Unwelcome/Enemy Mine Part 2

Part 2, The Adult years

After much agonizing thought, I decided I needed to leave.  I was sure he would find me and torment me so I arranged with a friend to leave during a work day when he thought I was at work.  I packed everything we could fit into my car and I moved out.  Later he did find me and it was not a pretty sight but at least I was gone. 

Eventually he moved out of the apartment we shared and I moved back in.  Even though we were living apart, I just couldn’t seem to file for divorce.  I felt like a failure.  It felt like divorce would only make it official.  I was unlovable.  I had my chance to make a man love me and he couldn’t and now I was to spend the rest of my life alone.  I know it sounds so dramatic and theatrical but those were my thoughts.  My beliefs.  I struggled with a divorce and what the bible stated were valid reasons to get one.  Surely God didn’t want me to live with this abuse.  I was becoming more distant with God and my church family.  I was becoming negative and withdrawn and turning into someone I didn’t like.  I was struggling all day every day.  Surely God had a better plan for me than this. 

I remember sitting on my couch with a cup in my hand.  It was a small apartment that took probably 5 steps to get to the sink and I remember just sitting there on the couch for the longest time with that cup in my hand unable to get up and take it to the sink.  Not being functional was not an option to me as I was living alone and alone responsible for my bills.  I had been trying to cover my pain in by many unmentionable means during this time and was just trying to find a way to get through the day, the minute, and the second.  Finally I broke down and contacted my EAP through work and starting working to find a permanent counselor to help me.  It always amazed me the things I would hear come out of my mouth.  I swear I would walk in there and just listen and my mouth would run on and I would learn how I felt by just listening to myself talk.  The Dr. was never one to really give much input except for gently nudging the conversation if I seemed stuck.  She urged me to identify my own problems and suggest my own solutions.  She would rarely intervene and veto my thoughts but acted more like a lifeguard.  Just sitting by and watching and listening; ready to jump in if I got into trouble. 

Along with my counselor my physician put me on some anti-depressants and they seemed to give me the motivation to continue walking.  One step at a time, one moment at time and slowly I was able to function without the medicine and the visits to the therapist.   The divorce was finalized and I was still alive. 

I went years living my life with everyday struggles but managing.  I then came across another time where I couldn’t cope.  This time it was easier to identify what was coming and I reached out for help before I got to the point I couldn’t move.  One Christmas, I lost my first pet.  She was a 16 year old cat who I loved dearly and had since she was a kitten.  While she had been ill (and looking back, I probably should have put her down before this) I had no idea she was dying and watching her suffer was horrible.  Less than a month later I had to put down my 17 year old cat who I had since she was born.  She was without any symptoms until shortly after the 1^st cat died.   She was in pain and the Dr. said she would never get better so I made the decision to end her suffering.   Every day I feel guilty for waiting too long to act with my first cat and guilty for maybe acting too soon the second time.      

The day I had to put the 2nd cat down, I had taken the day off work.  That afternoon I got a call stating that my co-worker who I shared an office with had died unexpectedly. 

A couple months later, I got a call that my sister died unexpectedly.  It was a like a blow to the stomach.   I became panicky.  Still later that year I found out my former best friend of many years died of cancer (I was not even aware she was ill) and I also lost multiple other family members. 

I started refusing to answer my phone. 

The losses were coming way too quickly for me to process and again I found myself reaching out for help.  Again I sat and listening to how the losses were affecting me while during the rest of my week, I heard myself trying to make others laugh and trying to be helpful and friendly.  I frantically reached for healthy alternatives to handling the stress.  Together with my counselor we identified options that were not self-destructive.  Long baths, writing, walks, etc.  Again I was prescribed something to help with the depression/anxiety, whatever it was I was suffering. 

For over a year, I dreaded answering my phone and was sure that everyone around me was going to die and leave me.  Eventually the deaths slowed.   I kept thinking maybe NOW I can go off the meds and stop therapy but, the rollercoaster kept moving. 

 

 

Unwelcome/Enemy Mine Part 1

For as long as I can remember I have suffered with depression and anxiety.  I have only been officially diagnosed for depression so I don’t know if the depression causes anxiety or I have 2 separate afflictions but for the simplicity of this blog I will refer to either/both as disease in the singular.

My school had kindergarten every day for ½ a day.  You either went in the morning or afternoon.  I was an afternoon kid.  We had another girl in my neighborhood who was afternoon so her mom would pick me up and we would go together.  I assume my mom used to drive us home but I have no memory of those rides home.   My mom told me how much I hated going to school.  Now mind you my memories of kindergarten are good ones. I remember learning to tie my shoes and helping get the trays of milk cartons and one guy bringing in a sombrero for “show and tell” and I remember moving the beads on the abacus to take attendance and singing songs and playing with the giant blocks that looked like bricks and I remember kissing a boy on the head in the play house because I thought he looked like Robby Benson.  (Not my first kiss I might add.) 

However, mom said I used to BEG her not to make me go to school.  In fact, she laughed as she told me I told her “you can keep me home and beat me all day just don’t make me go”.  I also remember that during my preteen years, I would love to go to restaurants and order food and then would refuse to eat it.  I remember the panicky, nervous feeling my stomach would knot up and I would feel like I would throw up if I ate.  I also remember around that time our church planning a trip to an amusement park and looking so forward to it and how we were all going to ride on the back of a pickup truck (with a cap) there and how much I loved doing that but when the morning of the day came being terrified to go. 

Later in Jr. High, I joined a softball team and then would panic when I had to go to the games and again remember begging my mom to let me quit the team.   I don’t know why I had this disease and like I said I wasn’t official diagnosed with anything until many years later.

During my turbulent teen years I suffered from eating disorders (before they had a name) and was an active self- harmer (again before it was discussed and I thought I was the only one). 

When I was 18 I met my 1^st husband.  We divorced over 16 years later.  Our relationship was dysfunctional to say the least.  There were various types of abuse and it did nothing to help my low esteem or my disease.  Again, this took place before there were certain laws and law enforcement re-acted very differently back then to domestic situations.  While my emotional state and spirit was being attacked on a daily basis, he was the only man who ever loved me and I thought we were supposed to be together.  So I stayed. 

 

Stay Tuned for Part -2