All posts tagged death

Published February 22, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I am so fucking miserable. I have a terrible headache and I generally feel like shit. No energy. Not even to write..

Today I wept multiple times. I held my dog and looked him in his eyes and begged him to never leave me. I told him l loved him and I’d take care of him forever. I know that’s a lie though. One day, I’ll have to go through the excruciating pain of having to put him down.

He’s the ONLY thing I have in this fucked up life. No one understands that. No one understands what it’s like to go home every day to an empty house, to eat every single meal alone, to talk to no one but myself. I used to have a few friends but they’re all too busy. I have nothing and no one. I am nothing and no one.

I went to church on Sunday and was almost immediately overcome by sadness. I cried there again. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. For a few days there, I was going to abandon my desert plans for spring break. Now I’m back to them.

I remember my pastor did a great sermon that day, but now I can’t remember what it was about. I think it had something to do with- when there are bad times, God still works where you are? I’m not sure if that’s right, but I think it was something like that. That God can still use you even when you’re a mess and everything in life seems like a mess. Obviously, it resonated with me. I thought of the young people I work with. I thought of how 3 of them have come to me this year sharing their stories of having been raped. I wondered why God was doing that. How can I help them when I can’t even help myself? How can I encourage them when I don’t believe my own life will ever get better? How can I inspire them when I’m beyond ready to permanently call it quits?

After finding out that 22% of the young people I work with have been sexually assaulted, I struggled to find what I could do to help them. How could I support them? I refuse to just let them go unsupported and unloved. Not only would that be cruel, it would be negligent (imho). We created a visual of the 22%. It came out looking like more because they wanted to honor those whom they knew who had also been assaulted. Here is what we made:

It’s just post-it notes. The lighter color represents a kid who has never experienced and doesn’t know anyone who’s been sexually assaulted in some way. The darker ones represent a kid who has been sexually assaulted or who knows someone. On their post-it note, wrote their gender and their age when it occurred. That way, they could be represented without losing their anonymity. If they made a post-it note to represent someone they knew, then they wrote their relation on it, also maintaining anonymity. Some kids told me they were ok with writing their names…but I want to make sure they’re protected. So I explained that even though they were incredibly brave, I thought it would be safer to not do that.

I still needed to support these kids. The truth is God gave them to me to take care of and to love. I’m going to do that until the day I die. We brainstormed about how we could support each other without knowing who the victims actually were. One idea was to hear their stories. They wanted people who had been violated to write out their stories so we could read them. If we do that, it will be done on a voluntary basis. Some might not be ready to share their stories for years. Another idea was for everyone to write a letter of support and encouragement to those who had been violated. These are some of the letters:

I salute everyone for their compassion in reaching out to others who have been hurt. I want to copy all of these letters and somehow get a stack of these to each person who has been sexually assaulted. Some might not be ready to read them right away. Some might keep them and read them whenever they feel lonely or sad. Some might read them over and over. I remember my 911 friend was super encouraging to me multiple times. Occasionally, when I feel terrible, I’ll go back and find his text that said “you’re not alone” over and over again. Occasionally, I’ll also listen to a prayer he recorded. That really calms me and helps me fall asleep. 😂 It’s just so calming that I usually don’t hear the end of it…I must be asleep by then. But I was hoping that these letters of support are something the kids could keep and pull out to read again whenever they feel they need it.

Speaking of sleep, last night was the first night in over a year and a half that I slept through the night!! Ok, I didn’t exactly sleep all the way through…I woke up twice, but promptly fell right back asleep. I couldn’t believe it when my alarm actually woke me up this morning. I was shocked. I still felt exhausted as hell, but I slept. Whoa. I’m pretty sure lack of sleep is part of why my brain has turned to mush.

Back to my kids, I don’t know what else I can do to help them. I went to my boss and asked for support for them and I made connections with free counseling and therapy options for them as well. But if they’re anything like me, not only will they need a huge push, but they’ll need more. I’ve offered myself to be there for them if they ever need to talk. And many of them offered themselves in their letters- they even gave contact info. I’m going to try to keep thinking for them- to see what else I can do to help them. What my pastor talked about- God using us in the midst of our own pain and suffering- it made me think of these kids. I’ll do what I can to help them, but I don’t think it will ever be enough.

I feel guilty for wanting to give up. What would that look like to those kids? They don’t even know my story. They wouldn’t understand why I did something like that. And that brings me back to the “lost hiker” thing I’d probably run with. That way, no one would truly know.

That kind of parallels my life anyway. So few really know me and my story. The few who do have a tendency to either walk out or give up on me. I’d give up on me too- I’m surely NOT placing blame. I appreciate EVERY LITTLE THING that’s been done to help me. It means the world to me. It’s stopped me in my tracks and made me second guess myself so many times (in a healthy way). But eventually it wears thin and runs out. No one can sustain another forever. I think that’s why I don’t have a significant other. I know no one can handle this giant mess that is me. It’s not fair to expect anyone to.

I have someone who’s been casually pursuing me for a while now. First of all, just the fact that it’s casual makes me feel unimportant. Second, it is long distance. He lives across the country and our communication is sporadic at best. Additionally, just when we were about to have a deep conversation (prompted by me), he dipped out. Like…literally ran out!! 😂 I kid you not. We were having a beer and as soon as the conversation turned heavy, he jumped up out of his seat, got the bill and paid for it and said we were moving down the block to a restaurant to go eat. I remember thinking…wow. I need someone with a backbone who can handle this stuff. I need someone who can actually be there for me. I don’t need someone who’s going to run when conversation turns heavy. Am I being too cut and dry thinking like that? Am I expecting too much? I mean, this is someone I’ve known since we were teenagers…it’s not like we’re in the “getting to know you” phase.

This just makes me feel he’s not the one…or maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m not ready to be in a relationship. For a while now, I’ve thought that I would be useless in a relationship…that I’m empty and I have nothing to offer, nothing to give. I had already kind of decided I just wasn’t in a space where I was relationship material. I’m still thinking that way.

I’m useless to everyone.


FTL. I don’t want God to be mad at me. And I’m so, so thankful for when I see God working in my life or in others’ lives… but FTL. I am so over it.

Published February 11, 2018 by Chloe Madison

There is so much wrong with me- physically, emotionally, psychologically. I am so confused. I feel like I don’t know what’s going on around me. I don’t know how I function at work. As a matter of fact, I’ve been terribly ineffective and unproductive at work. I’d like to blame depression and being preoccupied with suicide, but it’s my fault no matter which way you look at it.

Today’s sermon was so full of stuff. I cried during it. A few times. I zoned out a few times, but I think I heard most of it- which is a miracle. I feel like most everything said was specifically for me. One of the things my pastor talked about was persistence vs. perfection. How we need to press on in spite of everything. I’m so horrible at that. It’s part of why I feel God has given up on me. Because I gave up on me. I’m not persisting anymore in anything, including my faith. I also feel so strongly that God is disappointed in me because I’m not good enough. I know I carry that from my own parents. I constantly tried so hard over and over to win the affection of my parents with good grades. Even as an adult, when I won 3 awards in police academy, I gave them to my mom and told her I did it for her. I just wanted her approval. She gave the awards back to me. She didn’t want them. That was 4 years ago. I know God is disappointed in me because I’ve been so terrible lately. I’ve been so self-centered, angry, pissy, impatient…and I’ve wanted to give up the life He has given me. I’ve wanted to quit and run away from it all. There’s no way God is pleased with that. I think that’s why He’s not pursuing me anymore. That was part of this morning’s sermon too. But that’s definitely something I have not felt from God in months. I can even draw the line- my hospitalization or right before it. That’s when I last felt loved and pursued by God. Could it be that once I was hospitalized that He no longer wants anything to do with me either?? It honestly wouldn’t surprise me. I feel branded- like a homeless person- the stigma of having been hospitalized bleeds through to every aspect of my life. So many people have rejected me because of that. I fear so many more will do so if they ever find out.

This is a song we sang in church today. Ok, everyone else sang. I listened and felt. I like this song a lot. It speaks volumes to me. But it’s not entirely true. God, I wish it was. The idea of God chasing us down- every word of the bridge to this song…I wish it were true. But God has given up on me. Everyone has. Including myself. I don’t blame anyone. How can I? I’ve given up too. Hell, I was the first one to give up. I’m so thankful for those in the very near past who helped me feel God’s love. But it’s not there anymore.

Verse 1

Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me

You have been so, so good to me

Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me

You have been so, so kind to me


Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

Oh, it chases me down, fights ‘til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine

I couldn’t earn it, I don’t deserve it, still You give Yourself away

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

Verse 2

When I was Your foe, still Your love fought for me

You have been so, so good to me

When I felt no worth, You paid it all for me

You have been so, so kind to me


There’s no shadow You won’t light up

Mountain You won’t climb up

Coming after me

There’s no wall You won’t kick down

Lie You won’t tear down

Coming after me

Will God chase after me? Not anymore. He’s done with me.

I’ve had such messed up dreams lately. I spent the entire weekend in a sleepy fog. I took a bunch of different kinds of sleeping pills. Some make you fall asleep, others keep you asleep. I need those last ones so badly, but I don’t dare take them during the week. I’d never wake up on time and I can’t afford to jeopardize my job by being late. I love taking those on the weekends though. It makes the weekends entirely unproductive, but it helps to pass the time without me doing something even more reckless or destructive.

Most of my dreams are of finding murdered bodies and then being wary of everyone else in the dream, not knowing if they’re the killer or not. That makes sense as I don’t trust anyone. I had one semi-normal dream- the first time I ever dreamed of my 911 friend. He was doing a sermon in my church, but in weird dream-like fashion, it was bizarre. It was more like game time for youth group kids or something. We didn’t talk in my dream…I just sank down in my seat and hid among the crowd, just like I do in church. After that, he disappeared and church did too and everything turned into a weird classroom where I was one of very few students in a large, empty room that didn’t seem to have a ceiling. We kept moving our desks out of the sunlight coming in through the giant windows because it was blinding. Then, everything turned into a dark, nighttime environment- almost like a post-apocalyptic scene. In that scene, I was searching for treasure under a rotten, old trailer. Then, there was the part of the dream where I was explaining spectroscopy to someone and it’s uses in astronomy and the study of the composition of distant objects in space. I woke up missing studying astronomy. 😂 It’s absolutely fascinating. Anyway, I slept and dreamed away the entire weekend. Mission accomplished.

I was so, so angry on Friday. One of the young people I work with shared her story of being sexually abused with others. I’ve mentioned her before and she had privately shared her story with me, but she went into greater detail this time. I think I couldn’t handle it and maybe that’s why I was in such a foul mood that day. God, I could easily have ***** ****** that day. She had been molested from age 6-12. Age SIX THROUGH TWELVE. What in the actual ****?! Her uncle did it whenever he came over. She said every birthday, every Christmas, every holiday that her family would have him over- he molested her. She talked about the first time it happened in a shed outside their trailer. That’s why I hate sheds- those are some of the most heinous, evil places. I flashed back right then as she spoke. I swear, if I ever met her uncle face to face, I’d wind up in jail. I honestly don’t think I could control my rage against him. What kind of a “man” takes advantage of a little girl? What kind of person hurts those who can’t defend themselves?? It just brings such hate in my heart for people like that. I know God isn’t pleased with that, but this is where I’m at. I think of ways to deal with this- like clinging to the idea of the very few men I know who are good people… but I doubt even them sometimes. Even when I do have faith in them, it doesn’t seem like it’s enough. This is why I want to leave this God forsaken world…because God really has forsaken us.

Published February 9, 2018 by Chloe Madison

When the levee breaks…

For a second there, I thought I could be getting better. But today was horrible. I don’t even know why or what happened to make it so bad. I’m just so angry and irritable and pissy. Everything enraged me today. Everyone annoyed me. And I know it’s not anyone’s fault. I know it’s me who has the problem. I’m so stressed and I don’t even know why.

I think I’ll just be eternally f****d up. There’s nothing I can do to fix it.

I don’t see the point in anything. I don’t see the point of trying. Even what excited me yesterday is worth nothing and is pointless today. It’s all for nothing. Me trying to keep my brain occupied? Dumb idea. It made me happy and normal for a whole two days.

I’m such a sh*tty person. I’m terrible at my job. I don’t do anything right. I’ve had decades in this life to try to get things right. No wonder God’s not helping me anymore. He’s given up on me. I would too.

Kid fears taking over again. You’re unlovable. People only use you. Men use you for sex and then throw you away, demand sex again, throw you away, demand again, throw you away again. It happens over and over and over. Grown men do this to little girls. What the f**k kind of world do we live in?? I’m sick of this. It’s not right. It will NEVER be right. I was used for sex for years by my disgusting neighbor, Rene. He’s a horrible, perverted, selfish, sorry excuse for a human being. My dad…he’s been called a monster. What am I supposed to do with this? How can I reconcile grown men using little girls for sex? How can I .

I can’t stop crying.

I tried having faith in humanity, in people. I thought if I found some men who were actually good…some good, Christian men who weren’t bad people…I thought I could look at them and convince myself that not everyone is bad. Not everyone wants to use you. Not everyone will throw you away. But that’s a lie. Everyone DOES use you. Everyone DOES throw you away. There are no good people. I’m not even a good person. No one is. Humanity blows. God hates us. There’s no hope and no future. Hope is a bullshit lie that doesn’t exist. End of story.

Published February 7, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I had an extremely disturbing dream last night. It wasn’t a nightmare, but it was pretty bad and I have such an uneasy feeling from it.

I dreamed my mom murdered someone and we had to kill 2 dogs to cover it up. (What the ?) I didn’t stand up against her and wish I did. It took place in Portland and we were sleeping outdoors. I remember laying/ sleeping on the forest floor with my dog, waiting for my mom to come back. She’d left me with the body and the two dead dogs. 😥 I don’t know who it was that was dead and I don’t recall where my mom went.

I was blogging about it and was hiding the fact I was blogging about it from my mom. I hid up in the trees to blog without anyone seeing me. I was also trying to figure out how I could blog about it without getting into trouble.

Then we somehow caused a bad accident with semi trailers crashing on the highway and my mom left the scene of the accident. That was in or near Portland too.

Next thing you know, I was suddenly test driving Jeeps with people who were supposed to be my family, but weren’t (in real life). It was odd. And for some reason, that whole test driving Jeeps with family members who weren’t my family was very awkward and uncomfortable for me.

Then I saw my aunt who passed away. She was sitting in a chair and I went up to her and I laid on her, hugged her, held her, and wouldn’t let go. She said something about how I never hugged her like that before and I told her it was because I was always scared. And it’s true. Even with my own aunts and uncles, I was always super intimidated and scared during family gatherings. She said something after that, but I can’t remember what it was. I was comfortable and safe, laying on her and hugging her and holding her.

I usually try to figure out what my brain was processing while dreaming. This hurts though. My mom murdering someone? That could be the forced abortion, her covering up my abuse…and I’ve never, ever vocalized this before…I always thought I was way out of line when I thought this…but I always wondered if my mom killed my dad. I thought it would have been a mercy killing. He was in a ton of pain from cancer and he died several days after my mom forced both my brother and I to leave town. I went on a youth group trip and I think my brother went to a Boy Scout camp. I threw a fit because I didn’t want to go and I really didn’t want to risk my dad dying and me not being there. Over and over and over, I insisted I didn’t want to go- but my mom made me. So I always wondered if she did something to expedite his death while we were gone. It was odd because he’d been in their room the whole time he was sick and when I returned after he died, my mom said he was on the living room table and I wondered…how the hell did he get on the living room table?? He could barely get himself into the bathroom to throw up. I was so numb from his death that I never bothered to question things further. It was just odd.

But I think the fact that I didn’t stand up to my mom and I regretted it in my dream aligns more with the forced abortion.

Killing 2 dogs? I have no idea what that’s all about. The only thing I can think is my heavy and overwhelming guilt…and how in my dream, the killing of animals that I absolutely love- would tear me apart with guilt. (?)

Sleeping on the forest floor? No clue what that means.

Hiding while blogging? That’s easy. I’m always secretly blogging. The fear I had in my dream of getting caught equates to the fear I feel every time I need to write about suicide or any negative thoughts or any thoughts of death. I’m so, so terrified it will be held against me again… I know my friend who called 911 no longer reads this, but….damn…that fear persists. It just won’t fade.

Portland? No clue what that’s supposed to mean. I had a friend (911 friend) just visit there. I have another friend moving from Seattle to Portland and I was supposed to visit her last summer and never did. So I’d already thought about visiting her this summer…and she’d probably be in Portland by then. I just watched The Goonies for the millionth time and always think of Astoria, Oregon when I watch it. Other than that, I have no clue where Portland came from.

Test driving Jeeps? No clue.

Seeing my deceased aunt….I don’t know. I was never really attached to her and don’t know why I’d be so affectionate in a dream. It would make more sense with my most favorite uncle (who also passed away) or with my most favorite cousin (who was murdered). I don’t know why I loved on this particular aunt so much. I don’t know why I suddenly felt so comfortable with her either. My family has never been affectionate. Hugging, even a pat on the back…that’s pretty foreign to me. I learned to hug people in middle school when I joined the youth group. Before that…I don’t recall experiencing any kind of affection.

Guilt and shame. This dream had a lot of that. Those two feelings have been permeating my being.

I like that my dream ended with me hugging on a family member. But my mom murdering someone and then me being involved in covering it up, the fear I had while blogging about it- all of that leaves me feeling horribly uneasy.

All of this from just one dream.

Church this past Sunday went well for the first time in months! Like 6 or 7 months! Before I was in the hospital, I started taking a young girl (she’s 17 years old) to church with me. I remember having to cancel on her when I got locked up. I was such a mess after all that, that I never took her to church again. I purposely stayed away from her and her family- I didn’t want them finding out I was in the hospital. She finally called me out on it and point blank asked me to take her to church again. So I had to do a lot of faking while I was there…singing when I really didn’t want to, saying hi to people when I really wanted to hide…but it went well. I can’t remember what the pastor talked about. But I wasn’t upset leaving there, like I have been. So that’s good. I was drained though. It felt like I was physically dying by Sunday afternoon. I had to suddenly leave and go home and rest. I was completely drained and then couldn’t sleep that night. But still…church went well.

I have more to write about, but no energy to do so. There’s so much uncertainty with what I’m stressing about anyway. I’ll leave it for later.

Published February 3, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I don’t know what to do with myself today. Last night, I took a ***** ** ******** *****. I can’t believe I’m even conscious right now. I had hoped to rest the entire weekend. I dreamt weird dreams last night and then was up early this morning. My body feels numb and tingly and I’m not moving too quickly. I don’t feel like being productive even though there are a ton of things I need to do.

So I guess I’ll just write. I have so much I’ve wanted to say, but I didn’t have the energy to write things out this past week. I feel weak because life is too hard for me. Most people don’t have this problem. I don’t know why I can’t get over it.

There are things I’m very grateful for. Every day, I’ve been thanking God for what He’s done. Lately, He’s helped me a lot financially. I’m still very much in the hole, but He has provided quite a bit. I’ve also been reflecting on the people who HAVE been there for me, even if they’re not currently able to be. Rob, Jackie, Cam, Andy, Mike (my former pastor)…all these people have been supportive of me. But every single one of them live super far away. I’m also thankful for Kara. She’s here, but I don’t see her or talk with her that much. I’m still thankful that she came to my rescue when I was in the hospital. I hate the fact that I was hospitalized. It makes me feel like I’m not worthy to be a human being. It has taken away what little dignity I had. I feel like a piece of shit. I’m not sure that will ever go away. I’m thankful that I’m in a position to help the young people I work with. I often reflect on why they come to me with their troubles. I think that’s God’s doing and I take that seriously. If God wants me to help them, I absolutely will. Hell, even if I thought God didn’t want that, I’d still be there for them for as long as I live. I’m grateful for that job and those kids.

I’ve been thinking of being purposely homeless for the summer. At my therapist’s urging, I’m attempting to make plans for the future. It’s difficult when you don’t SEE a future. I honestly can’t believe I lived through January. Everything I see is still dark and black and opaque, mottled out. But I know if I live through to this summer, I’ll have to move again and I have no idea where to go. So I thought of putting all my stuff in storage and saving rent money for 1 or 2 months. I’d probably be traveling around in my car anyway and I could live out of my car or my tent. I also thought maybe I could visit people who are going out of town and then I could house sit or dog sit for them. That way, I could have a place to stay, even if only for a week, and I wouldn’t be imposing on them by being in their way. I’d love to visit with my friends while they’re there, but maybe I could arrange it around when they’ll be taking their summer vacations. I don’t know…it’s just a thought. Maybe it wouldn’t work out at all. Maybe I might feel even more detached, even more depressed, even more despondent if I don’t have a place to call home. I’m going to think about it more. I don’t even know if I’ll make it until then anyway.

I was watching The Great Gatsby this morning. Seeing all that wealth and how people just partied and danced and drank… I thought of what I would do if I had unlimited riches. I’d live in a nice, big house- that’s for sure. I guess because I was so poor growing up and lived in such a terrible neighborhood, that’s always something I’ve dreamed of. To this day, I live in an apartment complex that’s nothing special, but it’s a little above what I can afford. I’ve searched over and over for apartments within my price range and I just don’t feel safe there. The fact that I live alone and walk my dog at all hours of the night alone makes me feel like vulnerable prey. I remember making the conscious decision to pay more money to feel safer when I walk my dog alone at night.

Anyway, there’s a family here whom I love. They’re all illegal. I love the children and have dreamed of being able to pay an attorney to help them get their citizenship. I also want to buy them a house. They’re amazing people and even though they work really hard, they’re super poor. The parents came to America to try to build a better life for their children and I respect that. I wish more people would.

I’ve also dreamed of doing other things with my super big house- I’d love to host refugees and give them a place to stay while they get their feet on the ground. I would also LOVE to be able to use my super big house to give women and girls who have escaped sex trafficking a safe place to stay. For as long as they need- even if that means for years. I remember talking with an LEO about mercenary work he did in other countries. One of the things he was hired to do was go in and conduct forcible rescue missions of girls who had been taken from their families. Usually, it was the families who hired him. I thought that was just completely bad ass and how I would love to take part in those rescue missions. What better way is there than to spend your life helping others like that?? Over the last 3 years, since I met this guy, I thought about getting involved with that kind of work. But I don’t trust him. He’s not a good person. He does good work, but he does it for the money. And he’s already tried (and is still trying) to do inappropriate things with me. So I’m staying away from him…not even answering his calls and texts. But I still like the idea of the work he’s done.

What else? Let’s see… oh, I’ve always wanted to be a ballerina. 😂 If you knew how tom-boyish I am, you’d find that comical. I don’t know why…maybe it’s because we could never afford lessons like that when I was a child and so I found myself fascinated with it because it was so foreign and beautiful. I also just love the gracefulness of the dancers. I surely don’t have that grace. So if I had unlimited money, I’d take ballet lessons too, in between caring for and housing refugees and sex trafficking survivors. Actually, I’d never limit it to solely sex trafficking…any kind of human trafficking, male or female, young or old, I’d love to be able to give them a safe haven where they could heal and maybe blossom.

Oh…cruise ships and the ocean. I love them! I could seriously live on a giant ship for the rest of my life and be content. I’d want to sail around the world and spend time on exotic islands with pristine white or pink sand beaches and aqua water. While we’re at it, I’d also like to visit every country. I used to do a lot of international travel and haven’t been able to do that in probably a decade now. I always told God I wanted Him to show me a few things. One was that I wanted to see every corner of this globe, every inch of this world and his creation. The other is His universe. I asked God that when I die, I wanted to get a grand tour of the universe from Him. I want Him to show me absolutely everything He has made and how it all works. I don’t think that will really ever happen, but ya never know.

And truthfully, I’d be content just simply feeling God’s love. Not feeling it come and go, but consistently feeling God’s presence and His arms wrapped around me for all of eternity. But that’s not how things work.

Sometimes, like now, I feel translucent, like I don’t even exist. I don’t matter, I’m invisible to people, no one sees me or my pain. I think I’m hopelessly alone and forsaken in this big world and this lonely, difficult life. I need to just accept it and deal with it. I need to take all my hurts and bind them up so they don’t bother me anymore.

I’ve been thinking about Joe and why the f*** he would move HERE, to this state?? There are 50 freaking states! Why this one? Why here? I saw a Minnesota license plate today and became instantly nauseated. It happens almost every single time. There are some Minnesotans at church, one is an individual and the others are a couple. I can’t stand to hear their accents. I hate when they talk. I feel like it’s mean of me to feel that way, but it makes me so uncomfortable. Why the f*** is Joe here? Why? Why would God do that??

Why would God do ANY of this? Why would he see it fit for me to be raped repeatedly beginning at age 9? What in the actual f***?! Why would he make my dad do things to me? Tell me, what does that accomplish? All it does is make me not trust a soul. All it does is hurt and corrode and kill and dissipate my very soul.

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.