Sociopath Community

Lastly there were other signs of, issues, in me as a kid like. That were bizarre. 

If collecting spiders in a box for hours, for days, isn’t, weird enough. 

My teachers, reported things being wrong with me. Like at recess i just went out to the center of the playground and stood there. And didn’t play, didn’t talk. Just stared. For the full, 30 40 minutes. 

Another teacher reported that i would sit oddly with my knees to my chest and refused to sit any other way in the class room seats. and had bruises and cuts on my arms and knees, my thighs. I was just a little kid. 

I found a photo, after going through hundreds of photos, of me sitting like this. I looked like a scared dog. But, a child. The way i was sitting. I can see why a teacher would find it concerning, if you did that everyday in class, and refused to sit any other way when told to put my legs down but then got upset and refused. 

I remember wanting to sit that way because it was a comfort for me to be in that position. I was, anxious. Uncomfortable. Scared. 

Both of them said these were signs of abuse and to call CPS. But, first thing they did was talk to the parents, and they just got mad about it every time. 

I remember wanting to say something but i didnt because, i had go home with these people ya know. The repercussions would be immense if i said something. My mom said that i did those things to my self, or fell down the stairs. We didn’t have stairs.

The other thing is, there was this just, understanding that, kids don’t have rights. I just, thought that’s how it was. Kids do, what their parents say, no matter what. And, kids, deserve consequences cuz they’re kids and have to learn lessons. They have to be beat. And if their parents are angry at them, that’s their fault and they deserve whatever happened to them. I didn’t understand that if someone hurts you, that isn’t allowed. I knew, when you were an adult you got a different level of respect. Boundaries. 

But when your a kid you don’t have those, especially with your own parents. Because only adults know whats best. 

That is a huge red flag for, all kinds of abuse. The fact that I even thought th was normalized like, I thought it was that way around the world for all kids. I didn’t know any better. I really thought, you get a bad grade, you get fucked up sometimes, and that’s just what parents do. When theyr’e angry yeah... I also thought it was normal to want to murder your parents, evade them and become independent of them and become a teenager and thats why everyone wanted to grow up so bad and pretend to be adults like in fire fighter outfits and stuff. Cuz that was the reason i wanted to grow up and have my own house one day. It was just so i could be left a lone, and out of harms way, away from them, and the chaos, and disarray. I thought when i have a house one day, it’ll be so clean... 

I developed a sort of OCD around this issue but, I’m okay I’m not full tilt OCD but, this is probably part of why I sort of value, having a nice, space. To be in, thats comfortable. Disarray and dirtiness causes me actual psychological and physiological distress lol. Not even joking. 

But yeah um, so anyways. Yeah I thought, all kids wanted their parents dead. And when I met with a therapist who was concerned, a school counselor who met with me like, called me in. I was like, don’t all parents ya know, give their kids a shove or a beating every now and then, a slap in the face? C’mon, that’s normal right? And then we started talking about the extent, the detail of what they did. And my therapists face changed, as she asked questions and we went through the detailed scenarios of what would happen to me ya know. And it got more and more serious, her face did. And then, by the end of me walking her through just an average scenario of a day in my life, a normal day, she was practically in tears. I didn’t, understand, but, she told me that none of this was normal or okay... and i was like yeah, but.. ya know. It is what it is. “2 years and I’ll be out anyway.” I said. “I’ve endured it this long, what’s two more years. Damage is already done it’s too late. What good will sending them to jail do for me. That’ll just end me up without a college fund. What’s the point.” I remember saying that to her. 

I even begged her not to call DCF, I told her if she does, my dad will literally kill me. “You know what will happen to me if they know they find out about this.” And so she didn’t call at first. And then i thought about it for a while, and then came to see her one day, after a really bad week, of severe beatings. And this time it, made me upset ya know because i knew this was wrong, the way he was treating me, and talkign to me. And beacuse of that like, emotion I felt on it. Or whatever, it made me go, talk to her and say, “yeah you can make the call, go ahead.” And she said, “it’s my job to do this, i was going to make the call anyways, I have to. It’s my job I can get fired if I don’t, call. If something happens to you, that is my fault now.” And I said, “well, thanks anyway.” And she picked up the phone and started dialing. 

I’ve explained on previous posts what happened when they found papers from the counselors office, and i learned to stop bringing them home. To delete all evidence of, my existence, to erase all tracks, to make sure my devices weren’t, touched, or bugged, or being tracked. I even would take off my jacket and backpack before i went places because i knew they were monitoring me somehow. When i was out, with friends. 

At the time I was smoking a lot of weed, i fell into it kinda young and, it was normalized to me from an early age as a habitual drug for people, many kids did it often and, so did i. I was left alone so much it wasn’t too hard to just get high in my room, i quickly switched to pills after i got tired of trying to hide the smell. It was just how I coped with everything. 

There were a few times they found me though, where i wasn’t supposed to be, and i learned my lessons, about how to really evade, being located, and such things. 

Eventually I reached a point of apathy though, after the DCF came and went and I got my ass whooped for that and, they blamed everything on me and, then they packed up their shit and left- my hope went with it. For my life to change to something better, because of some, divine intervention. After that I know ya know, you’re on your own. It’s up to you bud, no ones coming to save your ass. Ur doing it for urself. 

So ya know. I just managed how I could, but i also sort of had a drug problem developing on the side which, at the time i didnt’ consider a problem. I didn’t know how addictive these pills were that i was taking. I just wanted to be high all the time, for long periods of time, and i didn’t see a problem with it. I didn’t know the dangers of it. I didn’t know anything about it. I wasn’t even trying to get that fucked up all the time it was just to function and live and feel normal, take the edge off, handle shit, whatever. Cope. Sometimes i did get fucked up but that was, on occasion. 

I was just depressed ya know. So I got tied in with a junkie crowd of kids because of my own habits, and it was like, kind of fun. We went on adventures to the beaches in the summer and just stayed out all the time because none of us wanted to go home. We were, rejects. Weirdos. Freaks. But we had a certain love for each other. A bond. 

And it was, these people who introduced me, to heroin. When i was 18, the summer i graduated. It was this group of friends who, one of these, guys ended up becoming a boyfriend, who took me away from there. 

At the time i just saw it as my only way out. I didn’t have shit. I didn’t have much, just some crazy parents and, jack shit all. So i took off with him the first chance i got to get the hell out of there, that’d been my plan all along, turn 18 and bolt. And that I did. And, then he ended up beating the shit out of me and trying to kill me. 

That relationship really did a number on me, i won’t lie. It was, um. Really scary. I’ve talked about it a bit on here already so, I’ll spare the details and the stories but its just numerous accounts of, ya know like, the typical scenario of an abusive relationship with a raging, controlling psychotic unstable psychopath. Who i was reliant on. 

Not smart of me. I still blame myself like, how could i of been so stupid to trust, someone like that with such dangerous shit but like, i dunno. I’ll never be that loose around the edges again with like, who i trust, because of him, and what he did to me. 

So that was quite a fucking adventure to say the least. And then to top it off, i come home. He fucking black mails me, so that my parents disown me just like he wanted. And i was homeless. Woo-die fucking doo. 

And then i was lke aight, i went down the fucking tubes for a bit i got fucked up beyond belief like, i have patchy memory of this time but it was not good what i was up to during this time i was super fucked up like emotionally

And mentally and shit 

i didn’t know how to deal so i was just like, the less conscious i am the better! And staying, fucked up all the time. It led me into some bad bad places. 

I was even raped,... and then um. I decided ya know what. I’m going to get my shit together and get out of this ugly ass piss soaked crack den, and I’m going to get somewhere safe. 

Thats all i wanted was just to be comfortable and safe with a roof over my head and my grandma was like aight I’ll take u in if u get a scholarship to college cuz i aint paying for it and i aint housing u if you dont get ur ass into school and u gotta go to church and here’s a curfew and u gotta be clean 

so i was indoors all the time at my grandmas house being controlled by her, i had no car nothing. Just had to pay rent to be there and make good grades and do no trouble no wrong, door chores etc. i thought fair deal to live somewhere nice and not get my ass beat. 

It was kinda nice, even tho she had her own quirks and abusive tendencies, she was an old lady, how hard could she really hit me. It wasn’t nothing compared to my dad so it just, rolled off my back. 

I was focused on getting my shit together enough to, be independent and get out. It was also inspired by a girl i met who turned my life around ya know, it wasn’t just my grandmas compassion that gave me drive and cleaned me up and helped me feel whole and cared about and human and normal again, also this girl, she healed me a lot. She fixed me. Kinda. 

She got my shit together, ya know. It was all, because of her. That i stayed clean. And then, we broke up, i lost my shit. Couldn’t hold myself together anymore. 

And had to learn how to do it myself the hard way this time. That was not easy man. Took me a few years to get my footing and i needed a lot of help like psychologically and shit but I’m doing a lot better. I had to reach a breaking point, with my mental health unfortunately, in order to accept the help, and be willing to do it. I was jaded, I didn’t think jack shit would work, i didn’t hink u could cure me. But it got to a point where i was so desperate from the internal hell i was experiencing, and iw as so unable to function like, it was such pure fucking agony that i had, to get help, and didn’t care if it was horse assery or not i just wanted something to work. Mental nbreakdown. 

This was after the breakup with the girl, and i went down the tubes with my sobriety, and i tried to mend my relationship with my parents, which didn’t go well *at all* and they ended up like, shouting at me a lot around christmas time and getting mad at me for showing up there and pointing at me and screaming at me it was just a whole, scene. Really dramatic. And then uh, i left, came back six months later and said i wanna fix things. Ya know. Let me try 

and boy i tried as hard as i fucking could. Out of, an inability to accept that my parents, were not going to be something i could hold onto and, have in my life realistically anymore like, I had to accept they were never gonna be what i needed and wanted and that whole was never gonna be filled in the way i wanted them to fill it. And that was like, the final straw when that shit blew up in my face 

they went back to old ways because of my habits as a now adult, and uh, held me against my will in a room and subject me to beatings and torture out of punishment, for my own good, - because god, said so. And wouldn’t let me leave. This room. And, i just fucking snapped. 

Ya know. Eventually you just kinda snap. And after that, never been the same man. Like, hard to explain what thats like or what i mean by that. 

I mean, i was already very close that edge, i was already at the point of scheduling mental breakdowns into my week between classes, and when i looked in the. Mirror, i didn’t recognize myself. Like, pure dissociative, state. I had only just started having flash backs of bad things that happened to me, at home, on my dads part. And, panic attacks. Had started. 

On top of that i had a wicked eating disorder from the time i was like 10 or 11,from trauma from my dad, and eventually i like, nearly died because of it, it was this whole thing my heart stopped ha da near death experience that literally fucked me up mentally and sent me into an existential despair when i was only fucking 12 and like, detachment from reality issues after that 

so all of that building, on top of my already very depressed state (I’d been depressed and suicidal for years but masking it with drugs and alcohol, sex, adrenaline, escapism, whatever the fuck i could find.) denial. I had pure hopelessness in me like, iturluy didn’t believe that would change. Or get better. I didn’t think it was possible. 

And then I had my heart ripped to shreds by this girl i like intensely intensely loved with all of my being every fiber of it. And just... All of that like came to a head and, i was so angry, i was so depressed and suicidal, iw as so anxious, i was so dissociated, i was having panic attacks. And all of this was happening *at the same, time.* i was exhausted,m i was confused, i didn’t know who i was. My mind was on a constant tape of clashing discord and arguments, and negative cycling talk, i hated myself. Real bad. 

And it just, all became too much for me, hard to explain what happened but yeah i tried to end it. 

And uh, yeah then i spent a long time, trying to get better. From that point. And those docs and stuff, gave me hope, taught me, that i was capable of healing and showed me like, how, i could get better. Because I truly didn’t believe ei could and stuff. So that was good. I still had a lotta work to do. A bunch of rehabs, relapses and more rehabs. 

But hey eventually, i got my shit together, i did some phlebotomy shit for a while cuz i was like yo i need a job, what the fuck am i good at, well, i know biology and health care, i know, shooting dope I’m real good at that, and i love doing it. So i was like I’ll take that skill an work with it and shoot people with needles all day why the fuck not. I did life guarding and swim coaching cuz I’m great at swimming and i love the beach. 

I just needed ap lace to live at this point but, yeah and then i got that job in the coffee shop just by chance and i was like woo this pays real good but then i got fired 

and now covid times are upon us. :) the end 

Okay she mentions that following trauma you’ve expended all your cortisol and that your body and mind goes through a series of issues that results in, a sort of traumatic collapse, where for a while, directly following trauma you end up like, feeling extreme fatigue and you’re like basically disabled by this in a way 

and i completely understand this dawg. This, is why I have physical proof I have ptsd and it’s not a joke like, I get people like making fun of it but, dude this is a serious thing bro. 

When I had my traumatic collapse, I literally was face down, laying outside in the grassy field, of a fenced in mental hospital. 

I also experienced this when I got home from mexico, and people thought I was just being extremely lazy, and that I needed to get up and do something. My dad came in one morning and ripped the blinds open and pulled me off my bed and yelled at me and took all my sheets. That didn’t help, he did in such an angry and berating way, I was seen as like, a bad person, for, choosing to lay in bed. For three, months. 

I just *couldn’t* get up. I was just in kind of a mental fog and like, all I could do was sleep. I wasn’t really thinking straight or like, consciously all there. 

They show a great example of this in Twilight actually. People are like calling it Bella’s depression scene but, it’s not depression, it’s post traumatic stress. 

There is a series of chain reactions that occur in the physiological body as a result of trauma, and it can really do a number on a person, and their ability to just, simply function in daily life. 

My parents, were trying to force me, to like, “get my shit together” when, I literally- just, couldn’t. And there was this constant pressure on me. I think, I honestly think that made things a lot worse, and worsened my condition to a point of like, running me into the ground, 

literally. Laying face down, in the ground of a mental hospital. 

I was completely toast. Lol like, all I could do was just fucking lay there and sleep, and the sun felt so good. It was a million degrees out but I was like, so cold and stiff it just warmed me up and I wanted it to like bake me and that hot hot feeling on your skin, and on your eyelids. I passed out, not really caring if I would get sunburnt or, eaten up with ants and bugs all over me. 

 After “recess” time (nap time for Me lol) was over, staff from the mental hospital told everyone to come inside, but I just couldn’t get up. I don’t know like, I just couldn’t help myself. They had to pick me up, on either side, and like drag me in, I sort of was putting one foot in front of the other. 

At the time I weighed 90 pounds. 

I just couldn’t’ do it anymore. And everything, had become incredibly overwhelming. I was so mentally depressed, I was hardly in my right mind. I couldn’t, focus- on anything or, relax- easily. I had panic attacks constantly. I was just exhausted. I had all confidence and, buoyancy, in my personality and who I was, as a person- my identity, all of that, stripped away from me completely. Lost. I was just like, staring into the void and like, not talking to anyone. 

I was so checked out that like, even when people were talking to me on the phone, I didn’t hear what they were relay saying, and I was just like... mhm... because I couldn’t, put it together. And I passed out, siting up holding the phone that was attached to the wall. Some other patient in the hospital was like, “yo, wake up. I need to use the phone. Bitch wake up. HELLO. YOU THERE? HELLOOOOO” and i slowly raised my head waking up and i was like what- where, whats going on. And shes like I NEED TO USE THE PHONE. And i was like oh- here you go. And I walked off and went to sleep somewhere lol 

But yeah I was just incredibly lethargic, it was fatigue beyond what, is tolerable. It’s not fatigue in a good way, its oppressive. Hard to endure. 

And even after they released me ya know, I was so tired all the time that, I couldn’t even take myself to my own appointments. I was so, like mentally not there, and like, physically drained I just couldn’t take care of myself. And that’s all, I could manage to do in a week, was, be pushed, to a therapists office. If it weren’t for my mom dragging me there forcing me up, to go, each time- I wouldn’t of. 

I was so suicidal thats like, all I thought about. And uh, in the car rides I would just lay down. And i looked like, unwell. Ya know. My mom knew like, something was seriously wrong. 

After therapists failed to like fix the fatigue fast enough, she took me to a doctor instead, a functional medicine doctor. And we did some blood work. 

Because my mom was concerned this extreme fatigue like was a sign of something wrong with my health. 

She just, wanted a quick fix, and tos ee me bounce back to life and rejuvenate so I could get on with my life and go back to school. 

But, it’s a gradual process, and being forced to, do all of that, school stuff, while, dealing with that- really wasn’t the right call. I was not in the right place for that at all. I couldn’t even focus, ya know. I didn’t, wanna go. I didn’t really wanna do anything, and I didn’t think I was capable either. 

And thats hard for people to understand because, you don’t have cancer, you don’t have, anything, but you’re still acting like a sick person, and still can’t do things and they dont understand why. So they rationalize it in whatever way they know how. Telling me to drink water, as if that’s going to do anything. Or just, saying I need to force myself. 

When really I needed, time. To heal and focus on myself, and get better with therapists and such. 

But yeah, this doctor, she took me too finally gave like, some physiological proof, in my bloodowrk, that yes, this is PTSD verifiably, the doctors who diagnosed me aren’t out of their minds or just trying to make money off of me, mental illness isn’t fake, I’m not just lazy, I’m not this or that or all the things they said about me, I’m truly not well and you can see it on paper if you look at the numbers. 

I still have these numbers, my bloodwork, if you’d like o see it. 

I was relieved. I felt like someone finally understood me, too. And she actually did something, about it. That would help. For real. 

I started taking lots of supplements, and on a different diet. It wasn’t- a cure for PTSD fatigue but, it helped. Take the load off, a bit. Of that depressive, cumbersome fatigue. That was just, unending.

It was just so relieving for me. I was really amazed, what this concauctions of meds and supplements did for me. Like i truly felt better. Not like, cured but, better. 

Which was nice it gave me hope to like, keep trying. To get better and approach the therapeutic process or whatever. Seek out treatment. I agreed to go to rehab a third time after that. 

I wanted to get rid of it. The depression. I wanted to get rid of my suicidal shit. Iw anted to get rid of my anxiety, without observe amounts of drugs. 

So I mean, that doc really gave me the final shove to do what I needed to do. I was still really xhausted like, more than the average person. 

Sleeping through important meetings, made me seem like I didnt care about my treatment. Or I’d force myself to go, but sit there so exhausted I was practically falling asleep in the chair sitting up. Despite, having full nights rest. 

I remember during breaks I’d go outside and just lay down on the paved walls they had about, hip height. I probably looked pretty odd. Other patients were like what are yo doing. But I really wanted sun, to warm me up and, I wanted to lay down cuz i was super tired. 

Funny enough, thinking back on it- I was semi at this point a long time ago, in high school you could, start seeing it. This ptsd fatigue building. It got worse with age, and more trauma unfortunately. 

But lke, i would fall asleep in class constantly. And i was seen as like, a bad kid. For doing that. Like I didnt care, but i was just so emotionally exhausted from the stress. My friend understood, and his tender compassion was really refreshing, how he had my back. Teachers would complain and he literally told them, “she’s just really tired.” Like, having my back. The teachers told me to get out. I was like >.> whatever... ugh. 

But yeah, i was too tired to like socialize a lot most of the time, like at lunch breaks and stuff i really just, was tired and didn’t want to talk. So instead of sitting with my friends i would wander off places alone and smoke weed. Sometimes people would find me there, my other friends and they’d talk to me and i was so tired, I couldn’t listen to them. I was like... yeah dude... mhm... cool cya later...... 

I couldn’t understand why i was like that, as a kid while, other people were so vibrant, jovial, and well, put together. 

I seemed to always be a mess. 

I blamed myself for that, i saw it as a negative thing like, i wasnt’ good enough. when really it was just, trauma and, depression and shit. And i needed like, help. Lol 

I used to come in, in the mornings to class, stoned, and late, and like a complete mess. Not even changed clothes from the day before or having brushed my hair. 

And that’s just how i was, when I was like 16, 17. And i really like, just didn’t have it all together, and couldn’t get it together. Though, i wanted to. 

Teachers would come down on me about, especially the AP music teacher. Who, she saw me playing after school one day on the piano and she was ike you have potential and you’re just wasting it. And you need to put more effort in and you’re not like doing enough and just being a stickler and being really hard on me to like, be a perfect student 

and shed call me in after school constantly and be like “where’s ur work. Where’s ur paper. U didnt show up for this test.” And I’m just like.... i didn’t, study. I’m not, ready. I don’t know, i just didn’t do it. 

And so she like made me sit there and do it and then shes like see is that so fucking hard Mary like what is wrong with you Jesus Christ like getting really mad and yelling at me. 

And then also being tender at the same time afterward, and then telling me to go. And i was like aight.... smh. 

Wasn’t helpful but i think she was just frustrated and oddly cared but didn’t know how to help me, i think she even said that once. I wanna help you but i just dont’ know how. 

And... when i did turn in my work, lol. I would doodle on th backs of it because i finished it early in the class and i had nothing to do so i was just like doodling and writing on the back, poetry and shit. And she saw the drawings and the poetry one day, and like called me in and is like, “what is this.” And I’m like “its, nothin”

and shes like nah ur not ok. And i was like meh. It’s just, nothin. And after that that’s when i started seeing the high schools therapist and shit and forced to go to group counseling and shit. I think she is the “anonymous tip” honestly that like, sent me to that therapists office. 

It was probably apparent i was not okay to a lot of teachers though, some took it well others didn’t. The fact i was kind of lethargic. Most of my teachers were hard on me but, i also thought, maybe it was my English teacher who called it in. Beacuse i was asleep in her class a lot too, and not turning in assignments. Or even in class readings and assignments, where i have nothing to do, and i still just, didn’t do it and like put my head down. 

I was like checked out. And she called me up after class as everyone was leaving, to her desk and she was like, “are... you okay???” And I’m like “yeah.” And shes like, “well u can talk to me if, theres anything, going on or- anything... ??” And I’m like “aight, thanks,” lol and she was like, “I’m going to keep checking on you” and like, “you need to, turn in your stuff alright, i know you can do it so why, aren’t you.” And I’m jus like “i dunno... “ and shes like, “just try and do a little bit for me alright’ like she could tell i was massively depressed lol 

and she called me up to her desk every week after that like, on fridays and was like, “how are things.” And we would talk for ten minutes or so. Just about, home and, whatever. 

So it could of been her that called the therapists too. 

The other kids probably just thought i was weird. I was like this grungy gross stoned lesbian. People didn’t understand why i was so like, off to myself. Quiet. Etc. my friend at th time describe me as, “aloof.” I was just like, checked out. Distant. 

Most of my time was concerned with acquiring or doing drugs, with other people, involved in that. So i was social at times but, it was for the wrong reasons. 

I went to some parties and got fucked up and hooked up with a girl because i was just like, “aight if i have sex with a girl then I’ll know for sure if I’m gay or not that’ll seal the deal” cuz at the time i was just like not sure if i was but showing a lot of signs i was idk. I wanted to solidify it and like, know for sure. Yes or no. 

And then i was like fuck... i am. Lol after that party, i told that girl not to tell anyone about it. But, word gets around. “I saw you and amber go in that back room...” “what were you doing.” “We just talked.” 

Lol. 

But yeah, at the time i was like, self loathing gay. Lol but um, trying to hide it a lot like even from myself. If that makes any sense. But, there was this girl, had a crush, yada yada yada. We kissed by the lockers one day. I didn’t think anyone was around, but somehow someone was there that i didn’t notice and they snapped a photo of it. 

Shit went viral. It was all over tumblr and twitter, etc. 

she was mortified, and started like bullying me and shaming me publicly so ppl would believe she didn’t really like me and told everyone the kiss was just a dare. But then we’d secretly go on dates to this dollar theater where no one went Or we’d take walks around this lake. But at school she acted like she hated me. 

And then her boyfriend found out, about us. And like, punched me in the gut so hard i doubled over and like fell over. And he threatened me and kicked me and was like, “you touch my girlfriend again ur dead u bitch” or something like that 

and i was like aigh ALRIGHT I WONT TOUCH UR GF JUST, GO. JUST GO. 

Jesus Christ. Smh. 

Anyway, my little bestie at the time we ended up being a thing and the other thing with that girl fell off cuz it got complicated. She went to prom with the guy of her dreams and i was like, hating my life. Lol but yeah... 

um.... i didn’t think at the time, i was like capable of having a girlfriend i know that sounds weird to say but i just like believed in hook ups and like distant attachments because i just like, didn’t, want to get attached and have a full relationship like I didnt think that was possibel for me given my super closeted circumstances and i didnt want it to be in my realty like a full blown relationship. I just wasn’t ready for that hard to explain. So i was alright with hooking up at the time. 

But yeah then this girl, my “bestie” or whatever, after like 5 years of being like that, it changed my mind i kinda like wanted more with her and thats when i got more into relationships. After i left Leo, for her. I left Mexico for her. 

I remember the night i got back, we went to dinner together and just it was the sweetest, time. Between me and her, and like, i sat at home and played guitar on the edge of my bed, showed her stuff I’d written while in mexico and idk like, we just were kinda in love.

then she was like its time you call Leo and tell him the news. So i broke up with him, with her watching me. She wanted me to be with her. I wanted ot be with her and i didnt care anymore bout my fear of relationships or fear of my own gayness or fear of my dad finding out and beating my ass. 

But, then he blackmailed me for breaking up with him. I was like aight whatever. I didnt believe he really would. 

But he did. 

And then we like laid down in my bed and we’re cuddling watching a movie. 

She was just glad i was back, we had been communicating long distance for so long, in secret. 

And my mom comes back to my room and is like what the FUCK. Lol after seeing the blackmail. Exposing the fact me and this girl were in a relationship, and gay. Lol.

And she just lost her shit. And the girl, started like fighting for me. But i just like, shut down. And stared into the floor while they screamed at each other for two hours running around the house it was like a blow out fight and then she just like kicked me out. 

I’ve talked about this day in therapy, goign over a more detailed account of it, it was very emotionally volatile day for me and, i guess I kept it pent up inside so long but, ya know years later in this therapy office i finally talked about it and- it was the first time i cried in front of this therapist. And she said, “you finally cried.” Like, she said i never showed any emotion before that but. 

Talking abotu this day is what kinda made me crack. It was, not good. Being disowned ya know. That just changed everything. I’d been treated bad a lot sure, but.. yeah this was just a sort of line in the sand point for me like. I couldn’t really unsee this shit. No one could. 

Test

Okay um, I’m piecing it together. The houses. 

There were so many different houses, and I’m realizing okay, why was I being, carted around to all these different places. What were they trying to hide. 

My sister told me later, I was adopted. I thought maybe it was a cruel joke but she insisted she was serious, I didn’t know what to believe so I brushed it off. I was confused and figured it didn’t matter either way. 

Why is there no birth certificate. 

Ya know? 

But yeah in addition to, the houses I’ve written about this far, there were quite a few others. The memories are even more vague than the others. 

I remember as a child being so unusually small, for my age. That as a 10 year old, I could fit into a babies onesie. 

There is video proof I can show of how, small I was compared to the other kids. 

I remember finally, I got so sick my parents did have to take me to the doctor, though they usually ignored it, when I was ill. But it had gotten so bad I couldn’t move, and my body was covered in a rash head to toe. I had an immense fever and I felt so so sick, and so fatigued. Shivering on and off. Vomiting. 

But yeah, I actually lost the use of my legs. And, by the tenth day of illness, I was wavering in and out of consciousness uncontrollably. 

Finally a doctor saw me, and they said I had 24 hours to live, and that it was likely meningitis. They prepared a spinal tap to confirm. 

I really did feel like I was dying, everything felt like, that was it. Ya know. I think I said to my mom, “am i really gonna die.” And she said, “we’ll see.” Or something like that. I was pretty sad that this was happening to me but at the same time, I was so fucking ill I just wanted it to be over. 

Then, the doctor comes back in a while later and says, “actually, we’ve found the virus.” And it was this paper with series of numbers and letters on it that I didn’t understand. It was something rare. It turns out it was https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guillain–Barré_syndrome and that’s why I couldn’t move my legs. I thought I was paralyzed forever. I was scared I would loose my eye sight or, fall into a coma or death while I slept. I was in so much pain too. It hurt to shiver but i couldn’t stop shaking and vomiting all the time. 

After that I had to see a lot of doctors and finally, one that, showed me a chart, that explained why my body was severely malnourished. On this growth chart I was severely, severely behind other children. And so she put me on this regiment of eating all these different things, trying to strengthen me up etc. I got a lot of finger pricks, and shots and, exams and, had to keep coming in for various things I don’t really know what was going on. 

But then I developed this horrible eating OCD like eating disorder (eye roll) it was so fucking terrible. Honestly, of all the hellish things I’ve gone through in life, I kid you not, this shit was the worst, thing. It was worse than opiate withdrawal or, car wrecks, or getting. Your head smashed into a window or, tortured, locked in a room. Depression. Panic attacks. Dissociation. Suicidal ideation. Seriously, nothing I’ve experienced is worse than this. 

I remember thinking as a younger teen and adult like, I wished I could just have one wish. And it was to go back in time just one time- and undo the trauma that caused this disorder. 

It was a whole different kind of mental torture that, my heart goes out to anyone with eating disorders and, I get it. I know what it’s like to not be able to eat, I understand the long drawn out agony that persists for years. 

It’s, really, painful and... awful and. Has a horrible ending. IT’s a different kind of experience of hell that not a lot of people understand, but it’s,... not fun. I don’t know how else to put it like, it’s horrible there’s just no words.

During this time I think all the joy left me like, all I remember from this time is just torture. It’s so sad like, I dont’ even wanna talk about it. I don’t- talk about it. 

Even on this forum, where I talk about a lot of shit, I don’t talk abotu this too much. For a while I didn’t at all. I don’t, tell people, about it. Ever. 

IT’s just not something I want to think about because it gives me agony- truly to relive, what it was like, emotionally. But I will go over it, briefly as best I can without fucking torturing myself. 

I just, I need to um, take a break for a second and get something to eat (ironically) and then I’ll get into it, in a sec. lol (avoids talking about it) I swear I’m not avoiding it (i am) i just need to wrap my head around it and like get myself together to like talk about this lol 

mmmmm i really don’t want to ugh, just give me a sec. lol fuck (eeeeadkfjaldsf;sldkfj i dont want to) 

Lmao god i really am struggling to talk about this but... basically. I dont’ want to. Um 

there was a trauma that was just so brutal i actually blacked out the entire thing, my moms told me about it a bit, i didnt even know it happened, till years later. And shes like “oh yeah u went to the hospital” 

it was bad and yeah i guess my brain decided to black out the memory i just, dont have access no matter how hard I try but 

that was relieving to know about because initially i didnt know really why this whole eating disorder started i just like became ocd over night 

and it was like a ptsd thing from unprocessed trauma or something its like i was constantly stuck in that state of like, believing everything was going to kill me and everything was dangerous and i couldn’t fucking trust anyone 

i couldn’t trust food, especially my dad. 

Gives me a lot of anxiety to think about just, the anxiety i felt at the time just, being unable to do that. Trust. And what that was like, was hard. 

It got to a point i just wouldn’t eat anything, and my parents held their drinking over my head like ah yeah if you dont eat then i guess we’ll just drink tonight and drive with you drunk how bout that. It didn’t work. 

And then they got mad, drove with me drunk and i was crying in the back seat with this like bowl of spaghetti in my lap just like sobbing and saying i was sorry over and over again and screaming like “i CANT do it” and they were just like yelling at me like calling me aretard and shit like,... ugh i dont wanna talk about this anym ore. 

But yeah um. It was a lot. Then it got to a point they were like force feeding me, and hurting me, screaming at me., it was a lot i mean i was just like this little kid like what the fuck 

and then uh, it got to a point i would just lay on the bathroom floor when they’d lock me in there, and I’d just lay there shaking on the ground for hours 

my whole body would tremble. 

They locked me in there for lots of different reasons, it was usually just because i was aggravating them or, it was a punishment, they wanted me to be quiet, to go away. Sometimes I had to clean it spotless, and if i didn’t i couldn’t go to school in the morning. That sort of deal. 

I would go to school exhausted and sore from like beating on the door all night and screaming let me out 

and then my dad would come and like shove me back in and threaten what he would do if i didn’t shut up and like hit me in the head really hard 

i dont know why they were so cruel to me, but it just got worse and worse. Like, what they felt comfortable doing to me... really honestly, there were many times i feared for my life like, one day he would just snap and do what he said he was going to do. Bury me alive. Like i knew if he just, hit me too hard one day, ya know like, that’d just be it.

it was really with all his might. And um... i dont know why he was so angry, he just was. 

And he would just turn, like his face would change and he looked, demonic, in the face. He didn’t look like the same person he looked like the devil and his eyes would just go completely cold and he would act like a psychopath. Pulling me up off the floor and shaking me screaming in my face threatening me and telling me he wished I would die and things like that. ‘YOU THINK YOU’RE SMART. YOURE JUST SOME DUMB ASS PUNK ASS KID. STUPID MOTHER FUCKER. I COULD END YOU RIGHT NOW. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT. UR GONNA DO WHAT I TELL YOU TO DO AND UR GONNA LIKE IT OR UR NOT GONNA LIKE WHAT HAPPENS. SAY YES SIR. SAY IT. SAY IT LOUDER. SAY IT AGAIN. SAY IT LIKE YOU FUCKING MEAN IT.” 

Hitting me each time, in the face... and like, just pounding me into the ground. He’d hit my hands with hammers, throw me into walls all the time, lifting my entire body int he air and just yeeting me into walls. He’d throw me over his shoulder like i was trash or just drag me along the floor to the concrete and just fuck me up. When he was mad about something.

it was always my fault, i always had to be sorry ya know. 

My mom would just say, “it’s for your own good.” 

He locked me in a room to do work once, after he had beaten my hands black and blue, I couldn’t write, anymore but he forced me to. And he blasted insanely loud music, so that no matter how loud i screamed, it didn’t phase, those concrete walls of this room. 

And this habit of just trying to control me and lock me away just, got worse and worse ya know. A very tight, leash, a very firm grip. All the time. I felt trapped. No one, ya know. To help. 

I just assumed when I turned 18 it would all be over. But that was naive, i guess. The control just grew, to new heights. 

Years later i just reached complete burn out with fighting back, or fighting at all, in life. Or trying. And i just, gave into it all. I didn’t care anymore. I was like, “go ahead, kill me. I dont care.” And he’d be screaming at me ya know GET UP. To dot his do that. Then he’d drag me to the bathroom and tell me to get on my knees and drown my head in the bath tub. Pull me up again. And scream in my ear. I think i just was gasping for air and trying not to inhale too much water and sort of crying but, was kind of numb to it at the same time. 

I would dissociate during beatings and just lay there. And I’d wake up trembling on the floor. 

As i got older and went to mexico i still struggled with this trembling problem, it wasn’t much of a problem to me but, i was so dissociated from the abuse i didn’t like, i couldn’t connect the dots on why i would just shake sometimes. 

It still happens to me on occasion, when i was really unwell and going in and out of mental hospitals. 

People say, “ah that’s nice at least ur parents paid for therapists and what not.” 

But it’s a double sided coin for me because, really, we had no relationship, and i had no purpose to them other than to get better to finish school and make money. They just didnt know what to do with me anymore, i had gone so deep inwards.

they didn’t, wanna fix me or, like, admit to their wrong doing. They just put me off on someone else, to fix me for them. 

Never admitting, maybe, the reason i was like this was because of, what they did and, maybe my up bringing was, a little wrong, or unfair. 

I said, when I got out, “i have to go to an ART therapist.” And explained what it was for because my mom asked, I said, “ptsd.” And she said, “well why do you have ptsd??” And i’m like, “I’ll tell ya later. I’m not ready to talk about it.” 

Which is true i didnt want to talk abnnout it, and some of the ptsd wasn’t, their fault but- some of it, very much was. And, how do you, say that. 

So i just didn’t. 

How backwards is that like, it just makes no sense. Taking me to treatment, for a disorder you caused, but then not being able to, see, that you caused it. 

That’s how truly blind they were like they believe in child abuse. They truly do. They dont understand, their ignorant, they dont get the serious repercussions of doing this, to a person.

psychologically. It fucked me up man. 

but yeah the reason like, I do, the things I do. 

is the same reason like, Jessica kellgren- the video I shared of the girl with red hair above- 

does the things she does. 

she talks about enjoying the simple things. 

after everything I've been through like, these are the things I do that bring me joy and peace. 

and people like, criticize it like, "oh why do u talk about makeup so much" I'm just like leaving me alone man if I like doing makeup on people just like let me do it for christ sake 

same thing with music, writing, fashion. these things bring me joy and, that was something I had to like, earn. the ability to even, feel, okay or to feel happiness from something 

I had to work hard for it and, these are the things that help me. this is how I'm happy. and I don't expect ppl to understand but, just stop trying to take away my little happiness. you feel me. 

it may seem stupid to you but to me, it matters. its my ways of overcoming the negativity. or coping, or whatever so just leave me to it man. 

when I was a kid all I wanted was to feel like belonging, acceptance love 

to be uplifted and supported and understood 

I wanted compassion, kindness and like, normalcy as a family 

like.... I just wanted to feel good enough. just once. 

I wanted to have a relationship, with a parental figure. desperately. 

that's all. 

- 

I really rationalized it as a child like, that all of it would be normal, if it weren't for me. like, it was my fault, because I wasn't Good enough. 

and if I had been Good enough, everything would of been fine. but because iw wasn't and I was bad and I was this and I was shit like, things just turned out terrible 

u truly blame urself and believe that. 

but now looking back on it I know there was nothing I could of done, to change things or Make it better. 

 and it wasn't my fault.