A chapter from my memoir about cutting, abuse, ect..

[vampedvixen]

Not sure if anyone wants to read this but it's something I've been working on this year. This chapter gets very heavily into the abuse, the codependency, the cutting, hospitalization, depression and fear that I experienced two years ago. It's a week in my life that changed so much for me. Too much sometimes.

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I woke up thinking that Easter 2012 was going to be amazing. My friends Anon and Ken had come over to help us celebrate, our tenant Laura would be there and this would be my first holiday with my new boyfriend. Because he was always running off to Florida to celebrate all the other holidays and also because we'd only started dating in January, we'd never gotten a chance to spend one of these special days together. His mother was down in Florida with his sister and he seemed upset to be spending the day away from them, but he was okay for the most part.

Dan went out earlier in the day to buy some groceries for the dinner the he wanted to prepare for all of us. Being an Italian, food and feasting were always a big part of any celebration. When he came home, I was sitting on his computer. He seemed a bit annoyed by the fact that he had to ask me to help him unload the car but I didn't realize how much food he had bought for that day, and I was a bit engrossed in what I was doing on the internet as well.

There were other problems that morning as well. Dan was always a bit of an introvert. He liked his house the way he kept it and he kept mostly to himself if the people surrounding him weren't considered family. He was also pissed off because he couldn't find the flash drive to his computer, which I was helping him look for that afternoon though he was still blaming me for having lost it himself. If I only kept house better, he wouldn't have lost it. Also having my friends there for Easter just seemed to rile him up in ways that he would not address directly or speak of other than the occasional idle complaints.

I thought he was a bit grumpy that morning-- but didn't mention it. I didn't want to set him off.

Instead, I occupied my time by joking around with Anon and Ken. It was rare that I got to see my friends those days. My car had stopped running a few months ago and hadn't been fixed yet. Any hanging out that we did was with his friends. I was going through a lot at that time as well, so I mostly kept to myself. It was easy when your best friend-- or who I thought of my best friend at the time-- was living with you.

I was on the couch upstairs with Anon laughing over the fact that Ken had said something earlier about giving me a massage and whether that would be a full frontal massage. I had no interest in Ken but I found it kind of funny that he still wanted me to notice him, especially when I had a boyfriend now.

Ken and Laura were downstairs watching over the food when Anon and I were upstairs joking around. Dan though, was nearby and listening. I shrugged it off though, telling him, “Don't worry, honey, I won't ever let him give me a full frontal.”

It was just my exhibitionist self running its mouth.

I never thought it would lead to what happened next.

Dan listened for a while, until he went into his bedroom and returned to the living room holding a rifle. He pointed it at Anon and I while we were still sitting on the couch. He looked pissed off, and my mind went absolutely blank. There was a gun pointing right at me. My father was a huge gun advocate my whole life and he'd always told me that no matter if you're one hundred percent sure that a gun is empty, you never never NEVER point it at something that you don't want dead.

I sat there, frozen in place while Dan said something-- I didn't even catch his words, I was too shocked at the fact that there was a gun still pointing at me. He must have realized he got the point across. What point though? What the hell was he trying to prove? That I couldn't talk about other boys in front of him, that he wanted to kill me, that he would do anything to protect what he saw as his property.

In the past, he'd told me about the guns he kept in his house. Dan told me not to touch any of them because most of them were loaded. He'd inherited them from his father who was a bouncer at a club and took guns off of criminals regularly. Back when Dan was first explaining to me that I shouldn't play with the guns in his house, he'd told me also that he thought he could kill someone if he needed to-- he was always playing up the Italian gangster stereotype. Back then, he said he would do it to protect me or to protect his house, if that's what it took. This didn't seem anything like being protected though. It felt absolutely threatening.

While I was still recovering and my heart was racing in my throat, Anon look at me bewildered. “Was there just a gun pointed at me?”

“I-- I don't.. I... yes?” I tried to find words, but my mind was still racing. In the new panic attack that was coming on fast, all I knew was that I needed to get out of there. I told Anon that I didn't feel safe in the house, that I hadn't ever really felt safe there and now this-- now he had pointed a gun at me. It wasn't something I ever expected from anyone in my life, and yet the man who I supposedly loved had threatened my life in such a blunt and scary manner.

Anon tried to play it off, but I think he could see that I was flipping out. I was just so scared. I didn't know what was going to happen next. I didn't even understand why there had been a gun pointed at me in the first place. Who does something like that? How could I love someone who did something like that? I went downstairs, still shaking and when Laura asked me why all I could say was, “Dan just pointed a gun at me. I-- I think I need to get out of here.”

She looked at me shocked-- but there was also a hint of understanding in her eyes. Back when me and Anon had hung out with her last, right around the time of ICON, she'd tried to tell Anon that there was a dark side to Dan and it could be scary. She'd been a tenant of his before but had left because of one of his verbal assaults. She seemed to know that he was capable of this new scary action.

I walked down to the nearby mall, rubbing my hands over my arms. I was terrified. I was hurt. I was going to be homeless again because there was no possible way I was going back into that house again. I still tried to reach out to Dan again, through txt message. We conversed a little bit back and forth that afternoon.

ME (1:21pm): and you're not sorry at all are you? another case of me just wanting drama... because you pointed a gun at my head. if I really wanted drama I would just tell everyone what you just did and tell them how not sorry you are and then call the police. I'm tired of being afraid of my own boyfriend. I'm having panic attacks because ONCE again my life is in danger and I'm not overreacting and you're not sorry, right? how fucking romantic!

ME (1:22pm): I should NEVER have to be afraid of my own boyfriend. EVER!

ME (1:24pm): I deserve a life where guns AREN'T pointed at my head. At the very least. I'm sorry you don't see it that way.

ME (1:27pm): You just want a girl you can push around. You want me to trust you and say you're not a bad guy... and yet you are the only person in my life who has ever pointed a gun at my fucking head.

ME (1:28pm): and even after all this i STILL helped you look for your flashdrive... mainly because I'm an idiot who actually gives a fuck about you.

ME (1:31pm): Oh, got nothing to say this time? you're always so fucking full of words about how everything is my fault. go ahead, try to lay the blame on me this time.

DAN (1:40pm): You are doing exactly what we agreed not to do. I gave you the drama you were asking for and you didn't like it. You weren't happy until I overreacted to the ken thing so I gave you want you wanted. You weren't happy until we fought so you could keep the idea alive that we can't have a nice holiday together.

DAN (1:40pm): You don't want happiness so you sabotage it every chance you get. I went out, bought bagels and food for dinner for you and your friends and you don't appreciate any of it. If you think I would hurt you shame on you. Last proof that you wanted to fight was the 'thank god it wasn't last year where I almost slept with JC. Shame on you, everything is both parties fault, but by far you instigated this.

DAN (1:47pm): I love you please come back home. The whole problem is Anon is wearing his icon badge (editor's note: we fought at icon, it was a cursed event). I stomped it. We can work it out.

ME (2:12pm): Your reaction to me not liking the fact that you pointed a gun at my head it so say I "instigated" it? Sounds a lot like "I only punched her cause she was asking for it". I didn't want drama today and how dare you basically say I was asking for it. You can't control your emotions so you blame everyone else? and about me not wanting happiness, that's bullshit and you're projecting your own feelings on me, because I WANT to be happy, but I want to be happy with someone who treats me good and doesn't say "she was asking for it".

ME (2:13pm): After your road rage attacks.. and now this?! and you still blame me.. this situation is getting far too abusive for my tastes.

ME (2:18pm): I'm tired of being afraid of you, of trying to appease you in hopes you won't flip out, getting blamed by you, worrying about being some perfect version of a girlfriend you cooked up in your head, having panic attacks because I'm scared of what you might do, being in danger because you're driving dangerously with me in the car or pointing a gun at my head... I am just so fucking tired of being afraid of you. and that's not something I just made up out of the blue. It's something I've been telling you for a long time now, and you're still putting me in danger anyway. you react badly to everything and I can't walk on eggshells anymore. I love you but I will NOT take this abuse anymore. you have a serious anger problem and it's putting my life in danger time and again, even when I try to do everything in my power (like look for your fucking flashdrive) just to make you like me and to make you happy. I keep wondering how many times I can be put in danger before something happens, before it's too late for apologies.

ME (2:20pm): I also keep wondering why I keep falling in love with people who continuously put their needs before my life. and no, it's NOT Anon's fault, and not everything is mine. It's yours. You were the one who put my life in danger at least 4 times in the past 2 weeks.

ME (2:31pm): Oh, and also, I mention another guy and you point a gun at me? and you seriously think it was perfectly fine reacting like that? I'm tired of your jealous streak just because some bitch cheated on you a fuck ton of years ago. guess what?! that wasn't fucking me and I'm tired of paying for her mistakes.

DAN (2:32pm): I think this is total bullshit, it's an excuse. You keep pushing me, because you want to be let down. I am not dangerous. I have anger issues but not violent issues. You are the one who never takes responsibility for anything you do. We won't ever have a good relationship because you have your problems to work through, and instead of doing it you freak out and run away. I know I am not perfect but I am a good person. I like me. The things about myself I am having problems with I am working to fix. I love you, if you can't live this way then you should move on. It will break both our hearts but we never resolve anything and here we are again in a situation that we're both unhappy. If this was resolved correctly from the beginning, it won't come to this.

ME (2:33pm): How can you even blame the fact that you pointed a gun at me on ME?! That is so fucking abusive and manipulative. Is the message you want me walking away with REALLY "if you just did what I wanted, I wouldn't have to point guns at you"?! and you think this is OK?????

DAN (2:42pm): I was making a point, you don't like that way I do things. I don't like the way you do things. I don't appreciate being manipulated. I am tired of being attacked while I sugar coat my feelings. I love you, I want this to work but you need to take some responsibility for your actions and stop pushing all your problems on me. You don't appreciate all I do for you and only focus on the qualities you don't like about me. Again, I love you but if I can't make you happy and you don't like who I am and are scared of me then you should leave me. I will be heartbroken but want the best for you. However, if you want this to work you should come back home and forget about this until therapy and enjoy dinner with your friends. There is nothing more I can say. You played a stupid game, and I played a stupid game, what else is there to say. I am sorry it had to come to that, but it did.

ME (2:44pm): You have NO limits. you're willing to do ANYTIHNG including putting me in danger to get what you want. How can I go back to a situation like that and look myself in the mirror?! I love you but strangely enough, I love myself and my safety more. This kind of behavior if getting more and more frequent and escalating in severity and that really scares me.

DAN (2:45pm): I said my piece. If you fear me then leave me. I find the how thing to be nonsense.

ME (2:46pm): And the fact that I'm a drama queen because I value my life and safety is sad.

DAN (2:46pm): I have so many people who know me and love me and know what a great guy I am. Blowing things out of proportion is sad. I have never hurt you and never would other than emotionally and that in my opinion is a two-way street.

ME (2:55pm): I worked as a social worker. Pointing a gun at someone IS covered as domestic violence because it is called "menacing 2nd degree".

He never replied back. So I cut the conversation there.

Not once did he say he was sorry. Not once did he say it was just a joke. He only blamed me.

It was all my fault. If I didn't overreact, if I had only gone along with the joke, if I only let the person that I loved point a gun at me without flipping out everything would have been fine then.

While I was walking around the mall, I also logged onto Facebook through my phone. I wrote a single post that I figured would be my wake up call. I needed other people to know what I was dealing with so that I would finally get it in my head that I couldn't return there. I needed people to hold me accountable for living there because I was far too much in love to see what was best for me at that point in time. “Just had a gun pointed at my head. Check please!”

Most people told me to leave, once I started replying to people asking me who had done it. I answered every question as honestly as I could.

His friend Jay said that I was obviously insane though, because Dan was such a good person that he would never do something like that. He hadn't been there though. He didn't live through what I did on a regular basis. Then Laura, who I thought would at least stay out of it if not agree with me, said that she had been there and it hadn't happened like I said. Only problem with that was that she would say whatever she needed to in order to keep a roof over her head as well. And she'd been downstairs the whole time this situation was playing out. His friends were nothing but a bunch of liars who had not even been in the same room. They didn't make for the best eye witnesses.

When I finally did return to the house, I asked Ken and Anon to get me the hell out of there. Dan didn't want me coming back into his house anyway. There would be no Easter dinner, no celebration-- just chaos. I would be back for my stuff at some point in the future.

We drove around with me still panicking. I didn't really have anywhere to go. That was always Dan's ammunition against me. Though he'd started off by giving me a “safe” place to stay, it always ended up with him crossing over boundaries while refusing to give me any respect because it was his house. I was only taking up space in it.

I called up my friend Debra finally, asking her if I could come stay at her place for a while. She agreed. When I got there, I told her some more about what happened. She said then that Dan agreed that he did point a gun at me, but that it had been empty. She said she'd told him that it was a really stupid thing to do even if it was empty. I didn't believe him though. He'd always said the guns in his house were loaded.

I crashed at her house that night, so hurt and confused. He didn't even want to speak to me. He didn't want to make things better. He just wanted to blame everything on me and walk away with the excuse that it was empty or that it was just a joke. It hadn't been a joke to me. The time for joking was absolutely over. It was time to get real.

I tried to talk to Jay because he had been my friend in the past, but nothing really came of that conversation. He was going to take Dan's side no matter what I said, no matter what kind of proof I could show him. “Bros stuck together” or some other such nonsense. The lines were already being drawn and had I seen it, I would have said they'd already been drawn way back in the past. I was only just waking up to realize that everything I held dear those few months was held together by a man who wasn't held together at all.

The betrayal of who I saw as mutual friends at that point stung almost as much as anything else. I very rarely opened up to people but I'd been getting out of my shell in bits and pieces throughout the past year, learning to trust again, to let people in-- only to realize the sad truth that there were still fake friends in my life. I had a gun pointed at me and they were all rushing to defend him. It was ludicrous. Even Anon, who I'd known for years said some things to Debra about trusting what I was saying-- but he had been sitting right there on the damn couch next to me. He was the one who had asked whether there was a gun pointed at him or not, because we were both so unsure. It seemed Dan's way of manipulating people worked in his favor ten-fold that day. People were beginning to disbelieve what they saw with their own two eyes, things that they had made statements about only hours earlier.

on the other side of the coin, people were coming out of the woodwork to support me. My cousin John, asked me for Dan's phone number because he was going to talk man-to-man with him. Not knowing what else to do, I gave it to him-- only to have John call Dan up and threaten that if he touched me again John would make sure they never found his body. I sighed when I found that out. I should have known what he would do. John always liked to talk big. I never thought any of it would come to where we were now though. This whole situation was just crazy.

That night I tiptoed through Debra's house so I could write an email to Dan. I just wanted him to get it-- to finally fucking understand where I stood on so many of the things that I wasn't talking about. There was such a fear of saying things in his house, such a fear of setting him off. I wasn't in his house anymore though. I could say what was on my mind. And I would. I wrote a very long letter explaining everything that was wrong in our relationship, hoping to get him to see my side of things.

He never said a word in reply.

I'd poured my heart out and there was nothing he could or would say after that.

His friends were saying enough for him at any rate. People were already starting to talk about how I as a liar. It was almost too much for me to handle. None of them had even been there. None of them knew what it was like living in that house. None of them knew how hard I tried to make everything right and good and just what Dan wanted so that he would never get upset or angry or flip out.

After spending some time at Debra's house, I decided to go home again. I was going to try living there with my mother, sister and grandfather again. I was only there for a few days before I decided that I absolutely hated it. My sister was asserting more of her control. The whole house smelled like smoke now since she smoked wherever and whenever she pleased. With my lungs still recovering from the black mold incident, it was literally very painful to be in that house.

I was also watching my mother deteriorate. She looked horrible. While I was staying there over the next two weeks, my sister and I even had to take my mother to the hospital. The doctor said that she was experiencing detox from alcohol-- at six in the morning when we were pretty sure that she'd stopped drinking at around midnight. She couldn't even sleep anymore, for fear that a hangover would kill her or hospitalize her.

My whole head was spinning. I was losing everything.

And I dreamed at night of that living room with Dan-- laughing and joking there, enjoying our own special brand of craziness-- and I craved getting back to some kind of normalcy like that. Back then it seemed like such a better option than living in my own house. I think that was a big part of why I kept going back. That and because I thought I still loved him after everything.

I borrowed my grandfather's car to return to his house a few days later. I figured I would just pick up my things from his house and maybe then I would feel like I'd gotten some kind of closure. When I arrived though, Dan told me to wait outside because he'd already packed everything of mine into tight little garbage bags. Out with the old trash, I supposed-- even if meant that all my breakables and non-bendable things got smooshed in the process.

I tried to tell him that I had things hidden in the house and I wanted to see if he had gotten everything, but he wouldn't let me in his home. I barged in through, refusing to leave until I was sure that I had gotten everything I owned. I didn't want to lose any more to this battle that was waging between us.

He grabbed my arm, telling me I wasn't allowed in his house. I took my purse off my shoulder though and started hitting him in the head with it. I just wanted him to leave me alone. I didn't care if I was trespassing. He'd stolen so much from me. I just didn't care.

I raced upstairs, while he followed close behind. I just wanted to know if my things were still there. I wasn't leaving anything behind. I couldn't let him just keep my stuff. I needed to know that this was it. This was the end. I needed closure. I needed escape.

I continued running through the house, until I saw it.

My escape. I wouldn't have to go back home again. I would have to see my mother die in front of me. I wouldn't have to have my friends betray me. I wouldn't have to love someone who so clearly did not love me back.

I picked up the knife he kept on the desk in the living room. He asked me if I was going to use it on him. I laughed. Obviously not. I ran into what used to be my bedroom, it was empty of all my things-- everything was packed up and put away. And I just saw red-- and I started cutting my wrist until red was all I saw. I'd been a cutter before. I had used self-harm as a way to deal with things for the past decade now. Now one ever knew though. Some of my old friends had seen scars on my wrist before, but I always played it off as cat scratches or bike accidents.

I think I wanted Dan to see me though, to see who he was really with all these months. I didn't care what he thought of me anymore. This was me. I cut and I bled and I felt things. I wasn't some fucking Stepford Wife that he was trying to make me into anymore. I was screaming as I pulled the knife across my wrist again and again. He tackled me onto the floor, not knowing what else to do. He tried to wrench the knife away from me, but I was like a wild thing. I wanted the pain. I wanted it out. I needed to just fucking bleed until everything I'd been through was flushed from my system.

He finally wrestled the knife away but then he started telling me that I was insane and that he was calling the cops. I didn't know what else to do-- so I ran from his house. I walked around the neighborhood for what felt like a few hours, until I returned to see him talking to the cops in front of his house. I don't know why I didn't turn and walk the other way. Partly it was because I knew I needed my grandfather's car keys to get his car back home. My bag, with the keys inside, was already waiting for me in the cop car.

The police asked to see my wrist when I started talking to them. I just wanted my bag and to go home, but they wouldn't let me. One of them put on these latex blue gloves and started to inspect my wrist, it was like they were afraid to touch me. Everyone was afraid to get close to me. I knew it was for their own germ protection, but it just felt like I was being inspected and laid out by people with these latex gloves-- and right in front of my ex too. It was heartbreaking and humiliating.

They made me put handcuffs on and said they were going to take me to Stony Brook University, to the mental ward against my will. I couldn't even say anything. I let them put me in the car while Dan watched. He was smiling and thanking them. The cops started to tell him where I was going to be taken, but I yelled at them, “Don't tell him where I'm going! He'll just turn around and tell everyone. All his goddamn friends!”

I could never really learn to leave well enough alone.

Once I was in the back of the cop car we drove off to the university. We had to stop at the fire station for something. One of the cops got out, but the other stayed behind and asked me, “What were you doing in that house?”

“I wanted my things back.”

“You used to live with him?”

“Up until a few days ago when he pointed a gun at me.”

“So he pointed a gun at you and you still went back? Why didn't you ask for police back up?”

I didn't know. I guess I thought in my head that things would be fine. He still had to be the same boy I danced with at Independence Hall, somewhere buried behind that horrible exterior. “I don't know.”

“You shouldn't hang around people who point guns at you.” He told me. It seemed like he was worried about me and was trying to talk to me on that level. “Why would you live with someone like that?”

“...I was in love.” I said. It sounded quiet, lost-- and absolutely absurd since I was sitting there in a police car, handcuffed right only a few days after having a gun pointed at me.

“No, you weren't.” The cop said softly. At the time, I wanted to refute him automatically-- my brain jumped right into defense mode, but I stayed quiet. Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn't know if I was in love or not. Maybe I had been taken in by someone who could never and did never love me.

We eventually did make it to the hospital. A nurse checked me in and told me to wait in the waiting room until a social worker was able to speak to me since all the doctors were busy at the time. I prayed silently that this would not be a social worker that I knew from school. They took my bag from me there and made me change into hospital socks just in case I thought that hanging myself with my shoelaces was a viable option.

I paced back and forth in the hallway adjacent to the waiting room. I still couldn't believe I was there. I had always cut very peacefully before, never once had anyone interfered. This was what real craziness looked like though. The ward felt claustrophobic and I was sure that everyone was starring at me. The nurses sat behind their damn plexiglass barrier walls, watching all the patients as if we were going to start climbing the walls at any moment. I also wondered what this would do to my finances. I didn't have a lot of money left and I remembered hearing stories of people who had been committed against their will for weeks only to walk out with tens of thousands of dollars in debt.

To pass the time, I watch television with one of the other women in the waiting room. She was going on and on about how men sucked, so it seemed like someone with which I could share a few words. She claimed that her ex beat her in the head but she was still stalking him. “Because I know he really loves me, even though he's a piece of shit. He'll come back, you'll see. We're gonna get married someday. He just has to stop beating me in the head and telling everyone I'm crazy. But he loves me, I bet.”

It was like looking into a mirror to a future I really didn't want.

For an hour, she went on and on about this guy who'd beat her in the head. Then the social worker was finally free to talk to me. I was glad to finally get the show on the road. We went into a small office where she asked me a few questions. She wanted to know how I cut and to see the marks. She asked me if I had any suicidal ideations, I said no. She was the first person that day to understand that cutters are usually not suicidal and most of the cut marks I'd made she said were pretty superficial.

She said they would release me but I would have to follow up on this with a therapist. However, they didn't want to keep me for observation because it wasn't too serious. I told them that I already had a therapist, so she said she would gladly call her and let her know what happened. I agreed that that would be fine. She also wanted to call my mother to tell her to come get me. I didn't know if my mom would even be sober, but I couldn't be released to anyone else. Then she let me go back into the waiting room.

The sudden shift was funny-- once the rest of the staff realized I wasn't a danger to myself or others, they let me wander around the place a little more freely. I was still pacing, which they said made them a bit nervous but I couldn't help it. I felt so claustrophobic there. I'd never felt so confined in my life. Losing my freedom was actually very scary. After I was getting released though, they said I could go take a nap in one of the extra beds so I went in there and tried to do some calming yoga.

About ten minutes later, one of the nurses asked if there was anyone else that they could call to come get me because my mother “sounded a little tipsy”. I shook my head. I really couldn't believe it. I was in the hospital and my mother couldn't even be relied on to come help. I told them to try my aunt, which they found more successful.

My aunt came and got me, and I told her a little of what happened. She was shocked, but annoyed that Dan would have called the cops on me. I told her my car was still in Deer Park, so she thankfully drove me all the way out there which was a half hour drive.

I got into my grandfather's car and my aunt told me she would meet me at home.

I drove around to Dan's house. He was putting new locks on his front door. I was finally being locked out of his home and heart forever. He didn't want to speak to me, so all I said was the word, “Shilo.”

I was there for my cat. I wanted her back. Then I was leaving for good this time.

Except that I would have to be back again to get my car, which was already packed with all my belongings now. He really just wanted me to get out of his life, and I was okay with that at that point. After being betrayed by him calling in the authorities there were just nothing more to say.

Laura got Shilo for me and said a few kind words, but I was done with her nonsense. She was kind to my face but then would bad talk me through txt or Facebook. It was like she was terrified to speaking to anyone honestly unless it was through some kind of screen. I got my cat, returned to my grandfather's car and I was gone. By the next day everyone was talking about how I had gone crazy and how insanity ran in my family. I felt betrayed by everyone. I even felt betrayed by myself. How had things gotten so out of control so fast?

I talked to my therapist, who was really worried about what she'd heard but she too realized that cutting was a defense mechanism, albeit a bad one. She told me that if I ever felt the need to do that again she wanted me to call her on the phone first. I told her I was so upset because the rumors were going around already. Some people were even saying that if I had died it would have been better for everyone and laughing about what they thought was a suicide attempt. My therapist, who was really on the ball about a lot of things, cut right through the bullshit and said, “People who say things like that are assholes.”

Plain and simple.

A few days later, Debra and Anon helped me go get my car. Anon yelled at me the whole way there because of what I had done and asked why I had gone there alone. I just kept thinking it would be okay. My car had to be jumped. Dan said if it would get me out of his life, he would gladly supply Debra with jumper cables to get my car running again. Then he stood on the steps of the house, glaring at me until I was finally gone.

A few hours later, I was talking with Faith, who was up in New York visiting relatives. I told her Dan and his friends were going around telling everyone I was crazy. She told me not to listen to any of them because I wasn't. Then I confided in her about all that had happened while I was in the house last time and my trip to the hospital. She told me, “That might have been a crazy situation, but I know you and I don't think you're crazy.”

All the while I was still just trying to figure out what was up and what was down. My whole life was spinning down the drain, but I held out hope that in some possible way it would get better. I held onto what Faith told me, knowing that she'd been friends with me for years. She would have known if I was crazy by that point. It was first time my issues really hit me in my face and it hurt. And yet, I was still incredibly angry and betrayed. I couldn't even figure out which emotions to tackle first; there were just too many of them hitting me like waves at an ocean, over and over and over again.