Date: March 29, 2010
Today is Monday and I am going to try to write in this journal everyday. This will be about my life, the past, present and maybe what the future will be; if there will even be a future.
Starting when I was ten years old, growing up in a four bedroom house with two of my twelve brothers still home and all five of my sisters and my parents was a very trying time for me. Living with everyone in one small house and still feeling unloved and lonely was and still is so hard for me to understand. How can someone in a full house feel this way? One thing that reminds me of being ten years old is going to the doctor. This is when my whole life changed and was ruined forever. Sick with pneumonia, my parents took me to our family doctor, Dr. McElroy. Since we were a lot of kids, my parents were on welfare, so we went to a welfare doctor. Every doctor visit was a nightmare. Dr. McElroy would touch me in ways that was very uncomfortable. No one in my family ever knew what he did to me. My parents being old fashion, you didn’t talk about sexual things, even if they were happening to you. Starting my period, thinking that something inside had torn or I’m dying because my mother was too embarrassed to tell me about having periods! She waited until it came and just told me what to put on and never said another thing about it. So you see nothing about what Dr. McElroy did to me could be told to anyone. Back in the day, a doctor didn’t have to have a nurse present when doing examinations on patients; it was just you and the doctor in the room. My mother was too embarrassed to be in the same room when he would examine me so she would step out and I would be left alone for this man to touch me where ever he wanted and however he wanted. The reason for feeling that Dr. McElroy was touching me wrong was realized when over hearing my sisters talking one day about how they didn’t like how he touched them. This was when, my feelings were correct about not feeling right when going to his office. I have never told anyone in my family about this; only one person knows and that is my shrink. One day, when my life has ended, someone will run across this and see why my life was so messed up. Trying to get help from my shrink only got me drugs. Being put on Lithium, reperidol, paxol and who remembers what else, only made me numb from the bad memories, didn’t help me one bit. Once the pills wore off, the memories came back. The lithium was for manic depression; Reperidol - for hearing voices and seeing things; paxol also for depression and a sleep aid, Ambien. For three years these were taken in hopes of erasing my bad memories, but they never did. Never cured from the depression, nor the voices or shadows, just learned to live with it.. Having to learn what was real and what isn’t was very hard and sometimes just had to freak out when it was hard to make out what was real and what wasn’t. Don’t think what some Christians think, “demon possession.” Thinking that myself; it just isn’t so. People who go through a traumatic time and don’t deal with it, end up like me. Lonely, depressed, and crazy. Well, I will continue my life story tomorrow and it’s late and don’t want to keep you up all night.
