February 2013 I entered a homeless shelter. I'm living there still, but some events that followed my attendance have me a little on edge.
Since I moved back to Melbourne, my mother has tried getting involved with me for the first time in my life. I lived with her up until I was 16 and my "dad" took custody of me. Soon after I moved back, she heard about my pregnancy and instantly called me. I'm not going to say that I regret letting her back in, but she definitely did more harm to me than good. She'd make me feel bad about anything I did, like pick the peppers out of my salad because the smell makes me nauseous. She'd say "You're embarrassing me! Remind me to never take you out again."
She made me feel bad about things that I can't control. For example, I'm a skinny and fit person. I still work out at 6 months pregnant. But my daughter is making me look like I swallowed a basketball. She tells me that I look like a drunk redneck with a beer-gut. I now cover my baby bump with my notebooks when in public, scared that someone else might say something. Everyone in the shelter tells me it's cute, but what my mom said really got to me.
So now you know that there was tension for a while there. About a month ago, I told her to back off and get out of my life. She's done a lot of horrible things to me and let bad things happen to me, too. She won't help me with food. She calls me names. It's too stressful. So when getting home to the shelter, though I'm always sweet to everyone there, they could always tell when I'd spent the day with my mom. I won't cry, but they say there's a look about me like I've lost hope.
Needless to say, it was tough trying to keep a relationship with my mother. Without her, I have no family left. The father of my unborn child isn't involved (my choice), and I have yet to have any friends come visit me. I love my friends, but I guess their lives get in the way of driving a few blocks to say Hi.
I've started struggling in life again, fighting depression. So far I think I'm doing a great job. But there have been strange things happening. I think something is feeding off my stress and sadness. There's a rotating Bible in my room that plays music when wound. I have played with it once. I made sure that it had spun as much as it needed by forcing it to spin one last time after it stopped.
One night, I was almost asleep when I thought I'd heard the bible sing it's tune. I wasn't sure, but I was wide awake, startled. Not even a minute later, it started playing, really fast, but wasn't moving. I couldn't stop staring at it. I was trying not to move, afraid of triggering something else. Then it spun like a top. I was about to scream when the closet door swung open!
I jumped up, shut the closet door and turned on the light. The bible stopped. I ran downstairs and got a glass of milk. I stayed down there for almost an hour before going back up to try to sleep. I had a hard time sleeping, expecting something else to happen.