Life is one big old mess once something happens to a person.
Sure, I always knew growing up that I had mental issues, but they were always controlled. In my early youth, I was thrown a few medicines from time to time, but always made sure that I did everything in my power to NOT be on those medicines for a very lengthy time.
I can remember once, around the age of eight, after my parents divorce, my mother seeing a shrink for a nervous breakdown. It was then decided that we were the cause at that time, well, that's not the truth, <finger quotes> we weren't helping the problem. </end finger quotes>
Ah yes, anyways..... Shrink lady demanded we be brought to see her as well. Seems we weren't so normal ourselves. From the age eight, I was dragged through every type of therapy they were. Dragged being the true statement in that sentence. Art therapy, talk therapy, medicine therapy, you name it. I truly wanted to just scream, seriously people, give me some fucking headphones, cranked the music wide open and I'll be 'so-called NORMAL' again.
Sadly, at the age of eight I was thrown on prozac.... I felt like I was ET, but only in human form. Walking into walls in grade school, in front of a group of your peers is not pretty. You begin to be referred to as "Walsie"... uh huh... Refreshing isn't it? Today's youth..
Anyways, but to the topic at hand, being as I got cray-cray and went into a ramble about childhood right off the back.
It was in the summer of two thousand eight, I was married at the time and living such a happy life, when a pathetic individual needed his fix and had no money to get it by. He rushed in the doors of the job I was working at the time and robbed us. I took the brunt of this, and so began the day my life fell apart right in front of my eyes. The spiral began and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it.
So the drug addict was treated like they all are now days, like they are above us all and deserve better treatment than an upstanding citizen deserves. While I'm spiraling out of control because of his doings, he is slapped on the ankle with a tracking bracelet and house arrest. In return I'm still spiraling, I lost my husband, and any type of social skill that I had to begin with.
Now at thirty years of age I am terrified to leave my house. In order to leave the house I must have a family member with me or my closest friend. Closest friend had to wait for three years before I would do anything with her outside of the house.
One of the very things I hated in life was to take any type of medicine, but here I am at thirty taking four different types of medicine's for my bipolar disorder alone.
