Thisgirlwantstosleep
A pointless life had in a pointless world
- Mar 11, 2019
- 134
Vent/Story
I remember this one particular time. I was in the hospital with my mum, stepdad and my shitty abusive dad.
For context I was also living with said shitty father who, at the beginning of my stay, was unemployed (but was living in his dead dad's mortgage free house m) and would ask me for money and shout and swear at me if I didn't pass job interviews (which rarely happened because of my mental health issues) . There was also no shower or central heating in the house, the washing machine was fucked, and the cooker and fridge were old, decripid and barely functioning. For the entire time I was at my dad's I lived in my room and only had my phone for entertainment (TV, Internet ect). I could write an entire fucking saga about how awful life was there.
Living at my dad's was terrible, even after he managed to get a job and fix the fix the house up a bit, which all happened within the last year I left. My entire life at my dad's was fixated around trying to leave which was incredibly hard to do because I was depressed and couldn't look after myself properly.
Staying there certainly made my contamination OCD worse. I never used the kitchen because he doesn't wash his hands after he goes to the toilet yet will touch every surface and he only bathes once every two weeks. Thanks to him I have a fear of using shared washing machines because once when I washed my clothes at his I found a bloodied cotton bud with brown stuff smeared on it on my freshly washed clothes. (And as I said the washing machine was broken and shitty so it's not like it cleaned my clothes effectively anyway.)
Because I have contamination OCD and wasn't using the kitchen I had to buy food to eat each day which consisted of microwave dinners. I only at one meal a day because I only left the house once a day of BDD/Agoraphobia. Having to buy out food took up the vast majority of my wages meaning I had very little money to actually live on; pay bus fares, buy clothes and such.
When I used to work anyway. In between all of that and many suicide attempts I managed to get on welfare/benefits.
At the time of this story things had moved on. My dad managed to get a job and buy new things for the house but living there was still horrid.
I still wasn't using the kitchen because he refused to clean up after himself. Whenever I tried to talk to him about it he'd slam doors in my face :)
And the aforementioned situation where I was sitting in A&E/ER with him, my mum and stepdad because of another suicide attempt was an accumulation of ALL of that.
I can't even remember why he was there and/or in the room because he's always been a horrible bastard that's never cared about me but the mental health nurse was asking about why I've made another attempt. And my dad like the narcissist he is was saying how I never talk to him, at which point I lost my temper.
I tried to talk to him all the time but as I said he'd slam his door in my face. I'd also send text messages, all sorts. This man would see me crying and pleading and still he would do nothing.
So it's common knowledge that people with BPD have a very potent rage, so when I heard him try to paint himself as a Saint I lost it. All those years of unhappiness living with him; it was too much. So I started shouting at him.
Mind you, I'm in a fucking room designated for mental health crises, talking to a mental health nurse, after I've just tried to kill myself.
This other mental health worker came into the room with a disgusted look on his face and a security guard saying that they'll throw me out?
Someone please explain to me how that makes sense. People in mental health crises aren't going to fit your definition of 'civility' especially when they're going through an extremely difficult time, given the circumstances.
Why tell people in a crisis to go to A&E if you can't facilitate them? Especially when they're going through a tough time?
Anyway after that my dad started shouting and swearing at me telling me he's going to change the locks, kick me out blah blah.
That experience always stick out in my mind. I'm extremely hurt and sickened by the way I was treated, and it's also one of the reasons why I refuse to attempt to kill myself unless I have a sure fire method.
I remember this one particular time. I was in the hospital with my mum, stepdad and my shitty abusive dad.
For context I was also living with said shitty father who, at the beginning of my stay, was unemployed (but was living in his dead dad's mortgage free house m) and would ask me for money and shout and swear at me if I didn't pass job interviews (which rarely happened because of my mental health issues) . There was also no shower or central heating in the house, the washing machine was fucked, and the cooker and fridge were old, decripid and barely functioning. For the entire time I was at my dad's I lived in my room and only had my phone for entertainment (TV, Internet ect). I could write an entire fucking saga about how awful life was there.
Living at my dad's was terrible, even after he managed to get a job and fix the fix the house up a bit, which all happened within the last year I left. My entire life at my dad's was fixated around trying to leave which was incredibly hard to do because I was depressed and couldn't look after myself properly.
Staying there certainly made my contamination OCD worse. I never used the kitchen because he doesn't wash his hands after he goes to the toilet yet will touch every surface and he only bathes once every two weeks. Thanks to him I have a fear of using shared washing machines because once when I washed my clothes at his I found a bloodied cotton bud with brown stuff smeared on it on my freshly washed clothes. (And as I said the washing machine was broken and shitty so it's not like it cleaned my clothes effectively anyway.)
Because I have contamination OCD and wasn't using the kitchen I had to buy food to eat each day which consisted of microwave dinners. I only at one meal a day because I only left the house once a day of BDD/Agoraphobia. Having to buy out food took up the vast majority of my wages meaning I had very little money to actually live on; pay bus fares, buy clothes and such.
When I used to work anyway. In between all of that and many suicide attempts I managed to get on welfare/benefits.
At the time of this story things had moved on. My dad managed to get a job and buy new things for the house but living there was still horrid.
I still wasn't using the kitchen because he refused to clean up after himself. Whenever I tried to talk to him about it he'd slam doors in my face :)
And the aforementioned situation where I was sitting in A&E/ER with him, my mum and stepdad because of another suicide attempt was an accumulation of ALL of that.
I can't even remember why he was there and/or in the room because he's always been a horrible bastard that's never cared about me but the mental health nurse was asking about why I've made another attempt. And my dad like the narcissist he is was saying how I never talk to him, at which point I lost my temper.
I tried to talk to him all the time but as I said he'd slam his door in my face. I'd also send text messages, all sorts. This man would see me crying and pleading and still he would do nothing.
So it's common knowledge that people with BPD have a very potent rage, so when I heard him try to paint himself as a Saint I lost it. All those years of unhappiness living with him; it was too much. So I started shouting at him.
Mind you, I'm in a fucking room designated for mental health crises, talking to a mental health nurse, after I've just tried to kill myself.
This other mental health worker came into the room with a disgusted look on his face and a security guard saying that they'll throw me out?
Someone please explain to me how that makes sense. People in mental health crises aren't going to fit your definition of 'civility' especially when they're going through an extremely difficult time, given the circumstances.
Why tell people in a crisis to go to A&E if you can't facilitate them? Especially when they're going through a tough time?
Anyway after that my dad started shouting and swearing at me telling me he's going to change the locks, kick me out blah blah.
That experience always stick out in my mind. I'm extremely hurt and sickened by the way I was treated, and it's also one of the reasons why I refuse to attempt to kill myself unless I have a sure fire method.
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