I'm new to PTSD. I'm new to antidepressants and antinightmare medications. I'm new to giving up that med to try another one because I can't stop crying from that one. But what I'm mostly new to, is trying to find a balance between myself and family and how our emotions combine and encourage or destroy each other.
I feel like a burden. So much, that my boyfriend who has shared a home with me for 3 years now is going to move out to focus on himself, love himself, his children, because I've not shown him in very long.
I just push away. I was only diagnosed with this life altering prognosis that's been slowly creeping up on me to cripple me and isolate me, a few months ago. At first, I opted to go medication free. But within a month of therapy and speaking "his" name, saying how others encouraged my partnership with "him" I scrambled back, begging for medication.
In my head, I scream and flail my arms in hopes my cherished partner and children can see me, can be confident that I do in fact, love them. Am IN love with them. Am proud of them. Want to cook, clean, help with homework, sit with them and watch movies, discipline them when they're not doing the right thing, tell them it's out of love - and one day they'll be thankful that I instilled such great morals and values in them. Instead, my oldest moved to my brother's and his wife's home, my eviction is on March 1st, my boyfriend doesn't want to live together, and I leave my youngest daughter to fend for her own regarding meals, social things, in a home that's destroyed, dishes piled up, and only the wish of a good, home cooked meal by mom.
Yet, I lay here, locked away in my bedroom, in my bed that never makes me feel guilty for using it so much, feeling overwhelmed with guilt because I have let down my entire family. They think I need to just power through it and I'm using my diagnosis as an excuse to lay here, hiding away. But, they forgot. Before I knew the name for my feelings and actions (or lack thereof), I laid here with the gnawing question, "What is wrong with me?!!!" Veggitated in my bedroom.
My boyfriend telling me that I need to get up and look for a job. Get up and do some dishes. Get up and cook some dinner, "I'll even help you." Just. Get. Up. We miss you. We need you. We want you. We worry about you. GUILT. GUILT. GUILT. GUILT. GUILT. And the straps that hold me down, tighten around me and pull me closer to the mattress. Wrap the blankets up and over my entire body, hiding me away from them.
Even with medication, I still don't have any energy to do anything. I forced myself to go out and "dick off" at thrift stores, you know, like I used to do on my days off from work, not really ever buying much - just doing something for myself, and I had to fight off the nagging thought, "I'm sleepy. Go home and climb into your warm, comfy, non-discriminating, non-judgemental bed." I was sad the entire day because I felt like I was on autopilot, not even feeling anything but unenjoyment, blank. I was sad because I knew I wasn't entertained by something I used to love doing. But I continued through the day, popping in at this thrift store and that thrift store, only feeling more and more void, empty, listless.
My family thought is was an action worth celebrating, I thought I was never going to do that again. It was excruciating for me. I can't even go do something I enjoyed, how am I going to work?? Have a job? Provide for my only kid who hasn't left me. My boyfriend isn't going to anymore, even though he's been laid off for months (hense why were being evicted on the first of March for nonpayment). The only reason things that need to be done ever get done, is because of him.
I hate my PTSD. Prior to being diagnosed, I used to say, "I hate whatever is happening to me, and especially not even knowing what is wrong with me." "WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!?" I have screamed these words at myself for the last 5 year as this disease, this infestation, this dehumanizing and humiliating anagram have taken over everything I have ever built. I don't know how to make my family understand what I'm going through. I avoid even saying PTSD to them because I feel so embarrassed and weak.
I don't know how to educate my 13 yr old that it's not as simple as saying positive things, thinking positive thoughts, and not leaning on the PTSD as an excuse to get over it. It's not some mild seasonal depression. It's completely taken me over. I'm so weak from pretending that everything is fine for so many years, I can't even muster the strength to pretend in front of her. She just looks down on me. Just now, she came into my room - she just got home from school and it's 3:30 - and asked what I was doing. "Nothing," I said. "I'm not having a really good day because of, of, well you know, I don't know." She slid up off my bed and dropped her head, accepting that it is another day where I don't do anything like a mom should, and said okay and walked out the door, closing it behind her. I AM SO DESTROYED BY HER PAIN! I can't just get up and fight it off and provide the affection and attention my daughter deserves from me. I feel imprisoned. I am an inmate at PTSD penitentiary, and my sentence looks like it's either for life without parole or the death sentence.
Current Events: I just hung the phone up with my fed-up of my crap - boyfriend. As I said before, he wants to no longer live with me. Because I am an avoider and numb my feelings (it doesn't matter whether they're sad, mad, angry, or happy) and up until recently, have even known why I have been feeling this way, the last 3 years of our relationship I have pushed him away, neglected him, and not done my part in our relationship to him and his needs and showing him how much he means to me, how much I love him, he is out of patience.
His kids don't want anything to do with me because when I am around while they're here on the weekends he is so focused on me and how I'm making him feel all those painful things, he doesn't give them the time and attention they crave. Also, because I am such a screw up, but sick and tired of his ex wife constantly crossing the line and call me names, telling their kids and whoever will listen that it's my fault he doesn't give her his money like he used to do before I was around, I finally reached my breaking point and Facebooked my true feelings about her. A friend of hers took it upon himself to screenshot it (as I am not friends with her or their kids, my bf, or anyone related to either of them on FB) and I have a private profile as well. I didn't know that a friend of my boyfriend's best friend's girlfriend even knew the ex wife. As he's the one to not mind his own business and thrive on drama and creating Hell for other people. Now, his kids hate me even more.
His mom is finally done with me, my excuses, and my big flapping mouth that doesn't know how or when to keep private things private.
He said today, that he wanted to live by himself so he can properly provide for his kids. That's okay with me. But when he said, "I don't want to live with YOU anymore." It hit me like a semi truck, carrying semi trucks. He doesn't want me around because I always screw up and continue making the same mistakes and don't think before my actions.
When my sisters stopped wanting anything to do with me when I posted and blasted my dad and his physical/verbal/mental/emotional abuse. His inability to take responsibility for his actions. Admitting to his destructive alcoholism and the violence that occurred as a result. How he used to tell me how much power he got and thrived on when he'd hurt me from putting me down and making me feel worthless and caused me to cry. How he'd assault my step-mom, punching her in the face, throwing dirty dishes at her while screaming "These are dirty, we don't need to clean them, it's okay - we'll just leave them here. How come you don't do anything all day. If these don't need to be cleaned, they don't need to be in one piece anymore" and similar things of that nature. How, at 9 years old I saw for the first time in the wee hours of the early morning (I assume it was around, 4 am-ish) I heard commotion in the living room outside of my shared bedroom with my sister. Rubbing the sleepiness from my eyes, I walked out just in time to witness my dad releasing his pulled back fist into my step-mom's face, causing her to fly backwards over the couch and onto the floor. I screamed, "what are you doing?! You're not supposed to hit mom!" All he said was, "how come you and your brother can to each other but I can't?" Through my confused crying I replied, "because we're brother and sister, we're supposed to fight."
My youngest sister saw the post in Facebook and came over to my apartment that was 2 blocks from where she lived with my dad and his girlfriend, barging in at 10:30 at night, my boyfriend, both of our kids (4 kids all under 13 then) and me, watching a movie. Screaming about how F'd up it was. Telling me to "get the f@#$ over it. He hit you like TEN years ago!"
I haven't talked to either of my sisters, or my dad since then. 2 years ago. They want nothing to do with me and constantly tell my oldest daughter what a piece of crap I am. How she doesn't need to respect me or listen to me because I am immature and worthless. Worst part - she believes them.
Because I couldn't shut my mouth and keep our business, OUR business, I no longer have my family. Two years later, I do something similar and now, though he says he loves me very much, my boyfriend, is fed up with my actions. He doesn't want to live with ME anymore. He can't handle my recklessness.
I am soon to be completely abandoned by the last person I have.
Why do I have to have PTSD? I was never affected by any of my abuse until 5 years ago. Now I can't think right, feel right, or do anything near right. Why, all of a sudden, is it all hitting me at once and imprisoning me at a crippling effect? Why do I feel like suicide will be the only way to truly apologize to everyone for being born in the first place? Why am I so pathetic that I push people to abandon me because they can't handle me and my problems anymore? Why won't they believe that I have a legitimate problem and am not just lazy and taking them for granted and using them?
Why me? Why do I deserve this?
I feel like a burden. So much, that my boyfriend who has shared a home with me for 3 years now is going to move out to focus on himself, love himself, his children, because I've not shown him in very long.
I just push away. I was only diagnosed with this life altering prognosis that's been slowly creeping up on me to cripple me and isolate me, a few months ago. At first, I opted to go medication free. But within a month of therapy and speaking "his" name, saying how others encouraged my partnership with "him" I scrambled back, begging for medication.
In my head, I scream and flail my arms in hopes my cherished partner and children can see me, can be confident that I do in fact, love them. Am IN love with them. Am proud of them. Want to cook, clean, help with homework, sit with them and watch movies, discipline them when they're not doing the right thing, tell them it's out of love - and one day they'll be thankful that I instilled such great morals and values in them. Instead, my oldest moved to my brother's and his wife's home, my eviction is on March 1st, my boyfriend doesn't want to live together, and I leave my youngest daughter to fend for her own regarding meals, social things, in a home that's destroyed, dishes piled up, and only the wish of a good, home cooked meal by mom.
Yet, I lay here, locked away in my bedroom, in my bed that never makes me feel guilty for using it so much, feeling overwhelmed with guilt because I have let down my entire family. They think I need to just power through it and I'm using my diagnosis as an excuse to lay here, hiding away. But, they forgot. Before I knew the name for my feelings and actions (or lack thereof), I laid here with the gnawing question, "What is wrong with me?!!!" Veggitated in my bedroom.
My boyfriend telling me that I need to get up and look for a job. Get up and do some dishes. Get up and cook some dinner, "I'll even help you." Just. Get. Up. We miss you. We need you. We want you. We worry about you. GUILT. GUILT. GUILT. GUILT. GUILT. And the straps that hold me down, tighten around me and pull me closer to the mattress. Wrap the blankets up and over my entire body, hiding me away from them.
Even with medication, I still don't have any energy to do anything. I forced myself to go out and "dick off" at thrift stores, you know, like I used to do on my days off from work, not really ever buying much - just doing something for myself, and I had to fight off the nagging thought, "I'm sleepy. Go home and climb into your warm, comfy, non-discriminating, non-judgemental bed." I was sad the entire day because I felt like I was on autopilot, not even feeling anything but unenjoyment, blank. I was sad because I knew I wasn't entertained by something I used to love doing. But I continued through the day, popping in at this thrift store and that thrift store, only feeling more and more void, empty, listless.
My family thought is was an action worth celebrating, I thought I was never going to do that again. It was excruciating for me. I can't even go do something I enjoyed, how am I going to work?? Have a job? Provide for my only kid who hasn't left me. My boyfriend isn't going to anymore, even though he's been laid off for months (hense why were being evicted on the first of March for nonpayment). The only reason things that need to be done ever get done, is because of him.
I hate my PTSD. Prior to being diagnosed, I used to say, "I hate whatever is happening to me, and especially not even knowing what is wrong with me." "WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!?" I have screamed these words at myself for the last 5 year as this disease, this infestation, this dehumanizing and humiliating anagram have taken over everything I have ever built. I don't know how to make my family understand what I'm going through. I avoid even saying PTSD to them because I feel so embarrassed and weak.
I don't know how to educate my 13 yr old that it's not as simple as saying positive things, thinking positive thoughts, and not leaning on the PTSD as an excuse to get over it. It's not some mild seasonal depression. It's completely taken me over. I'm so weak from pretending that everything is fine for so many years, I can't even muster the strength to pretend in front of her. She just looks down on me. Just now, she came into my room - she just got home from school and it's 3:30 - and asked what I was doing. "Nothing," I said. "I'm not having a really good day because of, of, well you know, I don't know." She slid up off my bed and dropped her head, accepting that it is another day where I don't do anything like a mom should, and said okay and walked out the door, closing it behind her. I AM SO DESTROYED BY HER PAIN! I can't just get up and fight it off and provide the affection and attention my daughter deserves from me. I feel imprisoned. I am an inmate at PTSD penitentiary, and my sentence looks like it's either for life without parole or the death sentence.
Current Events: I just hung the phone up with my fed-up of my crap - boyfriend. As I said before, he wants to no longer live with me. Because I am an avoider and numb my feelings (it doesn't matter whether they're sad, mad, angry, or happy) and up until recently, have even known why I have been feeling this way, the last 3 years of our relationship I have pushed him away, neglected him, and not done my part in our relationship to him and his needs and showing him how much he means to me, how much I love him, he is out of patience.
His kids don't want anything to do with me because when I am around while they're here on the weekends he is so focused on me and how I'm making him feel all those painful things, he doesn't give them the time and attention they crave. Also, because I am such a screw up, but sick and tired of his ex wife constantly crossing the line and call me names, telling their kids and whoever will listen that it's my fault he doesn't give her his money like he used to do before I was around, I finally reached my breaking point and Facebooked my true feelings about her. A friend of hers took it upon himself to screenshot it (as I am not friends with her or their kids, my bf, or anyone related to either of them on FB) and I have a private profile as well. I didn't know that a friend of my boyfriend's best friend's girlfriend even knew the ex wife. As he's the one to not mind his own business and thrive on drama and creating Hell for other people. Now, his kids hate me even more.
His mom is finally done with me, my excuses, and my big flapping mouth that doesn't know how or when to keep private things private.
He said today, that he wanted to live by himself so he can properly provide for his kids. That's okay with me. But when he said, "I don't want to live with YOU anymore." It hit me like a semi truck, carrying semi trucks. He doesn't want me around because I always screw up and continue making the same mistakes and don't think before my actions.
When my sisters stopped wanting anything to do with me when I posted and blasted my dad and his physical/verbal/mental/emotional abuse. His inability to take responsibility for his actions. Admitting to his destructive alcoholism and the violence that occurred as a result. How he used to tell me how much power he got and thrived on when he'd hurt me from putting me down and making me feel worthless and caused me to cry. How he'd assault my step-mom, punching her in the face, throwing dirty dishes at her while screaming "These are dirty, we don't need to clean them, it's okay - we'll just leave them here. How come you don't do anything all day. If these don't need to be cleaned, they don't need to be in one piece anymore" and similar things of that nature. How, at 9 years old I saw for the first time in the wee hours of the early morning (I assume it was around, 4 am-ish) I heard commotion in the living room outside of my shared bedroom with my sister. Rubbing the sleepiness from my eyes, I walked out just in time to witness my dad releasing his pulled back fist into my step-mom's face, causing her to fly backwards over the couch and onto the floor. I screamed, "what are you doing?! You're not supposed to hit mom!" All he said was, "how come you and your brother can to each other but I can't?" Through my confused crying I replied, "because we're brother and sister, we're supposed to fight."
My youngest sister saw the post in Facebook and came over to my apartment that was 2 blocks from where she lived with my dad and his girlfriend, barging in at 10:30 at night, my boyfriend, both of our kids (4 kids all under 13 then) and me, watching a movie. Screaming about how F'd up it was. Telling me to "get the f@#$ over it. He hit you like TEN years ago!"
I haven't talked to either of my sisters, or my dad since then. 2 years ago. They want nothing to do with me and constantly tell my oldest daughter what a piece of crap I am. How she doesn't need to respect me or listen to me because I am immature and worthless. Worst part - she believes them.
Because I couldn't shut my mouth and keep our business, OUR business, I no longer have my family. Two years later, I do something similar and now, though he says he loves me very much, my boyfriend, is fed up with my actions. He doesn't want to live with ME anymore. He can't handle my recklessness.
I am soon to be completely abandoned by the last person I have.
Why do I have to have PTSD? I was never affected by any of my abuse until 5 years ago. Now I can't think right, feel right, or do anything near right. Why, all of a sudden, is it all hitting me at once and imprisoning me at a crippling effect? Why do I feel like suicide will be the only way to truly apologize to everyone for being born in the first place? Why am I so pathetic that I push people to abandon me because they can't handle me and my problems anymore? Why won't they believe that I have a legitimate problem and am not just lazy and taking them for granted and using them?
Why me? Why do I deserve this?
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