This is Jacquies Story, exactly as she wrote it to me.......

Alta ...

I know the road you are travelling right now is a difficult one ... but I really do believe somday soon
things will get better.  I have been down one of the roughest roads there is ... things have a way of
working out ...

My childhood absolutely sucked to say the least.  My mother had the worst temper ... spent much of my young life screaming at me and my sister. No matter what I did, it was never good enough.  She told me she hated me, wished I was never born, I was a mistake, she never wanted kids, I was stupid and useless ... My biodad was a musician ...never home ... and when he was, he was usually stoned out of his tree. 

To my mother, appearances were everything!  I remember getting a bad comment on report card when I was in grade 3 ... after she and my old man returned from the PTI (they had left me and sis home alone) ... I was dragged out of bed and down the stairs by my hair. She screamed "how could you embarrass me" and "you little bitch" ... and then grabbed the buckle of a belt in her hand and whipped me from head to toe.  My father did nothing to stop it ... my sister watched it
all curled in a ball in the hallway ... scared to death she was next.

My parents split up when I was 9.  Enter STEPDAD ... he was a wonderful man but I never really got the chance to know him growing up because my mom's insecurities ... she told him horrendous lies about me ... she hates you because you are trying to take her fathers place ... she is afraid of you.  He and I lived in the same house ... but because of my mother ...there was no real close bond there. 

The older I got ...the more my mother's temper escalated.  When I was 15 we got into a fight over
laundry and she punched me in the head.  The force caused my head to come down and crack off a cement laundry sink ...detatching the retina some ... permantly impairing my vision.  Her response ...she was angry because my hard head broke her finger.

My sister and I were close ... but my battered self esteem made it very difficult for us to be friends (we are now though :] )  Mother kept feeding us comments to make us competitive with one another ... and then she could pick her side and always have one daughter on her team. 

When I was old enough to date, my really lousy ego was quite evident in my choice of fellas ... and there were a few!!!  The first was a guy who made it no secret he had more girls than just me.  As much as this hurt ... I let him away with it because I didn't think I deserved any better.  Everytime we got into a fight, I could always count on a dozen roses.  One night he raped me on a dirty cement floor where he worked.  I felt worthless ... but strangely comforable ..as if finally I felt like I knew what I was all along.  He sent me a dozen long stemmed red roses for that one ...I am probably the only woman alive that can't stand red roses.  I stayed with him 5 more months after that.

The next fella ... wanted me for sex only.  We had fun but only if we were  ... well, you know.  When I got pregnant at 17, he started promising me the sun and the moon to end it.  Because I loved him so much, I did.  The night I had the abortion, he called ... "is it done" he asked ... "yes" ... "well, I won't see you, I'm going drinkin with the boys".  I was so heartsick that I went into my parents room, picked up the .22 handgun and was ready to kill myself.  The only thing that stopped me ...was I saw myself in the mirror.  l never forget the reflection ... I looked completely pathetic, broken, helpless.  I felt so very sorry for that girl in the mirror ... I put the gun back and ran.

After that, I went thru a passel of guys ...all after the same thing ... all would use me for as long as
they needed me and toss my by.  My sister watched helpless as I was destroying myself.  She watched and every day hated our mother more and more for it.  She was lucky to have been really close to our stepdad ... probably why she turned out "normal". 

From the time I hit puberty, my mood swings were incredible.  I couldn't control myself ... I would do really outrageous stuff to get attention.  And always, I ended up looking like an idiot and be more alone than ever.  My mother used to really fly off the handle at me for it.  She was convinced I was doing it on purpose ... God if only I had have been.  I spent much of my adolesence just trying to get in one mood and stay there ...even for just a bit. 

When I met Craig, my life was utter chaos.  My stepdad had moved back out west and my mother had told us many many lies about him so "J" and I had stopped speaking
to him.  My moods were fluctuating at an all time incredible rate.  I had hit the point I didn't care
what happened to me ... lost my job ... no direction ... a real mess.  The only reason I even went after Craig was because I thought he was quiet, dark and mysterious ... just the kind of destructive guy I went after.

He saw something in me I couldn't even see in myself. More and more I started to come out of my shell, undo the damage done ... but only when he was there.  I started getting very very dependant on him.  He didn't know how to handle it.  I am so thankful he didn't bolt ... but he almost did.  I went thru each day, struggling to keep my head above water, never knowing if I was going to swim that day or drown ... trying to get control of my moods ... but never never being able to.

Right before I got pregnant with "Z", I went into a serious depression.  I was working midnights at a
group home at the time.  I loved being able to walk around, alone, in the dark.  Even when I wasn't
working, I was sleeping all day so I could have the nights to myself.  Finally I was sleeping almost 18
hours a day.  I felt like I was in the bottom of a deep, dank hole looking up ... no way out ... hoping
someone would pull me out. 

The minute I got pregnant, my moods started to become "normal".  For nine glorious months, I felt better than I ever had in my entire life.  When he was born, I was on top of the world ... ready to come plummeting down headfirst!!!

When "Z" was born, we called mother from the hospital ... she said she would drove over from Brockville on the weekend to see him.  The weekend came and went ... she never showed.  Finally on the Tuesday (he was a week old now) ... I called her.  She lied to me and told me we misunderstood, that they wouldn't be in the area ... turns out they were 15 minutes from my home
and she didn't come see her grandson because 1) she was miffed I didn't phone her when I got home from the hospital (excuse the hell outta me but I had just given birth ... and had 20 some stitches to proove it) and 2)  "Z" was born a boy ... she wanted a grand-daughter.  Yep .. the utter rejection she made me feel as a child ... was standing there staring me in the face all over again, only this time it was my son she was rejecting.  I told her to get the hell out of my life and never contact me again!

That was it ... post partum depression and the whole mother issues thing ... I started having really
volatile mood swings ... and although I managed to try to cope on my own ... finally, there came a day when my son was 12 months old ... that I found myself screaming at the top of my lungs at him ... because he wasn't moving as fast as mommy thought he should.  I looked into his beautiful blue eyes and saw nothing but fear.  Gone was the look of childhood innocence or wonder or love ... all I saw was something was scaring the shit out of my baby ... and that something was me.

Here comes depression number 2 ... this time I didn't care about anything or anyone.  I stayed in bed for days on end, almost lost my job, was being very abusive towards Craig (God only knows why he stayed) ... and my wonderful husband said to me ... "I love you ... but I won't let anyone hurt our son .. and that includes you.  Either get help or we are gone".

I saw a couple of shrinks .. and they both came up with the same thing ... because I felt great (normal) pregnant, it was probably a chemical imbalance escalated by serious self esteem defecits.  I was diagnosed with a cyclothymic mood disorder ... which is a manic depressive illness kind of like bipolar except that I rapid cycle (15-20 times a day sometimes) and that the recommended treatment was Lithium.

Well, drugs for the rest of my life ... not a chance in hell I said, and left determined I could beat it on
my own with no drugs and no counselling.  The next six months I convinced myself I was fine ... even though I was bouncing from one mood to the next, crying endlessly, yelling and screaming at Craig and  "Z", throwing violent temper tantrums over stupid crap (like dishes being left in the living room or  "Z"'s outfits not matching). 

I just was so scared to admit that I had a problem ... and that people would look at me and know what I did:

the rape ... i should have been able to stop that, never should have been stupid enough to follow him in there!;  the abortion ... shouldn't have gotten pregnant in the first place just to keep a guy, should never have believed him when he said he wanted to marry me, should never have killed my baby;
my mother ... well if I didn't get her so angry, she wouldn't have lost her temper with me all those times, if I had have told somebody, if I had have run away ... SO MANY WHAT IFS AND SHOULD HAVES.

The day I finally reached out and asked for help I will never forget.  I went to give "Z" a hug.  As I
reached out towards my son, he cowered ... like a petrified little animal.  And when he looked at me, I recognized the look immediately.  It was the same one I used to give my mother.  I used to tell myself that I wasn't beating him so I wasn't like her ... but I was as guilty of emotionally hurting him as she was of hurting me.

We got pregnant with "S" immediately (remember my hormones act as a mood stablizer) and I started counselling to deal with all my issues.  At first it was wierd and I thought the counsellor was a total weenie ... but I started realizing that I was laughing again ... and not just the laugh that I gave to people to hide what I was really feeling on the inside.  Very soon after she was born, I started taking the medication ... that was 3 years ago.

It has taken me that long but I have discovered soo much about myself.  I found the courage to give my stepdad a second chance before he died and met a man who had always loved me (even though my mother had said otherwise).  I found a better relationship with my remaining family ... my sister and my husband are my two best friends in the world.  I don't say things in a moment of mania any more that hurts the people I love.  My children aren't afraid of me.  I like who I am.  I no longer blame myself for things that happened in the past.

I am not saying I am cured ... not by a long shot.  I am a work in progress ... can't wait to see what comes next ... smile!  But there was an answer for me!!!

Alta, I am not saying that your problems are the same as mine ... or your answer either ... but I do believe that somewhere there is a way out of all this for you too.  I truly hope, dear friend, you find it and get that wonderful inner happiness you so richly deserve!
You bring so much to other people's lives ... I wish nothing less for you.

If you ever need to talk ... I am here.  You already have my email addy.

Thinking of you ... JACQUIE

ŠAlta
March 22' 2000