family

All posts tagged family

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.

Advertisements
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….πŸ˜“ 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! πŸ˜‚ 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 24, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I’m so thankful for this. ⬆️ It makes me feel better to think that I’m not “ill.” But it does mention the breaking down of relationships and crushing connections. πŸ˜“ I can attest to that. I also think that depression has added more to my isolation and withdrawing from people. The trust part- that’s from PTSD though. I’m trying to understand PTSD more. So much more is known about it now than when I had it before. I never knew my urge to cut was from a build up of adrenaline from a fight or flight response that had been triggered. I’m still kind of in awe of that. I had always felt so ashamed and immature that I had that urge. I didn’t know it was “scientifically based,” as the psychiatrist put it. I went back to every time I was leaning in that direction and tried to remember what path my thoughts went down so I could identify how the fight or flight response had been triggered. I did some research and found out that the stress hormone, cortisol, also triggers a fight or flight response. In one book, it says that this could lead to a suicide attempt as you’re protecting yourself from ever being harmed again. For me, I’m not quite sure why I think of suicide so often. I’ve thought of spiritual warfare combined with plain old depression and stress. I do only think of taking action when I’m beyond stressed and feel like I’m about to burst. (That feeling is what the psychiatrist said was adrenaline.)

This is so complex and complicated and I know I don’t understand all of it. To make matters worse, what I’ll come to an understanding of today, I’ll forget by tomorrow. No joke. πŸ˜’

Anyway, I’m trying so hard to be more understanding of myself. That might sound silly, but I’m incredibly hard on myself- very critical of myself. I think that internal dialogue is from my mom. But regardless, I’m trying to give myself some slack when it comes to what I’m thinking and feeling and the resulting behaviors. First and foremost, I’m on a mission to stop hurting other people…even if it’s just hurting them by lying. It’s not right and never will be. Second, I’m trying to get better for myself. So I’m trying to understand what I’ve been diagnosed with and how it’s affecting everything. When I googled how PTSD affects friendships and relationships, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe how much damage it does…and it made me realize that a lot of what I’ve done recently is from PTSD. It doesn’t make it right, but at least I can identify why I did those things. If I can identify my motivation, I can then learn to stop. I just don’t want to ever hurt anyone. Ever. That’s not who I am.

Half of me tells myself I’m NOTHING like my father. Half of me berates myself with every bad thing I’ve ever done, saying I’m cut from the same cloth. I’m trying so hard to believe and to know in my heart that I’m a child of God. I feel like there’s a wall there though. I can’t break past it. I just can’t believe that God truly, truly loves me. I just don’t see myself as a child of God. I don’t know why. I don’t know what the problem is. I don’t know how to change that.

I’m trying really hard to believe this too. ⬆️ I don’t believe it yet. I know all too well that what I’m dealing with is too much for normal people. I know that I’ve shared with people, then they’ve chosen to walk out on me. But that’s their prerogative.

I saw this online ⬆️ That is exactly what I think!!! And unfortunately, a few friends already proved to me that this is true. πŸ˜“ It makes me all the more grateful for those who have stepped up and helped me and who have done SO MUCH to ensure my survival even against my own wishes. I thank God for them.

Published November 23, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I’m so grateful yesterday was a good day because today hasn’t been. I can’t believe this day is turning out so terrible and it’s not even 11am yet.

I saw a friend’s post on FB that really hurt my feelings. I instantly burst out crying.

I can’t handle anything right now. I can’t stop crying since I saw this post. I feel so hurt.

This morning, we ran out of orange juice and were low on biscuits. I poured orange juice for everyone but myself (because we ran out). I told my mom “don’t worry, I won’t eat biscuits” trying to make her feel ok about not having enough for everyone. She retorted with “This isn’t about you not wanting biscuits- other people want biscuits, y’know!” In an instant, her words pierce my heart. Why does she always assume the worst? Why is she always so mean to me? She’s known me my whole life- doesn’t she know my heart well enough to know I was just trying to help? Why can’t she show just a little respect? I just can’t handle it.

Then an hour later, I see my friend’s post that ******** me and my heart sunk. My chest started burning and tears welled up. I couldn’t control it. The ****** I ***** most doesn’t ***** me in the slightest.

What do I do with that? Do I just tell myself to let it go? Do I try to rationalize? Do I pretend it was a mistake? Do I try to make it hurt less somehow? Do I face the music and realize this person simply doesn’t ***** me?

I just don’t know how.

I’m trying to not base my self worth on how others treat me- I’m just so overly sensitive right now and I’m taking everything so personally. And if I was a strong, healthy person, I wouldn’t base my self-worth on how I’m treated. But I’m not a strong, healthy person yet. I’m grasping at thin air when it comes to trying to prove to myself that I should live. I am using others’ treatment of me to show myself that I’m loved and cared for. I guess that’s why this hurts so much. The person who it’s coming from is one of the greatest people ever. And that makes it hurt more. I wish I didn’t need others. I wish I didn’t need the approval of others or love from others. But I’m human. A flawed, broken, hurting human with nothing to offer. And I’m sorry for that.

I’m not a problem to solve. I’m a human being with feelings. I just want to be treated with respect and love. I don’t want to feel like I’m not worthy of that.

I really am grateful for my friends. I’m grateful for time I got to spend with my family. I’m grateful for smiles- the only smiles that consistently came my way were from my baby nephew. I’m so grateful for that. I’m so grateful to those people who were there for me when I got locked up. A few people bailed on me, but others came through. And I am so, so thankful for them.

Early Thanksgiving

Published November 23, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I forgot to say what I was thankful for yesterday. I’m thankful for my nephew and the smiles and giggles he gives. Even his cries are precious and endearing. I love him.

And last night I had a good laugh with my brother while we were watching Impractical Jokers. He was laughing so hard that he cried. That, in turn, made me laugh. I looked at him as he laughed and realized that he had no idea who our father really was. He can have joy because he doesn’t know the awful things our dad did. And I’m happy for him. At least one of us can turn out normal. And then I thought about how long it had been since I had laughed….and I couldn’t remember the last time I actually laughed. Maybe I can blame that on my terrible memory….or maybe it’s just been that long.

I don’t have joy in things in life. I know it’s a fruit of the spirit and that it must negatively reflect on my walk with God. I don’t want to further berate myself and just think I’m a crappy Christian. I know there’s much more to it than that. I know I’m dealing with things that aren’t normal issues for people.

Overall today was an ok day. It started off rough…my mom was pretty critical and ornery early in the morning. I got hurt and angry and just wanted to leave. I went to go for a walk and she gave me a surprise hug before I left.

After that, things were ok. We celebrated Thanksgiving today so there was a lot of work in the kitchen, but there was also a lot of time spent playing a game with my brother. It was cool that we could enjoy something together. I only get to see him twice a year.

I think it’s so beautiful here. I’m really enjoying being out in nature and breathing the fresh air. I’m thankful for quite a lot. My crazy, dysfunctional family included. πŸ™‚

Published November 19, 2017 by Chloe Madison

So much has happened. First of all, I’m the shittiest person on Earth. I’ve been wrapped up in myself, in my mind and have been being an ass to people who don’t deserve it. I am so sorry for that. I feel like all I’m ever doing lately is apologizing. I just keep messing up and messing up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t want to be a shitty person to anyone, let alone to good, generous, loving people.

I made an executive decision to fly to my mom’s for Thanksgiving. I have a week off from work and no one to have Thanksgiving dinner with. I thought long and hard (there I go again- being self-absorbed) about my current state. I realized even if I found someone to spend Thanksgiving Day with, that I’d still be alone with my not-so-great thoughts for over a week. I could not see the end. I couldn’t see me living through the entire week. It just wouldn’t happen. At least, I couldn’t envision it happening. Plus, when I was locked up, one of my best friends and I sorta planned me flying to my mom’s for Thanksgiving. I didn’t really take it as something that would really happen because I didn’t have money for it. But like I said, I wouldn’t live through 9 days alone. I know myself. So I decided to put a plane ticket on the last little free space on my credit card and go.

I surprised my mom. She hugged me and then immediately grabbed my waist. I was wearing a huge oversized hoodie (I’ve been wanting to hide from the world lately, hiding under oversized clothes). She commented on how thin I was. I had just talked to her earlier that day on the phone and she had immediately insisted that something was wrong- that I didn’t sound like myself. I didn’t tell her anything on the phone and I wasn’t sure if I would when I saw her in person.

She kept at me though- insisting I didn’t look right, that I was acting different than usual, and that something was definitely wrong. So I told her. I shared with her how I had not been doing well, had blogged incessantly about suicide ideation, and how I’d gotten myself locked up for a week. She took it surprisingly well. She only made three jabs at me. She said people who cut do it for attention or they’re just crying out for help (jab #1). I explained to her about the fight or flight trigger and the adrenaline the way the psychiatrist explained it to me. She didn’t agree.

She didn’t seem to care about my two friends jumping ship on me. She said “they’ve had enough of you.” (Jab #2) I was surprised and replied that I didn’t think that was possible considering I’ve only seen/ communicated with them twice and her another two times since January. How could they “have had enough” of me? Either way, it made me feel like complete shit. I’ve got to make sure I don’t do that to my other friends. I am truly so, so lucky to have a few people stick by me through all this mess. πŸ˜” I don’t want everyone else to decide they’ve had enough of me too.

I told her about starting Zoloft and how that had been affecting me.

I told her how I’d been so much more depressed since I got out and that I wasn’t sure why.

I told her how I lied like crazy to try to get out of there…but obviously, I’m a terrible liar since they didn’t believe me and kept me locked up for 5 days.

The only thing is that she didn’t take my wishes to die seriously…and I didn’t have the courage to restate what I’d already said. She said, “well, the only time I thought you’d really do something was when you and Danny broke up.” (He was my fiancΓ© when I was 18 years old. We broke up when I was 21.) I told her I remember being devastated, but no where near the point of suicide…especially over a break up. What I’m dealing with is so much MORE than that!

She knows what I’m dealing with. She said I’d just have to get over it. (I took this lovely, compassionate comment as jab #3.)

Anyway, I’m preparing for more jabs from her in the coming days. I’ll just have to deal with it.

And then I find out about Kyle. He was my friend way back in the day in my early 20s when I spent most of my time on the streets, smoking cigarettes and playing guitar. I had seen the story of the guy who jumped off the roof of Trump Tower. I looked at the picture of the covered body and pictured myself in there. I thought how that guy had more courage…I’d never be fearless enough to jump. Only today did I find out it was Kyle. He was schizophrenic and in the last few years, I had the hardest time deciphering his nonsensical Facebook posts. I figured it was all the drugs and mushrooms he did. He wrote a lot of poetry, but none of it was about death or dying or suicide. So I’m not sure if it was planned or was a spur of the moment decision or if he was on something when he did it or if his mental illness is the root cause?

Either way, I wonder why it wasn’t me. Why did God let him die?