All posts for the month January, 2018

Published January 30, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I cannot stand this feeling.

I can’t even articulate it. I feel so, so alone. I can’t get over how incredibly alone I am in this world. I think it would be easier if I was the only human on earth, instead of being surrounded by people.

My roommate went to our apartment when I was at work today and took a bunch of her stuff. I only saw her once since I was in the hospital. That time, she came by the apartment and tried to run out without speaking to me. I said hi to her and she said hi back…but she refused to even look me in the face. She literally darted out the door. I don’t know why I’m so bothered that she took some of her things today. It just feels more empty.

It’s a more physical reality of the fact that people are distancing themselves from me. She acts like I have the plague. Everyone who knows I was in the hospital acts like that. People have stayed away from me, have stopped talking to me….and people who I used to think cared, have made it clear they don’t even trust me anymore. I’m broken over that. So, so disturbed and hurt and broken over that. Just as I start to open up and share and trust another human being, they bolt and act like I’m diseased…like they’re not allowed to be in the same room with me. It makes me feel like shit.

I wish to God I could just disappear. Forever. For fucking ever.

I hate this. I hate myself. I hate that I can’t connect with people and when I do, it somehow backfires and they bail. I hate that I don’t trust people…and I hate that they don’t trust me. Don’t people know I wouldn’t hurt a soul? To feel unwanted and not trusted…ugh…it’s a horrible, horrible feeling.

I have no idea where I’ll be living come this summer. I’ll need to move again. I don’t know where to go. I’m thinking of putting my stuff in storage and going without a place for the summer- just to save money. I’m not praying much, but the very few things I’m asking God for includes a place to call home. Somewhere I can belong.

But I just don’t. I simply don’t belong anywhere or with anyone. I wish I had a family. A nice, loving family that talked and hugged each other all the time. Tears are streaming down my face and clouding my vision as I write this. I want to belong. I want a family. This, though….this will never happen.


That’s something I don’t have. You would think I do…after all that I’ve been through, I’m still walking upright. I was physically, psychologically, and very much emotionally abused by my mom. My father molested me when I was 11 or 12. My mom and grandma conspired to cover it up. When I was 9, I was raped so many times by a neighbor, that I don’t even know how many times…that included sodomy. That shame has never left me. My father died from cancer only about a year later…after I wished him dead. For half of my life, I thought it was my fault he died. I got pregnant at 18 and planned to marry my boyfriend. My mom wouldn’t allow it. She forced an abortion on us. I was raped again when I was 22. I got pregnant and out of fear of every possible scenario, I had another abortion, believing it was the best course of action. I still solemnly remember those would-be birthdays. I believe that’s why God won’t give me any more children. My house has been broken into, my car has been stolen. My uncle committed suicide over the fact that my dad sexually abused him and no one believed him. My father is a sexual predator/ molester/ whatever you want to call it. I’ve been mugged, pretty much every single crime you can think of has been perpetrated against me. Yet, I still stand. Wobbly and shaking and reaching out for something to hold on to for support…but I’m still upright.

But I’m no longer resilient. This has changed me. I’ve given up.

I used to be much happier. I saw a video of myself today from a while back and I couldn’t believe how funny, energetic, and happy I was. I didn’t even know the girl in the video. It was surreal to watch someone who looks so much like me be so completely different from who I am now. Is that what depression does to you? Is that what anxiety and PTSD does? Is that what happens when you’ve lost hope and people have dipped out of your life because they simply don’t care? Do you turn into this wasteland of a body with nothing but numbingly sharp emotions and tears and fears? Do you just have so much rage inside that you have to act- even if that means hurting yourself?

Published January 28, 2018 by Chloe Madison

If you are a follower of Christ, please do not read this.

I am completely overwhelmed by feelings of anger, hate, of not belonging, and of feeling detached from absolutely everyone. In church today, I was so agitated and angered by everything. I was even annoyed by the singing and felt like I wasn’t welcome the second I entered. That unwelcome feeling never waned. I don’t know why I have so much anger there. I think it’s just my anger at God. I’m not sure.

Today my pastor was talking about Revelation 2:12-17. Gah. Now I can’t remember what he said. But whatever he said, he talked about Satan.

It triggered the memory of the time a few months back when I told Satan to kill me. I wanted to die so badly. I had already begged God to take my life over and over and he wouldn’t do it. I knew Satan would. I also knew Satan would screw me over. I figured he would make me get into a horrible car accident, where I’d be horribly maimed or a vegetable- but wouldn’t die. I’d just suffer indefinitely. I knew it was a mistake, but I didn’t have the courage to take enough action myself to ensure my own death.

Sundays are terribly difficult. It’s all I can do to go to church and I instantly feel like I don’t belong there. Half of what’s said are lies. I have so much rage that builds within the service. I swing back and forth between tears and rage.

Last Sunday, I didn’t go to church. I walked for miles and miles, hours and hours, during a snowstorm. At one point, I felt so weak and dizzy (I hadn’t eaten anything), I thought of just laying down right there in the puffy snow. If it wasn’t so frigid, I would have just rested right there. Like, if it was a warm desert….that’s where I would lay to rest. I don’t know why I walked through that snowstorm. Half of it was for an adventure- to do something that was a bit of a thrill and made me feel alive. Half of it was…I don’t know. I was hoping I wouldn’t make it back. It was like a representation of where I am in life: struggling against forces greater than myself, wandering in the blustery void of coldness with absolutely no direction and no strength.

My friend, J and I, were talking about belonging. She said how in psychological circles, it’s one of the most basic human needs. Most people have that need met with their family unit. Others, like me, might have to rely on a church or some other group to get that need met. I guess not belonging and loneliness go hand in hand. Or is it that you can be lonely and still belong… but feeling like you don’t belong anywhere is a further, deeper level of loneliness?

I don’t know. All I know is I don’t belong at church. I don’t have a family. My father sexually abused me, my mother and grandmother lied to cover it up. What in the actual fuck? I don’t have a spouse or children. I guess I never will. Y’know, as a child, I had always wished I was adopted. I guess I knew my family didn’t measure up and I wanted another one. That’s funny and sad at the same time. What’s worse is I’m still there. I still wish I had a different family. I still wish I could be adopted into a loving, caring, gentle family. I wish I could have created one like all my other friends have. I do know I have lots of fears with that. I fear no man will actually love me. I fear if a man will love me, he’ll soon decide I’m not good enough and leave. It’s happened before. I fear I’d be a terrible mom. My mom was so violent- screaming, hitting, throwing things at me, constantly degrading me…I would NEVER want to do that to my children. But I fear being like her. I always thought God didn’t trust me with children and that’s why he never gave me any. And then I think of how I had 2 abortions and I realize that God did give me children and he’s not going to give me another chance.

I love God. But I’m mad at him. It’s not that I don’t believe he exists. I do. I know for a fact and would stake my life on it in a heartbeat. I think I believe that God is mad at me. He won’t love me until I’m not mad at him anymore. I hate this distance and detachment I feel from everyone and from God. Clearly it’s me, not them. I’m not blaming anyone. I take all the blame. We all know I’m a shitty person. I fucking know it. God knows it. Satan knows it. I’m so sick of this fucking shitty ass life. I want out. I don’t care if you judge me and think I’m a shitty Christian and a shitty person. I could have told you that.

Published January 28, 2018 by Chloe Madison

These last few days have been extraordinarily difficult. There is so much I want to write about. I just don’t have the energy to form my thoughts into words and to write them out.

I took a ***** of sleeping ***** last night. I was still in bed at 4pm. I wish I could simply sleep forever.

I’m so disturbed by the distance between my friend and I. He knows nothing about my life these last few months. My world has been turned upside down because of him and he is no longer present. It hurts me so badly. At the same time, my heart hurts for him as he’s dealing with turmoil of his own. I can’t even imagine. Well…actually I can.

I’ve been swirling in a mix of emotions. I’m so alone. I feel so far away from God. And that’s entirely my fault. The dark side has won. It’s over. When I was talking with my friend, all I could hear was “it’s done.” I’m not sure if I said that before or not. But I heard that over and over. There’s no use in fighting it. It’s useless. Prayer is useless. God does what he wants to do. No amount of praying will change his mind. He’ll do what he wants and he has a right to. Humans play no role in that.

I can’t believe January is almost over. I never thought I would live to see January in the first place, much less live all the way through it. The future is still a giant, all-consuming dark void. There is no future. My therapist says I should make some plans for the future and take steps toward that. I can’t. How can I plan for nothingness? What plan is there for darkness?

People don’t understand suicide. I shudder to even write that word for fear of repercussion. I told my therapist how I’m terrified to broach that topic with anyone ever again, including her. She said I shouldn’t not talk about it. That’s not healthy. But I know my views on it are pretty much opposite to everyone else’s views. I think it’s a personal choice. It’s my body and my life and my choice. How dare someone else tell me what I can and can’t do with my body and my life? My therapist tells me that my viewpoint probably stems from trauma as a child and being helpless to stop what was happening. This is the same trauma I just experienced in the hospital. I’m still in shock that this country isn’t free. You aren’t free to speak. You say certain things and you get locked up. End of story. That’s not freedom. If there’s no freedom, then why live? There’s no happiness, no nothing. Just emptiness and the deafening sound of loneliness, detachment, and desolation.

Feeling detached from my fiend, whom I once felt so connected to, is devastating. I don’t quite know how to deal with that. I don’t know how to deal with anything.

Published January 26, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I feel this massive urge to get away. Far, far away. I feel so disconnected from everyone and everything. I don’t know why that makes me want to run. But it does.

I just want to get away from here. To get away from everyone. To be in a different place, to shift my mind.

But what am I getting away from here? Who? There’s no one here! Who would I be escaping from? I don’t understand my own thoughts.

‘It’s done.’ That’s all I hear. Over and over. It makes me think my fate is sealed. There’s no fighting it, there’s no going back, just let it happen, it’s already done.

I’m not sure what that really means. But it’s alarming to me. I try to think it’s not that strong and this isn’t done. But I don’t actually believe that.

I just want to disappear for a while.

Published January 25, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I feel like something is really, really wrong with me. Things just aren’t right.

I sat here tonight, staring at the wall for God knows how long. I thought of a million things. I felt a mixture of numbness and sadness, pain, and shame. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

I DO know that no one understands and no one can be trusted. I wish I had someone to confide in, who could listen to me. I used to think it was God, but I never really knew if he was listening or not.

I feel like I’m really, really off. Not right…in so many different ways.

Published January 25, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Oph. I don’t know where to begin. I feel numb. I think I suppressed my feelings so strongly and deeply that it’s difficult for me to let them run again. The meeting with my friend went ok. Not bad…and that’s good. But I feel a huge disconnect. I don’t know what to make of that. What’s certain is that he’s no longer reading here…and I guess that’s good. I’m still too scared to freely express myself though. So I won’t. I’ll just continue to hold it all inside…all the super bad stuff anyway.

I have so much to process that I might write several times about it. It was difficult to face him for the first time since I was hospitalized. I have so much anger and hurt about that…but I thought I sufficiently held it all in. A lot of things bothered me, but most prominently was feeling that he mistrusts me or my intentions. I’m stunned by that. And highly offended and hurt. I don’t know where that’s coming from and I don’t know what to make of it. Perhaps that’s part of feeling a disconnect and distance. I don’t know. It just makes me so much more reluctant to open up or share. And that sucks. It makes me want to go crawl into a hole and bury my head for eternity. It added heaping coals of shame to me. God, I didn’t need that. All I can hope is that I’m misunderstanding him. That’s the only thing that makes sense.

But I wanted to touch on the good I took away. He’s an extraordinary guy and every time I spend time with him, I learn something. There were two things, but I can’t remember the first right now. The last thing was that he said to not let my anger lead me to believe things that aren’t true. We were talking about my anger with God and how it’s hard for me to believe God loves me and that God cares for and protects his people, his children. I’m so conflicted about that. I think, intellectually, I used to know that. I don’t even think that, intellectually, I truly believe that anymore. I surely don’t feel it. One of the problematic verses in the Bible is the one that says all things work together for the good… uh, no. Not true. Just point blank, not true.

My mind has been wandering back and forth between worrying about this friend and things he’s dealing with and my faith (or lack thereof) and my viewpoint or effort on things between myself and healing. I think my friend posed the question- would I go down a path of healing if it was there? (or something along those lines). It made me reflect on why I’m so skeptical of God and why I’m giving in so easily. And I’ve been struggling to simply understand my own feelings on that. I know there’s demonic influence/ oppression/ whatever you want to call it. And for some reason, I’m content sitting back and letting them win. I think it’s just because I’ve already given up. Inside, I’ve already died. And if it was my choice, I’d be dead and gone and resting. So I really gave up a long time ago- I guess when I started considering death as a viable option.

Just because it hasn’t happened yet, doesn’t mean I have hope that things will ever get better. That’s why I despise the word “hope” SO MUCH. It actually makes me cringe. Hope is a lie. It’s false, like a faint, wispy ghosting. It doesn’t exist.

There were other things my friend said that I wanted or needed to think about…but I can’t remember right now.

I feel weird and awkward. Not new for me…but not pleasant. I definitely feel like my friendship with him has waned. But I feel helpless to do anything about it. And I wouldn’t know what I could do anyway. God can fix things if he wants and this is a prime example of how things don’t always work out for the good. Just not true.

My inclination is to just give up, like I’ve given up on everything else in this world ever working out. Shit just doesn’t happen for me. Nothing goes right. Just when I think I’ve reached out and healing is possible, I’m hit from 12 different angles and I find myself quickly drowning again.

I don’t care if Satan wins. I knew he would win when I died. I accepted that months ago. I don’t have it in me to fight. I just don’t.