Nobody's Daughter 4s391v

Nobody’s Daughter

ROSE WHITE

AuthorHouse™ 1663 Liberty Drive Bloomington, IN 47403 www.authorhouse.com Phone: 1 (800) 839-8640

© 2020 Rose White. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 12/03/2019

ISBN: 978-1-7283-3865-1 (sc) ISBN: 978-1-7283-3864-4 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019920234

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This is my story, coming from an innocent child’s mind. I was fourteen years old when I first jot this story down in my personal journal. I’ve written and revised it over ten times because I couldn’t figure out what would be a suitable ending and the story didn’t quite make a lot of sense. Here I am now at 26 years old, in front of my computer still trying to write this story, the events that took place in my life as a twelve year old child. There are still questions that linger to my mind with even my own story because I myself still can’t comprehend the events that unfolded in my life and why.

When I was in the sixth grade I was a good student. I was just enjoying my life and going to school everyday but something suddenly changed. I started to feel different. Really different, and I don’t know why but I no longer felt motivated to go to school. As I was getting ready for the day, I had a question that popped in my head, “Why am I getting ready to go somewhere I don’t even want to go?” I was never the bad student before but I started to ignore my teachers when they’d tell me to do my work. I was starting to also skip a lot of my classes. I started to develop severe anxiety attacks out of nowhere. When I’d arrive home from school I’d just go inside my garage to cry.

This one evening when I was in the garage, I just couldn’t help but cry so much. It’s like the tears came out of nowhere. It was really difficult for me to understand why I was feeling this way since there didn’t seem to be any reason for being like this. I did although have a bad thought that said, “Something bad is going to happen”. When my Mother finally caught on to why I was going to the garage, she noticed me crying and asked me in a worried manner “What’s Wrong?” I with my hands over my face flat out told my Mother “I want to kill myself.” My Mom just had a shocked face and was speechless. I don’t think she knew what to say to that.

The next day, my Mother and I sat down with the school’s counselor to see if I could figure out what was bothering me. I did tell the counselor that I was upset about being behind on my grades. The counselor gave me some advice. I only felt good for the next two days after seeing the counselor but after that, once again I was slipping and falling into a deep hole of sadness. I felt as it were difficult for me to bring my grades up. My grades sank like the famous Titanic Ship.

As I was trying to sort out my feelings as an adolescent not understanding myself, something very tragic happens, a very unexpected loss in the family. My two year old niece es away suddenly. My Mother was on the phone this one day and she had this look and it wasn’t a good look and she tells me “Lucy died today.” And I’m in my head thinking “What?” “How?” Why?” I go outside after hearing this news trying to catch my breath. I sit on the grass and the tears start coming out of my eyes like fast rain. I start pulling on the grass, then I start feeling angry thinking to myself “Why did this happen?” At the same time I thought to myself, “Maybe suicide is not the solution to how I feel.” When I lost my niece so suddenly I couldn’t help but to feel the anguish of losing someone, it’s a very painful experience. My niece and I were pretty close, I had taken care of her before. I always had a tremendous amount of love for all my nieces and nephews and always enjoyed playing with them.

Already in despair and not understanding my nieces death I started to feel completely numb. After the school year was over I barley ed to the seventh grade. When the Summer came, it didn’t feel like a good summer. Instead of playing outside as I normally would I’d just be inside crying most of the time. Two months after my nieces ing, I started to think about suicide once again so I decide to overdose on medication that I find in my sister’s room. I just randomly chose whatever I could find. I didn’t care anymore about my life.

Shortly after I ingest a bottle of pills, I start to feel a bit nervous. I rush to find my Mom in the house and I confess to her about my ingestion of pills. My Mom then dials Poison Control Hotline right away. My Mother informs a lady on the Poison Control Hotline on my situation. The lady asks my Mother a simple question “Was you’re daughter trying to commit suicide?” My Mom then replies to the lady “I don’t know”, then my mom es me the phone, I tell the lady, “I wanted to kill myself.” Poison Control Hotline instructed my Mom to take me to the nearest emergency room. When I arrived at the hospital I was put in a room right away, a nurse starts an IV on me and as the nurse was inserting the IV in my vein, she looks at me and says “You know your very lucky you didn’t overdose on a different medication because you’d be dead by now”.

The next few days after my hospital stay, a psychiatrist speaks to my Mom about me needing professional care. The psychiatrist suggested a Psych Ward stay. As soon as I get discharged from the hospital, my Mom then takes me to a PsychWard but does not it me, she later explains to me that she didn’t like the appearance of the place and didn’t like the idea of me being “all medicated” and “strange men” who work at the Psych Ward. As a twelve year old girl I didn’t comprehend what she meant by “strange men” or being “all medicated” because she wouldn’t go into any detail, but of course I agreed with my Mom because she is my Mom, after all. The only problem with her taking me home and not to the Psych Ward is that I was still suicidal. The very next day, after my hospital discharge, my Mom was searching for a better Psych Ward for me to stay at but in the process of her doing that; I was growing very impatient with her and I also was feeling so bored and very suicidal, I go into the restroom of the house and start looking for chemicals since my Mother had hidden all the medication. I start to drink glass cleaner. After drinking some glass cleaner, I then yell for my Mom telling her “Mom I’m a danger to myself!”

Right away my Mom and I hop into the car and go to a Psych Ward, of course a different Psych Ward than the one suggested by the Psychiatrist in the hospital. This time around my Mom wastes no time itting me. Once we arrive at the Psych ward, I get an evaluation by the Psychiatrist, she diagnosis me with an “Adjustment Depressive Disorder” and she wants me to start on a treatment plan right away. I could tell my Mom was hesitant about me starting a treatment plan because she asked me “Is taking an antidepressant is something you want to do?” I had no clue what she meant by that so of course it was only logical for me to just say “Yes.”

The Psych Ward had an everyday set routine which was nice because that was something I wasn’t used to at home. In the Morning I’d have my breakfast, that I ate very little of since I was a picky eater. Around noon time I was put in a room with two other girls my age and it was considered “class time” but it wasn’t anything School related. The Person who was watching us in the class just wanted all of us three girls to draw “Something happy”. As I was drawing my picture out of curiosity I asked both of the girls how did they get in here. One of the girls replied “Well my Parent’s think all my friends do drugs, so that’s why I’m here.” I was kind of puzzled by what she said. Then the other girl replies “I’m in here because my Grandma saw me cut myself, it was no big deal”. I just nod my head and stayed quiet for the rest of the class time.

I stayed at the Psych Ward for about a week. I was given my daily dose of Prozac each Morning and I received the last dose the day my Mom picked me up. My Mom didn’t want me on the medication Prozac, so she doesn’t pick up my medicine as she was instructed to do by the Psychiatrist. My Mom explains to me, “The problem with Prozac is that it increases suicidal thoughts in children.” My Mom wanted nothing to do with antidepressants. I was starting to feel frustrated, real frustrated. I was feeling hopeless, thinking “What now?” I tried putting on a brave face and face the days not having any kind of plan. My Mom would just get sedatives from my Aunt to help me sleep at night, they worked great to keep me asleep at night but I was still not okay emotionally. I actually started to feel terrible, I mean I was already feeling terrible to begin with but since not being at the Psych Ward I don’t know what was happening with my body because I started to have horrible symptoms that I had never experienced before. I had major fatigue like never before. I was having very intense and gruesome nightmares. One of my worst nightmares was one where a hollow figure with a black cape tied my hands together on a chair I was sitting in and the hollow figure pushes me into the pool of our house that we live at.

After a turbulent summer, my mom has me return to School as if nothing happened over the summer, her idea of taking care of my “issues” was to flat out ignore they existed. I did my best to hide my anxiety until I couldn’t bear it any longer. On the first day of School, I only attended my first two classes. When it was time for my third period class, I decided to skip and I sat outside the girl’s restroom crying. I then decide to walk out of the school and it seemed as if none of the people who worked at the front office noticed me walking out. I then lay outside on the School yard flat on my stomach just wishing I was dead. I wanted to lie there for the rest of the day but then grew bored and decided to walk back into the School.

When I go back inside the School I sit at the same place I was sitting before, right outside of the girl’s restroom. I start crying again, this time with my backpack over my face. The School’s counselor takes notice of me crying, she leans towards me and asks me in a gentle voice “What’s wrong?” “NOTHING!” I shouted to her, and then as the bell rings for students to be dismissed to there next class, students start to surround me and one of the student’s that surrounds me get’s closer to my face and tries to remove my backpack from my face, when he did that, I got up from the floor and I screamed really loud and threw my backpack to the floor in a fit of rage, then I go into the cafeteria and start stomping on the cafeteria tables. Then I run outside of the School and as I run out the School I purposely kick a few bicycles over. I then run into a ditch and took a long good look at the water inside of it and contemplated drowning myself. After a while of looking at the water, I decide not to. I just decide to run back into the School.

As soon as I run back inside the School the Vice Principle grabs my arm and I scream to her, “Let me go!” “Let me go!” The Vice Principle then takes me to the nurses office to get my sugar levels checked, The School’s staff notified my mom and when my Mom arrived I started to sob in a way that sounded like a newborn baby. I also started to throw things all over the floor in the nurses office. An ambulance had to come pick me up and strap me down on a stretcher. I was being sent to a nearby hospital. Once at the hospital I was put in a room right away. I was in the hospital room for hours while my Mom was speaking to the Doctor outside of the room I was in. I couldn’t hear what the Doctor nor what my Mom said. After a long hospital stay in a room, I get sent back home the same day.

My Mom withdrawals me from Public School the very next day. My Mom then enrolls me into a homeschool program. I was still not feeling better emotionally and I didn’t think staying at home was going to make it any better. I started acting out again, I started to spray my legs with chemicals. I threw a brick where cars were ing by, my Mom tried to stop me but I threw the brick anyways. A person yells at me calling me an Asshole. My Mom would take me to the hospital numerous amount of times complaining and crying to the Doctors in the ER that “Prozac is such a horrible medication for children!” One of the many Doctor’s we saw in the ER told my Mom “You’re daughter needs discipline!” My Mom then told the Doctor “I’d much rather give her weed than give her Prozac!” (Yes weed, as in the herb that makes you high.)

My Mom wanted to find an alternative way of taking care of my mental health so she takes me to a Nutritionist. A Nutritionist who also thinks antidepressants are dangerous for children. The Nutrionists then supplies my Mom with several natural “Mood Supplements” for me to take. I was finally feeling okay for a while but it didn’t last long. After just two weeks on the “Natural Supplements” I was back to my old ways. I was starting to feel unhappy again. I also feeling so angry at my Mom this one particular night but I can’t recall why, and I start to do Google searches on “How to Commit Suicide in a fast and painless manner.” I start to search for medications around the house once again and I find a box of medication under my Mom’s bed. I take an overdose of Iron Supplements. I told my Mom what I had taken as soon as the effects kicked in. I couldn’t take how scary my heart beat felt, I felt my heart jumping out of my chest and I was so afraid of what was going to happen next.

My Mom takes me to the hospital but this time my mom does not it me into the hospital. My Mom and I just were in the waiting area of the hospital in case something grave would happen to me. I was so scared but even more terrified at the fact that my Mom wasn’t going to it me into the hospital this time! My Mom told me there was nothing more the Doctors could do for me and that she didn’t want anything to do with the Psychiatrist and that was her “reason” for not itting me into the hospital. While in the waiting area of the hospital I couldn’t help but go to the restroom to go diarrhea every five minutes for two hours straight.

My Mom decides to take me back home after a long while of being at the hospital. I still had severe tachycardia and was scared for my life. I end up falling asleep on the living room couch from being too exhausted to walk to my bed.

The next day I woke up in a fog. I felt deathly ill. I did try my best though to proceed with my life as if nothing happened the day before. As I’m eating my breakfast I start to feel shortness of breath. I shout to my Mom “I can’t breathe!” “I can’t breathe! My Mom rushes me to a hospital downtown. (I’m guessing my Mom preferred to take me to a hospital downtown so that way, I wouldn’t have to see the same Doctors I’ve seen before.) Unfortunately for my Mom immediately upon arrival to the hospital downtown, the ER Doctor has me speak to a Psychiatrist. The Psychiatrist has me sit down and she starts drawling on a piece of paper a sad face, happy face and an angry face, then she explains to me that it’s likely that I’m suffering from Bipolar Disorder. I start to feel extremely overwhelmed by the diagnosis she was giving me and I start to hyperventilate. I start to think in my head, “Oh No!” “What other treatment will I receive now!?” Ever since my Mom told me how “Dangerous” Prozac is. I was extremely reluctant to try any new treatment. My body starts to shake violently as I start to hyperventilate. I get up from where I was sitting and I start to pace around the ER screaming to the nurses that I need Oxygen.

A Doctor in the ER told me in an obnoxious way, “You wouldn’t be talking if you needed Oxygen.”

Whatever the Obnoxious Doctor told me didn’t to me because I continued to scream for Oxygen. “I need Oxygen!” I need Oxygen!” is what I would shout. I was getting super fatigued from all the pacing around and so I slowly faint into my Moms arms then I slowly get on the ER bed. I was still shaking a whole lot. A Nurse comes to me to give me some medication but before I let her give it to me, I had to ask, “What medicine is it?” “It’s something that’s going to help you.” Is what the Nurse replies. I slowly surrendered my arm as she injected the medicine through my IV. I was sent home with a prescription of the sedative Ativan.

The next few months did not come by easily. The Ativan I was prescribed only seemed to ease my mind but not my body. I was getting so weak that I could no longer stand on my own two feet, so I’d just spend my days lying down on the living room couch. My Mom placed me on a new strict diet, an all protein diet. I could only eat eggs, steak, liver or fish. The new diet my Mom placed me on was intended to help me with my mood swings and with my shaking episodes. I struggled with severe tachycardia for two whole months, anytime I attempted to walk, my heart would race so fast. Lying on the couch of the living room became my new life. I spent night after night all alone on that couch and I hate every second of it. My Mom was hardly by my side and I had no idea what she was up to, she wasn’t much of a talker either. In the Day time she’d make me my food but I rarely saw her afterwards and I just mostly watched tv and kept to myself. What crushed my little twelve year old heart the most is not having her or anyone by my side at night. I felt completely alone and I’ll never forget this one night where everyone was asleep in the household and I was downstairs on that couch, I would just look out the window of my living room and think to myself “maybe these are my last days”.

I was broken. I was hurt. I started to have tears roll down my cheek, the feeling of loneliness hurt me so much. I started to pray. I started to pray every single day. I was in so much distress, I couldn’t fathom the thought that, “This was my life now.”

The day of the Glucose Intolerance test I was feeling terrified. The Nurses at the San Jose Hospital in Mexico were trying to reassure me that I would be okay. Before I drank the sugar water, I had kept asking one of the Nurses, “Am I going to die?” The Nurse got in touch with one of the Doctors at the hospital and the Doctor came into the testing room I was in and said to me “We will not let you die.” I was finally convinced and drank the sugar water and felt euphoric right away. After an hour of ingesting the sugar water, I started to get serious hunger pangs.

After a few months of being really sick on the couch, my Mom decides to take me to Mexico. My Aunt that lives in Mexico told my Mom about a Miracle Doctor. I think my Mom also needed to go to Mexico to receive some emotional from my Aunt. My Mom also has me see a pediatrician in Mexico for a 44th opinion on my health but even the pediatrician in Mexico says to my Mom, “You’re daughter should see a Psychiatrist.” The pediatrician that I saw in Mexico ran tests to check for any underlying medical condition that could affect my mental health, he doesn’t find anything despite my Mom insisting to him that something was wrong with my kidneys. I also saw a Psychiatrist down in Mexico, a psychiatrist with a very heavy accent when he spoke English to me, it was nearly impossible for me to understand him. I didn’t know how to speak Spanish at the time either so that didn’t help. I’d just shout to the psychiatrist “Im not crazy!” and whenever the psychiatrist mentioned antidepressants and the benefits of being on them, I’d just start to cry and shout to to him “Antidepressants are horrible!”

It wasn’t until I saw the Miracle Doctor that I started to feel some psychical improvements. The Miracle Doctor wasn’t just your average Doctor, he was very famous in the town for his healing powers. My Aunt had quick access to him since she knew him well and she’d also see him as well for her medical issues. My Aunt influenced me a lot and she also taught me the power of prayer. On a Sunny and a bit humid afternoon, My Aunt and I went to go pray outside as my Aunt and I prayed, a gentle breeze came by us. Whenever my Aunt and I were finished praying, we walk back inside her house. I go into my Aunts room and see her bible on the floor.

My Aunt looking very surprised tells me the last time she saw her bible, she had it completely tucked into her bookshelf. The bible was faced flat on the floor with two pages wide open and I pick it up to read what it said, the first few sentences read about the Miracles of God.

It was truly amazing to witness and read the bible in that manner and it gave me a glimmer of hope, something I never had. My Mom was still taking me the pediatrician in Mexico. The pediatrician had me do one more test, The Glucose Intolorence Test, to see if maybe high sugar levels were causing my shaking episodes. I was deathly afraid to take the Glucose Intolerance test because I hadn’t had any sugar ever since the horrible panic attack that I had at the hospital in Texas, (the one where I described myself shaking and screaming for oxygen). My Mom and I weren’t really sure whether sugar was causing the shakes but eliminating sugar seemed to have helped calm some of the shakes down.

After the second hour I felt really tired, I also had to use the restroom, I could feel my body wanting to fall over as I was trying to walk so a Nurse had to assist me to the bathroom using a wheelchair. After the Glucose Intolerance Test was finally over, my Mom) and I were super anxious to find out the results.

The very next day the pediatrician calls and tells my Mom, “You’re daughter has a very rare case of diabetes.” My Mom tells me the news and I’m feeling completely devastated after what I hear. After a while of crying though, I had felt a bit of optimism because I started rationalizing that with insulin I can finally start to feel better. Having “a rare case of Diabetes” wasn’t as simple of a diagnosis as I had thought. My Mom and I met up with a doctor who specializes in case’s like mine, and the doctor explains to my Mom and I that my body is simply intoxicated and that is why my insulin was so high and so was my blood sugar levels.

The Doctor’s best advice? Was just to rest as much as possible. My thirteenth birthday was approaching and I was still not feeling better. My Mom left me with my Aunt in Mexico to get some much needed rest. I didn’t mind it at all though. I felt more secure with my Aunt My Mom would only increase my anxiety with the worried expression she’d carry on her face. My Aunt also had a special way of comforting me when I didn’t feel well especially when my anxiety was getting out of control. My Aunt would make me repeat after her, “Everything is going to be just fine.”

After a few months of staying with my Aunt I was starting to feel better on my own and I started to eat more of a variety of meals. I was so sick and tired of the protein only diet. I was ready to leave Mexico and although I was going to miss my Aunt a whole lot, I was more than ready to go back home I was starting to miss my friends back at School. My Mom picks me up from Mexico and my Mom and I both agree that it would be a good idea to enroll back into Public-school. The morning My Mom enrolls me back into Public School is the same morning I see my ex boyfriend. As my Mom and I were in the front office waiting for the principle to complete my registration, I hear a familiar voice and it’s Jaden, my ex boyfriend who walks into the office. I noticed how different he looked since I last saw him, he use to have a nice clean short haircut but now it looked long and oily. The School’s at the front desk asks Jayden “Why are you late?” In which Jayden bluntly tells the “I slept in”. I couldn’t help but giggle inside. The way he was honest about it made me laugh because most kids would just lie and say a different excuse.

Despite feeling lousy once again, I still somehow managed to go to School everyday. I was suicidal throughout my teen years, I just decided to close my mouth about it though because honestly I felt like nobody gave a fuck. In School when everybody was making their Graduation capsule, like a goal before you graduate, I just wrote “To kill myself.” It wasn’t an easy childhood for me, I was constantly confused, constantly alone, it just wasn’t a healthy way to grow up. I didn’t realize how awful my childhood was until I turned 25 and could finally understand and see the truth. The truth was right in front of me all along, I didn’t grow up in a loving environment. I would hardly eat anything. I’d run constantly to numb the mental pain. I have several writings blaming myself for being stupid for overdosing and fucking up my body. I really thought my depression was my fault. My Mom was fairly absent minded and her rage could light a fire. She had told me something that I took to heart, I took her words into adulthood, she said to me after surviving all my overdoses and me telling her that I still feel suicidal, she said “People who really want to kill themselves don’t tell anyone.”

Although that may be true at times, that’s such a horrific thing to tell a child. In general, those are such toxic words. Something changed drastically when I turned 25 years old, I could no longer cope with my sadness and anxiety. I kept shaving my hair off wanting to start fresh. I was out of coping skills. I had a breakdown and contemplated not telling anyone about my suicide plan, I would just sit in my car for hours thinking about ways to die. I’d imagine myself drowning. I’d imagine myself jumping off of a building. I’d imagine myself crashing my car. I was anxious and needed help fast.

I didn’t want to tell anyone at first because I kept thinking about my Mom’s words. I felt ashamed but I made an appointment with my doctor anyways and told her her, “I’m tired.” My doctor could tell what I meant just by looking at me. I didn’t even have to explain to myself. My doctor calls the ambulance and I get taken to the hospital.

At the age of 25 I finally got the help I needed and finally accepted treatment. My diagnosis from the psych ward was Bipolar 1 Disorder. My past has shaped me into a stronger person today. The test’s and trials I had as a young girl was tough. I’ll never forget that feeling of loneliness and abandonment. Also the feeling of hunger. I stand strong today and refuse to let my anxiety or past stop me from achieving my goals. This is my life. This is my mouth and this is my story. There’s a special song that I heard on the radio this one day and I felt a deep connection to the song, because it sounds like words I’d like to tell my Mom but could never express to her. The song is called “Praying” by Kesha.

As a Disclosure and talking about a very sensitive subject, suicide; I don’t want to condone any behaviors like mine in this story and as a reader, if your feeling suicidal or just feel like you need to talk to someone and don’t know where to turn to, please do me a favor and don’t not shut your mouth and call the suicide hotline now 1-800-273-8255.