The diagnosis

Something came over me today to write write write...I started writing and spirit guided me to post on my blog the beginning of my book I wrote 3 years ago. I am a Mother now which is why I haven't posted in long time. It has taken some time for me to get grounded enough to write. I am sharing this raw reality I was in to help others see that no matter how crazy we get you can always heal. I had to heal the many traumas from childhood, the biggest was being molested. I apologize for the cussing in advance but this is exactly how I felt. I didn't hold back trying to make it look pretty. I hope this helps someone out there feel less crazy and more heard and seen for their emotions. Coming out of abuse from childhood is one of the hardest things for people to understand why traumatized people go so crazy.

My friend Dawn, who volunteers in the prisons came over recently, I was making judgments in my head about how she could do that. Why is she wasting her time on them? They obviously deserve to be punished…that’s why they’re in there.

As she sat on the couch and listened to me read the first pages of my book to her and our friend Pam, her eyes filled with tears, and I finally was able to see why she does what she does.

She told us that 80% of women in prison were abused in their life.

When Dawn and Pam looked at me that day, I could see they were heartbroken for me and everything I've gone through, but this time, I let them love me. I let in their beautiful love and let them see me raw and exposed and let them fill me with light.

My path may have not taken me to a prison, but my body has been in prison all that time with me not knowing that my body was traumatized.

Rock Bottom

I wake up….3 a.m.…just like clockwork. After months of this, I finally realized that this was the time spirit had chosen for me to focus on my need to begin truly loving myself and to attempt to save my own life. This newfound love is the sweetest love that I've ever felt. The moment I truly hit rock bottom was when I got my diagnosis. It was as if time stood still and then kept spinning out of control to the extreme of suicide. Then the dreaded suicide attempts have haunted me all these years. I heard a voice ring in my head, "You're next. That’s what your family does. Don’t be silly and think you're any different."

Two years before this, I'm lying in bed, talking to myself: "I'm so confused. What's happening? Why can’t lift my head? Why does it feel like I'm dying? Why do I have all these stabbing pains? Why do I get so suicidal? Why? Why does my head hurt so badly? I can’t hold myself up. Why did I just lash out in anger at my husband again?! I don’t like telling him I can’t control it. Why am I so sick all the time? I ignore the pain, but it's getting to a point where I don’t have any choice other than to lie down. I’m trapped in this body and I don’t know how to get out. Why can’t I eat food like other people without having my body collapse from it? Why do I get so much anxiety around certain people….like I want to run the other way? Why do I keep saying yes to everyone? I want to say no but I don’t. I do what I do best. I lie down and take it. God forbid I let someone else fight their own battle. Don’t worry; I’m here. I’ll protect you….I won’t protect myself, but I'll protect you, since no one ever protected me. Why do I do this? Why do I keep attracting crazy women into my life who steal my light? It’s my light and then it’s gone like a flash so fast I can’t even catch my footing. Before I know it, I'm believing that bitch calling me poison. My husband says, 'It’s a lie, so why do you believe her?' Because she’s right! I'm not good enough. Oh, that’s right! Why is this birth mom fucking with us so bad? Why can’t she just tell us she doesn’t want us to have the baby instead of dragging us along for months milking us of all our cash?"

The phone rings, interrupting my raving. It's the doctor's office.

“Jessica, we have your test results in,” says the receptionist from the doctor’s office.

“Oh great, thank you," I say with relief. "What are the results?”

“You need to make an appointment and come in,” the receptionist replies.

“Okay, what do you have available?”

“Two weeks from today, we have an opening at 2:00 p.m. You want it?” asks the receptionist.

Fear, panic, and anxiety flood my body. I'm in full fight-or-flight mode now. “We're adopting a baby and flying out that week to get the baby,” I explain, my voice shaking a little, trying to not lash out in anger. I know rationally it’s not her fault, but I feel like murdering her in this moment.

“Well we can schedule you for an appointment after you get the baby?” the receptionist replies cheerfully.

You fucking bitch! Do you have any clue what I'm dealing with here? I feel like I'm going to die soon, and I really don’t want my family knowing how sick I am. I'll lose the baby if I tell them. I know it. I have to have this baby. I'll most likely off myself if I don’t get that baby. The fear is strangling me at this point. I can’t breathe. God, just pull it together! She doesn’t have control over the appointments. Why are you so mad at her?

After a long pause, I say, “Okay, thank you. I don’t know what to do. I’ll have to call you back.”

Panic sets in full force. Shaking and dizzy, I try so hard to keep my composure so I can cook dinner for my family. Shit…..my hands are shaking so bad I can’t hold the knife. Shit! Now I cut myself…You’re such a fucking idiot. What did you do that for? You can’t do anything right! I have to lie down…just give me five minutes and I’ll be fine.

Crap! Five minutes pass and I feel worse! Great! I just have to keep pushing or I'll get nothing done. Get up! Stop complaining! You’re so dramatic! It’s not that big of a deal just deal with it. There’s far worse tragedy you've seen with your own eyes in India…so get over it.

I nod off for a few minutes. My head feels like a thousand pounds. Why does my neck hurt so badly? Why can’t I sleep? I really want those test results. This is bullshit! I'm emailing that doctor now.

Dr. T,

Sorry to bother you, but, as you know, I'm adopting a baby and we’re flying out to pick him up the same week you can see me. I know this is a lot to ask, but can you please tell me what the results said without needing an appointment? I'll still come in after baby is here but I feel like I need to know, since these panic attacks are getting worse. By the way, the fevers are getting worse. I change my clothes all day and night from being drenched all the time.

Jessica

Okay! Well I feel a little better now, but she’d better tell me. Doesn’t she know how stressful this is? I sink into a deep depression, hoping to get out somehow, but, for now, it’s familiar, so I stay here. Why would I do something different? My entire life has been a shit show of people attacking me and stealing my light. Fuck this!

I slowly drag my body to the kitchen because the kids will be home soon. I hear my stepson

walk in.

“Hi Caleb; how was your day? “ I ask

“Good,” he replies.

“Where’s your lunch sack?” I ask.

His eyes get a little shifty and he starts mumbling, “I think it’s at school.”

My blood boils over at this point and I shout, “Caleb! Don’t tell me you lost it again?!” I'm fully

shaking now trying so hard to suppress my anger. “How hard is it to remember a lunch pail?! GAHHHH…so frustrating!”

“I'm sorry, Jess; I thought I had it then I couldn’t find it” says Caleb contritely. His eyes are like a little beaten puppy dog….Great! Now I feel guilty because of your crap! Thanks a lot.

“You better remember to bring it home tomorrow or you'll be completely cut off from your iPod and computer.”

I’m sweating so much now, I have to change my clothes quickly without my husband noticing. He’ll be home with our son Ketner. I rush to get my clothes changed.

“Hi honey! How was your day?” my husband Mike says as he walks through the door.

“Good, until Caleb came home without his lunch pail again!” I reply.

Caleb’s eyes drop down and he hides in his bedroom as usual.

Mike ignores me, for the most part, so I say again, “Did you hear what I said?!”

“Yes I did; I’m just really busy and have to get a lot of work done.”

“Well, you need to deal with Caleb! He is stressing me out big time!” I reply testily.

“Hunny, I can’t deal with this right now. I need to get more work done, and I’m exhausted,” Mike pleads.

“Have you heard from the attorneys yet to see if they found the birth mom? Wonder how much that’s gonna cost us! I just can’t win!" I can’t breathe….my shoulders are creeping way up to my ears. I try to push them back down, but my leg goes out. Shit! Now I'm a mess! I'm so sick of this shit! I just want to have a baby….is that too much to ask for? I see women every day getting pregnant. Every friend I have has gotten pregnant except for one. But she doesn’t count because she hasn’t dropped over $100,000 into a getting a baby…to still be left with no baby! Maybe I'm not a good enough to be “blessed” with a baby? I’m not “blessed”…fuck you! I'm always left behind; my own Father chose to leave me. That’s how repulsed he was by me. Daddy…I miss you every day. Why did you leave me? Oh that’s right I'm not good enough to fight for.

“No, I haven’t heard back yet.” Mike replies, looking up from the newspaper.

I'm so dizzy by this point, I'm seeing stars.

“Are you okay?” Mike asks as he notices my pale, sweating face.

“Ya, I'm fine,” I lie.

“You don’t look fine,” he says.

“I'm gonna call the attorneys right now before they leave the office.” My hands are trembling…my chest feels so tight I have to tell my brain to make sure I breathe. Yet I still can’t breathe. My head is pounding….like someone is pushing the back of my head all the time.

“Hunny, maybe you should wait for them to call us back,” Mike suggests.

“This is ridiculous! They should have called us back by now’!” I grab my phone, but it slips through my trembling fingers. I turn around so Mike doesn't notice.

“Jess, why don’t you sit down a minute and calm down?”

“Calm down! How the fuck can you be calm right now?! I cleaned out my entire savings account to get that baby! Plus, we still owe both of our Moms for loaning us the money for attorneys. That bitch! Why is she doing this? Did she really trick us out of all our money? She must've known all along we were fools. Getting ripped off is the story of my life!”

“Jess, come here and sit down and breathe for a sec,” Mike says.

“NO! I'm so angry! I could kill someone right now!”

“I'll finish cooking dinner," he says. "Go lay down; you're all hot and sweaty.”

I lay down, but I'm so angry, I can’t even sit. My body is beyond exhausted at this point. I can't sleep or relax. I think I'll check Facebook and try to escape for a bit. An email pops up from

Doctor T.

Jessica,

No problem at all. Yes, you do have Lyme disease along with tons of other co-infections. Just schedule your appointment for after you get the baby. You will need to brace yourself with lining up people to help you. Your labs are not good at all.

Doctor T

A numbness falls over me that I know so well. I can’t even walk right to the kitchen to tell Mike. I hear and feel everything crashing in around me. I'm drowning in sadness. Drowning in fear. Drowning in guilt. I don’t want to tell him. He'll say we shouldn’t get the baby. I can't feel my feet. My legs are weakening with every step closer to the kitchen.

I cry out, “Mike!”

He looks up at me and isn’t really paying much attention, since the boys are talking to him about school grades. I'm sobbing now. Can’t hold these tears back. I can’t bear to tell him his new beautiful wife is broken. Broken from many years of torture.

“I have Lyme disease,“ I say hoarsely.

He doesn’t really hear me.

“Mike!”

“Oh, so you do have it or you think you have it?” he asks.

“Doctor just told me I do have it.”

“Well that’s great news! Now, you know what’s wrong with you,“ he says cheerfully. He’s all happy about this news, and I’m feeling just shoot me now!

“Why why why?! I can’t take anymore, Mike! I've fought so hard to survive all the crap that's come down my pipeline. This seriously can’t be happening! All I want is a baby! Is that too much to ask for?!”

“Jess, come here and let me hold you,” Mike says holding his arms out.

I’m flailing at this point to escape this broken-down body that's swallowed my soul never to return. I hate you, God! You took my dad…that wasn't enough?! So, you take my body and my baby! Go fuck yourself! I don’t even know why I try? Darkness seems to follow me no matter what. I've done so many healing therapies, yet I'm still broken!

Mike holds me tight as I cry and cry and cry. All this brokenness is suffocating me.

“I’m sorry, Jess,” Mike says.

Our kids aren't even really noticing what’s going on. I want to hide. I want to bury myself away from all this brokenness. Just slowly disappear, just like my dad did. Please God just make me disappear. I can't hurt my mom by killing myself. My selfish dad already took that from me too. She's been through so much. Nobody really loves me that much. Mike is just trying to do whatever he can to put up with me. It’s only a matter of time for him to leave me too.

“You have what?” Ketner asks.

“She has Lyme disease,” Mike says.

“What’s that?” Ketner

“She's sick, Ketner. She'll be fine; don’t worry.”

I run back to my hiding place. I text my mom and cry some more. The walls are closing in around me. Darkness is drowning me. I'm in hell. I can't get out. What did I ever do to deserve this? I know plenty of people who deserve this more than I do. This darkness engulfs me into a place I know so well, a place where nothing grows, a place where you die, a place that's so disgusting you roll it all over you till you can’t see anything but black sticky tar. The tar is so thick, it chokes you. There's no coming back from that place of blackness. All I see is black. I cry out to God, "Why are you doing this to me? I'm begging you. If you're a merciful God, then stop this madness! Oh no, not the blood…." All I see are pools of my Father's blood. Lots of blood. Nooooo, please don’t go there. After all these years, you should be over this by now! Make it stop. I can’t take it anymore. This is torture. Why do I always go back to this living hell? I can’t escape it. It consumes every fiber of my being. Clawing at myself, I eventually pass out after taking sleeping pills to at least escape this broken-down body for a bit.

This is my daughter Cora and I now. I am teaching her the many ways I have learned to handle emotions. I do not feel any of these feelings anymore of what you just read. I feel joy and happiness and a craving to live life to the fullest. Thanks to my Mom Carol she was my rock during those years she always stood by my side and helped me become the Mom I am today.