Keeping me sane...

My post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and anxiety is in full swing right now. But I shouldn’t bitch because I did it to myself when I got bored and began reading stories about children being abused.  When I read about or see stories about child abuse or sexual abuse, my heart rate increases rapidly and nausea will follow. I then have to swiftly re-arrange my thoughts to stop myself from doing something stupid. If I can’t do it for myself, I’ll do it for them.

I thought about suicide so frequently today that it became my obsession. I repeatedly thought about all the possible ways to die, and the easiest method to achieve this goal. One of my hidden personalities who is the responsible, level headed one, stepped forth in my moment of severe distress and prevented me from taking my life. But the one that scares me the most, is the personality that shows no fear. She knows that we can’t take our own life, but she can force others to do it for her. This war is a non-stop battle in my mind, and sometimes I feel like surrendering to the wrong side. Having children is the only thing that has prevented me from crossing that line.  

I’ve been trying to do the right things like exercise, eat right, get a good night’s sleep, get out in the world and be more social, stop all the negative thinking, and do more things that I enjoy. But, it’s tough to get out of bed in the morning when you feel like, ‘what’s the point’. I’m not making a difference in this world, I’m not a productive member of society, I’ve been to prison, I’ve broken many laws, etc. I could list a hundred negative things about myself. But, all they have to do is smile and I remember what I’m here for.

What I dislike most about myself is that I’m not very intelligent. Compared to some I might be, but I feel way below average. And I hate that about myself. I’m not sure who is to blame, probably me, or it could have been the fact that it was impossible to concentrate in school when I was always thinking about what was going to secretly take place at home later. Maybe I can place the blame on the hours of lost sleep due to the unbearably cold room that I slept in while growing up, or the hole in the roof near the foot of my bed that leaked large buckets of water every time it rained, or maybe it was because I always feared that one day my father would snap and kill everyone in the house. FUCK! Maybe it was because I was thinking about my brothers being in the hospital after they were shot. I didn’t have fucking time or room in my head to think about what was being taught. If I did think about school work, I did only long enough to memorize what was on the test, pass it, and then I would forget. They will never have to deal with this kind of stress.

I wanted so much to go to college after high school, but there was no way for me to achieve that goal. Once I let go of that dream, all hope was lost and arrest, jail, prison, mental hospitals, drug rehabs, all soon followed. By the time I finally got my life in some sort of order and was ready to commit to going back to school, I got pregnant. All plans to further my education again came to a halt. For the past 20 years I have focused on making sure my boys have all the opportunities to better their lives in a way that I never had. I’m sure I still have a few more years to go, but what will I do when they are not there to keep me sane?