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Showing results for tags 'depression'.
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Eternalbluepearl posted a topic in QuiverfullI just watched a show about the Andrea Yates case. I was a kid when it happened so I didn't know too much about it. Holy goodness. It reminds me of different fundies we snark on. The living in a bus, following a preacher who says most people are going to hell, the no birth control despite major mental health issues, etc. It was very upsetting and tragic. Wow. I had no idea. It makes things like Teri Maxwell's depression in her quiverfull, religious, homeschooling lifestyle sound even more dangerous than I thought. A Mother's Madness:
FJismyheadship posted a topic in Quiverfull of Health & Wellnesshttps://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10211162960882231&id=1003786782 *Sigh*
The years of bullying took their toll. All these years later I can stil hear the words, I can still feel the blows. What was so wrong with me that I was singled out for that? The words spoken over that young girl all those years ago broke her. Abused in the same way at home, her spirit was killed and left her a hollow shell unable to feel anything besides anger, rage and fear. Where others found passion, she found pain. She carried a knife for protection but wanted to use it on herself. All these years later she still feels alone and scared of people...just knowing that they will hurt her at the first opportunity. She makes jokes on herself, cutting herself down so no one else will. The words that were said killed me just as surely as if someone had shot me. Everything I could have been, should have been died then. The drugs, booze and men didn't revive her, the family she dearly wanted but didn't have just drove more nails in the coffin of my life. The neverending sense of loss is the dirt over my grave, where nothing grows. The ones who tormented me never knew the damage they did, they just went on with their lives. They don't remember the girl they killed. They don't know that their torment still affects her now, 35 years later, and 35 years later, she is still waiting to die. What was so wrong with me that I was singled out? I have tried to forgive and go on, but the words still ring in my ears.
The concept of having to talk to someone and having to socialize bores me, don't get me wrong i'm not an introvert, even though that's the impression most people have of me, i'm very outgoing when i feel like it but it has to be on my terms. It's funny because everybody says that either i'm shy or i'm a stuck up, which is far from the truth. Another big issue is that I get tired of people very easily. When someone dissapoints me or do something that I don't like, I give up on them, plain and simple. Right now I'm trying not to give up on one of my best friends who is going back to her old ways, she was a pain to deal with, every single person needed to make an effort to stay in her life because she's always busy and pulling lame excuses, I was one of them. She almost lost me and her fianceé broke up with her at the same time last year because of her BS. After a few great months, she's behaving that way again. I'm pissed right now but really trying to let it go. So, I guess therapy is working, I'm battling really hard against my worst judgement and when depression tries to hit me, I hit it back. I'm currently feeling strong and powerful unlike my old weak me.
At the end of December, 2014, I was forced out of my little duplex and sent scrambling for a place to live. My own mother had decided that she would take my son in, but would not take me in. This was not for any good reason that I could discern. I am not a user of drugs or alcohol, nor a gambler. I have always maintained employment. I do not abuse anyone and I get along great with my mom. She had just decided that she would rather I be homeless than help me. It hurt very badly, because we had always been close, like best friends, and now she was basically dumping me onto the streets if I did not find somewhere to live. A friend started a youcaring fundraiser to help me with moving and storage costs, but I knew I was skating a thin line between having a place, and living in my car or on the streets. On the day after Christmas, a friend offered me a place to stay in the nick of time. I would be able to live in her mom's house while the mom was in the hospital. When the mom came home, I would be her nighttime caregiver in exchange for room and board. I was incredibly grateful and knew how lucky I was. Going from a two bedroom, one bath duplex with lots of storage to one bedroom with no storage was my challenge. I had managed to get rid of a huge debris bin (dumpster) full of stuff the previous May (therein lies a whole other story), but still had years of accumulated stuff to go through. I was, of course, short on time, so I wasn't able to be thorough, but I paid to store what I ended up keeping. I budgeted $500 per month; it ended up costing me $319 (which I'm still paying). I came to the new place with my bed, my desk, a dresser, and my computer, and a few boxes of clothes and minimal other items. I used the kitchen and jacuzzi occasionally and otherwise stayed in my room. I saw my boyfriend daily and went to work daily and otherwise I basically avoided people. I worked swing shift and spent many morning and weekend hours ensconced in my room, curled up in bed crying and depressed. The depression crushed me so badly I felt like I couldn't get out of bed even if I wanted to. I had my daughter with me on alternate weekends and even on those mornings with her I could barely get myself out of bed, which distressed her and worried my mom. At some point... And I can't even pinpoint when it was... I came to the realization that I needed to see things differently. Living by myself, away from my kids, really sucked. But I had a boyfriend, friends and family members who loved me. I had a job. I was in relatively good health. I don't know how it happened, but I started thinking differently, making the best of my situation. My boyfriend and I cooked interesting new dishes that we found online, in the beautiful kitchen we had at our disposal. I started spending more time out of the house when I had my daughter over for visits. I went to the library. I made an effort. I don't know why I turned that corner, but I am convinced that doing so saved my life.