My Story

(Maybe I should have started off my blog with this post)

Ok, so as an explanation of who I am. This is a story of me...


When I was about 5 1/2 years old my parents separated. In the divorce my mother got custody of us girls. Growing up we moved quite a bit. For a while we lived in FL and spent quite a bit of time at my grandparents' home. One summer we (my grandparents', sister, and I) made a trip up to PA to visit my aunt, uncle, and cousins for a week or two. During the trip we got to spend time with my cousins' doing typical kid things on the farm...chasing chickens, shooting the goats with the BB gun (yes we shot the goats...seemed like a fun idea, until we got chased), playing in the dirt, playing Barbies and having fun. One day during the trip when I was sleeping next thing I knew my cousin was rubbing my leg and gradually she (yes she) went up my nightgown. She then went further and further up my nightgown, then she started rubbing her hand against me and then her fingers went inside me. I tried to picture myself somewhere else, so that I wouldn't have to be there. I knew if I were any where but there, I was safe. Each day I took a nap or went to bed for the next few days I would imagine myself somewhere else because I knew (even at 7) as long as I was someplace else...I was safe. Three days later I was laying down for a nap I heard the door open and I quickly shut my eyes (in hopes that if she thought I was asleep she'd leave me alone) I felt someone sit on the bed next to me...but it wasn't my cousin, the bed moved to much when the person sat for it to be her...that and this person smelled different. Then the person layed down next to me and started to rub my back...it felt good and I stopped worrying as much. After a few minutes of my back being rubbed the hand moved to my leg, first thought through my head "Please oh please no..." the hand then traveled down my shorts...the hand was rough. It then pulled me over to see who it was...my uncle. From there he stuck his hand down my shorts and started rubbing me and sticking his fingers in me. He then made me rub his penis and he then pulled my shorts down and took his pants off....I then pictured myself someplace else, someplace safe. When I woke he told me that if I told anyone that they wouldn't believe me because they already though I was a liar. He proceeded to tell me how I was better then "Win" (his daughter, my cousin) because I didn't fight him. Throughout our visit there at nap-time I knew what to expect and at bedtime I knew what to expect. I slept in fear during my entire visit (I guess that's when I got used to surviving on minimal sleep). At the end of our visit it became aparent that my cousins were comming back down from PA to FL with us for a visit and their parents would come down towards the end of the summer to get them. For that summer I got no sleep and I learned what sex was (in a weird obscure way). She used everything from her fingers, tampons, wooden spoons, to objects I couldn't tell you because I blacked out...

Now fast foward to middle school....

My grandparents (mom's parents) have both passed away. We're now living in BR, LA. I'm in my first year of middle school (6th grade), it's a new school, new start (first school that my sister didn't go to)...no one knows me. It'll be perfect! Or so I thought. Half way through the year I'm obviously the outcast. So I try to lie low...Ha! What a joke...you lie low, they hunt you down and find you and get shoved into a locker. I went through my entire first year in fear of getting hit, shoved into a locker, or beat up. Because all the stress I was going through I started carving words on my arm, such as "Life Sucks", "Kill Me"...
Year two...not much has changed..Except one of the students that verbally bullied me was suddenly half way nice to me. One thing that was running through my head was "ok what's he up to?" Mid-term, he's asking me to tutor him in math...I figure what the heck. Gave me someone to study with so that I could refresh my memory and it gave me someone I acctually lived near to "hang out" with. Turned out we had a bit in common; we both liked the same music, football, rollerblading, street hockey, and soccer. So in between studying we'd hang out and listen to music or play outside. About two months into me helping him with math he decided that he wanted to study in his room which I was ok with...he did have a desk in there and it was more comfortable. After a few days of this...while we were studying he put his hand on my leg, I told him "no". He then moved his hand up further and I pushed his hand off and told him, "I said no". After that he pushed me over put one hand across my throat reached over my shoulder to his side table and out of the drawer (at first I didn't see what it was)....next thing I knew there was something cold and metalic against my head and his hand was no longer around my neck. I looked over and saw...it was a gun! I then looked up at him in fear, he then said "You don't do what I say I'll kill you....you tell anyone I'll kill you." He then pulled my pants down and pulled his down...the one thought that went through my mind was that safe place where I knew no one could hurt me. When I came to he through a rag at me and told me "get cleaned up, go home." Turns out he tore me...and I was bleeding. I clean myself up and ran home. The run home all I could think of was being told, " tell anyone and they wouldn't believe you because they already think you're a liar...tell anyone and I'll kill you." So when I got home I went to my room changed my clothes, threw the outfit I had been wearing in the garbage (I didn't want to see it anymore. I then stayed in my room until dinner and then barely ate and went to bed. The remainder of my time at that school was hell....some how a rumor was spread that I was "easy"...thirteen and I was already having to deal with adult issues.

Freshman year of HS...same students different surroundings. Issues got bigger. Over the summer prior I had gone through some self discovery...got my first girlfriend. First person I felt I could trust...I mean REALLY trust. And I was in luck...she was going to the same school (I thought). A week before school starts, she moves...turns out she got HIV (not sure how...wasn't me) and her family moved where there were "better doctors". My first heart break. School started and the torment started all over. I went through four lockers the first quarter...from my locker being vandalized...by midterm I gave up even using a locker and I had suffered a total of eight bruised ribs. I switched from carving to just cutting. Even when it was warm I wore long sleves to cover the cutting. Through this I kept intoch with my ex only to find out she was getting worse. By the fourth week of the third semester she had pnemonia (a death sentence). I continued dealing with the bullies only to find out, district lines had been changed...next year I would be going to a different school...most of the bullies would not be going to the school with me. My family offered to send me to private school...but I turned down the offer. I couldn't get into a gifted and talented school because of my skin color (they had to keep race percentages within a certain number). I ended the school year with only a few additional bumps and bruises and 12 additional instances of bruised ribs.

Sophmore year....new school, new beginning? Started off the same. I was the only (or so I thought) non-closeted "fag" (yes I use rude and crude slang against myself). Went through some roughing up and vandalism of my locker...but this time it only lasted a semester. Then I found out...I wasn't alone, finally other students looking out for me. Teachers acctually watching out for me. Wasn't something I was used to...but it allowed me to let my guard down. Finally I could be....me. Went through a rough time still though. I refused to "date" anyone, because I lost my first true love the year before and I was affraid that if I got close to anyone again I would loose them either by death or by moving away. I went from just cutting to drugs and alcohol ontop of it....liquor was easy for me to come by, my family had a full liquor cabinet and I could just change blame my "cousin" (he's acctually my step-dad's grand-son).

Junior year....summer before I started dating this one guy that lived only a few blocks away...It went well, we went out up until the Valentines Day dance. Walking home from the dance we cut through the park, like we always do and decided to sit on the swings because neither of us were ready to go home yet. So we sat and talked...I trusted him because he seemed like the typical "boy next door"...as we were sitting there he got up, to what I assumed push me on the swing (like he had done so many times before)....he pushed me alright, off the swing and onto the ground...he then got ontop of me with a pocket knife against my throat...he had already unzipped his pants and got ontop of me...I went into my head and hid. When I woke up he was cradeling me as though nothing happened. At the time I wasn't sure what had happened...until when he dropped me off at my house he looked at me and told me he was sorry, that he loved me and he didn't mean to hurt me. I stayed mad at him for quite a while. He showered me with flowers, stuffed toys, cards saying "I love you" and "sorry". Eventually I forgave him thinking he really didn't mean it. We had a date night in at his place...his mom had put a tv and dvd player in his room so that we could watch a movie. In the middle of the movie he shut his room door (I didn't notice that he had locked it) and we started kissing...next thing he was feeling up my leg, I backed off and told him "no" he backed off, for a few minutes, and then he pushed himself ontop of me with his pocket knife out and once I saw the knife I reverted back into my own mind. Again when I woke up he was cradling me saying "I'm sorry, I'm sooo...sorry. Please forgive me." I pulled my stuff together and ran home. I never spoke to him after that. He did try to shower me with the "I'm sorry" "I love you" gifts again...but I avoided him...I told no one because of fear that no one would believe me or he'd do something to me. Two months I kept my head low...Then the Columbine Massacre happened and the schools started to profile "loners" to make sure that it won't happen in another school. The unexpected happened...I got called into the school psychologist's office...I just happen to be going through one of my lows...and next thing I knew I was in tears. I told the psych that I didn't know why I was crying, I did tell her about the harrassment and bullying...and that was it. The school psych insisted that I continue to see her for a while. Shortly there after I got involved with a youth group that acctually came to the school and picked everyone up, and brought 'em back to the school. I started to work through my issues on my own (or so I though). Junior year ended on a somewhat poisitve note...the ROTC Drill Team and Rifle Team had both placed at regionals (both of which I was involved in). Though I was requested not to bring a female date I went to my youth group's MORP (Prom alternative) and had fun. I had a lot of missing memories from this year...I've given up trying to pull up those memories.

Senior year...I had dated this one female early in the year only to find out that the only reason she was dating me was to get back at her ex...though we're now best friends. I did manage to bounce back and get involve with another female. We dated until mid year when her dad walked in on us making out (rather imbarrising). I continued with JROTC Drill Team and got kicked off the Rifle Team for trying to shoot another student....you can ask if you want. I continued with the youth group. I got involved with another girl half way through the third semester and we stayed together for almost the rest of the year...until (according to my mother) her parents threatened to press charges...so my mother (supposedly) made the agreement that I was joining the military if they didn't press charges against me (she was 15 and I was 18). I gave up the drugs because of my plans to join the military....I eventually quit drinking too. It was another year that I had a lot of missing memories....I recovered some but not all. The one recovered memory I have is being raped when I was at the church that I went to youth group at, I don't remember by who, I do remember that we had been setting up for an even and everyone went on break and I decided to stay behind and read. Next thing I know I'm on the floor with someone on top of me, he's inside of me, and saying that he's going to "fuck me straight". Next thing I new one of the other volunteers was waking me up asking if I was ok. I told them I wasn't sure that I think I fell asleep. I've yet to recover any other memories from that instance.

I joined the Navy straight out of HS. I went through boot camp. After boot camp I reported to my "school"....which I kept to myself. I did get involved with a few females (thanks to the "don't ask don't tell" policy)...but it was never anything major...I reported to my first duty station after a short home visit. USS JFK I was pretty stoked to be at my first duty station. The crew I was with was ok. I kept to myself kept my head low, I was a junior enlisted person. I minded my "P's and Q's" did what I was told, when I was told. I was quick. I got things done right when I was told to and quicker then most. Because of this I got the favor of most of my PO's...one seemed to have me run more silly annoying errands then any other. I still got everything done no matter how rediculous it may have seemed...I did it. A month and a half after me reporting to the ship he came up to me and asked me if I would want to get my rescue diver's certification...which I was stoked about that idea...he said there was one thing he needed me to do in order for him to put in the suggestion for me to get accepted...he told me I'd have to give out for him to sign off on it...and if I refused he'd get me kicked out of the Navy...he would report me for being gay and that (at the time) was an automatic discharge. Because I not only wanted to stay in, I wanted to be a rescue diver. Every time he scheduled one of our "meet ups" I would go back into my mind and find that safe place where no one could find me or hurt me. I would keep my head low and not talk to anyone unless they talked to me. This one female and her boyfriend that I had gotten to know, we would go out for dinner, coffe, movies...introduced me to this one guy they knew that they said would be "perfect for me" the following weekend we did a double date and I met him (my now husband)...and I'm not sure if it was fireworks or the fact that I was in a (unknown) bipolar high...but we hit it off really well. In our time of dating he didn't know what was going on between myself and the PO I worked under. It wasn't until one night when I couldn't take anymore I went into a panic and decided one way or another I needed off that ship, even though we were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I told him about what had been going on...he told the ship's psychologist and we started the process with pressing charges. The psychologist dx'd me with BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder) and medicated me. The meds made me more depressed, more unpredictable...I ended up trying to jump ship...which landed me in a hospital in Puerto Rico and made me find out I'm allergic to Haldol. I then got out processed and got out of the Navy.

Since then I've been in and out of therapy....on and off medication...on and off pot, and pain meds (they help numb me when I'm in a low). I've been in a psych hospital once since then and it's because I was adjusting to a total med adjustment. I went in willingly because I felt like I was a danger to myself....

I've lived in WA for going on 7 years and the past 2 years out of therapy and off meds....barely holding things together...I'm having to re-learn every coping skill I was ever taught. I quit the pot...though the urge is still there. I also don't drink (as much, only on occasion).


Over the years, I've had the following dx (no particular order):

BPD, Bipolar, Schitzopernia, DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder), PTSD, Depression, ADD, Anxiety Disorder...

The one's that have stuck:

Bipolar, PTSD, ADD, and Anxiety Disorder.
(oh, and dyslexia...which I learned how to "deal with")

So if I'm not crazy or going crazy....who is???