survivor

Hitting too close to home

~ KJ ~ 4 Comments

I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before, but I am in my last semester of college.  At my school, students in certain degree programs are required to complete an undergraduate thesis in order to graduate.  You are encouraged to choose a topic that relates to your projected career path, conduct research, and write a five chapter thesis on that topic.  I had thought about a few different topics I would possibly write about: the lack of adequate mental health care for the elderly population, the complexities of PTSD, or the legitimacy of Dissociative Identity Disorder.

In addition to those topics, I also considered writing about mother-daughter sexual abuse.  This topic had a lot of pros and cons.  It was a topic I had experience with, so there was the benefit of familiarity.  I already knew where to look to find information and research.  I had direct access to reputable sources.  On the negative side, this was a topic I had experience with.  Would I be able to handle it emotionally?  Would I be able to separate my own experiences from the facts and approach the project without bias? Would I be able to find enough information on a topic that is still very much kept quiet about?

Ultimately, I ended up choosing MDSA as my topic.  I started my thesis the second week of June.  Six weeks later and more than half done with my thesis, I am hitting a mental roadblock.  I need a break.  I’ve been able to write three chapters with much success.  But now, I think I am mentally exhausted.  I am working on my own recovery of MDSA and then researching and writing about MDSA; my days consist of MDSA and not much else.  I don’t have much time to think about or focus on anything else.  It has taken a toll on me.  It’s too late to change my topic now, as I have less than one month before the thesis has to be handed in.  I just have to figure out a way to get over it.

I’m sure a lot of you would ask me why I even chose this topic, considering everything that’s happened.  I felt like I needed to write it for personal reasons and for a larger purpose.  I feel like in learning about the topic, I can learn more about myself, and help myself in some way.  I also want others to learn that MDSA does happen.  In the last 27 years, only 10 books have been written exclusively about MDSA, and most were written within the last 10 years.  I’ve read a few of them, and while I can say they were great books, they are also lacking in a lot of areas.  How can we increase awareness of the topic if people are refusing to even write about it?  I want to write about it.  I need to write about it.

I’ve always been told I had a gift for writing.  I never thought I was all that great, but whatever.  I’ve also been told by several people that I should write a book about my experiences someday.  I don’t know if that will ever happen.  I can barely get myself through this thesis.  But maybe that is because I am still working on myself.  I want to get to a point where I can help others, through counseling and through my writing.  I guess this blog is a start.

Taking steps in rebuilding my life

~ KJ ~ 3 Comments

Today marks exactly two weeks that I’ve been out.

I’ve taken the bus five times.

I walked 1.3 miles home in the dark of night.

I’ve crossed a major highway twice.

I navigated successfully through three different towns and only got lost for a few minutes.

I used Uber three times.

I had a phone conversation that lasted an hour and a half.

These may seem like small, insignificant things to most people.  But for me, they were big steps…things I had never done before, actions I had never taken.  And I got through them (though I admit, I did walk into a tree and tripped over my own foot during the late night walk home).  I’ve managed to wake up every morning and drag myself out of bed, even when I didn’t want to.  I’m trying.

Oh, yeah.  I also managed to get a job.  I applied to every place I could think of over the last month or so, and finally got an interview on Monday.  I got through that interview with no problems and had my second interview yesterday with the general manager.  He hired me on the spot, and started me with almost $3 more an hour than I was making at my old job, which I had been at for over 10 years.

I was so thrilled; it felt like I was finally on my way to getting established here.  Then I came home to go over the paperwork and my excitement came to a grinding halt.  I completely overlooked the fact that I would need identification.  I have my State ID, but that’s not enough.  I need a birth certificate, passport, or Social Security card.  I’ve never had a passport, and my mother kept my birth certificate and SS card locked away – I was never allowed to have them in my possession.  I just started crying.  What the hell was I supposed to do now?  Do I go home and try to get them?  Can I really handle even going home?

I looked online to find information about applying for new ones.  It takes at least four weeks to get a birth certificate; I also have no idea where I was born, so I don’t know if it’s even possible.  For a social security card, it takes 10 days from the date of approval.  That’s cutting it close.  Luckily, my roommate’s boyfriend offered to drive me to the Social Security office today.  We got there a half an hour before it closed…but…I did it.  My application was processed and now I just have to wait to get the card in the mail.  Crisis averted.

The most important step of all has been getting myself into therapy.  I was fortunate enough to be in contact with a therapist from my online support group before I even made my move.  Now all that was left was for me to actually show up.  And I did.  It may take me a half an hour to walk there, but I’m doing it.  I may need a second job just to pay for my sessions, but I’m doing it.  It may be hard for me to talk about shit, but I’m doing it.

I knew by coming down here that I was taking a lot of risks, putting myself in a position that I’ve never been in before.  But I’m a fighter.  I’m building myself back up after being shattered for the last 29 years.

Where do I start?

~ KJ ~ Leave a comment

While a few people know parts of my story, no one knows every piece of the puzzle of my life.  Hell, I don’t even know every piece.  There are significant time periods in my life that I have no memory of, especially in my childhood.  Sometimes, my mind likes to torture me in the form of flashbacks – because experiencing it the first time wasn’t enough.  I probably should have been more specific when I begged myself to remember more.

I wish I could remember more than I have.  Most of my memories are traumatic ones.  I remember few, if any, periods in my life where I was happy and felt safe and loved.  Did I ever experience that?  I would like to think that I did, but I will probably never know for sure.

I could focus this blog only on the future, and on the positive experiences of my life, but what good will that do?  I feel like in order to understand my present situation, you have to understand my past.  In recovery, they encourage you to focus on the future.  People rarely want to talk about the trauma, the pain, the reality of their pasts.  But I do.  I want people to know that things like this actually happen.  That parents aren’t perfect.  That mothers hurt their own children.  If we refuse to talk about it, people will never acknowledge that it happens, and victims will continue to stay victims instead of becoming survivors.

I used to be ashamed of my past.  To be perfectly honest, I still go through periods of intense shame and self-blame.  I probably will for the rest of my life.  But something in me changed.  I am no longer afraid to acknowledge the reality of my past because it will always be a part of who I am.  I have come to accept that maybe, just maybe, there is a greater reason that I endured all the shit that I have endured.  I need to be the voice for those that cannot find theirs.