mInD oF mEnAcE

Release the Beast

Posts Tagged ‘death

demons

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I used to think when people said they had demons in their head, it was just an over-dramatization  or misunderstanding they had within but now that I have these demons, I feel so naïve for downplaying the raw honesty of this statement.  I suppose it is human to try to minimize the hurt you may have caused for someone through words, actions, thoughts or whatever avenue taken but eventually they come back to haunt you. 

 I have certain memories in my head from childhood that just arrived about 2 ½ years ago.  As quickly as they entered my mind, I felt paralyzed by them.   I’m not sure if these memories were squashed, repressed, blocked out  or,  as  in the most recent development of my mind;  dreamed up and  not in fact genuine at all.  I quickly filed them away because clearly I was in no shape to confront them but now they are a constant.  They resurfaced last fall.

I’ve never felt such confusion in my own memories.

I have never confided in anyone what they are, I AM SO ASHAMED.

 I DO know that if, in fact, these things really did happen, I just don’t think I can live with it.  This is not an exaggeration.   I can’t even actually put them in to written words because I don’t think I would be able to handle reading them. I don’t know what I would be capable of if I accepted these thoughts.    

My suicide mission years ago was something I really wanted and although I haven’t attempted since, I still pray not to wake up at times and the shame of even this keeps me from succeeding in the life that I do have.   Three weeks ago I thought I was having a heart attack.  Instead of telling someone, I prayed to god to take me and I went to sleep.  I haven’t been to work since.  I have barely left the house.  I want to give up.

 It is never on purpose but each day as I try to wake up and start new, I just can’t.

Or won’t.

And don’t.

It is a cycle that I keep repeating and each and every time it happens, I die a little bit more.  I feel like I am losing myself.   

Eventually I somehow manage to get it together and try again, each time with such determination and I sincerely feel happy when I get into a routine but it never lasts….never even for a full month. 

 I shouldn’t say that because in January it did last for a full month, exactly 30 days, and then I fell off again.  I was so proud of these 30 days and almost like clockwork, as I began to feel confident that I could turn it around, I just let it go.  I could feel it slipping from my fingers, yet did nothing to stop it.

Why don’t I stop it?

 

 

I had a party for the holiday’s last year and if you were there you would have never guessed the pain I held inside that night.  I did the standard phony, happy girl routine I regularly perform and there were a few great moments but the night before and the hours after the party were spent in total self hatred.  I spent the entire next day absolutely hating myself.  I feel that way so often that the days normally blend into each other but every once in a while a memory will stand out and the feeling of loathing towards myself during that period of time is one of them.

I spend hours contemplating if this is mental illness or karma of past events.

Not long ago, I learned of a confession made by my father.  It seems that I was born because my mother raped him or this is the story he is telling anyway.  I never knew this and I am conflicted as to whether I needed to ever learn this.  On the one hand, it would explain why I have always felt I didn’t belong here on earth as a human being and why I absolutely hate myself in every way possible.  On the other hand, I feel so incredibly hurt by this thought of being a curse to my parents merely by being born.  It stings so badly, I can’t even type this without being in a full hysteria. 

I feel so worthless.

 

 

I don’t know if I have ever felt pain like this.  It’s different from being mistreated, having a broken heart or feeling lonely. It’s something I can never change.

This is the worst information I could have ever learned, maybe it will be the most healing somehow but for now it is the fuel the demons are feeding on and I am at a loss as to how to turn the devastation into something positive, something that will give me the strength to…..

I don’t even quite know how to complete that sentence.

Written by Tiffany Sams

May 24, 2011 at 4:07 pm

coast

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I feel like I coast through life just waiting, for what I’m not sure.  I read all sorts of self help material advising me to take life by the balls, be in control of my own destiny blah blah blah.  I then spend the next week or two feeling gulity for being so complacent or “not in control” then comes the shame, then all of the usual things that follow in a negative mind set.  Tomorrow is my birthdy and as I approach 35 years old, I wonder how this became my life.  When I was a child and feeling like a prisoner, I would envision my life as an adult….free from ridicule, abuse and lonliness but here I am in the same situation except now I am my own abuser…how ironic that everything I vowed not to be, has become exactly who I am.

I realize now that I am just waiting to die.  I have no real dreams anymore and as I coast to be free, I am so lonely in my own mind.

Written by Tiffany Sams

November 8, 2010 at 2:22 pm

bitter SWEET

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Once upon a time

Once upon a place

You were here with me

We were face to face

 

You said we’d be forever

Our love would never die

You said you always be there

Although it was a lie

 

I wonder why you did this

Why you’re not here today

Wonder what I did

To make you hurt me this way

 

Maybe it’s not your fault

Somehow you went amiss

But you never said goodbye

Not even one last kiss

 

Even though I am angry

And probably will never forget

The way that you just left me

To live in such regret

 

There will always be a place

In the center of my heart

That never will forget you

And feels we didn’t part

 

So even though you’ve killed

Any chance that I may have

To live a happy life

With someone else instead

 

My heart will always love you

As long as I may be

On this lonely earth

Without you, just me

 

 

Written by Tiffany Sams

March 17, 2009 at 11:59 pm

Critical Condition

with 7 comments

I had finally had enough. 

 

I went on the Internet to find some suicide advice and there it was.  My migraine medication at twenty pills was considered a lethal dose and I was off to the pharmacy to refill my last 75 pills…or so I thought.

 

My mind was clear and my heart was sure.  I had really tried to make the best out of what I was given in life, but some of us are just born bad and I felt that God’s cruel joke should finally come to an end.   I picked up a 6 pack of Budweiser’s to swallow my pills since my refrigerator only contained 4-5 ketchup packets from McDonald’s that were there long  before I moved in.

 

The pills were hard to get down in such abundance, so at 65 and two Buds, I felt I could stop without consequence and for a moment after they were consumed I had the urge to force myself to vomit, but the thought quickly passed and I laid down on the couch and said goodbye to my precious kitties.  The ex came by every Friday to play with them which is why I picked Thursday.  I wanted to make sure the pills had enough time to work their magic and ensure that the cats were well taken care of.   He always did say that he could provide a better home and now he would have the chance.

 

I thought that I would feel sad but my heart was content.  I was sick and tired of being sick and tired and I was finally doing something about it.  My attempts in the past were weak and futile, this one was for real and there was no possible way I could survive.  I waited for my sedatives to kick in and within 20 minutes I was unconscious.  I remember being suprised at how quickly I was getting tired and then….darkness.

 

I was proud. 

 

I woke up a few days later, bruised and battered and completely disappointed.  How could this have happened?  My entire life had been full of failures and this was the one thing that I was sure I would get right. 

 

How could this be?

 

It was a Thursday and my isolated lifestyle had ensured that there would be no suprise visitors.  

 

The next guest arrival would not be until Friday. 

 

Did my visitor come early? 

 

DId I take the wrong pills? 

 

Did I really take 65? 

 

What was going on and why was I here in the hospital with bruises on my body and a 24 hour nurse by my bedside?

 

And then the doctor came.

 

He explained to me how there was no rhyme or reason for me to be alive.  He told me that I should be dead and then he looked at me with pity and asked me how such a beautiful young woman with everything going for her would want to do this to herself.   I wanted to spit at him.  Who was he to judge me?  He knew nothing about my life and I have spent half of it pretending that I am someone I’m am not and this man was going to seriously try to convince me that I was lucky to be alive. 

 

I have heard this for years.  Everytime I hit a new low in life, someone comes out with some idiotic point of view that that always starts off the same.  “How could someone so beautiful”

 

WTF?

 

Since when does someone’s appearance determine their happiness and if I were the ugliest human being on the planet would it then be ok to be so screwed up and commit suicide?  As I wondered how this man was able to think that his advice was something I seriously cared for he said something that took me by suprise.

 

The doctor explained to me that during my period of unconsciousness I was calling out for my brother.

 

And chills went up and down my body.

 

I remember looking for Billy in what seemed like a hospital but with no other people or objects.  I remember wandering through the never ending hallway calling for him and asking him to take me to heaven but I couldn’t find him.  I just kept walking and walking with nothing in sight.  I was confused.  Why wouldn’t Billy come and get me?  I felt betrayed.  I wondered why he did not want to protect his little sister and take her to a better place.

 

And then it occured to me.

 

Billy would not let me die.

Written by Tiffany Sams

October 16, 2008 at 3:06 pm

FAMILY TREE

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Imagine…

 

Always having to skip over the family history section of every medical form.

 

Not knowing about your ancestry or where you came from.

 

Never really knowing if your parents were married.

 

Not knowing the names of your Grandparents.

 

Knowing that you have a half sister out there and wondering is she ever thought about you.

 

Making the dreaded family tree in elementary school.

 

I feel that if this still is a practice in school today, it should be stopped immediately.  This was utter torture for me every single time that I had to do it   The feeling of embarrassment and humiliation that I felt when I didn’t have names to put in the little boxes of my cut out tree was overwhelming.    I hated my self.  I hated all of the relatives that felt it would be easier to pretend I didn’t exist.  I hated the way my teachers fumbled over their words as they tried to assure me that it was okay that I only had four other names to put in the boxes.

 

But most of all, I hated the day that my father told me at my brothers funereal that  I had “to understand Tiffany, your mother was crazy and I just couldn’t deal with her, but now you are an adult and I would love to get to know you”.  My father asked me to dinner for our fifth possibly sixth “dinner” together. 

 

I was 28 years old.

 

The man who only called every few years when his father was in the States because he needed to trick my grandfather into thinking he saw his kids suddenly wanted to “get to know me”.

 

I never hated my father until this day.  I had a void there before.  I always wondered why it was that I felt so indifferent or why my blood ran so cold that I didn’t have love or hate towards him.  I wanted to hate this man for my entile life and I really tried but I just couldn’t.  I had always imagined that it was the beast who wouldn’t let him see me.  For years I gave him every excuse I could  think of to give myself the gift of thinking that someone out there may have wanted me.

 

I was never sure if it was true but there was always the possiblity.  I didn’t know what his side was and didn’t want to.  I never asked and was perfectly pleased with keeping things the way they were. 

 

But now he just threw it out there.  BOOM!

 

He knew the beast was crazy and he left his children there alone and defenseless.  And now, the only other person in my whole life who ever really knew what I went through was gone.

 

AND I HAD TO UNDERSTAND? 

 

No! 

 

I will never understand how a man can know that his children are in the hands of a monster and just choose to walk away.   I can not undersatnd how Billy and I suffered years of torment merely because my father couldn’t handle the beast.

 

 I went homeless.

 

I went hungry.

 

I went into addiction. 

 

I went to college.

 

I worked hard.

 

I managed to keep a smile on my face every single day so that everyone would think I was happy while I was dying on the inside.

 

AND I HAD TO UNDERSTAND?

 

No!

 

Understand that my father is an immature selfish man who can not handle his responsibilities?

 

Understand how my father hurts people when he doesn’t even know that he is doing it?

 

Understnad how my father could possibly think that I could understand this?

 

I did understand.

I am my father.  

And I hate him for it.

 

I have never been the same since this day. 

 

It was the day I had to bury my brother and the day my father broke my heart. 

 

It was the first day since I was 15 that I really cried and I couldn’t stop. 

 

It was the day I decided to destroy my life with addiction. 

 

It started with my brother’s cancer pills that were left behind.

 

Written by Tiffany Sams

October 8, 2008 at 12:55 am

Cancer Found Billy

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Scorpio.  That is my birth sign.  Said to be stubborn, vindictive, spiteful, unforgiving and revengeful, by any professional astrologist, Scorpios are mostly known for their sting.  As I do find this a rather accurate account of my personality, I still have difficulty believing that I became this way due to the month of my birth.  After all, my brothers share many of these same traits and they were both born in February.

 

Would I be this way if I had grown up differently, would my brothers? Do children born in February and November all have parents that screwed up?  These are questions that constantly roam around in my mind.  I’m sure my brother’s have these kinds of questions too, or had in Billy’s case.  He died from cancer when he was 33 years old. 

 

Billy was troubled by his upbringing.  Of course the cruelty affected him in irreversible ways, but I think always being the poorest family in town affected him even more. 

Billy was the over achiever of our family, Billy was actually the only achiever of our family.  For as long as I can remember his two major goals in life were to become a millionaire by age 30 and to escape the beast whom Billy so affectionately referred to as white trash.  In every instance of his very short but very successful life, then end product was always on his mind – this nearly always meant more money.  The thought of having more and more money ruled his life and he had his first success at age 18.  I am almost certain it was close to the actual day he turned 18 when my big brother escaped. Billy left the beast and never returned home again.

 

As heartbroken as I am that he is gone, in the six months that Billy lived with the sickness that would forever change the lives of all who knew him, my brother achieved a goal that had long been set for him by his sister.  Along with a new perspective on what is truly important in life, cancer brought a certain contentment into my brothers life.  A contentment he had never experienced before and I believe never would have had it not been for this rapid turn of events.  Terminal cancer brought him happiness with his loving wife Barb who would have always done anything for Billy, for which he never appreciated until she became his care taker, his lover and his best friend. 

 

Barb is a nurse and Billy hated do-gooders and especially couldn’t understand why his wife would want to work long hard hours for such a small amount of money.  He just couldn’t understand. 

 

 Until he got sick. 

 

Billy was at the mercy of nurses and he had the most wonderful nurses that could be had.  Altruism was a sign of weakness to my brother, but it is this weakness that became his greatest strength as he allowed these kind and caring people to enter his world.  He learned that to be a nurse was not about money, it was about people.  Most of all Billy finally let Barb love him the way she always did anyway, but now he allowed his heart and body to experience it in a way he never could.   And he loved her back…in a way that he never would.

 

In those last months of his life my brother finally felt love.  I mean he really felt love.  He allowed himself to give in to the weakness of being loved and being cared for.  See, for me and Billy, giving in to love means opening yourself up for pain, and emotional pain is far more dangerous then the physical anguish caused by his cancer.  And if cancer brought Billy this feeling – finally – after years of feeling unworthy, then I am happy for it. 

 

Billy died a millionaire, Billy died free from the beast but most of all Billy died with love in his heart.  Money could never buy this love and Billy knew it.

 

 I have never felt this love.  I came close once, but my lover was human and made mistakes and I couldn’t get over it.  I have never allowed myself to fully give in to the vulnerability of love.  I will always feel the void of that loss.

 

 I was so close. 

 

 

 

 

Written by Tiffany Sams

September 16, 2008 at 11:06 pm

Posted in Torture of the Mind

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