7 posts tagged “depression”
1985 16 years old
i was admitted to GWUH after an overdose of tofranil. i stayed int he hospital for 5 1/2 weeks. i remember very little about the psychatric resident who handled my therapy and only one conversation with the doctor of record. the hospital was not equipped for teens and i was mostly just held there until it appeared i was no longer a suicide risk.
positives: got to know every nook and cranny of DC during daily passes.
1985 16 years old
don't really know why i'm mentioning this. it wasn't voluntary and it wasn't really even a counseling session. i'm not clear on the events that put me in marvin's office. just that mum had decided to commit me. i think we were there while she filed the petition or filled out paperwork. in essence, he was babysitting me. there were 2 police officers in the waiting area responsible for transporting me there and to my next destination.
i sat in marivn's office while he asked me basic questions. i eventually asked him if he remembered me. he didn't. i reminded him. i probably would have gotten further with him if i hadn't. this man who once told me i was just a spoiled liar was now unwilling to believe i wasn't dangerously suicidal.
i think this is relevant because i did sincerely try to defend myself in regards to being committed. i was not suicidal. my mum had stated very clearly to me she just didn't want me in her home anymore.
*sighs* i won't go into detail here. i decided sitting in that office that if i were going to be hospitalized, it would be for something i did. i wasn't convincing anyone i wasn't suicidal so this was my only choice. (or so i felt) marvin's office was where i chose to do it.
positives: i was able to verbally confront him on his actions years before. i was able to tell him to his face that he had armed my mother against me and betrayed my hope in receiving help. i can't say i feel good about the look in his eyes, but he finally listened and believed.
between marvin's office and fairfax hospital was the night in the lobby of the police station/manassas detention center. the next 2 nights were spent back in dominion. that was the visit that gave me the chance to tell the mental health worker what happened the night in DC when he supplied half a dozen underage kids with beer.
1985 16 years old
the judge didn't really give me much choice. i could go in to this hospital voluntarily or not but i was going. it was 6 weeks of being warehoused. no help. no therapy. several instances of being reminded why i no longer believed it would get better.
positives: charlie started visiting me. he's the only reason i had strength enough to go home after discharge.
1987 17-18 years old
i had lost 22 lbs when i first started seeing dr. small. 8 months later i had lost an additional 24 lbs and after several ER visits, was considering inpatient treatment.
my last visit with dr. small was when he told me that from the beginning he had been waiting for me to require hospitalization. it was the only thing that would help. well, thank you for taking $100 and hour once a week for 8 months first, you asshole.
positives: i became determined to get better without a hospital and i did.
1987 18 years old
i was almost 35 lbs underweight when i met dr. bixler. he took one looka t me and said if i was unwilling to accept that the thing i was trying to control was controlling me, he could do nothing. i worked with him until charlie was transferred to durham, NC by IBM.
positives: all of it. i saw him again for a few weeks a tthe end of my pregnancy with rachel. i was staying with mum and dad at their request because it was a high risk pregnancy and i needed help with the kids. if it hadn't been for dr. bixler i would likely have stressed myself into a very premature delivery.
1990 21 years old
i had become severely depressed and was battling issues surrounding my birth mother. the spiritual side of this was very intense and more than charlie and i could deal with... when we went to our church for help, our pastor told my husband i needed to be put in a locked facility. there was nothing he could or even wanted to do to help.
positives: before things went bad, i learned a lot in that church. my personal faith grew tremendously. the church did give me the tools to continue growing in my faith.
from here out i'm just listing the people. i can't go into more detail right now.
1990 21 years old.
1990-91 21-22 years old
1991 21 years old
1991 22 years old
our church did a special program about the reality of occultic abuse. one of the guest speakers was a 15 year old boy. he had been rescued from the cult and was in recovery from the trauma. if i remember, they did mention he was DID. cheryl was the coordinator for this program. she and i got toghether for lunch a few times. she helped me put together some strategies for continuing recovery without a counselor or support within my church.
positives: she was a good person with strong and healthy boundaries. she helped me put together some of the tools that got me thru the next several years.
1994 25 years old
this wasn't a bad experience. i went for one visit. after debating for 45 minutes the counselor's belief that it did no good to revisit the past in order to help the present, we came to the amicable agreement that his was not the counseling i needed.
positives: i stood my ground instead of caving to the professional.
1994-95 25 years old
lying POS asshole. he lost his license to practice in GA. never shared that bit of info. nor did he tell me he was unlicensed in SC. he was the most arrogant, self-involved person i have ever met. he firmly believed he alone hed the key to emotional healing. he never quite handled the fact that i didn't submit mysel fto him as the ultimate authority.
when i finally found out about the license situation, i told him i wouldn't be coming back. he told charlie i'd known he was unlicensed from the beginning... in my last conversation with him he told me i 'couldn't make it without him'. yeah? watch me pal.
positives: okay, so maybe it's pride or spite but he gave me the motivation to prove i COULD do it without his guidance and i did. i pulled myself together by sheer will and held it together for a couple of years.
1992-99
decent doctor. emotionally constipated human. he was another one who could not stand that i didn't just revere him as the supreme authority on my health. i fired him after he refused to test my iron and simply doubled my supplement dose. turns out my iron levels had returned to normal and he had prescribed a slow overdose for me. all because he *knew* better than i did how long it takes the body to replenish itself after blood loss.
after i switched doctors he refused to see charlie again, claiming he couldn't risk me claiming malpractice if i ever questioned his care of charlie. *rolls eyes*
positives: i'd never stood up to a physician before. they scare me to death. i stood up to dr. robinson and found the doctor who has taken care of us since. she's wonderful.
1998-2000
1998-99
the doctor who made official the diagnosis of dissociative identity disorder.
Sept 1999-Feb 2007
Trauma Specialist and Licensed Therapist. Lyn faithfully walked this journey with the Crew.
Jan 2000- present
Dr. C is an MD specializing in addictions and Dissociative Disorders. Between him and lyn, the Crew finally found the road to true recovery.
1984 14 years old
when i first met dr. stein, i thought i had met the one person who would be able to really help me. i believed i was going crazy and was torn between wanting to give in to it and being afraid. i told dr. steing everything i could about my life. everything i could remember and was even honest about the things i'd made up to tell the other doctor.
a week after admission he told me he didn't want to hear anymore of my bullshit and called me a liar. *sighs* he diagnosed me as bi-polar then changed his mind when i had a bad reaction to lithium. he then told my parents i was borderline, put me on meds and used *behavior modification* to treat me. in other words, everything i did or said was manipulation and corrected harshly. crying was attention seeking and ignored. any staff member who talked to me with compassion was then told by my nurse not to play into my games. etc...etc... etc...
after 3 months, my parents had exhausted our insurance. overnight i was declared well enough to go home. "much improved".
positives: i wasn't at home for 3 months...
1984 14 years old
I remember believing susan listened. she believed me when i told her about the emotional and physical abuse at home. she agreed that i had no reason to feel safe at home. then mum and dad started coming in for family sessions and i found out that susan would not back me up with them. she even supported my mother telling me i was the only problem and the only one who needed to change.
i blew up at her that day. i was enraged to find i did not have an ally in helping my parents see how their words hurt me. they didn't want to know and she didn't want to tell them.
after i blew up at her, she treated me with barely concealed contempt. big surprise. everyone eventually hated me anyway.
positives: none
1984-87
i attended PACE from the last few weeks of my freshman year to graduation in 1987. in those years at PACE i had 3 different counselors. they were all good people and both ray and carl were both good at helping me get grounded when things would get bad.
i never really talked with them about things. by the time i left dominion i had pretty much given up.
positives: ray taught me a simple grounding technique that i use to this day. carl was the most laid back person i've ever met and had an easy smile. they were good people.
1985-86 15-17
started seeing dr. polumbi after discharge from GWUH. dr. k would no longer see me. dr. polumbi was an analyst. he almost never spoke to me. he managed my meds. i never really believed i even existed to him. he was collecting a paycheck.
the sonofabitch is now a treating psychiatrist at dominion. *gag* what is wrong with this picture?
positives: none
1985 15-16 years old
when i spoke with him after being brought to the hospital by police escort, his attitude was "I told you so." when i told him i had begun attending 12 step meetings, he tried to transfer me to the substance abuse unit. not because substance abuse was a larger part of my problems than anything else. it wasn't and he knew that. he wasnted me transferred because he would not be my doctor on that unit.
he never really bothered during this six weeks stay. interestingly, i did better during this visit than anywhere else. no one else made an effort, but i did. i felt that by following the rules i could learn ways to manage when i got home.
when the insurance ran out and mum and dad said they couldn't pay for my stay any longer, dr. stein discharged me. this time he told my parents i would spend whatever life i managed to have in and out of hospitals. he told them the best thing they could do was to find a state run facility that could house me until i was no longer their legal burden.
positives: i was motivated to try on my own.
1985 16 years old
jim and brenda weren't professionals. still, i went to them for help. they took me in two weeks after discharge from dominion. i lived with them for the summer.
at one point during the summer, brenda offered to help me make some extra money. she sent me to clean and do some simple paperwork for a friend in his office... after fighting him off several times and walking home, i found out brenda had told him i'd sleep with him. he PAID brenda for an afternoon with me. when i confronted her she laughed at me. she said she'd never believed my claim that i'd never voluntarily had sex. she believed it was a tool to be used to get what you wanted and thought i was stupid for not trying it.
that wasn't even the low point of the summer.
positives: jim finally left brenda. he's grown a lot and is still a good friend. it was thru jim that i met charlie.
to be continued
This series of entries was written the same weekend a newspaper article was published in the Washinton Post detailing the abuses and loss of license of the doctor I saw during my stays at Dominion Hospital in Fairfax Virginia. The timing still surprises me.
TIMELINE of efforts to seek help
1981-83 12 years old
first went to guidance about stress at home, bullying at school and depression. I'm sure he (can't remember his name) listened but he couldn't/didn't do anything when i told him about specific instances of physical abuse. i felt ignored.
spoke to them off and on, when referred, through the end of my eigth grade year when i was 14.
positives: none
1983 14 years old
referred to guidance by the english teacher after several poetry assignments left her *concerned*. told the guidance counselor about feeling suicidal, previous self-destructive acts, running away and abuse at home. she contacted my parents and told them to get me into counseling.
positives: she believed me and made an effort to help.
1983 14 years old
parent took me to mental health at the strong request of the school. saw melvin with my parents for most of the first session. during the short time i saw him alone i told him about hearing voices and losing time. described the depression and told him about things at home. he saw the family together on the next visit and just me for the first part of the third.
during that visit he complained that my frequent sighs were a rude way to tell him i was bored. when i told him i had trouble catching my breath when i was stressed, he called me a liar. for the rest of the session he invited my parents in. he told them i was a spoiled liar and a juvenile delinquent. said i needed more discipline and my attention seeking games were best dealt with by ignoring them.
to my dad's credit, he told marvin he was full of bullshit and we never went back.
positives: my dad stood up for me and saw through the man's crap.
1983 14 years old
parents took me to the base for counseling after walking out of an ER and threatening to jump off a building. he was a nice man who listened with genuine concern. he didn't feel at all qualified to deal with self-injury and suicidal behavior. he had no recommendations for my parents except to consider a hospital. something i wanted at that point. i didn't see him again.
positives: it was a nice afternoon. we talked while walking the banks of the potomac river behind the hospital. it was a relief to talk to someone who seemed to care.
1983 14 years old
was admitted to the psychiatric unit of the local hospital after cutting my wrists at school. dr. k was my doctor during my 7 day stay. he was a nice man. i remember him asking if i wanted him to continue seeing me after discharge. i said yes, if my parents allowed.
i told him about the voices and lost time. i also made up a number of things to tell him. he was a very nice person but i had already decided the only thing i needed was to be hospitalized and away from my parents. i saw him for about six weeks. when i honestly told him i could think of nothing but ways to hurt and hopefully kill myself, he had my parents admit me to dominion hospital.
i again saw dr. k between the first stay at dominion and my admission to george washington university hospital in november of 1984. during that time he mostly just managed my medications. thanks the the doctor from dominion, he no longer believed anything i told him.
positives: he was the first person in my life to tell me i was pretty. even after i relaized he'd never be able to help me, he was nice. it was worth seeing him to have an hour of nice each week.
1983-84 14 years old
at various times, after being picked up as a runaway, i asked for help from the police. because there were no physical signs of abuse nothing was ever done. i would beg them not to send me home and one night tried to refuse to leave. the officer offered to force me in my mom's car.
positives: the officer who babysat me in the lobby of the local jail until yet another hospital admission. he asked to read what was in my composition notebook. he said my poetry and stories were awesome and asked if he could copy some to keep. said too many people didn't understand what teens were going through.
this same officer saved me from assault almost 4 years later. i could never sleep. i was walking in old town manassas at 1 am when i realized i was being followed by two men. i crossed the street and they disappeared. a minute later one came around a corner in front of me and the other was behind me. i went to cross another street and saw an officer get out of his squad car to put something in a mailbox. (and some people don't believe in miracles) i made faces at him hoping to get his attention and kept walking.
he got in his car and circled the block then pulled up next to me. i told him what i was afraid of and he called for back-up. i stayed in his car while officers from 2 districts searched the area and found the two men. i don't think they did anything but question them, but when they were found and i identified them, the officer drove me home... with a lecture about not walking at night.
he was happy to see my life was getting better and i had gotten away from my parents.
he always treated me with kindness and respect.
to be continued
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so much for 6 mos. |
06/22/2002 |
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finally did it. couldn't take it anymore. at least a liter. feels like more the way my hands shake and my heart is racing. drink a couple quarts of water and some juice and no problem. all better. i tried and made 6 mos. well now we start over i guess. but maybe i'm not ready to start over yet. maybe i need to do it again tomorrow or next week. maybe all this stuff will swallow me whole and i'll start and not be able to stop. i dunno anymore. just know that i feel better and now we can do what we need to do for now. reese |
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god, not now |
06/19/2002 |
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stephanie talked me into helping write a story and we were just getting started on fixing the poor attempt at chapter 2 when charlie walks in. we go, like 2-4 days getting all kinds of things done then usually on a therapy day we just kinda crash. well after 2 straight days on the garage and 2 van loads of stuff taken out we haven't done shit but sit and read or sit at the computer. so the house looks like shit. our room looks worse than the kid's right now and the livingroom is unreal. feel guilty enough as it is cuz we can't ever get everything even close to done. it's like trying to bail out a rowboat with an eyedropper. stop for a split second, you're sunk. so now i feel like shit. i mean total shit. can't win for losing you know? so no cutting. i DON'T CARE ANYMORE!!!!! it's not a want or impulse or desire. it's a g**damn NEED! what am i supposed to do? i swear if i just cut i could relax some and get something done so people are't so stressed or whatever. must be my turn to whine. time to cut. reese |
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found the steri-strips |
06/17/2002 |
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thought daniel had played with them all. walmart didn't have them last nite. hid them when i organized the first aid stuff. thought it would make me feel better to have them but maybe not having them was my excuse for not cutting. i can't take it anymore. the shit is hitting the fan. amelia had a cow yesterday when she was playing with john. first time she's talked about the abuse in forever. can't believe she talked to charlie about it but i guess it's good cuz she knows that he's not gonna blame her or say the kinda shit mom used to say. she's scared tho cuz this stuff is getting triggered and she's scared as i am about having to actually talk about it. can't we just share the feelings and stuff with marisa and kinda deal with it that way? why do we all have to go thru this hell together? i know what lyn or dr c would say. we have to go back to it together so marisa can process it and so we can 'break the silence' and talk about all the shit that happened and so we can all merge. god i'm so scared tho. i feel like i'll die if i have to do this. it doesn't matter if we were fucked and used when we were little. the stuff we did when marisa was a teen was stuff we chose to do. well, except for what josh did , but no matter what anyone says, we shoulda known what he'd do. it's not like i'll do it or anything but god i wish i cld run away. just disappear somewhere and crumble and not have to care if anyone missed us. we can't and i won't. the kids and charlie mean too much. i really understand why marisa says he saved her life when he married her. i think we really would have died if he hadn't come along. and him and the kids. god, they really do love us. all of us as much as they can understand anyway. i feel bad cuz kris thinks i'm mad or something cuz i don't hang out with her anymore. how do i tell her that it's just so bad that if i try to hang out i'll wind up cutting and fucking everything up? least i can sorta hide right now. the only safe time is when charlie is home. he's taking tomorrow off work too so he'll be here when we get done with lyn. so we'll prolly just take a tranxene and go to bed. or just go ahead and freak, i dunno. none of this makes sense, but oh well. reese |
My name is Marisa and I am the host of The Crew. I am the wife of 16 years to Charlie, mother of Kristie (14), Becca (11), Rachel (10), Daniel (8), and John (5). I also am a survivor of years of physical, sexual and emotional abuse. In February of 1999 I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), more commonly known as Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD). The Crew is all the parts of me who have made surviving and now healing a possibility. The diaries we have at FOD tell about our life and the events that caused and encouraged this defense of sanity. Here we share the day to day walk toward health and wholeness as well as the normal everyday life of wife and mother. We have a very off-beat sense of humor and have worked hard to find the laughter and joys in everything, including the oddities of living life as a multiple. Here you can meet the members of The Crew and get to know us. You may even find that you can relate to some of our struggles. On the outside our life looks normal and few people know about The Crew. This is our life in our words. Perhaps a chance to change some of the stigma and myth surrounding mental illness and DID.
Marisa of The Crew
This diary is a true account of a real person. We are not some two-dimensional name on a computer screen. We are flesh and blood and no less human than anyone who may read these pages. The events that have brought us to where we are now are not pretty. They have and will include graphic descriptions of childhood sexual abuse, self-injury, suicide attempts, eating disorders and drug use, among other potentially triggering emotions and events.
Despite that, this is a diary of Healing and Recovery.
If you find yourself triggered or upset by what you read here, be responsible for yourself and your safety and STOP READING.
While understanding that we cannot dictate what anyone here reads or reacts to, we can say that we are not here to add fuel to self-destructive fires.
You will not find Pro-ED or Pro-SI information or encouragement here.
Cutting, Eating Disorders and addictions of all forms are coping tools. Dangerous coping tools. With respect and understanding that it is unrealistic to expect anyone to *quit* without something healthy with which to replace it, we will not encourage or even agree that the behavior is healthy or *good* in any way. Harming your body may well help you stave off suicidal action but that does not make it an act of getting better. Choosing those behaviors over seeking healthier options is an escape route from reality and a quick path to continued suffering. It is not an act of self-preservation. We will not participate in the online glorification of chic self-destruction.
Whatever your beliefs on the Lifestyle Choice vs. Illness debate surrounding ED's and SI, please respect our search for what we believe to be physical and mental health and do not leave notes encouraging or applauding self-destruction.
Thank You,
Stephanie on behalf of Marisa Feathers' Crew
All diary entries, unless otherwise noted, are copyrighted to Marisa Petra Feathers (a.k.a The Crew)© 2002-2003. You are welcome to reprint or share any part of this diary. We ask only that you let us know and give credit to The Crew. Thank you for letting our life touch yours.
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