Much of my life has offered "trauma/drama" in bulk. It isn't one thing but a series that last for a long time.
Three years ago this week I was accused of stealing money from a non-profit. We were advised that if we just paid what they said nothing could happen. We paid, we walked away to make the pain stop. It was devestating. I had given almost 18 years to that organization as well as other non-profits and did so with the sole purpose of helping. I should have left that organization a couple of years earlier, it had changed and was not in line with my ideals or goals. This incident broke me. I remember crying for at least three weeks. I could not eat or sleep. My then husband was angry. My parents were angry. My kids were angry. My then husband wanted to seperate but his brother convinced him to stay. Every outburst produced a new drug. Every bone in my body hurt. That produced another drug. I couldn't sleep. That produced another drug. I couldn't stay awake. That produced another drug. At one point I was on 9 medications and 5 vitimins. I slept walked through a hysterical year. I couldn't think. I screamed. I was paranoid. I was angry. I needed human touch. I needed someone to wrap me up and protect me from the world and myself. I was TOO MUCH for everyone around me. Those closest couldn't do it and those far away tried but it was never enough. Every day was hurtful. The sun hurt my eyes. Noise hurt my head. Quiet hurt my heart. Slowly my world kept unraveling. I only have journals, which are chicken scratch, to remind me. Those in of themselves are heartbreaking. To me and others who have admitted (and those who deny) reading them. I seem to have hurt other people during this year but I also almost destroyed myself.
The end of childhood was approaching. The last child was graduating and going off to college. The 2nd and 3rd children were graduating college and moving into "adulting". The plan was that we would work for a bit and save and then bee able to travel. Pay off our bills and live a quiet life because we were young enough to still do things like hiking or traveling non-stop.
Things got worse toward the end of the first year. I have since come to find out that 3 of the medications I was on were contra-indicated for each other - one of them made me balloon to 190 pounds and had me wound so tight I thought I would snap at any minute and most days I did. My husband pulled further and further away. At one point he has said "I just never knew which Pam I was going to get on any given day."
I was diagnosed with bi-polar II. A diagnosis that today is disputed but we are exploring. My ex-husband was seeing his own therapist. He insisted I was not taking therapy seriously. Maybe I was and maybe I wasn't. Each person I saw wanted more medications and kept telling me my "husband" had one foot out the door and we needed to prepare me for life alone. I would stop going and move on to someone else. I didn't want to hear that. However, even they saw the writing on the wall.
Two years ago this month, at some point, for his own reasons, which he will not tell me with any intellectual honesty, he filed for divorce. He says he did it after an argument and in a fit of anger. Reality is that when he left that morning he had taken his ring off and left it next to our bed. That was a finality. There was no thinking. He filed for divorce that day. He did tell me that night but for a long time I blocked that out and denied he told me. I raged. If I had cancer would he leave? So I have a mental disorder and you leave. It sounded great and pitiful and was all mine. He left. He came back. He had some conditions. I had to get a job to help with the debt. I had to take therapy seriously (I was insulted by that because I knew I was. Now I look back and realize I was looking for someone to tell me what I wanted to hear and how to fix it. Not share reality with me. ) I think there was one more thing but for the life of me I can't remember. I put out there he had to dismiss the divorce; put his ring back on and move back in. We agreed.
It did not last long. I became angry because he moved back in but didn't unpack. He became just more sad and angry. He wouldn't talk about it. I found a therapist who I thought was great. He helped me off the drugs and in our sessions I started to get a grip and felt better. Then he suggested marriage counseling with him. That lasted three sessions. My "husband" suggested I might have Borderline Personality Disorder. I was shocked. He said someone told him about it and he researched it. I fit almost all of the categories. I raged that Bi-Polar had a lot of the same symptoms. How dare he. Every validation I got in my individual session was torn away in the couple session. Things I shared with the therapist, he would put me on the spot to ask if he could share with my husband. My world was being turned upside down again. On the last session my "husband" announced that he was done and that it was over. I was struck between stunned, anger, guilt, shame, rage and a tiny bit of relief.
He left. It wasn't an honest leaving and certainly was not graceful. In turn I cried. I screamed. I raged. I shouted. I cussed. I told secrets to anyone who would listed. I tried every guilt tactic I could. I was not the bad guy here and everyone was going to know it. I was uncouth and had no class or grace. I even drug my children into it.
The emotions I felt are hard to describe. I felt everything. If you looked at me sideways, I felt it. Everything. He again had taken off his ring. Saying that even if we were still married that because he was not living there he would not wear it. He had done that earlier in the summer too. It broke my heart. He left the kids out of it. He got everything new. He got the good credit. The new car. The new furniture. I was left everyday with the memories. Remember when we bought the Tahoe? Remember when we spent half a day picking out the bedroom suite? Remember...Remember... everywhere I turned in the house was a 28 year reminder of LIFE.
Again, I did not do separation or divorce with any class or grace. He became more immune to it as time went on. He tried to help but every time I relied on him it made my "divorce crazy" worse. I clung to it. I could not let go. Slowly as he became more tolerant and more patient, my kids became less so.
That was the end of the 2nd year. The end of the 3rd year had produced a year of drinking regularly and in excess. Having three different jobs. Moving from the city I had lived in for 28 years back to my hometown. Then another move out of the first apartment after the loss of the third job. Every set back set me BACK. Every step forward was not looked at. Every slight kept alive like a lightening bug in a jar. Every thing I didn't know about with him or the kids drove me crazy. Why was I the center hub for 25 years but all of a sudden cut out? I interrogated. I over-shared. I said things that can never be taken back. I stalked. I smiled. I tried to talk and put pressure on everyone around me, especially my kids, about how great they were and had carried me and my burden. I won't agree that I was abusive. I was lost. I was hurt. I had no tools to cope and my family and then my in-law family of 28 years had cut me out. I was too much and lines were drawn. Granted I was usually the one drawing them but they were drawn. Every soothing word from my ex (because he was my ex at this point) just sent me over the cliff. I rushed into everything...men, alcohol, jobs, spending. You name it, I didn't do anything in moderation or with forethought. Demanding inquisitions popped out of my mouth before I could stop them. The further the kids and friends, but mostly kids, pulled away for their own sanity, the worse I got.
Recently a child said I was abusive and had Borderline Personalty Disorder. I was shocked; hurt; angry. I sat with it for awhile. It isn't all true but there were probably times I fit into some abusive "now" category. I did have moments during their childhood where I would explode. However, as a child I was never allowed to be expressive and when I was I was put into submission. Things just built up. What I guess hurt the most was that the children were my life. I loved them heart and soul and still do. I was not perfect but our kids did not suffer abuse like my ex and I did. So for someone to say that so easily hurt. It is my hurt but their right. I can only hope that one day they see that sometimes you do things in life that you can't control and looking back it may have hurt you but it was not intentional or done with malice and forethought. I was doing the best I could with the tools, support and life matters they will never know about.
So now three years later...I am in a new job. A new apartment. Once again rebuilding my credit. Learning to be mindful. Learning to be an active listener. Learning that everyone is entitled to their own feelings. That everyone, including me is entitled to their past and their memories and feelings over those memories. That everyone, including me will forgive and love again. That damage may have been done but the water under the bridge has a way of smoothing the stones back out.
I am living day by day and doing it now medication free, only a couple of drinks a week, without guilt, with friends, with family, with God/Higher Power, with forgiveness for myself and others. I am living day by day trying to be mindful and not forget the past but not dwell in it. My purpose is not for everyone around me but for me. I hope one day those I have hurt can forgive me. I hope that one day I can be better and those in my life realize that I am worth it because the love I have to offer is greater than the breakdown I went though and may have pushed others too. I hope one day I have the power to remember life as a breath of fresh air, the good and the bad, and live in peace.
The journey has been hard and as I dissect it further may be even harder but I feel ready to face things with honesty, compassion, mindfulness, love and grace.
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