My OperaSomething Has Got to Give
Monday, September 19, 2011 3:47:12 PM
Woke up laying on my stomach with my left arm beneath me - totally numb. The moment my eyes opened, I began to sob. Apparently the sobbing was loud enough to wake Lonnie up. He rolled over and asked me if I was okay. I told him that I was - another nightmare. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked. "No, but thank you, Daddy" I replied.
I cannot take these nightmares and night terrors anymore. They happen far more than anyone realizes. Even more than Lonnie realizes. I've become pretty good at hiding them over the years. Nearly ten years of this stuff is beginning to take a major toll on me, though. I feel like I must vent some of it, or things will just continue to get worse and worse.
I'm sitting in the living room right now...in the recliner next to the fireplace. I've got my trusty tumbler of coffee next to me and the fireplace is on low. Thank God for gas fireplaces. Really. One flip of a switch and fire. Ahhhh. I'm wrapped in my quilt, which is made of squares of different types and colors or corduroy which have been sewn together to form one big, comfy quilt. I have my black PJ pants on and a white t-shirt that I got for free in the mail. Yet another one of my free finds thanks to the Internet.
I'm stalling. Talking about the topic of my nightmares is difficult for me. Especially in this type of forum where I know other people will be reading it. The thing is, though, I think I actually need other people to read it. There's this itching feeling deep inside of me that is pushing me to compose this blog entry. Not only will it help some people understand me and some of my quirks and ways of thinking a bit better, but most of all, it gives me the opportunity to vent some of this stuff that bogs me down to the point of night terrors.
Enough stalling...
On December 8th, it will be ten years since my late fiancé, Marc, decided to take his life. Not one day has gone by since that ill-fated day that I've not thought of him. Marc didn't just take his life quietly in another room or away from home. For whatever reason, he chose to do it right in front of me. [WARNING: Graphic details to come.] He laid down on our bed...his side, slid his beloved Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum into his mouth and pulled the trigger before I could say or do anything to stop him. It all happened so fast. It was somewhat premeditated. Why do I say this? He'd removed his tongue piercing and placed it on his desk which was located to the left of the bed. Not only that, but he took the time to grab the Pearlcorder and leave me a message in which he stated what a piece of shit I am (in greater detail) and also stated that what he'd done was my fault. I allegedly pushed him to take his own life. So, yeah - I guess you could say it was premeditated. Though the removal of his piercing and the recording took less than five minutes, in my mind, that constitutes premeditation.
Regardless of whether it was planned ahead of time or not, it happened. I was left standing there...looking at what used to be the man I was deeply in love with. I'd not wish that sight on my worst enemy. Not fun. The smell of gunpowder filled the air and my nostrils. To this day, I will be going about my daily business when I'm overcome with the strong odor of gun powder. When something this traumatic happens to a person, it sticks with them in some of the most odd and unexpected ways. Sometimes I will hear a car backfire or something fall from a shelf and immediately freeze in my tracks. While I know logically that it's a car or an item falling, my brain seems to think it's hearing that gunshot all over again. I can no longer watch the types of movies that I used to love to watch - mobster movies. Too many head shots...and even seeing a head shot on television can screw with my brain for days. I'm obsessive about keeping the carpet clean. Not only because I have OCD, but also because after Marc died, I was finding his teeth and brain matter in the carpet for many, many days. Now...nearly ten years later, if I see something on the carpet that is in any way tooth or brainy colored, my screwed up mind automatically believes it's a tooth or chunk of brain. In order to avoid this happening, I've become obsessive about keeping the carpet completely free of ANY debris. No crumbs, no fuzz, no nothin'.
I'm not even certain what my nightmare entailed a little while ago. Thank God. All I remember right now is waking up, scared shitless, and feeling like I needed to jump up and run. I finally got my bearings, heard Lonnie's voice, and was able to lay down and cry rather than jump up and flee.
The thing that upsets me most about all of this is the fact that I feel as though I'm still a slave to Marc. When he was alive, he was abusive to the point of being cruel. Actually, "cruel" is too friendly of a term to describe his behavior. I'd not treat a dog...I'd not treat ANYTHING or ANYONE the way he treated me. I was his possession, and he did with me what he pleased. I didn't dare stand up to him and let him know that I'd prefer he not do so. I tried that once. I was thrown against a closet door with his forearm against my throat. He pushed and pushed on my throat until I was literally a moment away from passing out. He finally let go...I fell to the floor and sobbed. He gave me a good kick (for crying, I suppose) and left the room. It took me two full weeks after that until I was able to eat solid food again. Two weeks of Ramen and soup. I cannot eat Ramen to this day. This is just one small example of daily life with Marc. I've noticed that when telling my story to the few people I've told, I tend to resort to this exact situation. I think it's because the majority of other situations are something that I consider to be too much for the average person to wrap their head around.
I understand how difficult it is to believe that a person with any intelligence at all would stay in a situation like the one I was in for years. Let me say this much: Prior to Marc, I was the one saying, "Why doesn't she just leave him?" "Can't she see what he's doing to her?" "I would NEVER allow a man to treat me in such a way!" The lesson to be learned? Until you have personally lived it, you simply cannot say how you would handle it. You have no idea how you'd react as you've not been through it. It's simple and seems to be logical to think these types of things...realistic? No. Not even close.
I actually did leave Marc one time. I was gone for about two months. I moved back to the town where my Mom lived and stayed with her. Even from 220 miles away, Marc controlled every move I made. One day he called me and said, "You're coming back home and you will be here within 24 hours. If you do not comply, not only will I kill you, but I will kill your kids, your Mom, and also your Dad." I did not and still do no doubt that he'd have done just that. Two hours after receiving that phone call, my car was loaded and I was on my way back to him. I'd called both of my parents to let them know I was going back. Both of them begged, pleaded, got angry - you name it. NOTHING they could have said or done would have stopped me from going back. Not only was I deeply in love with Marc (whether I should have been or not), but I was not about to let him murder my entire family due to my failure to return to him.
....
Here I am...ten years later. I'm in a very healthy and happy relationship with a man whom I adore. A decade is quite a long time. I would have thought it'd have been enough time to fully move on and no longer have to deal with these nightmares and daily feelings of guilt and sadness. I ask myself at least once a week, "What the Hell is wrong with you, Karen?" I still miss Marc. WHY?! Why would I possibly miss a person who did such a thing to me? Why would I miss a person who not only took his life, but did it in such a cold and heartless way? Being honest with you - I hate myself for it. I hate myself for holding onto him. I so badly want to get to a point where EVERY fiber of my being wants to let him go. I owe it to myself and I owe it to my current relationship with Lonnie and every other relationship in my life. Why can I not do it, though? The mere thought of letting him go all the way generates feelings of fear and panic within me. That doesn't even make sense. He left ME, damn it.
There's another aspect of this "story" that haunts me all the time. Marc was a huge Alice In Chains fan. He owned every CD they ever made and knew every word to every song. Not only that, but he'd sing along with the songs and his voice was eerily similar to Layne Staley's voice. I often said that hearing Marc sing was like having Layne sitting in the room with me. I always equated Marc with Layne Staley for some reason. I guess I possessed a bit more foresight than I realized at the time. A few months after Marc died, I was on my computer dinking around. I came across something that said, "Rest In Peace, Layne." I immediately flipped out. "It can't be the same Layne...gotta be someone else." I Googled it. Yep. Layne Staley died on April 5, 2002. Three days short of three months after Marc died. This was not like hearing of any other celebrity dying to me. No; it was much, much more. I felt as though I lost Marc all over again. I fell to the floor and cried inconsolably for what seemed like hours. Denial became my best friend. "Nope. It wasn't him. It's a hoax." "There is no way he's gone"...etc. As we all know, it was him.
To this day, I cannot hear ANY Alice In Chains song without hearing Marc singing it to me. I suppose an easy solution to this issue would be to refrain from listening to Alice In Chains. That simply will not ever happen.
Anyway...
All this time I thought I was doing pretty well. I thought I've been getting over everything pretty gracefully. Then a night like last night happens, and I'm suddenly reminded that I'm not even close to being healed. What the hell am I to do? Live like this for the rest of my life? Please, PLEASE tell me that's not my option. I've been to a plethora of Psychiatrists, Psychologists, medical doctors, and counselors. None have really helped. I don't want to be a 50 year old woman who is still suffering from night terrors and flashbacks. I understand that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder isn't something that you can just wish away, but there has to be some answer. There's got to be a way that I can put all of this where it belongs...in the past. Meh.
I'm going to wrap this up now. I know this isn't my usual happy-go-lucky type of post. I apologize if I've brought anyone down. This is my attempt to work through things. I've written in private journals before and they did NO good at all. I figured that perhaps going the opposite direction and writing more publicly about it might help. I hope so. I certainly don't want to wake up the way I woke up today...ever again.
I cannot take these nightmares and night terrors anymore. They happen far more than anyone realizes. Even more than Lonnie realizes. I've become pretty good at hiding them over the years. Nearly ten years of this stuff is beginning to take a major toll on me, though. I feel like I must vent some of it, or things will just continue to get worse and worse.
I'm sitting in the living room right now...in the recliner next to the fireplace. I've got my trusty tumbler of coffee next to me and the fireplace is on low. Thank God for gas fireplaces. Really. One flip of a switch and fire. Ahhhh. I'm wrapped in my quilt, which is made of squares of different types and colors or corduroy which have been sewn together to form one big, comfy quilt. I have my black PJ pants on and a white t-shirt that I got for free in the mail. Yet another one of my free finds thanks to the Internet.
I'm stalling. Talking about the topic of my nightmares is difficult for me. Especially in this type of forum where I know other people will be reading it. The thing is, though, I think I actually need other people to read it. There's this itching feeling deep inside of me that is pushing me to compose this blog entry. Not only will it help some people understand me and some of my quirks and ways of thinking a bit better, but most of all, it gives me the opportunity to vent some of this stuff that bogs me down to the point of night terrors.
Enough stalling...
On December 8th, it will be ten years since my late fiancé, Marc, decided to take his life. Not one day has gone by since that ill-fated day that I've not thought of him. Marc didn't just take his life quietly in another room or away from home. For whatever reason, he chose to do it right in front of me. [WARNING: Graphic details to come.] He laid down on our bed...his side, slid his beloved Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum into his mouth and pulled the trigger before I could say or do anything to stop him. It all happened so fast. It was somewhat premeditated. Why do I say this? He'd removed his tongue piercing and placed it on his desk which was located to the left of the bed. Not only that, but he took the time to grab the Pearlcorder and leave me a message in which he stated what a piece of shit I am (in greater detail) and also stated that what he'd done was my fault. I allegedly pushed him to take his own life. So, yeah - I guess you could say it was premeditated. Though the removal of his piercing and the recording took less than five minutes, in my mind, that constitutes premeditation.
Regardless of whether it was planned ahead of time or not, it happened. I was left standing there...looking at what used to be the man I was deeply in love with. I'd not wish that sight on my worst enemy. Not fun. The smell of gunpowder filled the air and my nostrils. To this day, I will be going about my daily business when I'm overcome with the strong odor of gun powder. When something this traumatic happens to a person, it sticks with them in some of the most odd and unexpected ways. Sometimes I will hear a car backfire or something fall from a shelf and immediately freeze in my tracks. While I know logically that it's a car or an item falling, my brain seems to think it's hearing that gunshot all over again. I can no longer watch the types of movies that I used to love to watch - mobster movies. Too many head shots...and even seeing a head shot on television can screw with my brain for days. I'm obsessive about keeping the carpet clean. Not only because I have OCD, but also because after Marc died, I was finding his teeth and brain matter in the carpet for many, many days. Now...nearly ten years later, if I see something on the carpet that is in any way tooth or brainy colored, my screwed up mind automatically believes it's a tooth or chunk of brain. In order to avoid this happening, I've become obsessive about keeping the carpet completely free of ANY debris. No crumbs, no fuzz, no nothin'.
I'm not even certain what my nightmare entailed a little while ago. Thank God. All I remember right now is waking up, scared shitless, and feeling like I needed to jump up and run. I finally got my bearings, heard Lonnie's voice, and was able to lay down and cry rather than jump up and flee.
The thing that upsets me most about all of this is the fact that I feel as though I'm still a slave to Marc. When he was alive, he was abusive to the point of being cruel. Actually, "cruel" is too friendly of a term to describe his behavior. I'd not treat a dog...I'd not treat ANYTHING or ANYONE the way he treated me. I was his possession, and he did with me what he pleased. I didn't dare stand up to him and let him know that I'd prefer he not do so. I tried that once. I was thrown against a closet door with his forearm against my throat. He pushed and pushed on my throat until I was literally a moment away from passing out. He finally let go...I fell to the floor and sobbed. He gave me a good kick (for crying, I suppose) and left the room. It took me two full weeks after that until I was able to eat solid food again. Two weeks of Ramen and soup. I cannot eat Ramen to this day. This is just one small example of daily life with Marc. I've noticed that when telling my story to the few people I've told, I tend to resort to this exact situation. I think it's because the majority of other situations are something that I consider to be too much for the average person to wrap their head around.
I understand how difficult it is to believe that a person with any intelligence at all would stay in a situation like the one I was in for years. Let me say this much: Prior to Marc, I was the one saying, "Why doesn't she just leave him?" "Can't she see what he's doing to her?" "I would NEVER allow a man to treat me in such a way!" The lesson to be learned? Until you have personally lived it, you simply cannot say how you would handle it. You have no idea how you'd react as you've not been through it. It's simple and seems to be logical to think these types of things...realistic? No. Not even close.
I actually did leave Marc one time. I was gone for about two months. I moved back to the town where my Mom lived and stayed with her. Even from 220 miles away, Marc controlled every move I made. One day he called me and said, "You're coming back home and you will be here within 24 hours. If you do not comply, not only will I kill you, but I will kill your kids, your Mom, and also your Dad." I did not and still do no doubt that he'd have done just that. Two hours after receiving that phone call, my car was loaded and I was on my way back to him. I'd called both of my parents to let them know I was going back. Both of them begged, pleaded, got angry - you name it. NOTHING they could have said or done would have stopped me from going back. Not only was I deeply in love with Marc (whether I should have been or not), but I was not about to let him murder my entire family due to my failure to return to him.
....
Here I am...ten years later. I'm in a very healthy and happy relationship with a man whom I adore. A decade is quite a long time. I would have thought it'd have been enough time to fully move on and no longer have to deal with these nightmares and daily feelings of guilt and sadness. I ask myself at least once a week, "What the Hell is wrong with you, Karen?" I still miss Marc. WHY?! Why would I possibly miss a person who did such a thing to me? Why would I miss a person who not only took his life, but did it in such a cold and heartless way? Being honest with you - I hate myself for it. I hate myself for holding onto him. I so badly want to get to a point where EVERY fiber of my being wants to let him go. I owe it to myself and I owe it to my current relationship with Lonnie and every other relationship in my life. Why can I not do it, though? The mere thought of letting him go all the way generates feelings of fear and panic within me. That doesn't even make sense. He left ME, damn it.
There's another aspect of this "story" that haunts me all the time. Marc was a huge Alice In Chains fan. He owned every CD they ever made and knew every word to every song. Not only that, but he'd sing along with the songs and his voice was eerily similar to Layne Staley's voice. I often said that hearing Marc sing was like having Layne sitting in the room with me. I always equated Marc with Layne Staley for some reason. I guess I possessed a bit more foresight than I realized at the time. A few months after Marc died, I was on my computer dinking around. I came across something that said, "Rest In Peace, Layne." I immediately flipped out. "It can't be the same Layne...gotta be someone else." I Googled it. Yep. Layne Staley died on April 5, 2002. Three days short of three months after Marc died. This was not like hearing of any other celebrity dying to me. No; it was much, much more. I felt as though I lost Marc all over again. I fell to the floor and cried inconsolably for what seemed like hours. Denial became my best friend. "Nope. It wasn't him. It's a hoax." "There is no way he's gone"...etc. As we all know, it was him.
To this day, I cannot hear ANY Alice In Chains song without hearing Marc singing it to me. I suppose an easy solution to this issue would be to refrain from listening to Alice In Chains. That simply will not ever happen.
Anyway...
All this time I thought I was doing pretty well. I thought I've been getting over everything pretty gracefully. Then a night like last night happens, and I'm suddenly reminded that I'm not even close to being healed. What the hell am I to do? Live like this for the rest of my life? Please, PLEASE tell me that's not my option. I've been to a plethora of Psychiatrists, Psychologists, medical doctors, and counselors. None have really helped. I don't want to be a 50 year old woman who is still suffering from night terrors and flashbacks. I understand that Post Traumatic Stress Disorder isn't something that you can just wish away, but there has to be some answer. There's got to be a way that I can put all of this where it belongs...in the past. Meh.
I'm going to wrap this up now. I know this isn't my usual happy-go-lucky type of post. I apologize if I've brought anyone down. This is my attempt to work through things. I've written in private journals before and they did NO good at all. I figured that perhaps going the opposite direction and writing more publicly about it might help. I hope so. I certainly don't want to wake up the way I woke up today...ever again.
(34%)
John BallCATMAN42 # Monday, September 19, 2011 4:06:25 PM
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 4:07:33 PM
KimberlySqueakeyCat # Monday, September 19, 2011 4:51:23 PM
Though my mother did not do anything like that to herself, cancer did.
She died when I was 6 of a cancer tumor in her uterus. She was in labor when it happened. It took both her and my little sister from me.
Until I passed up my 32nd birthday, I would have dreams all the time of dying the same way she did.
Had this happened, I would not be here typing this today.
I would wake up and remember just one part of the dream, which I was later told was reality.
I would wake up, where my father and 3 uncles were trying to pry me out of my mother's casket. The reason for this, was that I was insistent upon going with my mother. If my mother was to be buried, then I wanted to be with her.
At that age, who could blame me for wanting to be with her. But at 32, when I was still having the dream of dying of uterine cancer finally stopped, I actually got relief.
I no longer have the dream of dying like my mother did and believe me, it was a great weight lifted off my shoulders.
If I can be of any help, feel free to let me know, and we can talk.
H82typ # Monday, September 19, 2011 4:54:22 PM
I don't know what to say.
MConor # Monday, September 19, 2011 4:57:26 PM
KimberlySqueakeyCat # Monday, September 19, 2011 5:03:57 PM
Hug Graphics
Hug Graphics
Hug Graphics
Dark FurieFurie # Monday, September 19, 2011 5:11:18 PM
I could probably word this better than I'm going to but the entire thing would be lost in tiptoeing around you so as not to upset you and that would be a betrayal of the trust you've shown by being so candid here, so I'll be trademark blunt and hope you see what I'm saying. You ex was an abusive piece of crap. It's obvious that he wasn't entirely well or he wouldn't have thought the way he did, yet it was his choice to act on those impulses and his choice to treat you the way he did. He abused you to keep you, fearing more than anything that you'd realise his threats really were as empty as his soul and that you'd leave him alone. For people like that, this is really their worst fear. You were young at the time and maturing fast, a factor he sensed. His cruelty was such that when he knew you'd outgrown him and were ready to make your own way in the world without him, he made sure that you'd always have something horrific to remember him by and to know that the blame lay at your feet.
In a way it was your fault - but only in the way that growing as a person and outgrowing your fear were things he couldn't allow you to do and couldn't beat and bully (the mental stuff is always the worst) out of you. The only way left for him to continue controlling your life was the way he chose and the piece of shit has been succeeding ever since. Look at your explanation of why you chose the Ramen incident as an example. Is it because the situations are too difficult for others to understand or because your actions and missed opportunities are too hard for you to understand in hindsight? Isn't he still controlling you even in your choice of which stories to tell about him?
You immediately leap to the bad conclusion when something bad happens, the terror he made you live in taking over your life again. I've no doubt that over ten years you've made countless amounts of progress from how you were when this event first took place. Yet as soon as you have a bad night you say you're not even close to being healed. Healed is an odd term to use by the way. No-one is ever healed of their experiences, they're evolved by them. You as a person would not exist the way you do now without that having happened, yet it's an event that you still feel guilt over. You've got to let that go and come to like yourself, accept that as part of the road to who you became, something you survived. You can go to all the workgroups and therapists in the world, but until you can look in the mirror and say "That guy died. If he hadn't I may not have lived... and I'm okay with his death as he made that the case, not me." it's not going to make a damn bit of difference.
One other thing that stood out to me. The way you spoke to Lonnie may be indicative of the fact that you feel safe in that relationship, rejuvenated even. You wake from the nightmare into the world of safety that he is a big part of and that you see him as providing. If that is indeed how your subconscious is seeing things then there's a chance that you actually miss having every decision made for you. It sounds sick I know, but a common problem with those who have been abused in this way is that they've learned to take comfort in having someone strong around to shoulder all the responsibility and choices. It's a human survival technique which the brain employs akin to Stockholm syndrome, allowing the brain to cope with an horrific situation. Of course, as I don't know your relationship with your father or Lonnie, it could just as easily be you simply being half-asleep and a bit dozy. Shot in the dark that may be worth exploring.
Alexodius PrimeAleksOD # Monday, September 19, 2011 5:14:52 PM
Again, I am glad that you count us as people you can share such things with, and I am happy that I am one of them!
Masonwaffletower # Monday, September 19, 2011 5:34:11 PM
I had a friend take her life. I had not seen her in years; she had moved closer to the hospital where her surgeries were taking place, and I didn't know she was back in town.
I was not a very good friend. I wasn't the kind to be mean or treat her poorly, but I did not visit nearly enough to be considered a friend. She would always give and give, and even with hesitation I always accepted, yet never gave anything back.
Even though I was nowhere near her when it happened, I find it difficult to think upon. I only heard about it through second-hand sources. I couldn't even bear to go to her funeral; it's behavior like that why I partially blame myself for what happened.
The point is, if I feel as I do then I shudder to imagine the thoughts that haunt you. You are an extremely strong person and your courage is indescribable.
I can't really express how I feel. I almost feel like I'm insulting you for not knowing what to say.
Despite what people say, I know I'm a bad friend. The point is, I care :*(
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 5:55:46 PM
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 5:56:39 PM
Originally posted by H82typ:
No, Dennis...it's perfect. Thank you, my friend!
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 5:57:54 PM
Originally posted by MConor:
Sorry to put you through the crap again. I love you, too.
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 6:07:20 PM
You're very correct in saying that a big part of me misses being told what to do and when to do it. I'd grown totally accustomed to being told what I wanted and when I wanted it that to suddenly have choices of my own scared the shit out of me. It still gets to me. I prefer that others make decisions for me. Even when it comes to something as simple as what to have for dinner that night. Not only do I feel as though my opinion simply doesn't matter, but I'm a people pleaser and want everyone else to get whatever it is that they want....in conjunction with not wanting to have to actually make a decision.
It's safe to say that I've been thoroughly mind-fucked, and I'm allowing the fuckage to continue by my choice of words and actions. I am doing my best, though, to rectify this whole thing.
Thank you again for your candor. I get SO tired of people learning what's happened and then treating me as though I'm a delicate flower. I genuinely appreciate their concern and respect, but delicate is something I don't consider myself to be.
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 6:12:20 PM
Originally posted by AleksOD:
You're right - I've heard it countless times. I refuse to lie, though - I believe it was my fault. Perhaps not 100% my fault, but I strongly believe that things I said and did that night pushed him over the edge. Had I not been there that night, he would not have died that night. That is fact. That being said, I DO have some responsibility in the events that took place.
The thing that AMAZES me is that he did not take me with him. He'd placed that loaded gun to my temple, down my throat, and under my chin so many times...and flat-out told me that he WOULD be the cause of my death. It was only a matter of time. I strongly believe that God protected me that night, and I thank God for that every.single.day.
God bless you as well, Aleks, and thank you for being a good friend.
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 6:15:32 PM
Originally posted by waffletower:
Hush, Mason.
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 6:17:35 PM
I just got back from a long walk...that helped quite a bit.
Alexodius PrimeAleksOD # Monday, September 19, 2011 6:24:34 PM
Originally posted by Nerak:
Believe it or not (and again, I am not intimately familiar with details of your past relationship), no *normal* or sane person can be pushed to an action like his. He must have had a lot more "baggage" than your actions that night or your relationship. Suicide is purely selfish self-centered act, you have nothing to do with it. Him putting a bullet through his brains was long coming by his and only his actions alone.
Originally posted by Nerak:
Originally posted by Nerak:
Dark FurieFurie # Monday, September 19, 2011 6:26:15 PM
If that's your comfort zone you could do with stepping out of it more often. Whether that's just ensuring that you have one night a week ("Karen's Night, Bitches!!!" would look great on t-shirts for the family) where you decide what is for dinner, what will be on television or where to go for a trip or whatever. Make yourself make those choices on a regular basis and they'll soon be part of your comfort zone, allowing you to push it even further out. In a way you have to learn to grow as a person again, kind of like you did as a teenager but without the hormonal shite and trying to fit in and stand out at the same time getting in the way.
And the dreams? They will pass and seem to disappear but don't be surprised if you have them occasionally here and there. This was a life changing event at the end of a life changing situation. It's not something you can just forget. The oddest thing can remind you of these situations, and the chance is high that you wont even consciously register the thing that set you off again. Personally I think that is the most cruel of the tricks the mind plays. All you can really do is accept that it happened, and grow beyond it.
You at least have a large support group able to take some of the slack from you and your family when you need to vent. It's not the same as having people there in person, but it can make some difference.
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 6:29:49 PM
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 6:36:26 PM
Originally posted by Furie:
Bwahahaha!
To be fully honest, having a support system online is more comfortable for me than having one right here in person. I have some pretty hefty social anxiety issues, so this works great for me!
Alexodius PrimeAleksOD # Monday, September 19, 2011 6:51:47 PM
Originally posted by Nerak:
Unless there are
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 6:58:22 PM
I'd eradicate their asses so fast they'd not know what hit 'em.
MConor # Monday, September 19, 2011 7:03:52 PM
H82typ # Monday, September 19, 2011 7:16:37 PM
John BallCATMAN42 # Monday, September 19, 2011 8:04:03 PM
Originally posted by Nerak:
Karen we have an awsome person and friend in our lives and that person is you.Thanks for being me friend.
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 8:43:13 PM
Originally posted by MConor:
Originally posted by H82typ:
I shall take pictures and maybe even video!
Originally posted by CATMAN42:
Awww, John! I just love you to death. Being your friend is a true pleasure, and I would have it NO other way!
John BallCATMAN42 # Monday, September 19, 2011 9:07:53 PM
KarenNerak # Monday, September 19, 2011 9:09:57 PM
I feel MUCH better now than I did earlier when I wrote this. Thanks to you and all of my other awesome friends for helping me when I needed it most!
KimberlySqueakeyCat # Monday, September 19, 2011 10:10:19 PM
KarenNerak # Tuesday, September 20, 2011 1:11:49 AM
Charles SchlossChas4 # Tuesday, September 20, 2011 3:42:19 AM
We are all here for you http://files.myopera.com/Tamil/Smilies/Yes.gif -
KarenNerak # Tuesday, September 20, 2011 4:07:10 AM
KYrenKYren # Tuesday, September 20, 2011 4:09:12 AM
I have always wondered, how she (the one I am/was crazy about) could care for the ones who made her cry but didn't care about one who didn't ever liked to see her cry.
I go through hell everyday (like most of the people in the world do. )The only thing that would help me survive is accepting the reality that life is not always a smooth highway.
KarenNerak # Tuesday, September 20, 2011 5:39:57 AM
WillYum # Tuesday, September 20, 2011 5:53:56 AM
A little correction, those who would believe every suicide a selfish act of the mentally insane are so inexperienced in the ways of the world they ought to consider keeping their thoughts to themselves.
K. You are absolutely right -- of course -- about the responsibility and the fault. I find it silly when people say those things to you or to me. It's a failure to understand how we all affect one another. However, in your case, I wonder if your spirit, your emotions, your behavior on that night was just the best prescription for a very bad situation.
It sounds like you would have never have left him - short of him being long-term incarcerated or you somehow learning to love yourself more than him. His impulse in that moment sounds like a desire to "teach you a lesson" and torture you for the rest of your life but it seems, correct me if I'm wrong, that you've learned to love yourself more, to choose what's best for those you love - even keep your songs.
Eh, what an ass am I, adding an unsolicited opinion to a long litany of opinions, thoughts and well-wishing (and better written too). Hopefully, on the whole, though, they provide a little piece of shining insight that inspires your thoughts when the darkness seems on the horizon.
Facing it is always the brave course. And, honestly, trauma and all, I'm so glad you are free.
KarenNerak # Tuesday, September 20, 2011 5:59:10 AM
Anyway, I see a whole lot of validity and truth to what you've said. You've given me a lot to ponder...and I thank you for that.
And yes...MY songs. I have earned them, damn it.
Thank you again - so much for your words. You probably don't understand the impact they've just had on me...perhaps you do. Either way, I'm incredibly grateful.
d4rkn1ght # Tuesday, September 20, 2011 5:45:45 PM
This is how has worked for me dealing with my depression and stress.
I hope these nightmares will pass, and you'll be your funny self again.
KarenNerak # Tuesday, September 20, 2011 6:41:37 PM
Mad Scientistqlue # Wednesday, September 21, 2011 12:45:31 AM
KarenNerak # Wednesday, September 21, 2011 4:10:32 AM
night wolf # Wednesday, September 21, 2011 5:28:13 PM
Human capacity is the ultimate,learning to be human is no easy task to end.
how do we learn to walk?... we fall , every fall get's us closer to walking, every defeat and suffering will get us closer to victory and salvation.
Karen my friend,we share the same wound but of other quality , wound in a soul need's the caring of our friend's to heal,
may the light of all good around you heal the deepest wounds around you, Amen
light my path so i can fallow,share your love so you can glow.
KarenNerak # Wednesday, September 21, 2011 6:43:26 PM
Kevin Johnsonkmj1ak # Friday, September 23, 2011 4:17:26 AM
But, I do know how it is have you as the wonderful, loving, caring, friend that you always are. I am honored to call you my friend and best of all to be able to call you my Sister! Love ya!! And I'd do anything for you. Hope you know how much you mean to me.
night wolf # Friday, September 23, 2011 8:45:02 AM
...
KarenNerak # Friday, September 23, 2011 6:09:02 PM
Amir...
night wolf # Monday, September 26, 2011 4:24:34 PM