To whom this letter finds

I am emotionally numb. I recognize that my emotions are there deep beneath but I do not connect with them. Almost as if they are not real. As if I’m possibly inventing them, in an attempt to pacify a need in me to be normal and socially accepted. I don’t know if I’m depressed. I don’t know if what I feel is anxiety. I can’t speak in public and don’t leave my house much because I don’t want to socialize due to my negative self-image and inability to really empathize with others adequately. But is that considered anxiety? I don’t know. Sometimes I just assume that I am depressed because I suffer from suicidal ideations. I wouldn’t say that I am suicidal I just think about the possibility of not being ‘here’ (in my life, body, within grasp of expectation) as a comfort.
[ I suppose that I should maybe give you a more in-depth look at my situation and will start with the suicidal ideations from above and the escapist behavior in stressful situations that has been present in me since childhood. ]
As a child I lived in my own little world most of the time not identifying with my parents, siblings, peers. In my adolescence it grew more severe, acting out in private things that I knew were completely destructive behaviors that began to separate me further from others. (Cutting, bathing in bleach, and cutting my hair to name a few) I have had many suicide attempts in the past mostly overdoses of antidepressants or sleep medication. Usually spontaneous events brought on by almost no warning to me or family members. In my early twenties I was introduced to opiates as a way to escape and feel weightless. Instantly addicted my personality completely changed I became more outgoing in social situations and formed my first romantic relationship that in a short time lead to pregnancy.
[… now my addiction and motherhood.]
At age 23 I was a new mother desperately addicted to IV pain meds to manage my emotions and fears of what my life had become. Unable to fully connect to my daughter and the people around me, my only fear and anxiety was over feeling anything without the drug. The extremely short lapses in its use left me ill and completely unable to function in any capacity.
[ First stay in rehab.]
I entered rehab when my daughter was 10 months old. I got sucked into the euphoria of self-help and positive outlook that rehab offered for my 45 day stay. I was like a new person there, surrounded by other social outcasts, I felt somehow better off than the majority. The only overwhelming feeling I had to deal with on this ‘vacation’ from my life was guilt and confusion on how to find a way to make acceptable changes in my life. This was not exactly dealt with; it was more or less masked by this higher power deal they were pushing that I was supposed to surrender to (my interpretation at the time). Finding serenity to accept the things I couldn’t change the courage to change the things I could and the wisdom to know the difference was something I prayed whole heartedly for throughout the day. I did not want to leave this sanctuary whatsoever, but I did.
[After rehab]
My daughter was living with her paternal grandparents for this time and upon leaving rehab I would be a daily visitor in their home for a diner-bath-and bed ritual for months. Living with a childhood friend that I hadn’t had contact with on a regular basis in years, I felt like a burden right away on all who were in contact with me. I felt like my interactions with my daughter were contrived of what was expected of me rather than true emotional connection. I was providing for myself and daughter financially but I began feeling like my day to day interactions with everyone in my life were superficial and I began to sink into a deep emptiness.
[Relapse reentry to rehab/ losing custody of my daughter]
After 6 months of sobriety I woke up one night and drove 30 mile away to score some heroin. Shortly after this incident I got back in touch with my daughters father and picked back up on my addiction as abruptly as I had left it. This lasted just short of a year sneaking about and stealing from those closest to me to keep from having to go without my nearly $200/day habit. Towards the end I had racked up nearly 6 felonies over three parishes and an overwhelming need to end my life. I went inpatient at a psychiatric facility and began taking Paxil and Ambien.
A month after leaving I was due in court for the custody hearing on my daughter. I could not feel any emotion. I could not cry I could not even force myself to at the site of my daughter’s grandparents whose belief and support in me I had crushed. They were granted full custody with no opposition from me. I knew my instability well and had no delusions of gaining it promptly no matter what it would cost me. I entered rehab shortly after another 45 days in the same facility. Leaving with no more certainty with what had sunk in from the last time. This time I started attending meetings. My anxiety with large groups of people made it difficult to look at people there or speak out but I did find a small amount of comfort and hearing what was said in the meetings. I never got a sponsor or followed the steps mostly for fear of approaching someone and being rejected or worse disappointing yet another person.
[Criminal charges]
During this time I had to turn myself in on my charges in each parish, my mom footing the bill for my $7,000 lawyer and over $10,000 in restitution that I am currently still paying on. I ended up with 5 yrs. probation in the first parish and the other two followed with concurrent sentences dropped down to misdemeanors granted that I paid full restitution before sentencing. Being let off easy do to my lack of criminal record and the presence of the drug use and stints in rehab was truly a blessing I wasn’t expecting.
[Stresses and behavioral change]
The stress of the year through the court system, full time job as a cashier and awkward and infrequent visits with my daughter left me in a place of unrest. I couldn’t stand to think during this time trying to occupy myself with any little thing. I’d play Tetris at night on my phone until I would fall asleep, watched TV devoutly like never before. I became almost zombie like going through the motions of everything and not feeling or thinking too deeply. I’d push my daughter out of mind as fast as she appeared and locked myself away if the subject came up in conversation. Then all of a sudden it happened; I missed a scheduled visit with her because of my mindlessness. The next day I was overwhelmed by emotion of how to call her grandparents and explain how I had just forgotten. The day passed and I couldn’t pick up the phone. Before I knew it a week had passed even though I devoted a small amount of time each day on figuring out my phone call. I started a notebook filled with excuses but nothing ever looked or sounded right. How does a mother go so long without contacting their child how could I ever explain this feeling that I’m frozen at the thought of that contact?
It has been almost 3 years since I last had contact with my daughter or her grandparents. Not so much as even a letter. I kept it a secret for nearly a year from everyone I finally told my older brother when he was confiding in me about something petty. My guilt was simultaneously engulfed by self-hatred during the conversation; the look on his face was one of utter confusion, disbelief, and what I perceived as repulsion. I told my mother a month or so later, to this day she and my sister bring it up from time to time. My reaction to this is not listening and complete removal of myself mentally to avoid the deep stabs at my psyche. This usually deters the attacks and leaves them feeling hopeless as to my cause for a while. The stress of living my life with deeply flawed defense mechanisms and almost completely unemotional view of my reality began to warp my day to day life. At work couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t remember to send my monthly report into my probation officer, I was constantly misplacing things, and couldn’t hold a conversation to save my life. It was a constant mental fog, not knowing whether I was coming or going at times.
People around me tried so hard to reel me back in. Even my boss at the time took a special interest in me and began inviting me out and about on her store errands for pay or helping her clean her house knowing about my probation and my child support. I was grateful in a way but I also resented having to be social throughout it all. I couldn’t appropriately empathize with her during her stories and the relationship was very one sided with me reaping all the ‘benefit’ (although I thought of it as a burden) and unbeknownst to her, she was getting someone who had to fake polite conversation and imitate emotional response to her never ending chatter. I tried my hardest to be as much a homebody as I could; I tried to get through a day of work in the background cleaning as opposed to speaking to customers.
When I started avoiding my boss she began picking at my job performance which aside from the social aspect was leaps and bounds above the nearly adolescent characters that were employed there. Then one of our phone calls escalated into a verbal attack on my, part in a fit of rage. I’m still not sure what exactly came out of my mouth except the two weeks’ notice I had given towards the end of the conversation. Severely regretful and ashamed I apologized but didn’t make it through those two weeks. I contemplated going inpatient again but instead started going to a mental health center. I was prescribed Wellbutrin.
[Am I bipolar?]
A few months later took the entire prescription at once and ended up in another psychiatric facility. The only thing different about this attempt was that I had not remembered taking them. My ex-boss, still in contact with me, rushed over after getting off the phone with me acting funny. I was taken to the hospital stomach pumped and sent to the facility where I was put on Seroquel, Prozac, and Lithium diagnosed as bipolar in 7 short days. I still don’t believe that I am bipolar since I have never had much movement in my behavioral spectrum throughout my life… at least not to the extent they say someone with the diagnosis may go through. (like my mother)
I stayed on the medication for a couple of months while going to the mental health center. I met a doctor there that seemed interested in figuring out what was wrong with me since I have other symptoms that seemed more neurological to her. I was supposed to go have my levels tested on my lithium and some other tests done only I hadn’t been taking my medication and was not going to go until I had started back again. That never happened and I never went back to that nice doctor.
I can’t really explain my behavior I can only really guess. I don’t have the emotions to support most of what I do… which may leave most even me at times feeling that there’s probably a hint of laziness or self-willed inertia. I’m more inclined to think there has to be more to it than that. I have two months until my insurance kicks in and I plan on going to a psychologist and/ or neurologist, depending on who comes first and what is they may find necessary. I want to be better I just find it hard to be optimistic considering my life’s course. I know what ever will come will have to be intensive and long term to make any real changes in my maladaptive behavior, 28 years is a long time to reverse. I fear most the anxiety of being given the ultimatum of contacting my daughter in order to get better. I want contact but throughout my life there has never been a bigger fear inside of me than that; than looking into her eyes again after all these years. I can’t even try to imagine what will be there what questions what sadness what possible indifference to my reentry. I fear the wondering whether what I have to offer will be permanent or a fleeting sense of bravery that I should never be allowed to subject her to. (almost tears)
In ending this, my thoughts are ones of hopelessness and defeat that will quickly be pushed out of mind until my session in therapy.
Thanks for taking the time to read this.