This week was a bit chaotic to say the least, I received some bad news, pissed off an entire congregation, spiraled a bit, had an intervention and a very intense, exhausting therapy session.
I received a phone call from my mother I knew before she even said anything that it was bad news. My mother never calls me, she informed me that she is dying. She was diagnosed with stage 3 kidney failure, the doctors told her there’s not much they can do other than a possible transplant. The outlook is not very good and so that’s happening. I honestly did not expect for it to really affect me like it did, my mother and I do not have the best relationship. She wanted me to come down for Easter and reminded me that I was the “strong one” of the family and my sisters desperately needed me to be that person for them. It’s ironic really, I am anything but the strong one, I do not cope well with bad news. I spiral and I break far too easily. I maybe able to mask my weakness with a smile but I am not strong. My parents always thought of me as the strong one growing up just because I was good at pretending that everything was just fine, I don’t know how they haven’t realized how horrible I am with things like this. I always fake it and then I spiral and it gets bad. I really did not know what to say to her other than I would be there. So I prepared myself the best I could broke out the fake happy, peppy McKenzie and went overboard with pretending like everything was fine. I wasn’t taking the news very well, but I smiled anyways.
I fell back onto my faithful companion of alcohol this past week after my mothers bad news. I couldn’t deal with everything sober and certainly could not keep up the facade of being totally fine. I went down to my parents prepared with a bottle of vodka in my passenger seat and a flask in my purse. Obviously this was a recipe for disaster. My mother insisted I attend Sunday Service even though she knows I do not practice this religion anymore. This led to the entire church judging me and the sermon some how being turned into a lecture about how some children of God have strayed far away from what they were brought up in.
He then continued and preached about how God will try to punish those who have strayed away, may that be by causing bad things to happen to them or whatever. He stared at me while saying all of this and then said the most fucked up thing ever. “God will try to break you down for you to see your wrong doing and encourage you to turn to him. He will do whatever it takes to waken you and bring you back to him, he may even go as far as causing you to be raped in order for you to turn back to God. Everything that happens to you is Gods way, you deserve all that you get.” I honestly could not believe what he said, and couldn’t help but feel disgusted with this nonsense, the congregation agreed with him with Amens coming from various pews. I stood up and looked dead at this guy and told him he was wrong, so incredibly wrong. I told him no one deserves to be raped and for him to be a suppose preacher and say that, is complete bullshit. And then I marched myself right out of that church with everyone staring at me. I couldn’t believe he would say this and I couldn’t believe that these people actually agreed with him! I opened my flask and downed the vodka while waiting for the service to end.
My parents and sisters did not take my reaction to the pastors sermon very well and of course I was the one in the wrong. Easter dinner resulted in my mother and father yelling at me, reminding me how disappointed they are with me and how I’m ruining their lives apparently. I didn’t really have much to say, there was no reason in arguing with them and I planned to leave once they were finished so I didn’t really care. I figured things couldn’t get much worse but I was wrong. My mother noticed the bandaid on my arm and of course she had to know what happened which resulted in her holding my arm down while my sister ripped it off and then my mom flipping out because of the self harm cuts. My father told me I needed to grow up and if I wanted to kill myself so badly I should just go ahead and do it. I left after that and of course was not in the best head space.
I returned to my apartment two hours away where I consumed a great deal of alcohol and kinda went off the deep end with a carving knife. My best friend Chris showed up and flipped out when she saw what I had done, my arms were a bloody mess and I fucked up majorly. She helped cleaned up the blood and tried to attend to the wounds which were pretty bad. She stayed with me that night and the next day decided I was in need of an intervention. So Chris, Justice and my (complicated) boyfriend Adam sat down with me and we had this huge discussion about how I am spiraling and I need people to fall back on. They wanted to be my people, I really did not want anyone else in my life. All I seem to do is disappoint everyone and I really did not want to bring anyone else into this mess called my life. Chris told me I needed to either allow them to be there for me and count on them to be the ones to go to when things get bad or I wasn’t going to get any better. She told me I had to have people to help me get through all of this and I just needed to trust them. I reluctantly agreed and so now I have people so that’s a thing.
They ended up staying with me that night and we now have this agreement that one of them will be there at my apartment on Tuesdays, so I have someone in case therapy is too much like it was last week. I also made an agreement with them that I will contact them if I begin to spiral and I won’t do anything drastic before they get there. So that’s a thing.
I went to therapy yesterday where we did more EMDR and it was rough. They don’t tell you just how much of a toll EMDR will have on you. My therapist insisted we go back to that night I was raped and relive the experience once more. We didn’t get far into the session before I freaked out and panicked. I couldn’t deal with all of it, it was a bit too much and I began clawing at my arm to bring me out of the intense flashback I was having. My therapist grabbed my arms and tried to ground me. Once the flashback was over I lost it. I completely broke down, I began sobbing about everything it was a lot and I just couldn’t keep it together anymore. My therapist asked to see my arms and so I reluctantly showed her them, she grew concerned for they looked a bit bad. I assured her everything was fine but she made me sign a contract stating that if I harmed myself I would contact her immediately just in case. So that’s a thing.
I feel as though I am stuck in an endless cycle of pure hell with nightmares, flashbacks and panic attacks. I can’t seem to move forward from everything, my therapist however keeps reassuring me that I am just in the middle of the tunnel to recovery and it will take time before I see any improvement. I can’t help but have my doubts that I will never get over this. I want to be able to be okay again and not think about what Cameron did every second of every day. I feel like I’m getting worse than better, it just seems a bit hopeless right now. I know I have to just keep keeping on and things will eventually be okay but it’s a lot. This week was just a lot.