Tag Archives: Family

PSYCHIATRIC HOSPITALS~ HOW MUCH HAVE THEY REALLY CHANGED?

 

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If you’ve read my previous posts you’ll know that I had been having a hard time with the death of my Dad and my siblings. My Dad didn’t leave a Will and it was and still is causing a lot of problems.

I have a twin sister and a half brother who is 7 years older than we are. I believed he had been squatting on the property and breaking into the basement with his new girlfriend. My twin believed I was hallucinating and having a Psychotic break. No matter what I said or did she refused to believe me.

My sister wanted me to get away from the house for awhile to see if I was still “hearing things” and suggested an Extended Stay Hotel for 30 days. I really didn’t want to but I was exhausted, recovering from surgery, and tired of arguing with her.

The Hotel parking lot was filled with drunk people, one of them was passed out in his car where I had to park. It was going to cost me $1,450 to stay there for 30 days. The room was filthy, my poor dog was scared to death and I kept worrying he was making too much noise. I didn’t sleep at all and had started bleeding from my surgery. My sister came the next day and even she was disgusted. I was stuttering and shaking because I was upset. She said I needed to do an inpatient treatment program at the local Psychiatric Hospital or she wouldn’t have anything to do with me any longer. I had ruined her life and now her marriage was suffering because of me.

She knows I’m terrified of hospitalization and haven’t been hospitalized since I had one round of ECT in 2012. This was my twin saying these things to me, I had no one else to talk to, the one person I had that accepted me and loved me unconditionally had just died. I agreed to go to the hospital. She agreed to watch my dog and dropped me off at the door.

As soon as I entered the building my legs buckled. I couldn’t speak or write. The staff was nice enough to help me to a chair and wait until I calmed down enough to speak. I didn’t know my sister had called ahead and told them that I was “hearing voices”. This meant I would automatically go to the highest security level unit. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to forgive her.

The were only a few changes since 2012, they no longer mixed the detoxing patients with the mental health patients. They also had more restrictions on what you could have with you. 1 pair of pants, 1 shirt, 2 pairs of underwear, 1 pair of pajamas, 1 pair of glasses, 1 set of contact lenses (no solution), and that’s pretty much it. Needless to say some people didn’t always smell that great. The bathroom doors had no locks (which I understand) and no way of telling if it was occupied. Every single time I went to use the toilet my roommate walked in on me. We talked to her about it and 5 minutes later she did it again. She also snored louder than anyone I know and talked about personal trauma in her sleep that I was extremely uncomfortable hearing. Again, no sleep.

The second day there I called my sister to check on my dog. She told me she might have to “give him away because T (her husband) didn’t want him there”. This triggered my stuttering, tremors, crying, hiccups, and I had to hide in my room or I would’ve been given Haldol. The doctor in charge of the Unit was in charge of ECT and a big believer in Lithium, Haldol, and Depakote. He was an older man and not up to date on newer medications/treatments. He was also against Adderall, Xanax, and Klonopin. I’ve been taking 30mg of Adderall for years it helps with word finding, my speech, and cognitive issues. He took it away cold turkey, cut my antidepressant in half, and cut the Klonopin in half. He then told me I shouldn’t have any withdrawal or problems with the changes. I’ve been on the same meds and dosages for years.

He didn’t even question the new medication that had been added, Risperidone, which I was having horrible side effects from and felt worse since taking it. Frustrated doesn’t even begin to describe how I felt. He couldn’t even get my name right for the 5 minutes I met with him every other day.

I didn’t receive any kind of therapy, we did a lot of adult coloring and watched TV. Some of the patients were violent which was hard for me to be around. The men and women are kept together, there were a few physical fights that happened next to me and I froze, hands cold and tingling, blood rushing through my ears, I didn’t even hear them yelling at me that it was a lockdown and I needed to go to my room. I finally had to speak up and tell them about my PTSD and Conversion Disorder diagnosis.

The one positive thing to come out of all this is that I learned I have to speak up for myself. I can’t ask or let other people do it for me anymore.

There are things I need to work on and one on one Psychotherapy is my first step. It’s been difficult finding someone who takes Medicare but I’m still looking. My meds are almost back to where they were. I was in the hospital for a little over a week. I’m not sure if I can ever truly have a relationship with my twin sister. I’ll be civil but I won’t call her for support or tell her anything personal.

I’ve been walking my dog and getting more fresh air, I’ve also been looking into what I need to do to move to Florida once my Dad’s estate is settled.

The Extended Stay charged me $1,450 for being there less than 24 hours. Hopefully that will get resolved. Supposedly my sister handled it and told them I was going into the hospital. I wasn’t there so I don’t know and my sister is on vacation so I can’t ask her.

My hospital stay was scary and not much has changed but the staff was kind and I received 1 marriage proposal and 3 phone numbers (from patients) when I left. I’ll never let anyone talk me into or make me feel like I have to do it again. I didn’t hear my brother’s voice or anyone else’s the entire time I was there.

Thanks Everyone!

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THIS A TRUE STORY PART III~HOPEFULLY WITH A RESOLUTION

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My brother’s ex-wife was diagnosed with Pancreatic Cancer in September of 2018. Their son took a sabbatical from college to come home and help care for her. My brother as usual showed no emotion, he got drunk and called family members late at night still complaining about a woman who was just told she had less than 6 months to live.

My brother managed to go to a Vocational School and learn computer programming which can pay well if you leave your political views, racial views, raunchy jokes and ego at the door. He never managed to do this for long. His jobs were always contracted for a specific amount of time, IF a company really liked him they could decide to hire him permanently. This happened maybe twice and eventually he would go out drinking with co-workers/bosses and say or do something inappropriate causing the company to let him go.

The Court forced him to pay child support for his 3 beautiful children that he hardly visited unless he needed something from the family. I understood his childhood and the pain he was constantly feeling but it didn’t give him the right to pass it down to his children. Me, being the coward I am, usually said nothing. I was dealing with my own issues at the time. I wish things had been different.

I honestly don’t know what kind of trouble my brother is in now. I can only guess that it must be bad. After what he put me and his family through I no longer care.

My best friend and her boyfriend started to drive by my Dad’s house (the one I’m living in until it’s sold and have lived in most of my life) they would see my Dad’s bedroom light on when I had closed off the upstairs. Late at night I would hear cars coming and going in front of the house and my brother’s voice. One night I heard him talking to his youngest daughter about an incident at a party I had no idea had happened. I was furious. She was facing felony charges. When I asked my twin sister about it she wanted to know how I found out about it. I told her once again that our half brother was coming and going on the property and into the basement. It’s an older house with baseboard heating all along the floor, you can hear everyone’s conversations, you always could. She still didn’t believe me and said I could’ve guessed. I became angry and said “Would I know that the drugs were fake and she was holding them for a guy she liked if I was just guessing?” She hung up on me.

By this time my brother knew she didn’t believe me so he didn’t bother whispering anymore and brought his new girlfriend with him. I was disgusted. They still hid, for what reason I have no idea. I know he was obsessed with the idea of how he thought he was treated by our Dad and the house being his “childhood home”. He was kicked out at 16/17 for drugs/alcohol/fighting/expulsion from school. He’s also obsessed with how other people see him. He will repeatedly brag about how much money he makes. He forgets to mention how much he loses.

I began to eat less, sleep less, and became afraid to use my own bathroom. The front door had always had problems but now it wasn’t locking at all. I’d had enough. My twin wondered why I wasn’t outside in the middle of the night chasing him and his friends to get evidence. Maybe because I’ve been beaten by drunk men on several occasions, maybe because I still hadn’t had time to grieve for the one person who understood me and loved me the way I am, or maybe she should’ve gotten off her ass and chased them into the dark woods with a camera herself. I called the police.

His size 13 footprints were all over the property along with empty little liquor bottles and cigarettes. The older officers knew exactly who he was and who he might be with but he wasn’t on the property then so they couldn’t do anything. They did barricade the basement door for me so he couldn’t get in that way anymore. I could hear him swearing later that night when he tried. I felt some of my old self start to come back.

Early the next morning I heard a female knocking on my neighbor’s door. Then my neighbor started swearing at her and asked her who she was and where she lived in the neighborhood. I had started sleeping downstairs when my Dad became sick so I could hear everything. I do not think I have Super Human Ears. I did have to hear for 2 people for over 10 years due to my Dad’s tinnitus. It made it difficult for him to be in public places and hear the TV so I was used to hearing for both of us.

My brother wanted to know what had happened the night before so I yelled (the loudest someone like me can yell) “I called the police moron! I’m sick of it! Get off my property now or a restraining order is next!”. Ten minutes later 3 trucks show up at the edge of the property to give the poor guy some moral support while I had to pack to go to an Extended Stay Hotel with a very frightened dog (my sister’s idea).

After 1 night at the Extended Stay my sister came and gave me an ultimatum.

Go to Butler Hospital for the “hallucinations” I was hearing or she would no longer have anything to do with me. She told me that I “ruined her entire life and was starting to ruin her marriage”, I wouldn’t be allowed to see my nephews either. She held all the cards and I was terrified. She dropped me off at the hospital entrance and drove away with my beautiful dog.

A lot of not great things happened in the hospital that I’m not ready to talk about yet. I did get proposed to 3 times and the patients kept thinking I was the staff.

The day after I was admitted onto the highest secured floor (automatic when someone calls ahead to tell them you’re hallucinating voices) my brother called my sister and asked if he could move into the house. He also asked where all the keys were.

I’m home now and don’t know where he is, I assume running after stealing his ex-wife’s Pancreatic Cancer Fund. She has less than 3 weeks left. He’s a great guy isn’t he?

Thank You Everyone


This Is A True Story- Part I

My Dad passed away on my 46th birthday, January 11, 2019. He passed without leaving a Will or any instructions for what he wanted should he die. He did have a DNR and instructions for no feeding tubes. He was 112 pounds when he passed away.

Some of you may know how close I was to my Dad, for those that don’t I’ll tell you I never left home and he saved my life on more than one occasion.

I wasn’t diagnosed as Bipolar until I had already self-medicated with alcohol for a little over 20 years. My Dad did everything he could to help me maintain my sobriety. He took me to the movies when he would rather be outside, watched numerous TV shows he normally wouldn’t have, drove me to see the animals I love in a different state, whatever it took to make sure I was safe.

I decided years ago that I would take care of my parents for as long as I possibly could no matter what. I kept that promise with both of them.

My Dad did have to stay in a long term care facility for a few weeks at the end of his life. I had become Manic, over stressed, and couldn’t lift him any longer. He was 76 and Sepsis, a UTI and Pneumonia, had caused Dementia. None of us knew this could happen. Within 6 months the man I knew became a frail child. The man who fixed and collected antique clocks now didn’t understand the difference between 5p.m. and 5a.m. leaving me up all night as he tried to leave the house in the middle of the night.

My twin helped as much as she could. She’s married with two small children and has ME Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. My older brother lives in the next state over and worked a lot. (I should mention he’s my half brother and had a different father).

Growing up we were always told everything was to be split three ways if anything ever happened to my parents. He was the only Dad my brother had ever known and he was 7 when we were born so I never thought it would be a problem.

My brother and sister never got along. I was always close to him even though he had a tendency to push everyone away and was always in trouble. Drugs, alcohol, fighting, AWOL from the Military, a wife, kids, gambling their home away, jail, divorce, a lot of baggage and trauma to go around.

When I was little and had a nightmare it was my brother I went to first because our parents drank. I went with him on his paper route and watched wrestling and horror movies with him. To me he was my “cool” older brother, not so much to many other people I would find out in High School. It never stopped me from loving him.

My Dad’s Wake was uncomfortable to say the least. My sister hadn’t seen or spoken to our brother in 10 years. He had never met her children.

My twin is a difficult person to get along with and so is her husband. Once they make up their minds that’s it. I thought she would be a little more forgiving when our Dad died. Instead she felt out of control and the need to gain that control back took over.

She decided our Dad would basically be buried naked or with a “shroud” around him and a closed casket. I agreed with the closed casket because he was unrecognizable. She then had her husband first in the receiving line. I and many other people were not happy about this but my brother never said a word.

We had to get a lawyer because there was no Will and my Dad owned the house and land him and I were living in. The lawyer mentioned we didn’t have to give our brother anything because our Dad never adopted him. This was never the plan but I could see the wheels turning in my sister’s head. I put my foot down.

I didn’t know my brother had a lawyer of his own telling him the same thing at about the same time.

I feel the need to tell readers that my brother’s father committed suicide while my Mom was pregnant with him. His father was an alcoholic and his family had a history of mental health issues. It sounds like a bad movie but his father was seeing another woman who was also pregnant at the time of his death. My Mom’s brothers decided to tell my brother all of this at a young age without my Mom’s permission. My brother was devastated.

TO BE CONTINUED…….


BUT YOU’RE GONE

FIRST THINGS FIRST 

Why do people insist on putting a time limit on grieving? Or continuously ask you how you are but it sounds more like “Are you done yet?”. My best and possibly only friend of 35 years accidentally said out loud “How long has it been? Almost a month? Hmm…it’s close.” But I know her, I know she was doing her own equation on how to deal with feelings (eww). I do wonder how she became the way she is and what makes her love me and stay my friend no matter what.

I hear you call my name 20 times a day, I can hear you whistling “Moon River” from my sister’s wedding, I hear you say the only swear you ever really used, all because of your birds. Birds we all thought at one time or another, you loved more than us. The 2 that are left are like me, broken and unpredictable, no one wants them.

This hysterical commercial came on and I turned my head to your end of the couch to ask if you had seen it too. But you were gone. I keep forgetting.

I had to listen to a message on my phone, I didn’t know there was one from you from when you were in the hospital. I sat in my car and cried.

Yes, I have found myself outside liquor stores and bars since January 11th. Physically I can’t, I don’t know why but my body can handle maybe half of a beer (not the best example considering I’m allergic) before I feel nauseous. It isn’t Antibuse or anything like that it’s having 38% kidney function. I don’t want it to go any lower.

The biggest problem is the loneliness. I’m not used to being alone this much. My Dad deserves a lot of credit for listening to me babble for so many years.

The rest of my family doesn’t really want to have much to do with me. Everyone has their own lives or I said something they didn’t like so they avoid me. My twin sister doesn’t want me in her life until I go through an “intensive treatment program” because I am a “manipulative c*nt and a dry drunk”. I also “never take responsibility for anything I’ve ever said or done”.

In ten years no one else has ever called me a “dry drunk” and I know plenty.

I’m the first one to take responsibility when I know that I’m wrong.

I don’t always know that I’ve offended someone or said things I didn’t mean when backed into a corner or if I feel threatened.

I know I am alone.

I miss my Dad more than anything.

I wish I could be in Florida with my Auntie L. who would hug me and talk to me.

They listened to you Dad. Without paperwork I told you they would run right over me. I know you felt guilty and torn about what to do so you kept putting it off. Now I’m stuck doing what I’m told waiting for the day I’m free.

I love you Dad

 


PTSD, Triggers, Keeping Silent And Remembering Trauma

The smallest things will trigger a response from me. A loud male voice behind me at the grocery store, the smell of beer and leather, bright lights and loud music, aggressive men in general, and even the way my Dad calls my name sometimes startles me.

Deep in the back of my mind I think I still resent my Dad for the way he handled everything. For the way he shook his hand and thanked him for bringing me home. For the way he called me a “drunk and a liar” as I was on the floor covered in blood in and out of consciousness.

I told myself I deserved it for many years. I allowed other men to treat me just as bad. Mostly because I was told by my own family that no one would believe me. I shouldn’t have been there. I shouldn’t have been drinking.

It wasn’t the first time it was just the worst time.

REMEMBERING THAT NIGHT

I don’t remember the day. I don’t remember the exact year. I remember the apartment because I was there everyday. I remember the person because we had been as close as two people can be for over 10 years. We were both alcoholics. The only difference was I did my drinking between 4pm and 3am. I never drank during the day and I never drank alone. He drank whenever, by himself or with other people.

Over the years I had seen him be cruel. He had been physical with me on a fee occasions but I wasn’t a small girl and always thought I could handle him. I admit to drinking to the point of blacking out and having no memory of the previous night. I know during these times some things happened without my permission. I only know this by how I looked when I woke up and where I woke up.

I was undiagnosed Bipolar and doing anything I could to not feel emotions. My alcoholism eventually made this a million times worse. I also admit I wasn’t always nice while drinking. I could be obnoxious, jealous, and petty.

I would try to stop or slow down my drinking many times.

One night I took my cousin to the apartment with me, I wasn’t drinking. Someone thought it would be funny to put Rum in my soda. I took a big gulp and that was it. He was pissed and said “You better not get drunk because you’re not staying here tonight”. Of course this pissed me off and I thought “Who the hell is he to tell me how much to drink? He wouldn’t even have groceries or clean laundry if it wasn’t for me.” So I drank and drank.

At some point we started to argue. I remember asking him what the big deal was. Over the years he always said to me “You always hurt the ones you love the most”. And he did.

I turned my back to walk away from him and he picked up one of the heavy oak chairs on wheels that came with a beautiful table that turned into poker table and hit me over the back of my head.

I think I fought back and angered him because he grabbed my hair and pulled me to the floor. He got on top of me with all his weight, pinning my arms down with his knees.

He started punching me in the face, he wore a skull ring. With each punch he said a word “YOU, STUPID, FUCKING, BITCH” I remember spit flying out of his mouth and my nose swelling shut.

The blood started to go down the back of my throat and I felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t get any air and I couldn’t move. For the first time ever I was terrified.

Eventually he pulled me up by my hair. I noticed one of the bedroom doors open and a girl I had known for years looked out at me and hurried up to shut the door. I know I said “Help” but maybe I wasn’t loud enough. I had bleach blond hair at the time and it was soaked with blood. My clothes were soaked with blood.

He dragged me to his apartment door which was always open and threw me down the stairs. I don’t know how long I stayed at the bottom of the stairs.

The next thing I remember he’s trying to get me to a car and I fall on my hands and knees in a puddle.

He had his friend drive me and my cousin to my parent’s home. He carried me to the door where he told them I fell. I kept trying to tell them it was him and I didn’t just fall.

It might have been the blow to the head because I wasn’t able to remain conscious. My Dad took this as a sign of being extremely drunk.

When I could speak and told my parents as much as I could my Dad said no one would believe me. I shouldn’t have been there and I was a drunk and a liar. They told me not to go to the Hospital and that I would be fine.

I wasn’t fine and wouldn’t be fine for the rest of my life.

The heavy chair hitting my head had actually caused permanent damage. I found this out 6 months ago.

PTSD is bad enough. When you have an underlying mental health issue like Bipolar Disorder, Anxiety Disorders, and Substance Abuse Disorders, it can turn into something much more complicated.

Dealing with Conversion Disorder has been as bad as coping with Bipolar. I never really know what is going to set it off. It’s embarrassing to start stuttering and have people stare at you. To start shaking and have your hands tremor so bad you can’t count change. To have no control over your body.

My family doesn’t like to talk about any of it. He admitted to a bar full of people what he did. A friend of my brother’s was there. He also called my brother that night saying “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re gonna hear but it’s not true” None of this made sense and my brother called wanting to know what was going on. My parents said it was a misunderstanding.

Two years later he was arrested for Domestic Assault & Battery and was sent to counseling. He broke the woman’s jaw.

These are some of the reasons we stay silent. We’re talked out of it, told no one will believe us or we see that nothing is really done about it.ddc04855251fa6c0f0d2cc95d4f717f1


TAKING CARE OF DAD~ MORE ON THE ELDERLY AND ADDICTION

There are some people who abuse alcohol or drugs their entire lives and live to be 80 years old with no problem. On the flip side of this you have people who later in life, form addictions due to an “event” or “trigger”.

Retirement, death of a spouse or loved one, loss of income, or a decline in physical health can all be triggers for addiction in older people. Depression is one of the biggest problems.

You wake up one day unable to do the things you once loved, worried about finances, still grieving the loss of your wife/husband who was also your best friend, your children have their own lives now and you find you have fewer people to talk to. All of these things can lead to depression.

I’ll discuss more about depression at a later date.

A person’s age and gender contributes greatly to how open and honest they will be when answering a doctor’s questions but doctors play a role too. Too often an older adult’s concerns are dismissed as “old age” and prescription medications are used to solve the problem.

The #1 drug prescribed to people over the age of 65 and on Medicare are Benzodiazepines. They are used to treat anxiety, pain, and insomnia. They are also one of the most dangerous medications prescribed to seniors.

According to the American Geriatric Society benzodiazepines pose an increased risk for impaired alertness, respiratory depression and falls.

All benzodiazepines slow down the Central Nervous System. When used for insomnia it’s only effective for a few weeks. When combined with another benzodiazepine you can lose consciousness and stop breathing.

There are symptoms people experience when combining benzodiazepines that you need to contact your doctor if you exhibit:

  1. Continuing slurred speech or confusion.
  2. Severe drowsiness or weakness.
  3. Staggering.

There is a big issue with over-prescribing or “polypharmacy” which means having more prescribed medications on a daily or weekly basis than is healthy for one person to have. It becomes dangerous due to different drug interactions and side effects.

A person with a chronic or serious illness can find it challenging to keep up with a complicated medication schedule. Taking multiple meds at one time can cause some medications to neutralize each other so they end up taking more believing they either didn’t take it or it’s not working.

My Dad didn’t understand why he was still feeling so anxious specifically at the end of his dialysis treatments. He wouldn’t understand unless he had a degree in Pharmacodynamics or was a doctor (most doctors still don’t understand how to adjust medications for patients on dialysis). The pain medication he was on for his compressed nerve was making him anxious as it was being dialyzed. The anxiety medication he normally takes is at a very low dose. He didn’t think twice about doubling the anxiety medication. He would be unsteady on his feet when leaving the Dialysis Center and no one said a word.

Some people go to more than one doctor who may prescribe a medication without knowing what the patient is already taking. Patients don’t always remember all of their medications and don’t make a list like they are asked to.

I usually go with my Dad to any new appointments to fill out the paperwork and list all of his medications. His Nephrologist doesn’t see him in his office he visits him during his dialysis treatment. This means I can’t be there. I’m not there to fill out any new paperwork or to let them know about any new medications. My Dad isn’t going to tell them. My Dad will say everything is “Fine” when the doctor comes around.

Primary Care Physicians should be going over a patient’s list of medications on a regular basis and making adjustments. I know my Dad’s does not. If he did he wouldn’t have prescribed 2 benzodiazepines with an opioid. My Dad shouldn’t still be on Klonopin and they should be looking at Chronic Pain Management instead of him taking Hydrocodone that isn’t even working. I made him stop taking the Restoril. I personally wanted to go to his doctor’s office and tear him a new one for even prescribing it to a 75 year old man. It’s a dangerous medication for anyone to take long term but even more so for people over 65.

None of this matters when you are dealing with someone so full of pride and stubbornness that he won’t admit just how sick he is.


It’s Been Awhile So Get Ready!

After not really writing for awhile, I started to notice I was becoming more irritable, irrational, quick to anger, isolated and depressed.

I’ve always had a problem with confrontation. I avoid it as much as I can. This has usually meant staying silent when someone hurts me or says/does something I disagree with.

Eventually I will reach a point where I can’t swallow anymore B.S. and I reach a breaking point. Whoever is near me at this time suffers the consequences.

I can physically feel it happening. I hear my blood rushing in my ears, I lose my vision except for the color red or red dots and my head gets incredibly hot.

When it’s over, I don’t remember all of it, only bits and pieces. I know I screamed and yelled, said some horrible things, but I don’t remember the specifics.

I don’t make excuses for myself. I have tried to explain why it happens.

One of the most difficult things is when your loved ones think you aren’t trying hard enough.

When I had my last kidney surgery to change my stents, it was embedded and partially blocked with a build up of mineral and calcium deposits.

Your kidneys filter toxins from your blood and help keep your bodies chemistry in balance.

If you have 1 kidney working at 40% that has been compromised because the stent keeping it working at 40% has become embedded and blocked, your blood isn’t being filtered and your body chemistry is thrown off.

Now imagine you have an illness involving a chemical imbalance in your brain. Plus most of the medications you take go through your kidneys.

This would cause a huge problem if this went on for 6 months without you or your doctor knowing.

So when my stents were finally changed it was like starting over. I felt like I was mentally back where I was at 20 years old. My Psychiatrist didn’t adjust my medications even though he received all the reports. I was basically starting fresh but at high doses. All the medications that had been in my system I had detoxed from. One of the reasons I felt the way I did.

Starting over with all the side effects is horrendous. There have been times I just wanted to get in my car and start driving until I ran out of gas.

My Dad isn’t doing well and I’ve had to worry and take care of him. He has multiple disc herniations and bulges in his back. There’s also a compression at L4 and extreme spinal stenosis and arthritis. When I heard them ask if he knew he had several healed fractions I thought I was going to vomit.

He was too busy bragging about how many pounds of grain he can lift and carry to feed his 300 birds! He told me he got rid of almost all of them. He lied. Then continued to dig the hole deeper by boasting of all the other things he isn’t supposed to be doing.

I can’t chain him to his chair. He turned 75 on June 5th. I called and reminded my sister the night before. She NEVER CALLED HIM. On the 7th I called her and asked if she had called our Dad. She said she was going to. I asked why she didn’t do it on his actual birthday. She replied “He didn’t call me on my Birthday” That’s when the blood started rushing. In the last month she has told me 3 different times that she or her and her husband dislike my behavior and how I don’t take responsibility for anything.

I never see my sister and her husband. Since I had that 1 fight with him 4 or 5 years ago I’ve been kept at a distance. But they still bring up my “behavior”. How do you know what my behavior is when you’re never around me?

Sorry if I’m mad because once again I’m the one taking care of one of our parents and I’ll be the one that gets to watch them get worse and worse. I’ll be the one to either find him dead or watch him die at the hospital while you make excuses from 10 minutes away.

She never called for Father’s Day either.

I can’t watch another parent die.

Watching my mother almost killed me. I can still see her face, the nurses laughing, my Dad howling, the blood, like it’s right in front of me.

I remember her last words to me and that kills me.

I don’t want to do it again. But he never left me. I owe him. I know the rest of my family figures it’s okay because I’m alone and they think I’ll stay that way. Maybe they’re right and I should accept it.


TAKING RESPONSIBILITY AND TOXIC PEOPLE

I had surgery to replace my Ureteral Stents on May 14th. My twin sister drove me because my Dad has dialysis on Mondays. As soon as she got in the car I felt the tension. I was already feeling anxious and wasn’t allowed to take any of my Bipolar medications before the surgery. I don’t remember what started it. I think I started crying and it annoyed her. We also got lost on the way to the Hospital and she refused to listen to me. She wanted to drop me off at the door. I told her she had to come in and talk to them so they knew I actually had a ride home.

She wanted to valet park my car and I didn’t understand why when you could park yourself for free. She wasn’t paying for it. I always feel weird about valet parking. It’s a Hospital, you don’t need to valet park. This annoyed her further.

She didn’t want to come back with me while I waited for them to take me into surgery. One of the nurses must have said something to her because she eventually came back to sit with me. It was a mistake.

She was showing me pictures of my nephews. I love them more than anything. I didn’t know the older one spoke in front of the Mayor and 300 people on behalf of the Little League. They looked so grown up. Of course I started to tear up.

My sister said “You know you can come over any time and see them”. I looked at her with my mouth open. I then said “I have to wait for your husband to leave the house first?”. She didn’t answer right away. Then she said “Neither one of us like your behavior or how you don’t take responsibility for anything you say or do”. That was the beginning of the end.

The anesthesiologist came into the room to talk to me while my sister was there. He came back after she left. He asked if I was okay. I told him I was fine. He said he was asking because I have a history of not wanting to come out of the anesthesia.

Nothing went well. They blew a vein in my IV, one of the stents became embedded and encrusted, someone taped my top lip to the breathing tube and didn’t realize it until they pulled it out taking the skin of my lip with it, and they couldn’t wake me.

After 3 hours I woke up. The anesthesiologist came in again. He said that he knew I was upset before going under and that it can’t happen again. He said at some point I’ll stay under because of my Conversion Disorder diagnosis. When I’m stressed, anxious, or sad I don’t always have control of neurological functions. It’s scary.

All of this made me realize the people around me are not going to change. I have to change how I react, my environment, and how I cope. I also need to recognize toxic people and situations.

TO BE CONTINUED…..be5d9e9599909984881e21c7036e306e


TO MY MOM

It’s been 10 years since you passed away. It hasn’t gotten any easier. I still can’t bring myself to visit your grave. The rest of the family make comments about this. I don’t care.

You would be disappointed with us. I know you would. The petty fighting and grudges we hold against each other. Some things can’t be forgiven. You could always forgive and that’s why we loved you.

The one thing I had a problem with was your enabling everyone around you. I know it came from love but you never realized when someone wasn’t being truthful or sincere. Maybe I had been around too many liars, cons, addicts, and thieves so I spotted it easily. It would take years after your death for people to believe me.

There’s nothing worse than your family thinking your “too dramatic” or “making stuff up” all the time. One thing I don’t do when I’m sober is lie. Actually when I drank I was too truthful and that got me into trouble too.

When I first saw you in that hospital room I felt like I wasn’t in my own body. I was outside of it watching as it all happened. I didn’t feel anything for a long time. I somehow knew if I did it would end me. It almost did anyway.

Months later I found myself in the bathroom at work screaming into a bunch of paper towels. I couldn’t move or stop crying. All I could see was your face, eyes open and blank, bloody foam that wouldn’t stop bubbling from your mouth. All I heard were nurses laughing and Dad wailing like a wounded animal. I didn’t want to remember any of it.

Your oldest granddaughter decided to dedicate many tattoos to you and acts as if she was the only one who lost you. Her mother visits your grave often. Your granddaughter also decided to write me and say some of the most hurtful things I’ve ever had said to me.

She has replaced J as number 1 on my shit list. I’d rather be punched in the face than have someone say what the things she said. But she’s found God so I guess she thinks it’s okay to make someone feel like dirt. It’s okay to tell them they should’ve killed themselves because they are waste of space and their own mother didn’t love them as much as she loved other people. It was 3 pages of this crap.

I hope you don’t know what’s going Mom because you would be as hurt and angry as I am. Dad finally told me what you really thought today and you weren’t fooled after all.

You are MY MOM I took care of you and loved you. I think about you always and miss you often. I’m letting go of the toxic people. I don’t have the time to help people who don’t want to be helped. From now on I’m helping myself and Dad from time to time. I love you.11059761_10207494279902008_1407885758767048615_n


THERE’S A DIFFERENT GENERATION OF ADDICTS NOW THAT ARE HARDER TO REACH

I had the name of the street the apartment was on when the paramedics revived you. I drove up and down it for hours, holding my breath, hoping to see your face. I didn’t.

It scared me to read your posts on Facebook. I knew you were in trouble. I knew because we think the same.

The problem is this new generation of addicts with mental health issues think they’re the first ones to ever have these thoughts or do what they do. They’ve been raised to think everything they do is special and unique. I’m sorry but it isn’t. This is the problem.

Your parents think a week in detox makes you okay. You get out, they give you a big hug and send you on your way. They attend nightly meetings on how to “cope with their addicted child” while you’re back on the street again repeating everything you did the week before.

The mental health part is usually ignored or only touched on briefly because no one wants a child with a mental illness. A child that’s an addict is better. The shame of your child having both would be too much.

The parents created the problem. At least the parents I’m referring to did.

I offer my help multiple times over the years only to be told “No, she’s fine. Focus on yourself.”

This was my last time reaching out. My heart can’t handle watching a beautiful young girl slowly die any longer. I’m tired of biting my tongue and taking abuse from other family members for trying to help. So I’m done. I’m letting go.

I can’t spend what time I have left worrying about people who don’t want or need my help or even want me in their lives.

I laughed for the first time in a long time the other day. I talked to my best friend. The only one who ever really understood me. I had to tell her about my health and I wanted her opinion on making my twin sister my medical proxy. She agreed that I shouldn’t. If I can’t trust my sister because of the way she threatens me or uses my illness against me than I shouldn’t be giving her any control over any areas of my life.

I have the hardest time letting go. I have to get past it if I want to follow through with my road trip to Texas after my surgery. There’s just one thing I left to do and W agrees I should go for it. Granted W is a little out there like me which is why I love her. But she has always accepted me for who I am no matter what. d94bebff677aa86360da53bcc7ab03eb--addiction-quotes-addiction-recovery


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