How’s it?

Well, I don’t really know at the moment… can that be my answer? I’m still suicidal, self harm helps with this, but I’m trying to not do that, I got close tonight but managed to abstain; I’m still psychotic, just not as bad; I’m still having flashbacks and body memories galore, every day, at least once a day; sleep is a crapshoot, it may happen, it may not, tonight it did not.

The PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) and DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) are really messing with me right now. I have been having a really hard time with memories of something that happened in September of 2000. These memories are causing a lot of problems, including crying spells, isolation, withdrawal, dissociation, self injury, and increasing suicidal thoughts. Basically, all of the signs of a severe episode of clinical depression. One that a psychiatrist would encourage possibly going back into the hospital to treat. Which is NOT going to happen.

I have school that I need to take care of. I cannot fall behind. Not this semester. I really have to make it through the semester this time. I cannot do the in-out crap again… I have got to stay out of the hospital.

It’s been almost 2 months now since I got out. The suicide attempt was on the 11th of December. I got out of the hospital on the 19th of December. Now, if I can just stay out… that is all I have to do.

The particular incident that is bothering me the most, that I am working on in IOP, is extremely traumatic. Even writing that sentence brought up enough thought of the event that I’m on the verge of tears already… The IOP that I am in is trauma focused, so everyone in the room is there because they have experienced something traumatic and are wanting to work on it and be able to better handle the memories when they come up.

When I was finally able to tell the group about the trauma that I am there for, the group was just quiet. I was fighting tears, I didn’t want to cry in front of people, not because it was IOP or them or anything, just because it was people. At some point in the course of the conversation, the group therapist started saying “it wasn’t your fault” repeatedly. Over and over and over. The first time she said it, I could feel the tears move higher up in my throat. The second time, I could feel them welling in my eyes. The third, I couldn’t fight it anymore. I started shaking with every breath, and I was balling my eyes out. I could hear that one of the other group members came over by me, and she put a tissue next to my hand. Then she asked if she could touch me… I nodded. She rubbed the back of my shoulder while I cried. I was glad she asked before touching me, that helped a lot. That was the main reason I said yes in the first place… because she asked permission, I felt like I could trust her. Honestly, at the time that I was crying, I couldn’t even tell which group member she was. All I had to go on was her voice, and I just couldn’t tell… it was only the end of my first week.

And now, at this very moment, my eyes are welling up, and I can feel the tears in my throat. I am trying to fight them, I don’t want to cry before I even get to IOP. I don’t want it to be that kind of day. I don’t want the day to start with crying. I don’t want to show up to IOP with puffy eyes, looking like I have been crying, before we have even started.

I haven’t slept. At all. I had a sleep study night before last, at the doctor’s office, and had to be there for part of the day so they could test me during several naps, a couple hours apart each. I was able to leave a little after 2 pm. They woke me up at about 6:30 am yesterday morning, and had me try to nap 3 times, but I don’t think I ever fell asleep during the naps, although I may have. So I have been awake since 6:30 am yesterday, with the possibility of a 30 minute nap. It is currently 7:42 am, so I have been awake over 24 hours already. Which means I am in an extra vulnerable state. I have class tonight as well, but I should be able to sleep a little between IOP and class. IOP is over at 1 pm and class starts at 6 pm, so sleep is a possibility. I was hoping to work on my speech class but then had insomnia. Oh, well…

But, really, I was going somewhere… where was I going with that train of thought?

I’ve just gotten to the point that the flashbacks and body memories are becoming too much. I can’t handle them anymore. I want them to stop, but the only way to really make them stop right away is to make me stop right away. Making them end means making me end. That is honestly where my head is at right now. My head is telling me suicide is the logical answer to getting away from reliving the event multiple times a day. (Don’t worry, I am being honest with the therapist at IOP. She knows that I am having suicidal thoughts and we check in about safety at the end of the day, every day.)

[Trigger][Description of Abuse]

I just cannot keep seeing the moment that *he* figures out that I’m pregnant, and the pure rage that comes over his face with the realization. He asks how far along I am. I tell him about 14 weeks, if I’m calculating right, and he gets even more furious which I didn’t think was possible. The fear I felt in that moment was absolutely daunting. I had never been that afraid of him during our entire relationship. During the flashbacks, I feel that fear, at that level, just like I am back in that moment, seeing the fury wash over his face… Next thing I know, I am on the ground and he is kicking me, aiming for my stomach. I do my best to stay in a ball and protect my child, but he keeps managing to get me out of the ball by grabbing my hair, kicking me in the back, or picking me up and throwing me onto the ground again. I didn’t know he was capable to lifting me. I mean, I wasn’t a tiny girl… at the time, I weighed around 185 lbs, maybe more. He jsut kept going and going for what felt like forever. I don’t know how long it really went on, I just know it seemed to go on for a really long time. After a couple of days, I started showing signs of a miscarriage. The symptoms kept getting worse as time went on and eventually I found myself just on my bed in the fetal position. My son eventually left my body, and the image of him is forever burned into my brain. He was so tiny, but he looked like a baby and he was a boy. I named him Michael and I cried for hours and buried him by myself. I hadn’t told anyone I was pregnant, because of the abuse and the fear of what would happen.

That is what I relive on a daily basis. The beating that caused me to lose my son, the sensations of the miscarriage itself and the images of my son once he was outside of my body. It’s torture.

[/Trigger]

Well, I need to get ready to go… I have to leave for IOP in a little bit and I’m not even dressed yet. Plus, I’m on the verge of tears again, and I need to find something to distract myself to keep me from all-out ugly-crying.

I hope y’all have a great day, and I will talk with you soon!

Don’t even know where to start…

I want to write… I have wanted to write for over a week now… I want to write the right thing. I want to make it perfect. There are things I need to write about, but I don’t know where to start.

I had a friend commit suicide on January 12th. I relapsed on alcohol shortly after, tried to stop again, and relapsed again yesterday. In my head, drinking is better than attempting suicide again. I tell myself that if I get suicidal to the point that I am actually going to do it, it is okay to use, even though I am an addict.

I don’t know what to say about my friend. He is the second one, recently, to commit suicide. I had one friend die in September and then now this one in January. I wish there was something I could have done, something that could have stopped them. But I know the feeling… I know how it feels to have no hope anymore. I attempted in October and December. My head keeps going into suicidal thoughts, even today.

I wish I could get past the thoughts… I wish I could never be suicidal again, but the chances of that are slim to none. That’s just what my brain does. That’s where my brain goes.

I want to not be depressed. I want to be happy. I don’t see that happening. I don’t think I will ever get past and over the mood crap. And that is the hardest part. Having no hope makes it harder to keep going.

Bad few days, or…

I feel like I’m crashing again… I don’t want to be crashing again… I want it to be just a few bad days. I want it to just be my shot of Abilify wearing off early, since it was the first one. I want to miraculously feel better after I get the next shot on Friday. Abilify is an antipsychotic that can be used as a mood stabilizer as well. Since the demons are more present in addition to my mood being crappy, I’m hoping that it’s just that the Abilify has worn off. I’m still on a small oral dose daily, until I get the next shot, which may be the only reason that I am even surviving at the moment.

The flashbacks and body memories are horrible right now. They are a daily thing; multiple times a day, sometimes multiple times an hour. They make it nearly impossible to speak, or even move, for a while. They make me tear up, and want to hide, curl up into a ball, and cry. But I can’t… I have to keep going, keep doing the things that are expected of me, keep going to appointments, keep going to PHP, prepare to start school again next week, deal with things that have been coming up, and appear to be okay to the people around me. At times, it’s too much to pretend to be okay. I just can’t do it. I’ll shut down.

The only place that is really safe to shut down, for me, is at PHP. I can’t shut down at home… mom doesn’t leave me alone long enough to just be by myself and hide in my room, on my bed, doing nothing. I can’t shut down around my friends… we usually get together at public places with other people around that I’m not as familiar with and don’t want to see me in “shut down” mode. Plus, my friends are more likely to force me into a car and drive me to the hospital if they see me in complete shut down. But at PHP, I can literally sit there the entire 5 hours and not say a word, staring at the table, barely moving or responding to anything… the therapist there doesn’t really say anything or push me to participate. At the end of the first 3 groups, he does ask the same question every day… in the same words, every day. “Is anybody having any suicidal or homicidal thoughts that they feel they need to speak with someone about before they leave to stay safe?” That’s the only time out of the entire day that he really requires a response. And if that response isn’t satisfactory, in one way or another, he’s gonna will grab that person before the end of the day for a private conversation. Mostly to go over a crisis plan and check if they feel they can be safe going home having a crisis plan or if they need to check into the hospital.

The therapist has said before that he’s not going to force someone to go inpatient. Strongly suggest, probably… spend as much time as needed to get someone to a point where all parties involved are comfortable with the client going home, yep… but *he* will not take the decision of going to the inpatient hospital away from the client. He has stated that he won’t take that power away from anyone. There may be an unspoken statement in there that he may have to defer to someone higher than him, who would make that decision for the client, if safety cannot be contracted and the client will not agree to the hospital. Obviously, there are legal requirements in the US and in my state that if someone is a danger to themselves or others, certain professionals are required to get that person treatment, or at least get them assessed for treatment by a psychiatrist or mental health police officer. Here, at least, mental health officers are able to put someone under orders of emergency commitment (POEC). I’ve been in the hospital under a police order 3 times, but signed the papers to stay when the orders ended each time.

Right now, it’s 12:30 am, and I am out on the front porch, listening to a podcast and writing this blog. I’m kind of just typing… not really even paying much attention to what is going from my brain out into the computer. I don’t want to go to bed yet… I’m not really tired. I want to wait until I am exhausted, so that I will just crash and hopefully just sleep all the way to morning, without waking up from any nightmares. Which may mean that I don’t go to bed for a few more hours… less hours of sleep but uninterrupted is better than waking up in terror multiple times. So now, what to do until then? I can’t just sit outside forever… it’s misting and I’m out here on my Chromebook, which probably isn’t the best idea. It’s also a little chilly out; it’s in the 60s (farhenheit). Not too cold, just chilly. I’m wearing socks and a hoodie with my PJs, just the breeze gets me a bit.

I don’t want to go to PHP tomorrow. I want to stay home and lie in bed all day. I had to miss today, because I had two doctor’s appointments, and I have to miss Friday for the same reason. With my insurance, I can only miss 5 groups a week, unless I have notes from the doctor. I have notes from both doctors today, and plan on getting notes for Friday also, but I don’t want to risk anything that would make my insurance discharge me prematurely. Friday, I see my psychiatrist, after seeing the psychiatrist at PHP on Thursday… but they can’t do the shot at PHP, so I have to go to my doctor. I’m kind of think I’m getting burnt out on psych treatment, but I’m scared if I give up on it, that I’ll just end up right where I was, in the depths of depression, having flashbacks and trauma lead me to the brink of suicide and without having some sort of more intense treatment than just my psychiatrist and my regular, once a week therapist, I wouldn’t have anything to prevent me from doing it or get in the way of completing if I went through with it. The only reason the second attempt wasn’t successful was because the therapist at PHP called the police for a welfare check. I was supposed to be there, and I didn’t answer the phone when he called. Knowing that I was suicidal, the clinic requires certain action, and that is what he did.

Now, I’ll admit, I’m having suicidal thoughts now, and I kind of always have a plan of how I would do it in the back of my mind that comes forefront when the thoughts pick back up. The question is always whether there is intent or not. That is where the PHP therapist and I make the distinction of safety. He’s okay with me having thoughts, and he’s relatively okay with me having a plan, and even a small amount of intent. As long as I can contract for safety for that night, until the next morning or until the next day of group, he’s okay with me going home. Okay and comfortable may be two different things, however. He lets me leave, but I don’t know what is going through his head, if he’s worried about whether I’ll be there the next day, if he made the right decision, if he should have trusted me again. Twice now, he’s trusted me, and I betrayed that trust and attempted suicide instead of going to group. I could have gone to group; I could have called the PHP clinic, or my individual therapist or psychiatrist, or even simply answered the phone when he called me; I could have gone to the emergency room and told them what I was planning or just gone to the psych hospital and walked in for an assessment; I could have done a lot of things. Instead, I attempted suicide twice, when he trusted my word that I was okay to go home and would be back the next day. The first time, I didn’t know I was going to attempt, but I knew it was only going to take a feather to knock me over the edge. The second time, I had been planning it for days, so when he outright asked me if I was safe to leave or if I needed to go to the hospital, I lied to his face. Straight up lied. Monday, when he asked his safety question at the end of the third group, I admitted to active thoughts with a plan, and he asked if I was going to attempt that night or this morning. I said no, and he asked “what about Friday?” because I had already told him I had to be out Friday too, for appointments. I said no again, and he kind of laughed and said that he was making jokes, with the Friday comment, although I kind of think he really wasn’t joking, since I had already told him that I had planned the December attempt out several days ahead and didn’t tell anyone and lied to him about it. It makes me think that every time I admit to having suicidal thoughts, it worries him. And probably the whole staff at the clinic.

Both attempts scared the staff at the clinic, my psychiatrist and individual therapist. Obviously, no mental health professional wants to lose a client. I can’t even imagine what that would be like on them. Family has one relationship with the person, friends have another type of relationship, but the relationship with the professionals that have been trying to help is a different kind. All to often, they know more about what has been going on with the person than friends and family do. There are things in my life that I’ve talked about with my psychiatrist and therapist and the people at PHP that I haven’t been able to say to most of my friends and definitely can’t say to my family. Sometimes, it feels like the professionals know me better than my friends or family do… that sounds weird, probably. Some things are nearly impossible to talk about. At least, it seems that way. It takes a lot of building up courage to get the words to come out of my mouth and then as soon as they do, I wish I could take them back immediately… even though, most of the time, everyone responds well to whatever I tell them that I’ve been afraid to say, thinking that I’ll be judged. Family and friends, when someone dies, will obviously have to grieve that loss. Most people don’t even consider that the mental health professionals, who have been trying to help someone, will also have to deal with the loss of the patient that commits suicide. There are bound to be a lot of complicated thoughts and feelings that would come up for them. What could they have done differently? Did they miss something? Could they have done more? Inadequecy, fear, grief, guilt, but in the midst of all of this, they have other patients that they have to treat, and they have to keep working.

But, speaking from my own experience, that doesn’t even cross my mind when I’m in that dark place. Friends, family… no one else really matters to me. Nothing matters except ending the pain. Escaping from this endless torture… If I can still think about how it affects other people, and use that as a deterrent, then I’m less likely to act on the thoughts. My friends, and how my death would affect them, has always been the one thing that has kept me going… it is when that doesn’t matter anymore that I am in the most danger. When ending the pain and torture is more important to me than any other thing… those are the times I have tried to die.

Well, I think I have rambled long enough. It is 2 am, and this blog has become a massive, jumbled mess of thoughts… if you made it this far, congratulations and thank you! I hope to see you again soon!

Typing without really thinking… hope it makes sense.

This is weird. I’m not used to this. It’s foreign.

There’s really nothing wrong… Every now and then, like once or twice a day, I’ll still have a flashback or body memory that will make me cry for a minute. But that is it. My mood isn’t horrible. The demons are there, but not awful. I have been having a few manic symptoms, but I’ve been responsible and have my mother holding on to the majority of my money for now. I’m still sober at the moment; I am having strong cravings but I have managed to not drink.

I’ve gained more insight into why I’ve been so suicidal for the last several months. And why the events of late led to me trying to take my own life, twice. I hope to eventually be able to post a blog about that, but I don’t think right now is that time. I’ve been working hard in therapy, PHP and with my individual therapist and psychiatrist. It’s draining. I often leave feeling raw and tired. I know, when I feel that way, the best thing for me is to not go home, however. I have tools that I could self harm with at home, and in that state, I am more likely to self harm, which I am actively trying to not do. I am counting the last suicide attempt as self harm, but I have not done anything to hurt myself since then, aside from some minor picking. (I have dermotillomania, which is a psychological condition that manifests as repetitive, compulsive skin picking. I also have trichotillomania, which is a mental disorder that involves recurrent, irresistible urges to pull out hair from your scalp, eyebrows or other areas of your body, despite trying to stop. (Both descriptions were pulled from Google’s front page.) So I have a tendency to pick at things like scabs and such.) So, I haven’t self harmed since the 11th of December, the day that I attempted last. Well, that turned into a tangent real quick.

One, or actually two, things I wanted to talk about in this blog was a couple questions the PHP therapist brought up Thursday that really made me think.

Question 1: How will you know you are okay?

The answer I gave in group was when I’m not having flashbacks and body memories every day. When they are only happening once or twice a month or so… I feel like I am underestimating what “okay” can be, though. “Okay” could be no flashbacks/body memories, could be that I don’t have the trauma of my past creeping in and making me want to hurt myself in a myriad of ways, could be not feeling depression at all and feeling happiness, joy, optimism and excitement everyday. That, however, seems unreachable. It seems impossible. Even though my mood is better and I’m not really depressed like I was, I still have crying spells every day or every other day. I still think about what it would be like to not be here, on occasion. Thoughts of suicide creep in, stick around for a bit, and then leave, on a daily basis. There is no real want to die or be dead anymore. That is gone. At least for now. But my brain is not normal. My brain may never be normal. My brain may never be able to get rid of the obsession with death and dying. I may always have these thoughts. Because of the things that have happened to me… because of the things that come up from years ago that lead me to attempt suicide twice in the course of three months. For some reason, I feel like I will be okay when my depression is manageable, when the flashbacks and body memories are farther apart, when I’m able to simply stay out of the hospital and finish PHP and move into IOP (intensive outpatient), and when it’s not so hard to get out of the house and face people daily. To a mental health professional, that wouldn’t be considered okay. That would still be “having symptoms.” But to me, that is so much better than a month ago and even now. Why don’t I want something more than the bare minimum? Why must okay still be just okay instead of good or great? Is it that I think that is all I deserve, all I’m worth? This may require coming back to, later…

Question 2: Ask yourself… why are you feeling the way you are feeling?

Basically, when you are having an uncomfortable emotion, whatever it is, as why. What in you life, past or present, is causing you to feel this particular emotion at this particular time? There is always a reason we feel the way we do about certain things, and why different people feel differently about the same situation. Example… you and I are in line at the grocery store. The customer in front of us is upset about something and starts screaming, like all out screaming, at the cashier. Your reaction: look around for another employee or manager and make sure that someone is coming to help the cashier. My reaction: step back, shrink down a little, and become silent and not move. You became the protector, and I reacted like the victim. The difference between us… you never experienced any traumatic events in you life and I did. The screaming was not a trigger for you, like it was for me. That’s just an example, and a simple on at that. Usually, it’s more complex than that. Feelings are very complex. There are many reasons we feel the way we do, and often, we don’t take a step back to ask ourselves “why am I feeling this way?” “What in my past is contributing to me feeling this way?” Take the time, step back, and ask the question. Explore your feelings and emotions. Doing this will help you (and me) know and see more clearly what we need to work on with our treatment team or while we are journaling.

I hope these questions make you think, like they did me. I hope you take the time to explore some of these ideas yourself. And I hope to see you again, soon.

Recent Events…

I ended up in the psychiatric hospital again, on the 12th of December. I want to post about it, but I don’t want to start crying… mostly because I’m in public right now… I knew if I tried to write this blog at home, it would never get done. I’ve been trying to write it for a week now, and it just hasn’t happened.

It started with another suicide attempt, on the 11th. I overdosed again. This time, I did not call the ambulance, and I was not planning to call one. I waited for mom to leave for work, took the pills, and just sat there. The therapist at PHP called, because I hadn’t showed up, and I didn’t answer the phone. A little later, he called again, saying he was going to call my mom and then 911 for a welfare check. A few minutes later, I stepped outside for a cigarette, and there was already a police officer in front of my house. He had to have called them before he called me; there is no possible way that officer got there that fast. The officer came up to the porch while I was smoking a cigarette and just kind of asked some normal questions, stalling. He was waiting for the mental health officer to arrive. When she got there is when it all came out… she came up and introduced herself, asked a few questions, and then asked if I was having thoughts of wanting to hurt myself. I just nodded. She then asked if I’d already done anything. I nodded again. I was already falling asleep on the front porch in front of them, I was pretty sure they were going to take me to the ER anyway, even if I lied. So why lie? She asked what I had done, I just handed her the empty bottle, and she asked if it had been full. I nodded one more time. She actually thanked me for being honest with them, while the male officer radioed for an ambulance. I was in the ER for about 15 hours, and then an officer came to take me to the psych hospital. He transported me in his police car, in the back seat with handcuffs. First time I’ve ever been in the back seat of a cop car with handcuffs on… that was not fun or comfortable AT ALL…

I was in the hospital until the 19th, and then started PHP again on the 23rd. I took the day off for Christmas eve to go be with my Dad’s family and they were closed Christmas day, which I spent with my mom and a friend of mine. I did have PHP Thursday and Friday though. Next week, PHP is only closed Wednesday for New Year’s Day. I plan to go the other 4 days, but I have an appointment on Friday that I will have to leave for part of the day to make. So I will be there in the morning and then back in the afternoon.

I am going to try very hard to write more often. I hope to see you soon!

I don’t even know where to start…

I haven’t posted in a really long time, and I apologize. There is a reason, and I’m going to do my best to fill you in. I hope I can get the whole thing out.

My stalker had come back. Mostly, he just followed me, but he did approach me once while I was sitting on the front porch at my house. Then on the night of October 15th, I needed to go get my mother gas before she went to work the next day, and I had put it off because I wasn’t able to sleep anyways. At about 3 AM, I took her car to the gas station, filled up her tank, and went inside to get a soda and a snack. He was there. He had followed me, even though I was in my mother’s car, and he had come inside the store, for whatever reason. To scare me, I guess.

I had finally had it. It was like a switch flipped inside my brain. I was done. My mother would be leaving for work 6 hours later. That is what I remember thinking. I don’t really remember leaving the gas station or going home. I do remember being at home and waiting for the sun to come up, then waiting for mom to wake up, then waiting for her to leave. Five pills at a time, I started to take an overdose of one of my medications. I emptied the bottle. Then I just sat on my porch, smoking cigarettes, waiting and thinking.

It was the thinking that got me. I started thinking about my friends.

I called for an ambulance. The firefighters got here first and took a set of vitals and all that jazz. My blood pressure was low and my pulse was high. By the time the ambulance got here, they were even lower and higher respectively. I was able to walk to the stretcher, with some assistance, and they didn’t stick around the house very long. I was taken to the hospital with lights and sirens going.

I ended up being in the ER for 24 hours and slept pretty much the whole time. I was transported to the psychiatric hospital the next day, in the morning. I ended up being there for 5 days, that time. When I was discharged, I started PHP again, and 3 days later ended up going back to inpatient. I was kept for 9 days before being discharged again and started PHP again. This time, I lasted for a week before I had to go back to the hospital. (In the middle of all of this, I dropped the class I was taking this semester. I hadn’t been since before the suicide attempt, and was too far behind.) The doctor there kept me for 12 days that time.

I’m still out of the hospital, a week and a half now. I did have a manic episode hit me after leaving the hospital, and the doctor at PHP (who happens to be the same doctor I saw in the hospital) made an adjustment last week. She basically told me to stop taking one of the antidepressants. I feel like I am coming down from that, so now we wait and see how far down I go.

And that is all I am going to be able to manage tonight… I do really hope you continue coming back.

Please let this not be real…

I don’t want this to be real. I can’t really go into detail. Except that I took a Thorazine, and now I am waiting to see if it is real or not. The Thorazine always works, if it is psychosis, paranoia or hallucinations, so I have no doubt that if that is the case this time, it will take care of it. And if that is not the case this time, we will soon know. And we will probably soon be freaking out.

I’ve been having nightmares and dissociating for a few days now. I wasn’t sure why, and then I really started noticing things. I think my brain had been subconsciously noticing them since Friday, which is kind of when the dissociation started getting bad again. I barely spoke at PHP today, barely slept last night from the nightmares, didn’t sleep the night before and was in the ER for self-harm again. This time, it happened while I was dissociated.

I’m having such a hard time staying present right now. My brain keeps trying to go away. It’s just after 1 a.m., I should be in bed, but I am terrified of having more nightmares tonight. I don’t want to sleep. I’m scared to sleep. What if what is outside tries to come inside?

I took the Thorazine 20 minutes ago, and it is still there. It hasn’t budged, faded or otherwise shown any sign of being affected by the medicine. I’m gonna give a little longer to work before I officially freak the **** out, but I am headed that direction at this point…

And I spaced out…

I started this blog at 1 a.m., it is now 1:40 a.m. Where has the time gone? Nevermind, I know where it’s gone… into the abyss of dissociation because I am triggered beyond belief. I took the Thorazine right before starting to write this, right at about 1 a.m., so now 40 minutes ago, and it is still there. I guess it is really there, no matter how much I want it to be psychosis.

Now to just not have a panic attack. Thing is, this is completely logical, reasonable, and possible. The likelihood is not entirely known, but it is possible. It has happened, and been repeated, before, it’s just been a while. That’s why the likelihood is up in the air. Could it really be happening again? After this much time?


Aww, dammit… I guess that’s enough trying to not say it because I don’t want to scare my friends that read this. I’m not going to be able to sleep anyway, so saying it isn’t going to make my night any worse than it already it. I’m already having massive urges for self-harm and passive/semi-active suicidal thoughts (not planning on doing anything tonight, don’t worry, and I have PHP tomorrow morning).

So, a little history…  I was in an abusive relationship around 20 years ago. The abuse was horrendous and included mental, physical, and sexual abuse. The relationship happened over the summer and ended around this time of year. After it ended, he stalked me for some time and would have some of his friends also follow me around when he couldn’t or to make me think he wasn’t there or something. Then he stopped stalking me, for a couple years. All of a sudden, he was back, two years later, and he had people following me again, also. And so it happened, every now and then, I would get stalked for a few weeks to a couple months and then it would just stop. There would be no telling when or if they would start up again. It’s been about 8 years or so since they last followed me. Usually, it’s around the end of the school year or this time of year when it happens, both of which are significant.

So, I noticed this morning on the way to PHP that there was a car behind me the entire way. Out of habit, I lost them with a few quick turns in a neighborhood, because they weren’t too close behind, before pulling into PHP. It’s sad that after 8 years, I still remember my instincts… The reason I took the Thorazine tonight… the same car is sitting parked across the street, a few houses down. I don’t see anyone in it, but I had to be sure that the car itself was real. Well, now I know.

I don’t know if I can handle another round of this… I thought I was done with this. It had been 8 years, why now?