finally gone. I don't have to walk on egg shells around her any more but my not going to the viewing has created a rift. I really don't care either. They're toxic people.  It's better to be rid of toxic influences.

I keep getting people telling me they'll pray for me or I should pray. I want nothing to do with prayer. I find it filled with falsities and unfulfillable  wishes. It's only for the person's comfort and that comfort is a false one. I don't desire falsehoods, I don't need to fall back on some make believe 'savior'  Man created god, not the other way around. Religion is used to control people's thoughts and desires. 

"Religion is the opiate of the masses" ~paraphrased from Karl Marx. Literally meaning that religion acts as a drug to the masses of people. I could be wrong and I usually am. I'm just tired of people shoving religion in my face. I was raised in the most fundamentalist of families. I could have a theological debate with most people and hold my own.  

I follow my own path yet I'm lost and have no idea what's wrong. I  just want to feel full again. I want to feel whole. I don't. I can't.  

Or is this just all part of my damaged brain? Is it because I'm so damaged that I can't feel fulfilled? Because I have so much brain fog that I simply can't remember what I'm suppose to be missing or that I actually am whole but I just don't know?  Perhaps I'm simply too tired to know what I want or need. I killed my own joy. I killed my own happiness by dwelling on all the negative? I try really hard to not to be negative. But it seems that's the way my brain is wired. I can't let go. 

I need to learn to let things go. I need to breath. I need to fly. I'm scared to try. 

Depression is the bitch I hate the most.

Aside from myself.
I'm feeling very depressed today. I just want to curl up and not wake up.  I got all stimulated for the kitten to arrive today or tomorrow, then I get a message that something's come up and they can't make it till the beginning of the month. I'm fine with that I am. I understand that things happen. But I'm also very disappointed. I feel let  down.  But that's not all I just feel so out of sync with everything and that's throwing my depression into high speed.
I'm tired and lacking sleep. I don't feel good.
I just cut ties with my last relative. He's super toxic to my mental health. I just can't care if I've pissed him off. I don't need it.
I don't even know what to write here. I just don't have it today. I feel like crap. and I want to die.

nothing new.

Suicide: That could have been me

All my life I've lived with depression. Of course growing up in the era I did it was something that wasn't addressed at all. I just had to deal with it.
Did the thought of self harm or suicide ever cross my mind. I'd be lying if I said no. I denied it to myself for a long time. I only just recently realized that I do have that urge occasionally.
I was abandoned as a toddler. I lived with a step parent for a while. She was evil. She tried to kill me a number of times. I finally got left with my grandparents at about the age of 3. I only remember bits and pieces of my life before that. And I don't really recall anything before my 5-6 birthday. I remember going to school. I remember having a birthday party for my 6th b-day. Also the day I got a huge burn on my leg when my one cousin pulled me off my dad's motorcycle and my leg got against the hot pipe on the side. Happy birthday with a side of 2nd degree burns. They never did heal right. I can still see the scar occasionally and I'm 55 now.
I grew up knowing I wasn't wanted. The family resented my intrusion into the family. My aunts and uncles were indifferent to me. I was met with a cold shoulder all the time. I was alone in a crowded room. Always over looked always let out. No one would miss me, no one would care. I know that. You just know when you're not wanted. I knew, at all the family gatherings as I sat in the corner of the couch; reading the book I brought along, because I knew they wouldn't include me in any of the things they were doing. I wasn't allowed to play with their toys. I wasn't allowed into their rooms. I was made to wash the celebration plates. No escape, just the puppet that they controlled.  All I wanted was to be accepted or die.  This good christian family treated me like a slave. An unwanted part of life. Those among the few friends don't know how they treated me. To everyone else they were the ideal Christians. They were such hypocrites. Yet people that know them would swear to you that they are the perfect Christians. To me they were liars and bullies. I no longer believe in anything I was taught in church. I renounce everything to do with any kind of religion. I hate it. I hate everything about it.  
At school I was the easy target for the bullies. I was shy, awkward and different looking. I was fat, wore glasses, had out of control curly/frizzy hair. I was the weird one. I liked scifi and nerdy stuff. I was teased for that. I had girl crushes on the popular pop stars at the time. I got teased for that.  I  was pushed, shoved, tripped, had my hair pulled, brand new sneakers stolen out of my locker. I didn't fit in any group. I wasn't smart, I wasn't into sports, not into much of anything, I was a nothing. A ghost. Only a visible ghost. One that got taunted and teased daily. How many times I wanted to just die.
Maybe I was too sensitive. Maybe I was too naive. Maybe I was so desperate for a friend that I'd do anything to get a friend or supposed friend. Oh sure I had a few people who were nice to me and I'll give them credit for that. But I wish someone would have stood up for me. Someone would take my side. Someone who'd put an arm over my shoulder and say "It's okay, that person is just being a jerk"  But no, that never happened.
I'm still very sensitive to things. I'm still a bit naive on some things. I desperately want friends. I don't make them easily. People on the internet don't know me as much as they could because most think I complain and whine too much.
It's only recently that I found out that I've had aspergers all along. That accounted for the awkward weirdness of my youth. Why I try too hard. Why I don't understand things sometimes. I have aspergers and sensory processing disorder. Things are too loud, too fast, too much info too much of the time.
I still feel alone all the time. I still feel like I'd be better off dead sometimes. I even plot it out sometimes. But one thing and only one thing holds me back.
My son.
So yeah suicide could have been me. Who knows it still could. I won't but the thought is always there.

Sometimes.

Sometimes I just want to give up writing. No one reads my stuff. I'm feeling lost and alone. I just want to crawl into a hole and fade away.
Those that possibly do read my stuff are likely sick of reading about all my whining and moaning. I'm having a bad case of the 'woe is me's'

I'm so on edge from being over stimulated. I just give up. I hurt I'm scared and I just don't want to go on.

All's been fairly quiet

Other than medical tests

and such

Well things have been fairly calm. Until you count last week when I had to prep and have a colonoscopy. The prep is brutal. I had to drink 4 full ltrs of the cleaning out fluid. (read liquid draino for the body) There was nothing at all left in my body. 

Good point I lost about 4 lbs of waste and water..... So *thumbs up*

The procedure it's self is done under anesthetic, so you hardly know what's going on. They did remove one polyp which turned out to be pre-cancerous. Doctor said he got it all and I don't have to go through the whole process for another 5 years.    I slept a lot for the next couple of days. 

But I'm not sure if it was from the prep solution or the anesthetic (doc says no to the anesthetic) but my spinal surgery sites have been numb-ish in feeling. Also my lips and tip of my tongue have been numb-ish feeling too. I have to bring this up with my doc when I see him next week.   

Also my back is hurting so bad. I nearly passed out from from the pain of standing. It's getting to the point where more than 5 minutes on my feet and I'm hanging on to things to keep standing.

Found out some things I can no longer eat because of my CKD and I was in tears. Some of my most favorite fruit and veggies is on the list of things I'm not allowed. 

I already can't have my beloved grapefruit because of some of the medications that I'm on *cries*  But now I can't have starfruit, pomegranate, broccoli, and a bunch of other thing. I was literally in tears and having a panic attack while reading the stuff I have to not eat or only have a minimum amount of.

Nothing really extraordinary on the SPD front lately.  Neighbor has a friend who rolls into his drive way, radio blaring, then honks the horn.  X^X  Not fun.  

Oh and we've been officially adopted by one of the neighborhood cats.

We'll be getting our promised kitten sometime next week. My friend from PA is driving the kitty here. We've named him Smudge. And he's a cutie

I really hope the adopter cat gets along with the kitten. 

But I can tell you that kitty therapy is and has been good for me. I need the tactical feel of petting something soft to help calm me down.

Thought it was one way but it's another

The diagnosis trip

changing my life

Had my monthly psych visit. Things went well. 

We went over that instead of being ADHD I might actually have aspergers and SPD. She agree and has changed my chart. I have an official diagnose. But because of adverse reactions to the usual meds that they give aspergers patients I can't take anything. So I'm just the way I am. But so much has been explained.

Both of these fit me to a tee. I could but a check mark on everything. This is me. All me.  

Also with the SPD. I have to find some calming tools aside from deep breathing which has worked in the past but seems to be lacking something now. I need new coping mechanisms.  I don't want to have meltdowns in the store where I just want to scream and cry, I start to shake and have to find a quiet place so I can calm down. I hate going out in public. I just get so wound out. 

Working on self-esteem

Trying to find the positive

With all the negative

1. I like my hair. Even though it's a royal pain in the ass to brush sometimes.
2. I like my height. I'm short I can go places that tall people can't.
3. Despite my weight I don't have a huge shelf-ass. It's just kind of a bump-rump.
4. I can be creative even though I think my work sucks. It makes me feel good when people say they like me. (i'm an attention sponge, i crave it)
5. I like my sense of humor. It's kept me from going more insane.
6. I have great self control most times. Other wise I'd be a pile of self harm or have put a bullet in my head. Or even given into drugs or booze. I could have easily done that.
7. I think I have kind of unique color eyes. They even change color depending on mood or illness.
8. I've cut out all the negative people in my life.
9. I'm amazed that I've gotten as far as I have with all the shit I've been through.
10. I'm proud of my eccentricities. I'm not like anyone else.

In which I've turned into an emo teenage blogger

UGH! That last post was just so..... depressing.
Yeah I have huge emotional turmoil and a gaping chasm for self esteem but I think I might have drifted over into nihilism just a bit too much.
I truly do play the martyr so well, it comes naturally to me any more.
My issues do seem to pop up on a regular basis right before my appts. That seems to be showing me how much I need those sessions.
I'm amazed at myself. I haven't turned into a blubbering mess in one of my sessions yet.  Yet hearing fireworks and loud noises cause me to want to hide in the deepest part of my basement. Any other therapy I'm be bawling my eyes out by now.

I just feel kinda stuck in neutral. I don't or can't cry. Except for traumatic things, or puppies and kitties on tv. Head sessions..... MEH!

Two steps forward, twelve steps back

When reality smacks you up side the head

Will I ever be 'normal'?

Project self esteem boosting has hit an iceberg and sinking fast. My resolve is flagging and I'm slipping back into the self loathing role. I'm having trouble accepting complements and feel people are just saying positive things to pad my feelings. 

I just want to curl up in a ball and cry. I recognize this pattern. I usually start to feel bad about myself right before my appt with my psych doc. It's a little early this time. Usually it only hits a day or two before my appt. this time it's nearly a full week prior.

Why does my resolve behave this way? Why do I fall back into that old pattern? I just can't like myself, I can't accept that people actually like me. How can anyone else love me when I hate myself so so very much. I just feel that there's no real reason for me to exist. 

I have my son. That's it. I know that's more than some people have, and I know he loves me as I do him. But I hate me. I hate me so very much.

I'm worthless.

I'm useless.

My life has been pointless. Why did I have such a life? 

Maybe I'm just tired. Maybe I'm in too much pain. Maybe it's all in my head. Maybe I'm being a martyr. 

Maybe I simply hate  me and I can't get beyond that.

And now for something completely different

Whining with a side of panic

Why me?

As if the massive panic attacks from the fireworks  overload weren't bad enough, now my home, my sanctuary is going to be invaded. 

The apt/house we rent is up for sale again. This happened last year and there were no takers. But my god the stress of having strange people in and out of my home ...... Just ewwwww. NO.

This is my home, my safe place. The place I hide when the world is bad. Now I have to have these people in my house...

NO THANK YOU, VERY MUCH.

Chinese Animated Feature Trailer 我的师父姜子牙 Master Jiang and the Six Kingdoms

OFF TOPIC FROM MY USUAL BLOGGING, BUT THIS IS AMAZING.

Never on the bright side of life.

Hobbit Flakes

Dealing with the dark side.

I haven't written to much the past few days because I've been a cowering wreck.

I have some rather inconsiderate neighbors. They were shooting off fireworks for days before the actual holiday. Then came the 4th and it may as well have been the gates of hell opening up. From 7pm until 12:20am they were just covering the area with the loud booms and flashes. I was cowering in my recliner as tight as I could pull my fat little body into a ball, trying to keep my skin on my body; fear making me want to jump right out of said skin. 

Cue meltdown. I wanted to scream, I wanted to bash my head through the wall, I clawed at my chest in frustration. I was wearing in-the-ear earbuds covered with over the ear headphones. My media player cranked as loud as it would go. I could still hear them. They were right outside my window, down the street, across the street, on the corner.... I was surrounded by these weapons of assault on my senses. I have PTSD as I said before but not from any military trauma, but from childhood abuse and traumatic events in my life. I have the same reaction if my phone rings. I jump and clench my chest in fear. 

These past few nights have been hell. It was all I could do to keep from screaming and hiding under a table or in the basement. but there was no escape from the sound. The neighbors have been relentless in their celebrating. Every single night, including last night. (Saturday)

Which brings me to a weird incident that happened this afternoon. I glanced at the clock and noted the time, turned to my son and said "Gee the mail sure is running late today." He replied "It's Sunday, there is no mail." I stared at him completely aghast. I was absolutely positive that today was Monday and that I had my doctor appt tomorrow (Tues). Some where in all that stress induced trauma I lost a day. But not really, I remember watching out usual Saturday night line up on cartoonnetwork. But today had to be Monday, it just had to be.

I'm just hoping that the fireworks nonsense is over with and I can get back on track. But I'm really going to discuss all this with my psych doc when I see her this month. This is not meaningful life. Jumping at every little bitty noise just doesn't seem like a way to live a life.

Oh one more thing. The next door neighbor is a bad neighbor in all senses of the word. When they or their friends pull in their drive way (my living room windows are right there.) They always have the car radio blasting. A few times at 3-5 in the morning they get into huge fights and she'll take off in the car leaving him screaming down the street after her. And this morning the distinct and headache inducing smell of pot wafted through the window.  (nice just what I needed)  These are not the same people where were here when we first moved in. These people are newish (end of last year I think)

I guess that's all the complaining for now.

Just another day.....

There is no different channel

There is no end

Had another bloody sensory overload day.

Our Social Security checks came in so we had to go to Wal-mart to cash them and do some shopping. I've learned enough by now to know when I go out anywhere I must take my MP3 player along with me as it blocks out the other sounds and I'm half way able to deal with being out of the house at all.  

Cue screaming children, loud pallets being moved around, people talking loudly, being in the way so I couldn't get through with the free rental motor-cart. The only way I can shop because of my crumbling spine.  We spent too much but are still alright financially for the remainder of the month.

We were able to all this done earlier than normal, which was nice. We got home at an earlier time and I was able to get all the major monthly payments out of the way. (YAY me)

Then comes evening.  Starting at about 8pm it started to happen. Fireworks. First one neighbor, then another....then another  and another..... and more.     HELLO SENSORY OVERLOAD. Extra Xanax time.

I was two headsets in on my player. (regular ear buds and a none connected pair that go over the ear. Double sound proofing.. 

Still heard them because one of the neighbors is right next door. Our windows in the living room and my bedroom face the side and backyard of their house. Everything was literally right outside our window.

And I'll probably have to deal with this again tomorrow.   

This is kind of how my brain feels (like it looks) Sights (sudden bright flashing lights) Sounds (loud explosions) smells (gun powder) feelings ( reverberations from the explosions, and the shaking physically from being scared witless.) and it's all mixed up and fuzzy in my brain (small pinkish circle in the middle of all that)  *I wish I could have drawn it better this doesn't do the feelings justice to how I feel.*

But I did work on my self esteem at some time during my day. While shopping I bought my first tube of mascara and eyeliner that I've bought in over 10 years. *big sigh*  And my son is a major MLP:FiM fandom, and he got a couple of items today including some little color hair clips. I claimed the blue one for me.  

(note I seem to have a theme.... blue earbuds and cords, blue rimmed glasses and blue play hair strip) 

Now I'm gonna try to sleep, but I doubt that'll happen. Usually when I've a over stressed day I stay wide awake until I literally  drop over from exhaustion in the wee hours of the morning. Thankfully I can use that time as a creative outlet for my writing. I'm working on my own novel instead of just writing fanfictions..

Just glad the day is over.

words of wisdom

What not to say to someone who's had or having a meltdown.

Don't be a dick to folks who are sick

No dogma needed.

Please for the love of all that's holy, do not throw your religious beliefs at someone who's having mental issues.  Especially if they're having a panic attack or SPD meltdown. 

Just don't.

Not everyone believes like you do and for someone already in crisis mode they do not need to have your political belief system thrown at them 

Sort of like this  

If you can't understand anything outside your religious bubble don't speak. You know nothing of what that person is going through. If you don't know what that person is going through do NOT tell them to do something that you believe. They may not and it will make them feel worse.  

This is much like my religious aunt, upon hearing my professionally diagnosed major depression disorder told me to just read my bible, all would be solved than.

Do you not know the brain has chemicals that can become imbalanced. Praying or reading a book is not going to put those chemicals back into balance. Medication is needed, not religious platitudes. 

KEEP IT TO YOURSELF.

Overloaded.

The not very good day in the end.

Sensory overload.

Today I had to deal with several of my main avoidance issues. 

First and foremost being telephones.  I loathe them with a hateful passion that encompasses the universe. First call was to Red Cross Transportation to go to my doctor appt next week. So I had to be up before 8:30am. And was stuck on hold for awhile there. (i'm not very patient sometimes), Got my ride scheduled and all good so far, then...... My son traded up to a newer, better model on his cell phone, we didn't have to pay anything since he had a substantial account balance. It worked out well. 

The phone came by Fed-ex today (only sent the order in on sunday evening) So super quick service. Following the directions exactly and after 10 tries of doing the exact same thing I finally got it active.. Now all that's left is the programming. ARGGGGGGH.

I love techie things. They usually make me happy. This time all I got was more frustration. Finally I got the basic info set up and phone works. He's happy camper. That crisis solved.

Then it was time for my phone..... I have one of the free govt phones.  First thing first. They are not the latest iphone or smart phone. If you actually think the govt is going to hand out for free, high tech stuff to poor people you have no clue how the govt works.

You get a $10 trac-phone. No camera, no net, no apps, no touch screen, nothing but text and talk.  When I first got mine I noticed a little glitch but didn't say anything because I was just grateful for the damn thing. (son pays for his own out of his money, but I can't afford a cell myself) Well after almost 5 years the glitches have gotten worse. The screen will freeze at random times. Even when unplugging it from the charger it'd freeze, middle of a phone call.... freeze. Playing crappy game....freeze. Oh and it totally would drop calls, and the battery would sometimes hold a charge and sometimes it wouldn't. I could have it charging for 2 whole days. Take it with me to go shopping and before I'd need to make a call to get our ride home the thing would be drained. So yeah glitchy phone all around.

I'm on the phone again... (oh god i hate that thing) and I got a tech support of the kind I really hoped to avoid.( the rapid speaking non-native english speaker) I swear to god I'm not prejudice at all, I just have trouble with hearing and understanding heavy accents. I think it goes along with my SPD. Plus they really do talk too fast. I was apologizing all over the place for not understanding him. He was really trying. I think we got it all straightened out and I'm getting a new phone since this one is not only glitchy it's out of date, they don't even make this particular model any more. So yay new phone. 

But I was burnt out and exhausted just trying to deal with all this. So I just sat back and chilled for a bit. I decided to do more research on SPD and aspergers, including taking several online tests.  All so I do indeed have some level of aspie aspects. 

Well then..  Something I need to talk about with my psych when I see her next month.   

I can see all the signs now, looking back on my life. I can see all the key points. Everything was pointing at it all those years ago, but that was a time when psych and nonscientific things weren't really investigated. It was better to just think of the kid as odd or a weirdo. Unless it was a more visible psychological condition.

Okay test are just a jumping point, I know they're not conclusive diagnosis just a guideline. I'm kinda glad to know this might be part of my problem.

Things went smoothly for the most part, had one of my tumblr and dA followers tell me I was posting too much of the same drama over and over.  Oh well.... It's my blog, I'll blog what the hell I want to. Just a mild irritation again.

Then the sky erupted. One of the neighbors decided to shoot off fireworks. Big, prolonged, loud fireworks for over 20 minutes. I jammed my ear buds into my ears and cranked my media player up to max and slammed the side of my fist against the wall. I could still hear them  I was soon a sobbing shaking mess. My son handed me a bunch of tissues and asked if he should leave the room for awhile. I shook my head no. I think him leaving would have made it worse. When I'm having a melt down, do not touch, do not talk to me, don't try to make me laugh. I absolutely can not process any more sensations.  I had already taken a xanax so couldn't take another. 

Now it's about 2 hours later and I'm finally calming down. I can feel my muscles still fairly rigid, I've got a blistering headache and an occasional tear will slip down my face. But I'm no longer hysterical. Just exhausted and shaky. 

I think I need t get noise cancelling headphones instead of just the plain earbuds. Here's to hoping that tomorrows a better day.

Not that anyone will notice.....

I'm gonna go back through my prior posts and add some pictures to them.   I do enjoy throwing pics in to accentuate a post.

It's a sad time for the home team.

School, hell school

Was this really necessary?

Ah school the bane of my very existence.

First school is a wonderful place to learn and to socialize. I gained my first best friend who rode the same bus as me.  We're still friends to this day. Irene was the same as me but stronger, things didn't seem to bother her too much.

It's also the worst place possible for those who are shy and easily intimated. Such as me. I was fine through kindergarten and pre-first... (that's a grade that was between K and 1st. for those who weren't ready to advance to first grade but were too advanced to be held back. I got the normal amount of teasing at first, and that was fine. But soon I became the target. Every mistake I made sent the others into peels of laughter. If I stuttered or stammered the teasing was relentless. Because of my weight I got all the course rude names added to my name. Animal noises were called out behind my back. 

I was pushed, my clothing as pulled at, my hair yanked so hard I saw stars, tripped, dropped off the seesaw, shoved down the slides. 

Things thrown at my head. Always picked last for games and gym. I ended up playing alone or making excuses to not go outside at all.

Then came middle school. OMG middle school. Those soul crushing years.

I know what you're saying. "Everyone goes through teasing at some point or another." Yeah that may be true, but I was extra sensitive. I couldn't process things properly. 

Why was the milk stolen off my tray? Why did I have to sit far away from everyone? My purse was stolen, all my money was taken out and they just threw my purse in the middle of the lunch room floor. I had chairs pushed out from under me. One even went out of her way to put her feet on the back of my chair and push me forward, every class we were in.. More hair yanking, more clothes pulling and damage. more names and noises aimed in my direction. I still stammered when I spoke. Math and numbers were a mystery to me. (still are) 

and then there was gym.  Oh how I hated gym. (typical fat girl reaction?)  Suddenly there were no towels left for me, My brand new gym shoes stolen right out of my locker to the gales of laughter. "Hey why don't you wear that long dress for dance class, it'll look great"   Joke on me, it was a set up to be laughed at. I was easily fooled and tricked into thing. 

I was naive to the max. Finally I just kept making excuses to skip gym. "my period just started," "i've got cramps really bad."  "I hurt my leg the other day."   I didn't care if I failed the class I didn't want to be there. The teasing and torment was relentless. 

Being tripped down the stairs. Spraining my ankle and having NO ONE offer to carry my books to the annex while I was using crutches. Having the crutches kicked out from under me. Laughing as soon as I walked into one of the bathrooms.

The names, the names the names. GODDAMMIT THE NAMES. I did nothing to deserve this treatment except for being the odd fat girl who was so shy she couldn't talk or do anything right. 

I did find a few favorite classes and one group that I belonged to. I was on the school newspaper and even got an award for it. Art class was great. Home Ec... dear lord how I loved Home Ec. the cooking, the baking, the feel of getting something accomplished *same with art*  and one semester we swapped with the boys and we got to take shop class, working with wood and metal, plastics and making thing.... YES this I could understand. I liked some science and history. The day we were to dissect frogs I stayed home. And I discovered I didn't like american history but ancient Europe and middle east  history were my favorites. It kind of went along with my love of fantasy and science fiction.

High School was basically more of the same. I focused on art, home ec and working in the school library. And I met my best friend. I was sitting in art class and the teacher looked out the door to check for stragglers. He let out a yelp and said "Oh god it's Haberle" and attempted to block the door from the inside. *doors opened out* She strolled into the class like it was her god given right and sat down across from me. It was instant like. We'd bounce ideas off each other, our likes and dislikes mirrored each other. And our families knew each other. 

Sue was my saving grace for the remaining time she was in school. (she was a year ahead of me) She dragged me out of my shell. We'd drive like demons, smoked like stacks, cussed like sailors and developed something like an obsession for this one band that came out around that time.  

We wrote silly fan stories, and drew fan art. And went to their first concert in the Philly area. 

We fantasized about these guys non stop. Sue and I did nearly everything together. We were always at each's houses. Out cruising around the towns. Racing our cars. Going to the mall. Everything together.

And the she met Chris..... Soon they were hot and heavy and engaged. 

I got to be the maid of honor at her first wedding. She looked lovely. I wasn't awfully fond of Chris, but he wasn't my choice so I let it pass. But the marriage changed everything between us. I had to share MY SUE with this guy. He was a druggie and a slacker. No where near good enough for her.

I don't even know how it happened, maybe it was from trying a Quaalude for the first time, but Sue and I spent a night together. It was glorious and not the first time I could admit I liked men and women both.  

Of course I could never ever say anything to the family about that.  Still didn't even now. 

Then one day Chris flipped out and beat the shit out of her. I was livid. She and the son she had moved back to her parents. And that's where they stayed.   

I moved back in with Gram in the meantime and had a son of my own. Then our home town burned down.  "The great Perkasie fire" (google it) The same year Sue's mom died from a massive stroke. Her dad pretty much signed over the house to her, and she met a new guy. The married and stayed together for several years (i don't know what broke them up)  Her dad went int a nursing facility.

For years we just talked occasionally on the phone. If I was in the area I'd drop in for a visit if she was home.  Then gram died and I moved to Michigan where I still am.

Years passed as they do when you're growing older. One day in 2006 I decided to call her to see how she was doing. (it had been a few months since we spoke)  I got the most devastating news I had ever gotten in my life.

She was gone. GONE.  Aggressive leukemia took my Sue from me and I had no idea. Her son had forgotten to call me. (understandable given the circumstances) I was utterly inconsolable. I screamed and cried for days.

I think that's when I realized that I loved her.... not as just friends love one another but I was in love with her.

She was the first person who let me be me. She freed me from that cocoon that was wrapped around me, smothering me, suffocating me. I was free with her. She was the best part of me. And I lost her. I never even got to say goodbye, so it hit like a double slam. 

I've never gotten over it. There's a huge gaping hole in my heart and soul that I just can't seem to fill.

TBC....

The long hard road.

Gee-bus Lubs Me

Lesson pounded in by a book

Dramatic and lamented stage left:  Cue the bible belt years.

First an add on to part one. The mother. According to witnesses putting me to bed meant dropping me  from a higher and higher height until crying stopped and sleep happened. (I'm seeing a pattern of head trauma here)

Meet the family-religious style. I was more or less left on my grandparents doorstep. Dad said "Here can't do it" passed me off and poofed into the great beyond, not to be seen again for many many years. Grandparents accepted me best they could, under the circumstances.  The rest of the family (dad's brothers,sisters and assorted nieces and nephews) viewed the new comer as in interloper, a nuisance, a grand inconvenience. I shouldn't have to have been just left with grandparents as it caused a burden on them.  (not really but that was the family view)

Growing up I was never accepted into their little circle. Family gatherings were a game of torture for me. No warm hello's, no hugs, no kisses on the cheek. At any time. During the holidays I could only play with certain ones of their toys or coloring books. They had interests that I had no interest in. The clung together and talked about regular children's things. I sat on the couch; reading old magazines and wandering around the house. Once the dinner was over, they'd watch football or some other sport. I'd read or go down stairs in the basement where I was allowed to play with the elaborate barbie village they had built, maybe. I'd usually get called away from that. So since no one would really talk to me I sat at the table and picked at left overs.

Naturally I gained weight and got accused of stealing food.   

Hmm lets see, wasn't allowed to touch anything, nothing to do, Eat...... seemed like the only solution.

At least once a month I had to beg to be allowed to go over to one of their houses so I could play with them (be ignored more), Or beg to have someone come visit me. (had to do what they wanted since they were the visitors) Church that night the exchanges were made and I'd go back to being all alone. 

I learned to read and write early because I simply had nothing else to do. 

Another holiday years later, they'd go off and talk about boys, and school, and music..... I learned to bring a book along with me. They were all very cliquish. Or sometimes I'd be forced to do all the festivities dishes all by myself. Even cleaning the pots and pans. I'd end up crying because my back would hurt so bad from standing there. I wasn't good to them for anything else. Of course I got to pick at the left overs again. (more weight)  Not even a thank you for the job done.  

At the other relative we'd visit on alternate holidays, I wasn't allowed to touch any of their toys but they sure could play with mine.  Dinner would be over and we kids would be watching some holiday shows.....until the dad came lumbering down the stairs and flipped the channel without a how-do -you do and sat there engrossed in football.  I really learned to hate football at this point.

All in all I was most ignored or slave labor. I had my one first sensory problem at one of the gatherings. I was sitting on the floor helping to put unwrapped gifts on a table and throw away the trash, my lumbering uncle came up behind me and literally drilled his huge sausage fingers into my delicate underarms. I saw stars and he walked away laughing not even knowing or caring that he had caused me real physical pain. I still cringe when I think about it. It was like he was sticking two meathooks into a chunk of meat. I never lifted my arms around anyone again.

As I grew older I'd always take my book and go into a quiet room to read, I could no longer stand all the noise and bustle. Of course then I was called unsociable and impolite.

These same people who basically shunned me, would turn around and give food and lodging to someone down on their luck or some passing through missionary. Very christian like. 

I got told to my face one lovely X-mas party that "We had a meeting recently and don't know what would happen to you if Gram and Pop-pop would suddenly die.    I was about 14 at the time. 

These kind, generous, pious christians probably would have let me live on the street, because not one of them would open their home to the family outcast.   

My crime: Being born (apparently)  I know of nothing else I did to these people.

At one point when I was still little I saw a familiar car in the driveway of my one uncle's house *they lived next house down, in the country.) there was about a quarter acre of land between the two homes. I ran down the field and knocked on the door. My one cousin tried to turn me away but I heard a voice say "No" So I stepped into the house and there was my dad. I threw myself into his arms and sat on his lap for a very long time. From then on when I saw that white Pontiac Bonneville in the drive way I was off like a bolt of lightening. No one even bothered to try to find out where I was. (grandparent wise)   I didn't care, that was my daddy. (even though he had given me up)

I'd write back and forth with my mom once it was discovered where she had gotten to. If I got the mail first I'd get my letters, if my grandmother got the mail I never saw the letters. She didn't like that we kept in contact.  Mom didn't conform to their christian ways. So not approved of.\

She may well have been chased off, if not for the affairs then how I was thrown around my crib. 

Oh yeah and some point during my previous entry I forgot to add.... not only physically and mentally abused by my step-monster, at some point some one..(unknown) also raped me. I was around 2-3 years old. 

I'll be adding more family trauma at another point.

Next up School hell.

TBC

From here to there and back again

And Then hell broke loose.

Story of the beaten

The evil step mother: Or bitch from hell. The other one who tried to kill me several times

I honestly don't remember much of this time thanks to the beatings, so I'll just write about the ones I remember.

The first was her dogs. She breed and raised German Shepard's and most were trained to attack. I was little and the dogs were big an mean. I remember having to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and one of the dogs stood in the doorway and growled menacingly, I learned that night to just hold it until people woke up.

The next was I remember standing at the top of the long stairway, and suddenly I was at the bottom. I have no memory of how I got there.

Then there was the "children's aspirins"  I remember being given something and was told it was children's aspirin. I remember spitting it across the room. I got another one shoved down my throat and things got fuzzy after that. I think it may have been an adult aspirin or some other drug. Maybe even something for the dogs. My grandmother visited me and I was just staring off into space.

The little potty. I got beat black and blue for putting the 'boy's' shield on the child potty. That was for boys and plain was for girls.

Next came the real abuse... I visited my grandparents and had bruises around my neck. Apparently I told my grandmother that Kay (step mom) had strangled me. Maybe not in words but by hand gestures. 

How about the time I thought I was helping to beat the rugs. She flew out the door, grabbed the broom out of my hands and beat me with it. Especially hitting me on the head. I must have passed out because I don't remember anything after that.

I had mid-back length hair, even as a little girl. She couldn't be bothered to get through the tangles so she shaved my head to the scalp.

I'm super phobic about a lot of things because of this woman. Anything tight around neck and wrists, problem taking pills, I had seizures for awhile where I'd just fall over into my cereal bowl. I don't like big dogs or heights, I get massive headaches and blank spots in my memory. I don't like small tight places thank to that other woman. 

I can't stand being touched, or have things waved around at me. 

And then I was taken way, But was it better? All of this was before the age of three

TBC