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[terilemang]

Let’s Talk

 *****TRIGGER WARNING*******

In light of the upcoming “Bell Let’s Talk Day” I am going to share something with you. Details that I have not talked about, ever. Things I choose to bury. I am going to tell you about my mom and her mental illness from my perspective.

I tend to be one of those people who recognizes the struggles I have overcome, but I have never been someone who blames my past hardships on my current ones. Until now. I realize as I deal with my current anxiety and I struggle with parenting that what I have been through may play a big part in why I feel the way I do. I think that bringing awareness to mental health is so incredibly important. I also think that as someone who suffers from mental illness that it is important to recognize when we need to seek help, and do just that.

I want to share some of my first experiences with mental health. Experiences that changed my life, and had a hand in the development of my own mental health issues.

My mother and I always struggled with our relationship. From a young age I tested her patience with my strong opinions and attitude. I have come to learn this is something all parents deal with. Part of a child’s learning process is to push boundaries. Unfortunately my mother was a child herself when she had me, and thus it was difficult for her to adapt to being a parent. Don’t get me wrong, my mother provided for me, she just wasn’t a great mother.

During my childhood I witnessed domestic violence more often than I could put on paper. Calling 9-1-1 was a weekend tradition. My mother married a man who I refer to as “Dad” when I was four years old. He was a recovering alcoholic who ended up off the wagon a year into their marriage. My mother only really married him after she had beat cancer at age 19 and wanted to “live life to the fullest”. Anywho, when he drank he and my mother fought… a lot.

I also witnessed things that I didn’t really understand until I got older. For instance, when I was 10 I walked in on my mother and her friend in the bathroom, with a rolled up twenty dollar bill. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I realized my mother used cocaine.

She had other vices too. Gambling was a really big problem for a long time. She would spend every cent we had at the casino, and spend days at a time there. She was addicted to weight loss pills for a while, that was fun… There were so many things over the years. I guess she just had an addictive personality and she was always trying to escape something.

All of these vices were a way of coping with her mental illness, which I didn’t realize until I was in my 20’s and (spoiler alert) after she died. I am not making excuses for my mother’s poor choices, but I wish I had understood why she made them before it was too late.

Right when I was about to enter a strange season of my life, the tender age of twelve, my parents sent me to live with my grandmother to help her after my grandfather passed away. At the time I was hurt. I was so furious. You see, my parents were the owners and operators of an escort agency. Yup you read that right. They were pimps. They chose their business over their daughter, at least that is how I saw it. Today, I am forever thankful for the two years I spent with my grandmother. I was taught invaluable lessons that neither of my parents could ever teach me. My grandmother NEVER cut corners. She was a hard ass old lady that did everything by the book. I wish I could have seen these lessons when I was younger, but none the less I attribute my work ethic and determination to her teachings.

Sorry, my stories are never to the point, but I think it is important to paint a picture.

When I was fourteen I moved back in with my mother. We lived in an apartment above a bar, and being in the ninth grade I thought it was the coolest. My aunt and uncle lived upstairs in the same building. During the year that we lived in this apartment my mother went through strange episodes. I did not know then, but I know now they were “manic” episodes that were part of her diagnosis of bi-polar disorder. She would sometimes stay up for days on her computer, and made all of these elaborate plans to move to a different country. She had an online boyfriend in Holland, who turned out to be a fraud…

At age fifteen I moved in with my aunt and uncle temporarily as my relationship with my mother was strained due to her lifestyle. She was an exotic dancer, and I assumed an escort. She had an addiction to money, drugs and men. These things all played a part in her mental illness. I had moved in and out of my moms house a few times while I was in high school. When it got to be too much I would couch surf or stay at my uncles house.

In eleventh grade, in the spring I believe, I had just moved back home, and my best friend was also living with us. It was a nice day, and we had decided to skip school. We went to another friend’s house first, but they were not home. So we headed to my house. When we got there I realized that the screen door was locked. I didn’t have a key for the screen. I was furious. I couldn’t believe that after only two weeks my mother had already locked me out. Then, when my best friend tried to open the garage it would only open about 3 inches. Our garage was busted and didn’t lock so that meant it had to be jimmy rigged from the inside. That’s when we noticed that there was a car running in the garage.

It took no time to put the pieces together. We ran to all the neighbours looking for something to break the glass in the screen door. I was hysterical, but I wasn’t alone and I thank my lucky stars to this day for the love of a friend. We finally got a hammer. I smashed the screen door and got it open and ran to the garage. Inside her tiny gold Sunfire was my mothers lifeless body. The doors were all locked, the keys in the ignition, the back seat folded down and a dryer hose from the tail pipe into the back of the car through the trunk; my mom laid out over the backseat with her head right at the hose. I took the hammer and with three hard hits I broke the driver side window, unlocked the door and turned the car off. I shook her fiercely. I begged her to wake up. I couldn’t breath. Condensation covered everything. Once the car was off, I opened the garage. There were onlookers trying to see if everything was ok. I then ran in the house and called 9-1-1. I could hardly get the words out of my mouth – “ I think my mom is dead. I think she killed herself…”

The ambulance came, they started CPR and had to give her 2 shots of epinephrine in her heart. They took her to the local hospital. She was alive. They brought her back. My mother was going to live.

I found out later that her and my dad had had a fight that day. This was her way of “getting back” at him.

I went to the hospital later that day to see her. I wanted to tell her how much I love her and that I need her. Before I had a chance to speak she looked at me and said “I hate you, why didn’t you just let me die?” I was 17 years old. That day broke me. All my pieces fell apart and I was never able to put them back together, though I tried with all my might.

Following that day I went to live with my Nana. My mom tried to make amends, she said sorry, she said she was happier. I tried really hard to believe her. I tried to understand. I just never did.

She attempted two more times after that. Both of those times I was contacted and asked to go to the hospital. One for slitting her wrists and one for an attempted overdose. Both times were an attempt at manipulation of the man she was with. Let me be clear, he was a douche. She should have known better but she never did let him go.

I wish I could give so much more detail into my childhood. There is so much that makes sense now that I am an adult. As a child we do not see all these things as mental illness. We do not see our parents as sick when they are alcoholics or addicts. We do not see them as having a disease of the brain. We see that they don’t want us. We see that they choose their lifestyle over us. We see that they don’t want to change. We don’t see that they are broken and just looking to escape, we see them becoming someone we don’t know. We see them not loving us. It hard as a kid. Even without addiction, having a parent with mental illness can be traumatizing.

My mother got worse as she got older. She became addicted to crack cocaine when she was about 35. I was 19 by then and was able to figure life out by myself. For three years my mother was out of control. She would steal, lie and burn all of her bridges. She would say things to hurt the people closest to her. She was high more often than not. When my baby was born sleeping at 28 weeks when I was 19 I am pretty sure she came to the hospital high. She was all over the place. All things that I didn’t realize at the time. When my second son was born healthy I thought she was going to change. She loved him so very much. She didn’t though. I think by then she wanted to, but she didn’t or couldn’t.

The morning of June 1, 2008, I was in Peterborough bringing my friend her mattress. She had just moved out of my place to her moms. While sitting in the parking lot at the No Frills I got a phone call – “Miss MacIntyre this is the Durham Regional Police, could you come into the station?” I was not in town so I told the officer I was unable to make it in for a while. “It’s about your mother, Pamela MacIntyre...” the next words out of my mouth were “for fuck sakes, what did she do now?” The officer was silent. He didn’t want to tell me over the phone. He didn’t want to tell me at all. “Miss MacIntyre, I did not want to tell you this over the phone, but your mom has passed away….” In that very instant I was in shock. There are no words that can explain that feeling. I threw up. I didn’t know what to do. I just sat there. I felt like my soul had left my body. My heart stopped beating. I just felt sick. The following weeks are pretty much lost to me. I don’t remember much. I know I called my Nana to tell her that her daughter had died, my uncle to tell him his sister died, and my dad to tell him his ex wife died. I know I did these things, but I don’t remember doing it. Time froze when I hung up the phone with that officer.

We found out that this was a final attempt to end her own life. She left a note, and took three bottles of pills. She died alone in a hotel room with her demons. She died in a dark room with nothing but her thoughts. Nothing but her pain. Thinking about it now makes my heart hurt so much.

She called all of us the night before. None of us put the pieces together. She told me she loved me and to never forget, then turned her phone off. This was normal for her though. I did not think much of it. I could blame myself for the rest of my life. I could, but I wont. I did for a very long time. I knew where she was. She even told me the room was under “Teri-Lynn Brintnell” at the motel she was staying at. I could have saved her. At least that’s what I thought until I was 25.

I was angry that she took “the easy way out.” I was angry that I did not have a mom to help me be a mom.

I didn’t know much about mental illness at that point in my life. Now I am angry at the stigma that surrounds mental illness.

When I moved in August of 2011, I had found my mothers medical records among some of the boxes that I was unpacking. I sat in the middle of my room and read them. I read about her cancer at 19, the chemotherapy and her subsequent hysterectomy. I read about her anxiety. Then in all caps I read “DIAGNOSIS – BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER AND MANIC DEPRESSION/BIPOLAR DISORDER” I had an idea that she was mentally ill, but I didn’t really understand these illnesses. Since that day I have educated myself. I have made a point to attend seminars, read articles and most of all listen. I have tried to understand why my mother chose to leave this earth and although she left with all the answers, it has come to me that it was the only foreseeable way she could heal her soul. It was also the only way she could see to stop hurting her family and loved ones over and over again.  

This next part is the hardest part for me to share. It makes me feel shame. It makes me feel sad.

Since my mom died, my life got better. My mom manipulated me, yelled at me, used me as a game piece. I know now that it was all part of her mental illness, but nonetheless, that is what she did.

When she died, I grieved. My grief was dark. It was painful. Made more painful by a toxic relationship and raising my son. When my grief started to lift, so did the darkness. I left a toxic relationship, I met new friends and I found happiness. In my mom’s death I found happiness. She did that for me. While she was alive ALL of my energy went towards trying to get her to change. Trying to get her to want to change. My life was consumed with fighting and drama. When she died, little by little, with time, that drama, fighting and pain dissipated.

I realized that mental illness is nothing to fuck around with. It can and will kill you, if you let it. In my mom’s death I learned how to take care of my own mental health. I learned to be empathetic when it comes to others and what they might be going through. Of course people need to want to help themselves, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t still try show empathy.

You never know what someone has been through. We are responsible as adults to fix the fucked up programming that out parents, peers or environment may have created during our childhood. That means, if you are feeling not like yourself, if your friends are concerned, or you can’t seem to pull yourself out of a rut, it might be time to talk about it. It might be time to seek help. Sometimes just confiding in a friend can make all the difference. Let’s try to take care of each other, and let’s try to take care of ourselves. Mental health is not less important than physical health, don’t let anyone tell you that it is.

I have vowed to do my best to take care of myself, if not for me, for my kids. I don’t want them to ever feel the way I did growing up. My moms illness and her struggles showed me the person I didn’t want to become, so I didn’t. I am aware when I am not myself and I talk about it. I am aware of my anxiety and panic attacks so I seek help. I know it is not that easy for everyone, but please reach out. Please know that you are enough, and there is so much beauty in this life, even if you can’t see it right now.

Feeling sad? Feeling dark? Feeling empty? Feeling angry? Let’s Talk. I’m here. I will do my best to help you figure it out. <3

Rest peacefully mama. 

-TLS

[terilemang]

30 Years

Really? Seriously? Am I going to be 30 tomorrow? For fuck sakes, when did that happen? I guess its time to work out and eat better, because you know once you turn 30 you can’t just magically shed pounds like in your 20′s. Oh wait, that’s never been me, pass the Doritos. 

On a more serious note. Where the fuck did the last 15 years go? I mean even the last 10 years. They just vanished. All those times I thought life kicked my ass for good, and here I am, turning 30. Hello World! 15 years ago I thought Id be  a lawyer by now, clearly that didn’t pan out. 10 years ago I did’t care if I woke up the next day, and 5 years ago I was just starting to get my shit together. I gotta say coming from a household that broke the law an awful lot to provide I am doing pretty damn good. The job pays salary, I have benefits and have held the SAME job for 5 whole years. Holy shit look at me living life and shit. 

I have a couple kids, 2 bio 2 bonus, and this pretty great dude that’s giving me his last name in 6 months. My 20′s were traumatic as fuck. Lots of dead people, an alcoholic ex, his crazy gf and a million little fucked up things in between. Do you know what I have to say to that??? GOOD FUCKING RIDDANCE! Hey 30, I’m here, I’m ready and we are going to KILL THIS SHIT!! Still hot, still funny, still a bad bitch, but in a new age group, with a new outlook. I am officially closing that dreadful chapter in my life. I am starting a new one the moment my eyes open tomorrow. 

Fresh, Fabulous and ready to take on this bitch of a world. But first I will pour a glass of wine, maybe 3 and cheers myself for not fucking up my life. YAY Go me!

[terilemang]

The Beast

People that know me know me well. With me comes The Beast.

The Beast overwhelms me. It makes my heart race, and often reduces me to tears. When The Beast appears it consumes me and sucks every ounce of energy from my body. It induces vomiting and heart palpitations.

Those that know me, know that I suffer from anxiety.

It is a life sucking mind numbing absolutely uncontrollable disease. it consumes me. A series of events usually leads to a severe case of stress and then one event will trigger the Attack, otherwise known as The Beast.

It usually starts with a few things. They very each time. New and intense stress. Things that normally would not be a part of my life, and are usually temporary. 90% of the time it comes in 3's. Separate and unrelated stressors. Or seemingly so. Sometimes It starts with a big stressor that causes small little stressors.

The stressors cause a large range of indicators tightness in the chest that gradually gets worse. Fidgeting and inattention. Heart palpitations OCD tendencies and  fast rate of speech. These are only some of the indicators. There are so many more.

After a few days of build up The Beast is ready. That bastard is just waiting. In the dark corners, in my veins. It sits and waits. Something as simple as a conversation, or any type of confrontation can release The Beast. knows that I carry the world. I strive to please people. The Beast knows that I am kind, and that I try to love everyone. The Beast knows that I am emotional and sometimes vulnerable.

One comment, one disagreement, one moment in time that tests my patients. That's all The Beast needs at this point to rear its ugly head. It bursts into the room. It brings me to my knees, begging it to stop.  It squeezes my chest until I can hardly breathe, and makes my heart stagger on the edge of cardiac arrest. The Beast then makes its way to me head, it induces pain that feels like needles in my temples, and reduces me to tears. I cant breath, I cant see, I cant think. All I can do is rock back and forth. The Beast comes, it tears me apart, it consumes my entire being and then eventually it leaves.

I struggle keeping The Beast out of my life sometimes. There are times that there is no escaping it, but it always leaves. When the stinging pain in my head goes away and I remove the thing that triggered the attack, The Beast leaves, eventually. I have been managing my anxiety by myself without medical intervention for a very long time. I have been able to, without medication, without therapy. Until now. Now I need help. I am asking for help.

Mental illness is nothing to shake a stick at. It is serious and can lead to so many other illnesses and personal issues. It can lead to death. I refuse to be that statistic. Please don't keep mental illness in the dark.

 XOXO

-T

[terilemang]

The After - A letter to my Mum.

Where do I begin this day? I got a phone call from you 7 years ago, you said you were leaving and that your phone would be off. You were sad I could hear it in your voice like times before. I didn’t recognize it. I didn’t think about it. I thought you were leaving town and going back home. That’s not what you meant at all. If I had just been more open that day I might have been able to save you, I often think about saving you. I wish I could have helped you out of that dark place that I knew so little about. I wish I knew more about why you were there. I wish I wasnt as naive and selfish in so many ways. It wasnt until The After. The After is when I woke up. I became aware of my surroundings and how to make my life better. You did that, and for that I love you. I just wish I would have learned that lesson through your strength to survive rather than your defeat. I love you. There has never been a question about that, I wish more than anything you could have seen that. I wish I knew more about mental illness then. I wish I knew more about addiction. I hated your addiction but through my hate I could never understand WHY you were there. I didn’t realize until The After. Deep into The After I realized that it was all of the worst parts of your life. They caused your addiction. You were always addicted to something. For a long time it was gambling - Bingo, the casino, scratch tickets. That addiction lasted years and rendered our family broke. That wasn’t the worst though. Then there was the drugs. The cocaine, the crack, the pills. That addiction helped you to leave with no pain. That still wasn’t the worst though. The addiction to pain, and men that caused that pain. That was the worst. That is the addiction that caused everything else. I wish I realized it then. I could have helped you. I was blind and angry. I couldn’t see past the other addiction, the drugs. I see now mum. I see why you were drowning, I see why you were hurting. I am sorry I didnt see it before. I am sorry I was angry. Your darkness became my light because now 7 Years into the after I am so aware of myself and the life I want. I am aware of my feelings and my heart. You helped me get where I am through The After. I love you my sweet angel.

“Its been a long day without you my friend, but I will tell you all about it when I see you again. We’ve come a long way from where we began, but I will tell you all about it when I see you again.”

Rest in paradise Ma.

[terilemang]

My big blended family

If you asked me 15 years ago where I would be now I would have told you I would be somewhere in the Rockies practising law. I would be married and have 2 kids. The universe had something totally different in store for me!! Coming up is the 10th angelversary for my oldest son. He was born sleeping on July 22 2005. I was 19 years old. If you asked me that day where I would be now I probably would have said dead. It was the most emotionally traumatic thing I have ever went through. Now ten years later here I am, 2 Beautiful biological living boys of my own. A step son and a step daughter. I am here. I made it. After mounds of heart ache and so much struggle I am here. My oldest suffers his own broken heart from his bio dad but makes light of it. "Mom, a jack ass is a donkey right?" "yes why?" "Then I guess I can call my dad a jack ass right?" "Yes I guess you can." Hes a bright kid with a sense of humour and no fear. I mean this is a kid that will free climb the side of the house to get a ball on the roof. I almost died a few times carrying him in my womb and now Im surprised a heart attack has not claimed my life. Just saying. My youngest is 6 months old. I swear there is not a happier child on earth. Or one that loves tswift more than him. Since month one he has danced away to Shake it off. It currently plays on repeat in my house for hours each day. My step son is a smart alec. He is so bright and so sarcastic. I love it, he gets my jokes and doesnt take it personally. The kid can basically do any math question in his head too comes in handy when we are shopping lol. My fiancee... a mans man. His idea of making dinner is mac n cheese with hot dogs but ask him to fix stuff around the house and he is a genius. He loves me and i can feel it and see it. Its an incredible feeling. He is a wonderful father and a Stand up human being. My step son is really his step son who he refused to walk out on. I admire him for that. My step daughter is a princess, she is the only daughter I will ever have and I cherish each moment I get with just her and i. She is 3 and so curious. While I nurse my youngest I get questions like "whys he sucking on your boob Teri." "Do you have chocolate milk in there too?" "Can I watch, I promise I won't touch ok?" And the list goes on. My whole point to this is I have somehow stumbled into this great big blended family. If you asked me if I thought this would be my life the answer would have been no. Yet here I am. I am in love with my family, with my soon to be husband and all of our crazy kids. I may not of pictured this but it is EXACTLY where I am meant to be.

[terilemang]

Truth. We may never know the reason for the things that happen in our lives, but they happen with purpose.

[terilemang]

Maybe I should say Hi..

I am new to the blogging world. I will likely stumble along this journey and take extended breaks. My goal is to hopefully encourage other parents, make you laugh and maybe cry. I want to inspire others to love who they are and to be positive. I will share stories of my life. Some will be traumatic some will be funny and some will be simply heart warming. I plan to share my life which means the good the bad and the ugly. There has been A LOT of ugly. I mean for 27 years I thought I would just constantly be losing this game of blackjack to the dealer. I was dealt a shitty hand. Every. Single. Time. I felt like I failed myself and there was no possible way I could be the mother my son needed. I knew I was strong, but was I strong enough? Now I am here. 29 years old and guess what.... I am HAPPY. It happened. Life got better. I will tell you all about my journey as a child, a young woman, a mother, a step mother and soon to be a wife.