Things I'm about to say are really hard for me to say.
I face the possibility of a lot of people having their say about me, judging me, or anger, or pity, or hate, fear, worry.
I face the emotions of all kinds of things because of what I'm going to post here.
And I deserve whatever people have to say.
I do not deserve kindness, and I certainly do not deserve anyone else ever telling me again how strong I am or how strong they think I am.
I am not strong, I haven't been strong in years, I have not been "me" since 2001.
I lost who I was when I had to stop working outside the home, when my life was forever changed because of this body which has imprisoned me.
I am not even a shell of my former self.
I left out something that happened on Sunday, left out several things that happened on Sunday.
I left them out because of fear, guilt, and shame, and I still have all of those emotions speeding through me like a train going at high speed with no conductor at the front.
I don't know if people will understand, if anyone at all will understand, and so I am afraid, afraid of being judged, hated, pitied.
I hate people pitying me because I have enough pity and self loathing running through me to cover me for however long the rest of my life is.
The reason that I have very brief memories of Sunday is because I made a mistake taking my medications that were given to me on Saturday.
I was given the phenergen to stop the pukes and the diars, and I was also given valium to help calm me down and help me rest.
I hadn't slept in days, approximately 7 days at that point, I hadn't eaten either because eating made the pukes and diars worse.
So I was completely exhausted and dehydrated. and still getting sicker and sicker.
The phenergen wasn't working, I was still puking and having the diars every 10 minutes, so I called my doctor, I asked him what to do, he told me to keep taking the phenergen, so I did.
Or what I thought was the phenergen.
Both bottles were identical, same color, cap, labels, and height, the same tiny print, so I kept taking the phenergen, or what I thought was the bottle of phenergen.
In reality, I was taking 2 valium every 4 hours because the phenergen's instructions were to take 2 every 4-6 hours if the symptoms kept up.
I thought in my exhausted and dehydrated state, that I was taking the phenergen, but it was the valium, and a lot of it, so yes, of course my condition worsened.
The diars and pukes didn't stop at all, and I was stumbling and staggering to the bathroom to get sick, and stumbling and staggering back to the couch.
My condition terrified the teens, they had no idea what was happening to me, neither did I, I was taking the wrong medication.
I don't recall the ride to the hospital, I don't recall anything that happened at the hospital except for the doctors talking about my white cells and some sort of infection, I don't recall things said or done by me to people, to doctors and nurses, to Mindy and my sons, to Sebastian.
Apparently, I was very nasty to everyone, yelling, cursing, saying extremely hurtful things, and I recall none of it at all.
Since learning the very next day what I had done, I've been extremely depressed and ashamed of myself, beyond ashamed, guilt is running through me so badly, that when I think about what I possibly said to people, I fall apart and start crying uncontrollably.
I hurt people, I hurt people that I love and care about so much, and I cannot forgive myself even if they forgive me.
I hate my body, I hate all of the pain, I hate all of the pain medications, and medical tests that I endure, and I hate of the doctors, and I hate every damn minute of every damn day of my life.
I hate being alive because I am a prisoner of my body, it holds me captive with it's never ending pain and the medicines hold me prisoner because my body needs them now, is totally addicted to them, I am trapped, stuck in a world of pain, hurt, and medicine that has me so tight in it's grasp that I am suffocating.
Please do not mistake me saying that I hate being alive as me being suicidal, because I am not.
I am far too much of a coward to take my own life, and no, I do not even think about suicide, I just hate this life that I live, I hate it more than the word hate can ever fully describe.
I am just so full of guilt and shame because I have hurt people that I truly love and care for, and I honestly wouldn't blame them one little bit if they never forgive me for it, I don't expect forgiveness, I don't deserve their forgiveness, I don't want their forgiveness.
I want to feel this guilt and shame, I want it, I have earned it, what I did and said, the hurt that I caused, I earned it, it's mine and no one can take it from me.
As for my OCD, it gets worse and worse every day, my ticks get worse every day, I have caught myself in the middle of my little rituals and even though I've caught myself, I still can't stop doing them, as a matter of fact, it makes me do them again and again.
I've picked up some new ones too, I am now constantly wiping my eyes and wiping away my hair, pulling my pony tail tighter, re-arranging my head band, sweeping and brushing my hair out of my eyes, and then, if I see even a single strand of hair blowing in front of my eyes, if it will not stay in place away from my face, I will pull it right out of my head.
I grab the strand and follow it all of the way up to it's root at my scalp, and I yank it right from there, right at my scalp.
Eventually, I'll be taking some sort of medication for hair loss prevention because I'm pulling so much of it out.
Then, after yanking away even a single strand, I brush my clothes off from a sitting position here at my desk, then I stand and brush them off, and then I wipe off my entire desk, moving my mouse, the coaster I have for my cans of Diet Coke, my pencil box, my notepad, I move every single thing and wipe my desk with my right hand.
Then I wipe the monitor, and then I get up and wipe off my computer tower, and then the table on which it sits, and before you know it, I've wiped down everything within a 4 foot circle of my desk area.
It's getting worse, the ticks are getting worse, things set them off, and what sets them off the most are extreme feelings, nervousness, guilt, shame, fear, and so this week, I've put one hell of a polish on my whole computer area and probably yanked out a good couple hundred hairs.
This week has been hell for me.
I made a huge mistake taking my medications and I hurt people that I love, my sons, my friend Mindy.
I hurt them, and my guilt and shame is eating me alive and setting off my ticks almost hourly.
I catch myself crying, I catch myself barely breathing, I catch myself staring at nothing, pulling hairs out, wiping my desk, my mouse, wiping everything, and wiping in very particular patterns, always wiping everything down in an exact order, and in an exact pattern.
I fear that I'm going crazy, like really, truly, going crazy, like my brain is starting to shrivel up and dry out, like I am not going to be ok, like eventually, I'll be locked away or I'll be one of those crazy cat ladies who talks to her cats because they can't talk back, because even if you say hurtful things to them, they have no idea what you are saying and then I won't have to feel so guilty.
I hurt people that I love and care for, I made a huge mistake with my medications, I never do that, I never ever have taken the wrong medication, and because I did, I ended up hurting people that I love, and I am so so sorry, but I am not wanting forgiveness, I am not worthy of forgiveness, I am falling to pieces because of this damn body that imprisons me.
It's grasp is tight, it's prison walls are growing smaller, and I am in a place that I hate, a body that hurts me more and more each day, and I am full of guilt, shame, self pity, self loathing, and I am not forgivable, I do not want it even if it's there.
====================
I face the possibility of a lot of people having their say about me, judging me, or anger, or pity, or hate, fear, worry.
I face the emotions of all kinds of things because of what I'm going to post here.
And I deserve whatever people have to say.
I do not deserve kindness, and I certainly do not deserve anyone else ever telling me again how strong I am or how strong they think I am.
I am not strong, I haven't been strong in years, I have not been "me" since 2001.
I lost who I was when I had to stop working outside the home, when my life was forever changed because of this body which has imprisoned me.
I am not even a shell of my former self.
I left out something that happened on Sunday, left out several things that happened on Sunday.
I left them out because of fear, guilt, and shame, and I still have all of those emotions speeding through me like a train going at high speed with no conductor at the front.
I don't know if people will understand, if anyone at all will understand, and so I am afraid, afraid of being judged, hated, pitied.
I hate people pitying me because I have enough pity and self loathing running through me to cover me for however long the rest of my life is.
The reason that I have very brief memories of Sunday is because I made a mistake taking my medications that were given to me on Saturday.
I was given the phenergen to stop the pukes and the diars, and I was also given valium to help calm me down and help me rest.
I hadn't slept in days, approximately 7 days at that point, I hadn't eaten either because eating made the pukes and diars worse.
So I was completely exhausted and dehydrated. and still getting sicker and sicker.
The phenergen wasn't working, I was still puking and having the diars every 10 minutes, so I called my doctor, I asked him what to do, he told me to keep taking the phenergen, so I did.
Or what I thought was the phenergen.
Both bottles were identical, same color, cap, labels, and height, the same tiny print, so I kept taking the phenergen, or what I thought was the bottle of phenergen.
In reality, I was taking 2 valium every 4 hours because the phenergen's instructions were to take 2 every 4-6 hours if the symptoms kept up.
I thought in my exhausted and dehydrated state, that I was taking the phenergen, but it was the valium, and a lot of it, so yes, of course my condition worsened.
The diars and pukes didn't stop at all, and I was stumbling and staggering to the bathroom to get sick, and stumbling and staggering back to the couch.
My condition terrified the teens, they had no idea what was happening to me, neither did I, I was taking the wrong medication.
I don't recall the ride to the hospital, I don't recall anything that happened at the hospital except for the doctors talking about my white cells and some sort of infection, I don't recall things said or done by me to people, to doctors and nurses, to Mindy and my sons, to Sebastian.
Apparently, I was very nasty to everyone, yelling, cursing, saying extremely hurtful things, and I recall none of it at all.
Since learning the very next day what I had done, I've been extremely depressed and ashamed of myself, beyond ashamed, guilt is running through me so badly, that when I think about what I possibly said to people, I fall apart and start crying uncontrollably.
I hurt people, I hurt people that I love and care about so much, and I cannot forgive myself even if they forgive me.
I hate my body, I hate all of the pain, I hate all of the pain medications, and medical tests that I endure, and I hate of the doctors, and I hate every damn minute of every damn day of my life.
I hate being alive because I am a prisoner of my body, it holds me captive with it's never ending pain and the medicines hold me prisoner because my body needs them now, is totally addicted to them, I am trapped, stuck in a world of pain, hurt, and medicine that has me so tight in it's grasp that I am suffocating.
Please do not mistake me saying that I hate being alive as me being suicidal, because I am not.
I am far too much of a coward to take my own life, and no, I do not even think about suicide, I just hate this life that I live, I hate it more than the word hate can ever fully describe.
I am just so full of guilt and shame because I have hurt people that I truly love and care for, and I honestly wouldn't blame them one little bit if they never forgive me for it, I don't expect forgiveness, I don't deserve their forgiveness, I don't want their forgiveness.
I want to feel this guilt and shame, I want it, I have earned it, what I did and said, the hurt that I caused, I earned it, it's mine and no one can take it from me.
As for my OCD, it gets worse and worse every day, my ticks get worse every day, I have caught myself in the middle of my little rituals and even though I've caught myself, I still can't stop doing them, as a matter of fact, it makes me do them again and again.
I've picked up some new ones too, I am now constantly wiping my eyes and wiping away my hair, pulling my pony tail tighter, re-arranging my head band, sweeping and brushing my hair out of my eyes, and then, if I see even a single strand of hair blowing in front of my eyes, if it will not stay in place away from my face, I will pull it right out of my head.
I grab the strand and follow it all of the way up to it's root at my scalp, and I yank it right from there, right at my scalp.
Eventually, I'll be taking some sort of medication for hair loss prevention because I'm pulling so much of it out.
Then, after yanking away even a single strand, I brush my clothes off from a sitting position here at my desk, then I stand and brush them off, and then I wipe off my entire desk, moving my mouse, the coaster I have for my cans of Diet Coke, my pencil box, my notepad, I move every single thing and wipe my desk with my right hand.
Then I wipe the monitor, and then I get up and wipe off my computer tower, and then the table on which it sits, and before you know it, I've wiped down everything within a 4 foot circle of my desk area.
It's getting worse, the ticks are getting worse, things set them off, and what sets them off the most are extreme feelings, nervousness, guilt, shame, fear, and so this week, I've put one hell of a polish on my whole computer area and probably yanked out a good couple hundred hairs.
This week has been hell for me.
I made a huge mistake taking my medications and I hurt people that I love, my sons, my friend Mindy.
I hurt them, and my guilt and shame is eating me alive and setting off my ticks almost hourly.
I catch myself crying, I catch myself barely breathing, I catch myself staring at nothing, pulling hairs out, wiping my desk, my mouse, wiping everything, and wiping in very particular patterns, always wiping everything down in an exact order, and in an exact pattern.
I fear that I'm going crazy, like really, truly, going crazy, like my brain is starting to shrivel up and dry out, like I am not going to be ok, like eventually, I'll be locked away or I'll be one of those crazy cat ladies who talks to her cats because they can't talk back, because even if you say hurtful things to them, they have no idea what you are saying and then I won't have to feel so guilty.
I hurt people that I love and care for, I made a huge mistake with my medications, I never do that, I never ever have taken the wrong medication, and because I did, I ended up hurting people that I love, and I am so so sorry, but I am not wanting forgiveness, I am not worthy of forgiveness, I am falling to pieces because of this damn body that imprisons me.
It's grasp is tight, it's prison walls are growing smaller, and I am in a place that I hate, a body that hurts me more and more each day, and I am full of guilt, shame, self pity, self loathing, and I am not forgivable, I do not want it even if it's there.
I can't even imagine what you go through physically and mentally as a result of your body and the medications, but I do know what it is like to hurt people terribly and feel incredible guilt associated with that. It's downright nasty.
I wish I could help make things better. *hugs*
Kat, I am so sorry you and your sons are having so many health problems. You have been so strong for your boys and they know and understand your current rage. Who wouldn't react just as you have because it is NOT fair for you to suffer so much. But this world is not fair and we hang in there as best we can. Those who love you know something of your pain and certainly will hold no grudges for your behavior when it all gets to be just too much! I hope your doctors can help you get some relief soon. I do send you my best wishes---wish I could help more!
Verna
Oh Kat, I'm sure no one blames you for the mistake you made or the things you said. They know you weren't yourself. The most you can do is apologize and make sure you take care of yourself and do what you can to prevent something like this happening again. You know those little circle stickers that come in like sheets of 4 or 5 different colors? What if you got some of those and put like a bright red sticker on the lid of any meds that you need to be super careful of? Just something to catch your attention and give you reason to slow down and think before you open that particular bottle. I mean, with everything you take you really run a high risk of something like this happening, especially when you're already ill and running on so little sleep. Just a thought.
Everything that Jade said.
Your boys and Mindy know what you did was an accident and a reaction to the pills. They understand. As for the OCD, isn't there something you can take for that (i know, I know -- more pills).
Everything that Jade said.
Your boys and Mindy know what you did was an accident and a reaction to the pills. They understand. As for the OCD, isn't there something you can take for that (i know, I know -- more pills).
I hope you don't think that you are the first person to make this kind of a mistake. Mistakes happen to all of us and I am very glad that you made it to the hospital and got the help that you needed. I am sure all of the folks involved will forgive you after all it was just a mistake and please mark the med bottles with those little dots or a marker of something so this never happens again. We love you and we know that your boys do to. Maybe counceling will help with OCD. We all do things that we regret but we also have to forgive each other and go on from there. We Love You!!!!
Kat, when I first read your post I had questioned myself if you had taken the wrong meds..but little did I know that it happened. It explains so much, it happens. It will be okay. It happens to the best of us. You cannot beat yourself up over this. But now this is my question to you, there are some meds that intensify OCD ticks in people. Do you think that one of your meds is causing some of these OCD's to come out more? I noticed it with my Mom when she first taking her xanax, she has issues with things being clean. She never had that before she started taking the meds. I took xanax years ago, and I had issues. I would get in the car...look all around, check my seatbelt, make sure my wallet was in its place and I couldn't just get in go. It made me nuts. People don't realize when you have OCD, its something that can't be stopped. Its just what we do. Then my progressed to pulling my hair out, I had bald spots cause I couldn't stand the coarsness of certain hair strands. Another thing too, its not like you can just stop medicine, I needed it and it killed me knowing I had issues.