My back story
I sit here at 04:35am CST starting to really think about the things I face everyday. The thing many people around the world face everyday in silence. No one that is my parents generation or any father back, dare even speak its name. Mental Illness. The thing is, it is everywhere, but no one is trying to fight it until my generation. I guess that may not be a fact, but more the way I feel and how I see the world from my little corner.
I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety at the age of 22. I had just got married and I worked as an EMT at the time, so I saw a lot of things that everyday people don’t see. It started to get to me. I felt on edge all the time. The simplest things would scare me half way to death. Something was right. Something hadn’t been right for many years by then.
See all my life I have been around death. No I don’t live in a funeral home or anything like that. It was just people were always dying around me. Both sides of my family were older and I had some really bad things when I was young. Around the age of six years old a drunk driver exited a rest stop in New Mexico the wrong way. My grandmother and her boyfriend where trying to pass two semis. Since this man had gone the wrong way, he was headed down the interstate, at a high rate of speed, going the wrong way. As it has been refilled to me as I became older, she and the passenger of the drunk driver’s car were killed on impact. Her boyfriend and the drunk driver lived.
I remember it like it was yesterday. The day that my mom and dad had to tell me and my twin brother that out Granny had been killed. I was so sad, but didn’t really understand since my age. I knew what death meant, but I didn’t know how to handle the grief. I just remember being angry at my mom for telling my brother and I when we were playing and getting along. ( We have never gotten a long the best and this was one of the times we were.) I know it sounds silly now, maybe even heartless but that is the only way I knew how to handle it. Become angry.
This would become a trend. About a year and half to two years later my cousin was killed by a driver that didn’t see him on his four-wheeler. The visitation had to be on my 7th or 8th birthday. Needless to say that was the worst birthday I have ever had. I was allowed to go to his visitation to say goodbye, but still something inside of me couldn’t understand the grief I was learning how to feel. I was somewhat numb. I would break down some times but for the most part, I didn’t understand why everyone was so effected by it and I wasn’t. After that, funerals became just another thing. Like I said, my family was older. This meant that my grandparents brothers and sisters started dying when I was young. It was just a thing we did. We went said our respects and left. I became really good at being there for people in their time of need at a very young age.
The biggest blow to my family was around April 2005. My dad had been to the hospital , which never happened, and even though the doctors thought it was gallstones, it had turned out to be something much worse. My dad was sitting on the couch and our mom had us come sit down, oddly in the bathroom. That’s when she told us that my dad had cancer. It was stage 4 liver cancer. We didn’t know it yet but it had spread to his stomach lining and pancreas. My dad tried to make a joke with this chemo bag he had on him. “The doctors say I can’t play softball with it.” It really did look like a clear softball that had a line in to his stomach. The first thing I could think and the only thing that I thought for the next 55 days was that my dad was going to die.
I’m not sure how much hope the doctors actually gave my parents, but mom and dad told us that he could beat this. I knew in my heart he wouldn’t. Fifty-five days later on June 24th, 2005 at 4:44pm my dad passed away at my grandparents house. He was 45 years old. He left behind my mom, my twin brother, my little sister that was one and a half, and I.
After that day I felt nothing. I blocked everything out and was just broken. I refused greif consoling. I thought I was too strong for that. My dad would have never had done that. That was my way of thinking. I couldn’t have been more wrong. For nine years I didn’t even know I was depressed. I thought I just was a “tightly wound” person and nothing really meant much to me. Most of my life was just kinda blah. I didn’t do anything crazy during my teenage years, I kept to myself and worked. That was just the new normal. I didn’t ever realize that I was depressed, because for all those years that was all I had known.
Junior year I stated having back problems. The first few doctors just drugged me up and sent me on my way. At one point I was on 10mg of Valium up to four times a day as needed. Looking back I just think “Who would give a 17-18 year old that strong of a medication and that many and not expected them to abuse it?” So for two or three years. That’s how I made my stress and anxiety go away. Finally the doctor I see know for general stuff took me off of it and sent me to physical therapy.
Those two same years I lost two of my closest family memebers. My cousin had gotten in a fight at a party and was walking home. The persons who he had the fight with, got in their truck and ran him down. Literally. To make matters worse the backed up and ran over his head. I was on this same road about an hour before this happened. The people who killed him where threatening my family ( for some reason.... never really did make since) It was one of the saddest moments after my dad I had. My anger, anxiety, and depression skyrocketed. Thankfully I had a wonderful friend named Elise that was there for me every step of the way. It was her idea to wear all white to his funeral, as a sign of renewal in life and that we knew he would always be with us.
In 2008 on December 28th, the worst thing happened to my family and I since my dads passing. MY uncle was addicted to pain pills and stopped taking them so he could work. He wanted to work to get enough money to divorce his wife at the time. The only other way to stop the pain was to get a complete spinal fusion. That ment he wouldn’t be able to work. He was never one of those lazy people. He worked hard his whole life. Also if he didn’t work, he would not have money to get a divorce. He really wanted on of those, I have heard from other people. So he decided to do the only other thing he could think of doing. He committed suicide. He had been as close to a second dad to me as I would let him, since my dad had passed. My mother and step dad woke me up and told me. I collapsed on the floor. I had just seen him 4 days before on Christmas. How could I have missed it? Why wouldn’t he let any of us help? I had so many thing going though my head. The day of his funeral I dressed in all black. Since I was little I had started piercing my ears to match his. ( I believe her had between 13-15 piercings ) IT was almost like our little contest. That day I wore all my earrings and stood up with my grandparents. He would have wanted me to wear them and even though my grandparents were and still aren’t that found of all my piercings and tattoos, they loved it that day because he would have wanted it.
As you can tell from a early age my life was just f-ed up. I’m not telling you this or pity pints I’m telling you this because most of my wounds are invisible. Hi can’t see how hard I mourned for my dad for so many years . Years after other people had moved on. I couldn’t. I felt like if I stoped mourning that everyone would forget him. I miss all the people I have lost. This blog will be part telling my story about day to day life with Anixety, Depression and Complex PTSD. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. But I do ask you respect my view of the world. The they I see things isn’t going to be the same as you. Just try to keep an open mind.
Nicole
I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety at the age of 22. I had just got married and I worked as an EMT at the time, so I saw a lot of things that everyday people don’t see. It started to get to me. I felt on edge all the time. The simplest things would scare me half way to death. Something was right. Something hadn’t been right for many years by then.
See all my life I have been around death. No I don’t live in a funeral home or anything like that. It was just people were always dying around me. Both sides of my family were older and I had some really bad things when I was young. Around the age of six years old a drunk driver exited a rest stop in New Mexico the wrong way. My grandmother and her boyfriend where trying to pass two semis. Since this man had gone the wrong way, he was headed down the interstate, at a high rate of speed, going the wrong way. As it has been refilled to me as I became older, she and the passenger of the drunk driver’s car were killed on impact. Her boyfriend and the drunk driver lived.
I remember it like it was yesterday. The day that my mom and dad had to tell me and my twin brother that out Granny had been killed. I was so sad, but didn’t really understand since my age. I knew what death meant, but I didn’t know how to handle the grief. I just remember being angry at my mom for telling my brother and I when we were playing and getting along. ( We have never gotten a long the best and this was one of the times we were.) I know it sounds silly now, maybe even heartless but that is the only way I knew how to handle it. Become angry.
This would become a trend. About a year and half to two years later my cousin was killed by a driver that didn’t see him on his four-wheeler. The visitation had to be on my 7th or 8th birthday. Needless to say that was the worst birthday I have ever had. I was allowed to go to his visitation to say goodbye, but still something inside of me couldn’t understand the grief I was learning how to feel. I was somewhat numb. I would break down some times but for the most part, I didn’t understand why everyone was so effected by it and I wasn’t. After that, funerals became just another thing. Like I said, my family was older. This meant that my grandparents brothers and sisters started dying when I was young. It was just a thing we did. We went said our respects and left. I became really good at being there for people in their time of need at a very young age.
The biggest blow to my family was around April 2005. My dad had been to the hospital , which never happened, and even though the doctors thought it was gallstones, it had turned out to be something much worse. My dad was sitting on the couch and our mom had us come sit down, oddly in the bathroom. That’s when she told us that my dad had cancer. It was stage 4 liver cancer. We didn’t know it yet but it had spread to his stomach lining and pancreas. My dad tried to make a joke with this chemo bag he had on him. “The doctors say I can’t play softball with it.” It really did look like a clear softball that had a line in to his stomach. The first thing I could think and the only thing that I thought for the next 55 days was that my dad was going to die.
I’m not sure how much hope the doctors actually gave my parents, but mom and dad told us that he could beat this. I knew in my heart he wouldn’t. Fifty-five days later on June 24th, 2005 at 4:44pm my dad passed away at my grandparents house. He was 45 years old. He left behind my mom, my twin brother, my little sister that was one and a half, and I.
After that day I felt nothing. I blocked everything out and was just broken. I refused greif consoling. I thought I was too strong for that. My dad would have never had done that. That was my way of thinking. I couldn’t have been more wrong. For nine years I didn’t even know I was depressed. I thought I just was a “tightly wound” person and nothing really meant much to me. Most of my life was just kinda blah. I didn’t do anything crazy during my teenage years, I kept to myself and worked. That was just the new normal. I didn’t ever realize that I was depressed, because for all those years that was all I had known.
Junior year I stated having back problems. The first few doctors just drugged me up and sent me on my way. At one point I was on 10mg of Valium up to four times a day as needed. Looking back I just think “Who would give a 17-18 year old that strong of a medication and that many and not expected them to abuse it?” So for two or three years. That’s how I made my stress and anxiety go away. Finally the doctor I see know for general stuff took me off of it and sent me to physical therapy.
Those two same years I lost two of my closest family memebers. My cousin had gotten in a fight at a party and was walking home. The persons who he had the fight with, got in their truck and ran him down. Literally. To make matters worse the backed up and ran over his head. I was on this same road about an hour before this happened. The people who killed him where threatening my family ( for some reason.... never really did make since) It was one of the saddest moments after my dad I had. My anger, anxiety, and depression skyrocketed. Thankfully I had a wonderful friend named Elise that was there for me every step of the way. It was her idea to wear all white to his funeral, as a sign of renewal in life and that we knew he would always be with us.
In 2008 on December 28th, the worst thing happened to my family and I since my dads passing. MY uncle was addicted to pain pills and stopped taking them so he could work. He wanted to work to get enough money to divorce his wife at the time. The only other way to stop the pain was to get a complete spinal fusion. That ment he wouldn’t be able to work. He was never one of those lazy people. He worked hard his whole life. Also if he didn’t work, he would not have money to get a divorce. He really wanted on of those, I have heard from other people. So he decided to do the only other thing he could think of doing. He committed suicide. He had been as close to a second dad to me as I would let him, since my dad had passed. My mother and step dad woke me up and told me. I collapsed on the floor. I had just seen him 4 days before on Christmas. How could I have missed it? Why wouldn’t he let any of us help? I had so many thing going though my head. The day of his funeral I dressed in all black. Since I was little I had started piercing my ears to match his. ( I believe her had between 13-15 piercings ) IT was almost like our little contest. That day I wore all my earrings and stood up with my grandparents. He would have wanted me to wear them and even though my grandparents were and still aren’t that found of all my piercings and tattoos, they loved it that day because he would have wanted it.
As you can tell from a early age my life was just f-ed up. I’m not telling you this or pity pints I’m telling you this because most of my wounds are invisible. Hi can’t see how hard I mourned for my dad for so many years . Years after other people had moved on. I couldn’t. I felt like if I stoped mourning that everyone would forget him. I miss all the people I have lost. This blog will be part telling my story about day to day life with Anixety, Depression and Complex PTSD. Don’t be afraid to ask questions. But I do ask you respect my view of the world. The they I see things isn’t going to be the same as you. Just try to keep an open mind.
Nicole
Comments
Post a Comment