marusia
Well-known member
Let me just say that this will be the most intimate thing you ever see me post...ever...on here. It's a very touchy subject, and since I don't have anywhere private to post, I'll just post it on here, as I've come to know a lot of you as my friends.
Today is Bobby's (my fiance) 30th birthday. He didn't want anything tangible.
For almost a year now, he's been begging me to go to the doctor. The last few months came very, very apparent to me that I needed to go. I finally decided for myself that I would call the mental health hotline today as my gift to him.
After explaining what was going on, I was told to come in as soon as possible. They usually take at least a month to get an appointment, but I was taken as a walk-in, since they viewed me as "in crisis" (I have a 4 month old daughter in my home.)
I've been having some very, very severe issues going on inside my head. Some of you know a tiny bit about my past. It was f***ing horrible, to say the least. My parents divorced when I was seven, my brother died when I was eight, and my mother went apeshit shortly thereafter. She was only moderately (I guess?) abusive for the next couple years. She would beat the hell out of us for no reason, with a bullwhip, paddles, belts, things like that. When I turned eleven, she met a man named Kurt. He got her addicted to crack. She...I didn't even know who she was anymore. I didn't view it as abuse anymore...it was more like she just gave up and was trying to kill us. (me and my sisters) She started hitting us in the head with boards and all sorts of horrible stuff that I can't even find myself to repeat. My sisters and I were eating about 2x a week then, and that was only because we were shoplifting the food. Anyways, we were taken away shortly after and I was put into group homes until I turned 18.
The only reason I wrote that, is because after all the thousands of hours of therapy, I thought I'd put it all behind me. When I was about 5 months pregnant, my Grandma said she'd spoke to my mother and she'd said "that I don't have any place to be a mother". I...still can't get that sentence out of my head. Seriously. It f***s with me everyday now. Every time I think about it, I become irate.
Anyways, so today at the office, I was told that they want to put me on meds to help with the stress and depression. They also think it's in my best interest to get back into therapy. I want to do all this for Delia. (my daughter) She, and every child, deserves a life filled with love and acceptance. I'm so afraid that some day I'll become the thing I hate more than anything, my mom. I can't even put into words how afraid I am that someday I'll become that monster. I didn't want to go to the doctor, I seriously didn't. I think of people on "head meds", and I don't want to be categorized as crazy.
This is probably deeper material than I should be writing in a public forum, but thanks for letting me share. It's been a huge weight on my shoulders, and I'm really hoping that talking to the therapist will help me to stop thinking of myself as such a bad person when I never did anything wrong.
Today is Bobby's (my fiance) 30th birthday. He didn't want anything tangible.
For almost a year now, he's been begging me to go to the doctor. The last few months came very, very apparent to me that I needed to go. I finally decided for myself that I would call the mental health hotline today as my gift to him.
After explaining what was going on, I was told to come in as soon as possible. They usually take at least a month to get an appointment, but I was taken as a walk-in, since they viewed me as "in crisis" (I have a 4 month old daughter in my home.)
I've been having some very, very severe issues going on inside my head. Some of you know a tiny bit about my past. It was f***ing horrible, to say the least. My parents divorced when I was seven, my brother died when I was eight, and my mother went apeshit shortly thereafter. She was only moderately (I guess?) abusive for the next couple years. She would beat the hell out of us for no reason, with a bullwhip, paddles, belts, things like that. When I turned eleven, she met a man named Kurt. He got her addicted to crack. She...I didn't even know who she was anymore. I didn't view it as abuse anymore...it was more like she just gave up and was trying to kill us. (me and my sisters) She started hitting us in the head with boards and all sorts of horrible stuff that I can't even find myself to repeat. My sisters and I were eating about 2x a week then, and that was only because we were shoplifting the food. Anyways, we were taken away shortly after and I was put into group homes until I turned 18.
The only reason I wrote that, is because after all the thousands of hours of therapy, I thought I'd put it all behind me. When I was about 5 months pregnant, my Grandma said she'd spoke to my mother and she'd said "that I don't have any place to be a mother". I...still can't get that sentence out of my head. Seriously. It f***s with me everyday now. Every time I think about it, I become irate.
Anyways, so today at the office, I was told that they want to put me on meds to help with the stress and depression. They also think it's in my best interest to get back into therapy. I want to do all this for Delia. (my daughter) She, and every child, deserves a life filled with love and acceptance. I'm so afraid that some day I'll become the thing I hate more than anything, my mom. I can't even put into words how afraid I am that someday I'll become that monster. I didn't want to go to the doctor, I seriously didn't. I think of people on "head meds", and I don't want to be categorized as crazy.
This is probably deeper material than I should be writing in a public forum, but thanks for letting me share. It's been a huge weight on my shoulders, and I'm really hoping that talking to the therapist will help me to stop thinking of myself as such a bad person when I never did anything wrong.