I do. I don’t care how bad people think she’s been. We got to talk today, since I’ve been visiting her. Though she doesn’t exactly believe what I tell her happened, she’s come to acknowledge and respect that I believe what happened. Which means a lot to me
So yes, this weeks been pretty good.
Tomorrow I have therapy, which is just more to look forward to I suppose. I have things I need to talk to her about.
With dad, and no, this isn’t related to the last post I made about him in being in the hospital. He was let out that very next day, then he was out for a day before he started having a fever of about 102-103 before going back.
I wish they could figure out what’s wrong with him.
In other news, I’m off of the Saphiris, which is a good thing because I hated the pill anyway. It made me feel all panic-y in public places. So I’m trying something called Invega. I’m only taking about 3 mg. Don’t feel much of a difference though.
Mom called, though she apologized for how she treated me the other day and we both talked. She still doesn’t believe me - but knows very well I believe what happened, but thinks it’s something like the medicine I used to take when I was young.
Then, dad gets taken to the hospital for having seizure like symptoms and banging his head up against a concrete wall. Apparently before that he was feeling very suicidal, almost as if he wasn’t there. Like he was watching himself.
I’m worried about him. He’s never done anything like this before and for him it’s out of the norm, and he doesn’t remember most of it.
It went well today, and instead of Bipolar Disorder 2 that my therapist had originally thought, he said that it sounded more like Borderline Personality Disorder. He thinks I might be mildly Bipolar, but he’s not for sure.
All in all, it wasn’t really a shocker to me or my step-mom, because of how I go to dads one week and my moms the next. It’s like I live two separate lives.
So he gave us a free sample of Saphris, it’s 5mg and he wants me to take it for a week to see if it can stabilize my mood swings. If it doesn’t work, then he’ll change it when he sees me in a week.
Other than that, I’ve done a bit of research on BPD, and I’m not sure what to think, but it does seem reasonable I suppose.
Oh, and my dad took the liberty of calling my mom. She thinks either dad or the medicine I take put the thoughts of the abuse in my head.
I’ve never felt a bigger urge to cuss her out in my whole life.
Went very well, and no, they won’t be sending me to some mental hospital or anything. My therapist said something along the lines of “I have to be suicidal and planning on killing myself.”
I don’t plan on killing myself.
And in the end we all decided that I would stay at my dads a little longer maybe longer if I need it, and mom suggested that I go during the day when James (moms husband; or ‘step-dad’) isn’t there.
Dads going to talk to her about it, since she has a tendency to get defensive and upset easily, and the therapist doesn’t think I need the extra stress on my mind.
Then the therapist wants to call her in and talk to her by herself. To talk about me and other stuff. I didn’t really catch everything she was saying; it was early and I was still very tired, but it was something along the lines of me and wondering why she doesn’t believe what I told her about James and what he did.
It just worries me. I know she’s going to get upset and I’m going to be the one it’s directed at, and I don’t want another ‘meeting’ with her James and me, having him tell me he didn’t do anything, and her saying, “Oh well it was probably a nightmare.”
Horseshit. Complete horseshit.
You were to busy working of a night to know what happened, and before my brothers came along I was all alone with this sick fuck. And I don’t know whether it was trauma that keeps me from remembering any of it, or simply the fact I was little. It angers and confuses me.
I can only remember one thing, and I can’t remember how old I am, but it really disturbed me. I hate having to think about it.
I kinda’ feel that nobody’s going to believe me here, either.
Sorry for the tiny rant. I’m just stressed. :I
And thank you to those who gave me some advice, it really helped<3
I think staying at dads for a while will help ease my mind and take away some of the stress.
I know your mom may feel hurt by you leaving, but I think eventually she will realize it's what is best for your mental health right now. And if she can't see that, then you shouldn't be living with her.. I hope your appointment tomorrow goes smoothly.. Take care of yourself.
I think she would understand, or at least I hope so. I’m old enough to choose where I want to stay now, and I guess I just ignored the fact he was there for so long I never thought anything about it. It’s just hard; I have brothers I don’t want to leave, stuff I wanted to do there, but I guess I can’t if I have a mental breakdown every time I go over there.
Thank you. I hope it does to. I’m somewhat nervous though, but my therapist is a nice lady. So I’m not to worried.
Hi there. I track the PTSD tag so I noticed your post about staying at your dad's, going to the hospital for a week, and just wanting some general feedback on the situation.. So I hope I'm not overstepping my bounds as a complete stranger on Tumblr who's stumbled onto your blog for only a few minutes. But here's my two cents: From what you post, I can gather that staying with your dad and stepmom would probably be a lot better for your mental health. They seem very supportive and that is hugely important for what you are going thru. I've never been a fan of meds, so I won't comment on those. And with the hospital thing... That's kind of a drastic measure to take. I would think long and hard before you decide to do that. Talk to your dad/stepmom about it. Maybe just take the week to see if just being in a healthier environment helps at all. Anyway, I hope this helps. My name is Andrea and you can talk to me any time you want. <3
Thank you Andrea.
They are. My step-mom understands how I feel from first-hand experience herself. So it’s nice to feel I have somebody to talk to.
You know, I think you’re right. What just worries me is having to tell my mom. She didn’t believe me when I told her about what he did to me, and I don’t want to hurt her feelings by leaving. I know that may seem like a childish reason, but that’s just how I feel.
And I have, they said the psychiatrist might put me there after he sees what I did to my arm, but they’re not for sure.
I’m at my dads now, and I told everybody what I did to my arm. Instead of getting mad or yelling, they understood. I didn’t feel so isolated and alone
They think I need to stay over here, away from my moms and her husband, (sorry to confuse anybody, but I don’t really see him as a worthy “step-dad”, after all he’s put me through) so I don’t have to look and see him everyday. The stress it’s putting on my mind is driving me insane, and I think I’ve come to realize this now.
My step-mom told me, “Every time you come back here you get a little weaker, and a little weaker, and a little weaker; and this is the weakest I’ve ever seen you.”
I can’t help but believe that now. I feel like total shit.
So I have an appointment tomorrow with the therapist. Dad says I need to tell them, because he’s afraid I’ll do it again - and I’m not going to deny it.
It was just this morning before I left I had the urge to cut and hurt myself again; I wasn’t sad, happy - wasn’t feeling anything really. I just wanted to hurt myself. I didn’t know why.
I guess it can really be that easy to get addicted to something, huh?
Dad thinks that they might send me to some sort of mentle hospital or institute, or if they don’t I might need to go check myself in. Something I’ve never really considered, but I need to know if that would be best. Though I have a psychiatrist appointment on the 12th, he thinks my therapist might call him into the room for the meeting about what I did (since they both work in the same building).
I don’t know what to do. Maybe I need to be away for a week or so? Or maybe just staying here would be best? Or maybe the meds I might be put on will make me better?
I’m just at a loss. I need some help.
I would really, really appreciate some feedback or something.
Before it eats me up inside and I do something stupid again. I already did something I said I never would again, and am slowly becoming the one person I never wanted to be. A cutting, self-mutilating maniac. Whether or not you think this is for attention is up to you, because, you know maybe I do want some fucking attention. I want to feel like I exist. Like I matter on this god forsaken planet and that somebody would actually remember me if I died.
Anyway, part of this is to somebody who will remain anonymous, since I don’t have the guts to tell it to them straightforward. I don’t want to hurt them anymore than I already have. I don’t want to tell them that I miss talking to them and that I hate myself for not being able to get over it. Even though it was all my fault. Haha, how ironic.
Looking back now it’s obvious how much of a shitty friend I was; I took everything for granted and bitched and complained so much (especially back on MySpace), which is probably the reason I never post how I feel all the time much anymore, because I get so angry and depressed over the smallest things it seems. It almost feels like I have no control over myself anymore. I always hurt and the urge to carve and cut on my skin is practically irresistible. I’ve already done it twice already, and one’s so bad there’s massive pain when I move my left hand back and forth. All over something I thought I’d gotten over a long time ago; something stupid. But it seems it took me to have to sit in the bathroom and cry like a baby to realize what I’d lost and will never get back. I was greedy and selfish - I’ve always been that way and I don’t deserve the friends I’ve made. Maybe that’s why barley any of us talk anymore. I wouldn’t be surprised.
And relationships? I’ve had about four-five maybe, and I’ve been a total asshole in all of them. Every. Single. One. Whether it was online or in real-life, I never seemed to be good at it. I would get close to them, think I was happy, then at one point I would panic when I would think I was getting to close to the person, so I would not call/text/IM/get together for a good while, almost hoping they would forget about me. I always tried to keep a good distance. I never understood why until I met my therapist. Only one of those relationships was I truly happy to be out of - because the guy was a total douche and somewhat abusive. So I’m glad he cheated so I didn’t have to deal with his pathetic ass anymore.
All of the others, I wish I could walk up to every one of those people and apologize, for doing the same thing over and over. I wish I had been able to explain why I am the way I am, but instead I backed off and waited for you to get tired of the relationship and cut it off so I wouldn’t have to.
To this day, I still can hardly stand relationships, kissing, cuddling, and all that mushy crap. I don’t even like holding hands, and that definatley says something about a person. I can hardly take a hug from anyone other than family and good friends. Yet, it seems when they find somebody else and become happy again, I feel like shit. I want to cry. I hurt and I don’t understand why, because isn’t that what I wanted? To be free from the relationship? It was, but I still cared about them. I cared enough to want them to be mine, but because of my distrust and fear, I didn’t want to be in the relationship. I understand how confusing that might sound to some people. Only one of the people I’ve ever dated knows about my PTSD and the abuse I suffered as a child. We’re not dating anymore, because of me, but I still care about and trust him, but I’m not sorry we stopped dating; since he thought “if I had sex with him it would cure me and I would be all better.” Nope. Sorry. No way. I don’t like dating men anymore. All they seem interested in is having sex with their girlfriends and getting pregnant and blah blah blah. I’m not like that, and to have to tell everybody that wants to date me, “Sex ain’t gonna’ happen, just so you know.” just seems arrogant, but no guy would probably ever want to date me then. Then again, who would want to be with somebody who they couldn’t even touch? It’s still almost impossible for me to type “sexual abuse”, let alone tell anybody, but I think they should get to know why I hate being physical and romantic so much.
So, this is me, telling everybody I’ve ever hurt: I’m sorry. I’m sorry I always ranted and complained. I’m sorry if I ignored you or acted like I didn’t care. I’m sorry if I dated you and ignored or pretended you didn’t exist. I’m sorry if I bored or irritated you. I am sorry.
I guess it’s time to take back all the bad things I said about my step-mom.
Well, after having to pawn some shit to get some money to pay bills, she went and bought some stuff and spent some of that money. Later that day when dad comes home and finds out, he throws the biggest bitch fit and decides to scare everybody in the house with his ranting and raving and just childish shit.
I’ve learned to block it out, and I wanted to say something, but I still get weak legs when he screams the way he does. I hated him yelling at her the way he did, but there wasn’t much I could do about it, even she said that probably would have been bad.
So she suggested me and Sam go to my moms for the night, and I called and had my uncle come and get me, and of course that didn’t sit well with him. Instead he got all pissed again and made it sound like it was some sort of “privilege” to have him yelling instead of just wailing on us when he got pissed.
Wow dad, nice way to make yourself look like an ass.
Whatever, he’ll get over it eventually.
That’s my week for everybody, hope you can deal with my posting and ranting instead of art or pictures. I’ve been kinda’ busy.