All My Life I Had To Fight

I really hope this title isn’t misleading. On God, I had to fight.

I had to deal with my mental illness overcoming me, and people belittling me because I wasn’t “all there”. To them, I was just nothing. Or at least I’d never amount to anything. To them, I was just going to be on disability for the rest of my life. Never work. Never succeed in college. Never do much of anything, if I did ANYTHING at all.

I’m here to say that, that is over with. I got a nice, decent place with my love, i’m trying to goto work (pretty much already have a job), i’m becoming INDEPENDENT. Something people thought i’d never do.

And here I am. Folks, this is mental health recovery at it’s finest.

If you have ever doubted yourself, look at me. I went from pretty much catatonic to independent in 5 years. Quite seriously.

(Pictured: My love, his dog, my cat)

And So It Begins (An Open Commentary To Myself)

Just like I thought it would, and I was scared it would, but I ignored everything and kept my head up. Rightfully so, as I have been excited about moving, and have wanted to move for 2 years, or more.

Bills: Please stop. I’ve had enough. And it’s causing anxiety and nausea. It is making me physically sick. I’ve truly had enough. I should’ve expected this right? I mean everyone has bills. Yea, but i’m just poor as hell, and dealing with incompetent businesses to get my bills paid to.

I’m sick: A few days after I moved, I got a head cold. Two days later it’s over. Great! But now my nose has been stuffy for 3 weeks, and add nausea from time to time. My friends say I am getting used to a new environment and new microbes; throw in the weather. One person said moving causes stress, which in turn causes sickness.

Family: I miss them so dearly, and I am so afraid to be alone out here in a city I know nothing about, and living with someone I only dated a year. I called and cried to my Dad last night. He seemed like he was about to cry as I was crying. I hit an emotional hurdle, for sure. I even made sure to bring the teddy bear he gave me one Valentine’s Day. I AM a Daddy’s girl, definitely.

This open commentary to myself has never felt more cathartic.

Thank you for reading.



Taking A Leap Of Faith (A Realization Post)

So I did it. I finally became independent. It only took 28 years!

Moving out is so cathartic, yet it is bittersweet to visit parents at home.

Here I am, with the love of my life, blogging, in our own place. How awesome! Right? Well, yes, but to an extent. The cons? Well, the bills, and the neighbors are ‘eh’, oh, and the lack of money because of bills, yea…

The pros? Way too many. They outdo the cons (even though bills are a major thing right now). But, the independence, being with my love (and so much closer to sealing that lifelong deal we all dream about), the ability to pay bills (that is so quintessential to life, I have money now). Oh, I could go on!

So, as everything in my personal blogging sphere is, I DID come on here to vent as well! So, prepare!

I got into yet another argument with my mom. As our relationship stands, it is very rocky, and i’ll admit (not just me) but she has to tread carefully. I guess what gets me is, the drinking. I drink, too, so no hypocrisy here, no shame. I just am someone who drinks and is, at the same time, honest about drinking. The rest of my family members aren’t. It’s ok. Do you, momma, but, ima do me, too.

I love you, but I just cannot tell you everything mom, i can’t. It would be a big burden to not only my personal intimate relationship with my, right now, boyfriend, but also, my relationship with you.

Not to say I hate my mom, I don’t. I love her with all my heart. Although, she’s just one of those people (cancer’s, if you believe in Astrology) that I cannot tell everything to, and it’s only hurting me to do that.

Do you Momma! I’ma do me!

 

Divorce & The Holidays

When I think about the holidays I think of the typical “jolly” spirit that we’d all like to embrace. There’s so much more lurking deeper inside all of us. We just don’t share it, and if we do we become a “Negative Nancy” or some sort of “Bah-Humbug” nuance that we all had hoped to avoid. 

I can’t speak for everyone factually and I don’t want to sound like I am. So let me speak for myself.

My childhood wasn’t perfect. It also wasn’t entirely typical. I grew up in an upper middle class, mixed race, church-going, mixed family. My dad was my dad. My mom was my mom. My sister was my sister. Of course, I loved them all. My sister is technically my half-sister, though. We shared one parent in common. My mom and dad had me later in life. I could go on with details. We all had a loving life, or so I thought. I thought we all loved each other. I thought love would keep us together. 

When I was coming into my teens, my mom was currently working as an esthetitian. She owned her own business and it became a family business between my parents. She had many customers. Many were repeat customers. She had one customer in particular that used many, if not all, of the services available. She tipped well and even brought her little dog in every once and awhile. She was also clinically deaf. 

One day there was bad news going around the beauty salon my mom and dad owned together. This specific woman, this customer, had been hit by an oncoming train. She didn’t hear it coming because she was deaf. Her husband came into the salon to tell my mom what had happened days later, not saying much else. Little did I know this was just the beginning. 

Over the period of a next few months there were times where my mom would get home from work and just sit at the computer. A computer that was not from our home. It was unusual because she would usually watch Sex and the City every night, or Ally McBeal. I found out later that the husband of the late woman bought my mom that computer. In a matter of time they were communicating in various ways through computer, phone calls, texts, the like. I suspected what was going on, as I was 14 at the time. 

One day I woke up to goto school and I couldnt find my mom anywhere. My dad said she had left the house in the middle of the night to goto another man’s house. I was surprised it happened so fast but I was privy to it. 

She left him. She left us, all of us, for him, for good. 

I was shocked. I was saddened. My heart broke.

Fast forward to now, ten years later and I’m still not over it or accepting this man as neither my stepdad or family member. You could say I hold grudges or live in the past, but this is full-on grief. I’m in the stage where I’m learning to accept the change, ten years later. 

The holidays for 2016 are rolling around and why am I stewing about this now? Because family and holidays will never be the same, and a holiday without the family you’ve ever known will never be the same. It’s a process of grieving. 

My Mother’s Rejection Of Me

I got into an argument with my mom a couple of days ago. I ended in her saying she doesn’t want to speak to me for a few months. Which really broke my heart because I speak to her everyday, sometimes more than once a day. It really broke me down.

I deleted her from my Facebook, for a couple of reasons. One, I don’t want her to see my posts anymore if she feels she doesn’t want to talk to me for a really long time. And, two, why do I even have my mom on Facebook, anyway? She has for countless times spied on me and asked me to down posts about her. I am not going to do that. I don’t air my dirty laundry on Facebook, and I rarely post, but when I do I post what I want, because it’s how I am feeling. I blocked her from twitter and reading my posts there. Don’t ask me why she has a twitter. It’s probably all to spy on me. That’s how I feel.

I am a very lonely person, so I don’t know I am going to go about being home alone for days on end without contacting her, because I have only two other friends. Which are living their life.

Why am I not living my life?
I need a healthier lifestyle, and I need more friends and people who I can contact.
I dropped out of all my classes this semester in college and I am doing terribly right now. I need a total life change.

This has been a turning point in my life. I can’t let someone who is self-destructive in their own ways and to themselves bring me down, too. And that’s what I’m doing. This is exactly what my father teaches me about and I’m so stuck on socializing that I don’t get it. I did a little research on parenting styles. My father’s parenting style is very authoritative, but more on the authoritarian side. My mother’s is rejecting and neglecting. My father is still loving to me, and shows a lot of love. With my mom, I get pushed aside for my sister, falling in between the cracks of everything and sort of forgotten about. She does everything for my sister, while I sit in the shadows collecting dust. It’s also been that way with my mental health issues. I saw her a few times when she visited me in hospitals, but after a few times, it was no more. She wants me to accept her new husband as my dad, but I already have a loving father, and no one can replace him. Ever.

I can’t sleep anymore. I get up at 4am and walk the house. I lay in bed pondering my life over and over and over. I am not myself anymore. I’m a new person, but not in a good way.

Why I Cant Tell My Family About My Mental Illness

I was diagnosed with Schizoaffective disorder when I was about 15. It changed to Paranoid Schizophrenia when I was 21. It has went between Schizoaffective disorder and Paranoid Schizophrenia off and on since I was 21. Depending on what doctor I saw or if I went to a hospital and saw a psychiatrist there.

Only a handful of people know, which include obviously my providers, and my immediate family.

I look at that sentence and I think, “Wow, just my immediate family, why?”. Well, it’s a private matter, yes, but no one else would understand. There would be stigma, right? Both, yes. I’ve already had stigma from other family members, and people who aren’t family.

It being National Mental Health Awareness Month it’s hard to fathom that with all the kinds of change that’s happening in 2015 (and even in the recent past) in this great world, that the kind of change that I wish would happen hasn’t happened. The awareness for mental health and mental illness. It’s hard enough as it is to get my immediate family to understand my struggles with my illness, so there’s no way I’d be able to get anyone else to understand a lifetime of struggles or even a day or frame of time of struggles. I feel like why even try. That’s how I feel right now in my life. But, I wouldn’t stop spreading the awareness for others’ awareness. For others being able to have a spread awareness for their extended family family or friends or other people.

My parents are more open to me than ever, but it took a long time, many years to get here, and that’s sad in itself. They didn’t trust and didn’t want me to go to mental health providers at all. They still don’t really trust doctors in general. They belittled me for awhile, and one parent belittled my appearance because of the side effects of the medication: the weight gain. I cannot post my real feelings through some social media because of all of this, but I digress. My extended family will never truly understand my struggles. Will they ever know my illness? Maybe someday some will, if I tell them, but that’s my buisiness ultimately, and i’m not one to share my illness openly, BUT those that are mature enough to take on my buisiness and know me well enough, I might just tell them. I’m not sure about everyone’s family, but…I don’t feel like my family will ever be ready to hear it. And it makes me really sad.

Sleep and Relaxation

I’ve been pushing myself to get out and do more things and push away my feelings. It’s really broken me down. I’ve not just had more episodes, but probably more episodes because of this, because of pushing myself to my limits. Past my limits. I’ve been pushing myself to go to college, socialize, take criticism when I can’t (from family/friends, and take demands), etc. It’s really starting to wear on me. It’s making me more emotional and breaking me down.

My clinic, my nurse practitioner lowered the dosage of my sleeping medication and I haven’t been sleeping. I need that sleep. Every hour I can get, I need it. For my mental health. I really do. It’s so incredibly vital to me. So much so. I used to shun sleep. I thought it was for the weak. I was becoming psychotic without it. Even without just a normal amount. I naturally can’t sleep. So I grew to think that people that did sleep were naturally, just, weak.

I’m not sure if having a full schedule is good for me. I really need downtime. I need that 2-3 hours where I have nothing to do to regain my sanity. To relax. To think. I like being busy. Just not sure that is the life for me where I have something to do every second of the day. It’s just not something that I think is good for my health, because it’s very stressful, and I can only imagine what it’s like for someone else with schizophrenia or schizoaffective disorder, or another severe mental health issue.