The Delvaux Family

My name is Chelsea Delvaux and I’m a single mom to my amazing 13 year old son. I have PTSD, anxiety, and Bipolar 2 disorder that back in March caused me to start to spiral downwards into the largest depression of my entire life. But, let’s start from the very beginning so you may get a better understanding of me, the struggles, and fights I have won.

Growing up, I had a sister that is 2 years older than me, and a mom and dad who were both in the Navy, that caused us to move a lot. My mom got out of the Navy so she could take care of my sister and I, and worked as an echo tech and nuclear tech in the medical field. My dad was away a lot due to deployments or being stationed in different states than us, so it was mainly my sister, mom and I at home. My mom was extremely strict when it came to grades, friends, sports, and appearances. 

Even though my sister was only 2 years older than me, she was 3 grades above me in school. My sister was always very academically inclined and she was in all of the intellectual clubs. Straight A student, the student EVERY teacher loved and wanted a million of for their classes. My mom saw her as the golden child and perfection in human form. The only thing I had going for me in my mothers eyes, was my looks. I was a very social person where my sister loved books, I loved people. I was in cheerleading, dance line, gymnastics, track, and cross country running, but my grades were always lacking. I was at best a C average student, I was constantly reminded by teachers that I was completely different from my sister. My mother LOVED to ask me why I couldn’t be more intelligent and intellectual like my sister. I was told daily I’d never go anywhere with my brain, the only way I’d get by was with my looks.

When I turned 13 my hormones started to change me, and I wouldn’t stand for my mothers sharp tongue. I would tell her not to talk to me that way, and would become physical. It had always been physical to a point of spanking or smacking me across the face since I can remember but this time, this time really scared me. It was the look in her eyes as she pushed me down the stairs. After that day something in me shifted, I was more guarded, more fiercely protective of myself, and more aggressive. I told the school what happened, and they called my dad along with social services, but of course who would believe me.

I was put in therapy at age 14 and diagnosed with bipolar disorder and depression. This began a cycle of trying to find the right medication that worked. I was still being physically and mentally abused by my mom. At the hospital (where she worked), she told them I did it to myself and I was admitted to a 72 hr psych hold. At the age of 15 my dad finally retired from the military and thought everything would finally end with him being home. He would finally see the insanity I was living in. But with my sister leaving for college and my dad coming home, we ended up moving again so both of my parents could find jobs and start over fresh. We ended up in Columbia, Missouri in my junior year of high school.

I was so lost, I didn’t have my friends, my family was broken up, and I was alone. As the year went on I started to spiral out of control trying to get away from my parents they were fighting a lot. My mom didn’t like my boyfriend at the time and my dad was trying to adjust to civilian life. One day before I was leaving to go stay the night at a friends house my mom wanted me to eat before I left so I sat down but I saw her put bleach in my food. I refused to eat I screamed and yelled for my dad. When he came in and I explained what I saw he didn’t believe me. I kept telling my mom to take a bite and if she did I would eat it. She never did and that day was the day I moved out at 15 years old.

I moved in with my boyfriend who really wasn’t a good influence on me but I worked 3 jobs till I graduated high school. I actually tested out early at 17. After that I left Columbia and moved to Kansas City and worked at a grocery store until I joined the navy at 18. Then at age 21, I thought I met the love of my life. I was extremely wrong again. Him and I were on the same ship and we planned to go on deployment together. It was like we were going to travel the world together but get paid for it of course since we were stationed together. Before women are allowed to deploy you have to have a “well women check”. I’ll never forget that day, that was the day I found out I was pregnant and had cancer all at the same time. I felt like yet again the world or god was punishing me for something. The doctor told me and I just sat in shock in denial honestly.

I went home and took 10 more home pregnancy test and they all came back positive. I was going to have to choose to keep the baby and the cancer OR remove the cancer and abort the baby. When he came home and I told him the news of me having cervical cancer and being pregnant and having the 2 options he said it was a sign from God we have to keep the baby. My son Tristan was born July 13th 2011, 7 weeks early due to a ruptured tumor pushing him out. My then husband was deployed and on the phone as I gave birth so I felt not so alone.

3 months later my then husband came home and my life took a turn I never expected. For the next 3 years I endured the most abusive physical, mental, and emotional relationship of my life. My son watched his mom go through cervical cancer treatment for 2 years all while being physically and emotionally abused. I was so weak I couldn’t handle it anymore. Finally one day he came home and said he got orders for the family to move to Japan where his next duty station was. I saw this as my out. But then a week later my now ex-husband came home and told me his orders had changed and that I would be staying in California with his friend and his friends wife, and he would be going to Japan.

Instead of going to his friends home to live, when I dropped my now ex-husband at the airport, I drove from California all the way to Florida. I changed my number, removed myself from all social media, and started over completely. Sadly during this time I stopped taking my meds for my bipolar and started to spin out of control. I also didn’t realize how depressed I was or that I had anxiety. When my now ex-husband tried finding us around march, I started to have severe panic attacks while at work that caused issues and started to effect my performance. Then in April my psychiatrist told me I needed to take 3 weeks off of work using FMLA because with my bipolar 2 disorder the way it was and me spiraling into the depression I was in and reliving a lot of the life experiences all over again. I couldn’t leave my bed, I barely ate, and could barely shower. I’m barely able to keep up payments for my medications, let alone the therapy and medications for my son.

I’m really just needing some kind of help with my car. If I could just get caught up with that I know the rest would fall into place. I’m so scared that if I keep having these calls of every payment I make they tell me “if you didn’t pay today you would have gone to reposition” I’m going to break down again. I have come such a far way and I can’t have my son see me break again.