I'd never heard this before... "A bad mother will create another bad mother". My mother-in-law told me this a few months ago. She's perfect, I'll have you know. Makes her daughter perfect too?? I think not! She's just as good a mother as mine was... always going out, pawning of her kids to anyone who will take them, oh... and having a third?! As if the first two aren't going to be messed up enough? I don't think I agree with the statement. I've met more than one amazing mother who had a lousy mother. Makes me wonder if this was just a jab at me?? My mom was a bad mom, but does that make ME a bad mom? Was her mother bad? I don't think so... I would know, I just about spent the first 5 years of my life with her and then again when I was a teenager, castaway by my mom. But, here's what I know...
My grandmother was the sight of perfection from the 50's. Her gorgeous homemade dresses, tiny waist, petite figure, high heels and always looked beautiful... even holding her newborn baby girl, my mom. In old pictures, my grandmother just glowed standing next to my dashing grandpa with a headful of black hair. My mom dressed all in white with bows in her hair, everyone smiling. I can predict what happened all day long, but with no certainty. My mom always makes her childhood seem so horrible once my aunt was born, but let's face it, they're 8 years apart! Out of my first eight years, I spent 3 with my mom. However, I can't help but think that once my grandmother had a miscarriage, things went south for my mom. I can't imagine the disappointment for my grandmother, the sadness she must of felt, which could have very well left my mom feeling pretty lonely. They don't talk much about it, I get the same story everytime they bring it up. However, when my aunt was born, my mom was just about forgotten. My aunt was the miracle baby, mamma's little girl. Maybe this is where it all started?
So, maybe it is true? Bad moms breed bad moms? I can't help it? I don't ignore my kiddos... I love them more than anything. And even though I'm an only child, I try to spread my time and love evenly among the three. A little hard with such a cute little 3-year old, but I do try. Makes me sad that a generalization like this can be made so blindly. My mom may have always been too busy to spend any time with me, but that's not me.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
All good things must come to an end...
Feeling January all over again. They call it a downward spiral, but this is more like a razor blade slide into a pool of alcohol.
I'm at the end of my rope and no one to help, support or listen. Everyone's just too busy to be bothered with my problems, issues, insecurities and feelings. Not even my not-so-better half. My children can't even look at me. All I can do is cry and wish someone would take me out of my misery! The pills are supposed to help, but the fact that they aren't adds to the hopelessness. If they add anything else... I might as well just die... I'm a walking pharmacy as it is. Recently I starting cutting.... really want to do it to my wrists, but my arms and legs will just have to do. I don't know if it's the pain or the action itself that eases the desire to cut my wrists, just know there's a tiny bit of release in the pressure. I've tried explaining to the hub, but he acts as if he has blinders. He doesn't understand, nor wishes to understand, my circumstances. I just need to get over it and be happy. There's really nothing I wish My mom is as useless as a third nipple! She's incapable of watching my kids for any period of time... but I guess when you don't raise your own kid, why should you spend time with THEIR kids. Even when I beg, she refuses to watch all three... it has to be either JUST the girls or just my booger.... no other combination will do! My mother-in-law is too busy watching her daughter's hellions and raising her other son's son. So she's pretty much out of the picture. And, that's it... that's all their is as far as support. My best friend moved to California and is also miserable but we can't even comfort each other! It's no wonder I can't cope. I'm alone majority of the time with my three spawns, can't get things done and they're all acting out 'cause I can't get my shit together. I have no energy, motivation or inspiration. Today I hope to see the doc and see what she has to say; who I have to go see now that I've escalated to a whole new level. I think a break from all this would do a lot of good... but there's no signs of that anywhere in sight. If I ran away, it would be my children that would feel it the most. Same if I were to commit suicide or have them go through another failed attempt. Driving off a bridge seems like the better alternative... an accident... something that just happened and nothing anyone could have done about it. An overdose isn't even possible since they've taken me off anything that I can overdose on and I can't even get a regular supply of my illegals. I'm trying so hard to live, but right now I'm barely surviving.... I don't want to continue on this prescribed life support. Death, rebirth, new start seems more of a life than where I am now.
Thinking about it more, it comes down to birth. My mom never wanted children. So much so that after I was born, she had her tubes tied. I actually never had confirmation until just recently. Speaking with my real father, he was saddened that my mother decided to stop talking to me. Or I to her... no matter. For years, she's come up with every single excuse to NOT be with my children, not watch them or spend time with them. The hair that broke the camel's back was last summer when she made all sorts of promises and never acted on any of them. Leaving my children asking me all summer when grandma was going to take them ice skating, rollerskating and bowling. Everytime I'd ask her she would say she was busy, has an appointment or a social function... obviously much more important than family. I just couldn't take it any more. My girls asked me why grandma didn't like them. What could I say? It's not you, it's me?? Or grandma just doesn't like kids? I wanted grandma to tell them herself, but she's too chicken. She actually had MY grandmother call and ask to speak to the girls and then her mother would give the phone to her. Sad, really.
Thinking back, I can remember the many years living with my grandmother because she was busy living her life. Too busy to be bothered with a child. Too busy starting her life again with a new man and his children. Instead of spending summers with me, she's travel to Europe or the islands, never taking me. Only deciding to take me back when I was 7. Away from everything I knew, from the only mother I ever knew: HER mother. And it never got better. She wasn't fit as a mother. Maybe it was because she was young (19) when she had me, I'll never know. But I can't help but feel unwanted, better off unborn.
So, if you have a friend that says she doesn't want any children, don't harrass them. It's better that they do not have children than having them and wishing they never had them. Even worse is the feeling their children will live with for the reast of their lives, being unwanted, casted away like the pet you just can't have in the new apartment, forgotten over a vacation, neglected over a pair of shoes you just had to have. I'm thankful for my children and how they finally taught me unconditional love. If it wasn't for them, I would never know the meaning.
I'm at the end of my rope and no one to help, support or listen. Everyone's just too busy to be bothered with my problems, issues, insecurities and feelings. Not even my not-so-better half. My children can't even look at me. All I can do is cry and wish someone would take me out of my misery! The pills are supposed to help, but the fact that they aren't adds to the hopelessness. If they add anything else... I might as well just die... I'm a walking pharmacy as it is. Recently I starting cutting.... really want to do it to my wrists, but my arms and legs will just have to do. I don't know if it's the pain or the action itself that eases the desire to cut my wrists, just know there's a tiny bit of release in the pressure. I've tried explaining to the hub, but he acts as if he has blinders. He doesn't understand, nor wishes to understand, my circumstances. I just need to get over it and be happy. There's really nothing I wish My mom is as useless as a third nipple! She's incapable of watching my kids for any period of time... but I guess when you don't raise your own kid, why should you spend time with THEIR kids. Even when I beg, she refuses to watch all three... it has to be either JUST the girls or just my booger.... no other combination will do! My mother-in-law is too busy watching her daughter's hellions and raising her other son's son. So she's pretty much out of the picture. And, that's it... that's all their is as far as support. My best friend moved to California and is also miserable but we can't even comfort each other! It's no wonder I can't cope. I'm alone majority of the time with my three spawns, can't get things done and they're all acting out 'cause I can't get my shit together. I have no energy, motivation or inspiration. Today I hope to see the doc and see what she has to say; who I have to go see now that I've escalated to a whole new level. I think a break from all this would do a lot of good... but there's no signs of that anywhere in sight. If I ran away, it would be my children that would feel it the most. Same if I were to commit suicide or have them go through another failed attempt. Driving off a bridge seems like the better alternative... an accident... something that just happened and nothing anyone could have done about it. An overdose isn't even possible since they've taken me off anything that I can overdose on and I can't even get a regular supply of my illegals. I'm trying so hard to live, but right now I'm barely surviving.... I don't want to continue on this prescribed life support. Death, rebirth, new start seems more of a life than where I am now.
Thinking about it more, it comes down to birth. My mom never wanted children. So much so that after I was born, she had her tubes tied. I actually never had confirmation until just recently. Speaking with my real father, he was saddened that my mother decided to stop talking to me. Or I to her... no matter. For years, she's come up with every single excuse to NOT be with my children, not watch them or spend time with them. The hair that broke the camel's back was last summer when she made all sorts of promises and never acted on any of them. Leaving my children asking me all summer when grandma was going to take them ice skating, rollerskating and bowling. Everytime I'd ask her she would say she was busy, has an appointment or a social function... obviously much more important than family. I just couldn't take it any more. My girls asked me why grandma didn't like them. What could I say? It's not you, it's me?? Or grandma just doesn't like kids? I wanted grandma to tell them herself, but she's too chicken. She actually had MY grandmother call and ask to speak to the girls and then her mother would give the phone to her. Sad, really.
Thinking back, I can remember the many years living with my grandmother because she was busy living her life. Too busy to be bothered with a child. Too busy starting her life again with a new man and his children. Instead of spending summers with me, she's travel to Europe or the islands, never taking me. Only deciding to take me back when I was 7. Away from everything I knew, from the only mother I ever knew: HER mother. And it never got better. She wasn't fit as a mother. Maybe it was because she was young (19) when she had me, I'll never know. But I can't help but feel unwanted, better off unborn.
So, if you have a friend that says she doesn't want any children, don't harrass them. It's better that they do not have children than having them and wishing they never had them. Even worse is the feeling their children will live with for the reast of their lives, being unwanted, casted away like the pet you just can't have in the new apartment, forgotten over a vacation, neglected over a pair of shoes you just had to have. I'm thankful for my children and how they finally taught me unconditional love. If it wasn't for them, I would never know the meaning.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Uppers or downers
I think most of us are predisposed to certain drugs or addictions, if you will. While there is no history of drug use in my family (that they are willing to admit, but I have a few theories) alcoholism seems to be as natural as the freckles. I don't feel like an alcoholic. Only time I feel like an alcoholic is when I have to fill out some sort of information sheet at a doctor's office. You know the one: do you smoke? how many a week? do you drink? how many a week? The answer always puzzles me but I dismiss it and blame it on my poor math skills. But, still... when you add those drinks up, well... they add up! I'm sure alcoholics everywhere are going "yeah, right... denial!" but, I don't drink everyday and I don't feel I have a dependency on alcohol. At least not nearly as severe as the one I have on cigarettes. I've quit more than three times but still puffing away! Worse than heroine, I should know. Which brings me back to the subject at hand.
I always wondered how people started using the drugs they used. Why is a crack-head a crack-head? Etc... Besides for peer pressure, which I don't believe in peer pressure. Unless you consider peer pressure as a friend going "hey, wanna puff?" - I consider peer pressure when someone won't leave you alone about it, but that's just me. So, I thought of myself and MY drug use and preference. I've always been the "What's your favorite drug?" - "What do you have?" kinda girl, but I have to admit, I'm drawn to certain types. And my types have changed over the years. When I was younger, way hyper... a "spaz", if you will, my drug of choice was hash and heroine. They brought me to a happy down... active down, since I was always so manic. (I'm sure my bipolar-ism had something to do with it, but at the time I had no clue of what I was). Of course, alcohol was always a part of my life, since before I was 8, when my dad would let me take a sip of his beer if I were to get him one and open it for him. Before that, grandma would give me the green mint liquor to put me to sleep, again, due to my hyperactivity. The positive side to all this drinking before it was even remotely close to being legal? When I was of drinking age, my tolerance level was ready. I was able to drink and hold my liquor better than most frat boys, and that's saying A LOT! When I finally stopped the heroine use and moved to the US, and couldn't even find hash, pot became my new friend. The first time I smoked, I shit you not, I tripped!! I saw shit and blacked out for a good 30 minutes coming back to life repeating "I know Abraham Lincoln" (I have NOooooo idea where that came from). And things were good... drinking, smoking. Because of all the travelling, I missed the whole bean-scene, which I kinda regret... sounds like a shit-load of fun! But, when I did finally roll, I was underwhelmed. The heroine use created a tolerance in my body that made my body need at least 4 beans to feel what I should have felt with one, considering my lack of use. But, again, no biggie. As I've gotten older and continue to smoke (and lie about it on all medical forms), I find my energy level has diminished so coke is now my new favorite. I blame the drugs, the prescription ones, the ones that are supposed to keep me level, no manic episodes, no down episodes, just there... numb, blah! That's what they're SUPPOSED to do. Instead, they created this cluster-fuck of emotions and actions that not even a junkie shows. Doctors are the worse pushers EVER! They bring you in to "help" and give you FREE samples, get you hooked on prescriptions to make you think, act, feel normal that you can't quit because you'll be worse than before. NO matter how many drugs I've done in the past, the ones I'm on now are the deadliest and most addictive... the ones you can't stop using even if you want to.
I always wondered how people started using the drugs they used. Why is a crack-head a crack-head? Etc... Besides for peer pressure, which I don't believe in peer pressure. Unless you consider peer pressure as a friend going "hey, wanna puff?" - I consider peer pressure when someone won't leave you alone about it, but that's just me. So, I thought of myself and MY drug use and preference. I've always been the "What's your favorite drug?" - "What do you have?" kinda girl, but I have to admit, I'm drawn to certain types. And my types have changed over the years. When I was younger, way hyper... a "spaz", if you will, my drug of choice was hash and heroine. They brought me to a happy down... active down, since I was always so manic. (I'm sure my bipolar-ism had something to do with it, but at the time I had no clue of what I was). Of course, alcohol was always a part of my life, since before I was 8, when my dad would let me take a sip of his beer if I were to get him one and open it for him. Before that, grandma would give me the green mint liquor to put me to sleep, again, due to my hyperactivity. The positive side to all this drinking before it was even remotely close to being legal? When I was of drinking age, my tolerance level was ready. I was able to drink and hold my liquor better than most frat boys, and that's saying A LOT! When I finally stopped the heroine use and moved to the US, and couldn't even find hash, pot became my new friend. The first time I smoked, I shit you not, I tripped!! I saw shit and blacked out for a good 30 minutes coming back to life repeating "I know Abraham Lincoln" (I have NOooooo idea where that came from). And things were good... drinking, smoking. Because of all the travelling, I missed the whole bean-scene, which I kinda regret... sounds like a shit-load of fun! But, when I did finally roll, I was underwhelmed. The heroine use created a tolerance in my body that made my body need at least 4 beans to feel what I should have felt with one, considering my lack of use. But, again, no biggie. As I've gotten older and continue to smoke (and lie about it on all medical forms), I find my energy level has diminished so coke is now my new favorite. I blame the drugs, the prescription ones, the ones that are supposed to keep me level, no manic episodes, no down episodes, just there... numb, blah! That's what they're SUPPOSED to do. Instead, they created this cluster-fuck of emotions and actions that not even a junkie shows. Doctors are the worse pushers EVER! They bring you in to "help" and give you FREE samples, get you hooked on prescriptions to make you think, act, feel normal that you can't quit because you'll be worse than before. NO matter how many drugs I've done in the past, the ones I'm on now are the deadliest and most addictive... the ones you can't stop using even if you want to.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
New year, new problems....
For no real reason, people (including myself) have a sense that the new year brings a fresh start. The old, bad and gloomy are gone and only sunshine up ahead. Personally, I'm ecstatic that the holidays are over! Starting to sympathize with the Grinch... it seems all holidays concentrate around is spending, spending and more spending... stressing to get the perfect gift for those you care the most about, making sure your children enjoy Christmas as much as you did. But the feeling just isn't there. This Christmas was a cluster-fuck. As if I didn't feel suicidal enough before the month started, by Christmas time I was ready to hang myself!
It's sad really... my husband actually had the night off Christmas eve so we could celebrate Noche Buena with my family. Unfortunately, we were WAY more excited about it than they were. No one showed up... but we had some additions, my brother's girlfriend/"baby-momma" and my grandmother, whom my aunt was going to leave to spend Christmas alone, so mom went and picked her up and brought her to the house. My sister isn't "allowed" to celebrate with us because her husband wants to celebrate it with HIS family, not ours. So, us five dressed up all nice and pretty, but when we got there, we found we were the only ones... the girlfriend looked like she just woke up, grandma has Parkinson, so she's not a snappy dresser any more and my mom looked like she didn't even try. And she didn't... not with her clothes, not with the food or the gifts! It wasn't a joyous event! When it came time to eat, my husband (a chef, currently working as a bartender - I underlined this for a reason) was disappointed, as was I, with the food that was served... it's Christmas!! Mom served a super dry pork (store bought), a chicken salad that I haven't liked since I was little and a traditional Venezuelan Christmas food called "ayacas" and "ham-bread", which was also super dry. ALL of which contained olives, which my husband DOES NOT like. He mentioned to me at the table that he was disappointed, that all he could eat was the pork. Now, come gift opening time, we find that we, a married couple of NINE years, received the same gift as my brother and his "family" whom have been together for about three years... a blender and a bar set. I tried to "look" happy while I told my mom we already had a blender and that my husband and I have collected all the items for a decent bar set. Mom's response... oh, well. I know it's "the thought that counts", but what about when there's NO thought put into it? We left tired, disappointed and eager to get home. When we arrived home, we come to find that my son's bed set is for a toddler bed, which he does not have and the curtain was one panel (in other words: half a window (he has two in his room) and my daughter's camera was one of those $10 Walgreen's deals, chancy, cheap and no resolution. My daughter was crushed... my son hadn't a clue (he's two!).
The following day, when my mom called to find out if we had extra artwork for grandma's new place, I told her I'm sure we did but it was not accessible... she insisted. It was annoying... not sure what part of "it's inaccessible" she didn't understand. Furthermore, this is something both hubby and I need to go through. So I then took this opportunity to tell her about the gifts. She got mad, telling me we were ungrateful and it was the thought that counted... I told her I agreed, but the fact was she didn't put any thought into it. Then told me the "polite" thing to do would be to re-gift them... so, as my mom, she would rather not hear the truth from her daughter? Interesting... She hasn't talked to me since the incident.
As for New Year's, I was completely excited since I wasn't going to spend it alone like I had for the past two years. The other grandma was taking the kiddos so I could meet with the hubby and celebrate once he got off work. I got there at 10:30... he didn't get off until 12:30.... but I got my kiss!
Hubby and I have been having issues. It seems we no longer know how to speak to each other, as if we have nothing more to talk about, but plenty to yell about! On the first, we had our first fight... vicious one, calling me a bitch in front of the kids, bad mother and wife! It's no wonder I want to slash my wrists!! Afterwards.... no apologies, nothing... everything's back to normal and he wonders why I have a frown on my face!! Gee, I wonder!
The latest issue is with the bachelor party.... tonight. Speaking to him this morning I mentioned what I expect from him: This is NOT a "hall pass", you are married with children and responsibilities that go with it not single and available like the rest of the guys, and if you aren't home by the time I wake up, don't bother coming home. He got irate... "of course this isn't a hall pass!!", but he called it that a few days ago and I reminded him of it, but he was upset that I set these ground rules. If the roles were reversed, I wouldn't even be allowed to go! That's a fact!
We have so much to work on but he doesn't seem willing... this year, while the world may not end, our 10 year marriage might. Makes me sad and angry... to know that I loved someone so much, committed myself wholeheartedly to someone unwilling to sacrifice, to compromise, to make it work and make us both happy.
New doctor's appointment on Monday and I'm hoping he'll load me up with anything that will just make me comfortably numb! The "cocktail" I'm on is simply NOT strong enough for this bullshit! Either the marriage will end or my life... which I don't want either of which to happen, but this misery has to stop! I always thought of myself as a strong woman, but after swimming against the current for so long, one gets tired and ends up drowning. Drowning seems like a dream right now... a sweet, peaceful dream.
It's sad really... my husband actually had the night off Christmas eve so we could celebrate Noche Buena with my family. Unfortunately, we were WAY more excited about it than they were. No one showed up... but we had some additions, my brother's girlfriend/"baby-momma" and my grandmother, whom my aunt was going to leave to spend Christmas alone, so mom went and picked her up and brought her to the house. My sister isn't "allowed" to celebrate with us because her husband wants to celebrate it with HIS family, not ours. So, us five dressed up all nice and pretty, but when we got there, we found we were the only ones... the girlfriend looked like she just woke up, grandma has Parkinson, so she's not a snappy dresser any more and my mom looked like she didn't even try. And she didn't... not with her clothes, not with the food or the gifts! It wasn't a joyous event! When it came time to eat, my husband (a chef, currently working as a bartender - I underlined this for a reason) was disappointed, as was I, with the food that was served... it's Christmas!! Mom served a super dry pork (store bought), a chicken salad that I haven't liked since I was little and a traditional Venezuelan Christmas food called "ayacas" and "ham-bread", which was also super dry. ALL of which contained olives, which my husband DOES NOT like. He mentioned to me at the table that he was disappointed, that all he could eat was the pork. Now, come gift opening time, we find that we, a married couple of NINE years, received the same gift as my brother and his "family" whom have been together for about three years... a blender and a bar set. I tried to "look" happy while I told my mom we already had a blender and that my husband and I have collected all the items for a decent bar set. Mom's response... oh, well. I know it's "the thought that counts", but what about when there's NO thought put into it? We left tired, disappointed and eager to get home. When we arrived home, we come to find that my son's bed set is for a toddler bed, which he does not have and the curtain was one panel (in other words: half a window (he has two in his room) and my daughter's camera was one of those $10 Walgreen's deals, chancy, cheap and no resolution. My daughter was crushed... my son hadn't a clue (he's two!).
The following day, when my mom called to find out if we had extra artwork for grandma's new place, I told her I'm sure we did but it was not accessible... she insisted. It was annoying... not sure what part of "it's inaccessible" she didn't understand. Furthermore, this is something both hubby and I need to go through. So I then took this opportunity to tell her about the gifts. She got mad, telling me we were ungrateful and it was the thought that counted... I told her I agreed, but the fact was she didn't put any thought into it. Then told me the "polite" thing to do would be to re-gift them... so, as my mom, she would rather not hear the truth from her daughter? Interesting... She hasn't talked to me since the incident.
As for New Year's, I was completely excited since I wasn't going to spend it alone like I had for the past two years. The other grandma was taking the kiddos so I could meet with the hubby and celebrate once he got off work. I got there at 10:30... he didn't get off until 12:30.... but I got my kiss!
Hubby and I have been having issues. It seems we no longer know how to speak to each other, as if we have nothing more to talk about, but plenty to yell about! On the first, we had our first fight... vicious one, calling me a bitch in front of the kids, bad mother and wife! It's no wonder I want to slash my wrists!! Afterwards.... no apologies, nothing... everything's back to normal and he wonders why I have a frown on my face!! Gee, I wonder!
The latest issue is with the bachelor party.... tonight. Speaking to him this morning I mentioned what I expect from him: This is NOT a "hall pass", you are married with children and responsibilities that go with it not single and available like the rest of the guys, and if you aren't home by the time I wake up, don't bother coming home. He got irate... "of course this isn't a hall pass!!", but he called it that a few days ago and I reminded him of it, but he was upset that I set these ground rules. If the roles were reversed, I wouldn't even be allowed to go! That's a fact!
We have so much to work on but he doesn't seem willing... this year, while the world may not end, our 10 year marriage might. Makes me sad and angry... to know that I loved someone so much, committed myself wholeheartedly to someone unwilling to sacrifice, to compromise, to make it work and make us both happy.
New doctor's appointment on Monday and I'm hoping he'll load me up with anything that will just make me comfortably numb! The "cocktail" I'm on is simply NOT strong enough for this bullshit! Either the marriage will end or my life... which I don't want either of which to happen, but this misery has to stop! I always thought of myself as a strong woman, but after swimming against the current for so long, one gets tired and ends up drowning. Drowning seems like a dream right now... a sweet, peaceful dream.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
What's in the name?
A little background is necessary, I think, to get us started.
I recently attempted suicide and obviously failed. This wasn't my first attempt, but hopefully my last. The first two times I tried and failed made me feel more of a failure than I already wrongly thought of myself. Of course, failing one more time didn't help me one bit, but I did succeed, in a way, to get myself out of the funk. This time, the difference was I blacked out for three days... or at least have no recollection of those days at all. I felt... reset. This third time was different.
I'm not a religious person. I consider myself more spiritual (try explaining that to a six year old). It's not like I saw the light or a voice from above called out to me. In fact, nothing really happened, except in my brain. All of a sudden, it was like a switch went off in my head and a "positive" thought flooded into my brain, which in itself is miraculous. (I'm a firm believer in "hope for the best, expect the worst"... not a completely positive statement). This switch made me realize that maybe, just maybe, there is a purpose for me after all. I have no idea what that might be. I first thought that maybe my purpose was my children. As much as I love my children, I knew my purpose involved them in a different manner. I thought that maybe when I can find comfort in myself, I can be a better person. Clarity will set me free. Even though I have been me for over 30 years, I really don't know myself too well. I know my brain doesn't work like anybody else's; I know I'm a talented artist. However, didn't know why my brain was the way it was... why my thoughts wouldn't stop... why only the negative thoughts stuck... why I would be consumed by rage or massive depression all of a sudden! Still don't know the answers to all these questions, but I am, most definitely, capable now to ponder it more clearly.
My terms for discharge from the hospital were to go to a therapist, attend a support group at the hospital and take all my medications properly. Never before did I go to a reputable therapist or support groups. So far, I have survived TWO months since my last attempt. I am, still breathing... but now I smile. I hope you take this little trip with me.... down memory lane, up the new beginning and 'round and 'round.
I recently attempted suicide and obviously failed. This wasn't my first attempt, but hopefully my last. The first two times I tried and failed made me feel more of a failure than I already wrongly thought of myself. Of course, failing one more time didn't help me one bit, but I did succeed, in a way, to get myself out of the funk. This time, the difference was I blacked out for three days... or at least have no recollection of those days at all. I felt... reset. This third time was different.
I'm not a religious person. I consider myself more spiritual (try explaining that to a six year old). It's not like I saw the light or a voice from above called out to me. In fact, nothing really happened, except in my brain. All of a sudden, it was like a switch went off in my head and a "positive" thought flooded into my brain, which in itself is miraculous. (I'm a firm believer in "hope for the best, expect the worst"... not a completely positive statement). This switch made me realize that maybe, just maybe, there is a purpose for me after all. I have no idea what that might be. I first thought that maybe my purpose was my children. As much as I love my children, I knew my purpose involved them in a different manner. I thought that maybe when I can find comfort in myself, I can be a better person. Clarity will set me free. Even though I have been me for over 30 years, I really don't know myself too well. I know my brain doesn't work like anybody else's; I know I'm a talented artist. However, didn't know why my brain was the way it was... why my thoughts wouldn't stop... why only the negative thoughts stuck... why I would be consumed by rage or massive depression all of a sudden! Still don't know the answers to all these questions, but I am, most definitely, capable now to ponder it more clearly.
My terms for discharge from the hospital were to go to a therapist, attend a support group at the hospital and take all my medications properly. Never before did I go to a reputable therapist or support groups. So far, I have survived TWO months since my last attempt. I am, still breathing... but now I smile. I hope you take this little trip with me.... down memory lane, up the new beginning and 'round and 'round.
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