If Hell Looks Like This

"If you're going through hell, just keep going..."  Winston Churchill

Now, if hell looked like this, we probably wouldn't be worried about going through it. Fortunately, or unfortunately, life is full of ups and downs that kiss, hug, and kick us at times. My life sure has been filled with these opportunities to surprise me.

As a divorced woman, raising kids (sometimes one and sometimes two), it was all about keeping the roof over our heads, the lights on, and the food on the table. I was more successful than I could have been, and less successful at bringing in the extras. My kids will tell you they never had name brand anything, birthdays were scheduled for after payday (whether that was on the day of or not), and food was...edible?

I had some real issues. I couldn't stay at a job more than a year or two, depression kicked me in the face constantly, self-esteem issues, financial stress, and back pain were just a few of the problems that plagued my early adult life. Needless to say, I made a hash of it.

I was able to get disability for my depression, and occasional help with the back pain. The constant sleep deprivation from pain and a system that puts pressure on the disabled person to continue or discontinue disability based on criteria I never really understood, made for a very unhappy and broken woman.

Relationships were short-term failures. Unhappy people make poor decisions and even poorer life partners. Nothing satisfies them for long. That's why people say to avoid them. I finally avoided myself. As weird as that sounds, it's the absolute truth. I became the woman who only came out of her room to find food and use the bathroom. I never talked on the phone, barely interacted on the internet, and God forbid anyone require me to see them in person.

Then, my mother went into a nursing home and my disability was cut at the same time. First of all, my mother's income was buying our groceries, while mine covered the rest of the necessities. House, gas, utilities, phone, etc were my responsibility. The doctor who evaluated me and was responsible for my disability discontinuing said I had borderline-personality disorder. I scratched my head and mumbled, "Did my depression go away? Am I not suffering from what I thought I was?"

Borderline-personality disorder is a huge catchall for diagnosing mental illness. I looked it up. There's a thousand other diagnoses that fit under this umbrella. If I wasn't depressed, what was I? Well, I'm not a sociopath, nor a psychopath; which are the first choices that come up when you look up borderline-personality disorders. Whew! That was a close one.

I looked closer. In addition to chronic major depression, I have Avoidance Personality Disorder. Every dang symptom listed fit me on both. And here the doctor is saying I'm fine and go to work you lazy bum.

I was pissed. Livid. Here I was with nothing and every door was getting slammed in my face because a doctor didn't know an accurate diagnosis from his anal orifice. I am not a doctor. I am not qualified to diagnose or treat. But I am an expert on myself.

The final straw was the last check that came in. What do I do now? The kids are grown. Mom has been moved to a nursing home. I'm not truly responsible for anybody but me. I still have to pay lot rent in the trailer park and electricity. My own needs aren't really that much. So how do I survive the situation?

Me? I went to truck driving school. I had to ask for my brothers to help, which they did. That's all for now. Thank you for reading my blog...

Renae - The Truck Driving Woman