Transracial Adoption

Just to get a little business out of the way, I haven't posted in forever. I know. I've been getting mental help and growing and working on things and trying to get better. Very busy. And, while blogging helps (and vlogging. I sometimes make 3 hour long videos!), I always look back and regret it. It's no different now. I've been a wreck. However, I'm getting slowly better. Getting some helpful tools in therapy, and we're currently trying to figure out exactly what's wrong before we continue. I'm also going to try antipsychotics, I think. Both my therapist and psychiatrist recommend it.

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Anyway, as you may or may not know, I have a blood clotting disorder. I am 7x more likely than a normal person to "throw a clot" in my legs and lungs. It also increases the risk of miscarriage. That is a problem when you want to get pregnant. Not to mention being pregnant. I'm at an increased risk to develop severe pre-eclampsia (according to some studies. I recently found one with contrary results). For this, the best thing to do is give yourself two shots a day of heparin (an anti-coagulant). 

I don't look forward to that. In fact, I'm REALLY not excited. I'm not even sure I could do it. Especially because I'll be off my mental medication. And I don't especially love needles. Then my PKD exacerbates things. I am even MORE likely to experience pre-eclampsia. With PKD, the high blood pressure is likely to continue on after giving birth. And, after I have one child, the high blood pressure would put me at an even more increased risk for pre-eclampsia and other complications with my second. It's more dangerous that way. 

In short, it's kind of a deadly risk to get pregnant.

Lucky for me, I grew up wanting to adopt. And not just any child (though my mind has changed), but black babies. I'm not racist, and I'm not into the celebrity trend, I just like them. They're cute! And it's just a bonus if I adopt ones from Africa because I can save them from a 3rd world life. 

Anyway, I'm now open to any possibility. Asian, Indian, native american, black, and even white. Though, for some reason, I have a drive to adopt children from races that aren't white like me. I kind of want a transracial family. If I'm going to have one, anyway. 

Stephen is not stoked about the idea of adopting, but maybe if I have a health scare with our first (which I fully expect), he'll come around.

Update July 13

It's been awhile.

Things have changed. Medication wise and otherwise. 

I had a recent experience that seems to have changed me in some way. There's no telling if it's permanent. I kind of take things day by day, but it's interesting. Three days ago, I got my Bupropion doubled to 300mg. I was pretty excited, because I'd had a really rough week before that. I'd gotten my biggest cut (by accident, really) because I was feeling really horrible. On top of the usual emptiness and despair, a major ruling came out about gay marriage. And, because of my religion and the fact that I supported gay marriage, I was bullied. Not specifically me, but people who believed what I did and people who were in my exact position. For some reason, we came under fire. We weren't good enough mormons, we didn't listen to the prophets, we were damaging the church's image, we didn't understand the gospel, and we were even satan-whisperers, who didn't support the members of our church struggling with same sex attraction. And maybe the fact that I was about to have my period really didn't help. In fact, it's proven that depression often gets worse before a period. 

The cherry on top was the fact that I was home alone. It was a recipe for self-harm. 

I was so forlorn. I could only think of how I wished I didn't have to be in this position. How I wished people in the church would stop being so divisive. I was one of them, I thought. I thought what united us was out faith in our savior and our faith in the gospel. Why would this be a good way to separate the good from the best? 

I'm never good enough for this church. I'm never good enough for anything. 

But, as I took the knife from my bathroom closet, this pervasive thought entered into my mind. Why am I hurting me? What did I do? I don't deserve this. 

I ignored it. I convinced myself that it was just to get my feelings out and that I not only deserved it, but there was no other way to show that I was hurting. I sat in the tub, with the knife in my right hand and just quickly sliced down - as I usually did. 

The problem is that I usually also had a dull blade. So, what would've been a manageable and satisfying cut turned into a gaping wound. For a moment, I could see a tiny vein-like thing and some purple meat with white over it before it filled with blood. It didn't bleed too much considering the wound. 

I held my arm close to my shirt and drove myself to the hospital where I got treated, and my wound was glued. It could've been stapled, but I didn't want to watch that! Ew! 

However, after that embarrassing experience, I was miserable. The next few days, I just wished I'd pushed a little harder or went "the right way" so I could bleed out. Which is actually hard to do. I'd heavily considered checking myself into a psychiatric hospital for the next few days. 

Then I met with my psychiatrist. Long story short, she was scared. She was disappointed too, I'm sure. She didn't really know how to proceed as I was hesitant about opiate-blockers and anti-psychotics. I just asked for her to double the dose of my antidepressant (which had helped, but not enough). 

I took it for the first time three days ago. Nothing happened. The next day, I took it again and it was bad. I started seeing spiders everywhere. I was touchy, moody, and angry. I literally cried almost all of the day, and i hadn't had days like that since months ago. I was "having a bad day" and it just got worse. I just couldn't wait for it to be over. It was just horrible.

Yesterday, I felt better. Back to "normal", at least. Then today, I woke up feeling very good. Not good enough to leave the couch or do anything remotely productive, but I feel...better than I've felt in a long time. I haven't spoken to anyone today except for Stephen, so that helps, but I feel almost peaceful. Which is weird, because I've been overthinking a bunch of career things lately. Ever since my test results came back. They were not as helpful, either way, as I was hoping.

The plan was that, if I had dyscalculia (and could, therefore, get math waived), I would finish my associates in criminal justice, and maybe even my bachelors, and then go to mortuary school. Thus, making me the perfect candidate for most of the jobs I want. If I didn't have dyscalculia, and couldn't get the math waived, I'd just go to mortuary school because the math here is too hard. 

Well, I don't have it. But I also should, supposedly, be very good at math. Better than 81% of people my age. I didn't believe it. Maybe he got the tests mixed up? How? HOW?! I couldn't even pass 0950. Most kids come in at 1010 or 1050. How is this even possible? I was sure, although it was very unlikely, that I had it. And now, not only do I not have it, I have potential to be very good at it.

That's a bit of a sidetrack, but it's been causing me stress. And then I think of how my kidney disease will progress and maybe moving bodies wouldn't be such a great idea. The next best option, however, is emergency medicine. Which I think would be fantastic, except for the constant contact with people. Even possibly angry people. I shudder to think of it. 

I just feel broken sometimes. Anyway, the test hasn't helped and I was stressed, but today, I'm not for some reason. Maybe I'm just having a good day? Whatever the case, I wish it would last. Or even get better. 

That's my dish for today. I've been doing video blogs for my medicine, so I haven't been around. My apologies. I don't think either of them really helps in the long run, but it's nice to pretend to have a therapist every day. 

Medication Upgrade

I'm getting a long-overdue upgrade on my medications. The future right now is so foggy. Not that I'm scared of the unknown, but I am afraid of bad side effects.

My doses have been changed in the following ways:

• 200mg 3x daily Gabapentin - 300mg 3x daily Gabapentin 
• 75mg (starter dose) Bupropion - 150mg (starter dose) Bupropion XL

This means I'll be taking 300mg more Gabapentin each day. I'm slightly worried because it's made my eyesight worse. Noticeably worse. It was scary at first, but worth the anxiety relief. That was when I was starting at 100mg 3x daily. I worry my eyesight will get even worse. I just hope it's not irreversible. Then I'm worried I'll be too sedated. It's really affected my memory. It's still worth the relief, but I'm worried I won't be able to do school at all. It's hard to recall basic words, let alone remember a paragraph or question I just read. Also, I was beginning to experience transient fatigue. On top of my regular fatigue.

Now, I remember being so easily fatigued before. Probably due to depression or the constant fight-or-flight mode being on. But I think it's gotten worse? I was getting tired and my back hurt yesterday just from washing the dishes. Seriously. It was really embarrassing. 

Then the bupropion. That's twice what I usually take in an extended-release dose. I had to start low because I'd been on it before and it caused heart palpitations. My psychiatrist knew what my GP didn't: that happens in people with anxiety if you start them too high. So, I started taking the bupropion. My appetite is not as big as it used to be. I actually eat as much as a normal person now and I don't crave fast food. I got headaches pretty frequently, but it was worth the seemingly-improved mood. For the first few weeks, if I remember right, I didn't notice anything. Then, for a week or so, I'd gotten a lot better. I think so, at least. I was not miserable all the time and the bottom-line of my depression came up. I can't get as sad anymore, which I thought was good. 

So...I'm just hoping this helps a lot more. I want to be more energetic, happy, and motivated. I want to be able to make plans with friends without worrying about it. I want to hold a steady job and graduate college finally. 

That would be great. 

Hurtful

I've been doing inexplicably better lately. Only this past week, I guess. I even made a new friend. We're planning to hang out again soon. I look forward to it but last time, as much fun as it was, some things were revealed that re-opened some barely healing wounds.

I don't know what happened but, ever since Stephen and I got engaged, there was animosity toward us. From his family. Maybe mine too. I mean, they liked Stephen and welcomed him, but none of them were excited about us getting married. It was mentioned that him not having a cell phone or car was a BIG issue. It was stupid. And I think it's even more clear how stupid that was now that Stephen a) has a phone b) the car thing has not been an issue c) he's the sole provider for this family. I'd literally be homeless without him. 

I digress, his family was far worse. His mom pretended everything was cool to my face, but apparently had something against us. She didn't go to our wedding shower, she hardly spoke at the actual wedding, she sent some...half-assed message to her family about Stephen getting married. In which, my name was not even mentioned. All of the sentences ended in periods. She emailed Stephen and told him we were being jerks for not inviting people personally? I don't get it. Everyone uses Facebook. Nobody has had a problem. She and her stupid sister even insisted there was something wrong with the Facebook invitations because they didn't see them. Well...you're the only ones, so...

Not a one of them ever offered to help. In any way. Stephen's mom gave us some emergency backpack things....gee, thanks. Very thoughtful. I'm almost certain we got those because someone had excess.

The night before the wedding (Christmas), Stephen foolishly insisted we go to his grandma's house. God knows why. I reluctantly agreed. It was like they planned to rape us up there. Seriously. We stayed downstairs for a bit. I just...really didn't have a good feeling about going upstairs. And we were making out. :) 

It's all a blur. I think Stephen's mom told him he ought to come upstairs. Later, his grandma calmly came to meet Stephen and ask why he wasn't upstairs yet. Finally, we went upstairs...they were all as dull and quiet as usual. I think his grandma somehow mentioned that she wasn't going to come to our wedding because she wasn't personally invited. 

At that point, I just didn't care anymore. DON'T come. Any of you! Given all the stress we'd gone through, the fact that I was going to have a crappy wedding the next day that I didn't want, all the crap EVERYONE was giving us, I just didn't care anymore. Stephen kind of yelled at her saying we wanted her to come and he was sorry for making a mistake. Since I've been married to him, I've realized just how absent-minded he can be. So how could anyone expect him to have done everything he should have? 

The verbal exchange ended, and they all went back to being boring and quiet. I just cried. I could've been enjoying my Christmas with people who actually cared about us. This was supposed to be a happy, exciting night for me and it was just a stupid mess.

The next day, his mom made some stupid post about us getting married and "how happy she was". Bullshit. Her whole family decided they needed to individually comment about how they didn't know but "congratulations, I guess.". His aunt went full-out calling him all sorts of things and bullying him for not inviting his stupid grandma in person. It was SO stupid. And just...cruel. His mom, much later, tried to tell me her sister didn't go because she had work, but come on. Such a lie.

So the DAY of my wedding came. Woohoo. I spent that morning fighting with his stupid aunt, when I should've been getting my dress cleaned. When I should've maybe been getting ready? I was getting comments about Stephen not helping set up and all this... like....shut up! This is supposed to be the happiest day of our lives. What a joke!

I'd like to say that, up until the very second we got married, people were being jerks, but it lasted much longer than that. My dad insisted we stand in front of everyone and have them say stuff about us. My family did. Maybe Stephen's grandpa did. But that was it. What Steve's mom had to say was about raising the twins and how "they were a joy to raise". What about Stephen? Do you know him?

It was just...the worst. I hated being in front of everyone. I only wanted to eat my first meal with Stephen. I couldn't. As soon as "the show" (the LAST thing I wanted my wedding to be) was over, everyone just started packing up. Who...? Why? My food was thrown away. I didn't eat. I didn't enjoy one second of my wedding. Except signing the stupid papers with the bishop.

They just...if you can't help, at least don't make everything worse. Oh, and his grandma gave us a shoe box full of staples, pencils, and a sharpener. I liked it at first, it was useful, but I can't help but think (with this new information) that it was passive-aggressive. Like..."here, I just threw these things we don't need in a box."

And, as nice as Stephen's dad was the day of and every day since, the days leading up to our wedding, he'd talk to Stephen and ask him if this is what he really wanted. He'd urge him to live with me first. They'd spend like...an hour on the phone with Stephen saying he knew what he was doing and his dad saying we should wait. 10 months is really long enough. It really, really is. 

My wedding was such a circus. It was THE WORST day of my life - at least that I can remember.

At first Rachel saw so much more support than I ever did. She was accepted by my mother-in-law so much that she shared really private things from MY life with her. Before she was even officially married. This was maybe even the first time they met? Apparently, Stephen's grandma was going to SEW her a wedding dress! Stephen's mom was planning to throw them a real wedding afterward. Her message to her family was night and day compared to mine. She was OVERLY excited. Like...as if....trying to show us that she or Levi was better than me or Stephen somehow. I really don't know STILL what her problem was. 

So...why me? None of them know me. Even so, they still knew me more than they knew her, and here she is getting far better treatment than I ever did. Is it because she's marrying Levi and he's better than Stephen? He went on a mission and they want to show Stephen that Levi is better? Did I do anything? If so, WHAT? All I want to know is WHAT. I. did. 

It hurts. Especially now that I know how similar Rachel and I are. It can't be my personality...so what? What did I do? I don't know if I can ever forgive Stephen's mom at this point. I'd cut things off before, and THEN (only then) she started reaching out to me. She even admitted she didn't know anything about me other than the fact that I love purple. I'd been married to her son for fucking 2.5 years by then and I'd dated him for nearly a year before that! 3.5 years and she only knows that my favorite color is purple?! Are you kidding?!

Then Levi's wedding came around. At first I said I wasn't going. Somehow she'd heard about it right away and texted me saying I shouldn't punish him for her behavior. I was infuriated. They both just kept things from me. They both just mistreated and hated me. Why would I want to be part of that?

For some reason though, not that he'd shown me any glimpse of friendship before, I wanted to be friends with Levi. He told me ungraciously that, if I didn't go to his wedding, I didn't care about him. Which is wrong, but whatever. I told him I'd go then. I even made up with his mom. As temporary as that was. It stopped as soon as I found out she'd been talking about Stephen's EX with Rachel. 

WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?! Seriously? I just want to know why that even came up. Or how. Why was she still talking about that homewrecker at all? Let alone...I just...I'm so angry. What kind of two faced nonsense is this? SERIOUSLY? 

And it's not like I can tell anyone she's like this. She's nice to everyone else. She really is. I've seen it. She's much nicer to everyone else. I just don't get what Stephen did wrong. I certainly don't get what I did wrong. I mean, since the train wreck of a wedding happened, I've been mean. I have sworn at her over the phone. I'd get it now, but I never dreamed of doing that before we got married. I didn't even know we had a problem. 

I'm just...so beyond frustrated with all of them. Especially now that I know how much better they treated Rachel. I guess things have fallen apart since then. At least a little. She has seen a fraction of the maltreatment I've received. I guess we have to stick together now. I'm just learning to be indifferent at this point. I've exhausted every other avenue.

New Friend

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I made a new friend. She's not quite new in my life though. It's been about 1 year since I first met her. It's my husband's sister-in-law. We're not technically related, I don't think. Maybe. But you know...she's married to my husband's twin brother. 

So there you go. 

Anyway, at first I really didn't think we had anything in common. She's incredibly good at drawing and very crafty. I'm not. She's outgoing and has a number of friends. I don't. I love everything forensic science, thanatology, and pathology. She definitely doesn't. She went on a mission. I didn't, even though I once wanted and even prepared to. I guess we both like the ocean a lot, but I think she likes it more than me. Oh, and we have mental illnesses. 

I don't think I believed her at first. She mentioned it a lot, so I figured it was another outcast-y person who felt down because she was abnormal therefore getting a prescription from a general practitioner, trying to get attention. Also, pulling the mental illness card for convenience or attention is a pet peeve of mine. I guess I was just so annoyed that I didn't consider the fact that depression is quite common and it's possible that people other than me had it. It took me a long time before I realized that and decided to believe her until I had evidence to the contrary. We mental people judge each other the worst.

I digress, I was annoyed with the fact that her existence was a secret. I was annoyed with the fact that she and my brother-in-law had cheap rings on their ring fingers before they were even considered engaged. I was annoyed with her anxious personality (the one we show in public due to anxiety, obviously). I really didn't give her a chance. And my brother-in-law was being kind of a jerk to me about it. 

Anyway, after plenty of miscommunication and complete lack of communication, hurt feelings, all that, it all blew up one day after a dinner at Dennys. Believe it. 

It was her first time meeting my father-in-law. Her new father-in-law. They were bunking with us for a few days. I was already anxious. She was, understandably, also anxious. My kidneys hurt and I was in the sun. My brother-in-law disliked and distrusted me. We didn't go to their wedding. So...I guess a blind man could've seen it coming. 

Apparently I wasn't doing anything right. I wasn't standing close enough, talking enough, looking at the right people for long enough, all of it. No one said anything. Probably wouldn't have. That is, until I later texted my brother-in-law to tell her that going to Dennys was a great idea - her idea. He replied. "I will. And she still thinks you guys hate her btw."

The gloves came off. At first I was firm, but honest about how I felt. Which was not that I hated her. Ever. I reserve that feeling for two people in this world. But it eventually grew into me swearing at him. Perhaps understandably, but still infuriatingly, I began trying to call him because I couldn't text fast enough and he kept calling me names and saying I was judgmental and discriminatory and prejudice. It was...hurtful. More than anything, it was hurtful, because it was wrong, but I was also further pissed. 

Since he wouldn't answer my calls, I called my husband. I burst into tears saying that yet another one of his family members thinks they know who I am and just called me a liar. When you pride yourself on honesty and it means everything to who you are and someone says it's not there, then...it just broke me. I hated it. Especially because he'd been saying racist things since he got home. I was being called prejudiced by the racist! I should mention he doesn't say those things anymore.

Anyway, my husband comforted me. He assured me he'd talk to his entire family later. I told him not to. We'd tried that before. It never works. Nothing works with them. I didn't want to bother beating my head against a wall again. I'll just handle it now by myself. I'm a big girl. 

I was still on the phone with him when my brother-in-law answered the door. He had a stern face on. A front. I hung up the phone and pushed the door open, barging in. I can't even remember everything I said. I was borderline hysterical. Well...more like distraught. I was distraught. I remember saying: "How DARE you [blah blah blah]! I wasn't looking at her enough?! Are you serious?! I have the same thing! You use it as an excuse for her for everything and you can't ever cut me a break?! I said I'm willing to meet her!" 

When I took half a second to re-assess my surroundings, I realized he was kind of stunned. The front had softened, but it seemed like he was still trying to keep it up. His wife soon emerged from another room. Before anything else could happen, I just hugged her and apologized. I did know where she was coming from. I've been treated like absolute detritus by this family. She had no idea how bad they could be, but I was the problem this time. Just me. Which is better than it being anyone else because I'm at least honest and upfront, but still. I should've been more trusting and forgiving. 

Anyway, she was calm and had me sit down and got me some water. She was very nice. Anyway, to make a long story short, we talked a bit. A bit. And I wasn't really having any of it. She was telling me her sad stories about her wedding but, because mine were worse, I was just being kind of belligerent. I eventually softened up a bit and we made up. She told me to come by to see her anytime. 

That was a few months ago. Last week, I finally decided to take her up on the offer. You know I don't want to visit with my own friends, let alone PEOPLE. But, after therapy (not that she was even brought up), I was feeling...outgoing. I really can't explain it. Like...I actually wanted to hang out with someone. A girl though. For some reason, she was the first person to cross my mind. She'll be so surprised, I thought. 

She wasn't home though. I texted her and we decided to hang out that Saturday. I only got worried the night before. Kind of panic-y. It's normal though. And it was all for nothing. I just took an extra gabapentin, and things were fine. It was actually truly fun. Which was weird and unexpected. I thought things might be awkward, but they never were. Not even once, as far as I'm concerned. Most of all, I learned that we have a lot in common. At least as far as what we think goes. We have similar opinions about nearly everything we talked about. I say "nearly everything" in case I'm forgetting something.

In fact, I'm up for doing it again! I KNOW. It's crazy. I feel like I'm crazy. Or that it won't last. I don't know what's going on with my brain, but you know what? I'm going to enjoy this while it lasts. 

Free Therapy

I heard a new friend with similar mental health issues that art was like free therapy for her. She's very good at it and does it frequently. Coincidentally, I later found a post I'd written in the past about how music is the best therapy. I think we're both right.

It depends on the person, I suppose, but the arts are essential to being whole. I remember watching a film about music and it's effect on the brain in an AP Music class. It really does stimulate the same areas of the brain that sex does. It makes people really feel better.

For me, it's only temporary. You can't listen to music all day, after all. But, as helpful as therapy has been and as helpful as medication has been, I feel the most relaxed listening to music. I feel the most alive. The most connected. Present.

That's why schools need music and the other arts. We need to utilize books, art, dance, spirituality, music, cinema, whatever it takes to feel better. Because we have the power to make ourselves feel better - even if it's temporary.

5 years

If I could take back the last 5 years of my life, I would.

We all make occasional mistakes in life. I was no different. But it seems the last 5 years had the most,  the biggest, and the weightiest mistakes. It started when I left Snow to go to Weber State's Criminal Justice w/forensic science emphasis program. I wanted to go to Weber, and I was planning on doing that program, but I should have stayed at Snow and finished my associates. I loved Snow! I was doing well, but I got antsy and flagellated myself for failing 4 credit hours. I still had As and Bs in my non-failed classes, I had a good GPA, but I started getting nervous.

So I went to Weber State. It was awesome, but my grades started tanking. My roommates were constantly smoking weed and drinking and they always had friends over. I would not have minded the weed and drinking at all, but I was a criminal justice student. I didn't want to put that in jeopardy by associating with people who broke the law. I was also worried about their health and futures, but that was not my call. When I heard they were planning on trying MDMA (ecstacy), I turned them in. I told my landlord when their next party was and I told him how they threw their trash away to hide the evidence. Not that they were clever or any good at it.

As soon as I turned them in, I knew I had to move. The house I lived in was split in two, so I was allowed to simply move to the other side of the house with different roommates. They weren't great either, but just because they were always home. Keep in mind, this whole time I was struggling with my mental health, I was on clonazepam, sertraline, I was getting UTIs, and my grades were tanking. I realized I would be out of money soon, so I began my first job as a waitress.

Bad idea.

That lasted a month. From October to November. I was always there on time, I learned quickly, and I did my best. The reason I quit was purely panic attacks. I had two while there. The second taking place on my last day - the day I broke down in hysterics in the kitchen and left to avoid making a scene.

I ran out of money by February 2012. It was not long after I contacted my husband Stephen for the first time in a few years. I'd Google'd myself over Christmas vacation. Turns out, I was in a dream of his, and therefore, in his online journals. I immediately thought we should catch up! He was my friend for a long time.

That was another mistake. At least the timing was. You know the story by now but, in case you don't, we can make a long story short by saying his most recent ex-girlfriend was one who, unbeknownst to me, held some kind of grudge against me. And they weren't done "seeing" each other yet.

I knew about their secret "relationship" either before our first date or shortly thereafter, but I didn't think it would be a problem after we started dating officially. At least back then, I was stupid, and I was wrong. Our first date was February 14th of that year. I'd maybe just moved back in with my parents after quietly packing up and dropping out of Weber State. Stephen doesn't know, and neither do I, how many times he cheated on me between our first date and our "first time", but it was at least twice. And those two times that I'm sure of took place 2 weeks prior.

There were plenty of mistakes made by me during that time. First of all, I started dating someone when I was in a very fragile place. I'd just started self-mutilating, I'd just lost my job, and I'd just (in my eyes) derailed my entire future by dropping out of Weber State. Stephen was a dream come true. I was happy with him. I stopped cutting, and I stopped all my medication. Another mistake.

Our second time, Stephen made his own mistake and I ended up taking a Plan B. This is where my IBS-C came from. Ever since I took that pill, my whole life has been altered and it wasn't letting up. I began wasting a lot of time and money seeing doctors who'd brush me off and tell me I wasn't drinking enough water or taking enough fiber. I didn't even have room to be embarrassed because I just wanted answers. No one believed me. Especially after I came home with a negative colonoscopy.

I eventually began rapidly losing weight. This prompted a real diagnosis of some freak genetic disease I'd never heard of. Neither problems have been helped. One of them can't be helped. During all of this, Stephen was supportive and loving. I had no idea what had been going on or that he was hiding secrets from me. I learned them eventually though. Right after we ordered our engagement rings. I couldn't even process what was going on. I was so in love and I was excited to get married, I just didn't think about it. It was hard when I did. It only got harder. I said we should get married right away. In October, because I love October. Stephen said it was too soon, so we decided on May of 2013. Another mistake.

I didn't mention that, meanwhile - through all of this, my family was not accepting of my relationship. They were nice to Stephen, don't misunderstand, they just didn't like that I was seeing him. He was going nowhere. He had "no job" (even though he did), he didn't have a phone, and he didn't have a car. Yeah, it was stupid. And terribly frustrating. Whenever I was home (which was rare), I was yelled at or lectured. My dad kept pressuring us to go to school. Basically, I'd be kicked out come 2013, so I should find my way into school. I bought into it, thinking I didn't have another option. This was another mistake.

While looking for apartments at Snow College, Stephen and I decided it would be cheaper to live together. "So", I thought, "we may as well live together." And living together, to me, meant we had to be married. Another mistake.

So, we were going to secretly marry on December 12th. 12/12/12. It was cute, and a once in a lifetime opportunity. Well, my mom quickly found out when I asked my sister to borrow $30 (for a Costco cake). My mom would not allow it, and insisted on a church wedding. I relented, because I didn't need even more guff from anyone. Another mistake.

As you know, my wedding was easily the 2nd worst day of my life. I'd say 1st, but I'm leaving room in case I've forgotten the 1st. It was the worst event in nearly every way. The days before were hellish in that everyone was trying to make this low-budget podunk wedding look like a decent one. Much worse, Stephen's family were acting like bullies and pure monsters, really. They were terrible. My advice? Don't get married. We could've easily lived together. Or even apart, and just seen each other. It would've been simple, and much less frustrating/irritating/heart-breaking/stressful/etc.

Since then, I've suffered. So many things happened that I just can't list them all. Things got much worse. I went from job to job because I'd keep losing them to mental illness. I tried pushing through it. I'd transfer from school to school thinking each time that I could make a fresh start and get good grades again. It never happened. My grades have never gotten better, and I'm very close to being expelled. I've had a few jobs, but none lasting even a year yet. I'm doing everything I can to get better - a therapist, medication, a psychiatrist, not having a job. It's kind of gotten better, but no real improvement.

I just wish I could change the past 5 years. I'd have been much more skeptical of Stephen's actions. I would've stood up for myself more. I would've taken it easy at school instead of trying to keep up with healthy people. I would've waited to find a job suitable for me instead of taking whatever I could get. I'd be happier today, I know it. I can't even imagine how drastically better my life would be.