Monday, May 11, 2015

Just read, no title.

Life has been extra hard lately. I'm trying to manage so many things i'm not sure i know how to manage. I've been managing the fact that my best friend has been using and manipulating me for years, or the fact that I just broke up with boyfriend because he couldnt even make time for me anymore. Or how about the fact I've been calling my mom since Friday and she won't even give her own child the time of day. Oh of course how could I forget, my Grandfather is also dying and doesn't have much time left and my faith. I've been losing my faith, pushing it away to become numb again. Maybe you're sitting behind the screen thinking, Wow i've been through worse. stop complaining.
Well shut the fuck up and get off my page you're so ignorant. And for the people who call my page "grunge" MY PAGE IS NOT GRUNGE THIS IS MY LIFE STORY!!!!!!!! yeah maybe my life is so pathetic and miserable that it is grunge but the saying "if its not nice don't say it" was not made for shits and giggles. I'm so angry and I don't understand why. I feel like I can hardly breathe all the time. I just need someone, I can't continue to push my tears back then get up go to school; smiling, laughing and talking. Some people might call that fake but I call it surviving the moment. If I let myself feel my feelings all the time, my feelings would consume me and my life. I would be a mess all the time, so I apologize for being "fake". I don't know what else to say other than help me, I am drowning and I don't know how to breathe.

Friday, May 8, 2015

Living Life As a Hypochodriac

When I was a kid, I was terrified of dying. I don't know how this came about but I would be stricken with fear every hour of every day that I would somehow die. This developed into hypochondria. A lot of people don't even know what hypochondria is. Defined by siri the definition of a hypochondriac is: "A person afflicted with hypochondria, causing them to have excessive concern about real or imagined symptoms of illness." Which is basically what it is. As a child with parents and adults telling me that I was just making it all up and that I'm fine and that I should get some rest is the worst of being a hypochondriac. Everyone always thinks you're crazy and never wants to deal with you so they shoo you off so you can worry alone. That's the toughest thing; being alone with no clue that you're mentally ill and no one to care enough to notice it. It's honestly damaging. It was so severe that I used to stay up all night for 2-3 days because I was SO afraid of dying in my sleep. I went to the nurses constantly. Usually everyday or every other day. I'm still scared to go to sleep and I still freak out but I usually suppress it which is really unhealthy.
I remember one time, I didn't brush my hair and I was in the shower and a bunch of hairs fell out while I was washing my hair, I immediately believed I had cancer. I worried so much for weeks begging my dad to take me to the doctor with the answer no, you're fine each time until finally he was annoyed with me so he took me. When I got there, I told her what I thought I had and she just laughed at me and told me I was wrong right off the bat. Why didn't anyone tell me I was mentally ill? I had to deal with it all by myself and I still do. I don't understand.. My parents were suppose to take care of me and they didn't.. That's not okay.
The toughest thing about being a hypochondriac is not knowing when you're actually sick. With this disorder, when you think you're sick and you stress over it, your brain imagines symptoms of what you think you have and that's why it's so hard to "get over it" or be fine about the fact you believe you're dying and no one will take you serious enough to check you out.
For a while my language skills have been decreasing. I convinced myself that I was fine and to suppress and ignore it. Then, I finally decided to do some research on it and I found that I could have expressive aphasia and this time I think I actually might not be as insane as people make me out to be. Expressive aphasia is defined as: "A person knows what he or she wants to say, yet has difficulty communicating it to others. It doesn't matter whether the person is trying to say or write what he or she is trying to communicate." That makes a lot of sense to me, but I'm mentally ill so I should just be fine and not bother anyone about it, right? Well too bad because I can't go through another day picturing the moment the doctor comes back after an MRI just to inform me I have a inoperable brain tumor and that I only have a couple of months to live. After that I'll usually picture my reaction to it, how my dad and friends will react, then I'll imagine everyone at my school noticing me, talking to me, including me in all their plans or it'll be I'll just calmly die by going outdoors everyday and being able to eat all the food I want. There are many scenarios I make up in my head of me finding out I'm dying. As a result of this, my grades decrease, I listen less in class and solely focus on the fact that I could die. That is no way to live, it's almost like I am already dead. My whole life sucks but I'm so numb inside that I can't even feel any of it. Am I alone? or am I just some crazy chick with mental problems complaining about it behind a screen?

Sunday, May 3, 2015

My mother is the devil

Ever since I can remember it was usually just my dad, sister and I. My mother would come and live with us occasionally. Although, It was always temporary. I don’t know where she would go or what she did, later though I was told she went to rehab a couple times but ended up just doing more drugs and alcohol. That’s really all that consumed her and all she cared about. She’s not all bad though, she has good parts to her too. You will soon see just how my mothers irrational, manipulative and psychotic behavior affects my everyday thinking.
    To understand just how my absent parent affects my thinking, you will need to know who she is and the history behind me. My mother is someone who loves to go shopping; thrifting, garage sales, and antiquing. She loves old things that has a history to them. She was witty and funny. She loved to have family game nights; playing cards, or playing monopoly. She had a lot of great traits in her but she is also someone who can be your best friend, make you feel loved in the way you’re supposed to be. Then one day she just wipes herself off the planet, never to call or text for months on end. She is a person who can bring you down just to lift you back up again. I love my mother a lot for all the good things she was but I hate her for all the evil she has in her.
    My mother and my father were together until I was about 7 years old. We lived in this huge blue house and we had a wood picket fence. I shared a room with my older sister, Olivia and we had bunk beds but I can’t remember what color or what they looked like. I do remember we had these swings in our backyard and we would try to swing so high up so we could grab these berries from a tree. They were really good and I was addicted to them as a child. The backyard was huge, but everything as a kid was pretty big. We had this pathway on the side of our driveway near our garage which was surrounded by small trees. On the pathway we had our footprints, our names and some jewels embedded in the concrete. My older sister, Nicole, which is our mothers daughter lived with us too. She was one of those angry teenagers you see on TV who ate pizza and hid it under their beds. Her room was always messy. Nicole and my mom fought a lot. I never understood why until later. I’ve been told of all the horrors my mother put Nicole through. One of which was prostitution for drug money.
My mother always locked herself in this small room which contained a desk, chair and a computer. The walls were white and the door was one of those wood ones that slide from side to side. She was in there almost all the time. When she wasn’t, she was smoking outside, going over to the neighbors to get wasted or yelling. Once my parents split up, they lived in different houses and I would be at one house for a week and the other house for a week. It was pretty calm although my dad looked like he was under a lot of stress. Through all of this, I was a really happy kid. I would play outside a lot with my sister or some kids on my street. I just was a really happy kid probably because I never knew what went on wasn’t normal.
It’s when my mother moved in with her boyfriend, Bryan when things started to swirl out of control. She had a couple boyfriends though. One of them was really nice but she only used him for his money. The other one, Bryan was decent unless you pissed him off. Which seemed like a lot of the time. They fought a lot whenever we were over there. He would hit her sometimes when we were “sleeping” and she would just cry out. My mother liked to play games on him almost like she wanted to be abused. She would always involve us in it. One time she had us put her cigarette in his beer and then we got kicked out and our dad had to come pick us up. Another time we went out and bought this huge bra and put it so it was sticking out of this trunk. He went to work without realizing it and he was super mad. The biggest event that I can remember is when we went on vacation with Bryan, Ann (my mother), Bryan’s daughter, Olivia and I. We went to Florida and Bryan ended up getting arrested for domestic abuse. The next day my mother bailed him out. The scariest thing was how unstable my mother was. She would rock in the corner on the balcony crying and repeat “he’s coming and he’s going to kill us.”. As a 9 year old child, that’s pretty scary although I seemed to handle everything well.
Around the time I became a teenager my mother wasn’t around very much and it was just my dad, Olivia and I. We learned all the girl stuff alone or from the internet. Our dad took us shopping most of the time or Olivia would go with her friends. At that time I didn’t have any, mostly because my mothers absence consumed me and I was bullied a lot. So my dad took me. This was really hard for me, seeing that I had no idea what to do, what to wear or how to take care of myself. My dad had no clue either and there was no one but myself to teach. This affects my thinking a lot today, because I usually feel like I’m alone because that’s how I felt as a child. I know that I’m not alone because I know a couple of people who were put in similar situations.
I think the biggest thing that affects me would have to be the fact that my mother can’t or doesn’t love me. I’ll always wonder why that is. My dad says it’s because she’s a psychopath and isn’t capable of feeling. Everything my mother did to me affects me everyday. The absolute  worst thing I hated would be when she would get us really excited to do something with her and she would last minute blow us off like it was nothing. She did this often and today I don’t get excited for much. Another thing is, she pushed me to date, almost like if I didn’t I wouldn’t be accepted which I never really was in my family’s eyes. My dad always thought I needed to lose weight, do cheerleading like my sister, same with my mother’s parents. I’ve never really fit into my family and I’ve pretty much accepted it. My dad isn’t like this now though, it took him awhile to realize that I am not my sister, I am my own person and eventually he accepted me as who I am.
What’s difficult about not having a mom is seeing everyone around you with loving mothers, or when people ask you about your mom. That’s the absolute worst because you have to say, “Oh she didn’t love us enough to stick around” but in more of an appropriate way so you don’t make anyone uncomfortable. Nothing is worse than the feeling of not being good enough which is how it feels to be abandoned by your own parent. When my parents seperated eventually I came to know Christ which is my blanket and is the reason I’m not some kid who is on a hundred different medications and has a therapist two hours away, I always tried to share Christ with my mother but she always turned me down. She wouldn’t even let me go to church or drop me off. This was hard on me because I really just wanted my mom to feel the love I felt, to let go and not worry so hard about all the things we stress about daily. The hardest thing about it was the fact that one day she would die and when I would die I would be heaven, happy while my mother suffered in hell for the rest of eternity. Another difficult thing is when people try to talk to you about my mother. I don’t want to talk about it most the time, in fact I wrote this paper on Sunday, skipping the turn in date because I did not want to write this paper at all, it felt like a burden sitting on my shoulders for two weeks.
Being abandoned is difficult because you constantly feel the need to prove you’re good enough to people. I used to try to wear what was cool, or I would analyze how people would act and talk so I could act and talk like them too. For a really long time I tried to be someone I’m not but eventually I figured out that people would love me for who I am even if that person isn’t my own family. Every decision I make is exactly the opposite of what my mother would do. I purposely built myself this way. Every decision I make I think about, wondering if I drank if I would turn out like my mother since everyone in my family thought I will be which was before I figured out what I wanted in life, and who I am. Or I constantly would wonder if I drank if I would become an alcoholic, or if I did drugs if I would become a drug addict. Today, I rarely take any drugs or medications just to be careful I don’t depend on them to function like my mother does. I don’t know if today she has recovered or if she’s overcome her illness but i’m glad I don’t have to watch her destroy herself.
Overall, a mothers absence affects a person everyday whether they realize it or not. It not something you can get over it with a pound of ice cream and a hundred tissues. It sticks with you until the day you die. It affects every decision you make even if it’s not consciously made. You can overcome these feelings with positive people around you and healthy decision making.