I am writing in hopes that the stress and pain of the past few weeks will ease. I really wish I could be light-hearted and funny, but I can't. I guess things are finally catching up to me and affecting me. Maybe it is the time of year paired with the stress of the events that have taken place these past two weeks. Maybe I just need to slow down and get my head together. Maybe it's both. I don't know
Yesterday I had a mini breakdown. Sometimes it happens and I eventually pinpoint the cause and take care of it. It is part of living with PTSD. When extreme stress builds and I don't deal with it properly, I end up having a monumental panic attack and being out of commission for a few days, because I know to give myself mental health days. Let me give you a rundown of the events that put me in this position.
A couple weeks ago I lost my work on Monday/Tuesday and my work for the rest of the week is, hit or miss right now and has been, because the wonderful woman I work for is in between jobs and trying to find the right one, she's awesome, she will. I knew this and I was taking the decline in work as a silver lining to beef up on my programming skills. Losing my Monday/Tuesday work was extremely unexpected and very stressful. It came without warning and abruptly. If I had been given two weeks, I would be a bit less stressed because I could pay my rent. Well, without the two weeks, I can't pay my rent.
I have no job and no money, that stress alone would send most people overboard. I have been trying my hardest to focus (If I can get in three hours of programming studying I feel satisfied), that doesn't always happen and it is a challenge to focus when your mind is riddled with stress. So yes, I am going to do some footwork and find some part-time work for now, while I beef up on my programming skills and look for that job. That only solves one issue and a fraction of my anxiety.
I have been dating. It has been really great. I have been dating a few really great guys that I have a lot of fun with. Well, recently I started to really enjoy the company of one guy. This is rare when I have a flock of great men. Anyway, at first he told me he really liked me and was looking for a relationship and wanted to ease into things, so that's what we were/are doing. We would text every day and he would send me pictures of himself, it was really nice. We slept together and it slowly started to decline. I know I forced the decline with asking him if we were seeing each other and if I should stop seeing the guys I am seeing. Yeah, stupid, rookie mistake. I don't date well. I also know what I want when I want it and how I feel. He canceled all plans and said it was due to work (my ass) and now we aren't talking. That gave me a mini heart attack and set off a big giant panic attack. I have given up on the idea of finding one single person and getting married and living the dream. I know marriage and kids is not a dream, but for me it was. It got crushed and I became jaded. The fact that someone liked me and there was hope, even a tiny ray of it, that someone actually wanted to possibly commit to me, it made me happy in the craziest way possible. That happiness filled me with anxiety, nausea and craziness. I am feeling even more convinced that it's not for me.
I have the feeling of impending doom that my life is speeding by and I haven't done anything significant or become anyone great. That I am just this fly sitting on the wall waiting for someone to come along and smack me with a newspaper. It is a hard feeling not to feel at 31. I get paralyzed by the fear and the anxiety that is in my own mind. That I don't have this wonderful job and can barely support myself. That I am not married with children and I can't even find a mate. I feel like a constant failure because I constantly try and fail. I had this breakdown, because as confident as I am, I still get beaten down and feel low. I still have those voices in my head telling me that I am not good enough and never will be. That is what mental health days are for.
When stuff like this happens, when the tiny stuff builds up, I can't help but hear my ex in my ear taunting me with some of his last words. Some of his awful last words are forever engrained in my mind and forever pulse through my mind whenever I go through tough times. For a moment, he wins with those words, then I step back, push through and win.
I know the stressers I named should be enough of a reason for anyone to need a few days off, but my mothers anniversary it coming up in November, that always hits me pretty hard. I never really know when I will feel the emotions that come along with it, but they hit. I am feeling them now. I miss my mom. I really miss her when I am hitting hard times. I know I have my dad and we are very close, but I miss my mom. Life is just hard right now and I am currently making some changes. They will be a bit difficult and slow coming due to my state of mind, but they are coming and I am working on them, but first I need to gather my thoughts and work on me. I need to get back to myself.
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Thursday, October 8, 2015
F*ck Contamination. I miss food.
*Sigh*
After months of struggling and being sick, I got better. I felt great. Life got easier and my energy level went up. This past weekend, I got an Instacart delivery and it included a probiotic, from a brand that is usually super safe and Gluten Free. The only thing I did differently was go for a plant based probiotic, rather than a yogurt. My mistake. Well, on Sunday morning I took a sip, just A sip and as I did so I read the label, it was not Gluten Free. I thought to myself "FUCK MY LIFE." Now I am paying the price. My stomach is swollen and sore, my brain is foggy, I have had constant gas, my energy level is that of an 85-year-old man with heart issues, and the pain made me pass out.
Sunday night was the absolute worst so far. I felt the repercussions of my careless actions. I ended up throwing up for about thirty minutes straight and then it turned into a "What will come first" coordinated dance between sitting on the toilet and kneeling at the toilet. Eventually, I was just throwing up. Eventually, that throwing up was just dry heaving and the pain caused me to pass out a couple of times. I woke up feeling a bit better and magically was able to crawl up into my loft and go to sleep.
A little side track here because I know what some of you are thinking. I know some of you are thinking "Why didn't you go to the hospital?!? Oh, my god! Go to the hospital if you're passing out!" Yeah, my pain doesn't work that way. See, since my diagnosis my pain threshold has gone up significantly. I have been that patient in the ER for pain not asking for drugs or being dramatic, I have been the one lying there, calmly, with the occasional tear running down their face, that ends up passing out and still in pain after a run-of-the-mill dosage of Vicodin. Now, I have a better grasp about what to expect and pain management. I never ask for narcotics or opiates, because they don't work for me, they make me loopy but in pain. I ask for IV ibuprofen- I won't give a drug name because most people will just be wondering what the hell it is. Anyway, to answer your question- I don't go because there isn't anything they can do to help my pain and I will pass out no matter what. I have seen a doctor for this and they told me, in short, I don't notice pain and I pass out because of all the endorphins my body is producing to fight that pain.
Anyway, Monday I was stuck on the toilet for about four hours in the morning. I felt slow and tired and it has carried on to today. There has been a whole lot less poop, though.
I am on a liquid diet because my body can't digest food properly right now. Right now I have about two days worth of solid food just sitting in my small intestine. It was pressing on my diaphragm after dinner last night and making it had to breath. That was a sign to do the liquid diet for three to five days. My stomach is swollen, sore, and hurts to the touch. I am extremely uncomfortable. I am exhausted. I hurt. Most importantly, I am grumpy and I want solid food. I miss solid food. This is not a good way to be starting my liquid diet. I know it will help me feel better and I will hopefully be back to my healthy self by the end of next week.
Me, missing food.
After months of struggling and being sick, I got better. I felt great. Life got easier and my energy level went up. This past weekend, I got an Instacart delivery and it included a probiotic, from a brand that is usually super safe and Gluten Free. The only thing I did differently was go for a plant based probiotic, rather than a yogurt. My mistake. Well, on Sunday morning I took a sip, just A sip and as I did so I read the label, it was not Gluten Free. I thought to myself "FUCK MY LIFE." Now I am paying the price. My stomach is swollen and sore, my brain is foggy, I have had constant gas, my energy level is that of an 85-year-old man with heart issues, and the pain made me pass out.
Sunday night was the absolute worst so far. I felt the repercussions of my careless actions. I ended up throwing up for about thirty minutes straight and then it turned into a "What will come first" coordinated dance between sitting on the toilet and kneeling at the toilet. Eventually, I was just throwing up. Eventually, that throwing up was just dry heaving and the pain caused me to pass out a couple of times. I woke up feeling a bit better and magically was able to crawl up into my loft and go to sleep.
A little side track here because I know what some of you are thinking. I know some of you are thinking "Why didn't you go to the hospital?!? Oh, my god! Go to the hospital if you're passing out!" Yeah, my pain doesn't work that way. See, since my diagnosis my pain threshold has gone up significantly. I have been that patient in the ER for pain not asking for drugs or being dramatic, I have been the one lying there, calmly, with the occasional tear running down their face, that ends up passing out and still in pain after a run-of-the-mill dosage of Vicodin. Now, I have a better grasp about what to expect and pain management. I never ask for narcotics or opiates, because they don't work for me, they make me loopy but in pain. I ask for IV ibuprofen- I won't give a drug name because most people will just be wondering what the hell it is. Anyway, to answer your question- I don't go because there isn't anything they can do to help my pain and I will pass out no matter what. I have seen a doctor for this and they told me, in short, I don't notice pain and I pass out because of all the endorphins my body is producing to fight that pain.
Anyway, Monday I was stuck on the toilet for about four hours in the morning. I felt slow and tired and it has carried on to today. There has been a whole lot less poop, though.
I am on a liquid diet because my body can't digest food properly right now. Right now I have about two days worth of solid food just sitting in my small intestine. It was pressing on my diaphragm after dinner last night and making it had to breath. That was a sign to do the liquid diet for three to five days. My stomach is swollen, sore, and hurts to the touch. I am extremely uncomfortable. I am exhausted. I hurt. Most importantly, I am grumpy and I want solid food. I miss solid food. This is not a good way to be starting my liquid diet. I know it will help me feel better and I will hopefully be back to my healthy self by the end of next week.
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Grief. Life. Loss.
Grief is a strange presence. This whole month I have been angrily grieving my past, accepting my traumas and celebrating my accomplishments, all while looking hopefully into my future. I can't help but feel caught in the moment while enjoying the present, with a strange sense of nostalgia and melancholy. For the first time in my life, I finally understand who I am, what makes me happy and what I need to make myself happy. If anything the tests of this past month have helped me prove to myself that I am as strong as people tell me and for that I love myself and respect the woman I have become. This week alone has been challenging and the intensity has been eye opening to say the least.
This month marks the two-year anniversary of the most monumental, life-changing breakup I have ever endured. I can remember every milestone, every day, every step of the way, and every goal leading up to this very point. The moments leading up to and shaping who I am today. At the time of this breakup, the one that landed me on a one month stay in the psychiatric care ward of the hospital, I felt I would never get through it, I would never grow or move on. Here I am, I grew, I moved on.
When you go through something so traumatic, you hear a lot of "Why would you dwell on it?" "Why do you think so much about it?" It isn't as easy as it seems not to think about it when an anniversary rolls around. I consider this time of year a huge turning point in my life- FOR THE BETTER. My life got so significantly better that I have been taking time to celebrate myself. I have been also taking time to reflect and grieve what happened. It got worse before it got better, but when it got better, it got SO much better.
This past weekend I took myself on dates and just spent time with me. Enjoying my own company, celebrating myself. I needed it. I really enjoyed the time I spent in celebration and reflection. I do not want anyone to think I am thinking negatively or regretting when I am thinking about these things, I am simply thankful for the lesson and growth. I am thankful I survived an abusive relationship. I am thankful for how much I've grown and all of the changes in my life. I am simply thankful.
Another thing coming up is my mom's anniversary of death. It is always hard and it never gets easy. Especially, since in the same week our family looks back on my cousin's anniversary of death. November is a hard month. Our family is fortunate enough to celebrate the life of and the time spent. As hard as the anniversaries are, we make the most of them by making new memories with one another and remembering all the good ones we had with the loved one we lost.
One of my best friends in the world, someone whom I love so very much lost someone very close to him this week. He is heart broken. I know his heart will hurt for a while and for this my heart hurts. I know the pain he is feeling, the helplessness, the overwhelming sensation of grief. My heart breaks for him and his family.The person he lost was such an amazing and strong spirit. They were one of the kindest people I will ever have had the privilege of knowing and I will miss her dearly. My heart breaks for my friend and the absolutely devastating loss he and his family are mourning right now. A want nothing more than to take the pain away and I know I can't. All I can do is let him know how much I love him and that I am here.
Grief is sneaky and it sneaks up on all of us in different ways, at different times. We all deal with it differently and no one reacts the same. I have to remind myself of this, especially at times like these. Regardless of the grief and the loss, I am happy. I am thankful and the ones around me bring me so much joy. If I haven't said it lately or told the ones I loves enough- thank you, you mean the world to me.
Friday, September 11, 2015
My clothes shouldn't matter.
Today, I am going to go on a full force feminist rant, after a small update on my health and current events.
I have been feeling much healthier lately, for that I am so thankful. This Wednesday, I joined my dad for the day to go to the sportsman club he just joined. I will never hunt, simply because I do not like the taste of gamey food and will not eat it, so I will not hunt. My father will. I spend quite a bit of time with my dad and he knows I enjoy shooting (don't worry, I am clear from my 51/50). I really enjoyed my day with him and spending time learning how to use a shotgun, while picking up a new hobby. My dating like is hilariously lame, as usual. Nothing new to report.
Today, I was feeling the effects of shooting 50 rounds with a 20 gauge shotgun, with a gun that was a wee bit too large. This made me aware of something I already knew-I need to get back into shape. I am currently just skinny-fat. Not hot. Feeling better and stronger, I went out for a light jog in the 80-degree heat. I wore running shorts and running tank top. Now I should not have to worry about what I am wearing or fear for my safe because men do not know how to behave themselves.
I left the house feeling fine in what I had left in, not having a care in the world or fearing for my safety, let alone feeling like I would. All I was thinking about was how grateful I was to be exercising and my route for the day. I live in a safe neighborhood with a crime rate that has lowered significantly, that is filled with families. I only went deeper into safety by going into an even safer neighborhood. I was in such a good mood and so confident, until the end. I even said a couple pleasant "hello's" to other women and families jogging on the urban trail I was on (this is so uncommon for me).
On my way home, about five blocks from my house, I was about to cross the street to enter my neighborhood, when I got harassed to the point of feeling threatened. This is unacceptable. It takes a lot for me to feel like I can not protect myself, especially in the middle of the day surrounded by people. First let me say, it is normal and not something I really pay any attention to if I see someone looking or creeping at me, I simply ignore it, until it gets out of hand. Well, as I was waiting for the walk signal, a car with two men waiting to turn left were yelling out the window at me. I tried to ignore them, but the light was very long and so was the walk signal. I ignored, but they got louder and more aggressive, I simply put my hand up in a "stop" motion while shaking my head no. They got even louder and way more aggressive and persistent, I got angry and flipped them off. I walked off in the other direction pretending I was going come place until I saw them turn down a street. From there I went into a cafe and collected myself, good thing I did because they circled around to find me. I stayed in the cafe and they drove down the street and gave up. I was questioning whether I should call a Lyft, have a friend meet me there or just continue walking home. I continued my way home.
On my way home, I had two more men yell at me out their windows. One more tried to follow me, so I stopped in front of a neighbors house and shooed him while yelling at him to "Seriously leave me the fuck alone. Can't I just exercise without being harassed!" He waved apologetically and drove off (surprisingly).
I am going to post a picture of what I was wearing, that I took as soon as I walked in the door. The thing is that it shouldn't matter. I should be able to go anywhere and wear anything without feeling like my safety is at stake. I should be able to wear my form fitting exercise clothes, and the more revealing ones when it is hot out to take care of my health. I am a fairly conservative in the way I present myself, and what I had on I do not consider over the top or too revealing in any way, by any means. I see people wearing things that are far more revealing to work. The fact is, it doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter. No one should feel unsafe or at risk due to their clothing choices. I am appalled by what happened and I am appalled that this happens to regularly and people think that it is acceptable behavior. That being said, I want to thank all the wonderful men I know who are feminist and support the needed changes in behavior in the world. I want to thank the parents who raise young men to respect women. You are making this world a better place, thank you.
I have been feeling much healthier lately, for that I am so thankful. This Wednesday, I joined my dad for the day to go to the sportsman club he just joined. I will never hunt, simply because I do not like the taste of gamey food and will not eat it, so I will not hunt. My father will. I spend quite a bit of time with my dad and he knows I enjoy shooting (don't worry, I am clear from my 51/50). I really enjoyed my day with him and spending time learning how to use a shotgun, while picking up a new hobby. My dating like is hilariously lame, as usual. Nothing new to report.
Today, I was feeling the effects of shooting 50 rounds with a 20 gauge shotgun, with a gun that was a wee bit too large. This made me aware of something I already knew-I need to get back into shape. I am currently just skinny-fat. Not hot. Feeling better and stronger, I went out for a light jog in the 80-degree heat. I wore running shorts and running tank top. Now I should not have to worry about what I am wearing or fear for my safe because men do not know how to behave themselves.
I left the house feeling fine in what I had left in, not having a care in the world or fearing for my safety, let alone feeling like I would. All I was thinking about was how grateful I was to be exercising and my route for the day. I live in a safe neighborhood with a crime rate that has lowered significantly, that is filled with families. I only went deeper into safety by going into an even safer neighborhood. I was in such a good mood and so confident, until the end. I even said a couple pleasant "hello's" to other women and families jogging on the urban trail I was on (this is so uncommon for me).
On my way home, about five blocks from my house, I was about to cross the street to enter my neighborhood, when I got harassed to the point of feeling threatened. This is unacceptable. It takes a lot for me to feel like I can not protect myself, especially in the middle of the day surrounded by people. First let me say, it is normal and not something I really pay any attention to if I see someone looking or creeping at me, I simply ignore it, until it gets out of hand. Well, as I was waiting for the walk signal, a car with two men waiting to turn left were yelling out the window at me. I tried to ignore them, but the light was very long and so was the walk signal. I ignored, but they got louder and more aggressive, I simply put my hand up in a "stop" motion while shaking my head no. They got even louder and way more aggressive and persistent, I got angry and flipped them off. I walked off in the other direction pretending I was going come place until I saw them turn down a street. From there I went into a cafe and collected myself, good thing I did because they circled around to find me. I stayed in the cafe and they drove down the street and gave up. I was questioning whether I should call a Lyft, have a friend meet me there or just continue walking home. I continued my way home.
On my way home, I had two more men yell at me out their windows. One more tried to follow me, so I stopped in front of a neighbors house and shooed him while yelling at him to "Seriously leave me the fuck alone. Can't I just exercise without being harassed!" He waved apologetically and drove off (surprisingly).
I am going to post a picture of what I was wearing, that I took as soon as I walked in the door. The thing is that it shouldn't matter. I should be able to go anywhere and wear anything without feeling like my safety is at stake. I should be able to wear my form fitting exercise clothes, and the more revealing ones when it is hot out to take care of my health. I am a fairly conservative in the way I present myself, and what I had on I do not consider over the top or too revealing in any way, by any means. I see people wearing things that are far more revealing to work. The fact is, it doesn't matter, it shouldn't matter. No one should feel unsafe or at risk due to their clothing choices. I am appalled by what happened and I am appalled that this happens to regularly and people think that it is acceptable behavior. That being said, I want to thank all the wonderful men I know who are feminist and support the needed changes in behavior in the world. I want to thank the parents who raise young men to respect women. You are making this world a better place, thank you.
Wednesday, September 2, 2015
That's a lot of shit.
Today's blog post is brought to you from my bathroom!
Time to talk about poop and my unpredictable, temperamental intestines. Having a gastroenterological based autoimmune disorder is anything but predictable. Some days I am fine and even finish the day with extra "spoons" (if you don't know about The Spoon Theory, read up on it here: http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/). Some days I don't have enough energy to get past noon without feeling like I want to curl up into the fetal position and sleep for an undetermined amount of time. Some days the pain is so bad in my joints that it hurts to walk. Some days I am so swollen, that I look like I'm in my second trimester.
There are also days like today. Days I felt great enough to make plans to do something that I really wanted to do. Days I have plans with people I care about to make memories with. Today is one of those days. Today is a day I will be late due to being stuck on the toilet shitting for four hours, for no reason other than I ate solid food.
I should explain here that I just went through 3-4 months of being autoimmune disease sick. Not just sick, sick- autoimmune sick. In that time, I probably had a few good days where I felt no pain, didn't have the constant urge to go or wasn't so constipated that the simplest touch hurt my abdomen or maybe I didn't feel like I was going to pass out if I stood up for more than 10 minutes. For the past couple weeks, I have been getting better, after getting worse.
I knew I was malnourished and figured out that the culprit of all of my discomfort and being sick was a medication I was on. I eliminated the medication, with help from my doctor and I feel my body improving. At this point, I can't consume very much solid food so I drink lots of protein shakes and I eat light stuff.
Since drinking the protein shakes every day I have been shitting quite regularly. It has also helped with the malnourishment. One other thing it does is it causes the worst smelling shits I have ever had in my entire life. I actually texted a friend about them.
Today I was stuck in the bathroom on and off for four hours crapping. It got to the point where I was sitting there desperately begging my body to stop. I'm an atheist and I almost prayed. Finally, after four hours on the toilet it stopped. Needless to say, I feel like I did some sort of marathon or something. A shitting marathon. A shit-a-thon.
I knew better than to leave my house before waiting for a good 30-60 minutes without incident. So, here I am waiting...mostly hoping to no longer shit. So, for my friends and family out there- if I say I am running late or I need to reschedule, chances are I am shitting and afraid to leave the house.
Hey, at least I feel lighter.
Time to talk about poop and my unpredictable, temperamental intestines. Having a gastroenterological based autoimmune disorder is anything but predictable. Some days I am fine and even finish the day with extra "spoons" (if you don't know about The Spoon Theory, read up on it here: http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/). Some days I don't have enough energy to get past noon without feeling like I want to curl up into the fetal position and sleep for an undetermined amount of time. Some days the pain is so bad in my joints that it hurts to walk. Some days I am so swollen, that I look like I'm in my second trimester.
There are also days like today. Days I felt great enough to make plans to do something that I really wanted to do. Days I have plans with people I care about to make memories with. Today is one of those days. Today is a day I will be late due to being stuck on the toilet shitting for four hours, for no reason other than I ate solid food.
I should explain here that I just went through 3-4 months of being autoimmune disease sick. Not just sick, sick- autoimmune sick. In that time, I probably had a few good days where I felt no pain, didn't have the constant urge to go or wasn't so constipated that the simplest touch hurt my abdomen or maybe I didn't feel like I was going to pass out if I stood up for more than 10 minutes. For the past couple weeks, I have been getting better, after getting worse.
I knew I was malnourished and figured out that the culprit of all of my discomfort and being sick was a medication I was on. I eliminated the medication, with help from my doctor and I feel my body improving. At this point, I can't consume very much solid food so I drink lots of protein shakes and I eat light stuff.
Since drinking the protein shakes every day I have been shitting quite regularly. It has also helped with the malnourishment. One other thing it does is it causes the worst smelling shits I have ever had in my entire life. I actually texted a friend about them.
Today I was stuck in the bathroom on and off for four hours crapping. It got to the point where I was sitting there desperately begging my body to stop. I'm an atheist and I almost prayed. Finally, after four hours on the toilet it stopped. Needless to say, I feel like I did some sort of marathon or something. A shitting marathon. A shit-a-thon.
I knew better than to leave my house before waiting for a good 30-60 minutes without incident. So, here I am waiting...mostly hoping to no longer shit. So, for my friends and family out there- if I say I am running late or I need to reschedule, chances are I am shitting and afraid to leave the house.
Hey, at least I feel lighter.
Monday, August 31, 2015
Run With it.
I have been contemplating starting a blog for years now and decided it was time to join the club. Some things are just too long winded to post on Facebook.
I should give you a little bit about me before I go on though I have to admit that I feel like I am writing a dating profile introduction. All you really need to know about me is I am 31 and I have Celiac Disease and PTSD. The entire reason I wanted to start blogging was to raise awareness and share my story. Whether it be my daily struggle with an incurable autoimmune disorder that as of now has no medication to relieve symptoms or my inconsistent struggle with PTSD and the crippling anxiety that it can cause me. The one thing I know that does help keep me going is having a sense of humor and the ability to laugh.
About three years ago I was diagnosed with Celiac Disease. My sister also has it. I feel thankful for that. I have someone who can relate to my pain and the struggles I go through daily. Being able to talk to her and share my journey with her has made it easier in a way. My Celiac Disease is not really what is bothering me today or what made me start this blog. It is the PTSD and the way it has affected me and my ability to connect to other people.
I don't want to get too far into the past here and give up too much of what has happened, but I will divulge what is important to know. I had a rough childhood. I don't mean rough as in my parents argued a lot and split rough, I mean rough as in I have had to call 911 after my stepfather beat my mom type rough. I was exposed to things as a child no child should be exposed to. I endured abuse that alters you for life. I am thankful that in my case it altered me to be strong and to be kind. I had wonderful influences in my life to help guide me through it.
The one person who has really shaped me and changed my life even quite literally saved me life is my dad. He has always been there. He got me out of the situation I was in and gave me a home. My poor dad had to deal with me in my teenage years and for that I consider the man a saint.
I am going to fast forward a bit here and say in the past I have had some pretty shitty relationships. I have also had very wonderful men in my life who I will always adore. However, nothing quite takes the cake as much as my last shitty relationship. About 2 years ago I went through a very awful and traumatic breakup. The relationship wasn't much better. This is the important piece. This relationship is worth sharing. Here is where I share and hope that maybe it reaches someone who needs to hear it. Here is where I share a terrible thing that happened to me and still affects me very much and hope that it saves someone's life because maybe they have it worse. Here is where I open up and let someone else out there know that- no it is not your fault and you can get out.
Two years ago I had a horrible breakup. Sometime in early Septemeber, I don't know maybe it was late August, I was admitted to a psych ward. I tried to commit suicide and failed. I woke up in a hospital bed with no recollection of how I got there. I knew something happened, I just didn't know what. I felt the soreness of my wrists and my arms. I felt scared. I felt alone. I had no idea what happened. I was in my bed as a nurse came in with my doctor and the doctor explained what had happened to me as the nurse took my vitals and gave me my meds. The doctor was gentle and understanding. She was kind. She told me I had blacked out and tried to commit suicide. I broke down. I had just lost a cousin to suicide and couldn't believe that I had done that. I couldn't believe I was going to do that to my family, to my loved ones. That I felt like that was my only way out.
Let's rewind a bit. To the relationship and what went so wrong to land me there in that hospital bed. Our relationship started out great. We had so much fun together and we were in love. We also respected one another and got along wonderfully. He worked a lot and he made decent money which kept him very comfortable. He was able to work from home and to basically do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. I did not care about the money, it didn't phase me. He liked that about me. He liked that I was interested in him not his money, or his job, but him. He liked that I just wanted to simply hang out and was content with staying in. I was grateful and appreciative that he enjoyed taking me to extravagant places and buying me nice things that I could never buy for myself or even justify buying for myself. We were happy. One day it changed.
I can't even tell you when it started or how. All I can tell you is that it did and it snuck up on me. He would tell me to go run errands and I had a card to do so that he would put money on so I could. He would get angry at me for spending as much money as I did on the things that he wanted me to get on the places he wanted me to get them from- even groceries. He would tell me to go buy something nice for myself if we got in a fight, then he would hold it against me later. If I was feeling bad due to a Celiac flare up, he would get angry with me that I was resting and keep me up. He would get upset at me for going to my job in the city, then get mad that I didn't go. He would get mad at things I didn't do right or if I didn't wash the laundry right or take care of his dogs. I could really go on and on. I won't.
I remember my breaking point. The event that began my processes of deterioration. I had washed something wrong and it got ruined. He yelled at me for I don't know how long. I broke down. I was crying and begging him to stop. I pleaded with him to stop yelling at me. I told him that he knew that yelling at me made me revert back to a bad time. That it reminded me of my childhood and to please not yell at me. I curled up in a ball and cried. He wasn't backing down. He was yelling and laughing at me. He was taunting me. He told me to leave. I couldn't move. I told him I wanted to die, he said he didn't care if I did or didn't. I left. He called me to come back over later that night. I did. Things were okay until the morning. He was back at it again. I cracked and I left.When I got home I realized all of my stuff was at his house, stuff I needed. I went back, he locked me out after taking my key.
He wouldn't answer my calls or the door. I was distraught I was a mess. I went home. I blacked out.
That's when I woke up in the hospital. That's when I met the doctor. I met the doctor 5 months later. 5 months later after dating him I was sitting on a hospital bed talking to my doctor about how I got here.
It took me a couple days to open up to my therapist about what had happened. About what was going on in my personal life, in my home life. About the man at home. The man who mentally and emotionally manipulated me and pushed me around. About how we fought and about how we yelled. I told her everything. They wanted me to leave him or for us to start couples counseling. I wasn't going to leave him, I couldn't. I depended on him for so much (or so I thought). I loved him and he loved me (or so I thought).
I ended up leaving that hospital after 5 days. I was able to go home and start my life again. To work on the problems I had with the man I thought I loved and that I thought loved me back. A couple days after I got back, he yelled at me for something. He broke up with me. He told me he hated me that my note and my pain ruined his life and he hated me. He told me to get out. He already had my bag packed. I felt it coming. I felt that impending doom of a blackout and a flashback.He exasperated it. I wasn't in my right mind. He was yelling so loud. He stopped. He actually stopped. He called my sister for me. It was the kindest thing he has ever done. My sister took me back to the hospital. She waited with me, she comforted me as she always does.
I went back to the hospital. This time a different one. I was there for three weeks. I did a lot of healing and learning. I got out. I faced crippling flashbacks while hospitalized and more breakdowns. I got angry. I got sad. I felt so much. I went to a transitional house after and finally went home after a month. I got out.
I still to this day have issues I face from this relationship. It has been hard to date and to connect with anyone. I have panic attacks when I realize that I actually like someone. I get uneasy, anxious, depressed thinking about having a family unit and the fact I am getting older and I virtually can not get past a certain point comfortably in dating or without sabotaging it. There is something I do know. I do know I can overcome it and that I can beat the stigma of an abusive relationship. I will never let myself fall victim to that again. I don't consider myself a victim of domestic abuse, I consider myself a survivor. I take what I am dealt and I run with it.
Now I am doing better. I am coping with the tools I have. Like I said, dating is hard and I seem to sabotage relationships with people I like. I am in therapy still. I am more independent than ever and have control of my life. I have my confidence back. I feel empowered. More importantly I love myself and am happy with who I am and I respect that all the things that have happened to me shaped who I am.
I have some advice for the people struggling with or who have struggled with similar issues. It may seem near impossible to get out and like you need the person who is hurting you, but you don't. You may think you have no one and you ruined every single relationship with friends and family, but you didn't. You can get out and you can get help. There are many anonymous women's shelters who help women and children in need. There are also shelters for battered spouses. There are safe houses for the LGBTQ+ community as well. There are hotlines to call. There are many resources at your disposal. Don't feel trapped, or alone. I hope my story helps someone out there.
I should give you a little bit about me before I go on though I have to admit that I feel like I am writing a dating profile introduction. All you really need to know about me is I am 31 and I have Celiac Disease and PTSD. The entire reason I wanted to start blogging was to raise awareness and share my story. Whether it be my daily struggle with an incurable autoimmune disorder that as of now has no medication to relieve symptoms or my inconsistent struggle with PTSD and the crippling anxiety that it can cause me. The one thing I know that does help keep me going is having a sense of humor and the ability to laugh.
About three years ago I was diagnosed with Celiac Disease. My sister also has it. I feel thankful for that. I have someone who can relate to my pain and the struggles I go through daily. Being able to talk to her and share my journey with her has made it easier in a way. My Celiac Disease is not really what is bothering me today or what made me start this blog. It is the PTSD and the way it has affected me and my ability to connect to other people.
I don't want to get too far into the past here and give up too much of what has happened, but I will divulge what is important to know. I had a rough childhood. I don't mean rough as in my parents argued a lot and split rough, I mean rough as in I have had to call 911 after my stepfather beat my mom type rough. I was exposed to things as a child no child should be exposed to. I endured abuse that alters you for life. I am thankful that in my case it altered me to be strong and to be kind. I had wonderful influences in my life to help guide me through it.
The one person who has really shaped me and changed my life even quite literally saved me life is my dad. He has always been there. He got me out of the situation I was in and gave me a home. My poor dad had to deal with me in my teenage years and for that I consider the man a saint.
I am going to fast forward a bit here and say in the past I have had some pretty shitty relationships. I have also had very wonderful men in my life who I will always adore. However, nothing quite takes the cake as much as my last shitty relationship. About 2 years ago I went through a very awful and traumatic breakup. The relationship wasn't much better. This is the important piece. This relationship is worth sharing. Here is where I share and hope that maybe it reaches someone who needs to hear it. Here is where I share a terrible thing that happened to me and still affects me very much and hope that it saves someone's life because maybe they have it worse. Here is where I open up and let someone else out there know that- no it is not your fault and you can get out.
Two years ago I had a horrible breakup. Sometime in early Septemeber, I don't know maybe it was late August, I was admitted to a psych ward. I tried to commit suicide and failed. I woke up in a hospital bed with no recollection of how I got there. I knew something happened, I just didn't know what. I felt the soreness of my wrists and my arms. I felt scared. I felt alone. I had no idea what happened. I was in my bed as a nurse came in with my doctor and the doctor explained what had happened to me as the nurse took my vitals and gave me my meds. The doctor was gentle and understanding. She was kind. She told me I had blacked out and tried to commit suicide. I broke down. I had just lost a cousin to suicide and couldn't believe that I had done that. I couldn't believe I was going to do that to my family, to my loved ones. That I felt like that was my only way out.
Let's rewind a bit. To the relationship and what went so wrong to land me there in that hospital bed. Our relationship started out great. We had so much fun together and we were in love. We also respected one another and got along wonderfully. He worked a lot and he made decent money which kept him very comfortable. He was able to work from home and to basically do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. I did not care about the money, it didn't phase me. He liked that about me. He liked that I was interested in him not his money, or his job, but him. He liked that I just wanted to simply hang out and was content with staying in. I was grateful and appreciative that he enjoyed taking me to extravagant places and buying me nice things that I could never buy for myself or even justify buying for myself. We were happy. One day it changed.
I can't even tell you when it started or how. All I can tell you is that it did and it snuck up on me. He would tell me to go run errands and I had a card to do so that he would put money on so I could. He would get angry at me for spending as much money as I did on the things that he wanted me to get on the places he wanted me to get them from- even groceries. He would tell me to go buy something nice for myself if we got in a fight, then he would hold it against me later. If I was feeling bad due to a Celiac flare up, he would get angry with me that I was resting and keep me up. He would get upset at me for going to my job in the city, then get mad that I didn't go. He would get mad at things I didn't do right or if I didn't wash the laundry right or take care of his dogs. I could really go on and on. I won't.
I remember my breaking point. The event that began my processes of deterioration. I had washed something wrong and it got ruined. He yelled at me for I don't know how long. I broke down. I was crying and begging him to stop. I pleaded with him to stop yelling at me. I told him that he knew that yelling at me made me revert back to a bad time. That it reminded me of my childhood and to please not yell at me. I curled up in a ball and cried. He wasn't backing down. He was yelling and laughing at me. He was taunting me. He told me to leave. I couldn't move. I told him I wanted to die, he said he didn't care if I did or didn't. I left. He called me to come back over later that night. I did. Things were okay until the morning. He was back at it again. I cracked and I left.When I got home I realized all of my stuff was at his house, stuff I needed. I went back, he locked me out after taking my key.
He wouldn't answer my calls or the door. I was distraught I was a mess. I went home. I blacked out.
That's when I woke up in the hospital. That's when I met the doctor. I met the doctor 5 months later. 5 months later after dating him I was sitting on a hospital bed talking to my doctor about how I got here.
It took me a couple days to open up to my therapist about what had happened. About what was going on in my personal life, in my home life. About the man at home. The man who mentally and emotionally manipulated me and pushed me around. About how we fought and about how we yelled. I told her everything. They wanted me to leave him or for us to start couples counseling. I wasn't going to leave him, I couldn't. I depended on him for so much (or so I thought). I loved him and he loved me (or so I thought).
I ended up leaving that hospital after 5 days. I was able to go home and start my life again. To work on the problems I had with the man I thought I loved and that I thought loved me back. A couple days after I got back, he yelled at me for something. He broke up with me. He told me he hated me that my note and my pain ruined his life and he hated me. He told me to get out. He already had my bag packed. I felt it coming. I felt that impending doom of a blackout and a flashback.He exasperated it. I wasn't in my right mind. He was yelling so loud. He stopped. He actually stopped. He called my sister for me. It was the kindest thing he has ever done. My sister took me back to the hospital. She waited with me, she comforted me as she always does.
I went back to the hospital. This time a different one. I was there for three weeks. I did a lot of healing and learning. I got out. I faced crippling flashbacks while hospitalized and more breakdowns. I got angry. I got sad. I felt so much. I went to a transitional house after and finally went home after a month. I got out.
I still to this day have issues I face from this relationship. It has been hard to date and to connect with anyone. I have panic attacks when I realize that I actually like someone. I get uneasy, anxious, depressed thinking about having a family unit and the fact I am getting older and I virtually can not get past a certain point comfortably in dating or without sabotaging it. There is something I do know. I do know I can overcome it and that I can beat the stigma of an abusive relationship. I will never let myself fall victim to that again. I don't consider myself a victim of domestic abuse, I consider myself a survivor. I take what I am dealt and I run with it.
Now I am doing better. I am coping with the tools I have. Like I said, dating is hard and I seem to sabotage relationships with people I like. I am in therapy still. I am more independent than ever and have control of my life. I have my confidence back. I feel empowered. More importantly I love myself and am happy with who I am and I respect that all the things that have happened to me shaped who I am.
I have some advice for the people struggling with or who have struggled with similar issues. It may seem near impossible to get out and like you need the person who is hurting you, but you don't. You may think you have no one and you ruined every single relationship with friends and family, but you didn't. You can get out and you can get help. There are many anonymous women's shelters who help women and children in need. There are also shelters for battered spouses. There are safe houses for the LGBTQ+ community as well. There are hotlines to call. There are many resources at your disposal. Don't feel trapped, or alone. I hope my story helps someone out there.
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