This morning, I dreamt that I was driving. I was just going along as always, the car was going smoothly, no issues. I was approaching a draw bridge, which was apparently just part of my commute. Suddenly, the ground before the bridge ahead of me opened up and started swallowing cars and huge parts of the road. I waited where I was, calmly hoping it wouldn't swallow me. The draw bridge lowered into the ground several feet. Eventually, the movement stopped and some of the cars ahead of me started just going over it, kind of jumping it. I saw them make it. When it was my turn, I took my shot, and I made it, too. Then I woke up. I was late.
Saturday, September 24, 2016
I often hear of lottery winners suddenly dropping tons of cash on major luxuries... 5 bedroom houses, over priced cars, etc. They immediately quit their jobs, which I've never understood...
I would buy my 200k home (that I currently rent), pay off my student loans, ask for a couple weeks off (and spend it helping my daughter readjust to doing schoolwork), take my dog to the vet, buy the big bags of food for the animals, take my car in for an oil change, fix my daughter's car (headlights, trunk lock, oil change), pay off other debts, and probably hire a housekeeper once a week. Once my daughter was more independent in her schoolwork, maybe I'd go back to school. I would definitely visit my endocrinologist... and buy conditioner... I'd take my daughter to a salon and have them dye her hair whatever color she wants it that day. Oh and of course, I'd pay that tailor the $5 he wants to fix the zippers on my purse.
Maybe in a few years, I'd buy a small second home on Maui, with enough space to have a guest or two, but most of what I'd do is just practical stuff... this is probably a terribly boring post, but this is the perspective of someone who has been "working poor" their entire life...
Friday, September 9, 2016
I love my job, but looking back on old posts makes it abundantly clear that it can be triggering at times. For example, until I helped someone withdraw from heroin, I hadn't thought about it in years. The thought alone sent my mind into a bit of a spiral... I maintained stability, of course, I always do... but it was hard. I gave my demons every single day that I show up to work. Just today, I congratulated the group I held for showing up and sharing because there's no way I could be that brave, especially when I was in the state they're in. I was not alone in this sentiment. Just some thoughts. Gotta go back in now.
Friday, September 2, 2016
Yes. I can VIVIDLY recall spending what felt like an eternity desperately searching your entire body trying to come up with a pulse and not finding one. Yes. It did destroy me. At no point did it affect my ability to parent. At no point did it affect my ability to assess the situation for what it was. Mottled skin, dark blue lips, no palpable pulse, no respiratory activity. But my training has taught me that when someone isn't breathing, a pulse can be slight enough to be difficult to detect, and I knew from taking yours regularly that yours already was. So I started CPR, because that's what I'm trained to do. I knew there was less than a 1% chance it would work (even though you were warm when we got there - the most frustrating part), but I did my best. I gave it my all. According to the paramedics, I broke several ribs, which means I did it right (having done it before so many times, I'm not surprised. I know CPR). I ducked out the minute they arrived because I knew I lacked both the physical and emotional stamina to stay in that room with your lifeless body and continue chest compressions for another hour. I knew I wouldn't be as useful as someone who wasn't your daughter. Could I have compartmentalized and worked through it and done it anyway? Yes. But it would've caused more psychological trauma, and I knew I couldn't revive you. I had already tried for at least 15 minutes and that's about how long it usually takes if it's going to work. So I ducked out when they got there, desperately hoping their ied and medications could restart your heart, never letting them know I'd already tried to revive you. Perhaps that's why the detectives questioned me so long... that was when it came out that I gave you CPR. I am a healthcare provider. I know how this works. I know that if a trained family member is seen doing it, they will be instructed to continue doing so for at least an hour, even when it's abundantly clear that it will not work. And I just couldn't do it. Yes. I have flashbacks still. Yes, these moments haunt me. But I have not let up for a minute on parenting my child. She is and always has been my #1 priority. I've come out of this a stronger person and to say otherwise is incredibly insulting and inaccurate. I have to go to work now.
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
It is a felony to assault a healthcare worker. However, it is abuse if that healthcare worker fights back after having been assaulted. We will probably have a new job opening at work very soon. I cannot imagine becoming violent with a patient... I cannot even imagine allowing the situation to escalate to that point to begin with... we work with vulnerable and unstable people. They are locked up like rats in a cage, their medications are switched all over the place, their life circumstances have often been incredibly traumatic... of course they sometimes lash out. But, as the provider, you recognize it for what it is (even when you're being targeted), and you walk away.
Saturday, July 23, 2016
My beautiful daughter is doing OK, for the most part... I'm so glad to see her better. It was really hard to see her in the hospital. She's still got way too much going on, and a lot of issues... including lingering symptoms of c diff, and more importantly, the blood clot... but we're handing it. She is doing a great job doing everything she needs to do. I love her so much.
Monday, June 20, 2016
The past few weeks, I've been increasingly suicidal... I don't really know why... I have a new boyfriend who is like ativan... he's amazing... he listens to everything I tell him and remembers it, he treats me better than anyone ever has, shows genuine care for me... and he knows MUCH of my story, which I find odd because most guys bolt when they hear anything about my past...
Things at work are fine. Things at home are bearable, but tiring.
But the thoughts persist, and they're getting stronger. I just want a fat, lethal dose of heroin. I'm tired and I want it to be over. He doesn't know I feel like this, he just knows I'm tired and stressed... and he does whatever he can to facilitate comfortable sleep and rest and relaxation... he's really good at it. Going to his house is like going on vacation. And it's so clean there. But I am keeping the knives locked up so I won't start cutting again. I am scared to talk to anybody about what's really going on inside right now. So I just sit here in bed, alone, miserable. And so tired. It's getting sunny and my old scars are starting to show... I showed some to a consumer who couldn't believe I used to self harm. I showed him a failed suicide attempt, too. And told him about some of the heroin overdoses... my mom didn't even know so many of those were intentional. I'm a smart cookie... I can count.
Tuesday, June 14, 2016
I came so close to killing myself tonight in my driveway. I don't know if it's because my meds are fucked up, because my life is fucked up, or because my mother's birthday is coming up, but I very sincerely wanted to die tonight. I still do. I am here for my child only. I have no other reason to live. I have a very fulfilling job that I'm very good at, and I love it even though it doesn't pay the bills... I am fortunate enough to be able to use the shitstorm that has been my 34 years to help others, and I love that. But it's not enough to keep me on this planet by itself at all. If I didn't have my daughter, I would've killed myself before the cancer did. Heroin, maybe?? I was trying to remember, the other day, how many times I've overdosed on it... how many times my loving mother had to literally carry me to the hospital... I tried to remember how many of those times were intentional and I just never told anyone... I tried to remember how the hell I kicked... and why... but that time period is all a blur... all I can ever remember us how good it felt when it hit... I have a patient right now who is coming out of detoxing from heroin and wish I could share my story with her to help... I can see in her face that she knows, but I can't remember shit... I think I kicked for my mother. God, I miss heroin...
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
Picking up shifts... 16 hour days. Chairs flying through walls. Toilet paper dispensers being kicked off the wall. Fights breaking out. Yelling and cursing and shoving. Seclusion and restraint. People fearing their doors is poisoned, but not by us. Jumping off of bridges. For point restraints on gurneys. And stop shining that fucking light in my eyes while I'm trying to sleep! I hate all of you fucking people! I don't belong here! I'm not crazy! Whatever they said I did isn't true because I don't remember it! I never chased anyone with a knife! That doesn't sound like me at all!
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Fuck life. Fuck money. Fuck people. Fuck. Those are all the fucks I have left to give today. I can't sleep, I can't afford my grossly overpriced medications, I can't afford my grossly overpriced doctors. When I think back on my life, I remember the hell I've been through and wonder when it will stop. I didn't get a birthday this year because no one cares. I'm ALWAYS there for EVERYBODY. I think I got maybe two texts. My daughter said happy birthday, which was nice, but then, like a grown up, I went to work, where nobody cared, and went about my day.
I hope I win the lottery soon because otherwise I'm just selling my whole life to a job that doesn't care about me. Fuck this shit.
Friday, March 11, 2016
Fuck you and your refusal to pay child support. Fuck you and your bullshit insistence that you're putting "enormous amounts of effort" into trying to get our child to want to spend time with you when she actually only hears from you once a month, if that. Fuck all your shit talking to her about me. She sees right through you, she knows you're a douche and that's why she doesn't want to spend time with you... that and your child of a girlfriend. Fuck your accusations of me telling her terrible things about you. If you knew anything about me, you'd know I realize that would only hurt her. A child should think well of her father. I've done nothing but try to facilitate that for the last 13 years. You've been partially around for almost 5 now, and blame me for everything that's wrong between the two of you. The saddest part is that she actually still wants a relationship with your sorry ass, but you're making it nearly impossible. Yelling at her won't make her want to see you, neither will yelling at me. Maybe you should take that parenting class you were court ordered to take but didn't feel you "needed". Do you have any idea what kinds of sacrifices OUR CHILD has made FOR YOU? Fuck you and the tantrum throwing bitch you're engaged to. Our child deserves better role models than a barely there father who beats animals and a child with no anger management skills. And the next time she's denied her LIFE SAVING medication on your watch, you can bet I'm calling it in, asshole.
And a great big fuck you too the pierce county medical examiner's office for fucking up my mom's autopsy so bad that I had to request pictures to make sure you didn't switch the bodies! You assholes missed EVERYTHING! I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure a standard autopsy doesn't take two months even when there are no leads. But because you guys literally messed up every detail, we will never know why my perfectly healthy 50 year old mother just didn't wake up. I just got her ashes. She died 11/23/14. Wtf were you guys doing?? No time of death, no cause of death, you missed a rather sizable tattoo... her labs had to be drawn twice because you messed them up... her final death certificate reads, "pregnant? Unknown". She was 50, had her tubes tied, and had gone through menopause. It seems to me that if you've got no leads, you ought to look EVERYWHERE. one idiot early on told me it was alcohol poisoning, with a BAC of 0.05. Really?? I wish I could sue you. Fuck you.
Monday, February 22, 2016
I don't want to be a part of this world anymore. I don't feel like I belong here, I feel like I'm just scraps of something that used to be part of the world, but I'm torn apart and the pieces are blowing away into the wind. I used to be part of the world... Now it just goes and goes and goes and I'm here all alone, a little pile of dust. I don't live anymore, I barely exist. I can't help but wonder why it wasn't me that died... I have way more health problems... And far fewer people would miss me. That day the world stood still, or at least we did... The medical examiner's personnel rushed all over in a big flashy blur... But we just stood there, shell shocked... Why am I still here? Why do I have to be? Do I have to be? Could I just let myself slip away? I fantasize about leaving every day... Sure, there are things I'd like to do before I go, but there's no viable way to do them any time in the foreseeable future... And everything is tainted with gut wrenching misery, so I never really enjoy it. "you deserve to be happy"... What is happy, anyway? And how can you be sure I deserve it? You don't know me. You don't know that in my darkest hour I wished unspeakable things... You don't know what came before all that, either. You're supposed to be family, but you really don't know anything about me, or any of us, for that matter... For all you know, I don't even deserve to be on this planet. I don't want to be... It feels like torture. Every day. I can't think of someone who deserves to die more than someone who is suffering and no longer experiences joy... Someone who wants to die. Isn't that what assisted suicide is for? In one country (i forget which one), they are allowing access to assisted suicide for people who are suffering mentally. Why not here? We certainly aren't doing enough to help those who are suffering here... I feel like I accidentally showed up to a meeting for all the big wigs and I'm just a peon going, "do I really have to stay?". Why? At work the other day, a drug rep came in and wanted to give me her whole spiel about some drug I've never even heard of... I just showed up for the free lunch, but this lady insisted on getting me to sign in and then proceeded to talk my ear off about things I don't even understand because I'm just a tech... I don't handle meds... That's how I feel about life. Do I really have to stay? What's the point? All I wanted was lunch...
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Yesterday, we learned that my grandfather was not my mother's father. We will never know who her father was. I wonder how my mom would've handled that... I can imagine her grieving the loss of her father and then suddenly finding out he wasn't her father... She'd be so confused...
He wasn't a good man... Which is part of the reason this is so confusing. He molested children, and hit on my mother a few times... I remember her telling me how horrified she was at the things he said... Something like, if you weren't my daughter, we could have a lot of fun. She was in her thirties and having lunch with him. He was married, although obviously, this was creepy all on its own...
I can't believe the bastard lived to his 70s.
Tuesday, February 9, 2016
Monday, February 8, 2016
1. So my daughter won't feel this pain yet and because she needs me
2. I love my dog and don't know where he'd end up without me
3. Teresa wouldn't do well living with her father
4. I love the cats
5. I love my job
6. I love my friends
7. I need to travel more before I die
8. I want to get better at the guitar
9. I want to get better at crochet
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
I can't afford to go to my psychiatrist, and we were in the process of switching me to a different mood stabilizer (because this one wasn't working well enough) so my mood stabilizer dose is so low, it's not even an effective dose. I can't afford my antipsychotic, so I'm not taking it. I'm basically not medicated, other than so many benzos... At least I haven't built up a tolerance to the benzos, but my sleeping pill no longer makes me sleep. It's just like a couple extra xanax now. My meds are a mess, my head's a mess, and I can't sleep. I'm overanalyzing and all over the place. I wish I had gone back to work sooner. Then I'd probably have health insurance, be a couple thousand dollars closer to on track, and not wondering how I'm gonna buy trash bags. I'm back to applying for food stamps, and this year my refund will be around $100. I'm grateful I don't owe.
A lot of stuff has been coming up about my past and I don't know how to deal with it. I know, I know, live sucks, move on. I have obviously, or I'd be stuck in some abusive relationship. But it's weird to think about. But the money's really been grating on me, even though I know it's temporary.
I was thinking about things... And the reason I keep attracting friends with benefits style relationships is because that's what I want right now. I want friendship, and I want sex, but I don't want anybody interfering with my life, taking up too much of my time, or interfering with Teresa's childhood (the only thing she needs is to see somebody treat me well), and I have too many issues for anyone to deal with... But I am female, and my hormones make this impossible for me. As soon as this starts, I get attached and want more. So I go without, and I'm horny and lonely, and maybe a slightly less good mom because of it. So there's that.
And then I realized that there is a huge chunk of my life that my therapist knows nothing about... She doesn't know I smoke weed, she doesn't know I thoroughly enjoy the times I spend when prescribed painkillers, she doesn't know that I'm weak when it comes to someone I like...
When she read my timeline, she was surprised. She didn't know that I grew up surrounded by gangsters, in fact, I don't think that's in there either... She was surprised that I'd sold drugs for so long...
What does all this mean, that my therapist, the person you're supposed to be most honest with, who I've been seeing for how many ? years know so little about me? Maybe I'm really guarded, but we've never had a quiet session... I just can't help but thinking lately, damn, I've got a lot of issues... I wish I was man. But then I'd feel terrible for breaking women's hearts. I don't know... I hear some women can do it, but I'm not one of them. I hit on a girl recently and she blew me off... Right away. She said she's been seeing someone, but even if that's not true, she should've blown me off.
My mom knew all of this. She knew everything. The three miscarriages, everything...
I wonder if I'm too screwed up to be a good parent... I mean, I know I'm not a bad one, but I could probably do better. I think I'm raising her more as a friend than as a child. She is the next closest person to me.
I don't know
Sunday, January 31, 2016
I just want somebody to notice me. To see me. Why is that so hard? I guess everybody seeks to be understood in a way, but I feel like I'm invisible. Nobody has noticed me in a long time, at least as a person... And even less people have tried to know me. What's so strong with me that I'm not worth a few months of getting to know me? I'm not boring... Far from it. Am I looking to the wrong people? Who should I be looking to, then? I spent my whole life falling through the cracks. As an adult, I still do. Because apparently, I'm invisible. I can't even have a conversation with someone unless I initiate it first. Every time. I'm am introvert. That's exhausting and awkward. I feel like I'm going the distance for people who won't even met me halfway.
Friday, January 29, 2016
it's nearly 4am and I can't sleep. for the past two hours, I've been thinking about getting my guitar out and trying to remember some chords. but I don't feel like my brain is in the right place to be learning anything.
I've been kinda lonely lately, what with feeling like I'm now the only person like me on earth (mom was like me). anyway, I've been putting the time I could put into another person into my Spanish, which is why someday, I'll actually be fluent.
I hate that editing something on this blog changes the post date.
youtube is showing me that I have odd taste in music and it's quite varied. apparently, I like almost everything. but sometimes, it's way off.
I wish I knew why people read this. maybe I am sort of it good writer... I doubt it. I think it's like slowing down to look at a car accident.
whatever. keep your hands off my stack.
so I was talking to my therapist, and I told her that I'd like to know more people who have been through the same kinds of things I have, because I think it'd be easier to relate, and I'd get tuned out less. that's what people do when they can't process what you're saying ... they act as if you'd said nothing... you get either a half-assed 'uh huh', or an uncomfortable 'hmm'.
anyway, I've noticed that people who have dealt with the kind of things I have usually turn out to be very bitter, selfish people - she interjected 'they're narcissists'... she said that some do, and some don't. some end up like me, in therapy forever. those of us who decide to take on the world with a heart, seek out help and try to become better people. but apparently, we're rare to begin with...
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
Solamente, soy pobre...
I've got nothing else to say...
That's what I've got. Nothing. I crave the warmth of a summer bonfire... the laughter, the liquor, the weed, the love...
But i am alone in a graveyard. Literally.
I can fill in the blanks for myself
but the spaces are really just emptiness masquerading as cracks
a cracked wonderland
swimming toward the sun but burning up on the way
yo puedo toucan pero no aperadado de ti
the crowd has dispersed, like smoked out by the puerco
the fish walks away with the spoon
oh yeah. I hope I don't die. everybody's depending on me.
I don't know. I'm done figuring it out, too. fuck it.
Monday, January 18, 2016
I woke up excited to see you
To have coffee together
I swear I could hear you
Your voice rang in my ears
I woke up excited to start the day
This sucks, so I'm not going to finish it. I don't know how to write about you and it's making me crazy... If you were anyone else, I'd have written something by now. Maybe something halfway good...
I woke up thinking you were here again. But this time, the thought persisted for several minutes... I was excited to wake up because it meant I could talk to you. It felt early, so I was sure you were still home and I couldn't wait to have coffee with you... I heard my daughter talking and I was sure it was you. I was pretty crushed when I finally remembered that you are gone.
Saturday, January 16, 2016
I'm so fucking lonely. I feel like everybody's around, but nobody actually wants to know me. I want to be known, and to know someone else. I think maybe most people are looking for that in romantic relationships... But I don't think I want one of those. I don't want anyone else involved in parenting my kid, I don't want anyone to take a bunch of my time away from her, and I certainly don't want to be with someone I don't know already. If I were to "date" someone, I'd want to be friends for quite a while first. I don't need instant gratification. I need something that has a chance of lasting.
I want close platonic friendships. But as soon as I start to open up, people either back off or start tuning me out. They're missing out, really... Because I'm awesome. Once you actually know me, I'm fun, helpful, adventurous and sweet. People already come to me for advice and when they need something pretty frequently, less so since my mother passed away, probably because they think it's draining... I actually find it fulfilling.
But I feel like nobody *really* wants to be my friend. I appreciate the people around me, of course... They're always willing to help if I need it, and they're all nice to me... Most of them don't want to actually spend time with me, but they're helpful... I feel like I have too many acquaintances.
I can't sleep. This new antipsychotic does not make me sleep. It does however, have some very nasty stomach side effects. I'll be truly surprised if I don't lose at least some weight on it, since I'm unable to eat at all most days.
Every time I go to sleep, I wake up after an hour or two. So far, I've slept 3.5 hours. The first time I don't know why I woke up. This time, it was the dream. Why does my phone always autocorrect to "wad"? What the fuck? My knee hurts. Now I'm just whining. That's boring. Nothing too interesting has been going on. But I still feel the need to have a voice. I don't think many people actually listen to me, regardless of the medium...
Maybe I'm a boring person. My closest friends often plays video games while she's on the phone with me. Then again, maybe I'm just surrounded by boring people... One thing's for sure... Laying in bed unable to do anything is boring. I've been working on my Spanish. I don't know what else to do. Due to the spot where I'm injured, I'm pretty much flat in bed.
Ever feel like there are fleas crawling on you? I feel like they're in my brain.
My kid can't roll her r's properly... She does this weird sideways trill to cover up the fact that she can't do it. I know it's genetic. My whole family can do it. She's the first who can't. It makes me wonder what happens I in Spanish speaking cultures... How can you speak proper Spanish if you can't roll your r's?
My weird little planktons are lighting up... Yes, I know the plural is plankton. I thought it was cute.
How did this blog degrade into a bunch of mundane crap? It used to be either really weird or about something that mattered. I think it's the medications. They've made me boring. Flatlined, in a way. I hate mundane blogs... I usually skip right past them. Somehow, I have readers, though... I don't know who you are, or what you want, but hello!
Apparently I'm a guilty pleasure or something. Maybe my very existence is entertaining. It sure has been weird... What's some recent weirdness? I have a job I'm not technically qualified for, but that happens all the time. Tengo trabajo.
I want more. I want a voice, and I want something important to say, even if it's only important to me. I'd love to be one of those cool people who writes about current events, and what's wrong with the world, but I just can't. I internalize everything. I can't help it.
I'm done now. Goodbye.
I dreamt that I was visiting my boyfriend who was best friends with a guy who was an old friend of mine. This guy was one of the nicest guys I've ever known in real life, in the dream he was a complete asshole just like his real life wife, but she wasn't there. One of the bosses at my work was his mother. She's a really sweet lady in real life. The guy was constantly hurling insults at me and treating me like I was an idiot, and at times calling me one. He had two sisters, who were both total bitches. Anytime I spoke up against this man, one of his sisters would call his mother down, and she would scold me and say we don't talk that way in this house. In real life I never met this guy's mother, and he didn't have any sisters that I know of. But his wife was an evil bitch. She kicked me out of their apartment and instead of putting my stuff out on the street like a normal person, she decided to hold it all hostage. What she was waiting for I do not know. I just knew she wouldn't give me my shit. After weeks of trying to negotiate with this insane woman, I finally brought two police officers over with me, showing them that I was on the lease and had every right to be in that apartment. I finally got my stuff but she was even more pissed. I understand why but she left me no choice. The point of this little tirade is that the man in the dream who is nice in real life was treating me the way that his wife would have treated me in real life. I was dating his best friend, but it wasn't the guy I was dating when I knew him Thank God. It was some other guy who wouldn't stick up for me, much like that guy. I don't ask for much in a relationship, but if I'm being attacked by someone I do expect the person by my side to be by my side and not a bystander.
Anyway, as I wake up I'm starting to lose more and more details of this dream, especially since I'm narrating it. We were playing a video game of some sort, and I was really interested in it, which is why I didn't just leave as soon as the guy began verbally abusing me. I had gotten really invested in this video game for some reason. In real life I do not play video games. I don't know where that came from. I had given A character in the game a scar on his left cheek and he requested that I put one on his right also, and I was trying to keep my promise. I was told that this was possible so I kept trying, despite all of the abuse I was dealing with, and the lack of help from my significant other.
Perhaps the reason I'm losing the details of the dream is because I'm sitting here analyzing it as I'm writing it.
I don't know. My dreams are weird.
Friday, January 8, 2016
I had a dream that kinda repeated. This one took place in an alternative school. everything was white and futuristic looking. Our job was to be cheerleaders (not literally) and help all the students learn everything they needed to know. they were in online school. This was my second time being here. My knee was hurt, and I couldn't walk very fast (it is in real life right now). The first time, I'd gotten too close to a student and accidentally stopped her progress. She didn't pass and I felt like a huge failure. I knew the others that worked there, two guys who got along well, but kinda excluded me. I knew them the first time I was there, too. I brought weed as a peace offering the first time, and after all the students had left and it was clean up time, I loaded a bowl big enough for three, and handed to one of them, offering the green hit. They walked off with it and left me there. By the time I caught up to them it was all gone and they just kind of answered in grunts like guys who don't care. I think they even broke my piece. Then I woke up. This time, I was less hands on, and was really trying to help everyone. I worked especially hard to make sure that one girl passed (this was like groundhog day) and she did! They all did! So there was a little party, and they all went home. I had brought my vape pen in to share after (or before?) cleanup. This time, I took the first hit, and then handed it to them. They wandered off with it, looking for some sort of apparatus. I couldn't find them anywhere and they were walking so fast I couldn't keep up since my knee was messed up. It was frustrating because at first I could see them walking off, I just couldn't catch them. As I wandered through the hallways looking for them, I passed a lot of people that weren't there the first time I had this dream. I told each of them who I was looking for and what had happened the first time and in this time. And no one seemed even remotely surprised. Nobody really cared either. The most response I got was if we see someone we will know who it was because we will know who it was. One of the guys had super scaly skin, literally like bark from a tree, when he scratched he left little scales everywhere behind him. that's what I had been tracking to follow them. I hadn't thought to the first time I had the dream. When I finally found them, they had completely dismantled it with syringes and other odd looking instruments and extracted its contents, leaving it in pieces, with nothing left for me. Bark man had left little splinters or whatever all over the place and the other guy was just kind of there. This time I got upset about it and confronted them, and neither of them seem to care really. I wasn't mean, I was just like why? But they didn't offer much response they really didn't seem to care. I wasn't mad, though. the guy with scaly skin laid down on a couch to sleep and I watched as he shed his scales in his sleep. I remember wishing he'd shed them more uniformly... I shot out of bed feeling very anxious.
Saturday, January 2, 2016
see? it already happened. I'm trying to teach my brew tablet how to figure out what words to use, but I'm sitting here with racing thoughts unable to sleep and little patience to fix it's errors. so I'm not sorry for all the mistakes in grammar.
they drive mage nuts, though... especially when I see them later. the trouble is, when I correct them after the fact, blogger changes the publish date and makes it a network entry. so I have to carefully read everything I type, and since I don't have the patience to read what I just wrote on a teeny tiny screen, many slip past my face. I can't remember what I actually wanted tutu wrote admit, but I know there was a point somewhere along this track, but I was derailed by my own title. see why I hate adding titles to these?
I don't know why this tablet can't get the word "me" right.
one thing that's been on my mind lately... I see women in relationships treating their men (and women) like shit. a lot. in subtle, normal ways, and in deliberate acts of bitchiness... and I wonder why I'm perpetually single. the people I see being treated the worst are people I know and generally care about. I know they're good people. not that anyone deserves it... but I can't help but think to myself that if I met someone that nice, there's no way I'd treat them like that... I treat people I date very well, and in return, I am treated like those I see. I am ignored, disappointed, abandoned, discarded, used, unappreciated, etc. and I know that's how they feel too... I've always thought it was shades off gray... that everyone is an asshole in some way, but lately, I'm starting to believe that some people only have asshole. and there are quite a few of them. don't get me wrong, I've definitely been an asshole at some points, usually in self defense, from mutt perspective... fuck, apricot autocorrect... y'all know what I mean.
shit... my description of this blog is very accurate.
my vape ran out. time to go.
you missed a whole year. 2015 was the year without you. everything good was tainted. This is 2016, and it'll likely feel the same way. I missed a whole year. I feel robbed. and sad. I miss you so fucking much. I feel cheated, and angry. other people take their mothers for granted and it makes me wanna punch them in their stupid faces. I've gone off on people online over it. I don't get out much, so I don't see it in person... if I did I'm afraid of what might happen. I think I'd lose my shit. I already feel so lost... I lost so much when I lost you... I have a great job, and even though I got injured on it, they're keeping my job open for me. I may need surgery. but you won't be there to cheer me on and it kills me. I'm so scared. of everything... I'm scared for the future, I'm scared of my sister, who I used to be so close to when you were here... she hates me now, without your mediating... we've all drifted apart, we're shattered without you. just lost people getting angry at each other. I guess that's what happens when the center of your family dies. I miss being close and having people around... but my sister is so insistent on being right all the time and I just can't stand it. and she's buzzing her shit into my daughter's dad and step mom's ears, which is making my life and my kid's hell... My brother is just off on his own, like we don't even exist. Your brother is around when he feels like it, but he is supportive. I haven't been able to see grandma because I just can't... I know it's selfish, but she doesn't know who I am anyway... I think my crying when I go there just adds to her depression. and I don't have the power you wanted me to have, so I fail to see a point in seeing her. it's sad, but that's where I'm at. My sister treats me like shit without you here to tell her to stop. I don't know how to deal with her. I'm all alone. I have my daughter, but refuse to let her shoulder my problems the way you did. that's not her job. her job is to have a childhood, and I'm doing the best I can to follow your example. you were so great with her. losing you nearly killed her. she had a severe psychotic episode recently. at the time, she was saying that a lot of it was built up grief, but she doesn't remember saying any of that anymore. she doesn't remember much of what happened... just going to the hospital. nothing feels right without you. everything's just a huge mess and I'm trying to clean it up, but I have no idea how. I don't know what else to say, besides I love you forever and I can't wait to be returned to your arms. there had better damn well be a heaven, because you definitely deserve to be there. I love you so much.
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
I feel like the time for childhood games is over... I feel like I missed a lot of it because I was working. Though it made me stir crazy, I can see why some moms choose to be housewives. It's so they won't miss anything, and they'll have time to make strawberry poke cakes. I still have the recipe, but if I try to get her to bake with me now, she looks at me like I'm nuts and says, "mom I'm on a Skype call.". How incredibly sad. I'm glad she's gaining independence, but I invested everything I had in her, and now I'm all alone most of the time. I know this is an incredibly selfish way to feel, but I just miss her. Having a teenager is like pre-empty nest syndrome... Because they're still in your house, and they're still kids who will ask you to make them pop tarts because they only taste right when you make them, but they're absent in so many other ways... Especially mentally. They're somewhere else entirely. I know that despite bouts of psychosis, severe mood swings, and disabling asthma, I'm still very lucky to be so closely bonded to my child. I know that most kids her age have broken free from words like "mommy", and actually wanting to go shopping together, sleeping in my bed when she's scared... Etc... But I still feel like she's so distant. Maybe it's partially because my mother is gone, too... A change I still can't fathom... She was my soul mate. So maybe things are actually the same between my daughter and me and I just have a void now. The last thing I want is to try to fill that void with a romantic relationship, especially since I really do need someone to take care of me. I am easily breakable, and it's likely my cancer will return at some point. I've been to the ER four times in the past two months. I have a green card, I see a psychiatrist every three weeks, a therapist every week... And my daughter has even more appointments and hospital visits.
My knee is all screwed up right now and it's uncomfortable. I don't know anything...
Monday, December 28, 2015
I only crave chocolate when I'm lonely. I spent three hours on my phone discussing CNA stuff. Things like realizing that you're memorizing your own BM to chart later. I messed up my knee at work. Some masochistic part of me craves CNA work. We have a client right now who should be in long term memory care. The hospital lied to us. That's how we got her. I've done a lot caring for her. In fact, that's how I hurt myself. The place where I work doesn't have the necessary items/staff for that kind of care, which is why we don't take clients who need it. I've enjoyed taking care of her, and worry about what things are like for her when I'm not there. She cries because she knows she doesn't belong there, she hits because she's terrified, she paces because she feels lost, she hates that someone else is taking care of her... I do just fine with her, of course. I was the first person who got her to eat or drink anything substantial. She thanked me, and gave me a hug. She hasn't spoken a coherent word to anyone else. I don't know... I love my job, but I'm considering picking up a shift a week at an LTC/rehab place.
I need to go lay down. It's 2:15 am... My knee has to be positioned perfectly or it gets stuck wherever it is. It's pretty much stuck already. I would say at about an 80 degree angle. Whatever.
I fear losing my job because I've called in too many times already.
I like giants. My daughter knows every single word of this song. I like that. She's got good taste. I worry about how much and what kind of influence that the rest of her family has on her.
It's weird that I'm writing this slowly. I usually write much faster. I have things I want to invent. Not giving away my ideas here, but I need these things and I can't be the only one.
Yesterday? I think it was... I had so much energy... I couldn't sit still to do anything, though I desperately needed to, I was wide awake, despite little or no sleep and even less food, I was so irritable that even reggae wasn't soothing enough. I even tried IZ, but everything around me was just so irritating...
I miss my mom.
I have the munchies... I miss my kid.
I want food, so I have to end this.
Friday, December 25, 2015
Things are stuff. Today I was reminded that when I'm engaged with a client, I have to make sure I'm passing attention to everything else, too. I find it funny that the person who said it must not realize my background or work experience. My whole life enabled this magical power.
I can't English today so I'm done even though this was short and boring. I have to get up early anyway.
Thursday, December 24, 2015
I'm thinking a lot about my daughter's relationship with her dad and step mom, and theirs with me right now... I think my daughter may have actually called him (which she never does) to arrange plans for Christmas... This got me thinking that maybe she enjoys visiting more than she lets on (which would be ok). This also led me to wonder what she says about me, which made me wonder if *she's* the one talking all the shit... Every time I repeat anything she's said to me to anyone, the two of them say I'm shit talking them. What if my daughter is purposely (or accidentally) causing all of the issues between our two families..? Then what? There's been a war going on between us for years, but it intensified and escalated (despite all of my efforts to deescalate the situation) since my mother passed away. She's been incredibly disturbed since my mother's death, and was horribly traumatized by it.
Then I think of reasons this notion is ridiculous (to fact check, a skill I slowly and intentionally learned)... I thought the phone call took place on my watch, perhaps while I was sleeping, but the record shows my last call to him was immediately followed by a call to my therapist, which means I talked to him. But why wouldn't she just tell me she called him? She would've mentioned that...
She says horrible things about them that they don't seem to know she's upset about when confronted, but whenever she's upset with me, she readily tells me, or I can get it out of her easily. Her face gives it away such that anyone paying attention could tell. That's consistent with her stories of them... I've gone out of my way to build a relationship of trust and comradery with my child. They've done nothing but lie to me for all the years I've known them, including her childhood. Even I've seen them fight. She used to come to me for advice on how to put up with his shit. I'm sure he talked her out of that. She puts up Facebook pictures that blatantly rub my nose in the bad history I had with him. He is most likely a pathological liar. No one I know has ever believed anything he had to say, even when they first met him, many people he knows feel the same way. Nobody takes her seriously, including my sister, who is her best friend. She refers to them as the bitch and the asshole (yet sides with them on everything, including his child support).
Nah... It's totally my sister. Not my daughter. I can trust her. My sister, on the other hand, I've never been able to trust.
Wednesday, December 23, 2015
Every woman in my family since my grandmother has been bipolar. We're not the mild kind, either. My grandma used parking lots as demolition derbies when I was small, for example. She and my sister are probably the most extreme examples, but I'm probably biased... Other people always seem to think I'm crazier than I do (though I do get the occasional, " but you seem so normal!". I'm very vocal about my mental illness. I think there is a huge stigma that strangles treatment, and there is a general consensus that we're all murderers or something, too)...
Anyway... Original point... The women are batshit crazy, and the men just sort of abandon us, which beats the alternative, I suppose, since we've all attracted many just terrible - think being pushed down stairs and hit with huge ashtrays - boys. I call them boys because we've known few men. Men flee us. Boys stick around and cause further trauma. In fact, the ones who abandon us typically treat us like crap before they vanish... Even family.
Dust in the wind is playing in my house right now... It reminds me of death and other losses of life. My grandmother wanted this song played at her funeral. One of the last serious conversations I had with my mother were planning her funeral arrangements. Then, a few short days later, my mother died. This song reminds me of both of them (my grandmother is in a dementia ward, 20+ years into frontotemporal dementia, still in stage 3 - average lifespan is 8-9 years) and I can't help but bawl the whole time it's playing. I only miss my grandmother part of the time, probably because she threw me down stairs, hit me with ashtrays, hit my mom, etc. She did teach us to fight though, it would've been boring for her to fight us if we didn't know what we were doing...
The train has left the station, leaving me in a pile of dust. This cycle of crazy has been going on a very long time. My solution for my life is to choose to not deal with it. I can live without a partner just fine. I have friends. I don't need anyone any closer. Certainly not right now. Although there was a man at the cash and carry today that made me kinda silly... That's the last thing I need, though.
Being bipolar kinda sucks. My psychiatrist has decided he'd prefer to put me on depakote because I'm still cycling off cliffs. I told him as long as he puts me on only weight neutral stuff, I really don't care.
I got a fantastic energy drink for free with my groceries the other day. I didn't think starbucks would ever make anything I would like. Weird.
This is getting stupid.
My daughter is most likely bipolar also. What a surprise. I just wonder why none of the men in the family get it. Maybe they do, but they aren't around enough for us to know. I'm done.
Thursday, December 17, 2015
"Well how many times have you tried to move her out of state??" Once. The answer is once. I had a job there, and gave him 3 months notice.
"if her asthma medications are working so well, why does she have to keep taking them?" He followed this gem with "it's all just a money making scam. Everybody knows doctors get paid based on how many drugs they prescribe"
"i'm sick of all these doctors (one) prescribing all these drugs. She's a just child."
This is during a psychotic episode. All of the meds she currently takes are for asthma.
"i have a legal right to all of her record, including notes from her counselors."
"i have a legal right to refuse to have her put on medications"
"i have a legal right to refuse to give her medications"
"it's your fault I owe so much child support. You should forgive my debt so I can get a license again (hasn't had one since age 17, before I knew him)
" it's all your fault that my daughter doesn't like me. You talk shit about me" just blatantly not true...
" I'M NOT YELLING! You're just not listening!" Spoken while yelling...
"stop chewing on your fucking arm and get your ass off the couch and come with me. You're being stupid" his response to our child literally chewing a hole in her arm out of fear and anxiety because he wouldn't stop.
When I tried to move to California for a job (the only time I've ever "tried" to move her anywhere out of state), his response was "you can't keep me from my child. She's mine!" We hadn't heard from him in a year. I'm pretty sure I didn't legally even have to tell him, since that's considered abandonment...
Oooh here's another one. "i talked to a nurse I know and she said Teresa's on way to many meds"
Mmm and "you cheated on me so why should I pay you anything? It's all your fault we're not together" I never cheated on him, or anyone else for that matter
"she needs to be on less medication." Right after all of her meds were reduced. "i have the right to know exactly what's going into her body at all times. I have the right to know every single medication she's on, what it does, and why she's on it" which sounds reasonable, except for the fact that he'd just been given an ROI and spoken to her Dr.
Oh and step mom "sicotropic drugs could kill her" her misspelling, not mine. " if you knew anything about them, you'd know that" bitch, I'm a mental health technician, a cna and someone who carefully researches every medication either of us takes (from reputable sources) before any are taken.
"marijuana kills cancer cells (it does kill some types, I'll give them that), so why wouldn't it cure asthma?" There is some research that this could be true, but I still don't need a high kid. There were times when we refused to drop her off there because the whole house was full of pot smoke. With their toddler there. I should've reported them. I could lose my license because I didn't.
"How do you even know it's my kid?" This could be a legitimate question, except that we lived and worked together when she was conceived. We literally saw each other 24 hours a day
"everyone I know is telling me that you're only pregnant because you wanted to trap me and take all my money. It's probably not even mine" this was after he begged me to have his child so his dying mom would have a grandkids she was allowed to see
"can I just sign my rights over and disappear?" I wish I'd said yes.
Here's a great one taken directly from a text that my daughter's step mom sent that my daughter says is 100% bullshit:
"There are two sides to every story. No I don't believe in meds unless necessary and often they do more harm then good...psychotropic drugs can cause infertility and even death just to name a few. Oh course were concerned! She crys in my arms too !...about how depressed she is at home and how she can't make u happy...and how she's scared to leave u because she thinks you might kill yourself....I think there is a bigger picture here... We need to put aside the shit and do what's best for Teresa and that means not talking shit about each other!!! That's why I don't bring these things up.. ..she's stressed because she feels she can only please u or dad and has little say in what she really wants" I'm not even depressed. I've actually been in a manic state for a few months now (or at least I would be if I wasn't so well managed on medications). I have a full time job that I love, that pays our bills, that I love working at, a beautiful child who I love more than anything, and several animals whose company I enjoy daily. There are many people depending on me, especially my daughter. She knows I'm not going anywhere.
"it's not an asthma attack, you just need to calm down" says step mom after taking away her inhaler and giving her water instead. "You're too dependant on that thing".
"i believe that the body has the ability to heal itself from anything... All you have to do is believe you're healed".
"you shouldn't be so attached to your mom"
Oh - Step mom:
"I don't think he (my daughter's dad) should have to pay any child support because he puts a roof over everyone's head and buys you clothes and stuff for here (their house)". This one was spoken to my daughter. The two of them often use her as a messenger, despite my objections to it. And anyway, nobody's putting a damn roof over my head. He's just using his new family as an excuse to not pay child support. Plus, his house is off limits to me.
She's not allowed to call me for any reason when she's at his house, nor am I allowed to call her. He says it interferes with their bonding time. He refuses to take time off while she's there because work is the only place he's happy.
I'll add to this as I remember things and as he says new stupid shit.
Daughter came home and reported, "i know the real reason you and dad broke up. It's because you were cheating on him. Corissa told me so". False. I've never cheated on anyone. I told her it was false and she didn't appear to believe me (which is unusual for her because she knows I'd never lie to her). Lying is a waste of time and energy. I believe this was an intentional attempt to drive a wedge between me and by daughter. She was dropped off at home around midnight, and reported sleeping from sometime in the morning until 9pm.
Sunday, December 13, 2015
I always thought I couldn't cook because I'm one of those people who burn pans and mess up pasta. I can fuck up an English muffin. Then I saw someone I know post a picture of red beans and rice, and I remember that I can cook that. I can also cook boxed rice, macaroni and cheese, I can even make that one from scratch, I can make bread, I know how to make tortillas. I know how to turn dried whole beans into refried beans (and they're good), and can do the same thing with really any bean... I can make kidney beans taste good. I make killer grilled cheese sandwiches, and amazing cookies. I do know how to cook. I just don't know how to make rich people food. I can make top ramen taste like it's real, and white rice into fried rice, I even know how to cook ground beef, the only raw meat I've ever handled. I know how to make churros, taco shells, tortilla chips, hard candy, coffee syrups... Cream pies (those are made with jello pudding). Potato tacos... I'm giving myself the munchies now.
Thursday, December 10, 2015
Don't come at me with guns raised high and not expect a fucking fight. You don't get too bully me anymore. I'm not putting up with it. I'm sick of your drama and all your bullshit. There's a reason I left you in the first place. This is it. If you need to scream our whatever that's fine, but you *seriously* need to find something else to spew hate at because I'm fucking done.
I want to go do something SO BADLY. But I'm here with my child who should be sleeping. Most likely, the voices are telling her not to. I need something physical to do so badly that I actually looked for my crochet set. I found a few rolls of yarn, but that's it. So I'm writing. I'm really stoned. So stoned that I *actually* fell down. If you know me (which most likely you don't), you know that I *do not* fall. Ever. Not even while unconscious. After losing waaay too much blood during childbirth (to the point of requiring a transfusion), I walked my ass to the bathroom to pee because they had pumped me full of fluids through an iv. I passed out as soon as my ass hit the seat. I had both hands on the guard rails and *did not* fall. The nurses were amazed. I told them I'd had *tons* of practice passing out. True, no exaggeration. So today, I FELL. Bizarre... I think I'm getting old. On the other hand, every med I take causes dizziness and interference with balance... That's probably what it was... Xanax and ativan. And geodon. And lamictal, and metopralol. And meloxicam. Weed probably doesn't help, but has never been a problem before. Geodon has a side effect of orthrostatic hypotension. Maybe? I was jumping down from a high and unstable place. That's never been a problem ever. Ok, this is boring, so we'll talk about something else now. Or more accurately, I will talk to you about something else.
I have this client who is driving me nuts. I usually get along really well with other people who have bipolar disorder, so I thought it odd. I think I reinjured my wrist... But she's an extremist Christian. I get along with Christians who follow the teachings of Jesus, even though I don't believe in it myself... But people who actually practice the good parts of their religion are often very nice people. Anyway... She literally has a holier than thou attitude, and is highly expressive of it. She walks all over our facility telling people that their meds are poison that makes everyone crazy, and that they shouldn't take theirs. She's charismatic in an odd and dark way, so there have been many shots given lately. She called the police on her husband for sex trafficking their children. They were taken out of their home while her husband was thoroughly investigated. I'm not sure they're back yet. She is currently telling everyone that they need to convert or we will use medicine to kill them and they'll go straight to hell for not fighting against the devils here. She picks fights with everyone over stupid shit. She's openly and very vocally racist. She is a right-wing political extremist. Let's just say I find her triggering.
I don't know what to do with her because every conversation we've had has been highly toxic. I've only ever tried to help her, and exclusively by listening. But 90% of what she says offends me. We've had paranoid schizophrenics that I've been able to at least communicate with, but this one I can't reach on any level. She's constantly attacking one of our other clients. She singles out everyone who was born in another country. And anyone who she knows is not Christian. Like me. Again, this has gotten boring.
My phone is nearly dead and I'm not going to be able to charge it. My neighbors just got home. The dog rocks.
Trump should be called "chump" or "dump". I just thought of a new smear campaign. "Dump the chump!" Yeah I like that. Or maybe "chump the dump". I've been donating to Bernie's campaign and color of change. I like that bernie's funding is not massive corporations and other dirty sources. Still, if I had to pick between any idiot in the red party and Hillary, I'd pick her. Yeah, this is boring, too. I feel boring right now.
So I'm laying here on the couch unable to sleep listening to death metal and my kid tells me I'm not dark enough for her to want to hang out with. So I told her some stories of my past. I actually have more street cred than most people realize... I probably told her more than I should've, but it's too late now. It sucks that she doesn't want anything to do with me now. I'm glad the dog loves me... Whatever.
The voices are telling her to hurt me again. Hopefully medication will make them go away. Geodon is a really effective antipsychotic used for both bipolar disorder and schizophrenia, so it would cover her with without the weight gain of like, every other antipsychotic. She has already been labeled "obese" by her Dr, but I think all that is just bullshit.
That homework from my therapist was supposed to cover both good and bad and after reading it, I've come to the conclusion that there hasn't been much good. So where's my fucking sunshiny rainbow?? What the fuck? Oh well I guess. Some people have it worse.
Speaking of which, it really pisses me off that there are people dying of curable illnesses, they way diamonds are obtained, world hunger, the failed pile of shit they call the drug war, hatred everywhere, animal abuse including the way they're "farmed", there's a bunch more. I wish I could fix it all. But sometimes I feel like I can't even fix me. Therapy helps a lot. It's amazing what having someone to listen can do.
I'm sore from that fall. I think I might've partially dislocated my knee. Oh well. It's the bad one anyway. For sure, I'll have some bruises tomorrow. I've lost 15lbs in the week or so I've been on geodon. I'm now only about 25lbs over a good weight. It certainly looks better. I hope I don't plateau before I hit the target. For fuck's sake, I'm not even tired. This is the part that sucks, taking an hour nap in the afternoon instead of sleeping at night.
The fish tank still needs adjusting. I can't believe a piranha is surviving that shit. I need to take care of that like yesterday.
I have the munchies,but I'm not actually hungry. Boring.
This whole rant has been boring. Sorry not sorry.
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
1982 - born. Anaphylactic reaction to penicillin was discovered.
1984 - fled father's drughouse in portland after Dr said someone was probably sexually abusing me.
1986 - discovered mom's drug use (cocaine at the time), moved somewhere and kept moving every six months until we got to lake tapps (in 05)
1987 - got my first guitar, male babysitter sexually abused me, joined girl scouts (don't remember leaving??)
1989 - kicked a dude's ass for trying to rape my mom (nuts, then cast iron skillet)
somewhere between 88 and 92 I was sexually abused by my mom's dad, probably for a while. I don't remember.
1990 - mom met her life long best friend. sister was born and I took care of her at night while mom slept because her dad was in jail (she didn't know I was taking care of her) lived in buried off ambaumb.
1992 - broke wrist saving a little girl from falling into concrete in icy weather lived in east hill in Kent.
1993 - started smoking, weed too.
1994 - psycho grandma broke a chair over my back, dislocating my shoulder. worked with another 12 year old to run a babysitting business (started paying rent) then was a live in nanny for several months (for a prostitute) Was often scared in our neighborhood because I was one of the only white kids. Got caught shoplifting (at the same exact store my mother and uncle did at roughly the same age) because I was sitting in the middle of the aisle with my friend eating their candy. was kicked out of gym class for cutting. Mom took me to a psychiatrist, who I wouldn't talk to because he was rude. He put me on Prozac, which made me psychotic. then I sold it.
93-01 experimented with many drugs
1995 to 1996 -got my first electric guitar and some lessons, moved to federal way, got expelled, got caught shoplifting (cigarettes, mostly) again, this time because I didn't care. Again. got a lifetime ban from that Fred Meyer hahaha
moved to federal way into a place with bullet holes in the door, mom got married, baby brother was born, took care of him at night so mom could sleep (she didn't know). got expelled, started dating a guy who quit high school and was working full time at pizza hut
sent to Truman, got expelled
kicked out of home by mom's husband. Crashed with "friends" for a few weeks, then stayed on the streets. Mostly u-dist, sometimes downtown by yesler with the other homeless people. Sold drugs to eat. There are vents on the street there that let off heat, so I slept above them in a black garbage bag someone gave me during the cold months, got hassled by cops a lot (still do)
1997 - moved in with psycho grandma, who kicked my ass a lot. Called cops on her once and she convinced them I was just a brat trying to get her in trouble and caused all the bruises myself
1997 - started dating abusive asshole who beat and raped me regularly
1998 - first job, was immediately promoted to management, moved in with him and got engaged to him
Late 1999 - mom helped me escape and got me into a place where the landlord didn't care that I was underage. Lived in Seattle on my own, working 60 hrs a week
Briefly dated (kinda) a nice guy who was premed, then dated a woman afterward. I think she was a nice person with a lot of issues. we stopped talking to my mom's dad when my sister spoke out about him sexually abusing her (i never did).
2000 - let my then abusive girlfriend live with me, then fled to Kent with a friend who kept in contact with her (also leaving my job behind), dated some random guy for a few months (found out later that he had a kid and the mom had a restraining order against him because he beat her, but I could've taken him in a fight), moved back in with my psycho grandma, worked at dennys and godfathers to pay rent at psycho's house
2001 - got my ged, met daughter's dad (at work), got pregnant, got engaged. Put on bed rest due to pregnancy complications. Grandma decided she didn't want to work anymore, so we moved in with my mom and her asshole husband. Watched my little brother after school. Got attacked by psycho grandma, and moved into daughter's dad's mom's house with him. She was terminally ill
2002 - daughter's paternal grandma died. child was born! (two weeks later), delivery was terribly complicated, literally broke parts of my back
2003 - diagnosed with thyroid cancer and went through treatment and my mom went through interferon treatment alongside my cancer treatment until 2004
State denied to pay for my cancer treatment, so the Seattle Indian health board did it. I owe them my life.
2003 - lived with a psycho bitch for a few months who eventually came to my mom's house and threatened my life because I was spending more time with my mom than I was her, had to wean my daughter cold turkey so I could start cancer treatment, daughter's dad tried to sign his rights away but I was an idiot and talked him out of it
2004 - worked at safeway, (stayed w safeway for two years before being bullied out of my job).
2005 - got first driver's license & car
2006 - finally ended ridiculous engagement with daughter's dad because we only heard from him once a month, he didn't want her, and he wasn't helping at all, started college for the first time (with a 6th grade education), my mom got divorced (after 10 years of marriage) and bought a house with an asshole
2006 - moved in with alcoholic abusive asshole who hit and raped me regularly... Paid all the bills alone. Douche. Uh... Was diagnosed bipolar during acute a mania and put on seroquel. It made my head foggy. Did some illegal stuff... started college again at a (different) school in Tacoma for something I wasn't that interested in, cops were constantly harassing me. guilty by association, I guess. Daughter had to sleep in the living room because there was constantly gunfire (gang related) on the street facing the bedroom window
2007 - fled that guy (he stalked me for 3 years after), leaving with no coat, no shoes, no bra, literally fought my way out with my daughter. this was after I paid 3 months of his bills to help him get back on his feet. He couldn't get a job because he was constantly drunk. Continued school even though attacker decided to attend the same school (since I'd fixed his outstanding student loans. I also paid his child support for him because I'm stupid), moved back in with mom and her fuckface boyfriend who treated everyone (including her) like shit.
Between 06 and 07 was in four car accidents, three with me as the driver, all injuring me, one I caused on purpose in 06 because dude wouldn't let me merge. I felt bad on impact and apologized profusely. My insurance reimbursed him and I saw him a few months later in an even better truck. I was happy for him, and sorry for the bullshit I caused him
2008 - finished program, but didn't have a chance to complete the math to graduate (needed a year, but was maxed out in child care hours for the program alone), got a job as a chemist in Redmond somehow, moved to Mountlake terrace, then Duvall.
2009 - brothers dad died on Halloween, psycho grandma was put into a home due to dementia and other psychosis
2010 - daughter jumped off a ten foot concrete wall onto more concrete, landing head first and missed her birthday party. great grandmother died 6 months after becoming totally paralyzed and unable to speak due to a massive stroke. I had been driving to portland every weekend to see her, lost my chemist job because my daughter had fucking pertussis (so did I, we think former step dad might have too, but his family refused an autopsy because they're idiots)
2011 - started an unsuccessful cleaning business, while attending yet another college full time. Worked in L.A. for a while for a guy I was engaged to. He was an ass. He screamed at my sister the first time he talked to her, not even letting her speak. I ended things immediately, and changed my locks because he was stalking me. couldn't afford my apartment anymore so my mom bailed me out of my lease and I came to live with her, got cna cert (paid for it myself with ui benefits, also paid rent, as I had since age 12), got a job at a healthcare center. started dating a guy at work, who turned out to be a horrible person (i knew that, I was hoping he'd change, in fact, I knew with all of them). I was "with him" kinda for about 6 months.
2012 - moved here, after mom discovered stupid fuckface was cheating on her (for years, apparently. they were together 10). That guy is a complete narcissist. started dating another guy at work, who was a great person, but regarded me as an option. I went in meds after he talked me out of killing myself for the billionth time during the same mixed state. I only saw him once a month. We were together two years
2013 - left job because of horrendous working conditions made worse by narcissistic ex. he told everyone we never dated and that I was just a psycho stalker. he's still with the girl he was cheating on me with. went back to school again. managed to work out all issues my mother and I had
2014 - mom died. crushed me. did NOTHING for a year. found out mom's dad is dying of cancer. good for him. no one cares. met my dad's side of the family. they seem nice.
2015 - guy I was dating stopped talking to me a few days before my birthday. got a new job as a peer counselor and here we are. the rest I don't remember. Oh yeah, I worked full time during all of this (age 12- now), except the 5 months during pregnancy (when I watched my brother to save mom money on childcare) and the 18 months I was breastfeeding my daughter, and briefly was on unemployment while running two business and going to school.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
It occurred to me that this would make more sense as one, living document. That way I can keep track of all my stories. I don't really have anyone to tell them to, so this is all the more important, especially with the way my memory is becoming. So I'll just add bits and pieces as they come to me.
It wasn't always perfect... I was born to a 17 year old mother, who grew up immersed in abuse and neglect. She'd raised her brother in the best way that she knew how, though her knowledge was limited. She had no positive role models until after I was born.
Her mother was a manic depressive pill popper, swallowing every drug that came her way, save for the lithium she was prescribed, because it made her "fat". She never weighed more than 150 and was 5'6" with a thick frame... She was bulimic, she was abusive, she stole other people's pills, her depressive episodes left her lying in bed alone in the dark swilling Nyquil or nearly overdosing on barbiturates. Her manic episodes were punctuated by fits of rage that caused her to intentionally wreck cars... She constantly threw things... Her thought process was heavily skewed, and often literally psychotic. My mother was constantly taking care of her, performing CPR and first aid and making sure she was still breathing, and calling 911 when she was unresponsive... She was in a terrible marriage to my mother's father, who spent most nights wrapped up in the legs of other women. He was accused of molesting children repeatedly, and they often moved to avoid scrutiny, but the accusations persisted. Her friends would pass on information that she'd dissociate quickly... He was rarely home, and was a hardcore alcoholic.
My mother was abused for her entire life, until the last two years of it. She couldn't remember most of her life, likely because it was too hard to think about. She went to Catholic school in the 70s, when they still used corporal punishment... All she could remember If that was pain, suffering, and a lot of hail marys.
Her parents divorced for obvious reasons when she was relatively young. My uncle must've been about 6 or 7, so she'd have been 12 or 13, but I'm guessing... She was shuffled back and forth between the two homes, because neither parent wanted the responsibility of taking care of them. The only semblance of normalcy she ever saw was a long term relationship between my grandmother and a woman named Harriet. That was the only time she ever felt like she was part of a real family. They went on outings as a family, they ate dinners together, they got to be on swim teams and did all that other shit I'm not even familiar with... The catch was that Harriet hit my grandmother. She was terrible to her. So, it didn't last.
More shuffling... My grandmother went to Disneyland without her and brought her back a fucking pair of ears. And for some reason people don't understand why I don't visit her as often as I should. She was incredibly selfish, and now she might be in there somewhere, but she doesn't know who the hell I am, though that's probably a good thing. She hated me... Anyway...
Her father took her to Hawaii once, mainly to impress the woman he also took. She took amazing pictures of Maui sunsets and endless coastline... But the woman's daughter stole them, and left her with her crappy ones. That week was still one of the happiest she ever had. Maui was her favorite place on earth.
When she hit about 14 or 15, she got into drugs. Hard drugs. My mother was a meth addict by the time she was 16 years old. She met my father sometime around then... He was into heroin. He was an addict. He got her into heroin. She quickly fell into a deep addiction. And who can blame her? Or him? Heroin is the best feeling on earth... I don't know his back story, but I know that I was likely conceived without consent, and my only memory of him was watching him hit her so hard he knocked her into a wall. When I was shown a picture of him at age 3 I ran away screaming and crying. I remember it. I had no recollection of who he was but I was scared to death. I shouldn't let the Wilsons read this...
My mother moved back in with my grandmother when she found out she was pregnant, luckily sometime in the first trimester (or I would've really been a drug baby). She took care of herself, and took care to ensure that I'd be born healthy. She even quit smoking. After I was born, we moved somewhere in Portland with my dad. His house was the drug house of the area at the time. People would drop by just to shoot up and leave. He sold, he used, they sold, they used. Many drugs were involved. Mostly heroin and meth.
When I was about a year and a half, my mother looked around one day and thought she didn't want this for her child. Later that night, my father beat her ass again. She waited until he fell into a heroin induced slumber and took off with me. She ran to my great grandmother and great grandfather's house. They took good care of us, but my mother was having trouble detoxing and kept going back to it, stealing from her family to support her habit. When the cops showed up one day, she knew... So she dropped my little baby ass off at the neighbor's house and was arrested, tried and convicted of larceny. She spent only one night in jail, while I was at the neighbor's house. I don't know who posted bail. Probably my great grandmother. She was sentenced with community service and probation because she'd never been in trouble before. The scheme that landed her there was cooked up by my father and his sister. It was for writing bad checks, mostly from her own account. They convinced her to do this herself because she'd get in less trouble.
Eventually, we moved in with my grandmother, psychotic as ever... My mother cleaned up, for a while. My grandmother did not. Eventually, they were sharing pills. She'd get pissed about something stupid and start hitting my mother. Eventually, she'd get sick of it and we'd move out, but she couldn't make enough to scrape by, and she was in and out of drugs for the entirety of my childhood (i was on the streets at 14, as far as I'm concerned, my childhood ended there).
I remember being about 5 when I woke up in the middle of the night and went to the bathroom and found a line of coke with a razor blade on a small mirror waiting for someone... It was loud, but when I was discovered, I was quickly ushered back to bed. I don't think I even had a chance to wash my hands.
There were times that she was clean and available, and it was wonderful... She was a fantastic mom when she was there. She really struggled with drugs though. She'd be clean for a couple years, and then she'd meet some stupid boy and it would start all over again.
When I was 8, my mother got pregnant with my sister. Her father was arrested for driving drunk on a suspended license for the umpteenth time, so he was in a while. While he was gone, I caught her crying over a teddy bear he'd given her that sang "you are my sunshine". She didn't see me. I still cry whenever I hear that song. I couldn't stand to see her in so much pain. We were on welfare and food stamps for all of my childhood.
After my sister was born, my mother took a little bit of time off to breastfeed, but didn't get long. She went back to work, and picked up a second job to pay the bills, since it was just us again. She'd often be so tired that I'd wake up to my sister's crying before she did. Knowing how tired she was, I'd get up, change her, make a bottle, and take her to bed with me. Her diary says that I always wanted her to sleep in my bed. I don't think she realized why.
Something would always happen though. My sister's dad was released, and we got a bigger apartment, and he promised that this time, things would be different. We lived there for three weeks before he was arrested again. We moved. I don't remember where. A lot of it is a blur. I remember always hating when she had a boyfriend. At the time, I thought I was just being selfish and not wanting to share her, but now I realize it likely had more to do with feeling abandoned because she was either partying with him (whoever he was) or working. I didn't see her much when there was a guy around. We moved roughly every six months.
When I was 11, we lived in burien and I finally had something set up for myself. I had a great teacher, I was playing soccer at school every day, and really wanted to get on a team. I was a seriously fucked up kid though. When I first started at that school, I was bullied for cross dressing, but that didn't last long. We lived in the same building as my mother's best friend and her child and then boyfriend. I loved that girl, but one day I played too rough and got too mean and she never looked at me the same way again. She still doesn't seem to like me. One day when I was watching my sister, she wanted to pick cherries off the tree above mom's car. I put her up there and then got distracted by the boyfriend's niece, who I thought was cool. My sister fell off the roof of the car and had a huge gash going all the way up her thigh. I sent someone to get my mother while I checked her out. My mom was pissed.
We moved again. This time back to Kent. Goddamn I hate that place still. I would burn it to the ground if I could. I started drinking, smoking cigarettes and weed. I was 12 the first time I tried meth (in Kent), 13 when I started having sex (we lived in federal way in a townhouse with bullet holes in the door), and 14 when I started doing heroin. My mother had gotten married to a man who had gotten her pregnant again by this point. Wait, I think I was 13 when that happened... I don't remember. Anyway...
Her husband hated me. Sometime in 7th grade back in Kent I managed to score so high on my academic tests that they decided to test my iq. Then I didn't have to attend any classes but math. The rest of the time, I graded papers for upper classes. It was fucking boring, and I did it in 7th and 8th grade. I was expelled from both schools for things like selling drugs, setting shit on fire, egging people's offices... Etc. I was fucking bored. I got caught shoplifting a few times on purpose, because I didn't care.
Back to 1996. He *hated* me. He was a long haul truck driver, so it worked for a little while. My mother suffered from extreme post partum depression, so when my brother woke up at night, I took care of him without her ever knowing. I started sleeping through math class (8th grade). I felt like I couldn't take it anymore. Her husband came home and told me to get the Fuck out for some reason or another, so I left. When he left, I came back. My mother asked him to start doing in town trips - whatever the fuck that's called... I'm tired and I don't remember. He stopped doing long haul and I was fucked. He was beating my sister and I couldn't do anything. I stuck up for her, but he kept kicking me out. The only other place I could go was my psychotic grandmother's house. She broke a chair over my back when I was 12 and that was not an isolated incident. So I crashed at a friend's for a while. I did a lot of drugs, particularly heroin.
I almost overdosed one day. I think that was the first time, because someone else shot me up. My mom carried me home while pregnant somehow. She put me in a cold ass shower and said don't you fucking fall asleep. She seemed terrified I'd die. I remember her calling someone while I laid there, fully clothed under icy water. Then I remember nothing until the next day.
I wasn't supposed to stay there, and the friend's house wanted rent?? Wtf?? From a 14 year old?? Anyway... I took a bus to Seattle and hung out, strung out on the ave. I didn't ask for money, at least not without a knife, but people willingly gave it to me. I can't remember what I did with it. I was cute, so drugs were usually free, and I sure as shit wasn't eating. Probably cigarettes. I lived on the streets of Seattle for a year before finally giving up and moving back in with my grandmother.
As I expected, she was HORRIBLY abusive. I walked 10 miles a day just to be out of her house. Then she started working 16 hour days, so I was only gone half the time. If I forgot to do the dishes, I'd come home to find my shit all over the grass outside her 2nd floor apartment.
Ah jesus this is long and I'm tired.
As I was growing up, I lived in a gang ridden cesspool... Several, actually... We moved a lot. Being tough was the most important thing in the world.
As a small child, I always dreamt of going to college in the big city and making a real life for myself... Doing something positive for the world. I had no idea what I wanted to study, or any concept of what happens after college, I just knew I wanted to go. I wanted to learn something, and I wasn't learning anything at school.
As my teen years came screeching into the picture, I lost sight of those goals. I was disillusioned with the pathetic offerings of the local public schools, and too bored by the curriculum to bother attending. I got in trouble. I got expelled a few times. I remember playing a game with friends as a teen where we'd punch each other or do other intimidating things to one another and whoever flinched lost the game.
By the time I was 16, I was a junior high dropout. But I no longer wanted to live that rough lifestyle. I was in the city (a small city, disappointing eventually) and working around 60 hours a week to support myself. I was a good kid, and a good assistant manager of the restaurant I worked at. At least mostly. I made some ghetto kid mistakes, but overall, my intentions were good.
I have animals all over me demanding my undivided attention RIGHT NOW. Maybe a little bit of the story will come later.
I've decided to start writing my story. I think it's important to get it out there, especially since at some point, I will likely forget it. Dementia runs in my family, and probably skips generations.
My mother had me when she was 17 years old. She had been living in Sheridan with my great grandmother when she met my father, who was a heroin addict. As soon as she found out she was pregnant with me, she quit everything, including smoking. I don't even think she drank coffee. She was very careful while she was pregnant with me. She always was a worrier. After a long pregnancy, she gave birth to me in Seattle, on capitol hill, during a freak snowstorm in March.
After I was born, she somehow ended up in Portland with my father again. We lived in a drug house until I was a year and a half, when she fled late one night because my father was abusive and she didn't want me exposed to him or his drug problems. She quit everything again... She tried to live a better life for me. Between there and five or six, I really have no idea. I wish I could ask her. I do know, however, that she was loving and attentive. Somehow, she still had a great deal of regrets about my childhood. I always knew she loved me. There are lot of chunks of my childhood that I can't remember. I remember being 3 or 4 when she taught me how to read. I read everything I could find. I was a gifted child.
I remember watching Bob Ross with my mother, and trying to paint alongside him. I remember playing with that weird bubble stuff that was around in the 80s. I wonder what happened to that stuff... It came with a straw, and you'd blow bubbles in it.
Anyway... I remember being in kindergarten. I was friends with this boy, he was the only black boy in my school, now that I think of it. We got along really well for the first half of the year. We lived in Kent at the time. Then one day, I was playing with him with scissors in class and I accidentally cut the sleeve of his shirt, just a little cut... He was so angry with me that he started yelling at me in the middle of class. I felt so bad that I cried in front of everyone. He stopped being my friend after that. I was also friends with a girl who was in girl scouts with me. Her name was Jessica. Her mother was very strict, and used to hit her with a paddle. My mother and I felt terrible for her. This was in 1987. We moved once or twice that year, I don't remember... Jessica and I were fast friends. We mostly got along, but we had terrible fights, and often wouldn't speak for days. Nevertheless, I remained friends with her for much of my childhood, even through MANY moves. My mother couldn't stay in one place long. She was restless.
I remember one guy she dated who was completely psycho. I woke up to the sound of her screaming one night and found him trying to rape her in the living room. I hit him. I don't remember how or where, I think maybe with a pan? but he didn't dare hit me back. After that, my mother for rid of him, and then we moved. It was harder to keep Jessica around then because we had been living in the same apartments as her. I remember playing in the sandbox with her, and finding cat poop a lot. Before we moved, we fed all the neighborhood cats. My mother was always an animal person. Anyway, I can't remember where we moved after that, but Jessica and I were in girl scouts together, so I still saw her. My mother would often transport us both to scout meetings. Jessica's mother was strange. I remember she made the starchiest tasting macaroni and cheese, and made Jessica clean her plate. I had a major appetite, so I never had any problems with that while I was there. One night during a sleepover, Jessica got in trouble for being too loud or something and got paddled. When I saw what was going on, her mother threatened, " you're next". She didn't hit me, but after that, I didn't stay over there anymore. I told my mother everything, at least almost.
Another set of people my mother knew... Laurie and her crazy husband... They had a son named Ryan who wet the bed. He would talk me into playing Dr during the night. I was not comfortable with what was happening at ALL, but I didn't think I could stop him. So I let it continue. I'm not sure when I told my mother what was happening, but we stopped hanging out with them when I did. Before we stopped hanging out with them, they would take us camping. I always had problems around smoke, and would cough so bad I threw up. I now realize this was asthma. We would make smores and hot dogs, which was awesome. I actually had fun, other than the coughing. My mother did not remember these trips when I asked her about them last year.
When I was 7 or 8, my mother started dating my sister's father. He is crazy, or at least a sociopath. We lived with him at this place in Kent for a few months (that apartment later fell down the side of the hill it was on in a landslide), but he got arrested, leaving my mother all alone to pay the bills. She worked two jobs. One of my clearest memories from that time was this: she had a bear that he bought her that sang "you are my sunshine". She was sitting on her bed holding it one night, and bawling her eyes out. I was crushed to see her so sad, and I still cry for her every time I hear that song, even more so now that she's gone. I never did find out why she was crying, or even tell her that I saw her. I just remember crying for hours because she was so sad... All I ever wanted was for her to be happy.
This is making me cry and I have to wake up soon, so I'm going to stop now. But I will write more memories soon.
There is a profound sense of loneliness when you lose the kind of closeness that most people never find. I understand now, why my great grandmother would sit at her end of the table and burst into tears looking at the empty chair facing her. When your life is so entwined with another's that you can read each other's thoughts... I don't mean you can guys, or you can read their facial expressions... Far beyond that. When you can actually hear their thoughts in your own mind and converse that way... Most people never achieve that kind of closeness with another human. Even your dog requires visual cues.
I'm grateful that I once had that... That I experienced it, and that I know it's possible... But it's a gaping hole. Like half of you is just gone. I know we're all supposed to be while on our own and all that bullshit, but this is a voluntary sort of I'm whole, but here is half of me... It's a trade of soul parts of sorts. And it leaves an indelible mark on your soul. You are shaken until your whole is gone and all that remains is tiny crumbles, flour. You become weary, more so than before... If you thought it was all a putrid pile of wreckage before, you're in for a serious wake up call, because that thing - that connection... It was probably all you had. I don't believe it's possible to connect so fully and completely with one person when your mind is filled with the noises and static of so many others... Maybe you can connect thus way with a few at a time, but certainly not a large group. The clarity of a quiet mind is required to create such a level of connectedness... It is nirvana... The ultimate relationship, sailing together as one, into the sunset, drifting away from the rest of the world without concern.
It's possible... It's real... It happens... And it kills when it ends.
Saturday, December 5, 2015
I just had a weird dream. My neighbor was helping me with mom's car and a cat that wanders our yard was walking around and he shot it with a bb gun or something. Then it turned into the cutest little dog and I was like wtf? I told him I loved that dog and how could he? I kicked him in the nuts. After a day or so, the dog's side was totally open like Sage's was that one time when he filletd himself on the fence and i decided I was gonna take him to the vet but I was pretty much broke. my account balance was accurate as of today. My best friend appeared, and helped with like $300, and the neighbor gave me $200 something because he felt bad and I came up with the rest, got the dog fixed up and brought him home. Then, there were these wild horses that were visiting me through a broken spot in my fence and they were around like forever. Then one day they just weren't. A few days later, I noticed them in another yard, just laying down. I called them over and they came to me. A little while later, some scary neanderthal looking bitches came over and threatened me and my best friend and pushed us around. Thankfully, my daughter was in her room. I pushed back, but they were like rocks. They said the horses were theirs now, and they didn't want me around and I should move. Me and the neighbor and my best friend tried to figure out how they got up to my back door and saw a slight weakness between two locked fences. We thought that was how they got in. We could barely move it. Then I noticed the huge hole in the fence where the horses came through and went that's probably how they're getting in. I wanted to build the horses a stable and fix the fence. The yard was huge, so I could fit one. I looked at places to put it, and then I noticed that part of my wall outside the house was the front of a barn door. The neighbor said we could make it into a little barn for them, and taught me how to scoop the poop out and stuff. We all started building it. And then I woke up.
Thursday, December 3, 2015
It's weird to feel so sedate, yet so anxious at the same time... My thoughts have kind of slowed, but not all the way. I find myself staring off into space frequently, getting lost in cartoons, getting lost in thought. Some thoughts are jumpy... Incomplete and adhd style. Others in clear hyperfocus.
I feel something gross in my stomach, tense muscles and breathing, great rate acceleration, a jumpy feeling and my skin crawling. However, I'm glued to the couch, unable to do anything.
There are moments of lucidity, generally when the thoughts are interrupted by outside stimuli... They don't last long. Soon, the fuzzy feeling takes over again. The fuzzy feeling is better than the irritability and shaky, jittery feeling that came before it.
I don't know what else. Lost. Lost. Lost.
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
I don't know why sleep has been so elusive lately... I fall asleep, and wake up every couple of hours. I have no idea what's waking me up. I just know I'm tired all the time and it takes 12 hours to get a decent amount of sleep. It's getting really frustrating. I can't get anything done.
I guess it is ok because because each time I wake up, I get to see my kid. She's sleeping funny too. I guess she didn't get any sleep at her dad's. No surprise there. There's a lot going on there, and nobody there really sleeps much. They each get a few hours a night, and often at different times. I still don't understand why they don't believe in schedules. Children need some form of structure, especially when they have to get up for school in the morning.
Sorry about the boring post... It's hard to think of something interesting at 5 am.
We have this guy at work... The first night he arrived, he was literally climbing up the walls trying to get out. First, we found him outside doing sit ups on a tiny pipe up by the ceiling. Thigh impressive, we were afraid he'd hurt himself, so we went to stop him, but then he dropped straight into his ass. He was fine.
Next, he bent our outside gate so far that he got out... Almost all staff came out and ran after him. Someone convinced him to come back inside. He came, begrudgingly... He paced around the the common areas for a couple of hours ranting about being in jail (we're not a jail). Then, he was found climbing a high wall (like 8") up to a window, which he then tried to open. Again, we had to talk him down. That made for a very interesting shift.
He's a very sweet kid, who is unfortunately very ill. He opened up to us over the next couple of days, with small amounts of antipsychotics and told us that the voices in his head were so intense... Coupled with the outside noise, he just couldn't take it. His mother was upset about something and was in his face bothering him to do something and he threatened her with a knife. He confessed this while coming very close to tears.
Later, we were talking about my daughter hearing voices and he spent around twenty minutes explaining to me that just like him, the federal government was using the voices to torture her and ruin her life. He asked me to promise that no matter what she did to please not kick her up, because being with us has been a traumatic and depressing experience. Sometimes, he thinks the government is controlling his thoughts and other times, he is depressed and remorseful... I feel so bad for this poor kid. I don't know what I would've done in his mother's shoes, especially since schizophrenia often comes on very suddenly, but he is very clearly suffering. Right now, they have him on 2 mg of risperdal, which wasn't even enough to prevent me from seeing things, and I'm not schizophrenic... The first line of defense with schizophrenia is normally something a little more hardcore, like Zyprexa. I hate seeing him suffer the way he is. I hope they change his meds soon. I've never even heard if using risperdal for schizophrenia...
Anyway, I need to go find my child.