I would always have coverage.
I have Complex PTSD.
Not a death sentence but a condition nonetheless
I need meds
They dropped me.
They said that that wouldn't happen.
I went to pick up meds
Can't swing it sorry
So I'm meant to manage my mad alone. What do I do?
The last couple of years have been very trying for me to say the least. I was laid off and I still haven’t found suitable employment. And by suitable I mean I’ve applied to Target, Petsmart, Temp Agencies, everything and anything I might be qualified for. It goes without saying that I'm qualified for any of those jobs that I would have previously thought beneath me. Not that I’m a snob but I have a substantial amount of education and experience. I was an Advertising Copywriter. I do a little freelance but that is very scarce. I’m signed with a temp agency to substitute teach, another to be a banquet server, and another for any administration-type work.
Besides the unemployment, my husband and I survived burst pipes, costly broken vehicles, and a cat that almost died. I wanted to put the cat to sleep. Sorry but I did. I was coerced by my husband and child to revive him. I gave him daily IV’s for a couple months. He’s okay now but very frail. It cost us over $2,000 to keep him alive. Facing substantial debt, the economy tanked. My husband took work in El Paso for months on end. My friend was falling apart. I was falling apart. Then BAM I got a brutal announcement from my husband that he wanted a divorce.
Let me first say I’m not complaining, I’m explaining. I have however, done a lot of complaining and mostly in messy, ridiculous, crazy, inappropriate posts on Facebook and texting my soon-to-be ex. All the while I desperately hid my difficulties from my sweet little girl; asking for help with her when I needed it. It’s been a year since the awakening of the divorce. It was an awakening to just how much I drank to numb myself from the world around me. It also solidified the knowledge that my husband and I had been living in purgatory for years, most of the marriage in fact. We never communicated very well. I have PTSD and I’m terrified most of the time. That’s not an excuse. It’s a reality. We were doomed from day one. We do have a beautiful vibrant 9 year old girl and she is the best thing that came from our marriage. The dance we had developed was a combination of rage, depression, non-sex, workaholism, alcoholism, drugs and more creating a steamy pile of shit. We both contributed and we both developed ways to cope with each other. Yet through it all we really love each other. It’s not a new story but sometimes love just isn’t enough. We don’t like each other very much.
So this last year I have been an emotional mess to say the least. I went to different therapists until I couldn’t afford it anymore. I paid for a psychiatrist even though I couldn’t afford her fees but I also couldn’t afford not to get help. After some trial and error and literally psychotic days we came upon a lovely cocktail that works. I was crazy with pain, confusion, suicidal thoughts and all the while doing my best to hide it from my daughter. Finally I pulled up my boot straps and moved into a cute little apartment with my daughter. I got into a program at the local community college to become a Medical Assistant. I’m busting my butt and doing really well. All A’s except this last block I got a B in Anatomy and Physiology. I missed the A by .5%. Seriously 89.5%. I applied for ACCHS – government health insurance and food stamps. My soon-to-be ex has been extremely financially supportive; he’s still paying the mortgage on the house and paying my daughter’s and my rent. He’s also paying for gas and odds and ends as they come along.
Then little miracles started to happen, I found therapy for free. My soon-to-be ex provided me with money to buy gifts for the holidays. Retail therapy is incredibly healing when you are buying gifts for people you love. I took my daughter to see and she asked him for a wolf and he told her “Santa can’t give wild animals.” So I adopted one for her from wolfhaven.org. I was beginning to feel less stressed; less in pain; more accepting. I had made it through Christmas complete with letting my daughter meet my soon-to-be ex’s girlfriend. I realized I was quite lucky. Although I had been shamelessly betrayed by a beloved friend I remembered why she was beloved to me. She is a sweet, beautiful loving girl. Of course I still secretly hate her guts, but when it comes to my child, I know the ex-friend will be good to her.
Then I had a total breakdown just a few days ago. I raged against the soon-to-be ex. I sobbed (not in the presence of my child.) I drank. I wrote a ranting incomprehensible email and sent to all my family and posted it on Facebook. I didn’t remember writing the letter. My daughter was watching TV while I had been typing away. She was oblivious to the blind rage I had succumbed to. I woke and deleted the FB post. I wrote a letter apologizing to everyone and explained that I had had a blip; a relapse; I effed up. I had therapy that day so I wallowed in my shame and self-hatred as I confessed to my therapist and later to women I have therapy group with. I felt better.
Later I went to Target to buy cat litter on my Christmas gift card. Yay. Meanwhile I called unemployment because they had cut off my benefits and I had to talk to a person to get them reinstated. I had been trying to get through on the phone for two and a half weeks. I got through…estimated wait time approximately 3 hrs. I wasn’t going to hang up. I had my phone on speaker phone. Besides the cat litter I bought a new pillow for myself. I was paying and the phone kept distracting me not knowing if a person had answered or another recorded message was playing. I left my wallet on the counter. I went to the car and when I reached into my bag and realized the wallet wasn’t there. I rushed back in and the checker was gone. I went to customer service to see if it had been turned in. No. I went to security and they reviewed the surveillance tape. Sure enough a guy behind me bought something for 98 cents with cash and nonchalantly swiped my wallet. Panicked, I called the police; called my soon-to-be ex to make sure my daughter was safe. She had been with him and his parents all day and was due to arrive at my house soon. They hadn’t left yet. Good, okay. I called all the credit cards. My checking account had been drained. The bank assured me they will refund the money but this won’t happen until sometime next week. I called my soon-to-be-ex in-laws and asked if my daughter could spend the night. Unemployment came on the line soon after and we went through the infuriating steps to reinstate my benefits. Benefits restored. I was delirious with relief, fear and anger.
The next day I went about putting my life back together. Literally replacing everything I had in the wallet. I went to DES to report my stolen cards and reapplied for everything again. While I waited in the line for an hour and half, I read Anne Lamott’s Grace Eventually. I went to two banks to get temporary ATM cards. As I pulled into the DMV to replace my driver’s license I had an epiphany. After everything; all of it; the whole damn mess I realized that God had stolen my wallet. Somehow the act of replacing everything I realized that it was unbelievably freeing. I was free of my old life. I have to replace, renew and fight to let go. I think I’m on my way.
Footnote 1: My daughter had therapy that day. My soon-to-be-ex in-laws took her for me. Her therapist called me later to say that she seems to be happier and not as stressed. She seems to be coming through and accepting the changes.
Footnote 2: All the soon-to-be-ex stuff is because we haven’t filed. I started to complete the paperwork today. I will be divorced in 2011.
Okay, I had an exchange with someone on facebook today. I think he misunderstood everything I said. That is the normal response to my musings, thoughts, hopes, pains, worries, general freakouts. No one gets me. Do you feel that way? It's extremely disconcerting to be misunderstood. Over and over and over again. I come across as selfish. I don't get it? Seriously. I'm just expressing myself. Why is that selfish? Why can't you express yourself? I'm not in it to hurt anyone else. I'm not trying to fuck with you. I fuck with myself. That's how my brain works. No one gets me. If you think you do I will either come to bore you or Exasperate you because I will accomplish more than the average bear While hating every inch of myself. Why? It bothers you. It bores you. You try to live it and I will give you props Shit I'll give you props for being alive. Why does my reality garner rejection? It's constant. I know I should figure this out I have been trying to seek guidance in this dilemma. I honestly don't get it and that's is why you will hate me without Understanding that I need help. Not advice but feedback Not criticism but concrete explanation of what I have done. I don't see what I've done, been, tried, cried as heinous yet you do. Don't say "you're selfish" Don't say "you are impossible." I'm not either but confused. My brain doesn't work that way. It can't (apparently) comprehend your analysis. Your frustration is met with mine.
It all started about three days into my pregnancy. Being a bit of a partier I was depressed about not being able to drink anymore. Pathetic but it had only been 3 days. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I have a degree in art but painting didn’t appeal to me at the time. I was lying face down on my bed when it came to me. I saw it. This tapestry of broken records. It even has Carol King’s Tapestry on it along with Willie Nelson, Linda Rondstadt, E.L.O., Kenny Loggins and many others. I found the records at thrift stores.
The concept is about how much music plays a part in our lives. Old music I listened to as a kid. Records have become somewhat obsolete. The memories. The ‘broken record’ of memories that go through our minds over and over. Waxing nostalgic. It’s not just visual. It’s how our lives fit together. How important and painstaking so many deeds are.
I broke the records which represents heartbreak. It was painful to break them. Really painful! I hand drilled every hole. I sewed each piece with wax cotton thread. It was my catharsis before I took on a new life as a mom. I was a musician. Music was my soul. My new baby meant more. I sang to her so much as a baby she won’t listen to me sing anymore.
It’s been sitting in the closet for 9 years. It took a year to make by hand.
Today is Easter. The Easter bunny was a hit. I got up to greet my late (as in tardy not dead) soon-to-be-ex-husband to pickup our daughter for Easter festivities at Gramma and Granpa’s. When they left I cried. I got in my car and drove to Madera Canyon to pick up sticks. Seriously. I’m picking up sticks to make biodegradable public art. I drove the wrong way for about an hour before I realized I was heading back to Tucson. There were rows and rows of pecan trees. They’d all been shorn and stacks of glorious sticks lay by the side of the road just beyond a barbed wire fence. When I was younger I would have ignored the fence and taken as many sticks as I wanted. It felt wrong, being Easter and all. I finally made it to the gateway of Madera and the Sheriff was turning people back. Too full. I asked to use the restroom and was allowed to park in the lower lot. There in front of me were piles of sticks. Mesquite sticks Beautiful sticks. I took as many as I could muster. I say muster because I haven’t been eating much. I tend to feel like I’m going to pass out. An older man that I thought was a forest ranger was watching me. I said “Are you the ranger?” He said “Oh, no, no I’m just out enjoying the day.” I said “I thought I might be in trouble.” “I’m not collecting kindling. I’m working on an art project.” He said “Oh, what kind?” (For some reason old people say Oh? a lot.) I said “I’m building structures out of wood and twine. All biodegradable. I want to build big structures out in nature or in a busy part of downtown and just leave them there. I don’t know why I just feel compelled to do it.” He thought that was right dandy. He’s a retired architect and his late wife (not tardy) was apparently quite the artist. He helped me load my car with my pile of wood and sticks. I should have photographed him. I was nervous. Stupid brain. We exchange numbers and addresses. He didn’t have any need for email. I pondered how to send him pictures without email for quite a while when lo and behold I realized I could mail prints to him. We both had a good laugh about that one. He invited me to Easter dinner but I declined. It probably would have been interesting but I was anxious to get building. On the way out I saw a beautiful hawk. It was sitting by the side of the rode. I pulled over to photograph it just as it took off. It disappeared. It was gone. Just silence. I turned on the radio and Little Bird by the eels came on the radio. It was beautiful. And just having seen a hawk disappear. Oh I don’t know – I’m a line drawer. Here’s another one. I stopped at McDonalds’ for a soda. It was $1.07. That’s all I had in my wallet - $1.07. Then Lou Reed started singing Jesus on the radio. “Jesus, help me find my proper place Jesus, help me find my proper place Help me in my weakness 'Cos I'm falling out of grace Jesus Jesus” It’s a Velvet Underground song. It’s a new recording with 5 Guys or something like that. I’ve been pretty lost lately. Everything was speaking to me. But I couldn’t speak to me. I wanted to build my structure – art - thingy. I couldn’t figure out where. I drove all over downtown, by El Tiradito a shrine to a murderer (where I was married incidentally). I was going to ask a friend if I could build it outside her coffee shop, but she wasn’t there. By this time I had to go to the bathroom again. I drove home deflated but I waited to get home to pee. I signed back onto facebook. I hang my head in shame but I have deleted most all my old friends. The urgency to build the art thing was prodding me like some weird electrical impulse. I drove to Reid Park. There were three million Mexicans barbecuing for Easter there. Nothing felt right. I made myself stop and eat some sushi. If I’m going to eat it might as well be worth it. I came home and unloaded the large pieces of wood. The trunk is totally full of sticks. I will find a place to build it. I will find a place of my own.
You appear to be the bigger person Extending an olive branch Let bygones be bygones The bruises have healed We can be friends We can move one But the truth is your deed will never allow you to be the bigger person. You will always be a whore whether I forgive you or not. Yes we can move on But you are not my friend.
THERAPIST: List what character traits, behaviors and beliefs/interpretations discussed in BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER DEMYSTIFIED that fit you.
Poorly regulated emotions Impulsivity Impaired perception and reasoning Markedly disturb relationships Anxiety Chronic feelings of emptiness Impulsive behavior that harms me Suicidal ideation Self-mutilating Disassociative symptoms Depersonalization Unstable self-image or sense of self Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment Feelings of inferiority Negative therapeutic reactions Environmental risk factors Early separation or loss Trauma Ineffective parenting Poor emotional control Emotional lability Post-traumatic stress disorder Mood disorders Substance use Disorders Anorexia Depression Sleep disorders Low energy Low self-esteem Poor concentration or difficulty making decisions Feelings of hopelessness Panic disorders Partially Narcissistic Histrionic Dependent Paranoia
THERAPIST: List what character traits, behaviors and beliefs/interpretations discussed in BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER DEMYSTIFIED that don’t fit you.
I’m sitting in a war torn apocalypse contemplating the consequences of trying to escape. Shall I remain in its painful comfort or enter the imaginary world of light where bad things are just bad dreams and the rest of life is candy, cakes and ice cream.