All posts tagged thankful

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 18, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Just like before I was hospitalized, I’ve decided it’s probably healthier for me to not return and reread my posts. It’s like a dog returning to it’s vomit. To me, this is poison and I want to get it out and leave it out. But because of that, I can’t quite remember what I said in my last post. What I do remember is being super angry at God and feeling like I wasn’t being fair to him. As if He needs me to be fair.

But I have been feeling guilt about it. I most definitely am still angry. But it’s only right that I also say what else I’m feeling about God. And that is thankfulness. There have been many things that I’ve spent YEARS praying for. And one of those things has changed for the better just this past month. I cannot get away without acknowledging that from God. I am grateful, even though it may sound like I’m not.

I know I have conflicting feelings toward God- anger and thankfulness don’t normally go together. But this is where I am and what I’m trying to work through. I am so grateful for seeing God work this past summer- not only in keeping me alive, but I saw Him work in other people’s lives too.

Since I was hospitalized though…I haven’t seen much from Him. I feel abandoned by Him. And by others including my friends who are no longer speaking to me. I don’t know why I can’t move past that. I’m stunned at their actions. Still.

Regardless, I’m grateful for seeing God work this past summer and for what He’s done this past month. As angry as I am, I felt I needed to be fair in acknowledging my gratitude.

I’m just a mess. A huge, complicated mess. My life has fallen apart SO MUCH MORE THAN I EVER THOUGHT POSSIBLE because of the hospitalization. I’m not sure I can ever move beyond that.

I can sit here and pretend it doesn’t bother me, pretend it doesn’t hurt me, pretend it hasn’t deeply affected and torn through my psyche, pretend it hasn’t irreparably damaged my soul….but that’s a lie.

Published December 26, 2017 by Chloe Madison

Christmas Day has come and gone and we haven’t yet celebrated it. My 78 year old mom took a nap most of the day, leaving me alone to watch tv. No gifts given nor received. I warned my mom though- this Christmas I have absolutely nothing to offer but my company. And that’s not much to write home about. 😕

The highlight of my day was that I was charged with the responsibility of giving a bath to her dog, Lucky. This was his first bath since his surgery two weeks ago. He just lost one of his front legs. 😢 He has bone cancer and the vet said the only way to prevent it from continuing its rapid spread was to amputate. Even though I didn’t have much of a Christmas, giving this dog a bath seemed special to me. I’d like to think it was a task from God. My mom’s back is bad so she couldn’t have done it anyway. I took care to give Lucky the warmest, most gentle Christmas bath he could get. I wrapped him up in the softest blankets afterwards to keep him warm. I kept talking to him and kissing his little head and telling him he’d be ok. He’s learning to hop around on 3 legs already- he can even jump up on the couch and go up and down my mom’s 4 steps outside her front door.

The other good thing was an email I got from a friend. He’d just donated to the gofundme and I had sent him an email thanking him. Here was part of his reply:

This means a LOT to me. He’s the one I’d written about where the last time I saw him, he had just met his wife and I admired their godly relationship. We met each other when we spent a few months leading a missions trip in Madagascar. He’s a phenomenal guy. He’s been offering to fly me out to stay with his family in upstate NY. He offered for Thanksgiving and Christmas. It’s overwhelming how sweet and encouraging he’s been. I had contacted him a few months ago and told him I was struggling and asked for his prayer. When I was hospitalized, I was so embarrassed and ashamed that I didn’t tell him at first. I think I told him right before Thanksgiving. 😓 I wanted to be honest with him about how I was doing…but it’s so embarrassing to tell people that you got locked up in a mental hospital. That sucks. But if I want to feel fully supported by the people actually willing to support me, then they have to know the full truth. If they don’t know all of me and the shitty place I’m at in life, then I won’t feel fully loved. I’ll know that I hid part of myself and then I’ll believe they don’t actually love me because they don’t know everything. Does that even make sense? To me it does.

Tomorrow I increase my dosage of Zoloft again. Oph. I’m nervous. And tomorrow I take my mom down to my brother’s house. I’m super nervous about that. He’s been bothering me about why I was in the hospital. I kept telling him it’s a long story- I’ll tell him in person. But I have no intention of doing that. Yikes. 😬 I’d decided to NOT tell my brother because I don’t want to ruin his whole life, ruin his view and admiration of our father, or make him depressed. 😕 It’s not fair to dump that on him. But if I tell him I was hospitalized for suicidal thoughts, he’s going to judge me. It’s an automatic, sometimes even subconscious thing that people do. You’ve already done it- whether you realize it or not. Everyone has. I’m not mad- I’m just scared of the judgment. It’s not fair to me. It won’t be fair if my brother thinks I’m just a looney who’s on meds and who gets locked up.

But whatever. 🤷🏼‍♀️ That’s me. I have a good reason though- a good reason why I’m on meds and getting locked up. It’s just not an easy reason to openly share with people. Especially if it has the possibility of hurting people- like my brother.

And I don’t want to hurt anyone. 😓 Ever.

It’s hard enough scrolling through Facebook and seeing thousands of pictures of people with their big families and their Christmas trees and presents and all the smiles. Today, I got to bathe and snuggle a 3 legged dog and check on my mom as she napped all day.

But, I’m alive. Honestly, that’s more than I thought would happen right there. I’ve thought about it a lot, but I’m still here. So there’s that too.

Published December 17, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I have to end this on a positive note….and not so self-absorbed. Forgive me for that.

I’m grateful for so much. And my gratitude is deeper than I can express. I’m grateful for friends who have helped and encouraged and supported me over and over these last few months. I’m grateful for those who continue to do so. I’m grateful for my job and the young people I work with. I love them a lot. I’m grateful for my precious little snuggle bunny, my dog. He means so much to me. I’m thankful for my therapist and the help I’m getting: I’m grateful for God. I know in my head that God loves me and has patience with me and forgives me. I need to learn to believe that in my heart. I am so grateful for Jesus and all he’s done for all of us in this world. I’m grateful for this place I live in and the adventures I’ve had so far in life. I’m grateful for the people who have selflessly donated to help me pay the hospital bills. I’m grateful that we can talk to God through prayer any time, any day, under any circumstances. I’ve fallen off in my prayer quite a bit since the summer. I need to reconnect with God more. I need to learn to trust him. But regardless of my current feelings, I’m still thankful for all he’s done.

I’m grateful for so much. I really am. And I neglect to say that and to think on it.

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 28, 2017 by Chloe Madison

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

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

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

“Don’t freak out!”

“Don’t freak out!”

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

And it’s not. It’s so true. 😦

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s all I need- another identity crisis.