Yes, I know that today is to be an empowering Saturday. Yes, I know that I am deviating from that structure; I figure it is my blog though, so I am allowed to do so.
I have been going over my own notes on my medical history, starting in 1998 through present. I cannot believe how long I have struggled with depression, and how long it was not dealt with. I have the knowledge now that after my release from hospitalization in 1998-2000 that I was to be in therapy and on medication. I also know that my biological parents were not the ones that were to be paying for this.
As a plea bargain, my uncle chose to take, he was to pay for family history and mental health after a traumatic episode. I keep learning more and more about myself, and seem to be coming out of a fog. If only my parents had followed through with what was on my discharge papers, I wonder if I would be in the same situation I am in today.
I know that PTSD is not something that one can cure, but coping tools taught in early intervention could have helped me through many times of despair. Possibly it is because I now have children of my own, I see how this is child neglect. I feel as though I was set up, I was to be the black sheep. That is how I see it. Maybe the family needed a scapegoat, and that scapegoat was to me and my aunt.
I wonder what would have happened to me if I was properly treated, medically at least. I know that my biological mother has her limits on “properly treated”, but maybe if I was seen regularly and consistently I would not be in the same crazy place I am today.
My life is full of counseling, self-help books, medication, journaling, and always on the peak of spiral. I know a lot of this is coming from the medication change from Celexa to Prozac, but I feel it is still a valid issue to explore what was so horrible about me.
The way it was explained to me was that I would try and push everyone away from me, and to not let me do so. Yet, I do not remember this. I do not remember this, because the brain will not allow me to remember it. It simply vanishes into the subconscious to be dealt with.
I do wonder though; would I be at the same place as I am now with early intervention. With both parents loving and supportive. I know they had a lot on their hands, but I remember constantly feeling like I was drowning. I was in this turbulent sea of emotions that I did not feel I could express because “we have to be strong,”. When did speaking about your emotions make you weak? If anything, speaking about your emotions is difficult. It leaves you wide open to interpretation, and others to find you unstable. Perhaps, for now, I am unstable. I do not intend to stay that way though.
The more that I explore my medical records, the more I am piecing together. Honestly, the more I piece together the more saddened I am that early intervention was not given. I could say how angry I am, but I am also aware that anger is a combination of emotions. I feel violated, I feel that I should have gotten the help that I needed when I was younger so that I could live a life that is filled with anything but trauma in the back of my mind.
If nothing else, get all of your medical and mental recorders. You may be able to get a better sense of what is happening to you, and how you are cognitively processing it.
Thank you as always to Jenn Bovee at Inspiring Enterprises LLC.
Light up the Darkness,