She's So Weird

It's like a fog you get when you're driving on a major highway, your thoughts blur together like static from the television, or when you are sobbing and everything in your sight seems to be blending. I'm going to tell you a little bit of what had happened in my mental health.

I had hit a wall. I knew when I was in my teens that there was something not right. I was always angry and sad and there wasn't much I could do about it but be told "Just smile, everything will be okay" Or "I'll give you something to cry about" Yes. I was in one of those households. I didn't have very many friends, I had a laptop and a journal. I did see someone about my anger which was an escape from home, but that was only a bandage for what I was feeling, so it was a temporary fix. Not always good.

I was broken, broken like a plate that was dropped on the ground. I was always be-littled by my caregiver, bullied, isolated by my step-mother, she wasn't always nice, and well, my dad was always away at work, so he didn't know what went on at home. Needless to say I wasn't always home. I was wandering all the time, as long as I had music I was okay, but once I couldn't listen anymore because my device was drained then it was time to lock myself up in my room yet again.

I was adopted when I was just a little infant, my bio mom says otherwise, but there was proof that said I was legally taken care of. No one really knew what happened or why it happened. But I know. Long days of being home with a woman whom didn't like me, and my dad was far away so I really never got a chance to talk to him about anything. By the time he got home, the scratches and bruises were gone. Always being yelled at to the point where my ears were ringing. Not fun for a child, especially one who was always put to work "or else".

My step mom always ran away from her problems, so we would have to drive across the country to go get her after my parents would have fights, which I honestly loathed with a passion, meant skipping school and not being able to be in my own little world anymore. I would always ask my dad "Why? Why her?" he never really answered me. I guess he was just too "love struck" to even care what was happening in MY brain. I was loaded with issues by the age of 12. I didn't even want to live at home anymore. I had a brother who taken me in, but that's also another heap of issues that contributed to where I am today. All I can say is "bad news". I felt alone all these years and sometimes, I still feel that way. Like my family never really cared.

We're going to fast forward. My dad had passed away in 2014 and yeah, it was brutal, because we were close. My step-mom ended up leaving for good well before that, so I was happier, but it came to a grinding halt when I found out my dad had cancer. My world shattered. I went through a lot, with bad relationships, bad behaviour, like I was in the darkest or darkest places.

Skipping forward, in 2016, I had a baby. She's my world. She's 5 now. She's funny. Anyway, I had her in 2016, and had a mental breakdown because I felt all alone. I did. Like no one wanted to hang out with me or bring me to get help. Post-partum is bad, and I feel bad for all those wonderful parents who have to go through it. Anyway, I was taken to the hospital because they had to watch me (babysitting an adult), and I was supposed to be diagnosed with something. I wasn't. So they sent me home. Confusing right? I know.

So after that, I wasn't allowed to see my baby unless I was watched by someone else. Great? Nope. I felt trapped. Years later, I went and got myself better. Ish..I am still working on lots. Oh yes, its a journey. So I am no longer supervised (win!) because of bettering my mental health and I went to school for a good cause which is Addictions Worker. I am proud of myself, I am. Not for me, but for my daughter as well. I got married last year. Another win!!! But the only loss I have, is me.

I was diagnosed with Bipolar 2, PTSD and BPD. Lots to manage. I know. Short story, I did see my doctor and we went through all the medications that were appropriate to the diagnosis, they weren't working. Nope. Made everything worse. I lived with that for a year. So I went back to him and we got a referral to get re diagnosed. Turns out, I am not any of those things, and I have been making my emotions way more worse than they are. Its so common for someone to misdiagnose, I am relieved. I am. My point is, my journey was much harder than it had to be. My emotions are just misplaced. Quite a releif, but the main person who made all of this happen was the woman who ran away.