You Deserve To Have Me Count Against Your Dropout Rate

When I dropped out of High school I was months away from 18. So that still requires a legal gaurdian to sign you out. My father went with me that day. My Mom being a highschool teacher doesn’t have as flexible hours as my father.

When we got there they took us into the principals office. Where all of a sudden a realize I’ve been bombarded by an entire education team. The Superintendent, Prinicipal, both Vice Principals, counselors, teachers, school board reps… it was a circus all lined up in a horseshoe of overbearing male posturing. I waited to see who they had assigned to be ring leader.

Of course, the nice Principal and very nice vice Principal who had both known me since I was little had been given tthe job to do most of the speaking. I wonder how they were convinced it was right to treat me the way that followed? They tried reasoning and twisting and political speak.They all started chiming in as my father and I defended our points valiantly, though depressing that we had to fight to begin with. I was raised by a politician and I understood their bullshit wording and the reasons behind the frantic fae smiles. They didn’t think I’d done my research. Sorry folks, there’s a reason your losing one of the smartest kids in your school. Cause they wouldn’t find a way within NCLB to get my credits to work.

Yet still had the gall to try to convince me to “Withdraw with the intent to homeschool.” Which isn’t the same thing as dropping out of the system. The difference being I don’t count in their state report card as in their drop out rates.

Oh no sirs! We kept trying to explain, not that we got to talk much. Which is saying  a lot coming from a professional talker. Finally they did something that still baffles me and I am not sure is legal or forgivable.

They removed my Father from the room to talk to me alone. I am VERY very lucky I don’t get intimidated. Cause they then tried to convince me it was my parents making me do it. I flipped out on them. I’ve made all the big choices in my life since I was old enough for my parents to explain things and for me to do my own research and understand it.

How dare they minimize me that way, I was not someone to be “handled.” I refused to speak with them farther until they brought my Dad back in the room. But first I chastised them looking them each in the face, verbally reminding them of the promises, the contracts they’d signed agreeing to all of this. They had broken every promise toward my education they made when I first started High school.

Then I went silent and waited.

They started up again and I got mean. I flipped out. I heard later that the entire school’s front office heard me (I don’t have a quiet voice, it projects naturally, and I was furious at that point) knock them all down a peg. Ending with the fact that this was my decision. “Hand me the papers to sign and bring my father in so he can sign his half as well. Because I absolutely will count against your drop out rate. Because I DID the work. I did more than your students who are about to walk, but you won’t let me from a technicality that you aren’t willing to help us find a way around. Bad form. You’re educators. Not the people who derail those who want an education. When dealing with a student who has the system setup against them it’s important to have their back and find the loopholes and back doors in the system to help those students be the success stories they should. I don’t mean cheating, I’m talking about finding a way for them to have an equal chance. But you all, everyone of you, failed with me. So more than anyone I know, you deserve to have my number count against you on that dropout rate!”

They brought my father back in.

A few of them had tears in their eyes, all of them were apologizing.

All of them deserved to feel that way. They deserved to not get to cushion their emotions behind a desk. To recognize that if at any point one of them had tried to help figure out the new system when it came to me, we wouldn’t be there.

But we were and I dropped out. That was 12yrs ago

Will I still be who I am If I stop giving chances?

Will I still be who I am and want to be if I stop giving people chances? There are so many pros and cons to both sides. Not getting hurt, not experiencing something amazing, not being taken advantage of, not learning something, learning something painfully. The list goes on. But the biggest con for me; will I have lost my love for the faults in humanity and every individual’s ability to rise above it?

But would I still be the me who I believe in when I look in the mirror? The person who believes that others can change if anyone bothered to let them… and if cigarettes are any indication or break ups for that matter, it can take quite a few times before quitting- a pattern, a behavior- finally sticks. I certainly know it takes a lot of times messing up, depressingly often, for years, before there is any noticeable changes in myself. Even when they are something that I work on everyday.

I talk too much, I come off too strongly to people. This can be very off putting. With the abuse I’ve been through I have been told how awful these traits are to the point where I realized I haven’t believed I’m worth being friends with for quite a long time. The worst part is, it isn’t like anyone else I know doesn’t just reconfirm they don’t like these essential parts of me being who I am. I just wish one person not my parents would tell me that those parts of me are good.

Do I change these things to fit other people? To not deal with the heartache of being so lonely? If I do that, will my heart ache for who I am stifling, my true me? Maybe they are all just right, maybe I am the problem… I am too much. Is that a bad thing though?

If so… how do I change this part of me that is so strongly ingrained in to who I am? If I don’t change then do I put up with the heartache, attacks, bullying of all the people who claim to care? Before of course disappearing from my daily life, but not before they put in their two cents, with the rare occasion I do see them and the bullying starts again? They have already been walking away claiming to be the victims- as I have been lashing out at them for being dragged into my now old group’s nasty drama then having their self absorbed drama/hormone induced narcissism (I know, mildly hyperbolic, but really mildly sadly) jumping on me and blaming me for it.

I want nothing of those people. I want to start new. I want to start listening to my gut and not letting my mind, circumstance, and other people I trust too talk me out of those truths I know

Every time I don’t listen to my instincts I get royally screwed over. Almost always with that person escaping as the victim cause they are “pretty little liars,” but being as blunt as I am… I must be the bad guy right? I won’t play their gaslighting games anymore. I’ve seen therapists long enough for them to tell me I haven’t an ounce of narcissism in me, that they are projecting, that I am being gaslighted. But I still keep making new friends who do the same to me over again. When will it end? How do I actually walk away from these toxic people when they are as ingrained in to the small town life that I live as they are?

An example of why I can’t walk away from a big part of our old group of friends is that in order for my husband to get promoted at work I have to play nice to- nasty narcissists who are manipulative and abusive in order to get what they want. Who somehow, until recently, would gaslight me into believing it was me. I swore I was cutting these people out of my life. But I can’t not if I want my husband to get a salaried job and not just be on minimum wage. Thank goodness for Obamacare or I’d be screwed with no healthcare until he gets moved up. But if I don’t play small town politics with these crooks like they are friends then any chance for advancement is going to be a nasty fight.

Thank goodness the top bosses aren’t in that drama nonsense. Because if it goes wrong, which I’m hoping it’s my anxiety thinking there’s no chance it won’t, these bosses should be able to recognize that this person who is above my BFG and training him has a personal issue with me and is taking it out on BFG. I have an issue with my husband NOT having an issue with the things this guy has done to me and to BFG and other friends at this point– all for this guy’s own gain. But that is so very separate an issue from that of playing politics of a corporate wife, even on the barely above minimum wage level. Because this being a small town, me deciding not to keep toxic people in my life limits who I see drastically. Other than for networking for BFG’s work. Which being as small a town as it is means seeing almost ALL of them, so trying to cut out the toxic people is practically lip service to myself… at least I haven’t run into my ex-husband in all this. That would be the toping on the cake.

I’m done giving these people chances, but I have to keep playing like they matter to me, I have to keep giving them chances, as the more I see them or interact with any of them– the worse my now continuously self-perpetuating abuse cycle in my head grows, just by hearing the things they have to say to me, seeing their faces, knowing to my BFG what they did just doesn’t matter to him even if it matters to me. Other than that it may cause problems for him with work and said people. But my husband needs the promotions for our family. Am I being selfish to ask that these people not be in my thus our lives?

My psyche and ability to move past my PTSD sooner rather than later or never versus my husband actually having a job that supports us as a family? Do I ever have a choice that’s a good one or will it always be to sacrifice one piece of myself or another? So do I screw up our family’s future possibly by taking away chances from the people who have already burned me or do I keep being me, letting them in… knowing in the end I will walk away far more damaged than I was before? I ask this as if it is really a question, but perhaps it is all rhetorical, perhaps I really have no choice, after all I am only being me

… right?

 

My Britney Spears’ Moment

Remember when Britney Spears buzzed all her hair off and went totally nuts for a while? Well….

Yeah I know, I shaved my head at least 8 months ago at this point. But the shaving my head isn’t so much the imagery I’m trying to conjure, more the going totally nuts part. Maybe more specifically, an obscenely short lived marriage. Mine made it 7 months, how about you? Two weeks shy of dating for 4 years and a few months shy of being best friends for 8 years. I walked away from my marriage. 

I walked away from my future completely. It’s not like I don’t understand that I can get a new future. Believe me, with every diagnosis I have to reinvent parts of me to move forward in my life. But I never thought this would be a future I would walk away from. I had a husband who despite being dreadfully human; loved me and tried to take care of me, family that is ALWAYS there, professors who were possibly willing to work with my health conditions, an actual decision about what I want to do for a living (if I can hold a job that is), even knowing I am infertile I was comfortable with my next steps I was taking to make a family. I had every part of my life moving forward. Yet somehow I was still drowning and I hadn’t seen any shore yet. I’ve realized, that when it came down to it, I didn’t have any of those life thingies on lockdown. Starting with what was inside my own head all the way to what was going on with him in front of my eyes.

He needed help. Instead of helping himself, he placed me in the role of a parent practically, forcing me to carry him as he ever so quickly was spiraling into the Doldrums. Holding him up was like trying to keep the sand from falling between your fingers after a wave splashes over your hands. Not to mention my hands can only take so much before they cramp up;) –Spoonie joke!

He was so very scarily violent before medications. Only a few of our friends had seen him like this and never any of his family. The friends who had to sleep over in blankets outside my locked bedroom door to keep him from taking the door off it’s hinges to get to me while I was sleeping. Friends who would stay for days, because it wasn’t safe to leave me alone with him or him alone with himself for that matter. But once the medications started to work, he became somewhat functional. Someone who could even-out from his erratic emotions and behavior at times. He became a friend again. I still walked on eggshells, but I didn’t have to have protection outside the relationship anymore.

He prevented me from being able to be me, when the person you are with forever is supposed to strengthen the things that make you you. That was still a problem.

I’ve known I am polyamorous since I was in High school. I wasn’t sexually active until after High school, this gave me a number of years to understand what I felt about this. I knew part of what I was losing myself in with husband was denying the poly part of me. (I must point out that marriage does NOT affect the ability to be poly) Husband and I had always had an agreement that we would be poly, (I, already being so when he met me, and he was going to work on it for himself) but we needed to give each other some focus for awhile as per my policy with every new relationship. Awhile was supposed to be months and it turned into 3 and 1/2 years. Not kidding. With my health issues and husband learning to be my caregiver throughout the flareups and downs, his mental health issues coming to the surface, me having to go on Chemo, and our struggles with becoming adults in the outside world; there was never a good time to start moving our relationship into poly. But he did finally make a deadline after he proposed. I told him I had to be able to start moving into poly life again or I had to consider he wasn’t who I was supposed to be with. I thought that the marriage was a wonderful time for him to understand that he was my primary and another person would never be the reason he could lose me. He seemed to feel this would cement his “ownership” of me. I unfortunately didn’t realize this was how he saw it at the time. He set a date for a year after engagement to start opening the relationship and date other people. When that date rolled around he seemed like he had been hit by a semi truck. He even implied we hadn’t discussed it, ever!? Luckily I was able to get him to admit the bullshit behind that argument, originally anyway. Now that we are separated he is saying all sorts of things to previous mutual friends.

That’s the way break ups work though right? Especially as a girl with mostly male friends… They mostly sided with him. But that also tells me they are believing him when they’re told by husband that I would do particular not nice things, very nonfactual things interestingly enough. Stuff that if you know me you’d look at anybody suggesting them with a funny look. But apparently these friends didn’t actually know me, cause they sure seem to be believing his victim claiming nonsense. Yet they won’t believe me (other than the few who have seen him on the edge with his mental disorder) about his being mean or violent. Decidedly, could they have ever actually been my friends? It still hurts to feel this isolated when I was a victim of domestic violence, yet no one is willing to see him as an aggressor. To the point where they’d rather blame the victim as a liar.

I feel like I’m a stalled car in the center lane of a highway, trying to figure out which fork I take next, to actually get to any destination at this point.

I now definitively can say I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I know what I was doing, with him in my life, was worse for me, but at least I had a map to follow then. Now I’m struggling to understand what I actually lost when my back was turned so that I never actually saw it. Like the Silence in DOCTOR WHO, I always forgot unless I was looking right at it.

The biggest factors:

Being infertile- I always planned to be a Mom. I want to adopt so badly, always have. But I want to see what carrying a life feels like. Having lost so much in my life, having had so much of my self die inside me, it’s become extremely important to me to feel my body make life not take anymore of mine away.

Being a Burden

Not getting school done— I legitimately only have two excuses for not getting my work done. My frequently difficult health issues and my husband’s inability to do anything “adult life related” to take care of himself. When I had to help with his homework, his class scheduling, his doctor’s appointments, his, his, his…. etc. When in the world was I supposed to have time to work on my own work? Especially when the only times I wasn’t busy taking care of his real world stuff was because I was laid up in bed not in any condition to do anything but request help for even the smallest things (ex. picking up my water glass beside me so I can drink, it would get that bad).

Becoming socially isolated— Yeah, I know. That’s something I said I wouldn’t let happen again. That’s how my abusive ex got me under his control, why would I ever let myself be vulnerable like that again? Because when it comes down to it, I have to trust to love; and I really wanted the chance to love this man. So when he didn’t like me going out without him, because “what if something happened they can’t take care of you right,” I willingly conceded to his judgement. But in the back of my head I didn’t realize at the time, I was only doing this to prevent any “punishment” I would “deserve” otherwise. I was perpetuating the Abuse cycle myself. I didn’t stand up for what I wanted out of fear of the consequences. When did I become someone who was afraid of the consequences? What level of emotional, mental, or physical pain did it take for me to finally fold? Because I sure don’t remember the exact incident.

Feeling worthless— I still can’t shake that feeling of worthlessness that has been creeping up my spine all of these years. It doesn’t help that he would remind me regularly in much more clever wording; that I am indeed worthless and dependent on him. Even though he couldn’t even pick up his medications on his own!? When he was feeling worthless he did everything he could think of (not usually consciously) to tear me down until I felt the same way, brothers in arms I suppose? Well I didn’t want to be held in drowning arms any longer.

Still being abused— On some level I knew I married an abusive guy. Under no fault of his own is he like this though. Before you judge him, you have to understand, it’s like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. He didn’t mean to ever be cruel and rarely remembered much of the cruelty afterward. Such are the symptoms with his disease. But to find out he is doing “so much better” medically and the way he was treating me wasn’t doing better… started to be a wake up call for me. This cycle was too unhealthy to live in forever. If he was unwilling to make a solid daily effort toward bettering his mental health for his own benefit and mine I couldn’t stick around and wait to see if I’d get suicidal in turns along with him. But maybe that’s what he wanted? He has certainly implied that before. Would that have “justified it all” for him? Probably not, it would have just given him another way to self-hate. Which is the last thing I wanted since I really was looking for the confident nonvolatile man that I was friends with 8 years ago. I knew after the disease was triggered he would never be the same. Not being nice to me so that my days consist of walking on eggshells and not being safe wasn’t part of the bargain for me.

Being Poly— He wanted all the bells and whistles like you see with a new toy in a commercial. But he didn’t want to deal with actually having to assemble a new toy first. He didn’t seem to understand that there’s a lot more trust and work that goes into a multi-partner relationship than most mono relationships (not because they don’t also need it granted). He loved the lip-speak all about being poly and swinging, he didn’t love the reality. That would be why I resent this fact coming out so late in the game. He wanted to be poly or so he always told me. Until I got to be poly too, then what he wanted did a pretty big reversal. When it came down to it monogamy was so ingrained into husband’s head he didn’t know how to be or think any other way. Before I asked to be allowed to get rid of any OPP rules it was just an acknowledgeable permission to cheat on his part. He enjoyed these liberties immensely. But when I wanted to be allowed to play without him like he could without me the ingrained belief that it’s still cheating reared it’s ugly head. He didn’t know how to think outside the guilt-driven patterns of his belief in monogamy and took it out on me. That’s ok, there’s nothing wrong with being mono, but I wish he’d figured it out a little earlier along in the relationship. I wouldn’t have poured all of me into him then. I wouldn’t have given him every weakness I have as a weapon. I wouldn’t have done a lot of things actually, there are even more things though, I would have done.

That’s what really kills me. Realizing that I stepped back into the abuse cycle when I started dating him, even though I’d been climbing the ladder out of the “abused women’s well” rather steadily at that point. Somehow he triggered me right back into it. To the point where I passed up opportunities that ranged from mildly entertaining to most likely life changing. I wouldn’t be who I am today without having been through what I went through with Husband. But who would I be?

When the Results Aren’t Good

I’ve been playing phone tag with the OB’s office all day. They usually just leave a message. This time her message was to call back every time. I signed something at this particular office saying they could tell my info to me in a voice mail. They normally do! Telling me “it’s a little abnormal we want to see you again,” or “everything’s great, have any questions call,” whatever. But this time it was just back and forth. Come on guys, can you be more obvious?! If you are willing to leave a message telling me I have abnormal results then I’m going to ASSUME this particular situation is worse!
Well I got the call. Turns out the weird suspicions I’ve been having were right. I’m premenopausal. I’m 28 yrs old! It’s from the adrenal function issues I’ve had from long-term steroid use. They’re putting me on meds, oh but don’t worry, it’s all very normal (sure normal in women in their 30s or 40s to need this or just ME apparently) Blah Blah Blah she explains… All of these months of trying and I haven’t even been ovulating. None of it mattered. It made me cry. It really isn’t that bad. many women go through mild fertility assistance. But it just felt like one more thing my health was trying to take away from me.

I’ve always known I’d be a great mother. No matter how sick I get, I can take care of a kid. But now I might not have that option? For real?! That seems so surreal. But I guess the good thing is it’s still a might. We have a number of options left, starting with the Clomid I start in November!

It can be difficult to establish in my own head how I feel when I get bad news to do with my health anymore. I feel as though part of this comes from every few months learning something else was wrong with me for most of my life. Maybe I learned to just not cope? Perhaps I cope so well it flows over me? I think it is the case really. I go through all of the stages of coping so rapidly that most people don’t notice I had a problem to begin with.

**This does NOT extend to any other area of my life**

Instead this is why when I do encounter something that I can’t just let flow through me and go with it… I don’t know what to do. I shut down. I could be pouring myself into preparing for the eventual baby (which I have been doing for months), but I have such a hard time mustering the hope right now. I spent a lot of spoons/energy on hope these last number of months. I’ll figure out my way to cope with this, until I do, I remind myself I just haven’t found the next great thing yet.

Possibility of Infertility

It’s not that I don’t have support, it’s not that everyone isn’t listening when I need it; but boy do I feel alone.

My friends and family all try to remind me that I have embryos AND eggs frozen. Most people aren’t lucky enough to have either. They are also reminding that this concept isn’t coming out of know where. I had already considered this as a possible outcome of my health issues as well as my medication side-affects. But Lupus has taken something from me, every step of my life. Step by step I go and Lupus follows behind snatching it all out from under me, since I was a child! I just didn’t want pregnancy to be another one of those things that Lupus took away from me.

Step One Toward Baby World

Well the first steps involve a lot of doctors appointments and tests along with getting my cycle regulated and fertile. Since I was on birth control I have to be off it long enough for my body to start producing eggs again. This CAN take 3 months to a year or so. But I have the time limit of how long before my health deteriorates. If it gets bad enough then trying to have a child wouldn’t be a health-conscious choice at that point.

We see the High-Risk OB this week! We have been consulting with him over the phone and he has been talking with my other specialists. But husband and I get to meet him finally! We will find out what he plans for my Lupus with a pregnancy. I already have the bloodwork done, saw the dentist and eye doctor, my Oncologist’s Okay, my Rheumatologist’s excitement and curiosity. This really is it before the whole waiting for a positive test result.

Medicaid- Alien Status

I’m currently listed as an ALIEN on my insurance causing me to not be able to pick a specific insurance plan… Aliens are only allowed emergency care they explained to me… So I can’t see any of my doctors, specialists, or get my meds, unless I want to pay out of pocket? I’ve always been a US citizen, how did this over site occur you ask? Well, apparently someone in the Co. Job & Family Services had to have checked an incorrect box… yep. That’s the reason I’ve been having insurance issues since March, someone checked a wrong box. It took until JULY for me to find someone who actually knew what was wrong with my insurance. Feel my bitterness radiate.

I Thought the Dog Would Come First

Yeah, you’ve heard me correctly. After a lot of research on both my part and my specialists’ we decided it’s worth a try to have a baby at this point in my life. I know that seems crazy right?! Well it kinda did for me at first.

Like honestly, I thought I’d get a dog first.

But my best chance of remission is having a child at this point in my life. Not just of achieving remission, but of having a possibly healthy pregnancy. I’ll try to break it down.

For one thing this will require support: Obviously any pregnancy does. But this one would for multiple reasons. Money, Help with my health, help with tired.. doc drivers and house work

Affects on my Lupus: enzymes, arthritis studies, by-passing after flare-up, likelihood of remission otherwise, likelihood disease will limit my ability to carry an infant to viable term after 35

Risk to child Now: Likelihood fine if it survives first trimester miscarriages I do not test positive for the protein’s as of 2011 that make a second-third trimester miscarriage likely.

Risk to child Later: All risk escalates along with that of the mother, risk of fertility issues go up as well

Risk to mother Now: A typical High-risk Lupus pregnancy, possible fertility issues already

Risk to mother Later: The risk is not considered worth it. They wound’t even talk about later for me being pregnant. The doctors switched over to discuss us having surrogates.

Are We Really PLANNING For a Baby!?!

I’m trying to wrap my brain around what my husband and I will be doing over the next few months. The plan will lead to our lives changing for… well forever.

 

I haven’t had a chance to really process the idea that I may not actually be able to have children if I wait, like I initially planned. I mean I planned to have my college degree first, hell even a dog!! But the baby is coming first if I want that option. Unless I’m willing to risk not having it…

 

From the persecutive I have of all the options in my hand right now, the only spade I have to play right now is baby first college after. But boy is that a scary persecutive. Especially since society claims the “proper order” is very specific, of which I won’t be following remotely in this situation. I think what scares me most is knowing this is something I am ready (as you can be) for, but I don’t know if my life with this guy is ready for a baby on top of the complications of his mental disorder and incorporating it into taking care of my health and a baby.

My Brain’s a Goldfish In a Bowl

The goldfish swims around the bowl in circles. There’s an iHome on the desk the goldfish passes with every sweep. Wooh! iHome! *Goldfish is shocked* Swims around again passing the iHome; Wooh! iHome! *Goldfish is totally shocked by this new item in it’s view.

No matter what, by the time the goldfish gets around the bowl, it’s already forgotten about the iHome. This is my brain on Chemo.