I’ve had so many sleep disturbances. A few nights ago, I was up about 25 times- no joke. Interestingly, I was able to promptly fall back asleep each time…only to wake up 20 minutes later. The next night, my dog was super sick again and he had me up about every hour to go out. It was the weekend though, so I was glad I could take care of him and not have to worry about sleeping well for work.

I went hiking exhausted. I’m so drawn there. It’s absolutely beautiful- stunning, really. I didn’t take one minute to stop and sit. I should have though. I hiked for hours and hours. The view was incredible:

It was a narrow ridge line. It couldn’t have been more than 150-200 feet across at its widest point. It was a hike straight up…no trails. While driving there, I prayed for people and I’d asked God to be with me that day. I told him that’s all I wanted…for him to be with me.

I was disappointed because I don’t feel he answered that prayer. I encountered one old man up on top for a few seconds. He came out of nowhere and at first, he remarked how he’d never seen another soul up on top of the mountain before. Then he asked me how I got up there. I told him and he ran off. RAN! He was RUNNING the ridge…he had to be in his 70s and he was running the ridge that I was huffing and puffing just walking on. Smh. As I neared the other end of the ridge line, I couldn’t figure out how he got up there. Cliffs were everywhere on all sides. I still don’t know where he came from. I thought I’d pass him again going the other direction, but he disappeared. I joked to myself that it was God making an appearance. But I know it wasn’t.

I listened to the song about God’s relentless love over and over and over again while driving out there. I’m trying so hard to keep a positive attitude.

It’s one thing I noticed with my last EMDR session- was how much I was trying to control what happened in order to keep it positive. Usually, I just let my mind run free, but last time I worked so hard to stay positive. It’s one thing I’m trying to do since being hospitalized. I don’t ever want to go back there again so I’m trying my best. But we didn’t do EMDR last week because she thought I still needed to process more before moving into another session. She thought all the new sleep disturbances, migraines, and nightmares were caused by the last gut- wrenching session. Truthfully, I was scared to go see her last week because I really didn’t want to do it again.

Today I found out that a friend has relapsed. I’m having a hard time wrapping my brain around that. I offered his wife my place to stay- at least until my lease is up. I don’t think she’ll take me up on it, but in case things get violent, it’s important for her to know she has a place to go and someone to talk to night or day. I’m available 24/7 and she knows that. I just don’t know what else to do besides pray. I feel helpless. I’m so mad at him and yet I’m terrified of the stories I’ve heard about him when he used in the past. But at the same time, I’ll do whatever it takes to be there for his wife and even protect her, if it ever comes to that. He could kill me for all I care. That would be doing me a favor.

I’ve been wondering why I actually had a good week in terms of my mood. I don’t know if it’s meds finally working or prayer or both. And then I look at my friend and see his relapse. He was sexually abused as well. It makes me think there’s no hope for people like us. That’s why I hate that word. It’s bullshit. That song says “there’s no lie you won’t tear down coming after me” and I think of these things I believe. Are they lies or truth? I don’t see God coming after me anymore. At one point I did. Not anymore. God has left the same way that everyone has left. My two friends refusing to be there for me proves that people don’t care about anyone but themselves. People don’t love. People will get sick of your needy ass and will leave you. It happens all the time. No one is there.

I look at my relapsed friend who’s married and has constant companionship and even he struggles. His wife is wonderful and she’s not enough. That tells me that people like us will never get better. There’s no hope for us.

My whole last session was about God being disappointed in me for not having hope in him…about him being mad at me for being such a mess and for not trusting him. I don’t know what to do with that. I ask God to be with me…and then he doesn’t show. I don’t know what to make of it. That’s not lies. That’s the truth. That’s what really happened and keeps happening. All my friends have given up on me. They’ve all left. They tried for a while and got sick of it and bailed. God has left too. He’s sick of my shit and I know it. I feel so terrible about that.

This is all I am. A whole lot of nothing.

Oph. I had a messed up and very long dream/ nightmare last night. Not all of it was bad. I can’t get into every detail because it was so long that it would take me forever. One part had my youth pastor from when I was a teenager in it. So here’s the thing- no matter who I say is in the dream, I didn’t interact with them and they didn’t interact with me. The most pervasive feeling throughout the whole dream was loneliness. I was there and others were there…and we were far away from each other…it’s like everyone was physically scattered. There was only one part where people were grouped together and I went in and out of the group (it was at a ballet studio in a locker room) But no one talked to me and I left right away. I felt scared of being shot in the long, deserted hallways of the ballet studio. I’d peep around the corner and down the hall before I entered it. Then I’d run down the hall so I wouldn’t get shot (even though I never saw a shooter).

There was another part where we were hunkering down for a storm- a hurricane, I think. And one of my friends in the dream (who is someone I don’t know in real life) planned to swim to and stay on an island for the hurricane. This is the only time I spoke to someone and I convinced this guy to not stay alone on his island during the storm. I had him come stay in a room in my house.

After the storm, the scenery completely changed and I was in a forest with long rows of tall, giant trees like sequoias or something. This is where I found out that people died. I think it was like Annette in the dream- I never saw her, but the person I was mourning was exactly like her being and our relationship. And then later in the dream, her spouse died too. And he died not being a Christian and this really bothered me. I felt I should have done more to show God to him, but I also felt I couldn’t force him to believe something when he didn’t want to.

Multiple deaths occurred. Then, my youth pastor came back again and this part of the dream sticks out to me in a very sad way. We were in a huge room- almost like an empty theater. We were grieving the death of a different person. We were watching snippets of their life up on this big screen…but he and I were the only ones in the theater. And we were far away from each other. I remember looking over to him constantly and worrying about him. He wasn’t taking this well and he was slumped over in the chair. At one point I thought he died too, but then I saw his belly move up and down as he breathed. This haunts me so much. I was so concerned about him and yet I felt so distant from him- just like with everyone else in the dream.

In another part of the dream, I was driving a school bus backwards. I know, bizarre. I crashed it into a tree and there was only one kid in the bus with me and he was ok. I remember pulling us out of the crashed bus and seeing it smashed into the tree. We were in a neighborhood with a lot of houses, but the streets were deserted. There was no one around to help.

Then in the foresty place with the wide rows of large trees, my friend was there- scrunched down and digging holes with her hands. That was bizarre too. I remember knowing this is how she was grieving her special person who died. (In real life, her brother died in an accident from a drunk driver.)

I hated this dream. There’s so much more to it. But I hated all the constant feelings of aloneness and grief. I’ve never had a dream that was so filled with emotions…and every different scene in the dream, no matter what was going on or who was there- it was all negative emotions.

The ballet studio- alone and fearing I’d be shot

The forest- alone and not able to help my friend

The storm- riding it out alone even though I was housing another person.

The bus crash- alone

God, I hated this dream. I woke up feeling so weird and I still do.

I hate where I’m at in life. I wonder if I’ll ever get better. I have had some good days sprinkled throughout these last two months, and I get a little excited thinking I could be getting better because I feel normal for a half day or so. Then, I become overwhelmed with sadness and despair. I absolutely can’t control it no matter how hard I try.

There was a knock on my door yesterday and I instantly freaked thinking it was the police. I was terrified and quickly went back and forth about even looking out the peephole to see who it was or just hiding in my room or jumping off the balcony to escape. My heart raced and I felt nauseous- all in the span of the 60 seconds it took me to get to the door. It was Girl Scouts. Selling cookies. Good grief….I have issues.

I’m praying for another good day at church. I want to be normal- I really do. I miss it. And I hate how I am now. But I feel so powerless to change it. I think how I am drives people away and that makes me feel worse. But I’m powerless. I’m taking meds and I’m going to therapy and the last EMDR session was utterly excruciating. Several times, my therapist suggested we stop and I told her we should keep doing because I needed to do it. I don’t know what more I can do.

EMDR session #666

I haven’t done EMDR in so long that I forgot how much it disorients me. I almost got into multiple car accidents trying to drive home. I was so out of it- it was unreal. I found myself swerving into other lanes and not being aware of it.

This writing will probably be a mess and I don’t care. I just don’t have the energy to make it all flow well. I just want to get it out.

I’ve been having multiple nightmares about being hospitalized that I haven’t had the energy to write about yet. I told my therapist though and she suggested we do EMDR for that. I had to identify my most overwhelming negative emotion. Shame, of course.

Shame- and with that, feeling unloved, not worthy of being loved, not cared for or worthy of it, alone, hated. The opposite of shame is being honorable. I broke into tears because she asked me to see myself as honorable- and I can’t even picture myself as honorable. It’s not possible. I wept constantly through this whole thing. She asked where I felt this- and I feel it in my chest- it’s super heavy and achy and it hurts. It’s literally painful.

The first thing I envisioned was being locked up. At first, I was just looking around, taking in my surroundings – essentially through memories of the experience. I was in disbelief that it was all even happening, I felt locked in- no way out, I was feeling threatened from my crazy roommate. We had 3 roommates (4 people to a room), but I was terrified of one because I actually thought she could and would hurt me.

The next part, I was looking out the window at the snow- trying to see how I could get out, trying to calm myself with snow and watching the storm roll in. All of this happens in fast forward motion. From the window, it went to me seeing the docs and putting up a facade to convince them I was ok. Then, I went to walking in circles in there because there was no where to go. I remembered talking to my friend on the phone and I remember how it calmed me. I also looked out window at the homeless people and was jealous of how they’re free.

The next thing is a red balloon- like a hot air balloon- comes over to the 7th floor where I am and I can escape. I jump in to rise up and get away. They’re chasing from down on the street level, so I don’t know where to land the balloon. In Colorado? No- not safe. In Wyoming? Not far enough away. I’m speeding away in the balloon in fast forward motion- In the middle of Oregon? No, I don’t know this place- keep going. I wind up on Cannon Beach, where I’ve been before and a place I want to return to. The skies bare dark, like it’s stormy and dusk. I’m on the dark sand for just a second watching the skies and waves and I turn and my friend who called 911 is directly behind me. I feel like I’ve been caught and I panic inside. He’s going to turn me in and send me back to the hospital- so I’m not safe. So I make him disappear immediately and make him dissolve into the sand. I realize if he can find me, I’m not safe- I haven’t gone far enough away so I get back in ballon, and go over ocean- but as I go and go, there’s no where to land. So I go to Alaska. Is that far enough away?? I see memories again. I see moose and bears and a swift running creek with freezing water. I examine the creek rocks, huge and rounded by the rushing of the water. I see the cabin on my vision board- with a deck and Albe my dog laying on it, sunning himself. (I had a vision board where I sketched one of my goals or dreams in life. I drew a simple cabin on land in Alaska with a large wooden deck where I lounged in lounge chairs with my then-fiancée and with my dog, Albe.)

At this point, multiple things happen- first, I hear it said that this dream will never come true. Albe is dead. As much as that kills me. He was by my side for nearly 17 years. So that vision will never happen. Something says don’t you trust God to make your dreams come true? I look up and I see God – as the sun, up in the sky and peeking out over the mountains. But I also know this dream won’t happen- I’m alone. I never envisioned this alone. I envisioned this with my ex fiancée and Albe. Both are gone.

I look to God and try to concentrate on the positive. I feel the warmth of God- as he’s the sun. I’m soaking up his warmth. I feel my face even becoming sunburned. But while I feel the warmth- I still feel the deep hurting hole of shame in my chest.

I feel isolated and full of shame. I’m laying on the lounge chair alone- no dog and no spouse- and a black hole develops in my chest, quickly expands both outward and downward and drops out of my body, stretching down into the earth.

It slowly begins to fill with blue water- but like an underground water table- the levels slowly rise, then fall, then rise again. This takes time and for some reason, I’m confused and scared as this happens. (I think this is God healing me)

As water is filling deep down in the hole- whiteness (like snow) begins to expand and cover the ground. It spreads across the entire ground so all I can see is whiteness. It envelops me and even covers God in the sky and wraps around me. It’s like a loose soft toilet paper, wrapping itself around me in fast forward motion and I’m spinning as it does. My face is covered even. I’m standing now.

I try to remain positive so I look up to where God is to try to keep my mind on him. I face him through the toilet paper. I feel water on my toes and am surprised at how quick the healing water that was deep down in the hole in the earth actually reached my body. But it makes me panic again. I look down, thinking for a second that I could drown. I look back to God, knowing this is his water and it’s good. Then the black hole develops in my chest again. It shoots out of my back and dips down into the earth in a sharp deep point. Something tells me something like- “See?? You can’t get better! You won’t ever heal!” You’re covered with God and yet your black hole of shame will ALWAYS be here.

I can’t remember quite how it ended. It’s like I was a tiny bit close to getting healed and then the blackness enveloped me again. Like it’s something I can never escape. I’m the very end, my therapist was telling me her thoughts- and I’m sorry to say that I don’t know what she said. I saw 666 when she was talking. I know that sounds ridiculous- cheesy, even. But I couldn’t see or hear anything but that for a minute or two.

When I was driving erratically home, I found myself behind a truck who’s license plate started with 666. Not even joking. Super odd.

So that was EMDR. Then last night- it was emotional. I watched the show “Hollywood Medium” and it made me think of my dad and how I always wanted and still want an apology from him. I want him to admit wrong doing or show remorse in the very least. I’ll never get that- but I do sometimes daydream of a medium giving me that message.

I watched the one with Kristin Cavallari and how she wanted her brother who died to come through. I remember following that closely in the news because he died in a way that’s very close to one of the ways I envision it. He died in the desert in Utah. He went missing for several weeks and all they knew is he had been driving through Utah. They had alluded to possible mental illness, but no one (publicly anyway) knew for sure. After a few weeks, he was found dead. He had an accident and was found off in a ditch where we wandered. What his family never knew- was if it was purely accidental or suicide? The medium said that he felt the presence of a mental illness that went back and forth (the family confirmed he was bipolar). Then he said he felt the influence of drugs and alcohol and how that made things worse- almost impossible for healing. Then, he medium said it was an accident, he felt like he was wandering and had planned to find a nearby river and follow it to civilization. But he hit his head and never made it. The family confirmed there was a river near where he crashed and they were relieved (and heart-broken) to heat he had actually tried to survive. All this made me envision all the past plans for the desert- being out there alone, dying, no one ever finding you. It just weighed heavily on me. I watched that episode twice in a row last night.

And I don’t even remember why I started talking about it. Anyway. I’m so exhausted. My head hurts and it feels like I’m in a cloud. I want to go to sleep.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuuuuu…. I am so infuriated and I don’t even know why. I just left my two doctor appointments. This last guy said I rated as severe for depression, but “moderately severe.” He even suggested I get into group counseling that could meet for up to 3 times a week, if I felt I needed that support. I don’t. I’m fine. I’m shocked that I rated so severely. Am I not seeing this? On top of that, all the questions I answered were for the last 2 weeks only!! And I’ve felt a tiny bit better these last few weeks- I mean, I actually had a good day here and there. So if I’m “moderately severe” now, what the hell was I before? Severely severe?

That depresses me so much. It makes me mad. Why though? This is probably the first time since I’ve been out that I actually wanted to hurt myself. I just feel so much rage and strong….gah….I don’t even know!

Speaking of hurting myself, with talking with this guy and why/ how I got hospitalized…I WILL NEVER, EVER say on this blog that I want to die or kill myself ever again. It’s not worth getting locked up for. Just because I don’t say it, doesn’t mean I’m not thinking it. But I refuse to go through that again. I don’t have the freedom to say what I want…but hey, welcome to America. Land of the free. Unless you’ve been raped. Then you’re not free. You’re not free to express yourself. You’re not free of your fears. You’re not free of anything this shitty life has in store for you.

I can’t believe I’m worse off than I think. I just don’t believe that. Am I that blind?

The med management doctor is increasing my dosage. Doubling it. Not because of me though…he says that almost no one experiences the benefits of Zoloft on 50mg. (Then why do they even make a 25mg?) But he said it’s only 1 of 2 medications proven to treat PTSD. The other med, he said, he doesn’t prescribe because the side effects are crazy bad. He was much nicer than the second doc. He made me feel bad about 2 things though. One was my hope (<— f*** that word) in the medicine. He said for someone like me, dealing with huge and multiple traumas, that meds are only 10% of the equation. The rest needs to come from therapy. 😞 I had wished the meds would help more than just 10%. The other thing was my problem regulating my body temp and not having my period for 2 months now. I thought (and still think) I was so distressed when I was locked up, that I skipped it then and it’s listed as a side effect…so I thought maybe that’s why I still don’t have it. He suggested I might have early menopause!! What the..?? No, don’t tell me that. Don’t crush my dreams of ever having children!! Are you freaking kidding me?? No. No. No.

Everyone says “wait” on God. Wait for a husband. Wait for children and a family. God will give you the desires of your heart.

F that. He doesn’t. This is proof.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so sad. I took an online health questionnaire at work and was slightly paranoid it might not be anonymous like it said. So I answered the questions about mood and depression to make it NOT sound as bad as I feel. And I STILL got flagged as depressed. What the…? Am I doing that badly that I can’t even see it?

Some of the information given following the questionnaire said that depression can affect your judgment. Is that really true? I’ve never heard of that before. But as I reflect on decisions and thoughts and how I perceive things…I just didn’t think depression would impact those things, but maybe it has. I honestly thought it was the other way around- that I was depressed because of my thoughts and perceptions of the world and people around me. I didn’t think depression could alter that. Maybe I have a lot to learn.

I’m so sorry for my angry posts lately. I’ve been highly irritable for over a year now- since this all started to go downhill. Seeing how much my insurance paid and what I still owe sent me over the edge in terms of rage. I’m still super upset that I have to pay $9000 for something I refused over and over and over. All I wanted to do was go home. And they wouldn’t let me.

I don’t want to think about the money situation anymore. I don’t know what to do with that. I’ve cut out cable TV and eating out. What else can I cut out?? There’s nothing in my budget but my credit card payment, rent, electric, cell, student loan, insurance, gas, and car payment. My dog’s meds are so much…I just picked up more of his meds yesterday. He’s been throwing them up though. 😞 I don’t know how else to help him except to do what the doctor says and give him extra pain meds when his pain won’t subside. My heart hurts so badly for him. He’s my only companion in this lonely, cold world. My only companion.

I had already bought a plane ticket to see my mom at Christmas and now I think it’s a mistake (financially). It’s on my credit card…obviously I couldn’t afford to pay for it outright. But I view Christmas break the same as Thanksgiving break. If I stay here, alone, for two weeks…no work, no friends, nothing to do…bad things will happen. My mind just goes there. It goes there every single day. The best way I can think of to fight it is to go away from here and be with other people. Sounds good. Just not very affordable. But I’m doing the best I can even if I can’t afford it.

I even reached out to my old pastor yesterday. I had reached out to him a few months back. But yesterday I sent him an email letting him know I got locked up. I’m so scared of being judged or looked down on because of it. It took degradation and shame to a whole new level for me. I’m super embarrassed about it and don’t want ANYONE to know. Too many already do. But I decided to be honest and tell him, hoping to get some encouragement and support. I haven’t heard back yet.

Me reaching out to people is so, so difficult. I think I’m terrified of rejection. And if you give people nothing to reject you for, then they won’t. If you’re honest and open and vulnerable, people will see your weakness and your troubles. You’re giving them ammunition to judge you with. But it is what it is. If I want support from people, I have to let them know that. Even if I get rejected…like when I asked my friends to visit me in the hospital and they refused. It was shocking and heart breaking. But the truth is that I’m not so sure I want people like that around me. I don’t need any more negativity. I don’t need any more criticism and rejection- I feel I do that to myself enough. I need good people, true friends, people who won’t judge me even knowing I’ve been locked up. I just think that’s so hard to find. That’s why I’m so scared and hesitant to reach out.

I’m trying though. I feel like going away at Christmas is the best course of action. I thought reaching out to my old pastor again is a good step to take. I’m not sure quitting therapy is the best idea- but financially, I’ve got no other choice. I have to start making payments and I don’t know where else that money can come from. Can you make a payment on a medical bill with a credit card? Again…not the best idea…but if I have no other choice, then that will be the route I might need to take.

I need to get away from this debilitating sadness. It’s eating me up.

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. 😓 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. 😒

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. 😓 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.

My heart is so, so hopelessly sad.

My chest literally hurts.

I told my therapist about just how often I think of not being here. From here on out, I’m going to be fully honest and I’m not going to downplay my thoughts or feelings with her. And hopefully, in exchange, I’ll never be locked up again. I can always go stay with someone or someone can stay with me. That’s my hope anyway. I can’t guarantee that.

I’m not so sure I have people to do that. Every single person who told me they’d be by my side has left. I’m gifted at making people leave. It’s not what I want- obviously. But I feel so… ugh. I give up.

The other night I had my first nightmare about being locked up. It was weird because in my dream, the place was better than in reality. In my dream there were tiny jacuzzis that fit only two people at a time. And this is where you met with your doctor. Smh…I know…weird. But in my dream, I was terrified. Just like in reality. I woke up drenched in sweat and with my heart beating out of my chest. It sucked. In my dream, I acted the way I did in real life. I was so scared and cautious of everyone…I even moved slower because I was so unsure of everything happening.

I am here alone.

Again.

Still.

It doesn’t matter what I do.

It doesn’t matter what I say to who.

(I had to edit this part out…it wasn’t fair or right for me to say.)

Period. End of story.

And what can you do?

This is why my heart hurts so badly. I can’t tell myself I’m worth living, I can’t try to convince myself that I can matter in this life if everything consistently points to the contrary.

(Edited out)

EMDR

I feel so weird. Extraordinarily detached. I’m not feeling a thing. My thoughts seem to float. Detached. No connection. The perfect time Too easy.

Shame is what we focused on- being ashamed of who my father is…that I’m so closely related to a sexual predator, a criminal.

I saw myself walking on the sidewalk next to the building where I work. This massive black tar-like substance began slowing oozing down from the entire building. It was one giant encompassing entity. I think it was shame. It suddenly changed from slow moving to a quickly engulfing tidal wave that swept me up into a whirlpool. A deep black whirlpool. I was caught up in the enormous swirling blackness. Then I noticed the sky turning white. It was a stark contrast to the blackness of the giant whirlpool. I thought maybe the white sky might be God. I saw a red rose floating around in a downward trajectory. I want to die so I laid back in the black whirlpool and floated on my back- giving up, wanting to drown or be swallowed up by this. 

The rose drifted down and landed on my chest. I was distracted by it- I kept looking at it laying on my chest, but also kept laying my head back and floating, in an effort to give up. I realized the rose was sticking to my chest- like the tentacles of an octopus. I tried prying an edge of it off- one rose petal- and as soon as I let go, it would reattach itself. 

I remembered that the red rose had made an appearance before, but I can’t remember what I thought it represented. This time I kept getting the phrase, “Word of God” over and over and I kept picturing my new Bible. So perhaps the rose that’s attached itself to my chest represents the Word of God. As I realize that, I think it begins to embed itself in me. 

I notice the black whirlpool begins to swirl with a milky white liquid, mixing with the blackness. The white seems to overtake the black and soon the whirlpool is white with only traces of blackness through it. 

The spinning of the whirlpool begins to slow. I hadn’t noticed before, but the level of it had lowered. The next thing I know, I’m laying on the wet ground- soggy grass wet with a milky white substance. The waters of the whirlpool had so gently dissipated that I barely noticed it. 

I don’t want to get up- I’m curious to see what’s around me, but I feel lazy, maybe just exhausted- I don’t want to even lift my head. I feel like God is telling me to get up and go. But I don’t want to. It becomes clear that it’s ok for me to stay there for a while and as I do, the grass becomes less and less soggy as the milky liquid is absorbed into the ground. 

I can’t remember correctly. 

I think I sit up and begin to look around and I see nothing in all directions around me. I see a weird scene as short, sharp grass seems to be in blue ground. The word “wasteland” comes to mind. There’s  nothing out there in any direction. It’s a barren wasteland. As I stand up, the landscape turns more and more bleak. There’s still nothing but everything continues to dry up- like the desert of Mad Max and the Thunderdome. I look down as I feel something heavy and awkward on my feet. I see sandals on my feet- but super old school ones like Jesus would wear. I feel something in my hand but I can’t see it clearly. It feels like a heavy Bible or something- but an old leather covered one. The ground has now turned into a dry orange sand.

I can’t determine which way to go- which way God wants me to go. No matter where I turn, every direction looks the same. I think God needs to show me which way to go. I also think this is a long arduous journey- one that will take a while and that I clearly don’t have much to survive with. I see a vertical sliver of light off in the distance and think that must be the way to go. I slowly begin to move toward it. Again, I look down at my feet, the old sandals, and feel this big book-like thing cupped in my hand. I feel underequipped for what’s ahead. 

As I move forward, two big masses of blackness come from either side up in the sky. They develop and swirl like clouds- but they reach from the top of the sky to the ground and even cover parts of the ground. They’re ominous and threatening. I can still see a path to follow in the sand though. I can still look above the blackness and see the little sliver of light to follow. So I continue. 

Then…giant evil faces emerge from the blackness. On both sides, I see deep red eyes and huge, deep red grimaces. They’re laughing at me and threatening me. I hear the word “black” over and over rhythmically and as I do, I picture my wrist, a gun, my wrist, laying back floating in the ocean, Chicago, my wrist, ….

I can now see nothing but blackness. It’s grown to cover every inch of the ground. The path is obscured. Images of suicide are everywhere…surrounding and engulfing me.