Decompensation and Mental Illness

I didn’t get but a couple of hours of interrupted sleep last night. My thoughts just wouldn’t lay down and relax with the rest of my body.  I hate days like this.

My thoughts are drifting towards wanting to cut just for the soul purpose of achieving a forced chemical reaction in my brain. But I can’t because I have to go to court in a few hours for the dog ticket. ... You could just wear long sleeves. Nobody would notice since it‘s wintertime. ...  SHUT UP! I don’t want another scar. FUCK! I’m past forty years old, I’m not some young stressed out teen that doesn’t know a thing about life.

I attempted to send my focus elsewhere early this morning by checking out some of the links that people come from when they visit my site. One person linked back to my site quoting parts of my very first post....

“Antisocial personality with intermittent psychotic decompensation.”

They then wrote the following on their site...

“Decompensation or episodes of deterioration are quite common with mental illness. Decompensation means that when a person is stressed out, they withdraw from the situation. Decompensation and mental illness go hand in hand. In decompensation, the person loses control even when they are trying to be on their best behavior. The signs and symptoms of mental illness then keep them from working and they end up having repeated episodes. They show less fear of punishment, and seem to need to do things that excite their nervous system, such as thrill-seeking behaviors.”

Guess whoever this person is, they are using me as an example. It does describe me well, but I won’t follow their suggestion.... Medication and therapy. I refused to take anti-psychotic pills and I don’t have the money for therapy. Besides this is my therapy. It’s worked so far. I’ve been on here for a little over 4 years now and I haven’t killed anyone or myself. I still think about doing so quite frequently, but as long as I continue to seek out other alternatives that excite my nervous system, no one’s life will end today by my hands. Unless of course some jackass at court pushes my wrong damn button.  

I'm Going to Commit Murder!

All my life I’ve had a dog of some sort. Most all of them have been mixed breed dogs that someone was wanting to give away, and me being the nice person that I am, I gladly take the dog into my home. I provided everything I possible could to make their lives, and mine, enjoyable. I also like having a pet around for protection and entertainment.

After my boys reached a certain age they of course wanted a dog, and again I gladly gave into their adorable little 5 year old smiles. But then something would happen, like the dog running away, it gets hit by a car, or someone steals it, etc...Then there have been a few dogs that have crossed my path, that have caused a part of me to loathe dogs on the most extreme level. That is where MsPsycho took over and did what had to be done.

Okay, so let me step aside, and I’ll let MsPsycho’s invade your world for a few minutes. Warning MsPsycho tends to use profanities quite frequently, so if you are offended by someone using vulgar language, I suggest you read no further.


I can’t fucking stand dogs! And I’m going to tell you why! First of all, they stink! No matter how often, or what type of dog shampoo you use, in the end they all still smell like something crawled onto their bodies and died. Next, dog hair everywhere! It’s on my floors, carpet, rubbed against the side of my sofa (since I don’t fucking allow them on the couch), all over the bathroom where they’ve been giving a bath, and sometimes I even find the shit on my kitchen countertops! Guess who has to clean all this shit up! ME! It doesn’t just magically disappear on its own!

Allergies! I hate sneezing all the liquid out my nose after they’ve been in the house rolling around on my carpet. Then I can’t breathe right until I’ve taken some type of pill that is more than likely going to leave me feeling ‘not quite right’ for the next few hours.

So, you say just leave them outside... Right? Wrong! Outside all they do is bark when the wind blows a little too hard! Then they start digging at the ground and the fence trying to get at whatever they are barking at. Eventually they make it out on a day when nobody is at home, and I get a fine for DOG BEING AT LARGE. There goes a fucking $100 dollars and time spent in court!

After their little escape to freedom, I get both Labs back inside my privacy fence, and almost pass out from the horrendous smell that is now on my hands from touching them. I know they’ve been doing that upside down back rub across some animal that has been laying dead in the street for days. Maybe that makes them feel special when they do that? Fucking stinks to me bitch!

I give them food and water, and then proceed for the billionth time to replace the broken boards to the back fence. There goes money for food, new boards and nails for the fence, dog shampoo for the bath, water to wash them both, carpet cleaner and carpet shampoo to get rid of the smell they brought back with them that lingers like a huge TURD that just won’t flush. And I still have to pay the fucking court ticket!

Oh, and don’t forget about all the time this is consuming!

Since I have a male and female, I have had to deal with puppies. Which is fun to a certain point, but even that becomes a pain in the ass when the puppies reach a certain age and you have to find homes for all of them. To make sure this doesn’t happen again, I have to come up with money to have my dog spayed. She comes in heat two days before the surgery, and I have to make sure - Mr my dick is so hard that I’m going to fucking die if I don’t get to fuck that female bitch,- my male dog doesn’t get her pregnant before I have a chance to get her fixed.

TWO days of him howling to get inside. I throw water on his face, smack him with a broom handle, threaten him with my voice, etc.. NOTHING WORKS! I’m thinking about a shock collar, but is that too cruel? At this point, I don’t give a damn.

Finally the day of surgery. After only a couple hours of sleep, I get up at 5:30am, get dressed, load the dog into my car, and drive to a clinic on the other side of Tulsa to drop her off at 7am. I’m told it won’t be until around 4 or 5pm before she will be ready to go home, so I spend the day out picking up a few Christmas leftovers in Sand Springs. (I don’t live in Sand Springs, but I love stalking a few people over there.)

Around 2pm, I return to the house. I go into psycho mode the moment I walk in the door and see what my male lab has done to my backdoor. He has spent the entire day chewing and gnawing at the solid wood door until he had managed to make a hole large enough for him to squeeze his 90+ pound body under the door. When he sees me, he knows he’s in trouble, and immediately goes to his doghouse and lays down inside with only a part of his face sticking out to look around.

The temperature that day was below freezing, and inside my house the heater was blowing full blast, but it had little effect on the temperature of the room. I left my jacket on and found what I could to block the cold air from turning my fingertips blue. I made a quick dash to the lumber store and brought a large piece of metal to cover the opening, and then went to pick up my female lab who had come through surgery okay.

After making the needed repairs that evening, I laid down for some much need rest, leaving my male dog outside and the female inside for one week. Since she is still in heat, I have to keep the two dogs separated so he doesn’t cause her serious injury after the surgery. The next morning I was awaken by the sound of my female lab barking loudly in the other room. I jump up quickly thinking she may need to use the bathroom, and walk into the front room. There stands my male dog! He has cuts all over his face and paws where he dug, bit, pawed at the metal on the door until he was able to rip it open. Just to get to the PUSSY!

Another trip to Sutherlands! This time for more metal, new boards, screws, etc.. To complete the job. It was that, or spend a hundred dollars for a brand new door, and hope like hell I could put it up by myself. God only fucking knows, NOBODY else but me, is going to fucking fix the goddamn thing!

I chain my male lab up outside near his doghouse, and have to listen to him howl like someone is beating him with a hammer for the next five days! I want to end this dogs life! I have had NO restful sleep! Sleep a minute, listen to him howl, yell at him to shut up and go lay down. Sleep for two minutes, howling begins again. Let him howl until I’m sure the neighbors will soon be complaining. Fuck them! I’m complaining! I get up and toss a glass of water in his face and tell him again to be quiet. Nothing works!

I’m so exhausted I’m beginning to have some more than usually fucked up thoughts tossing around in my brain. If I don’t get some god damn sleep soon, I don’t think I’m going to be able to hold back my impulses. FIVE DAYS of this bullshit! I want to end this mother fuckers life with my bare hands.

And I would if it were up to me, but the owner of this body might really be upset if I were to do something psycho that caused her to do jail time. So, for now I will retreat back behind the black curtains until I’m needed again.

NO SLEEP........... again

FUCK I CAN'T SLEEP!!! I'VE SLEPT MAYBE 10 HOURS IN THE PAST 3 DAYS, AND IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE I'LL BE SLEEPING AGAIN TONIGHT!

FUCK!!!

PROM IS OVER....YEAH!!!!

Standing on the Edge

Insomnia Builds Character?

I've been trying to do anything I can think of to grab a sufficient rush, so I can have the crash later. I've also been doing several other activities to wear myself out, so maybe I'll get tired enough to sleep...

Here are some things I've done in the past 6 hours...

Cleaned my house...

Took a long walk...

Worked out with some hand weights...

Went to the casino...

Went shopping...

Stole a few things while people were watching...then put the stuff back on the shelf somewhere else in the store...

Went speeding around town...

Had a few drinks...

Called a friend...

Had a good quickie...

Had a few more drinks...

Went into Q-Trip while 3 cops were inside...while a little drunk...

Went to the neighbors house...

Had another drink...

Did some writing....

Wrote my brother in prison...

Cleaned some more...

Surfed the web...

Looked at porn...

hehehe...

Wrote this post...

STILL CAN"T SLEEP!!!

Can I Swim in the Ocean While I Write Poetry?

It’s past 3am and I still can’t seem to relax, so I’ll turn to the only thing that seems to quiet my mind...writing. My mind has been having so many killer thoughts, that some of the stories running through my mind even frighten me a little. But I can’t slow down...I’m full of endless energy at the moment. It’s way better than that shithole depression cycle that I’ve been in, but that also means my mind has ten thousand things going on at the same time, making it almost impossible to finish one thing before I’m ready to do something else.

I averaged around 6 hours sleep yesterday, and around the same last night, and surprisingly I’m not sleepy at all. Today I got ready and did some spending at the grocery store, and spent more than what I should have, but I just felt the need to get things. It probably didn’t help out with this manic phase I’m going though, by drinking too much coffee this morning around 9am, skipping breakfast and lunch because I took a phentermine, low blood sugar, had an encounter with a highway patrol officer...nice conversation...lol, not much sleep, and then throw in the mania....WOW!!! Talk about high-strung.

I’m also thinking about my court date...it’s this fucking Thursday!!! Good thing I looked today, I thought it wasn’t until later in the month. I’ll probably wait until that day to decide if I’m going to court, or just pay the damn thing. It was my faulty ass brain, not thinking clearly, as the reason why I got the damn ticket.

It’s now way past 3 am and I’m still up flipping through the dictionary and surfing online to find the words that describes EXACTLY how I feel. Can I run away just to see if anyone cares? I just have all this unbridled mania and I don’t know what to do with it. I’ve tried finding things to occupy my mind and take me away from the intrusive thoughts, but nothing seems to be working tonight. It’s just sometimes I’m so afraid of failing that I don’t even want to try.

Enough psycho thoughts for the night, maybe I’ll go lay down and stare at the ceiling for the next few hours.

My mind occasionally drifts away into little fantasies of what life would be like had I pulled the trigger on him that day.

Scars are like tattoos...but with better stories.

It always rains the hardest, on the people who deserve the sun.

The stars will cry the blackest tears tonight.

I’m going to smile like nothings wrong.


Suicide is a cry for help ... a last ditch attempt to communicate from a private hell.

Sleeep?...Who the fuck needs to sleep?

Still Awake

Can't Sleep

I can’t sleep. At all. So what am I doing instead?

I tossed. I turned. I grumbled. I surfed the web. I read for a while. I roamed the house pacing like a crazed animal frustrated... "if I went to sleep right NOW, I'd get 5 hours" ...then 4 hours... then 3 hours..

Then fuck it. Why bother at all?

No sleep + no food + diet pills, er I mean "vitamins" = has me on some kinda jacked up buzz that is bordering on delirium.

I even took a pic of myself with my new camera in my bathroom mirror. I was gonna post it here with a clever caption saying "this is your brain with no sleep" but no way am I posting that here... I look like I'm strung out on crack or something.

No Sleep

I know this is what some people think about me.









I have to sleep eventually.

Dreams of the Past...Why I can't sleep.

Last night, or should I say early this morning, around the time the sun began to slowly peer above the horizon and make its way through a diminutive hole in the foil that covers my bedroom window, I finally drifted into a deep, non-stop dreaming sleep.

While sleeping, my dream took me back to a house that was very analogous to the house I grew up in. I was being held down on a twin bed, in the middle of a room, with a blanket thrown over me and tied down on all the corners so I could not move. Above me I could see the hole that was in the ceiling of my bedroom, but much bigger. As I struggled in my restraints, I was startled by a earsplitting sound of thunder. Lightening clashed loud in the air just above the hole repeatedly as I stared up into the sky above.

After several more frightening rounds of thunder, water began to trickle and then stream down on top of me. The blanket quickly became soaked as a tremendous amount of water began pouring in on top of me, making the blanket cling to my body. I struggled to breathe as the blanket tightened around me, slowly cutting off my air supply. As more water poured down on top of me, I could hear voices in the back ground.

“Quit just laying there! Get your ass up and empty the buckets!!” the voice of my father bellowed through the storm. But as much as I tried to move, I couldn’t. I fiercely struggled as the storm continued to send officious amounts of water down onto my cold, wet body. Over the stentorian storm, I could hear my fathers voice shouting obscenities as thunder crackled above my head.

The room began to fade black and I felt I could no longer breathe, and began trying to gulp in several deep breaths. I struggled and pushed hard against the flowing water and the wet blanket that held me down. I could feel pressure building in my chest, and with one finally push I awoke from my dream around 9:30 am, my heart racing and feeling like I couldn’t breathe for a moment or two.

I could feel the heavy beating of my heart deep inside my chest. As I laid there, I thought I could hear the rain pouring down in a heavy stream outside. Images from my past of growing up, flooded my mind with all consuming thud. I thought about all the endless nights without sleep I had, after a storm had passed over our house. The rain pouring through the hole in the ceiling, and splashing into the large buckets that sat underneath.

I couldn’t sleep then, so how am I suppose to sleep now when I can still hear the rain pouring down around me?

Not wanting to drift back into the intrusive dream, I decided to take a long hot bath. By the time the water had turned cold, I could smell the boys cooking food in the kitchen. Of course they made a mess as always, but managed to make sausage, scrambled eggs, hash browns, and toast. Around noon we made our way to the park for a nice walk through the woods. I even got to take a few good pictures.




Now it’s almost 10pm and I feel exhausted, with no energy, but wide awake. I took a Rozerem that a friend gave me a few of, about 20 minutes ago, so we’ll see if this one is going to work.

Black Pools of mud are moving

Click you heels three times, and say I wanna go home.
I wanna go home.
I wanna go home.
I wanna go back to when I was 5 years old and start my life all over again. Except for when I run away this time, I don’t ever come back.

I’m still not able to sleep yet, 37 hours and counting, I laid down for a couple of minutes, but I felt like I had that restless leg syndrome, so I’m back up walking around looking like some sad discarded old dog. I want to go into my garage and smoke until I puke (if that’s possible), but when the nice officers came to arrest me, I got rid of the only 3 joints I had left. I could easily go get more, but I better chill for now, I’m not sure the boys in blue are done with getting their jollies.

Stress is eating me up right now. I had to dig out my last couple of Loritabs that I had from when I first injured my knee, and took one about an hour ago, but it has yet to do anything. I twisted my knee just bad enough yesterday, that it is giving me a lot of pain when I try to walk. So, between the stress and the pain, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to use something. OK, YES I’M A FUCKING ADDICT!!

Shadows are dancing,
but there is no light to make a shadow.
Consumed by dreadful thoughts,
I want to drift away to another place.

I lost my teddy bear

Well, its coming up on around 35 plus hours now without me sleeping. I just can't seem to lay down and drift off into lala land. I tried a couple of times, but my mind is racing so fast I can't seem to make it shut off, so I thought I would sit down and write a little. Maybe this will quiet my mind down some.
I know my stress is what's casuing my insomnia right now, but I know my body will/must eventually begin to shut down and hopefully sleep will then come. As long as I don't reach the point of insomnia where I have begun to hallucinate. It's been a long time since that happened.

Beside a little insomnia is not bad...it makes you do things like this...

Someone suggested I need to end this blog with a happy thought, so I'm going to try and think of one.

Happy thought, I’d like to meet the person responsible for talking trash on my site, take him to a museum, hang him on the wall, criticize him and then leave.

Was that a happy thought? hmmm. Time for a break.

My life growing up.

A cool breeze of air rushed across my face and sent chills over my entire body. Winter was coming soon. I had hated winters at that house. At times, it was unbearable. I awoke many mornings able to see my breath in the air. The older the house got, the colder it got inside. We only paid $25.00 a month for rent, so the landlord never made any repairs. If there were any repairs to be made, my father would make a whole-hearted attempt, but it was often lacking in completeness. He had attempted several times to repair the roof over two added on bedrooms that had been built on before we moved in. The one that was mine began leaking so severe that eventually my father gave up and let it leak.

My bed and things were moved up onto the original bedrooms flooring, near my sister's bed. My father bought four large pieces of plywood and nailed it to several 2'x8's that separated the two bedrooms. As the rain continued to fall inside the room, it rotted away the floor, causing it to sag in the middle. One night during a heavy downpour, it finally gave way and came crashing down.

When it did, my sister and I felt the floor in our part of the room drop a little near where it was blocked off. The next heavy rain it began dripping water near the foot of my sister's bed. We placed a bowl under the leak to catch most of the water. Within a year, the bowl had been replaced with buckets, pans and anything else we could find that held water.

When the buckets neared the top, day or night we were to empty them down the toilet or into the bathtub. My sister couldn't lift the bigger buckets, so it was left up to me to empty them; which at times needed emptied 2 or 3 times during a bad storm. We had to re-arrange our beds several times to stay dry as new leaks started. It finally got to a point where we were moved as far away as possible, but water would still splash onto the corners of our beds. At first we made a good effort at trying to keep the floor dry, but year after year, it became more and more of a losing battle. The floor beneath the leaking began rotting and sagged heavily when walking in the area. When I complained about it, I was told I needed to empty the buckets more and not let them overflow.

At the age of 13 and on the 3rd day of steady rain and being completely exhausted from empting the buckets of water all day and night, I gave up and let the rain pour in. I covered my head to block out the noise and to stay dry. When the buckets began to overflow, I ignored them and tried to sleep, but I was quickly awaken by the shouts of my father telling me to get up and empty the big bucket that was under the main leak. As I stumbled out of bed, over to the bucket, my left foot stepped in the middle of the floor where it sagged. It was an area I had avoided stepping in; now I knew why. My left foot went through the floor up to my knee and the bucket of water splashed across the floor. My father, watching, shouted at my sister to get up and help clean up the mess I had made, and then he walked off and went back to his dry, warm bed. After pulling several splinters from my leg, I helped my sister clean up the water as more was steadily coming in. We put the bucket under another big leak and just let the rain run through the hole my foot had made. I didn’t blame my parents, I blamed myself. I felt it was my fault that things were the way they were.

Year after year, the rain continued to make the holes bigger and bigger. In the winter, I could feel the brisk air coming in and blowing across my nose as I would attempt to sleep. With the holes in the floor, roof, and only plywood as walls, it was near impossible to sleep. Many mornings I awoke to see my breath hanging heavily in the air. My sister would often be asleep on the bathroom floor near the small stove that heated the bathroom trying to stay warm. My father would begin whipping her and shouting at her not to do it because she was going to catch herself on fire. As cold as I got, I stayed in my own bed, freezing and wet, to avoid being hit or getting yelled at.