So, I just recently asked for my records from Hamilton center not too long ago.... I just about went nuts. You see, I thought I wasn’t being treated for the right things, and no one was very clear of what I was being treated or assessed for. Then I asked my clinician, who is very sweet by the way, what all I’d been assessed for. She looked at me and told me, "You know you can request copies of your records, don’t you?" Call me stupid cause I really didn’t think about it. So, I did just that, and called to the main office and did. I have a long history with them, and I was just curious mostly about the last bout that landed me back this time. (That’s for a whole other blog) So I went back to 2011. At this moment I am not as to why I picked that year truthfully, but it was a stack two inches high.
The reason I was curious honestly is I had this mental break (another blog to discuss) a few maybe more months ago and I called my sister who is in the mental health field, because I felt lost and that no one was hearing me or helping me, not even my therapist. She in no way says she could diagnose but gave me some things to ask about or do research on. One was dissociative disorder as well as complex PTSD. Well, this is when I ask my therapist about it, and she told me that I can get copies of my records.
I was livid! Come to find out one of my diagnoses WAS, dissociative disorder! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT? THIS WHOLE TIME IT WAS THERE AND IM JUST READING IT ON MY OWN NOW!? Fuck! I’m still angry… (Let me pause a moment, I am about to see where this is going and was meant for another blog. But I’m going to go with it and just do this and find I can’t unless you get the whole story. This was going to be about bipolar 2 disorder, but I see I can’t get there without telling it all.)
So really this is where I should start over an begin from the beginning…. But it's too far to go right now. I'll just keep going and see where we end up. I will start at the reason I went back to the center this last time and go from there. Wow, I’m nervous….
What had happened is, I was self-medicated and had passed out one night. Well, I woke up being flipped and tossed to my stomach and then there was the penetration. It was dark and I didn’t or couldn’t tell you when it was at that moment, all I know is it was happening again. I struggled, I know I ask for it to stop and they kept going. Was I silent and he didn’t hear me? No, I know I was yelling for it to stop. It only stopped when he was done…. I once again let it happen. (I know now that I wasn’t asking for this nor am to blame) The lights came on and reality hit that I was not where I thought I was nor who was forcing themselves on me. I was in the present and I was with the man we will just refer to as the ex. I immediately went to the bathroom and cleaned myself off and came back to the room where he was already asleep. I remember thinking did this really happen. I really knew I wasn’t ok or going to be ok. I lied down and stared at the wall all night, I don’t think I really had thought as much as maybe blank space, or pictures in my mind. I will assume that I probably was in shock.
The next morning, I don’t remember what or where I took my son or if I took the ex to work. The only thing that is clear to me is that I needed to reach out and get help. So that is when I got in touch with the center for another go around, and I have gone through at least 20 or more therapist since I was 15 years old. So, this wasn’t an easy thing for me to start up again, but if I didn’t, well there really wasn’t an option. I didn’t know what else to do. The first therapist, let me get raw and angry, cry and yell. She let me trust her where at the time I was scared, and trust wasn’t a thing at that moment. I would like to say I still see her. She was a great deal of help and hope for me. With much sadness for me she had to move on to another clinic and that was the last I was going to hear from her.
Then the next one was a man, yea I know. I didn’t want to see a male therapist at all but at the time was my only option I had, and I was in need to see someone. To be honest, he didn’t stay long either. And during my time with him, I had the ex-talked into seeing someone as well. I know he did it just to shut me up and it was all fun and games with him. More of a social thing than working on himself or what he had done. I was before the man therapist to leave was able to trust enough to somewhat open about some things, but I won’t lie it was so hard to talk to a man about a man that did this horrific thing to me and try to justify why he did it. But from what little time I had with him he gave me a book. I recommend this a book to anyone who is suffering from trauma in their lives especially physical and sexual abuse, it’s called “The Body Keeps the Score”. It explains so much I can’t even get to it right now about all it covers.
Before he left at this time, I was sitting in with the ex’s therapy sessions like couple’s therapy. This too was a big joke for him. He thought it was a fucking ball. Tried to make me out the crazy person that there wasn’t a thing wrong with him. I can make a list for you, but this blog will be long enough as it is. I finally told him to quit that he wasn’t taking it seriously and it wasn’t doing anything to help. The best thing to happen is that I got to keep her as my therapist when the other left. And I also didn’t have to start completely over with her. You see the ex-didn’t think he did anything wrong, that it was my past trauma was to as why I was having such a problem. I thought maybe he was right after all. I went to my mother and told her what had happened and won’t get into it, but I walked away with that feeling that “sometimes you just have to do what you have to do in order to keep them happy) Like wow, talk about out of my mind confused how to process shit.
This whole-time mind you, dissociative disorder is one of the things I was diagnosed with. Don’t you think it was something to talk about at some point in time? Honestly? Was never told about any of my diagnoses till asking the practitioner about it. And even then, was a veg summary of what all it was. I remember her saying something about manic depressive, bipolar 2, depression, anxiety, and something else not quite sure that she shared that much other than the bipolar and manic-depressive disorder. Already knew I was depressed had anxiety, OCD, and suffered night terror. Still nothing said about dissociative disorder but gave me meds to treat on said disorders. I’m getting to why this is bothering me in a second. I had asked my therapist now, then if she thought I was bipolar and what she had said about some other stuff. And she asked me “what do you think Kristie?” Why not just answer my fucking question? She never gave me what she thought. There was another visit I asked her who was responsible for making the diagnoses and still was very veg about it. I never got a straight answer from her and thinking about it? I don’t think she has other than that I could request my own records. And for the record asking for something you might want to think about it and what you’re asking for, may not like what you find or lack thereof. Just saying.
Now, the cocktail I was taking put me into a deep medicated sleep. Throughout the years I believe he was doing things in my sleep to me. He would fuck with my head about shit that would trigger me, from things in my past. (Ill not get into all that yet.) He would start fights with me and get mad when I had had enough and went off. He punished my son with corporal punishment which we never agreed on at all. He would make me feel like a whore doing things behind his back like cheating because I am a woman and that’s what we do. Then when he felt I wasn’t giving him sex as much as he wanted, he started to wait till I fell asleep and I am sure he would go as far as he could before I woke up, then when I talked to him the next day make me feel like I dreamt it or that I was just crazy.
This went on for years, and until I woke up in the middle of him inside me, I lay there looking at me from the outside letting him finish was I aware that I wasn’t crazy, he was making me crazy and taking advantage. People tell me that is rape. I have a hard time with that cause I was brought up thinking it's something of like a requirement in a relationship was to have sex. Lol, so stupid was the way I was trying to process things.
I made it a point to make myself have sex with him at least every other night so to stop him from doing this anymore. At least it was my call and it worked for a while. And this whole time I be telling my therapist and what I could do to make a connection with him so I could be close to him and not feel as I do because I was convinced that it was me that had the problem. My best friend would tell me that what was going on was wrong, that I needed to leave him. I wanted to, I end up staying longer because my mom and pop loved him and thought that he was in love with me and could take care of me. So, a part of me felt like I wasn’t allowed to have a decision about it cause of how they felt about him and all the bad decisions I had made in my life.
Now this thing with me going to sleep and having what he wanted was going on more than I care to admit, and slowly I was losing myself in it. Actually, coming to grips and accepting this is my life. And then one day my best man friend gets a hold of me and needed someone to help in get in and out of the shower and get around. It saddens me to have to tell him I couldn’t. But it lit a spark. Of what I wasn’t sure. But some weeks later I just showed up at his house when I would go see my girlfriend. And every time I would go there would be something that sparked in my memory. (that’s why he’s the master of memories) he would let me discover them on my own. I never realized just how much in life through the years did I say and do things that was because of him. I came to remember so much that I finally remembered the strength I once had and was reminded of who I was and what was going on was wrong, that it was rape and that I would never have put up with what I was. I finally got to where I couldn’t take it no more. And the last time he did it was it.
Now is where it gets fuzzy and time frames are very unclear to me. All I can do is give you the highlights of events and probably not in order. What I do know is there was a fight a physical fight, there was at a point where I stayed on the couch for a while which may have been before the fight. And I don’t know what started the fight in motion. But I did end up at my friend’s house where I ended up having a complete manic mental breakdown. I know I took my son to the sitter where he wouldn’t be touched by these events and have fun and play, I apparently took care of all that needed to be done and then went and allowed myself to have a complete break. I always got mad at those women who was so weak minded and would lose it and committed, then come out a different happier person with happy ending. Where I wasn’t allowed to or unable to have a break, I had to remain strong causse without me for my son there is the devils den and that wasn’t an option. So announced the crazy I had enough sense to take care of everything to allow myself to lose my shit. And I ended up where I did because that is where I was supposed to be. Even though my memory was not even all there with the surroundings I was running to, it’s where I felt secure and safe to lose my mind. And from what I am told did so. I even told my mom before I checked out that I told him to leave I was giving him time to do so, and I was sorry for how they felt but had to even said what he was doing.
After some few days maybe, I returned figuring I gave him enough time to separate 8 years and move it, he’d be gone. So, so wrong. He was there so I packed a couple of bags and was going to give him more time and go to a friend with my son to Indy and stay a few days and before I left out the door he came in through the back and ask me if I talked to my parents. And said I should and told him my plans and he is to be gone with his shit and leave. Then he informed me that he wasn’t going to go anywhere that mom and pop says he could stay on the couch. I lost my shit once again. Went off on my mom, and finally made her hear me and convinced her that he needed to go. (Not before putting me in my place, fair to say you shouldn’t talk to your mom like I did).
When I came back home, and it was an empty home, I just broke. He called the police on me cause all I found when I got there was his tools, so I took them, and passed him on the way out. Let me know he was calling the police and I came to give them back. Well, I was a crazy person going off and all the while he was on the phone with a deputy, now mom and pop was on 911 reporting a theft in progress and told me to wait for the sheriff. They never showed up. When I called to inquire about it, she told me that someone would call me back. Get this, it was the same deputy he was on the phone with letting me know that no one was coming. That fucker intercepted the 911 call and let me know that cause I didn’t report him putting hands on me or raping me that there wasn’t anything he could do to help me.
I broke then, and this is where I split up. When I say this, I mean literally split the fuck up into different people. Now you understand my irritation to know these years I was diagnosed with dissociative disorder this whole time and split. Then really pissed when no one would help me. I cried screaming for help and only from what I am told can I say what happened and will try and get this wrapped up. I apparently, now mind you I’m a Gemini and from early in age I had a side of me that was different, she called herself Kertinka Feoda. Now for years she had been, we’ll call dormant. And started to be present for a while I just didn’t realize it till the split happened. Two others showed, one I was told was a very angry southern woman with a bad accent who wasn’t fond of children. She called herself Iesha. Was told that they thought maybe my son would trigger that one, and a little girl whose sorrow I felt. She would remain nameless for a long while. My master of memories stayed with me through this whole thing, so these are what he tells me which I think helped me in some way get a somewhat grip. The lady, when she was present for one didn’t know where she was going if driving or how to get home. When she would leave, I would end up with a seizor sometimes up to three, I guess I would stop breathing. There was this one time I remember hearing him calling my name, it seemed so far away, and I felt comfortable to not have to take the next breath. That I found the peace to where I could go, and it all be done. He fought and kept me here.
With the little girl, he finally found out her name was Lizzy, she was maybe 16 and would cry for her daddy who lived in Brownsburg. Apparently, she can’t drive or see with my glasses on. Stopped at an intersection and got out and told my friend that he had to drive. I was losing time and these people, we didn’t communicate. So yeah, I was a hot mess. I’m learning and researching what I can and trying to understand why and where they originated from. It wasn’t till I started blogging did I feel like I have a better handle on things. I had a good start trying to pick them apart. Haven’t had an episode in over or almost over a month. But when I did my first blog, I was mad about court. And then when I did the other it felt good, and with these others that followed I found I was less angry. So, I believe that woman was the rage that was too much for me as one to take on, so she came to take over. Sounds good to me and the little girl I feel as though I have absorbed her in a sense like a sponge. I believe she was the girl who was assaulted back when I was that age. (Again, another blog lol) I must be close cause its helped or I believe it has anyway. I feel more in control now. I find I am truly blessed with a network of people that I never knew I had till he was gone.
Now? I’ve never been happier. I love, I laugh, and most of all I feel. I’m not numb anymore. It's true what they say. “What doesn’t kill us only makes us stronger” But that saying that God never gives us more than we can handle I will have to disagree on that one a bit. This broke me into pieces. Wow, that is a lot of shit to be putting out there but even without all the details of it all, I feel so much lighter and again…. I’m ok with whoever reads this, even if no one does. The fact that I got it out of me is what I think is the whole heal feel lol.
Well, here is where I am going to go and get ready for bed. I’m now exhausted after this and its way past my bedtime. Good night and God bless!
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