One night

I write about a lot of things on here but this is something I don’t write about, it’s harder for me to write about, it’s one of the more private things in my life.

But today for some reason I feel compelled to write about it…. Not sure why or what this will do, or if I will even post it, but writing is cathartic for me , so even just the act will release this burden from my body.

I was talking with a girl from work and I said it just like that, didn’t even think about it, she looked at me stunned and turned around and asked me how I could just say it nonchalantly, like it wasn’t anything.

I have been talking about these things with therapists off and on for years, I guess it doesn’t phase me anymore, well that’s not right, it does, I still have nightmares, and have anxiety over it. It affects my life everyday, I just don’t notice it much anymore.

I was out with people from work, we were at a bar, drinking having fun, I never knew how much that night would change my life, and who I was. I lost them, I was looking all over for them and couldn’t find them, they must’ve left. I looked at the time bar was closed and I needed to find a way home. I called some friends but it was 3 am, my next choice was a cab, I wasn’t too keen on it, actually I was terrified, some guy next to me asked to borrow my phone, I let him.

He then asked if I needed a ride, I felt a little relieved I didn’t have to take a cab, I should have walked away, but decided in my drunken theory that this was a good idea.

I was told we’d drop one of the people off and then they’d take me home. I must’ve been so drunk, but not drunk enough to realize that the turn made after dropping said person off was the wrong one.

I was beginning to panic, I started to ask why we weren’t going in the opposite direction, I was told that we’d be dropping another friend off first. Okay??? Still not making any sense I went with it. Meanwhile the driver kept talking to me, I don’t remember the conversation, but do remember him asking if I thought he was cute, umm sure, I guess, not really…..what do I say?

We arrived at our next destination, clearly this would have been an optimal time to get the hell out, but lets face it, in the inebriated condition I was in, it wasn’t happening. It was suggested that I get out and come into house, the driver citing he was tired and needed a break. OMG how damn gullible could I be? Apparently quite. Get the hell out there!!!!

The one we dropped off quickly faded away into his room and I was left with the driver. I mentioned that I really needed to get home, my son would be waking up, I just really needed to go. Clearly that didn’t work, I tried another way, but saw frustration rising instead. Drop it, I told myself. We chatted some more. OMG I just want to leave. Just leave you stupid girl. Clearly still not sober enough to do anything about it, I continued to chat about the military and stuff, great he had been in the military. Good to know.

At some point the driver wanted to take a cat nap and it was suggested that I join him. A little more nudging, and the sight of the knife under the bed quickly made my decision. I started to pray at that moment. In my gut, as much I wanted it to be the alcohol, I knew it was my gut, something was very wrong now. My body froze. My mind went somewhere else. The last thing I pictured was my little boy asleep at home, I silently begged God to let me live and go back to him.

My body shut down, I couldn’t move and I don’t remember too much, kind of a fog to protect me I guess. I know that he removed my clothes and got on top of me, did what he was going to do, and rolled off me, he was asleep in seconds apparently exhausted, I nudged him a couple of times to make sure he was asleep, I pulled on my clothes, grabbed my shoes and finally got the hell out of there. I had know clue where I was, just that we had passed at 7-11. I ran down some dark alleyway to the main road. Tears burning as they streaked my face. I fumbled with my phone trying to find a cab number. I was heading to the 7-11 to wait for the cab, when my worst fear happened as I saw the car again, I hid behind something as he drove past me. I saw the cab drive by too, F@#$ could it get any worse? The cab needed to hurry up, he’d be back soon I knew he was out looking for me. Finally in the cab, he asked where I was going, I told him and he snickered and said it would be expensive. What the hell. Seriously just drive.

I got home and ran too the shower. I turned the water on and just cried. I scrubbed myself raw, I wanted to rip my skin off, and anything else he touched. I crawled into bed with my little boy and just held him and silently cried.

The next few months were a blur. Every time I went anywhere I thought I was being followed. I would see a vehicle like his and shake uncontrollably. I couldn’t sleep, nor would I the nightmares were horrible. I would try to keep everything together for my son and everyone but inside, in private I was a mess. Everyday I thought about dying, my skin crawled and I wanted out it badly. I stayed strong for that little boy who needed me, but even that would only last a few more months.

When my son left to live with my aunt, that mess just got bigger. I started to drink to get rid of the pain I was constantly feeling. I was on antidepressants, something for the anxiety, because by then I was something of a recluse. Work at the time brought me back to the area where it happened over and over again, it broke me. I would be shaking and freaking out all the time in the car and then had to explain why I was acting so strange. I was humiliated.

I felt awful, and alone. That for some reason I had done something to deserve this. The black hole in my heart grew, I numbed the pain with more and more alcohol. I began partying more, at first I couldn’t go anywhere, but then I was out every weekend. I was acting out, trying to control what was happening but couldn’t my life was spiraling out of control. I began taking risks I normally wouldn’t because I wanted to feel something other than pain and hurt. Or this strange feeling that I deserved to have these things happen to me. I didn’t care anymore. I just wanted out.

That was 10 years ago or so. I still have those nightmares. I still feel like I deserved that. I don’t trust anyone, not really. It affects my relationships with men everyday, even with my dad.

I went and got help probably a year later, I went to the police as well. It took many years to heal, but it never goes away. Not really. I would be raped more than just that time.

I still feel ashamed, that I did something wrong. Which I know is not true. I know I did not deserve any of that, but it’s hard to change my mind of that.

I have had young girls close to me, suffer the same thing. nothing makes me more angry in this world. I lived through it. I count my blessings everyday. I thank God everyday. but some are not so lucky.

I want to be able to tell my nieces and maybe my daughter if I were to have one, and every other girl I know that this will not happen to them, but the chances are pretty likely that it will happen to one of them.

I hope and pray it doesn’t. But the truth is, is that you probably already know of someone a sister, a friend, a child, a mother that this happened to. It happens all too often, and the guys think, ( well they don’t think) it’s just sex it won’t do anything.

It ruins lives everyday. 10 yrs have passed and just this past year I was almost raped again. All those memories and thoughts, nightmares that I thought were long gone, came rushing back. I became that scared person again. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t function. I slept in sweaters and mittens. I always look behind me, scared someone is following me. This doesn’t just go away. It’s not nothing.

It affects our lives FOREVER. Our relationships with ourselves, with men. Everything is affected. I may not have any scars on the outside from this, but inside, is a whole different story. That night changed my life forever.

I hope and pray that no one has to go through this, but I know people will. What makes it worse, is that it could stop, but it doesn’t. I can’t say what goes through a persons mind when they decide that this is okay. Or how they rationalize it. No means no. No questions. Its not just the verbal no, but if a physical one too. Everyone reacts differently but it’s pretty clear when someone isn’t in to it. Drunk or not. It doesn’t give anyone the right to do that.

I don’t know what good this will do if any. I just don’t want to hide it, or carry it anymore. I am better. It has taken so long to heal and it seems to be never ending process, but I am making headway. I still have my ups and downs, but I am still here. Alive.

Talking for me helped, whether it was a therapist, or a doctor, getting it off my chest was the first step, learning that it wasn’t my fault was the next. I am always still learning. It isn’t easy to get through but you can, I did.

Suicide Prevention Week

It’s suicide prevention week, a cause I know a little too much about, having had people close to me leave too early and my own personal battle.

This definitely not an easy subject to talk about, but talking is exactly what we need to do, so hopefully one day there won’t be a need for such a week.

Now I can sit here and tell you all this statistics and numbers and show you pie charts. That’s all well and good but really is that what is going to get the message across, I don’t think so.

I am 36 years old. I thank God every day for those years. At 12 years old I attempted suicide for the first time. Unfortunately it would not be the last time.

I was young and angry and hurt, it was probably for the stupidest reason on the earth, but when everything was crazy and changing so much, this was something I could control. This attempt would bring about a myriad of problems clearly something wasn’t right, but I said nothing.

Silence can be deadly. I thought about dying all the time. I was convinced that the world and everyone would be better off if I didn’t exist. Some days the pain inside was just too much and I would try again.

When I was 17, I had been at work and had a bad day, I remember calling my mom crying as I was leaving, I had slit my wrist with a box cutter, and I told her she had to come get me, because I was in no shape to drive and would probably go off a bridge.

I would try again quite a few times. I can’t really begin to explain the blackness and pain I felt inside for all those years. Emotions and pain that I had long buried had away of bubbling up, it always seemed at the worst time.

When I was 25, my son was 5 and he was away, when I got the worst phone call, his father had killed himself and was found in his apt. Those feeling I experienced that day have not left me, the anger and hurt, they diminish with time but never really go away. I have for so many years carried so much guilt about that day I felt responsible and that hung around my neck for many years, actually until just recently.

When you are there in that moment you aren’t thinking right, you think everyone will be better without you. The sad truth is, it’s very much the opposite. The people left your friends and family carry so many things with them from that day forward, many become depressed themselves and some will continue the cycle.

My last attempt was the day my husband left me. I carry the physical scars everyday, a daily reminder of that day. It is now covered with by a tattoo, because I am done with that part of my life.

Right before I moved home, I lost an old boyfriend and one of my best friends. It was a hard loss, and like the last time the thoughts that ran through my head were, why didn’t I know something was wrong.

People who try to commit suicide are usually pretty good at hiding things, they don’t say too much. But when they do, you better listen.

All of my attempts were a cry for help, I just wanted someone to listen, to care, to empathize. As much as I said I wanted to die, the truth was the opposite. I wanted to live but was having trouble finding my path, help, and others. I am stubborn to boot. Asking for help outright was very hard for me, but I am so glad people listened when I did cry out.

We do not always know what is going on in someone’s life. Even close friends and family. So we should aspire to be a little nicer, smile a little more, hug more you never know, you may just save a life.

If someone you know, or even if you don’t know them says “I want to die” or ” I am going to just kill myself” or anything remotely similar please call someone. Dial 911 if you have to. Take those words seriously. I have had enough practice myself to know it when I hear it from someone. If you are feeling like this or thinking about it or have a plan please call someone and talk to them, whether a doctor, a walk in clinic, a friend, or even a suicide hotline. Please call and talk.

I have spent many hours on quite a few shrinks couches talking. I don’t have all the answers about what I am going to do in my life, but I am sure grateful and blessed to be still here, and able to write this, and my story.

For those who say it is a selfish and cowardly way out, I don’t disagree but there is more to it than that. It is also a lot harder than you think to do.

To those in my life who have passed because of this, I miss you all so very much and nothing can fill the hole left by your absence I love you. Thank you to those who were listening when I needed it, it allowed me to be able to do the same for someone else.

Life is hard and sometimes it gets really bad, so bad you want to leave. But its not worth it. I am so grateful that none of my attempts succeeded and I am still here. ❤

On the edge….

Today was a hard day. I woke up this morning to once again to find I had not been paid the right way. I started crying immediately. It was going to be a bad day. How I wanted to hide all day. But unfortunately life doesn’t work that way. I walked to work to get my check. Tears running down my face the whole way.

To say I was on the edge is understatement. This was familiar territory and not in a good way. My scar started to itch its funny that it happens that way. A warning sign I guess. Just glad I heard the warning.

I went to see a therapist. Yes its hard to admit that, still a bit of a stigma surround those words. Makes me think I am failing because I can’t do it on my own. Its hard to come back from the edge of that abyss. Once you are there, it sucks you in. I went in feeling the world would be a better place without me. Its a horrible feeling. I try desperately stave it off as long as I can. I just keep pushing everything down, hoping it will magically disappear.

That’s how it works in my family. Sweep it under the floor, pretend it doesn’t exist. Never talk about it. Well I must be adopted or switched at birth or something, because I don’t fit the bill. I’m sure they’d lose it knowing that I talk about this stuff online with strangers. Oh my.  For me it’s just a way to get it off my chest. Or I become like today, on the edge ready to jump.

The truth is I don’t want to die. I know I am overwhelmed though, and I don’t want burden my loved ones with all my deep dark secrets. It is a hard burden to carry. I know how hard it is to carry these things. As I tend to take other peoples feelings into myself to relieve their burdens. It becomes part of me. Its extremely taxing. So there I ended up in this doctors office.

I filled out the necessary paperwork and waited for the therapist to come get me. We talked about everything I could immediately feel my shoulders getting lighter. I could feel the pressure on my chest slowly dissipate. I knew I made the right choice. I smiled here and there. Laughed a little.

I once again I got commended on my strength. I was told how strong I was and that I should be proud of that. I am aware of the things that have happened, I have survived them all. How or why? I couldn’t tell you.

I question that on a daily basis. I used to think I had a reason but slowly over the years it becomes less and less of a reason. Now I jut don’t know. I’d like to think that is for a reason and it hasn’t just been shitty luck. But its hard to find faith in that without proof. I struggle with that everyday, more when days are hard like this, all I see are the mistakes and failures which have been so kindly pointed out by people.

Admitting that I needed help today was hard. A lot people still won’t do it.  But as I have gone through my life I have found that they can be lifesavers. Literally. For me having a third party to unload all my crap on to is great. I don’t have to carry all that extra weight.  So for now I am better a little on edge, but not way way on edge. I am still sitting on that ledge, it’s a fight everyday. Some days are better than others, some aren’t but I am thankful for the small, seemingly fleeting moments that give me hope. Hope that one day, this will all be behind me and I will be happy and fulfilled in everyway. So step by step I struggle, but always forward. Maybe baby steps, maybe giant leaps one day I will get there.