Thursday, February 17, 2011

Living in my head

First, I would like to apologize for my lack of a daily post, but I could no longer afford my internet. My only source of income is Social Security Disability and it just got cut to $590 a month. Things are going to be kinda tight until I can find out why my SSD has been cut. I tried calling social security and they were not able to give me any answers. At this rate I have to choose between paying rent and eating. It pains me to ask this but if any of you could make a donation via the Paypal link (you do not need Paypal to make a donation) it would be a big help!

As I have stated before in my blog, I deal with things by fantasizing situations going the way i wish they would go. A good example of this is would be recently fantasizing about robbing a bank. I started doing this at a young age, come to think of it I have been doing this as far back as I can remember.

One of my favorite escapes as a child was that I was accidentally switched at birth. I would not pretend my parents real parents were rich, or famous, but just that they cared! I know that sounds pathetic right! In school I would imagine that i had stood up to the bullies, or beat the crap out of them, or lastly that i was them.

When things got really bad I would imagine that I was about to die, and various was of doing so. I know that this was extremely unhealthy but I can not help but to think that this may have kept me from acting on my feelings.

Sorry this is so short but I am having trouble focusing as I am at a coffee shop right now. Until I can afford the $200 to get my internet back on I might only be able to post like once a week.

Monday, February 14, 2011

Gray not blue

I've heard the expression "feeling blue" but that is not accurate of how I feel one bit! It is more of a gray feeling, like a thunder storm on a summer day. When the sky is gray, the clouds are gray, and my mood is gray.

Sorry about the rambling there, but i am feeling rather gray today. It is kinda hard to think or focus on any one thing. One minute I will remembering something upsetting from the past, then i will break off into a fantasy about how I wish things had gone. The scary thing about these fantasy's is how violent they get (think happy tree friends). After one of these episodes I am filled with self loathing, manly because I try not to be a violent person.

For some reason today my mind keeps taking me back to my time in high school. I would get picked on mercilessly, and when I would turn the people picking on me into the office I would not only get it worse than before but also get punished by the office. But my junior year was the worst, a group of kids started a rumor that I as planning on blowing up/shooting up graduation. Because of that rumor I was searched every morning on my way into the school the security guard would wand me with a medal detector, since I would go to vo-tech for half the day the school proceeded to search and scan me before and after i went to vo-tech every day.

The bullies had found a way to effertlessly hurrass me every day, but they still put effort in every day. Like in the middle of a test, one of them would use a hall pass to go to a pay-phone and call the school to report that I had a gun on me. Even tho this was like a weekly occurrence the security guard would pull me out of class in hand-cuffs. I'd then be taken to the office and searched, then they would take me to my locker and search it. this would be followed by them asking me for what seemed like forever where the gun was. Most of the time this would happen right before lunch, causing me to miss lunch. By the third time this happened I was starting to wish I had a gun, murder suicide was seeming like a great answer.

I hated everything about school so much, most of the time when I would get home from school I would lock myself in my from and cry for hours.

Sorry I have to cut this short but thinking about this is not helping my violent thoughts. I will try to post again tomorrow!

Sunday, February 13, 2011


I was around 12 or 13 when I first started to smoke, it was not because of peer pressure or to be cool or anything like that. To be honest I wanted to smoke because of the surgeon general. The warning and the anti-smoking programs made it seem like each time i lit up was akin to playing Russian roulette. I would smoke every chance I got in the hopes that this time it would work.

The "DARE" program and "MADD" were just as responsible for my using drugs and drinking, I told myself. To be honest with myself I was doing something completely different, it is know as self medicating. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this I will enlighten you. I was sad all the time, I remember seeing an after school special that showed kids smoking weed, they appeared to be having fun. They were laughing, and goofing around. They seemed to be happy, and I wanted to be happy.

I found some kids who were "pot heads" and they were more than happy to get me high, they also hooked me up with mushrooms. All I had to do was supply them with booze. This was easy for me since my father was a drunk and kept the stuff hidden all over the house. I still remember taking Vodka to school in a DARE water bottle, hows that irony for you.

Keep in mind that I was not addicted to any of the drugs, they would help me be happy and fit in somewhat. However this did not help my school work one bit, I already did not care about school. Now I started to not care about anything.

Maybe if the warnings had been more realistic they would not have enticed me so much, or maybe i was so fixated on what I wanted them to do for me i over looked what they were doing to me. i was not happy before I took my first hit of weed, but when I was high I felt happy. When I was losing my high I felt normal, and when I was no longer high I was even sadder than before.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

Ending it all

My first suicide attempt is something hard to talk about for me, so please bear with me.

When I was like 9 years old i decided it was time to end things. So I did the logical thing, I went into the bathroom and looked under the sink for something with a Mr. Yuck sticker on it. I found this white bottle with a cap that had to be pushed down to open it. It was shaped like a bleach bottle, but the contents were a ugly see through green, and it smelled really bad. So I decided that should do it, and took a nice sized drink, even thinking about it now makes me nauseous, and on 3 different occasions I have walked into a bathroom smelled the cleaner smell and instantly vomited.

Soon after I took the deadly drink I started to feel like I was going to throw up, so I thought if I was someplace cooler I might be able to fall asleep and just not wake up. I was on my way to the basement when I lost it, all over the stairs and railing, I did my best to try to clean up the mess. Not 20 minutes after this happened, my father was on the way to the basement (he hid booze down there, but that is a topic for another blog) and he noticed the railing was a little slippery.

He yells for me, and I make the mistake of going to him. He immediately starts yelling at me, "what the fuck were you thinking, you want to kill someone, I should kill you" and then he began to beat me. I was not allowed out of the house (or had to stay in my room if someone came over) for the next month, not so much because i was grounded but because my parents did not want anyone to see the bruises on my face...

sorry this one is so short, but I can not go on right now.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Sticky fingers

Somewhere around the third grade I was getting made fun of bad because I did not have the same things other kids had. Instead of Nike shoes I had Hoops, Instead of Mead or 5star trapper keepers I had dollar store junk, instead of a super Nintendo I had Atari, instead of mechanical pencils I had generic yellow #2 pencils, ect...

Well it all started out with me figuring that if I had better things that I might not get picked on as much. So since I did not have money I started to steal things. It was not because I wanted them, but because the children who had them were cool. This only further separated me from my class mates. So I started doing things differently, I started to steal from my classmates not because I wanted the stuff but as a way of hurting them. i would take great pleasure in stealing there things and breaking them!

This went on until I was in 6th grade when I found a way to be cool, or so I thought. I found my father's porn collection, it was full of these little 8 page comics. There must have been like 200 of them. So I did what I do best, I stole some of them over the course of 3 months. I would take them to school and give them to the other kids so they would be my friend. This seamed to be working until these 2 kids in my class approached me and told me they would turn me in unless I gave them 1 each. So I gave them each one, one was a mickey mouse staring Donald duck and mini mouse, the other was a superman staring supergirl. Later that same day I got called down to the principals office. As it turns out they kept the superman and turned me in. I got suspended for 7 days, the principal gave me a spanking, and when I got home my father brat the shit out of me and I went the next 3 days living on just 2 pieces of unbuttered toast a day.

When I was asked why I did it, I said I don't know. When I was asked who else had any I said nothing. That day I realized what it was like to be used. no one stood up for me, they got what they wanted from me and through me away.

Sorry this is so short but I can not wright anymore right now. This is kinda painful to think about. I should have another post in a day or so.

Thursday, February 10, 2011


I had "accidents" until I was around 14 or so. It was not because I was to lazy to go to the bathroom, or even that I did not know I had to go but because I just didn't care. This mind set quickly carried over int other aspects of my life such as school work. All through elementary school I did not do any homework, and would just pick random answers on tests (sometimes just to make a pattern...) even if I knew the right answer. The whole time I was doing this never was I held back a grade, I think that is because the teachers either did not know how to deal with me or simply did not want to deal with me.

When anyone would ask me why I did or didn't do these things I had one of two stock answers. My first one was more for why I didn't do something

I don't know

The second was for more why I did something, I would shrug my sholders while avoiding eye contact possibly staring at the ground  and most of the time in tears.

Even though I was giving these answers I knew why I did/didn't do these things, but was to embarrassed to say. I was worried that if I told anyone the truth my life would get worse. That I would end up in a mental hospital drugged out of my mind in a zombie like state. You may wonder where I got an idea like that, well it was from the woman who was working with me in school. she said

If you keep acting like this you will end up locked in a hospital and so drugged up you may not even know who or where you are.

Maybe that is why I avoided treatment till I was in my 20's. However this thread is not about could haves, would haves, and should haves it is about what happened.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Childhood cries for help

Even at a young age I did not know what happiness was. I always felt the the quality of my life was better than I deserved. I would fantasize about running away from home or killing my self, and my parents never knew. Once my mother found a note that I had written and I was severely grounded for it. I can not remember word for word what the note said but here is roughly how it went.

I do not deserve to live like this. My life is crap and there is nothing I can do about it.

Even today I can not help but feel that a part of this note is true. I think that the second part of the note was based on the years in school leading up to me writing the note. It started in kindergarten. I would ride the bus to school, and there would be middle school aged kids on the bus. They would call me names, insult me and my family, and smack me around. I tried going to the principal about this and nothing would happen. This went on for 2 years. In that time I had a woman helping me with school stuff, I am not sure what her title was but I would have to do things like color in the lines, and trace shapes and work on my speech. somewhere around the 2 year mark she made a comment to me about the middle school kids that were picking on me.

Your bringing it all on yourself, if you would stop hitting them with your lunchbox they would leave you alone.

The thing is I never had a lunch box, I would get "free lunch" because of a low household income. When I told her about that she said to stop lying and that I must have a lunchbox. I guess it didn't matter much because the school year was almost over at this time, and my family was in the process of moving.

I am sorry for cutting this so short but I have a hard time writing or thinking about this stuff for extended periods of time. I should have another post in a couple days. Thank you for your support!