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Once upon a time in a land that is now just a distant memory...
I was a little girl and I was ok with life. Not necessarily happy, though I had happy
moments. But ok. I lived in a "normal" family in the
first suburbs that were edging out what had been farmland. My parents were normal I guess. I mean they didn't beat me or otherwise abuse
me. They were pretty strict in their
religious beliefs though, which caused me trouble more than once. Not because I didn't agree with them – I
didn't really know better at that point.
But because I wasn't allowed to do things my peers were doing because it
was "against the church" or because "the priest said
so." Years later I realized that
this was actually my mother's own fears and limitations using the church as a scapegoat
but hey... that didn't help me when I was 10.
I was socially awkward, and from an early age had body image
issues. I never thought I was fat or
went off the anorexia or bulimia cliff but I was very uncoordinated and
terrible at athletics (when it was my turn to bat in gym the entire class moved
up to the infield and taunted me) so I spent a lot of time feeling like a total
klutz. I also felt incredibly ugly. I have no idea where this came from or why I
felt that way, and now I look at old pictures and realize I was quite pretty,
but there was no convincing me back then.
I also had trouble maintaining friendships and honestly I
never understood why most people didn't like me. From maybe 3rd grade on I was an
outcast and if you know anything about Catholic school you know they're some of
the cruelest kids around! The abuse was
mostly in the form of teasing and playing tricks, but more than once it got
physical. The worst time I remember was
when my former best friend had her boyfriend and his friends beat me up. I was too proud to show how hurt I was but
let me say.... it hurt! Not just the
physical pain but the betrayal of someone I thought had been my best friend and
the ridicule of the entire class after that.
I ended my elementary school years in the small group of greasy haired,
pimply, snot nosed, funny looking outcasts and I was so glad to be done with
that!
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High school is a time when many face major depression and
this is often when people turn to drugs, cutting, changing their appearance,
rebelling against everyone, getting into criminal activity, doing poorly or
dropping out of school, or breaking down emotionally and being unable to
function in the world. Many people also
go through bouts of feeling suicidal, sometimes to the point where they try to
take their own life.
Well.... I didn't do this.
Instead I shut down my emotions entirely and concentrated on work. I was a close to straight A student and kept
myself busy doing volunteer and also paid work.
I had friends on the surface but no one close, and spent a lot of time
alone reading, listening to music, working puzzles and building models. This was pre-video game era or I'm sure I
would have been doing that too.
I'd accepted by then that physically I was a monstrosity so I
never did anything requiring physical prowess, other than walking or riding my
bike, which I also did alone. I also was
convinced that no boy would ever find me attractive and guess what... almost no
one ever did. I had one date in all of
high school and that wasn't a date really.
I didn't go to any proms or other school social activities and had no
idea about how to even have a real relationship. Of course on the flip side I was totally
depressed about that and tried desperately to figure out what other girls had
that made boys like them. I'd obsess
about it and make up fantasy relationships with boys I liked, but in reality
I'd get tongue tied or turn into an obnoxious bully if they were even in the
same room as me.
But still, I didn't consider myself to be depressed. I was still OK with some happy moments and a
bunch of kind of blah, nothing moments and a few super depressed moments. Like when I was at home crying because it was
prom night and I didn't have a date... again.
Did I say I never went to any of my proms?
With all this you'd think I'd have gotten into drugs but I
never did. Partly because I hate feeling
out of control but mostly because the people I hung out with did them and I was
a rebel even among friends so I refused.
Probably if no one I knew had done them then I'd be the one who did...
ha!
Anyway, that's my childhood and the stage is now set.
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By early adulthood, I had really messed up social skills and
no dating experience so you know what I did?
Hooked up with the first guy who pursued me. I didn't even like him. In fact he gave me the willies. But he badgered me into going out with him
and once we were dating I didn't know how to get rid of him. Ohhhh he was very abusive. My ok life went to miserable and I started
getting more and more depressed. My old
way of losing myself at work didn't help because we were now working together
too and he was doing everything he could to destroy me. I couldn't get away. I gained a lot of weight, dropped all my
hobbies and social activities, stopped talking to virtually everyone, including
my family, stopped caring how I looked, and spent my days walking around like a
zombie just saying "yes" to whatever he wanted. I did what was asked of me and no more, I was
so tired I could hardly get up in the morning, and every day I felt like I was
waiting to die.
I didn't try to kill myself because I was afraid I'd mess it
up and then be stuck partly paralyzed or brain damaged, totally dependent on
that evil boyfriend of mine to take care of me.
So I did covert things to try and end my life more quickly. Things like driving recklessly, eating the
worst junk I could think of then semi-hoping for a heart attack or something,
planning and rehearsing in my head possible ways to kill myself and so on. There is something in me that won't allow me
to do drugs so I still never went that route, but my suicidal thoughts were
very strong and with me constantly.
Fast forward a few years and the guy dumped me. You'd think I would have been happy but I wasn't In fact I was even more devastated and spent
weeks crying. I never knew one person
could produce to many tears! I just
wanted to die and kept begging God to take my life. Then I'd have these moments where I'd beg him
to make things better, then I'd try to strike a bargain, "either make it
better or take my life."
Finally I couldn't cry anymore so I went back to focusing on
work and not letting any emotions surface at all. Of course you know that this is a volcano
waiting to erupt, but I really felt if I could just maintain control things
would be ok. Plus I had to work... that man had left me with thousands of
dollars in debt and a business that was on the brink of failing, in large part
due to his mismanagement. So I worked my
butt off trying to stay afloat and that prevented me from completely breaking
down emotionally.
----------------
Fast forward again and now I've met another guy, I'm married
and I have a family. And for a brief
moment things are wonderful! I love my
husband, our kids, our little house, the dog (well sometimes on the dog), my
part time business and all of it. I felt
like I was living a dream :)
But it was a lie.
Remember I said I was socially awkward growing up? Well I never did learn how to pick a decent
partner or have a healthy relationship so I married an extremely jealous
alcoholic who was hell bent on killing what was left of my spirit.
Over the years he whittled away at me until I was a shell of
a person. I couldn't work, I couldn't
have a decent conversation, I couldn't even keep the house in any kind of
order. I'd sleep most of day, then when
I'd get up I'd have to talk to myself for hours to get up the gumption to even
get a cup of coffee. Ordinary things
that most people take for granted like grocery shopping, getting gas, or
driving a couple miles up the road were torture for me and I'd often spend half
the day trying to talk myself into doing them.
Life was just too hard!
The kitchen was a mess, there were piles of laundry
everywhere, the house smelled of dirty cat litter, we had entire countries of
spiders living in the house with us, I had no idea where the kids were or what
they were doing half the time, and again I just wanted to die.
I could not see anything positive or even neutral about
living here on this planet. I felt like
I'd been imprisoned in hell on earth for some unknown crime and every day I
woke up disappointed that I was still here.
It didn't help that my husband was cracking up himself, and he was in
and out of work so much that we barely had food to eat. I was so depressed I couldn't even accept
that there was something called food stamps that would have fed my
children. Despite an annual income of
less than $7k, I was convinced we wouldn't qualify so I refused to even make a
call to check it out. Honestly I was too
tired to pick up the phone... so I didn't.
Again I thought of ways to kill myself. It always had to be an accident because I
didn't want my kids to know. There were
times I'd be riding in the car just gazing out the window and thinking
"what if the door just flew open and I fell out right now. Are we going
fast enough to guarantee I'd die?"
I'd purposely eat food that was on the edge of going bad, using the
excuse that we were so poor I didn't have a choice. I'd turn the a/c off to save money, allowing myself
to get way overheated and half hoping for heat stroke to do me in. Oh I thought of a lot of scenarios!
I prayed a lot too and my prayers were never answered. Once again I begged God to either make it
better or take my life. In response our
income went to zero and we had to file bankruptcy. Then we lost the house and had to move. Of course since I was so depressed I couldn't
get things packed nor find a new place to live so we almost ended up
homeless. My husband finally stepped in
and found us a temporary place to stay, literally 2 days before we'd be out on
the streets.
It didn't get better though... within a short time my health
started to decline, I couldn't work at all and so I just sat around our tiny
apartment feeling sorry for myself. It
didn't help that I had a husband who was convinced I was a low life, cheating
whore and that he was constantly looking for evidence to support his
theory. Geez at that time I didn't even
have the energy to do anything if someone HAD shown interest in me, which no
one did. I still believed I was
ugly and undesirable, so why would I even attempt to do something like that?
----------------
Then he left me and it set me into a depression that was so
severe I thought I'd never recover.
Again the tears flowed for months.
I had a job at this point, which I'd gotten because he was leaving and
there was no money. I even gave him about a 75% break on child support because I thought I didn't
deserve more. My youngest, who was in
high school by then, pretty much raised herself because I couldn't deal with
life. Anyway, getting back to the job
I'd go to work, shut my office door and cry for the first couple hours of every
day. Fortunately I had the type of job
where I could do that... they thought my door was shut because I was
concentrating on very complex paperwork.
After a while I lost that job and collapsed on the couch for months. I didn't even turn on the TV.... I just sat
there staring into space. Everything was
too hard – even making a sandwich. You'd
think I'd have lost weight from not eating but somehow I gained it. And I discovered video games. I spent hours mindlessly playing Solitaire
and Tetris, then discovered online games and got lost in that world. It was the only thing that brought me any
sense of joy or accomplishment, and I was so into a particular game that my own
child would log in just to talk to me because otherwise I'd ignore her. Looking back I feel really bad about how I
acted, but at the time it was all I could see of the world.
I shut everyone out, lost the few friends I had, and never
went to family events. I kept the
curtains closed and the room dark, and the only time I went out was to take
walks by myself or go to the grocery store.
I liked to walk late at night and alone... fortunately we lived in a
place where it was relatively safe to do that.
Somehow I made it through until my daughter graduated high
school, then I gave up the apartment (which I couldn't afford anyway), sent her
to live with family, and moved in with someone I knew. Over the next few years I bounced from person
to person, living on this couch, that spare room, even in someone's attic. I was always a good houseguest... very quiet,
never made waves, always left their house better than I found it, and so
on. They thought I was great... what
they didn't know is that I was a shell of a person inside, so depressed and
feeling worthless that I didn't want to make waves for anyone so I tried to be
"good" and stay as invisible as possible.
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The thing is... through most of this I never thought I had a
problem. I always assumed it was my lot in
life to have terrible things happen to me, to never get what I wanted, and to
just float along waiting to die. People
tried to help – I got mad at them. What
did they know?
Every once in a while I had an inkling that I might be
depressed but I shoved it aside. After
all my life hadn't been "that bad" so what did I have to be depressed
about? After all others had it so much
worse, right?
I even tried to get help a few times in the form of therapy
but they always wanted to put me on antidepressants. My lifelong aversion to drugs kept me from
taking them, so I refused. I also tried
to self-medicate with supplements, nutrition, lifestyle and lots of self-help. I never thought I was depressed so I didn't
work on that, but just my physical fatigue.
I was also perpetually on a diet and lost/gained the same 50 pounds
multiple times. And of course I still
thought I was ugly and since no one was beating down my door for a date, I took
that as proof.
I was desperately lonely and wanted someone to love me, but
what I really wanted was to be taken care of because I was too depressed and
tired to take care of myself.
So it was bad.
----------------
I'd like to say that there was a magical moment when I
"saw the light" and life got better.
There wasn't.
There was no cure or magic pill and the road back hasn't
been easy.
In fact I didn't even know I was on the road back at
all. It's just that one day I had this
thought that since I've been here, stuck on this planet for over 40 years I may
as well do something other than sit on the couch. I still wanted to die, but I decided that I
could always die tomorrow so I may as well do something today. That's important: I still wanted to die, but I decided that I could always die tomorrow so I may as well do something today.
Some people have these bucket lists of things they want to
do before they die. You know like go skydiving,
climb a mountain, etc. My list was way
more simple. Get out of debt so I didn't
leave a burden for my kids, go see the ocean one more time (it had been years
since I'd been there), get a car that was safe and not falling apart so I could
go see the ocean, live in my own place (I'd never lived on my own before), and
a few other things. I started with the
easiest one, which I think was get a job, and found a part time gig that didn't
tax my exhausted body and mental faculties.
I started saving money, literally in a change jar, with a goal of having X dollars so I could get
an apartment (I think I was in someone's basement then). My old work ethic
resurfaced and I began to methodically take steps toward my rather simple
goals.
I still wanted to die, but told myself I could die after I'd
accomplished these things. And there
were days I still slept all day, crying and saying that I didn't care if I
accomplished anything at all. But
something kept me going and days turned into months then a couple years and
finally I had a place, had seen the ocean, was making a little more money, and
had a better car to drive. And I was
seeing the world a little differently.
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It's not that I wasn't depressed as much as I forgot about
being depressed. I was busy doing other
things so I didn't have time for it anymore.
If I had a down day, or week I looked to nutrition, hormonal
fluctuations and such as the cause whereas before I'd fall into this mode where
"life just sucks and then you die."
I found tools for dealing with my down moments, such as distracting
myself with comedy, exercising, paying attention to my food intake (it's
amazing how much what you eat affects your mood), making sure I was getting
enough sleep and so on. I also took D-3
supplements (which I continue to take today) and a B complex which both helped
my mood.
I started believing in life and thinking "maybe I
can" instead of "this is too hard." I became more picky about who I allowed into
my life as a friend and realized that many of my problems stemmed from being
socially awkward as a kid. I studied
psychology understand why people are how they are. When I was depressed I'd study psychology to
try and figure out what was wrong with me... now I came from a place where I
assumed I was ok and everyone else had a problem. This helped immensely as it enabled me to
forgive myself for believing I was an unlovable person.
I also became way more in tune with myself, my body and the
clues it was giving me. For instance,
today I know if I want to cry uncontrollably it's either hormonal, I need
sleep, or I've been eating too much sugar.
Knowing this lets me apply the right cure and get back to feeling decent
again pretty quickly.----------------
So fast forward again to today.... I've been on this planet
over 50 years now and I'm still here but I don't feel stuck anymore. I'm not ecstatically happy most of the time
but I have my moments, like the other day when I took a long drive with the
windows down and the radio blasting, singing at the top of my lungs! Got some very funny looks from people
too. I guess they don't expect
50-something, school-marmish looking women to be belting out black metal... ha! That was just one song though... my music is
very eclectic and the next song was a love song, followed by country, then
classic rock and so on.....
But most days are ordinary.
I work, I take care of the house (yes, I live in a house now), I love my
family and take care of them (yes, have
an amazing relationship with a great guy who isn't screwed up), and I still
have my alone time. Only now I really
love it rather than see it as a way to escape a terrible world. I also have friends and enjoy spending time
with them. I found people who are
"my people" meaning that we're in sync so I no longer feel like an
outcast. But honestly I don't even care
about that anymore because I've figured out that what others think doesn't mean
anything anyway. If they don't like who
I am then screw them.... get out of my life because I don't need you.
This very long story has a point. If you're really sick of the planet and want
a ticket off then I want you to know that I've been there. I was there for years and yet somehow here I
am today. And guess what... I'm glad I
stayed because if I hadn't I wouldn't have met the great guy I'm with, seen the
places I've seen and done the things I've done.
Am I still waiting to die? Yes, I have my moments. But mostly I think "Yeah, I will die but
now isn't a good time... I have too much to do."
