Category Archives: Mental Health


I’ve been losing weight again, I don’t feel like eating or drinking, and I don’t care. I can’t remember when I had my stents changed for my kidney but I think I’m a few months past due. I don’t feel like making an appointment, getting the blood work done, going back for the surgery, I don’t really care.

I haven’t colored my hair in months, I don’t put make up on anymore even if I actually leave the house. I do not look at anyone, I keep my head down. I’m getting worse, it used to bother me but now I don’t care.

I’ve been trying so hard to force the people around me to understand how I feel or what are real illnesses that I sometimes can’t control. I keep doing things for people hoping they will love me and instead it backfires. I never should’ve bought a Smart TV thinking my Dad would learn how to use it. I couldn’t keep paying a $220 cable bill for TV he couldn’t hear and kept complaining about. He refuses to learn and yells at me daily about the TV.

My sister shut her phone off so I can’t talk to her.

I’ve been stuttering more and more. I also keep falling down. I see red spots, then black, then the floor. I think it’s because I have chronic low blood pressure but it’s not fun when you’re at the store and go to get something from the bottom shelf. I also noticed when I’m writing sometimes I write a word 3 times. The same word 3 times in row and I don’t realize it until I proof read.

My Dad scares me a lot. I wish he didn’t. I can’t take the stomping, slamming, muttering, throwing things, then a booming GODDAMN! I feel like I’m going to throw up constantly and there’s a lump in my throat. I can’t finish a necklace because he starts a tantrum and I have to stop what I’m doing.

I don’t know what to do. I’m just feeling a little lost lately.



Today is the first time I’ve left my house in 3 weeks. I had to go see my psychiatrist and get ready for the big snow storm coming tomorrow. I hate snow and I hate the cold. I hate a lot of things lately.

As usual I was called into his office late. His first question was “How is your Crohn’s?”. First I don’t have Crohn’s Disease I have Celiac Disease so that was strike was one. I hate correcting people. I decided this visit I was going to write everything down that has been going on. I also wrote down observations from my Dad and my twin sister just in case. I was going to correct him when he said the wrong diagnosis or medication too.

I told him that I’ve been having trouble concentrating, leaving the house, issues with controlling anger and irritability, and going over past events. My family thinks I have gotten worse in the last year. I also told him that spoke to a few of the companies making my medications and they said that they needed to be adjusted because of my kidney failure. The Klonopin manufacturer said it’s most likely only staying in my system about 2-3 hours. The maximum dose for people like me is 4mg and I’m on 2mg. I only take it at night. He disagreed and said I had probably built up a tolerance to it and it’s only a band aid and not meant to be used as a cure.

I told him I refuse to live like I used to, dry heaving all day with a lump in my throat for no reason. That’s one of the biggest reasons I drank.

He said we could try an antidepressant. I think when I started laughing he got nervous. I have a list of all the antidepressants I’ve been on. It’s 2 pages long. I asked him if there were any new ones not related to the ones I’ve already tried.

His answer? “Trintellix” I said “You mean the one that’s just like Brintellix?”. He said “Yes”. I said “The one I was on when I almost got arrested for assaulting a police officer?”. He said “Oh! You’ve tried that one?”. Yes moron I have. If you looked down at your screen it would probably be listed there. Or maybe not because he gave me a bag filled with samples that the sales rep had just dropped off and must have thought I would be a good guinea pig.

He then suggested another medication for PTSD but he didn’t say the name of it. He asked if maybe I had been eating Gluten and that was why there was change. I told him I eat 1 big bowl of Rice Chex a day and that’s pretty much it.

Then he asks me “How are you managing your Eating Disorder then?”. WTF? I said “WHAT Eating Disorder?” “I’ve never been diagnosed with an eating disorder. My appetite is poor because I have Chronic Kidney Disease”. His response was “You do?”.

He did mention the hospital where he works is doing Ketamine trials because he thinks it’s the same as mushrooms or organic psychedelics. I couldn’t help it at this point. I said “There a little late. There are already a lot of studies showing the negative effects of Ketamine specifically with people who have PTSD or Conversion Disorder.” He didn’t respond to that one.

He repeatedly mentioned Therapy and I repeatedly mentioned that I already tried every kind of Therapy there is including Shock Therapy.

My family doesn’t want to talk to me, I cry all the time, and I don’t want to leave the house.

The only person that has offered any kind of help or support is my Auntie Lee. She called me yesterday to tell me she loves me and that I should come to Florida and be with her. If I had the money I would in a second. She’s my Mom’s sister and I love her. She’s positive 99% of the time. We’re like best friends when we get together.

I think I’ll start saving my money. It’s time to make a change. the-mind-of-freud



When I was little I enjoyed Christmas I think. There were only a few occasions where I received gifts where I was excited or surprised that the person actually knew me enough to know what I would enjoy.

What’s odd is that these gifts came from my brother. The only thing is he kind of ruined his gifts by including himself.

One year it was tickets to see John Mellencamp. I was probably 15 at the time. It would’ve been one of best shows ever if my brother hadn’t been drunk and trying to take other people’s seats the entire time. I spent most of my time worrying about him getting thrown out.

Another gift was a limo for the night, tickets to see Blue Man Group, reservations and an all paid for meal at a 5 star Restaurant in Boston and a Dual Piano Bar. Again all of this would’ve been wonderful if my brother wasn’t part of the deal. If he didn’t smoke in the limo, get drunk at the restaurant, and start a fight at the Piano Bar.

I enjoy giving gifts more than receiving them. I love seeing someone’s face light up. I remember when my Dad bought my Mom the first diamonds she ever owned. He wrapped them up so she had to open 7 different boxes to get to them but the look on her face had me crying for an hour. She was so shocked that he did it on his own. He did it because he loved her. It was outside his comfort zone and I can’t picture him going to a Jewelers by himself but he did. It was worth it to see her face.

Every year at Blockbuster we had Secret Santa with the Managers, HR, and the owner. We had a minimum of $50 which is kind of high for most places and I usually went over it.

One Manager was huge wrestling fan. I mean he went to every event and did some photography for them. He went to conventions all over the U.S. too. I got his name one year. What no one knew is that I was a wrestling fan, my brother was also. I had several autographed pictures of wrestlers in the Hall of Fame, Chief Jay Strongbow, Gorilla Monsoon, and Pedro Morales. I put them in nice frames and also got him his favorite candy and Gift Certificate for his wife’s favorite restaurant. When he opened it he said “Hey, thanks”.

I got the owner and knew a lot about her already but worked with one of her kids so I did some more research. She loved this one jewelry designer from Newport. I got her a charm necklace from the designer with a charms from her life. One charm was a beautiful palm tree with a stone it and the other a tennis racket. Both gold. Then they had a matching bracelet that I got with charms to represent the kids. I also made her Peanut Butter Balls Gluten Free because she also has Celiac. Her response was “Thanks”.

I gave my sister a necklace one year that had two Ds entwined (both our first names begin with D) there was also a garnet in it. I had the back engraved with a personal note. It was Platinum, her favorite. She responded like everyone else and never wore it. Never talked about it. It wasn’t the cost. It was the fact that I took time, thought and love to do that and it didn’t matter. I know she has no idea where it is.


My Dad has talked about wanting to read John McCain’s family memoirs “Faith of My Father’s” for years. With Mr. McCain’s health in the news lately I decided to order the book for my Dad. I even had it gift wrapped. It came yesterday in a gorgeous forest green gauze gift bag. My Dad looked so confused. He had no idea what it was. I left the room while he opened it. I heard him while he opened it. “I’ll be Goddamned!” then I heard his voice break. I started to cry in the kitchen because I did it, I gave him something that mattered. He came and hugged me for the longest time and I was happy in that moment.



My brain works as if it’s on Hamster Wheel and there is no stopping the thought pattern. It’s been like this for as long as I can remember. There are days when I can’t let go of something from the past.

It can be something that was said or something that happened. I will go over it a thousand times. Sometimes I think of things I could’ve said or done differently. There’s so much in the past that I can’t let go of. Some of the events are small and some would be enough to break any normal person. I sometimes wonder how I’m still here. I wonder why I’m still here.

I’m a big fan of the Marvel franchise. My favorite is The Punisher and I wonder what that says about me. I do carry a lot of anger inside that I’m only now realizing.

I’ll probably have people worried after they read what I just wrote. If it was 15 years ago I would say they should be worried. But right now going up my front steps (there are 4 of them) makes my legs shake and I get dizzy. I’ve lost all of my muscle mass and can’t even lift a gallon of milk. I’m literally half the person I used to be.

My Dad has the TV on the news stations all day long. It isn’t the best thing for me but I don’t say anything because it calms him down.

All of the sexual harassment stories bother me. I have to be careful what I read on Social Media.

There’s a misconception that only attractive women or young girls are sexually harassed/assaulted. If one comes forward that doesn’t fit this criteria she isn’t believed and is crucified on Social Media. It makes me sick.

Most of my life was spent at 200 pounds or more. People always told me I had a “pretty face”, “beautiful eyes”, “beautiful skin”, “good teeth”, “great legs”, of course all of this ended with “For a fat person” or “For someone your size.”

When I went out I obsessed over what I wore, my make up, and my hair, because if I couldn’t lose the weight then I focused the attention to the positive areas. I also was a 38DD but I had a waist and carried my weight in the front and back. So I was curvy but still considered morbidly obese by Doctors.

I tell you this so you understand that sexual harassment/assault doesn’t really have to do with how a person looks. I had no self esteem, I was insecure and shy, I wanted everyone to like me. I was a prime target. It didn’t help that I was drunk all the time.

There was an incident on a tour bus where I was talking to someone for about an hour. I got up to use the bathroom and when I was coming out someone was blocking my way. He only had his bikini underwear on. I smelled booze, body odor, and something I couldn’t name. I knew who he was, I just didn’t care. I was in a cocky mood. I asked him to move nicely the first time. He pushed his hips towards me and tried to kiss me. I was disgusted because I could see crusted blood where he had been shooting up on one arm.

I pushed him as hard as I could and said “What the F*CK?!.” One of the other guys came to see what was going on. He of course called me a “Fat c*nt” and told them to get me off the bus. I was already halfway gone.

I’ve never done anything with any of the musicians I’ve met. It’s a rule I always had. It ruins how you view their music and I wasn’t a groupie. I’ve had similar encounters with other band members and men I’ve worked with. Sometimes I think they think they’re doing the “poor fat girl a favor” or something. Needless to say I did fine on my own and that’s one of the reasons I’ve been celibate for 9 years. I did too fine on my own to make up for the emptiness I felt, or the sadness, or to prove my worth.

Now that I feel better about myself I don’t leave the house. lol

I have too much going round and round my head.

I also just told the story I said I wasn’t going to tell. Oh well. He’ll get over it.anxiety_symptoms_management-1296x728-header




Everyone says to reach out when you’re feeling like the depression is getting to be too much. What if you reach out to 5 different people and get nothing but silence in return?

You feel useless and humiliated. I know I can be difficult to be around I over compensate by talking about movies and current events so I don’t talk about myself. Then I get in trouble because I didn’t ask the other person any questions about how they are doing.

I can’t keep all the social norms straight, keep my mask from slipping. It’s hard work.

I talked to Disability recently to see if I was up for Review and the woman laughed. She said “No Doctor will ever clear you to work again with your recent diagnoses”. THANKS! I didn’t think it was amusing I just felt even more useless.

Now our lovely President is all over the TV spewing on and on about Mental Health while my neighbors are probably forming a watch to make sure I don’t have any weapons to hurt them and their loved ones. I live in a small town, a police officer lives a few streets over, he likes to tell everyone my business.

When I had to call 911 for my Dad because he was bleeding out on the bathroom floor the EMT was worried about me because I was shaking and stuttering. The police officer who lives near me HAD to be there. He said “Don’t worry about her, she’s just crazy”. I wanted to show him just how crazy I can be by punching him in the face with his own nightstick but I didn’t think it would go over so well.

Yes, I have had run ins with the law in the past when I was drinking. I was never disrespectful. My mother said it makes you look guilty if you run or act like a jerk. There were times where they deserved to be disrespected but I kept it all to myself. Even when two officers made me sleep in a cell with just a silk see through tank top and my underwear on. They also put the AC on high so I would freeze. It was common knowledge that they did this to many women. At the time I thought I deserved it.

I think I deserve many things but not to be treated like a non-human.

I’m cranky, sad, lonely, tired, bored, I just don’t know anymore. I have no motivation. I stay in my pajamas all the time. I don’t brush my hair or teeth for that matter. I just don’t care. No one else does either. I’m beginning to not care that no one cares. I want to swear at everyone too. Not like me at all.




This is how it should be but often times it isn’t. It’s one of the most painful things to reach out to the people who love you only to be ignored. I called 5 people yesterday because I knew something wasn’t right. I felt dizzy and was having trouble remembering words. When I did try to talk it was nonsense and stuttering. My thoughts jumped all over the place and at one point I think I was talking to my Mom.

Not one of those 5 people called me back. One of them of course was my twin sister. I am tired. It’s the same thing every single day. There is no happiness. I can’t even fake it anymore. This just angers the people around me.



Time has always been fuzzy for me. I’m never really sure when I was first diagnosed as having Bipolar Disorder or the exact date I stopped drinking. I do know my Mom passed away in 2008 and after that I spiraled faster and faster towards self-destruction.

It didn’t take long before I had a DUI, my one best friend feared for my safety, and although I’d done worse this was different.

In less than 6 months my Primary Care Doctor suggested I see a Psychiatrist. She had been prescribing me antidepressants but thought something else was going on.

I was drinking almost the entire time I was taking antidepressants. I gave them a month and when nothing changed I couldn’t handle it. Alcohol was mostly a stimulant for me.

The Psychiatrist looked at my file and asked me a few questions. He diagnosed me as Bipolar I and we started trying different combos.


  • I was never given a Mental Status Exam.
  • I was never given a Neurologic Exam.
  • I was never given a CT, MRI, or EEG.
  • A full family history was never taken.

The biggest thing that should’ve been done is a family history.

I would always tell every Doctor I met with that my family has a history of mental illness. None of them wanted details.

Even the psychiatrist I have now has never asked for a detailed family history. He should have. It’s possible he has a few things wrong.


I love most of my family very much but some of them I could do without. I don’t know my father’s side very well. They’re like him, not sociable or outgoing. They don’t show emotions or give hugs.

My Mom’s side is the opposite. They’re loud, affectionate, emotional, and all have some kind of issue.

There were 8 children total on my Mom’s side, one was given up for adoption before the others were born.

My Grandmother was never diagnosed with anything but I can give examples of behavior that point to something. She did drink occasionally. When she did she was like a sailor, playing cards and knife games. She could be cruel, deliberately pitting one child against another for her affection. She left them for awhile when they were all very young. My Mom quit school very early to help take care of her brothers and sisters.

Like many mothers, her sons were her favorites unless they were damaged. My Uncle Jimmy was in a car accident which left him in a coma for a short time. When he woke up he was different. It didn’t help that some friends slipped LSD into his drink in too large of a quantity. He became a different person and was left for the State to deal with. Drug induced Schizophrenia that became worse over the years with hallucinations. He was homeless and used Heroin to self medicate. He passed away from complications of pneumonia AIDS related.

My Aunt D was diagnosed as Paranoid Schizophrenic at a young age also. She had just had a baby. She left the baby with my Mom and was Institutionalized. She has been in and out of places for as long as I can remember. She was recently in the Hospital for Lithium toxicity. Her daughter disappeared a few years ago. She started hearing things and believing people were following her. She was living in a tent in the woods somewhere in Florida. No one has heard from her in 3 years.

My Uncle B is an alcoholic and as far as I know that’s it. His daughter has recently had problems with her mental health. I haven’t been told what the diagnosis is. I was told some of the situations she had been in and they sounded familiar. His son is an alcoholic.

My Auntie J is an alcoholic in remission for a few years now. I’m sure there are other things going on but I don’t ask. Her daughters have both had issues with alcohol.

My Mom had a virus while pregnant with my sister and I, women infected with the influenza virus during their pregnancy are more likely to give birth to children who will develop Schizophrenia.

My older brother is an alcoholic and addicted to gambling. I’m told he was polite and quiet as a child. I remember him always getting into fights at school and eventually he was expelled. He’s done many things that rational people don’t do. He was stationed in Germany while in the Army and decided one day he hated it and hopped on a plane and came home. He caused a 2 hour car chase in the middle of the night going the wrong way on a highway. He was married with children at this point. He’s impulsive, too smart, can’t hold a job and it’s never his fault. Both of his daughters are drug addicts. One has been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and PTSD. The other I don’t know about because no one talks to me about her. 

The brains of Schizophrenics also contain larger fluid filled areas than other people. I happen to have this in one area of my brain.

There’s also the problem of reduced brain volume (Gray Matter) which on my last scan 10 years ago it said “significant loss of gray matter for patient’s age”. There was also loss of white matter which is connected also.


Schizoaffective Disorder is a hybrid of Schizophrenia and Bipolar Disorder. There is a chemical imbalance in the brain. There are usually different types of the disorder.

Similar to Bipolar Disorder, Schizoaffective Disorder can have a Manic Type and a Depressive Type.

Manic Type: Elevation of mood, not sleeping much, concentration is affected, talking too fast, unrealistic ideas. In later stages speech can be incomprehensible. You become irritable and neglect your health.

Depressive Type: Sad all the time, lose interest in what you once loved, loss of motivation/energy, taking care of your personal appearance or hygiene. Irrational anger or fearful response to loved ones. Increasing withdrawal from society.

There is a third type mentioned where you have both. It’s considered Bipolar Schizoaffective Disorder. This doesn’t make sense to me but what do I know?

For some reason more women than men are affected and with women it’s usually the Depressive Type.

Early onset or having a family member with Schizophrenia usually leads to a poor prognosis.

Now I wonder if Doctors have it wrong once again. Looking at my history and seeing that Schizophrenia shows up often and I had a virus in my brain while my mother was still pregnant with me, it would make more sense. I don’t think I’ve heard voices. I have had a hallucination or two brought on by medications, alcohol and I think nearly dying when my kidneys failed. Do those count?

What I know is that I’m not getting better. I’m going backwards. I was better a few years ago.

Now, I don’t leave the house, no one talks to me, I’m isolated, I do get crazy ideas but it’s ok because I’m too afraid to act on them. I want to get dressed up and go to a concert but I can’t. I want to fly to Vegas, L.A., N.Y., but I can’t. It would mean leaving the house. Expending energy to pack and do my hair and make up. Judas Priest is coming to the Casino and I usually go. I’ve never been as a thin person. I could wear whatever I want. Even that isn’t enough to get me going. The lead singer for Buckcherry is coming to Providence and I love him. He’s a mash up of Denis Leary and Steven Tyler. It’s a small place and the tickets would be free. Guess what? I don’t feel like it.




You get used to pretending or adapting your personality so no one notices just how different you are. I don’t think I was a genius at it unless I was drinking. Even when I was drinking I had a habit of spewing out everything I had let fester over time. I didn’t start doing this until later in my drinking.

I doubt myself every single day. Conversations I’ve had with my twin sister in the last two days have not helped. You would think I would know better by now. In my brain she’s the normal one and must know what she’s talking about. Which means I’m someone who has scarred her emotionally through out our life with my selfish actions.

This is what she said to me yesterday. Then it all clicked. We’ve never talked about my suicide attempts at all. I tried but she never wanted to. She never came to see me in the Hospital the times I had to be admitted.

I remember the day her husband started an argument with me. When he asked if I have ever taken responsibility for the things I’ve done. I think he meant how my actions effected my sister but wouldn’t come out and say it.

Of course my sister shot her bullet and ran. She never gives me a chance to respond.




Halloween is hard for me because I love it so much. I love the smell in the air, the leaves on the ground, and Horror movies. I do have a difficult time with Haunted Attractions and I always have. I can watch Faces of Death with no problem but get me within 50 feet of a Haunted Hayride and I will start to sweat and feel sick.

Halloween also reminds me of drinking. It reminds me of when I would try to put a costume together but because I was 270 pounds everything they sold made me look bigger. I couldn’t be a “Sexy Cop”, “Sexy Devil” or “Sexy” anything. I would just end up wearing extra make-up, some hair extensions, and maybe my top would be a little more revealing. Even though I was 270 pounds I had a waist, good legs, and large breasts. I was 5′ 7 1/2″ at the time also so people told me I “carried it well” whatever that’s supposed to mean. It never stopped anyone from being cruel but as I grew into my early twenties I learned how to carry myself a little better.

This is leading to what’s been in the news lately.

For the majority of my life when I walked anywhere I looked at the ground. I tried to never make eye contact and hid my face with my hair. If I was public by myself I shuffled along hoping I was invisible. I wore oversized shirts that usually went to my mid thigh or knees. This only made me look bigger and sad. I never said boo to anyone. I never argued with anyone even if I knew I was right. I never defended myself to anyone not even my family.

Does anyone know what this made me? Care to guess? The answer is a perfect victim.

Even in the animal world when a predator looks for prey it doesn’t go after the one that will give it the most fight, it goes for the weakest in the group or the one that has fallen behind, alone.

Predators instinctively sense a lack of self confidence just by the way a person walks. If a person lacks a flowing motion or organized movement while walking they’re viewed as being less self confident. They also assess posture and how aware the person is of their environment. This was proven by researchers Grayson and Stein when they asked convicted criminals to view a video of pedestrians walking down a busy New York City street, unaware they were being taped. The convicts crimes ranged from armed robbery, rape, and murder. They were asked separately to identify who they would’ve chosen as targets.

They all chose the same people. What was surprising was that they didn’t choose people who appeared physically weaker. The researchers wanted to know why. They studied the tapes and the people chosen. All of them had similar body language but were of different race, gender and age. There was no mistake that all of them watched the ground as they walked, seemed unsure of themselves, and were distracted.

Another problem the researchers found is that most people have trouble interpreting nonverbal facial cues. If you can’t tell what a person is thinking by their facial expression you are more likely to enter or stay in a situation that could be dangerous.

We all know that predators are good at hiding their true nature and making a person feel “special” at first. It isn’t easy to identify what they’re thinking when they’re wearing a mask and not showing their true selves. They are also excellent liars and can easily talk their way out of most situations.

They pick people they know will have a hard time saying anything against them. A girl with a history of alcoholism, someone who is already perceived as “unstable” by others, a shy young woman with a “pure” reputation who has parents in the same business. I think you can see where this going. The first one is me.

Unfortunately when my situation came to it’s final bloody conclusion he was right. No one really believed me. My own parent’s doubted me. In that one instant all I wanted was for 1 person to show anger or indignation on my behalf. My father at first told him to “Get the Hell out of his house” then after J “explained” everything my Dad said “Thanks” and closed the door. The entire time I was on the floor, covered in blood, trying to say that J was lying, but my face was too swollen and I was having trouble breathing. I finally passed out. They didn’t take me to a Hospital. Even though I had a heavy oak chair broken over my head and had lost consciousness more than once. They didn’t want the police involved.

It took a month for everything to heal physically and mentally I don’t think I’ll ever heal. It wasn’t just what he did it was what my family did also. They blamed me for being there, for drinking, for putting myself in that position. It was years later that they found out I was telling the truth. Still no one wanted to talk about it. No one wanted to think about how it must have felt for me to be pinned on that dirty floor, unable to move, drowning in my own blood. All I could think of in that moment was “I’m sorry I did this to them”. Even I blamed myself. I don’t anymore.

Now for happier things. Because I am a Horror Movie fan I’m going to be making a list of my favorites. Some you may have heard of and some are not as well known. At one time I had a collection that would’ve rivaled the best but had to sell it when I could no longer work. So I’m working on it now but as some may know I’m not good at making decisions. lol






I left for Salem early Tuesday morning. I didn’t tell my Dad where I was going but I did leave him a note. When I finally found a half way decent Hotel it was late afternoon before I could call him. He wasn’t happy and I had to hear about his stomach being in knots and how he won’t be able to sleep. I immediately felt guilty and sad. I thought about leaving.

My sister called and told me not to leave. She thought it was a good thing that I did this on my own and to ignore our Dad. She told me not to talk to him except to say I was safe because he’s projecting his anxiety on to me.

The Hotel was horrendous and that’s being kind. Salem is getting worse every time I visit it. So the next day I decided to go to a place I knew I could relax and enjoy The Stonehedge Inn & Spa in Tyngsboro. As soon as I opened the door to my room I felt happy. When I saw the bathroom I wanted to cry tears of joys. I stayed there for 3 days 2 nights.

In this time I didn’t jump or become startled, I didn’t cry, I didn’t stutter, I only felt relaxed.

I even ate alone at the fancy restaurant they have. I will say that I have no concept of how other people perceive me as a woman. This can make situations uncomfortable for me at times. I’m used to a tall 270 pound body with bleach blond curly hair, a round face and squinty eyes when I look in the mirror.

What’s actually in the mirror now is a petite 133 pound body with straight shiny burgundy hair half way down her back, cheek bones and blue eyes you can see.

I’ve always worn make up and tried to dress well, I still do. I just forget that people will actually see me now and I’m not invisible. So a man sent a drink over to me. Even when I drank I hated when anyone did this. This time I’m sober, in a Hotel restaurant and alone. I was a little afraid. Not to mention he sent over a $20 drink with Absinthe in it where they only allow you to have 1 because of the ingredients. Part of me wanted to tell him off. I wanted to ask him what he saw when he looked at me. Did he see an easy mark? Because I used to drink a bottle of Firewater a day when it was 90 proof but then I realized I’m not that person anymore. I have nothing to prove.

The server I had was a young guy who was extremely nice to me. I told him I didn’t drink but I didn’t want to offend the person who sent the drink. He just slid the drink behind a large glass bottled water they leave at the table and told me the guy wouldn’t even notice and in a few minutes he would take it away.

The problem was I got two more drinks from two more men. I was starting to feel panic set in. I’ve never been in a situation like this or if I have I don’t remember. I have no sense of self. They all sat there untouched, they were pretty to look at but I was more interested in the gourmet Gluten Free menu selection.

I came home Friday afternoon. I was happy to see my dogs and my Dad. It didn’t last long. Saturday the anxiety was horrible, I jumped twice when my Dad came in the room, and the feeling of being hopeless and worthless started to creep back in.

I’m back to where I was. I can research all I want about Mental Health and Illness, I can go to every Doctor and Therapist in the U.S. and none of them will agree 100% on my diagnosis or course of treatment. Several will even say I can’t be treated.

That’s the truth of Mental Health. The story I just told you isn’t one of a lunatic or a monster although I have the diagnoses of people who have been called those same names.

The story is of a woman who doesn’t know where she belongs and never has, a woman who has had more violence done to her than any one person should ever have to go through. It’s also a woman who is in great pain and only wants what most people want, to be loved and accepted for who they are.


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