When Life Goes Wrong

How do I start?

I tried putting up a journal here once before. It's been a long time. I can't really remember how everything works. So it's a lot of experimenting right now. I'm not sure if there is an automatic date placed on the journal entries so just in case I'll tell you it's 12/30/04. A new year is around the corner and I can't wait. I need to start over. I think everyone likes a fresh start. That's why we have so many New Year's resolutions. I don't think I've ever kept one. Mine is usually to lose weight. I always seem to gain a few pounds though by the end of the year. I'm sure it will be one of my resolutions again (and I have a plan!) Unfortunately that's not going to be the important one. The important one is going to be to get my life back on track. I don't think everyone knows just how screwed up I really am. I can hide it when I need to. So work is great. Family is not so hot, but then it never was. I do have a wonderful husband and he must be very unlucky. He got stuck with a psycho. He doesn't deserve the grief I gave him these last few months, and I really don't deserve him. I know, I know. It sounds like the old sob story of feel sorry for me I'm so pathetic, but that's not it. I really put him through a lot of shit. But all he ever says is this has made him realize how much he loves me and how much he needs me. To me that is the ultimate guilt trip. I have to be good because I have someone else's sanity to preserve. It's probably a good thing we don't have children. They'd be messed up in no time.

Well, how should I start? I know where this story started. It started many many years ago, but it really just surfaced in September of this year. (2004) It slithered in so slowly that I didn't recognize the sadness, the impulsiveness and the fear. It's always been there in my life. It's actually what keeps me one step ahead of my job, and usually in my job for 9 months or less (I guess that would be the impulsive part).

Let me start by describing myself. I know people are going to possibly read this, so I guess it's not really like any other journal. I've never described myself, but here it goes. I'm a short 30 year old woman. If I were 6'2" tall I'd probably be the perfect weight, but unfortunately for me, I'm 5'2". I work with an organization that takes care of teen boys headed for the wrong track in life. I'm not a counselor or anything spectacular. I'm actually the Intake Coordinator which amounts to a glorified filing clerk. I love my job. I love the children. I've worked with children for a good part of my life. From new borns to 18 year olds. The irony of it all is that I don't have any children of my own. I've had 4 miscarriages, but a mom is not what is in the plans for me.

I think that is what triggered my melt down. A week before a trip to Tennessee with our boys this summer, the first week in August, I started toward my fourth miscarriage. I started having it on the way back. I knew it was going to happen before we even left, because I spotted. It was too early to save anything, 6 weeks at the most. So I put on a happy face and worked with the kids and had as good as time as I could. I think I did a really good job at convincing myself that I didn't care. It's just a part of life. Between the cramping and a broken toe, I practically went through a whole bottle of Aleve. I saw some of the most beautiful things and did things that I'd never thought I'd do. I did the trust fall with co-workers and a bunch of teenagers, who I'm sure would have loved to drop me on my head. I'm the first one they hate when they come in the program, since I'm the one who signs them in. It's either that or I'm just mean. Who knows?

We hiked this hill. It went up and up. Until we reached a cave at the top. It was so hard to get up there. I thought my toe and my foot were going to fall off, but the boys and my co-workers amazed me once again by being complete gentlemen and made sure I was okay. Did I mention I'm pretty overweight? Well that in itself should have kept me from the trek, but it didn't and I'm glad it didn't. It was wonderful. Just as much as it boosted the self-esteem of the teens we work with, mine was soaring with theirs.

The funny part of my job is that I feel like I grow with the kids. The last four years of my life have been amazing. I married a wonderful man and I've excelled in job that I never thought I could do. The funny thing is, no one else believed I could do it either.

When I started with the company, I started as a trainer. I taught parenting classes, CPR/First Aid, Child Care Worker Certification classes and Physical Restraint Classes. Some of this took place all around the state. This all came out of a 26 year old who was afraid to get on the highway and who could barely order a hamburger by herself without almost passing out from embarrassment. I received a chance of a lifetime and I started to find myself, not the scared little girl, but the woman I didn't know existed. Then I transfered to the Boys Home of the company and started working with the Intake and families and found strength like you wouldn't believe.

I'm a totally different person now. I like her and I hate her. She fights for what she thinks is right, can order anything she wants at a restaurant, and still has the scared little girl just underneath the surface. My motto has been from the beginning, "Fake it till you make it." And I do. I live in a pretend world. A world where I can be and do anything I want in life. Inside, I quiver at every funny look and pray for death every day. It would make life easier. It would make life easier for a lot of people. Only now I know it can't be by my own hand because my husband really does love me and I believe now that he would actually be sad. He's strong though and I know he'd make it, but I don't think he believes that. He's had to live with me so long now pretending to be strong and self-sufficient and that's all he knew. I've always wanted to be strong for him and show him what a good wife I could be. Instead he now knows my innermost secrets and he knows how fragile I really am. While he say it's made our relationship stronger, It scares me to death. I'm so vulnerable right now and I don't know right from left.

On September 8, 2004 things were okay. I wasn't feeling that great but I was excited about our trip to Branson on the 10th for anniversary. We never made it. On the 9th I "wigged" out and he took me to the emergency room. They basically said give here these two pills and take her to her primary care physician tomorrow. So he did that, I was out like a light till about noon the next day and by the evening of the 10th I was in a locked psychiatric hospital. Happy Anniversary Honey.