Friday, February 26, 2010

I just really need to write and get this all out of my head....

Something really bad happened this week at work. I am going to blog about it because I need to get it out of my head and on the road to healing. One of the things that helps me heal is writing. I know I am not the best writer and all that jazz but it helps me. I am changing all the names (except mine) just in case someone I know is actually reading my blog. (Hi Pastor Brenda!!)

**Warning - Details may get graphic**

Wednesday approx 1215am

A client comes down and says Rachel cut her arms really bad and I need to go upstairs to the bathroom to take a look.

I still had another coworker here so she watched the phones while I went upstairs.

They would not let me in the bathroom. Rachel and another client Sally were in the bathroom.

I came down stairs and started to call my on call manager while co worker went up stairs to try and get in the bathroom.

Hung up with on call manager, resident Sally comes down bawling her eyes out and says "I should of told you yesterday, I'm sorry....her arms are cut really bad, I can see muscle, she needs to go to the ER"

I call my on call manager back who instructs me to call 911

I call 911 and they ask me like 800 questions and say they will be there shortly.

I went upstairs to get coworker out of the bathroom and asked her to come down stairs. Coworker was really shooken up at this point. I have not had the chance to see what actually happened.

As soon as EMS and police arrive at the shelter I take them upstairs where Rachel is still in the bathroom. I opened the door and Rachel is there with 3 other residents.

I see the bubbles, the bath water. I see the water is pinkish/ red. The bubbles around her breasts are pink with blood.

I calmly ask her to get out of the tub, get some clothes on and come down stairs. She pulls her arms out of the water and there is bloody water dripping off her arms. I see dozens and dozens of cuts on both arms. I see muscle coming out.

I must of been in work mode because I remember being so emotionless. I remember doing what I had to do for the Rachel and for the other residents.

After she got dressed, I helped get her downstairs to my office where the EMS asked her and I questions. They also wrapped her arms with bandages.

And off she went.

I remember I took some of the residents out for a cigarette and I smoked like 2 in a matter of minutes. I was still very detached. (My stomach is getting sick as I write this)

I called on call manager back and we talked about Rachel's kids, about clean up, about how me and co worker were doing. I was still detached.

About 20 minutes later on call manager called back and she asked if I needed her to come in..... I couldn't even talk. I was just bawling.

I kept going through these spurts of where I would clean for like 10 minutes then I would sit or stand and just zone out. It all felt like a dream - it still feels like a dream.

I remember having to put these blue latex gloves on and they smelled like cat pee. I had to strip her bed because there was blood over everything and I didn't want her kids waking up to the blood in the morning.

I remember my stinky blue gloves and the bleach spray and cleaning up the tub.

when on call manager arrived at the shelter my co worker and I were sitting in the hallway surrounded by the bloody linens and crying.

on call manager was a HUGE support for us. I am soooo glad she came in. While upstairs cleaning the bathroom and hallway carpet, the door rang. On call manager said it was the higher up manager. I answered phone (our door bell rings into our phone and you can talk over it) and it was Rachel. She was back.

Only after being gone for approx. 2 hours. she was back. She said the hospital did not see her as suicidal but she was only a cutter. They gave her pain meds and stapled her arm wounds. She walked in like everything was ok.

Then higher up manager arrived. On call and higher up managers both spoke with her for a while. Coworker and I finished cleaning up the mess.

After everyone had left or went to sleep, I didn't do anything. I went into the living room and watched TV. I was just so tired. My brain hurt.

I met with a counselor that specializes in PSTD (post traumatic stress disorder) today. My work provided this service to me and my coworker.

I told her how I haven't been able to sleep well, eat well, talk to anyone. I don't even feel like texting. I have been just laying in bed watching TV. The only person I have really talked are my coworker and the PSTD lady.

She assured me that all my feelings are very normal for someone who has witnessed trauma. She said even though Rachel supposedly didn't try and kill her self that what she had done and what we had witnessed was considered a traumatic incident.

She said I need to deal with the feelings and not push them down. When I see the images I need to see them then let them go out of head as easily as they came in. She told me not to fight it. To talk about it, to write about it. She said it would help with the healing process.

I feel crazy and confused right now. I still feel like I am having an out of body experience. I feel weird. My stomach still hurts and I can't sleep and I really want to drink.

I know I will get through this. I have a good support system. I have my husband and some friends at church who I know are big supporters. I just need to get through this. I have to work through all the feelings and emotions. I have to come out on top.

I have worked so hard to get to where I am now. I can't let this drag me down to that place.

(**post in long and poorly edited, sorry**)

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Random Cell Phone Picture Tuesday

I am starting a new Tuesday tradition for my blog. I am going to post on Tuesday's with the random cell phone pics that I have taken from the week. So let's get started......

This is the very large coffee mug my coworkers got for me while I was out sick. It fits a can of soup perfectly. I love it!

And here is Emma trying on her first pair of glasses ever. She was was so darn excited to get the glasses. At least now she will be able to read better and might move her grade from a B to an A in reading.

The huge snow mound in front of my house. Picture taken from the drive way.

Logan (my nephew) and Chase at my brother in laws birthday party. (I still find it weird to call him my brother in law since he just turned 6)

The lovely fence in my back yard. Yeah, we are gonna need to replace that as soon as the weather turns nice.

And last, my new hair cut. I actaully got it cut December 5th but it still looks like this.

Well, I hope everyone enjoyed the Random Cell Phone Pictures Tuesday!! Look for it again next Tuesday!!

Friday, February 19, 2010

Finally, a real post where you begin to to find out the real me

I started smoking at age 9. I had a friend, her name was Kelly too, she smoked and I wanted so much to be like her. She told me to turn around and take a hit off a cigarette. I did. I coughed. The next few months I smoked, but didn't inhale. I was closer to age 10 when I began smoking for real.

I smoked pot and drank the summer in turned 12 (my bday is August 2nd) I remember that night so clearly, even though I was completely hammered. My mother was graduating from her DUI classes (I know, we are so classy) and she had bought a bottle of Firewater to celebrate. She was running late and her friends started to arrive. The one guy, I will call him Kevin, asked where my mom's alcohol was. I showed him. He opened it up and asked if I wanted a taste. Of course I wanted a taste. I was 12 and I wanted to be cool. I ended up drinking 3/4 the bottle. I was already in my room by the time my mom came home and Kevin had told my mom he was the one who drank the bottle. He was trying to keep me out of trouble. From then on it was a blur. I know I woke up the next morning sick as a dog. I ran to the bathroom to vomit only to find out I had soiled my pajama pants. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever done. My mom came in and found me cleaning up the vomit and feces, she was mad. She grounded me. 3 hours later I went to a friends house to spend the night. That's how groundings work at my house.

The next summer my mom went to jail for 2 weeks. She left us in the care of her boyfriend, who I will call Dave. Dave was 22 years old. I was 13. I remember joking with my mom once that he was closer to my age then her age.

I was at home waiting for a friend to spend the night. Dave had the music up really loud. (It wasn't all that uncommon at my house. It was a party house) Dave gave me a cigarette while I was waiting for my friend to show up. We were in my mom's room. He wanted me to come sit on his lap. I did. He wanted me to give him a kiss. I did. There is more but I am actually getting sick to my stomach so I am not going to write about the rest.

I remember months later telling my mom what happened. She hit me. Hard. My heels made an indent on the wall. I was nothing but a "stupid bitch" who was trying to ruin things between her and Dave. That is the day I realized I hated my mother. I was telling her the truth and all she cared about was her men and drugs.

There are many bits and pieces I am leaving out. It's so hard to pick what to write and what not to write. I could probably write a book about all the stories. Just to speed things up here's a condensed version of my mother. She is a drug addict. She smokes pot and pops pills. She has been in trouble with the law more times then I can count. Up above when she was in jail, she was in jail for giving alcohol to minors. Our house was a party house. At any given time we had 2-3 extra people living with us besides me, my brother and sister. We had a ton of male friends, some female friends, some gay friends (who I caught having sex with another man). There was always a flow of people daily in and out of our home.

My sister and I had to find a way to lock our bedroom door. My mom always had parties on school nights and random people would come in our room. Our room was across the hall from the bathroom, that prolly had something to do with it.

First year of middle school. I had just turned 12 that August. On October 12th, I had sex with an 18 year old boy. It was a one night stand. From that day on I was a whore. I had sex with anyone who asked. This lasted up until I married my first husband.

My sister says that she has blocked out alot of her childhood. I wish I could do the same. I remember alot of drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, sex and beatings. I was the oldest. I was always getting in trouble for something, always. I always get hit first and the worst. And then I would take it out on my sister and brother. I would beat them like my mom beat me. It was awful. I was the school bully when I wasn't having sex with everyone. I got in so many fights it was crazy. I hung out with the wrong crowds, I did alot of drugs. I was a mess. I can't believe I made it through highschool alive and with no STD's. I did get pregnant once. No one knows about it. Not even my current husband. I miscarried. I think I was somewhere around the 2 month mark.

Where's my father you ask?? Hmmmmm, good question. He popped in and out of our lives. He always has a problem with pill popping and alcohol. He has been to jail and prison so many times, I have lost count. Last time I saw him was September of 2007. He called me from the local homeless shelter and asked me to see him. I did. he still looked like my dad. He talked like my dad. But he wasn't. I listened to him talk about missing us and feeling guilty all these years for leaving us. He said he wanted to be there but just couldn't. And now he is in a program with the homeless shelter trying to get back on his feet. This man couldn't remember things about me. He kept getting me and my sister confused. But then he started talking about my mom. He recalled so much about when they were young and in love. I think he really did love her.

He called me while I was out Christmas shopping during the end of 2008. He was having a breakdown. He said he got a job and new clothes but then he looked down and he had his "homeless boots" on. He said he just wanted his life to end. I told him I had to go.

Last I heard, he had the state pull all his teeth out. They were all rotted and he was waiting on dentures.

I hope that when he dies someone will tell me. I do want to be there.

I did have a turning point in my life. It was June of 1999. I was 19 years old and having fun. I was surrounded with a decent group of friends. I had met the man that would be my first husband. But I was still acting a fool. I was drinking and doing drugs but not sleeping around so much.

That night in June I was out with 2 friends, Billy and Jimmy. It was time for me to go home so we hopped in Billy's truck and started to head home. We pulled on my street and the first thing we saw was lights, lots and lots of police lights. There was cops cars, patty wagons, an ambulance. We pulled in the drive way and I jumped out and rushed in the house. Cops were all over. My mom sitting in the dining room crying harder then I had ever seen her cry before. My sister and brother were no where to be found. I asked my mom what was going on. She replied "They found it". I asked her "found out", she replied "the stash".

My mom and her boyfriend, who I will call Brian, (her future husband), were growing pot in the basement (also where her bedroom was). Somehow the police got wind of it and came in and did a raid on the house. They destroyed the house. Every single room looked like a tornado hit it. The really got my room. My room had the attic. The attic is good for drying out pot. My mom and her boyfriend went to jail but were soon released. The police threatened to take my sister and brother away since they were still minors. They were 16. The police threatened to arrest me since I lived there and knew about them growing in the basement. I begged and pleaded and lied to the police about everything. I told them I knew nothing and I was barely home and blah blah blah. Thankfully they bought it. I was ok.

That night changed everything for me. I did not want to end up a drug addict like her. I did not want to have 3 kids living in a hell hole like that. I wanted better.

And now I am almost 30 years old (less then 6 months!!) and I can say that I am finally there. I am finally ok. I am seriously ok. I do not have a relationship with my mother or father, but I do have people in my life that I call family. I have a great husband, children, church and a job that I love.

Speaking of my job...I am so thankful I am finally able to give back. I am finally able to help others that are going through domestic violence or sexual abuse. Each and every single person who walks through these shelter doors is someone really special to me. I can connect with every person. I can feel there pain and be here to cry on.

Without all the events that led up to my life now, I would not be able to be here to give these women and children the support they need. Everything that has happened in my life has been for a reason. It has taken me many years to sort everything out but now I know why. God was not punishing me. God was forming me into who he wanted me to be. Although most of my decisions took me from his path but now I am on track. I am on my little wobbly bike, riding to something great. And I will get there, I will. I know I will. I am doing it for my family. I want them to know the happiness and peace that can come out of all this.

Sorry for the extremely long post tonight but I really had to get somethings out and get them out of my head. I wanted someone to listen. I just wanted to talk and it is still hard for me to talk to people IRL about this. I wrote most of this post crying. Not even sure why. Somethings just really tugged on my emotions. Somethings still hurt. But I am going to be just fine. I have a new life and I have hope.

Let go, Let God.

Time to Vent!!!!

I am sooooo upset right now I can't even type right!! I am using the backspace like every other letter!!

Someone broke in my car AGAIN!! Who freakin breaks in a car between the hours of 830pm-1130pm??? Seriously????

I took the kiddos to McDonalds for dinner. I had my work bag on the front passenger seat. When I got to McDonalds, I searched all over for my wallet, then I realized I left it in my work bag. I reached in and got it and went in to McDonalds. We ate, came back out, went home. Got home around 830pm.

I came out for work at 1130pm and went to go put some papers into my BRAND NEW WORK BAG and quickly realized it wasn't there. I tore the car apart looking for it. I even went back inside to make sure I didn't take it in even though I knew I didn't. Because after McDonalds, we pulled in and I had to carry my Frappe in and look for Chase's missing stupid Happy Meal toy, so I know I didn't take it in because I couldn't at that point!!!!!!

So yep, all my work papers (not really important), my CHECKBOOK, my day planner, my silverware ( I take my own to work), pens, paper, MY WORK KEYS!!!! I work at the domestic violence shelter and my keys were all labeled, even the front door key. I am sooooo screwed. Out location is supposed to be private but there are people who know where the shelter is. I am sooooo nervous about those keys. And tomorrow when I tell the bog boss I know my ass is grass.

There was some other stuff in there but I can't think if it right now. My brain is just going a million miles a minute.

I have already decided to make a sign for the front yard, which I will edit this post tomorrow and add it. It's going to say something like "Thank you for stealing from this middle class family of 5 - AGAIN!! It's really making our day" Any other suggestions will be appreciated. And I am seriously doing it. That is after I go to the bank and put a stop on on my checks.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

L.I.B. Weight Week ????

OK, so I have seriously lost track of what week I am supposed to be posting for. This is supposed to be for Monday, but, yeah, kinda behind on that. I have had alot going on this week and whatever, I just didn't feel like posting. (That reminds me, I should get a real post out here soon)

Ok, so here it is...............................231lbs!!!!!!!!!!!

Can you freakin believe it???

I have been doing sooooooo good!! Well, getting really sick helped quite a bit!

I am only 11 lbs from my first goal!!!

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Nope, I didn't die

I know I have been absent from my blog here but I have good reason, and if you read my blog, you already know.

I was diagnosed last Wednesday with walking pneumonia. It is awful. I am just now feeling better. I actaully went to work.

It's been a long week on laying in bed. My hips hurt, my back hurts and my head hurts. A person can only lay in bed for so long.

I will be back with some L.I.B. updates as soon as I able to walk to the scale without falling asleep.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Pity Party for me

I am about to have a pity party for myself. So now is your time to leave if you don't want to hear someone go on and on about feeling sorry for herself.

I went to the doctor today. After lots of examination and a chest xray, I was given the diagnoses of walking pneumonia. He also gave me prescriptions for antibiotics and an inhaler. That's not the whiney part.

Whiney part - after paying my co pay, I realized that I have no money to get my prescriptions filled. NONE. I am the only one to blame for my poor money management. It just really sucks that I can't even afford to get my stinking prescriptions paid for. I feel like a complete LOSER. I am sick as anything and I am going to continue to be sick until Friday when I can fill those suckers. So I sit here typing, sick as a dog feeling sorry for myself because I suck at money management and have no money to get my medicine.

Then (here comes the better part), after balancing my checkbook, I realized that I didn't even have enough money for a co pay. I only had $30 and some odd cents in my account and had to write a check for $35. So if your any good at math, that will tell you I am going to overdraft my account. YEAH!! A $34 fee on top of everything. So now I am sick with no meds and probably going to get an overdraft fee. I ROCK!

More whiney part - And the last 2 weeks, I have felt myself going down. I mean I am headed for another depression. I feel my body and mind shutting down. I feel myself eating out of control, pulling away from people and not wanting to do anything.

This happens alot but they were getting farther apart. I guess not anymore.

I wish I could control it but I can't. I barely have enough money for bills, gas, and groceries. There is no way I can add doctor copays and prescriptions every month. Just not gonna happen. Trust me. We don't have ANY credit cards and we have to pay for everything we have with the cash we have. I do feel blessed that we are able to pay all the bills and put food on our table with just the money we make at our jobs, but it's not enough. It's not enough to buy toiletries, it's not enough to go to the doctor when we need to. It's not enough to do fun things with the kids. It's just not enough.

I am just a bag full of emotions and most of them not good. I have a cup half empty look on life right now. Poor me, nothing can go my way. That's what I am feeling.

I am not looking for someone to tell me it's gonna be alright, I am not looking for people to yell at me. I am looking for someone to tell me they know how I feel, they have been there. They are living that life. I just want to know that I am not alone. Because I feel alone.

I feel that my friends and family have there lives together and there's poor Kelly, still trying to get her act together. I feel like people sit around and talk about what a horrible, lazy person I am. "Look at Kelly, she's having money problems yet again and by the way, do you see what a horrible mom she is?" That is seriously what I think is happening. I am not even joking.

I know I am probably out of my mind but that's ok, because here's the difference between me and other crazy people. I admit it. I admit I am messed up and need help. I admit I have mental issues. I admit I am bad with money management. I admit I am not the World's Best Mom. I admit all this stuff. But on the flip side, once I admit it to myself it takes me to a dark depressing place where I feel like everyone else sees all this.

It sucks.