thefalsedeath-blog

[thefalsedeath-blog]

My MI story

I was a late bloomer so why shouldn’t my mental illness be any different?

I don’t remember exactly when I first became depressed but I believe it started late in high school and got exceedingly worse in college. I had never really been away from home but college was my only ticket out of a small hometown.

What I thought was normal college behavior may have been the beginning of my mania. I was usually a rambunctious and outspoken person but struggled to find a place to “fit in” while in college. I literally picked my major blindly and although I liked my classes just fine, I was never really comfortable with it. I was an outsider and wasn’t raised to be in the Ag industry like all my classmates. I had no idea what I wanted to do then and I’m still that way at 38 years old. The binge drinking….random hook-ups…nothing was fulfilling. I remember coming home on breaks, sneaking a cigarette from Mom and sitting on the back porch while rocking back and forth while telling myself I’m useless and life was worthless. I was 20 years old when this started.

I didn’t date much and never had a boyfriend in college until I met someone long distance at the end of my junior year. It was long distance. We spoke a lot, chatted online, and saw each other every few months. It was going ok until my last semester. I was looking for jobs in his area because there was nothing for him where I was. Nothing panned out job wise so I took the only job I was offered…at a game company. I was getting ready to graduate in December 1999 but that October before, my boyfriend disappeared from my life. One day we were chatting and the next, he was gone. No calls, emails, nothing. His parents always had an excuse as to why he couldn’t come to the phone and he wouldn’t respond to anything. It crushed me and ruined my graduation. I thought perhaps he would still come and surprise me…but nothing.

I started my job right after New Years and hated it. I cried every morning for 6 months because I was so unhappy going there but I had student loan responsibilities that my mother wouldn’t let me forget. They didn’t know what to do with me so I was basically a jack of all trades. It wasn’t until August of that year (2000) that I heard from the boyfriend. He couldn’t explain why he went silent but after some long phone calls, I gave him another chance. It didn’t last 4 months before I ended it. We had been friends ever since then. Kept in touch and always loved each other but realized it just wasn’t meant to be.

That should have been a sign of things to come-a pattern that would consistently repeat itself. I fall in love and give all of myself and then they disappear/give up.

After 2 years, I decided to move to Chicago for someone else I was dating long distance. I left my job and moved in with him. I started temping and that led to a permanent position. However, the better I did, the worse “we” did. He could only work retail and I became the mother in the relationship. Paying for everything while he spent his money on being the “life of the party” and on whatever he felt like. Then I became pregnant in 2003. It was an easy decision to abort and have no regrets to this day but I believe that it made my depression worsen and I began medicating at this time.

We broke up after I returned from a business trip and he made it clear that we were no longer intimate because I had gained weight. Not only was he short with terrible acne but his teeth were a mess! He was also an illegal immigrant. Months later after I moved out, I received a call from the police telling me that he has been hit by a car and was at the emergency room. I left work to go see him as I was listed as his ER contact. I was there for his surgery, I took him home and got up every 4 hours to give him meds, clean him, feed him etc until he was able to go back home. Later, I was accused of trying to interfere in his relationships and we stopped contact. Although I resent him for making me feel awful about myself, he also opened my eyes to a lot of new things-for that I am grateful.

It was throughout this time that I began to put on a mask and absorb myself into how others were. Their interests were mine…I was pliable. If I didn’t agree with them, I WAS wrong and made to feel stupid because of it. I was a naïve conservative girl living in a very open minded city. You can imagine how that feels…still being the outsider.

Between 2004 and 2006 I continued to run up credit card debt, started to sleep around, and generally begin my downward slide. I was trying different anti-depressants and even tried to see a shrink but nothing was helping me. I contracted HPV and went through several procedures to remove cancerous cells from my cervix due to my promiscuity.

I met someone online in late 2005 and he immediately pushed us into a relationship and I moved in within 5 months. After 1.5 years of always being wrong and stupid, he began sleeping with someone else but was accusing me of it. I became crazy with jealousy and snooped all over to find the proof that HE was cheating and when I found it, he denied it and made me believe I was crazy and making it all up.

I took a leave of absence from my job for 5 weeks to come home and get therapy. I wasn’t eating, sleeping, crying all the time and was like that for months. This was my first breakdown. I still hate him to this day and wouldn’t piss on him if he were on fire.

Once I moved back to the Chicago area, I again began dating/sleeping around as a means to feel worthy/wanted. I was also still fighting the lingering effects of my HPV and the shame I felt.

In 2009, I met a wonderful guy that had his shit together and I moved in with him 6 months later. My family liked him and he was a balance to my high-strung, worrisome ways. However, I again became the Mom and took care of the house and all the cleaning. He would come home, pop open a beer, and drink till he passed out. He never missed a day of work though….he was a functional alcoholic. He wasn’t mean, abusive, or evil in any way. He was just there. While with him, my work life began to crumble and I was becoming more and more anxious. I would have depressive episodes more frequently where I just couldn’t get out of bed. (these episodes started in 2003). There would be days that I just laid in bed crying and he had no idea how to help. He suggested that I leave my job as the stress was getting to me and I was coming home crying and almost violent with rage. I left my job in May 2010 and took the summer off (I had saved up). I got a job in late October and was let go in Jan. 2011. It was then that I began to look out of state for a job and that’s when I landed in Ohio. He was supposed to sell the house and come with me after a 6 month trial but that never happened. It was a good thing because I had fallen out of love with him before I even left Chicago. He treated me like a queen and I have no ill words for him…we just weren’t compatible in the long run. We became good friends instead of lovers.

Shortly after my breakup, I went online again to meet new people as my new job was nothing but new college grads or established soccer Mom/Dads that had never left the Dayton area. Once again, I’m a transplant that doesn’t fit in. I also quickly discover that my job is a dead-end and a VERY poorly run department with nothing but drama. One year and 5 months into the new job, I meet Jamie*. He wasn’t tied to Dayton and neither was I. I was actually looking for a job in England by this time. He was a frequent mover and was passing through his home state. We didn’t expect to meet each other and find what we wanted. It just sort of happened.

Jamie was very open about being ex Air Force with head injuries, epilepsy, and Bipolar. I didn’t shun…I began to ask questions and do research on it. I wanted to know all I could so that I could be supportive and understanding. We had similar taste in music, politics, TV shows. He was so interesting to me with his travels and stories. He (just like my 1st ex in Chicago) was a completely different world and I was starving to hear all I could. I began watching more of his TV interests, reading more about what he would talk about etc…again; I was diving into HIS life. Things were rocky because our communication was rough to begin with. Lots of misunderstandings and I was still looking for another job. However, it only took me 3 months to fall completely in love with him. In August of 2013, I had severe withdrawal from 2 missed doses of my antidepressant. I was crying uncontrollably, shaking, hallucinating, suicidal and generally in a bad way. He took care of everything…called the Dr., my work. It was then that I was certain I had found a keeper. I also began therapy at this time because the withdrawal scared me and I had to face up to the fact that something else was wrong. It was at this time that the term bipolar was 1st brought up to me. He claimed Lithium as his savior…my family insisted I wasn’t bipolar, just depressed.

Soon after this episode, I was offered a job in Kansas City but with my recent breakdown, I didn’t feel mentally up to a move and starting a department from scratch. I didn’t have the self esteem then (and still don’t) and he wasn’t interested in moving with me. We had a terrible fight and things ended. He left the country for 6 weeks and I went back to “dating” while he was away.

When he came back, it was Thanksgiving and I had him over to meet my Mom because he had no family around here (none that he was close to). We had a great time and after that, it was like our relationship/communication just flipped. We were getting along and everything was wonderful. Around Christmas time, we began again as a couple.

Anytime he was sick, I was there to help…anytime he wanted, I gave him space. I did all I knew to be supportive of his conditions. I was tracking what meds he could/couldn’t take so that someone had a record. He was a loner and often stated how his friends never cared/took an interest in his life or his condition. It was at this time that I stopped therapy. I didn’t feel I was getting anywhere and she was beginning to push “faith” on me.

Then in July 2014, his ex step daughter was getting married and he asked me to go. She asked me to be her personal attendant. I left a business trip early to go be with him and help her. This was the first “family” member that was really close to him that I was meeting and I thought it was a good sign. He went in a few days earlier and was under a lot of stress to get her situated and caught up on housework (she’s not a home-maker, he is very orderly). His sleeping was off and I could tell that he was getting ready for a seizure any time. On our way back to the airport to leave after the wedding, he was telling a story while we were eating in Panera. I was having a hard time following him because he was confusing some names and he became very agitated and began screaming at me. This was the first time I had become the target. He threatened to leave me in Iowa and called me a fucking bitch. I was hysterical with sadness and called my Mom and she was scared and wanted me to just stay away from him. We didn’t speak until 4 days later because I didn’t know where we stood.

He was my absolute best friend and I felt like I could actually be myself for once. I was able to let go of the guard and not feel judged all the time for saying whatever was on my mind. It could be hateful, racist, and he would just laugh…I didn’t feel threatened.

In August, as we were getting back on track, he announced that he was looking at houses in Florida (he also decided to stop his Lithium). He wanted to be near water and warm weather (his mood was affected by weather). Thing is, he never asked me to go with him, what I thought about the move…nothing. He asked me about the houses he was looking at but not in a way that was planning a future for “us”. It was all about him. At this point, I was having major ups and downs and was dealing with a decision of whether to have a procedure to help some period issues I was having. If I did the surgery, then kids were never going to be in my future. With him having had a vasectomy, I wasn’t bothered because we weren’t going to have kids anyway.

His move was coming up and after telling him I loved him and wanted to go with him, he wouldn’t definitively say Yes or No to my joining him so I was confused and living in limbo. I made him promise not to move before my surgery in October. He ended up leaving a week before and 2 days after my surgery, I was on a business trip to L.A.

I spoke with him briefly during that trip but I was all over the place in meetings and was dealing with some complications from the surgery. When I got back, I got immediately ill for 2 weeks with bronchitis. I completely lost my voice and was off of work. I was depressed beyond anything before. He accused me of giving him the silent treatment and told me goodbye via email. I literally couldn’t speak… I wouldn’t eat, shower, slept all the time (when I could stop coughing). I was missing so much work and didn’t care. Thanksgiving came and went and that’s when I called my Dad and told him I couldn’t cope anymore and needed help. At the beginning of December 2014, he drove up to help me put a plan together. He was also very sick with a head cold and although I was getting my voice back, I was still coughing a lot.

Jamie and I were emailing a bit during this time and he let it slip that he was going back to Europe once again for the holidays. His ex’s family is family to him and he was going back to see them again because they were “begging” him….whatever.

This sent me over the edge and while my Dad was sleeping in my room, I crawled into a ball on my steps, cried hard and decided I had enough. I grabbed all the pills I could find and researched what dosage I could take to make me die. I wrote my wishes on a note, took a mixture of Percocet and a muscle relaxer and went to sleep. It didn’t work and I woke up to my Dad in my kitchen. I slurred that he needed to get me to the hospital or I was going to swallow the rest of the pills.

I felt nauseous and staggered to the sink when I passed out. I awoke to a cop over me asking me if I was trying to hurt myself.  I was hospitalized, then sent to a MI ward for 3 days and immediately started seeing a Nurse Practitioner and Therapist. (I begged for a Psychiatrist).  Jamie called me while I was in the hospital ICU and I admitted to what I did. It seems like it was all about him but everything that has been going in since 1999 was leading up to this.

7 months later, my ex from D.C. has disappeared just like he did in 2000. No explanation or anything…just gone. I confided in him about Jamie and my suicide attempt in December. He promised to be my friend and help me through it. I even scheduled an all day layover to spend with him in February of 2015 but again, he is just gone.

After going to spend 10 days with James in March 2015, I was feeling good about being friends. We were intimate yes but I made it very clear why I was sleeping with him. He had begun dating someone. He doesn’t understand why I can’t bear to hear about him fucking someone new.

Therapy with a “grief counselor” got me nowhere…it wasn’t about my past and patterns, it was all about grieving a break-up to her.

I quit my job in June 2015 because I couldn’t keep it together….my meds worsened my anxiety to the point where I couldn’t sit and concentrate. I ended up in the ER earlier that June because of the reaction to my BP meds. I’d had 1 good week in 10 months and felt worthless, alone, and fake the rest of the time.

 I spent a year living with my Dad, jobless and trying to regroup. It started out with the all day sleeping, not eating, just miserable. Slowly I began to emerge after a change in my meds. Almost a year to the day, I moved back home to be closer to a larger support system.

 It’s now August 2017 and although I am functioning much better, it’s like December 2014 and everything before and everything I told my friend and family wasn’t ever said.

 If I told my family I had XYZ cancer, I’m sure they would research it. Telling them that I am BP II falls on deaf ears. It’s not a disease that is treated by your regular doctor, it’s not something like a cold. It’s EVERYDAY and it’s ALL THE TIME-Chronic! But it’s easy to forget about because if you’re smiling then everything is OK! I continue to be fake and out of place. And although it’s not cancer, it’s just as deadly.

 *Names were changed