Friday, August 31, 2012

Themes and triggers

Very common theme from my childhood:

  • People are paid to care about me, but say they really care about me despite the money.  
  • People suddenly dump me and I never really understood why.  They give vague reasons about it being for my own good.
  • No one ever asked me what I thought was best for me.
  • Bounced and shuffled around because no one knew what to do with me.
  • Always the new kid in the middle of the school year.  Have no friends and have no idea what's going on.  Always felt like a freak because I was poor and a foster kid.  I don't know whats going on because I've missed most of the year and have no idea what's going on.

What's going on for me RIGHT NOW as an adult:

Someone paid to care about me said that she really cared about me and not just because it was her job.

She suddenly dumped me and I really do not understand why.  She says it's because it's for my best interest.  She told me on Sunday she'd call me on Monday but didn't.  She called me today to tell me that the five more sessions she promised last Sunday won't happen.  She will talk to me on the phone next Monday and possibly Wednesday but no more.

She thinks she's helping me but she's hurting me.  This is hurting me.  She's doing what she thinks is right but I'm not a textbook.  I'm not a theoretical patient.  I'm a real human being with unique circumstances.  This is triggering and traumatic.  This is hurting me.  I cried so hard that I vomited after talking to CT today.  She's hurting me.  You might think she's helping me too, but this is not in my best interest.  This is not what is going to help me.

I've been  shuffled between hospitals, program to program, and doctors and therapists.  Each one doing what they think is in my best interest.  NO ONE HAS ASKED ME WHAT I THINK even after I tell them that I want them to.  When I tell them what I feel is in my best interest it is ignored.

I started a treatment program that is like a school but everyone lives there so it's like a mixture between a group home and a school.  Except they've all been there for a long time and I'm way behind in everything.

Everyone there is very rich.  Like so rich this 21 year old just bought private beach front property in orange county.  She's decided to move to California after spending so much time here at FancyPants.  I do not have money.  I do not have family.  I'm the freak and the new girl who doesn't know what's going on.

I'm the freak in the group.  They are all very nice, but also very clueless.  They've made adoption jokes and one girl asked me if foster care is similar to animal rescue where you can go pick out the kid you want.  I didn't know what to say because in some ways it is.  I'm so behind everyone and they all use these terms that I don't know, like "SUDS."  "Campbell, what are your suds right now?"  I'm expected to know these skills that I don't know.  And we do stupid "outings" which are very "group home."  Today we went to Barnes and Noble on a "Mindfulness outing."  Give me a break.  This was an Oh-shit-I-didn't-plan-an-activity group.  It was a waste of time.  It's a good think I know a little about about mindfulness and DBT already otherwise I'd be so fucking lost. 

Monday, August 27, 2012

At FancyPants

With a little help from my little pain and panic friend sent to me by Melody. Thank you!

Saturday, August 25, 2012

CT called...

I finally stopped crying and managed to get out of bed, have my unemployment phone interview and have my benefits reinstated, and then go buy cat food.  My eyes look like crab apples, but I went out anyway because my picky cats need their very specific canned food or they won't eat.  I got the food and then went and got some drinks at the grocery store.  I was going to sand and paint this old shelving unit I trash picked months ago...  And then CT called.  She said she'd continue to have phone sessions with me once a week during the 30 day program to give me more of a transition if I agree to go fancy-pants, but then I still have to find a different trauma therapist.  She kept saying that there is no negotiating this and she's really sorry that I'm so hurt.  She feels very strongly about this and it's her ethical duty or something.  I don't see why I don't have a say in this.  Why don't I get to have a say in what is best for me?  I'm so tired of people deciding what is best for me without asking me what's best for me!  What is best for me is some fucking stability and people I can trust to stick around.  I'm so tired of people leaving me.  I just can't handle it anymore.  It's so hard for me to trust people and I trusted her.  Just because I get angry and feel like quitting therapy once in a while doesn't mean I'm not devastated now, even if my friends think it's kind of stupid and that this wasn't a real relationship anyway.  I'm fucking devastated.  I takes a ton of effort for me to trust people and I put in a lot of work with her and she's leaving me anyway.  This is kind of the last straw.  I'm so tired of people leaving me.  I feel so completely broken.  I think these past two years are the worst two years of my life.  At least my adult life anyway.  I'm so fucking tired.  I can't do this anymore.  I don't have anything left.  My voice is hoarse from sobbing so much.  My face is a water balloon.  I really just want to die.  I've taken a whole MG of klonopin and I still can't manage to quell the tears. 

I fuck up everything in my life.  I fucking despise myself.  I'm sure you are all so tired of reading this shit.  But this is all I've got.  It's all my life is.  It's all I am.

Friday, August 24, 2012

Over Capacity

I am over capacity.  Everyone leaves.  No one wants me.  People say they want me, but I know it's not true.  And it's never true for very long.  I have nobody that understands me.  No one to talk to.  Dr. K keeps calling me but she just scolds me about the treatment program.  I want her to call CT and change her mind, but I know CT won't change her mind.  She's tired of me.  You know you're pretty fucked up when you even drive your therapist away.

My whole life has been about loss and instability.  These past twelve months alone I've lost more than most people do in their whole lives.  And I freely admit it's my own damn fault.  My mother is correct.  There is something wrong with me.  I'm a fucking vile creature.

I just want someone who gets it.

Who understands.  Who gets me.  Who knows what it's like to grow up in abusive foster home after abusive foster home and be thrown away at 18.  I want someone who knows what it's like to survive severe physical abuse by many different adults in their lives.  To have their own mother go to prison for felony child abuse.  I want someone who knows what it's like to be violently raped at a very young age by someone you loved very much.  Someone who knows what it's like to be okay with the rape as long as you could be part of the family.  I want someone who gets what it's like to be sent your own child pornography.

I want someone who knows what it's like to feel so much anxiety around people now as an adult.  To worry about everything you do and say and everything someone else does and says because you are afraid of doing the wrong thing and being dumped or that you are going to be hurt.

I want someone who knows what it's like to feel so unsafe in the world because so many different people have hurt you.  Who knows that monsters are hidden everywhere and in everyone.

I want someone who knows what it's like to not be able to sleep for days at a time and then to have intense nightmares when you finally do sleep.  Someone who knows what it's like to hate yourself with so much passion that you wish someone would literally come beat you.

I want someone who knows what it's to be so fucked up and know it, but feel so unable to change it.  Who knows what it's like to work extremely hard in therapy...spending practically the majority of your free time in therapy or doing other therapeutic things and have people tell you that you need to WANT to get better and that you need to TRY to get better.

Does anyone know what it's like to be so screwed up and unwanted in life?  To have lived in a million foster homes and have absolutely no one?  Is there anyone out there?

Some people think they understand because they grew up in toxic families.  While I know they have real powerful pain about that, it's not the same and they just don't get it.

I feel so alone in the world and I'm incapable of forming any kind of relationships.  I am too screwed up.

Does anyone know what it's like to spend every waking moment dreaming about the day you will die?  And that you dream this because it's less painful than the dreams of family and belonging you used to have and know will never come.

The truth is I will always be alone.  I don't have a family.  I have very few friends.  And I keep those friends at a distance because I can't let people in or they take off.  I can't even keep therapists around.  I'm too screwed up for therapy!!

Feeling alone and unwanted is what is killing me.  It's not the rape or the physical abuse.  I suffer from those things too.  Never being wanted and knowing that no one ever will is what is killing me.  No one wants me.  Not all of me.  Therapists don't want me.  Families don't want me.  Friends don't want me.  No one wants me and yes, for those readers out there that have made it pretty clear that you think I'm a pathetic lying creep, I know it's my fault.  I know that I'm a fucked up loser.

No one wants me.  No one understands me.  And I just want out.  I really truly do.  I've been in the hospital twice in like less than a month and I've got nothing to show for it.  I'm not any better.  I'm not any closer to any kind of life worth living, as they say in dbt.  I don't want a life worth living anymore.  I don't say this for sympathy or attention.  I say this because it's the truth.  I don't want to try anymore.  I'm exhausted.  I can't climb or hold myself up anymore.

No one has ever wanted me.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Screw you Lonnie in San Diego

I am so tired of being called a liar. Why does everyone call me a fucking liar? My whole life I've called a liar. Why? Why doesn't anyone ever believe me? My whole life is one big fucking lie. My whole life is one big fucking mistake.  God, I can't fucking do this anymore.  I just can't.

Last time I was put on a 14 day hold I wasn't offered a hearing until four days after the hold started.  I wasn't offered voluntary care.  I had a patient advocate meet with me for literally three minutes before meeting began.  So fuck you for thinking you know everything just because you can google 5150 and 5250 laws.

To address your last comment that I deleted:  If I am not allowed to leave, it is very much against my will.

I ruin everything I touch

I ruin everything in my life.  I fuck up everything in my life.  Everyone leaves and it's my fault.  I'm a pathetic piece of shit.  I can't even keep professionals in my life.  No one wants to stay in my life.  Ever.  Fuck, even my outdoor cat won't come home because he loves my neighbor more.  I've asked my neighbor to stop feeding him, giving him water, and letting my cat in his house because I love my fucking cat and want him to come home.  This dude once had 20 cats until the city took them all away from him.  So I guess now he's stealing my cat from me.  Might as well.  My animals deserve better parents.

Everyone gives up on me.  EVERYONE.  I will always be a lonely fuck up.  ALWAYS.  I saw CT today even though I told her I wouldn't.  I sobbed so fucking hard and made strange sounds that I wasn't aware I could make.  I broke my favorite sunglasses.  I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.  I did in the car a few times.  It didn't help me feel any better.  CT doesn't care about me or what I want.  She's done.  But you know..."for my own good."  I think what's in my best interest is having someone who doesn't give up on me and sticks around for once in my whole fucking life.  That's what's in my best interest. 

I think I'm going to drive back to Arizona.  Gather up some party favors and then disappear into the tiny house with rubber ducky tiles.  Fuck therapy.  This will be my therapy.  This will be my salvation.  Last night I dreamed that I got super high, drew and wrote on the those white walls with my blood, guzzled down some magic potion in a whiskey bottle (it was a dream) and then set the house on fire before I tucked myself into my old bed, cuddled up to Tim's body.  I'm not even sure if he was supposed to be dead or alive in this dream.  I fell asleep and my ashes became part of the burned down house.  What kind of fucked up person dreams of this shit?  Me.

So here I am... minus a girlfriend, therapists, and a treatment program.  I have nothing.  I am alone.  I will always be alone.  I will never have people stick around in my life because it's fucking impossible to love me, care about me, and stick around.  I'm a fucking fuck up.  I'm nothing.  I've got nothing.  No support system.  Not really.  Not beyond my blog and text messaging.

Everyone gives up on me, so why should I keep going?

It's over.

Where I was born.

multiplied by 42
Where I died. 

I told Fancy-pants that I am very appreciative and grateful for their offer, but I declined to take it.  I am finished with Partial tomorrow.  I no longer have any therapists.  Everyone else gives up on me.  Why should I keep trying?  I'm done trying. 

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Foster care ruined any chance I had at life

I can't keep anyone around.  I'm too screwed up to have friends.  I'm even too screwed up to have therapists.  I just got dumped by CT today.  Dr. K scolded me for telling her CT didn't want to be my therapist anymore saying that I really need to stop making assumptions.  Well fuck you Dr. K.  My assumptions are usually correct.  I can't even keep therapists in my life.  All this therapy is just false hope anyway.

I just had an interview with Fancy-Pants treatment center and the program is basically just DBT.  I've already done DBT and it didn't help me.  Dr. K says it won't help me unless I believe 100 percent that it will.  Well, okay, so basically it's my fault DBT doesn't help me.  Either way, it still doesn't help me.

I feel very shuffled around right now.  I'm being bounced around from program to program, therapist to therapist.  No one wants to keep me and they always say it's because they want what's best for me.  I've heard that my whole fucking life.

Here's a thought.  Maybe what's best for me is to have someone who doesn't fucking give up on me for once in my whole fucking life?

I'm tired of trying.  I'm tired of pretending that there is any hope for me.  I've tried so fucking hard.  This last stay in the hospital was brutal.  I had police show up at my door for a "welfare check" to see if I was going to kill myself.  I wasn't.  They took me to the station to be evaluated by their psych team anyway.  I guess it's "policy" to handcuff anyone who is in the back of a police car.  So I got handcuffed in front of my neighbors and put in the car, then I was put in a cell for a couple hours, only to be handcuffed and taken to the ER despite constantly saying that I was okay, that I wasn't going to hurt myself or anyone else.  That it was a misunderstanding.

I was taken to the ER where I was treated very hostile because I came in handcuffed by the police.  I was held down by 7 security guards, six of whom were very large men, and my clothing was forcibly removed.  All of this because I didn't want to be naked in a hospital gown because of somethings from my past.  I begged them for hospital pants or to allow me to wear some of my clothes under it.  They refused, and then held me down and stripped me naked. 

They kept me there for 8 days, and my insurance refuses to pay for those 8 days because it wasn't necessary for me to be there.  I was held against my will, put on 14 day hold, and I am going to get a enourmous bill that I will never be able to pay.

Then I get dumped by my therapists.  I'm over it.  No more therapy for me.  I'm not doing the program.  They don't really want me there anyway.  I was so very scrutinized at my interview with them yesterday.  I felt like every answer I gave was the wrong one and I had to backtrack and give them the one they wanted to hear.

I'm done trying.  I really am.  I'm done being dumped.  I'm done being told that the people dumping me are doing it for my best interest.  It's not for me.  It's for them.  2.5 years of therapy with CT and she dumps me the minute she has a chance, for my best interest.  Bullshit.

Fuck.  If I had a way out, I'd take it right now.  There is no help for me.  Do you know that I am having nightmares about the ER now?  Yeah, that was so "helpful" for me to have 7 men hold me down and strip me naked.  To have people talk to me like I wasn't a human being and repeatedly tell me that I was a psych patient.

I walked out of my session with CT after 15 mins today.  She wants me to come to my normal session time tomorrow so we can have "closure."  Fuck that.  I don't need to listen to all the reasons she wants to dump me for 50 minutes anymore.

Foster care took every chance in life away from me.  They fucked me up.  Yes, my sexual and physical abuse fucked me up too, but foster care killed me.  Foster care is still killing me.  Fuck this.  I"m so tired of trying.  I'm so tired of hoping.  I'm so tired of hurting and life is nothing but pain.  I really think if I had a gun, I could use it right now.  I don't have one, but I wish I did.  And I wouldn't miss this time.

I fuck up everything in my life.  Absolutely everything.  I can't keep anyone around, not even paid therapists.  

Nobody wants me.  Nobody ever fucking wants me.

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

So much to say, so little energy...

I really want to write an entry but I don't know where to start and am a bit overwhelmed with everything right now. 

I just wanted to take a moment and thank all of my readers for being so supportive and caring.  Much like me, this blog has been such a place of chaos and sadness.  I just wanted to say how much I appreciate those of you who have stuck around and been here for me when I felt very alone.  I know I'm pretty difficult to care about and tolerate, so thank you for being here and reading.  <3

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Scholarship to Fancy Pants Women's Center

I have a lot to update--lots of bad, but something very good too.  I will save the really bad for later.

The social worker at UCLA (where I was involuntarily hospitalized) was so amazing and got me a full scholarship to a super fancy, uber expensive, women's treatment center.  I am doing the intensive day treatment program, which consists of 8 hours of intense therapy five days a week.  They do yoga and meditation, EMDR, DBT, CBT, Somatic Experiencing, art therapy, pottery, Diet and nutrition classes, exercise classes, specialized group therapy and more.

I am feeling extremely overwhelmed right now.  I feel so grateful but also so guilty.  I don't deserve this!  The social worker kept telling me that I deserve it, but I feel so guilty.  I haven't don't anything to deserve such a fancy, expensive place.

I'm super nervous.  This is a big gift that they are giving me.  But I don't know why.  I asked Suzanne, the social worker, and she said, "Because I asked them to, because you deserve it."  But why?  I haven't done anything to deserve such a big gift.  I'm feeling very anxious about the whole thing.  What if I'm not a good patient?  What if they don't like me and regret giving me the scholarship once they witness my talent for fucking things up?  This feels so unreal to me.

This is a very very expensive place, so the people who attend have a lot of money.  I don't have nice clothes, or class, or culture like they probably do.  What if they don't like me?  I also don't have an "LA body."  What if I am like that dirty, frumpy kid that nobody likes in elementary school?

Tomorrow I go to the partial program at UCLA but I will be going to Fancy-Pants Women's Center in a little less than 2 weeks.   I hope I don't screw it up before I even start.  I have to find a way to buy some fancy pants to wear when I go to Fancy-Pants. treatment center. 

Saturday, August 4, 2012


Someone put this on my Facebook page and it made me laugh.

I had the best doctor at the Partial program last year, Dr. Patrick.  On my first day he told me, "You know, I would totally get it if you wanted to stand on top of buildings and randomly shoot people."  I was still so very depressed and not really paying attention when he said this.  It took me a moment to process what he said.  When I finally digested that sentence, I had no idea how to respond.  "Um... uh... I'm not... uh... huh?"  He laughed and told me that he thinks I'm amazing for not being a mass murderer after everything I've been through.  I miss him.  He doesn't work for UCLA anymore.  My insurance does not cover him, but my friend, Stacey, still sees him every week.  He is seriously the best doctor I've ever had.  I've never really bonded or connected with a man the way I did with him....or any doctor for that matter.  It's hard not to miss someone who thinks you are fabulous just because you haven't killed anyone.  But he was a very good doctor too.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Does she still think it was all in my head?

Part of me really wants to fill out my victim notification paperwork like this:

I wonder if she still thinks and tells people that I made it all up? because I was a "troubled" little girl?