#not to mention she literally made my mom (i don’t have an income rn but i have my first nursing job in a couple weeks yay!!)

[goddessjynx]

Any parent please answer?

Idk if anyone will see this, but right now I need just anyone to tell me I'm not crazy.

Am I a bad friend for wanting to hang out with my ex-bestie (eb for short) while she has her kids or she's busy and can't hang, so I offer to come over, to help watch, to help clean? Anything just to be there for her, why? Oh because she was on her third child, at this time I literally went over to her house to play dnd with her husband and brother and her sometimes. So I would try and say "hi" or talk, but instead we stayed doing something else or barely said hi. Ok, fine, hormones, got it. It got to the point of she wouldn't want to hang out with me for reasons she stopped telling me decent sounding excuses. Fine, That's fine, I have other friends who I can hang with or find other things to stay inside and not get out of the house to do. I don't need to leave the house, to get away from the suffocating inside the house with a mentally and verbally abusive, controlling husband. That's. Just. Fine.

So you know, time goes on. we find out that the reason she won't hang out with me, but will hang out with the other girl who she hates (Mind you the other chick literally broke into their house, tried to start drama all the time, and be hazardous to her already two children But who am I to judge about the person you rant to me about how you hate them so much?) But the other chick was also pregnant after divorcing her wife. It's honestly such a mess. So "anyways, I get excluded now because I "Don't understand what she's going through" or "I won't have the same experience" or I'm "not a good source of help" Lol, Okay? I still can't help? Be happy for you? Cool. So things go on, and just things have gotten worse on my end. I'm over here with such a mind debilitating baby fever, that I'm having to pull my car over watching children get off the school bus because I'm in such a crying fit that I can't breathe or see straight. So who the hell would I go to about what do I do? My Bestie right? (There's a reason we are eb rn) I tell her, well try, Idk how much she actually listened. But I tell her how I just can't think about anything else right now. I did everything right, and the world keeps slapping me back.

I own a 4 bedroom house. we have two cars, we even have decently everything working out in our favor, But all of a sudden, I'm not good enough for anyone. My own husband two months after getting married said he hasn't found me attractive for the last two years. THAnks. That's a real boost. This didn't start the fights, but that's a whole other set of rants. about a year before my eb got pregnant, around or right before July 4th, I strictly remember, I was in the walmart fucking bathroom. I had felt so sick the weeks beforehand. Like, My menstrual cycle hates me. She's savage af. Not to mention she likes to disappear randomly and appear with just cramps or a whole flood. I never know. But I remember calling my husband in a panic because I don't know what to do while I had to go to the bathroom so bad it hurt, and all I have is half dollar sized clots. Just something my medical brain, and senior year of AP biology says, "Fuck!" I have him figure something out because I'm really needing someone to just hold me in the bathroom I feel so sick to my stomach. I'm dizzy and all these symptoms I tell him to tell the doctor or whoever he calls.. So he calls, they say whatever to him. I don't either remember or he never told me what they said, (this is a normal of hiding information from me, A LOT) They said (What he told me) to just wipe things up and clean up then if it persists in the next 24 hours to go into the hospital. But I will have to see an ob-gyn.

So, Okay. Nothing bad. but they are in charge of everything along those lines. But those were including two words, that I now know were the two words this man didn't want to hear despite, DESPITE all the teasing and jokes about having kids with me when I was younger with him and literally just dating. That was because I had to see a family planning doctor. I was told by HIM that it was nothing, and we will be fine. I just blamed it on my cramps that are horrible and never put thought to it because I had believed that's what he was told. So that's a trauma my brain locked away until recently as I'm going through my divorce right now. But, I was thinking about how shortly after that, I got a call from my eb about how they were all waiting on me because I'm making us late for bringing stuff to the grill out and bonfire later. Fine, mask all the pain and keep fucking going. right?

She seemed genuinely not worried, saying it was probably just a bad cycle. She gets them all the time too. Its whatever. My now bestie's sister has gone through the same thing I described multiple times, enough that she looked at me and was like, "No, You possibly miscarried." even her mom went on about, "they should've never NEVER brushed that off like they did. If they cared then they would've made sure you were ok. My husband denied me from going to the doctor to see anything about it. Even after when I knew my hormones and emotions were just soooo off. But that's in my mind now, when before maybe around the same time my eb came out saying to all of us even her own husband one time saying she's been feeling crummy because she went in and she found out she had miscarried. It was so short after my stuff that she disregarded then took and made attention for herself that upset her own husband because she never told him until she told a bunch of us at a bar. I mean I felt bad for her, but Now thinking back, my gut says it was a ploy to make her husband to feel bad for her and to try for another one. Where as I'm over here waiting patiently because I jumped through Hoops to get where I'm at now.

My husband promised me children. Lots, its a fucking dream to be a mum. I care for everyone else, and their kids, why not have some kind of mini me to show of what I did. That I did good. That I can be useful to this world too. That I'm not just a lump of no good nothing to this world. But first, he needed a better paying job than a gas station.

Did that, he worked at a metal parts production place. But we then gave the fact that we still live in the apartment I got after moving out from high school. We rented a house. It worked, and it was nice. But now he needs a car, but he cant do that until he learns how to drive. 3 years older than me and I taught him how to drive. AND I helped him buy his first car, a truck. Oh but now, we still can't start a family. We are only renting. I have enough good credit that I could get a house alone, but I needed a higher pay. Bam with his income together we got a house.

Bam, I'm hit with baby fever and what not. NOW I get told, we aren't ready for anything like that yet, so wait two years. Alright, I'll wait. I can do that. We were going to go on trips together and do many things together and all of a sudden, the walmart thing happened, and it just got worse from there. It got to a point I got a job paying BETTER than him and I was the laughing stock to him and his buddies. THANKS. But I'm fine, everything is fine. The walmart thing was about two years after, so I mean, it was actually in the time frame and whatnot. Things just kept going on getting worse at home, I just kept listening. For reasons, I had to quit my high paying job, and then everything got absolutely horrible at home. Had to put everything I had control over money wise into his account for he worried it would take too long to find an new job and make money to suffice for bills. It was argument after argument, but I went to my eb explaining things, asking what the hell do I do? Her advice? To just do what he wants. The thing I had to quit about? She basically never cared about it. Everything just went on being a mess. I went on just letting people walk over me because that was the advice I was given.

I voiced my feelings that I have been following lies and how I feel hurt that I'm told dreams and having them be taken away. We never went on trips much. Instead we would buy a crap ton of ammo or new guns that I'm not allowed to use, yet I'm helping fund so you can get them, but when it was my own that I BOUGHT, all of a sudden, my things went missing and he would be out using and letting his buddies use my new guns and using up the ammo I had purchased on my own. I mean, fine, but let me at LEAST take yours out if you're going to use mine without asking. It got to be so annoying that we would be asked when we would get married or when we would have kids. He would be hugging me and smiling all cocky saying "Oh well we haven't stopped trying." every time. He would start that tell people this and I finally had enough. I stopped him and told him to put his money where his mouth was. He always said shit but never actually did it or acted on what he said. He would just lie to everyone. Tell people lies because it sounded nice. Best part? I had bought a ring for him. I proposed to him because he would joke about things like that. So I basically said, "bet" and did it. I have never received a damn ring! He wouldn't even want to look at them with me. Because they were expensive. Not all of them are. I don't care what price it is, but something to say, "Hey, I love you and Don't want the odd peeps at the bar to keep hitting on you so take this with you, its dangerous out there." (Shut up. I'm a nerd) But like.... I just would make notions about, I wanted a ring. He would beg me to pool together money and buy new guns, I mean I"m not against, but I would bring up that I will want a ring. Or even something else would be you know, amazing right now because I'm in a lost place wanting kids still and my eb just announced they were having their third. (which her own family was so upset about it that they ranted to me and my mom, her own brother said that its just another kid that they will end up taking care of instead of her so she can go to the bars again. Yep) So next we talked about getting a gun safe because, before we can have kids, we need to be SAFE. Ight, we bought it. Nice matte black 33 capacity, fire and water proof, best part the front had a reallly pretty engraved waving American flag imprinted on it. It was just so smooth. (Guess who has that right now btw) So oddly enough in the middle of me not being enough for my eb, My cycle kind of returned to being semi regular, and all of a sudden disappeared. Well that whole month beforehand we went from never wanting to touch me unless it was my birthday to every night he was angry after work and took it out on me instead. I mean, whatever. But when it came to me not feeling well, I told him.

Instantly it wasn't mine. I was fooling with other guys. Like instant psycho. His childhood friend came and moved up with us, she saw this for a good few months and had to move out because he was trying to control her as if she were a child. She told me that it was not right for him to be that way and that she will never talk to him for how he treated her. (which was exactly how he was always with me too) I'm not sure if he was trying to get my jealous because his bff was a girl? Idk we worked out like literally sisters. Sooo much in common and she told me, She believes he's never wanted kids. And she watched how I broke down after he told me he wanted nothing to do with me until I took a test. He DEMANDED that I took a test right away. If it was positive, it wasn't his until proven so. And if it was negative he would be fine. this was ridiculous. He wasn't at all happy or excited. Purely upset. I felt so shitty that after the test was negative I told him and he threatened about it happening again he was leaving back to Kansas. He threatened this every damn fight, it got to the point that I gave up, I said leave then. And instantly he shut up. I got him out of gangs, crime, jail, living on the street or with his mum, and being a maaajor drug addict. Yet I'M THE BAD PERSON.

Back to recently when my eb is getting closer to having her kid, I just go through finding out I'm not and my husband is freaking out at me, nonstop yelling at me that I'm not good enough and all this shit. Yes, lil ol me trying to keep the peace in the house is a cunt and a whore. Wow. Name calling, but hitting where it hurts? I told him before, how my mother in an argument said I would be a horrible mother. And that shit sticks. IT STICKS. So what does the smart ass pull out? He repeats it. He says he's glad I'm not pregnant because I'd be a horrible mother in the end.

That. That just kills a person. That kills dreams and the feeling of wanting to keep living. Who the FUCK says that to their partner? Am I wrong for thinking that's not right? Well my eb thought I was. I told her my feelings. How I don't want to be jealous of her, but I am. That she's more beautiful, she's always had guys hitting on her in school inviting her to do things and hang out, I was the nerd in whatever class that got invited only if it was mandatory. She will be having three kids and a loving husband that can never take his hands or eyes from her, where as I have to act like a clown to get my husband to look up from his damn phone. To say something nice. To

be acknowledged while in the house. I've left and came back the next morning because I hung out at my now besties house. He didn't say a word until I came home the next morning and he looked at me like "when the fuck did you leave" No care, no love. I was stuck being a burden. Anything I ever did around the house was in vain. Everything I helped with I got shoved away because I didn't do it right. EVERYTHING I did was not good enough. I would tell him this that is how I felt and he would deny it. One day, I caught him yelling at me saying that what I did wasn't ever good enough. Calle him out right away. Bitch... He tried to change the wording to go around what he said. I HEARD IT. it was so bad I had to have my bestie on the phone to listen to how he talked to me behind closed doors. Away from public view. HER MOM HEARD IT. Thought she was watching some kind of dramatic show, until she realized it was me on the phone. She's listened to so many calls its unheard of. There was a day, I had enough of it. (Ok A lot actually) but I grabbed my laptop and my charger and left the house. I sat in the park drawing on my laptop. Texted every person I could think of that I cared so deeply for that they would care for me back. I was in a dark ass place asking for Advice. My eb shrugged off what my husband was doing and scolded me for leaving. For sitting in a park drawing out my feelings instead of being with him because he's being dramatic to her husband upset that I started an argument. I didn't understand what I started when it was over me telling him not to throw the controller when he loses a COD game because that's how it breaks. Why he threw it? Because I distracted him by playing with my cat while he was playing the damn game and made him lose! yep. Exactly that. So I was yelled at to quit. So I did. I went back to my drawing and then with my headphones on I was humming to my music. It distracted him and he lost. So I flipped out because I can't do anything in my own house without being scolded for it. So I stormed off to the bedroom to draw some more. I'm upstairs and away from him. Didn't want to eat now I'm stressed and upset. So I didn't cook anything and now he's hungry and upset at me for not making food yet. YES. That's how it started and I again was the bad person in the story for safely removing myself from an environment where all my mind was telling me to do was dark things that hurt to say. To give up on everything I have worked for and all my dreams.

That was the last time I spoke to her for a while because everything started to be only about baby and about doing this for baby. Doing that for baby. But then she would never answer me back. I was done trying to fit time to hang out. To do something, I made new friends who didn't have kids and hung out more with them. It got horrible. the sound of a child crying made my stomach hurt. I had non stop dreams of the same thing happening. It was just awful. I looked it up and it was just meaning I had something and lost it. Whatever is missing in the dream what what I had lost.

In this dream I was dressed in all black, lace and long dress covering every inch of skin on my body. I had a hat with a veil and I was rocking a bundle in my arms in an old decrepit room with peeling paint and broken toys. It was a nursery. An old ruined nursery. I was rocking just a black blanket swaddled with a hole that emptied to the void. It gives me chills, I get this dream so much that me explaining just makes my skin crawl and my body ache. It hurts to think of but I just cannot understand it. Makes sense now that I looked into it.

But me going through all of this, I can't talk to my husband about my feelings because I'm too needy and being selfish for not taking his feelings into an account. That he's not ready that we are not ready and that I'm not ready because I'm going to be a horrible mom. Cool.

I have tried so much. I couldn't be around kids. It made me so sick and I jus would have to find somewhere to hide and cry for hours. I would cry myself to sleep. Never getting comfort by him because I'm throwing a pity party. I was so hurt. Still am. I'm broken hearted. Thinking that if I had a kid, at least I would have something that needed me and would love the care I gave and would love me back. I wanted to feel loved for how much I put out in the world. I wanted to have something to ground me to this world before I did something stupid. I was in such a dark place that I drove an hour to go see my bestie because I was scared that I was going to do it. That I was going to be the big disappointment he told me I would always be. Three months later, baby is here and I go back to playing dnd with my friends and its at their house. My husband is rubbing it in my face. He's holding baby and talking to baby and doing all these things making my mind break. He asks if I want to hold her. If i if iififififi NO.

I can't I cannot. I'm trying to be respectful. I missed out on other games because I had to hype myself up. I procrastinated because I didn't know how I would be or if I could handle it. I got to the point that my eb's husband told me that he doesn't want me playing anymore because I sent a text trying to apologize to my now eb that I feel so bad but I can't see her right now since seeing her kids just sends me into a panic attack and I can't stop thinking horrible things. So she takes that as I have a problem with HER kids and not just the KIDS situation. Doesn't hear me out. blames me for everything and has me banned from coming over. in which her husband says he doesn't want me over anymore. Which my rebuttal is because she's telling him only. But he said it was his choice. I don't know don't care. It just hurt that THATS the reason I got kicked out. Not because I was good, but that I couldn't handle their kids. And I would not pay attention by drawing the whole time. I was distracting myself because I'm trying to drown out the noises of cooing making my gut rot and my mouth dry. So by all means I'm selfish for wanting a dream that I was being promised for the last 6 years of physically being with my soon to be ex. I've know for actually 12 years. And that I drove 15 hours to bring you to me since you couldn't drive.

So I need to know from real parents, was I out of line for telling my eb that I had feelings and that them not being heard or just cast to the side hurt? Am I crazy for feeling that I've been robbed? For being upset when my husband comes home drunk and abuses me? For being hurt when I'm called all sorts of names and told I'm worthless by the man I should trust the most? Please. I need to know.

I know I'm ranting, but I need to get it out. I need to find some sort of something to figure out why I'm feeling this way, or why I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I'm fighting for the divorce since i haven't been to my owned house in the last 5 months since he changed the locks on me. I moved an hour away from my home and my family and still to this day, I hurt to hear or watch children around me. I'm happy, but inside something aches and just feels empty. Not to mention that I got told by people that know me that he's been caught buying condoms. We are still technically married, and he can't be doing those things right now. Am I jealous? Upset? Hurt? All of the above? It just sucks and I'm drowning in debt a bit trying to work my ass off to get where I want in life again since all of everything has been ripped from me. I'm trying. Please let me know if I'm crazy or out of line? I want to be heard. I'm going to start to save up. I have a plan for my 27th birthday. If it doesn't work in time for my 28th birthday, I'm not sure what else I can do but join the 27 club.

#send help #please reblog #mental health #parents #mother #father #moms #family #reblog #important #self care #self love #self help #self esteem #self healing #my story

[pawjamas]

hey..i’ve been back from my stay at the residential facility for several days now and A lot happened, which i’m putting under a a readmore bc it’s potentially triggering (warning for mentions of s*xual abuse/gasl*ghting/etc) my life is basically being uprooted, so much happened in the month of June and is currently still happening, which i’ll explain below

i was admitted to the residential facility on June 9th, it seemed super promising, there was an abundance of 4-5 star reviews from patients online. my friend who currently is working in the mental health field researched about the facility and also confirmed that it seemed a lot better than most places are. the first day was kind of rough and i knew getting adjusted would be difficult but could never have expected what happened the following several days to happen. i made friends pretty quickly, my roommate on the first day there was very kind to me, she told me if i ever needed someone to talk to that she’d be there for me, we also shared the fact we were both nonbinary/just a lot of things we had in common so it was comforting to know her on the first day there.

i spoke to my psychiatrist the next day who told me i could get off “close observations” which is why i was in the room i was, the label is basically something you get put on if you’re at risk for s*lf h*rm/etc and need a staff member w/ you at all times. so since i was taken off of that i was switched to a different room with a different roommate. she was a 60 yr old woman who was in the other program offered at the facility (mine was mental health related and hers was for substance abuse/addiction) i didn’t feel too comfortable around her the first night, she complained about every single thing, she never participated in the groups offered at the facility, she told me over and over again how much she hated being here. the next few days were a blur and are still very fuzzy, my mind is still keeping all the memories locked away which has happened to me many times before w/ trauma where everything’s vague and not fully there.

basically, over the course i was roommates w/ this woman she groomed me and manipulated me into doing anything she wanted me to do for her, she physically/s*xually assaulted me multiple times, and caused my mental health to plummet even further than i thought was possible. i eventually did get to switch rooms, and i only recalled (again, vaguely) what happened those nights about a week later and reported it to the staff where half of them treated it like a joke. i went to the hospital the night i reported everything to get examined and ended up calling my mom on my friend’s phone (she drove to the hospital and stayed w/ me the whole time) and my mom was probably the worse to take my trauma/situation out of anyone. she told me i should’ve spoken up sooner, asked why i didn’t defend myself from this woman, basically the whole phone call was her blaming me for not doing anything about my assault. when i hung up my friend even told me that what she said wasn’t okay, and was victim-blaming.

i left the hospital and got back to the facility around 1:00 am, and the following days i spent there i was continuously getting worse because being in the environment my trauma had happened was preventing me from healing, plus i literally had to be in the same rooms as the person who had assaulted me and seeing her was extremely triggering. she continuously would call me crazy and delusional and that i made the entire thing up, i had difficulty telling what was real and what was not because of how bad i was treated by her and the staff. i’m thankful i met some really kind patients there that became my friends, they helped me the most out of anyone there. at one point a nurse had pulled me into a room and told me how i should never have spoken up about my abuse, how i should consider how it makes my abuser feel, and stop talking to the friends i made about it. but i’m glad i had people who would actually listen.

i mentioned it once but again, my mom was probably the worst person to talk to when all this was happening, at one point one evening when phones were available i called her and told her i needed to leave, i wanted to come home because this all of this was affecting me so badly, and she screamed over and over that i can’t come home and i have to stay, that it’s too bad that happened but continuing to do the program was more important. at that point i broke down and cried, begging her to let me come home and she screamed repeatedly for me to shut up and then hung up on me.

after that evening i knew that i wouldn’t be taking any shit from her any longer, i called my friend who lived nearby about her the following day or so, asked if i could stay with her at her apartment, which didn’t end up happening because we both worried my mom being as spiteful as she is would take legal action if i did leave w/ my friend instead of my mom. i ended up talking to a couple of the friends i made there that i was having bad intrusive thoughts, and that evening i was baker acted (involuntarily hospitalized) and transferred to another facility, which could’ve been because of the staff or me being reported for the thoughts i was having, but regardless i was away from my abuser and didn’t have to see her again.

the hospital i stayed at was...a lot worse than the other place, i barely got to speak to the psychiatrist/therapist during my entire time there, people would joke about how little time you got w/ them. they ended up keeping me there longer than the required 72 hrs, which i asked multiple people why and never got an answer, at one point my mom wanted to make sure i was sent back to the residential facility of which i had to explain would be detrimental to me and my health, but as usual when she had her mind set on something she won’t listen to reason or anyone who explains other (more beneficial) options.

i ended up calling my friend that lived back in the town i live in, told her the whole story and what’s been going on, and ultimately asked if i could move in with her because her and her family had already offered to let me. she was more than happy to have me move in, so that’s what i ended up planning on doing when i got discharged, was have her pick me up instead of my mom. and i called my mom to tell her that i’d be moving out, all the reasons why it’d be beneficial to us both, she took it horribly and told me if my friend picks me up i can never ever come home again and that i’m kicked out. i told her that’s fine, even though it hurt so badly when she said it.

finally, the following monday i was discharged, my friend from back home picked me up along w/ her husband, and we made sure to get all my things from the residential facility (my clothes/shampoo/makeup/etc) before heading back to her house, which was about an hour and a half drive home.

so now i’m staying w/ her, i still feel out of place and disoriented and uncomfortable but her and her family have been very welcoming. i’m trying to get all my stuff from my mom’s but it’s been a huge struggle to get anything from her because she loves to overcomplicate anything and then make it seem as if it’s all your doing and she’s the biggest, kindest saint ever to grace your life. my friends and i all think she has undiagnosed/untreated bipolar, and i definitely think she at least needs therapy and meds too but she doesn’t believe in either for herself. i just want my stuff back, and i do miss my room a lot and jazzy but there’s no way i’m getting either back, i’m also worried how my mom is treating jazzy because she hates him and i’ve witnessed first-hand what she’s done to him before.

i might post my p*ypal / v*nmo (censoring bc i think tumblr is weird abt posts that have these keywords or smth) because i don’t have any income rn...thank you if you read all this lmao i still didn’t even cover half of the other stuff i went through at the place i was baker acted but essentially my life has been turned upside down and i’m having to figure out how to keep going despite it all

#diary 📖 #please read if u can #i want to get my tablet back so i can open commissions #idk why my mom wouldn’t let me have it but she’s Super spiteful so who knows #i want my switch too/laptop i especially need my computer ughhh #genuinely when i thought things couldn’t get any worse there was an extra layer of hell for me to fall into

[saferincages]

my illness and pain levels and fatigue have been so extreme and out of control for the past three-ish weeks (and really longer than that, I feel as though it’s been simmering badly under the surface for quite a while now and finally managed to break me down completely), and I’m sorry for not being here to answer messages or check my dash or anything like that recently. I basically haven’t touched my computer at all since I set up a couple of weeks’ worth of queue, looking at the screen has been too overwhelming for my headaches and sitting here is excruciating for my spine and I’ve even been having trouble typing without joint pain (not to mention my concentration/focus not being good lately). I essentially set the queue and climbed into bed, just trying to get some semblance of strength back.

I’d like to take a moment to specifically thank @sealwife, @sansasnark, @elizabethtudors, @fancykraken, @xxsparksxx, and @christinedaae for being the beautiful human beings and extraordinary friends they are - each of you ladies has reached out to me specifically and have inferred that I might not be doing well lately, and I apologize with all my heart for not being able to respond to you properly or give that attention back to you in the way you all deserve. Also to @desireearmfeldt, @someoneoffthestreet, @ohfantine, and anyone else who has left me thoughtful messages/replies/comfort. I feel as though I’ve let you down somewhat spectacularly of late, which would never be my intention - I know I haven’t been very good at friendship lately, and you’re all blessings in my life, and have been so for many years now - you give me reasons to keep being here and keep surviving, and reminders of strength and the hope of keeping one’s heart open. I love you and think of you always, even when I haven’t managed to say it often enough.

I’ve had a lot that I’ve wanted to write about for many months, and have not had the energy or inclination to do it, but I’m finally at the point where I think I can at least provide an overview.

First of all, before I get into my stuff, I want to say that Angel’s doing much better! It turns out - we think - that it wasn’t her pancreatitis flaring up, but rather that she was having an awful allergic reaction. There’s a dental treat that we’ve been giving her for a long time that helps her teeth, but recently I couldn’t buy them from the same place or find them at a reasonable price anywhere online, so we had started her on a different little biscuit, and something in that upset her system. I feel horrible, I would never have knowingly given her something that made her so sick. :( Fortunately, after we figured out what the culprit must be, she was only ill and unable to keep anything down for a couple of days, and after we got her little tummy more back to normal on a simple chicken and rice diet, she went back to her regular food. She’s been her happy, peppy, sweet little self since, and she’s been right at my side trying to take good care of me while I’ve been so sick myself.

A few of you know this, but back in July, I had my first initial disability hearing. I’ve been fighting for this for years, after being denied through paperwork alone twice. Finally being able to go before a judge was terrifying, but I had hoped maybe my long battles would lead somewhere. If you don’t know anything about the process, it is byzantine and cruel and borderline absurd at times, and after having seen it from the inside...I’m amazed that anyone ever gets help at all. Anyway, I walked into court that summer day, and they give you a CD of your records, everything that you’ve given them permission to gather - which, for me, was supposed to be every file and medical record going back to our car accident in 2005, the hospital visits, the months of physical therapy, and then the dozens of doctors and tests and procedures I’ve been through since the onset of my chronic illnesses. But, surprise! I open up the file, and all of my records have been purged, without my authority and entirely unbeknownst to me. No one ever warned me this would, or even could, happen, or we would have procured my records ourselves over the years. A warning - if you EVER think you’re going to need medical records, demand your own copies, because they can destroy them without ever alerting you that they plan to do so. My entire life, the existence that I’ve been reduced to, that I irrevocably lost my twenties to, that I lost college and my future and dreams to, it was basically all documented in medical records that now do not exist, which, in all honesty, felt like a death in itself. I stared at those blank pages, at those faxes where “record/patient cannot be found” or “record has been destroyed,” and barely managed to stop myself from bursting into tears. There’s no evidence of how being ill has taken my life. I sat in front of the judge as he flipped through empty pages, perplexed, and decided to postpone my case. I didn’t have legal representation, and he wanted to send me for more court ordered medical evaluations since there was nothing for him to really look at. My mom barely got me out of that room and into the bathroom before I had a full blown panic attack, clutching the counter in front of the sink and sobbing and barely able to breathe. 

And then I followed instructions, and went to my set appointments. I can’t begin to describe how banal the ‘tests’ are that a doctor gives you in these court ordered exams - can you walk once from one end of a small room to the other? can you raise your arms over your head or lift your legs while you’re in a chair for a few seconds? can you repeat back a sentence or a few words when they’re said to you? Congratulations, those standards likely mean they’re going to think you’re not disabled. The fact that you likely wouldn’t be able to repeat these menial tasks over and over again, the fact that you’re in constant pain or have a compromised immune system or can’t stand up for long without the risk of heart palpitations/dizziness/possible fainting or can’t possibly work a job or go to school because you’re too sick and you’re entirely unreliable - none of this is taken into account. The physician has to write down that you walked across that room and spoke complete sentences of your own volition, and immediately you’re seen as able-bodied. I know. I was also sent to a neuropsychologist (likely because the judge knew I was teetering on the edge of that panic attack).

Going through this means being asked invasive, awful questions that aren’t even necessarily pertinent to one’s disability (ie: why don’t you date/have sex? ...as if that’s any measure of ability or is even a priority of any kind when you literally are unable to leave the house. what do you do for fun? and so forth), being looked at with suspicion and accused, both subtly and directly, of malingering or attention-seeking, being prodded and judged and dehumanized and demoralized, all because you want the most minimal of help to simply survive. It is a horror, a lot of it is emotional/psychological insult on top of the pre-existing injury of being chronically ill, and it has taken a severe toll on me.

One of the doctors I met through these court appointments was really good, though, she was well-versed on CFS and POTS and even my GI issues, and she genuinely wanted to help me. I don’t have insurance beyond basic Medicaid, but she told me her office takes it. I was going to establish her as my GP to help with my case. Well, guess what? I called her, and suddenly was informed that her office had decided to no longer accept Medicaid patients. So, there goes that. I’ve lost track of the number of physicians that I’ve called in desperation who refuse to see me because they don’t take Medicaid. I don’t have a doctor’s help. (I could, and likely very much need to, go to an indigent clinic for basic care, where I could see an RN, but that isn’t an avenue that will help with a court case, because you’re supposed to have an established physician. I had to stop seeing my GP back when my dad dropped my insurance in late 2009, after I’d made several trips up to the hospital in Denver to have specialized blood tests and exams, so...that’s a long gap of time without a regular doctor’s care, and, again, now all of those records are gone).

Furthermore, even though you’re not required to have an attorney in these cases, it does notably help to have representation. I was given a list of lawyers to call and consult with after that preliminary hearing. Not a single lawyer would help me, because of my records having been destroyed. The first lawyer I called, in fact, told me it would not be “financially advantageous” for her to take my case. Most of them wouldn’t even call me back, but the few that did bother to respond to my messages would either tell me something along the same lines or apparently weren’t taking new clients. One told me to “start over,” which wouldn’t merely be a herculean task, it would be impossible and pointless. The entire reason I filed the case the way I did was because 1) I’VE BEEN INJURED AND SICK SINCE 2005, and starting over would be like saying I only just got ill in 2016, thus destroying my entire history and 2) because I physically could not work at an age where I was still considered under my parents’ care (it’s similar to the law that allows you to stay on a parents’ health plan?), the case was filed under their names and SSNs. I have never paid into Social Security because I haven’t worked, but they, of course, have, so the ‘loss’ of income that I then could have received (which, at most, would have been just under $700 a month, which may not sound like much, but anything would be a fortune to me considering I have absolutely NOTHING). If I started over, my case would be dead in the water immediately, because my parents’ loss would no longer be taken into account. I was left floundering and constantly crying after phone calls, after every doctor and lawyer refused to see me or help me, realizing these people who are meant to be in place to protect and assist people would do nothing for me.

My second hearing, the one that was meant to be the official proceeding, was in November. And even without a doctor or a lawyer, I went to court. I wrote an eloquent letter to the judge, which he even thanked me for, explaining my illness and what it has done to my life. We went in expecting to proceed. Another bizarre little part of this process is the ‘expert testimony’ - you see, the court calls on ‘witnesses’ to testify in your case. These witnesses generally have some basic knowledge of one of the aspects of whatever you deal with (in my case, they had called on a physical therapist and a gastroenterologist). Now, keep in mind, these are not people who have ever met you. They have never treated you. They have never seen your specific symptoms or limitations. The people they called on weren’t even in my state. I don’t understand how in the hell they expect this to help - no two patients or human beings are the same. Every illness, every symptom, affects people differently. So having general knowledge of a thing isn’t going to tell you about one specific, unique individual. I will never understand this, it will never make sense to me. But, of course, in my case, again, my records are gone! I don’t know what they were even supposed to be reviewing, other than the court mandated appointments I’ve been to over the past two years. Only, guess what? The GI specialist whose testimony was to be called first? He never even received the file that he was supposed to review and call in for my case. They telephoned his office and nobody had any information or any idea about it. So, yet again, the judge (by this point very frustrated) postponed me.

I contacted a couple more lawyers, to the same non-result. The last one I e-mailed was two weeks ago, because that’s when I got the next letter. My hearing was supposed to be today. The thing is, everything had changed. I suddenly had a new judge. The ‘witnesses’ were different. (No longer was a gastroenterologist on the case, for example, now it was an entirely different physical therapy office, but no accredited physician of any kind or any speciality, despite my many diagnosed illnesses). I sent back the paperwork, but I didn’t go in to court today. The case was dismissed out of hand.

I had what I can only classify as an emotional breakdown. I’ve been coping with suicidal ideation for years, I live with it all the time, like a quiet drip or white noise in the back of my brain, something I’m used to, and occasionally hear, and consider, and then filter out. Anyone who lives with constant suicidal ideation will probably tell you they get used to it - it’s like an escape hatch. You’re not going to use it, but you also know it’s there. Well, between Angel being sick and me feeling like it was my fault, my mother being quite ill herself (this is a whole other topic and she doesn’t want me to discuss it, so I’m trying to respect that wish), and the crush of agony and lack of sleep and constant illness that I’ve been dealing with from my own body, I just lost it. I haven’t been what I would consider genuinely suicidal or so depressed that I couldn’t function since 2009, but this threw me back into an extremely dark, dangerous, and self-harmful place. I felt destroyed, I felt like I didn’t want and didn’t deserve to be here anymore, that after all the time I’ve spent trying to advocate for myself, trying to fight, it was all boiling down to nothing. For a couple of days, I was honestly worried that I needed to get help, but I didn’t want to have to go to a hospital, I didn’t want to put my mom through that, so I forced myself to push past it alone. I don’t think I’m in danger of doing further harm to myself right now. I’m just so tired. Which in itself is a small, pointless statement. I feel broken down. It isn’t only the severe pain, the exhaustion, the sickness, the ever-evolving grief cycles that I live with as goals and dreams and ideals pass away, fade further and further into the past. This time, I feel that something has been taken from me. I feel like I’ve suffered repeated deaths of myself, of the girl I used to be, could have been, wanted to be, but this is a new type of death. I feel as though whatever I was trying to fight for - dignity? the right to keep surviving? the right to ask for help? the right to hold on to hope? the right to expect, if not kindness or understanding, the basic acknowledgement of my humanity? - has been stripped from me. Some essential part of my light, even if it’s only a sliver of it, has been snuffed out. That quote from Gone Girl, strange as that may sound, has been on repeat in my mind so often, but rather than having a person to put it on, it’s more existential - this process has taken my pride and my dignity and my hope, has taken and taken from me until I feel as though I no longer existed. I can blame the arduous system, but mostly that guilt and blame falls on myself, even if that’s illogical or I don’t deserve it. I’ve said this many times before, but I feel like a ghost, the spectral remnant of the girl who had meaning and worth and deserved to be here.

I have always had so much love in my heart, and have striven so hard to be compassionate, to give even the smallest fragments of good that I can to others, and I have failed at that a lot lately in trying to deal with and compartmentalize the desperation of all of this. I think finally falling apart, physically and emotionally/mentally, was the only response I could have. And it hurts me, too, seeing the cloud we’re all under - there’s so much hatred, exclusion, meanness, and violence happening around us. The current events have been so ugly. The hugeness of that has been tearing at my spirit as much as my own personal struggles have been. It finally all got to be too much.

I just...it’s hard to comprehend our society, how it actively works against those in need, how it excludes the most vulnerable among us, how it shames people for needing assistance to simply keep living, how providing food or medical care is seen as a luxury rather than a basic right. I wish I had the power to comprehensively change it, to lift up everyone else who has been in my position, to expose its faults and horrors, hold them up to the light, and transform them for the better, but I can’t, because I couldn’t even affect that change for myself. It kills me that anyone else ever has to feel this helpless and powerless and worthless. It makes my heart ache that the sick and injured and impoverished and disabled are seen as subhuman. We have a right to live, to nurture and be nurtured, to love and be loved. We have a right to be seen and heard. 

I wanted to write this today since today is finally the end of this fight for me, since I never got to that proper hearing to determine that fate, since it was tossed aside. I tried for so long to get someone to hear me or legitimize me or realize I needed help, and I lost. I figured documenting it now is all I had left to do. I’m feeling adrift and voiceless because I don’t know where to go from here. I’ve been carrying on with this fight and now I have to put it down, with nothing to show for it but the battle scars. 

#bubble wrap around my heart #suicidal ideation tw #chronic illness #i think i am a better ghost than i am a human being #depression cw #disability #hopefully this is coherent and those tags are enough #i'm still really scattered