Chapter 1

When I was a young child we lived on an Air Force base in California. (Where my little brother John was born). We had a set of Siamese cats. (They were very mean) I really do not remember much about my childhood but this is my earliest memories of my life so I figured this would be a good place to start.

I cannot remember the rooms at our place on base. I do not remember what my bedroom looked like or even if I shared a room with my sister. It is strange what our minds remembers and does not remember. I personally do not know why my mind in particular remembers the things it does. But these are my memories of my life. I am wracking my brain to remember when each took place but some of it is jumbled. I do not remember what school went to for which grade so some memories are mixed up. Until I hit the 5th grade we moved around so much that I only remember one house and the homes of my 2 sets of grandparents that I knew about. My mothers parents and my step-dads parents. I really do not remember the birth of my little brother and I only have a fleeting memory of those 2 cats clawing at me and chasing me around (and not in a fun and playful way).

My earliest memory is that I used to sneak vegetables as snacks instead of sweets and this one time I had gone and snuck a piece of celery. What makes it a funny memory is I was about 5 and I was hiding behind my mothers chair eating it and couldn’t figure out she knew that I was even there.

The only other memory I have of that time was my older sister Debbie and I were at the play area on base. There were other kids there I do not remember them…we were playing and running around and an older kid (teenager) or young man (late teens or early 20’s) came into the play area and threatened all of us with a pretty big knife. We all took off running and my sister and I ran home. When we got home my mother wanted us to run next door to borrow a cup of sugar. We were screaming that there was a bad man after us and she laughed at us and said there were no bad men where we were and demanded us to go next door to get that cup of sugar. We did and we survived but I was so scared and mad at mom for not believing us.  It gave me some anxieties my mother not believing us and making us go out there where we could be killed.

Short chapter in my life but this all I remember from the base in California.

 

 

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Depression or Feeling Sorry for Yourself?

I have been through a lot in my childhood and in my adulthood. I hold it together pretty good for the most part. Instead it was n a good face for family and friends and customers. I have moments where I just can’t hold it in anymore and I blow a fuse. 

I have posted my stories on sites labeled depression and places like that. But I get yelled at by some for feeling sorry for myself and needing validation.

I have some moments where I get super depressed and moments where I feel as though I need to make sure my feelings are not out in left field…so yeah I guess validation that I am human and not crazy. 

Sometimes I find myself thinking things like:

  • Would anyone miss me if I just kept driving?
  • When you any of my children care if I just went into this other lane and ran head on into this other vehicle coming towards me?
  • Does anyone really care about me?
  • Who can I trust? 
  • Who am I?
  • Who will remember me when I am gone?

I do a lot of thinking: so to quiet my head I watch tv, get on my phone, listen to nonsense until I go to sleep (just so I can get to sleep). Yes think on my way to work and my way home from work. I try to stay busy with anything so I don’t think. 
When I think to much I cry myself to sleep or cry at work, or cry while I am driving (not Reccomended). 

I am very sad inside. When it surfaces its ant easy to get it under wraps again. 

Now when I research depression I have the symptoms. I don’t like to self diagnose but I cannot afford to go to a therapist. Although I believe I need therapy as well as family therapy for myself husband and children.
Yes I feel sorry for myself. That is part of the sadness and depression. 

Now I do not know how everyone else that cannot afford a therapist deals with depression…but I do a really good fake it 90% of the time. If you ask my customers they will tell you that I am always awesome. My children could care less…as long as I don’t tell them how I truly feel about their choices in life. I am a people pleaser and hate it when people are upset with me. I appease people at the risk of my own internal pain. 

I am almost 50 and have a ton of internal pain. I really need to find a way to let it all out without the backlash that can make a person suicidal.