An Idiot's Post - Sometomes love is never enough... and then you just dont care

Current Mood:

dead inside

So.. about my last post. It all started with a misconception of the term paranoia apparently as I was asking for help on something. Ever since I met him, he has told me that he was always paranoid. So. in asking for help in a game, I didnt think anything of using the term.

What Unfolded:

Me: I need help on another quest for SB. The Section is on Quitting. I chose to do the Quitting section because even though I have no addictions, there are things I want to quit. And one of the main things I want to quit is... being afraid all the time. I want to replace all my fears with confidence. (No matter what that fear is of.)I need you to give me 3 reasons why I’ll succeed. Three that will boost my confidence and help me believe in myself. Just 3 reasons I will succeed in my effort to quit being afraid all the time.
I'm not afraid of any one thing in particular, but of so many things. Not like you and how you would worry about things in your paranoia (which I completely understand and empathize with now). My fears are never spoken about. Well, accept for the first one I admitted to you about being on my own.

Him: My issue is not paranoia. It's anxiety and the depression that comes with it. It is situational. When you were away at the hospital it went away completely. After the initial trauma of you leaving passed it went away. My family said it was like I was finally back. I never was bipolar, I never met DSM5 requirements, Dr Donnelly is not a psychiatrist and I am very good at pointing her in the direction needed to be put on meds. I was having a hard time remaining calm around you, because of you. You pushed me to get medicated and in the interests of the marriage I went along. I hated every moment of it. It was like I had fuzz in my head all the time. I was doing poorly at work because of it, but it made you happy. At first. As time went by having all that anger and anxiety shoved into the back of my head I just fell into a shell of despondency. I was dying from the inside out. You kept asking what was wrong but from past experience I knew that anything I said would be met with a twisting that would make me feel worse. I know due to your condition that it wasn't on purpose, but it still felt me feeling worthless. Even now you manipulate me, Your wording made me feel like I had to friend you on facebook again. That if I didn't I was a bad person. So please lay off the "you need help" stuff. Once you are stable and on your own then I will be fine. But you need me right now and I don't want to see you fail. So I am going to accept what is uncomfortable for awhile knowing that there is a light at the end of my tunnel. I want there to be a light at the end of your tunnel as well. But that takes time and help, through group you will find new allies, and you will find new friends now that you are medicated. I will see you through this.

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~blinks~ So yeah.. that escalated quickly. Reading it, all I could see was that everything was my fault. Even now, that's all I see. And I was crushed and immediately wishing I had went ahead and pulled the trigger when I had the chance. I felt like all the hard work I had put into bettering myself and trying to believe in myself and been obliterated completely. I still feel like that. I hate myself again and I feel like a fucking idiot. I had to have a goal to focus on so I would be motivated to get better. My goal was that we would find a way to get past this. That goal is shot to Hell now. Frankly I don't even want to bother because I no longer see the point.

Anyway.. emails that were exchanged next involved me apologizing repeatedly for the paranoia comment and basically repeating what I said in the 2nd sentence of the post. He never once replied that he forgave me. This of course added to my feelings that I don't deserve forgiveness. In fact, I don't deserve anything really. I told him he could stay away because his discomfort was not helping him heal o it would probably be for the best.

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Then he said this: I also don’t want that email to be accusatory, just factual as to where I was through our marriage. I wanted you happy and I didn’t want you to leave. I ended up hurting myself in the end by not being true to myself and I lost myself along the way because of how devoted to you I was. I can’t live that life any longer. I hope I am not putting too much on you too fast, but I see a clarity in you right now and I need to be understood. You are not a bad person. I'll be around

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"Not a bad person???".... I'm sorry but after being so harsh, "You are not a bad person" is not going to make me feel better. In fact.. After saying all that, that little phrase means absolute jack shit to me. Its like putting a child-size finger band-aid on a 6 inch long, 3 inch deep, 2 inch wide wound made by a chainsaw. Completely ineffective.

And I did understand. I understood completely what I had put him through and that was why I was working so hard to try and fix it. But obviously I should not have bothered....

My Reply (I was still crying and wishing I were dead if only to get relief from the heart break. I tried not to let it show.)

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Really.. you don't have to..
the whole "it's because of you" being repeated multiple times kinda has um... me in a really bad place right now. Kinda crushed actually if i am going to be honest.
It's not be cause of me.. its because of the illness.. but thats besides the point and doesnt even matter anymore. You will always see "Me" as the enemy in the failing of what once was "Us" and I know this
 now I has and awkwaes

On top of this, 

Sr koojed at me, her ears dill bit subleased ed, star bright,,, elts go clo

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I then told him not to email me and tried to clear my mind. The desire to die faded slightly but it was replaced with how I now feel toward the friend I had for 20 years who dropped me. It's not a good feeling. It's a feeling of.... "I don't care if I never see you again". So I wrote him once more. I decided that if he felt it was ok to be factual with me, than I may as well return the favor.

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One last thing... as for the clarity you saw in me, it took a LOT of hard work to get there. 12 days in the hospital, hours upon hours of research and playing that stupid game, not to mention a TON of medication.

However the amount of clarity I have does not equal my mental strength. My mental strength has not even started its road to recovery really. I need several more hours of therapy and a psychiatrist before I even get to an inkling of what could be considered mental strength. You have witnessed how fragile and emotional I am. And right now I am literally dying inside.

And (since we are being honest) coming home to such an accusatory message has actually made me wish I didnt unlock the door and let you in. Even though the illness is the enemy, you successfully dismembered all the work it took me to get to the point where I was starting to believe in myself and have hope because you kept repeating how it was all my fault.
Would have been an hoor to die ib wou okayse

Its NOT all my fault. And I know it. But You don't.

So when I say "you don't have to come over".. what I really mean is I don't want you to come over.
I don't want your "family" support in person anymore because I see now that you will always see "Me" as the enemy and not the illness.
You will never be able to separate the two.
And you will never try to do so.
In your eyes the illness and I will always be one and the same.

So don't bother "accepting what is uncomfortable".

Just keep your word and don't file until I am stable. Your supporting me can just consist of the copays for appts and meds and You don't have to see me at all since that is when you are happiest.

And paybe// I can make kn3 9rsg9s3 As for hourh doging, or. Tihe had fire trucak be there

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And I mean every word.
I have given up hope for forgiveness.
I have given up hope for understanding.
I have given up hope that he would see how hard I was trying FOR HIM because I had a clear understanding of what I had done and I felt horrible.

I still do understand.
But I also understand that nothing fucking matters ti him other than getting rid of me.

So why even bother trying.
There is no point.

Ouch...

Came home to a pretty harsh message from the husband full of accusations and a comment that the light at the end of the tunnel for him would be when I am gone. The term "It's because of you" came up several times and .. wow. talk about placing all the blame.

Seems he also feels I manipulated him into befriending me on FB.. so.. i deleted him so he would be more comfortable. Told him that he can friend me back if and when he wants to. I don't want him to feel like I am manipulating him.

I'm also going to stop asking for as much help cause I worry he will think I am manipulating him there too.

I'm in shock and hurting.. and not really in the mood for conversation so.. yeah.


My .0001% of hope that we might be able to work things out has been obliterated, though.
He's really good at hiding how he truly feels.
I'll give him that much. I wish I had those skills/talents.


Christ. Can't one day go by without me crying?




On the bright side, my new Therapist turned out to be very nice

I only sleep with people I love, which is why I have insomnia...

The past few entries have been.... "heavy" to say the very least. But again this journal is documentation of a journey. The journey started in a land of never-ending mental nightmares, only to travel through what could only be perceived as one of the many deep pits of a Psychological Hell. Now I find myself on the other-side, yet the road ahead is still black as pitch and unrevealing. With each day that dawn breaks I can't help but speculate if there will be yet another nasty surprise awaiting me such as the one I discovered last evening. I know I have an enemy now, though who and why are questions that elude me. I will not go into the details as to my discovery but I will say with confidence that my estranged husband has had nothing to do with it. I know because I questioned him in person and one of my honed skills from my past is my ability to read body language. His claimed innocence is genuine. Of that I am certain. It was proven even more so when he came over and contacted proper people in an effort to amend the situation at hand. One thing is certain... were it not for the fact that I am being properly medicated currently, I would not be able to handle this issue. I had a hard time simply coming to terms with it upon my discovery. Two weeks ago, this would have landed me in the mental facility just as easily as the email sent with the screenshot.

I watched this video on Netflix last evening, which I will post for you now, The series in and of itself is one I am finding very helpful. This particular one is on how gaming actually IMPROVES your life - with scientific research to back it up. It's only about 20 mins. (Take the time to check it out. It's really quite interesting.)

Anyway... after watching this, I decided to play this... game she created called Super Better. And I have to admit, it is helping me. The first steps of course are baby-steps and it does get harder as you go along, but it is actually helping me feel better about myself and I am finding that I am actually beginning to have mini-goals I want to accomplish as I go along. And since there are 2 challenges that I am actually specifically targeting first, both of which have to do with my mental health, that is a plus. (There is also about 2 or 3 specifically targeted for weight-loss and I have included them in my daily "game play" but my weight is (for the first time in my life, I think) not my number one priority in bettering myself.) Of course, the forums are a broken and part of the site itself is a bit buggy, but for the over-all I find it a positive experience. And I need all the positivity I can get... no matter how silly the source may be.

Today the animals are in need of food-stuffs. I will be going with him to acquire these items. Doing so will complete a few of my "quests" for the day.

....I hate to admit it, but there are brief moments that I forget reality and I have to remind myself that we are still getting divorced. I almost kissed him on the cheek yesterday but I caught myself. When I admitted it, he merely stated that it would have been awkward. And for him, I know it would have been. Lilly had been with us, thrilled to have me around and I guess I almost got caught up in the moment of having our whole family participating in something even though that something was just getting me food so I would not go back to starving myself. It was nice. It was comforting. It felt right...

...but I know it didn't feel right to him. He is convinced we are not good together. He doesn't even want to try to work things out knowing I am doing my best to get better. And, honestly I don't blame him. Looking back, I realize what an awful person I was and how I never truly appreciated all he did for me. Yes I had complaints (but they were mostly about his family) and yes they were valid. But I got so wrapped up in my misery of them that I lost sight of what I had. And now.. it's too late.

But at least he is being kind. A friend... a good friend.

I don't think I will ever date anyone again, let alone get remarried. I don't even have the desire to make new friends, let alone find another lover.

Besides... being the "Crazy Cat Lady" can't be all that bad. At least I will be a COOL Crazy Cat Lady and not one of the freaky ones that no one really want's to be around. Maybe I will start my own "No-Kill" kitty shelter. Those are always needed. Just need to find a cheap house to renovate and turn it into a kitty dream home. (And of course the funds run such a project.)

The Great Fall into the Abyss of the Mind

Been gone awhile.. Much has happened and much has stayed the same.

What has stayed the same? Still getting a divorce.

As to the "What" of the "Much that has happened..." It is a long story, as it should be, for many days have passed. I am too weary to tell it all but I will write some now, and some tomorrow perhaps.

About the last entry.. That day... I called him.. there was no answer. I texted him.. no response. I felt he was, once again, not taking me seriously. I cried... a lot. I broke the lock to the gun cabinet by prying it open.. i just didn't want to live anymore. I paced the house, gun loaded, safety off, cocked and ready. My panic came in waves.. I didn't know what to do, I just knew I wanted to die. In a last ditch effort, I made a call to his parents.. All I could do was cry.. plead for help. They thought I was his sister... so I hung up. Of course they would think it was her.. why would they bother thinking it might be me? Why would they care? I cried more. I sat.. I became cold and calm.

At that point I did put a gun to my head. Finger on the trigger, eyes filled with tears and staring at images of my daughter, myself when I was my daughter's age, my wedding picture, and that screenshot sent to me from someone who has still yet to be named. But though my eyes were filled with tears, I felt insanely calm. As if I were in the center of a hurricane... time stood still. I was at peace. And it was a peace I had never felt before.. It was a peace that felt "right". I wasn't scared anymore. I think I even felt a smile on my lips because I was so certain that for the first time in my entire life, I was doing the right thing,

Just when I had numbed myself to the point where pulling the trigger would be no problem, I heard him call my name. I remember blinking once as his voice registered and he called my name again. I heard the door press against the chain lock. My throat seemed to close up yet a whimper somehow escaped.

He heard it.
He asked if i wanted him to go away... did i?
Did I want him to go away so I could finish this once and for all?
End this pain and suffering that I seemed to be causing everyone including myself?
Did I want him to leave me be so that he and his family could live in peace?
Did I?

The questions raced through my head at lightening speed and before I even knew it, I found myself unlatching the chain. Weeping so hard that my entire body trembled before I collapsed onto the hallway floor. I don't even remember walking down the hall. I do remember him taking the gun from me despite my feeble attempts to hold it. I still wanted to die..

Why did I let him in? What made me go to the door and allow his entry? I still don't know. That was June 23rd. A Sunday. The date of my last entry.

The blur I remember from that point was being driven to a mental hospital by his sister. She spoke to me like a child... I didn't take offense as she is a school teacher after all. Tears kept falling. I wasn't sobbing anymore, but I was drained, raw, and empty. But the tears would not stop. I remember sitting in triage.. waiting for what seemed like forever. Waiting for a straightjacket. Waiting for him to just leave me there. Waiting for something to happen... It ended up I was waiting to be handed papers of permission to be treated to be signed.

Then I was walked away. Away from him. Away from the noise. Away into a room where I was made to change into scrubs and then offered a dinner which sat for hours untouched. Signed more papers. Blood was drawn. Spoke blankly to a psychiatrist and then sat on the gurney rocking back and forth trying not to go catatonic. More papers to be signed.. then I was lead outside and driven to another facility.

I was terrified to get out of the car. The tech and the security guard did their best to calm me but I was shaking so bad I could hardly walk. The guard walked quickly, the tech slowed his pace to match mine and make certain I didn't fall. I was lead through what seemed to be a plethora of outside "hallways" before we even made it into the unit. I could hear nothing but the buzz of the overhead lights and my mind seemed to focus on the moths and gnats that flitted around them as we walked. It was hot. It was humid. It would have felt miserable had I not already felt dead.

Finally we made it into the coolness of the facility. My first reaction was how I thought it odd that the pale green be the color of choice for "soothing". Granted it is a color for psychological "balance" but it is also considered to be associated boredom, stagnation, blandness, and enervation. I would have thought pale, calming shades of blue to be more appropriate. As I write this, it strikes me as odd to even have this thought at that moment considering my mindset.

I don't remember much after that. I know I was "processed", made to change into yet, another set of scrubs, and  given a room which I didn't leave for the first four days unless I was "made" to do so by the staff in order to eat or take meds. I didn't speak to anyone, patient, tech, nurse... I didn't trust anyone. I always looked down, never meeting anyone's eyes. I got compliments on my hair.. (which is blue now, btw, by accident) to which I mumbled 'thank you' before hurrying back to the safety of my room.

Many nights I spent panicked and curled up into a corner wrapped in a blanket when other patients (usually male) would get out of hand and start screaming in the middle of the night. This was an on-going thing until the doctor ordered meds to sedate me. But after a few days, I grew immune and the sleeping pills alone were no longer enough.

I slept most of the first 5 of the 12 days spent there... It was a long road ahead..

As stated, the first several days were spent in my room. Insomnia hit me at night, but the days I slept almost constantly because of the mix of anxiety medication and the chronic deep depression. When awake, tears fell near constantly. My thoughts.. I am not sure I could tell you exactly what they were other than feeling ashamed of my worthlessness. The patients who had visitors were constant reminders of how (I perceived) no one gave a shit about me. That it did not matter if I rotted there. I would listen to conversations.. so many of them. One of them being between two techs. They spoke of how there was a guy on the west unit who had, at that point, been in the facility 10 months. 10 Months!! His family apparently signed him in. They spoke about how he would get calls from them, and he would walk to the phone as if to take the call, and then simply hang up. I thought about him a lot. I wondered if I were to end up staying that long (or longer), if I would get calls or if I would simply be forgotten. Then I decided I would not be forgotten because the divorce would go through and eventually I'd be kicked onto the street.

These are just a sample of the the thoughts of the broken hopeless person I had become..

The first couple of days, the techs were almost lax when it came to my eating habits. (Or lack thereof). But soon they would force me out of bed and out of the room to join the others in meals, most of which I barely touched. It was then that my high level of social anxiety became very apparent. I would take a roll, pull pieces off and nibble while rocking back and forth. I don't think I ever actually finished the roll, let alone the rest of the meal because all I remember were more tears. Silent yet steadily streaming down my cheeks. I was hot but my skin was cold and clammy. Next thing I knew, I would wake in my room, hours later, curled up in a fetal position and wrapped in blankets with no recollection of how I ended up there. It was awhile before I realized that they were medicating my anxiety during the day, but during the evening they didn't bother as they figured the sleeping pill would be enough.

Day 5 was the first time I ventured out of my room of my own volition. It was the first time I comprehended I had a doctor overseeing my status and medication, as well as a social worker overseeing other aspects of the situation that I still don't quite understand. It was the first day I had a conversation with my doctor. The usual questions were asked and always answered honestly. Yes, I still want to die. No I don't want to hurt anyone else. No I have not been hurting myself nor do I want to. I just don't want to live. No I don't know my family's psychological history. No I do not have any friends or family on the outside. Yes I was abused as a child and as an adult, physically, sexually, and probably emotionally too considering self-confidence was no longer even in my vocabulary. I got defensive during the questioning. And as I did, my anxiety rose. My blood pressure was taken, it was so low that they took it 3 more times to be certain the reading was right. Twice with the machine and once the 'old school' way. I felt the haze coming on as he said he was going to adjust my medications and encourage me to attend the group therapies that took place. I remember glaring at him and telling him flat-out that my anxiety would not allow me to join group. That I needed one-on-one. That I read it in my original notes fro my first psychiatrist. He simply stated he would up my meds and for me to try.. Feeling dizzy, I was offered more meds and I wend back to my room and slept for 12 hours, missing breakfast, lunch, and snack and would have missed dinner as well had I not been woken.

Day 8 - He came to visit. I was still a mess of emotion. Still feeling worthless. I tried to have a normal conversation but all I could remember was the painful words of the screenshot. I had asked if we were still getting a divorce. He said yes. I asked if there was another girl (half-hoping that was the case cause then I could make sense of everything) he said no. I don't remember much of the conversation, other than getting up and walking away murmuring about how I was a controlling abuser and have never nor could ever love anyone or care about anyone and I believed every word. I didn't look back, instead focusing on how my mother was right all along. That if my own dad could not love me as a baby, no one would love me as an adult. I did not have another visitation from him again, nor anyone else for the rest of my stay. I believed the reason to be was that I was not worth the effort.

Day 9 I was threatened by one of the nurses that if I didn't start going to group I would be sent to the West Unit. (Where all the real problem people are.) This scared me, so I forced myself to try.. I could never last longer that 10 minutes in the room due to my anxiety. I tried three times and finally just gave up, deciding that being transferred would be better anyway since from what I had heard, they tended to over-medicate the real crazies and maybe I would get lucky enough to be one of the ones over-medicated.

Day 10 I met with a woman who was to interview me and determine my eligibility for SMI Disability Insurance. The "interview" turned into a 2 hour long session because the flood-gates opened then and everything came pouring out. Every horrible graphic detail of my childhood all the way to how I ended up in the facility. I used up nearly two boxes of tissues from crying so much. When I finally looked up at her, her eyes met mine controlled yet seemingly damp and slightly horrified. I then apologized profusely and she asked if I had ever talked to anyone before and I admitted that she was the first. She looked down at her papers as she straightened them.. I merely noted how much writing there was that then immediately felt the flush of deep shame and I apologized again. She told me not to.. that I had nothing to be sorry for.. but I felt horrible. The rest of the day, I stayed in my room, coming out only for meds and the meal I knew I would be forced to attend.

Day 11 was my first real sit down with the social worker. I vented about the groups and how my papers stated that I needed 1:1 therapy and how I wasn't getting it and how I felt like I was being treated like a number. I vented about how the nurses asked us to trust them yet half of them couldn't be friendly or even remember my name and how I felt like I was in something that resembled a mix of a prison and a dog pound and how I still felt worthless and how I questioned everything I have ever stood for.... and he listened.

In fact it was the first time that someone actually payed attention to me, heard what I was saying, and offered feedback. He sat with me for over 2 hours conversing and taking the time to actually tell me I was not worthless. That my core values mattered. That he had faith in me and believed in me. By the end of our conversation I went from feeling like a worthless waste of space to someone who still had worth. It wasn't a strong feeling. In fact it was quite tiny and fragile. But it was the first time in months that I felt like I *might* be able to handle the road ahead. I left the room with a seed of hope. That evening, the hope grew bit by bit. By morning, I was up and waiting for him and my doctor in the hall at 5:30am. I sat there and right when they came in, I nearly ambushed them saying I was ready to go home. And I was persistent until finally they said "okay".

And I got out.

My hope is still very, very small. Puny even. It's fragile, cracked, and held together with little more than paste and string. But it's there. And it's mine.

I just need help to get it to grow stronger. And I know that will take a lot of work, especially since it's mostly on me and I am trying to have it take the place of decades of negativity. I'm still scared. Petrified of what is to come... and praying to the powers that be that the choices I make as far as those I decide to keep in my life will not play a part in destroying the infinitesimal bit I have finally found.

I don't want to feel like dying again... Because I really feel that if I return to that point, there wont be a chance to come back. Because I wont bother to ask for help. I will just do it with no warning.

Its dark in here..

i have not been on the forum for awhile. i slipped into a really dark place again after i spoke to my husband and... i am just feeling stupid for thinking i could try.

when i spoke to him, and i not only told him, but showed him i was making an effort, he told me he would consider my request to work things out. but then i found out he was talking shit about me to this girl at work. and he was saying that i was trying to manipulate him and even though he said he was going to wait and see how i was doing, that he really wasn't. he had no interest in doing so. i am completely dead to him.. he says he wants me to get help but in the same breath that he does not want to help me get help.



i...really thought i could count on him to be my advocate to at least fight this BPD, that i still had a friend in him. but i dont.

he was supposed to go with me monday to talk to someone. but i dont want him to.. and i dont want to go alone..  all i want is someone i can trust to be there for me but there is no one.

i sent him an email telling him that from now on no personal conversations would be had between us unless it is to do with the divorce. i also told him that there is no need for him to come over any longer. and if he needs to, he is to call or text first, and ring the doorbell. i did my best to sound cold-hearted.. like i no longer gave a shit.. That as much as I don't matter to him, he doesnt matter to me.. but the entire time I was writing it i was crying my eyes out.

i can't really find it in me to go on the forums right now even though it is supposed to be my safe haven of sorts. in all honesty i am back down to where checking out is practically the only thing on my mind.

how easily i could do it.

we have a gun cabinet, he took the key.. but i have a hammer and i can break the glass and get in very easily if i felt like it. i dont know if he is an idiot for not realizing it, or if he thinks there is no risk really. I am guessing it is the latter because he told me that the first time i admitted i was suicidal, he wasnt really worried and that was why he didnt check up on me for 4 days after the fact.

which.. in and of itself speaks so very loudly..

Thing was.. in that four day span, i ate all the pain medication and muscle relaxers i had from previous heath issues. i ran a hot bath and i took my razor and sliced myself so many times (the right way) that before i passed out i thought of Bathory bathing in the blood of virgins because that was what the water looked like. i woke up ten hours later still in the tub..  alive and sore. obviously i didnt cut deep enough. problem with being a fat girl i guess..

i dont know.. maybe he doesnt have to worry. im selling everything i can on craigslist so i can build my own exit-bag because falling asleep and never waking up seems preferable to taking one of the guns to my head.

does my decision on the way i want to die make me less suicidal? less of a risk?

who knows... who the fuck even cares anymore.

What? Really?

I have a confession..
Deep down I really do want my marriage to work out.
I have always given everyone second chances.. third, fourths, fifths..
For the first time in my life, I want a second chance.

Thing is, he has people constantly telling him to "be strong". Family. friends... strangers.
He thinks if he gives me a second chance it will mean he is weak.

I just sat for nearly an hour pondering that last sentence. Analyzing it. Mainly because I wanted to be certain what I wasn't being biased in my next statement.

As a person with first-hand experience in giving people not only 2nd chances, but 3rd chances, 4th chances and 5th chances... I will tell you right now, doing so takes a shit-load of strength.

I posted in the "Divorce" section of the psych forum about how I was going to make the effort to save my marriage. I posed a question in the thread as well. The post got several hits. More than any of my other posts ever have. Yet there was no response. Right now, several hours later, there are even more hits.and yet, still not one comment.

It was then that I realized, the support in that group is completely one-sided. It was as if the fact that I had decided to fight to keep my family together, I no longer was deserving of any support, even though I am still hurting. Hell, I didn't even get a sarcastic "good luck with that."

What is wrong with this world? We offer support to those who are struggling but accepting things for the way they are, but those who are struggling, hurting just as much and yet still choose to make a stand to fight, we completely ignore them?

I am truly at a loss and deeply saddened by this. If I had saw that post written by another, I would have commented with just as much support as I would any other.

I think I made myself into an out-cast... I think I just alienated myself on a psychological forum. Well, as least a portion of it.
I have no idea

Some people's blameless lives are to blame for a good deal

It's currently difficult to write here but I make myself do so anyway. After all, I made this journal for a reason.

The ex came over this morning to feed the animals as usual, but this time I actually made it out of my room. I have had a question plaguing me and I had to have it answered. Not because I was actually hoping that things would change, but more because I was allowing him (yet another) chance/opportunity to perhaps take some responsibility in, not only the destruction of my emotional/mental state, but of our relationship all together.

Another piece of Back Story- The whole reason I ended up moving into my own bedroom to begin with was the fact that one night he thought it would be a fine idea to rape me. It chose not to call the cops on him for various reasons. And they were quite typical of most rape victims.. feeling as though I deserved it was at the forefront of course. However, added to that was knowing the stigma that rape claims carry where the victim is involved. And then there was the main reason... and that reason was "Who would believe me?" I mean, seriously. Think about how absurd that sounds. A husband raping his wife. Most people feel that it is the "wifely duty" to submit completely to the husband. It's almost as if the institution of marriage means that the woman is now owned by her husband. She no longer has the same rights to her body that she once had. Therefore, forcing her to have sex when she says "No" repeatedly is not all that big of a deal. After all. He married her. While society does frown on domestic abuse, being raped by the husband is not really included in that definition. And knowing this.. why would a woman want to come forward about such a thing? Not only that, domestic abuse is often only viewed as physical. Many times it is forgotten that emotional abuse is a major part of it as well. And the thing about emotional abuse is that it does not leave physical bruises or scars. On the outside, a person can be picture perfect. On the inside, however, there is great damage that (sometimes forever) goes unseen. He was not the physically abusive sort. In fact, it is something he prided himself on. So.. going to the authorities would, most likely, have been useless when he raped me. If they do not see signs of physical abuse, then they are more likely to believe the husband who would simply state "Oh she likes it that way. She gets off on the kink." And then, that would only add to the shame and worthlessness I felt.

So anyway, back to the question: I asked him if he felt there was any chance at all in making an effort to fix our marriage or if he was just done and over it. (Again, not because I had a desire to fix it myself, I was just curious to see where his state of mind was.) And I got the response I was expecting. That no, he was pretty much over it. He claimed that he tried to speak to me on several occasions but in all honesty, he never did. He continued to go on about how this whole situation began years ago and that I was the one at fault for everything going to shit. I didn't want to fight so I didn't bother reminding him of the fact that him raping me had just as much- - if not more - - to do with the reason we were at our current point. I am tired of defending myself when, in truth, i should not have to.

Anyway - - I have letters to write, things to put up for sale, research to continue, and people to contact so I am going to go take care of those things.

On a side-note, I joined this forum on Psych Central. I have made no effort to really reach out to anyone though, mostly because after the emails conversations with the crisis center, I am a bit uncomfortable with attempting to reach out again.

“Such silence has an actual sound, the sound of disappearance.”

Another night goes by and I still have yet to sleep. Ordinarily I would not consider this a big deal because it happens near constantly. But right now sleep is something I deeply desire. Of course, along with that sleepless night, another long and lonely day begins. I actually had to pull up my clock/calendar on my computer to even know that it is now Wednesday.

The soon-to-be ex-husband continues to remain scarce, and yet, despite knowing I have the entire house to myself, I remain in my room behind a locked door. I did contact him at one point. I sent him a text inquiring whether we were actually friends or if we had become nothing more than acquaintances. He replied that we were still friends, but actions speak louder than words and the fact that he does not even make an effort to speak to me shows that there is no "friendship there. Add to this to the fact that my emails to him are met with silence and.. well.. it's quite obvious what the truth is. Why he bothers to lie to me is something I will never understand. This may be me "projecting" or whatever, but he must think I am an absolute idiot if he truly believes I have no idea as to the truth of the matter. Just like I know that he and his family are purposefully keeping my daughter from me. This has been the case for weeks. I honestly can think of no real reason behind this other than the fact that they are preparing to make certain that I am allowed to have nothing to do with her when we finally go to court to determine custody. And yes, I said "when". I know, and have known, that "if" was never really in the cards. I have known for years that when we separated, this was exactly how things would go. I was just hopeful that I would be able to last another 9 years, but such was not meant to be.

I know that divorce always brings out the worst in people and the worst is usually brought out in the side that has family support. In the past, I would do my best to attempt to fight for joint custody, but right now I am at the point where I know it would be a losing battle. Just as I know that if my Ex had his way and was able to have me committed, divorce papers would be delivered to the institution within a weeks time. As I said, I am not stupid. I have been through this before and know all to well that those who claim to care about me have no qualms about lying to my face about any given subject. No one is to be trusted when it comes to divorce. There is no such thing as "fairness" nor is there such thing as "staying friends". It just doesn't happen, and my case will certainly be no different. At this moment it is a battle that I am better off forfeiting. Hopefully, if I am still walking around this pathetic rock, when she comes of age she will seek out and forgive me. If not, well than I suppose such will mark yet another lifetime failure for myself. If trophies were awarded to those who failed at life, I am quite certain that my case would be among those most full.

In other news, I made an attempt to contact a psychologist last evening. Logically I know that these people are here to help people such as myself. Yet, at the same time. I cannot help but feel that a bit of resentment for those who have chosen this as their career. First, there is the fact that I feel like I am having to pay someone to pretend to be my friend and care about me enough to listen to me complain for an hour or so a week. The other fact; it has always been in my head that such people really have no interest in seeing you "get better", Job security and all.. Basically, it's for the very same reason we have not discovered a cure for the common cold. People get sick, they go to a doctor. Doctor prescribes medication that often only manages to mask the cold symptoms. But in truth, the medication does no real help. My views on professional psychology/psychiatry are much the same. Only instead of pills, one must rely on the doctor saying that you are making progress. If you are not, the the spiral continues downward until it has become little more of than a useless moment in time when you begin to question but you are soon quieted down with the statement of "perhaps you are not ready yet" or something of the like, and you fall blindly back into the cycle.

Well, that is my rambling for now. Perhaps in the future I will create my own youtube channel. But, it i highly unlikely.