You who followed me at mentaljourneysblog.wordpress.com may somehow stumble across me here, you’ll find me by the tags. I went silent on the old blog last week due to insecurities, and, finally, the prompting of my new therapist. I can’t afford to risk my stay here, and I have used the name of the residential program I am in, a personal boarding care home, as well as the names of associated programs, the town and businesses we patronize, and some first names of other residents… Not cool.
I started out blogging by jumping in the deep end, naming people and locations, and used to get as many as 50 views in a day (for a humble homemaker blogging about her son and his girlfriend that’s a pretty good number), and then I had 250 regular followers at one point, and half the time I was talking about my bowels (oh, on that note, a miracle. To be brief, a complete healing, I wont say more. This is news of this past week. It changes everything.)
So I shut down the old blog by making it private, In this one I will be as open, but I am using different identifying information in the set-up and will not use recognizable names of institutions, employees, residents, businesses, etc other than to say that I am northwest of Philadelphia, in a personal care boarding home; that I came here from an extended acute care stay at a hospital in a nearby city where I stayed 8 months after staying 4 months as an inpatient on an acute care facility after a suicide attempt that very nearly took my life. I was two hours from death when my mother found me. I had taken a months worth of anti-seizure medication.
I spent 4 or 5 days in the ICU with a breathing tube, and then a week and a half in a recovery room elsewhere in the hospital while they waited for me to be able to take fluids, and then I wound up back in the embrace of a Pennsylvania psychiatric ward. What a miracle to receive care NOT on a psych ward, to receive the laying on off hands from decent people who didn’t want to tell lies to my mind. That alone set my life straight again.
Since then I have been on an incredible journey through times past and present, relationships old and new, as I surf the strange and treacherous landscape of post-divorce with my son in a like terrain at a post rehab residential program near Philly and his father, my ex, remaining in sunny Florida which we both left 5 years ago.
My thoughts and prayers are mostly with my son but I am forced to pay close attention to my own well-being as my aging mother surfs my life for reward like a vulture and I try to keep the sexually abusive father, still recalcitrant at the age of 85, at bay. Here’s my life and welcome to it. I hope to make it to church tomorrow.