day four (&three). catch-up time.

hey hey hey.

even though I know I don't have an audience (which actually kind of makes this easier), I feel pretty smitty for not writing anything yesterday. I had planned on it, for reals, but then I accidentally slit my wrist open, so I was sort of out of commission. So I figure this may be the best time to share some stuff.

 

I has some problems. I'm trying to be funny on purpose, because talking & writing about this stuff kind of makes me want to throw up.

I had a fantastic childhood, technically speaking. I grew up with a mother, father, two older brothers, & one older sister.

From left- My 2nd oldest brother, my mother, me with my hands on both my boys, my oldest brother in the blue shirt, my grandfather(mother's side) holding my sister's son, & my sister.

 

From left- Three cousins (who I despise, coincidentally), aunt(orange shirt) & uncle (I also despise them), grandfather & grandmother (father's side), stepmom &father), other aunt & uncle (who I love, for real), & me. the kids on the steps are mine and my cousin's.

cuteness. that is all.

my sister, brother, & I last year on the day his son was born.

super cuteness.

annual family vacay to florida.

  

Life was pretty good. I got teased & beat & ignored & basically treated like crap. But that's life being the baby of the family. I was dealing with it just fine. Then, when I turned 12, my parents got divorced. It pretty much fucked me up. I kind of actually lost my mind. I don't know if my current problems started here or not, but it seems sort of likely that they may have clicked in at this point.

I started cutting when I was 13. I kept it a secret, as all of us do. No one wants to know that you're slicing yourself open to deal with all the bullshit in the world. When I turned 14, I thought things may be getting better. I was getting used to going back and forth between my parents' houses, I had tons of friends on the internets, & my freshman year, while scary, was turning out to be a pretty boss experience. Then my mom got herself a new boyfriend. Right after Christmas, some things went down. Her boyfriend was 24 & she was 42. She worked weekends in a city about 2 hours away. Normally he left with her, because his parents lived there also, and us kids pretty much had the house to ourselves. But one weekend he didn't. One weekend he stayed & struck up a conversation with me, as he had many times before. While my brother & sister slept, we stayed up, with me on the computer in my mom's room (the only one in the house) & him watching Fight Club. Some nonconsensual things happened. My brother interrupted at the absolute perfect time & saved me. When my mother returned home, after I had gone to school, she thought my brother was lying & believed her boyfriend's version of what happened. Long story short, I found myself permanently living with my dad, while my mother & childhood home were no longer a part of my life. She disappeared, my brother moved in on my dad's couch, & my sister became homeless. My oldest brother was already away at college, so he was safe from the drama. For a really long time, my sister blamed me. Until she moved in with friends to finish her senior year of high school, I never really saw her. Then, very slowly, things got better between us. That was one highlight. Unfortunately, there were no others.

My family is pretty 'see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil'. We don't talk about problems, we ignore them & move on. So when everything went down there was no mention of me seeking help or talking about. I was allowed to miss two days of school, then it was done. Because of this, my cutting intensified. It was the only way to feel better.

I went on living, obviously, & got pregnant when I was 17 & just starting my senior year of high school. My son was due four days after graduation. I had never considered having children. I didn't want them, because I didn't want to be like my mother. & judging my obvious instability, I clearly would be. She came back in my life at this point. She helped me tell my dad, took me to the doctor, did everything she hadn't been doing for the past, oh, five years or so, since the divorce. Then, after I had my son, things were pretty smooth for a good while. I had a boyfriend who was there for me, friends I loved, & a beautiful son.

Then my relationship ended. And as a 18 year old single mom, I didn't handle it well. I got a job, moved out of my dad's house in the middle of the night, & moved in with a friend I thought I'd love living with. Yeah, turns out Xanax & weed & partying was a lot more fun than being a responsible parent. My son was pretty much with my best friend & her girlfriend 24/7 while I worked & slept & partied & burned up the roads. It was the lowest point in my life. Another interesting point here- my mother abandoned me again during this time. The entire time she was away, I wrote to her & begged her to come back. The one answer I ever received, right after she left, said that I was disgusting and a liar and not her daughter. So I guess she couldn't handle seeing what she had created and the guilt that came with it. The last time I saw her that summer I asked her about what had happened when I was 14. She told me she didn't know what I was talking about.

Fast forward to getting better, having my second son, & last Halloween. I hadn't seen my mother for more than a few minutes since my oldest was 1. And each time I did, I would spend the next several hours screaming and crying in agony. By this time, Tobin was 6. She invited me to Thanksgiving. I ended up spending way too much time with her too quickly & nearly had a nervous breakdown. Since then, I keep a very cordial distance from her. She is quick to be angry with me, quick to misunderstand my actions, & quick to run from me. I feel like we can never have a normal relationship again & it hurts me so much. We have spoken a few times about what happened, not in detail, but she has apologized for the "things she did". I'm not sure what this actually encloses, but it seems to be enough for me to tolerate being around her.

Last year I started attending therapy. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, ptsd, & severe depression. I still cut. I haven't in a few months, but it's so so so hard. But I haven't gone to therapy in months. Had some drama happen I'll discuss on another day.

Right now I'm anxious to talk about the crime at my apartment last night.

 

 

blood spatter & weapon.

 

Let me start this by clearly & openly admitting that I am an idiot. I was attempting to cut a stupid plastic tie thing off of my son's toy. I know, as anyone who owns knives, that you do not EVER cut toward yourself. This is asking for problems. However, because I am an idiot, I thought I would be alright. I even looked at my wrist before I did it & thought, oh man, I hope I don't hit one of my scars & rip it open & bleed to death.

Yeah, guess what happened.

 

It looks small, but it's so deep I can see my muscle stuff in there. And the blood.... oh my god, the blood. By the time I ran from my kids' room at the end of the hall to the kitchen, my entire hand was full of blood. It was like a black puddle of water in my fucking hand. do you understand what i'm saying? MY HAND WAS HOLDING A GODDAMN PUDDLE OF FUCKING BLOOD.

So at this point, I'm having a nervous breakdown and screaming 'J J J J J J J J J J J JJ J  BLOOOOOOOOOOOOD HELP ME HELP ME BLOOOOD OW OWOWOWWOWO' at my roommate, who was innocently sitting on the couch (where he lives) watching youtube videos on the PS3. He jumped up like a ninja and got an entire towel and wrapped it around the wound (we had not yet seen the size, because of too much BLOODEVERYWHERE). I was crying & screaming & pretty much positive that I was about to finally succeed in killing myself, on fucking accident.

Obviously, I lived, yay! But that shit was terrible. Seriously, the fucking worst. It still hurts today and still hasn't closed yet. Ugh. So, after this near-death experience (which basically convinced my kids that I was gonna die), we decided to make gingerbread men because fuck you, that's why.

 

 

I was in the middle of cleaning & organizing my house when the incident occurred, so ignore that lamp there lolz.

so pale. from the blood loss & all.

perfection. :))

funny story about this. tobin was already nekkid & about to get in the tub, but we hadn't taken his "bite" photo yet, so it took me about five minutes to take this where you couldn't see his weewee.

alrighty then. i'm tired. and totally in an emo mood after writing all that bullmess, so i'm off to bed.

 

TOODLES.