My Silent Battle

I’m sorry this is so long. It’s my first post. But, it’s a juicy story filled with a lot of pain. I promise.

I’m not sure where to even begin. 10/11 years ago, or the recent events? What I do know is…it doesn’t matter if I kill myself of not. The beautiful star filled sky will still appear each night. The warm glowing sun will continue to rise every morning. The seasons will still slowly change and flow into each other in a never ending rhythm. Beyond me, everyone else’s life will still continue on. So, why not? My father always says, “Suicide is the most selfish act one person can commit.” But honestly, what is so selfish about not wanting to be in pain anymore? Mentally, emotionally, physically. How many times do I have to tell people, including my own parents, how much I hate my life before they believe me? Obviously not enough. But I know there has always been something special about me. I’ve known what it’s been for about 10/11 years. I’m the kind of girl that you’ll find dead, laying on a bed at some cheap hotel, clinging to empty pill bottles. I know it’s bound to happen at some point in my life. The only question, is when? I’ve been attempting suicide for 10/11 years off and on. There’s nothing that anyone can do to help me anymore. Not therapy, mental hospitals, medication, prayers, nothing. I’m just this fragile little girl who comes off so strong, acts like nothing is wrong (can you believe people actually believe that shit?!) but, I guess this girl is just really great at lying. That, or people who see the pain in my eyes, don’t care. And I hate that I fall too fast, crash too hard, forgive too easily, and I care too much. Every part of me is broken. I can’t be fixed. I’m a lost cause.

When I was 13 I found out I had F.A.P. It’s genetic and my mom has it, just not as bad as me. I had my colon taken out in May when I was 13 (about to be 14). There were thousands of precancerous polyps in my colon. I had another surgery when I was 14 at the end of July (My birthday is on 7/24). Then I had an internal infection and had to have another surgery to fix it in October when I was 14. I hated my mom for giving this to me, for giving birth to me. These aren’t small scars. The scars go from my last rib, to my pelvic region. And I was in constant pain, in and out of the emergency room about every 2-3 months. No one could figure out why I was in so much pain. Then when I was 16, on Thanksgiving, I was rushed to the hospital because I couldn’t keep anything down. No foods, no liquids.  I lost 20 pounds in the span of a week. The opened me, again, from top to bottom. They found tumors. The doctor removed the largest two, large grapefruit sized. He had to leave the others, they were smaller, but they were on vital organs and arteries. He didn’t want me to bleed out on the operating table. And there is no cure for the tumors. I still have them today. But they can only stabalize them. But…the medication is $1,200 a month for 30 pills. By now, I’ve attempted suicide about…6 times, drug overdose. But somehow I never took enough. For God’s sake, I took about 200-300 aspirin and tylenol. And I’ve been cutting by now, and anorexia, bulimia…any kind of self hard I could do, I would. Then in July when I was 16 (July 4th, 2008) I was in a fireworks accident. I was assisting with a professional show. I remember everything. I ended up being in a coma for a week, in a burn unit for 2 weeks. I lost my thumb, half my middle finger, and the tip of my ring finger on my right hand, and I have 3rd degree burns all over my right arm. I had to go through PTSD therapy, and 1 year of physical therapy. When I was 18, in May I tried to do a toe to thumb transplant…which failed because of my tumors, my body rejected itself. So now I’m missing my big toe! In September when I was 18 I found out I have an inoperable brain tumor on my pineal gland in my brain as well as pseudotumor cerebri which is increased intracranial pressure. I can go blind at any point because of this. Uhmmm lets see, what’s next. When I was 19 (in August) I finally had facial cosmetic surgery to fix the scaring on my face. And I moved into an apartment with 3 other people. Lost my waitressing job that October because the customers were complaining that I was ‘different’ because of my hand. I went into a deep depression and abused my pain medication, sleeping medication, and valium with alcohol. I was raped in my own apartment while I was sleeping. And I didn’t go to the police because he was my supposed to be boyfriend, but I did leave him. Then my life started going uphill. I got a better job, met a new guy, stopped drinking, started taking my meds like I was supposed to, got engaged. The engagement didn’t last long. He was controlling. Didn’t like my one tattoo I had, didn’t let me have a drink occasionally, etc. I moved home with my parents. And I tried to go back to the dating scene, but I was raped, yet again…by a supposed to be boyfriend. I took my sleeping medication and went to bed and he took advantage of that. I went to the cops this time, but the cops said it was a ‘he said/she said’ case. No conviction. I attempted suicide 3 more times by now. In August when I was 20 I met someone online and we both fell head over heels in love with eachother. After a year, I moved to Chicago to be with him. And, I get a call from the Cook County Jail one night that he didn’t come home. He said he got in trouble for a fight because he was defending himself. 3 months later, he’s still in jail. Another 3 months pass, still there. I found of he was in jail for 1st degree murder. And he was in a gang. And he shot an innocent person who didn’t deserve to die. I was still living in Chicago with his family and my cutting got bad. In one night I cut my leg over 100 times. In July when I was 22 (before my birthday) I quit my job, backed my things, and left Chicago in the matter of 2 hours. I started going to therapy, go diagnosed with severe depression, bipolar disorder, and severe anxiety. I started getting better because of the medication. I got a job at a hospital as a medical assistant this past September. And I just got fired June 15th because I became very ill and had to leave work for a week while I was in the hospital. Yesterday I found out that I may possibly have to have my gallbladder removed, and that I may have a new tumor that’s in a horrible place.  I feel like God is saying ‘Fuck you Lisa!’…like, what did I do so wrong to be given this much shit. I’m planning my suicide. I’m going to overdose. With a mixture of Percocet, Fentanyl, Xanax, and Seroquel mixed with alcohol. I’m just trying to find the right time.

My sister acts like she is so much higher above me. Says that she will pray for me. Seriously…fuck you, you stuck up *****. The only prayer I need, is to ask God to kill me. And my father? He dismisses every emotional feeling I have like depression, hate, anger. My own mother blamed me for getting raped. I can’t trust anyone in my family. I have only 1 true friend that I actually talk to.

Is everyone in my life so blind? Can they not see the pain I’m in? Or do they even care?