I think for a lot of people night time can represent many things. It can represent relaxation, quite time, bedtime, maybe even time for work. Night time for me though represents something different, it has many meanings to me. Or brings up many feelings I should say. I can't count how many nights I've spent tossing and turning. I can't even remember how many nights I've cried myself to sleep, how many nights I got on my knees to pray to God for help. I feel as though I go through periods of time where I can sleep just fine and then out of nowhere I'm wide awake. Dragging myself to bed in hopes of catches a couple hours of sleep before the sun rises. Lately as I lay in bed so many thoughts race through my mind. Sometimes the thought of bedtime sends me into panic. It may be because so many things happened at night. Growing up it seemed like the only time my parents liked to argue was nighttime. The constant fighting, the sounds of yelling & loud knocks on the door,, police men taking Paul to jail. When it wasn't arguing I was woken up by my mother who was high on who knows what. Shaking me vigorously and whispering in a panic "Jeannie there's bikers outside! You have to get up there going to kill us." Only to get up to see there is nothing there but the moon and the stars that covered the sky. Some nights sleeping was out of the question when the fear of being taken advantage of was on your mind. Then there was those days that I would fall asleep out of pure exhaustion. When I was a freshmen in high school I had one of those days. At the time I lived with Paul in a 2 bedroom apartment right behind the high school that I attended. That night as I slept I heard voices, and music. I got up to see what it was. I opened my bedroom door and peeked around the corner so I could just see the living room. Not to my surprise Paul had our small living room packed with Men & Women. The room reeked of weed and Booz. I could see that people were doing Coke on the living room table. I quietly retreated to my room. I remember Paul had put something in front of my window, basically to keep me from running away. Some nights when I was up and couldn't sleep I'd be able to pry open my window just enough to see the moon. Just enough to smell the cool night air. At this time my mom was in incarcerated. I would look up to the moon and just cry. I'd talk to my mom. I'd talk to God. I can remember trying to cry quietly and sometimes I would hold it all in. I always lived in fear of being heard at night..... As I retreated back to my bed I lay there finally able to fall back to sleep. I can remember dreaming and in my dream I felt like I was being kicked. I opened my eyes to see Paul standing near the foot of my bed kicking my bed. He gets closer with each kick until he begins to kick me. I cry out "why are you doing this." His response was so vulgar so evil it was as if I wasn't even his daughter "Your a whore. You'll never be anything." He continues to kick me throwing me off of my bed onto the ground. I remember the feeling of metal scrapping my back as I screamed. He was hitting me with a wire hanger. . I can remember lying there after he was done. My knees to my chest, as I felt the blood run down my back. . Crying, gasping for air. I now have scares on my back from this night. A constant reminder every time I see it of that horrible night. I'd like to say that this was the only time I went through something like this. Sadly it isn't. . Just like the small one bedroom apartment I talked about already this 2 bedroom apartment has just as many terrible memories. Things that I can't even bring myself to speak of. As a young teenager I was fearful of night. I was fearful of closing my eyes. Before I lived with Paul. Before my my anxiety towards nighttime started to develop there is a particular night that is engraved in my heart and in my head forever. Before I lived with Paul, I was living with my Mom, we had just gotten a tiny studio on 12th street in Merced. She had been struggling with her addictions for as long as I could remember. Like I said before I always had trouble sleeping so on this day after walking all of. Merced finding a way to get this place I was exhausted I fell asleep on the carpet in that studio, the last thing I remember seeing was my mom telling me that she'd be there when I woke up and not to worry. I still remember the panic I woke up in as I looked around this room and saw no one. Just the night sky through the one window that the studio had. I freaked out I jumped up crying saying to my myself " Where's my mom? What do I do?." There was nothing in this studio, just a trash bag with some clothes. Just as I looked up my mom walked through the door. . Carrying some plates and a nightstand. I look at her with tears in my eyes and asked her "Where did you go?!" She replies as if she was looking through me. "Don't worry about it I'm here now." I come close to her and say "Mom I was freaking out we don't have a phone, I couldn't call. There's nothing in this place..... Wait have you been drinking!?" I look straight into her glossy eyes and was livid! I started yelling at her "You have money to drink and yet we don't have any food in this place. Where did you go? What's wrong with you ?! Why would you leave me ? I'm your daughter!" As we continue to argue it was as if she was possessed with something inside of her. She started crying and said no one loved her. How her kids hated her and how she was just going to kill herself. I can remember her banging her head into the wall as I tried with all of my force to hold her back. Trying to calm her down telling her that I loved her. She eventually mad her way to the kitchen. I sat on the bathroom floor crying not knowing what to do. When I hear a loud crash. I jumped up to see that she had broken a plate and was holing the glass in her hand. I jumped to try to grab it from her. She began throwing more plates yelling and crying. Then all at once turned on me lunging at me with glass in her hand trying to kill me. Pushing me towards the door into the night. . Slamming the door in my face. I remember coming to my knees crying just ready to give up. To let my own mother take my life. All the while men standing there looking at me. I got up and asked one of the bystanders to use their phone. I called the one person that I thought would help. Paul. My dad the man that's supposed to be my hero. I remember begging him to come and help me. He came reluctantly. After hanging up I called the police. Everything happened so fast. And just like that I was with Paul who didn't even want to take me. Who asked if there was anywhere else I could go. Watching police men barge into what I thought would be my home. Bring my mom out on a stretcher strapped down. And as I looked up to the moon and stars above me just like that I left. With nothing but that horrible memory. . . Some nights I remember those nights. I feel everything again. When I can't sleep I look outside of my window and stare up at the moon. And the stars in the sky and crack my window to smell the fresh air. I cry. Then I bring myself to my feet and wipe my tears. I tell myself "Jeannie it's going to be okay,. Your safe now." I leave the window and try to drift off to sleep. Night time has never been easy. The more I go to therapy the more I remember that. But I know that as long as I'm alive.... I will look up at the moon and the stars in the sky and smell the night time air,and know that everything will be alright. . .
It is currently 1:12 AM as I lay here and write this. I haven't been restless like this in such a long time. I can't remember the last time to be honest. My heart is heavy, I feel a deep sadness that I just can't seem to shake off. I feel as if depression is grabbing hold of me again. The past 2 days I've been feeling very numb. Emotionless. Some might say my body is protecting me ? Who knows. As I lay here and try to analyze every possible reason for why I can be feeling this way, I only seem to dig myself a deeper hole, that I call depression. I can't help but continue to think. As I lay here and write this out. This is me being completely open, vulnerable. It's so hard to tell someone exactly why I'm sad, why I'm angry, why I'm not "me". The truth is I am hurt. I'm am angry. I'm angry because as I lay here I think of everything in my life I wish would have gone differently. I sit here and continue to think of my future sometimes thoughts come into my head of not being here. I'm angry that I have to go through this. That I have to take medication to cope with all of this fucked up shit that my parents let happen to me. I'm angry that every week I go to therapy and sit and open my heart up, just to feel even more pain throughout the week. I'm angry that I let certain people come into my life and hurt me. I'm angry that at 19 years old instead of being in a home with both of my parents surrounded by family ,enjoying life. I lay here in my own home thinking of tomorrow's therapy session. Thinking of how I can get these things off my chest. Wondering when I'll start feeling again. Resisting the urge to cut, resisting the urge to run away from it all. To never come back. It's 1:26AM and I'm heartbroken. I'm angry, I'm confused, I'm restless, I'm hopeless,I'm fighting the urge to leave it all behind. But this is me. This is real. Some days I feel like I'm hanging on by a thread. More than anything lately I've been feeling so displaced. My PTSD has gotten to the point where I'm having flashbacks left and right. That's one of the hardest things to cope with. Just feeling like every time I leave my house I'm going to be triggered. I'm going to be that little girl again. That I'm going to be right there back in my worst nightmare. As hard as you try to stop it from happening it hits you.. I'm there again. The other day I was driving by an old apartment complex I use to live in with Paul (my dad) when I was in middle school about 7th grade. As we rounded the corner out of nowhere it hit me. I was back at that same small one bedroom apartment. Where so many terrible things happened. I can remember a time when my mom was living with us (us being my myself and Paul)
I remember one day we all were in this old ford ranger after I was picked up from school. I was so happy to see my mom. I climbed into the truck and we went back to that apartment. I can't remember exactly why but Paul and my mom got into an argument. Of coarse I was in the middle. My mom was drunk (as usual) Paul grabbed my mom by the shirt and threw her out of the truck onto the floor. I yelled and stuck up for my mom and well he grabbed me at first by my shirt and began dragging me to the apartment. I fought him the whole way kicking and screaming. I remember he looked me in the eye and grabbed me by the hair and through me into a bush and continued to drag me by my hair to the apartment. My mom started fighting with him I got free. And, I ran. I ran across the street to a store to use a phone to call for help. I Called an aunt who refused to pick me up even though I let her know what was going on. Everyone was scared of Paul. So I was stuck. I remember begging and crying in front of people I didn't even know. I had no idea what to do. Where to go. I sat by this building crying my eyes out as people passed by. I remember at that moment I just want to die. I never felt loved. I never felt wanted. I was a paycheck from the state. I knew that. I was a punching bag. Eventually Paul came looking for me, so did my drunk mom. I hid. But who was I kidding I had to go back. I had no one. Absolutely no one. I remember contemplating sleeping outside by the creek. I ended up going back to that apartment and continued to live with daily abuse. It was one of the most terrible times of my life. But that day when I passed by those places it was as if I never left. Thats what a flashback feels like. I could feel my hair being pulled again. My heart ached as I felt those feelings. It aches now as I write this. There is so much that no one knows about. Things that happened to me. I want to write about it. To get it out. It just takes time. One things for sure I never have to go back to that apartment as long as I live. It's 1:54 AM and I'm still here hanging on. . . When you feel the heaviness of your eyes settle when a cloud of sleepiness comforts you with a sense of security from reality - you are at peace. Yet, the second you wake up.. you struggle to find a reason to start and finish the day. Depression isn't being sad all of the time it's dealing with all the baggage that gets built up and never spoken of or acknowledged by others. You feel that you are obligated to carry this weight all by yourself and then constantly reminded to just "deal with it." This baggage is filled up with sorrows and regrets from the past and present. You feel trapped and alone. And there I was on top of my own securities (the chair). The field helped emphasize the loneliness I felt during the severe depression. Along with feeling alone I would always close myself to make myself feel safe hence why I held my chest with my arms - curled up. My security was being alone. The fact that I knew I could rely on myself was kept me feeling safe inside yet the thing that kept me shut out were the people I lived with - especially my abusive grandmother. This woman had no control over her own kids but then assumed the position of taking of her grandkids (me and my siblings). I am very fortunate to have had the financial support and roof over my head but my brother and I did not deserve the abuse we went through. There was no room for mistakes when it came to that woman. As long as didn't "act like my mom" I was in the good. But that only played out for so long. Everyone makes mistakes but she blew them out of proportion and then had the andudacity to ask why she didn't have a relationship with any of her kids or grandkids. I pushed myself away from her to keep myself safe but at the same time I had to watch her abuse my brother 10x worse - emotionally, mentally, and physically. No child should ever have to go through that and that's why it don't tolerate abuse today. My depression lead to bigger things like therapy and medication. Therapy helped but the medication numbed me. The medication made me keep a straight face throughout the day. More medication helped me close my eyes as night. I couldn't fall asleep. Without the medication I would stare into the blackness of my room and think of nothing. The lack of sleep lead to me having dark circles under my eyes. Some nights would leave me tossing and turning for hours. I had insomnia. In the picture, the leaves and vines symbolize all of the thoughts that would pop up in my head leading me to thinking of a million things in one night. My eyes are dramatically dark because of the effect of no sleep caused dark circles.. from my dark thoughts. I can't count the amount of times I've thought of death but it runs through my mind like a freight train. Turquoise and purple are the colors of the suicide awareness ribbon and I am proud to wear those colors. Death isn't the answer. Getting past those thoughts and attempts has made me a stronger person. I was diagnosed with depression and was an insomniac. I can gladly say that I have overcome my severe depression and do not have much of a sleeping problem anymore. Suicidal thoughts do occure but thats my fight to battle and im glad i have support. I'm glad I can move on from the past. Maybe not with all of my family or parents in my life but with my strength to guide my own future family to better days. -Emerald Hey Everyone,
It's been awhile sense my last blog post. Lots has changed, both good and bad. Let's start with the good! Before Thanksgiving I fell into a little bit of a depression. I was feeling like my life had no meaning, like I was just here and that my anxiety was consuming me. Prior to having anxiety I was a very driven person, anything I wanted to accomplish I did. Nothing stopped me. So when anxiety creeped back into my life I felt as if that part of me was disappearing. It was one of the scariest realizations I've ever had. I felt as though I had started to regain some of the peices of who I am again. Only to realize that I am still lost. Before thanksgiving I broke down, I went back to those same thoughts. The ones that I have been trying so hard to rid my head of "Your worthless!" "You will never be anything!" "If you died no one would even care." I tried to smile through the pain , like I had all my life. But I broke, I cried, I screamed. I questioned God , I contemplated self harm and even taking my own life. My moods were so crazy, my boyfriend asked me one day "What's wrong babe?" I looked up at him tears running down my face, and I asked him "Why am I here?" He looked at me and said "What do you mean?" I wiped the tears on my cheeks that seemed to keep coming and told him EXACTLY HOW I FELT. . " My family doesn't care about me, my own dad told me he hopes I die. My mom only calls when she needs something, my so called siblings don't want anything to do with me. I can't go to school because I might have a panic attack at school , I can't focus, I can't get a job because there are days were I can't even get out of bed. So why babe? Why am I here ?." Right then, at that moment I felt defeated. Eloy looked at me speechless, grabbed me and gave me the biggest hug. I proceeded to cry my eyes out. He grabbed the sides of my face with his hands and said "I love you, how can we fix this. " along with these feelings I had been feeling lost I would feel like my days didn't have meaning. I needed something to be proud of, I needed something to make me see that there is a reason I'm here. Eloy and me talked for a long time after that, about my feelings, my self worth, and my dreams. He asked me " Whats something that you've always wanted to do but you never got the opportunity to try." I looked at him and said "Photograpghy" and that right there is how I came to find the thing that brought me out of my depression. It has been about a month that I've been doing Photograpghy if your interested in seeing my work here's the link - https://www.facebook.com/jmhphotography32/?ref=hl I absolutely love what I do. It gives me hope, it gives me meaning in my life, it helped bring that driven girl back to the front of my head and my heart. Right where she needed to be. BY NO MEANS am I healed of my anxiety and depression and PTSD. BUT I believe all of us fall apart, and I also believe that it makes us stronger. I still have anxiety daily , I still struggle with depression, and still have flashbacks from my PTSD. And it's okay, I have found something that I love that has helped me mentally and I believe that it's helping heal my heart. I guess what I'm trying to get at is. If you feel like your life is falling apart, like there isn't any hope. Find something that you love , whatever it is. I don't care if it's skipping down the street. You go out there everyday and you skip until you can't skip anymore and you know what I bet some people will look at you crazy, but you know something else there might be some people that look and see how happy you are and they'll start skipping with you. Who knows you might have skipping events haha. Find something that brings you happiness and let that pull you out of your depression, let it ease your anxiety, and let it help calm your PTSD. I'm not saying that everyday will be a sunny day with rainbows. But put those positive things in your life and it'll change you. Just like it's changing me. I just wanted to come on here and let you guys know I'm still kicking and to everyone that reads my blog posts thank you so much ! I hope that this may have helped someone always feel free to email me or leave any comments! HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE! Keep fighting 😘 Xoxo - Jeannie Sense the last time I've posted a blog post several things have happened. My Senior year of High School my dad and me were talking and basically having a somewhat relationship with each other. Prior to talking with my dad I hadn't spoken to him in almost 2 years. So we were getting use to talking with one another and my senior year he decided to help me get a car. At the time I wasn't of age SOOOO the car was in HIS name. Along with the insurance and such. He one day gave me the car keys and said " This is your car." I remember how happy I was. See growing up my dad has ALWAYS been the type of person to give you something and then throw it in your face, or threaten to take it away. At the time I still wanted to believe that my dad was trying, that he could be a dad. Fast forward to now. After several threats and fights I no longer have the car. When I was little my dad was such a mean person. I always wanted to see him as my hero. I remember having him yell in my face, and always be very abusive. Of coarse I had to put up with it. I took every hit. He would call me fat, ugly, stupid, a whore, and so many other names. I will always remember crying and at one time I believed that I was those things. But today I know for A FACT that I AM NONE OF THOSE THINGS! A week or so ago my dad called me. Wanting to yell and wanting me to put money into a car that IS NOT IN MY NAME. I told him no and he got angry. I calmly told him " If you are going to yell, I will not talk to you." And of coarse he threatened to take the car away. So I told him " Go ahead and take it. I'm not doing this anymore." 2 days later he took it. Yea it hurt, I think it hurt because that car was the last thing that linked me and my dad together. And it was gone. Days passed he would call me I didn't pick up. One evening something told me "Jeannie call him." So my boyfriend called asking what he needed and why he kept on calling. Basically the only reason he was calling was to tell me how I messed up the car....... That hurt too. I pulled the phone away from my boyfriend and for the first time in my life I LET EVERYTHING OUT ! And for the first time in my life he couldn't hurt me. So when he turned to bashing me saying things like.. Your a bitch, your ungrateful, your a dumb ass, I regret ever having you, I hope you die, and I hope your mom dies, this is why no one loves you, this is why your brother and sister don't want anything to do with you, I never want to see you again. The list goes on and on. I sat there on the phone while he said these things, and for the first time in my life I fought for me. I am NOT dumb I AM NOT any of these things that he said. I choose not to have a relationship with my siblings. I am doing NOW what IS healthy for me. I love me and I have a family that loves me. And I can finally say after years of abuse, he no longer gets to hurt me. Honestly I don't know when I will ever talk to him again. I don't wish him anything but the best. He will continue to stay in my prayers everyday. But I have let go of ever believing and hoping that he could be the father that I have always needed. And I'm okay. The other day I was talking to my mom about therapy, and she asked me "Jeannie why do you go to therapy if it gives you anxiety, if it makes you sad." she goes on to say " I don't like thinking about the past I just try to forget it and not feel what hurts me." I looked at her and said " Well mom, I do it because I want nothing more than to be the best mom I can be to my children, I know that By going to therapy and feeling all of these feelings. Reliving my past. It hurts like hell but I do it because it is making me a stronger Jeannie, And a stronger mom for my kids." My mom still doesn't understand completely and I don't expect her to. Therapy is for me. My therapist used this analogy to describe my parents to me. "Your parents are like a a water well. You can send down the bucket but when you pull it up there isn't going to be anything. Your fathers well is completely dry and your mom has a little to give. But your parents will never be able to handle your emotions, it isn't their fault just like when a well is dry that just how it is. " Being here on earth we will all experience pain, and sadness. People will do things to us that hurt us so deeply we wonder if we will ever be able to recover. But it is up to us. To seek the help that we need to recover. I have no doubt that my parents addictions stemmed from hurt hearts and not wanting to heal. Or even not knowing how. Ever week I go to therapy on the way there I have anxiety, and throughout the rest of the week I grieve. But then there are those days like the day I stood up to my dad and told him how I felt. The days that even when some one tries to tear you down, you can say to yourself " I love you and you are beautiful." Those days are worth every anxiety attack they are worth ever tear, every trip to Turlock, they are worth every tissue box I have ever used in one session. Those are the days that I can see for myself that I AM healing, I AM making progress. And after everything is said and done it'll be worth it to be able to know how to be a good mother to my children and give them everything they need not only material items but everything they need emotionally. I know that I still have a ways to go but one things for sure I have never given up on anything so no matter how hard it gets I will keep going.
good vibes :) -Jeannie :) When I was in middle school, I'm not sure about my exact age. I was living with my dad in a small 1 bedroom apartment. My dad is an addict at the time his drugs of choice were coke, and meth. Yesterday in therapy I revisited that small one bedroom apartment. There was a time that my mom was gone from my life for about 4 months I hadn't seen or heard from her. My heart ached.... Buried in sadness. My dad would lock me in my room and I had no way out. He nailed these blinds onto my small window. I had nothing to do but sit there and pray and cry. One day I heard a knock at the door..... It was my mom. My heart filled with joyful hope. As I thought maybe she's here to get me. Please GOD let her save me. My dad goes to the door. . I can hear my mom say " Where's Jeannie ? I want to see her." My dad responses " You don't get to see her. Not unless you come back to me." I remember I started yelling " Mom ! Help me Please ! PLEASE! " I rip off the blinds just enough to see my mom. I see her standing there at the window the look in her eyes.... I cry out " Please don't leave me here. Please mom." She looks at me with tears in her eyes as she walks away. I yelled and screamed my dad comes in and well......... what happens next is too much for me to put into words. Every once in awhile my dad would want to be nice he would let me out of the room. Most of the time I was forced to stay in there while he had people in the small living room. I still remember that room So tiny, I had a mirror that right in front of my bed. I would look into it often to see if I was still alive. As I lay there at night praying that someone would rescue me. I can't tell you how many times I contemplated running away while walking to school. But then I would think to myself. . . " Who would even want me ? " "Where would I even go ?" So I put up with the abuse both Physical and mental. I still don't know how I made it out alive Something inside me always pushed me to not give up. This memory that I'm sharing with you is only ONE of the many that I have. I thought it was important to share because my anxiety stems from a deep place. Yesterday as I walked out of therapy, exhausted. I couldn't help but look at everything that was around me . I am grateful for my life. That never again will I be held against my will. And even though therapy is THE HARDEST thing I have ever had to endure I thank God for giving me this chance to heal and learn to love myself. The time that I haven't wrote on my blog I've been adjusting to being back in school and well working on myself. Therapy has been kicking my ass, But it's also making me stronger than ever. I am still on Ativan 1 mg. 1xs daily. Some days I do need another one . . . I'm learning that needing another isn't a bad thing. I really hope that everyone is doing well and if you have gone through something similar I feel for you and I know the pain that you feel. I wanted to write this just to let you know a little more of what I'm overcoming. Anxiety , Depression and PTSD they do suck. But it's our bodies way of saying " Hey we need a little more love and there is something going on here." I'm learning to listen more and accept myself for who I am.
Until next time......... Jeannie <3 Hello Hello !
I think that everyone has felt overwhelmed. Whether it be with work, school , family , illness, or just life in general. I find myself overwhelmed at times. Going to therapy and basically reprogramming my brain, sometimes head spins. I find myself holding onto the past. Things that have happened years ago. Things that have left a big gash in my heart; in my soul. I'm certain that that's where my anxiety stems from. In my heart, the hurt and pain that others have caused in my life; the pain I've caused to others that I've loved. Everyone deals with emotions differently. Some people choose not to feel or deal with any emotions that they may feel. I was one of those people. I would constantly keep myself busy; school, work , basketball, rugby, track, running, church. I literally never sat down. A lot of people noticed that in me. For the first time I see that too. At the time running from my emotions , and constantly being angry was how I lived. Fast forward to now.... After falling in love it really made a part of me open up. A part I didn't even know existed. Now for the first time in 19 years I am CHOOSING to feel, I am CHOOSING to learn how to love myself, I AM CHOOSING to look at myself and see the good the bad and the ugly; to look at my life and do the same. In hopes that deep down lies Jeannie. The Jeannie that God intended for me to be. I haven't been writing on my blog for awhile (shocker) haha. The reason being is I've been feeling pretty blue. Have you ever felt like you were doing so good with your anxiety, depression, or PTSD and you kinda just hit a low point again ? I had a low point. I was being very negative looking at everything that I'm not doing, everything that I could be doing better. My mind constantly working. Thinking, thinking, and more thinking. Then I came across this...... Sometimes it's important for us all to remember that it's okay to feel overwhelmed. Try to take a step back and breath... I've gotten comments on health unlocked asking why can't I just post on the site. Here's the answer... This is what I do when I feel overwhelmed I write, I share my story in hopes that someone out there is going through the same thing and that by me writing even the smallest thing helped them. I was hesitant about sharing what else was making me feel down but I feel that I need too. So here it is..... a couple of days ago my sister and I go into an argument. The previous week I had my niece staying with me. I had caught my niece doing something that wasn't right. I talked with her about it. Sharing my experiences with her. A couple of days after my I talked with my sister about what I had seen and I told her I promised my niece that I wouldn't say anything. My sister got upset with me and instead of talking with me about it, she decided to tell my niece and nephew that they were never allowed to see me or talk to me again. I called her when I had heard what she had been saying. She lied at first and then we ended up screaming at one another. This part of the story isn't the imprtant part what's happened next is. Let me first clarify saying that my sister is going through personal things. My niece confide in me and I kept my promise. Whether my sister liked it or not. My niece was not in danger and she was not hurting herself so I did not feel the need to tell my sister (my sister has told me in the past that me doing so was okay)..... ANYWAY I texted my sister basically saying that she was being like our mom and putting men in front of her children and she; let me put it this way acted like a girl in high school She proceeded to text me things like " Your are just like your dad." " I'm so happy you aren't in my life I just need MY REAL siblings...... You have a good relationship with yours ( oh wait you don't have any) ..... Even making comments about my weight. Honestly the comments about my weight and not having a relationship with her and my eldest brother don't hurt. Like I have said in my previous blog to them I have ALWAYS been Paul's' daughter..... I'm not going to lie it hurt having someone that is supposed to be my sister go and say that I'm not her sister and she's happy about that. If I'm being honest the only thing that really hurts is the fact that in my heart I already knew for YEARS that she had felt this way. It hurt that people that are supposed to be my family don't really give a shit. But you know what I'm going to be just fine. For so long I have felt alone and If she would've said these things to me let's say 4 Months ago I'm sure I'd be angry and WWAAAAYYY more hurt. BUT this Jeannie now sees though that. I Know that when people put others down it's because that's how they feel about themselves inside. By her intentionally trying to hurt me it tells me that underneath it all she's hurting. AND YOU KNOW WHAT I still love my siblings whether they consider me family or not. BUT NO LONGER will I let them hurt me, or STEP on me or PUSH me to the side. I will now stand tall and take the negative comments because you know what .... I'm still standing and I know I'm beautiful. My exterior does not define who I am INSIDE.... I love me and nothing and no one will ever make me believe differently again. BUT that was why I was sad. NOW after writing about it I feel WAY better. If any of you have experienced the same thing remember I'm always here to talk. And to those of you that have reached out already lets continue to talk and grow together!
P.S I've been thinking about doing some video journals (vlogging)...... I would be filming things like my daily life and I would even be willing to film myself during a kitty to show you how I deal with them . Let me know If you have any suggestions !! xoxo Jeannie :) Hope that I wasn't too all over the place! lol When I was a little girl I remember always wanting to be with my dad. My mom and dad divorced when I was 5 ? Not too sure, but I do know that my mom and dad where never together for very long. When I was little I would love being around my dad he was everything to me. Time passed and I start to figure out just who my dad really was. When my dad started using drugs again I hated him. See what I'm getting at here is I went from " worshiping" my dad to holding on tight to my mom. As I look back on how my mom was before she started drinking and using drugs again. I can remember her always working and literally never sitting down. She wasn't really around. My family would say that as a child I was spoiled. But that ALL changed. My mom started drinking here and there. Stashing bottles in my clothes or hampers literally anywhere she thought people wouldn't look. I ALWAYS found them. As my mom fell deeper into her drinking and drug use, my siblings distanced themselves. When I was in 6th or 7th grade I can vividly remember my brother packing up his stuff and moving to his grandmas. My mom just letting him go. After he left it was just me. I remember how depressed my mom was she began to drink more and more. She lost her job, she couldn't pay the rent but she ALWAYS had money for beer. Time passes and me and my mom are homeless living with different people. Even people that we never met before. Throughout all of this time my siblings never came to get me. I was always with my mom. I guess what I'm getting at here is that for 19 years I HAVE ALWAYS protected, loved, cared for, and watched over my mom. When my siblings wanted nothing to do with her, when they only said bad things, I can't tell you how many times I've been asked this question when I was ALONE with my mom at the hospital "If anything goes wrong should we revive her." of coarse yes ! My sister has tried to be around my mom more so than my brothers. But having a life with children of her own and mothering my brother while all this happened I can understand why she didn't come around. I'm 19 years old now. I love my mom more than she will ever know. I have always been there for her through thick and thin. Even when people offered me a way out. I ALWAYS took care of my mom. I do not regret being a parent to my mom. But what I see now is that I am hurting myself by expecting her to be a mom. Yesterday I went out to lunch with my sister she let me know that my brother would be coming. My brother and I aren't talking right now. I tell my sister that I would leave and see her later on that night because I had made plans with our mom already. So I leave and go to my moms house I wait outside for her and she finally comes out and jumps in the car and says " TAKE ME TO SEE MY SON!" I look back at her and go " NO I don't want to go take you have your husband take you." she starts whinging like a child. " Please Jeannie I haven't seen him and he finally wants to talk to me." I look to the back seat of my car and say " But we already had plans. I do not want to go and see him. What about our plans?" She continues to whine. Enraged with anger I tell her " Get out of my car. I am not taking you. YOU always do this to me!" ...... Now to some people that may not seem like a lot. This is how I see it though. My whole life has been that same scenario. I AM ALWAYS LAST! It doesn't matter how much shit my brother has said or how many times my sister has ignored my moms calls and never been there next to her in the hospital holding her hand. Hugging her when she cries, saving her from killing herself with pills, cleaning up throw up or ALL of the shit I have done for my mom my WHOLE life she ALWAYS walks all over me. My sibling have always been more important than me. My mom always compares me to my sister and is always asking about them. Never asking me " Hey Jeannie how are you?" It's always " can you take me here can you do this or that." The reason I felt like it was important for me to write this is because I AM DONE ! I'm done being the doormat, the last resort, I'M DONE being MY MOMS MOM ! I wanted to document this because I'm sure times will come where my mom will try to make me feel guilty or do something that makes me want to jump to save her. But I will come back and read this and know that I am done. My responsibility is to myself. I need to take care of me and my feelings matter I matter. I will no longer be letting my mother or father treat me how they damn well please. Because I matter and I love myself and I know that, that isn't a healthy relationship. If any of you are like me. Always trying to care for other people and not yourself. There will come a time when you are done and you know you deserve better and you demand better for yourself. I know that this is one of the many reasons why I have anxiety. Its time I let go of this and start establishing healthy boundaries. Have any of you experienced similar feelings ? Let me know how your dealing with them. I'm sorry that this isn't a post specifically on anxiety but after all the name of my blog is finding Jeannie. I honestly think that this is a big moment. It's going to help me find myself more. Not just being a caretaker for a 55 year old women. I deserve to take care of me. * Deep breaths .
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Author :Hey :) |