Category Archives: Life

Two Years, Baby

Today we celebrated our second wedding anniversary. 

It’s been a crazy two years of marriage. I didn’t think it would be like this. 

We met in college. A little college, that is growing in students now, in Stephenville. It was 2010. And I liked him, but I was with someone else at the time. Had I known what waited for me there, I would have chosen him then and there. But life, life has other plans. We went our separate ways and lost touch for a long time. 

It wasn’t until I started this blog and the Facebook page that we reconnected. He found my page and liked it. Eventually he messaged me and we started talking again. 

Our first date was on July 18, 2014. We went to San Antonio to watch DCI at the alamodome. I remember asking “what are we?” 

After that, we were together long distance. We made plans to move in together and it happened. 

It was rough the first few months, I’ll admit. We were learning to live together, both of us independent and set in our ways. 

He had never seen the ugly side of my disorder, very few people did. Sometimes it came out, and he was there, always there for me. 

We decided that, if we could put up with each other and our differences and quirks we wanted to get married. We were in love. We were close to each other, there for each other. 

We got married on September 19, 2015. It was a beautiful little ceremony. My veil got stuck in the door as I came in. He surprised me with wearing a tux! He was so handsome. I was so nervous! He talked to me the whole ceremony to make sure I didn’t freak out, because I was on the verge of a panic attack. He was sick with pneumonia, but he was able to enjoy our wedding. It was beautiful.

Since then, things have been chaotic. He’s been sick with something that doctors aren’t sure what it is. The neurologist just said “we’re going to call it Upper Motor Neuron Disease, but I don’t think that’s what it is.” We’ve been in and out of hospitals trying to treat it, seeing doctors from all over the place trying to get a proper diagnosis. 

My mental health hasn’t always been that great. I will cycle from being ok and stable to being suicidal with a plan in just a few minutes time. And when I go that low it’s hard for me to come out, but he’s always there for me. I’m more stable now. I still cycle, but I feel better. And he’s still there for me. 

I had the opportunity to be there for him recently. It got so bad that we had to go inpatient. But he’s better now. 

The point is, two years ago, I has no idea life would throw so many challenges our way. But because of those challenges, we are closer than ever. I’ve never been this close to anyone in my life, other than my mom. I can tell him anything and everything. And when we get upset with each other we talk about it instead of letting it fester. He’s my best friend and my soul mate. I don’t want anyone else but him. If I had the chance to choose him again, I would do it in a heartbeat. 

He’s my favorite person and the one I want to spend all my time with, and it hard to be apart (yes, I know my BPD is showing.) 

Two years and we have 3 dogs and 1 cat, we have a home that we are restoring, we have a plan for what to do with that home. We have a lot going on but we’re together and stronger than ever. 

I love you baby. Happy 2 years with many more to come!

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Get Yourself Together, Honey

If only it were that simple. Pick up the shattered pieces that litter the dusty floor of my psyche. Maybe then everything could make sense. But right now, nothing makes sense. Nothing feels right. And I don’t know what to do.

I’ve always been the one on the other side. The one getting treatment, the one being in a crisis. Now, now I’m the caregiver. And now, well now I’m stuck because no one will give me any information about my loved one. Now, I feel lost, confused, bruised, broken, sick, tired, and numb, all at the same time. Nothing makes sense anymore.

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. I don’t feel like doing anything. Writing this, well, this is just a journal, words spilling out of my fractured mind. I feel fractured. Did I break? 

I’m supposed to be strong. Be strong he said. I told him the same. I told him I was fine. But I’m not. I’m anything but fine. I can’t even fake a smile. I try, and it just comes out as a grimace. There is no joy. No light.

I’m surrounded in darkness right now. I don’t see the light. There is no light. I feel like there may never be light again. I try to sorround myself with people so I won’t be alone, because when I’m alone the shadows are there. They came back just yesterday. Playing on the edges of my vision, but I saw them. 

I’m slowly going insane, aren’t I? But I’m not allowed to. It’s not about me. It’s not my time. I’m supposed to be strong. I’m supposed to be the one to carry us right now. To keep going no matter what. And I can’t. I can’t move. I can barely breathe. 

Crying… Well it happens whether I want it to or not. I’m not in control of my tears anymore. They comes as they please, and I just have to sit there in the waves as the tide of sadness rolls in. At least I’m not screaming anymore.

I hit myself. I couldn’t control my hands. I broke. Something in me snapped. I had to just ride it out. There was no one to help me. Just me.  Even the cat left me. 

Get it together, honey, they say. Pull yourself together. If only they knew just how impossible that seems right now. He’s the glue that holds me together. Without him, I’m just pieces lying on the ground.

Nightmares

I still have nightmares about her. 

One would think that I would have nightmares about my rape, but I guess since it wasn’t violent enough to terrorize me like she does. 

She haunts my thoughts most days, and at night, well at night she’s there, threatening me. 

Last night I dreamt that she was poisoning granny and that she shot at me. She was violent towards me, forcing me to do sexual things with a man that I feel like I know. He was sneaking me money, as payment I suppose. 

When I see her in my dreams, she always reminds me of the “other mother” from the movie Coraline by Tim Burton. Her face is all distorted, hair unkempted. But I know it’s her. Its always her. 

I’ve tried everything to get rid of her. I’ve ended the relationship more than once. This last time was rather rude, I was rude and said something I shouldn’t have. But I said it anyway. 

Do you remember me telling you that she had cancer? Well, she’s lying about that to gain sympathy from her Facebook friends. The surgery she had was to open her mouth from the first time she had cancer, since she didn’t do the therapy to open it. The hospital stay was an overdose. 

I’m tired of being lied to. She’s lied to me my whole life. She lied about who she was to me. She lied about loving me. I’m tired. 

Now, now I’m tired of being haunted. I’m tired of the nightmares. 

I Don’t Speak Well

I don’t speak well…

I know the words I want to tell you. 

Words in my head that trip over my tongue.

I don’t speak well.

I know you need words. 

Words of comfort and peace.

Words that will make you feel at ease.

They are there in my heart and mind.

But the path to my mouth is polluted. 

My mind, it goes in a million different directions at one time.

The words get lost. 

I don’t speak well.

I write.

I’m a writer.

I’ve always been better at writing than speaking.

And I know that doesn’t help you right now.

Because you need to hear the right words from me. 

Words of peace and love and safety from my tongue.

But they are gone, they are lost.

Just to write this takes a while.

My mind drifts.

I don’t speak well.

I wish I could be the voice of reason for you.

I wish I could be the calm in your storm.

But I don’t speak well. 

And as I’m writing this, I know you need me to say words.

But I don’t speak well.