Fork, 911

Last Thursday wasn't a good day. It wasn't just a day absent of good, but it was a bad day. I guess I should be use to it by now being that all of my days are bad days. I want all of my online support friends to know something, I have been lying to all of you. I'm not really sure why I have been lying. A part of me believes that if I lie to myself enough by telling myself that I am going to get through this I somehow magically will. A part of me is also scared that I will hurt others so I lie. I tell people that I am okay, but even worse than that I pretend that I am okay. I put out this totally fake persona that is literally meant to deceive everyone around me so that they don't know the truth. I will get to the truth later in this post perhaps.

I was sitting at the lunchroom table at school last Thursday next to a few people I get along with. I don't want to call them my friends because that too would be a lie. If I said I had any genuine friends at my new school I would be lying, I only have people I get along with. Everyone else around me was talking and eating their lunch, but I was just staring at the ingredients label on the back of my single serving milk. Like everyday at school I was simply wishing I wasn't there. I kept fumbling with a band-aid that was on my left wrist from where I accidentally burned my wrist on a skillet when I was cooking supper the night before. It wasn't a bad burn by any means, but it was a little tender and felt a little uncomfortable against my sleeve. One of the girls that was sitting at the table with me noticed that I was messing with the band-aid and she asked me, "What happened? Did you try and kill yourself?"

I didn't reply back, I pretended that I didn't hear her. I pulled my sleeve down over the palm of my hand to cover the band-aid hoping that she would just shut-up, but she didn't. She said to everyone else at the table, "Look, Jaime tried to kill herself."

No one at my new school knows what happened to me, so I guess i can assume that everyone's actions are out of ignorance. As soon as she lied and told everyone that I tried to kill myself, some laughed, one wanted to know why I would do that, and another one asked to see my wrist. I don't know why but for some reason I showed everyone my wrist. I guess I thought they would see it's just a band-aid and let it go. The band-aid goes across my wrist, not up and down. The same girl that began the whole ordeal then laughed and said, "Look, Jaime is too stupid to even do it the right way."

I understand that she was just trying to be funny and she had no idea of what I am dealing with, but it just hit me the wrong way. I picked up my half full milk carton and poured it on her notebook that she was studying out of. I then said (verbatim), "Bitch, I know how to kill myself if I want to kill myself. I know to cut my wrist lengthwise so that the bleeding will be harder to stop."

I then opened my purse and pulled out 4 bottles of prescription medication and said, "Even if I didn't have a knife which I have plenty of at home, I could down a few dozen of any combination of these and that might do the trick. If I wanted to be sure that my attempt to kill myself was successful I would jump off the overpass to the interstate and let an 18 wheeler run me over, that would do the trick."

I pulled my sleeve up and ripped the band-aid off my wrist and then asked, "Do you want to see me bleed? You must want to if you think suicide attempts are so funny."

I grabbed my fork off my lunch tray and jammed it against my wrist and dragged it up my arm leaving four bleeding scratch marks about eight inches long. "Is that enough blood for you?"

Again I dragged the fork up my arm making myself bleed even more. I did this five or six times before a teacher grabbed the fork out of my hand and escorted me to the front office.

As you can imagine this caused quite a stir, but it wasn't like I had a knife that could actually cut me. The only thing the fork could do was make scratches that bled a little, not even enough to warrant any medical attention. The school called my dad at work and told him that there was an emergency and that he needed to come to the school right away. The school dean and counselor was treating this as an attempted suicide and they actually called 911. So now there is a policeman standing in front of me, a fireman EMT, and a priest (being that I go to a catholic private school). Dad comes running in the front door just after he ran past a cop car, ambulance, and fire truck in the parking lot. I can only assume that dad assumed the worse walking in. Dad looked confused because he saw that I was okay. Long story short my dad filled them all in on the fact that I am having some emotional issues while I just sat there. He didn't go into detail, he just told them enough so that they knew I was in therapy. They suggested that I leave with dad and talk to my therapist before I return to school.

Thursday's are my normal therapy days so dad and I went home and then left home at 2:30 to take me to my therapy appointment. As you can imagine the things that happened at school became the subject of discussion in therapy. My therapist kept asking me question about how I felt before all of that, how did I feel when that girl made those comments, and how did I fell as I was scratching myself with the fork. The truth is when I was scratching myself with the fork it felt good, the pain felt good. I felt like I deserved the pain and I felt like I was getting what I wanted. I explained that to my therapist and then she asked me, "What are you thinking about as you look back at what happened at school?"

I didn't even think about the answer, I simply blurted out, "It would have worked better if I had a strait razor."

So now everyone at school thinks I am suicidal, my dad thinks I am suicidal, my therapist thinks I am suicidal and has asked my dad to keep a closer eye on me. More than that, I think I am suicidal. That's the truth, but that's not the scary part. The scary part is that the realization that I am suicidal doesn't scare me. Shouldn't it be freaking me out? In all honesty, I am somewhat calmed by the thought of my own death. I also realized something; the only reason why I haven't killed myself is because I don't want to hurt the people who foolishly care about me. I don't care about me, but I do care about others. I just wish I knew a way to convince people what I already know, THAT I AM NOT WORTH CARING ABOUT. If I could convince them of that truth, I could bring my pain to an end, I could cry my last tear, and I could leave those painful memories behind.

I guess I am just being stupid and the douche bag of a busy body whore from school was right. I just wish no one cared about me so I could do what I need to do to end this pain.

Update: March 7th, 2012 - 5:30 pm

Since people think I am going to kill myself or over reacting I just thought I would add this last part.

Just because I am suicidal doesn't mean I am so stupid that I will kill myself.

Our Lady Of Peace, Here I Come - Psychiatric Residential Treatment Facility

Okay, so I am getting ready to drop a bombshell on my dad in the morning.

I have no idea how this is going to play out or how the best way to bring this up will be, but I think I am to the point that it is needed. I have been looking up in patient care geared toward suicide prevention. In the area I live we just happen to have one called Our Lady Of Peace. They have a special Psychiatric Residential Treatment Facility that is geared toward 12 -17 year olds that are suffering from extreme depression and thoughts of self harm and suicide. Many of these treatments specialize in dealing with the aftereffects of sexual assault and P.T.S.D. related issues.

I need to tell dad that I need something more than regular therapy. I know the state I am in and if I don't find some sort of aggressive treatment I am going to do something stupid. I can't get these thoughts out of my head. I have to tell dad I need help and I have to make him hear me, he has to really hear me. How do I do that?

I have two voices in my head and I have a very quiet referee name rationality. This referee has questionable judgment and the voices are beginning to ignore the referee. One voice is telling me that I am never going to be okay and death is so much easier; death will end the pain. The other voice is telling me that I can survive all of this and it can get better. Neither voice is telling me what I need to hear, neither voice is telling me that I deserve happiness or that I deserve to live. The referee thinks I deserve happiness and life, but the referee can't talk through the duct tape that has been wrapped around her mouth over and over and her hands are tied behind her back just like they were in the van.

I can make it till morning when dad gets up, I know I can; but after that I have to get real help. I just have to figure out how to make dad understand. If I can't convince him easily I won't have the will to be convincing. I am losing my mind, I am going crazy and I am so fucking scared. I have all these images in my mind that won't go away. I have all these flashbacks that won't go away. I just want them to stop, I am so tired. I can't think anymore. I can make it till dad gets up in the morning, I know I can.

You must be asking why does Jaime think she's going crazy. Well Jaime did something today that she is ashamed of. She masturbated until she bled and it was the pain that pushed her over the edge so that she could feel that 30 second long rush of endorphins that made her cry. She cried while sitting in the bathtub as the shower washed the blood away. She wished the hot water that was full on with the cold water completely off could have melted her into nothingness and washed her down the drain. She had images of her being in pain going through her mind when she felt that intense rush of endorphins. She feels so ashamed. Even as she writes this she can feel herself detach from reality and she fears she will lose herself in the madness of her own mind. She didn't even really notice that she was narrating her own words in third person until this sentence. This is why I think I am going insane. I'm not even kidding about any of this. I thought I was messed up before when while being assaulted for hour after hour I was made to have an orgasm when he purposefully stimulated me. That's bad enough but it was a physical reaction, I know that. Why did I not think about a tender sexual experience when I masturbated in the shower instead of being in that van? It's weird and surreal to say but the thought of the pain he put me through and the pain from my own finger making me bleed made this so much stronger. That's insane, that's weird, and that's wrong on so many levels.

I got it, I will email this to dad's business email account. He always checks that first thing in the morning. I will be okay until he gets up and he can take me to Our Lady Of Peace. Hell, I even checked our health Insurance plan and up to 90 days a year of emergency in patient care is covered. There was a dollar limit on that but I imagine I will need near 90 days worth of care. I mean I don't think I am sociopath crazy, not yet anyway. He will be awake in less than 5 hours. I can make it to then because I think I could make it a few days if I had to. I will email him this and then post it on my blog and then on A.S.

A Venting Letter

Before anyone reads this I want it to be clear that this is just a means of venting. I have no intention of harming myself.

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Dear World,

I became a part of you when I was 100% useless and vulnerable. I spent 16 years trying to become something of worth that was strong, but I have failed. I should be standing tall but instead I cower in the corner. This is even before you pissed and shit on me with extreme indifference. Now I am less than nothing, now I am worth less than valueless. Now I'm not even strong enough to be worthy of the breath in my lungs, love, compassion, or life.

World, I submit to your cruelty and I'm on my knees in defeat. As my life spills on the floor I replace the stain that is me upon the world with a single staining puddle that a sponge can clean up. I know you will be a far better place for others without me.

Dear Fellow Survivors,

I came to you when I needed support the most. As welcoming and understanding as you all were, I can not risk that I will become an even greater burden to you. It is unfair for me to want you to support what is already broken, and what is damaged beyond repair. It is unfair for me to contaminate your lives with my perpetual stain. You all have your own needs and I can't be so selfish as to expect support from you when you are just trying to keep yourself intact.

I have nothing but stupid juvenile opinions that are lacking in an obvious empathy that everyone needs. I am too stupid to understand, too stupid to encourage, and too stupid to deserve the chance to help someone else. All of you deserve so much more support and better encouragement than I am capable of giving.

My actions will not only set me free from the bonds of corporeal pain, but it will rid me from you like the cancerous growth I am.

Dear Dad,
Don't cry, just find comfort in that I am no longer hurting. I am free, and you are free from my burdening imposition. Now you will have more energy and time to raise Amie, she deserves you so much more than I. Although you will miss me and it will hurt, it is far better to rip the band-aid off than it is to slowly torture you.

Daddy, you didn't fail me, I failed you. I should have listened to your words of wisdom. If I would have just listened, this wouldn't have happened. I failed you and I do not deserve your love. Now you can put all of your efforts into protecting and raising Amie, she deserves you so much more than I.

I love you daddy, but I don't deserve your love. Please allow me one more imposition. Go to my blog and print out my letter to the court and read it during his sentencing.

Dear little sister,

I regret that I will not be there to be the big sister that you should have been able to come to for advice. I know you don't understand this now and I pray you never will understand. I simply can not risk that you will become tainted by me. I am bad for you. There's only one lesson I can teach you, and that is to listen to dad.

Amie, I love you. I am in a better place now, and I am with mom now. We look forward to seeing you after you live a long full life.

Dear rapist,
You won the fight, you overpowered me on every level. You have won the war, and I am too broken to fight anymore. I hope you feel proud of your life's singular accomplishment.

Dear Police,

This is a self-inflicted injury with the intent of my own death. There's nothing to investigate. Instead put resources into investigating REAL crimes.

Dear Court,

In my statement of mine that my dad read I said I wouldn't hint to what I think is a fair punishment. I have changed my mind. Fair would be a dark and filthy hole in the earth where the worms can feast upon him. At least this way he can be some good to the world. Don't kill him, just bury him alive and let the worms kill him.

Tripping Over Rocks On A Downhill Slide - A Very Bad Day

Tuesday night November 2nd, 2011 I was having some really vivid and horrible flashbacks. This started early Tuesday evening but continued on throughout the night. These weren't the usual flashbacks where a new detail to the memory of that event came rushing in, these were more like a reliving of the horror I felt on an emotional, spiritual, and physical level. I haven't been able to sleep and I was so tired on this Tuesday, but every time I closed my eyes I felt trapped in the memory of those events. Several times before I went to bed for the night I dozed off on the couch, but I would awake screaming and flailing my arms at the guy who hurt me. The thing is the only people that were there with me would never hurt me. My little sister was freaking out, she was crying because I was waking up so startled. Dad was jumping each time I screamed also. He tried to hold me and tell me everything was okay, but I know he was getting frustrated. At least two times while I was having one of these flashbacks dad tried to wrap his arms around me and tell me it was okay. When this was happening I honestly couldn't see a difference between the monster who's now in jail awaiting sentence and my dad who was trying to comfort me. All I felt was arms around me, restraining me, controlling me, and not letting me free. I fought my dad as if he was that guy, and more than once, more than he deserved, I hit him. This pretty much continued through Tuesday night and into Wednesday morning.

Wednesday morning I was lying in bed staring into the darkness of the room when the alarm clock buzzed to let me know it was time to get ready for school. If I would have been able to sleep I would have ignored the alarm clock and the fact that I needed to go to school by covering my head with the blanket and disappearing. Dad gave me a ride to school and I apologized to him for reacting the way I did toward him during my flashbacks. He told me something that I couldn't get out of my head, something that inadvertently made me feel worse than I already did. "Jaime, you just have to realize that as horrible as it was for you while you were in that van, it is over with now", dad said. It wasn't really what he said to me as much as it was the tired and frustrated look of his face and the sound of his voice. I felt horrible for putting dad and my sister through all of this. They deserve better. I literally hated myself and my life for what I was doing to my friends and family.

While I was at school I was struggling to understand everything that was going on around me. I was so tired and everyone around me seemed to be moving in fast forward while I was nearly catatonic. Very little of what my friends talked about made any sense; even the things the teacher talked about didn't make sense. We had to take a math test that I nearly failed because I didn't even finish it, I couldn't concentrate. My teacher knew I was struggling and although she is normally very understanding she said to me, "I know you're having a difficult time but you need to get past this so that your grades don't get any worse. Good colleges require good grades". I didn't even verbally reply I just nodded my head in compliance.

After class a guy that I know that I neither considered a friend, acquaintance, or even an enemy cornered me in the stairwell. If it would have been a few months ago his come on tactic may have worked, but all I felt was intimidation. He backed me into the corner, he was playing the whole "bad boy" routine. Just being face to face with a guy who I didn't know made me feel uncomfortable, but he also put his hands against the wall on either side of me, blocking my exit. At first I was terrified and I almost screamed. He apparently could tell that I was scared and he asked me what was wrong. I didn't say anything, I just tried to walk away but I couldn't get past his arms. I asked him to move out of my way but he didn't. He asked me if I would go out on a date with him. At this moment I relaxed a little because I realized he was just asking me out and using the whole "bad boy" routine. I guess he thought the "bad boy" attitude would be exciting. I politely told him that I wasn't interested. To make a long story short, he didn't take rejection too well. He called me a tease, slut, tramp, and he even told me that he heard that I was good at opening my legs and letting guys do whatever they want as long as the guy is forceful. By this time there were a few other students that were seeing what was going on and I was able to get out from the corner he had me backed into. As I was walking away I heard him tell his buddy, and I quote, "I guess I have to get my own van if I want to get some of that". I didn't turn around and even acknowledge what he said. He received a laugh from his buddy and someone; I don't know who called him an asshole.

If someone wants to ask me out, they're welcome to but be polite. If I say no, don't take it personally. I'm just not in a place right now where I'm mentally interested in going on a date. Him putting his arms up and blocking me from leaving was bad enough, but him calling me a slut and implying that I'm easy was rude. I have never had voluntary sex, I have only been raped and I doubt that makes me a slut. Even worse the comment he made as I was walking away proved that he knew what happened to me. My best friend in the whole world, a friend that I have known since I was 9 years old when my family moved back to America, she told me that the guy from the hallway was a longtime friend of the guy who raped me. I have personally tried to verify or debunk that information but have been unable to, but it seems logical because some wording that the guy in the van used was the same as what the guy in the hallway used. The guy in the van said to me several times after I gave up and quit fighting, "YOU ARE GOOD AT OPENING YOUR LEGS AND LETTING A FORCEFUL MAN IN".  It wasn't a word for word quote, but the meaning was the same and the wording was close enough to reasonably assume that the guy in the hallway and the guy in the van either knew each other before all of this or have talked to each other since.

I didn't even stick around for the rest of the school day, I asked my friend to give me a ride home. Although she didn't want to leave school to give me a ride home she did, she knew how upset I was. When I got home I sat in a kitchen chair blankly staring out the kitchen window for at least an hour, then I did as I often do to distract myself from myself. I logged on to the internet and there wasn't much happening on After Silence so I decided to signup for another support forum. One of my friends from After Silence is a member of this forum and a different woman I know in real life from group therapy is also a member. Which coincidentally happens to be a woman that I met before all of this ever happened to me? I first met her at a yard sell that she was having. I was looking for a notebook computer and she just happened to have one. When I saw that same woman 3 months later in group therapy I was shocked. Anyway I'm getting off track here. I signed up for this other forum and immediately tried to find her but was unable to, however I did find my friend from After Silence and let her know that I was a member there too.

I immediately began to post, nothing personal about me or what happened to me. It was mostly posts attempting to show support for others on their threads. It always seems to be a distraction from my own issues when I'm trying to help others. One person made a post about wanting to self harm as a means of coping with their own pain. I made a reply where I did my best to show my support for this person. In my reply I mentioned the same method of self harm that the original thread starter had already mentioned. Not too long after I made a reply I received a message from one of the moderators of that other support forum saying that they edited my reply because I mentioned a method of self harm which had already been mentioned in the thread by the original poster. This moderator wasn't rude but it did hit me the wrong way. It was like salt was thrown into my festering wounds. I was just trying to help this person and I didn't use any language or methodology that the original poster didn't already use. I checked my post and saw that my reply wasn't even censored in a smart way, the entire meaning, was changed and it didn't make sense anymore because the entire paragraph that had the word " c u t t i n g " in it was removed.

Between what happened to me in that van 9 weeks ago, my inability to move past this, me driving my family and friends up the wall, what the guy in the hallway said to me, and the feeling of being a failure at trying to help others caused me to snap. I deleted the 8 or so comments that I made on that forum and sent a message telling the moderators to close my account. I haven't been back to that forum since.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR THE NEXT PART

Everything just built up to a breaking point, I was the only one at home and I decided that I didn't want to live anymore. I decided that I didn't want to be a burden to my family and friends. I sat down and began to write a post for my personal blog. While I was writing my post I received a text message from my friend that drove me home from school. She let me know that she got in trouble for leaving school and was given detention. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of vodka that had been sitting in the cabinet for well over a year and began to drink. I don't know if I was trying to drink away my pain, or trying to drink till I died. My memory is a little fuzzy of some of the things for the next several hours. I carried the bottle of vodka into my room along with a gun and finished my blog post with the last few lines reading, (verbatim)

"I'm sorry for all the pain I will cause my family and friends but I can't take it anymore. I have a loaded gun and it is ready to shoot. When I finish drinking this bottle and making this post I am going to use it. Mom I will see you in 30 seconds".

There was more to the post I made but I can't remember most of it. I remember actually looking forward to ending it so that I could see my mom again. After I submitted my crazy blog post I took a few deep breaths and looked at the gun in my hand through my vodka glazed and teared eyes and raised the gun to my heart. Somewhere along the lines my little sister and dad came home. Amie, my little sister burst into my room like she always does and saw the gun pointing at my chest. She screamed for dad and he ran in. I don't remember him taking the gun out of my hand, but he told me that he had to force it out of my hand.

END TRIGGER

Although I don't remember most of the next 3 hours I do know that dad arranged to have my little sister stay the night over one of her friend's house. He also got my grandma who lives in Alabama to temporarily move up here for however long it takes to make sure I'm okay. Dad doesn't think I should be alone. Dad and I talked; well he talked while I cried myself in and out of a semiconscious drunken state. I wasn't even thinking about the fact that I left a post on my blog about hurting myself for the entire world to see. I'm not going to go into details here because I don't think it would be fair. The short story is that at least 3 people who read my blog saw part or all of my post. One of them tried desperately to contact me to find out if I was okay, but after being unable to reach me this person called the police. It's a long story with details that I'm not going to go into here, but I ended up erasing myself from much of the internet. I deleted my blog and email address that was used with my blog. The reason, well that's another story for another time perhaps.

Since that night I have tried to apologize to the people that I scared in real life and online. One of the persons online became furious with me because I made the post about hurting myself and has refused to talk to me. She won't return my emails or text messages. I hope she will see this post and realize how sorry I am for scaring her. My dad has removed all alcohol from the house, which isn't a problem for him since I have only seen him drink a beer once or twice in my life. He has also placed trigger locks on all the guns and locked them in a gun safe. When I was a baby dad and mom had to baby proof the house, now at age 16 dad has to idiot proof a house. I don't feel too good about that. I feel sort of foolish.

I made a promise to a friend Sunday night that I would never try to hurt myself again. I have made the same promise to my dad, grandma, and myself. In an effort to keep that promise I am going to try to be more open about my emotions in hope that it will keep me from reaching that breaking point.

While at school today I reported the guy who cornered me in the hallway. Although I don't think he will get in any trouble for what he said, but in the event that something like it happens in the future there will be a record of it.

I guess that's all I have to say right now.