Who I am versus who I’d like to be

It has been said that everyone has anxiety.  That’s why I felt normal growing up.  I thought everyone felt the same way I did.  I just couldn’t understand how they maintained their composure, and I was constantly running to the bathroom.  So, as an adult, I now watch my friends go out, whether to dinner or the grocery store, without any hesitation.  I wonder what that feels like…  I see pictures posted on Facebook of groups of people going out, spending time together, either at someone’s house or out some place and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t envious.  I’d love to be a part of that group, but being an introvert with all these mental issues certainly isn’t helping the situation.  I’ve come to realize that I can only handle socialization in tiny bits.  That’s why I don’t normally invite people over.  How exactly do you invite someone to your house and then after a short while say “Okay…I’ve had enough.  You have to leave.”?  It’s so much easier to just be here alone.  So many people take their mental health for granted.  I can bet my life that if all of those people who have called me crazy had to last one day in my head, they wouldn’t make it past the first hour.  It’s not that I’m not comfortable in my own skin…I’m not comfortable in my head!  All the things I’m constantly saying to myself without realization.  The constant tornado ripping apart anything that even comes close to a normal thought.  I know…positive affirmations.  And I know they work.  But when you fuck everything up so much, it’s kind of hard to convince yourself that you’re a good person.  That you have any value; that you actually mean something to someone.

I have resorted to inspirational reading.  My head might not be in the right place most of the time, but I want my soul to be.  I can feel myself evolving because I’ve changed my perception.  However, changing your perception when you’re having a bipolar episode is extremely hard to do.  So, for today, I truly wonder what normal feels like.  To wake up and not secretly, desperately yearn for a Xanax the moment you open your eyes.  To hold a steady job where you aren’t constantly taking a break to get through a panic attack; to just get in your car and go somewhere without any hesitation.  I cannot look ahead on the calendar.  If I know I have an appointment coming up, whether for myself or my son, I’m on edge until the day arrives.  Once it’s over, I could sleep for a week.  So tell me…  What DOES it feel like to be normal?  To be able to do all of the above and then some without anxiety as your shadow?  Without the fear of just having to get away take over without any notice; without panicking about upcoming appointments…  What does it feel like to be normal?


And… it starts.

So, my neighbor comes over and asks if I have quarters she can borrow so she can do laundry.  Of course I do.  I give her the quarters but she sits… with her 3 year old.  Then she comes up with this brilliant idea that I go shopping with her.  She just has to get a few things.  Will I please, please, please go to the store with her?  What part of “I DON’T LIKE TO LEAVE MY HOUSE!” is so hard to comprehend?  Knowing she’s going to bug me until I say yes, my anxiety has spiked, I already feel sick, and I don’t think I’ll be able to produce anything worth reading today.  Why????  Why does this shit have to happen to ME?  Why was I the chosen one to be blessed with all of these freaking issues??  Why can’t people understand that I just want to be left alone, in my own comfort zone, away from the monsters of the world?  And in the meantime, I’ve still yet to find a doctor who will accept my insurance, making things progressively worse.  So, I guess the question is… how in the world can I be optimistic when there is a tornado whipping through my head?  I can’t form a single coherent thought, as my mind is overcome with this pending trip.  I trust her.  She’s a very good friend and has been for a long time.  I know that if I say I have to go; I have to get out of this store, she’ll leave.  So, why all this totally unnecessary  panic?  I just don’t get it.  I have sworn off Xanax during the day and I’m getting through each minute on my own.  It freaking SUCKS!!  And NOW, since the anxiety is sitting nice and comfy in my brain, I can feel my stomach bubbling, which ultimately means I’m going to be physically ill for the remainder of the afternoon.  So… I guess this is crazy.  Welcome to my  head.

For those of you following…

I fully intend to pick up where I left off, but as those of you with mental illness(es) can relate, today was a very trying day for me.  Going back in time has proven to be extremely difficult, opening up old wounds.  I feel extremely vulnerable putting it all out there, and since doing so, have discovered a few things about myself that I didn’t previously know/realize.  Many thanks to BoldKevin for his continuous, daily support.  It is because of him that I’m going to start a 30 day mental illness awareness challenge, and maybe I’ll learn even more about me.  However, in the meantime, I need to take a break from all of this, as it has caused me to sink… deeper than I had anticipated.  I’ll stay in touch… just need to take a breather.


The college years… #4

I opted not to go to college immediately after high school because I didn’t know what I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing.  Instead, I worked, and got much closer to by best friend.  He proposed to me on my birthday and 6 months later we were married.  We were kids, without a clue.  I felt sorry for him because he grew up in a home with name calling and constant yelling.  He used to come to my house just for the solitude.  I knew from day one he was a small boy trapped in a man’s body.  I did the best I could to encourage him, but the damage his parents had caused him was irreparable.  He was miserable and slowly taking me down with him.  We were married for just about 10 years when everything started falling apart.  I will take 50% of the blame, but if you ask him, it’s ALL my fault.  You see, we had a child shortly after we were married, and at no point in time did he express any interest in being a father.  Of course, when family would come over, he’d play the part, but as soon as they left, he was back to his normal self.  Sad, because at 11 years old, my son now has abandonment issues.  He’s so confused.  Why doesn’t my dad love me, but he loves all these other kids (1 step son and 2 more of his own that he plays a very active role in their lives).  His father recently said some pretty nasty things to him, and has yet to apologize, and although I tell my son it’s not good to hate anyone, he insists he hates his father.  I try to explain that we can hate words and actions, but not people.  As human beings we’re entitled to make mistakes.  My son says his father has made too many.  The most recent?  Getting married and not even calling to try to ask our son to attend the wedding.  I’m not a therapist, but my son has a good one.  I’m going to leave this in his hands.  My son has a deep-rooted dislike for his father and it’s not fair of me to say that’s not allowed.  Perhaps one day he’ll understand.  Fighting, yelling, screaming, name calling, physical abuse to toughen the boys up… that’s all his father knows.  How can we be mad at someone for not being educated?

So, the theme of this particular blog is going to be…  The universe gives us tests.  If we fail, those tests will keep reappearing unless or until you pass.  I think his father just failed another test.  However, I am guilty of the same.

As our marriage started to collapse, I met a man (once again, on-line) through a mutual friend.  When he found out my husband had 2 cell phones and I didn’t have one, and I walked the dogs alone at night, the first thing this man did was send me a cell phone.  I thought it was a kind gesture.  I now see it was a way to keep track of me.  He’d monitor my texts and outgoing calls, etc.  At the end of the month, he’d want to know who this number belonged to, etc.  I thought it was a bit strange, but he was doing me a huge favor, as I wasn’t comfortable being out in the dark, alone.

My husband knew of this man, and of the phone.  He just chalked it up to one less bill he’d have to pay.  What he didn’t know was this man was very slyly turning me against my husband, and I fell for it all.  He’d send gifts, and make promises that since our friendship was so tight, he’d never allow anything to happen to me or my son.  Apparently he was a very wealthy  man (lie), but his promises to me gave me the courage to finally say I’m done.  I want a divorce.

Now, I should point out that at no point in time did we ever have a strong marriage.  We started out declaring bankruptcy, because my husband had a $600 a week crack habit I was unaware of.  He relapsed shortly after my son was born.  My best girlfriend at the time was living on the first floor of the house we were living in and we were on the second floor.  My son’s first memorial day, the two snuck off into the bushes and had sex.  I got a double whammy!  My 2 best friends did the unthinkable and hurt me in a way no one ever has.  I’ve forgiven them both, as a means for me to move on, but it’s something I’ll never forget.  I decided to forgive my husband, for the mere fact that I could not raise this child on my own (or so I thought) and we moved an hour away.  Then things got even worse, because he was one of those “Keeping up with the Joneses” types.  Everything our neighbors did, he had to do, putting us into even more debt.  So, the only way I can describe our marriage is as a handful of tiny pebbles.  Instead of being the rock it was supposed to be, it was fragments of rocks, slowly trickling through my fingers, until I had nothing left to hold on to.

One night, as I was giving our son a bath, I had apparently angered him about something.  He stormed into the bathroom and began choking me, right in front of our son.  I’ve never heard my son talk about this, and I pray to God he was too little to remember, but him doing this sealed his fate.  I had told him my life story.  he knew I was a victim of abuse, and here he was, all 6’10”, 250lbs, choking me.  I was fat and lazy, and according to him stayed home eating Bon Bon’s all day while he went out to support us all.  Now, mind you, I was still suffering from all of these diagnoses, they just hadn’t been diagnosed yet.  I was in a constant state of fear, and that’s no way to live.  I wanted to die.

My husband left the night I told him I wanted a divorce, and went right to my sister’s house.  He returned to get more things later in the evening, and had a contract for me to sign.  It stated he was leaving because I was crazy and he couldn’t stand living under these conditions any more, and that it should in no way be seen as him abandoning his son.  The witness?  My lovely sister.  She walked into my house, and thank God I was on the phone with my father, because if I wasn’t, I think she’d still be trying to recover from her injuries.  I told her 3 times to get out of my house.  She refused unless or until I signed the contract.  I laughed at their little pact and their contract, and got them out.  I read the contract to my father and he was very specific in saying “Don’t you dare sign anything.”  Then he got me a really good lawyer.

My ex has 2 more years to go before he has to begin making maintenance payments.  At one point I promised him I wouldn’t go after him for that, but my lawyer wouldn’t let him off without some kind of payment.  I’d been a stay at home mom for most of our time together, and she was determined that I get something.  I told him to just sign the papers and we could be done.  So, after everything he’s failed to do for my son, my son is owed that money, and I will be going after it.  And what’s even better is that there is a specific time line he has to pay it by.  Poor guy .  He’s now married to my best friend and they have 2 small boys together.  He’s drinking like a fish and has a big beer belly.  My son says that on the days he has gone over to visit his father, both his father and his step mother have been violent to all the kids (baby’s mind you) to toughen them up.  This disgusts my son and me as well.  But it’s their life now.  It’s called Karma, but it’s pronounced HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.  I would have done anything for that man, and he knows it.  Now he’s stuck.  He has confessed on a couple of occasions how unhappy he is, but again…this is his test.  I can’t go giving him the answers; nor do I even have the desire.

Now, the on-line man?  Oh, the empty promises he made were priceless.  You see, he wasn’t wealthy at all.  It’s his parents (whom he’s still living with at 47 years of age) who are wealthy.  He moved here and lasted a week.  I discovered real quick that I made a huge mistake and went over to my mom’s to confide in her.  It happened to be my birthday weekend and he wanted to take us all out to dinner (his mother was sending him $2,000 a week to ensure his survival).  Knowing full well I have anxiety issues and don’t like to leave my house, I suck it up and just go out and do it.  Doesn’t this little freaking diva pitch a fit over pasta sauce?!  Making a scene in the whole restaurant.  I was mortified.  I was depressed.  I was stuck.  I made a huge mistake and I didn’t know how I was going to fix it.  My doctor prescribed a very low dose of Depakote which I had a severe allergic reaction to.  While I was out of it, he packed his things and moved back home with his parents.  Opposite coasts, but still not far enough away.  And this is where the stalking begins…  But, I’ve got to run, so I’ll write about him later.  Oh, he’s a peach!  Can’t wait <again, sarcasm>.


Until next time,

~Crazy No More smile




Senior High… Crash Course in Reality. #3

So, junior high comes to an end and 9th grade begins.  It was here where I met the guy I was determined to spend the rest of my life with.  He was an absolute sweet heart, and popular.  I was a little confused… why would a popular, sports star be interested in me?  I was a no one.  Well, you know what they say… hind sight.  I had EASY written all over myself, and not in a sexual term, but in terms of a target.  I didn’t know until a few months after our relationship began, that he suffered from some serious anger issues, and I just happened to take the place of his punching bag.  I should have left him after the first physical fight, but I was afraid.  He threatened to beat up all my male friends if I did.  If that happened, they’d no longer want to be my friend.  And looking back, I think I stayed because some part of me felt I deserved it for being so stupidly blind to begin with.  We lasted almost 4 years, and there was never a week without a fight. His mom actually walked in on one of them.  She grabbed me out of his room, threw a chair at him and ran me to her car to get me home.  So, I hope you can understand my confusion when she was inviting me back for dinner not 2 days later.


I decided that he was the “man” I was going to give my virginity to.  I wanted it to be special, so I planned it for Valentine’s Day.  But on that Valentine’s day, I had my period, ruining the plan and causing another beat down.  Yup.  It was all my fault mother nature decided to make me menstruate on the 14th.  Regardless, he got it 5 days later, and I’ll never forget the day.  It was hardly special.  In fact, it was on his bedroom floor with rap music blaring in my ear.  I told him to stop because it hurt but he insisted that I’d get used to it.  I didn’t.  I bled, and I cried the whole way home.  I think I was more disappointed in myself than in pain.  But by this point, I was numb to any and all physical pain.  It’s the internal pain, the emptiness, the loneliness that hurts so much more.  The name calling, the passing me off to his friends as if I was some kind of whore.  I never did go through with it, which was cause for another beating.  And by this time he was smart enough not to leave visible bruises.

One night after I got out of work, he picked me up.  However, while I was working, he went through all my school work and found a Senior picture of a boy he didn’t know.  He assumed I was cheating on him, and nothing I said would convince him otherwise.  I told him to throw the picture out; it didn’t mean all that much to me.  He said he was going to kill us both and drove off the road aiming for a tree.  I panicked, but knew that I had to remain calm in order to get home.  He relaxed a bit, and asked me if, despite his outburst, I was still going to hang out with him that night.  I laughed it off pretending it was no big deal and assured him repeatedly that our plan to spend the night together was still on.  I just had to get home and change my clothes.  Then I’d be good to go.

We got to my house, and as soon as we got out of the car, I could see my family sitting on the couch watching TV.  I looked him dead in the eyes and said I wanted my school ring back, and never wanted to speak to him again.  He began choking me to the point I almost passed out, and then kicked me in the stomach, ripped off the necklace that was holding my ring and threw the ring at me.  He said I wasn’t worth it, called me a few names and then got his car and left.

I ran in the house as if I had to use the bathroom, so that no one would see me crying.  Once I was in my bedroom, my sister came in to see what was up.  She saw the finger prints on my neck, and just shook her head and walked out.  No hug, no consolation… nothing.  I think THIS is when all the problems with my sister began.  She was living the picture perfect life, engaged to be married, and couldn’t be bothered with my “drama.”

After high school, my parents got divorced.  I had to face my fears and get a full time job to help my mom pay the bills. I was having panic attacks on a regular basis, and would call her at 2:00am so she could talk me through them.  While at this job, I met a guy who I instantly clicked with.  After hanging out a few times, we actually started dating, and I began to open up to him about my anxiety and panic.  He was in college and taking a psychology course, and said he believed I had a legitimate diagnoses.  So, he talked to his professor and set up a meeting with him.  I spoke to this professor for a good hour, and he agreed with my boyfriend.  There was definite signs that I had anxiety issues, and it was his recommendation that I seek therapy ASAP.  I didn’t have health insurance at the time, so he referred me to a class of students studying to become therapists. Two weeks later I was a lab rat for potential future psychologists.  Awesome.

This relationship didn’t last long.  It just didn’t work out. But I am grateful for all he did to help me.  In my spare time, I spent hours  in AOL chat rooms, just for company.  It was here that I met the  next monster in my life.  He was a sweet heart over the computer!  He constantly had me laughing, and we had some pretty intense conversations.  My best friend at the time (who would later turn out to be my husband) was very skeptical of him, but once he arrived here from Pennsylvania, they got along great.  I didn’t realize that my computer friend was a pot smoker and a master in Jiu Jitsu.  Again… awesome.  I can’t say I wasn’t warned this time around.  Both of my parents didn’t approve of his visit, but I think this was some type of rebellion that I would definitely pay for.  Once the house was empty, the monster struck.  He was nice at first, flirting as foreplay, making mac and cheese and wiping it on the end of my nose.  Just being silly.  Then something happened.  It was like a someone flipped a switch in him.  While the food was still cooking on the stove, I was forced into my bedroom and robbed of any purity I had left.  I gave him one hell of a fight, but he just laughed, and when he was done, he pulled out and came all over my stomach.  My arms were pinned and he leaned down, licked his own semen off of my stomach and then spit it in my mouth.  Then said “That’s how it’s done bitch.” I just met the devil himself.  Before I could even regain my composure, he had packed his bags and was on the road.

I got up, turned the stove off and took a long hot shower and cried… a lot.  I couldn’t admit this to my parents, because I was afraid I’d get the “I told you so.” so I called my best friend.  He came over and was ready to get on the thruway and hunt this monster down.  Instead, I asked him to just hug me and let me cry.  I think it was his compassion in such a hurtful moment that made me see him as more than just a friend.  And because I can’t think about this stuff any more today, this is where I’ll leave off.

Have a good day…

~Crazy No More smile


The hell of Junior High #2

By the time most of us reach junior high, we know we belong to a certain clique.  We have established friendships, sports we’re interested in, our first crushes, etc.  Nope.  Not me.  I was lost.  Wandering around aimlessly with no idea of what was expected of me.  Why was I the only one having to leave class to “use the bathroom” but really to get through a panic attack?  My mom had told me everyone has anxiety, but it seemed that I was the only one suffering.  I was friends with everyone.  Or maybe friendly is a better way to describe it.  I don’t feel as though I had a real friend until my last year of high school, but we’ll get to that later.

So, basically junior high was a time for my anxiety to grow in monster proportions, latching onto my veins, running like fluid through my brain, all throughout my body. It is my belief that this is when the depression was born.  I knew I was different, but couldn’t explain why.  My sister and brother were in the senior high, and they were popular.  They were going out with their friends all the time, partying and having fun.  I was content to stay in my room alone, listening to the radio or reading a book, but again, wondering why I was so different.  The loneliness set in after awhile, and soon, I was crying for no apparent reason.  My parents can tell you… I nailed a sleeping bag over my window and sat in the dark.  I was very uncomfortable in my own skin and so badly wanted to be anyone but me.

In 8th grade, a senior expressed an interest in me.  I was 12 or 13 and he was 18.  I don’t know what he said to my parents, but whatever it was, my mom loved him and allowed him to bring me home from school in his truck so that I didn’t have to take the bus.  We’d never go directly home though.  He’d take a back road and park and do things to me that made me VERY uncomfortable.  According to him, this was all normal.  This is what people do.  He’d ask me and beg me for a hummer, and I  was  so confused.  A hummer to me was a truck.  Why would this guy be asking me for a  truck? I was in 8th grade.  I didn’t have ANY money.  All I knew is that what he did to me physically, hurt, and it didn’t make me feel good.  My instincts told me to end the relationship, but how?  I’d never broken up with someone before.  Well, he did it for me.  He gave me an ultimatum.  He said “Put out or get out.”  See ya!!  No way was I having sex at 12 years old!  I may not have been the brightest bulb in the shed but I knew that was wrong.

So, to sum it all up, Junior High for me was nothing more than a breeding ground for all of these disorders to gain possession of my mind and body; establish themselves and get nice and cozy.  I’m 36 and they’re very much still here.  In fact, over the past couple of weeks, the depression has gotten a good hold of me.  However, because I am a single mom, falling apart is not an option.  I’ve yet to find a psychiatrist that accepts my insurance, so I suffer in silence, as I don’t want my child to see this part.  It would kill him.  Junior High were just a few of the worst years of my life.  There is plenty more to come, so stay tuned.

Until next time,

~Crazy No More smile


The door to my soul is officially opened…

I have spent years being called every name in the book.  For many of those years, I actually believed I was all of these horrible things (crazy, mad, lunatic, freak, etc,) until not so long ago.  I met a new doctor who helped me determine that I am NONE of these things.  I’m an individual (society isn’t comfortable with individuality) and I am unique, as I can promise you, you’ll never meet anyone like me.  I don’t possess any super powers, although I was born with a gift.  Occasionally I receive messages from people who have passed.  I’ve learned that this is not something I can get rid of.  I’ve tried to ignore it, and it worked for a long time.  However, after all these years, it’s still right here.  It just stays dormant until I decide to embrace it.  So, I went out on a limb and passed along a few messages and if they weren’t all 100% accurate, I’d have to say maybe I am a little crazy.  I have also been the brunt of several cruel jokes about mental illness.  The sole purpose of this blog is to shed some light on mental illness and educate people.  I’m not shy.  I’m not shy at all.  In fact, I’m a bit of a social butterfly…with social phobia.  Awesome.  Good one Universe.  Good one.  I have panic attacks everyday, depression when it feels like stopping by and hanging around for a while, PTSD, major anxiety, Bi-polar disorder, agoraphobia and the curse of being extremely naïve.  Yup… I wear my heart on my sleeve and welcome everyone, until they cross me.  In today’s day and age, it really should be the other way around, but what can I say?  Maybe it’s my desperation for company.  Maybe it’s because I’d like to think that there are still some good people in the world.  I’m old enough to know better but young enough to care.  Please… know that I’m determined to remain “single” until the day comes where I can acknowledge I fully know myself.  Unless or until that day, I can’t be bothered trying to figure someone else out, or solve their problems.  I apologize if that comes off as rude, but I have yet to  meet a single person  to date who doesn’t have ulterior motives.  So, if you are at all interested in learning about mental illness, buckle your seatbelts.  I can promise you it’s going to be one hell of a ride!