Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Doctors, officers, and Monday

I've been reading through some of my old blog entries and I've definitely noticed my writing, grammar, and overall general use of language (on my blog and in real life) have declined quite a bit.  I'm not sure why.  My medication?  Brain damage?  My mental health has declined, so I'm sure it's not a coincidence that my intellectual and communication skills have suffered too.  I guess I'm not lucking enough to be one of those tortured genius artists.  HAHA!  Whatever the reasons may be, I just hope that it's not permanent. 

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Spirit Klepto

I cannot sleep at night, no matter how hard I try.  The only way I can sleep is to knock myself out with large quantities of chemicals.  I was a little sick last night, so it was even harder to sleep.  I'm so worried about the alarming increase and intensity of my crazy behavior and feelings.  I feel on edge all the time.  I went out to dinner last night because it was my girlfriend's birthday.  I invited six good friends and I love all of them, but I was overwhelmed with anxiety.  I feel like I have to keep things moving.  I had a good time last night, but that good time was mixed with a lot of anxiety and anger at myself.  I felt so angry that I constantly let my past invade my life.  I want to be able to go out with friends and have a good time without dealing with whispers in my ears or intense pain that doesn't really exist.  Going out with a group of friends is so exhausting for me.  I have a lot of fun, I do, but I'm always so exhausted and full of anxiety when it's over.  I'm full of worry about things I said or didn't say or if my friends could tell that I am crazy.

How is it possible to be surrounded by people that I know care about me and feel so lonely?  Why am I so insecure about how my friends feel about me?  A friend could tell me that they love me and instead of feeling good, I'd feel really anxious, insecure, and sad.  It's like I choose to feel lonely.  I long for intimate connection with people but I'm just not sure it's possible for me.  I feel like a freak around other people.  I'm terrified of people finding out how crazy I am, how many horrible things I've been part of, and dumping me.  I feel so alone, lonely, and kind of starving for connection all the time.
I was able to fall asleep for a few hours today, but I woke up choking and sobbing as usual.  My dream was kind of bizarre.  There were some weird creatures that would jump into my friends' bodies and basically suck them dry until they died.  They sucked away their spirits.  Only I could see these creatures and it was up to me to fight them out of my friends.  Very weird.  Later in the dream, I found out that the reason I could see these creatures is because I am one of them.  I am a creature without a spirit.  I am a creature that takes the spirit and happiness away from other people in order to survive.  I know it was a weird dream but it's totally true. That's why I can't keep a family or have close relationships.  I end up sucking people dry and they have to dump me just to survive.  I don't have my own spirit so I steal from other people.  I'm like a happiness succubus.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

Control? Does that exist?

I'm so fucking tired of waking up choking and sobbing.  You're not supposed to be able to dream until you reach REM, right?  I seem to dream before I even close my eyes.  The very second I fall asleep, I start dreaming, talking in my sleep, beating myself in my sleep.  I'm so fucking crazy.  I can't tolerate it anymore.  I really miss my cat and I know a lot of people think that's pathetic.  I miss my sweet, beautiful, tiny little lovable friend who was always there for me since I was 17.  I miss her more than I can admit.  I still cry about her a lot.  I'm able to turn off my feelings for people pretty easily, but I can't for her.  I miss her little purring body next to mine.  I just fucking miss my cat. 

Friday, February 24, 2012

Trust, help and friends

Sometimes I feel like I am such a heavy burden to the people I let into my world, but I feel very lucky to have someone like Melody to help me handle some really screwed up heavy stuff.  There aren't very many people in this world who would be willing to see and help you remove your horrifying child pornography from your computer and hold onto it if/until the police officers ask for it.  I've never been able to trust someone with something so huge in my entire life.  I don't trust people, like at all.  Ever.  I don't let people help me.  Like ever.  Melody is a superhero who has lost lots of sleep just to be there for me.  It's hard for me to trust why someone would want to be my friend, because I'm a psycho with a lot of baggage, but I'm thankful that someone does.

Melody helped me put my photos on a flash drive which she locked up in a safe.  I've had a lot of anxiety and a couple of panic attacks since the photos are gone.  I know it's screwed up that part of me feels kind of attached to the photos.  I don't like them.  I don't feel good when I look at them, but for some reason I feel this impulse to look at them.  I talked about this in therapy this week.  I open up the images and I become paralyzed and mesmerized.  How is that tiny little girl me?  I don't ever remember being so tiny or helpless.  I look at the photos to show myself what a little kid I was, hoping that I can change the disgust I feel for myself for the things I was part of.  The photos are proof that this really happened.  People have been calling me a liar for most of my life.  These photos are undeniable evidence.  I keep looking at the photos because I can't believe that I've been part of something so horrible.  I can't believe how brutal the photos are.  I can't believe someone would keep photographs like those.  I was so tiny and I do mean SO very very tiny.  How was I ever that small?  I don't remember being such a little girl.  I was very small for my age.  Why was I so tiny?

I haven't been able to sleep since prying myself away and walking home.  I still have this intense impulse to look at the photos.  I can feel the anxious urge deep in my abdomen because they are gone, kind of like that unrelenting feeling you get when you know you're about to get into trouble--that feeling of panic you feel when a police officer pulls you over.  I get a surge of panic when a police car is just near me, even when I'm not doing anything wrong.  I wonder what that says about me?  Anyway, I feel a lot of anxiety and the urge to relieve it by looking at the photos and cutting.  I have wanted to cut myself most of the night.  Instead, I spent the night drinking a lot of cheap wine and drawing.  I'm really tired and intoxicated, but I have not self harmed or taken any sleeping pills or Nyquil.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

purple teeth and sleeping pills

That's how I have been surviving my days and nights.  Red wine, nyquil, sleeping pills, razor blades, and vitamin E oil.  That pretty much describes my existence.  I can't stop looking at the photos.  I've talked about this with CT today.  I see her again tomorrow. 

My legs and abdomen are covered in hives.  Really gross, red, hot, itchy hives.  There are hives all over my body.  I haven't been able to sleep, but I haven't been able to get out of bed. 

I terrified that this is all that is left for me for the rest of my life. 

I'm scared that I will soon be back in the hospital.

Monday, February 20, 2012

I don't have anything left

I really am so very sick.  I'm so freaking tired of hurting.  I really want to die.  I'm sad that it didn't work last year.  I tried so hard to fix myself this year.  I am so tired.  I'm so very tired.  I am not worth the polluted LA air that I breathe.  I just don't want to do this anymore.  I really don't.  I am a depressing burden on people.  They eventually tire of me.  I can't trust anyone, especially not after being dumped last year.  No one knows my fucked up parts because if they do, they either run away or stick around out of pity.

I've tried everything to find relief today.  I cleaned, I drew, I gardened, I cut, I slept, I drank an entire bottle of NyQuil.  I asked four friends to come hang out.  I didn't even want to see people today but I did it to try to be a healthy person.  They all said yes, but they were all the "I don't really want to, but alright" kind of yeses.  Saying no is disappointing.  Feeling like a burden hurts, so I didn't see anyone today.  That's better, because I didn't really want to socialize.  It felt like a huge effort to do it.  I suck at people and my desire to socialize and have relationships is pretty much non existent since I was dumped last year.  I don't trust anyone.  My relationship with my gf is pretty much over.  We are just together because neither one of us can leave.  I have no one in life.  I'm truly am all alone.  I will always be alone.

Nothing has helped me.  I've tried so hard this year with so much therapy and medication and everything else.  Nothing has worked.  Nothing has helped.  I've tried everything I could to find relief but I just can't find it and life hurts too much.  It really hurts to want to die all the time.


I'm really tired.  I passed out in my car last night, starring at my photos and covered in blood.  I had two glasses of wine.  One at 7pm and one around 11, but those glasses of wine were accompanied by NyQuil, Tylenol PM, and my klonipin.  I can't really describe what it's like to be so tired but so awake.  There is nothing I want more but to sleep, but my body just refuses.  Since last night I've consumed an entire bottle of NyQuil, quite a few sleeping pills and my own medications.  I'm sure my liver is near death.


I am alone.  I will always be alone.  I am an outcast.  Even among other foster children I'm a fucked up, unwanted, piece of shit.  I'm a throw away amongst throw aways.  No one wants me.  No one has ever wanted me, and no one ever will.

People always think they want to be in my life, but once they get to know me, they bail.  Even blog readers.  I've had six people stop following my blog in the last week or two.  Wow.  Even strangers think I'm hopeless.  Well, they are right.  I am.  I'm a worthless, melodramatic, horrible, good for absolutely nothing, vile, rancid, scabies infested, crusty old thrown away mattress in the middle of the desert.  I'm interesting and entertaining for the adventurous, but only until they see the filth and damage that's inside of it.  I'm useful for homeless people and drug addicts that need somewhere to stomp on for a while.  I'm disposable.  I'm disposed.

 Why do people go out of their way to make me think that they want me, only to dump me in the end?  I made a friend from my blog over a year ago and one day she just stopped talking to me.  I asked why, and she basically said I'm too heavy and fucked up and she just doesn't want to do it anymore.  Why be friend someone with a blog like mine if you think my blog is too heavy?  Everyone disappears.  EVERYONE.  EVERYONE.  EVERYONE!  My relationship with my gf is over.  We are just kind of stuck together right now.  She's not my support system.  She cannot handle seeing me freak out.  No one can handle seeing me freak out.

I wish I was dead.  I really fucking wish I was dead.  There is nothing worth living for in this life.  No one will EVER keep me.  EVER.  It's like I'm so thirsty for love and affection that the minute I get it, I gulp it all down until I drain the well.  Once people get a peek at what's underneath my little cloak of jokes and silly little gifts, they run away, terrified for their lives.

I am a monster.  I am pathetic.  I am psychotic.  I want to fucking die.  I deserve a really horrific, painful, slow death.  I deserve to suffer.  Just make it stop already.  

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Not normal

I am filled with so much rage.  So much rage just for me.  I hate who I am.  I hate where I've been.  I hate where I'm going.  I try to be a good person, but I always seem to make the wrong choices.  I always end up making the wrong decisions.

I have been part of so many horrible things.  Why has my life been so crazy and weird?  Why have I been part of so many horrible, disgusting things?

I have tried to pry off all the horrible things stuck on me, but everything is so firmly in place.  I've managed to pull a few things off, but they always find their way back.  Like those photos.  I had a really hard time deleting them.  I had to have a friend help me push delete on my computer.  The photos went away, but now they are back.  They are stuck to me again and I can't stop looking at them.  I've been part of so many horrible things.  People say that you are made up of your life experiences.  If that is true, than I am made of a lot of really horrible things.  I'm a horrible person.  Most people who live through horrible things end up doing great things with their lives.  They become good people.  I've done nothing with my life.  

The photos that I have found are horrible.  They are so horrible.  They are the worst photos I have ever seen.  They are part of something disgusting.  They are disgusting.  They are disgusting and I am a part of them. 

Fran is right.  I am not normal.  It's disturbing and fucked up that I keep looking at them.  I hate myself for it.  I hate myself when I look at them.  I hate myself after I look at them.  It's so insane that I keep finding myself sitting in my bathroom with horrible photos on my computer, cutting myself with razor blades, or whatever is available.  I have never been afraid of monsters, because I know that the monsters are inside of me.

I wanted to keep the case open because I thought it was the right thing to do, but I'm not strong enough to do it.  I still have to have officers come over to my house and look at everything that's ever been on my computer.  I still have to describe each photo in detail and anything I remember from the events in them.  I can't do it.  I'm too crazy.  I'm too fucked up.  I'm too fucking weak.  I am an incredibly weak coward.

I don't think I will ever be normal or a good person.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Schedule of decisions and consequences

  • Latched onto a friend, eating up her entire day, so that I did not have to make any decisions until the very last minute.
  • Teased friend and hurt her feelings.
  • Left for home around 4:30 PM, feeling like an asshole.
  • Thought of the reasons why no one should be my friend.
  • Thought of ways to disappear
  • Made a decision on walk home.
  • Called Officer Good and informed him of my decisions.  
  • Opened an email from Officer Good.
  • Followed directions in the email.
  • Installed and ran program.
  • Found two deleted photos.
  • hyperventilated.
  • Cut
  • Hyperventilated
  • Cut
  • Vomited
  • laid on bathroom floor, with my hands over my ears, trying to quiet the screaming in my brain.
  • moved photos to a folder.
  • Panic attack 
  • Cut
  • Tried to induce a self medicated coma with prescription and OTC meds.
  • Failed
  • Girlfriend came home so I pretend everything is/was okay with me and with us.  

  • Panicked and paced around the entire apartment when gf went to bed.
  • cut
  • tried to sleep but I could only see the photos and the little film projector of the past running in my brain when I closed my eyes.  My playlist of insults and degradation hissed at me at full volume.  I could not turn it off. 
  • Took sedatives
  • Turned on computer.
  • Opened folder
  • Stared at photos.
  • Cut
  • Cried
  • Cut
  • Cried.
  • 5AM:  Drank NyQuil and other "nighttime" OTC medications and more of my sedatives.
  • Washed them down with cheap wine. 
  • Woke up around 8 Am.  Repeated last two steps.
  • Went back to my bed around 9AM.
  • Did not sleep but laid there most of the day, trapped in my own head.  So much screaming.  So much physical pain.  So much crying.
  • 2PM: Looked at photos.  
  • Cut.
  • 4PM:  More NyQuil, wine, and pills. 
  • 6:30PM Look at photos
  • Cut.
  • Cry.
  • 7PM:  Write this weird blog entry.
  • Feel absolutely nothing.

Or make me Go away.
I Wish I was dead.

Thursday, February 16, 2012


Things have been a bit rough lately.  First, I'm pretty sure my relationship is over.  We just finished a big "talk."  I'm exhausted, but I am not sure anything was talked out.

I have to make a decision by the end of the work day tomorrow about what to do regarding the child pornography.  My choices are:  Close the case or keep it open.  Keeping the case open entails allowing Crimes Against Children to come and look at everything on my computer.  They are going to search through my hard drive to find all the original photos and deleted emails.  I have nothing I'm afraid of people seeing, but it still feels very invasive.  After they search my computer I will have to describe each photo in detail as well as my memories of the events photographed.  The interview will be recorded.  I assumed he meant video recording, but after talking to CT about it, I'm not sure if he meant video or audio.  Either way, I am not sure I am strong enough to handle that.  I don't know if I can do it.  I am so afraid I'll repeat what I did when I was 13.  I will totally close down and look psychotic.  I will ruin the whole case.

If I decide to close the case, I will feel weak and selfish, but if I choose to go through with the case, I can end up looking crazy and ruining everything and it could all end up being for nothing.  Neither choice is easy.  I have no idea what to do and I'm super stressed out about all of it.  I keep having panic attacks about it. 

I freaked out in front of a friend last night.  She was very sweet and supportive, but I feel totally psycho.  The sad part is, it was totally insane and crazy, but it was a pretty mild freak out for me.  I'm really tired of feeling so out of control.  I just want it to go away.  I want to be able to at least pretend I am normal and sane. 

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

My Valentine

I got her back today.  <3

Happy love day

I'm not really a huge fan of the big commercial Valentines Day, but I am a fan of celebrating the people you love.  I hope everyone has someone to celebrate with today.


Sunday, February 12, 2012

What's it like?

The idea of loving life is so foreign to me, as is the idea of loving myself.  I try really hard, because I know I'm supposed to know that I'm a good person and worthy of love and life.  I know I'm supposed to feel that way.  I really want those feelings.  It's kind of like shopping for trendy super skinny jeans in a very exclusive and expensive store.  Every time I try to squeeze myself into these attractive values, I end up feeling worse about myself.  I end up feeling unattractive and worthless.  I end up feeling like a loser--worse than I did before I went to the dressing room.

Like the DBT mantra, I desperately want to have a life worth living and I've tried so hard to find a way to do that.  I'm not really sure I'm worthy of a life.  I know it's not acceptable to blame myself for the things that I do.  I know it frustrates people how much I hate myself.  I know it pisses people off when I just can't seem to change those feelings and the urge to beat myself up.  The hatred I feel for myself is so intense.  I hate myself so much that all I really want to do is kick my ass.  I want to punish myself for being such a fucked up piece of shit.

Everything that I've lived through in my entire life has reinforced those feelings.  My life has proven myself right time and time again.  I deserve the horrible things that happen to me.  Zealie did not deserve to die, but I definitely did not deserve such an amazingly beautiful little loving creature.  She deserved so much better than me.  My sister deserves someone who knows how to take care of her.  Someone who knows how to handle her illness and keep her safe.  My girlfriend deserves someone better.  She deserves someone who isn't always depressed.  She deserves someone who is totally sure and secure in who they are.

The truth is, I hurt everyone I love.  I am being totally honest and sincere when I say that. I hurt people and push them away.  I can only keep up the "normal person" facade for so long and then I act like a lunatic and tell people to fuck off, in a much less vulgar way.  Then again, maybe it's not any less vulgar.  I just don't know how to be a normal, healthy, decent, happy person.

Not my legs
I hate myself.  I honestly, truly, hate myself.  And I feel that hate with such passion.  It's so painful.  It hurts to hate myself.  I hate myself so much.  It's easier when someone else hates you because you can say it's their problem, but when you hate yourself, there is no one else to blame it on but yourself.  The only opinion that matters is my own, and my opinion is full of venom and hate.

Since I got my cat killed, I have been cutting a lot, but it's been taken up a notch.  I've been cutting my legs and then punching those deep cuts as hard as I can.  And I do mean as HARD as I can.

Not me
The cutting doesn't hurt enough.  I want to feel the pain she did.  I deserve to suffer like she did.  It's much harder to punch my arms, but I've been doing that too.  My desire to stay out of the house and avoid the pain at home has changed.  I am almost incapable of leaving the house.  I've been been taking a lot of drowsy liquid medications, my own sedatives, and a crap load of wine, all in an effort to induce a kind of coma.  I literally cannot leave my bed and the self medicated coma.  The coma is an effort to escape my feelings, the cutting and self beatings, but also to protect the people I care about from the intense thoughts and desires about calling it quits, from calling in sick to life.  From putting myself down.  I really do want to die.  I sincerely have no idea where I am going to find the strength to keep going.  I know a lot of you are thinking, "come on, it's just a fucking cat."  But it's not just a cat.  She was a huge part of me.  When I was feeling so alone and desperate I used to scoop up my little kitty, flipping her over in the process and bury my face into her little soft body.  She was so happy to be held.  She would purr and purr and purr.  All I had to do was look at her and I'd get a little acknowledging grunt and immediate purring.  She was my living teddy bear.  She was my best friend and now she's gone because of my own stupidity.  Now I don't have anything to comfort me and I hate myself so much more for her death.

What is it like to want to be alive?  What is it like to look forward to the future?  What is it like to believe you will have a future?  I have no idea.  I don't remember ever feeling hopeful for the future.  I used to create these super extreme and lofty goals for myself and work so hard, all in an effort to escape the little muse that whispers thoughts of death and peace in my ear.  Her whispers are now screams.  My brain is screaming at me to end all my suffering.

Everyone keeps telling me how strong I am, but they only think I'm strong because "I'm still here."  If I kill myself, will I no longer be a strong person?  I don't want to be a survivor anymore.  I seriously have to keep myself in a self medicated coma to keep myself alive because I am not sure I will have the strength to do it anymore.  I can't think about anything else.  I can't do anything but search on the internet for the best methods and ideas to hurt people I care about less.  I don't want to feel this way.  I want to want to live, but I've been searching for a way to do that for more than a quarter century.  

I don't want to hurt anyone, but I don't want to hurt anymore either.  I'm not sure I'm strong enough to fight the urge anymore.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Night time is so hard

I've been spending all my time outside my house.  I've been doing absolutely everything I can to stay out--long walks in random neighborhoods, wondering around stores, hanging out in my car, trying to fall asleep in it, going to plant nurseries.  I love plants, but seeing Azaleas is so hard.  Zealie is the name I came up with by combining the name she came with and Azalea.  She was so obsessed with this giant Azalea bush where I used to walk her on a leash.  She liked to run under it, stalking the little finches that lived in it.   I have a jar terrarium with moss and a little Azalea in it.  I am not sure how to feel about it now that she's gone.  It makes me feel sad, but it makes me feel closer to her.  I don't know how to be at home.  When I'm out, it feels like she's still alive, waiting for me at home.  When I am home I have the urge to call her to come sit in my lap.  When I am home, she's always on me or touching me, or curled around my head.  I just realized I wrote that in the present tense.  I can't seem to use the past tense for her yet.  I keep accidentally calling everyone Zealie.  It's so strange not to have her.  It doesn't feel real.  I swear I keep hearing her meow.  I feel so... disconnected I guess.  I don't know how else to describe it.  I just don't feel right.  She's been so connected to me, emotionally and even physically since I've had her.  It feels like I'm missing a vital part of myself.  

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Thank you universe for Zealie, some amazing friends, and amazing Vets

I know I've been really psychotic and negative lately and I know it affects my readers.  I know that because I had people stop following my blog in the last couple of days.  It's okay, it doesn't bother me that much.  I just feel bad that my blog makes other people feel bad.  I write this blog as a way to get all these feelings out.  I bundle them up and hold them inside and it helps me when I put them into words and vomit them all over this blog.  I was mute for an entire year and on and off a long time before and after, so writing has become the only...well, the best way I know how to deal with life and problems.  I am so grateful for my readers that are here for me and leave such great supportive, caring comments and gentle guidance and feedback.   This blog has helped me a lot.  It's a place I know I can come to and just blow up.  I can say things I'd be way too ashamed to say in real life.  I even made an amazing friend through my blog.  Melody reached out to me through email and because my life is so bizarre, she lives down the street from me!  How weird is that?  I'm so very very thankful to have a friend like her and a blog where I can write down all these horrible things and talk about all these overwhelming feelings.  Thank you for being here for me when I feel so alone in the world.

I got a card in the mail today from the emergency vet that took care of Zealie.  I was too hysterical to notice how wonderful they were before, but I'm so grateful for how they took care of Zealie and me.  They bathed her and wrapped her in tons of blankets to protect me from seeing the damage.  I asked to hold her without the blankets but they told me that I don't want to remember her like that.  The way they bundled her up was the way I used to bundle her up in blankets like a baby.  They let me sit with her for an hour and pet her.  They came in and talked with me three times when I needed obsessive reassurance that my dogs did not hurt her.  They are changing their normal routine of sending ashes through the mail for me.  I'm so worried that they are going to give me the wrong ashes or that they will get lost in the mail, so they are taking an extra step to assure me that I will be getting back my Zealie and letting me pick her up instead of waiting for the mail.  I don't know why you normally have to wait for your pet's ashes to come through the mail.  That seems so weird to me.

Anyway, the hospital was so amazing.  They waved the fees for the services they performed to try to save her because there was very little they could do.  They only charged us for the cremation.  They let me talk about how amazing she was and how much she's meant to me, and the vet assistant told me she was such a pretty girl.  They had her age and date of birth wrong on the printed chart because my girlfriend thought she was only 11.  She was 14.  I scribbled out her wrong date of birth and wrote in her real one....well the one I made up for her.  It was the day I adopted her, plus the year she was born--1997.  I just wanted to do that for myself, but he changed it in the computer for me.  I thought my girlfriend called our regular vet to tell them to delete Zealie from all flyers and care reminders, but it turns out it was the emergency animal hospital that did that for us.  I'm so thankful.  It would be so heartbreaking to get those little postcards with reminders to take care of Zealie.

How amazing are they?  I'm so grateful that they treated me like I lost a family member and they treated Zealie like she was a very very loved family member.  Thank you Universe for making the closest emergency animal hospital be the most amazing hospital I've ever been to.  Thank you Advanced Critical Care LA.  You made losing Zealie a little easier.  Thank you for taking care of Zealie and for taking care of me.

Thank you Zealie.  I love you and miss you more than you could ever know.

Wednesday, February 8, 2012

I lost my best friend last night

The world decided to take away the only creature that loved me unconditionally.  I have had her since I was like 17.  She's been through so much with me.  Homelessness, I sneaked her in my college dorm, move after move, leaving Arizona, break ups...  When I had absolutely no one else in the word, I had her and now I don't because I'm a fucking piece of shit that let her outside.  She was hit by a car and somehow managed to get back inside, crawl through the house looking for me and then get halfway through the doggy door where she died.  My gf said there was blood streaked across the apartment like she wasn't able to walk but crawled around.  My baby must have been in so much pain and she was searching for me and I wasn't there!  Her whole body was broken.  She had massive internal injuries and all her ribs were broken.  She must have been so scared.  I'm a fucking loser.  I did not deserve her.  I don't know how to live without her.  She might be just a cat to you, but she was all that I had for a VERY long time.  She was the longest relationship of my whole life.  She loved me so much that she wanted to be on my chest or in my arms at all times.  She loved to be picked up and squeezed in a hug.  I loved smashing my face into hers.  I don't know how to sleep without her fuzzy little purring body on my head.  OMG.  I don't know how to survive in this fucked up world anymore.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

I don't want to feel this way

I don't want to feel this way.  I don't want to stress people out.  I don't want to feel so fucked up and worthless.  I don't want to feel like this psychotic, fucked up, disgusting, dirty, vile, unwanted, piece of rancid, maggot infested garbage that no one wants.  This used, damaged garbage that everyone keeps throwing away.  I am damaged goods.  I don't want to hate myself so much.  I don't want to want to die or think about it so much.  I don't want to, but I do.  It's all I can think about.  I know it's selfish, but I just don't think I can handle all of this anymore.  All this shame, guilt, worthlessness, disgust.  Knowing that I'll never have a family is killing me.  Knowing that everyone will decide to dump me eventually is killing me.  Knowing that no one has ever wanted me, once they know who i really am, is killing me.  The anxiety I feel about other people is killing me.  The anxiety and nervousness I feel about the future is killing me.  I'm always waiting for the next disaster in my life.  I'm always scared about what's around the corner.  What's coming next?  Who is going to hurt me next?  Who is going to hate me next?

I have no idea how to be a decent human being.  I have no idea how to be a girlfriend, friend, sister, coworker.  I have no idea how to be a fucking human being.  I'm terrified of people.  I'm freaked out by men.  I'm so unsure of myself and my behavior around them.  Any time a man is angry, I feel an intense, psychotic urge to fix whatever is wrong.  I have to fix it.  I have to make him happy.  I can be walking down the street and hear an angry male voice and my anxiety spikes and my urge to fix whatever is wrong or run away is fucking intense.  Sudden changes in tone of voice send a shock wave of fear down my whole body and then I feel really stupid and insane.  The change in tone of voice in certain women does this to me too.  Certain women freak me out too.  

The nightmares are killing me.  Dreaming about violently destroying people I dearly love is fucking insane and it's more than I can bear.  Dreaming about Tim is more than I can bear.  Dreaming memories is more than I bear.  Waking up screaming, or crying, or holding my breath is so fucked up.  Dreaming that I am a rapist, hurting children is more than I can bear.  Being awake for three or four days at a time is literally killing me.  I can't handle the flashbacks anymore.  I can't even take a shower without checking to make sure the door is locked every few minutes and stacking as much stuff as I can in front of the door.  I'm not afraid of my girlfriend coming in, so what the hell is wrong with me?  I know that it's fucked up and psychotic that I do that.  Even though I know it's irrational, I have to peek out of the shower curtain to check on the door every few minutes.  I hate myself.

The dissociation is terrifying me.  I've always been excellent at "spacing out" when I'm bored, or stressed out, or overwhelmed in some way.  Lately, my "spacing out" has become really invasive.  I lose track of time.  There will be hours of my day that are completely missing from my memory.  I have NO idea where they went or what I did.  My girlfriend will usually ask what I did all day and sometimes I literally don't have an answer because I cannot remember.  I have receipts for coffee or other little things and I have no memory of doing those things.  I will have drawings that I don't remember drawing, and these drawings are usually really REALLY twisted and morbid, and fucked up.

The flashbacks are killing me.  I've been trying to keep busy, going to dog parks, beaches, gardening like crazy, drawing for hours and hours, hanging out in art stores, or galleries, or just about anything I can think of that will keep me out of my head--or really, keep my head away from me..  Nothing prevents them from attacking me and at random times.  I don't feel safe from my own brain!  I was at the dog park the other day with a friend, my dogs, and a doggy friend.  It was a nice day out and the dogs where having a really good time.  For some reason, my brain decided I was feeling too relaxed and happy and attacked me with a scene I'd really rather forget.  It was so much harder to hide what was happening than it usually is.  There was so much shouting.  It's so loud in my head.  It's always so loud and painful in my head.  I can't experience the past anymore.  It's time to just fucking get over it and try to be a normal person, but I'm not strong enough.  I'm a weak, pathetic person that tortures herself with past events all day long.  Sometimes my brain is hurting me all day long.  Sometimes my head is hurting me when I sleep.  Sometimes my head is hurting me when I don't sleep.  I can never get away. 

People call me a "survivor" but I am not a survivor.  I didn't survive.  I'm not surviving.  I'm fucking dying.  I can't keep living like this.  Tim is dead.  Why won't my brain register that?  Why is he still alive in my head?  Why is my mother still beating me in my head?  Why am I still trapped in dark little places in my head?  Why am I constantly feeling the devastating feelings of being kicked out of home after home?  Why do I torture myself?  These are more than bad memories.  Sometimes it's like I have literally traveled back in time.  Sometimes it's like I'm stuck in two worlds at once, experiencing everything from both worlds at once.  And there is always so much screaming.  So much yelling.  So many horrible words.  So much physical pain.  So much fear.

And then there is the devastation.  I'm devastated by the loss of little C.  I'm devastated by the loss of all my families.  I'm devastated by my lack of progress in therapy and life in general.  I'm so overwhelmed.  All I do is cry, cry, cry, cry, cry and cut myself.  I haven't cut in a couple of days, but I want to so badly.  I need to so badly.  I need to feel something else, ANYTHING else and I'm willing to try anything, legal, healthy, or otherwise to make that happen because I can't do this anymore.

I know I won't survive much longer.  I don't want to feel this way.  I don't want to think about death and dying all day long, but I don't know how to do this anymore.  I don't know how to feel so disgusting and terrified and fucked up all the time.  I have nothing to give the world.  All I can think about is how exhausted I am with trying to survive and keep living.  Living for what exactly?  Why the fuck am I alive?  I'm a fucked up piece of shit.  Why did my sister die and not me?  I wish it had been me.  All I can think about is what a waste of space I am in this world. What a mistake my existence is and how much I want to fix that.  All I can think about is how much I fucking hate myself and how I can put an end to all of it. 

Everything is so heavy and I can't figure out how to keep carrying it around anymore.  I'm too weak and pathetic and fucked up.  I just want to put it all down and to go sleep and never wake up.  Dear Whoever, please please PLEASE make it all go away.  Please make me go away.  I don't care how.  I don't care if there is pain.  I don't care about any of it anymore.  HELP ME please!  Take me away here, please!

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Yeah, Right. Voicemails.

I don't publish the shitty comments anymore, but I still get them.  I've been called a liar my whole life, but it never gets any easier. People have doubted every single part of my life, and told me I am just looking for attention with some fucked up story. I've heard it my entire life.
"Yeah right, you never lived in the Middle East."
"Yeah, right, you never watched police beat a man for touching you."
"Yeah, right, you never lived in 42 foster homes."
"Yeah, right."
"Yeah, right"
"yeah, right."

I might be a fucked up, psychotic loser, but I have never been a liar.

There are many more voicemails from them. I talked to Kelly, but I have not been able to call LAPD back. It's all too much for me. It doesn't matter anymore, anyway.  I can't do it anymore.  There were a ton of pictures on FB today showing Maggie visiting her kids in Arizona, about an hour flight from me.  I'm not angry or upset with her.  I just really wish I had a family and a mom, and someone who doesn't dump me even though I'm a worthless piece of shit.

All I can think of is a lost at sea analogy and that makes me think of Finding Nemo's, "Just keep Swimming, Just keep swimming."   But, swimming is too hard now.  I'm depleted.  I've been lost at sea all by myself  for my whole life.  My skin is dry and brittle, my body is battered and broken, and I'm just fucking exhausted.