Psychosis

There was a girl I was compared to online. I asked my ex-husband (before he was my ex) if she was better, and he said, "I don't know." It caused me to go into a borderline state and hurt myself further. Fast forward, we left each other, but the girl still posts subtle hints as if she is married to him. A lot of her TikTok captions have to do with the name Ali, and she even has a specific video talking about what happened because during my early days of BPD, I did go into psychosis, and she blames it on the app AliExpress. She knew my ex-boyfriend (b4 the ex- husband) and posted videos without detailing the horrific abuse I went through, and mentioned she reached out to him. I had TikTok take them down. Her most recent video and the search are so close to my ex-husband's name, who, by the way, married an 18-year-old. I am so tired of her. I hate living in this city every day, and driving is like impossible. If you were me? How would you forget and move on? I am only 27 and trying every day to fight off the happy toughts she has been having over my abusers.

TW: Suicide

Was going to post this yesterday, but the date overlapped with a not-great anniversary here in America.

So today I’m celebrating ten years of survival. I tried to leave, but the exit was blocked. Thank God. It was the second time, but it was the first time I landed in the ICU.

I’m never going back.

It started when I was eleven. A boy who used to like me turned on me and made my life hell. Others joined him. He would mock me openly, loudly, in the classroom with no consequences.

Every night, I would fantasize about a plan I had to end it all. I knew it would work. I also wanted to kill my tormentor, but I’d settle for getting rid of me.

Over the years, the knowledge that I could control whether or not I continued existing was deeply comforting to me. I called it my Fire Escape. No matter what happened, I would always have a way out.

I made the mistake of casually mentioning one of my escape plans in front of my now-husband before we started dating. He almost didn’t ask me out because of it. Smart guy.

Fast forward twenty five years. I lose my teaching career during my son’s psychosis. Life is mocking me, and whoever should be in charge is looking the other way.

There is a mystery surrounding suicide (and suicide attempts) that I can’t say even I understand. That is: why doesn’t the person choose to live to spare others horrendous pain?

I can’t speak for anyone else. I have my own family. I brought a horror into their lives that I’ll never erase. And I ask myself why. Why did I put them through that?

The only way I can explain it is that I made a choice when I was eleven to never be a victim. It sounds insane that I chose taking my own life as a solution, but I grabbed it, and I never let it go.

Except I did let it go. My older son didn’t talk to me for two years. Maybe he was wrong. But it served as a kind of aversion therapy, like Alex in A Clockwork Orange. I never wanted to try to use the fire escape again.

These past ten years have been some of the hardest and also the most triumphant of my life. I struggled to forgive myself. I nearly lost my mind at times. I hated to wake up in the morning. Hated to do anything. I didn’t want to die. I just wanted peace.

Miracles happen. I recovered. My son and I reconciled. I dared to hope. I felt a tiny bit better. Then a tiny bit more.

There’s always a time in late January, around my birthday, when I notice something wonderful. Light. It’s been building, a few minutes at a time, since the third week in December. All of the sudden it’s obvious that the darkness is fading and spring really will return.

My existence is like that now. There are shadows. There is pain. But the answer will never again be to leave this ridiculously gorgeous, agonizing thing called life before God tells me it’s time.

After my second attempt, an intake worker and I got on the subject of the Bible somehow. He said his favorite book was Job. So I found a Bible, and these verses jumped out at me:

“All the days of my struggle I will wait until my change comes. I will call, and You will answer; You will long for the work of Your hands.”
Job 14:14-15

I’ve found control by losing control and giving it back to the One who made me. I wanted power. I wanted self determination. But the “control” I exercised nearly cost me, and everyone I love, everything.

I found out that, underneath it all, all I ever really wanted is love. And there is a kind of love available for everyone, no matter how impossible or distant or hard that may feel.

I hope I’m given the honor of helping someone decide to stay here. A door can open. Change can happen. Love can enter. You just have to wait and see.

I am so, so happy I failed.

#Bipolar #Depression #GAD #OCD #PTSD

Does anyone struggle with loving themselves.
I been diagnosed with schizophrenia.
But this diagnosis isn't accurate.
I had a but of psychosis.
But its more trauma related.
In the past ive sabotaged my health by stopping my medication abruptly without talking to a doctor.
I just wondered if self sabotage is something otters struggle with.
Depression? Borderline personality disorder?
Childhood trauma is so personal and sensitive that ive never wanted to talk about it in case that makes me feel vunerable.
#CPTSD #Depression #Anxiety