Choosing Sides. Amnesia?

My last post made me think. I was thinking about it all day, thinking about that and more.

That was not the first time I had encountered my stepfather when he was angry, nor would it be the last. What it made me realize, though, is that every time something like that happened… I moved out. He was not kicked out. My mother did not leave him. I was the one who left; I was the one who, essentially, was told she was in the wrong. At least, that’s how it feels now.

I spoke with my mother that day. I asked her several things, mostly about my childhood, before and after that specific incident. I fibbed to her a little bit, not stating that I awoke in the middle of the night nearly screaming because of the memory of it happening appearing in my dream. No, I didn’t want that to haunt her, knowing that she put her oldest child and only daughter at risk; I didn’t want that. I did call her that day with a purpose that day.

Throughout the whole day I had been thinking, going through my memories of the incidences and there are only three specific times that I can remember living at my mother’s while she was with my stepfather and then having to move back in with my Grandparents after something happened. Two of which have to do with my stepfather. One of them, there is a 2-3 week blank in my memory, starting with my last day of school when I lived with my mother and stepfather & beginning again with my first day back after winter break at a new school and living with my Grandparents again. Somewhere in-between that timeframe of 2-3 weeks something happened and I moved out.

I was in fifth grade. It was exactly a year before I had my seizure, leading to my diagnosis of epilepsy.

My mother could remember the incident of my stepfather chasing me through the house in a rage and me running to my room in fright, closing the door behind me and locking the door and him bursting it open, breaking the lock then hovering over me cowering on my bed, with his fist above his head; she could remember that clearly. That was the summer before I advanced to third grade.

My mother could remember the incident in ninth grade, the incident from the previous post. All of these were at least 10 years ago.

So how does she not remember the incident from the winter of my fifth grade year? I had called my aunt, her sister, before I called my mother to ask about it because, honestly, I was afraid of asking my mother. But my aunt didn’t have an answer; she didn’t know.

I can’t even give you a straight answer on what my mother told me. She was vague and tried to stay away from the topic of what happened. In the end, though, she did blame it on the fact of “that might have been when your absence seizures started”.  Absence seizures being basically when I space out. That’s the only outward sign and then I have no recollection of what happened during said time period of the seizure. They normally last 3-5 SECONDS.

How do I tell my mother, who definitely knows all the information about my epilepsy & the types of seizures I have, that there’s no way it could have erased 2-3 weeks of my memory and that I have AMNESIA. How do I tell her that she’s lying and it’s so obvious it’s ridiculous? How? What could have happened to me?

My husband thinks that there’s a possibility that something severe happened to me and she’s covering up for my stepfather. Honestly, I don’t doubt it. It just makes me worried because nobody will tell me, even more-so because she is still with my stepfather.

I’m scared.

 

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Work, Write, Love

There are so many things wrong right now. It’s ridiculous. I’m thinking too much and everything is driving me crazy. I think I’m getting slightly depressed because I’m stuck inside all the time recently because of the weather, with all of this cold and snow that’s been coming through everywhere here in the eastern United States. I guess it doesn’t make anything better when my fiance is working overtime because one of his co-workers is so badly injured that he isn’t able to work for the next two (2) months, so him and his other co-workers are putting in an exponential amount of extra hours to cover for him. This week, alone, he’s worked over sixty (60) hours. While, yes, the paycheck’s going to be lovely and both of us are looking forward to it… I miss him. I miss him a lot and I don’t get to spend enough time with him. We used to spend more time with each other. Hell, when my aunt was living with us we saw more of each other then, than we do now and we had severe privacy issues back then!

But all of this is just me ranting and raving. I need to get it out of my system. I have nobody – absolutely no one – to talk to about all of this.

I don’t have any close friends. I don’t really trust my family with personal information any more. It’s come to the point that the therapist who stops by bi-weekly to help with my child in his development (he’s a little behind, y’see) is easier to talk to than anybody else… except, of course, my fiance. But then it comes down to the fact that he’s never here and when he is, he seems to be sleeping because he’s so worn out from working. We never talk anymore. We never spend time with each other. We don’t even have money for a single Valentine’s Day dinner, I’ve come to find out.

I’m trying to figure out his schedule so that maybe I can arrange my mother and stepfather to babysit the children for a night or two so that my fiance and I can just have a night to ourselves and we can just, I don’t know, go out. Spend time with each other. See a movie. Have dinner. Go to a bar. Just have fun with each other. It’s not a big deal. The whole point, nonetheless, being is that we just need to spend time with each other. Without the children. Every couple does.

I feel like I’m losing him. And maybe it’s just me. I know I get paranoid sometimes and I definitely know that I have a tendency to overthink things, but it seems like my fiance and I have been growing distant from each other as of late and I don’t like it. Not one bit.

I know he loves me though. I need to stop being paranoid. The signs are there that he loves me. I’m letting too many things build up inside of me. Little things. Reminders from my past; things that people have said to me that are starting to get to me. It’s unfair and I don’t like it. I know what he’s really like. But again, that’s the problem. The little things that are wiggling their way into my mind are making me doubt stuff like that and, in my mind, if I really love my fiance I shouldn’t ever doubt him. I know that nobody is perfect; I know that no relationship is perfect, but I can’t help but continually wonder if something’s going wrong or if… just if.

I’ve wandered into “what if” categories. I really don’t think that’s a good sign.

A good sign, though, I think, is that he is the one person (not including my children) that I can’t picture myself without. I think and think and think, and then it occurs to me that we already act like we’re married. We share bills, rent, a home, chores, cooking (though, I will admit he does the majority when he’s not working); we share decisions and we compromise. We actually talk about where we’re heading in the future – where we want to go, in the sense of “when we finally get a house of our own and not this place, we’ll…” or “when we’re more financially stable we’ll take a trip to *example place* with the kids… they’d love it”. It makes my heart just grow and burst with such warmth. I feel like squealing and crying from happiness sometimes.

And, y’know, I guess it’s also probably a really good sign that when I’m reading my romance novels or watching my romantic-comedies (*cough* chick-flicks), or any sort of movie or book that has a significant amount of romance in it, I picture the leading female as myself and the leading male as my fiance. Especially once they start dating; especially if it’s starting to get more romantic. The thing is, though, it doesn’t have to be the “more romantic” parts. I have a wild imagination, and if I can picture my fiance and I doing something similar – then we’re in whatever book or movie I’m watching or reading at the time.

I love him and I’m in love with him. I’m not convincing myself of this. I’ve known it for about a year and a half now. My feelings have not faded; they’ve only grown stronger. I guess, though, I didn’t anticipate all of the other emotions – the stress, anxiety – that would come with it.

But he makes me feel beautiful. He makes me feel whole. He makes me feel complete. With him, I am me and no one else. I don’t have to be. He feel in love with me at my worst and has helped me pick up the pieces. I truly believe he loves me for who I am. It’s just hard to believe sometimes. It’s a scary thought… to have found somebody so completely right for me that they’re willing to accept all of my fuck-ups & help me through my rough patches. It’s hard to comprehend to have found somebody who loves me even if my family is so against the relationship, or just completely horrible in their own right but he still loves me because, well, because my family does not define me. My family is not who I am. Just because I am related to them by blood does not always mean they are my family.

And he accepts me. And he loves me. And he loves my children.

That’s all that matters.

Fuck the world. We don’t need anyone else. Nobody else’s opinion matters.

Just ours.

Ramble. Rant. Confusion. WTF?!

Have you ever felt like something was happening around you and you could feel it, but you weren’t sure what it was? I have; I do right now.

It’s odd. It’s like I can almost tell what it is, but when I get close to what it is, something throws me off and then I feel like I’m just standing there, confused. It’s horrible. At times I feel like it has something to do with my ex-husband and the pending court case. I think that he’s planning something and that everything I see or hear about him is just some small piece of a bigger puzzle that he’s putting together; almost like he’s trying to get me to believe certain things with lies and manipulation through other people, by making me too comfortable with how things are going in my life now and then everything will just… explode…. around me.

I know I sound paranoid, but I like I said before, after I start thinking like that and “putting my ideas together” so to speak, something throws me off.

Then I start thinking about moving and renting places. About how my fiance said the other night that he’s getting fed up with people not believing that we have the money or judging us on the fact that he’s a full-time student and not taking his student-loan money as if they’ve never dealt with college students before even though we live in a college area. He said that if we didn’t get this place, or a place in general soon, then he was just going to move to a different place that was cheaper (different from the one he has) that allows his dog and is a one-bedroom.

I hate it because I feel like the world is turning against me. Against me and my children. Against me and my fiance.

And then I feel even worse because I feel like my family just hates me because they never talk to me even though I try to make efforts with them. My mother and my uncle try the best that they can, though they have even better excuses for not being able to than the rest.

The family I’m talking about lives excruciatingly close and only talks to people they feel like, it seems, and favor certain people (aka: certain family members), are major hypocrites and like to talk behind peoples back, exaggerate, and/or lie. I know this, but then again, I don’t. I hate it because I love my family and I don’t want to dislike my family, but it seems like they don’t care about me anyway.

I told one of my family members today that there’s a probability of me moving a decent amount away. She looked at me like I was crazy, like she didn’t expect me to ever do something like that. Seriously? What’s keeping me where I am? Family? I can come visit. Friends? What friends? I have no life. I would have more of a life where I’m hoping to move (though I will say that I’m not too hopeful, unfortunately, so yeah).

My life is just crazy, hectic and out of control. I don’t know what’s happening and yet I know exactly what’s going on. It’s a chaotic mess that, ironically, I know where everything’s at.

I’m too young for a mid-life crisis. Gah. :-/

Paranoia and Insecurity

Insecurities. Anxiety. Paranoia. That’s the very definition of me right now. I fret over everything and I’m so, so scared.

I’ve mentioned before that I was married once and divorced said man. I mentioned more recently about the custody issues because he moved out of state. We’ve went to court once and there is a continuation in effect for him to get a lawyer (he showed up pro bono). It’s been nearly three months and there’s nothing on the case, but I’m starting to get worried. He’s starting to get more active in video chats, Skyping, and on various social media he’s claiming he’s a “Mother of Three” now and he’s starting to buy the children toys.

I guess I should mention that my ex-husband is currently in the process of hormone-replacement therapy (HRT) and turning himself into a woman. :-/

(He wasn’t like that when I was with him. Just saying.)

Anyway, he’s doing more for the children, but I’ve got a bad feeling about it. I think it’s for show. I don’t think that he means it. I think that he’s trying to show that he “cares” for our children so that he won’t have to pay as much child support to me, so that I won’t get full custody (like I want), because he’s a spiteful, vindictive, manipulative person. He did this the first time around during out divorce. He lied multiple times and I’m so very scared now. Nobody believed me then and I don’t think anybody will believe me now.

I just want to cry. I want to scream. I want someone to listen to me and believe me and do something about it. I want somebody to help me. So much.

And it’s not just that.

My fiance starting college classes two weeks ago. I understand that college life is tough. This is his second semester since we got together and it’s not any easier. But I never see him. Ever. He spends most of his time at my place because he’s only renting a room at somebody else’s house and, even though it’s cheap, he says it gets slightly awkward when he’s there alone during the day.

So he comes to my place and takes his computer upstairs and is there. The whole time. From early in the morning when he gets here till late at night with, I don’t know, two 20 minute breaks in between? There’s a bathroom upstairs, so no need to worry about that!

I feel like he’s pushing me away. Distancing himself from me. And he said himself that he’s low on money (he’s paying for my Internet and helps with food every now and then), so then why do I see him paying for random things when I pop in upstairs to say “hi” and to see how he’s doing? He’s paying for a Skype account? Why? No, I didn’t snoop on his computer. He was using his computer while I was up there and I saw it. It just made me wonder.

Like I said at the beginning, Paranoid is a pretty basic definition of me right now.

He constantly seems angry or upset and I can’t get him to talk anymore. I just… I don’t know. I’m so scared. I’m losing so much, I’m afraid to lose so much. I know I over-think things and this is probably one of them, but I can’t help it. I don’t have anybody to talk to. He used to be one of the few people I could talk to, but now… I’m afraid to even ask “are you ok?” because he doesn’t like me asking him that question.

Everything’s just backwards and I don’t know what to do.

Like I said earlier, I just want to scream; I want to cry; I just want somebody to listen and help me.

That’s all I need.

I need it so bad it hurts. 😥