I Don’t Know Who I Am

When my best friend raped me and my family abandoned me, I lost myself. I changed. At the time I did not know it but I had developed PTSD. My husband appeared to me as my knight in shining armor. He saved me from completely losing myself. But what was left of me was so broken and I was around my husband so much I guess I began to identify as just being with him. As long as I was with him, I felt okay and safe. Even when things got a little violent, even when he left holes in doors and would grab me. In the end, as long as I was with him, I felt I was home.

He left and took my pets and everything that really mattered. He left and took my home with him because he is my home. I do not know who I am without him. When I was diagnosed with PTSD, I thought I had developed bipolar depression because I was acting and feeling so different. When it was not bipolar I thought it was BPD.  PTSD is not always what you see in the war movies. I was raped and lost everything including myself. What used to be me molded into something very dependent of my husband…. and now that he is gone I feel gone.

I do not feel comfortable with myself, I don’t feel comfortable around others most of the time. Its been almost 2 months and I feel hollow and lifeless. It really feels like I have lost my identity. The girl I was before I got raped is a complete and total stranger, her old home does not feel like home to me. I can’t get back to that girl because I know things now that she did not and see the whole world differently. And now without my husband, I feel like I can barely see at all.

The things I am capable of feeling are unbearable, I am partially scared I might actually become an alcoholic or addicted to my medication (now Klonopin) because I can’t stand being in my own head thinking the way I do, feeling the things I do feel. I am drowning in total darkness.

When we were together, before I even attempted suicide, we were lying in bed. I told him my biggest fear had changed. I used to be scared of getting chased and having the person catch me and I would be paralyzed with fear. My new biggest fear was losing him. Now I know why. I am paralyzed without him.

I am blind and have no identity. I do not know how to become my own person. I do not know how to find what feels like home. Regardless of how unhealthy it was or sounds, I was in the dark and he was my only light and now that that light is put out the darkness is even more haunting. I did not just lose my husband, I lost myself. PTSD is one thing… divorce is another… but when the marriage was the one positive thing you have had since developing PTSD… divorce is a nightmare. I am living my biggest fear.

Suicidal Thoughts While Getting Divorced

I had my first suicidal thought when I was a freshman in college. I realized I just did not care about being alive, like I would not have minded dying and it did not scare me. That night, I called my best friend and spent the night at his place without explaining why I was randomly climbing in his bed at 3am.

About a year later, I asked my super religious friend if he thought I would go to Hell for committing suicide. We talked about it for a good minute and his end answer was no, he did not think I would go to Hell if I committed suicide. I asked him because I had started not just not caring if I was alive, but wanting to die. Since then, I have gone through 2 years of pure Hell.

April 1st 2017 I took over 50 mg of Xanax and drank a 6 pack and some liquor. I have had counselors and even psychiatrists admit they do not know how I survived and that it was a “real attempt”. I spent 3 days in the hospital and got fired from my job because of my attempt.

Being suicidal feels like you are constantly drowning but won’t just pass out and die. My body feels the same panicky feeling as being held underwater by your sibling in the neighborhood swimming pool for a little too long. As you are constantly drowning you see this button that says “end suffering now” and every day you have to convince yourself the suffering is worth it somehow and that you shouldn’t push that button. The drowning becomes exhausting, so extremely exhausting that I would rather just feel nothing ever again, never think again or have an emotion. I know it is partially my brain chemistry (major depression and stuff) and is partially the things I have experienced that I relive on a day to day basis (PTSD, specifically from being raped) and then it’s just the struggles I am going through now. When the suicidal thoughts got so bad two years ago, that is when my husband stepped into my life. He kind of became that reason to not push the “end all” button. And then my pets also helped me as well as hope for growing our family.

My husband did not really know how much I needed him, but at the end of March 2017 he became mean and made it clear he wanted me out of his life and that I was nothing but bad for him. I couldn’t take it. He was my rock and I felt like without him all the stability in my life would crumble. I was so hopeless and desperate to feel nothing anymore. The drowning was so bad and I just sat on the floor and decided to push the button.

I guess the button did not work that time.

Since then, my husband knew how badly I needed him to fight this battle. But it didn’t stop him from leaving and taking my pets. Every time I would try to talk to him about my thoughts and how bad things were, he saw it as me trying to manipulate him into staying with me. It wasn’t, it was me just saying how genuinely scared I was.

Everyday he has been gone has felt like that night I pushed the button. I was prescribed a bunch of Klonopin and was told to take it constantly throughout the day to calm these feelings. The very drug that can kill me is the one that is supposed to save me. It all feels like a wicked head game. I drink a lot now, sleep all day and stay up all night. To sleep I drink and take my Klonopin. And this has been my life since November 21st. I barely eat or do anything. I study psychology to try to cope with my feelings and think of myself as a chemical reaction instead of an actual human.

Sure, say what you want. Some will think I was trying to manipulate him into staying with me. Some will say I really will go to Hell and that suicide is selfish and the easy way out. Others will tell me that things will get better and “life is worth living”. I honestly just wish people would stop saying anything at all because it does not change a damn thing I feel. When I say I am doing the best I can, I actually mean it. Even if it involves alcohol and unhealthy habits, at least I am alive right?

I lost my rock and I don’t intend on ever letting someone that close to me to become my new rock. This is how things just have to be.

I found out a few days ago that my husband took my health insurance away, awesome. So even if I built up the courage to fight my weakest moment and go to the hospital, I can’t. When I need more meds or to see my psychiatrist or counselor, I can’t. Sometimes I think my husband is just waiting for the call, to hear that I finally did it. Sometimes I think he and his family want it to happen. Why else would they take away all resources of help from my little family to my insurance? These are the things I think about constantly, but I am here. Suffering. Wouldn’t want to be selfish now, would I?

Learning to Sleep Alone

There are a lot of things you immediately have to face when separated. The first is sleeping, or trying to, sleep alone. Not only was my husband gone, but so were my pets. My home suddenly did not feel like home and every time I even sat on our bed, I would break down and think of all the memories we shared. All the sex we had, movies and funny Youtube videos we watched and all the times he held me in his arms replayed in my head over and over. I did not have my dog to invite up and lay with me or my cat staring at me.

I would put on his shirts (the very few he left behind), grab the stuffed animal foxes he had gotten me, sprayed his cologne on them and held to them for dear life. Usually I did not fall asleep on the bed without the assistance of alcohol. Some nights I would sleep on the couch after taking my Xanax. Other nights, most nights, I just did not go to sleep at all.

I could not find it in me to sleep with anyone else. The thought of anyone else lying in my husbands spot in our bed made me sick.

My family, who I had not really been close to during the duration of the marriage, often invited me to come visit an hour and a half away. I knew I could have left the apartment, but the discomfort was so strong I would break down, actually more like have full blown panic attacks. My family member have their own problems that make a divorce at 21 look like nothing so I tried to suppress how bad things were. After about three weeks I stopped spraying the cologne and sometimes I left the stuffed animals on the other side of the bed. That is all the improvement I have made so far.

I move in two days and I will have a new bed, but I know things will still be hard, if not harder. Will I still run to the old apartment and sleep here for the last few weeks I still have access to it? I am giving him the furniture because I am a student, when will he take it? Am I going to fall apart when I suddenly don’t have access to the bed we shared so many nights together in? I really am scared, and every night is an absolute challenge and every morning is a surprise that I am still here. I don’t feel like I am living, I feel like I am functioning like a wind up toy.

I am taking the old Walmart quilt with me that we had on our bed and putting it on my new one. I don’t know if that is healthy or not, I just know I am doing the best I can. I don’t know how I am supposed to call a new place home. Even if it’s unhealthy… I still need pieces of him, of us… but it makes me feel like I will never be okay.

Why I am getting divorced.

I intend on making this blog as amusing and hilarious as possible, mainly because my life currently feels like the biggest joke ever.
Quick and dirty, let me explain how my wonderful husband and I began such a beautiful marriage. We were dating for about a week in 2016, and then I got raped (not by my husband) . Totally sucked but lets not get too far into that. He was new to the area because of his military career. I met him in summer camp when we were 15 and 16 but we totally reconnected on Tinder. Classy right?
So, the rape happened (not by my husband) and when all hell broke loose he was the only person who gave me emotional support. I felt like he was the only one who cared. So after four months of dating, we decided to get court married and be together forever!!! Why wouldn’t I want to marry a guy who opened his home to me, has adored me for exactly who I was and loved me.
I met his family and that’s when things turned to shit. They hated me. I wanted a small wedding, his mom guilted me out of it. His 16 year old sister thought she controlled us and his dad is actually a man who cheated on his own wife too. I wasn’t welcomed into the fam at all. Pretty shitty because my husband was keeping me from mine.
As I battled depression, panic disorder and PTSD from being raped, my husband lied and snuck around and cheated on my by the end of the year. I fought through my PTSD from being raped to please him sexually but, I mean he is his fathers son, and it just was not enough.
We had good times, bad times, he has mental problems just like I do. But he blamed all his problems on mine. Crappy right?
The first year we were in love, happy. We got a dog and a cat.
The second year (the year I got a job, got cheated on, attempted suicide and got abandoned) , was shitty. I put forth desperate efforts to make him happy but he decided he did not give a shit about me anymore. I spent all my money to try to buy his love back but it just did not work. I begged his family to break down the walls dividing us, and it just did not work. His mom called me the C word and said I was “just a piece of paper”.
Early December 2017, I thought I finally had a chance to fix my marriage. But it was a trick! His mother met me for lunch where I cried and told her I just wanted her son to be happy. She was actually just distracting me so that my husband,  his father and gross sister could come steal my pets (including my emotional support animal dog), furniture and even food.
The betrayal was brutal and so began our separation.
This is a very very brief over view because I am tired of feeling so sorry for myself.
I want to talk about how everyone my age (at least in the south) is getting married and even now getting divorced. I thought maybe if I shared some hilarious advice and stories and coping mechanisms for people getting divorced at young age, maybe it would help me and also help you. Id love to hear other peoples stories (of all ages) as well as advice.
Divorce is ugly, and you can feel like your life is a huge joke. And while everyone tells me I am lucky because I am getting out of this so young, I don’t feel very lucky at all. It feels like my life is completely falling apart and that I am worth absolutely nothing.
I typed getting divorced at 21 on google and all I found were articles about people who were 21 and their parents were getting divorced.
So despite my typos and bad grammar you may see throughout this blog, I hope maybe somewhere I am helping someone get through what I am going through or at least giving them a good laugh or a silly idea.
Since the separation started right around Christmas, I figured my next post will talk about how I handled the first month of my separation and the holidays.
I don’t expect this to become a popular blog, but I hope maybe, somewhere, I am helping someone. Is is crazy how ugly and hurtful a person can get, when they were supposed to love you unconditionally.