My Dark Secret

This will be my 20th weekend here in the darkness lying in bed. Pair of sweat pants, this computer and some depressing movies that understand me. A beautiful childhood, horrible teens. I was a nobody, got raped by my uncle and my father got killed. Dreamed of being a Hollywood actress, went after my dream. Literally lost my mind in New York city on my first try at 18. This bipolar disorder has followed me ever since. In my 20’s and early 30’s, I had many chances of a great life, beautiful boyfriends, was in magazines and even on NBC national T.V, but everything was always destroyed and gone cause my manic episodes would scare everyone and make me look too sick for anything.

Years went by and I thought that at one point from jumping high somewhere in the sky I would stick. I always had so many great expectations and dreams. But when I got my piece of heaven it was always temporary and followed by never ending hell. Indescribable hell! In and out of hospitals, irrational behavior, delusional thinking telling me I was the Bible’s Eve… So many crazy things, so shameful and over the top that every time I lost everyone and everything.

Not to make this post too long… After a psychotic manic episode that led to a very sad breakup with a Swedish guy soo much loved, I wound up back in Colombia (where I am originally from) without a penny, depressed as usual and not wanting to live. Months later, along came a savior, a friend of mine who said he would marry me to get to get me back into the States. I had lost my green card to a similar bipolar situation that had happened in previous years.

After a year in Switzerland living with him just as friends, my 2nd green card was finally approved and since I never wanted or gave him anything beyond  a friendship he of course thought it was time to get rid of me. We flew to New York where I was left to make a life for myself. I had nothing more than 3 paid nights at a hotel and a hundred bucks to start a live with. Where was I going to go? What was I going to do?

And this is how I became a Black Swan… I wish! And where my dark secret begins. In the movie this girl is extremely psychotic and wants to kill herself just like me. Nothing different from some of you perhaps as well. But I also became a dancer just not the same type, if you know what I mean. I hate calling myself a stripper so much really, but that’s the real raw reality. This is the part where you probably become judgmental and where I hope that I am not a fool by writing about this.

Two years and a half I lasted total. I made lots of money and was living life at the extreme (always somehow did), but I was very miserable. Hated that life, the men there, being a piece of meat, obsessed with my looks, having to lie, and the emptiness that came from all of it.

After a year and a traumatic relationship with a married guy that still hunts me ’till this day, I decided to quit. I had enough money in the bank to live off and wanted to change my life but I was too depressed to try anything. After a few long months, I got a little better and decided I wanted to be a TV show host and an interviewer for the small screen. What a dream! I started my own company and wound up spending my remaining money in camera and production equipment. I enjoyed doing it and I even had the talent for it; but I completely failed at this unrealistic project.

By the end of last year’s winter I had no money so I was forced to go back to that horrible place and this time wore a wig. I was paranoid that all these people that thought I was a “decent person” and that would never imagine such a thing from me would recognize me. I would cry every time and only went when I had no food or had to pay some bill. I soon became so stressed that my mind chose to disconnect and get sick AGAIN!

Wound up in a mental hospital for one and a half months, completely lost in space. Among the medication I was given, I had lithium forced on me. That fucking medication makes me fat and makes my skin me break out. I had known that from experience but when you’re locked up, you can’t do anything. I came back to an almost empty apartment once I was released. You see, during my last manic state I had become some kind of Mother Theresa and had started helping the homeless on the streets. It so happens that one of them had gotten a hold of my key and while I was away , he had stolen all that was dear to me.

So there I was completely broke, owing two months rent, feeling depressed and too fat and broken out to go dance to somehow “save” my life there. There was no way. My mom came to rescue me and so like at the beginning of this story, here I am 5 months later, lying on this bed, with this computer, writing this post not knowing what to do next. I wanted to kill myself, I really really did. I am physiologically ready for it but unfortunately, apparently physical wins. There is simply NO painless way out of this world. It’s all gory and horrible! And if you don’t die, what a destiny! Wish I could take some pills and peacefully forever go to sleep but I now know that doesn’t work and it’s just a fantasy.

Now, I only have to choices: Go back to New York or stay here. Which one would you pick?

If I stay here I am a loser living with my mom. I am alone having to see how all of my cousins and the people I know have the husband, the dog, the house and the two kids. Get a shitty job that would pay much less than everyone else’s. I have no skills, no degree. I don’t like Colombian men and I hate this country. Everyone has a life and is happy. I have no life here.

If I go back to New York, I will have to from scratch again a for what? How long before I hit that wall again? Where will this “dancing” lead me anyway? It’s a short “career” that eats you up inside and I have very little time left ( I am in my 30’s). There’s no future, It’s a dead end. Men will only look for fun and no one will ever take me seriously. So sad and lonely. Won’t it be just a matter of time before landing the psych ward again? The whole story repeating itself.

I’m trapped in this life and I don’t have the guts to scape. I really hope you don’t judge me cause you don’t know me and you don’t know much more than a few paragraphs here. I don’t judge anyone. If I can’t write this here under a fake name where then where can I talk about this secret of mine? I really appreciate you reading. Good night, V.