Stuck in a Dark Abyss of Despair
(This is not for entertainment so there will be no graphics-just a long documentary and I apologize in advance for the long read. It just got out of hand. Writing is my therapy)
Well today is my 31st wedding anniversary. I should be filled with joy, happiness, contentment and filled with love for the partner I chose as my 1st-my one and only-for the rest of my life. Instead I feel hollow, lost, lonely, empty and broken-hearted. The past couple of weeks have been quite a struggle, but it’s been an accumulation of 31 years of rejection, anger, unresolved issues that continue to plague this union, family invasions (some in-laws from past and present encounters) lack of empathy as well as lack of sympathy or compassion. When you try to be positive and try as hard as you can to resolve health issues and work as hard as you can to do what little you can on limited mobility and to get smashed down on a regular basis has worn me out. I’m not only physically exhausted from these constant daily migraines that rule my life now, as well as the Fibromyalgia and CFS (to only name a few) How did I get here and why did I allow this to continue for so long? I think my biggest problem is when I love I do so unconditionally with no strings attached, no judgments, I give empathy and compassion for conditions that are not as chronic as mine but at the same time they are chronic. I ask myself everyday “why can’t I get the same in return, or just a teeny tiny bit?” I give too many people 2nd, 3rd, 4th-multiple chances and turn the cheek too many times that I’ve lost count. Do I have anymore left in me to give?
I think some of the issue is in the way he was raised. His mother was unloving, not compassionate, very judgmental, hateful, resentful, begrudging and selfish-just to name a few. If there were ever anyone that did NOT deserve to be a parent it was HER!! If she could have and gotten away with it should would have probably eaten her young. She is evil personified. All of her children have suffered from her selfish loathing attitude and lack of love. They are all damaged in some way or another. Her oldest daughter is a spitting image of her and is non-forgiving as well but professes to be Christian! HAH! What a joke. But a chip off the ole block. I will just name her “P”. The middle daughter, I will name “L” was told to her face by her own mother “I wish you were dead” and she meant it. She was later made to apologize for her comment by her husband. He worked long and hard hours not only to provide for the family but no doubt to escape the turmoil and hate-filled house in which he helped create by turning a blind eye and avoidance of conflict. I mean, how can you think your wife is so vile and contemptuous? The younger daughter I will name her “S” had such severe asthma that at that time there was not the medical treatment that there is today. To save her life her mother was told she had to take her to Arizona for a while until it came under control. Well mother has resented S all these years because she was so “put out” that she had to alter her life to save the life of her daughter. She apparently spoke to a nun who told her quote “leave her be and stay where you are-if it’s meant for her to die then its God’s will”. But from that moment on whatever went wrong was always blamed on S. The mother raised the other daughters to have hate and contempt for S as she loathed her daughter so much she wanted the others to loathe her too. And it continues to this day. If anything was ever missing or lost the mother always blamed S for the incident-even when S was grown and out of the house for many years and NEVER had a key to any of the houses they lived in, but of course it was always S’s fault. Mother would NEVER admit when she was wrong, that she was capable of misplacing or losing things or forgetting stuff. Never-she was perfect and a saint in her eyes because “she” had to endure so much. She would always say she had such a hard life even though her daughter L had lost 2 of her children in a tragic home accident and both boys were under the age of 8, and daughter S gave birth to a stillborn child. I found out recently that S was told by her mother to “forget about it, it didn’t live and therefore it didn’t exist as a real child” Talk about cold!!
When we were first married I was immediately under attack from the monster-in-law. She took an immediate dislike to me. Well, she was not capable of love as the past will tell, so she was not capable of liking too many people as well. She tried from the get-go to sabotage our union. She would say vile things to me and when I told my significant other I was told “it’s your imagination, my mother would never say anything like that” Of course she’d make sure she said things behind his back and then act all sweet and innocent to his face. I knew then what kind of person she was but for some reason he turned a blind eye to it. Did he learn this from his father-avoidance and denial? Warning bells went off and I knew I was in trouble but didn’t know how to get out of it. After all I was young, still naïve I will admit now, and too much in Love. How could I leave? My mother told me I should have waited longer before getting married-she said that from the moment we got engaged. Man oh man I should have listened. Children, even young adults, think they know it all and that their parents are full of pooh-pooh. After all I countered my mother got married when she was 16 and I was 19. I thought I was more mature. What a bunch of BS now that I look back on it. I did have the chance to tell my parents that I valued and appreciated how they raised me and the advice they gave me through the years before it was too late. For that I am grateful. I just wish I had listened at the time the advice was given. I guess when you mature you can look back and realize what you did wrong and where you went wrong. But at the time you’re going through it you think you know best. HAH! I knew diddly squat!
I held off getting pregnant for a while even though I was accused by “you know who” that I was pregnant from the get go because that was the only way her son would have married someone “like me”. She would say I was a gold-digger-after his money and assets. I would say “huh” because I had no idea at the time what the heck this Looney bird was talking about. I held on though because I didn’t believe in divorce and I thought if I was an example it would somehow “change” him. HAH. You can’t change anyone. I know that now sadly but refused to see it then. How sad that I was not mature enough to see the light and realize things for what they really were and get out of my fantasy world and check into reality. So I eventually did get pregnant and all I could hear from “you know who” It better be a boy-she had to try 3 times before she got hers on the 4th. I didn’t get much support from my spouse during my pregnancy. I was not making that much money and needed maternity clothes and help buying some-but he would not budge with any of his hard earned money. After all what was his was his, including the house I was told! He had worked and paid for that house with his own money and I didn’t contribute so therefore it was his and his alone. His mother told me that earlier and that she had plans-when she got old and not able to take care of herself she would move in with her son so he could take care of her. That was her grand plan. That was why she suffered the birth of 3 girls, 2 of whom she values as worthless but S is more worthless than L, so she “tolerates” L but doesn’t care much for her. Well, her wish didn’t come true. She now lives in assisted living, alone, but still likes to stir things up between the girls-getting the 2 to gang up on the 1, S, like she did when they were kids growing up. But she didn’t come here to live with her sonny boy! I had holy heck and raised a temper tantrum saying that mean hateful Witch was NOT living under the same roof as me!! It was an argument I finally won.
So I had a girl in 1985. A beautiful baby girl. She started with dark hair but it lightened to what my hair color was when I was a little girl. And she had OUR family’s blue eyes. Of course they were dumbfounded. They verbally to my face could not figure out why on earth she had light color hair and blue eyes when they were all dark brunette and brown eyes!! Well holy crap people she had a mother who had light hair and blue eyes!! Then they gave credit to her grandfather because after all he was the only one in THEIR family that had blue eyes! I was PO’d to be for sure. And I verbalized that stating it was nice to have my daughter’s mother rejected and not given credit for having a beautiful baby girl! I loved it that she had my blue eyes. Dam those people and their hate and prejudice. So right away I was bombarded by P and monster-in-law that I had to have another child right away and was even told to my face I had to try until I had a boy because that was the most important thing in the world-to produce a boy so that I again could not get any credit for. I held off for a while because I was realized I was in over my head at that point. Sure I admit I was no angel. When we’d get into fights it was an all out war and I got just as ugly back as I got in return. I fought dirty just as it was tossed at me. My motto back then was “tit for tat” So I let things go the usual route. We’d forgive one another, but I’d never get an actual apology from my significant other, and life went on its rocky way. My spouse would never open up about his childhood-he never speaks of it. He has said recently it was “difficult”. I bet.
So I tried after a couple of years to have another child. Tried and tried. Nothing happened. I went to a new OB-Gyn and was told the massive infection I obtained from childbirth when I tore and it was not properly taken care of at that time by that former Gyn that it must have caused some scarring and rendered me now infertile. I was a tiny bit sad but relieved in a way. My thinking was it’s bad enough I brought a daughter into this turmoil, but thank God I would not be able to bring another one into this miserable existence with such hateful family members and a spouse’s very warped perception of how home life should be-treat strangers with more respect than your own wife and family. So boy oh boy did I catch heck from “the other side” for not producing the boy. Even my spouse got in on it-I have to have my boy, when are you going to give me one! I was told by P that she wanted another child so bad that if it was available in “her day and age” she would have got to an infertility specialist and been inseminated-she would go to all lengths and exhaust all avenues until she would give up. Of course I was dammed because I would not sign up for that. It would be my luck I would have a litter and not only have to take care of them, but work full-time because after all I was told a while back I had to “earn my keep”. And to think back his mother didn’t work when she was raising her kids, so where did that come from? Oh right, I temporarily forgot-it was for the selfish love of money. What was his was his and what was mine should be his too! Or else I had to contribute and I paid for all my own clothing and essentials as well as for my daughters clothing as well. My best friend H for over 30 years as of now just happened to appear into my life around this time and has been my rock ever since.
Fast forward to May 2010. My Migraines I had been fighting since 1978 that were once sporadic had now become daily and debilitating. I was having chronic panic attacks. My IBS was flaring up but thank goodness my SVT that was operated on in 2009 (after suffering with it for several years until I was told there were no more medications to control it) so at least that was still under control. I had lost my mother in May 2003 due to a massive stroke. It was brought on by her stage 4 colon cancer. It had spread to her lymph nodes when her surgery was performed in 2002 so they said it would have spread to her liver and made her blood sticky and would form clots, therefore causing the stroke. She had CHF so it was not a blood pressure issue. My mom was the worse patient I had ever seen. Dad had to take her to see the doctor, almost dragging her kicking and screaming. She never did pre-cancer screenings. She refused to do so. She suffered migraines and knew what some of her triggers were, but she would never give them up. She said she loved that food too much and would not do without it. I was frustrated in trying to convince her otherwise, but she was totally stubborn.
She risked her life to give birth to my little sister. The doctors told her she should abort because at that time her health was failing. She was almost done in when she went through labor. But she loved her yet unborn child and refused to part with her. She would risk her life before she would abort. Yes, my sister was not planned, but she was none the less loved very much and my sister still doesn’t see it to this day. She keeps thinking of herself as an “accident” and not wanted. So untrue. My mom loved her very much and she was spoiled. She got away with stuff I never would have. And she thinks that “I” was favored? Oh come on! Was not! My parents loved each and every one of us unconditionally. They were always there for us. My dad demanded my mom stay at home to raise us kids-he would not have us raised by strangers. They were devoted and would stay up with us when we were sick. Every night we were told we were loved and got hugs. Even after moving out of the house that never changed-we were told we were loved, be careful and got a hug. Oh how I miss those hugs. For some reason my sister had always resented my mother. She never went to go see her in the nursing home, breaking my mom’s heart. Even at the funeral she could not stand to be in the building-she left pacing the sidewalks until it was deemed presentable to leave. To find out later from my aunt that my sister took advantage of my parents. She would contact them when she was in a financial emergency and needed bailed out. My sister never learned how to manage her money and always tried to live above her means. My parents helped out a few times but they could not afford to bail her out every few months or so. So they had to tell her no-they couldn’t help her anymore. She must have assumed that was my mom’s doing and she cut my parents out-never called them anymore or went to visit while my mom was alive those last few years. That breaks my heart to know my sister broke my parents hearts like that. Especially her mother that risked her life to give birth to her. Not that she owed her; it was just that my mom loved her so much even before she was born. I got this lesson later from my sister when she turned the tables on me. But that will come later.
My dad was diagnosed with type 2 Diabetes during the time my mom was admitted into the hospital prior to her placement into a nursing home. So that was around 2001. He almost lost his leg due to cellulites infection that was not clearing up. They did everything to save his leg and managed to do so by a miracle. He had a stubborn doctor that didn’t give up, thank God. My sister came in around this time and was able to take dad to and from his appointments and she was also able to change the dressing on his wound from the surgery on his leg. I would stop over there after work and make him up meals for the next day. He had a hard time getting around initially but was able to pull through it. After this my brother who lives around this area started stopping by to see my dad after being absent from my parents lives since the mid to late 70’s, after his marriage. There were some bad vibes between his wife and my mother and he chose to take his wife’s side even though some of the evidence pointed to his wife being in the wrong. Still, you have to admire his devotion to pick his wife when I had the opposite situation in later years. He eventually started taking my dad to see mom in the nursing home, which was a 30 minute drive one way. I would also take dad up to see her and on the way home we’d get his grocery shopping and errands done for the week. He had started to slowly go blind from the Diabetes despite the laser therapies to try to halt that progression. I forgot what this eye disease is called now, let alone spell it, but it’s a result of Diabetes. But he was becoming a threat behind the wheel and eventually he gave in that it was time to stop driving. A hard decision to make and a terrible blow to one’s ego-to lose your independence.
I remember the phone call from the nursing home when mom passed from a sudden and fatal stroke. My heart was broken. I called dad after I could compose myself and he had already gotten his call first. I then called my siblings. I called my Aunt, my mom’s only sister and she was in such ailing health herself that she was too side-tracked with her own issues. She later passed a couple of years later-she was battling breast cancer that turned to lung cancer then finally ended up into inoperable brain cancer. We went up there to say a final goodbye. She was just starting to turn cold but there was still a little warmth that yet remained. She looked at peace. I remember thinking and saying that the only blessing is that it was sudden and we didn’t have to see her suffer the pain of dying from the Colon Cancer. Still a hard pill to swallow no matter how you try to reason the lessons of life and the realities you cannot escape.
My brother kept visiting my dad and my sister only came to the nursing home to collect some of mom’s belongings. She acted distant and distracted as if she wasn’t affected. I cannot judge how she was feeling as sometimes she hides things really well and puts on a good face when she wants to block people out. But during this time it was hurtful. Dad was so depressed. They had been married well over 50 years, maybe 55 years-the date I’m unsure of at this point and regardless of how long they were married they were totally devoted to each other even up to the end. My dad wanted to work past his official retirement age and he did for a little bit but eventually he had to give up the fight so he could be home and be full-time caretaker to his wife. And he did an amazing job. So much so in fact in that year of 2001 we had no idea how far mom’s illness had progressed. I was just given the impression it was her blood pressure, which had been a problem since her last pregnancy, was taking a toll and she was having a hard time getting around-using a walker. But outwardly when I would come see them she seemed fine. At least outwardly. To find out she was suffering Dementia that was later diagnosed Alzheimer’s. When she got to be too much for my dad to handle he called the ambulance and that is when we found out the extent of her illness.
On one fatal day I had told my dad, almost insisting I should take off work to take him to his regular doctors visit but he insisted I go to work and the bus service that had been taking him to and from for about a year was fine. He didn’t want me to miss work because I was having a lot of trouble at that time being harassed at work and already being targeted. I gave into his persistence and have regretted it ever since. I remember calling him on my way to work and got the answering machine. I left him a message wishing him luck with his appointment and I’d call him when I got off work. So sure enough after work I called him and still got the answering machine. I was worried but didn’t want to be paranoid but I had a nagging feeling that I kept pushing away. My mom always told to me listen to my instinct as it never lets you down. Well, I had pushed it aside. I get home to have a message from the bus service that my dad was not ready for his pickup time and for me to check on him. Alarms went off and panic mode set it. I broke the speed limit getting to my parents house but I didn’t care. I get there and the screen door was locked from the inside. A very bad sign. I called 911 and it seemed to take forever, as it always does when you’re on the waiting end. The city Police officer showed up and broke through the screen door and I used my key to unlock the back door. I remember him asking if I wanted to go in with him or if I wanted him to go in alone first. I took the chicken way out because I knew it was not good-instinct telling me so. I told him to go in without me. He came back to the door a minute later and told me my dad was still alive but it was not good and the ambulance was on the way. OMG did I panic and my legs turned to Jell-O and I forced myself to walk in the back door and see for myself. He had not even made it out of bed that morning. He lay there all day, all alone and apparently it had been a stroke. He could not speak clearly. A lot of damage had been done. I felt raw, shattered, and shell-shocked. It all felt surreal-like it was a movie that I was seeing because I didn’t feel like I was in my own body at that time. I felt like I was just observing someone else’s nightmare.
As the ambulance crew arrived, cleaned him up, and loaded him onto the gurney to take him out to the waiting ambulance I made quick urgent calls to my siblings and spouse and I followed the ambulance to the hospital. My 2 siblings showed up later and then my spouse came with our daughter. There we got the bad news. Dad suffered the most devastating form of stroke-the bleeding out into the brain and major damage had been done and it was not reversible. To prepare for the end to come and they didn’t know how soon that would be. He was in CCU for about a week because they thought it would happen any day. He developed pneumonia and they gave him breathing treatments. They then transferred him to the surgical floor and they continued the breathing treatments. In the ER he tried to still communicate verbally but that didn’t last much longer. We would take turns holding onto his hand and he held on for dear life and would reluctantly let go when it was time for us to go. My sister and I both took FMLA from work and I spent most of my time at his bedside, as did my siblings, and just went home for the night to sleep and came back and kept watch. The hospital then did major pressure to get him out and into a nursing home and were in effect trying urgently to kick him out. Wow, were we ticked off and I was pressured into picking a nursing home and they would only give me 24 hrs to do so or they’d move him to one of “their” choosing. So I had to leave him and take random tours of local nursing homes, not being overly impressed but I ended up picking one I thought was ok. It appeared fine when I visited and I didn’t notice anything off. They transferred him there and their standard of care at this nursing home ended up being a total nightmare. I could not feel safe leaving him there alone as I came in the next day and he was neglected and NO breathing treatments-he was basically drowning in his own phlegm. And the time I was there not ONE aide or nurse came in to check on him! My sister and I went to the DON and did some major butt reaming and threatened to report them for neglect and total lack of patient care. We had a meeting with the administrator that same day as well. We were madder than hell and we made sure everyone knew it and why.
I kept a close vigil and documented times when someone would come in to check on him and what they did. At first they asked me what I was doing and I flat out told them-I’m documenting what care my dad does and does not get in case I need it for later use. Then they started to be more diligent, but it was too late. One morning after I went home to finally get some sleep I made some more stops at other nursing homes and found one close by our house. I had to request a visit to the hospital to have him accessed to see if he was a candidate for admittance. Thank goodness I knew one of the people on the board there as she worked to get my dad out of there so we can get him better care. The current nursing home took care of the cost of the ambulance ride to transfer him to the new nursing home, which was only right considering how terrible that place was. And probably to appease us to keep us from reporting them. I should have done so anyway now that my conscious thinks of it. How many people have they neglected to early death since my dad was there? So many people just drop off family members into nursing homes and then just leave and don’t come back. Well, not this family and especially not this daughter. I loved my parents and I promised I would do anything and everything possible to protect them. I had to have my mom transferred from a terrible facility into a better one due to poor care so I was use by now going head to head with the DON and the Administrators. NO ONE ignores my parents and treats them with neglect and disgrace. NO ONE! Not on my watch! They would have done no less for me. Dad was in this nursing home not even a week. I remember the last time I visited I was told to bring some body wash as he was sweating profusely. He was into the heavy labored breathing stage and I knew deep down inside it would be any time now. I wished on one hand it would hurry up so he would not suffer and on the other hand I didn’t want to let go. That last day I walked just inside the door and stopped and watched. It sounds really weird to say this, even now, but I felt a presence in the room telling me it was ok and he was not alone. I still have not yet figured out who or what it was. But I stood there for a few minutes saying a silent final goodbye because I knew that night I would be getting a call. And sure enough I did. I chose to sleep on the couch, or try to sleep so I could be near the phone. It rang just after midnight with the news. Dad had passed. I had to call my siblings and told my spouse I had to leave. He was mostly asleep but asked if I was ok to drive and I said no but I have no choice. Not that I thought he’d get up and drive me if I asked. On my drive there I had to call my Aunt, my dad’s only sibling, to tell her. She said she already knew-a bird had gotten into her basement and she couldn’t get it out. She said when something like that happens it’s a sign someone is about to die. I had never heard that one before and I remember thinking OK?? He looked peaceful. At least he was not laboring to breath and in a sweat from the effort. He was no longer in pain. But still it’s so hard to let go. I loved my parents so very much and I know they loved me as much if not more. A parent, most parents, love their children unconditionally even if that child breaks their heart, the love remains there. Only warped people are unloving parents-people that are not cut out to be a parent.
So to the funeral home again in just under 2 years. Mom passed May 2003 and dad April 2005-just almost 1 month after his 77th birthday. Mom was just 69-she would have turned 70 later that year in mid-September. My brother’s wife was trying to take over planning the visitation and I had to gently but firmly tell her that was not her right to do so. My dad specifically put me in charge and later on I would pay for that. My sister and I were trying to get mom’s prized possessions out of the house before I gave a key to my brother, knowing his wife and in her greed she’d get and take anything she could get a hold of and sell it on eBay. We didn’t quite get everything out in time. Mom had 1 set of china left we were getting ready to box up because it was already promised and part of the set just “disappeared” overnight after my sister and I left and what appeared when they left as well. I had to send out an email as a general one to inform everyone involved that this set of china was already promised by mom when she was alive and it was not to be taken and to please return it. We go there the next day and wouldn’t you know it just overnight that missing china by some amazing miracle suddenly reappeared. We joked and called it the china miracle. So it was suppose to be between the 3 of us siblings what was to be divided after that. Of course brother’s wife would chime in and want this and that and my brother at times appeared embarrassed either over her greed or that she would be so brazen at times. My sister and I would often have to follow her and intercept many non-authorized “takings” and us siblings had already decided on the item or had not gotten to it yet. Sure enough later on a lot of my parents stuff ended up on her eBay account for sale. I know they are objects and not really a part of mom and dad but some of that stuff if I had known what she was going to do for sure I would have taken it. It just added insult to injury.
Then we had to work hard on the house to fix it up and get it ready for sale. My brother wanted to sell it “as is” and since I was executor of the estate I said NO. We had to get as much $$ out of it as possible as I wanted to have more money for my siblings as it was to be spit 4 ways. If we sold it as is there is NO WAY I would have gotten the money out of it that I did. That was our inheritance. My brother, his wife, my spouse worked their butts off on that house. I worked pretty hard on it to but at that time my migraines were increasing in frequency and my SVT was getting out of control and time for a med change again to try to keep the arrhythmia under better control. I was told then I was running out of medication options. So there were some weekends I missed, regretfully-here I push to put this work into the house to get the most out of it and I was getting sicker. I felt totally pathetic and useless.
Thank God we sold the house before the housing market crashed and just a little under my asking price-I started too high at 1st but left a lot of wiggle room and knew what figure I’d settle for and I got it. My parents did raise a stubborn child after all, but I got what I wanted to achieve and thought my siblings would be pleased with their 4th. Apparently my brother wanted more. My dad had an annuity and it was to me and I put it in dad’s checking account, which had my name on it and was exempt from the probate and the estate. Almost all of that money went to the repairs, taxes, utilities and doctor’s bills that Medicare didn’t cover, and there were a lot of bills I was getting. I was not paying for that stuff on my own so it came from the annuity that was given to me just for that purpose. And I foolishly gave my sister a total of 3 loans from that money because wouldn’t you know it she had financial emergencies. I loaned her a little over $3000.00 of which not a penny was paid back. I told her after the last $500.00 loan I specifically told her that was the last loan because the estate was closed and therefore the bank was closed. A year later she calls me out of the blue wanting to borrow $500.00 because she was in a bind again! I won’t go into all her details of what bad mistakes she’s made but she’s made a lot. And she went through her money pretty darn fast-not surprising. But when I said I had no more money to loan her then I got cut out of her life-exactly what she did to mom and dad years ago. Now and again she contacts me if she needs something, like now to sell a product line she’s gotten herself hooked into that I cannot buy into. So I won’t be contacted again for a while yet as I refused.
I have not heard from my brother yet. I guess it’s to be expected. When it comes to money it’s the root of all evil and even though everyone got the same copy of the paperwork showing the estate was divided equally 4 ways still some are not satisfied and want more. I wasn’t giving up my 4th and like a retarded fool I gave my spouse HALF of my share. I thought it fair because he worked hard on the house that he really had no vested interest in. And my being generous I thought it was just and fair. Also when I got my 1 ½ year back pay after winning my SSD appeals like a retard yet again I gave my spouse ½ of that money as well. Will I ever learn I wonder?
When I became chronically ill in May 2010 I got no support, no empathy. All I heard about every other day was “when are you going to work”. He got totally spoilt my paying for part of the Bonneville by taking over the utilities and groceries and he put his extra money leftover into investments. Not joint investments-single investments. Though I do have to be fair he’s opened up 2 IRA’s for me and put money in there-but only to avoid paying taxes during income tax time, so in reality when times comes it won’t be my money it will be his as I’m sure he will lie claim to it. After all I didn’t pay a penny into them. I can see that one looming. When I filed for SSD I got no support. I was told it was a waste of time and just get a job-if I was more active I’d feel better. No matter how often I had to tell him I was active when I got this sick, it just never stuck into his thick skull. He didn’t stop hounding me to get a job even when my then GP stated in his opinion I was too sick to work and his advice was to leave and maybe work later part-time if I could get better. And an emphasis’s on the word “IF”. My best friend and now patient advocate was with me as witness to this GP’s recommendations and later documented it in letter form for the attorney I’d later get. So when my denial came which I knew it would because they like to discourage people so you don’t appeal, I was told “I told you so, now go get a job-you’re not that sick”. I filed my appeal and got a good SSD appeals attorney who got all my medical records from years ago and current to show long standing illness that has progressed to make me disabled along w/Comorbid conditions. I won at my appeals hearing April 2012 and all I got was “it was just luck”. NO, it was justification I’m disabled you retard!
All I can say is it’s a good time I had a therapist during this time. I started seeing her in May 2011. She and my best friend saved my life not once but twice with their intervention. The 2nd time resulting in voluntary hospitalization and intense therapy. Since I was comptemplating suicide I was put in the suicide watch ward which was on lockdown and secure. It was the best decision I made for myself but not once did my spouse come to visit me. Only once did he come for a counselor meeting and that was with reluctance. He did call me on the phone almost every day. He knew beforehand the week this was going to happen, just not the day. And he happened to forget it so like everything else if he forgets or looses something it’s my fault or I took it and moved it. This pattern sound familiar by now? And the older he gets the worse and meaner he gets about it too. So anyway the day I was released I was glad to leave but scared to do so. It became my safe haven. I was only 5 min away from my front door when my world crashed on me again. I made the mistake of asking if anyone wondered where I was. He replied no and said “things like this you just don’t talk about” and “how do you tell someone your wife is in the Looney ward”. I was devastated. I was trying to be positive and use the lessons taught in the therapy sessions and I was not even out for 30 minutes and here we start with the smack-downs. I bawled my eyes out and had to fix him supper while I was crying and of course a fight ensued. To this day I try to use my positvetherapy taught and I get slapped down. This was in August 2012 and here it is May 2013 and it’s not any better. I get this lecture on “you knew how I was before you married me-I cannot change”. BS. He was not like that before we got married or I would have walked away. He pulled the wool over my eyes and after he got me hooked and then pulled the rug out from under me and showed his true self. The teachings of his evil, mean, hateful, nasty, cold-hearted, unforgiving, non-loving resentful woman! What a role model. NOT.
So we’ve had spats and arguments since and some have made me resort to tears, which he detests and avoids me all the more. It had gotten to the point about 2 weeks ago I broke down and had a major meltdown before he left for work and told him over and over again that I just can’t do this. I can’t live like this anymore. I need to leave. You don’t appreciate the things I go above and beyond to try to make things easier for you and I cannot get any compassion, empathy or understanding-all I get is hate and criticism. I won’t live like this anymore. When you get home I’ll be out of your hair. I think he listened that one time cause he tried to calm me down. Then when he got home from work is he didn’t want to talk about it-he said he’d rather not rehash it and forget it ever happened. WHAT?? How can you forget a meltdown like that? So this past Friday he got all mean, nasty, hateful and accusatory over all things a virus on his computer. By golly and be dammed it was my entire fault and the GD this and GD that flying all over the place and I’m forbidden to touch his computer ever again and yada, yada, yada. I had it. I packed a bag real quick and I left the house. I was driving down the road at 1st thinking Id’ go to a hotel or sleep in the car. Then I called my sister-in-law S who is the black sheep of her family and asked if I could borrow her couch for the night. Then I said I could go to a hotel if it would put her out or in a bind. So I was invited to come over and I stayed the night. Of course I asked if it was “safe” to come home the next day and was told yes. So again the same thing-deny it ever happened, forget it and let’s move past it. How can you move past countless hurts and wrongdoings that have not been corrected? No apologies ever given. No admittance to any claim of fault on one’s own part?
So I’m in this numb zone. I think I still love him but I’m not sure anymore. I catch myself: do I or don’t I? I don’t love this situation that this has grown into and shows no sign of ever changing. The avoidance and ignoring just doesn’t cut it anymore. How can I continue to live this way? This is no way to treat someone you “claim” you love but you sure as heck go out of your way by showing you don’t! How can you really love someone and treat them less than a 3rd class citizen. Or treat them with no respect, kindness, empathy or understanding. He refuses to go to therapy with me. I can’t fix it on my own. And I can try to fix myself but what good does it do if I’m the only one? And to say you can’t change. BS-you can change if you put your mind to it and decide the cycle of abuse has to stop. I mean, would he be so accepting if our daughter married someone who treated her like her dad treats her mom? I would think not.
So through the Chronic Daily Migraines they labeled intractable, I’ve done everything under the sun to try to get help. Gone to all kinds of doctors and I’ve done traditional, non-traditional and holistic approaches, Nothing has worked yet. Then I’m told to stop taking all my meds because they are making me sick-hello, I was sick BEFORE I started taking all this medicine. Am I happy with all this medicine-heck no!! But I have no choice. My IBS is acting up again and I’m still following my strict diet so that’s not the trigger. My chronic neck, back and shoulder pain shows no sign of letting up. I’m not getting PT for that and I was only given 5 wks and I’m now done with 2. I went this morning and did my work out and got my PT and it felt fine until I’ve been home for a few hours. Now Its stiff and painful again, traveling up my neck and adding to my migraine that was a 5-6 this morning and it’s escalating. The rainy weather doesn’t help either. Now I have been diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and CFS to go along with my PTSD, Depression, and Panic Attacks/Anxiety Disorder. And I’m told to “get over it” and “I wish you’d hurry up and get better so we can be a family again” and “we can’t ever make plans because you always back out”. Well you think it’s my fault? Hell no. I didn’t ask for any of this crap and I don’t want it. I want it to go away and act like it never happened. I wake up each day praying I can just make it through to another because the pain is so unbearable. Going to PT is a major effort as I have no strength and a lot of pain to start with. I want my old life back. At least I wouldn’t be treated like the bothersome burden I’m apparently labeled as now. And the lack of empathy and support is a real killer-that slowly kills a person’s soul over time.
I learned I had PTSD when I was in the hospital. My insomnia was so bad was getting less than 2 hrs of sleep each night for some time. I was a walking zombie-getting lost on short local trips. Forgetting stuff on the grill and oven and burning it-I’d never done that kind of stuff before. Stumbling around like I was drunk but I was stone cold sober. I had no control over the actions of my limbs. In the hospital I found out I was having night terrors. When I was age 11 I was molested by a family member who at that time was about age 16. I had no idea what was going on then because I didn’t know about that stuff. I was threatened with my life if I said anything to my parents. To their dying day I never told them because it would have broken their hearts-even back then at age 11 I knew it could have given my mom a fatal heart attack, or one of them would have killed the offender and landed in prison for the rest of their lives and the other be left alone if they survived it. I didn’t want that guilt trip. See I was the innocent victim but the guilt was pushed off on me. I repressed it way back in my memories and it was trying to come out. All the details were coming to me in night terrors and I was still trying to shut it down. I was given some coping tools how to handle that when I got out. And to this day it just amazes me when someone who is of age and knows right from wrong can hurt another person in such a horrible way and act like nothing ever happened and nothing was ever wrong. I’m just amazed how some family can hurt each other so and a few are never held accountable.
So on my anniversary I get a surprise gift. I was really not expecting anything, especially after the past 2 weeks. So he comes home with a 14kt gold cross with ¼ carat wt in diamonds. It’s beautiful but a gift is a way to take back all the pain or make it all better? I’d rather have an “I love you” if it’s true, a hug when I need them, encouragement, support, understanding and above all empathy. That would be the greatest gift of all. And not just for one day, for all days. To be given back just a portion of what I give would be a wonderful gift. Not a trinket. I may just keep it in the box and tell him to take it back.
So here I am in this dark abyss. It surrounds me and like a vortex it threatens to suck me in completely. I look for light at the end of the tunnel, but the darkness obscures the vision. I’m lost. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to proceed. I am empty, lonely-I have shut down. I don’t know if I can or how I can open up again. Too much hurt for too long. How does one recover, if you can recover? Tell me how-is it possible. It’s a hopeless situation. I am broken.
Thank you for hearing me out and letting me speak my truth. Prayers and Blessings to you all for a physically and emotionally pain free day.