My Dilemma

Wanted to share this song, it really gets to me because I do not remember most of my childhood and my mind has done the opposite of what the man says in the song. Which confuses me because from what reseach shows to happen with how your mind works and trauma. I included the video to the song and the lyrics.

Evanescence- Understanding

Lyrics:
"Understanding (Wash It All Away)"

"You hold the answers deep within your own mind.
Consciously, you've forgotten it.
That's the way the human mind works.
Whenever something is too unpleasant, to shameful for us
to entertain, we reject it.
We erase it from our memories.
But the imprint is always there."

(Can't wash it all away)
(Can't Wish it all away)
(Can't hope it all away)
(Can't cry it all away)

The pain that grips you
The fear that binds you
Releases life in me
In our mutual shame we hide our eyes
To blind them from the truth
That finds a way from who we are
Please don't be afraid
When the darkness fades away
The dawn will break the silence
Screaming in our hearts
My love for you still grows
This I do for you
Before I try to fight the truth my final time

"We're supposed to try and be real.
And I feel alone, and we're not together. And that is real."

Can't wash it all away
Can't wish it all away
Can't cry it all away
Can't scratch it all away

Lying beside you
Listening to you breathe
The life that flows inside of you
Burns inside of me
Hold and speak to me
Of love without a sound
Tell me you will live through this
And I will die for you
Cast me not away
Say you'll be with me
For I know I cannot
Bear it all alone

"You're not alone, honey."
"Never... Never."

Can't fight it all away
Can't hope it all away
Can't scream it all away
It just won't fade away, No

Can't wash it all away
Can't wish it all away
Can't cry it all away
Can't scratch it all away

(Can't fight it all away)
(Can't hope it all away)
Can't scream it all away
Ooh, it all away
Ooh, it all away

"But the imprint is always there. Nothing is ever really forgotten."
"God, please don't hate me"
"Because I'll die if you do."
"Because I'll die if you do."
"Because I'll die if you do."
"Because I'll die if you do."

Chasity

Set the Bird Free of Chains

    

         I shall open this discussion up as a question for each of you to ponder your own personal answers upon… Can the things from one’s past truly dictate one’s future, knowingly or unknowingly? Furthermore, if whatever you believe your previous answer to be and to know that, the unknown past will never be brought to light; can one change their destined future while in the midst of a fog? 
   In this confessional I shall divulge more than some may want to know, hear, or for other’s to find the truth of my secrets, but at this moment I am stuck in a place where I only know to pour out as much as possible to fully understand where I stand in the previous questioned I asked of you. I seek no pity, sympathy, nor am I raising my arms in honor for praise of my strengths. Realistically I am bowing my head and whispering my stories to lessen the burden withheld in my knapsack of life. I apologize beforehand to anyone whom I might offend or bring shame upon; there is no blame I am handing out here, nearly pieces to my life’s puzzle in hope’s to finding my solution. 


    There have been many a moments of timeless words and scars of wounds I bandaged on my own to heal in time, where time held no meaning and the wounds meaning much in silenced words. Most of my childhood is one of mere stories I have been told and quilted together through recollected stories and pictures. I am in a presence of confused truths and possible false self-experiences. I have listened to the stories for so long and looked at the pictures for so long; I cannot distinguish what is my own past and what are others. To look at a childhood picture of your own self and not recognize the face printed forever to be showcased back at you. Not that I am lacking my entire life’s past in the present, more like my mind can only rolodex the memories I should have forgotten. I should remember the gumdrops and lollipop moments, while my mind has decided that the Brady Bunch versions of my past are not as important as the memories for which have destroyed me eternally. I long for the normal memories of childhood to emerge. My sullen secrets are not unlike most others that have been in similar situations as I, but for some reason my mind has decided that is has hit overload somewhere and no longer functions beyond the reminiscence of those moments. Not only do I have so many of these memories, but also I cannot seem to put them in correct chronological order either. Therefore, without further ado, I shall explain myself in more detail even though I am not fully comfortable at the present to share, but all in optimism to overcome. 


      I grew up in a home where my Dad knew not of monogamy or of the promises that hold little girls pigtails tied together. The contradictions ran rampant in the household I grew up in, almost like a 1940’s marriage contract. My parents were in and out of odds with each other and I never knew when to expect the bags to be packed and “poor old Dad” to be sent packing. I say this in terms of looking at it from child-like eyes because the innocence of a child has no knowledge of marriage or what it consists of, only the presence of a Mother and a Father to make a family. With every new woman or previous woman brought back into the picture from my Dad’s infidelities, I was always put in the middle of that battlefield. He always ran home to me first to tell me some lie that would make my Mother look like the bad person in the situation and that she was crazy and never knew what she was talking about and how much she wanted to ruin our family. From one lie to the next, I remained a Daddy’s Girl and stood in his corner. With every infidelity, and I do not say that lightly because there were numerous ones, I was always put in charge of the proceedings to follow after the initial smoke blew over and I was given an ultimatum; to give him another chance or leave my Dad. Of course, as a child who should never be placed in those situations I chose what my heart understood, family and I wanted my family together. Among one of those horrific splits I remember coming home to my Dad packing his truck with all his belongings and crying in fear of the inevitable. I remember being no older than five or six and asking my Mommy why Daddy was leaving and instead of the condolences, I should have received, I was met with a screaming Mother who blamed me for my family breaking apart. I was told that because I was too much of a burden, because I watched too much TV, because I did not allow my Daddy to watch what he wanted he was leaving us. That day I ran as fast as I could to the closed door of a friend, eyes swollen with tears, as they are now recollecting upon that day. I knocked so hard, screaming between sobs of tears that I ruined my family repeatedly. That door finally opened and I was met with open arms that held and consoled my pain, not from the parents I trusted but by a stranger in my mind. He eventually came back and once again, it was my choice, and as time proved it would continue. He continued to return until I was at an age that I understood what he had been doing wrong. The night I understood the lies my Dad had been telling me is a controversial theory, but I believe in my heart it was immoral. My Mother drove me to the mistress’s home, where her family lived and confronted them all while I sat in the car watching and listening, by this time I was probably twelve. Once more I was the deciding factor as to what the fate of our family would be and this time my immature mind thought of a foolproof plan to make my Dad never cheat. I wrote him a poem letting out all my pain and made him sign a promise letter to never hurt our family again. Like the black to a crow, his true colors bled through again. Filled with shame, guilt, and the anger from the lies I believed I finally pushed my Dad out of my life and my Mother’s and we lived as a single family for many years where I cut off all connections to the Dad who betrayed me.  


     Throughout my life, I have always been chubby, fat, or what so ever you choose to verbalize it as. Which I still struggle to this day to lose weight and that is one of many of my races to win. What haunts me most about my weight is growing up where my weight always was to be blamed for things holding me back in life. My Grampa never failed to tell me that I would be prettier if I lost weight, that I won’t get boys to look at me unless I lose weight, that when I become interested in life and love I will lose the weight, etc. My best friend’s parents telling me that I have such a pretty face, why do I hide behind the weight, that if I lost some weight I would be gorgeous, etc. The stories I have been told since childhood could go on and on, as if my weight makes me more or less of a Granddaughter or a person, what it does is makes a child feel less worthy of love. Every day I look in the mirror I still hear those faint words being spoken in my ear, no matter how much weight I loose and no amount of reassurance can drown them out.  


    Throughout these years, many other things took place that I cannot pin down my age, only an approximate or the range from the period of which home I lived in at the time. I remember a close friend of mine who was years older than I used to experiment on me what her brother would do to her sexually. She would make me hide in her bedroom closet until her family was gone and tell me that she would tell them it was my fault or tell lies on me if I told on her for what she did to me. I will not go into detail, I am sure you can imagine. I could not have been any older than seven years old and scared my parents would believe her if I told the truth. Around this same time, the neighborhood kids all had a fill-in babysitter that all the parents used when the normal ones were unavailable; she was a teenager who babysat for extra money. I remember the first time I was at her house to be babysat, which was with my best friend whose Mother worked a lot, and she was used to this particular babysitter. She was not a stranger to me, I had seen her around, and if my best friend was comfortable with her, I felt comfortable. She always babysat when her mother was not home, or so I never remember ever seeing her parents. That day was one that would make me fear her forever more, no matter how much my best friend said, that it was normal girl stuff and that is was okay nor from my previous experience with the older friend previously mentioned. There is nothing normal about making young girls do things to you for your pleasure and then blackmailing them into believing it was their fault or their wanting. However, having a family member around your own age trying things that they learned on you as a very young child may have set you up for the future gullibility or naivetés. I will not go into any further detail about the molest/sexual abuse in my dark diary of secrets.   


     When the mask I wore my entire life started to crack in high school and I could no longer mentally or physically handle making the world happy while I struggled and died inside, my body finally collapsed in exhaustion. I lost all of my caring, I gave up the thrown that held up everyone else’s standards for me and my life, like quicksand I sank faster and faster into trouble.  I dropped out my Freshman year for two months before anyone knew, then more trouble came around when the truth came out which led to more backlashing on my part. It seemed like no one cared or understood, but who would when I could not tell them the truth, I felt they should know without a word stated. Like the waves in the ocean carrying me farther out to sea, my life was out of my grasp. Then came the next year when my Mother could no longer handle me anymore, she gave me a choice to straighten up or move in with my Dad and left boxes for me to pack on my bed. In my head, she no longer wanted me therefore; I packed the tear-stained boxes and awaited my shipment. What came next tore the world I knew completely apart and I thought life was over. My Mother sat me down with a small envelope and explained to me that the man I call Dad was nothing more than a stranger in my mind now. I remember sitting on the living room couch all day as she told me the story of my creation and who came to be my Dad and who my biological Father was as I stared at the old, deep rooted tree in the back yard like this was a dream I would soon awaken from. I spoke not a word, just cried, staring at that beautiful old tree with not a feeling of love left in my soul watching the day change in the leaves. I felt alien in my own body, I felt dead inside, I felt more alone than I had ever felt in my entire life in those moments. I felt more betrayed than I thought possible after the lies I had already conquered. The man in those pictures was nothing more than a complete stranger; there was nothing familiar in reflection. Who was I, who was he, who was my Dad, and who was my Mother to lie to me my entire life in that moment. A secret that broke down my entire being to nothingness. That was my proof that I was unwanted, that I was a burden of space. I felt more anger and sorrow than my mind could handle and things progressively spiraled out of control from there.
 
      This led me down an even more dangerous road of self-hatred, quarrelsome endeavors, and a lot more of the faking happiness to hide my secrets away. In the shadows of my life I started pulling my hair out, beating myself with hairbrushes till I bled, taking massive amounts of pain relievers to inflict pain upon myself for all the wrong I had done, which led me deeper into smoking, drinking, and drugs. The drugs led me down a road of dangerous and embarrassing situations amongst people that all fed off each other’s warped psychological needs. I found every outlet I could to put a bandage over the wounds I hid. When the previous methods did not give relieve I found other outlets. Cutting my hair off, chocking myself till I was in so much pain I could no longer handle it, trying to suffocate myself as many ways as thoughtfully possible till I would end up throwing up from all the coughing, banging my head against anything to inflict pain, biting myself, digging my nails into my body and clawing myself until I bled, anything to release the tension and anxiety I felt in my body . This was all a cycle of doom I kept hidden from everyone, a control only I knew I had, a problematic solution I thought would somehow heal or end me. Either way it did not matter as long as that dark hallway I crawled down gave in to some moments of peace for my mind. Along with these secrets, there are many more, which now my mind will not allow coming out in fear that the few that have escaped my body and mind’s security vault may have gave way to a skeleton key to potentially destroy me entirely.

                                          Chasity

Peter Gabriel- My Body Is A Cage

                  

Nail In The Coffin

This is not going to be a regular post as to anything worth your time for insight or comfort, but things are not right in this moment. In May I went back to the doctor, a totally different one in hopes that if just one more person heard me, they would know how to fix me. Unfortunately the therapist you have to see before you get to the doctor for new patients well mine was a male and there are things in my past that hinder my judgement and paranoia upon the subject of speaking to a male therapist while being a female patient. So the entire thing was a bust and the doctor once more diagnosed me with Bipolar and an anxiety disorder. Long story short I was placed on a higher dosage of the clonazepam and a new one for me Tegretol. I had only been on the Tegretol for 12 days before the horrible allergic reaction prompted the abrupt dis-use of it further, but today and last night I have found myself in a horrible place. I looked up on the Internet to see if there were other withdrawals from it but none. I have tried going to the maximum dosage my doctor allowed for the Clonazepam, but not helping. It is like my mind is lost. I packed up all my couponing things (which I started a few months ago) almost threw everything away even my printer, instead I just threw it all in bags and slung in the bedroom. I am fighting the urge not to disappear tonight, somewhere that is far away where the serenity of the ocean air can calm my depressed mind. It took everything in my power to get out of bed today, to not throw anger at every passing soul, and to not chop my hair off or do anything else to cause more problems in my life at the moment. I see the doctor again this coming week for a new medication to try and the last time I was there I requested a female therapist which I cannot see till the very end of this month. But I feel my pleas to look further into my issues and not automatically label me as bipolar has been unheard again and I feel like I am becoming a human guinea pig. I do not like the person I am without meds and I hate the person I am with them and I feel like I am stuck in a catch 22 situation where everything I do affects others in some way and I stuck in this place where no one cares enough to take the time to believe me when I say there is more to this story I am trying to tell. You would think with the years of in and out doctors I have been to someone would put the pieces together unless my years of disguising everything has lead to my ultimate demise. At the current moment I have been drugged with 2mg of clonazepam and some other unknown anxiety medication I am too lazy to get up to tell you the name of and yet I am still sitting here 4 hours later unaffected. I honestly feel like I am ranting here but when you see a therapist which is quite alien to me since I have only been to 3 sessions my entire life and all three were flops in my opinion, I am not one to openly tell a stranger who has the authority to either commit me or get me arrested for my demons or the things inside my head, I am one of the most paranoid people I know and the whole little saying of the angel is on one shoulder and the devil is on the other, well my little devil murdered the angel back in adolescence and no matter how much good I do for others I feel my mind is the unconquerable evil. If it is not the rage growing within me, its the ill-patience that conjures it up, then you add all the hatred that boils, and the self reliant sinister hands I bare, my mind is full of creepily whimsical plans I try to fight off every moment of every day. Now you are probably worried I am some closeted murderer which in fact is the most opposite of the truth. My mind can think all these things, but because I do not act on them changes the game plan. So do you understand my dilemma. Talking to a therapist about my issues is quite difficult without coming across as a threat when in fact the threat is my self and my mind. I no longer have the highs and lows of Bipolar, I haven't been in what they call full blown mania in almost 5 years, I am somewhere stuck in the woods in a horror film of an invisible threat. I literally can be doing okay one moment and the next it is a different story. I cannot plan things in advance bc I never know how I am going to feel. Among all this and the paranoia I have to deal with this weird so you wanna call it OCD ticks I have. I hate germs and do not like touching people, will not kiss even family, not even from the same cup unless I absolutely have no other choice and even then I want to vomit, when I eat I have at least three baby bowls I eat out of bc none of my food can come in contact and I eat with a baby spoon and fork. I do not eat at buffets bc they are over run with germs and unsafe food handling. And if things are not available the way I need them to be I break down crying bcbc I am not making a difference. I wash fruits and veggies with dish soap and a scrubber. I use bleach to clean dishes and everything else I can get my hands and bleach on. Everything has to be an even number or my superstitions kick in and I cross my fingers and knock on would twice etc etc. I got a flu shot even though I am allergic to eggs even though I will not go near friends or family who are sick just because I am afraid I might get someone Else's germs in me. If I have to go to the store it takes me hours to get ready because I cannot go out in public without looking presentable meaning hair, make-up, jewelry, and dressed nice or I feel people are looking down on me or talking about me. Even then I think people are watching like big brother or the cameras in stores will think I am stealing something and falsely arrest me just because I am sweating and all red from the anxiety of being in public or just watching me in general. I literally hate seeing people I know in public and will do the whole duck and dodge method because I am dead set to get back to my safe zone asap. If someone smells weird, or passes gas I want to vomit because I could possibly be inhaling their germs. I brush, floss, and use mouthwash at least 5 times a day bc I am afraid of my teeth falling out etc. I mean literally before and  after I eat I do the whole routine even if I am going to go back for dessert and I will then repeat once again. If I am somewhere where I have to sit and wait I have to count ceiling tiles over and over again to make sure I know for certain how many there are and so that I do not have to make contact with others. The last doctor visit I went to I literally sat there staring at a blank tv that was turned off for over an hour while some old woman and man tried to engage me in conversation and the entire time I am grinding my teeth not to scream at them to leave me alone. Which makes no sense bc as a child and growing up I was told I was very outgoing and talkative to strangers or anyone who would listen, but that I could not tell you since I do not remember much of anything of my life before high school. Another weird thing is how much I love animals, but I can sit on the porch with a can of high potency bug killer and laugh as I kill all kinds of bugs, maybe that is because I am so petrified of them and killing them gives me gratitude that they can no longer get in my house or what but craziness non the less. I don't know if this will help me any by getting some of this crap off my mind or if it will only harm the thoughts of others towards me, at this time is life my mood will alter back and forth and this entire post has been nothing more than ramblings back and forth about stupidity but my mood right now is oh well.

Chasity