Utterly Lost & Not Found: An introduction to a Borderline and Bipolar Me

To start off with, I would like to extend a friendly Greetings and Salutations to every one taking the time to read my (TMI) rambling on bout my hectic, albeit traumatic, story/ experiences over the years.

That being said, however, don't think I have ever done this “telling my story” to such a degree as this. To be 1000% honest, with how I grew up, along w/ coping and dealing with others, has not been all that pleasant to say the least. And with that, I have concluded that not many - if any at all - would not want to be bothered enough to know, or even read such a story as this (as everyone alive has their own story to tell).

Also, this is not an easy read for most. So please Be Forewarned - and keep in mind - the content herein may be triggering for some to read.

And with that said, I would like to introduce myself, my real name is Klay and I am 49 years old. I was born and raised in Alaska (Im what you might call a NBA – Natural Born Alaskan – though not native). Although I have lived here all my life (aside from spending nearly 3yrs in California – ending up homeless there twice), I have seen very little of this beautiful chunk of earth. One of the joys (← pure sarcasm there btw) of being a agoraphobic recluse I guess.

Aside from my dad allowing me to move into his furnace room (and cooking out of the bathroom adjacent to said furnace room), I have never had any kind of emotional support, no one has ever stuck around for very long (or genuinely wanted me around for that matter), or shown or extended unconditional love my entire life. I have no concept – whatsoever - of what it means to have a “support network”, or what it really even means for that matter.

I do have one friend at this time in my life, who just so happens to be an ex, as we decided to remain friends, thinking, we'd make better friends than being significant others. And to be 1000% honest, I really don't know where I would be today if it was not for her, as she's the only one who will interact/ or talk to me on a daily basis. She has – truly – been quite the blessing.

The main reason I am writing and sharing all this is simple bcuz, at this time in my life, I honestly do not know what to do with the rest of my life.

To give you a little backstory, in order to give you some perspective on “where I am today” or why I am even sharing all this is - with growing up in my world, I was not only taught to never speak until spoken to, but also never to complain (and if you did, you were not only belittled but also ridiculed for doing so). I also learned the hard way – life is painful (especially growing up in my house as a child).

At age 4, and onward, I was molested by four different people three different times. The last time it happened I have no recollection of what had happened, though, I do know that it did happen (if that makes any sense?).

At 5 years of age, one of my parents held me up in the air by one hand and proceeded to beat the ever living crap out of me with a 2x4. Once I was free from their grip, and after running the 1.5miles back to where we were staying at that time (and after standing there in excruciating pain radiating all up and down my backside). I finally took off my shirt and shorts only to see 2x4 welts all crisscrossing and extending from the nap of my neck all the way down to the bottoms of my feet (as my shoes were kicked off from squirming and trying to kick free from the onslaught).

Age 7, though it's been said that most children at this age would never entertain doing such a thing. That being said “some children” would never have experienced growing up in a home with such an abusive drunk/ drug addict/ drug dealer of a parent either. However, at seven years of age, is when I stepped out in front of my first moving vehicle, trying to un-alive myself (almost succeeded too, if it wasnt for the Dr that day, who just wouldn't let a child parish on his watch).

Later, I was told that once the vehicle hit me, I was flung up onto the hood, hitting my head in the process. Yet once it came to an abrupt stop, I was flung off the hood only to hit my head on the hard concert of the side of the road. And once the ambulance arrived, I was officially pronounced dead on the scene. However, they continued to do CPR all the way to the nearest ER, where, when the active nurse on duty took over, she was finally able to revive me (although I ended up puking up all over her front side upon resuscitation).

Was in a coma for almost 2 weeks after being revived, and my right leg was put into restraints, as my right femur ended up broken from being hit by the vehicle. And once I woke up, my parents later told me that, not only did my brain swell while I was in the coma, yet also, when they were going to open up my skull to release the pressure, is when the swelling began to subside. However, upon waking up out of that coma, I did not know who any of them (my parents) were, I could not speak but only make baby noises and sounds. And once I was out of the hospital, I was put in a full body cast to allow my femur to fully heal.

Yet this is where the fun only begun, as I cannot tell you just how much fun (< --- again, pure sarcasm there) it is to live in a full body cast for 8 to 9 months. Along with the mental effect all this had on me over the years, which also has affected my entire adult life (though not many know this, with what I am sharing with you all here - as I have kept it mostly all too myself).

Once the cast was removed, however, and when I was allowed to go back to school, is when I was put into Special ED classes (as I was never right in the head again after the accident). Nevertheless, I was never really good in my academics all through-out grade school and high school. Even ended up dropping out in the 10th grade, only to go and get my GED two years later (surprisingly enough).

Aside from all that, however, when I was 8 years (I may have been 9, cant remember exactly) old, one of my parents - hung-over from the night before - proceeded to scream in my face (I can still close my eyes and feel the heat and spit from her mouth on my face to this day) that she hated the day I was ever born – and, regretted ever having given birth to me. All bcuz, I did not know how to make a simple pot of coffee that morning.

You can say, the only real thing I ever learned growing up, was to shut up/ not speak until spoken to, go play in the street if I was bored, do as you're told, and expect the next beating at any moment (which was just about every other day). I got used to belt buckles flying about, due to them losing themselves in a fit of rage, all while the beating continued. Also got used to electrical cords, switches from the tree being used (and on other occasions broom sticks and 2x4) as punishment).

When all is said and done, however, I had grown accustomed to pretty much living in constant fear (that or walking on never-ending egg shells), until I was finally thrown out of the house - violently I might add - at 15 years old. All bcuz I did not wish to help cook a Fathers Day dinner for someone who was not my biological parent. Never mind all the dishes; cups, plates, glasses, utensils being thrown at me, as I hid in the corner of the kitchen covering my face, prior to being thrown out that day.

Once, was even kicked in the stomach and all up and down my side. And if I hadn't moved backwards (trying to flee, getting up from laying down) I would have been kicked in the privates. Yet as I stood in the corner of the room, they proceeded to grab hold of my forehead, pulling it forward, only to then (with all their might) slam it back into the wall, with a hole being created in the sheet-rock from my head making contact (all while their partner was in the doorway yelling at them “not in the face, not in the face - dont hit him in the face” - just so when I went to school the next day, they wouldnt get a phone call asking questions).

And “this fear”, and abuse from others, also extended not only on into my adult life, but also from others outside of my family. One of my mothers druggy friends, her son (along with his friends) would often beat me up and torture me, just so they get their jollies and have a good laugh. Even at school, I would often find myself getting ganged up on and beaten simply for existing (for simply trying to be me – though I was quite an oddball you could say, but still). In all honesty, abuse/ neglect/ and torture is all I have ever really known in this life. And with that said, is why I believe is the reason why I am such an agoraphobic recluse to this day

And the list can go on and on with all sorts of other “for instances” of traumatic experiences, as these only a “few things” (mentioned herein) I share here are only that – a few for instances. Had a therapist once ask me to write down every traumatic thing ive experienced over the decades. And after 26 pages – well, you can begin to see where I am coming from/ going with all this

Yet when I went to live with my Dad, he was such a workaholic (never really wanting kids in his life - as he asked me once when I was 19, “how can you love something in which you never wanted in your life”?). And with that, he had very little time or energy to put forth towards me, as he was always either working or sleeping. Only thing he told me when I came to live with him was “I don't care what you do everyday, only that you get up everyday and get yourself to school”, and that was it. All through out my life, he has had very little to do with me, and spoken more often to my older brother and sister then he ever has with me. Even worked 30 years for him in the bar industry, and yet, even though his office was not but 50 feet (or less) from my work station, he and I hardly spoke but maybe a few words to one another on any given day (if that much).

He even went as far as to get in my face one night, getting as close as he could, and said “I hate having to keep you employed here, as everyone walks on egg shells around you, having to watch what they do or say as so they dont end up triggering you”. Mind you, I did my utmost best, once triggered, to isolate myself away from everyone and simply just stay to myself, as so I wouldn't be a bother to anyone (yet it seems even doing that much wasnt good enough?)

When all is said and done, the only real thing I've ever learned in this life, is how to please and do for others. Aside from that, I am utterly and completely lost on what to do or where to go, in order to find a new job (as the bar I had worked at for the last 30yrs was demo'd back at the end of 2022), or to find my place in this world.

I have spent the last two years going out of my mind, bonkers, trying to find something (anything really) at this point that I can do within' my ability to work. As, aside from working in the bar industry for so long, I really don't do well being around many people. Even trying to have a simple “Small Talk” conversation with someone is – so not - my forte', I get very nervous being around most people, especially if I don't know them, and I'm always fumbling along, always second guessing not only what Im doing, but also what else to say (or not to say - as I find myself stumbling over my words/ trying to find the right thing to say) when approached in any kind of conversation

In a nut shell, I have lived a very secluded/ reclusive life style, aside from being a drunk for nearly 15yrs, hardly ever leaving the house unless absolutely necessary. Even going grocery shopping can be quite the challenging undertaking at times, just to give you some perspective on how hard it is for me to be out in public.

I had wrote a previous post on this site a few months back, seeking friendly advice from others, on where or what I should do for a new job, albeit career, choice at this stage at my age. Yet at the end of the day, when all is said and done, given my rather unique introverted/ agoraphobic particularities with being such a nervous wreck being around other people (never mind my body breaking down/ falling apart). Given having absolutely no clue on where to go, or who to turn to anymore (as therapy, since I was 17, as never been of any help – neither has been being on any of the medication they like to shove down your throat) in this life.

I have attempted un-aliving myself nearly a dozen times, simply bcuz, there just seems to be no easy answers, no attainable solutions (having entertained and exhausted all I have thought of or pursued up unto this point) with trying to find ones place in this world. I mean, I don't want for much really, just a job or career in which I can provide for myself (where im just such a burden on family or loved ones), or even a roof over my head other than a card-board box on the side of the street. And yes, I have been homeless 3 times over the decades. Being homeless is no joke and absolutely no fun whatsoever. If it weren't for my dad right now (though his health is starting to fail him at nearly 80), I honestly dont know where I would be right now.

I guess the reason I am sharing all this is bcuz I am totally and 1000% utterly lost at this point. Not knowing what to do next or even knowing where to turn next. As given all that's mentioned above, the only answer, albeit solution, I can come up with anymore is, open my mouth and insert a certain metal object and pull the trigger (though I really dont even like thinking about such things). All my life really is anymore is living in fear and being completely lost when I ever do bring myself to leave the house.

In bringing this to a close, I would really like to extend my deepest apologies for rambling on so much about my stupid life. Even though I am in tears as I write these words, I hate the fact that I'm even bring such topic as this to light, along w/ it being a burden on any of you taking the time to read said words. That being said, however, thank you for, indeed, taking the time out of your day to read this post. And with that and, I wish and hope you all are having (or had) a blessed and peaceful rest of your day. (((Huggs))) to everyone.

I'm so sorry you've had such a rough life. I was spanked growing up, sometimes with a belt, not to the extent you were, and I can tell you it does damage especially since I was spanked beyond an age appopriate for spanking (age 12). Fear of my father colored a big part of my childhood, and definitely scarred me. I remember hiding in corn fields in the middle of the summer heat just so my dad wouldn't find me and yell and/or spank me. It really messes with your mind. I have never had much of a relationship with my dad as a result.

Molestation is tough. I have been there too though for me it was 2 separate incidents by 2 different people and not an ongoing thing. That's messed me up too. I can't imagine how badly it's affected you.

I'm sorry therapy has never worked for you. Have you tried it again recently? I know therapy hasn't really worked for me, but it sounds to me like you have a lot to get off your chest. Like maybe you could print out these posts or parts of them and give them to a T to read and/or read them to a T? You have a lot to get off your mind. Is there anyone you talk about any of this?

I'm sorry you don't really have a career. Is it possible to go back to tending a bar or is that something you feel you just cannot do? I've never been able to hold down a job longer than a month, but I am married and my husband makes a good salary, so that is my lifeline. I know you've written in the past about having trouble filling out an application for disability. Is applying for disabily something you can work on? IDK, are there resources to help with the disability process?

I don't really have any advice for you, but you are in my thoughts. Can you see a pdoc? I know you haven't had success with meds, but you could try them again maybe a different combo might help. I am so sorry you are so low. Take care of yourself.

((((HUGS))))

I'll be honest, I didn't read your whole story because it was too damn similar to mine. I've got that "borderpolar" combo too (although sounds like a different BPD subtype than you. I'm mainly impulsive but with a lot of self-destructive in there), and a shyt ton of trauma leading to all that.

I'm not sure how great the resources up there are, although I do see a majority of Alaska's taxes per capita is spent on public welfare. A quick google search shows practically every mental health professional (not many) in Anchorage. Most do telehealth though if that's an option. I've had a lot of bad luck with therapists mostly because I had trouble opening up, trusting people, working with boundaries, dissociating during stressful sessions, being ashamed of my actions, and the therapist not even knowing of an extensive traumatic and neglectful childhood because I said it must've been good because I don't remember anything out of the norm (which, when your friends that came over were always kids of people your dad did drugs with or his dealer, it is in your circle).

A good therapist will move slowly and be in tune with when you're getting too overwhelmed by the conversation, but it is also your job to let him/her know when it's too much in the moment too. Not sure if EMDR is available in your area either, but it's been strongly recommended for me as long as I go 3 or so months without being in a severe crisis (no suicide attempts, being in a dangerous state of active addiction, arrests for whatever my T sees as being a result of extremely poor mental health). Sounds like if you can get a hold of it, it'd be helpful for you too. I've also been told you have to keep it up for about 2 months of consecutive weekly sessions before seeing any improvement though.

If you absolutely cannot find decent resources in your state, if it's possible, try to get on section 8 and transfer to another state and get on disability ASAP (some people have difficulty, but I've had a lot of trips to the ER and IEAs (docs & court system here don't like me I guess) and at the time of receiving disability a good ole' "rapid cycling bipolar I mixed w/psychotic features" dx as the primary one they put on my application, and a history of having a ton of jobs that never lasted more than 6 months. I hear some places/doctors make it easier or harder. Mine was 3 months after I applied (with backpay), but some people spend years applying, being denied, and appealing multiple times. But yeah, I myself am thinking of moving south to Massachusetts simply for better treatment and programs for homeless people with disabilities.

Psychiatrists are really helpful for bipolar. I was labeled one of those "treatment resistant" patients too after many failed med trials (literally in my notes that I've tried every second gen antipsychotic, mood stabilizer, and most first gen antipsychotics FDA approved for bipolar along with all benzos, multiple antidepressants. Not even including the off label stuff (again, tried just about everything that maybe would've helped). Before I moved and lost my old treatment team, I found a simple COMBO of one second gen antipsychotic and a mood stabilizer that worked. Only took 10 years of consistent treatment. It also helped that's when that's around the time I started getting there on my more "nuture" problems (BPD/PTSD) (bipolar's more of a "nature" disorder).

Don't get me wrong. It's a long process and even now my treatment team sucks and I've never had a really good one. I have been always restricted to poorly funded shytty state run CMHCs though for stupid legal purposes (or so I've been told, not like I can afford private practice providers anyways). I will say though without treatment I would definitely spend probably 100x more time in jail, one of those patients that get in the state hospital and never leave, or dead.

This was long as hell, but I hope you take something away from it. Life for sure sucks with severe mental illness, let alone two--one sometimes considered the most painful to have (or live with someone who has it for that matter). There is room to climb the ladder of the quality of your life that never ends though.

Please try to get into affordable housing in any state that accepts you. Then get a lawyer to help with disability. While doing that get into an online PHP program. Agoraphobia has stopped me from going out. I too am afraid some random people will hurt me. Look for states that offer benefits to disabled. Honestly I can't say enough good things about Mass when it comes to that but Cali. Has some good programs too. Also look into training in a Google cert to try to get an online job. If you're working part time minimum wage that's about how much disability gives you. Things are going to be harder for you to get in place because of the agoraphobia but it's worth it.

I've been at this for 20 years and just recently had a cocktail that helped. I'm treatment resistant. Writing down everything you need out of an apartment. Look into disabled apartments. You need a safe place to rest your head first. Money second. And to work with an awesome team of Drs. Please be kind to yourself you've been beaten up enough.

Definitely apply for disability--suppose it would be SSDI-that's federal and it takes time, so get started now. Your ex could help you with the process. Safe place to live, safe person to trust. You can build upon that. States have different disability programs.
My ex gets substantial funds from the Veterans Administration. I just printed out instructions for him upping his benefits because now he is not supposed to drive. Down the road, there are many online classes and jobs now you could experiment with, but do the basics first. Use professionals that are experienced with folks w similar profiles.
Be sure to get exercise, eat as healthy as you can. Food stamps? Bean/rice soups are very healthy and a small hotpot cooker might work for you.
YOU CAN DO THIS AND WE ARE ALL BEHIND YOU!