Troubled Path

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Chapter 1: Dark Beginning
(by jennifer palmer, added on 7 November 2008 10:08 AM)


I wastwenty-one staring at a computer screen listening to jaws ramble on at me about something i cant even remember right now. Maybe it was the pills or the year that has gone by but I know that something inside me dropped down like a rock in water. I put down my wireless keyboard walked through my mom's bedroom door that used to be mine before she moved her crack addicted friends in. I heard my little cousin playing and mom and I think grandma but things are really unclear. I went to the bathroom and sat and thought hoping to find a solution for my problems. I had just been forced out of school because my bipolar had gotten too unstable. I found myself walking back in the bedroom as if in a daze reaching to the locked cabinet where i had put my medicine. I opened a bottle of juice and washed the first bottle down. It was the klonipan then i washed down the trileptal and put the bottles including the juice bottle on the top of my first dorm mini fridge. Then i picked up the keyboard to my computer and wrote a suicide note put the keyboard back down and waited for death to come. Mom called me to eat corned bief and cabbage I always loved the way she made it so i did as i finished i went to walk back to the bedroom and almost fell I could of not said anything but i did. I looked at mom and said come with me. I showed her the computer she just grabbed me and led me off to the bathroom. I found myself in the shower on a temp reserved for people who dont mind bathing with ice blocks drinking vinigar. "You piece of fucking shit" my mother screamed "How the fuck could you with babies in the house how the fuck could you do this fucking bull shit the day before my birthday." Finally i started to puke but it had been over forty-five minutes a least fifteen before she had called me to eat. I knew that wouldn't work finally she told me to clean myself up I fell from the tub it felt like i had just tripped over a cord on the floor i didnt even notice it. She got me dressed somehow and we drove to the hospital where she told me "get out I don't give a shit if you live or die." I tried to hold my cane but couldn't I couldnt walk in a straight line. I found myself falling i grabbed a wheelchair as soon as i got through the door or someone put me in one i dont know. But i did tell them what happened they led me to a room they inserted a tube for uran after i had slipped out in to dream land of the medication induced kind. And prior to that they made me take charcoal that stuff is gross but they mixed it with chocolate milk and i dont remember much except waking up in a hospital bed with these odd cuff things on my legs to keep the circulation going. I found myself thinking of what had happened talking to social workers and other staff. Then I was sent the next day to day break. It is a dool diagnosis center for people who have substance abuse and mental illness issues. I had been there the summer before when my moms friend whom she dated three months later had sexually asulted me. I found myself walking back in and in a room with enough chemicals to kill myself with. I flat out told them i was going to use the cleaning supplies to kill myself a few days later and was put in a psychiatric unit. The first i might add where each room had a tv and they let me have my cell phone. I then went to live with my aunt uncle and cousin went to groups and that is where the real path began. The path that i am still on the troubled path to healing. I found myself back at day break after three months with my relatives smoking a pack a day and praying for somewhere to call my home. People like Synthia bill carol jeremy travis and many others i cant remember their names. They talked to me they taught me and god knows they respected me and gave me hope. I found myself working the program i was in doing my groups and talking to deb james and barb my friends in the groups james made me laugh a lot he shocked me by telling me that in i think 84 he was eighteen and in the army and punched his sergeant for some reason i cant remember. I thought he was maybe 22 25 somethin like that and to be honest, i had a bit of a crush on him. I remember many times going fishing and other things in those groups and if i could, i think i would go back but i know that place that town isn't a home it could be but where? Where could i turn there isnt any resources that are anywhere close to where i live now.


Chapter 2: When One door opens take it
(by jennifer palmer, added on 28 January 2009 02:17 PM)


I found myself in Kansas city 21 alone and no help. I had moved up here because my boyfriend at the time had helped me find the place. Now, i sit here trying to pick up the peaces of the past year or so the finding of stuff getting my stuff from Columbia and trying to put myself in some sort of job or school. A lot has happened on this path, but I know i can make it if one, i have faith. two, i dream the bipolar disorder still screws with me, but i know i will make it through. I found myself staring at the world like through a very dirty mirror the other day trying to see a clear picture. God knows i haven't been an angel but hey what can ya do? Lets start with the psychiatric stuff. I remember telling this to Carla my therapist she is staring at me as if to say go on dear. I have been in the system for god 10 11 years now I say. As my eyes tear up. She smiles and keeps me talking she is always good at that and likes my ability to judge sighted people's expressions and the way i can reflect and describe those reflections from a sighted prospective. I keep talking to her talking about hospitalization after hospitalization and wishing i could do it all again. I guess it wasn't as bad as some people would think, the kids weren't violent or anything, but i was scared I noticed that i seemed to be reflecting so i guess that could be the beginning to more the past I am going to take this open door because I know that everything happens for a reason. Plus when there is an open door filled with hope hell, take it. I will try to tell the story of my teens and maybe you will not be traumatized for life, don't be its not as bad as it looks. I was thirteen, it was november and i was suicidal. The school told my dad to put me in the hospital. And thats the start. I will get to it in time i am sure, but it is still hard to tell you.


Chapter 3: Being Blind
(by Jonathon, added on 11 February 2009 01:22 AM)


In the groups, people sometimes ask me "What is it like to be blind?" No matter how sad I am, that always makes me laugh.

Most people are blind, after all. They pass others on the street without saying hello, without seeing them, without caring. They fumble through life seeing things only from their own perspective, oblivious to the needs and pain of others.

When you think about it, we're all the same. We were born on this planet without asking for life, and soon we'll die. In the meantime, we mostly look out for ourselves.

Yet we never seem to really see one another. Our society embraces competition, as if life is a struggle against every other person on the planet; as if we're all enemies. But, are our lives really better if others have less? If we hurt others more than they hurt us, does that mean we win?

It's funny how the most obvious things catch people by surprise. "I had no idea my husband had been cheating on me for years," someone says. Or "He was such a quiet man. Who would have thought he was angry enough to kill?"

What is it like to be blind? Ask a capitalist. Ask a bully. Ask someone who has no idea her daughter wants to die.

In the groups we see each other. But what happens when we leave? When the sharing is over, and you're out on the street, do you see any of the people you pass? Don't forget: You won't see if you don't look.




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