Who am I?

Mike's and Tamara's blogs both had this MEME and left it an open tag, so whoever wanted to do it could. I thought it was very interesting, so I am going to give it a go.


I am: a child of God, His daughter.

I think: too much. Need to verbalize and/or write more.

I know: that that I am not alone in my healing journey.

I have: a blessed life and a wonderful husband.

I wish: that depression and PTSD did not turn my life upside down.

I hate: injustice, lies, twisted truths especially when it comes to Jesus and some of the horrible things people can do to one another.

I miss: enjoying my life.

I fear: my feelings and trusting others.

I hear: too many negative thoughts in my head. Not voices, just my own thoughts

I smell: my coffee. How comforting and soothing.

I crave: chocolate and cookies right now. Want cookies!!! (I'm trying to reduce the simple refined sugars in my diet!!! Want cookies!!!)

I search: for God's presence everyday and find Him.

I wonder: why God allows so many horrendous things to happen. I know all the Biblical reasons, but bottom line I am not God and I will not know. It is probably better...our tiny brains are probably not equipped to handle such things.

I regret: nothing. Eveything I've said or done was something that I cannot take back, but I can try to make it better now. Remind me that when I'm being hard on myself.

I love: God, my husband, my family, my friends and some of the people I've met in blog world for they have touched my heart.

I ache: all over, as a feeling, but can't put words to it.

I am not: bad, evil or deserve to die. (Keep telling myself, keep telling myself, keep telling myself...brainwashing is hard to deprogram)

I believe: that people can change. If you look enough and they let their defenses down that everyone has value and worth and something to give.

I dance: (when not depressed) at concerts, during worship songs at church, while doing housework with music on.

I sing: (when not depressed) most of the time especially if there is music playing.

I cry: during happy and sad movies and for other people's pain. However, this is difficult for me to do for myself.

I fight: my inner battles of ambivalence inside myself.

I win: because I lived through my traumas and now have a great life.

I lose: my mind...if found, please send it to me ASAP. I'll pay for shipping and handling fees.

I never: n/a. Too polarized of a word.

I always: n/a. Too polarized of a word. No, change that to I always love my husband even when I don't like him, I still love him with everything that I have.

I confuse: others sometimes because I can be intensely serious to completely silly. People have difficulty putting the two together. Right, Bradley?

I listen: well to others. I am always working on listening to God and to myself. The latter being the most difficult.

I am scared: of trusting others and my feelings especially rage, terror and pain. Also, of my needs...I don't have any needs...lies!!! (oh, I'm having a conversation with myself. Hey, it is private. Don't listen in. Don't worry. I'm just fine!)

I need: to allow others into my life and to trust more.

I am happy about: that I have a great life now...I just wish I could hurry up and deal with the past and move on. In reality, I really do have a good life now with the exception of dealing with major depression and post-traumatic stress disorder.

I imagine: a world where God's love is the only thing we can see...one day when there is no more tears, pain, horror, terror and evil.

I would like to tag no one. I will follow Mike's and Tamara's leads and tag anyone who wants to give this a try and then leave me a message so I can see what you wrote.

Past Journal Entry: July 22, 2005 ~ 6:00 pm

Geoffrey,

I haven't been feeling very good since last night. I was really feeling bad and felt like when I got in my car that I detached and just went away. Felt like that when I got home which is why, I think, I pushed my husband away. Also, why I didn't leave too many messages with you ...not that I didn't thing to do so. However, at work, it was a little difficult as I had a two-hour meeting in the morning at the office.

I've felt buzzy and been having trouble staying present even during my afternoon meeting. I've been feeling really bad and kind of sensitive to everything. Feel like I've just been going away. The thoughts have been loud too. Really, really want to bruise. Having flashbacks too. Feel like crying.

I remember how bad I felt all the time and confused and scared. I wish I could stop seeing my step-father or my mother's face when they were angry. I was so scared. I sometimes feel my mother grabbing my right arm to get my attention or to slap me. She grabbed really hard. Sometimes, I can feel him grabbing my left arm to yell at me. Sometimes, I can hear them yelling at each other or at me and how scared I was and how my stomach hurt and how much I just wanted to cry.

And, I keep having flashes of the whole Barbie thing, including the physical sensations, how much it hurt, how terrified I was, how angry I was at both of them, how painful it was that no one listened to me, how bad I felt, how confused and how much I wanted to cry, but didn't.

Just the look in his eyes scared me. I wasn't sure how much he was going to do because he seemed so out of control and so angry with me. I remember dreading my mother coming home because at that point, I think, I had already given up hope that she would listen to me. She listened to what he said and that was it...she always believed whatever he said, so he set me up sometimes. I can feel myself going away right now.

Felt like everyone was so angry all the time. I guess they were. The look he had in his eyes was the same look he had when we were at his parents in his bedroom. By then, I really knew not to make a sound especially cry. It was the same look that he would get when he would scream at me. My chest and stomach really hurt. I really want to just disappear...make it all go away.

There is also a small part that wants to talk to you and not carry it on my own. There is also a part that says, not to talk because I already have talked about this stuff. I really was scared all the time of him and of my mother. I'm tearing up a little.

Observations: I am back to work after taking time off and continuing to have greater difficulties despite the increased medications. I felt like I was barely holding it together, but felt like I had to...it was like I couldn't lose control over work too. Work and school were always two places that I excelled and I kept thinking I'll get caught up which, under normal circumstances, I could have.

In actuality, I was having greater and greater difficulties at the time being present and focusing. I was still seeing Geoffrey, I think, five times a week. Yesterday, I was talking with a friend who was also a coworker, but left before this time. She is one of the few people that know about this blog. We are alot alike and she asked me, "What the hell were you working for? Your ass should have been out of there!" I told her that in writing my blog that I realize that I should not have been working or functioning at the level that I was. Then she said, "You had to keep it together at work for you." Looking at it now, I think it was a pretty unwise decision, but I don't think it would change my actions. Thing is no one at work really knew. Oh, I was also rapidly losing weight which was being monitored and people began to make comments at work.

Past Journal Entry: July 21, 2005 ~ 6:30 PM & Gap in Time

Although my last journal entry was not that many days from this one's date, I wrote almost everyday. However, much of it was repetitive with the suicidal thoughts, and wanting to bruise. I somewhere along the way had taken some time off from work, but remained even more symptomatic. As a result, my medications were increased and the option of taking more time off was discussed. The whole Barbie incident really became intrusive and kept replaying in my head, visually and the worst part was the physical sensations. Also, I did go back to work, but had even a more difficult time in concentrating.

What I am writing today is an excerpt from that day's entry. I'm feeling a little buzzy today. I can't wait for this week to be over. It has been very hot. I'm glad for air conditioning [I have always been extremely sensitive to heat even now, I get over heated, to the point of fainting, in an air conditioned house if it is hot outside.] Remember going minature golfing and telling my mother that I wasn't feeling well and that everything was getting dark. She told me to stop playing around and didn't believe what I said...she will even refer to it now telling me that she thought I was just fooling around.

In actuality, I was reacting to the heat and was beginning to faint, so I went inside the air conditioned arcade and found a corner quickly and sat down until I felt better. I just told my mother, I was going to the restroom and rejoined them after. This began while I was in elementary school. Although others, in my family believed me and had experienced my fainting, my mother just told them that I was dramatic and looking for attention.

Feeling buzzy like my head doesn't want to take in what I wrote. Kind of feels that way about what we've been talking about for the past two weeks. Feels confusing and hard to grasp. My stomach hurts...both my stomach and chest have been hurting on/off all week.

I Don't Want To Look Behind The Door By Myself!!

I hate to break up my own party, but this has been on my mind for a while. It started on Friday during my therapy session. We talked about my suicidal ideation. My therapist said, something like, "I always take you seriously, but realize that it has been more intense before and you haven't followed through." He said a bunch of other stuff, but I had gone away.

I immediately thought that he wasn't taking my suicidal thoughts seriously and that I was making too big a deal about it, that I would never follow through, was being manipulative with it, that it was not that bad, etc... All the same stuff that runs through my head all the time, at some level.

Well, that put me in a bad place for the weekend. I left a couple of messages and starting crying on them. I just didn't feel good and did not know what that meant. Toward the end of Sunday, I realized that I wanted to be angry at him. Meaning that I knew that I wasn't really angry at him, but he was the target and I didn't feel angry toward him and didn't know what to do. (Are you confused yet?...Then, I'm not trying hard enough.)

When I saw him on Monday, he pushed the issue and had me focus on being angry at him. With much reluctance and after a time of trying to decide to go away or stay in the room emotionally and mentally, not physically, I told him that I felt like he didn't take me seriously. He did state that he always takes it seriously, and that I could kill myself anytime. He also said that he takes my history into account that I have always told him when I've been in trouble and needed hospitalization. I started to talk about how young and how the thoughts seem like they never stop. We kept talking about that and my still feeling like he didn't understand.

Then, there was a turn. He kept asking me questions and I began to cry and he continued to gently push and I felt comforted and like he put his arm around me. And, somewhere inside of me we found this really hidden door, but I was terrified because I had no idea what was inside. Normally, I would back away and not share the room with anyone until I looked. This time was different because I felt like we opened the unknown door together.

I began to really cry and told him that I realized that as a child I felt like something was wrong with me and that the suicidal thoughts I was having really did mean that I was bad and evil. That I believed I had evil spirits and this is why I thought that way. Explains why I had such a strong reaction to the woman on the Godlinked site. It also hit me that the cult and my mother and almost everyone else had really brainwashed me, but it did hit me until that moment that I really did believe them as a child. Also, there still is a small part that still believes it.

I left not in a good place (I was feeling like I was evil and deserved to die) and left a message asking him to call me. Talking to him was very helpful. I am being flooded with the feelings that I had as a child of not only the suicidal/hopeless thoughts, but of feeling, bad, evil and that I did not deserve to live. It is quite overwhelming. They are really intense flashbacks.

I am angry that I believed them and the lies and that it has had such an impact on me. I am also sad thinking and seeing myself as a little girl even at two having all that going through her head. How must it be for a child if my being an adult has difficulty with it being overwhelming. As expected, the suicidal thoughts and wanting to cut are loud.

I keep going away as a way to avoid feeling and thinking about the reality. How does a child grow up thinking that everytime she has a suicidal thought, which was all the time, that she is evil, bad and deserves to die? Or to even believe that she really does deserve to die, is bad and is evil. What an awful way to grow up and to continue these thoughts into adulthood.

I really was brainwashed and believed that I was evil...overwhelmed, angry, sad, confused. However, I don't feel alone...I feel like I am trusting my therapist further which is also scary and comforting. I feel like he is there right with me...finally someone to talk to and to listen to all the thoughts that are hidden behind such a tangled maze...what else is there?

MY 100th POST...WOW!!!!!

Today, I have reached a milestone and I am proud of it. Since I began Clinically Clueless on 5/8/08, I have posted 99 posts, so this is officially number 100. Wow!! I can’t believe it. When I started, I really did not know what a blog was and had seen only a few. I also had never looked at a mental health or personal journal type. Well, now I feel like, even though, it has been just over two months that I’ve seen, read and written much.

I also have grown personally and it has helped my therapy process tremendously along with my Internet skills. Writing about my past, having people read and know, receiving affirmation & encouragement & support and redirection has been especially helpful. I don’t feel so alone and I feel like I can say whatever I need to…now, whether or not I want to or am read is a whole different thing. I also don't feel so alone with the the struggles I share that are going on currently.

I also feel like I’m gaining my voice back by making comments on other people’s blogs, becoming active in some of the social networking communities, becoming more outspoken, being more assertive, being edgy (stirring the pot, which is what I am like when I am not depressed), accepting and letting compliments sink in without deflecting most of the time.

I really want to thank everyone who has encouraged and supported me and even those who haven’t for that has been a learning experience and helped me to grow. Three “communities” have been influential in this process the Experience Project, Godlinked and most importantly, GO! Smell the Flowers (GSTF). GSTF is a great place to go for a break. They have many contributors from all over the world with all sorts of different view points and backgrounds. There are several posts a day and can range from hilarious, odd, zany, serious, makes you think to I never thought of that. Check them out and get involved in their community...no one has bitten yet, but there are so many view points which can make for some heated topics. Most roses come with thorns remember. But, they have been a place where I feel I can really be myself with my opinions and all...I am becoming brave there.

I’m sorry if I don’t mention you specifically, but everyone along the last two months have been important to me in my process. However, at the very beginning there are some special bloggers that really welcomed me and helped me to feel accepted and comforted into this strange world. So, I want to say a special thank you to (in no particular order) Catatonic Kid, Shiv’s Brain, The People Behind My Eyes, How is Bradley and Writing to Survive.

I don’t plan to go anywhere for a while. I still need this type of environment to tell my truth~my story of what has happened to me. Besides, I’m only in July of 2005 in my journal and it really takes off in, I thing February of 2006. Thanks for following the confusion of past to present to past past. I know it gets complicated, but it all is interwoven and related to my process.

The thing that I am actually most grateful for is that my blog has helped de-stigmatize mental illness, has encouraged others to open up more in therapy and on their own blogs, has helped others not to feel so alone, and are learning from my experiences. It feels good to know that I can help someone even when I’m depressed and can’t seem to do the things I want for myself. So, happy 100th post to me!! (Next milestone…one year…I have a way to go until then). Thanks again!!! :-)

Past Journal Entry: July 14, 2005

Geoffrey,

When I came home today, I really wanted to bruise myself, so I decided to fingerpaint. After the fourth one, when I looked at it my stomach dropped and it scared me. Made me feel my hopeless and I just wanted to cry, so I stopped painting.

Remembered how hopeless I felt that it would get better, anyone would ever listen, anyone would ever understand, that I would ever feel better, that the suicidal thoughts would stop or I would stop wanting to hurt myself. Right now, my stomach and chest hurt and I want to cry. Remember being hopeless that my mother would ever listen to me, understand me, take care of me or protect me.

I really don't feel good right now...really wanting to hurt myself. Really want to bruise. Self-injury seems like it was my way of numbing out, punishing myself and expressing rage toward myself, my step-father and my mother.

Keep having flashbacks. Mostly, just waves of feelings and just wanting to cry. So, overwhelmed, panicked, sad, scared, angry, confused, trapped, helpless and hopeless. Feeling like I was bad all the time and deserved to die. Either feels like I'm in the apartment or in our house. Felt so alone and like no one would ever listen or understand.

Sometimes the flashbacks are an actual event. Remembering some of the arguments, getting hit, screamed at, my step-father forcing me to eat the tofu or just the anger in his face like he had with the Barbie stuff. [I'll explain this in the observation section.]

Sometimes, remember numbing out, going away, trying to disappear, etc... Happened frequently even at school, in the car, listening to music, reading, watching television, etc... Remember not knowing what was being said or losing track of my teachers or the television show...basically, like losing time. Sometimes, the suicidal thoughts would take me away. Other times, there would be nothing. Just buzzy and numb. My stomach and chest hurt. Can feel myself tearing up.

Observations: Today as I write this I find it interesting that I used the words, "I don't feel good right now," because that is what I have been saying and have not been able to be very specific. I did have a "homework" assignment with doing another Wordle about "I don't feel good." I posted as the last image on the side bar, if you want to see.

Well, up above, I said I would write about the "Barbie" stuff. I'm really not wanting to do it. Feeling a little ashamed and I know it will make it more real than I want to do right now...or maybe I want it to be more real. This memory isn't one that I repressed until this go-around in therapy. I spoke about it when I first was in therapy with Geoffrey, but that is as far as it went and there was not much else.

Okay, here goes...During the time my-stepfather and I were alone in the apartment, he only grew more violent and sadistic, at times, almost verges on torture. There was an incident when he wanted to play Monopoly, but I didn’t. I wanted to play with my Barbie’s. He began to scream at me and called me spoiled and that I need to do what he tells me to do. He pushed me to the ground and pulled my pants and underwear off and shoved one of my Barbie’s feet first into my vagina and then removed it and shoved the second one in…it felt like he was intentionally trying to hurt me and like he shoved it in as far as he could while turning it. I felt like I was going to pass out it hurt so much. I also remember the green carpet and my trying to dig my nails into it because it hurt so much. I remember the feel of the shallow pattern on my hand. Then, later on my face, I could feel the carpet.

Then, he had forced me on my stomach and began beating me with his belt. I wanted to die…felt like he was going to kill me. When my mother came home, she immediately began yelling and hitting and slapping me because my step-father had told her that I "misbehaved" that day. I was assaulted and raped by my step-father with my Barbies and then assaulted by my mother. (Okay now, I want to go away and take it all back, no one is going to believe me, shouldn't have written it, it wasn't that bad, I'm lying, etc...all going through my head.)

When I did the fingerpaintings below, my last one scared me because I felt the hopelessness which is, I think, represented by the black. Right now, I'm thinking about feeling that black hole in my chest, the one that all I can say now is, "I don't feel good."

Arms of Love ~ written by Craig Musseau ~ Worship In Song!

This worship song was released in 1991 and continues to be one of the most comforting songs for me and I thought it would be a nice way to end off last week and begin this week. May the Lord touch you with this song today.

Humor for the Day: Rapid Cycling?

This is dedicated to all my friends with bipolar disorder.

Permission granted for non-profit use by artist: Chato B. Stewart.

Go to http://www.mentalhealthhumor.com/ to see more of his work.

Past Journal Entry: July 12, 2005 ~ Evening ~ Part II

Continuation of Past Journal Entry of July 12, 2005

Feels like I'm trying to comprehend how bad it got when I was a teenager, but it is like trying to grasp a cloud. I can't seem to quite get it. But, if how I've been feeling and thinking is any indication...it was quite awful [At this point in time, I am having a difficult time with finding the right words to describe how I am feeling so I just keep saying awful. My therapist says that it is/was an indication of how young I was during the first sets of trauma]. I feel like crying.

School, church and our family friend were my escapes. And, Miss B was really a good buffer...Also, someone else to take care of my mother. I really wanted to live with her...almost did one summer and semester because it was so hot. She had air conditioning, but we didn't.

From my senior year on, it seems that the only time my step-father and I spoke was when we were arguing or he was screaming or yelling at me. Not, that he was home much even when my mother was pregnant and required bed rest. I got to the point where on most nights, he didn't come home after work, but went out with his buddies and played basketball and then went drinking afterward. My mother either took her anger out on me and before she needed bed rest we would go out to eat and go shopping. Most of the time, Miss B would come.

My step-father really enjoyed boxing and would do the pay per view stuff and invite a bunch of friends over. I just remember being so on edge (even more so than just the fear of being killed) because about a week before the event my mother would start to get moody and then the whole cleaning of the house while screaming at me the day of the event.

Then, the party would be so loud. Sometimes, I had to stay home and listen to my mother complain. Other times, we would go shopping. He would always end up drunk and would never help setting up or cleaning after. So, my mother would be even angrier when we cleaned up and would either complain the whole time, throw things and/or scream at me. I used to get so anxious throughout the whole process. And, everyone in the house would be on edge and there would be daily arguments about it.

I am really grateful that my husband doesn't watch sports or even television much and doesn't need to have things loud.

During my second semester in college, my step-father had a psychiatric hospitalization for almost slugging his supervisor, but instead hit his locker injuring his hand. (Sure wish, I could have seen his chart) Afterward, he was home all the time on disability and began a lawsuit against his employer, which he eventually won a settlement. But, that was another source of their arguing.

Often, I didn't sleep as, he would be typing notes on an electric typewriter all night without going to bed or he would be up all night watching television...usually adult films...the volume was loud. Since he wasn't working, he was home all the time. I started working which helped, but that was also when my eating disorder became a more significant problem as my boss even talked to me about my weight loss and not eating.

My third semester was really awful because I wasn't going to school as I took time off to go to Europe, so took the whole semester off. The problem was that my step-father wasn't working, so often it was the two of us at home. I tried to stay in my bedroom as much as I could and worked as much as I could. It made me even more anxious all the time. Also, a couple I met at church befriended me, and "adopted" me into their family which helped a great deal as they had a son that required "babysitting."

I came across some of my journaling during this time and afterward until the divorce and it all sounds so familiar. Constantly, thinking of specific ways to kill myself and thinking that it would be better off if I were dead, that no one cares, I don't matter, I'm manipulative, I want too much and that I really hate myself. So many writings with those exact words. I though of suicide everyday and continued with the self-injury with bruising and cutting. I remember feeling so hopeless, misunderstood, alone, trapped and that I was bad.

Also, in the writing was my anger toward my mother because she constantly compared me to my best friend and say things like, "Why couldn't you be more like her." According to my writings, she used to tell me that my best friend was prettier, smarted, got along with her parents, didn't cause problems, etc...

I guess, I have always felt I wasn't enough or didn't deserve to be alive or exist. I just caused too many problems. I was also anxious and scared all the time. Although I don't remember it, the college group leader recently told me that he remembers my being afraid to go home.