Down and Out

Pity Party

sannec — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 17:50:41 +0000

I came home,threw my purse on the ground, and dropped to my knees screaming and crying, “Why me!” Suicidal ideations ran through my head. While looking at the place Skyler once occupied made me feel like I couldn’t make it anymore through life. Immediately, I called Aunt Liza in hysterics.

“Oh, dear,” Aunt Liza said, “can’t they treat it?”

“I have new medicine, but Borderline Personality Disorder is hard to treat,” I said while trying to breathe.

“Do you want me to come over?” She asked.

“No, I just want to talk. I need to get my prescription filled and then go to sleep. Skyler left me.”

I couldn’t believe those words rolled off of my tongue. I knew Aunt Liza didn’t like him, but she was always supportive. If she knew he had abused me, she would have put on some steel-tipped boots and shoved it up his anus.

I Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest

sannec — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 17:48:17 +0000

I lost focus, direction, and landed back in the Psychiatrist’s office. This time Dr. Weathers decided to have me psychologically evaluated and see what is my official diagnosis. Yeah! I’m going to find out what kind of freak I am. One test I took on the computer. No, I couldn’t study for it. I just had to answer truthfully. I tried to figure out which ones to answer honestly. Two days later I took the Rorschach Inkblot test. The tests consists of ink blots and you tell the Psychologist what you think you see in the picture. I didn’t see much. One picture I thought I saw two seahorses smoking something.

The Psychologist curiously asked, “What are they smoking?”

I replied, “They’re smoking tobacco out of a Hookah.”

Where the hell would I come up with something like that? Trying to remember which was a chore in itself, I watched a show where doctors were talking about the dangers of smoking tobacco out of a Hookah.

After a few more off-the-wall answers, I was done. Now he needed to do some psycho calculations and come up with an answer that I’m sure I wouldn’t be pleased with. I think the seahorse thing threw him for a loop-hole. He assured me after he interviewed me that he would have a diagnosis.

How much crap did I have to go through to find out I was certifiably a nut? I could’ve done some psychological testing for free on the internet. Much to my demise the day of reckoning came and I had the look of a deer in headlights. Dr. Weathers said, “Besides Major depression and anxiety, you have Borderline Personality Disorder.”

For those who know computer lingo, I said, “WTF!”

Dr. Weathers had not replied at first. He stared at me and gave me the usual psychobabble that you are not your diagnosis. We just treat your symptoms.

What was he thinking? It wasn’t his diagnosis. It was my living nightmare of a label. At least it made sense why I had troubles keeping stable relationships, cut myself on occasions, suicidal ideations, paranoid thinking, binge drinking, etc. I still am having trouble dealing with this disorder. Now it’s time for my medication cocktail. Can’t wait to experience side effects of nausea, weight loss/gain, forgetfulness, stomach aches, etc. Nausea was my favorite. I like dry heaving for a living. It doesn’t help work attendance. As for weight loss, most women would kill for that chance.

Obsession

sannec — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 17:45:26 +0000

All day and all night I’d obsess about Skyler. I’m sure my friends were sick of listening to me since I wore their ears out. They all thought I was irrational and yelled at me for being ignorant about wanting him back. That caused a big strain in my relationships with them. They didn’t understand or want to try to understand. I was tired of hearing there are other fish in the sea. What sea were they talking about? I apparently been coming up with bottom feeders.

Hypocrisy

sannec — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 17:43:39 +0000

Hypocrisy: I tell the people who I counsel to stay out of abusive situations and here I want to get back into one. I work for Justice Home, a place where victims can live and feel safe. There are outside programs that teach people about being victims of violence and where to go and get help. Also, there is a separate program for abusers that want help or the court is force feeding it down their throats. For abusers, it’s the latter.

Day of Reckoning

sannec — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 17:41:22 +0000

Well, here came tomorrow my day of reckoning and I stayed at my friend, Laura’s house. By the time, I collected my thoughts I tried to call Skyler and apologize. It didn’t work. He avoided my calls which made my anxiety at an all-time high. I drove home having crying jags and ran up the stairs to find all of Skyler’s things gone. This is where I start the blame game. It’s my fault. Everyone has used that line one time or another.

I went to the kitchen to grab a kitchen knife and slit my leg hoping it would release all of the pain I felt inside. It didn’t help, but at least it gave me a reason to cry and feel bad.

The next day, I was back at the watering hole and hitting on Mark and feeling no pain. I wailed about Skyler and did too many shots of tequila and Mark invited me to stay at his house since I was in no condition to drive. Jacob “Mark” Myles was looking out for me once again. His temper flared about Skyler, and he wanted to make her a pair of cement shoes and throw him in Lake Michigan. I calmed him down, sobered up, and fell asleep in Mark’s arms. Thoughts were rapidly firing through my head and tears trickled down my cheeks. My anxiety was controlling me and I was restless trying not to cut myself. Mark awaken to feeling my tears falling on his bare chest.

“Are you going to be o.k.?” Mark asked softly.

“Yeah, I just feel terrible hurting Skyler.”

“I don’t understand how a guy can hit you and you’re worried about his feelings.”

“It sounds bad, but he makes me feel whole. I have lots of baggage rolling along with me.”

At that time, I knew Mark didn’t understand since men are from Mars. So I got dressed and did the walk of shame again to my car hoping no one knew saw me. If Skyler found out I would be looking never have a chance to get him back. Sounds stupid? Of course, my mental illness overtakes my rationality.

Big Mistake

sannec — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 17:39:29 +0000

I figured I’d just go up to the local watering hole and find someone who’d appreciate my company. Plus, I was unsure if Skyler would return tonight. Usually, he’d go sleep at a friend’s house until things calmed down. Skyler warned me last time if I try to kick him out that he’d be gone forever.

In a nervous state, my slender build and being largely endowed on top always got me company and free drinks. I just needed to wipe my eyes and get the hell out just like Skyler did. Except I didn’t slam the door and call anyone profane names like he did. No one wanted to get involved in

my situation for fear that Skyler would make them rue the day they ever stepped in his world.

Tonight I felt more powerful since I took enough beatings not to care anymore. Instead of going home after a few drinks, I went to Mark’s house. This guy was buff and worked for a local oil plant. His home was immaculate and his manners impeccable. He made me feel like the queen of the castle instead of a cheater. I must’ve passed out because when I had awaken I was naked sleeping next to Mark. I did my walk of shame and walking as light as a feather out the door and ran to my car to get home. Why should Skyler get to come and go as he pleases? I should too. Except for I may have gone a little farther with Mark then I should’ve gone.

When I got home and saw Skyler, my anger got out of control and told him that he needs to pack up and leave.

“Baby, it’s not that bad,” Skyler tried to apologize again and again and yet again.

“I’m done!” I screamed in a state of guilt. “Get out before I call the police to escort off of my premises.”

Skyler chuckled and said, “Maybe hottie Scotty, the ladies man can give me an escort out and find me someone less psycho.”

Scotty was someone I dated in high school who had become a cop, also. See the pattern. Scotty had literally break up a knock down drag out that Skyler and I had outside the bar. Needless to say, Scotty wasn’t high on Skyler’s list especially since he knew I shared many intimate moments with him.

“Whatever, jackass. Just leave the key and disappear and go beat on someone your own size!” I yelled while crying like a lunatic.

“Good! I’ll pick up my things tomorrow!” Skyler screamed and slammed the door.

Woman Beater

sannec — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 17:37:25 +0000

During the Skyler Era, my friendships started spiraling downward. I isolated myself and became despondent. The embarrassment of being abused kept me from having healthy relationships with my friends. They were in awe that I would stay with a guy that is a woman beater. Needless to say, they were rude to him. I had no one to turn, so I suffered in silence.

My aunts, uncles, and cousins lived far away. As for my parents, they passed away in my early twenties in a car crash. This is where I got the luck of the Irish. I was the only survivor. Imagine burying your mom, dad and sister all at once. I did have help from my aunts and uncles, but I suffered from survivor’s guilt. This was my first time I sought out a psychiatrist and went to lots of therapy. I, without say, became a pawn in a game called “Life.”

Back to my Skyler dilemma. He meant well, but wasn’t well. Go try to tell him that one. But I was in love and thought no one would want me. I’m crazy as Skyler referred to me. He became possessive of his trophy girlfriend, waitress started to set in. He’d follow me everywhere I’d go. My sun, moon, and stars delivered pizzas. I hit the jackpot on that one cha-ching. Who was I to pass judgment? I was in my late twenties waiting table at a seafood restaurant chain. We both had big goals in life. Pay our bills and drink from sun up to sun down. Pretty sad, huh?

“Skyler, you know how much I love you, but we can’t spend our life fermenting our livers,” I said in a calm voice.
“Skyler yelled, “Listen here sweet thing! I’ve taken care of you and you’re craziness for a long time, and you’ll definitely find nobody to put up with you! All you do is cry and have pity parties for yourself!”

I gave him the evil eye and said, “You ran off my friends and what little family I have left. I’m sure I won’t miss dodging and ducking from your punches. I’m sure there will be girls lined up for you too. I heard the new style is to look like a raccoon.”

I stomped into our bedroom and shut the door and cried profusely again. Being in a state of depression made my co-dependency worsen and wondering how I was going to live without him. I didn’t have an ounce of energy to kick him out of the apartment we were living in. As horrible as the relationship was I didn’t want to call it quits. Instead I quit seeing my Psychiatrist and flushed the antidepressants down the ol’ commode.

Counselor? Yes I Am

sannec — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 17:30:30 +0000

Meanwhile, I was working as a counselor in a domestic shelter. It was a shock to me how many guys are victims of abuse. Verbal abuse is considered abuse, also. The career was a challenge since I was dealing with my post traumatic stress disorder. Thanks to my dream guy, Skyler.

My Skyler was the moon, the sun, and the stars. I never felt so in love with a person in my life. The bad part was that he’d occasionally hit me and yell at me. One time I fell to the ground when he punched me.

“I’m sorry,” Skyler whimpered while he cried. “I didn’t mean it, sweetheart.”

I’d end up consoling him instead of vice versa. Like a lollipop aka sucker I forgave him. My emotions took over me and I felt sorry for him. Professional help wasn’t an option for my man-child, Skyler. According to him, he was fine and I was the one messed up. He got that right! Guess who ended up getting help, once again? ME! I went to a psychiatrist to get back on my medication without Skyler’s knowledge. The psychiatrist thought I needed therapy, and I thought she needed therapy for dealing with nuts like me. I failed to tell Skyler about my psychiatric appointment. Why? I was afraid he’d blow his top and dot my eye. Then I’d have to figure out how to cross my tee.

Exes

sannec — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 17:28:01 +0000

Let’s go back in time so I can tell you about my first handful of a boyfriend. He still thinks the mullet is in style. Embarrassing as it is, when he’d get drunk he would be in the bar stroking the sides of his mullet. Proudly, he would yell business in the front and party in the back (mullet joke). I must’ve been on a drinking binge to hook up with him. His name was Jimmy, but I nicknamed him Jim Bob the drunken slob. We were two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl or more like chugging to keep up our jelly rolls. My stomach was starting to look like a pony keg. Jim Bob’s looked like a keg. Jim Bob’s favorite t-shirt was the one that said FRANKIE SAYS RELAX on it. What the hell was that? Oh yeah, it was the 80’s but we’re in the late 90’s.

Jim Bob and I didn’t stay together too long due to his limited vocabulary, his tiny dill pickle in his pants, and his lack of fashion sense. In today’s terms, I dipped out on him(left him). In a fit of stupidity, I tried spinning the wheel of fortune trying my luck again.

Out fishing around in the bar I thought I had a good catch, but he turned into a “Halibut” (and not the fish). Literally, he was a hell of a butt. Eric was a cop aka pig, bacon, fuzz etc. Instead of trolling for criminals, he was trolling for some cat as in pussycat.

How did I find this out? Here is how it happened. One night after dancing with the girls I had a great idea to surprise Eric in my new lingerie covered by my long, black leather coat. I need to take a deep breath to tell you the rest.

I rode around the neighborhood until I saw his squad car parked behind the closed grocery store. Unfortunately, he surprised me with a bleached, blonde bimbo with her head between his legs doing her civic duty. Imagine the look on their faces when they saw me. I was about to make a citizen’s arrest. The bimbo was stunned and leered in my direction with white stuff on her lips like she was eating a powdered donut. That relationship ended quick with Eric getting a much-needed slap in the face. Then I posted his infidelities all over the internet. Meanwhile, The bimbo ran before I tore her hair out.

Ready, Set, Go

sannec — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 17:09:38 +0000

Down and out in my little hometown. I’m grateful to have a roof over my head and the utilities still turned on. Alot of these catastrophic things happened. I can tell you that Rome wasn’t built in a day, but my problems were.

My life consists of instability, depression, anxiety, and always dependent on a man. I could’ve had the world wrapped around my fingers instead of having a noose around my neck wondering if I should kick the chair from beneath me. Well, that was my first failure. I didn’t have the courage to do it. Then I came out with another not so sound idea. Why don’t I slit my wrist? Again, I didn’t not have the pain threshold to cut deep enough. So I slammed down a lot of Captain and Coke, cried uncontrollably, and decided to drunk dial my exes. That’s usually a bad idea.