Thoughts in the mind of a scatter brained workaholic single mom

These Are My Confessions


 

 I have been through so much in my life starting out at being given away at birth.  I have experienced four hospitalizations for mental illness.  The first time age 22 for depression.  The trigger was my mom. My husband was out-of-town working a construction job.  My baby girl was one years old and I was in nursing school at the time.  Well my daughter had chronic ear infections so her doctor prescribed cardac every time for when she got the allergy symptoms every time before the ear infection. The doctor told me to always watch out for a reaction to the cardac.   I took my baby to her sitter she was cranky and not her usual. Carolyn always knew her as well as me because she took care of her from the time she was a newborn.  When I got home from college to pick her up, Carolyn stated she gave her a dose of the cardac and some Tylenol.  I went home, and about  four hours later she ran a low temp.  I gave her another dose of Tylenol and cardac.   Less than 30 minutes later my baby woke up screaming.  She was burning with fever.  I took her temp it was 105 and the thermometer had still not beeped. I did not wait that long. I grabbed the diaper bag threw the medicine in the bag and took off walking.  My baby was limp in my arms like a newborn and open mouth pant breathing.  It was wintertime, and I just took off walking with her in just a onsey and diaper to the neighbor’s front door.  I had no telephone at my house, no car, my husband was out-of-town.  The neighbor did not answer the doorbell.  I took off walking toward my mother in-laws house. Cars kept passing me by. Finally, the paper route lady stopped and drove me to my mother in-laws.  When I got there, I took my baby’s temp it was 103.6 after putting her in a tepid bath and soaking her hair.

I called my mom from there because my mother in law does not have a car or a driver’s liscense for that matter.  My mom said she would come get me after while.  I called the hospital emergency room and explained my daughters symptoms. They told me to keep my baby cooled like I was doing. I was frantic. I called my sister-in-law whom had been to college for child care.  She told me she would get her to the emergency room. I called my mom and told her what D said.  My mom finally came.  She was driving us to hospital with my daughter limp in my arms again like a rag doll. We were going the back route where  mom usually speeds.  This time she was going less than the speed limit of 40.  I said,” mom can you please go a little faster?”  She then slammed on her brakes and said,” I can go even slower”. 

 Needless to say, when we got to the hospital I was talking in word salad and could not stop crying.  They admitted me to the psych ward.  The psychiatrist subscribed me the medication Paxil after trying buspar that did not work for me. It caused my jaw to lock shut and tongue to swell up and I drooled. The psychiatrist said I was allergic to the buspar. The Paxil worked; I stopped crying finally.  My diagnosis  being childhood dissociation.

I am still not clear to what that means.  But the basis of my problems emotionally stem from me being molested by my adoptive father at the age of seven everyday for a year of my life. My mom caught my dad and did not do anything about it although the molestation did stop after that.  When I got out of the hospital, I took my dad with me to therapy.   He admitted on taped interview everything I said was the truth.  As a grown adult, I opened an abuse case against my father and have a victim letter stating he is guilty.  My mom so whacked she denies everything and even tells me I am just imaging things.

During the second hospitalization, the psychiatrist diagnosed me with hypomania.  This was October 2004 I had graduated LPN school was working in dialysis. I had not taken state boards yet. I was living in a new apartment paying for everything myself on 8 dollars an hour income.  I came to hard times decision  to either buy toilet paper and household supplies or be late with the rent.  I chose the toilet paper because I had gone through so long on like one washing detergent per month and such going through nursing school.  

I gave my landlord only half the rent so I could afford toilet paper and  came home from work to my door being taken off its hinges with a note saying if you want your door back pay me my rent.  My neighbor is witness to this door being off and also Neicy, the neighbor that I lived beside in nursing school. She was with me that day.   I called the landlord.  He came and I gave him all the money I had left and told him I would pay the rest that friday on payday.

Well when friday came he did not show up.  I had a baby shower to attend. When I came home, there was another  note saying do I need to take your door off again?  So, I started moving putting my stuff in the car and moving it to my friend’s grandfather’s back house. I made the mistake of calling my mom and leaving a detailed budget on her answering machine because she would not answer the phone. My mom showed up at my house saying “get the behind me satan” I pushed her out the door and locked it. I did not need the extra stress. 

The landlord then left an eviction letter on the door. I called up the landlord said I am not breaking the lease.  You are the one breaking the lease. I will stay and pay you your money. He then said I could move without paying the lease. lol. Then my mom came and got me in her car. She was taking me to her house  90 miles out-of-town. Me telling her no I have to work next day. I was working in dialysis still in training.

When we get to a red light, I reached to open the door to get out. My sister in back seat caught the door. Parents pulled up in liquor store parking lot to buy coke while sister called paramedics to come get me.  My mom told them I tried to jump out the van. The ambulance took me to the emergency room. The ER doctor stated that I could go home with someone staying with me. So my parents took me home and left my sister there. I was up all night packing. I woke her up to ask to use her cell phone to call my friend. She called the police on me. Then I went to jail.  Because when the police got there, I slapped her when  I realized she called the popo on me.  I wanted to tell the cop to get her out of my house.

I stayed in jail until monday. They took me to the ER then to a psychiatric hospital.  The same Monday  papers were served to me with my mom having custody of my son. I slapped my sister in my own yard and went to jail for that. I was in the hospital for 2 weeks .  My boss was so sweet she gave me my sick leave and vacation pay. I never missed a pay check. The psychiatrist made a diagnosis of hypomania.  I was there two weeks because medicine does not agree with me.

Depakote broke me out in hives.  Seraquel made my heart race and beat 150 bpm.  Finally, trileptal worked.  While I was manic, I did stress relieve things over and over like take 5 bubble baths a day, exercise, pray, eat more. I don’t know why but I felt like I was going to die like my heart was going to stop. After going to jail, while at the ER, my potassium was critical low, only 2.2. The diagnosis being hypokalemia of unknown etiology.   I have always wondered why my potassium was so low?

Hypomania is like the world is spinning too fast to catch up. Anxiety, fear,stress motivate you to try to do the almost impossible. You feel like you will die if you don’t get it accomplished. It is a very hard thing to explain. you talk in word salad, because your thoughts are going to fast for your mouth to speak them.  If you don’t clear your brain of those thoughts you lose total control of yourself. It’s like your body will actually start to shut down trying to survive the stress. I believe stress can kill you. I will write more on  the next two hospitalizations later.

 

 

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4 responses

  1. You have certainly been through a lot, and my heart goes out to you. You are a survivor though; so that is something to celebrate. I’m sure that writing is excellent therapy for you, and I encourage you to keep doing that.

    My upcoming book deals with abuse, and what happens to the psyche. The effects are certainly far-reaching. Good luck to you, and I will continue to follow your blog.

    Sally DeSmet

    August 5, 2010 at 10:21 pm

    • Thankyou Sally. I absolutely love your blog. Writing has been something I have done since Jr. High School. One coping mechanism as a child. It started with a homework assignment in English. We were to do a free writing journal notebook and write every day for 15 minutes. We had to turn in our journal every semester and it was worth like a third of our grade. I think it saved me from suicide at the time along with exercise and music. I wish now I still had that journal. I threw it away because I did not want anyone to see it. Now I am not so shy anymore.

      August 6, 2010 at 12:03 am

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