This Life Is Filled With Hurt When Happiness Doesn’t Work Trust Me, And Take My Hand When The Lights Go Out, You’ll Understand

I haven’t been on top of my writing, I know. For starters, life has been intense this past while, which I’ll try to delve into in a later post. But also, I’ve been having seizures so often now that I just don’t have the energy or strength to write. I’d prefer to spend all my free time ‘recovering’. I have Grand Mal seizures in my sleep, and while they were controlled by meds for the most part of my life, these past 2-3 weeks I’ve been having 1-2 a week, which considering it had been years since they’ve effected me like this, is in and of itself stressful/annoying. They cause so much pain in general. My entire body is sore when I wake up. Last night (and most nights) I bit my tongue and lip. I threw up after I finally dragged myself outta bed and it was full of blood. This time I also scratched up my face, so that was something new. It was also something fairly embarrassing for when I had to take Little E to his hockey game and my face was full of red scratches. Then to top it all off, because apparently that’s not enough, I wet the bed. Yep I’m 30 years old and can’t control my bladder. Attractive.

So, because Little E had a hockey game early (7:30) this morning, and then a birthday party at 2, I took Z to get her nails done 💅🏼 and now because I’m literally too tired to cook, I’m sitting in a McDonald’s play-place, in an attempt to wear the kids out and hopefully have a quiet evening.

I picked up some Epson salts for a bath later and I’ve been living on Extra Strength Advil.

At this point, I’m not sure what’s going on, or what that problem is. All I know is this has been beyond draining and I wish they would stop. To have something happening to my body that is beyond my control is frustrating and annoying. It’s painful and the doctors honestly don’t seem to give a shit. They ask if I’m taking my meds, which I am. And then I’m met with blank stares. It’s like if this medicine doesn’t work, they literally have no clue where to go from there.

So anyways. That’s what’s been going on with me. My brain has decided it’s going rogue, and as a result, my body feels like death.


-Three Days Grace/Pain-

And You Can’t Stop Me From Falling Apart

I refuse to watch 13 Reasons Why. As someone who has attempted suicide myself, on more than one occasion, and obviously failed (self high-five), I don’t feel I need to know someone else’s reasons behind killing themselves, or whatever else happens on that show. Do I think it’s a good show for people to watch who have never experienced suicidal tendencies? Sure, maybe, I don’t know. But like I said, I won’t watch it, so I can’t advise.

My first attempt was when I was about 16 (I think… in around there). Looking back, my life was pretty good, so from all outward appearances there was nothing that would have given away my intentions.
I grew up in the suburbs, in a brand new house my mom designed and had built when I was 10 using the inheritance my dad got when his parents passed away within a year of each other. I was pretty much a straight A student for the most part until Gr. 12. I had a solid group of friends. I was involved in lots of activities, you know the standard boring stuff like band and *synchronized* swimming. I played b-ball in junior high and rugby throughout high school. I wasn’t a “trouble” kid, never even been sent to the principals office (unless the teacher needed an errand kid… than I was your girl) I wasn’t your emotional girly girl, my friends all came to me for advice, knowing I could be trusted to keep secrets as well as lead them in the general right direction. I’ve never been fired from a job since I first started working at 14.  I was/am fiscally responsible, and bought my first car (at the time a sweet black coupe Sunfire lol) at 16. Basically, I was your model goody-two-shoes citizen.

It would seem I had it all.

So why would someone who had it “so good” feel so desperate that they had to try to kill themselves. Good question. One that I can’t even explain well. It’s like you get to a point where you feel desperate. You feel like no matter what, no matter how hard you try or what you do, it won’t be good enough, or even better, it won’t matter. It comes from inside. It’s not necessarily because of a certain situation or because of something someone said to you, it comes from deep within. You feel like your drowning in yourself. You feel out of control. And as hard as you try to “think positive” or “look at the bright side” or whatever other ridiculous thing people tell you in that moment, the feeling is there. Deep down inside. So you stop telling them about your struggle. You say your fine. You act like your fine. You show no outward appearances of being in trouble. You try to maintain normality. Because you don’t need the words from people who don’t understand you, trying to “make things better” They don’t get that words won’t help. This is a feeling. An emotion. A confliction rising from places you didn’t know existed deep within yourself. Places you’ve tried to keep hidden. Because you are a happy person. Who doesn’t have 13 reasons to kill herself. A person who has a million reasons to live.
Yet, you just don’t want to.

So, one night at 16 years old while my parents were out, I very carefully and methodically downed an entire bottle of extra strength Advil, laid down. and went to sleep for what I hoped, in the moment, would be the last time.
Imagine my surprise and to be honest, hurt, confusion and annoyance when I woke up the next morning feeling nothing but a slight stomach ache. WTF? Seriously? How much does it take? So I got up and went to school as per usual. I hardly told anyone until now. Why admit failure at something as ridiculous as this right? I continued with my life as usual thinking back on that night often… than less as time went on.
Until about 3 years ago. Went the feelings came back again. Harder, and much more intense. But this time I was more “mature” about it, if that was possible. I had two kids looking up to me, so I at least went for help first.

I had recently left E, and was living with my parents again (full circle hey) and I knew I needed help, because those feelings of desperation were back. So one night after I put the kids to sleep I asked my parents if they minded watching the kids while I went out to the clinic, because I really needed to go. Like RIGHT NOW! So I went to the clinic… where the Dr was a douche.
I tried explaining why I was there, and how I was looking for anti depressants. Simple right? Give the depressed suicidal woman antidepressants and everything’s good. At least that how I thought it would go down. But nope. He kept asking why I felt I needed them (Ummmmmmmmm, I’m depressed? Idiot) and saying if I’m suicidal or even overly depressed, he wouldn’t be able to let me leave and would have to call it in to the hospital, and put me under an emergency watch.

So all I could think about was that I had already shared too much. I had come for help. And now you want to lock me in a ward somewhere? What about my kids? Nope. Nope nope nope a million times no. I did a hard 180 and back tracked on everything I had said to him and walked out the office ASAP. But as I drove home, the feelings crept back in. Deeper and more desperate than before. If a doctor couldn’t/wouldn’t help me, than what chance did I have? I felt I had done my best going about dealing with it the “proper way” by going to see a “medical professional” but left feeling more overwhelmed then I had felt an hour ago.

So when I pulled into the garage at my parents house, even though it wasn’t premeditated… I closed the overhead door, and just stayed. I had the car running and the windows down and I just sat there with my eyes closed. I briefly thought about my kids and how they would be fine with my parents, and I could at least enjoy my last moments relaxing with nothing going through my head but whatever songs were on the radio.
Music. One of the most important things in my life. Because it can connect you with/too so many things, but also it can disconnect you from life. Which is what I wanted right then. To forget life. And forget pain, and fear, and every other emotion. I wanted to just  “be” one last time. Until I’m not sure how much later, but my Dad walked out to the garage, saying he had heard the garage door, and wondering if I was ok/what I was doing out there.

No. No, I was not ok. I did not get the help I was looking for. And now you’ve interrupted my “master plan” to kill myself, so now what?
Well “now what” turned out to be a visit to a competent doctor the next day at the  urging of my parents. The new doctor worked with me, getting me the proper anti-depressants that would work with the seizure medication I’m on, as well as follow up calls and emails to ensure I was doing better. Which for the most part I was.

And I still kinda am. Although, upon reflection, I’ve noticed it’s definitely a S.A.D. thing. Which is not something I’m embarrassed about. Even as recently as this past winter, I’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts. Which is probably why I never felt this way while living in Africa. And although I’m not taking anti-depressants anymore, I deal with the emotional pull of the darkness inside myself during that time of year. Something I’m sure will probably happen this coming winter too.

Do I think I’ll try to kill myself again? Not really. But right now, I’m okay. I’m not depressed… for now. So I cannot say for sure it won’t happen again though. All I know is there are not 13 reasons for me. There is not even one. In my opinion, someone who is suicidal, is that way because nothing makes sense. The thoughts in their head are all “down” and “dark.” It’s definitely not a well written and organized 13 point plan/reasons. It’s just desperation and hopelessness.

Or just someone who has had enough. And I hate to be a downer, but sometimes there aren’t warning signs. I was very good at keeping it to myself, and being a “happy friendly carefree” 16 year-old, who looked like she had her shit together. I never cut myself, or had any other indication of other self harm when I went straight to downing those pills. I never gave anyone a heads up. I didn’t even write a suicide note. I wasn’t in it for the attention, I was trying to do it to be done with life. I didn’t give two shits what anyone else thought, then and still to this day that’s how I do life.

I have never had someone close to me commit suicide. And I’m truly sorry if you have. But to be honest, it’s not about what you could’ve done to help. Because depression comes from within. And needs to be solved from within. My medication helped me. No conversation with friends or family, although everyone is different. No amount of get togethers or going out helped me. Because the individual could just paste on a fake smile and then once they go home and are alone, the “dark” thoughts will be back, if they weren’t there the whole time anyways.

Depression is a medical condition that should be helped with medication.

It should not be judged or laughed at. It also should not be made to be explained by the inflicted. Because most times, it can’t be. You either are depressed or you are not. like I said before, nothing in the outer world “makes” you depressed.

For me it came from within. And I shouldn’t need 13 reasons why.


-Skillet/Open Wounds-

Nobody Said It Was Easy. No One Ever Said It Would Be This Hard

I’d like to say that once I got back to Canada things got better fast. But that would be a complete lie. It was hard. There were so many stressful factors I didn’t even consider when thinking the whole “leave E” thing through.

My parents let us stay with them for which I am so very grateful for. Plus my parents were SO happy to have their grandkids back from Kenya for good. We figured out a reasonable rent amount, and each of us had our own room downstairs in the house I grew up in. It was nice to have built in babysitters with my parents but to be honest I never really went out. So most nights it was me watching TV in between my parents on the couch. So very cool, I know.

It took us about a week to get settled and over the jet lag. We took many trips to Value Village and Goodwill (thrift shops) to outfit the kids with winter clothes and a few toys. Considering we had just moved from +30 degree weather to February in Canada (like minus a zillion) it’s an understatement to say we were underdressed and ill prepared.

I was still officially on maternity leave with Z so that helped financially for a bit, but I had huge credit card bills to pay off mainly from flights, E’s most recent one to and from work included, so I had to think about what I was going to do to support my kids. I had 3/4’s of my teaching degree already under my belt, but at this time I really didn’t feel like it was my thing. I figured if I was going to go back to school anyway, I might as well make sure it was something I was really wanting.

So I started taking multiple personality tests to see what kind of traits I had and which jobs they matched well with. I needed to make sure I made the best choice because I couldn’t mess anything up. I had little people looking up to me. After at least a dozen quizzes (no joke, I had a lot of time on my hands, plus I had really missed the internet) I narrowed my decision down to the area of accounting/HR that I though suited me well. I found a program close to home that offered an accounting degree and payroll certification for across Canada start to finish in 10 months. The program was designed to be intense but for a faster finish. Sounded perfect for me, since I needed to be back in the work force ASAP making as much money as possible. I applied, got accepted and started all within a week.

I had to find childcare for my kids which was hard since I didn’t even have a regular babysitter. It took me a little while, but I found the perfect dayhome for them 2 minutes from my parents house and on the way to school. The kids loved it and D was an amazing lady.

Now I had to buy a vehicle. Remember I was starting everything from scratch. I looked around for a while at second hand ones that I could buy straight out with cash, but couldn’t find one I really liked, and that didn’t have any issues. I didn’t want to be dealing with car troubles along with all the other troubles I had going on at the time. I ended up going to a dealership and buying the most beautiful brand new Rogue for myself straight off the lot. It was the nicest thing I had ever owned/done for myself and it actually made me happy every time I looked at the car. I’ve had to sell it since then to buy my house so I currently drive a bucket of bolts I hate, but one day I’ll get myself a nice car again.

Then, there were the people I had to deal with. OHHHH the humanity. Where to even start.

My mom just kept comparing my divorce to hers like a gazillion years ago and the similarities were few and far between yet I was supposed to do everything how she had done it and all the advice was in her opinion super helpful… It wasn’t. She kept telling me about different laws that were so outdated, or paperwork I should file that didn’t exist anymore. It was frustrating. I just wanted to be able to tell her what was going on without her telling me what to do. I just wanted her to listen. But that’s not my mom.

Then at a family get together about a month after I’d gotten back, my older sister R felt it was a good time to give me her opinion on my life. Now R is very dedicated to her Christian faith (her and her husband J are Pastors) and from her perspective, I shouldn’t divorce E. I should “separate from him. Separate forever, but don’t ever divorce” Also she felt it was appropriate timing to tell me that, if I choose to remarry, her and her family would not be attending my second wedding. Her and her husband didn’t believe in divorce and remarriage and therefore wouldn’t support it.  Unless he had cheated on me. (Apparently that kind of abuse is ok according to God’s break up plan?) She felt she was being kind by giving me a heads up on this. I hadn’t even officially filed for divorce yet (I hadn’t even decided to get a divorce yet, I’d just flown back like a month ago and was still sorting out my life) and you’re already talking about my hypothetical second wedding? It was frustrating and made me feel like no longer discussing E with her.

*Since this time R and I have discussed this moment and I explained how it made me feel, and R has apologized for making that comment at that time and the insensitivity of it all. I have forgiven it and we have moved past it, still no update on her families attendance at a hypothetical second wedding though lol*

Anyways then in April, my little sister’s boyfriend D wanted to propose, and asked for my help because her and I were so close. The last thing I wanted to do while dealing with my divorce from an abusive crazy ex is help other people in happy healthy relationships get engaged. Petty? Yes, very, but also it was my truth.  But I helped anyways. I wanted to cry the whole time, but I helped. I also must’ve subconsciously been pissed because I was supposed to record the whole proposal on my phone, and I honestly thought I was videoing the whole thing, but when we went to watch it after there was no video. I don’t know if I forgot to press record or what, but I honestly felt terrible. Either way, she got a beautiful ring on her finger in a room full of her family and friends and flowers. I know she’ll remember it forever without the video… I hope :/  Irregardless, it was a MUCH better proposal than mine, good job D.

My dad sort of kept to himself about the whole thing. That was his style though. Mostly just let my mom do her thing.  But when my sister got engaged, I’ll always remember he brought up the whole “don’t you dare hurt my daughter, or I’ll kill you speech” And in that moment I was so mad at him. It was the same speech he had given E. I was his daughter. I had been hurt. And Dad… you did nothing. You literally did nothing. In the one moment I NEEDED someone to keep their promise to me, to protect me, to keep me safe. You did nothing. For a few weeks all I could think about when I looked at my Dad was how he let me down. I obviously don’t condone violence, and I didn’t actually expect him to do anything to E. But I did want him to shut his mouth about it. It was so hypocritical and made me feel like maybe I wasn’t worth it to him. It took me a while to get over it, and still bothers me to hear him talk about it. I’d rather hear him say nothing than false promises like that.

Then on top off all this, I had constant calls, emails, Facebook messages, texts you name it, from E and his family. Harassing and threatening me at every turn. I blocked all sorts of numbers and they would just call from other phones. Then, they started bothering my mom on Facebook.

Ahh good ol family.

It was no wonder that I became depressed and suicidal by the Fall of 2014.


-Coldplay/Scientist-

 

Love Don’t Lie It Lifts You Up It Takes You Higher When High Ain’t Enough

My marriage should have never happened. But I’m not always good at following my gut. Or listening to the little voice in my head. I follow what I thought was logic and reason, and at the time, all logic was telling me that this man was the best I could/would do and I should get it in while I had a chance.

Awful start, I know. Stupid reason for getting married, I’m well aware. But people do dumb things sometimes, and trust me I’m dealing with the consequences now, and I will be for the rest of my life. Not everything that came from that relationship was terrible. I got to travel the world, which is an experience I will always cherish and value. Most importantly though, I was blessed with my two children. They give me life. No it’s never easy being a single mom, as many of you unfortunately know, but my kids make it worth it. When they smile so big that their eyes squint tight… that’s my joy. I can honestly say that my kids make me happy. Of course they are tons of work (too much it feels like some days) and are  wearing on me constantly but they spark joy in me. A joy that had been lost for too long. A joy that took me a while to understand that they brought, but I’ve learned to appreciate now.

When I met E, I was in a man fog. I was literally hosting one night stands with every half decently attractive guy I met online. Probably on average about 2 different guys a week. I wasn’t looking for a husband, I was looking for companionship. Very short term companionship.  When one of the guys would call me back after I wouldn’t answer. I had gotten what I needed for the time being from them and was moving on. I didn’t need to go through the fake motions of politeness, because frankly I didn’t care.  I was a bitch, I know.  But then I met E and invited him over. He was so shy he brought a friend, which I thought was so endearing.  We talked and actually got along and his friend just kinda chilled there for moral support or something, I still don’t know, and couldn’t care less. As the night moved along I totally made a move, since I invited him over for one reason… friend or not. We did our deed and it was all good, but then I specifically remember when E went to the washroom his friend came over to me and I was like hell no, I’m not THAT skanky, and so I called out for E to help. He came out from the bathroom and took the guy out, and in that moment I thought maybe this guy had potential, and not all guys were that bad after all. So when he called me the next day, I threw caution to the wind and answered. Way out of character for me but in the moment it felt ok. It felt like maybe he had “earned it”.

So I guess that’s when we started our pathetic “courtship” or whatever you want to call it. We started “dating”. I knew after about 2 maybe 3 months that this was more effort and work then it should be. I knew that I probably deserved better. Someone who would call me. Someone I could talk to. I deserved someone who could hold up their side of the conversation. But I didn’t realize at the time the totality of the mess I was getting involved in.

E was very good at lying. Not because he was a manipulator per say, but more because he didn’t realize it, because he couldn’t keep track of what he had already said, and nothing he spoke was truth. He literally made up everything as the words left his mouth. And my life became a juggling act. Trying to put out fires that his actions caused. Patch up relationships his words damaged. Explain situations that I didn’t completely understand because they were so confusing to even me.

You see at the time, I didn’t know, because E himself didn’t know, was that he is a paranoid schizophrenic. So he literally spent more time listening to the voices in his head then to me. It wasn’t as bad in the start. But after we got married, I noticed a definite downturn. And it was difficult. Something I could explain until I’m blue in the face, but unless you’ve lived through it you can’t fully understand. You can’t describe the feeling of sitting next to someone, trying to have a discussion with them, just the two of you, the person who is supposed to be your most intimate partner in the world, and he’s not there. Oh he’s there physically, but his mind is so far gone that he can’t even answer you until you’ve asked the same question in 6 different ways, dumbing it down each time in hopes that he will “get it” that time. Until your so frustrated you just can’t handle it anymore, and you slowly give up. First just with that conversation, and then over time with any discussion of any meaning because you know it will be to painful to draw out any response of any kind out of him.

A few examples of how E confused my life included how E wanted to go to school, and as his wife I wanted to support him in whatever he wanted to do. So we spent thousands of dollars on courses that he never finished because he kept changing his mind on what he wanted to study. He told me after we were married that he had another kid. So I’m already his wife and now I’m a step-mom? Ok, I guess I just have to go with it. Now we’re sending money back to his ex for the daughter that I had to repeatedly explain to him that he had to support… you know because your her dad. Although his words were that it was in the past and not part of his life now so he shouldn’t have to worry about it. Something that should’ve rang warning bell for me should we ever have our own kids.

Next his dad was sick, and thousands more dollars were sent overseas to support his family. All this money I later found out was for imaginary illnesses and was used to build beautiful houses for my in-laws. While I was working my butt off while both in school and pregnant and we were barely making it here in Canada… I was not happy to say the least. Then I found out he wasn’t even the age he told me he was initially. Like who lies about that? Everything that I thought I knew about him was a lie. Everything I had told to my family and friends about him was wrong. So I have to go back and somehow explain that, no, I in fact know nothing about my husband. It was embarrassing and degrading to say that I married a man I thought I knew, but in reality I have no clue as to who he is.

I guess I just felt I had no reason not to trust what he would tell me, because I never expected anyone to lie about such simple things. As time went on though, I learned the opposite, and that was basically anything E said has to be evaluated and most likely it was chock full of lies. Just because. I learned over time that I couldn’t trust the man I had sworn to trust. I couldn’t believe the man I had vowed to give my life to.

But I decided to do my best to deal with forgiveness. And I wanted to make this “marriage” work. I’m trying to be supportive. I’m trying to help him and his family with whatever I can. I’m trying to move past the lies and embarrassment. I made a commitment with vows that I took seriously. Despite all this junk, I was really trying hard, too hard some people told me, to make it last.

But then one January something happened that I couldn’t move past. Something that no one should move past. I decided that I was worth more. I finally realized that for the last few years I’d been dealing with this man, but my kids deserved everything better than this life we were in.


-Def Leppard/Love Don’t Lie-

I’ve Got To Let It Go We Found Love In A Hopeless Place

I got married at 21. But that wasn’t my first mistake. Now don’t get me wrong, I think you can find your true love at any age… but I had not found it. I was marrying because I had found someone, anyone, who would have me. But neither of us knew what we were doing and no one told us to stop. Although at that time, I probably wouldn’t had listened anyways.

My self-esteem was at an all-time low (At that point, little did I know it would get worse), and I was just grasping at straws. I thought that once I got married things in my life would settle down and just… get better.

I guess I should start at the beginning. I mean what could be so bad that I needed to marry someone I knew didn’t love me in an effort to escape?
I guess the question is how far back do I go? Who knows exactly when I broke, when I became someone I didn’t like when I looked in the mirror. Someone I didn’t think anyone else would like when they looked at me. Someone so desperate and needy that they MARRIED a man who they didn’t love and who didn’t love them back just to escape.

Did it start when my ex was suddenly killed and so I was just trying to find someone, any one to replace that connection?
Or did it start when I woke up in the hospital on morning at only 16 years old and was told basically I have a disorder that will require medication for life and there’s nothing they can do about my constant headaches and random seizures?
Or maybe the multiple suicide attempts should have been a huge indicator.
Or maybe before that when I was the token fat kid in my social group in school. You know, the hilarious and sarcastic one that everyone wants to chill with but no one wants to date.

But most likely it stems back even earlier than that. Probably rooted way back in the fact that my “Daddy issue’s” are deep. Like so deep. Like he cheated on my mom while she was pregnant with me, and asked for a divorce soon after my birth. He didn’t want me from the get go.
So, yeah it might’ve started somewhere way back there.

In that mess at some point is where my life took a huge turn that I didn’t plan. One that I don’t like, and now it’s time to figure out how I got from there to here, and where to go next.


-Rihanna feat. Calvin Harris/We Found Love-