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All posts for the month November, 2017

Published November 30, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I was thinking about how my grandmother betrayed me. How she betrayed my uncle. And how my mom betrayed me. I think I realized that this is why I have no self worth. My own family doesn’t value my life. My father didn’t, my grandmother didn’t, my mother didn’t. It’s no wonder I struggle with this. My own family members… and not just one- a bunch of them.

I think it’s why I react so strongly when my friends aren’t there for me. I was wondering what my problem is with that. It’s that I just start to believe my friends when they tell me my life has value…and then if ANYTHING happens to the contrary, I see it as confirmation of what I believe- that I’m not a human being worthy of value.

I’m fighting that so much- but I feel like I’m fake fighting it. I’m trying to tell myself I have value and worth, but I don’t believe it for a moment.

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Published November 30, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I’ve been struggling hard these last few days. I am so deeply sad. And alone. I know I’ve said that repeatedly…but these feelings are so overwhelming…and persistent.

I feel like I’m trying so, so hard. But anytime I act happy for even a second, it’s so fake. It’s like I’m even trying to convince myself that I’m ok. But I think it’s what I have to do- keep trying to be happy? I’m just not sure that’s a viable solution. With the issues I’m dealing with, can I just will away sadness and will toward myself happiness? I don’t think so.

I’ve had a migraine for three days now. It went away yesterday (yay!) but then came back today. My appetite is back and I’ve been eating like crazy…getting fat. But whatever….it makes me hate myself more, but at the same time, I couldn’t care less. My thoughts are focused on much more pressing issues.

I know- almost for a fact- that I wouldn’t have lived through Thanksgiving break if I stayed here alone. I had multiple break-downs with my mom, but the rest of the time was bearable and I am alive. I might not like that…but…mission accomplished. I’m thinking I need to do something similar for Christmas break. I LOVE Christmas. I haven’t decorated my place in years. I always told myself I didn’t have the money for a tree and it was just for me anyway, so I should forego it. This year, I’m doing just the opposite. I REALLY don’t have money for a tree, but I got one anyway. I dug out my Christmas decorations and went to town decorating. It does make me smile for a second when I walk in my place and see the tree and the lights. I don’t have ornaments, but a lit up Christmas tree is beautiful enough to me.

So for Christmas break, I know I can’t stay here alone. I usually drive across the country to stay with my mom. I REALLY don’t feel like driving for days, but I cannot see living through the holidays if I’m by myself.

I can’t see January.

I’ve been trying to see January FOR MONTHS now and I can’t. It’s like a black void. There’s nothing there. It doesn’t exist. It’s something I’ll never see. It makes me think I won’t live to see it. I don’t know why else it would be blocked out from my view.

But I’m trying.

That’s why I’m going to make sure I don’t spend the holidays alone. I’m trying…as fake as it might feel to me.

I’m trying to do everything I can to enjoy life, to find happiness, to ignore the persistent sadness, to pursue God, to be open to his will, to continue to love every person in my life. I care so deeply for others, but lately I’ve been terrible at showing it. I feel like part of our purpose in life is to love others in the name of Christ. I want to do that. I don’t want to be so wrapped up in myself that I don’t see others in pain or in their struggle.

The persistence of loss. The persistence of sadness and despondency. It’s already worn me so thin….and it’s still unraveling me. There’s not much left

Published November 28, 2017 by Chloe Madison

Overall, today was a good day. It was good to get back to work and see everyone. People told me they missed me over Thanksgiving break and that was a nice surprise to hear. Plus, I REALLY don’t do well when I have too much free time to let my brain wander and stew on my issues. So it’s good to get back to work and feel productive.

I woke up last night at 2am with a migraine. Stupid hospital bills stressing me out. I got another one today- another $6,000 something for the 5 days. I’m suspicious though that there might be more- how can 8 hours in the ER cost three times more than 5 days and nights in a hospital? Is that normal? Anyway, I’m worried there might be some more charges coming. I got additional charges for the ER doctor…and there weren’t any charges yet for the hospital doctors for the 5 days…(YIKES!!!) I’m worried that will be coming soon… 😨

I just keep repeating to myself, “don’t freak out!”

“Don’t freak out!”

“Don’t freak out!”

Gah….😓 I cannot handle this. I cannot handle any more strain on my life. I kept saying to myself over and over again today, “my life is not worth $16,000!!!”

And it’s not. It’s so true. 😦

Alright…what I’m thankful for: I’m thankful for having a good, albeit headache-filled day at work. I’m thankful for better dreams these last few days- I literally dreamed of puppies and ice cream and donuts! 😂 I kid you not! The puppies were drowning…but in my dream, we saved them all and got them all adopted. So it all worked out well. No nightmares last night either… but I was awake at 2am and couldn’t go back to sleep (even with sleeping pills). Hopefully, that won’t happen tonight.

I’m also thankful for something else. I thought a lot about my uncle yesterday and I meant to write that I was thankful for this yesterday, but I got side tracked when I got the hospital bills. I was thinking how he told people that my dad sexually abused him and no one believed him. Knowing that my grandma knew about my abuse and conspired to cover it up…I believe that she believed my uncle, but maybe acted like she didn’t in order to keep it all quiet and protect my dad. But, everyone else that he told… no one believed him. That makes me so sad. I was thinking about that and I realized that I haven’t had that issue. Yes, my mom and grandma knew all along and did nothing to help me or protect me…but I never told them. I never told anyone until I was 18 years old. That’s the first time I had the courage to say a word. I never had the experience of someone not believing me. And that’s what I’m thankful for. I can’t imagine how much more damaging this could be if I was told I wasn’t believed. It made me see that my uncle had more damage done by not having support when he sought it out. That’s so messed up. I’m so grateful that the very few people I’ve shared with have had my back….(minus my two friends who jumped ship recently).

When I think about suicide, I find myself rationalizing that I share the same fate as my uncle. I told myself that over and over. He didn’t survive what my dad did, why would I? He committed suicide, it must be my fate as well. Am I stronger than he is? No way! So why do I think I’d survive when he didn’t? He lived for decades and decades and STILL wound up succumbing to his psychological injuries. My dad will ultimately be responsible for two deaths…and for wrecking who knows how many lives!

…This is what I told myself and this is how I thought. And yesterday when I was thinking about no one believing my uncle, I thought that he must have had it harder. It’s must have been so much more difficult for him because people didn’t believe him. He saw my dad all the time and knew my dad got away with disgusting, evil acts. And HIS OWNMOTHER covered it up. I mean…mine did too. But still…

My fear of not being believed only manifested in one instance and that was with Joe. He had always physically, intellectually, and psychologically intimidated me. Before the rape occurred, he had already been physically violent with both myself and my little dog. So I had already been staying away from him. We were no longer friends because he broke the septum in my nose when he slammed my head against a wall. I had been tapping on something and it had annoyed him. That was the last time I ever talked to him. I was scared and stayed away after that. And months later, the rape occurred. And now…he’s an attorney. Geez…I feel even more intimidated by his occupation. There’s no way I could accuse him without massive fear and anxiety regarding retaliation on his part. I’m almost certain of it. So I see how a fear of not being believed can affect you. I can’t imagine how much that affected my uncle when he tried to confide in people.

I’m trying really, really hard. Things aren’t going well. I’m more deeply depressed than before…but I don’t know if that’s because of the meds or my nice little stay in the hospital that’s giving me a complex. I feel so ashamed of it. My one friend who visited me (and who drove two hours to do so) told me the other day that the hospitalization “doesn’t define you.” I really needed to hear that. I don’t know how she read my thoughts…I’ve been so down on myself for getting hospitalized and feeling like if people find out, they’ll think I’m a looney. It makes me so much more scared to share with anyone. I don’t blame people- I think they’d subconsciously judge me or hold it against me. Anyway, I need to internalize that idea- that this hospitalization doesn’t define me. God does, right?

That’s all I need- another identity crisis.

Published November 27, 2017 by Chloe Madison

For the record, I never want to step foot in an ER again. I don’t care if a semi truck hit me and I’m half splattered on the side of the road. My life is not worth $16,000! It never was and it never will be. #fact

I’m so screwed.

Published November 26, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I can’t trust God. Maybe that’s because so many bad things have happened. Maybe it’s because my earthly father wasn’t trustworthy and I subconsciously equate that with my Heavenly Father. Maybe it’s both.

How can you have hope in something you can’t trust? If you want to criticize me for that or think that I’m an immature Christian…then, that’s your choice.

I just can’t bring myself to fully trust God. How can I reconcile all the bad that he lets happen? Yes, you say “oh it’s because we live in a fallen world” and that’s true. But God IS sovereign. I know that. So he allows evil to reign.

But as I sit and think…I don’t really believe God fully loves me. Does he love me a little? Sure. Does he love all of me? No. And I’m not just referring to the sinful parts of me. I don’t see how God can love me.

How can anyone ever love me after they find out I was locked up in a looney bin?

And speaking of the looney bin…the bills have begun. How can an ER visit cost $16,570.46??? I’m trying so hard not to freak out. But the shaking and crying have begun. I got another bill from the ambulance which was less than I expected. They only want $358.63. Then I got an additional bill from the ER doctor for an another $695. And do you know what the best part is?? I haven’t even received the bill for the 5 days and nights that I was locked up!!! I’m terrified to find out how much that will cost me. All of these are “out of network” providers. They can charge whatever they want for services I fought tooth and nail against…and I’m the one who gets the joy of this immense financial burden.

How am I supposed to survive? How am I supposed to pay this? How is this supposed to help someone who doesn’t want to live? Is this really supposed to make me want to live now? Seriously? Yeah…let’s throw a huge financial burden and strain on you…don’t think you’re dealing with enough…there…now you’re really drowning in debt…don’t dare come up for air…feel better now? Smh.

Sorry…I’m trying to use twisted humor and sarcasm to deal with this. I’m trying so hard to not freak out, to stop crying. How can ONE PERSON handle bills like these?

This was the worst experience of my life. I’ve been trying to brace myself for the financial part that I knew was coming. I guess I’ve done a horrible job of preparing myself. I don’t know what to do.

Published November 26, 2017 by Chloe Madison

Stop for a minute and think. Imagine your life with no one. Imagine not having your spouse, your children. There are no family members living close by. No brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, or uncles anywhere close. Seriously…stop and try to imagine this for your life. Years and years and years pass by…and you’re all alone. Every day. Every night. Every weekend. Can you even imagine this for your life?

This is mine. And it’s ok except for the fact that I’ve recently lost a few friendships. But this is why those friendships are so vital to my life. IT’S ALL I HAVE. Yes, you can say I have a relationship with God. But for living, breathing human beings…friendships are all I have. And I surely don’t have that many of them. I’m super shy so making new friends is near impossible and I have such a difficult time trusting people. I was just ruminating with a friend over how every single one of my relationships (boyfriends) was someone who was very outgoing. And when I was young I realized those were the only guys bold enough to strike up a conversation with someone as shy as myself.

Anyway, the point is that I’ve been racking my brain over what I can do to salvage my friendships and not sabotage them anymore. I need them. And those people all deserve better too. It’s not just for me. I want to be a better person and a better friend. That’s what made me start researching how PTSD affects relationships. It’s something I’ll be working on and I can only pray that my friends will be gracious and patient with me as I flounder my way through this. I’ve been so distressed over this one issue lately. I’ll probably continue to write about this because I’ve been tormented over the loss of these friends and I very much fear losing any more. I’m terrified of it actually. They’re all I have in this world.

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The last picture I put up on my Facebook is so disturbing to me. My sister-in-law took a picture of me holding my nephew, but it was right after I had two intense breakdowns. I’d cried for hours at this point. I was so out of it. My eyes are vacant and hollow. My nose is red from crying. My face is so downtrodden with sadness. I actually hate myself in that picture, but the baby is so precious that I decided to put it up. People commented on how that’s a moment to cherish…smh. No one knows. No one understands. I feel so disconnected.

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Nightmares have increased exponentially since I got out. They’re just about every other night now. And what used to be rare (continuing a dream after waking up from it and going back to sleep) is now commonplace. Gah…why does it have to be the nightmares that continue? I’m pretty good at analyzing my dreams and figuring out what my brain was trying to process. Lately, many of the nightmares have been from being locked up against my will. I was terrified and still am terrified that it can happen again at any moment.

There have been some weird nightmares though that I can’t quite figure out what they’re from. One is of me getting shot. I can’t remember the whole dream- only a sliver of it. I’m in a crowd of people and someone open fires into the crowd. A man is shot next to me and he falls on top of me, burying my face. He’s dead and is laying face up on top of my upper chest and face. I almost feel suffocated because I can’t breathe. But then I realize the shooter is still shooting so I freeze instead of trying to free myself. The shooter goes quiet. He’s taken the entire crowd down. He decides to open fire one last time on everyone laying on the floor- just to make sure everyone’s dead. This is when I get shot in the stomach. I feel the burn and sting of the bullet and my body contracts a little as the bullet enters. I wake up a moment after that. I’d go back to sleep and dream it again. I have no idea where this particular nightmare is coming from or what my brain might be trying to process. But like all my nightmares, I wake up with my heart beating out of my chest, drenched in sweat, and I can’t catch my breath.

Then there’s the creepy cult nightmare. There’s a cult that’s taken over this little town I live in and they dictate everything…right down to the food you eat. For some reason, I was suspicious about their food and didn’t want to eat it. So I didn’t. I knew the penalty was death. They would try to coerce you into eating and if you refused, they’d chase you down and kill you. So after various groups of people tried to coerce me to eat their food, it was decided that I wasn’t compliant and I’d have to be killed. I’d run and try to hide…but literally every person in the town is after me. No one is safe. I’d spend a good part of the dream running and hiding…I’d wake up just as someone is about to tackle me. Then I’d fall asleep again and re-dream the not eating part and the getting chased down part over and over.

This dream I can link to several things though. First and most depressing…is my church. I kind of equate the cult to my church and how I don’t feel wanted there or welcome there anymore. I’m afraid that’s why in the dream I’m not wanted…instead, they want to kill me. The other part is from getting locked up. I was so physically ill from being re-traumatized in there that I couldn’t eat, I fought back puking constantly, and had diarrhea nonstop. But I knew they were watching and noting every time someone didn’t eat. I was so terrified they’d hold it against me, that I put something in my mouth whenever they looked (this is also why I tried to hold in my vomit). When they weren’t looking, I gave the rest of the food away. I wasn’t trying to break rules on purpose…I was just so damned sick to my stomach. It was unreal. Anyway, I think that’s where the food part comes from…and the rules about “you must eat our food”…this is just like in the hospital. Then there’s the “no one is safe” part. Huh. I think that’s part of my PTSD and then some. I’ve never felt that any one human being on this earth is entirely safe. Never. I remember several months back trying to get myself to trust people again and picking out the most benign, harmless, most Christ-like individuals- and then questioning myself on if I fully trusted them or not. And if not, why? Never…I was never able to convince myself that any person was safe. There’s always a danger. There’s always the potential for harm. That’s just life. And now it seems even more dangerous to me- I’ve been stung by the people closest to me. No one is safe. Not a soul.

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Tonight I was driving back from somewhere. It took a few hours. I thought over and over again of different ways I could die. And then I started thinking, why is that considered bad? Why is that considered a failure? I’m not convinced that God wants me here on this earth. He surely doesn’t need me. I’m no good to anyone. But why is dying considered so bad?? Why does some person get to say that it’s not ok? Isn’t that between God and I? And like I said, I’m not so sure he wants me here. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t actually. He wouldn’t have made my life like this.

Everything has been so much worse since I got out. I can sit here and say how I want to be a better person…and I do…but things are not good. Everything is so much worse. I am doing so much worse. I feel so much more alone than I did before. I don’t see how this will get any better. But for now, I’m here. I’m open to help. I want to get better. I just don’t see it ever happening.