Spook
November 15th, 2012, 11:53 AM
I haven't actually told anybody about this in real life; I guess it just seems safer here- when I don't have to face people later on. Brace yourselves; it's going to be long.
_________________________________
I'll start from before I was born. My birthmother was 19 years old and a crack cocaine addict. She slept with a man, and when she found out she was pregnant he took off and she never saw him again. She didn't know what to do, so she decreased her drug use but was still taking before she found she was pregnant. She still occassionally broke, and I; of course; would suffer those consequences. She made the decision to give me up for adoption; and I was adopted at 10 days old by my mom and dad. It was a closed adoption, for the first 3 years she was able to send me letters and gifts; but after that they stopped.
My parents noticed complications when I was still an infant. The first thing that happened was the seizures. I wound up in the hospital for the seizures several times; and they stopped as I grew to around 2 years old. There really wasn't any major problems at this time; but as I grew to 4 years old I began to have frequent asthma attacks; and I was prescribed a gas I had to take from a machine every night. I had to be on this machine every night for half an hour from age 4 to age 6. At around 6 I stopped having the asthma attacks; and this problem was replaced by a new one.
I began to have frequent and painful yeast and urinary tract infections; and after about a year of this happening on-and-off, my parents finally took me to the doctor's. I would need to go to the hospital to get an x-ray. I went the next month; and the doctors said I had kidney reflux (meaning urine would go back into the body instead of being expelled). This was a deadly problem as urine is a poison, and at age 7 I had surgery on my kidneys. 2 sugar globules were put in my kidneys to control the issue. The infections and pain stopped; but I still had to go to the doctor twice a year until about age 10 for a straw-urine sample. I dreaded these visits because they were painful and embarrassing, but it was necessary. It was at age 8 that I began to encounter the new problem.
I was in late 1st grade when the vomiting began- almost every day up to fourth grade I had to vomit in the school bathrooms. I was sent to the nurse but the nurse turned me away saying to drink some sprite. I didn't tell my parents until late 3rd grade when i threw up 3 times and finally got the nurse to call my parents. We went to the doctor the next day, but they didn't find anything wrong with me; and prescribed some stomach settling medication.
I'd had a problem with constant vomiting in the past as an infant; but it had settled down until 3rd grade. Several times I ended up in the hospital; once from vomiting 16 times in 1 hour. It was becoming a major problem, but still we couldn't find the problem.
In third grade I began to have trouble going to the bathroom (you know what I mean); it was so painful I became terrified when I needed to go; and put it off as long as possible. I suffered through this for a year; not telling anyone, and still vomiting constantly and having horrible stomach pains. It was painful, horrible, and I was absolutely terrified. Finally at age 8 my mom found me shaking and sobbing on the bathroom floor, and she took me to the doctor once again. The doctor sent me to a specialist and they found that I had distended bowel syndrome, my body could not expel waste.
For a year we tried different things, then we found MiraLax (something you've probably heard of) that solved the problem. Often though I'd forget to take it and the process would start again, but I got better about it over time. Finally at age 10 I no longer had any vomiting (other than the usual flu), and I could use the restroom without problems. But thas wasn't the end of it.
A couple months after my 10th birthday, I became much of a bully to my friends and family. My parents noticed my rising aggressiveness. I was bossy, controlling; when I didn't get my way I would throw things, hit people, scream, cry, say I was going to kill myself. It was one day when I was sobbing in my room for three hours that my parents came in with a camera, supposedly to "document" what was happening. I threw pillows at them and screamed for them to get out, then my mom held me down and made me calm down, and the next day she took me to a therapist.
I was prescribed medication for anxiety and anger. I was pretty much a normal kid after this, I learned how to swallow a pill and my mom reminded me to take them every day. But at age 11 I had grown out of the medication and began to be extremely depressed. I cried all the time, and when people talked to me I would lash out at them. During this year I was subjected to over 5 different kinds of medication. Some would make me even more depressed and I had frequent suicidal thoughts. Others would just make me angry, furious at everybody and everything. And still others would make me bored, tired, unmotivated to do anything.
At age 12 I began to hear voices and ringing sounds in my head. I developed a serious case of OCD, the voices would control me now. Not only did everything have to be perfectly straight and neat, but I also washed my hands constantly until they cracked and bled. I would have to do everything an even number of times; if I didn't I felt something very, very bad would happen. It began to drive me crazy, and I went to a therapist who made me dig my hands in dirt then barely wash them. This drove me insane; and I began to hate this therapist. Nothing would help, and I was getting worse and worse listening to the voices.
Also at around 12; I began to have sleeping problems. I would see images, like shadows; and I felt like I was going to scream. I couldn't sleep until about 3 in the morning every night; and only got 3-4 hours of sleep at a time.
Finally my doctor prescribed me zoloft. This kept my mood normal, and I felt normal. I've been taking it ever since; and depending on my growth the dosage is increased or decreased. He also prescribed melatonin for my sleeping problems. At age 13, just last year; the problems I thought would haunt me forever began to stop, but it wasn't a problem with me that would start the next episode.
Age 13 was when everything finally settled down, when I finally was happy and felt normal. But my best friend, Naomi; didn't see this. She was with me since I was 5 years old; and she experienced the downpour of my problems. We were inseperable and hung out every day, so she was the easiest target to take everything out on. But at age 13, when everything was finally right; she remembered the wrongs. She stopped talking to me, and I couldn't figure out why. Finally after frantically calling her 5 times in a row, worried; she picked up and said, "Caitlin, We can't be friends anymore." She explained that she hated how I had treated her, and that we needed "time apart."
This time the medicine wasn't enough. It may sound stupid and childish, but we were really best friends. We did everything together, told each other everything, spent every day together. We were bound at the hip, sisters. There was never something one of us had done or said or felt that the other didn't know about. We finished each other's sentences, picked each other's close, ate at each other's houses, used each other's stuff. It was like everything that was mine was hers and everything that was hers was mine. But now everything that we'd built up came crashing down, and I couldn't hold on to the one thing that I could trust completely and unconditionally. It was gone.
I became depressed, and I hurt myself every time I got the chance. I'd rip my hair, even cut my wrist a few times. I felt like everything was my fault, felt like I should die for what I'd done. I sat in my room and cried for months, didn't go out, I had no friends, I talked to no-one. I started to write, and put the letters in a box under my bed. It was one day that I wrote and realized how utterly useless and alone I was. And then my focus turned right on my birthmother, and my anger was beyond words. I felt at that moment like everything wrong with me was her fault, just because of that addiction. And, in short; it was.
But this is about when things began to change for me. It was one night and I finally talked to my mom and cried and told her how much I missed my best friend, and how stupid and useless and alone I felt. And then she offered me one thing I'd always wanted- Dance. She signed me up for Ballet and Modern at a nearby dance academy. I danced all my feelings away, and every time I was there was the only 2 hours in the whole week that I was really happy. Then I met Vicky. We shared similar tastes and started talking, then I invited her to my birthday and we became closer than ever. We started hanging out at each other's houses and she introduced me to her friends. I introduced her to the one annoying one I had (haha), and we all pretty much became inseperable, made up of 6 girls. I can talk to any of them about anything, some I talk about some things and others other things, we're all completely different. White, African American, Bulgarian, Israeli, Chinese, Indian. And for that last one--I began to gain back things of my past.
My best friend of the past began to talk to me again, and we repaired our friendship. It wasn't the same as it had been before, but now she and the other 5 of us all became a group, and everything was finally right. And that's how it is now.
Recently I have forgiven my birthmother. I know she loved me and wanted the best for me, and I know she thinks about me. I also know she's married again, and had kids. And I don't blame her or feel jealous, I guess everyone makes mistakes. I made up for mine and now she's making up for hers. Maybe I'll meet her. Someday.
_____________________
So, thanks if you took the time to read this.
It's probably the most personal thing I've ever written- it's pretty much my life.
:whoops:
_________________________________
I'll start from before I was born. My birthmother was 19 years old and a crack cocaine addict. She slept with a man, and when she found out she was pregnant he took off and she never saw him again. She didn't know what to do, so she decreased her drug use but was still taking before she found she was pregnant. She still occassionally broke, and I; of course; would suffer those consequences. She made the decision to give me up for adoption; and I was adopted at 10 days old by my mom and dad. It was a closed adoption, for the first 3 years she was able to send me letters and gifts; but after that they stopped.
My parents noticed complications when I was still an infant. The first thing that happened was the seizures. I wound up in the hospital for the seizures several times; and they stopped as I grew to around 2 years old. There really wasn't any major problems at this time; but as I grew to 4 years old I began to have frequent asthma attacks; and I was prescribed a gas I had to take from a machine every night. I had to be on this machine every night for half an hour from age 4 to age 6. At around 6 I stopped having the asthma attacks; and this problem was replaced by a new one.
I began to have frequent and painful yeast and urinary tract infections; and after about a year of this happening on-and-off, my parents finally took me to the doctor's. I would need to go to the hospital to get an x-ray. I went the next month; and the doctors said I had kidney reflux (meaning urine would go back into the body instead of being expelled). This was a deadly problem as urine is a poison, and at age 7 I had surgery on my kidneys. 2 sugar globules were put in my kidneys to control the issue. The infections and pain stopped; but I still had to go to the doctor twice a year until about age 10 for a straw-urine sample. I dreaded these visits because they were painful and embarrassing, but it was necessary. It was at age 8 that I began to encounter the new problem.
I was in late 1st grade when the vomiting began- almost every day up to fourth grade I had to vomit in the school bathrooms. I was sent to the nurse but the nurse turned me away saying to drink some sprite. I didn't tell my parents until late 3rd grade when i threw up 3 times and finally got the nurse to call my parents. We went to the doctor the next day, but they didn't find anything wrong with me; and prescribed some stomach settling medication.
I'd had a problem with constant vomiting in the past as an infant; but it had settled down until 3rd grade. Several times I ended up in the hospital; once from vomiting 16 times in 1 hour. It was becoming a major problem, but still we couldn't find the problem.
In third grade I began to have trouble going to the bathroom (you know what I mean); it was so painful I became terrified when I needed to go; and put it off as long as possible. I suffered through this for a year; not telling anyone, and still vomiting constantly and having horrible stomach pains. It was painful, horrible, and I was absolutely terrified. Finally at age 8 my mom found me shaking and sobbing on the bathroom floor, and she took me to the doctor once again. The doctor sent me to a specialist and they found that I had distended bowel syndrome, my body could not expel waste.
For a year we tried different things, then we found MiraLax (something you've probably heard of) that solved the problem. Often though I'd forget to take it and the process would start again, but I got better about it over time. Finally at age 10 I no longer had any vomiting (other than the usual flu), and I could use the restroom without problems. But thas wasn't the end of it.
A couple months after my 10th birthday, I became much of a bully to my friends and family. My parents noticed my rising aggressiveness. I was bossy, controlling; when I didn't get my way I would throw things, hit people, scream, cry, say I was going to kill myself. It was one day when I was sobbing in my room for three hours that my parents came in with a camera, supposedly to "document" what was happening. I threw pillows at them and screamed for them to get out, then my mom held me down and made me calm down, and the next day she took me to a therapist.
I was prescribed medication for anxiety and anger. I was pretty much a normal kid after this, I learned how to swallow a pill and my mom reminded me to take them every day. But at age 11 I had grown out of the medication and began to be extremely depressed. I cried all the time, and when people talked to me I would lash out at them. During this year I was subjected to over 5 different kinds of medication. Some would make me even more depressed and I had frequent suicidal thoughts. Others would just make me angry, furious at everybody and everything. And still others would make me bored, tired, unmotivated to do anything.
At age 12 I began to hear voices and ringing sounds in my head. I developed a serious case of OCD, the voices would control me now. Not only did everything have to be perfectly straight and neat, but I also washed my hands constantly until they cracked and bled. I would have to do everything an even number of times; if I didn't I felt something very, very bad would happen. It began to drive me crazy, and I went to a therapist who made me dig my hands in dirt then barely wash them. This drove me insane; and I began to hate this therapist. Nothing would help, and I was getting worse and worse listening to the voices.
Also at around 12; I began to have sleeping problems. I would see images, like shadows; and I felt like I was going to scream. I couldn't sleep until about 3 in the morning every night; and only got 3-4 hours of sleep at a time.
Finally my doctor prescribed me zoloft. This kept my mood normal, and I felt normal. I've been taking it ever since; and depending on my growth the dosage is increased or decreased. He also prescribed melatonin for my sleeping problems. At age 13, just last year; the problems I thought would haunt me forever began to stop, but it wasn't a problem with me that would start the next episode.
Age 13 was when everything finally settled down, when I finally was happy and felt normal. But my best friend, Naomi; didn't see this. She was with me since I was 5 years old; and she experienced the downpour of my problems. We were inseperable and hung out every day, so she was the easiest target to take everything out on. But at age 13, when everything was finally right; she remembered the wrongs. She stopped talking to me, and I couldn't figure out why. Finally after frantically calling her 5 times in a row, worried; she picked up and said, "Caitlin, We can't be friends anymore." She explained that she hated how I had treated her, and that we needed "time apart."
This time the medicine wasn't enough. It may sound stupid and childish, but we were really best friends. We did everything together, told each other everything, spent every day together. We were bound at the hip, sisters. There was never something one of us had done or said or felt that the other didn't know about. We finished each other's sentences, picked each other's close, ate at each other's houses, used each other's stuff. It was like everything that was mine was hers and everything that was hers was mine. But now everything that we'd built up came crashing down, and I couldn't hold on to the one thing that I could trust completely and unconditionally. It was gone.
I became depressed, and I hurt myself every time I got the chance. I'd rip my hair, even cut my wrist a few times. I felt like everything was my fault, felt like I should die for what I'd done. I sat in my room and cried for months, didn't go out, I had no friends, I talked to no-one. I started to write, and put the letters in a box under my bed. It was one day that I wrote and realized how utterly useless and alone I was. And then my focus turned right on my birthmother, and my anger was beyond words. I felt at that moment like everything wrong with me was her fault, just because of that addiction. And, in short; it was.
But this is about when things began to change for me. It was one night and I finally talked to my mom and cried and told her how much I missed my best friend, and how stupid and useless and alone I felt. And then she offered me one thing I'd always wanted- Dance. She signed me up for Ballet and Modern at a nearby dance academy. I danced all my feelings away, and every time I was there was the only 2 hours in the whole week that I was really happy. Then I met Vicky. We shared similar tastes and started talking, then I invited her to my birthday and we became closer than ever. We started hanging out at each other's houses and she introduced me to her friends. I introduced her to the one annoying one I had (haha), and we all pretty much became inseperable, made up of 6 girls. I can talk to any of them about anything, some I talk about some things and others other things, we're all completely different. White, African American, Bulgarian, Israeli, Chinese, Indian. And for that last one--I began to gain back things of my past.
My best friend of the past began to talk to me again, and we repaired our friendship. It wasn't the same as it had been before, but now she and the other 5 of us all became a group, and everything was finally right. And that's how it is now.
Recently I have forgiven my birthmother. I know she loved me and wanted the best for me, and I know she thinks about me. I also know she's married again, and had kids. And I don't blame her or feel jealous, I guess everyone makes mistakes. I made up for mine and now she's making up for hers. Maybe I'll meet her. Someday.
_____________________
So, thanks if you took the time to read this.
It's probably the most personal thing I've ever written- it's pretty much my life.
:whoops: