by Band Back Together | Jul 15, 2015 | A Letter I Can't Send, Abandonment, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Boundaries, Family, Fear, Grief, Help For Grief And Grieving, How To Help A Friend Whose Child Is Seriously Ill, Loss, Pediatric Caregiver, Pediatric Mental Illness, Relational Aggression, Sadness, Stress, Teen Bullying, Trauma, Trust |
You have broken my heart;
you have cut me to the bone;
you have stabbed me in the back;
you have endangered my children;
you have stolen from me;
you have threatened to kill me and it seems every time we talk you spew out nothing but lies.
I failed you. As the person who brought you into this world, it was my convoluted job to make you appropriate for society.
If you had been an only child, would it have been different? If you had been an only child, would I have given you more leeway so I did not sacrifice your siblings humiliation, safety and discontent?
We moved for you. It was the area, the neighborhood, the school, the doctors. I did everything and gave all in hope that the problem wasn’t really you.
Doctors, therapists, counselors, hospitals; things a mother should never have to say about her child, I said.
In the end, I failed you.
For many years, I was a mighty warrior set out to ensure your health and happiness, but you broke my spirit and I gave up. I want so badly to let you in, but the price is so high and I am emotionally bankrupt.
You deserved a stronger mother, one who could stay in the fight, one who could be more understanding, one who could battle for more than 19 years. I am so sorry you ended up with me, who tried to make you fit in a cookie-cutter mold. I still have no clue what kind of mom could have helped you.
It wasn’t me.
I battled uphill to mend my broken life while trying to protect yours. The spiraling, all-consuming, soul-sucking, constantly being kicked and punched, that was all beyond me.
I’m sorry I am so broken and weak that I can’t afford to be hurt again. Everyone in your world has disconnected over the years in the simple and often subconscious act of self-preservation. But in everyone’s life, there should be at least one constant, one person you know will always be there. You don’t even have that.
I hurt you.
I insulted you.
I embarrassed you.
I punished you.
I hospitalized you.
I let you down.
I lied to you.
I threatened you.
I had you arrested.
I closed my door to you.
I laughed at you.
I walked away….
I didn’t ever deserve you, and you certainly didn’t deserve me.
by Band Back Together | Apr 29, 2015 | Anger, Anxiety, Chronic Illness, Fear, How To Help A Friend With Chronic Illness, Lyme Disease, Pain And Pain Disorders, Stress, Trauma |
Lyme Disease treatment options are all over the place – no one can seem to stick to any standard.
This is her frustration:
I am sitting at the ER. I have had a headache since Thursday with pain behind my eyes. It feels like my skull is trying to break through my eyes and nose and ears. I wish it were sinus related. But it’s not.
The reason I’m at the ER is two-fold. I want to make sure that I don’t have spinal fluid building up in my head. The second reason is more complicated. I was hoping maybe I could switch back to being treated here by my neurologist, who is covered by insurance. My Lyme doctor isn’t. She wanted to treat me with IV antibiotics. My Lyme doc thinks that orals are the first line treatment.
You see, Lyme disease is rife with controversy. Does it exist in the numbers that the International Lyme Disease Association says? Are the current tests sensitive enough for diagnosis? Does Lyme seroconvert in the blood like other infectious diseases? Is it easily treatable? Will three weeks (and maybe six weeks) of oral doxycycline treat all forms of Lyme, even if it’s late stage, which mine is? Will four weeks of IV rocephin treat neurologic Lyme?
I have Lyme, but my diagnosis is still suspect.
When I saw my neurologist in September, part of my Lyme test was positive, the other negative. When I went back for blood work,the negative part was now positive. But the positive was negative. Confused? My neurologist wasn’t convinced that I have active Lyme disease though I am symptomatic, and my tests prove that I have been exposed to Lyme (and my first test indicated active Lyme).
So I went to Seattle. I tried Levaquin, but it can cause joint inflammation, so any sign of joint pain and they stop treatment (joint pain is common in Lyme). Then I was put on Rifampin, which I have stayed on for months. It treats a secondary infection that is thought to occur often with Lyme disease. It resolved the shooting electric pains in my arms. I was put on Amoxicillin, which I’ve been on for months as well. Then I tried Minocycline for Lyme. It caused me to walk sideways. I already was dizzy. I didn’t need to have sea-sick vertigo as well. Then I tried Biaxin. I broke out in hives. I tried Doxy. It caused heartburn that radiated to the base of my skull. But the doxy DID work. I switched to Zithromax, and all of my symptoms returned. So I’m back on Doxy and taking Nexium to combat the heartburn. The problem is I’m not getting better like I did before.
What’s next? IV drugs. Insurance will pay for one month. It often takes more. A PICC line. Daily infusion. I was hoping to get treated from someone locally. But it looks like the doctors here don’t want to touch this. When I get home, I will call my doctor in Seattle and wait. And if this doesn’t work, I am flying to the Northeast where this stuff is treated often and where it costs a lot of money to see the top docs.
I am ready to be healthy. Six months with little improvement is just not acceptable to me.
by Band Back Together | Apr 12, 2015 | Anger, Anxiety, Breast Cancer, Cancer and Neoplasia, Denial, Depression, Faith, Fear, Hope, Love, Mastectomy, Stress, Trauma |
If you read my profile, you already know that I’m married 23 years with 2 teenagers; a daughter, almost 20 and son just turned 16. Four years ago I was diagnosed with breast cancer, went through a double masectomy, chemo, radiation and reconstruction. I was in remission up until 3 months ago when it was discovered that the breast cancer has returned, in the lining of my stomach, treatable, not curable (1% chance).
This is not to be mistaken for stomach cancer – confusing right?
Needless to say I went through the depression, anger and shock all over again. Only this time it was harder. The optimistic goal of beating it wasn’t as easy to grasp because it had already returned once.
My meds have been changed, my doctor’s visits are more frequent and the side effects more intense. Hotter flashes, sleepless nights and mood swings. I am not always the easy-going, jovial Queen that used to rule this Kingdom. No, I often become that dragon you referred to in the Bands write-up. But I allow myself to breath some fire, release some anger, then I straighten my tiara and return to my throne surrounded by my adoring and supportive family, my riches, my strength, my motivation.
I could fall in the moat tomorrow and get gobbled up by… well whatever lives in moats. I’m not going to let this Cancer defeat me and takeover my Kingdom…
I know I will have bad days but I also know that I will get through them with a little help from my army (my friends and family) …
Today was one of those bad days and then, suddenly, you appeared!
The Band Back Together Project. Thank you for being here.
by Band Back Together | Mar 1, 2015 | Anger, Cancer and Neoplasia, Cancer Survivor, Caregiver, Coping With Cancer, Depression, Fear, Feelings, Guilt, Happiness, Romantic Relationships, Stress, Trauma |
Imagine being 21 and attending one of the most well-known public universities in the United States. You are studying something you love, having a blast with your girlfriends, and always on the lookout for a potential suitor. You’ve lost some weight and feel really great about yourself. You’re four months away from graduating (a semester early!) and starting your life.
Your future is at your fingertips.
And then you get slapped with your mortality and it feels like your world is crashing around you.
You have cancer.
You know what? Sometimes the chemo, the vomiting, passing out, and the ever-present thoughts of death wasn’t the worst part.
Sometimes, the worst part was sitting on your parents couch at twenty-one, wishing you were going out to that amazing party with all of your friends. Or watching your hair fall out in chunks in the shower. Your beautiful, personality-defining red hair just washing away down the drain. Or realizing part of your soul died when you asked your dad to shave your head because you just couldn’t watch the slow process of it falling out any longer.
Sometimes the worst part was looking at yourself in the mirror and just watching the tears stream down your face as you realized that this is your new reality. You are a twenty-one year old woman and you are bald.
Maybe the worst part was the steroids. Good God those things are evil. In a matter of weeks you transformed from that trim, vibrant woman that you were so proud of, into a bloated, chemotherapy-ridden sick person. You have that look of cancer and it crushes you.
And then there were those few moments where you felt good. You put on nice clothes, brush out your fabulous black wig and get ready for a night of normalcy. The drinks start to kick in, you start talking to a handsome guy. One thing leads to another, he leans in to kiss you and goes to put his hand on the back of your head…. and you freeze. Because you know the second he touches you he’s going to feel your wig. Your cover is blown, you are not one of the normal girls. And the last time I checked, most guys weren’t looking for a date whose chemotherapy schedule would have to be worked around.
So then you just stop going out. You realize this is temporary and it may not be fair, but it was the hand you were dealt.
You live with it.
You stop sulking.
Hair grows back.
Weight can be lost.
Love is still out there to be found.
The bars aren’t going anywhere and you can graduate next semester.
They caught it early.
You are going to be okay.
Other people have it SO much worse.
You will still get that whole wonderful life that you always dreamed about.
You are lucky fortunate blessed.
by Band Back Together | Sep 4, 2014 | Anxiety, Anxiety Disorders, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, Self Injury, Shame, Trauma |
I didn’t get to work yesterday. I went to the hospital instead. At the insistence of my fiance, I called in sick and we headed out. This was after three days of hearts pounding, palm-sweating, barely able to focus anxiety. We pulled off the road for gas and breakfast only to have the car completely break down. We weren’t going any further that way. Our replacement car is over a week late, the current broken down junker has been a death trap for a while now. Needless to say, this turn of events did little to improve my stress level. I did my breathing exercises and fought a losing battle to stay calm. We called a cab, we got to the hospital. Very friendly people. Smiling nurses, nodding sympathetically to my plight. Always the same questions “Any idea as to what set you off? Do you have any triggers? Are you at risk of self harm?” and “Who’s this with you? Do you want him to stay?”
No, no, and hell no. My Fiance, yes.
The thing is, nothing has gone wrong. Work is awesome. My recent trip with my mother was fantastic. I met my fiance’s mother, a narcissistic woman I’d been dreading encountering. It was a pleasant visit, far better than expected. There’s just the background negativity that isn’t going anywhere, that for some reason, some unknown reason, was louder and more demanding than it has been since I was in the midst of abuse. Stuff like that I’m not good enough, my life is going to fall apart, it’s my fault my step father got away with so much, that he has uncontested custody of my little sisters. Sisters I miss so badly, and want to have as bridesmaids at my wedding. Sisters I may never see again. Just the same old shitty baggage, that isn’t going anywhere. I wish I knew how to just let go. The doctor gave me some pills. They put me to sleep, and for a while the background stuff is gone. It’s not perfect, but it helps me focus on the pretty A+ foreground I’m making myself. For now it’ll do.
Until I can let go of the shitty past and current yet distant circumstances beyond my control, it’ll have to do.
by Band Back Together | Jul 8, 2014 | Anxiety, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Fear, Guilt, Helping Someone In An Abusive Relationship, Stress, Trauma |
Hi, I’m 22. I’ve been looking for something that might help the healing. I just found this site, and am glad there is something like this. It’s hard writing what happened. So here it goes. I was mentally/emotionally abused.
I don’t feel like a victim. It’s nothing like you see on TV where someone is bawling their eyes out with sudden realization. I’m just numb. Okay, I’m numb with random fits of bawling my eyes out for no reason, but still numb. Reading the other stories on here, I feel like mine was barely anything.
I was in a relationship with an abuser for two and a half years. It started out like any good relationship does, laughing and smiling. Then, his family disowned him for dating a white girl. After that, he would throw that at me to shut me up, if he perceived the smallest slight. That I was the reason for everything going bad, the fact that his family would never accept me. But it never stopped there. Daily, he called me fat, and ugly, and useless. There came a point when I believed all of that. I tried to weigh as little as I could so that maybe he would give me a small compliment. I tried to do everything perfect, even though it wasn’t enough. He would insult me in front of our friends (his friends, since all of my friends liked him better). I could never tell him no or go against his word without incurring his explosive anger. He would never show his anger in public though. He would wait until we were alone to let loose. He took all but two my friends. He’s a charismatic guy, and everyone likes him. How can people stay friends with an abuser when they KNOW? There came a point when I felt so alone and unwanted that I thought about suicide. The thing that kept me from it, the only thing, was the thought of my mom.
I almost left probably five times. Why didn’t I just leave the first time?
My mom saved me from this “relationship.” She’s a psychiatric nurse and recognized the signs. In her words, she told me that I didn’t laugh or sing anymore. In August, after he threatened me more than usual, she told me her suspicions. I told him that she didn’t like our relationship. (When his family disowned him, he made me promise that if my mom ever didn’t like our relationship then we would break up.) I used my mom as a scapegoat to get out – I wasn’t the one who ended it. Not really.
Now, months later, I still feel lost. I’m still afraid to make decisions. I still close up and try to fix everything whenever someone’s moody. I laugh again, but that’s all I’ve gained back of myself. I’m going to start therapy in a week, and I hope that helps. Does it take this long to heal? I just want to be myself again.
One thing that one of those two friends told me has really stuck. “How can you prove that someone hurt you when they left no visible mark?”
