Very few people publicly lay their intimate and personal secrets out for anyone to stroll by and read about, especially when it involves mental illness and/or learning disabilities, although there are a few, notable celebrity and/or higher profile individuals who have come forward and made it a little less of a dirty secret. Particularly when someone is trying to create and maintain an impression of intelligence and normalcy. For example, if I say I’ve seen a ghost, my story is taken seriously by more people whether they believe it or not, they believe I experienced something I can’t explain. Now if I say I saw a ghost and they’re aware that I am Bi-Polar (I am), they’ll most likely immediately dismiss my story entirely, believing I couldn’t be a credible and trusted witness with something like that clouding my ‘normal’ judgment and rationality. The same thing goes for other situations where if someone knew a person was autistic (I’m not) they would probably not consider them as intelligent as ‘normal’ people and that opinion would unavoidably cloud their view of everything the person had to say when discussing perceived ‘intelligent’ or ‘complicated’ and ’sophisticated’ subjects.
I’ve decided I am me, and need to accept who I am and what I am and absolutely not be bothered about what anyone else’s opinion of me and my abilities and intelligence is. I also have grown tired of all the pretending and faking I’ve done throughout my life, trying to fit in and seem normal so as not to be viewed in a separate light as others, and by being separated, would be picked apart more.
So here, publicly but yet not, is a running list of everything we (my doctors, therapists and I) are aware of at this time. Oddly enough and even at my age, we’re still ‘discovering’ things.
When I was 16 a ‘Psychologist’ told my parent’s I had ‘no conscience’. I was actually in a foster home at the time (that will be in a later blog) and our family and individual therapy was court ordered. He said nothing like this in front of me, in fact, I don’t remember seeing him more than twice for 30 minutes at a time, and I don’t remember seeing him as a family at all. I may have forgotten this (I forget a lot, and I remember vividly the most ridiculous and unimportant things!) and I don’t remember in detail anything we talked about!
I added this because for some reason, it’s very important to me. I resent that statement and for whatever reason it’s stuck with me and gnawed away at me for 24 years. Probably because I think my parents believe this too.
I have always known I was somehow different from most people and that I definitely thought and perceived things differently than everyone else I was around or could compare to. From the age of 4 I remember being fascinated with the ‘darker’ side of things. When I was 5 I fell in love with Vampires. I would also lead my younger Brother in archaeological-ish digs in our yard with the purpose of digging up the devil. I wanted to see Him and this Hell place. We’d hit a rock and one of us would screech ‘it’s a horn!’ my Brother would screech and jump back, I would become more excited and dig faster. At either 5 or 6 I ran away from home for the first time (I went to a friends trailer half a street up and sat on their stairs until it was full light, then came back home and snuck back to bed. Their Mom, a ’single Mother’ my parents weren’t thrilled about me taking up with her 2 girls, had answered the door woken from her sleep and told me they weren’t up yet and wouldn’t be for a while. I went back later that day and sat at her kitchen table watching her drink coffee, smoke & feed her Venus Flytrap flies. I enjoyed sitting with her because it was so different from my own Hell/home. I rarely went into their home, my parent’s didn’t approve of that.Kids just played outside from sun up til sundown, went in their own homes for lunch & dinner and never had sleep overs, although I did eventually start going to sleepovers and had one or two, they were few & far between and as time limited as possible.) at 6 I knew I didn’t belong in this World. I hated it, and most of all, I knew I wanted to be dead. So with all that mostly irrelevant information said;
THE LIST:
Bi-Polar (also known as Manic Depression)
Borderline Personality Disorder
Schizo-Affective Disorder
Dissociation Disorder (NOT the one formerly called Multiple Personalities)
Panic Attacks
Symptoms of; OCD, PTSD, Schizotypal Personality Disorder, Agoraphobia, Adult Attention Deficit Disorder, Dyslexia, Paranoid Schizophrenia. Remember these symptoms could be created/caused from the main diagnosis’ so it’s almost redundant to keep adding names when stuff could probably be covered already. I just say I’m a DSM explosion, I got a little of almost everything all over me, and some more so, some less so than others, some missed altogether.
Physically, several of my problems I have now and am developing are a result of my weight gain and past drug use and probably, my age, 40 (12 years of erratic; as opposed to daily/steady/constant; Crystal Meth use). My back problems, my weak bones, weak knees and developing knee problems, sleep apnea, fatigue, irritable bowel syndrome, history of ulcers/gastritis, endometriosis (I eventually had a partial hysterectomy after my 2nd Daughter was born with this as a secondary factor, the first was a prolapsed uterus. That pregnancy was a difficult one, but that’s for another blog entry.) I also have rosacea that has gotten progressively more pronounced in symptoms the last 10 years. I have a minor heart valve problem, I actually contracted Hep C (from drug use several years ago) and somehow fought it off before they put me on the medication for it, and most personally, the genital herpes I contracted from my rampantly cheating 3rd Husband in 1991. Now, I do have one of the Worlds Worst Memories and might have forgotten a thing or two, so I may have to revise this, but for now… this is it. Next blog I’ll tell you what all I take (meds) for this plethora.
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It seriously has, over the years, seemed like I was ‘collecting illnesses’ and they popped up steadily adding themselves to the list. I know there are people who are much worse off with serious, painful and horrible illnesses, but this is just me. Just my life, just my story. I just don’t want it to EVER sound like I’m seeking any kind of sympathy or pity or whining (although I do enjoy whining within reason!) or attention whoreing. I simply wish to leave something of me, who I am, what/who I was and some of my life experiences. Why? Because I can. It’s pretty much that simple. We all want to be heard and recogniozed as existing, even if it never matters to anyone else, although, being of some positive influence from something one says is always a bonus.
I’m not (yet) very WordPress/Blog savvy. I’m still learning. I try and correct my spelling whenever I (or the faithful spellcheck) catches a whoopsie, but I’m not a spelling Nazi and I’m dang sure not a grammar Nazi! I don’t bother with stuff like proper sentence structure or anything resembling rules that are supposed to be followed when writing poetry or prose or anything at all. I just write it the way I feel it needs to be written. I put the words where & how I want. So if that bothers anyone, if you happen to be a stickler for the rules of proper writing, this blog will probably annoy the daylights out of you.
I’m not writing or blogging anything to demand anyone change their own viewpoint nor to get into comment wars and arguments, I am expressing my own thoughts, opinions, feelings and experiences mostly for my own benefit and future reference. I’m not searching for sympathy, pity, advice or lectures, just putting down my life experience as I see and live it.
I am still (and hopefully always will be) learning and growing and becoming as a human and as a Woman, Mother, Grandmother, etc. My own views are not set in stone, they can change as I learn more and expand my wisdom. I do have a hard time with change, but I do it when it’s the right thing for me.
I’m not a social person, I’m not a happy person. I love my independence but at the same time, love belonging somewhere and knowing I’m a part of something. I am a control freak, but I have learned how to let things go to some extent for my own peace of mind. I think a lot of it is that I am 40, and I’m becoming set in my ways and comfortable with that, I can do what I need to do for myself, if not, I try and find a way around it. I don’t like having to rely on others for help with things I can learn how to manage on my own. I have learned how to admit when I’m wrong, which was a huge step for me and has been nothing but positive.
I grew up knowing (have no idea how I knew though) I didn’t think like everyone else did. That I was different and ‘alien’ to some degree. I learned to fake and blend in and ‘act’ my way through life so as not to stand out and draw attention to myself for being ‘different’.
I was given up for adoption at birth. My birthmother was (going by records and information which all, none or part of may or may not have been altered to some degree) 19 and single at my birth, the story goes, she was pregnant by an older man whom she had babysat for while he was separated from his wife. He had 3 children (my half-siblings). Her name was/is listed on my ‘original birth certificate’ and on my hospital birth records, the name is very common and may as I mentioned above have been changed in whole or part. My birthmother was told I was a girl and she named me, but did not see nor hold me. She had been living at a well known unwed mother’s home. Apparently, her mother was also single. Anywho, I lived with a foster family until I was adopted at 6 months of age my my parents. My dad was in the Air Force, my Mother and he met while he was stationed in England a decade earlier. They tried for 9 years to have children of their own and finally adopted me and then a brother while stationed in Kansas. I was born April 2nd 1968 in Topeka. I do have one or 2 very vague but distinct memories of Kansas, we moved from there when I was around 3 to Northern California, to England for a year (my mom and us went to live with her family while my dad went TDY for that time period) then he was stationed out here in Northern Utah, where he retired after doing 20 years and here we stayed, up until 4 years ago when they moved to SouthWestern Colorado (where my dad was born & raised) and retired. I have never been able to track down any birth family and have recently came to terms with probably never finding anyone. I figure they could also look for me, if at all any of them wanted to find me.
*This is getting long! It is a work under construction, so I will be adding to, taking away from and revising & polishing this entry frequently until I get it the way I want it.
I was born April 2nd 1968 in Topeka, KS. No, I don’t know where Toto went, but I do know where Toby* is, he’s currently chasing K2* (one of my cat’s) up and down the hall. Yes, this is usual for them at 2am. We live with no rules… well, unless we have something we have to do. Or my daughter does. Or…
Well anyway, at 2am we have no rules and live for the moment until bedtime (somewhere between now and 4am).
*Toby is my dog. He is half Chihuahua half Mini Pin and will be 2 years old in Feb. He’s a black & tan with one erect ear and one ‘folded’ ear. His actual name is Toblerone because he kind of resembles the package/box the Toblerone candy comes in, long and high to a point at the top. He sometimes looks like a rat running along with his longish body and arched back, other times like a deer curled up in some brush with their long necks and delicate heads perched on them.
*K2 is one of my (and my youngest daughters’) 3 cats. The only Male, he’s a beautiful, fluffy orange tabby. I call him the ‘weirdy’. But there’s a method to his madness. He can find joy and amusement in everything at any time in any place. I’ve seen him walk by a blank wall and suddenly spar with it, then scamper on his way. He can hear a Coke bottle open from a week away and come running looking for the lid. He’s in the litter box right now and he’s having too much fun digging, I can tell. Forbid anyone else is in the box trying to relieve themselves, this is when he has them as a captive audience to reach in and bat at them, like he suddenly forgot they were the same 2 cats he lives with day in, day out & some strange animal is now bumping and scrabbling around in the covered box purely for his amusement.
You know, I almost reached down and pet a chewed up stuffed (and with squeaker still intact! A record after 6 weeks!) turkey of Toby’s. I saw it out of the corner of my eye just as I shifted in my chair and assumed it was a cat, a dog, a cat or a cat, and see how well they have me trained? They don’t even have to make a sound or nudge me, as soon as they’re in my vision my hand drops to pet.
I’m doomed.
Whoops. So much for about me blather. Guess I’ll have to work on that tomorrow. Actually, later today.
! I will admit I have a mild learning disorder that makes it difficult to grasp some types of written instruction, so I spend a lot of time with trial and error, fingers-on experimenting. Which is how I’ve come to learn a lot of things during my life.