My oldest son chose to test me today. He wanted to see if I was a paranoid person. So, he tempted me with an already opened candy bar. He laid it down and tried to get me to eat it. Even though I’m on a gluten-free diet; I will occasionally cheat a little, and have a candy bar. Not all the time but once in a while.

So, I looked at it and he said it was already opened. I told him to throw it out. People can do things to an already opened candy bar. This is about the same as someone pouring me alcohol (I am still sober), water, or coffee. If I can’t see them pour it in a cup or glass, I will avoid it at all costs. It’s too easy to slip a drug or spit in a drink. Most of the time, I don’t go out at all. I do have Agoraphobia and we are slowly working on it.

Agoraphobia is worse for me now. Everyone has a cell phone. I don’t want people taking pictures of me against my permission. This is why, I stay inside my comfortable abode. This is what anxiety does. She becomes the liar that she is. If I don’t go outside, nobody will take a picture of me. I can be safe inside my four walls. I don’t eat out anywhere. I’d rather cook my own food. I do that because I can see the food being cooked and my paranoia remains at an all time low.

Why am I like this? Why do I have so much anxiety over someone washing their hands, putting on a head cover, or wearing gloves when cooking my food? Well… it’s because I was raped at sixteen. I’m much older now. The guy who did it, committed suicide. I never got my justice. So, everything escalated from there. The drinking was out of control. There are certain things I have to avoid or it will trigger my PTSD. There are some people who think that you can get over a rape. It will magically disappear with a flick of a wand. It doesn’t. At least for me, it doesn’t go away. That fear has morph’d into this monster that it has become now. Not to mention, I was severely bullied in school. I didn’t get any relief at home because we had abuse in the home, too.

I did my best to put the past behind me. I met my husband, he married me, and we have four kids. Here is what triggered the past to return. I was working at a job. I was busting my ass off sixty hours a week. This was in 2011. Well, I didn’t do everything that the boss wanted me to do. He chose to call me out over the radio and publicly humiliated me. His name was Andrew. I worked as a Process Assistant for Amazon. I used to be over AFE (Amazon’s Fulfillment Engine). He wasn’t the acting manager but he was still a manager in my area. He said these things. “You can’t do anything right!” Well, that triggered everything from the past to come up. The problem was that everyone in the warehouse had a radio. The big wigs had a radio. That one statement put me back into my childhood. It brought up all that trauma. I haven’t been right ever since. I left my job. I couldn’t take it anymore. I quit like three days later. I was sobbing in a break room as all those memories returned with a vengeance. You can only be strong for so long. You can only avoid therapy for so long. It never went away. It was still locked away in a part of my brain. The burden that I had to carry for so damn long. Everything flooded back and it was nasty. I started self-harming again.

All the traumatic experiences brought up the mental abuse that I also suffered as a child. My mom wasn’t innocent either. She always told me that I wouldn’t amount to anything and I’d be a slut like my older sister. Oh, yes! She wasn’t exactly innocent either. As a Borderline, I’m going to remind her of saying those things when she pisses me off. I remember every nasty thing she said to me as a kid. She even used my father against me. “You don’t love me. You can go live with your father.” Yeah, let’s traumatized me again.

I suffered a lot of shit. I shouldn’t be sitting here, writing all these posts. I had every reason to commit suicide but I didn’t. Sure, I’ve had my fair share of attempts but I’m still here. Ever since then, I won’t get a “normal” job. I can’t work. That prior boss became my dynamite. He lit the fuse and I blew up. So all those thoughts of: I’m worthless, I can’t do anything right, I’m a bad girl, I’m a loser, I’m evil, I don’t deserve this or that… has come back. All that trauma is still here. In a big ugly nasty black abyss. Then I feel guilty for suffering from all my trauma. There are people who have trauma that’s even worse than mine. Mine seems like Candyland compared to other people’s trauma.

“You should hate men for that.” I can’t blame an entire group for what a few men has done to me. One of my main characters that I created in 1999-2000 is a male. He has pulled me through a lot of shit. I resonate with my fictional character. I replaced the negative thoughts about men with my own personal man. What I wanted him to look like and be. I wanted him to be wild but strong. I’m extremely protective over him. But, I did put him in my manuscripts/books. I wanted him to be funny and charming. I also wanted him to be a father, fighter, and a lover. Every time I would battle illness after illness. Every time I battled diagnosis after diagnosis. And every time, I woke up from a surgery… Ian has been my imaginary rock. And four years later, I met a man who is like Ian. He was similar to Ian as my real rock. Sam is my husband and he’s been through all of this. Most of the time, he can talk me out of my moods, any mood. He is able to get my brain to replace those negative thoughts with positive thoughts. And I’m a stubborn person. I’m headstrong and when I’m stuck in a ranting spell, he’s able to calm me down. It took a lot of years to get me to trust again. He has been the only one, I can trust. That’s a hard thing for me to do. I’m not a trusting person. I always think that someone who is being nice to me, has ulterior motives. Sam said this that I put in another character. “I can be strong enough for the both of us. Cry if you need to. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. I do want to beat the shit of your dad for you.”

When you have Bipolar or Borderline, or both… you have that part of your brain that wants to destruct a relationship. You have that seed of doubt that you’re not good enough for that person. You believe that they need someone better than you. That’s why so many relationships fail. I’ve never cheated on my husband and don’t have any desire to. I don’t lie to my husband or spend money without his approval. Even though, I scored a couple of good deals on the newly illustrated “Harry Potter” books. I don’t buy makeup, expensive clothes, or expensive jewelry… I buy books. Books help me escape and it keeps my mind level. Writing also helps to keep my mind level. I LOVE books. I love the smell of them. I prefer hardback to paperbacks. If  can purchase leather books, I’m even more happy. My husband jokes with me. “If all I have to worry about is your love of books, I’ve got it pretty easy.” My kids also picked up my addiction to books. I guess that’s a healthy addiction over the other things, I’ve done.

I’m slowly retraining my brain from those negative thoughts. Yes, I deserve happiness. Yes, I deserve love. And yes, I deserve my husband. He’s helping me get over the trauma. He didn’t have to stay but he chose to anyway. Not because he’s this strong man. Believe me, he cried with me, when we suffered a miscarriage in 2006. He held me and he sang “Beth” from Kiss to calm me down. I’m so lucky to have him. Now I’ve put some of the things Sam has said into Ian. Ian McGregor is my fictional character from the Enforcers. All those doubts were erased by Sam. Sam surprises me with roses. But now, I’ve become paranoid about freshly cut flowers, so he’ll buy me a new rosebush. We keep that line of communication open at all costs. He knows I’m not perfect but I’m perfect for him. It took a lot of years to get to where we are at today. He’s picked me up off the floor a million times. I don’t need him to heal me, I just need him to hear me, which he does. And for that, I’m extremely grateful.


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