A Better Understanding -About My Disabilities
I've been asked questions so I thought I'd put my life here for you to read and maybe get a better understanding what goes on and why I get so emotionally upset or why I say I'm in pain, etc. There have been a few who have accused me of using it to get sympathy. It says what it says. A better understanding, meaning to get understanding, not sympathy. It proves once again no matter what is said, to someone else it's always wrong. I was born 1967, so it gives you an idea of the time-line.
My first abuse issues started at home. My mother prefers babies. As I got out of toddler-hood, and the older I got the more she neglected me and would verbally abuse me, criticize me, and nag me. She is very blunt and doesn't think about her words. In my family she came first and I came last. I was 2 years old when my father gave my my first whipping with his belt. When I was 10 in the 4th grade, the teacher chose me to be the one to pick on. She would call me "dumb-bell" and "slow". Due to the negative influence, the kids joined in and they did the same. If I was asked to do something someone else went ahead of me and did it, telling the teacher I was being too slow. I couldn't do or say anything right. The bullying got worse. I had no friends. The following school year I started showing signs of OCD. The bullying from the year before still lingered and to the rest of my school life. My self confidence was 0. My mother refused to let me dress with the styles. Because of that I got called a nerd, ugly, stupid, and "Why do you wear that?" or "why do you have your hair straight?" They weren't curious questions, they were criticizing questions. Of course in the early-mid 80's no girl had straight hair. Every girl had their hair styled in what was called "feathered". If you didn't have your hair feathered you were considered outdated from the 70's. Anyhow, the bullying got worse. Guys spit in my face as I walked through the halls trying to get to class. In gym class we had to wear shorts. The painful stripes from the result of my fathers belt whipping the night before were clearly seen on the back of my legs but no one noticed because to everyone else, I wasn't worth looking at. By my senior year, my mother finally allowed me to get my hair done. It made a world of difference. I got attention from guys and friends, but I also got raped the first time. Because of so many years of abuse and bullying, the rape was the last straw and I developed Anxiety Disorder. My next boyfriend was very abusive. I wasn't allowed to talk to other guys. Now I can say he was severe Bipolar. Back then no one knew. We got married. I was verbally and physically abused. When he was angry he screamed at me and threw accusations at me until I was huddled and crouched in a corner. The more I pleaded for him to stop the angrier he became and he would grab me, throw me around, and threaten to kill me. At one time he threw me down on concrete and I landed hard on my right pelvic bone. I couldn't move. I pleaded "Lord help me". He stopped. I tried to painfully move and there were bruises developing all along my right pelvic area. That was the injury that developed into my disability (the first injury to my pelvis was when I was 12 I fell hard while skating).
Anyhow, because of my injuries my ex husband was afraid he would have to take me to the hospital (he would get busted). So nothing could actually be proved if I wasn't there. He then threw my belongings I had into a trash bag. That is, what little possessions I had left after he set most of my stuff on fire in a metal trashcan 7 months earlier. He then dumped me and my dog at my parents. He filed for divorce. He would call me on the phone just to harass me and yell at me. Two years later, on December 6, 1987 I met my current husband. In October 1993 we were in a car accident. We were in a small car and rear-ended by a large SUV. I was injured with whiplash that affected my upper back, neck, and my shoulders. Because of it, I can lift my arms but I can not keep them there for long. In 1994 I was raped by a neighbor we befriended. My husband is in the ARMY and he has been to Iraq 3 times. During his 2nd time there, his best friend (RIP Matt Hunter) was walking and was blown up by a road bomb. Because my husband is a medic he had to come to the scene. He instantly was traumatized seeing his best friend splattered into pieces. He and a few others had to clean up all the parts. He now has PTSD and I have to deal with his raging fits. He's on medication but sometimes there is a relapse and he has a fit. With my anxiety disorder I can barely take it. I have an adopted daughter with depression issues from mental abuse from her birth mother. We adopted her when she was 15 and pregnant. She's now 31 with 3 kids. My oldest son (21) is ADHD. My middle son is MMD (mild mental disability). He's 20 with the mind of a 15 year old. My youngest we just adopted last year. He is Moderate Mental Disability. He is 19 but he has the mind of a 9 year old. I have lived a disappointing and exhausting life with my huge pain on top of it all. I can walk a little better here in the house with the special cushioned under pad and carpet we had put in two years ago, but to step out the door I need help. I walk with a cane and slowly with huge pain it takes me 5 minutes just to get 20 feet. The S.I. Joints are in the butt, which means when I sit, I'm in huge pain. I mostly have to sit forward, which is still very painful but not like sitting straight up. I can't lay on my back or sides. I also use a body pillow to sit and lay on. I'm in such pain I cry from the pain most of the day. Sometimes it's so bad my vision is obstructed. I can get so stressed or upset from anxiety I will throw up. I cry at the drop of a hat, and I get very upset when someone is harsh, critical, or snappy with me.