Surviving Suicide

Please note: This was originally written at the end of April 2015. The subject matter can be difficult to read. Trigger warning. 

“You weren’t meant to do this alone. If you’re constantly putting on a front that you have it all together, other people will start to believe that you really do have it all together. So, I challenge you to be honest with trusted friends and family. Share your struggles with them and let them help carry your burdens and encourage you. Because the truth is: you were never meant to do this alone.”

APRIL 21, 2015

Recently I was criticized for being so honest and baring my soul on these pages. It hurt. I believe that in order to write the things I do, it takes courage. It requires me to be vulnerable and it is far from easy. It helps me heal and I will never apologize for being honest. If you don’t want to know about me and my life then just don’t read it. Heavens. 

Anyway, I really didn’t expect to sit down and write this tonight. I wasn’t sure if I was ready. But then I read this article about Natalie’s Story and I decided that I needed to get this out there while it was at the forefront of my mind and while I felt brave enough to tell this part of my story.

So we all know I suffer with Borderline Personality Disorder. If you don’t know what that is, please click on the link to read about it. You never know, it just might change your life. I hear from people all the time that never knew this disorder existed until they read my story and all the sudden their life, or a life of a family member finally makes sense.

This week I have been feeling a wide range of emotions. I feel inadequate, worthless and unworthy. My mind tells me I am the worst mother and my kids would be better off without me. You know, I honestly thought my marriage had changed. I thought we were finally moving forward. But really it was just the calm before the storm. The hurricane was still brewing.

His love was a lie. How could I be so blind? I feel betrayed and hopeless.

I knew. I knew that the changes I made weren’t enough and they never would be. Why couldn’t I just be good enough for once? Is that really to hard to ask? Seriously. Everyone around me could be normal, why not me? Why couldn’t I just give my husband the life he wanted?

Last week I sat on this overpass at 2am for hours. Just staring down and thinking what it would feel like to jump. I have sat on many overpasses in my life. Willing myself the courage to take the leap. I took this picture while I was sitting there. I was mesmerized by the cars lights. I always wonder where the people are going. Are they going home? What type of life do they live? What struggles do they face? Are they happy? Is anyone happy?

I have attempted suicide many times. There are many blog posts dedicated to them. Especially the one that changed my life in 2013. But I have learned from my failed attempt experiences. I knew there were two options to ensure that all this pain would finally end. I didn’t have access to the first option thankfully. But on April 15th, I drove to Home Depot. Purchased what I needed. Cut the rope. Tied the noose. And then I found the perfect spot, the perfect tree. And I sat there two nights in a row going over the details. Very few people will know what it feels like to have a rope pulled tight against their throat. I do.

Please understand. It isn’t that I’m so depressed that I feel I have no purpose in life. It is that I feel everything. It is exhausting. I feel every emotion. I feel the pain. The dark of the world invades my soul. I internalize it all to the point it manifests as excruciating physical pain. 

Honestly, I miss my husband. But maybe even more I miss the relationship, closeness and intimacy that is shared by two people who love each other. We have been through so much … how do you recover from it? What happens when one persons love is greater than the other?

This post is not supposed to be depressing, shocking or negative in any way. I am following the timeline of how I got to where I currently am. It has always been my policy to never omit my experiences no matter how difficult. You think I want to admit that my life went down this path again? That I failed again? I’m taking the chance and being vulnerable for any to read. Maybe the radical honesty can finally break some barriers and stigma. And guess what? Spoiler alert: I survived.

UPDATE:

“You’re exactly where you are supposed to be right now, you are exactly who you are supposed to be… Your journey led you here for a reason, and it’s not required for you to know exactly where it goes from here. Just listen to your heart and take one inspired step at a time.
Trust yourself. Be patient with yourself. Be kind to yourself… And most importantly, LOVE yourself, because YOU ARE MAGNIFICENT, just the way you are.”

After those dark days in the car and beside the tree I made a radical decision. I was done.  I left. It brought me here. I’m placing the final edits on this post on 11/11/15. A lot of time has passed. Things have dramatically changed. I feel at peace and I am so incredibly grateful.

I have amazing parents. Can you imagine getting a call from your daughter at 3am detailing the plan to take her life while she is 1000 miles away? The plan to take the pills then hang the rope? It is impossible to imagine the pain they must have felt. The helplessness. Thank you Mom and Dad. I may be an adult but I can’t do this on my own. Pure unconditional love and acceptance from you saved my life.

Anyway. I finally decided to trust myself. It got me here and I am building something beautiful.

NOTE: Do you know what would be really amazing? If we stopped saying someone “Committed Suicide”. Criminals commit crime. Suicide is not a crime. It only contributes to horrible stigma associated with suicide. Saying ‘committed’ implies blame. Let’s decide to stop that right now.

If you or someone you know needs help, please visit the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline. You can also reach the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741. Head here for a list of crisis centers around the world.

xoxo,

Kristin

Trying to Find Clarity

(This was originally written March 2015.) 

My blog has always, and will always be a place for me to work through problems. A place to try and find clarity. I have found that the more I write about my life and things I feel, the more perspective I am able to have because I have to dig deep to be able to say these things out loud. None of it has been easy. I’ve decided in this post that I’m going to try and use my voice to discuss an issue that has plagued me for so many years. I want to desperately understand. I NEED some clarity.

I do not understand family dynamics. I don’t understand my place in a family. Where do I fit? I am unpredictable. Volatile. And I can create chaos.

Seth and I tried to discuss this issue last night and he said that it is going to take a lot of time for people to get over how bad I have offended them ………hey! Wait, ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Right now, people I know are dying around me. There is so much suffering. In the grand scheme of things this life is just a matter of days and moments. SO why do we have to do it alone because someone has been offended? Well, hello family and friends. Let me introduce you to my blog. Yup, I get that you don’t want to talk to me to try and gain understanding. Start reading and get caught up. I discuss my life and the challenges I have faced having severe brain trauma and a personality disorder. I discuss my marriage in depth. I have strangers in seven countries that read what I write. They are grateful that I am bringing these issues to the surface because no one else is talking about it and most of the time they tell me their story as well. This is a record for my daughters and their children to read. Speaking my truth is empowering.

But I struggle with feeling that I am worthy of love. Always have. Right now the only people that I know without a doubt love and accept me are my parents. When I told that to Seth, he said that maybe they are the only ones that can love me right now.

That stung.

I am 33 years old going on 34. If my parents are the only people on the face of this earth that can love me … after all the people I have met and interacted with and cared for over the years, what a sad reality. It is lonely and isolating. We are not meant to be alone. We are not meant to feel alone. Yet how many of us do?

Random fact about me: I am a person that loves to talk on the phone. I don’t like to text unless I have to. I crave human interaction. Yet no one calls me unless I call them first. No one called me or checked in when I was dying. I guess Seth decided to withhold it from most of his family. My parents kept it pretty private as well. I figure that if you withhold that kind of stuff from people that care about you, then you must be ashamed. Doesn’t matter whether that is true or not. I wasn’t ashamed of it and I didn’t care who knew. After I gave birth to my daughter and over the course of 18 months I was hospitalized 5 times. I did not want to live. I was experiencing an extreme case of postpartum psychosis that mixed with BPD created a deadly combination. Shameful? I guess. Why I couldn’t have just died one of those 10-15 times that I have tried I do not know.

Yes, I realize that I have a greater purpose. But a big part of me still wishes that I would have died anyway. No one should be able to take hundreds of pills, cut themselves open, breathe in deadly fumes over and over again and live to talk about it. I do not feel ashamed for what I have done. Sad? Yes. Pained that I caused those around me to feel fear and pain? Yes. Shame? No.

Question: If I did die, who would notice or care? Don’t say my kids because yes I know they would care. I’m asking in a broader sense. Who would care? I have a close relationship with my parents. They would care. But would anyone else notice? Would they think about me sometimes? Probably. They would initially post about it on Facebook and question why it happened. But then it fades. People move on because they have to.

So family: If I have offended you and you are pushing yourself away from knowing me and my daughters because of it, then stop. I’m really trying to understand. What is the purpose of family?

God gave Adam Eve because he said it was not good for man to be alone. It is not good for anyone to be alone. I’m guessing a good portion of my family feels alone as well, and we probably don’t know how to fix it. Our society is screwed up like that.

I read an interesting article a few weeks ago about the power of kindness. That researchers could predict whether people were happy in their marriage based on the amount of kindness in the relationship. I’m going to say that extends to other family members as well. The more you are kind to others, the more you forget yourself and the better relationships you create.

I feel that I have earned the right to be happy. And I can choose happiness. Right now I am lost. When people you know die and you start to inspect your life and what it means, it can be a very sad journey to take.

As far as I know, there has only been one person to walk this earth in perfection. He chose to take on our imperfections, our pain. He suffered for MY imperfections, for MY pain. Yours too. So I understand why I lived in a way that if I didn’t think I could do something perfectly, I wouldn’t try at all. I became ashamed as my many failures started to pile up.

When you look at the nights sky, do you see the moon and the stars, or the just the darkness that surrounds them? How would you feel if I chose to dismiss your light because there was darkness surrounding you? I shine because of the darkness.

Watch the video I posted. Does it make you realize how insignificant you are? Or do view the opposite like me and you realize your great significance? I see the beauty. If there are as many people as stars in the sky then how GREAT must God be to personally show His love for me. I feel His great love surround me daily. I know He cares about me. I am but a grain of sand and yet God loves me anyway. How great is our worth?! IF God can love as many stars number the sky then why can’t we love each other? How come we find fault and diminish the light in others?

Stop

Bullying and the Mob Mentality

First I want to welcome all my new blog readers! This is a very personal blog and I write with complete honesty about situations I have experienced. It is the only way that I can survive. And thank you so much for all the kind messages I have received the last few days!

So, in going back through my blog I have 4-5 drafts, but I haven’t published a post since January. No wonder my life has felt so off-balance lately. My blog has become a place of healing and growth. I have missed it and the clarity it provides.

There has been so much change recently that I need to backtrack and get my blog caught up to the present. This is probably a really great thing because it will help me take a big deep breath and gain some perspective on the things that are currently happening. Maybe going back to other experiences will help me not write things I may regret. Perspective is never a bad thing. But, yes, that blog post halfway done and it will be published. 

So join me and let’s dig back in the chaos and fill in the gaps. My last post was in January, so I am going to start there. Want to know something crazy? The only way that I can remember and differentiate parts on my life is through the pictures in my phone. It is my official memory jogger. My brain has an amazing way of protecting itself from painful events, but pictures always tell the story.

Right at the end of January I experienced something incredibly painful. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would have to deal with this once I became an adult.

Cyber Bullying

It was really ugly. I hadn’t felt that vulnerable and scared in a long time. For those that have read previous posts, you know that I have a history with years of bullying and abuse when I was young. I was really shocked that at the age of 34 I would be dragged in to that madness again. I try hard to insulate myself from outside influences, but you can’t control everything or the way people feel. The interesting thing is that these were women much older than me, threatening me with pictures of guns and violence. Seriously? They threatened to come to my home and physically harm me. They knew where I lived. It was absolutely insane and incredibly scary. Honestly, my brain still has a hard time comprehending the entire experience.

Why do people think that putting these horrible things online for the world to see is okay? Do they think that somehow the pain and hurt they are causing is not as cruel if they are doing it in texts, posts or comments on Facebook? Maybe it doesn’t feel as real to them.

I’m going to add a few of the images to my blog that “they” posted on Facebook, only because I want you to see what the face of bullying looks like online. Sorry about the language. I may remove these later depending on how I feel about it tomorrow. And of course, these don’t contain the entire post or the 50+ comments. It got ugly fast.

EDIT: So one of the people I am writing about in this blog post apparently still stalks me. How unfortunate that she wastes her time on something so negative. She has a complaint against me via WordPress that I am in the process of appealing. That is why one of the graphics is not viewable.

The really interesting thing was the reaction from the people who knew about the situation and why it started. When I showed them what was happening, there wasn’t even a “Wow. That is really messed up.” Their reaction made me feel like I deserved the abuse. In my mind I must be horrible if people are talking about me the way they were, right? I don’t know if that feeling makes sense to you unless you have experienced this type of harassment first hand. I felt an overwhelming sense of shame.

The Mob Mentality

Now that we have covered a little of what happened earlier this year, I want to talk about the Mob Mentality. Because when they posted these pictures, friends of theirs who had NO information whatsoever on the actual situation started chiming in. Of course right?Because hatred is contagious when they “perceive” an injustice. First off, bullying and the mob mentality is a dangerous combination. It can quickly spiral out of control because it fuels the bully’s ego and makes them more confident now that their hatred has been validated by their peers. Social media has become the biggest bully pulpit in the world. Could they say those exact same words in person? Or is it only because they have the comfort of a screen and hundreds of miles between us?

In my blog post called “Growing Pains” I talked about my experiences as a teen with bullying. What I didn’t talk about was what happened years later when I talked with a guy who joined in with THE crowd. He laughed along with the others and here is his reason why. He told me that he didn’t want to become the focus of their hate, so he felt like he had to go along with it. No, he didn’t like what was happening to me, but he didn’t think his voice alone was strong enough to stop it.

I understand the fear of being left behind or placed in the bully’s crosshairs. It’s absolutely human nature for us to want to go along in order to be included in the group. There is safety in numbers and it’s never fun to be unpopular. I know that first hand. I was bullied, harassed and generally made to feel like I existed just for a certain group of classmates’ amusement. It has made me a paranoid person who still feels anxiety in certain social situations. In writing this post I have decided that I actually have an issue with the term “bullying.” It projects an image of teasing and/or whispering behind each other’s backs. In fact, bullying is more physical violence, sexual humiliation and deeply personal attacks.

I want to be part of a group that is loving, hard working, accepting and won’t tolerate hate in any form. Call it naive, but that is my hope for the future of our human race. Revenge is not the answer. It only adds fuel to the fire. I’m talking about extinguishing the fire by teaching others how to be brave enough to stand up to a bully, and not go along with a crowd when it means giving up your humanity in order to be included. Who wants to carry that type of burden and guilt?

I will be talking a lot in my upcoming blog posts about the Power of Validation. I have only learned about this recently and it has been a game changer in my relationships. If you are ever in a situation where you don’t know what to say to someone who is struggling or in pain, then find a way to validate their feelings. I will give really great examples in a different post. But one of the best, is

“Wow. I can’t even begin to imagine how hurt you must be feeling right now. That must be incredibly painful to have them post those horrible things about you to the public.”

Part of validation is restating what they told you by using simple and precise language so they know you were listening. Do NOT ask if they are okay. Do NOT ask how you can help. Just validate their experience whether you understand it or not. It might sound simple, but it is truly powerful and can quickly deescalate a situation. People want to know they have been heard. That is why you don’t tell them that you know how they feel, because it minimizes their feelings. It takes practice. If you want to know more about validation, click here.

Fun Fact: Validation is one of the core skills of Dialectical Behavior Therapy. (The greatest form of therapy on the planet!)

xoxo,

Kristin

Life is Good … and Addictions?

Never in my wildest dream did I think life would ever be this great. My family and I are together and whole. I have amazing friends and I love my job “When you love your job so much, it isn’t work.” Seth is excelling and showing the world just how talented he is. My girls are thriving and growing up fast. They are beautiful and healthy and amaze me every day. And I’m doing what I can do to pay this forward. There are still minor corrections I need to make to keep on course, but overall life is GOOD! Well .. most of the time.

One moment we haven’t covered of hundreds more is the hysterectomy. I know you are thinking “What in the world? She just said life is so good, why go back?” Because the past is what got my life to BE good. So I have to tell it. And I said I would cover addictions, so why not talk about it now as well.

During the months leading up to the hysterectomy I can hardly recall most of the experiences because I was so drugged up, which has actually been a huge blessing sort of?. In July 2012 I started to feel massive pains in my stomach and pelvis. It left my crying in my bed, curled up in a ball almost every day. Ladies, imagine the worst cramps you have ever felt, then times it by 100. They were unpredictable and would come on at the worst possible moments. I was barely recovering from the mental anguish and hospitalizations and now a new and awful assault on my body emerged. Here is some backstory: When I was 20, I had surgery to remove endometriosis and large cysts that had grown on my ovaries. At the time they thought I would lose one of my ovaries because of how large and severe the cysts had become. But my Surgeon was able to save it, and the cysts went away for a time. But more surgeries were required.

So here is the problem with pain. I was prescribed very addictive medication when I was just 16. It provided me an escape from all the ugly things that would race through my head. It was an escape from the bullying. It was an escape for anything and everything. Any excuse and I would go right back to my anxiety meds. There were so many lies I told myself over the years.

“A doctor wouldn’t prescribe me this type of medication unless he thought I really needed it. At least I’m not taking illegal drugs. I’m not a druggie, I just have anxiety. My life is really hard so I deserve a little reprieve. I can stop anytime I want.”

That is where it began. And OH, the Ambien stories people could tell about me. The antics were crazy, but I was actually more fun when I took it – at least I thought I was more fun. It never did help me sleep like it was supposed to. Maybe I’ll have my sister do a guest blog post, Kristin’s Ambien Antics, a Look through the Years… OH, they were that crazy and deserve their own post! Singing the National Anthem in a public restaurant, stealing all the dinner rolls by dumping them into my purse and then jumping on a private boat … yup I did that! I’m pretty sure the psychiatrist who prescribed me the Xanax and Ambien when I was 16 lost his license later on. **Not because of me though.

Anyway. I happen to be allergic to Codeine. Many of you might know that most pain medications contain a synthetic form of codeine. So when I am in pain, I don’t have many options. The options I do have are powerful and highly addictive.

I gave birth to my daughter in February and the pain started at the end of July. I was given SO much pain medicine it was crazy. I actually got to the point where I only felt normal if I took some the minute I woke up in the morning. I was referred to a pain clinic because of the amounts of narcotics I needed. We went through alternative treatments. I had needles inserted deep into my abdomen with numbing medication so I could try to not take so many pain meds and start to function a little in my life. Start being a mom again. It didn’t work and was INSANELY awful!!

Reality finally set in. I had a Laparoscopy in October to determine what was going on and they saw an issue with my uterus. When I delivered my last daughter it cause trauma to my uterus which resulted in it being tilted. I finally decided I had enough. It had to go.

This decision wasn’t taken lightly. But to be honest, after all I experience when I’m pregnant, then post-pregnancy I couldn’t ever image having another baby. EVER. So it was decided. The week before Christmas I would have a hysterectomy.

The uterus is gone by new problems have arisen. My body hasn’t figured out how to function without normal hormones and I go through phases of menopause. We didn’t have enough money to get it all checked out at the time, but the process of fixing it is finally starting. I gained 20 pound in just a few months after the hysterectomy. Tough for a person with an eating disorder to wrap my head around. Anyway. A subject for another day.

If it worked to resolve the pain then I vowed to never take another pain pill in my life. No matter the circumstance.  But the problem is I am still an addict in recovery. In my teenage years the anxiety meds would run out and alcohol took its place. Just a few years ago I was prescribed Adderall to stop my racing mind. Addict. Compulsive Shopping. Addict. Work? Addict.

Want to know why I work so much? It is the most healthy way I have found to relieve the pain that is my life. It gives me purpose and it grounds me. Yes, I’m still addicted. I’m addicted to the feeling I get when I help someone grow and become someone they never thought they could be. I’m addicted to the feeling I get when I can help someone move forward in their life with renewed purpose. It happens over and over and I will never get over the feeling. Serving others has saved my life. That gives me purpose, which helps me rise above the demons of my destructive, family destroying addictions.

I need to remember to post about WHY the pain started in the first place. You will never believe it. There is no mystery, it was part of the plan. I see the bigger picture of my life. The hysterectomy was part of what saved my marriage. It is absolutely crazy!

wishing you love and light today,

Kristin 

The Thunder

It has been such a roller coaster of a week. I hate to even mention this, but it has been a big factor in what has gone on. Robin Williams death. I do all of my work on Facebook so it has been difficult to even open a browser, knowing that every other Facebook post will be about his death. Opinions being thrown about everywhere. Everyone has one, and I guess I do too. I found the best explanation in an article I read here. It talked about how Robin didn’t die by suicide, he died from Depression. He died from Bipolar disorder. He died from his disease, just like a cancer victim. Because that is what he is in all this. A victim. Did you know that someone tries to commit suicide every 4 minutes? Tell me this isn’t a problem. Tell me that we all have a choice. Well I’m sorry world. I DON’T have a choice. I did not ask for depression, borderline personality disorder, bipolar, OCD, ADD. You name it, I have it. I DID NOT ask for it! And I am so sick of the opinions that some where in all this there is a choice. Mental Illness is a disease that has an extremely high death rate. I could name the statistics but I won’t. But please understand, it is not a choice.

So my husband tells me that I have had a year to get my act together. Remember I talked about my one year anniversary? Well I guess it meant something for him as well. It meant that I haven’t fixed myself enough. I have not done enough for him to want to stay married to me. Then Robin Williams commits suicide and it is plastered every where I look.…..Bad timing. But you know, I guess I haven’t. I didn’t try enough to be the best mom I could to my girls. I didn’t cook enough meals for my family. I didn’t keep up on the laundry like I used to. Remember that nasty sleep disorder? Well, I didn’t wake up at 7am to get the girls ready for school and daycare enough. And I wasn’t the best wife I could be. I don’t know. Apparently I didn’t give it my all. So it is over. I lost. BUT, just so you know, I don’t blame him. He has carried the burden of my illness while going to grad school and doing an amazing job raising the girls. No blame. Just Cold, Hard, Reality.

I’m writing this at 5am watching a crazy light show of lightning and thunder. How amazing. Lightning then Thunder. Lightning then Thunder. God’s power is Glorious. But I am wondering in all of this. When does the suffering end? The splash of lightning and the rumble of the thunder. That is what my entire life has been. One after the other the lightning strikes. So close you think it would have burned me to the ground. Then the thunder comes in and shakes my life up in such a way that I have no idea if I will ever find solid footing. So, is there ever going to be happiness for me? Or just the constant Lightning and Thunder? I’m not in the best of moods if you can’t tell. I have suffered so much. I could write an entire blog about just ONE of my blog posts. I’m tired and I want to give up and let go. Who actually needs me in this life, I’m curious. My husband is great with my girls. He can take care of them on his own. And he WILL get custody of them. So who needs me? Why do I have to stick around and suffer more? Suffer through a divorce and living on my own. Look at my history and tell me that isn’t a recipe for disaster. Seth grounds me to this world. But it isn’t my choice to make. Life is unbearable for him, and I am not enough and never will be.

Anyway. I needed to write it out and I really don’t care about opinions on whether I should have written this or not. I don’t care. If it saves my life, then let me write it. Maybe I’ll delete this post later. I’m an impulsive person and I lead with my emotions. I have tried to turn them off I swear. Just part of the disease. The disease that stole my marriage. The disease that stole my life.

Now the lightning and thunder are gone and the sun is rising in the sky. Does that mean there is hope? Can there really be peace in this crazy, awful world? Lets hope so.

Back to the Beginning

I don’t even know where to begin with this post. My heart is breaking.

First, for those that don’t know, I have had some type of insomnia since I was about 15. Well I finally learned what it is called. It is a circadian rhythm thing called Delayed Sleep Phase Disorder. You can read about it here.

It makes SO much sense why I could never find a treatment for my irregular sleep patterns. And OH, by the way. it just happens to mention Traumatic Brain Injury as a cause. Hmmmm. That would explain a lot. Everything always comes back to the Brain Injury. When your sleep cycle begins at 3am and goes until 12pm, that really doesn’t work in the real world. And it has taken its toll on my marriage and relationship with my girls. People thought I was super lazy and undisciplined, and I’m sure many still think that. Especially people in my own home. But this is a light shedding moment. Can it be fixed? I have no idea. There are very few things that work. But I’ll try them all. I always do. 

I wish I could have “that life’. The one that doesn’t involve ANY of my blog posts. I wish I had nothing to write to you. But that is not what God has given me. I keep having to break through brick wall after brick wall. And I don’t know why. I’m tired. Literally and emotionally. How can I not be? I hate the fact that I don’t live up to someones ideal, even though that is silly. No one lives up to an ideal. But I don’t even come close. What does that mean for me now that I understand why I do what I do?

I thought I was doing so well. My business is taking off like a rocket ship, and the ride has been AMAZING! I love enriching other women’s lives. Like really LOVE IT! It is what gets me through the day. But I don’t love to cook, and I have a hard time focusing (FYI, Facebook and Instagram are an ADD’s PARADISE!) The small things I can’t do. My focus is so fractured.

New Beginnings? Probably. I guess sometimes you wear a person down so much they just can’t find it in themselves to let go and move on. To forgive. And then to look for solutions. Things are going to be painful for a long time. I have no idea what the future holds. But I know I am going to need prayers for strength. Because it is beginning all over again. And I’m not sure that I can do it this time. Anyway. Sorry for the this post. My life changed in an instant this morning. The hammer dropped and I don’t know what to do.

Side note

I didn’t get a chance to talk about the DBT Skill “Distress Tolerance” in Part 2. The post ended up being longer than I thought. So I will cover it later this week, as well as my Hysterectomy and the reason for it and the awful side effects after the fact.

Some of my next topics for you all to look forward to:

Stalker “Max”. He antics are a TRIP! He wasn’t dangerous. Just always there. Literally. I will never forget the day that Seth answered my apartment door, and there stood poor Max. Holding a VERY belated birthday present for me. OH and his mom had to drive him there because at 21 years old he still didn’t have a license. OH MY!! #teamSeth rocked it! (ewwww, what if he is reading this right now? Now that would be creepy!)

The Crazy Anesthesiologist. I lived at her house for a while when I was 18 and she was one of the most corrupt Dr’s I have ever met. Let’s just say she “Operated” Under the Influence… of Drugs.

The Mafia Runner. This one is a sad story. I dated a boy when I was 16 who was wanted by the Las Vegas Mob for reasons I will explain. No happy endings there.

The Cheerleader. I became friends with her at 13 years old and it is a story straight out of “Mean Girls”.

AND there are MORE. Most of them aren’t as sad or hard to write as the two posts I just published. ANYWAY. Happy Reading.

The Damaged part 1

For someone with Borderline Personality Disorder to write the things I did in this post, I had to pull some MAJOR skills out of my tool box. I will cover in Part 2 the DBT Skill called “Distress Tolerance”. It is a tough skill to learn, but amazing if you can master it. My parents might need to use that skill while reading these posts.

I am taking a deep breath right now and hoping I can make it through writing these stories out. These are things that have been haunting me since they happened. And it isn’t fair to not include them in my story. They will be the hardest posts I have written to date, which might be surprising based on my previous content. So fasten your seat belts… I’m not sharing these stories on a whim. I rarely talk about these times in my life, but I feel it’s really important to share my experiences because so many young girls are still going through what I went through. Relationship violence and date rape are devastating young lives. It’s time to put an end to the abuse…..and it’s time for everyone to understand that actions have consequences.
I share this story to let girls everywhere know that you are strong……and you are not alone.

I like facts and statistics so let’s begin there.

You should be able to click on the photo to make it easier to read. But let’s start with the very sad statistic that 1 in 4 women have been raped or suffered attempted rape. As I struggle to write this I am going to keep that in mind. Because there are too many of you out there who this has happened to and someone needs to shed some light and open the freakin door and say THIS IS NOT OKAY!

I was 18 years old I had already been through so many tough experiences. I had suffered extreme bullying. I had been using prescription drugs as a way to control my life, and to be honest, I just didn’t care much about anything. Thankfully I was able to attend college instead of going to my senior year of high school and it was a great way to get away from the people that made my life a living hell. Let’s be honest, I was all around pretty mad at the world. So I didn’t take the precautions that I hope and pray my daughters will take when going on a date.

I dated pretty much anyone and everyone. I really didn’t care who. I just wanted to have fun and escape my problems. We were just getting into the age of meeting people online and I met and dated a few people from there. And one person I went on a date with was just a cute guy I met at a gas station. I was impulsive and loved surprising people so when he talked to me, I responded back.

I really want to highlight the fact that “25 percent of men surveyed believed that rape was acceptable if the woman asks the man out, the man pays for the date or the woman goes back to the man’s room after the date.” ALSO … 33% of guys said they would rape someone if they knew it would go undetected. WHAT THE HELL is that about?

So I went on a date with the cute guy I met at the gas station. He bought me dinner. We both liked to play video games and so I went back to his house where he had told me people would be there to play a new video game he had purchased for us. When we got there no one was home but he said they would be back anytime. “Don’t worry.” he said. He turned on the video game console and I didn’t really think much about it at first. UNTIL he asked me if he could get me a drink. I remember joking with him, “Yeah right, I’ll get my own water. Don’t want you spiking my drink. haha” Just so you know. The entire time I was at his house “waiting” for the other people to get there so we weren’t alone, my intuition/inner spirit/heavenly angels were SCREAMING at me to leave! The sirens were going off inside my head and heart and the panic started to set in. He drove on our date so I didn’t have a car, but I should have called someone to pick me up. And even though nothing had happened yet, if I HAD a car I hope beyond hope I would have mustered up the strength and courage to trust my instincts and go.

I’m going to be real with you for a second. I feel like as a society, women have been trained to be too polite, especially with the culture in Utah. I don’t know how many times I have done something just so the other person didn’t feel uncomfortable even though it made my skin crawl. I’m not sure how to overcome this problem, but it needs to start being addressed.

Anyway, that was that. My first sexual assault and attempted rape. I resisted hard enough and kicked him in enough sensitive places that he swore at me and finally let me go. And after all that he ended up driving me home as fast as his truck would go. He wouldn’t even take me all the way to my house. He told me I didn’t deserve for him to waste his gas taking me anywhere (as his squealing tires took each curve). “What did you expect you bleep bleep bleep?? I bought you dinner and everything.” And these are the words of the entire experience that I will never forget. “What did you expect? I BOUGHT YOU DINNER”

After that I called a friend of mine. He told me to go to the police. I knew that I couldn’t. I knew that I knew better than to go to his house. I knew that I should have worn something different. I knew that I should have called someone when I felt something was wrong. I knew I didn’t want to disappoint my parents. I knew that I didn’t want to be made to feel shame because he tried to rape me. Because all those things added up to this in my head: “It was my fault.” And no one could tell me different.

I tried to move on and just forget it all. I buried it like I did everything else uncomfortable in my life. Now this is the part that I am really dreading to write. Because you are probably going to be screaming at me as you read it.

A few months later I met a guy for a date. I took precautions. I thought I was being safe (as safe as an 18 year old can ever think she is being). I drove this time. He paid for dinner. And then we walked through part of downtown Salt Lake and I paid for dessert. We went to an art exhibit or something. Now if you didn’t know better you would be thinking.  “Okay. She is out of the woods. Safe”. But we all know that isn’t how this story goes. To be honest. I’m not sure of how the story goes. I can’t remember what made me go inside his house. For those that don’t know I am an avid reader. It is one of my favorite escapes. I’m pretty sure he told me he had a first edition of one of my favorite books? I’m not quite sure. I have a few lucid memories from that night after we ate dessert. But what I do know for a FACT. He put something in my drink, drugged me, and raped me. There are moments during the rape that I can recall clear as day as I type this. I can remember thinking how was this possibly happening. I can remember how it felt to have his body press so hard against mine. I remember a few of the things he said during the assault. And I’m not going to go into too much depth. My heart is already racing as it is. 

BREATHE Kristin. I said it. Do you know how difficult it is to say the word “rape” and “me” in the same sentence? Probably not. I have worked on this post for a month. I have cried a lot. And I still cry about it. Maybe that is why I have felt so awful lately. But even through my tears right now I am telling you. I need to tell these stories and I need them to be shared. I have prayed about it and prayed HARD! Would I love to pretend that all this never happened to me? Of course. But who does that help? No one. And I can guarantee you. If the numbers are correct and 1 in 4 women are victims of sexual assault then there are FAR too many women of all ages that need to hear this!! And know that yes, my road has been hard. Harder than anyone knows. And I have suffered the unthinkable. But look at me? Through it all? I have amazing parents. An amazing Husband. Beautiful Daughters and a GOOD LIFE!! So if I can overcome, you can as well. We are Daughters of our Heavenly Father who LOVES us! We are His WARRIORS here on earth! I will continue to fight the good fight. Will you join with me? 

And by the way, if a 28 year old guy asks you (a barely legal 18 year old) out on a date … RUN AWAY NOW! That guy was 28 years old working on his PhD in some type of Molecular or Chemical Biology Engineering. AND I did question at first when he asked me on a date. Why a 28 year old guy who is getting his PhD would want to date an 18 year old girl. Now I know.

I’m going to stop here for this post because I am guessing that is a lot to take in. I will post the rest tomorrow about some of the aftermath. And in that same post I’m going to tell you about “Jay”. The guy who I dated for almost 2 years after these events who actually helped me get past a lot of this. And then, (spoiler alert) when I tried to break up with him, he attempted to kill us both. And almost succeeded. Digest that for a while.

 

Please Support Rainn! The work they are doing and light they are shedding on such a difficult topic is remarkable! Their hotline is 1-800-656-HOPE. You can call in anonymously! Here are other great hotlines as well.

You are MORE than welcome to contact me! These are tough subjects. I get it. The Comments here are NOT made public. They are sent only to me.

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Acknowledge vs Acceptance

Thank you so much to all those that love me through my honest lens. This is my reality. And it isn’t pretty. It is messy and chaotic and beautiful at the same time. I am slowly learning to love and embrace my truth. I don’t ask that you say it to the world like I do, but you should acknowledge the truth within yourself. Don’t judge it, just acknowledge. You will feel better for it.

I need to come back to my basic DBT skills so I can stop hurting over things that I cannot change. I am Acknowledging that I cannot change the present moment. I am not Accepting it. So I am NOT going to judge myself for posting what I did about motherhood. That would defeat the entire purpose of learning and growing into having a more Wise and conscious Mind. I can only observe what I felt and why. And then, JUST LET IT BE.

So What exactly is Dialectical Behavioral Therapy? Here is one of the modules called Nonjudgmental Stance. I sincerely needed this refresher. If you are interested in learning more about DBT, click on the link just below, you can see all the DBT Modules and Skills. I went through actual class and therapy to learn this. And it takes practice. A LOT of Practice. But every time I practice one of my skills, I always find more peace. Even if it is just for a moment.

DBT training *Courtesy of DBT Self Help

Nonjudgmental stance is the last of the “What” skills in the Mindfulness Module of DBT.

First was Observe, in which we paid attention to ourselves, our environment, and others around us. When observing, the trick was to just notice things like, “I notice I’m thinking about the future,” or “I notice my pulse is faster when I’m talking to my mother.”

Next was Describe, in which we would put words on the things we observed. Some people described very simple things like washing the dishes or going for a walk, but found that by describing, they felt like they were better able to pay attention to the present moment.

Next was Participate, where we allowed ourselves to be completely immersed in the moment, focusing in a way that made us forget everything else.

Nonjudgmental Stance, I think, really pulls it all together. We are very conditioned to placing judgments on our observations. To use the examples above, I may notice that I’m thinking about the future, but it’s likely my next thought will be something like, “I’m not doing DBT correctly since I’m thinking about the future. Therefore I am bad or wrong or incompetent.” This is a judgment of the observation and it is not at all helpful.

The point of taking a nonjudgmental stance is to give ourselves an opportunity to observe the same old things that we always observe in our minds or in our environment or about other people, but open ourselves to thinking about it in a different way. So if I withhold my judgment about what my thought means, but simply observe it, note it and let the thought move away, I have an opportunity to treat myself more gently. Even if I still have the judgmental thought, I can observe that I had the thought, then let it go. That’s the beauty of nonjudgmental stance; all the negative garbage we’re so accustomed to telling ourselves is suddenly cut off and a gentleness takes over so that healing becomes possible.

I was recently reading the book “Writing as a Way of Healing,” by Louise DeSalvo and in it she said, “In the end, isn’t healing just another way of seeing?” When I thought about it, one reason that statement is true is because I’m backing off from taking a judgmental stance and opening myself to another way of thinking (which is where many of the other DBT skills come in – offering suggestions for alternative ways to behave/react/think about any given situation).

If you look at the second example of an observation above, “I notice my pulse is faster when I’m talking to my mother,” we can see how the nonjudgmental stance can change a potentially volatile situation into a healing moment in which I can learn something about myself. My temptation is to think, “my pulse is faster because she’s a witch and I can’t stand listening to her and now she’s yelling at me because she hates me” and so I react and yell back. This has happened to me many times.

But sometimes, in the midst of the moment, I notice my pulse and let’s say I resist making a judgment about WHY my pulse is fast or what my mother is doing. Instead I notice that the pitch in my mother’s voice is higher and I resist making the judgment about WHY her voice is higher or what it means to me. Or, if I can’t resist the judgment, I just observe it and let it go. Then I notice that my face is becoming red and that I feel the impulse to react and I force myself to simply observe and withhold judgment. And slowly, I find I’m regaining my composure, freeing myself from the prison of emotional pain. I feel less need to react. As my feelings of anger dissipate, I begin to hear the pain in her voice and I don’t judge that pain. Instead, I let her have her pain and I just listen. I don’t take it on, I merely observe. And somehow, the entire situation feels different. “Healing is just a different way of seeing.”

I am especially aware of the impact of a nonjudgmental stance when I use it on the more complex observations and descriptions of EMOTIONS! Nevertheless, I think it’s good to practice with more benign things like taking a nonjudgmental stance about my walk in the park.

I can practice by not making a judgment about the guy who just walked past me and pulled his dog in closer to him quickly and sidestepped my path. I might be tempted to think he was avoiding me because he thinks I’m ugly, dangerous or any number of things. But if I notice myself doing so and consciously make a decision not to judge my observations, I am able to practice this skill and gain some competence with it. In this way, later on, when that argument with my mother happens, I will have practiced observing and describing without judging. In so doing, I’m in a position to gain even more actual healing.

I am working on being more Mindful. I lose myself in the moment just like everyone else. I feel sad and hopeless. But every single day, I wake up and heal a little bit more. This blog is helping me heal. Your response is helping me heal. Thank you again for your support and love!

xoxo,

Kristin

 

Life is Messy

My blog will not be in order of events in my life. That is too complicated for me, and that is not how my brain thinks. And I think you need to to hear this story. This is the story is how I got here.

Two years ago I had my very last child. She is amazing and smart just like my other two girls. I have complicated pregnancies. I was actually told by my doctors never to have children. It was too dangerous. I need to take medication from my injuries and I have to completely stop taking everything in order to have a healthy baby. And my body suffers because of it. After she was born I experienced Postpartum Depression, just like I had with my other girls. But this time it was different. I later learned that if you experience postpartum depression with your first child, after each subsequent birth, the depression will last longer. And that held true for me. The first baby, 4 months of it. The second 8 months. And the third, 18 months.

It created a hell like I have never known. My parents made at least 6 trips 12 hours away from their home to help me care for my babies. My neighborhood tried to help out, but they didn’t understand the severity. No one did. But I knew. I knew everything in my body felt wrong and out of place. I saw doctor after doctor, and no one could find an answer to make it stop. Until I met a Naturopathic Doctor. All the doctors before said my hormones were in the ‘normal’ range. But until you have a saliva test on a certain day of the month, you will never truly know what range your hormones are actually in. She prescribed Amour Thyroid medication, and Progesterone. WOW the feeling. The cloud lifted for a time.

But the other medication I had relied on for so many years quit working. This may be uncomfortable for me to talk about, but it is part of my story. During the depression I wanted to die, and I made multiple attempts. I was placed in Psychiatric Hospitals after psychiatric hospitals. I was hospitalized 5 times in 18 months. My longest stay lasting almost a month. No one could help. And FYI, don’t think psychiatric hospitals just contain padded rooms with restraints. They are different, and locked down, but probably very different than you can imagine. Not quite ‘GIRL, INTERRUPTED’, but some came close.

10 days after I was released from my final hospital stay, I was placed in an Intensive Outpatient Program. I was in a Mindfulness class and the therapist said something that would forever change my world. What would finally make me well. Apparently I had been misdiagnosed for all those years. She finally asked, “Kristin, have you ever been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder?” What? Why would she ask me that? I thought it was something like a Split Personality. No way did I have something that severe. Then while in the class I Googled it. Wikipedia is amazing. As I read the symptoms I started counting. I had 33 of the 35 symptoms. Oh my.

When I told my other therapist that I thought I had this ‘borderline personality thing’ she said that she had known for some time, but wanted to get my resources lined up before we talked about it. My goodness it was a light shedding moment and she waited to tell me??? I can’t describe the emotions I felt. Anger, frustration, but relief as well.

I took 5 months of fighting, advocating for myself to get in to a program that not only could treat my disorder, but could send it in to remission. WHAT, remission? Isn’t that something for just cancer patients? But in a way, I learned I had an emotional cancer. The cancer that made me impulsive, prone to inappropriate outbursts, experiencing such highs and lows in life that made it a living hell for people living around me. Specifically my husband. What a patient man. I know without a doubt there is no other person that would have put up with what he did, and he knows it too. He is a strong man. His ability to remain calm throughout my storms is something I will never understand. I wouldn’t have done it. Stayed with the crazy one. But he did, until one day he had enough. And I understand why.

Also, did you know that Amanda Bynes has Schizophrenia among other disorders. Don’t be too quick to judge nowadays. Mental Illness is more prevalent than you think!!

Lets Start Here…

Let me just preface this post by saying how much I love my life right now. That is a very Bold statement coming from me. I haven’t liked much about myself, the way I lived, the way I treated others, for a very long time. But now there are quiet moments in my thoughts, there is peace in my heart. This. Is. HUGE! And you will get to read why.

Let’s just get some of the crazy out there right in the beginning. I like to jump in the deep end lately, or maybe always.

I have been told this story many times, and I hope to get most of the facts straight. If not, I’m sure my mom will set me straight just after she reads this. The reason I was told this story was because I was two years old when it happened. I currently have a little two year old girl, and cannot even imagine the horrific nature of these accidents and how they would affect me as a mother. I know just how hard it is to be a parent and my heart feels so much pain for my mom and what she must have suffered seeing her child placed in these situations.

So, it was summer. I was a very adventurous 2 year old with a penchant for pushing the boundaries. We were at a dance competition for my older sister. We were up on the second floor getting her ready, when I decided to be “adventurous”. The second floor had a balcony where you can see to the floor below. This was the early 1980’s and along the walkway, there were only two bars separating the people up top on the balcony to the floor below. In just seconds, people started screaming out that someone had fallen over the edge, a 15 foot fall onto concrete. So I fell. Landed on my head and fractured my skull. I’m not sure what happened after that. I know in one of these accidents I was life-flighted to Primary Childrens Hospital. That my stay in the hospital was relatively short. And that every doctor and nurse proclaimed it a miracle I was still alive. I’ll hopefully be able to clarify some of the other details, but maybe the details aren’t that important. The aftermath is what is important. I sustained a brain injury. We would find out much later (when I was 18 or so) through an MRI that my left frontal lobe had been damaged. Google ‘left frontal lobe damage’ sometime. Interesting read. It is your executive function. It impairs your attention span, your ability to finish tasks, motivation, judgment, and organizational capacity. “Because of how your emotions are affected, the symptoms experienced from frontal lobe damage may cause you to become impulsive or assume risky behaviors.” Ummm, yes to all of the above!

I wish that were all there was to this story. Girl falls from balcony. Girl has brain damage. Girl deals with it throughout her life. That would be nice. But not even close.

By they way. The Armory where I fell is located on the campus of my Junior High School. I had classes up on the balcony/second floor where I fell. Very weird and ironic. Instead of just two bars of separation. It now contains 8. Wonder why…hmmm Liability issue, you think??