Posts Tagged ‘alone’

Today, I was confronted by someone I am living with who was upset over me having fruit in a plastic bag out. She began to recollect everything I am doing or rather have done that differs from other people in the house. She continuously repeated in a harsh and violent tone, “You’re not special”. I began to space out as she began to become monstrous as I do not care to hear from people that have nothing unintelligible to say.

Further, I began to think about why she continued to say this to me and what message she was attempting to convey. This is when it occurred to me; though I do not perceive myself as special, I do have special needs. There is a distinct difference. For me, those difference present themselves in the following ways:

  • I need more space in kitchen cabinets because the items I need for my motility disorder take up lots of space, and are very expensive. However, if the items are bought in bulk, the price is often quite lower. So, at the moment, I have many items from bulk shipments.
  • I take more time getting ready, and have to wake up earlier.
  • connecting this to an earlier post, I often am allowed additional baggage to lug aboard a plane. I don’t feel particularly special and rather isolated when I have to spend an additional 30 minutes to one hour waiting in airport security lugging a piece of baggage that is generally quite heavy, full of liquids because I can’t walk into a convenience or grocery store whenever I’m feeling hungry to be satiated. These items are not carried in your everyday store.
  • I have to be very wary that the food I grind is pureed to be of a particular consistency so I can swallow easier. Preparing food to this standard takes at least two to three times as long as an average meal preparation.
  • I have to drink out of a very particular cup with a straw, and these cups are generally made for people aged 1-3 years old. Oh how I love carrying around a cup that is targeted to this age group. If I want to be identified, a bright green cup is sure the way to go. I hate this fact, and often don’t consume any liquids while I am in public view to ward off any chastising before it starts.
  • When I go places with friends, it isn’t uncommon for me to be left behind so they can do what they need to do in a set time frame-I walk too slowly for them. Once this occurs in a friendship, aside from a truly valid reason, I often do not consider most of these individuals friends thereafter.

Someone who is special tends to believe that others should conform to his or her own standards and often exhibits a sense of entitlement. Upon deviance from this standard, a monstrous attitude is generally displayed by the special individual. If one accepts this definition to be generally accurate, I believe I was the product of the good old defense mechanism of projection hours ago; this person’s hostility towards me is because she believes she deserves the same treatment as me. You know what? If I had the ability to generate Cerebral Palsy, an unknown motility disorder, narcolepsy, ADHD, bilateral exotropia, and a slew of other conditions upon her for one day, I’d be confounded if she didn’t request to have a few additional accommodations made for her in housing.

However, since I do not have that power (yet), and I would not knowingly cast sickness to someone else, I hereby declare that the world exudes greater understanding and empathy towards special needs, rather than look upon it as an unthinkable act, and admonishing circumstance.

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Starting out three months too soon,

He didn’t make it.

My twin was too little,

I took the nutrition,

This you’ll hear, is my rendition.

Left alone, parents aside.

Only touched out of necessity,

Rarely for love comfort,each time much brevity.

Fed through my head because I couldn’t feed.

A little weird, I think, because apparently I managed my needs:

In the womb, next to my brother,

The moment we’re out I don’t get another

Moment near him as they swooped him away,

Or fell into the bucket, there’s none who will say.

None who can or will tell me the truth as I stare off into space,

Appearing aloof.

Bitterness abounds as my family breaks apart.

It was at my birth, at my start.

Sure there were problems and problems before,

I can’t help but think I added to the stress more.

Regardless, I was an innocent life,

Quite fragile, delicate, and constantly under the knife.

They thought I was stupid, young, naive.

I knew what was going on, always protecting my reality,

Not wanting to believe,

That my parents couldn’t love me,

That they constantly grieve,

The three children they had

1 dead

1 dying

and the last, keeps trying.

That’s me, the last, a bundle of unknowns,

I stepped away to grow up on my own.

From a very young age I never connected,

They blamed birth, the brain bleed, always something indirect.

They never stepped up, they never confessed,

That all this, all this came from distress.

If they were dead, this life might make sense.

At the very least, I would have evidence, and my world not as dense.

I despise them, I pity them,

For parents they are not.

I used to want to leave, ran away a lot.

No one helped me as I sat in despair.

I was the crazy one, life perfectly unfair.

I was judged, ridiculed, abused all the time,

When I asked for help and spoke the truth, it was as if I did the crime.

I didn’t, I was just a little kid,

Shouldn’t have to take care of myself,

Yet I did.

This pattern created a grown up too soon,

From the age of 6 I was off, zoom zoom.

I began to rebel, only from them,

I began to stay away, always sent to my room.

The monster within me wouldn’t leave,

As I destroyed my things, myself, all in a vain attempt to grieve.

For not having a mommy to cuddle with when I was upset,

Not having a daddy as he was filled with his own, deep-seated regret.

I did have Barbara, emotionally and completely destroyed.

I did have Ken, an unstable adult child, who I sometimes enjoyed.

Then there’s Michael, who never really liked me,

He noted this before and to the police I was crazy,

And last from my childhood was Judi, far from a lady.

I yearned to connect, to please have a family,

No, not for me,

That would be uncanny.

As my world unraveled, I followed suit,

How did I not die on this treacherous pursuit?

I was done, ready to die,

What kind of life is this, all alone, with no one nearby.

Somehow I’ve lived, they call it fortuitous,

They call it a miracle, they call it bliss.

I don’t know what to say,

I just don’t want to struggle, through this, day after day.

I want to live, to stay alive,

Yet there’s uncertainty and death has been near,

The angels called for me, and I was like a deer,

Caught in the headlights, unsure how to proceed,

As the angels waited nearby,

Would I concede?

I didn’t go, not wanting to die alone,

But I was ready, done with the drone,

Of being sick, unloved and unwanted,

The only hope I had left, slowly dissipating,

My life was on the edge as I was done fighting,

Too scared to die, too tired to live,

I drifted through the night, unable to give.

I woke in the morning, rather confused,

The medicine finally worked, I didn’t lose.

I was alive, albeit tired, weak and meek,

Wanting to finish school, week after week.

I loved where I lived, not wanting to leave,

Yet I had to, this time,

If I wanted to breathe.

Life is breath,

Breath is life,

I must remember this pattern to be rid of the strife.

I’m alive now, I’m writing this down,

Missing Denmark, my twin, and my upside-down frown.

I was happy there, though I was sick.

I had friends, ones I could pick.

I’m lost here, where I don’t belong,

I’ve nothing here, not even a mom.

I have me, only me, someone I despise,

Who stole from a baby, ripped apart a family,

All by being alive.

 

 

 

What did I do wrong

What happened to my life? I started to get better over here, at least emotionally. I was welcomed by a most amazing host family, and felt a part of their home within the first 24 hours. We had ups and downs, mostly ups and downs were external forces for the next four months. We shared secrets. Then I got sick. They visited me every few days in hospital. Then I got well. Then I got sick after the first day, and was re-admitted. Fortunately, I was discharged days later after fighting a severe infection.

I moved out of the house as planned, to start another term. They had already planned on having family friends move in, before I decided I’d stay the whole year. Ever since that point, I have made the effort to go see them on at least half a dozen separate occasions, on public transportation mind you, while they own a car. They said they’d visit me and never once made the effort to do so.

Graciously they lent me their extra bike for the term. My youngest host sister and I have begun to exchange daily texts. The one I received from her today was odd. She had just asked if I was going to be coming by to see them before I leave and I wrote that I have to see her so yeah.

She responded in a rather adult way saying I have to confirm because I have the bike. The bike. Not me. Why see me? Why make an effort to come out to see me? I have not once seen them even attempt to come to where I live. Never mind the fact that finals, packing, and reverse culture shock are looming. Never mind I’ve been in hospital six times in the last four months. It’s always about monetary value, not people. People don’t matter. I don’t matter.

This is a mere extension or reflection of what I’ve been feeling over the past few weeks. Being neglected at the hospital that seemed to be the only decent one left here (I’ve been to four in this country), literally the hospital doing nothing but observation after I found blood in my tube.

The friends I’ve made where I live suddenly became absent from my life a few weeks ago as well. One, he was going through some stuff and wouldn’t let anyone in. He wasn’t responding to any of my texts and had very little contact with anyone. The other, I’m guessing it was his girlfriend who has been occupying his time over the past weeks. I just found out about the girlfriend over the past weekend at a gathering for a friend’s party.

The person who organized the party is at the same level of friendship as the person who the party was for. I hope this makes enough sense to get across. My birthday also was a few weeks ago, the organizer (friend) said we’d do something for my birthday. That never happened.I went to this party not bitterly, attempting to celebrate the special occasion for the friend. It was hard to not feel slightly jealous.

The cycle of neglect and abandonment and utter devastation surface and replay. Broken promises, broken heart, no family.

My father who only has contact with me for financial reasons as he has no emotional availability for me in his life just sent two horrifyingly nasty e-mails to my home school. You see, my home school is attempting to charge me their tuition even though I’m abroad and received a significant discount on tuition. If I don’t pay, they won’t give me my grades, will de-register me from classes in the Fall, and yes even remove my ability to check out library books. The money they want me to give them was to be my housing money for the summer. Hello homelessness, goodbye life as I knew it, for those few amazing months.

 

“It’s Just Food”

That’s what “they’d” say/ Whoever the fuck “they” are. Eating with my host family has become awkward. I love everything about them aside from the food bit. Perhaps it’s my ED talking though I’m inclined to think otherwise considering my friends here have similar experiences without an ED. It’s possible that people here are just unbelievably strict regarding food and are somewhat hoarders in the food department. Anyway for me, the unsettling feelings around mealtime began about one month ago when I was restricted to a soft-food/liquid diet. I suppose because my host family was aware of this, I wasn’t “invited” to meal times. Though I imagine they had the best of intentions at heart, they likely didn’t want to tempt me with foods I’d be unable to consume.

When I decided fuck what the doctor says, I’ll eat whatever, things were still weird. Most nights I’d be around I wouldn’t be “invited” to dinner and meals were not cooked for me as had been in the previous weeks. I got sadly and uncomfortably use to this process and resorted to eating alone later, snacking on foods in the basement where my room is, or just not eating and missing meals.

Tonight, when I came home, I was asked if I’d be eating with them and I responded that I would. About 30 minutes later, I heard the usual plates clanking and laughter coming from upstairs. I believed that even though they acknowledged my presence for the meal, somehow they had forgotten. I began to snack on pretzels and cheese dip. About ten minutes later, my host dad opened the basement door and pops his head through, asking me if I was coming up to eat. Startled, and with half a pretzel stick in my mouth, I shook my head “yes”.

I was mortified, to the point that you’d think he caught me doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing, or something horribly inappropriate (insert fantasy here). Knowing or thinking that the adults upstairs (we have guests over) would be at least slightly inebriated (judging by sounds and speech heard), I decided that in order to be present at the table in the least uncomfortable way, I’d chug some sparkling cider alcohol prior to making my way upstairs, ease the nerves a bit you know?

Problem is, I don’t have a drinking problem, and rarely have I used alcohol to make myself feel better. The fact that I thought about drinking and followed through with the act makes me a bit uneasy, not now at least emotionally but in my logical mind. I felt embarrassed to be indulging in food that I “fixed it by indulging in alcohol. That does not clear things up. It’s just way messier. That is not normal, and it is not ok that I feel entirely embarrassed caught in the act of eating.

I thought I could do it. I thought it wouldn’t matter since I’ve spent plenty of time alone in the past. The problem or difference is that usually, I find ways to numb myself to the pain of being alone. This time, I haven’t done that. I become depressed and in a state of despair when alone. I’m just speculating here that the reason I do can be attributed to a long history of abuse and neglect. Constantly on my mind is the fact that my biological family is not present for me in any form. Tonight seems exceptionally hard. Instead of inducing harm or numbing myself tonight, I think it’s time I convey my message in words.

According to ongoing recent research, people who have a history of severe attachment problems tend not to do well in life. I’m sick of my disconnect from the world. I want to immerse into the world, not hide from it. A pit of despair formed in me throughout the day. A telltale sign that I’m starting to feel unwell is when I seek out triggering videos. For the past few weeks (or months?), I’ve been watching these sorts of videos or clips online.

Tonight, I needed to cry, and I’m watching something that’s fulfilling that need well. Yet, it began to hit home in how relevant it was to my current situation and I began to think. My thoughts just take off to the moon once prompted. I was reminded of how I don’t have a family, how I have no relationship with even the one person I want to-my brother. He’s sick, physically sick. It’s been an emotional roller coaster for over 20 years for everyone. He believes I’m sick, except that it’s serious mental illness.

The places I’ve been in treat people like animals. After a while people will embody the aspect that they are treated as. I’ve acted like an animal in the past. My brother has no wish to see that I am no longer that person. I feel a bit crazy tonight, but hey, I’m starting to think that’s actually something many people experience. It’s only when it becomes chronic that maybe it can have an attribution to mental illness. I’m not mental, I’m in the process of repairing my insane past. It doesn’t have to define me. My history will not defeat me tonight.

 

I’m grateful to have something productive to do with my days; I returned to school as a “mature” learner (I think it’s called).

Jealousy is on my mind tonight. Things I admit being jealous of:

-Not having my original freshman year turn out the way I planned. Had a severe infection summer before college and missed out on most of the orientation getting-to-know-you activities being doped up on medications.

-Lack of a support system. All of these people constantly talk about their parents, their family, their significant other, blah blah blah. Who do I have??? No one healthy to say the least. No one in close proximity to lean on, to be ok crying in front of, someone who won’t send me to the hospital when I say I want to self-harm.*Note: Crying in front of my advisor (who I only met three weeks ago) is more embarrassing than comforting, though she was kind about the situation.

The first person who I believed actually believed in me is a doctor, who works over an hour away, and due to legalities, it’s not like I can just pop in for a chat. I’m fortunate to have e-mail communication with her though.

-Just got word that a friend of mine is going to a program this MD heads. I’m quite jealous simply because the MD is incredibly supportive and I need someone like that on my side.

-On breaks, where do I get to go? No where. I’m worried about all of that time alone.

-Having financial security. My finances are slim and only getting slimmer.

-Sleeping at night. I can count on one hand, maybe two how many nights of my life I recall being a good, restful night’s sleep, not induced by medications. I am terrified of the night. I am alone at night. For me, it’s just all all-around terrifying situation.

-Friend having a baby. I’m happy for her, unplanned as it was. I know I want to have a child and not necessarily for the best reasons; except someone looking up to you, and me essentially having unconditional love for that person, that is something I crave.

-Spirituality: I am “spiritually bankrupt”. I am trying to replete this account. I need some faith back in my life. Attended two services this week, please I hope the connection comes soon; I’m hanging on by loose ends.

-Intelligence that comes easy, or for that matter, anything that comes easy. My day is constantly slowed by the pace I walk, the speed I process, the words I attempt to convey in a class, in a conversation.

-Emotion Regulation- If my emotions were associated with an art product, it would be the most colorful paint palette available. They are too strong, and change too quickly. As I believe I’ve mentioned in previous posts, I can feel like I’m on top of the world and want to die all in the same day, same hour for that matter.

-A way to vent that is productive and healthy.

-Going a week without actually wanting to die. I still want to; I want for one day to go by where I don’t regret that I attempted to take my own life one and a half months ago.

-Jealous of people who have people, again, support. It’s a lonely world.