Hello out there...
Another long pause between posts... This is actually an abridged comment I had posted to facebook that kind of spilled out of me after reading an article called, 21 Things Nobody Tells You About Being Depressed. It was a hard article to read, but it was helpful to see myself in something written by someone who doesn't know I exist. Even though I know that there are other's like me, this depression has me so isolated at times... I've been battling this "demon" inside of me practically my entire life. Between emotional and physical abandonment, rejection, and abuse, it's been hard to walk through life. My sister had responded to my appreciation of her sharing this article with a brief overview of her struggles since the birth of her two children, and that is when I vomited this nonsensical testimonial of insanity that now lays before you.
And I understand the post pardum. I truly don't recall much of Elizabeth's first year and a half. I was in a total fog. Allyson, will always be a baby in my eyes, but Lizzie will always be a toddler.. Lizzie was so tough, and I felt terrible about the life I was giving her. Mommy and daddy always fighting, living with his grandparents, jobless, penniless, unable to feed her... hell I couldn't even give birth to her! And I was utterly alone. I had next to no help, and constantly judged for every decision I made in her life. I went days without sleep, and couldn't when I tried. The first two months involved sleeping in a recliner because my c-section hurt so damn bad. The first two hours home was spent stuck on the bed unable to get up. No one came to check on me, no one cared. I was isoalted and alone with this little human that needed me, and I couldn't give her what she deserved.
Then alice came out of left field into our lives. And I tried to give birth to her, bur the doctors didn't want to wait. She was much easier, but we started off alone in the hospital room. The very same day I had given birth to her, I had to get up repeatedly to take care of her because no one was there by my side. There were more important things than the life I had carried. And it didn't get much better. Living in that motel infested with roaches, working full time trying to feed her naturally, and trying to balance it all onto my shoulders. Going to jail before she had turned six months while attempting to protect my family. Having the whole world turn their back on you because you're not what they wanted.
Constantly ending up being somoene else's mistake. Employers regret hiring me, people regret knowing me, Men regret loving me. Family regrets being related to me. It's been an endless battle. Long since forgotten memories suddenly hit, and you have to fight past them a second time. Standing on your own to feet to find everyone left you there to stand alone. Having to repeatedly pick yourself up because you're not ready to let go the teeniest little slice of understanding in this world, even if he never truly did, then have the entire world look down on you for not giving up...
You know how I am, I take every opinion, every look, every word very seriously. They trouble me to the core and rock my entire life into disarray. The only thing that has changed within me is I've learned to swallow most of it, instead of blowing it up. Not the healthiest way, but I'm trying to work my way through it. The people I've met, and the jobs I've bounced through have taught me a lot. The struggles I have faced on a day to day basis remind me that God is always there giving me the strength to take that next step, whether I think I can or not.
I used to walk hours a day while pregnant just to get what needed to be done accomplished... I left an abusive family, and slept in my car for six months. I went to jail to defend myself.... I survived being abandoned, cheated, hurt, pushed, assaulted, attacked, put down, let down, strung along, lies, and defeat. I carried two angels into this world who are the greatest blessing a girl could ever ask for. If it were not for them I would not be here typing this out. I nearly succeeded in killing myself once before in a tiny house here in Holland. After the mission had kicked me out, he'd used me and threw me to the trash. I had no where to go, and no one to turn to, and I almost did it. I'd swalloed nearly that whole bottle that day... I counted around 28 tylenol pms... I threw them up, and lay there just to be judged by him the next day, and treated like a druggie trying to get high. A week later I met my estranged husband only to isolate myself even further into my own personal hell of judgement and regret.
It's taken a lot of me just to get where I am today. I don't have much, but I appreciate all I have. I may not have money, or a fancy car, but I'm no longer someone used napkin. I am an independent woman, who's rasing two independent girls, who are going to know every minute of every day how much I love them, and that no person on this earth can bring them down. That just because people don't understand how they tick, doesn't mean that there is something wrong with them, it just means that they are on another plain of awesome.
I'm still not comfortable in my skin. Voices haunt me on a daily basis. I struggle to get dressed in the morning because I don't feel pretty. I struggle to do my job answering calls because I feel like I'm not smart enough. I hate being around other people because I feel so unable to fit in, that I break a little more each time I'm cut from a conversation. I am scared to go to school for music because I feel like no matter how hard I try I will never be good enough...
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