The End... post 8

In July we moved to Wilmington, into the apartment at my parents house, to save some money to pay off all the medical bills, and regular bills, we accrued over the past year. We were slowly finding our feet again but we kept waiting for the floor to drop out from underneath us again. Too much had gone wrong in the past year for us to feel secure in anything we did.

We celebrated Grace's first birthday, and I'm afraid I may have gone overboard, which I have done every birthday and holiday since. I think I was trying to make up for not being able to do much for Christmas and Easter that first year. My girl is definitely spoiled, and was beyond spoiled that first birthday. I feel like I can spoil her because she's my one and only, and well, I kind of feel bad that she doesn't have any siblings.

I spent all of July unpacking, organizing and setting up our new home. I was determined to put the past year to rest and move on. I just wanted to forget everything we had just gone through and pretend life never got interrupted like that.

I'd like to tell you more details from that year, but really all I remember is sleeping and being in the hospital or in the treatment rooms. While in the hospital I remember being upset and mad that I was stuck there, and my poor nurses took the brunt of it. In one stay I refused to talk except to say "I want to go home" and in another stay I remember just crying and pleading to go home the whole time. I refused to eat, and refused to do much of anything they asked of me. I was always in the hospital it seemed and I was tired of missing out on time with my baby. It really was more than I thought I could handle. If I could remember all the nurses names I'd go back with flowers for all of them, and great big apologies. They really were the best care team I could have asked for.

I remember all the pokes from needles for IV's and blood draws. I really wish I hadn't of been so stubborn and had gotten a port when I first started treatment. It would have saved my veins, which are now shot, and so much time. I wish I wasn't stubborn about going into Boston a few times, because really, that was where I got the best care. That was where my doctors from DFCI could advacate that I should be released when my counts reached just over 900 instead of the 1k. But you live and learn right?

My doctors really are amazing. Dr Crystal would quickly became my biggest advocate, and supporter. He was the fellow working with my doctor, but he promised he'd be with me to the end. I think he regrets that promise now. I've called him more times than I can remember since chemo ended. Every time the pain flared up to the point of making me sick I'd call him for advice. I've been inside ER's more times in the past 3 years than I've ever wanted to be in my life. I've been in more CT's, MRI's, and X-rays than I'd ever thought possible before all this happened. Early on I learned how to sleep through most of the tests, and the shorter tests were over in a blink of an eye.

During treatment I had the honor of meeting the most amazing girl ever. We had the same doctor, and the same cancer, so our doctor set up a meeting between us. I spent a lot of time talking to her about a lot of different things. We texted constantly and we were instant friends. Unfortunately, Maggie didn't win her fight, her cancer was too far advanced. But she was always strong and optimistic. She had a beautiful soul, and was one of the best friends I've ever had. I miss her terribly and wish she was still here.

After treatment ended I still had the numb feeling in half my face. I was told that it was the nerves that had been damaged by the tumor, and by surgery. If it didn't repair itself in 6 months then it was likely permanent. After awhile the pain set in. It was a radiating pain in half my face and head. Some days it was so awful that I couldn't get off the couch, and I'd sleep to escape that pain. MRI's and CT's would show nothing, so I was sent to a neurologist. After I met him, chatted with him and he did his exam it was determined I had Trigeminal Neuralgia. After some reading I learned that it was a permanent condition, that would most likely get worse, and it never got better. I was put on meds to try to control the pain, and after 2 failed drugs we found one that works.

I never in my life have taken so many meds on a continuous basis. I had to set up a weekly pill container for morning and night, thats how many I take now. But still, sometimes the pain is so awful it stops me in my tracks. I've given up complaining about it because I'm tired of hearing me talk about it, and I'm sure other people are tired of me bitching about it. There's only so much I can say about it before its like beating a dead horse. At the end of 2011 I forgot to pick up my pain management meds and didn't realize it for about a week or so. Then it hit me, I wasn't in pain, even without the meds! But how was that possible? It wasn't supposed to get better, just worse. Well I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth, I'd just accept the new twist and move on.

In April 2012 the pain returned, worse than ever. MRI's and CT's still showed nothing, so it was just the trigeminal nueralgia acting up. I went back on the pain management meds, but they still need to be tweaked, they aren't quite strong enough at the current dose. Some days the pain is still super bad that I have trouble focusing on much of anything.

My vision would return to normal after surgery, only to blur up on me again a few weeks later. Visits with eye doctors would show that I have scar tissue on my cornea, and I now wear glasses to help correct it. The vision is still blury and my eye gets exhausted if I stare at one electronic thing too long. Computers and video games get about an hour before my eye is so bad that I just want to close it for awhile. I miss my perfect vision and I sure as hell hate wearing glasses all the time. But if I don't wear glasses my eye hurts and waters a lot. Even now, when a scene on TV shows something to do with the eye I can't watch. Whether its contacts going in, or the allergy commercials where they start all fuzzy, or someone being poked or stabbed in the eye I can't watch it. My eye starts hurting and watering like crazy.

I would start seeing a psychiatrist to manage the bipolar. I've been prescribed 2 different meds that are still being adjusted to help me live life on a more even emotional level. I still jump around a little, but its not so bad anymore. Actually, since being on the meds I've been able to go back to writing, something I haven't done in 10 years and I'm super grateful for it. I love to write, I used to write everything down in a diary, and I used to write a lot of poetry. Granted the poems were very dark and sullen, but it was decent poetry. I won a few contests and was even published in a couple different books. I had teachers that encouraged me to write more, and one that even submitted my stuff into contests for me.

I also would end up seeing a fertility specialist who told me it would be impossible for me to get pregnant on my own, but with some hormones and IUI or possibly even IVF I should have no trouble getting pregnant. I left those appointments with more hope than I've had in a long time. I won't say I'm ready to have another child, or that I ever will be. Last time I had a kid I ended up sick, and it was hard when she was just a baby. How would I do it with a newborn and preschooler this time? And its not to say it would happen, they say it was just a fluke getting cancer while I was pregnant, but I still can't help but think about it happening again. The idea scares the hell out of me, and I'm not sure I'm ready to take that risk. Some days my heart aches for another child, and every time I hear of another pregnancy or birth it breaks a little more. I do desperately want another baby, I always wanted 2 or 3 little ones of my own. So yea I want another one, but the idea that I could quite possibly become sick again is more than enough to hold back the desire to have more.

Truth be told I still cry over my hair. During treatment everyone kept telling me how curly it would be when it grew back in. What once used to be thick curls is now fine and straight. Its too short to curl with a curling iron, and it definitely doesn't curl up with mouse like it used to. It's just straight. Except for my bangs, which has a curl at the scalp and creates a "wave" like my Grandfathers did. At least it's not white, I think. I keep dying my hair trying to find a color I'll be happy with but it's just not happening. Then again, I've never been happy with any color.

Everything has changed now. I've done more than my fair share of growing up and changing. I'm somebody's mother now, and she's counting on me to be better and do better than I ever have. I wish I could have the safety of never having been sick, and I wish I could have the knowledge to say I'd never get sick again, but I don't know what the future holds for me. I still miss Maggie terribly, and I wish she didn't die. I still don't understand it, and I'm not sure I ever will, but I'll always remember her, and treasure the time I did have with her.

We're getting ready to celebrate Grace's third birthday and well, I really feel like everything's going to be okay now. Even if it means I have to take 10 pills twice a day.

Things get better... post 7

My family had a fundraiser to help raise money to help pay our bills. Friends and family gathered that night for dancing, and drinking, and buying lots of cool stuff. Well, bidding on lots of cool stuff. So many people were there, and I was touched by the generosity of so many people that night.

We, also, had awesome friends, Brian and Jill, give us a car, an old Lincoln. Their generosity was just absolutely shocking. I had never had friends as generous as these two, and I'm still in shock that they could think so highly of us that they would give us a car. I will forever be grateful to them for all they did for us. This allowed us time to get money to get a newer car. For an old car it drove fairly well. It took us from point A to point B to point C and then back again. They are the perfect example of truly selfless people. They gave us a CAR out of the goodness of their hearts, asking absolutely nothing in return.

My holidays were tainted by hospital stays that threatened to keep me from being home for those special days. Scott was still out of work and I was heart broken to think that my baby would have nothing under the tree on her first Christmas. And yes I know she was too young to even know what was going on, but I still would have liked to have something for her. Thanks to the kindness of strangers I had more than I could have dreamed of under the tree for her. I saw over and over again just how much the generosity of strangers would change my world and definitely my perspective on the world. Strangers, friends and family would prove over and over again just what a good world we did live in.

Scott and I received a card from the people at the company he was just let go from. Inside was a beautiful letter plus enough money to help us pay rent one month. Once again I was blinded and shocked by the generosity of people. These people all chipped in to help us when times were tough. These people didn't have to give us a second thought nevermind send us a card OR gather money up to send us. And yet they did, they truly cared for Scott, he wasn't just another employee to them.

By January I was tired, just plain exhausted, physically and emotionally. I could barely walk, or eat, or even stay awake. Eating had been a struggle all along. Everything tasted awful! At first I would be so hungry I'd get frustrated and cry as food after food tasted awful and made me want to throw up. All I wanted was to eat something ANYTHING. I learned garlic dipping sauce with pizza allowed me to be able to eat a slice. Strong flavors allowed me to eat a few bites, but by the end of chemo I was eating very little, maybe a couple nibbles on something a day. I couldn't stand food and all it did was make me cry.

In February I was begging for it all to be over. I just couldn't do it anymore. It was all too much to handle. I was ready to give up and let the cancer win. I started questioning my faith in God, something I hadn't done most of the time. I just couldn't understand how God could have forgotten me, or hated me so much that He'd leave me. That He'd let me get so sick, and have to fight so hard just to keep on living. And really, if God was this awful did I want to keep living? Did I want to live in a world where God had so obviously forgotten me?

I was having a hard time with this hand I was dealt. After everything I had already been through and put myself through in life, did I really deserve to have cancer too? What wrong did I commit, what evil act did I do, to deserve to be punished as badly as I was. What kind of God would allow anyone to go through this? It would take me awhile, but I'd find my faith again, and it would strengthen too.

Come the end of March it was over! I went in for a regular visit with doctors and then treatment. When Dr. Crystal walked in he looked at me and said "I was talking to Dr. Morgan, and we've decided something about your treatment. Now, you're not going to like this but we've decided that you've had your last treatment. Thats it, you're done." It took a while to sink in but it was over, it was finally all over. I had had my last treatment! Now on to scans to make sure it was all gone and then life could resume. Or so I thought. Shortly after treatment ended Scott was offered a very nice job, working from home for a game company. It was an answer to so many prayers!

Telling the news... Post 6

On the way home we talked, and called all my siblings together to tell them the news. It was the most heartbreaking night of my life. We stopped to buy pizza cause we were starving. I know, you're probably thinking, how could I eat at a time like this, right? Well imagine being in a hospital for 3 weeks, where you couldn't eat, and you would know how starving I was. I was barely allowed water while in there. So we stopped and brought home pizza. While we waited in the parking lot, I told my mom I was going to name my tumor, something weak, so I could imagine kicking his ass right out of my life. I don't know where the name came from but, I named him Melvin.

So now we go home And there's my brothers and sister, and my sister-in-laws and you could see they knew. It was in their eyes, but they were hoping for better. I told them the news, I had cancer, and it was rare. But my chances were good. I hated telling my brother Gregg. He was the one person I was so afraid to tell I had cancer. I didn't want to loose my best friend, and just knowing I could miss out on his wedding, on his children was enough to break my heart. Of course we all cried a bit but I told them that I had no intention of giving up, that this is one fight I would win.

The wait seemed to take forever, when in reality I think it only took a week. But to me, it went on for an eternity. But after the scans were done and the results were in, I'd go back to DFCI and see Dr. Morgan and Dr. Crystal once again.They told me I was lucky because we caught it early, I had no other signs of disease anywhere else in my body. I was told I'd need 6-12 months of chemo, plus 6 weeks of radiation. My hopes of a simple surgery were long gone, at this point. Now I was facing a long struggle, the fight for my own life. So I put on my brave face and set out to win the fight, and I was prepared to fight dirty if I had to. But I knew I'd win, there was no way I was going to give up a future with my daughter and husband.

So I had named my tumor Melvin, a nerd name. I pictured him small, weak and easy prey. I would win this fight. I even chose "Faith of the Heart" by Rod Stewart for my theme song. I was already envisioning me at my 5 year cancer free mark, and it being a long road from where I was to there, just like the opening line in the song.

So now I had a new hope, one for 6 easy, quick months of chemo. But after my first treatment I ended up in the hospital. I'd soon learn that for every day I spent at home, I'd spend 2-3 in the hospital or in treatments. It was suddenly clear that I was going to miss a lot of time with my new family. I tried to plan a special event every month that I was going through chemo, on the off chance I didn't make it through. I wanted my daughter to be able to look at pictures and to know how much I loved her and adored her. I wanted her to know that I did things with her and wanted to make my time with her special. We did apple picking, pumpkin picking, Santa visit, but by January I was too weak to do much. I was just feeling too defeated.

In December, during radiation, our car broke down, on the second floor of the DFCI parking garage. Then a couple weeks later my moms car broke down, on the second floor of the DFCI parking garage. BOTH cars had to be towed out of there. Our car was beyond repair, and it happened at the worst possible time. We had no money, still no job and I still had another 3-4 months of chemo ahead of me. I remember sitting in my mothers car waiting for the tow truck and I kept crying. I felt like the world was shitting on me over and over again. I was falling into a black hole and I just wanted it to swallow me up. I just wanted to climb under the covers and never come out again. I just wanted to give up, it was all becoming too much for me. I was tired of being strong, and I was so sad that I was bald (although I did look awesome in the scarves), and I was tired of treatments and hospitals. I just didn't want to fight anymore. I just didn't have it in me anymore to keep fighting. At this point I just wanted to die, I really did. Seriously if life was just going to keep shitting on me, why would I want to live? Why SHOULD I live?

And it's not that the treatments made me terribly sick or anything. The only things I felt from the treatments were extreme exhaustion and I went bald. And my muscles became weak. It took my breath away to walk from my bed to the bathroom. My legs would sometimes buckle and standing for more than 5 minutes was a challenge.

But my hair falling out was the hardest for me. I tried to remain brave and strong when we shaved our heads. And I do me "we". My brothers and nephew were there to support me and shave their heads too. How I love them for that, how much it meant to me to have them there with me when I was dreading it so very much. They made the night so much more bearable for me. They even had me laughing as I watched my beautiful curls fall to the floor around me. I didn't see a choice other than to watch it slowly fall out from the chemo, this was the better choice.

Somewhere I found the strength to get up the day after the car and black hole incident and make the journey to Boston for more radiation. I relied a lot on my family then for rides, strength and for faith. My favorite times were when Gregg was with me. When he would go with me to chemo it was almost like old times, except now we were sitting in a treatment room and I had poison going into me. But he found ways to make me laugh, and the nurses loved him. They even started asking about him, and wondering when he'd be bringing me in again. Gregg would come to my rescue more and more. He took me in to Rhode Island to see RENT, it was a night I'll never forget. I was so happy to see it on stage again that I didn't care how weak I was. I had already miss seeing Jeff Dunham live and Kenny Rogers, there was no way I'd miss out on RENT too. I was definitely spoilked by family and friends alike.

How the earth stood still...part 5

In June Scott was laid off, this was the floor collapsing in my life. Now we were both unemployed and we had a baby on the way. His unemployment was barely enough for us to pay rent, nevermind utilities and food. We were at a loss how to make this all work on our own. We needed some help. So we went and applied for WIC, and gas assistance, which also gave us a discount on electric. The only thing we didn't have a chance to do yet was apply for food stamps.

Thats because the world would stop moving in July. I laid down on the couch to nap, and awoke to awful pain radiating through my face and head, and the numb feeling still being there, in parts of my face. I couldn't stop crying, it just hurt SO bad. I called for Scott who came out to me. I cried and cried about the pain. I was so scared. Then in a flash I felt so sick. I could barely make it off the couch when I started throwing up across my living room. Like legit, across my living room. It would take days to get the smell out. Scott grabbed a bowl and called my doctor. Back to the ER we went where they gave me meds to stop the vomiting, and once I could hold down 2 graham crackers and a ginger ale, I was sent home.The next day the vomiting returned and the pain still felt awful. I waited overnight to see if it would stop on its own. When it didn't we returned to the ER. I was admitted to labor and delivery so they could monitor the baby, and run tests on me to find out what was wrong. They ran test after test, yet everything came back normal.

After awhile it was decided I had toxemia and had to have the baby. So I was induced. It was a slow process and everything was done to try to speed it up, but my body made no progress. Sometime during all this my doctor asked how my face was feeling. I told him it was still numb, and that my vision was doubled and I couldn't hear out of my right ear. He called in a neurologist. After a brief talk, and neuro exam, he went and looked at my CT scan from before. Now here's a twist, remember that ER visit where I was treated horribly and told I was fine? Yea that CT scan actually DID show something. But whether it was a tumor or clot, he didn't know. All he knew was I couldn't give birth naturally. So I was rushed off for an emergency c-section where I had a beautiful 6lbs 8oz little girl. The little girl I had dreamed of for so long. I was in heaven!

Until the next morning when the earth fell off its axis. The took me for an MRI early in the morning. An hour or so later the nurses were in to hang some medicine on the IV pole, and told me I couldn't nurse. They wouldn't tell me why, just that I had to wait for the doctor. I had been around them enough to know something was seriously wrong. My doctor, and the neurologist, came in shortly after and told me the news. We had spent the night hoping for a clot, a simple surgery, but it was bad. Just how bad we wouldn't know for awhile. I had a 4cm tumor growing behind my right ear near my brain stem. It was swelling and bleeding, causing all kinds of pressure on my brain. I was told that the growth patterns showed it was benign and that a surgery to remove it, and maybe some radiation to completely get rid of it would be all I'd need.

They transferred me to Brigham and Women's hospital where I met my neurosurgeon, and his team. He put us at ease, answered our questions and even made it so Grace could come be with us in the hospital. He preformed more MRI's and other tests and set a surgery date. He, too, told us the growth patterns showed the tumor was benign. It's strange but looking back I realize that we never once asked the question "what are the chances I'll die?". I never once questioned that I'd live. There was no chance in hell I'd give up the chance to live my dream of being a mother.

After the surgery I awoke in the recovery room. I hurt all over. I imagine if I had been hit by a truck it would have hurt less. I could barely talk and forget swallowing! Which made taking the pain pills impossible. It would be days before I could swallow without choking. The surgeon refused to say whether or not the tumor was benign. I knew right then that I had cancer. I refused to say it and I certainly kept trying to convince myself that I was fine, but his change in words told me everything I needed to know.

When I finally returned home, after 3 weeks in hospitals, I was weak. The toll 2 major surgeries took on my body was finally evident. I was weak, and I was so exhausted all the time. I would sleep for hours at a time, I barely had the energy to feed and change Grace when she needed it, a lot of the time Scott had to do it for me. I felt like the worst mother ever. My baby needed me and there was nothing I could do. I just didn't have the strength in me to stay awake most of the time. When I wasn't asleep I would hold my baby and cry because I was afraid I was going to die. How long I waited for what was finally mine, and now I faced loosing it all.

After just a week at home we went back to Boston to get the stitches out and hear the pathology reports. I tried to remain calm but inside I was dying. We sat in that little room, Scott, Grace, my mother and I and we waited. When he finally came in his face said it all. The reports were back, and they weren't good. I had a rare form of cancer called ewings sarcoma, a bone cancer. I was sent to the Dana Farber Cancer Institute, where I met a doctor who better explained it. It's a childhood cancer, very rare to show up in adulthood. It's a bone cancer, usually starts in the hips or upper legs. I'd have more scans over the next few days than I can even remember. How much those words scared me. Now I waited for more scans and more doctors to tell me how far this had progressed.

There's still more... part 4

Against all odds Scott and I survived my bullshit and drama and got married in 2007. It was absolutely FREEZING that day. And it almost was just an over priced party, instead of a wedding. I was supposed to call the justice of the peace when I got to the hotel that afternoon but we were running late and I completely forgot! I only remembered when, who should walk in? The justice of the peace! I almost passed out with shock! Somehow this man knew to stop by and see if we still needed him. So thankfully we were still married on the day we wanted. It was an amazing night, and before I knew it, it was over.

In 2008 I had a doctor tell me I'd never get pregnant, not on my own and most likely not even with medical help. I was beyond devastated to think that I'd never have that little girl I had always dreamed of. I barely ate or slept for the next 6 months. Scott and I weren't exactly trying, but we weren't preventing either, but it was still a surprise to learn in November 2008 that I was pregnant! I was beyond thrilled! This was what I wanted my whole life! I wanted the belly, and yes, even morning sickness and stretch marks. But color me surprised when none of that happened. By the time I gave birth I could still wear my regular clothes. I wore maternity clothes because I wanted to, not because I had to. I didn't even get any morning sickness.

Early on in the pregnancy I had some spotting, and I went to the hospital to make sure the baby was okay. It was just before Christmas and I was crying so hard all the way in. I was shaking while they did the ultrasound, afraid they'd find no heartbeat. I was so happy to see that little heart beating. Against all odds I got pregnant, and on my own too, she was a miracle baby.

In May of 2009 my job was ending. I knew it, we were prepared for it. In early June I saw my doctor and my only complaint was my face was numb, so naturally he sent me off to the ER to be checked out. At the ER I was treated like I was just some crazy, hormonal pregnant lady. They left me sitting in a room for a couple hours before I was even seen by the doctor. The nurses brushed me off everytime I'd ask about it. When they finally did see me they ordered a CT scan, then came in to tell me these exact words "There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Go home and get some rest. If it, for some real reason, gets worse call a neurologist.". They were so condescending to me. I left, confused, but satisfied there was nothing wrong. I was also shocked and hurt that I was treated the way I was. I went about life as normal as possible, not realizing just how the floor can collapse and the world could stop moving all at once.

It gets better... part 3

At 18 I met Scott at bickfords. At the time it was open 24hours and my girlfriend and I used to go there every night after work, or just about every night. And one night Scott walks in with a friend and was seated at a table near us. I vowed to have his number before we left. It was a night of smiles, flirting and laughter. And my girlfriend kept me true to my word, sort of. By 1am she was ready to go home but I wasn't ready to call it a night. I had jokingly written my number on a sugar packet earlier in the evening, and kept saying I was just going to leave it on the table and see who called, she decided to throw it at him. We were still there at 2am, talking in the parking lot.I just didn't want the night to end. I had never felt like this before and it was amazing. I just couldn't get enough of him, and wanted to keep him there in case I never heard from him again. But I did get his number, and because I was so excited, I called him that night. We made plans to go out in a few nights.

Well I couldn't wait, so the following night when I was headed into Bickfords again, I called him to see if he wanted to meet me there. And he did. I once again spent the evening chatting with him, but I had to be more considerate of the friend I was with this night, because she was pregnant. So at a decent hour, after eating our meals and paying the check, we said goodbye and went on our seperate ways. You think at that point I would have waited for the next night when I would see him for our date, but I didn't. I called him again and meet him at Bickfords once again.

The following night we had our "first" date, even though we'd already been out twice by now. We saw The Santa Claus 2 and went to dinner. He took me into Boston to go to a place at the top of the Pru, but they had just closed for the evening. So guess where we ended up? Bickfords! I chose to end the evening there, in fact I had chosen everything that night. And I seriously don't know why I thought going to a movie was a good idea for a first date, so I was glad that we had had dinner for the past 3 nights. I really got to know him in those first few days.

Still, I figured Scott would be like every other guy, couple of dates and I'd be bored. But it was shocking to me when I didn't call it quits by the 3rd date. Imagine my surprise to realize I'd fallen in love! We spent almost every night together, whether sitting at Bickfords, going to movies or just hanging out at his house. I was happy just to be with him.

The spring after I met Scott I was restless. I wanted to get a different/better job, so I started interviewing for a nanny job. I was orginally looking for something local, nearby. But I saw a live in ad in New Canaan, CT and decided I'd apply. So I sent my resume in, had a phone interview and then drove down to meet this family and see the house. I was in shock and awe about what a gorgeous house it was, and I was in love with the idea of having "my own place" that I readily accepted the job and packed up to go.

I stayed all of 2 months. The family was nice enough, my living space was generous enough, but I was lonely. I missed my family, my friends and most of all I missed Scott. So I gave my notice. And started packing up my stuff to go back home. I felt so down, like a total failure because I couldn't handle being away from everyone. Looking back I realize what an amazing experience that could have been for me if I stayed. But it was still eye opening for me.

I won't say my relationship with Scott has been easy. I've made quite a lot of mistakes and I truly wish I could take them all back. I love Scott with all my heart, but that moody, sullen, need to be wanted girl inside me needed to get out, she needed validation. I will also tell you I was unmedicated at the time, but honestly thats no excuse. I loved feeling wanted and desired. I loved having men flirt with me, hell having anyone flirt with me. But I've loved Scott all along and I truly regret everything I did to hurt him.

Scott really has made a lot of difference in my life. While we were living in Florida he told me if I kept cutting he'd leave me. The idea of loosing him scared the hell out of me. So I made the choice to grow up. So then why did I risk everything and cheat on him later? I have no idea. I was out of control, stupid and unmedicated. Thankfully, and obviously, Scott stayed with me through it all.

I've left out a lot of details about my shady past, and it's because I'm not quite ready to share them. I'm not proud of what I did. I'm actually rather ashamed of what I've done and how many people I've hurt along the way.

The story continues... Part 2

I went from being a skinny kid to be a moody, sullen overweight teenager with 2 big secrets. My first I already told you about, this is my second. I was a cutter. I would slice myself open, and then stop the bleeding, or I'd burn myself and call it an accident. I had excuses for anytime someone saw a cut or a burn. I would learn how to hide things better and better. Long sleeves and long pants became my wardrobe. I only got stitches twice, and that was when I was old enough to drive myself somewhere to get them. That's not to say I didn't need them more often, but I'd just wrap my arms or legs in gauze and tape til the bleeding stopped. I overdosed on diet pills, Tylenol and goodness knows what else the summer I was 15. My mom drove me to the hospital to have my stomach pumped. I wore an awful lot of dark clothing, and cried a lot. I yelled and screamed a lot, and I slammed an awful lot of doors. I'm surprised I didn't break any. Or have my bedroom door taken off the hinges.

I spent the first six weeks of my sophomore year in an outpatient DBT program. The school was supposed to send me a tutor to help me stay with my classes, only they never did. We didn't know about the tutor thing until the floor fell out from us later. When I tried to go back to school it was to the stares of all my classmates, and questions from people who I thought were my friends. Later that year I'd learn the truth about them. I was even more of an outcast now than I had been before. I liked attention at one point, but at this time I was overweight and super unhappy and was not a fan of being noticed. I couldn't keep up with what was going on in the classroom, nevermind catch up with ALL the assignments I missed while I was gone, and try to figure out the new assignments. To say I was lost was an understatement. My guidance counselor pulled me aside a month after my return and told me I wasn't going to graduate with my class anyway, so why keep torturing myself with school work that I could never catch up on? Why not just drop out for the year and come back the following year. Still being vulnerable (and still holding in the secret cutting - I never stopped I just got better at hiding it), I agreed to what she said and took what I thought was a leave of absence. The truth would come out the following year.

Suddenly I went from having friends to having no one. No one wanted to be friends with the girl who dropped out of school, who went missing from school twice. I was strange, different, and as far as anyone knew I had some serious issues going on. Which unfortunately was true, not that they really knew that. No one was close enough to me that I would share my secrets, and no one wanted to get to know me enough to learn anything about me. I felt so alone, and I was so low. I thought I hit bottom.

I tried to return to school the following year, but the same guidance counselor tried to tell me I wasn't ready to return, that I wasn't strong enough to deal with all the pressure of classes and the questions from the kids. What my thoughts were was, how the hell does this woman know what I am and am not ready for? But she blocked my return for another year. So the following year, I was just about 18 at this point, I fought to go back to school. My mother fought with me. Together we were successful and I returned to school as a sophomore. Most of my friends were seniors at this point, and a lot had graduated the year before. It was beyond strange to be a sophomore when all the people I thought were my friends were seniors. So feeling strange being 18 and just a sophomore, I dropped out and said I'd get my GED. At this time I was down to two friends. Everyone stopped talking to me when I took the leave of absence originally. Turns out I didn't really have friends after all. I turned to the Internet at this point. I would meet random guys in chat rooms, talk with them for a bit and we'd meet up somewhere. Never more than a date or two, but it wasn't about having a steady guy. No, I liked that initial feeling in a relationship. That can't eat, can't sleep, can't think feeling is what I was always after. I was back to wanting attention, and as long as someone wanted me I was happy.

I worked full time at various different jobs, and got my GED. I was an unmedicated bipolar, so keeping a job was tough for me. This is probably the reason for all the guys in and out of my life as well, but I wouldn't understand that until later. In fact I wouldn't understand much about my disease until later.

My story... Part 1

I'd like to tell you a story, if I may. It may seem crazy, but it's all true. I found myself writing it out, and as I reread it, I'd put in more detail. As I was writing I'd remember more details than I ever thought I would. Its been an awesome experience writing this all out. I've always assumed that it was forgotten, never to be remembered again. I just can't believe how much I have been able to remember, to recall without really trying to. So I don't bore you all at one, I'm going to tell it in parts. This is my story…

I've always been a drama queen, always. I love being the center of attention, any kind of attention. As a kid I'd cover myself with band aids and at first people were curious what was wrong. Then they started calling me the band aid queen when it became evident that I was never hurt. As a kid I found myself stuck in a neighborhood with all boys. I'd play football, baseball, basketball and even hockey, just so they'd pay attention to me. We played tag, hide and go seek and other kinds of games. As we got older we'd play truth or dare, and  we'd always try to one up each other.

But that's not exactly where my story starts. My story starts at the age of 12, in the summer of 1996. I was just coming into a fresh new batch of hormones, so when a former child my mother cared for returned to our lives I couldn't help but be thrilled. He was 18, and he was gorgeous! So when he started coming around every day to hang out with us (me, my brothers, and all the foster kids) I was pleased. I got to know him as fun and playful, he became a good friend to all of us. He would come over and swim, hang out and play games, and sometimes just watch tv. I should have been scared when he first started flirting with me, but I was 12, and oh so full of hormones. I was excited that he chose me over my foster sister (who I thought was much prettier than I was). She was older so really I was not the logical choice to be the object of this boys attention. But his intentions were not good, but that's later in the story.

As the summer continued on he kissed me, and not just once, a lot. Anywhere people couldn't see us, he would kiss me. He was my first kiss and I thought life couldn't get any better. One day he called me up, wanted me to come visit at his house. My mom had told me I couldn't go alone, that I had to bring my foster sister with me, so I did. When he brought me into a bedroom (under the pretense he wanted to show me something) my heart fluttered. I really thought, in my 12 year old mind, that I was in love. He started kissing me, and after awhile my foster sister got mad and called out she was leaving. And she did leave, but I don't blame her. Had it been her back there and me in the living room alone I would have left too. He took advantage then and pushed me down on the bed and kept kissing me. Before I knew it he was on top of me and being very agressive. I couldn't move, it was hard to breath and I kept telling him to get off me. He undid his pants, and then pulled down mine, and it was the longest 10 minutes of my life. It hurt and I just kept crying for him to stop and to get off me. I kept telling him no over and over again. It stretched on forever, time seemed to freeze, I felt like I was being split into two.

Never again would life be the same, I knew that already. I didn't know what would happen next, if he'd kill me, or hurt me more or what, but I knew things had forever changed. He let me leave when he was done, but not without throwing an ant farm at me, and issuing a threat. The exact words of the threat I do not remember, but I haven't been afraid of him for many years. For awhile I kept track of him, where he lived, how far away that was, and etc. As long as I knew that I was able to leave the house, to walk down the street without fear.

After that I became a shut in of sorts. I'd walk to the convenient store, use my allowance to buy junk food, and go back home and spend the week eating junk. Plus I'd eat whatever snacks I could get at home. I spent most of the next few years with a couple of close friends, and if I wasn't with them, I'd be locked in my room, writing. This is about the time I'd start keeping a second secret.