Let's go back, back, waaaaaaaaay back to when I was a kid. When I was in 1st grade the school told my mother I probably had ADHD and should get tested and take medication to control it. My mother said I was just being a kid and she didn't medicate "kids being kids". Fair enough. However, I had this weird relationship with my mother where if she couldn't keep me quiet in front of the TV, she packed me away in my room as punishment for being too rowdy. I found out years later that it is actually called "emotional abuse" and it had been going on since my sister had been born in 1990.
When I was in middle/ high school I started "feeling" anxiety. Every adolescent does. Being pretty or not, being popular or not, getting good grades, dealing with hormones. I had been made fun of since 2nd grade, and it had only gotten worse as I grew up.
In 7th grade, I brought home my first C on my report card. Pre- Algebra. I still, to this day, hate everything about math. Knowing I couldn't hide it, knowing my mom had seen my C & D test scores and scolded me about them, knowing I would be grounded and have activities and such taken away... I came home to an empty house in despair. I was anxious. I was not thinking clearly. I put my hands around my throat and leaned my elbows on my knees until I passed out. I woke up on the floor and picked myself up and went to my room to cry. I cleaned myself up before Mom got home with the other kids and just waited for the onslaught of disappointment.
And it came. And I was right. I was banned from TV, birthday parties, and anything other than tutoring, CCD, and the sport we had already paid for. I started acting out. 7th grade was my first worst year. People picked on me, I fought back. I used the N word. I got in 4 fights that year. I got an in-school suspension, I got detention. I defied my math teacher to her face by knocking her plants out the open window. I was a mess. And to culminate a terrible school year, I went to court, met my birth mother, and then attended her funeral. Somehow I survived through it all, even the Cs. But my mother had me change schools at the end of the year.
The first time I really realized my anxiety was when I had a panic attack during a basketball game at school. I couldn't breathe. I don't know if I panicked because I (thought I) was underperforming or because I was afraid we'd lose- again. Our team hadn't been very good, but I played my heart out. Playing on the team made me truly one of the cool kids, but I was far from the best. I focused so much on what people thought of me in that one year that I was far from the best of MYSELF. But damn, did I love the attention I got. I'm reminded of that line from Spiderman- with great power comes great responsibility. I felt empowered, but I didn't live up to it. I was a trainwreck. Over the summer, I went to an amusement park with my friends and cried on the roller coasters. I worked myself up so much with anxiety that I had panic attacks and screamed to be let off and cried. This still happens to this day- I mean it's gotten better, but still- that is the one huge way I "face my fears".
High school was better. I kind of found myself, I found focus. I was aiming for college, I had a solid goal in mind. I was in honors classes, AP classes, clubs, had award winning artwork and poetry, got good grades (except Math, but that became expected that I would fail at that), played sports. If I got in confrontations, it was with my mother or my older sister. More than that- I found horses. I worked and rode throughout high school. FINALLY! But juggling everything and fighting with my mother took its toll. I had more panic attacks. Weekly, nightly. It just became a regular thing. I learned to deal with the racing heart and black void and feeling of unending dread that is a panic attack. I tossed and turned and talked at night. I screamed into my pillows, I threw things in my room when I was angry or anxious. I hit my dog. That dog was the love of my life (until my horse came along) and I couldn't stop myself from taking my fear and anger and anxiety out on him. But I did stop. I knew it was wrong- he wasn't to blame- I was just pickingon him because he was weaker than me. Shame on me! I started taking it out on myself. I started keeping a razor blade in my make-up box. I couldn't cut wrists like EMO kids do. Too noticeable, and I didn't want to die. I just wanted to punish myself. I cut my fleshy arms and legs. When people asked I said I scratched a bug bite.
In college, I had trouble sleeping in my dorm room alone and often sought the company of anyone who would give me some attention. Often men. It didn't always end in sex. If it did, it also ended in my feeling guilty that I'm such an "attention whore" I'd settle for hook ups. One time it ended in the sexual assault/rape that I outlined in an earlier blog post. One time, it ended in me becoming pregnant and ultimately deciding to have an abortion. I would lean heavily towards my adult depression is based on those 2 events alone. Especially because of the additional emotional abuse I received from my mother in regards to those 2 incidents. Of course, I had anxiety attacks, night terrors, panic attacks, binge drinking blackouts, the works.
Fast forward to 2012. I was emotionally abused by 2 employers, and horrendously by my mother. I lost my main source of income when I quit the worst aggressor and sunk into depression. I called to defer my student loans that were drowning me so I wouldn't lose my truck so I could still go out and find a job. I found no job. What I did find was my previous employer bashing me in her newest job postings. I took her to court, she no showed. I didn't get the money she owed me. I felt worthless. I weighed 112 lbs because she had worked me to the bone. I had given her my all and I had sunk myself into a pit of despair. For weeks I stayed home and surfed the internet, Facebook, saw how happy everyone else was and just wallowed. the day I told my live-in boyfriend that if I died, the loan company would come after my parents, that I needed a new life insurance policy to protect them, and asked him if he would even miss me..... That was the day he knew I was seriously in trouble. And we got a puppy. I got meaning to my life again. And then I found not one job, but 2. And my life got back on track.
In 2014 I got engaged. Between then and March 2015 I took (and failed) the series 7 test 3 times- this was the test that COULD HAVE propelled me into the next phase of my career. After the 3rd failure, I decided to focus on my upcoming wedding. In June 2015 I got married and in August we honeymooned in Europe- IN ITALY! Dreams come true. Life was at its peak. It couldn't have been better.
But it came crashing down again. All of a sudden I felt I had nothing exciting to look forward to. I was an old married lady. although, I wanted to have kids. I had wanted kids since my best friend had had hers and I feel in love since my sister popped out her first kid. Our friends started getting pregnant, some right on the night of their weddings. My deadbeat sister got pregnant with her second kid. My mother constantly made comments like "clearly YOU'RE not ready to have children" when she disagreed with something I did or said around her grandchildren. Months went by, periods came and went. I started using ovulation kits. I tracked when we should do it and we did it. I stressed about drinking too much when it was peak time, and then drinking too much and what vitamins I needed to be taking when it was do-or-die time. My period always came. It started coming like clockwork.
My grandmother died on my birthday.
I stopped caring about my appearance, about doing well at work, about being on time for work, about work in general, about advancing myself.
I started living from one high to the next... in 2016 I traveled extensively. I hit the west coast 3 times.
I also gained 30lbs.
I also had more panic attacks, more night terrors, more blackout drunk nights than ever before.
My boss and "equine mentor" passed away. My opportunity to ride and be around horses in a non-judgemental environment was GONE. My home away from home piece of heaven was gone. My babies that I had helped raise and train were gone. My "team" that I had put my heart and soul into was gone. And I never got a chance to thank Chris for the 5 wonderful years I spent working with him and learning from him.
I stopped coping with life and taking everything in stride. I started being offended by everything. I started being judgemental about everyone and having detrimental thoughts towards myself. I started snapping at people for stupid stuff. I stopped smiling. I stopped living with intention. I started thinking about my student loans and the life insurance policy I have. I kept egging on my husband into endless stupid fights. I started telling him I wanted a divorce, that he caused all my problems and pain. I started telling him I wish I could just disappear because no one would give a f**k. I started trying to jump out of moving cars when I was drunk and upset.
I finally decided I wanted more from my life. That 30 wasn't the end of the road. That I didn't want to be stuck wallowing in a dead end job just to take home a paycheck. That I wasn't a failure if I didn't produce a spawn. That I was important to some people, that some people would miss me, that THEY were important. That I could still learn and work and ride with horses. That I could still be beautiful and successful and happy even if there was nothing super exciting going on in my life. That I could rise above the emotional abuse I had put up with for so many years and become stronger.
And here I am. With the help of my Lexapro (anti-depressant, anti- anxiety) and my counselor. With the help of my friends and family. witht he help of my husband. With the help of my horse. Witht he help of my future and bigger and better things. Here I am, surving. And one day I will get back to truly living.
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