Is it wrong that I want to be left alone?

My ‘disorder’ has been peaking in the wrong direction for about a week now. I thought it would just ‘go away’, but this time it wants to keep following me around like a lost puppy. I’ve fought my entire life with thoughts of suicide and letting go of homicidal tendencies, and so far I’ve won that battle, but fear of losing that control has been weighing on my mind more frequently. I try to make myself go out and be around people, but the slightest little thing has me wanting to put my hands around their throats and choke the life out of them.

I stopped writing some time ago out of fear of what others thought about me, but in doing that, I think I lost a part of me. I want that back. I don’t know if I’m any good at writing, but it did give me peace. Writing over the years has giving me a chance to release the demons that are holding me back at being somebody; at least that’s what I’ve been told.  But dammit it’s hard to let them go when they are friendlier and more inviting to me than most people.

My dreams are of killing and being forced to do horrible, heinous crimes, and then I wake up with a smile on my face. Is it because I enjoy the crime, or it is that I’m killing a part of me that no longer needs to be there? Dreams linger throughout the day as if that was reality, and here I am in a dream doing nothing with my life.

I’m going to try and avoid doing anything really stupid, but change needs to come soon. I need to cut ‘things’. I need to shift my thoughts. A psychologist once told me to deal with my fears by exposing myself to that fear until it no longer caused me fear, and that I could do the same thing with my thoughts—expose myself to them on purpose until they no longer bother me.

Secret Storm

I’m drowning, will you save me? But what if I don’t want to be saved? Will you still try to save me? Today I feel like death, but a week, two weeks from now, I may not feel this way. That is the problem with this ‘disease’. It makes the mind believe things that I wouldn’t normally believe.

Please forgive me, I know not what I do. There is just too much pain I’m going through. Every word I say may be true, so please forgive while I try to silence a voice or two.

I feel like I can’t breathe again. This new medicine I’m on has my mind twisted. It’s been 2 weeks now and I should be feeling better according those who prescribed the pills, but they forget there are the few like me that experience the opposite effects and turn suicidal and homicidal in the first few weeks. If I can convince myself to stay on the medicine for more than a month or two things should start to smooth out as my body adjust to the medicine. Then I fear it will be just like in the past, I will stop taking the medicine and will have to go through all the withdraw emotions. At my age, I don’t think I can do that again.

I don’t know why, but when I’m medicated I’m reminded of every little painful moment from my past. Memories flood my mind and stomp around stirring up so much dust, I feel like I just can’t breathe. Right now, I’m staring face to face with extreme depression, fatigue, suicidal thoughts, impulsivity, risky behavior, and complete feelings of emptiness. Pain lances throughout my body. It hurt before, but never this bad. Tears spring to my eyes for no reason at all. I don’t want to be a part of this world.

I glanced around. The woods were mostly silent, with a few birds chattering in the distance. I inhaled the clean, pine tree air and relished in the calmness of the moment. Hunting season was long over and it was too chilly for camping. I doubted anyone would stumble upon the clearing, or hear her screams for mercy.

She flinched away from my words and touch. Clenching her eyelids tighter together, the heathen’s sobs became more audible and distraught. Her body began shaking uncontrollably, most likely due to a mixture of shock and terror.

“Hush, I’m helping you.” I tried to explain. 

“I don’t want to kill you. I have to kill you. This is the task that the voices have assigned to me. I dare not refuse what they have to say.”

This will make tomorrow a clearer day to see.

Memories

It crawls around on your skin, looking for a way to get inside you so it can eat you alive...Memories.

 

The older I get, the more things I begin to recall, from growing up in a place that I wish would vanish from my mind.

I recall being around the age of 10 the first time I thought seriously about sex, life and death. I’m sure I thought about it even before this age, but not as seriously as I did that summer that I began letting older boys have sex with me, and I began experimenting with life and death.

I hadn’t started my menstrual cycle yet, and I thought I knew enough about it, that I would not get pregnant. I was curious. I wanted to know what it was like. So, I did it, not once, not twice, but more times than can recall. Death was the same. I wanted to know. I shot animals with my Dad’s 22 rifle, and then I would stare at them until they no longer moved. Curiosity overtook my thoughts one day, and after shooting a wild cat, I split open its chest so I could watch its heart beat for the last time.

There was only a few weeks left until school started back for the year, when I was caught by my father having sex with one of his friends at their house. I was sitting on top of him, when my father grab the back of my ponytail and pulled him out of me. I quickly put my pants back on as my father began beating him repeatedly with his fist. Blood covered his face and my fathers fist. My father continued to hit him, even after he laid there motionless. I ran to the car and hid under an old dirty blanket that was laying in the backseat. I closed my eyes trying to make the images go away, but it was as if someone had branded the images across an invisible glass directly in front of my eyes. 

I awoke as the car turned up the driveway to the front gate. I laid there quietly as I listened to my father get out the car and open the gate. He then got back in the car, drove through, and got out again to close the gate. I waited for the sound of him opening the car door to get in, but instead he opened the door where I was laying.

My heart began to pound wildly in my chest, as fear of what he was going to do, took over all other thoughts. As I laid there pretending to be asleep, I felt him uncover my body, and then his hands began feeling around between my legs. When I made a low moaning sound, he told me to be quiet so he could just check me to make sure I wasn’t hurt.

He spread my legs, and pointed a flashlight directly at me as he pulled down my pants and underwear. I closed my eyes as tight as I could, and pulled the blanket back up over my head. I could feel the warmth of the flashlight shinning on my body, as his hands began spreading me open. He then put his fingers inside and began feeling around.  After a few minutes he said, “I don’t think he came inside of you and you’re not bleeding, so you should be okay.” He then raised his voice and said, “I don’t want you telling anyone about this. I already took care of him, so it won’t ever happen again.”

The truth was I liked what the guy was doing to me, but I didn’t dare tell my father. Instead, I began crying, so he hugged me, and whispered to me that everything was going to be okay. In my mind, all I could think about was wanting to kill him. The visions of everything I had seen that night, slammed into my brain with such pressure that it was hard trying to force myself to continue crying. I wanted to take the 22 rifle and shoot him in the head, and as he laid there bleeding, I would cut him open, just to see what was inside of him. I thought about doing something horrible to him everyday for the rest of that summer.

Thoughts flood my mind even more today.

Impulsive Acts

I sometimes act impulsively because it gives me immediate relief from my emotional pain.

I want to write about what happened to me on Wednesday the 7th, and say that was what caused me to dip into this out of control spiral, that I feel I have fallen into. But I’m not sure that would be the truth. I think it began several days before, but this time I just didn’t recognize the signs.   

Most of the time I come off as seemly ‘normal’. But then there are the times, especially when I’m under stress, that I can no longer hide behind my mask of sanity. I will completely lose all contact with reality, and during this time, I am unable to predict even my own behavior. I will feel rage instead of annoyance, and at other times I will turn that rage on myself.

After days of swinging back and forth on a giant swing, that holds mania at the peak and major depression going backwards, I’ve started thinking of unusually ways to regulate how I’m feeling. If I can’t regulate how I feel, I will shut down completely. At this moment, that is where I am at.

I want to cut myself deep enough that a part of me can be removed, then I can throw that part of me away, and hope something new will grow in its place. I wish it was that simple. With a effortless twist of shinny blade, all my defaults, errors, mistakes, could then be thrown into the garbage. 

Mind Hating Self --- Anybody Got a Really Big Shovel They Can Loan Me?

I’ve been trying to figure out how I’m going to dig my way out of this gigantic hole I’ve dug for myself at some unknown location, where no one is able to locate me. Not sure if I want to be found right now anyway, but I’ve been here for a couple weeks and if I don’t start looking for a way out, I might be lost for a long time.

My impulsive actions sent me out late back on the 4th, wondering around in my circles again, which led to another stop for doing a u-turn. It wasn’t illegal, just caught law enforcements eyes at almost 1am. It was an officer that I hadn’t had contact with, anyway I didn’t recognize his face and I don’t think he knew me. I handed over my insurance and ID, then he went back to his car to checked me out in the system. When he returned, I could tell by his actions, that he was informed to who I was. He gave me back my insurance and ID, then asked me a couple questions. The one that stayed in my mind was when he asked if I was okay. I should have been honest and said no, I’m not okay right now. But I know what that would mean. A trip to the psych ward. So I lied, and drove away without breathing, and without a ticket.

Friday the 5th was even worse. Anger was raging deep inside me for no known reason. The universe felt foreign, and I wasn’t willing to be a part of anything the world was offering. I was hating everybody and everything they were doing. Little things annoyed the hell out of me as I tried to complete a forgotten task. And when I stopped to think about it all, it caused me to have those uncomfortable palpitation in my heart that often lead me down the wrong roads in my attempt to quash my tedious and trying dark thoughts.

My windows were up as I drove along Highway 117 playing Knockin Doors Down at full volume. No luck. The voices just screamed at each other a little louder in my head.

My body began feeling like it was being squeezed by some giant hand reaching out and wrapping its fingers around my entire body. I couldn’t breathe, and the need to escape overtook my mind after I had drove several slow miles blocked behind a couple cars. As my thoughts raced non-stop, impulse control was thrown out the window and without thought or care, I drove wildly into the center turning lane in my attempt to escape whatever it was that I was convinced was after me. Reality was gone.

After breaking free from my enclosure, I felt a brief sense of relief, but that would be short-lived. Again the story of my life... I wasn’t paying attention, but THEY were. Damn those unmarked black cop cars! He caught up with me about 3 miles later.

I quickly pulled over as a few hundred thoughts ran rapidly across my forehead. I reached out and grabbed one thought as the officer tapped on my window. I didn’t want to try and explain it to the officer that if I didn’t do what I did, the world might have exploded. Anyway that’s what my mind had convinced me was going to happen if I didn’t pass the two idiot drivers in the center lane, and then sped off at double the speed limit.

Instead, I lied and told him I was a diabetic and my blood sugar was low. It might have been, I hadn’t eaten anything that day. But I also know when I get stressed, like being stopped, my blood sugar will spike real high. So even if it was low before he stopped me, it had to be somewhere around 180 after the stop.

At least the officer was polite, even after he ran my record and let me know, as if I didn’t already know, that I have a very extensive driving record. I’ll be lucky as hell if I don’t lose my drivers license again.

FUCK! This time I got a ticket for illegal passing. The officer said he knew I was speeding but he wasn’t going to give me a ticket for that since he said he didn’t actually catch me speeding. Then came the serious question again, ‘Are you okay?’ Two days in a row, two different officers asking the same question. Again I lie. I convince myself that these feelings, mood swings, whatever you want to call it, will pass... I just have to ride out the storm. I just hope they make a towel big enough to dry myself off when its all over.

I have court on March 22 for this charge and April something for the speeding ticket I got last month....again FUCK! The two tickets total over $500 dollars, plus the time I have to spend going to these damn things because I can’t come up with that much money unless I commit a crime.

The next day, I crashed hard. I’ve been down since with no motivation to do anything. My psychological inertia is now preventing me from doing anything constructive to help me elevate my mood. I’m lost. I don’t want to move, think, write or participate in life. I haven’t done any writing in weeks. The thoughts are just blank.

DEEP Breath!

This is step one again...
I made myself move a few hours ago, then I started thinking, and now I’m writing. Maybe tomorrow I’ll participate in life.

When my life flashes before my eyes, will it be worth watching?

F   U   C   K !

!

I fucking hate my 
borderline personality disorder!!!

Time For a Mind Fuck

****Warning Adult Material****

I’m obsessed with my pussy after I shave it smooth. I love the way it feels, the way it smells, hell even the way it taste is wonderful to my senses. Problem is I want to play with it all the time. I think about touching it while I’m walking through the store and I see some guy that looks like he would be fun to fuck. When I’m driving down the road and I hear a sexy song on the radio, I want to touch myself. Again I guess there’s nothing abnormal about that, unless you’re sneaking off into a public bathroom just so you can touch yourself.

I’ve never understood why it was expectable, healthy thing for a man to masturbate, but it was forbidden talk for a woman to even discuss such a topic when I was younger. There were so many things I had to learn on my own.

Then there’s porn. Most believe it’s not natural for a woman to want to watch porn. Personally, I don’t see anything wrong with watching porn, as long as everyone participating is over 18 and agreeing to what is taking place, porn can be very arousing. Sometimes a little too arousing.
I’ve been avoiding my other sites that just post information that has already been posted somewhere else on the web, and instead I’ve been trying to focus on writing more... Mostly some new sex stories. In order to get some fresh new ideas, I sometimes surf around to a few porn sites and watch various videos. I’ve been doing most of the ‘research’ in the evening when my older son is gone to work, and I’m alone for the night. I have one or two sites that I visit when I’m in the mood, but I will occasionally surf around and find a new site to visit.

Today I found a new site, and decided to spend a little time viewing the ‘mostly normal’ porn. Before I realized it, it was almost time to pick up my son from work. I quickly jumped into my car and drove towards his job. I’m just about to pull up, when I look at the time and realize that the clock on my computer was off again, and I still had almost 15 minutes before it was time to pick him up. Not wanting to sit around, I decided to go to the park near his job at Wal-Mart.

I drove to the back of the park, and found a place under some to trees to hide in the darkness. I felt safe enough there, but still I rolled up all the windows and locked the doors. I then put in a Prince CD and began listening to the song Cream. I immediately began thinking back to the videos that I had just watched. Flashes of hard dick being rapidly slammed into a woman’s pussy, flashed through my mind. The more I thought about it, the more I began to feel that all to familiar tingle beginning to stir deep in my lower stomach. I had never masturbated at the park, but the thought began seeping into the dark corners of my mind. It was shift change for law enforcement, so I figured I would be safe for a few minutes alone, and if anyone did come, I would be able to see their car lights before they had a chance to get close to me.

I left my car running, but turned out all the lights, and then I lowered the back of my seat to where it almost laid flat. I then spread my legs and put my right foot on the dashboard. This gave me plenty of room to reach down the front of my pants and cupped my freshly shaven cunt. I was still moist from watching the porn videos, so it was easy to lubricate my clit. I began twitching it back and forth between my fingers, making its little head swell. I slowly increased the pressure and stroked my clit up and down, pulling out my sweet juice from my hole.

I stopped a couple times when I had to look up to see if there were any cars coming. I didn’t want to have to explain to anyone what I was doing. I wanted it to be my little private dirty secret.

I continued listening to Prince as the song Darling Nicki began to play. I closed my eyes and went with the rhythm as I slowly worked my fingers up and down the sides of my clit. I was getting so close, but kept pausing to look up and see if any cars were coming, or if some stranger was staring in the window at me.

I looked down at the time and noticed I only had a couple minutes until it was time to pick up my son, and I hadn’t gotten off yet. At first I thought about stopping, but then I had this feeling that I was being watched, and something about that, made me speed up my stoking. Within in 30 seconds, I felt the swelling of my clit increase, and I began pumping out short little burst of cum. It continued pulsing from inside my hole, as I brushed my clit back and forth lightly.

Finally, I took a deep breathe and removed my hand from my soaked cunt. I couldn’t believe how much I had gotten off. I put my fingers one by one in my mouth and licked the cum from my fingertips. The racing of my heart slowed as I sat the seat back to its upright position. I quickly put my car in gear and left the park knowing I had yet another dirty little secret.

My game has continued for a over a week now, and each time I enjoy the thrill of what I’m doing a little more. I seem to be addicted to the possibility of some stranger lurking in the woods waiting to sneak up on me and catch me in the middle of my sex act. Now, I’m beginning to rethink this ‘thought’ after a close call a couple nights ago. I had just finished getting off and had begun to leave the park. Just as I was about to drive out, a police officer began pulling into the park. I almost froze.

He drove past me as I pulled over to another area so I could put my seatbelt on. I then expeditiously re-adjusted the seat and drove away, leaving him in the park wondering what I was doing. It also left me wondering what he was doing in the park at almost 11pm, especially since it was shift change. Have they figured out that criminals know when their shift changes and that is when some choose to break the law?

My thoughts turned to him coming up behind me and turning his lights on. I didn’t need another charge. I began wondering if he did stop me, would be able to smell the sex on my hand, even though once again I had licked my fingers afterwards? Would I then have to register as a sex offender if caught by law enforcement? The thought scares the hell out of me, but the thought is also what sent me right back to the park again tonight.

hehe...damn I'm a nasty motherfucker...lol
_______________________________________

Want to know 10 things about Women? Goto http://mspsycho.wordpress.com/

I Don’t feel REAL!!!

Miserable or in a state of torpor...that’s the best way to describe me right now. But I at least feel a little more ...inside my body now. For the past several days I’ve been feeling lost off in some far away land. I see, and hear things going on around me, but I don’t absorb anything. It’s like walking around in a dream lost in a forest. I feel completely disconnected from my body, and reality just doesn’t feel like the right place to be now.

Unreality has become my refuge. I don’t exist.

There’s a wilderness lose in my mind right now....don’t cut...don’t steal...don’t drink...don’t smoke...don‘t gamble...don‘t fuck so much...don’t drive too fast... ...don’t...don’t.... DAMN! I’ll be glad when these days pass.

And as the dial hits 100mph
and the base line is pumping through my body
Nothing else matters
I am free.

I think it may be my borderline personality disorder coming to the surface. I haven’t experienced it this bad in several months. I just feel so ‘out of it’, and later I don’t remember things I do or say. A psychiatrist once told me it was called dissociation. Basically I feel like I’m observing my body from the outside. Things look strange, unreal, or unfamiliar.

Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.
--Alert Camus

It’s only a dream. It's only a dream...

See ya when I wake up in a few days.

Risky Behavior

Currently I’m engaged in what is considered ‘risky or reckless behavior’. You know what I’m talking about, doing things like driving to fast, doing to many drugs, having unprotected sex with a stranger, spending too much, etc. You get the idea. When I’m in this kind of mood I like to ‘push the edge of defiance.’ I don’t know why, it just feels right taking risk.

Like now, since it’s starting to get warm out, and I’m smoking weed again, I’ve been going in my garage around midnight to smoke and relax. The boys are sound asleep at that time, so they can’t walk in on me. Plus I leave the garage open so the smell doesn’t get throughout the house. But this is consider risky behavior by some, and I know this, still it feels right.

At least now that I’m smoking again, I don’t have as much intense anger as I was. I’m just kinda relaxed and laid back. Except for the paranoia that comes from smoking...but then a part of that is also enjoyable. Like the other night, I was almost caught by local law enforcement smoking outside. It gave me one hell of a rush. Why cut myself when I can get that feeling?

I’ve been reading about one of the first disorders that I was diagnosed with back in 1985.... Borderline Personality Disorder. It’s interesting because for the most part it does describe me pretty good. It said that individuals with Borderline Personality Disorder may have a pattern of undermining themselves at the moment a goal is about to be realized such as dropping out of school just before graduation (I did that when I was attending Vo-Tech in 1987); regressing severely after a discussion of how well therapy is going (a therapist once told me therapy was going well, two hours later I tried to take my life by overdose.)

Stress is my big thing, when I get stressed, all I want to do is cut myself. Not to die, but just to make myself feel something different. So instead of cutting myself when I get stressed, for now I will just engage in risky behavior.