Visitor

My sisters daughter is here visiting for a few weeks. My routine is now different, my surroundings are now different, my immediate universe is now different. She got here yesterday and I was hoping to be able to be 'normal' while she was here which is why I originally decided not to drink at all Wednesday and to cut way back. I was going to stay out in the living room and not stay hibernating in my room. Just be normal. Well the not drinking only lasted until midday on Thursday, before she got here. Then I was going to NOT get drunk. Yeah, I was drunk by the time my sister got home from picking her daughter up. I did manage to stay in the living room today, but tonight after my sister got home from work I had to come back here to my room for hibernation. My sister said something that hurt me but I did not and cannot show it, I just have to remember my place.

Remember my place. My mantra. I cannot forget. Remember my place. So now I will just stay out of their way, let them do whatever. I will just clean up after them and not say anything. Cook. Clean. Hide. My version of normal. Remember my place. I didn't drink today. Tomorrow though. . .

Today I ate:
Peanut butter and jelly sandwich
Peanut butter and banana sandwich
Banana
Bowl of ice cream
which all equals a disgusting number of calories that I will have to punish myself for tomorrow even though I did walk for 1.5 hours. It doesn't matter to me how many calories I burn off, it only matters how many go in and stay in.

Missing Them

I miss my Mariah and my Howard as much as I miss my Cini-Mini and my Cini-Mini was not only my world but my universe. Mariah, my daughter, unfriended me on facebook and that was really the only communication I had with her because I tried to stay out of her life. I tried to stay out of her life because I know I am no good. It was while she lived under my roof that bad things happened, the bad man did what he did, and that does make it my fault. I never should have let her go to her friends house. I should have said NO!.

I don't let people touch me anymore. I don't mean 'touch my heart', I mean touch my skin or even my shoulder or arm through my shirt. I go through great lengths to make sure it doesn't happen, and if it does happen I make sure to tell them 'I don't like touch' and then describe how I will hand things to other people carefully to make sure no touch has to happen, or take things from people to make sure touch does not have to happen. Getting change back at the store is never fun because some people are careful to drop the change into your hand and some people will place the change into your hand. If they are going to 'place' the change into my hand I will often let it drop on 'accident'. Touch just freaks me the hell out. No I do not shake hands with people. No I do not have relationships.

If there is one person on this planet though who I would allow to touch me, hug me, hold my hand for even a moment, it would be my Howard.

Numbing the Pain

Why do I try to numb the pain? Because no matter what I try I cannot numb the memories. The flashbacks. The random memories that haunt. The whispered words in my ears. The hallucinations. So I have begun drinking more in the last months than I ever have before in my life. I could try to get back into therapy here in my new location but I am frankly afraid to do so.

Just Another Day

Today is not a good day. Today I am just inundated with thoughts running through my head - a million a minute - and feelings of being the lowest form of human garbage on the planet. I am useless, garbage, taking up space and air that I don't deserve. 

My sister left to go south to watch her daughter graduate high school tomorrow. I am proud of my niece but I wouldn't go even if it weren't three and a half hours away. Just no. Not leaving the house. The shitty thing is that my sister doesn't have a car because she wrecked it last year so she drives my car. I let her only because she doesn't need a car payment and because she pays for things for me like shampoo, toothpaste, tampons. The least I can do is let her use my car. The shit thing about it though is that my car needs work. It has an oil leak that needs to be fixed and it needs breaks because she is not a gentle breaker and goes through breaks. She had the money to put breaks on the car but just didn't do it. She didn't even need to pay for it to be done at a shop! If she bought the break pads the neighbor will put them on for free which is nice and break pads are not that expensive. But no. After all, that money could be better spent on things like her facial hair remover, fast food, candy. So she is going to be gone for two days and I don't have my car. Not that I plan on going anywhere, but it would be nice to have my car. And that is why I need to remember my place.

My wanting to have my car is greedy and stupid. It is putting myself above her and I should never do that. I need to just sit back, stay out of the way, take up as little space as possible, say as little as possible, anticipate her needs and remember my place. I am garbage that doesn't get thrown away. So I need to earn my keep. Cleaning, cooking and staying out of her way. Don't ask for things. Smile when that is what she expects. Try not to rock in my seat too much because that bothers her. I never ask her to pick up after herself. NEVER. I don't ask her to pick up after her dog messes on the floor, I just do it. I don't ask her to not leave her towels in the bathroom after her shower, I just put them in the wash. I don't ask her to put away her toiletry stuff in the bathroom, I just tidy it up for her. I do not ask her to clean the toilet, wipe down the sink, vacuum, run a load of towels, run a load of rugs, get her clothes out of the dryer. I just don't ask. It is not my place. If that means that I can't do my laundry then I wait. 

My mantra:

Remember your place

remember your place

remember your place

and I will sometimes repeat that to myself over and over and over again while I have my earphones in listening to my music because above all, I am not and never will be worthy of anything and I need to remember my place.

In The Beginning

Odd title to this post, I will grant you that, but there is a back story to the beginning of this blog.

Primarily I am starting this blog because for many things in my life I prefer anonymity. I don't want people to know who specifically I am, not just because I crave my privacy but also because there have been a few people in the past that have stalked my other blogs and websites. So many things I wish I could put out in the vastness of the internet (just to have them said, off my mind, a kind of personal log that is not on paper for others to find and KNOW it is me) and getting these things out is so essential to my state of mind right now.

Have you ever lived you life repeating the mantra of 'remember your place, remember your place' which means that you cannot share an opinion, you need to stay out of the way, you cannot ask for things like new toothpaste, soap or razors? Not a good place to be. Believe me.

I have severe anxiety disorder, panic disorder, ptsd, haphephobia, agoraphobia, suicidal ideation. . . yeah, my life is a fun filled place (sarcasm alert for that last bit). Did I mention the eating disorder? EDNOS (Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified), Bulimia Nervosa. Add in a few other random things and this is my life and that is what I plan to put into this blog.

So what did I mean by 'In The Beginning'? In a small nutshell now (which will certainly expand as time goes on) I was abused as a child and it effected many parts of my life as an adult. When I became a mother it effected my decisions then as well. I was determined that my children would not know the pain I grew up with, the disfunction, so in an attempt to stop the cycle I inadvertently put them in situations where they encountered their own disfunction but told myself it was better than the disfunction they would probably suffer under my parenting. How wrong yet right I was. My youngest daughter came to live with me when she was 13 and ended up being sexually abused by her friends dad when she was 14. The blame I put on myself caused a mental breakdown I have not been able to recover from and it has been almost 5 years now. Mentally I am still stuck. Flashbacks to my daughter, flashbacks to my own childhood - never a good thing. The second after my daughter told me what happened I was all set to get her to the police station when my sister told me that I could call them and they would come to the house so that is what I did. Within seconds the phone call was made and it only took a few minutes for the police to show up and start taking the report. That was the end of me being the person I thought I was.

I cannot tell you how often I heard people telling me (even my own daughter) that I just needed to 'get over it' already. How I wish I could! But it doesn't work that way.

Since that day 5 years ago (the anniversary just recently passed) I have become a woman I do not recognize.

This is my journey, my daily life, my mental hell.