by Band Back Together | Feb 13, 2014 | Coping With Divorce, Date/Acquaintance Rape, Divorce, How To Help A Loved One Who Self-Injures, Marriage Problems, Self Injury, Self-Destructive Behavior, Uncategorized |
I have been dating my boyfriend for almost two years, but I am unable to tell him things from before we met. The minor things are okay, things like “I was married for about a year” “my ex-husband used to drink”. Those things are fairly minor.
I tried to tell him about the other stuff, but my heart starts pounding and I find I can’t breathe very well, my fingers get pins and needles. Then I just can’t say it. I get so cross with myself, I feel like such a failure. How hard is it to open my mouth and speak? I was going to tell him, I had a few drinks to get the courage, but then I had too much, and I still couldn’t tell him.
I am shy, I don’t ever want to be the centre of attention, and I feel too exposed to say it in words. None of my friends who know, I did tell my husband, that wasn’t difficult, but that was a lot of years ago now. Why is it difficult now?
It all started so long ago. I was 14. I went for a walk on my own in the woods. I was going to start smoking, so I wanted to be away! I walked through the trees to a clearing and there was a jogger. He only had his trainers on. I guess most people who have any sense would turn right around and leave, back the way they came. But I didn’t have much sense. I carried on walking, straight past him. Close enough to touch, but he didn’t. I wasn’t going to let that put me off, I had a destination in mind, and that’s where I wanted to go.
Anyway, if it wasn’t for a man walking his dog the whole story would have a very different ending. I didn’t tell my parents when I got home, but I told my best friend at school. She persuaded me to tell a teacher, then my parents, then the police.
Its not a bad story, after all nothing happened. But why can’t I tell him? Why does it play on my mind? Why does it matter?
I had my first boyfriend when I was 15, he was 18 and he raped me.
But I didn’t understand what it was, I just thought, “this is how its supposed to be.” I didn’t know I had a choice. It did mess my head up. When he dumped me, I started self harming. I didn’t understand what it was at the time, why cutting myself made me feel better, but it did. I never told anyone about the cutting, I had long sleeves, so no one saw.
I told my next boyfriend “I don’t want to” and he didn’t, but it still went down-hill from there. Sometimes it was okay, but other times he wanted the me I was before, the happy me. That girl was gone.
I wasn’t happy for a long time. I cut myself and burned myself, but never told anyone. I overdosed twice and went to hospital once. I had sex with a lot of people. I didn’t love myself so why should anyone else?
I did find someone to love. He loved me too, in his own way, after all we did get married. He left me. I had a young daughter, and it was so hard on my own. I had to have a job, which was good because it was probably the only thing that kept me sane. I went out for a rare evening with work. I met a man who I knew from my sleeping around days, and we went to my house. I didn’t want to have sex, but he did. It wasn’t rape, I could have screamed or pushed him off. I asked him to leave, then I had a bath, at 2 am.
Then I meet my fella. He’s nice. He doesn’t want me to send him pictures of myself with no clothes on. He doesn’t want sex all the time. He comes to visit me and he give me a cuddle. That’s what I’ve been looking for all this time, cuddles.
We won’t ever live together, or get married, or have children together. But I know one day, that is what I will want. I’m 22 years younger than him. Sometimes I think of what I’m missing out on – a family. But then I think of what/how I used to be. I was unhappy. I was sad. But now most of the time, I’m okay.
I still can’t tell him anything though. I can’t tell anyone.
by Band Back Together | Aug 1, 2013 | Anxiety, Date/Acquaintance Rape, Depression, Fear, Loneliness, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Rape/Sexual Assault, Teen Rape, Teen Substance Abuse, Trust |
I’m a teenage sexual assault victim.
This is my story:
When I was sixteen years old, I was sent abroad to study and work. I was on my own – no family, no friends, and no jobs. And as I was underage, it was quite hard to get a job.
Finally, a nice man with a family – his lovely wife pregnant with his second, a son about a year old – agreed to allow me to work at his store without a contract.
I trusted him. His family allowed me stay overnight, cooked me meals, as his house was nearer to my school. It was nice. One night we decided to have a party. We all drank.
He took advantage of me while his family was upstairs.
Desperately, I tried to run away. As his family was upstairs, he followed me downstairs and locked the door and pushed me down onto the floor. I tried to pull away, but he had a hold of both my hands and legs.
He stole my first time; my only chance to make it special. He stole my carefree teenage years, my childhood, my lively personality.
After he was done raping me, I ran for the door and escaped to home. I was scared – I couldn’t understand what had happened; what was going on. I lost all sense.
The next few days, I spent alone in my room, staring at nothing, not talking, not doing anything. My friends reported me missing – eventually they came to my house and found me in this state.
But they didn’t know what happened. I was in denial; pretending I didn’t know what’d happened. They knew something was up.
I quit my job.
I cut all connections with everyone in that city and moved away. I changed schools, took medicine to quell my anxiety, I started (and stopped) therapy sessions as I didn’t want to open up to the therapist. I didn’t want to. I pretended nothing had happened to me – as long as I believed nothing had happened, I’d be fine.
Dose after dose, I took the medication until I became addicted. I’m addicted to drugs and alcohol – they make me forget what happened. They allow me to feel happy again. I can live my life without caring about anything. I started doing dangerous things and harming myself, hoping that if one of my “adventures” goes terribly wrong, I can finally die.
I considered killing him, but decided that was a bad idea.
I lost my connections, my friendships with other people – become antisocial. It’s extremely hard for me to make friends because I just don’t want to talk or share my story with others. I close up and let nobody in.
They think I’m weird, snobby.
I lost interest in everyone – especially men. I fell apart without my family, I’m depressed and anxious; I cannot sleep without drinking alcohol. I suffer nightmares; I’m extremely jumpy – especially in my sleep. I hit people or shout at them if they touch me, even if it’s a friendly touch. Suddenly, I’ll wake wake up crying without remembering what I’m crying about. I drove everyone away from me – in order to find joy and safety alone
At age twenty, I got into university and am doing a bit better. I managed to make new friends – even if they think I’m odd.
I was doing okay. Until recently.
Finally, it hit me that what happened wasn’t a bad dream. I was actually raped. I’m on the verge of breaking down again… just as I’m trying to start a new life.
I can’t let this happen again.
That’s why I’m here, The Band: to share and hear about others, to find comfort in stories that help me find the light again.
I’m hoping that by writing this, by letting it all out, I can start new again.
It’s never too late.
by Band Back Together | Dec 1, 2010 | Bipolar Disorder, Coping With Depression, Major Depressive Disorder, Postpartum Depression |
I had tried to deny it throughout the months of November and December but it is now clear that I am once again going through another one of my depressive episodes. Honestly, I kind of expected it. These episodes have been happening since I was 15-years-old and even though some people in my life don’t fully understand why, they will continue to creep up and knock me (and any confidence I have) on my ass.
That’s just how it goes when you’re dealing with bipolar II disorder. It can be controlled but there is no cure. This is something I will have to manage for the rest of my life, like millions of others in this world. That thought both frustrates and saddens me. Frustrates me because oftentimes, especially during these episodes, I feel like a victim. Why did God choose this path for me? Saddens me because I just want to be a happy positive person but my brain chemicals won’t let me be who I want to be!
Since I can’t take medication right now I was holding out hope that my pregnancy hormones would ward off depression just as they did when I was pregnant with Landon. No such luck. But I am thankful that I have been through enough of these episodes to know the difference between a bad day and full-on depression. I am thankful that I have done enough therapy and research to recognize when getting better is beyond my reach.
I have all the classic symptoms, i.e. random spurts of crying, sudden internalized anger, unable to muster up enough energy to perform basic life skills (taking a shower, doing the laundry or dishes), loss of concentration, no desire to talk to or be around family members or friends. Basically feeling so overwhelmed with the thought of doing anything that I just plain can’t pull myself out of bed. Is that what you would consider a bad day? What if you felt like this for a week or an entire month?
I just want to note for any worry warts out there that I DO get out of bed. I DO take care of my son. I feed him, play with him, change his 12 diapers a day and hug and kiss him all day long. I’ll admit that sometimes I have to force myself to do it. But he is my greatest motivator. Sometimes I will roll out of bed at 5:30 a.m. even though I don’t want to because he is up and jibber-jabbering. I will walk into his room and see that huge grin on his face and suddenly I realize I’m actually smiling! Oops, wait, stop smiling Molly because you’re supposed to be depressed! I will sing our usual morning songs while changing him and getting him his milk. It’s nice to know that even though I am having a really rough time right now there is still sunlight in the shadows of this disorder.
One positive about having had this disorder for all of my adult-life is that I am armed with the perspective that I CAN and WILL get better. That’s why they are called “episodes.” I’m convinced that much of why I feel the way I do is circumstantial. Unexpectedly leaving my job (and my nice salary), rarely seeing Naaman because he has to work so much, trying to sell our house in a down market, and how about we throw an unexpected pregnancy in there? I am happy to have this surprise blessing in our lives and I feel certain this baby is here for a reason. But I am still pretty upset about the timing of it all. All of these circumstances at once could drive anyone to their breaking point. But someone like me who doesn’t come wired with the usual coping skills? It’s a recipe for disaster.
Blogging about my struggles and strengths with this disorder is something I think I need to do more of this year. Maybe it will help someone else out there to know that they are not alone. That you can manage motherhood AND mental illness successfully. I do realize that writing about this on my blog subjects me to the awful and unfair judgment of strangers. There are still so many in this world who don’t understand mental illness. They never will. They see it as a weakness or a fault. They see me as someone who doesn’t deserve a loving husband or a beautiful family. They assume that if I can’t be happy then I don’t deserve what I have. But they’re wrong. Just because I suffer from depressive episodes through no fault of my own does not mean that I don’t have the same right to happiness that everyone else does.
I desperately wanted to reach the same milestones as most everyone else. High school and college graduation, successful career, engagement, marriage, babies. I am still a human being with feelings and a heart and I am convinced that I deserve the same happiness as everyone else.
One misconception is that I can turn the depression switch on and off. That I can “snap out of it” or “get over it.” Oh, if it were only that easy. I do not choose to feel this way. I was born this way and had some horrible things happen to me when I was a teenager that exacerbated my symptoms. Do you think I don’t try to wish these feelings away every day? I would give anything if I could just snap my fingers and feel happy. I know what it is to be and feel truly happy. And I want those feelings back as soon as possible. But I’m smart enough to know that this won’t just disappear into the background. Not without regular therapy and medication. I suffered through many years of agony and the darkest pain before I was able to come to this realization. But now I can get help before I reach my lowest of lows.
It’s a New Year. 2010. There is so much to look forward to this year. A new little miracle will enter my life and I want so much to be ready to welcome him into the arms of a happy, more centered mama. I want to feel the unspeakable joy that I felt the day we brought Landon home. I don’t think I’ve ever smiled a bigger smile in my life than on the day when we came home and put him in his crib for the first time. I want that with B and I’m trying to remain hopeful that I’ll get that chance.
But right now it’s oh so tough. I am once again feeling resentful of tragic things that have transpired in my life. So much so, that I start to forget that my entire life sets within an hourglass. I have no way of knowing how much sand is left. All I want is to be grateful for every particle that falls to the other end because that means that God has given me another day. Not the ones that are still waiting to go through. Not the ones that have already fallen. I want to be grateful for the sands that are falling through the hourglass right now.
My next OB appointment is Tuesday. She knows all about my history with this disorder and is ready and willing to talk about treatment while I’m still pregnant. I will let you all know how it goes. I am hopeful that there is a solution for me so that I can get better. I am smart enough to know that I have to act now. I cannot wait until after B arrives. Thoughts and prayers are always welcome. Every good vibe sent my way helps a bit.
At the recommendation of my OB who was extremely supportive of antenatal depression I took a small dose of antidepressants and received weekly talk therapy. Brigham (Baby B) was born on May 2, 2010 to a happy, stable mama. Please talk to your OB. At the time of my pregnancy I thought there was no way I would ever be happy.
Antenatal depression exists.
Just know, you’re not alone in this struggle.
