Published December 4, 2017 by Chloe Madison

Oph…this is why I didn’t want to sit down and add it up. It’s more than what I thought. 😖

My life isn’t worth $9,000.

My life isn’t worth $9,000.

It never will be.

It never was.

Please forgive my previous angry posts. I’m angry still, but more despondent now. I feel completely and utterly defeated. How can I ever pay off $9,000? I just cancelled my dentist appointment. I can’t afford to breathe right now…or for the next however many years it will take me to pay off $9,000. 😣😔😔😔

I don’t even know what to do.

Even if I lived in my car for the next year, I still couldn’t pay off $9,000. I’m proud of myself for paying off a credit card- just made the last payment this month. However, I have one more credit card left and it’s a huge amount. I’ve been working so hard to pay down debt. And now this.

I can’t do it. My dog has been sick and his meds cost so much. I just can’t pay for therapy. I can’t pay for my dentist. I’m sure I can still pay for Zoloft- it’s pretty darn cheap. But I can’t pay for anything else. I can’t do this. I’m suffocating and drowning at the same time. This is hopeless. People don’t get through stuff like this. Period.

Published December 4, 2017 by Chloe Madison

Y’know justice is a special word to me…because I have NEVER received it. I’ve been raped, sexually abused, sexually assaulted, physically assaulted, had my car stolen, been jumped and mugged, had my home broken into….I could go on and on…and I HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED JUSTICE. I think that’s why what happened with my uncle’s suicide hurts me and makes me so mad- the injustice of it all.

And this makes it WORSE. As if that were even possible!! I get locked up because I’m having a hard time handling being a victim and I get thrown all the bills for it. Where’s the justice in that?? The more I sit and think how this is supposed to help, the more livid I get. This makes things worse. So. Much. Worse.

Did I REALLY think I was going to get better? Did I really think extra therapy with doctors was going to help? What a fantasy world I live in. I guess I thought I was Bill Gates, thinking I could somehow afford everything. Fuck hope. Fuck recovery. Fuck everything that costs money. This is no life.

Published December 4, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I’m boiling over with anger right now. I just logged in to my insurance online to see how the processing of the claims were coming along. My insurance paid a lot of the hospital bills, but there are several thousand- maybe 6,000? that I’m responsible for. I’m so upset that I don’t even have the heart to add it up correctly at the moment. I don’t want to look at it. 😓

I’m so enraged over this. I was TAKEN AGAINST MY WILL and locked up and I’M the one responsible?? I was patted down with my hands behind my back and treated like a fucking criminal and the only crimes committed were AGAINST ME!!! I was raped, I was sexually abused, assaulted over and over and I’M the one who gets taken away??? I’M the one who gets thousands of dollars in bills???? And people fucking wonder why I want to die? People wonder why I have no hope? People wonder why I can’t “just have faith” in God? People wonder why I can’t trust others? This is what happens when you get raped- you get super ashamed and depressed and you get taken away and locked up and you get left with charges of thousands of dollars for being held against your will. There. Now you’re supposed to be happy. How in the actual fuck does this help ANYONE? EVER??? Gah!! How am I supposed to pay all this?? How am I supposed to recover from this? I’m barely getting by as it is- I canNOT financially handle this. I can barely deal with the detrimental psychological effects it’s having on me. How is breaking me financially supposed to help?

Now it’s decided. I’d been on the fence about stopping therapy for the simple fact that I couldn’t pay. Now, I know it’s just not feasible to continue. It’s impossible. There is no way I can “make payments” on all these bills AND pay for therapy. I’m seeing the therapist and med management doctor on Dec. 12 and that will have to be it. End of story.

Why I’m the hell would they charge you so much for “help” you supposedly “need”? I was locked up because I “needed help.” Oh, but we have to charge you a million dollars for that. What BS. I bet they didn’t even think I needed help. They just wanted to wring money out of me. Is that all they see? They don’t see patients, they see paychecks. I can’t fucking handle this.

Published December 4, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I don’t know what just happened. I was just hit with such deep, deep, consuming, and overwhelming sadness. I was wandering around the grocery store and hadn’t been there for even five minutes before it hit me. I nearly burst out crying in the middle of the store. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

In my many hours of sleeplessness, I googled some physical issues I’ve been having recently. One of them is part of what keeps me up at night. I can’t seem to regulate my body temperature. It’s so extreme that it rouses me from sleep. I’ll wake up because I’m burning up, then within ten minutes, I’ll be freezing cold, shivering and all…then I’ll be on fire again. It’s kind of ridiculous. It was a relief to see that it seems to be a more rare side effect of Zoloft. It’s not listed as a side effect, but I found a forum where other people said they experienced the same thing. Then, there’s my cycle. I haven’t had it in two months now. I’m surely not complaining about that, but it’s alarming to me that my body is so out of whack that it’s reached that point. I thought the stress of being locked up had something to do with it. Then, maybe the stress of all the bills, the stigma and shame I now carry as a result of being locked up, the loss of friends… I thought maybe this stress could be causing my cycle to temporarily stop. But then I googled that too. Interestingly, Zoloft is used to treat PMDD. I say it’s interesting because I was diagnosed with PMDD years ago. I was taking Yaz, a birth control, for it, but when I moved to this state, my new doctor refused to prescribe me the same medication, stating it was too dangerous. I remember being upset because it worked so well for me. So, I’ve just been dealing with my PMDD. I really don’t have it as bad as it could be. Anyway, when reading up on the use of Zoloft to treat PMDD, that’s where I found that it can interfere with your cycle, either temporarily stopping it or making it worse (heavier). So all this to say that I hope these physical issues are simply side effects. And even though not being able to regulate my body temperature is so severe that it keeps me up at night, maybe that side effect will subside the way all the other side effects have.

That sadness though… I don’t know why I can’t escape it. I don’t know why it hits like a ton of bricks and knocks me off track. I don’t know why I think about death so much. The only thing I can say is I want to escape. I want to escape this world and all it’s mess and distress and grief. I feel like a wuss who can’t handle life. But life has thrown SO MUCH at me.

And I was thinking about how people always say God won’t give you more than you can handle. But that’s not really true, right? Isn’t the Bible talking about temptation? Doesn’t it say God won’t tempt you beyond what you’re able to resist (or something like that)? Or is there some other verse somewhere that says God won’t give you more than you can handle? Because I just don’t think that’s true. I don’t think God would pick out only stronger people to give crappier circumstances to. I don’t think that so many people would commit suicide if God had made them strong enough to handle their circumstances. I’m not sure. I don’t think God wants people to commit suicide- that’s for sure. But I’m not so certain we humans can bear all the weight of our heavy lives in this broken world. So many people can’t. I can’t. And I’ve accepted the fact that I’m weak…that’s true.

I am trying to fight it though- that strong urge and desire to quit, to give up, to refuse to live in this misery. I’m trying to fight it, however weak I am.

Published December 3, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I’m trying to remain as positive as possible, but I don’t think I’m doing a very good job of it. Sleep has eluded me for several nights now. I woke up last night around 2:30am and couldn’t fall back asleep- and that was with multiple sleeping pills. Maybe that’s why I’m kind of cranky today.

In church, my pastor’s sermon hit home a few times. One thing he said was how sometimes we ask God why…when, if we got the answer, it probably wouldn’t matter anyway. We’d still be dealing with the same situation regardless of why it happened. What we really need, he said, was an arm around us. He used that phrase over and over again, referring to both God being with us and others being with us during hard times.

He gave one illustration of my worship pastor’s father who was in the hospital. And where he was, it was culturally common for the community to join in when one needed it. He stated how his father’s hospital room was never empty. I stopped right there…I have no clue what he said right after that because I was imagining a hospital room full of friends and family. And then I got hurt and angry. I was hospitalized for five days and had two visitors, who came once each. Wow. I remembered how difficult it was sitting there watching other patients get visitor after visitor. I felt so lonely. It was a hard reality of just how alone I am in this world. And then I tried to imagine the effect it would have had on me if I had visitors the way my worship pastor’s father did. I tried to imagine how much more cared about I would have felt. I wondered if it could have helped me get out quicker. I wonder if it could help me heal. And then my pastor said it again- how we need an arm around us. I just don’t feel I have that. I’ve opened up to more people since I got locked up and as difficult as that was, I still feel alone. That’s why I go back to text messages and emails that make me feel cared about. Even though they’re old messages, I’ll reread them, hoping to feel less alone in all of this. I’m trying to keep my thoughts positive, but I feel fake doing it…as fake as I was when I talked with people when I was locked up. I remember faking being ok, fake smiling, fake everything. I’m trying to write positive things…but I feel like I’m BSing myself. I’m not happy, things aren’t ok, things aren’t going well. Every day, I think of dying. I can simply choose to not write about that, but I’d be faking it. These last few days have been better- no sleep and migraines included. But I’m so uncertain of the future. I still can’t see January…even though I also thought I’d never see December. I can’t see 2018 at all. Nothing. Just a void. I feel like that’s what the future holds. Darkness. Emptiness. Lifelessness. Hopelessness.

Published December 2, 2017 by Chloe Madison

Overall, I’m doing good at the moment. Battling a borderline migraine for who knows how many times this week. Since I got the first of the bills, migraines have been off the chart in terms of frequency. I’ve never had this many in one week.

I’m so thankful today is Saturday and I can rest- as opposed to having to go to work. Didn’t sleep much last night. I’ve been up since 3am. Lots of weird dreams lately, but only one nightmare and it wasn’t all that bad.

When I’m upset, I keep forgetting to say and focus on what I’m thankful for. So I think I neglected to do that in my last few posts?

Even though I’m still shocked that my two longest friends abandoned me in my greatest time of need, it makes me all the more grateful for those who didn’t. I kind of reconnected with a friend yesterday who’s been super busy and that meant a ton to me. One of my best friends has been being great at supporting me even though she’s across the country. Nearly every day she’s sent me a text just saying hi or asking how I am. That means a lot, knowing that I’m not forgotten.

I’ve been thinking about some of the most meaningful messages I’ve received recently and how incredibly grateful I am for them. One very old friend who I haven’t seen in over a decade sent me an email right before Thanksgiving:

I can’t remember what skit he was talking about but it doesn’t matter. I’m so thankful for his kind words and his timing was impeccable.

Another friend sent these messages a while back…maybe a month ago?

I remember thinking that last message was super cool. I smiled, which is rare these days.

I’m thankful for the few people I have supporting me. They’re vital to my survival. I’m thankful for my job. I’m thankful for God “rescuing” me from that horrible place I was locked up in. I’m so thankful I can rest today.

And yesterday, I did an interview (anonymously) about my story. I hope that God can and will use it to somehow help others. I’m not sure how that would work, but I know God is capable of anything. I pray that He will bless and use that- it would help make me feel useful in this world. The interviewer brought up the idea of me speaking at camps for young adults or even teenagers. Man…that would be awesome. But again, I’m not sure how that would happen.

Today, I’m thankful for a lot.

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.