Clarifications and dirty laundry.

I have tried to remain somewhat vague in my posts as to not single anyone out. However, it has been brought to my attention that being vague isn't entirely fair to innocent parties. So, my apologies. I'll try not to be so vague.

I have several unhealthy coping mechanisms.  What I'm trying to do here, is replace those with healthy ones. My dad was someone I could always talk to. Something else I'd do, is write. Since one option is gone, I'm left with writing. I know it offends some people, but it's all I have to help me get by. And if someone is offended by what I have to say, then maybe they need to take a look at their own lives. And I've heard that if you don't want something repeated, then don't say it to begin with. And maybe if I threaten to start documenting everything, then maybe it won't be said aloud to me anymore. I'm sure it will still be thought, and maybe even said behind my back, but at least I won't have to hear it. It is not my intent to "play the victim stance", but people have been telling me to sit down and shut up. If expressing my feelings is so wrong, then why are all the mental health professionals...those schooled and trained in the field...tell me that the worst thing to do is keep everything bottled up. I have lived my life bottled up. It certainly hasn't done me any good. I have always been too afraid to speak out. I am trying to change. And these professionals...they are not trained to be nice. They are trained to be honest in a way that isn't harmful. I have never had a therapist who just sat back and agreed with everything I said. I have been put in my place more than once. But I have a lot of support right now. However, after living life one way, and trying to change behaviors, the outcome has not been favorable. If a person is always outspoken, people tend to not even think about it. But if a person has always been quiet, and suddenly starts to put up some boundaries, it is unwelcoming. I am constantly being told to be the bigger person and just back down. Well, I am tired of backing down. I have a voice, too. I no longer want to live cowering in a corner, afraid to be me. I'm going to be true to me. At least, I am going to try. I may be burning bridges, but I feel that the bridges have already been burned. Besides, who wants to surround themselves with people who are always putting you down? If an alcoholic wants to change, they stop hanging out at the bars. If a drug addict is intent on stopping, they would avoid areas that drugs are being distributed. If a person wants to improve their self esteem, they avoid or ignore negative people.

So...here is a fun fact. Wednesday, the 22nd of June, I was taken to Salt Lake Behavioral Hospital. This was my 6th hospitalization in 3 years. 7th total. That's a very sobering thought. My previous admissions were on the heals of drinking and prescription overdoses. That typically occurred in the midst of severe panic attacks. The last time, I was within minutes of death. *sigh* This time was different. This time was a bit more thought out. I have been lost in the darkest place, where I didn't see any way out. And just when I thought I had hit rock bottom, I discovered that I hadn't. I was convinced that dying would be best. This may sound a bit twisted, but I was at peace with it. Well...I can't say I was at peace, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. I even went to the credit union and added my brother, Russell, as my beneficiary. I wanted him to get my share of the inheritance. Russell has always been nice to me. I don't think we have ever had issues with each other. At least, I've never had any issues with him. He has always been the kind of person to give the shirt off his back. He always helps everyone else. I wanted him to be rewarded. I felt the only way I could help others, was to no longer exist. I was reminded that I am of no worth. The only way I could be someone, was if I had a good job, a husband, and children. Over the last couple years, I have been constantly reminded that because I wasn't working a full time job, my life had no meaning. Clearly, I did nothing but find pleasure in using and hurting others, particularly my parents. I understand that people say things they don't mean when upset. But every time my sister gets upset, (and I'm talking in the last years, not days), she would say these same things to me. Over and over. I can only assume that she truly means it. She reminds me that I will end up alone, and having no one to love me is my own fault. She told me it was time to grow up and start adulting. (The only place I have seen this new made up word, is in memes. But here, I'm being told to "adult" Even my spell check is confused). What does being an adult mean? I'm almost 35, living on my own (and not for the first time), but I'm not yet an adult. I guess that goes back to not having my own family?? (Someone else in the family even told me that I'm just here playing house. So, if I'm just playing, does that mean I don't have to pay the bills?? Apparently, 'everyone' tried to convince me that I shouldn't have moved into this house, yet, not a single person said it out loud to me. In fact, I was encouraged. I'm learning that a lot of conversations have taken place where I am concerned...just not concerned enough to bring it up to me). Becky also told me that the only reason I wanted to stay in this neighborhood, was because I had convinced everyone that I was a saint...that I was perfect. If I went anywhere else, I would have no friends. The more I have thought about this, the more I realized what a compliment that was. Apparently, I can lie so well, I can control others into liking me. I have so much power, that I can convince an entire church, including the bishop, to follow me. Wow. I had no idea I was so powerful.

But in all honesty, words cut deep. So much deeper than I can pierce my skin with a blade. There is no amount of blood that can stop those words from running through my mind. Now, I am not saying I have been very nice. I know I've been mean. I know I am flawed. I have way more flaws than not. I will be the first one to point them out to you. My sister would be the second. Well, I reached the end of my rope. I have never wished death upon anybody, but I told Becky that if she died, I wouldn't attend her funeral. Not my finest hour. The spirit completely left me as I desperately tried to convince myself that I didn't care. And then I surrendered. I've always believed myself to be of no worth. Wondering what my purpose on this earth is. But I've always been taught that we are all children of God, and He doesn't make mistakes. But I surrendered. I feel like the fight has left me. I can no longer fight off the things that Satan tells me. When the one person that I have fought to have a relationship with, is the one confirming those words out loud, I give up. Especially since the person who would always counteract those words and feelings has died. I feel that if just one person would stand up for me, then maybe I wouldn't feel the need to be so defensive. Instead, I am told to be quiet. That I'm not being singled out- and I know I'm not. But that doesn't mean I have to listen to it. And if I have misinterpreted anything that was said to me, by all means...please, set me straight. I would love to be told that I misunderstood. I just don't see how any of it was taken out of context. It was all made pretty clear to me. I don't know how someone could misunderstand being told - "the only reason people like you is because you lie to their face".

Anyway, something else... I have always believed family comes first. Family is the most important. Do everything in your power to put them first. I still believe this, but there has got to be a line drawn somewhere. I have been reminded lately that family doesn't always mean blood. (again...by saying family, I am not saying every member of my family...let's just make that clear). Garth Brooks said it best in one of his songs..."Blood is thicker than water, But LOVE is thicker than blood." It takes more than one person to admit to being wrong and wanting to be better. But again, I give up. I feel it is too late. I don't want to risk another fight and hearing these words again. I don't know how many more times I can be told I am nothing, and what a failure I am, and still recover. Every time it's said to me, another chunk of me dies. Pretty soon, there won't be anything left. I actually thought this time was it. But God unexpectedly sent several people to my house the day I was at my weakest. Living alone, with no one to stand in my way, I thought I was hell-bound. It's what I deserved. But there they were. Three ladies with flowers and food. Three ladies who took their shoes off and went to work...literally. They cleaned out my living room and put everything in rooms to which they belonged. Then they returned that evening with a trailer, some guys, and the youth. My yard was mowed, weeds were dug, and a couple trips to my parents house to load up my stuff that I couldn't get on my own. It was just in the nick of time. I still tried to hide myself, to not let them see what I was up to. But one of the guys...my previous bishop, Bishop Thomas, was there that night. He has spent more time listening to me in the past than anyone else.....and he knew. He saw right through me. Phone calls were made, and I found myself inpatient. (My next post will be what I learned this time around. I know y'all are excited. ;)



Again, I know my writings offend some people, and maybe it's a cry for help, but it's what I have to help me get by. And I suppose it is a cry for help. That is something I have never been good about. I hate to ask for it. But, don't we all need help at times? Is it wrong to want to know if I am accepted anywhere? I had forgotten who and where I was. And I consider it a miracle in my life, to have been reminded. Maybe I can get through this...one day at a time.