Here I sit in my 25th psychiatric hospitalization.

I am at LC, which is a Casa for mental health and is an alternative to being in the psych ward. I have been here for 4 days, but it is a 30 day program. So, I will be here for awhile. This is my 25th time of being in a psychiatric facility. Will I ever feel well? Will I ever be out of this dark misery? Will I ever NOT be in a facility? Right now, my BPD/PTSD/Depression has a hold of me and is making the dark misery even worse, that is why I ASKED my therapist to refer me to LC so that I can stabilize somewhat. I was abusing my meds in order to feel better, which is not a way to go and I was feeling suicidal. Does depression feel this bad? Like something bad is going to happen to you and you are afraid and cry and even might get panic attack? YES it does.

I know that we often feel crappy about life but there is always at least one thing we can feel grateful for. What are you grateful for? I am grateful for my job, for my friend Dee, my beautiful service dog, Beatrice, and my physical health even though I have foot problems.

Pizza Incident

CPS - 4th Grade.

Oh the innocence of a 4th grader - yet the wit and humor of a 20year old (at least)

Someone (I think my aunt K) called CPS on my parents. My parents somehow caught wind of CPS coming and they said to us that a lady was coming and 'us' kids were going to be interviewed and that we needed to be honest.

This was about two-weeks after the 'pizza' incident and this shit being beat out of me. SOOOOOOO

I said.........."You want me to tell them that dad beat me over a slice of pizza?"

Needless to say, my parents hid me in the backroom and told the lady I was at a church event and wasn't there.

I was actually in my bedroom and heard every word that was said that night.

The big brick wall is crumbling.

Reliving all this shit at 40 is a train wreck. I blocked everything. I built up a wall so I didn't know or acknowledge anything was happening around me.

Now the gates of hell are open, the memories flood out and there is no stopping them.

This blog is mine. Mine alone and mine to put the memories out as I remember them.

I didn't cause this mental illness. I didn't want this. I didn't ask for this. I don't wish it upon anyone. You want to judge me - go ahead. If you choose to, you are as bad as my parents, the fucker who sexually abused me and everything in between and to you I say fuck you.

You don't like the swearing on my blog - move along - find a blog without swearing!

8/20 - just the entire day and my meeting with Zen

8/20 –

1. So hypersensitive to noises and touch. I can’t stand my clothes touching me, my sheets touching me, etc. Just the feeling alone of things touching me makes me itch and I want to jump out of my own skin. The noises around me seem magnified tenfold. I tried putting headphones on (granted they were my BIG work headphones but still), but they felt like lead weights and I had to take them off.
2. I just want one day of calm/content. I don’t know the last time I was content, I really don’t. The closest I get to content is when I am in my own head. That is the safest place, in my own head thinking and hiding and avoiding. I feel like my head belongs to someone else because there is such a disconnect between my body and my head. Maybe my body belongs to someone else.
3. I remember as a little girl I used to think that I was an old lady sitting on the porch in a rocking chair and someone was showing me a video of my life. It was such a vivid memory. I thought that for years I think I was about seven when I first though it. I don’t remember why I thought it or what happened when I first thought it. I just know it was a powerful memory and I have never forgotten that I thought that.
4. Stopped to talk with Purple (college advisor). Needed to talk about ‘IT’ she encouraged me to talk to Mr. Zen, she knows it needs to come out, but I am just stuck. I can’t. It may not seem that big of a deal to him or to others but it was and is to me. She reminded me of the strengths I have, the hard work I accomplished. Graduating Cum Laude with double major, copy of evaluation to frame that I am ‘best clinical nurse DU has ever had’ and of course she wrote it when I was in her rotation. However, she was tough, and the VA was a tough clinical rotation. She wants me to do more research on my thesis. 
5. Met with Mr. Zen, I don’t usually  admit to anyone that I trust them (ok, hardly EVER) but I did with him, what the hell is wrong with me. Also was able to explain my sewing analogy to him. The top stitch is the exterior surface that everyone can see. The under stitch is the bobbin and the tension is set wrong and is too tight, set so tight that the underneath is garbled mess. That is how I feel. The innards are a hot mess and ready to explode. I have fought too many battles, been through too much trauma and I can’t take any more. My body, my brain, my soul has had enough.
1. Zen says, I am BPD (borderline personality disorder) and PTSD. I just say I am bat shit crazy
1. I still don’t know about BPD. Something isn’t adding up in my head. I am not sure what. My brain is thinking back through all my psych classes and everything I know about BPD, still something just isn’t clicking. I should contact this professor I had Lisa. Ah, she was so great. Whatever particular diagnosis we were learning about she would act it out for that day during the lecture. Good lord she was funny. She wasn’t doing it to make fun. She was doing it so you would know what to look for. I mean in general she was a funny person. Absolutely without a doubt one of my favorite professors.
1. I think I took about 5 courses from her just because I liked her lectures. I took this psychology of jury selection course from her – fucking awesome course! Favorite course was abnormal psych and psychology of humor. When you have a professor that has a dry demented humor like you have and she teaches psychology of humor, I highly suggest taking the class! The absolute best part of Lisa is she knows what psych patients are going through. She has been through three 51/50 holds and she doesn’t hide it. She will flat out tell you all about them the first day of the class. So, on one of my 51/50 holds this last year when her students showed up and I saw her. I wanted to run and hide from her, but it was too late, she saw me. So, in the rec room. She just sat and held my hand while we sat there quietly talking.
1. Unfortunately as of this fall she isn’t at DU anymore. Boy is there going to be a void left. Lisa really is a wonderful professor.
2. UGH, in regards to Mr. Zen……..it isn’t his fault. It is mine. I keep everything so locked in and close to the chest and I didn’t this time. I spilled some secrets…..I just feel like so much shit came up and out that now I am emotionally eating. The last few weeks I had done a lot of avoiding, so I was hardly eating at all, most days I wouldn’t eat anything, the thought of eating made me gag. Now, I spill secrets out and I can’t stop eating. I can’t find a happy medium.

Zen and I talk about Jackass.

JACKASS

1. We talked a little about jackass. I know I should probably talk more about him. It wasn’t until that night that I realized how much the pain is really so close to the surface that it caused a slight meltdown. I just laid in bed crying because it reminded me how fearful I was at times. How defeated I was, how ridiculed I was, how ashamed……gosh so many emotions were swimming around in my head. Sure, I have had to deal with things along the way…ie…the 1^st wedding anniversary divorced, etc. But this was the first time I was truly alone and had to deal with the emotions and I recognized how close they are to the surface that they are just ready to boil over. I can’t even write this paragraph without crying. Why I dealt with it for so long, I don’t know. 14 years. 14 fucking years of living in fear. I had suicide attempts in 2003 and the suicide attempts were because of him. I didn’t know how to leave him. I didn’t know where to go, so I thought my only way out was suicide. I had two attempts. One I ended up in ICU for a week. It was NOT fun. I tried to hide the fact that I had a suicide attempt from him. So, I asked all medical staff that it remain private and only discussed with ME. Then a random chaplain comes in while jackass was there and the chaplain says, “oh I am here to talk to you and I see you are in here for suicide” I almost died, I was so angry. The RN was changing my IV. I looked at her, and I said, “get him out of here and get him out now because I asked that my record is only discussed with me”. She ran over to the chaplain and rushed him out, but it was too late. Jackass knew the truth and he said, “is there something I should know”.  Oh, if I only had the guts back then to leave him, I wouldn’t be where I am now.

Zenmeister and Talking About My Father...Double Ugh.

FATHER

1. Speaking of coward – I have very vivid memories and nightmares of you beating the absolute shit out of me. Remember the pizza incident? Yeah, you want me to go there? I can. All of us girls have called you out on the physical abuse and you beating the absolute shit out of us. I mean this literally and figuratively – the pizza incident – yeah let’s go there. Mom left pizza out on the stove all night and I wanted pizza for breakfast, so I ate a slice. You were pissed off that I ate a slice. You came in the kitchen, slammed my head against the wall, dragged me to your room, threw me on your bed beating me, literally beating the shit out of me, I kept crying and trying to get up to go to the bathroom. I was crying because I needed to fucking poop. You dragged me to the bathroom slammed my body to the toilet and you waited at the door and you told me “I am NOT done with you”. After I was done, you threw me back on your bed and kept beating me. You stupid fucker all the while, JBL was begging you to stop. I was 10 years old. Over a slice of pizza. How do you literally and figuratively beat the shit out of a 10-year-old and live with yourself? Have you ever asked yourself that question? Does it make you feel like a man? Did it make you feel macho?
2. What about the time JSL made you mad and you pushed her into the pool – yeah the public pool. She was four-years-old. Guess who jumped in and saved her because she didn’t know how to swim. You already know the answer because you were standing right there…….you saw it happen………Yeah, that would be me. I saved your four-year-old from drowning because you are an asshole. I was in 6^th grade and I am the one rescuing the child you shoved into a pool because you were mad.
3. Now this one deserves its own paragraph because it just can’t even be blended in with the other shit…….let’s talk about money. I am not talking monopoly money. I am talking real American money. Remember, I was the child who stood out. I didn’t want to be like you. I despised you. I still do. I only talk to you out of obligation that you are my ‘father’. During 4^th&6^th grade, I would teach the other little girls in the neighborhood gymnastics every Saturday morning and I would charge them $1. Then I would put on a ‘gymnastics show’ for the parents to come watch and I would charge the parents .50cents to watch. Yup, it is true, you can’t deny it, let’s go back to Gilbert and ask everyone that still lives there, shall we? I would save my money, but see, you had a drinking problem, so you would take my money so you could drink at the bars. Once I got to 7^th grade, I didn’t want to do the gymnastics thing anymore, I had my eyes on making more money. I would wake up early every Saturday morning and walk around the entire neighborhood with our lawnmower and the gas I paid for PLUS I walked around with a bucket full of soap and old wash clothes. I would knock on every door of the people we knew and ask if I could mow lawns or wash cars. Some Saturdays I was out all day with so many jobs of lawns to mow and cars to wash. I was the little entrepreneur of the neighborhood and soon enough I had other kids who wanted to join me and help. So, I had workers to help me. All of this can be verified, let’s make that trip back to the old neighborhood, I dare you, don’t be a coward, let’s face the truth head on. Once I was old enough to babysit, I was babysitting, mowing lawns, washing cars and making more money than any preteen/teen could imagine. You started coming to me telling me we were too poor to buy groceries and I was obligated to help. How is a 14-year-old OBLIGATED to buy groceries for the family. Jesus Christ, I don’t know who is more fucked in the head, you or me. At 15-years-old for who knows what reason, we lost the house and we moved to Utah. So, I was in high school….remember, because I skipped 2 grades and was taking advanced classes and certain classes I was taking early……..I was a senior in high school at 15-years-old (turning 16 during that year) and working full-time at McDonalds. I was given a FULL SCHOLARSHIP to attend Utah State and to be on the schools fastpitch softball team. You would not let me go to school and accept the scholarship…..you wouldn’t even let me play softball anymore. I DID ALL OF THIS HARD WORK OF GRADUATING EARLY AND BUSTING MY ASS OF BEING SALUTATORIAN OF MY CLASS TO GET AWAY FROM THE FAMILY – YOU NEVER UNDER STOOD IT. I DID NOT WANT TO BE THERE. You said I had to keep working and make money, because at this point mom was diagnosed with breast cancer and that the family needed my money to in order to function. I was working 40+ hours a week. You took every penny I was earning and I don’t know what you were doing with it. You said the state needed to verify my income because we were on food-stamps. My brain still does not compute that. Why does the state need a teenagers income if the adults are in charge of running the family unit – whatever, that is your issue – not mine. Finally at about age 19 I was so tired of you taking my money I wouldn’t let you have it anymore.
4. You should know this next shit really well. I moved out for 6 months while mom was still alive, moved to grandma’s house. Once mom was officially diagnosed with bone cancer and it was so bad and the doctors told her she probably told her she had about a year to live. What was the first thing you did? Think real hard? .....I mean REALLY hard……don’t answer bar because that isn’t the right answer…………keep thinking…….you went to the court house and filed for divorce. Yup. My father the coward goes to the court house the same week his wife is told she has a year tops to live and files for divorce. What did you do after you filed? This part should be easy now that I jogged your memory of you filing for divorce……come on now….you can do it (You really should watch Adam Sandler movies because when I typed that I typed it saying it in the characters voice…..yeah I totally crack myself up sometimes) ….think. You drove to grandma’s……AH HA…..HER MOM’s HOUSE….BINGO….you win the prize of all prizes of assholes and you hid there while she was served divorce papers. If I could insert slot machine noises into a blog I so would because you sir deserve them!
5. So, because she was so sick, I left grandma’s moved back home. Mr. coward felt so bad (all of a sudden) and decided not to follow through with the divorce. However, you certainly made sure or claimed you were working so hard and so many hours. I was only gone for 6 months and the girls were falling apart. JLL started failing all her classes. She was in 8^th grade. She spiraled out of control, sex, drugs, drinking. How was I supposed to help an 8^th grader with these issues when I had no clue about them myself? I didn’t know how to tell an 8^th grader about STDs when I had never even had sex myself. I didn’t know how to talk to her about drugs or drinking when I at the time I had never had a alcohol in my life and I have never taken illegal drugs before? Even when she got caught having sex at school and the boy she got caught with had been tested for HIV/AIDS and tested positive and JLL needed to be tested, you were not there for her. It was me again. JLL was terrified and needed a parent in her life for direction. JLL even sat there crying to you that she needed you to be there and you said you can’t because you needed to work late.   
6. I was the one that had to tell them that mom died because you wouldn’t. One of the hardest things I have ever been asked to do. Here I was at 19, trying to figure out what to do with my own life, what direction I want to go, and all of a sudden I have to figure out how to tell my brothers and sisters their mother had just passed away. Yes she had been sick, and all, but a grown man and a father should be the one telling his own children not asking his eldest daughter to do it. Again – true coward badge of honor right there. Where did you go….the bar? The thing is, as much as I hated mom, in that last moment of her last breath. I think she knew that I was the one who had to deliver the news. It wasn’t just to my beloved brothers/sisters. It was everyone. I was lying in bed awake and I looked at the clock at 2:36am and I took a deep breath and I literally said to myself “she is gone now you need to wake your siblings” – yeah, I shit you not. That is exactly what happened. The hospital told us they thought it would be within the next 1-2 days, so we had a time frame. Guess what her death certificate says you stupid fucker. It fucking says March 19 2:36am. Yup. You want to know who else had the same thought? Her best friend Gayle. So it wasn’t just a spooky feeling a stupid 19-year-old had. I called Gayle after I told the girls because Gayle had told me she would help call family. She said she already knew. Gayle said she woke up at 2:36am and heard the words “God almighty I am free at last”.  Guess what time the hospital called the house? 2:45am. I answered the phone. Luckily it was the RN who lived 3 houses down from us, she knew I was old enough to be accepting the news and it wasn’t the younger siblings. Not only did I have to tell my sisters and all the family. I had to figure out how to get a hold of my lifelong best friend, JBL. He was on his mission. I had no clue who to call, how to get the news to him, how to get him home. You…….no one knew where the fuck you were. You certainly weren’t at the hospital saying goodbye to your wife. I know this, because I drove me and the girls to the hospital to say goodbye. It was your brother and his wife who rushed to be by our side and comfort us girls to make sure we were ok. Soon after, all eight of his children were there. You weren’t there until several hours later acting like you had been crying for hours. How does your brother/his wife AND their eight kids who lived more than an hour away make it before you do? You might have fooled others, but you didn’t fool me. I may have been only 19, but you see, I actually have a wise soul and I could and can see right through your bullshit. You even told your brother/his wife it was too painful for you to pick out the coffin and flowers – so guess who did that…….yup me – along with your brother. Here I was planning a funeral, telling my brothers/sisters (you know the step-siblings and adopted siblings at this point blah-blah) their mother passed away, trying to comfort them and make sure they are ok – making sure they know they are LOVED – making sure someone doesn’t leave them at the hospital or on the fucking side of the road because I am sure you would have, and I am picking out flowers, contacting your eldest son to get him home, calling all of the family members and making sure we have enough hotel rooms for people, making sure the boys have suits and girls have dresses to wear to funeral, the only thing I didn’t do was pay……but you, it was just too painful for you to handle, basically too painful for someone who is at the fucking bar. Your brother even paid for about 90% of the funeral services. Too bad he is deceased because I would love to ask if you thanked him. I still don’t know why you acted like life was so hard for you. I don’t know why YOU chose to not raise the younger siblings. I had to – ask them, they will tell you. They will fucking tell you straight to your face that I raised them. From the moment mom was diagnosed, remember I was only 15 at this time, until JSL dropped out of high school (which I couldn’t control) I fucking raised the younger siblings because you would not do it. I was the one that made sure they had school supplies. I was the one to make sure they had clothes that fit them. I was the one to make sure they had lunch money. I was the one to make sure they had dinners made. I was the one that made sure they had money for fieldtrips or extracurricular activities. It was all done by me. God damn it sperm donor, FUCKING ASK THEM. They will tell you. It was all done by me. All of it. All the laundry, all the house cleaning, all of the all of the all of everything. 15-year-old me through 22-year-old me. 
1. Do you get it now why when I come to Utah that I stay in a hotel instead of at your house? It is because of you. I despise the things you have done. I despise the way I was treated. I despise that you are a coward. I despise that you won’t admit the truth even when we have shown you concrete evidence. I despise that the truth will go to the grave with you. I tolerate you because you are my ‘father’ by blood. I will not call you Dad or say I love you. I can’t and won’t do it. I just can’t so please stop expecting it. You want to know why I can’t do it? Because I don’t love you. I won’t apologize for my feelings. I never have apologized for the way I feel. You know me. I state exactly how I feel and I mean it. I don’t love you. I never will. John, you know which John, if you don’t you are lying again. He was more of a father figure to me than anyone I know on this planet. I love John. John is my true life ‘hero’ he taught me more of how to be a human being than you ever did. I don’t choose to stay in hotels when I visit John and his family. Why? Because I know I am loved. I know I am safe. I know I have never had the shit beat out of me. I know I will never have the shit beat out of me. I know I have good memories with this entire family. We can laugh and be friends with each other.
2. You could have had all of this too. However, you chose the cowardly way and it is what it is. Nothing more can be done about it. I can’t change you and you can’t change me. You can’t undo 40 years of trauma and lies. I have bold face told you the one thing I wanted from you. What is the one and only thing I have asked you to do? It is a 3-word phrase…….I feel like we should play Pictionary…………………….. I have waited my entire life to hear it………………….. All I ever wanted to hear was “I am sorry” You WILL NOT DO IT. YOU AND YOU ALONE HAVE CHOSEN NOT SAY IT. I am and always will be the innocent bystander in this. Well, yeah, I guess I could just ….what is that Disney song, “Let it Go” but there is too much trauma, I only barely touched the surface. I can’t let it go. If it were a few things here and some there, I probably could, but asking me to let it go would be asking too much. I think you are getting off pretty easy by me only asking for an apology. I mean let’s face it, I really could write a book of the trauma. Couldn’t I? Fuck, I could give so many references/witnesses to back up the stories that it would be on the best sellers list because a lot of people would realize that their life really isn’t as fucked up as mine was and I realize mine isn’t as fucked up as others. I really try not to use the word hate because HATE to me has such a negative strong emotion tied to it, and I hated hearing mom telling me she hated me, but if anyone in my life were close to being hated both you and mom would be neck and neck and I can pretty much with certainty say that no one else comes that close for me to say I hate them. I could have a plaque made or something if you’d like…..my eldest daughter hates me plaque? Or I can have your coffin engraved with it. I will let you pick.
3.  I know you will ask, so I might as well address it. Why would I say you are Father or sperm donor but she is mom instead of mother and fetus sack? I can be a little bit more gentle with her because she was mentally ill. You may have your issues too, but you have lived a lot longer, we have given you ample time, ample opportunity, concrete evidence, etc but the truth will still go the grave with you. With mom, the progression of the breast cancer to bone cancer to death happened within a relatively short time frame (4 years) and she did try to make some things right in the end. The things she knew she really fucked up on, she really tried. She may not have righted the wrongs she did with me, but maybe she figured I was the one doing the forgiving because I was the one who went and sat with her on a daily basis during the last four months of her life and would hold her hand while she slept.  She righted the wrongs with Katrina, Sherry, Ronnie and JBL. The funny part about all of it, 21-years later I am the only child that still goes to her grave often. Out of 9 children she gave birth to, only I go. You haven’t been since the memorial itself.  Just because I crack myself up….#weird #notweird that I was psychologically hurt the most but I am the most forgiving. Even my own mental illnesses, sailor mouth, etc. I am actually a tender hearted person. Something you were too busy to notice. You were so busy ‘working’ while I was busy raising my siblings and making sure they had a sense-of-self and that they KNEW they were loved by at least one person and that person was me. Of course this only relates to the biological siblings because I didn’t raise the siblings from your 2^nd wife or from moms previous marriage.
7. One last thing, just because I need to say it. I am NOT too stupid for college. In fact, I chose to do a double Bachelors of Science degrees. One in nursing and one in psychology (which you already know) but yeah – I am rubbing salt in the wound. Not only did I enroll in college, I finished, I graduated, I completed an honors level thesis that had to represent both programs (because you didn’t go to school that means I had to do a thesis that represented both nursing and psychology)– presented that thesis at the Undergraduate Research Symposium, I graduated with departmental honors IN BOTH programs and Cum Laude. I think I proved a point I am fully capable of going to college and graduating college – now I am making sure salt is dug deep into the wounds because I can. Whew, that part felt good!

After a Session with Zenmeister and Talking About My Mom!

MOTHER

1. Ugh, and stupid me brought up my bitch of a mother. That is a giant black whole, but I have talked about it with therapists before. It is a whole logic/emotion thing though. Logically I understand my mother had her own mental health issues (that NO ONE in the family will discuss), yet it is my mother so it is the emotion part. However, the trauma plays over in my head on a daily basis. The words she said. The physical abuse that was done. It is just there and it is like a meat clever slicing me open every single day. I don’t want to think about it I try not to think about it, but it just creeps into my brain and is there throughout random parts of the day - that meat clever slicing me open over and over again. When your own mother tells you she wants you dead, she hopes you get hit by a car or a bus on the way to school and you die it is traumatizing. Or when your mother tells you that you are stupid, you are fat, you are ugly, that is traumatizing – how can she say I am ugly, when I look exactly like her, except for hair color? She had dark brown hair – almost black. In 4^th grade I remember it was career day and I listened to someone who worked for NASA as a scientist and I was fascinated because I love science. So, I came bouncing in the door from school and I remember telling my mother I was going to become a scientist and work for NASA. She looked right at me and said, “you are too stupid to even go to college”. To this day, I can feel the deflated feeling I felt when she said that. I thought, it is my mother she knows best. The funny part is, those stupid ‘achievement’ tests that students take every year I was scoring high school level by the time I was in 4^th grade and I skipped 5^th  & ½ of 6^th grade because of it, but I still believed I was stupid. She would throw butcher knives at me, she picked up the coffee table and threw it at me. I had super long hair as a kid and my sister and I didn’t want to get out of bed on a Sunday to go to church. She grabbed us by the hair and kicked us in the ribs over and over until we were coughing up blood. Another time she got mad how I put the groceries away in the freezer and at like 3am she pulled me out of bed by my hair, dragged me down the hall, through the dining room and into the garage where the big freezer was and made me take everything out and re-do it all so it was organized better. She didn’t care I had final exams that day. After that, I asked a lady at church to cut my hair off. I had it cut so short I looked like a boy, it was so ugly, but at least I was safe from being pulled out of bed by my hair. My mother would constantly tell ME – not the other kids – just ME that she hated ME. My mother absolutely hated me, everything about me. The other kids heard it, they know it happened they acknowledge it happened and we talk about it.
2. My mother had suicide attempts. One on MY 15^th birthday. Her second attempt on my 17^th birthday. I think they were perfectly calculated to be on those days. Yes, she had her own issues, but because of her hatred towards me she calculated the day she was going to do it. No one can tell me she didn’t. Out of the entire year that is the day she uses a butcher knife and slices her arm wide open? Please, I am not stupid. I may be blonde, but I am not an idiot. I dare one person to logically tell me how it wasn’t calculated.
1. I was the one to find her on my 15^th birthday – my mother hates my guts, wants me dead, and I come home from school to find blood everywhere and my mother trying to kill herself. How much fun do you think that was? Before I called for help, she said to me “oh, you need to make your own birthday cake”. Fuck you – you stupid woman. What made you think I am worried about a fucking birthday cake. I called 911, called my aunt to get my little sisters from school, because I didn’t want them to see what had happened, then called my dad, I don’t remember what I did with my older brother. He might have had football practice so everything was cleaned up and done/figured out before he got home, so he would have stayed at our aunt’s house.
2. Within minutes people were everywhere. My best friend (who was just 3 houses down) had come over to by my side, people from church heard and were everywhere to make sure the blood and house had been cleaned, etc. They had an action plan to make sure all kids had a place to sleep that night. It was chaos. For some reason, the cops were more worried about me than any other child in the family. I remember a female cop grabbing me and not letting me back in, ushering me away, but close enough for questioning and making sure I had VERY strong support that night. All the other kids were allowed to go back to the house the next day, but I wasn’t allowed to go back for a week. Always seemed strange to me, 24 hours vs 7 days. It was worked out with the Gilbert police and the family that had taken me in. The female officer went to the store bought me a cake and a social worker brought me some clothes. To this day, I still am friends with the family and talk to them weekly, but I have never brought up that event. We have never talked about it again. I have no doubt if I did bring it up they would tell me everything I wanted to know, but maybe I don’t want to know. Maybe I don’t care enough to know. Maybe I found enough love from that family that there is no reason to know. Maybe too traumatizing to ask. Is it too forbidden in my brain? None of the siblings bring it up…….but they also didn’t see what I saw. However, we can’t get the REAL answers we want anyway, the topic will go to the grave with our father.
3. Yet, no one will talk about her mental health and what her diagnosis was. She was held 51/50 four times that I absolutely know of but it was always hush hush – like us kids didn’t know our mother was gone. Shit, we weren’t that dumb! My sister that is closest to my age and me have cornered my dad and blatantly asked him about it. His response was, “that never happened, I don’t know what you are talking about”.........................uh ok……..your own brother or other people didn’t take us kids in for nothing. We heard the phone calls, we knew what was going on, I was old enough to understand what suicide attempts were. I SAW it with my own eyes. Stop being a coward and just tell us. There is no reason to lie about it. She has been dead for 21 years. It isn’t like she is going to come after you.

Irritation.

I am on social security disability because of my mental health. As of this year, May 14, my divorce was finalized. When I was married, the power/PGE bill was in my name because I got a discount.

After he filed for divorce, he moved to a different county that is about 45 minutes away, he transferred the power (of course) AND he still has the power bill in my name and is abusing it so he can have the discount!

I don't even know what to do about it. I am so irritated. He is such a jackass. I am glad to be rid of him.

Missing a Gentle Giant.

Ah, it is with a heavy heart, but HUGE congratulatory hug and an I will see you again 2nd hug to oh captain my captain M. M was/is a therapist I used to see at a previous clinic (not my current therapist), but I still go to the clinic for 'aftercare and alumni' meetings, which he is in charge of.

M, the clinic will miss you more than words can ever say. You have a huge heart, and ...the world of mental health is truly where you belong. Those of us who have been cared for by this gentle giant are better off and we sincerely know we are loved and cared about. I KNOW I will see you again along the way.

The best part of the clinic, is that all 12 therapist are among the best of the BEST I have ever come across. We will be in good hands, but You will leave a void at the clinic. No one can replace you, your heart is too big, your wisdom too great, your laughter too contagious. People will try, therapists will come close, and there are other wonderful therapist at the clinic....but you are one of a kind. However, every person, mentally ill or not needs a Miguel in their life.....every single person.

Enjoy your new position, I know they will feel just as loved as each person that has ever walked through the doors of L-C.

The Magic Words.

So today, I literally wanted to tell someone I KNOW to fuck off.

I have been covering something very specifically in therapy two weeks in a row now. If I want to say something, don't. Let my blog have it. Let it be written and leave it there. Don't hold the venom in.

SO fuck off. There, so much better now.

Bat Shit Crazy.

Yes it is true. Right now I am what some people would call 'crazy' I have not always been this way. I am well educated with a double Bachelor of Science degrees. Not done separately because I changed my mind, done at the same time, at the same school - at honors level graduating Cum Laude.

Shit happens. You don't know where I have been. You don't know the trauma I have endured - life long trauma. Call me crazy. Call me bat shit crazy. It doesn't bother me one bit. My family knows where I have been, my family knows the trauma I have endured. That is all that matters to me.

Safest Place.

Most of the time the safest place for me is in my own head, or in blogs with my 'blogging friends' who also have mental illnesses. We can vent and remain anonymous.

This past two weeks Bob has resurfaced with a vengeance and it has been hard to do anything, even to get out of bed. I haven't been sleeping well, but I can't even get out of bed, stupid stupid Bob.

So..............Admitting.........IT.

Not many people, literally less than five people know that I've been diagnosed with.........here goes nothing................................BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER, DEPRESSION, ANXIETY DISORDER, PANIC DISORDER, and lifelong PTSD.

There I said it. I am jacked in the head. Judge me, I don't care. We all have baggage, we all have issues. I just have more than some and less than others.

Sheesh. That borderline shit was hard to get out in the open......yippee me, I am the BPD chick.

Dr. Zen.

I can't believe this is happening. Dr. Zen and I had 'the' chat. You know the one when you tell your therapist that he or she can set the agenda of the sessions and you give up control....shit. Did that really come out of my mouth this week? What possessed me? I mean, yes, it needs to be done because my sarcasm will just take over and nothing gets accomplished, but ack.......now I feel vulnerable and giving up control is frightening to anyone. This means the weekly journals I turn in he can take any of the info and pick the agenda to talk about. ACK.....oh my.

Carol B.

I guess since I had three hateful letters I needed to write. However, those letters were very much needed and very much deserved on their part. I should say that right now, I am living in a space that is very much safe and a place I don't have to be threatened with the power being shut off or a space with a whacked out roommate who steals things from me. So thanks to Carol B.

Dear Kimiko Mae Christensen Hammari - Uno, Dos, Tres.

last letter to the Great Deceiver.


Do you remember all that food you were storing in your 'extra freezer' in your garage that was mine because I didn't have space? Yup, that food that came from the church storehouse? The food you ended up stealing from me and in reality ended up stealing from the church?

Don't you think (miss holy one who thinks she does no wrong and doesn't sin and is oh so perfect) you should 1) ask for forgiveness to the person who you wronged 2) repent to 'God' 3) confess to your bishop for stealing from the church.

I mean, REALLY, don't you feel guilty one bit for stealing from the church? Or do you not have a soul that can think that deep within yourself and acknowledge that you actually did steal from the church?

Dear Mayumi Kristine Hammari.

oh, my dearest squirt, how I love you, how we had a special bond, I will forever miss you. You brought me SO much joy. You will never ever know how much joy you brought me. You are a little spitfire. You glow with happiness when we would cuddle and talk.

I just sit here bawling. I didn't get to say goodbye. I would have wanted a famous squirt hug one last time. We didn't get to because of your mother's spiteful/hateful/bitter behavior towards me. It is ok though.

I love you. You will always hold a special place in my heart. I will always think about you. I will always wonder what you are doing, if you are ok, if you remember me, etc.

You have an infinite wisdom at your 5 years old, you have a wise inquisitive soul and you got me, you understood me so well. I don't know why, we just had a special bond and I hope one day we can reconnect.

I love you to the moon and back, I love you more than words can tell, and my soul aches because we didn't get to say goodbye.

Dear Kimiko Mae Christensen Hammari - part deux.

I just have to say that it made me SO happy and laugh on the inside that it would piss you off that your girls, Mayumi and Lilli LOVED me so much. They really did love me. It would make you so angry. You would always say, "I don't know why she/they love you so much".

I LOVE that it pissed you off.

Dear D Karen MaReady.

I am giddy that you get your own entry on my blog. Aren't you excited? Isn't it time for people to know the truth about you too?

I am serious, I literally am sitting here smiling because I KNOW you are a coward and I am shouting it out via keyboard and it feels great!

You are a lawyer who can't handle the truth. A lawyer who presents her self to the world as a sophisticated, educated, honorable woman who is beautiful inside and outside, who is friends with 'everyone' until someone of the everyone calls you out on YOUR bullshit and your gossiping.

You see dear 'readers' of the blog Karen MaReady really isn't a friend to 'everyone' because she takes it upon herself to gossip about MY mental health, MY issues with Melanie Eng Ling, Kimiko Mae Christensen Hammari, and Beth Ram. She makes sure that the gossiping continues and is done that I am at my lowest of all lows and she doesn't give a shit.

So, while I was in one of the behavioral centers for a suicidal attempt, I emailed Karen MaReady, Melanie Eng Ling, and Kimiko Mae Christensen Hammari a letter calling them out on their shit. Karen and Melanie showed that they weren't true friends because they couldn't handle the truth of me emailing them a letter of complete honesty calling them out of how badly they were treating me.

It shocked me that Karen would stoop so low to gossip and make a person feel as low as I felt. Karen wouldn't even talk about it or email me about it. Gosh, it really shocked me that she could treat someone that way because she presents her self as someone better than a gossip queen. However, she joined forces of the 'Kimiko/Melanie clique' and I never felt so low in my entire life.