The tale of my life is often something I have said I could write a book on. Some things I will never tell, they will come to my grave with me. For the most part I feel I am at an age where I am ready to talk about a lot of things.
I am a 35 year old mother living in Texas. My daily struggles include BPD (borderline personality disorder), anxiety, depression and from what I have been told slight agoraphobia. I was not always like this person I am today, but that was before many experiences took place. I can think back on the days when I was carefree and would stay out all night, going to places I had no business going with people I should have never been with. Nights where now when I think back on them I stop breathing thinking “how am i still here?” I think back to my teen years where I thought i was just a bad kid with issues that no one could ever understand. I know have a diagnosis, and my younger years make so much more sense to me. There is trauma from those years I will never utter a word of, I will keep those bottled up inside… I now know they are a huge reason why I am the way I am.
Trauma trauma trauma… most of us in life will go through it. Some will have minor trauma, some will have trauma so deep they can never escape it. I have lived through a severely mentally and physically abusive relationship, for years I stayed…. I stayed with someone who made me think i needed them. I stayed with someone who drug me up flights of stairs by my hair, would hit me with his family in the next room, demean me constantly and choose to have sex when I was not a willing participant. This is not as uncommon as you may think. So many people stay and even die in relationships like this, I was lucky enough to get out. I have never been in a relationship like that since thankfully.
I am a survivor of rape… By a stranger and by someone I thought was a close friend. I will not go into the multiple instances of random sexual assault, after all…we all know the statistics. Each time nothing was done and I was made out to be at fault. They wonder why women stay silent, we are not the victims in many people’s eyes. These events have made me scared to go anywhere alone, or be with any one person alone…even friends. There are certain things that trigger these memories… The smell of Jager, certain names and places. I never had issues being scared to go anywhere before this happened. I can’t even walk around the block alone. I have been working on this, and have made progress but I will never be the same. Sometimes I sit in my own home and don’t even feel safe, i am sure the anxiety plays a big part in that as well.
As I said I am a mother to a wonderful 5 year old little prince. I love him more than I can even explain. Sometimes I just watch him sleep and get teary eyed, or he will say something sweet and it feels like my heart will actually explode with love. When I first became a mother, it was not all rainbows and butterflies. I thought PPD was something that women got and wanted to kill their kids/themselves. I was so uneducated about PPD at the time and I wish someone would have reached out to me. At that time it was just me and Adam, and he was always at work. I did not know what these feelings I was having were. I never thought of harming my child, but PPD is so much more complex than that. I did not know how common it was, so I felt scared to talk to anyone about it. My doctor totally gave no fucks about me- I mean he ruined my birth and traumatized me (but that is another story). I was so sad all the time, not regular sad but could not get out of bed and brush my teeth sad. I took care of my son, but it was pretty much maternal instincts aka mom auto pilot. I lost so much weight, I looked like a skeleton. I would have waves of course of normalcy, but the waves of PPD were so strong I thought I would drown. My love for my child was there, the nurturing was there- the care for myself and everything else was gone. I won’t go on forever about this, that’s for another post. Luckily for me after a while and medication I snapped back into my regular self. My regular self is no perfect peach, but it is the best me I was able to be.
The instance where I was diagnosed is not something I am ready to touch on yet. That story will have to be an entire post, and to be honest I am not brave enough to share it with the world yet. This is all i am able to get out today, but even saying this I feel better.