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.
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Monday, February 08, 2010
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Pain is Inevitable; Suffering is Optional
There are moments when my mind misses a few beats, and days pass without remembering the events. I find myself in mid-step or mid-breath, feeling as if being delivered abruptly into my body after a long absence. Spent where, I couldn’t really say, it’s sorta like being in a long, dreamless sleep. I had one of those days today. Bad weather or not, I forced myself out into the world for a walk to restore my self and maybe find a little .... something.... I just don’t know what it is yet.
Let’s free the mind with a little nonsense writing, even if it will only make sense to some.
My Crazy Day
This morning when I first stumbled out of bed, I stubbed my big toe on the edge of the bed, which sent waves of unpleasant sensations throughout my already aching body. Blood immediately pooled under the nail, and then oozed out the corners onto the carpet. It was only a small dose of what my day would entail.
I sat in my dark bedroom, drinking my morning obese cup of French vanilla coffee, listening to Headline Morning News as I nursed my aching big toe, when the power suddenly went out. It was another random blackout that had been occurring daily for the past couple weeks. I cursed loudly as I blindly finished wrapping a large Band-Aid over the top of my toe, and then I carefully slip on my shoes. As I stood to feel myself along, the sound of the TV return and I could feel the fan blowing again, but I could see anything. The power was all back on, but I was partly blind, able to only see outlines of harsh images.
I experienced this moment of raw terror, and I felt around for the phone. I was feeling an overwhelming need to call work and let them know I would be late. Only, I couldn't remember the number. And, even if I could, I didn’t think I could remember the layout of the numbers on the keypad.
Fear of losing my job overtook my mind, because we all know what happens to people who lose their jobs, so I didn't hesitate. Fortunately, my purse and keys were near the front door, so I able to easily locate them. I then stumbled out my apartment door. I felt along the railing until I came to the stairwell and eased myself down along each step.
I was down about 8 steps when suddenly this thing slammed me up against the wall and licks me across the face. I open my mouth wide as I let out a loud ear piercing scream, and it jams its tongue right into my mouth. Gagging for air, I bite fiercely down on the tongue and feel metal with my teeth. My thoughts run to whatever this is, it was into body piercing.
I fight hard to free myself from this things painful clutches. The pain was mixing with the throbbing of my big toe, making my head spin. It’s nails penetrated my flesh as it held me firmly in place. It reeked of rotting meat, making me feel ill. Then, abruptly it jammed it’s tongue into my right ear and held me firmly in place. I could hear a weird noise in my right ear as if someone was playing a tiny drum set in a sewer pipe. Next, I heard what sounded like someone shooting a gun nearby, and the thing let me go.
I stood back and shook my head, and that was when my eyesight returned. I looked around and saw no one or anything, and decided to go onto work. I made it in the front door just in time to see the boss standing near the time clock. I casually stroll his direction, and he eyeballs me in a strange way. I freeze, expecting him to say something, but he makes a grunting sound and walks back to his office.
I clock in and then go to my cubicle and sit down in the overly stuffed office chair. It feels foreign, or unreal like. I look around and notice I don’t recognize anything or anybody. I can’t shake the feeling and quickly make a beeline to the bathroom. I see myself in the mirror and I look horrible. The front of my white blouse was spotted with blood as if I had fallen on a bed of needles. A gel like substance oozed from my right ear, dead leaves were stuck to my shirt, and other various small pieces of debris was stuff into my hair.
I cleaned myself the best I could, and then returned to my corner. I couldn’t believe the boss didn’t say anything. I work my way through lunch without a break, and then stayed a little past five until everyone had left for the day. By the time I was ready to go home, my right ear finally stopped hurting, and the gel substance stopped flowing from inside.
So, as you see it’s been a fairly normal day, apart from the vomiting fit which kicked in just after I got home. I spent half an hour vomiting up blood, and once again, there were those little white spiders mixed in that run around in circles shouting the words crazy. The right side of my face is now numb, and I can still feel a couple of the critters crawling around somewhere behind my eyes. I think they are painting something hateful. It's really annoying as hell,and it's driving me crazy.
Except that I won't go crazy. That's one thing that's become plain. Nobody goes crazy. They just are or aren’t. Stone cold sanity. That's what we endure.
Let’s free the mind with a little nonsense writing, even if it will only make sense to some.
My Crazy Day
This morning when I first stumbled out of bed, I stubbed my big toe on the edge of the bed, which sent waves of unpleasant sensations throughout my already aching body. Blood immediately pooled under the nail, and then oozed out the corners onto the carpet. It was only a small dose of what my day would entail.
I sat in my dark bedroom, drinking my morning obese cup of French vanilla coffee, listening to Headline Morning News as I nursed my aching big toe, when the power suddenly went out. It was another random blackout that had been occurring daily for the past couple weeks. I cursed loudly as I blindly finished wrapping a large Band-Aid over the top of my toe, and then I carefully slip on my shoes. As I stood to feel myself along, the sound of the TV return and I could feel the fan blowing again, but I could see anything. The power was all back on, but I was partly blind, able to only see outlines of harsh images.
I experienced this moment of raw terror, and I felt around for the phone. I was feeling an overwhelming need to call work and let them know I would be late. Only, I couldn't remember the number. And, even if I could, I didn’t think I could remember the layout of the numbers on the keypad.
Fear of losing my job overtook my mind, because we all know what happens to people who lose their jobs, so I didn't hesitate. Fortunately, my purse and keys were near the front door, so I able to easily locate them. I then stumbled out my apartment door. I felt along the railing until I came to the stairwell and eased myself down along each step.
I was down about 8 steps when suddenly this thing slammed me up against the wall and licks me across the face. I open my mouth wide as I let out a loud ear piercing scream, and it jams its tongue right into my mouth. Gagging for air, I bite fiercely down on the tongue and feel metal with my teeth. My thoughts run to whatever this is, it was into body piercing.
I fight hard to free myself from this things painful clutches. The pain was mixing with the throbbing of my big toe, making my head spin. It’s nails penetrated my flesh as it held me firmly in place. It reeked of rotting meat, making me feel ill. Then, abruptly it jammed it’s tongue into my right ear and held me firmly in place. I could hear a weird noise in my right ear as if someone was playing a tiny drum set in a sewer pipe. Next, I heard what sounded like someone shooting a gun nearby, and the thing let me go.
I stood back and shook my head, and that was when my eyesight returned. I looked around and saw no one or anything, and decided to go onto work. I made it in the front door just in time to see the boss standing near the time clock. I casually stroll his direction, and he eyeballs me in a strange way. I freeze, expecting him to say something, but he makes a grunting sound and walks back to his office.
I clock in and then go to my cubicle and sit down in the overly stuffed office chair. It feels foreign, or unreal like. I look around and notice I don’t recognize anything or anybody. I can’t shake the feeling and quickly make a beeline to the bathroom. I see myself in the mirror and I look horrible. The front of my white blouse was spotted with blood as if I had fallen on a bed of needles. A gel like substance oozed from my right ear, dead leaves were stuck to my shirt, and other various small pieces of debris was stuff into my hair.
I cleaned myself the best I could, and then returned to my corner. I couldn’t believe the boss didn’t say anything. I work my way through lunch without a break, and then stayed a little past five until everyone had left for the day. By the time I was ready to go home, my right ear finally stopped hurting, and the gel substance stopped flowing from inside.
So, as you see it’s been a fairly normal day, apart from the vomiting fit which kicked in just after I got home. I spent half an hour vomiting up blood, and once again, there were those little white spiders mixed in that run around in circles shouting the words crazy. The right side of my face is now numb, and I can still feel a couple of the critters crawling around somewhere behind my eyes. I think they are painting something hateful. It's really annoying as hell,and it's driving me crazy.
Except that I won't go crazy. That's one thing that's become plain. Nobody goes crazy. They just are or aren’t. Stone cold sanity. That's what we endure.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
In Need of a Distraction
All my life I’ve had to deal with depression or some other disorder of the mind. I’ll be the first to admit there are days when I feel like death would be a better option. Then there are the days when everything is beautiful and I just have to giggle at the world we live in. Those are the days that I reach out for, grab onto and put in my pocket for later.
When my mind set turns dark, and I just can’t seem to force myself out into the sunlight, I look for other distractions such as cleaning long ago forgotten corners of my house. You know what I’m talking about if you’ve lived in one house for any extended amount of time, you never know what you might find in your quest to clean out clutter. Such as a missing sock that you were sure the washer or dryer ate or carried away to another land never to be seen again.
Over the years I’ve discovered when I have my first thought of suicide, that very first moment of thought when my world feels dark, if I will instead seek out some sort of distraction, a little sunlight can shine through the tiny holes in the foil that covers my windows.
I believe each person has their own reason to feel like giving up on some days, and each person has to discover their own distraction that works for them. If you’ve read much of my blog you will see where I have tried numerous options. Some traditional, like going for a walk, while others options that I have chosen over the years maybe be extreme for most., such as my ‘stalking’ of police. The point is you have to find what works for you. Even if it is as simple as taking a walk, going to see a movie, reading a book, re-arranging a room for just the right look, cleaning, or relieving your mind through writing. Find what works for you, but don’t stop trying.
A really good one is meeting new people and finding out what’s going on in their lives. This sometimes helps me see my own life a little clearer. My problem is sometimes my disorders kick in and I can’t force myself outside to meet the sunlight, let alone another human being. On these days, I turn to my computer. I secretly read about what others have wondering around in their minds, but if I’m feeling really bold, I sign up at some site or forum and be someone I’m not. Someone I would maybe like to be. No one but me has to know the truth. One day maybe I’ll return to these sites as the real me and thank them for keeping me distracted enough to live my life one more day.
Recently I came across a really great site. There are a bunch of great normal guys that hang out there and talk about coin collecting and whatever else their mind concocts. It’s a wonderful place for a good giggle or two, and you might find this distraction to be just what your mind needed. If you ever feel the need to hide out somewhere and make a few new online friends go visit:
Open Forum Refuge
Tell them MsPsycho said hello. You never know, I might be hanging out there myself.
When my mind set turns dark, and I just can’t seem to force myself out into the sunlight, I look for other distractions such as cleaning long ago forgotten corners of my house. You know what I’m talking about if you’ve lived in one house for any extended amount of time, you never know what you might find in your quest to clean out clutter. Such as a missing sock that you were sure the washer or dryer ate or carried away to another land never to be seen again.
Over the years I’ve discovered when I have my first thought of suicide, that very first moment of thought when my world feels dark, if I will instead seek out some sort of distraction, a little sunlight can shine through the tiny holes in the foil that covers my windows.
I believe each person has their own reason to feel like giving up on some days, and each person has to discover their own distraction that works for them. If you’ve read much of my blog you will see where I have tried numerous options. Some traditional, like going for a walk, while others options that I have chosen over the years maybe be extreme for most., such as my ‘stalking’ of police. The point is you have to find what works for you. Even if it is as simple as taking a walk, going to see a movie, reading a book, re-arranging a room for just the right look, cleaning, or relieving your mind through writing. Find what works for you, but don’t stop trying.
A really good one is meeting new people and finding out what’s going on in their lives. This sometimes helps me see my own life a little clearer. My problem is sometimes my disorders kick in and I can’t force myself outside to meet the sunlight, let alone another human being. On these days, I turn to my computer. I secretly read about what others have wondering around in their minds, but if I’m feeling really bold, I sign up at some site or forum and be someone I’m not. Someone I would maybe like to be. No one but me has to know the truth. One day maybe I’ll return to these sites as the real me and thank them for keeping me distracted enough to live my life one more day.
Recently I came across a really great site. There are a bunch of great normal guys that hang out there and talk about coin collecting and whatever else their mind concocts. It’s a wonderful place for a good giggle or two, and you might find this distraction to be just what your mind needed. If you ever feel the need to hide out somewhere and make a few new online friends go visit:
Open Forum Refuge
Tell them MsPsycho said hello. You never know, I might be hanging out there myself.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Son-of-Bitch! I Got a Speeding Ticket
Son-of-bitch! I got a damn speeding ticket for doing 50mph in a 25mph zone while driving past the police department. I was on my way to the school to pay money on my son’s lunch account on Thursday, when suddenly the extreme urge to relieve the 4 cups of coffee and 2 diet cokes I had consumed since 9am that morning washed over my body. It brought out the little nine year old girl in me that stands there jumping up and down holding her hands between her legs trying to prevent herself from peeing everywhere.
I pushed the gas pedal down a little faster, and at some point I’m not really watching my speed any longer. My brain is repeating the words, ‘you need to pee‘, ’you need to pee’, then my mind flashes again on a little girl bouncing up and down, squeezing her legs together. I turn the corner with a half pause and roll on quickly past the school.
I look up and notice lights in my rearview mirror. My mind runs full throttle trying to figure out where the hell he came from. The need to urinate was ruling my thoughts enough that I guess I just didn’t look in my rearview mirror. My reaction was to quickly pull over, because at first I thought the officer was on a call and I just needed to move out of his way so I could circle back around to my house. Wrong!
He whips in behind me, and my heart races when I realize he is stopping me. For what I didn’t quite know yet, but I knew it was going to be for something that was later going to cost me a lot of money and time. He told me I was doing 55mph in a 25mph zone. Wow! Really wasn’t paying much attention. Then he ask if there was a reason I was going so fast. I didn’t lie. I told him I had to pee really bad, and then I began bouncing up and down again like that nine year old girl.
I don’t know the officers name, but at least he was pleasant and wrote me out the ticket quickly. Maybe it’s because they all know I’m a teeny bit psycho, and they would rather not stir up any problems. Who knows... When I think about it now, all I can see is that hidden grin they all have when I look them in the face. Maybe its the sex stories....hehe.
Anyway, now I have to figure out how to come up with the money to pay this damn ticket and the dog ticket. Looks like I’ll be doing a lot of dick sucking for awhile, or else I’ll have to call thief out of hiding and let her take control for a brief period of time. Shit!
I pushed the gas pedal down a little faster, and at some point I’m not really watching my speed any longer. My brain is repeating the words, ‘you need to pee‘, ’you need to pee’, then my mind flashes again on a little girl bouncing up and down, squeezing her legs together. I turn the corner with a half pause and roll on quickly past the school.
I look up and notice lights in my rearview mirror. My mind runs full throttle trying to figure out where the hell he came from. The need to urinate was ruling my thoughts enough that I guess I just didn’t look in my rearview mirror. My reaction was to quickly pull over, because at first I thought the officer was on a call and I just needed to move out of his way so I could circle back around to my house. Wrong!
He whips in behind me, and my heart races when I realize he is stopping me. For what I didn’t quite know yet, but I knew it was going to be for something that was later going to cost me a lot of money and time. He told me I was doing 55mph in a 25mph zone. Wow! Really wasn’t paying much attention. Then he ask if there was a reason I was going so fast. I didn’t lie. I told him I had to pee really bad, and then I began bouncing up and down again like that nine year old girl.
I don’t know the officers name, but at least he was pleasant and wrote me out the ticket quickly. Maybe it’s because they all know I’m a teeny bit psycho, and they would rather not stir up any problems. Who knows... When I think about it now, all I can see is that hidden grin they all have when I look them in the face. Maybe its the sex stories....hehe.
Anyway, now I have to figure out how to come up with the money to pay this damn ticket and the dog ticket. Looks like I’ll be doing a lot of dick sucking for awhile, or else I’ll have to call thief out of hiding and let her take control for a brief period of time. Shit!
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Wintertime Blues or is it a little Major Depression Kicking in?
I would give anything right now for a tiny bit of mania. I’ve got brain fog going on, and all I want to do is sleep and eat. For the past few days all I've done is hibernate like a bear in the winter. It’s too cold to go outside and do anything, and everything inside makes me feel sick to my stomach, so I’ve just been sitting around or laying around doing nothing.
I’ve been trying to do some of the things that shock my brain enough to bring me back to reality, but those are failing, and this time I feel like saying fuck it... I don’t really give a damn.
They say women are effected more by the wintertime blues than men, because basically woman start off in life with less serotonin in our brains than men, so wintertime can be very rough on people like me. Gee thanks... one more disorder I have to deal with.
I forced myself up out of bed around 1pm today, (woke up at 10am, just didn’t want to get up) and tried to do a little exercising like they suggest when a woman feels this way, but that did nothing but make my head hurt more than it already was. Instead I got online and surfed around to a few different blogs, which is sometimes a good distraction at least, but not today.
I spent several hours reading other peoples blogs, and even more hours just sitting there playing Bejeweled Blitz. It kept me distracted for a few hours, but tomorrow I have to try something different. I’m going to try and get outside in the sun, even if it is only for a few minutes. If that doesn’t work, I don’t know what extremes I’ll be willing to try.
I know I won’t use any antidepressant or antipsychotic medications. I’ve tried a variety of drugs in the past, and each one failed in it’s own way. I just have to use what I’ve learned in the past to make sure I don’t do something really stupid tomorrow.
My court really sucked Thursday. Once again the court room was standing room only, even though I got there almost an hour before court started. I spent most of the first 2 hours reading a book and trying not to look around at anyone. Finally around 6:30pm, after the attorneys finished, the DA tells everyone to line up against the wall that wants to talk with him. FUCK! A line forms going out into the hall. Separately the Judge announces if anyone wants to plead not guilty, to step forward and the court date would be set for February. I was going to wait and talk with the DA, but changed my mind and quickly stepped forward. I gave my name and was told to return in February. I quickly left the courtroom, leaving everyone else standing there for the next couple of hours. Maybe I’ll come up with a good excuse and postpone my court date until March sometime. Maybe then it’ll be warm and I won’t feel the need to cuss someone out.
I’ve been trying to do some of the things that shock my brain enough to bring me back to reality, but those are failing, and this time I feel like saying fuck it... I don’t really give a damn.
They say women are effected more by the wintertime blues than men, because basically woman start off in life with less serotonin in our brains than men, so wintertime can be very rough on people like me. Gee thanks... one more disorder I have to deal with.
I forced myself up out of bed around 1pm today, (woke up at 10am, just didn’t want to get up) and tried to do a little exercising like they suggest when a woman feels this way, but that did nothing but make my head hurt more than it already was. Instead I got online and surfed around to a few different blogs, which is sometimes a good distraction at least, but not today.
I spent several hours reading other peoples blogs, and even more hours just sitting there playing Bejeweled Blitz. It kept me distracted for a few hours, but tomorrow I have to try something different. I’m going to try and get outside in the sun, even if it is only for a few minutes. If that doesn’t work, I don’t know what extremes I’ll be willing to try.
I know I won’t use any antidepressant or antipsychotic medications. I’ve tried a variety of drugs in the past, and each one failed in it’s own way. I just have to use what I’ve learned in the past to make sure I don’t do something really stupid tomorrow.
My court really sucked Thursday. Once again the court room was standing room only, even though I got there almost an hour before court started. I spent most of the first 2 hours reading a book and trying not to look around at anyone. Finally around 6:30pm, after the attorneys finished, the DA tells everyone to line up against the wall that wants to talk with him. FUCK! A line forms going out into the hall. Separately the Judge announces if anyone wants to plead not guilty, to step forward and the court date would be set for February. I was going to wait and talk with the DA, but changed my mind and quickly stepped forward. I gave my name and was told to return in February. I quickly left the courtroom, leaving everyone else standing there for the next couple of hours. Maybe I’ll come up with a good excuse and postpone my court date until March sometime. Maybe then it’ll be warm and I won’t feel the need to cuss someone out.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
It’s so cold out, the hookers are charging $25 dollars to blow on your hands
Don’t knock the weather. If it didn’t change once in a while, nine out of ten people couldn’t start a conversation.
It looks like the forecast for my area is going to be a cold one for the next couple of days. We’re suppose to get close to the record in 1912 of -2 F. Damn that’s cold. The crazy part is just 2 years ago, in 2008, the temperature was around 75 degrees on this same day. Now that was nice!
A little light drizzling mist is falling right now, which is just the beginning of what is to come. I did the stupid thing like a lot of other people did, and waited until the last minute to stock up on enough supplies to stay indoors for the next couple of days. An one hour trip turned into two hours with the crazy traffic running through Tulsa and the insane amount of people that were in the stores stocking up.
Just as I turned onto 141st street a light mist met my windshield. A couple minutes later, with a smile on my face I pulled into my garage, thankful I had made it safely home before the snow and cold temperatures hit.
I hate going out in the cold now days, mostly because it makes my old bones hurt, especially in my knees. I also don’t relish the thought of maybe slipping and falling on my ass, or laying there like the old woman on TV screaming, ‘I’ve falling and can’t get up.’
I was hoping I could stay hidden for the next few days while the weather is bad, but unless I can come up with a good reason not to appear, I have to be in court tomorrow evening. Back in September my female lab escaped through a hole in my neighbors fence while I was gone. The way I understand, the dog catcher tried to catch her and she ran back into my yard. He then tried to get her out of my backyard, but my neighbor came over and said he would take care of the fence.
When I got home that day, there was a warning on my door, and my neighbor comes over to explain what happened. I thought that was the end of it, and my dog hasn’t gotten out since the fence was fixed. But I was wrong! TWO months later, I get a letter in the mail that I have to sign for. I open it and inside I find a ticket for my dog at large with the court date that has already passed. I get really pissed knowing my dog hasn’t been out, and that they are sending me a ticket with the court date wrong.
Eventually I get a hold of someone at the court clerks office and find out they forgot to include a letter telling me the court date had been changed. I was still pissed about the ticket, and began looking at it closer and realized it was for when she had escaped in September. I still don’t understand why he gave me a warning, and then two months later decides to send me a ticket in the mail. BET he likes fucking chickens. Psycho thoughts.... Walk away!!!!!
That’s as normal as my post is going to get today. I still feel the need to write about my last little drinking episode... But I’ll do that a little later. That’s twice this year I’ve been drunk...damn! This last time I didn’t get bombed, I got crushed into a thousand pieces. No more drinking for me, I would rather return to weed.
Hope everyone stays safe and warm.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Bring in the New Year Drunk.... Damn!
Well, it looks like I'll be bringing in this new year drunk. I haven't done that in quite some time. Anyway not this drunk. At least I'm at home, so the worst that can happen is I puke on the keyboard. yuck! ... tasted a little party throwing up in my mouth when I thought about that. Puke is such a nasty thing.
Hope everyone has a happy and safe new year!
Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and in the new year find you have become a better person.
Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and in the new year find you have become a better person.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Worst Christmas Ever?
For the past thirty minutes I’ve been reading about some of the odd, horrible, what were they thinking kind of gifts that people receive at Christmas time. Though I did read a few really bad stories, like the guy who gave his wife 5 quarts of motor oil and an oil filter so she could change the oil on her car, I think some of my previous gifts have been a little worse. Still, there were several funny ones, like the lady who received the turbo tax program from her husband, so she could file their tax return. There was also the young couple who recently moved into a new house, and received wrapped toilet paper, paper towels, and bottles of cleaning supplies as a gift because the Aunt thought they could use the stuff for their new place. The funniest, and yet sad, was a lady who received a giant bag of used left over bath products.
I’ve been known to give previous owned presents, like the year I gave a friend a rose candle that I had sitting around my house for a couple years and never used. Problems was I had forgotten at the time that she had given me the candle a few years earlier. Ooopps. I will also give gifts that I have picked up at a discount, or second hand resale shop, and even items from garages sales, if they are what I consider nice. It’s not that I’m cheap, but when you have a large family, it starts quickly adding up to a lot of money.
I think I do a better job than some of my family. They are horrible giftters, but I take the gift with a smile and a big thank you regardless. I just still haven’t decided what to do with the 100 plus small packages of condiments, from various drive-thru restaurants, that I received from one member of my family last year. If you’re not working I understand, but don’t decided to horde condiment packages to give as a gift, just go ahead and keep those for yourself.
One of my other gifts last year include a really ugly sleigh with a woman driving. It was filled with peppermint candy, which was a nice thought, if it hadn’t been chewed on by a mouse. On top you could clearly see where a mouse had sat and chewed on several pieces of the candy. When I pointed out that she must have a mouse, she looked at me and seriously said, “It’ll be okay. Just take the candy on top off, the rest is still good.” The whole thing was placed securely into the trash the second I got home.
Previous years weren’t much better, so when we got together at Thanksgiving, I convinced everyone to make up just one basket of items, priced from 10 to 20 dollars. Then when we get together on Christmas eve, we would draw a number, or whatever, and that would be the basket you received. My odds of receiving a nice gift this year feel a little better. At least I won’t be carrying home 20 pounds of previously frozen deer meat that needs to be cooked up quickly so it doesn’t go to waste...the day before Christmas.
The dreadful day draws near... Lol. I’m just waiting to hear about all the latest drama. My sister-in-law called me earlier tonight and briefed me on a few details of the next Jerry Springer show...lol. Actually I think the craziness that goes on out there, might be a little to far out even for Jerry.
Brief run down. My half-sister J, who is really by blood my cousin, is living with a guy named C. C used to be married to my younger sister S, and had a boy J and a girl C. Now J, my nephew, calls my half-sister J, Auntiemom.
After my younger sister S broke up with C for sleeping with J, she married another guy that was almost 25 years older than her and who had 6 other kids. They all moved in together, but he was a alcoholic with a former war history, which exposed my niece and nephew to some crazy months. She divorced him and married another guy, and divorced him within a year. My niece C, freaked out about the whole thing and started cutting herself to relive the stress. She then quit school at 14 years old, and started smoking. My nephew J also dropped out of school at age 13, and began drinking and smoking.
Four years have now passed and my younger sister S is now living with a guy T who is half her age. He has two children, 7 and 9 years old. And together S and T had 2 boys, one now 2 ½ and the other is 1½ years old. The new guy T doesn’t work, and neither does my sister, so the fighting is ‘normal’. The relationship has to fail soon.
Now in the other corner, we have my sister-in-law A that called today. She recently lost custody of her daughter to another family member who felt A wasn’t taking care of her daughter in the way she thought it should be done. Mostly it was because A doesn’t work, and she is married to my brother F, who doesn’t work either, so they are living in my brothers old burnt out trailer house that sits on the property next to my sisters house. That’s just not a safe environment to raise a child.
Recently the two parties came in contact with each other and a fight quickly ensued to who was the worst parent. A gets pissed off enough that she goes back to her tailor house and grabs a gun. She threatens to shoot S and proceeds to shoot the tires on her truck.
My family lives way out in the country, so there isn’t anyone else around her several miles, but the echoing sound of the gun firing bought everyone out of the house. My brother F sees what A is doing and runs after her, tackling her to the ground and begins fighting her for the weapon. Eventually he takes the gun away from her and they all go back inside. They should be thankful they live where they do, because if they were around here, someone would have went to jail.
That’s where my half-sister J comes back into the picture. J used to be in law enforcement, but couldn’t handle the ‘bullshit’, as she has said many times. The next day, she threatens to have A arrested, and says she knows people. C then jumps into the picture and tells, J she needs to mind her own business. To which S then tells C he needs to mind his own business. Fighting then starts between C and T. Everyone threatens to kill one another and bury the body out back where no one would find them. Things finally calm down when my two young nephews start crying.
Well, that’s the run down on my family until Christmas eve. I just hope someone doesn’t decide to go on a killing spree while I’m out there and make this year the worst Christmas ever.
Hope you have a wonderful Christmas! Stay Safe! Stay Warm!
I’ve been known to give previous owned presents, like the year I gave a friend a rose candle that I had sitting around my house for a couple years and never used. Problems was I had forgotten at the time that she had given me the candle a few years earlier. Ooopps. I will also give gifts that I have picked up at a discount, or second hand resale shop, and even items from garages sales, if they are what I consider nice. It’s not that I’m cheap, but when you have a large family, it starts quickly adding up to a lot of money.
I think I do a better job than some of my family. They are horrible giftters, but I take the gift with a smile and a big thank you regardless. I just still haven’t decided what to do with the 100 plus small packages of condiments, from various drive-thru restaurants, that I received from one member of my family last year. If you’re not working I understand, but don’t decided to horde condiment packages to give as a gift, just go ahead and keep those for yourself.
One of my other gifts last year include a really ugly sleigh with a woman driving. It was filled with peppermint candy, which was a nice thought, if it hadn’t been chewed on by a mouse. On top you could clearly see where a mouse had sat and chewed on several pieces of the candy. When I pointed out that she must have a mouse, she looked at me and seriously said, “It’ll be okay. Just take the candy on top off, the rest is still good.” The whole thing was placed securely into the trash the second I got home.
Previous years weren’t much better, so when we got together at Thanksgiving, I convinced everyone to make up just one basket of items, priced from 10 to 20 dollars. Then when we get together on Christmas eve, we would draw a number, or whatever, and that would be the basket you received. My odds of receiving a nice gift this year feel a little better. At least I won’t be carrying home 20 pounds of previously frozen deer meat that needs to be cooked up quickly so it doesn’t go to waste...the day before Christmas.
The dreadful day draws near... Lol. I’m just waiting to hear about all the latest drama. My sister-in-law called me earlier tonight and briefed me on a few details of the next Jerry Springer show...lol. Actually I think the craziness that goes on out there, might be a little to far out even for Jerry.
Brief run down. My half-sister J, who is really by blood my cousin, is living with a guy named C. C used to be married to my younger sister S, and had a boy J and a girl C. Now J, my nephew, calls my half-sister J, Auntiemom.
After my younger sister S broke up with C for sleeping with J, she married another guy that was almost 25 years older than her and who had 6 other kids. They all moved in together, but he was a alcoholic with a former war history, which exposed my niece and nephew to some crazy months. She divorced him and married another guy, and divorced him within a year. My niece C, freaked out about the whole thing and started cutting herself to relive the stress. She then quit school at 14 years old, and started smoking. My nephew J also dropped out of school at age 13, and began drinking and smoking.
Four years have now passed and my younger sister S is now living with a guy T who is half her age. He has two children, 7 and 9 years old. And together S and T had 2 boys, one now 2 ½ and the other is 1½ years old. The new guy T doesn’t work, and neither does my sister, so the fighting is ‘normal’. The relationship has to fail soon.
Now in the other corner, we have my sister-in-law A that called today. She recently lost custody of her daughter to another family member who felt A wasn’t taking care of her daughter in the way she thought it should be done. Mostly it was because A doesn’t work, and she is married to my brother F, who doesn’t work either, so they are living in my brothers old burnt out trailer house that sits on the property next to my sisters house. That’s just not a safe environment to raise a child.
Recently the two parties came in contact with each other and a fight quickly ensued to who was the worst parent. A gets pissed off enough that she goes back to her tailor house and grabs a gun. She threatens to shoot S and proceeds to shoot the tires on her truck.
My family lives way out in the country, so there isn’t anyone else around her several miles, but the echoing sound of the gun firing bought everyone out of the house. My brother F sees what A is doing and runs after her, tackling her to the ground and begins fighting her for the weapon. Eventually he takes the gun away from her and they all go back inside. They should be thankful they live where they do, because if they were around here, someone would have went to jail.
That’s where my half-sister J comes back into the picture. J used to be in law enforcement, but couldn’t handle the ‘bullshit’, as she has said many times. The next day, she threatens to have A arrested, and says she knows people. C then jumps into the picture and tells, J she needs to mind her own business. To which S then tells C he needs to mind his own business. Fighting then starts between C and T. Everyone threatens to kill one another and bury the body out back where no one would find them. Things finally calm down when my two young nephews start crying.
Well, that’s the run down on my family until Christmas eve. I just hope someone doesn’t decide to go on a killing spree while I’m out there and make this year the worst Christmas ever.
Hope you have a wonderful Christmas! Stay Safe! Stay Warm!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Running Through Life Sideways
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Playing Tag with Satan
Today I fucking love being bi-polar!
All the flowers are gone, so I won't be going out at 3am to pick some strangers flowers, it's too damn cold outside. I'm going to stay in my house and drive myself nuts obsessing over making sure everything is just right for Christmas... Thank you Santa for giving me what I ask for.
Let's put some music on and get some shit done!
Give a new meaning to ho ho ho!
List me as naughty twice.
All the flowers are gone, so I won't be going out at 3am to pick some strangers flowers, it's too damn cold outside. I'm going to stay in my house and drive myself nuts obsessing over making sure everything is just right for Christmas... Thank you Santa for giving me what I ask for.
Let's put some music on and get some shit done!
Give a new meaning to ho ho ho!
List me as naughty twice.
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Final Ending
She sat alone in front of the computer, trying to talk herself out of the latest thoughts that were consuming her mind. But she realized there was no hope. No matter where else she tried to take her mind, it ultimately led her back to the only option she felt remained. She would have to die for what she did.
She silently scanned through all the family photos, stopping occasionally to recall fond memories of past Christmas get-togethers. Tears rolled down her pale face as she revisited her favorite photos from the past 20 years. To calm herself, she reached for the bottle of Tequila and poured the last shot into her glass. With one swift motion, she threw the liquid down the back of her throat and swallowed the last of the intoxicating brew.
She wiped away one last tear as she stood up to throw the bottle away. Immediately she felt the effects of the alcohol as dizziness overtook her mind. She tried to shake off the feeling, but she knew death was lurking around, waiting to lead her off into the afterworld where she would finally find peace. In the back of her mind a tiny little voice began talking in rhyme.
No one will see
When the last breath leaves me.
She stood silently listening to the voice, swaying back and forth on unsteady legs. It was almost midnight, and she had already cleaned everything, put things into their proper place; it was now just a waiting game. On the computer she had already written her last words.
To Whom Every Reads This
I won’t be alive when you read this because I’ve set this blog to not post until 2am, and by that time my life will be over. I just wanted to post this so I could say goodbye to everyone, and to tell a few last secrets before I go.
First of all I must confess that my father’s death was not due to a medical condition. I tainted his medication in a way that it caused his death. I’m fairly sure I got away with doing what I did, but there are still days when I feel like I’m still running away from what did so many years ago.
Committing murder is scary even after years have passed, you always wonder if the police are going to discover the real truth. Still, I know I did the right thing. He deserved what he got. He was not a good man, and he couldn’t be allowed to continue doing to others, what he had done to me.
To Trooper Mike
You finished smashing any remaining hope I had. You took that last spark I had, and once that was gone, there was no more fire inside me. I felt dead. If I could go back in time, I would burn your flesh until it turned to ash. Instead, I turned the anger inward on myself, inflicting open wounds on my body. I can’t do this any more.
Now, this must end,
There are no more undamaged areas on my skin.
I can no longer take what all this, and more, has done to my mind. I’m tried of trying to make the voices in my head stop arguing. I just want quiet. People say I’ll go to hell for what I’ve done, and what I’m about to do, but I believe I’ve already been living there for years.
To Law Enforcement
First, I’m sorry for all the trouble I’m about to cause you, but it couldn’t be helped. What I did had to be done. I won’t go into the long explanations of why I did what I did, but just to say I had my reasons. Next, in the backyard there are several graves with bodies of those around me that I killed. I buried my family and those damn fucking dogs that they loved so much. I also killed my neighbor and her dog, mostly because they just got on my nerves. After that you need to go to my sisters, brothers, and my mom’s house. I didn’t bury their bodies, so you might want to get to them before they start making a bad smell.
There’s no one left to grieve over my death, I didn’t want anyone to worry about feeling like they were being left behind. I killed anyone who might have cared.
At 1am tonight, I shall die like all the others. Maybe we will reunited in the afterlife and discuss the option I took. See you all in hell.
Goodbye
She looked at the last few words, “See you all in hell.” Anger consumed her body, and out of frustration, she began repeatedly hitting the wall. She began screaming and picked up the empty bottle of Tequila and threw it against the wall. Pieces of glass shattered everywhere, some bounced back and cut her face and hands. More landed at her bare feet, and when she stepped forward, shards of glass penetrated the soft flesh of her foot.
She picked up another half empty bottle of liquor and began pouring the liquid down her throat. It burned like gasoline going down her windpipe, but she didn’t stop until the bottle was empty. She stumbled as she threw it against the wall, shattering it into a hundred pieces.
The voices returned and began shouting that it was time to leave. She slowly made her way to the front door and unlocked it, so that it would be easier for law enforcement or medical personal to get inside, then she drunkenly staggered back in front of her computer.
The time was 12:34, leaving her less than thirty minutes before the time she had chosen for her death. She smiled as she looked around the room. It was spotless, other than the trail of bloody footprints and broken glass. One of her many voices wanted to clean the mess up right way, but there was no time left.
She picked up a lighter and lit a candle, then a joint. As the smoked rolled passed her nose, she watched the flickering flame of the candle dance in the darkened room. The alcohol, the full bottle of pain medication, and now the joint, sent her mind into another place, and she just laughed at the thought of finally having power over those who have only cause her pain throughout her life.
This was it. She put on her favorite late night slow music, and waited for the darkness to surround her body and take her to another world. As the police drove past her window one last time, she smiled and closed her eyes knowing she would no longer have to deal with psycho thoughts.
December 21, 2012
She silently scanned through all the family photos, stopping occasionally to recall fond memories of past Christmas get-togethers. Tears rolled down her pale face as she revisited her favorite photos from the past 20 years. To calm herself, she reached for the bottle of Tequila and poured the last shot into her glass. With one swift motion, she threw the liquid down the back of her throat and swallowed the last of the intoxicating brew.
She wiped away one last tear as she stood up to throw the bottle away. Immediately she felt the effects of the alcohol as dizziness overtook her mind. She tried to shake off the feeling, but she knew death was lurking around, waiting to lead her off into the afterworld where she would finally find peace. In the back of her mind a tiny little voice began talking in rhyme.
No one will see
When the last breath leaves me.
She stood silently listening to the voice, swaying back and forth on unsteady legs. It was almost midnight, and she had already cleaned everything, put things into their proper place; it was now just a waiting game. On the computer she had already written her last words.
To Whom Every Reads This
I won’t be alive when you read this because I’ve set this blog to not post until 2am, and by that time my life will be over. I just wanted to post this so I could say goodbye to everyone, and to tell a few last secrets before I go.
First of all I must confess that my father’s death was not due to a medical condition. I tainted his medication in a way that it caused his death. I’m fairly sure I got away with doing what I did, but there are still days when I feel like I’m still running away from what did so many years ago.
Committing murder is scary even after years have passed, you always wonder if the police are going to discover the real truth. Still, I know I did the right thing. He deserved what he got. He was not a good man, and he couldn’t be allowed to continue doing to others, what he had done to me.
To Trooper Mike
You finished smashing any remaining hope I had. You took that last spark I had, and once that was gone, there was no more fire inside me. I felt dead. If I could go back in time, I would burn your flesh until it turned to ash. Instead, I turned the anger inward on myself, inflicting open wounds on my body. I can’t do this any more.
Now, this must end,
There are no more undamaged areas on my skin.
I can no longer take what all this, and more, has done to my mind. I’m tried of trying to make the voices in my head stop arguing. I just want quiet. People say I’ll go to hell for what I’ve done, and what I’m about to do, but I believe I’ve already been living there for years.
To Law Enforcement
First, I’m sorry for all the trouble I’m about to cause you, but it couldn’t be helped. What I did had to be done. I won’t go into the long explanations of why I did what I did, but just to say I had my reasons. Next, in the backyard there are several graves with bodies of those around me that I killed. I buried my family and those damn fucking dogs that they loved so much. I also killed my neighbor and her dog, mostly because they just got on my nerves. After that you need to go to my sisters, brothers, and my mom’s house. I didn’t bury their bodies, so you might want to get to them before they start making a bad smell.
There’s no one left to grieve over my death, I didn’t want anyone to worry about feeling like they were being left behind. I killed anyone who might have cared.
At 1am tonight, I shall die like all the others. Maybe we will reunited in the afterlife and discuss the option I took. See you all in hell.
Goodbye
She looked at the last few words, “See you all in hell.” Anger consumed her body, and out of frustration, she began repeatedly hitting the wall. She began screaming and picked up the empty bottle of Tequila and threw it against the wall. Pieces of glass shattered everywhere, some bounced back and cut her face and hands. More landed at her bare feet, and when she stepped forward, shards of glass penetrated the soft flesh of her foot.
She picked up another half empty bottle of liquor and began pouring the liquid down her throat. It burned like gasoline going down her windpipe, but she didn’t stop until the bottle was empty. She stumbled as she threw it against the wall, shattering it into a hundred pieces.
The voices returned and began shouting that it was time to leave. She slowly made her way to the front door and unlocked it, so that it would be easier for law enforcement or medical personal to get inside, then she drunkenly staggered back in front of her computer.
The time was 12:34, leaving her less than thirty minutes before the time she had chosen for her death. She smiled as she looked around the room. It was spotless, other than the trail of bloody footprints and broken glass. One of her many voices wanted to clean the mess up right way, but there was no time left.
She picked up a lighter and lit a candle, then a joint. As the smoked rolled passed her nose, she watched the flickering flame of the candle dance in the darkened room. The alcohol, the full bottle of pain medication, and now the joint, sent her mind into another place, and she just laughed at the thought of finally having power over those who have only cause her pain throughout her life.
This was it. She put on her favorite late night slow music, and waited for the darkness to surround her body and take her to another world. As the police drove past her window one last time, she smiled and closed her eyes knowing she would no longer have to deal with psycho thoughts.
December 21, 2012
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Psycho Thoughts
Am I wrong for thinking about wanting to kill with my bare hands? Or enjoying the sensation of squeezing the life from what disgust me the most?
I’ve been thinking about this for a long time now, but I never wanted to say anything mostly because it involves a good friend. Several years ago this person gave my son a puppy, and I agreed to let him keep it, even though inside one of my many voices loath dogs. Over time I was able to build a privacy fence and put him in the backyard so he could run freely, and stay out from under my feet.
My son thought our dog was lonely being outside all day, so about a year later, we got another dog. This time a female. Within a year, I had puppies to deal with. My good friend/neighbor fell in love with one of the puppies and took a beautiful brown female to her house next door.
A couple years passed, and my dogs do what most outside dogs do... They try to escape. I began a daily ritual of inspecting the fence for new holes that my dog, or my good friends dog would make in our connecting fence. Still, no matter how hard I tried they somehow managed to occasionally escape.
It became really bad when her dog came in heat, and she would leave her dog in the backyard all day. The dogs destroyed the fence trying to get to each other. It didn’t bother them at all that he was her father. That’s just what dogs do.
Sixty one days later, her dog was having the incest puppies outside on the ground. I came over to help my neighbor out, since neither her or her dog knew what to do. I had to pick up the puppies, still enclosed in the birth sack, break it open, clear the fluids from their noses, and then stimulate them until they began to breath on their own.
I helped out my neighbor because she’s my friend, but in the back of my mind a part of me wanted to do what my father did to unwanted puppies.... Smash them all in the head. Out of six puppies, four lived... the two were stillborn.
The puppies are now almost 6 weeks old, and all though they are cute and healthy, I can’t get past the fact that the mom and the puppies have the same father. It makes me want to vomit every time I see them. I don’t know how to get past this other than just not seeing them and hope my friend quickly gets rid of them.
I’ve read that most women serial killers, kill by using poisons. I’ll admit that I have used this method to dispose of a few unwanted things in my life, but so far no people. (One of my voices giggled when I wrote that and whispered... "I’m not going to tell you what those things are because I’m not fucking going to jail"). For me, I think If I were to kill someone, it would probably be a pedophile or someone who commits incest, and then I wouldn‘t poison them. Instead, I would inflict painful injuries to their body until they slowly bled to death or died from trauma to the head and genitals.
I struggle with thoughts like this, sometimes for days at a time. Different people that I have talked to over the years, tell me I need to move on with my life and stop thinking so much about the things that occurred in my past. That’s not easy, when good friends have friends that are registered pedophiles, they live on your block, shop in the same stores, you hear on TV or online about the horrible crimes they committed against children or their own children, you see them with other children, and I know in the back of mind what is going on. It breaks my heart, and sends me flying back in time.
The same thing happens every time I see my friends puppies. It’s like a sharp slap to my face, telling me no matter what I do, I can’t stop it from happening. That’s what hurts the most, knowing I can’t do a damn thing. It gives me that helpless feeling, and that in turn makes me angry.
I beginning to think that maybe poisoning something’s in life might not be a bad idea, if it were to give me back some of that helpless feeling that was taking away from me. The only thing that keeps me from doing anything psycho, is one of those voices in the back of my head, that is floating down a river on a inner tube, doesn’t want to come out the water, and that is the one who that carries out all my insanely psycho thoughts.
************************
I’m thinking about going on a violent killing spree,
Taking out those who have caused me only misery.
But maybe I’ll just shoot them in the knee,
Leaving an open weeping wound for all to see.
Let them go on struggling to forget every day,
Only to have the haunting memory never fade away.
I’ve been thinking about this for a long time now, but I never wanted to say anything mostly because it involves a good friend. Several years ago this person gave my son a puppy, and I agreed to let him keep it, even though inside one of my many voices loath dogs. Over time I was able to build a privacy fence and put him in the backyard so he could run freely, and stay out from under my feet.
My son thought our dog was lonely being outside all day, so about a year later, we got another dog. This time a female. Within a year, I had puppies to deal with. My good friend/neighbor fell in love with one of the puppies and took a beautiful brown female to her house next door.
A couple years passed, and my dogs do what most outside dogs do... They try to escape. I began a daily ritual of inspecting the fence for new holes that my dog, or my good friends dog would make in our connecting fence. Still, no matter how hard I tried they somehow managed to occasionally escape.
It became really bad when her dog came in heat, and she would leave her dog in the backyard all day. The dogs destroyed the fence trying to get to each other. It didn’t bother them at all that he was her father. That’s just what dogs do.
Sixty one days later, her dog was having the incest puppies outside on the ground. I came over to help my neighbor out, since neither her or her dog knew what to do. I had to pick up the puppies, still enclosed in the birth sack, break it open, clear the fluids from their noses, and then stimulate them until they began to breath on their own.
I helped out my neighbor because she’s my friend, but in the back of my mind a part of me wanted to do what my father did to unwanted puppies.... Smash them all in the head. Out of six puppies, four lived... the two were stillborn.
The puppies are now almost 6 weeks old, and all though they are cute and healthy, I can’t get past the fact that the mom and the puppies have the same father. It makes me want to vomit every time I see them. I don’t know how to get past this other than just not seeing them and hope my friend quickly gets rid of them.
I’ve read that most women serial killers, kill by using poisons. I’ll admit that I have used this method to dispose of a few unwanted things in my life, but so far no people. (One of my voices giggled when I wrote that and whispered... "I’m not going to tell you what those things are because I’m not fucking going to jail"). For me, I think If I were to kill someone, it would probably be a pedophile or someone who commits incest, and then I wouldn‘t poison them. Instead, I would inflict painful injuries to their body until they slowly bled to death or died from trauma to the head and genitals.
I struggle with thoughts like this, sometimes for days at a time. Different people that I have talked to over the years, tell me I need to move on with my life and stop thinking so much about the things that occurred in my past. That’s not easy, when good friends have friends that are registered pedophiles, they live on your block, shop in the same stores, you hear on TV or online about the horrible crimes they committed against children or their own children, you see them with other children, and I know in the back of mind what is going on. It breaks my heart, and sends me flying back in time.
The same thing happens every time I see my friends puppies. It’s like a sharp slap to my face, telling me no matter what I do, I can’t stop it from happening. That’s what hurts the most, knowing I can’t do a damn thing. It gives me that helpless feeling, and that in turn makes me angry.
I beginning to think that maybe poisoning something’s in life might not be a bad idea, if it were to give me back some of that helpless feeling that was taking away from me. The only thing that keeps me from doing anything psycho, is one of those voices in the back of my head, that is floating down a river on a inner tube, doesn’t want to come out the water, and that is the one who that carries out all my insanely psycho thoughts.
************************
I’m thinking about going on a violent killing spree,
Taking out those who have caused me only misery.
But maybe I’ll just shoot them in the knee,
Leaving an open weeping wound for all to see.
Let them go on struggling to forget every day,
Only to have the haunting memory never fade away.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Just Breathe
The other night I sat alone at one of the parks and watched the local pd as I debated on laying open my flesh. As I held the blade tightly between my fingers, I flashed back to what it was like the last time a had to have stitches in my arm. I have cut since then, but only small rips at my skin that needed little or no attention. These wounds are minor compared to the normal 7 stitches that it takes to close one of my usual ‘accidents’.
I knew the officers that were on duty, and of course they all know me, so I really didn’t want to get caught doing something that is believed to only occur in teenagers, not to women over 40. After all these years of cutting, I still sometimes can not stop myself from inflicting pain to my body, but if I put myself in the right position, I will write instead. That was what I decided to do this time, write about what it was like the last time I cut myself deep.
This story mixes a little reality, with a bit of fiction.
------------------------------
I’m standing outside a heavy steel metal door, with only a small thick glass window that looks into a tiny five foot by twelve foot room. I focus in on a dimly lit image standing towards the back of the room near a metal toilet with a sink attached on the back. I press my face closer and open my eyes wide trying to make the image more defined. I can tell that it is a person, and I think I recognize them, but I can’t seem to remember.
She is tall and a rather large woman with dirty blonde hair, and she is wearing a blue tee-shirt. She has her back to me, but I can make out that she is doing something with her arm.
I wipe a tear from my eye, blinking several times until I’m able to focus more clearly.
The woman is standing near the toilet with her arm leaning over a metal sink. She holds something shiny in her right hand. Something sharp. I wonder what she is doing? As she turns partly sideways I can see her left arm covered in fresh red blood. It is dropping steadily into the sink, splashing the sides until the blood flows down like spilled paint. Blood covers the razor sharp cutting edge of the blade that she holds tightly in her shaking right hand.
As the blood slows, she makes another slice deeper into the wound, filling it with fresh blood. It begins to drain down her arm, making a big mess, splattering onto the floor. She uses toilet paper from the back of the sink to wipe up the large droplets of blood from the floor. She uses more to slow the heavy flow of blood dripping down to her elbow.
I stand there, mesmerized by her actions, when without warning an almost familiar force grabs me around my throat and like a tornado, it sucks my dead mind through the tiny window. I now stand side by side the woman with the blood soaked arm, watching her lean over the sink to avoid making a mess for others to clean. In her eyes, I see the shame and disgust at what she has done.
I reach out to grab her arm, to let her know she doesn’t have to continue cutting. The wound is deep enough. As our eyes meet, I see the deep pain, I understand, but now we have to get help. Our hands touch and slowly mix together, until we become one.
I am now her. I am in control. I look down at the bloody blade that she held so tightly in her right hand, and my eyes open wide as I look at the open oozing new wound. My eyes stare widely at the steadily dripping blood, and I realize it is my arm that is bleeding heavily into the cold steel metal sink.
“Oh shit!” my voice trembles and my right hand shakes with the bloody blade. My whole body flushes with a surge of adrenaline and I begin to awaken. “Fuck! Who cut my damn arm? Why? Why do you do this?”
A voice from far away whispers, ‘She did it. She’s always the one who cuts.’ I hear the voice of the others arguing, fighting. They are the voices that feel like they don’t belong to me.
I cautiously sit the sharp blade on the back of the sink as a rush of sadness consumes my brain, squeezing it until tears swell from my eyes. It blurs my vision until I squeeze my eyes tightly and let the tears cascade down my cheeks. I quickly wipe them away, and then use the remaining toilet paper to wipe up the blood that has once again dripped onto the floor.
I think maybe I can hide the wound, but it won’t stop bleeding. I need more tissue. The weeping voice inside me is hurt. The others fight about who’s fault it really is, and why one of them doesn’t step forward before she cuts.
With a sudden tear-jerking jolting shock, I realize where I am, and that I’ve got to stop the bleeding. I turn on the water and wash the blood from the open wound, letting the water stain a light rose color. The bleeding only becomes worse as the cool water stings the open wound. I carefully inspect the laceration that shows the fatty tissue underneath. There is no pain, just a slight stinging sensation, but the blood continues to pour from the wound.
I realize I will have to go to the emergency room, but I hate going to the ER. It’s always embarrassing trying to explain that I ‘accidentally’ cut myself, but this time others will be with me. I can not use that excuse. Along with all the stares, there is always at least one person who will make me feel even less of a human than I already do. They know what happened, but they don’t want to do all the paperwork that comes with committing someone for cutting themselves, so they won't say anything.
I knew the officers that were on duty, and of course they all know me, so I really didn’t want to get caught doing something that is believed to only occur in teenagers, not to women over 40. After all these years of cutting, I still sometimes can not stop myself from inflicting pain to my body, but if I put myself in the right position, I will write instead. That was what I decided to do this time, write about what it was like the last time I cut myself deep.
This story mixes a little reality, with a bit of fiction.
------------------------------
I’m standing outside a heavy steel metal door, with only a small thick glass window that looks into a tiny five foot by twelve foot room. I focus in on a dimly lit image standing towards the back of the room near a metal toilet with a sink attached on the back. I press my face closer and open my eyes wide trying to make the image more defined. I can tell that it is a person, and I think I recognize them, but I can’t seem to remember.
She is tall and a rather large woman with dirty blonde hair, and she is wearing a blue tee-shirt. She has her back to me, but I can make out that she is doing something with her arm.
I wipe a tear from my eye, blinking several times until I’m able to focus more clearly.
The woman is standing near the toilet with her arm leaning over a metal sink. She holds something shiny in her right hand. Something sharp. I wonder what she is doing? As she turns partly sideways I can see her left arm covered in fresh red blood. It is dropping steadily into the sink, splashing the sides until the blood flows down like spilled paint. Blood covers the razor sharp cutting edge of the blade that she holds tightly in her shaking right hand.
As the blood slows, she makes another slice deeper into the wound, filling it with fresh blood. It begins to drain down her arm, making a big mess, splattering onto the floor. She uses toilet paper from the back of the sink to wipe up the large droplets of blood from the floor. She uses more to slow the heavy flow of blood dripping down to her elbow.
I stand there, mesmerized by her actions, when without warning an almost familiar force grabs me around my throat and like a tornado, it sucks my dead mind through the tiny window. I now stand side by side the woman with the blood soaked arm, watching her lean over the sink to avoid making a mess for others to clean. In her eyes, I see the shame and disgust at what she has done.
I reach out to grab her arm, to let her know she doesn’t have to continue cutting. The wound is deep enough. As our eyes meet, I see the deep pain, I understand, but now we have to get help. Our hands touch and slowly mix together, until we become one.
I am now her. I am in control. I look down at the bloody blade that she held so tightly in her right hand, and my eyes open wide as I look at the open oozing new wound. My eyes stare widely at the steadily dripping blood, and I realize it is my arm that is bleeding heavily into the cold steel metal sink.
“Oh shit!” my voice trembles and my right hand shakes with the bloody blade. My whole body flushes with a surge of adrenaline and I begin to awaken. “Fuck! Who cut my damn arm? Why? Why do you do this?”
A voice from far away whispers, ‘She did it. She’s always the one who cuts.’ I hear the voice of the others arguing, fighting. They are the voices that feel like they don’t belong to me.
I cautiously sit the sharp blade on the back of the sink as a rush of sadness consumes my brain, squeezing it until tears swell from my eyes. It blurs my vision until I squeeze my eyes tightly and let the tears cascade down my cheeks. I quickly wipe them away, and then use the remaining toilet paper to wipe up the blood that has once again dripped onto the floor.
I think maybe I can hide the wound, but it won’t stop bleeding. I need more tissue. The weeping voice inside me is hurt. The others fight about who’s fault it really is, and why one of them doesn’t step forward before she cuts.
With a sudden tear-jerking jolting shock, I realize where I am, and that I’ve got to stop the bleeding. I turn on the water and wash the blood from the open wound, letting the water stain a light rose color. The bleeding only becomes worse as the cool water stings the open wound. I carefully inspect the laceration that shows the fatty tissue underneath. There is no pain, just a slight stinging sensation, but the blood continues to pour from the wound.
I realize I will have to go to the emergency room, but I hate going to the ER. It’s always embarrassing trying to explain that I ‘accidentally’ cut myself, but this time others will be with me. I can not use that excuse. Along with all the stares, there is always at least one person who will make me feel even less of a human than I already do. They know what happened, but they don’t want to do all the paperwork that comes with committing someone for cutting themselves, so they won't say anything.
Maybe I should just cut a little deeper, and then lay down and go to sleep. A part of me struggles with what to do.
“Fuck!” I shout loud enough to vibrate off the walls. Nobody has this many accidents on their arm. Nobody. My arm is a battlefield, and each scar tells a separate story, many of which I would rather forget. Worse my mind questions, how do I explain this to those closest around me? How am I once again going to hide the wound?
Blood drains down my arm to the floor. A voice inside me is urging with me to get someone’s attention. ‘You need help’ a tiny voice whispers from somewhere far away. I shake my head in shame, and ponder how does one ask for help when they are locked up alone behind a solid steel door? Sadness gathers deep in my chest and I try to swallow.
I hear heavy footsteps coming. A voice steps forward, she’s the one who always has to have everything neat and tidy. She just wants more tissue so there won’t be a mess. A young man looks though the small thick glass window and sees what she has done.
I sit down on the small cot and take a deep breath. I know within only a few moments others will come. Later I will feel the familiar calmness that overtakes my entire body after I cut. It is that calmness that we seek. Afterwards we will sleep long and hard. Our mind will rest peacefully. But even as I do sleep soundly, one of us knows it hasn’t been a good day.
They know the hard part will come later, when I have to hide the latest cut from those I don’t want to know. I question myself if it was worth the few hours of feeling euphoric while I sat next to the officer baby sitting me as the they put seven stitches into my left arm to close the deep laceration. Maybe the next day will be a better day. This I know, she will not have to cut again for a few months.
“Fuck!” I shout loud enough to vibrate off the walls. Nobody has this many accidents on their arm. Nobody. My arm is a battlefield, and each scar tells a separate story, many of which I would rather forget. Worse my mind questions, how do I explain this to those closest around me? How am I once again going to hide the wound?
Blood drains down my arm to the floor. A voice inside me is urging with me to get someone’s attention. ‘You need help’ a tiny voice whispers from somewhere far away. I shake my head in shame, and ponder how does one ask for help when they are locked up alone behind a solid steel door? Sadness gathers deep in my chest and I try to swallow.
I hear heavy footsteps coming. A voice steps forward, she’s the one who always has to have everything neat and tidy. She just wants more tissue so there won’t be a mess. A young man looks though the small thick glass window and sees what she has done.
I sit down on the small cot and take a deep breath. I know within only a few moments others will come. Later I will feel the familiar calmness that overtakes my entire body after I cut. It is that calmness that we seek. Afterwards we will sleep long and hard. Our mind will rest peacefully. But even as I do sleep soundly, one of us knows it hasn’t been a good day.
They know the hard part will come later, when I have to hide the latest cut from those I don’t want to know. I question myself if it was worth the few hours of feeling euphoric while I sat next to the officer baby sitting me as the they put seven stitches into my left arm to close the deep laceration. Maybe the next day will be a better day. This I know, she will not have to cut again for a few months.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
When We Forget the Past, We Are Dommed to Repeat It
Gritting my teeth.... If I didn’t I would probably bite someone’s head off.
I’ve been in this ‘pissed off at the world’ kind of mood for several days now, and I feel an overwhelming need to get away from everybody and everything. Even if it’s just a few yards, I need some sort of distance. I’ve been extremely edgy, yelling about the things that are not in their place, about how unclean everything is around me, just yelling about everyday stressful things that take place.
When I get like this, I have to write. I do most of my writing at home on my computer, or in my bedroom in one of the various notebooks where I keep most of my more serious thoughts. But every now and then, I escape to one of the local parks. Mostly because I enjoy the feeling of being around the trees, smelling the fresh air, and being able to feel alone with my thoughts for a little while.
There is one park that I mostly tend to lurk around, which is fine during the daytime, but at night this causes a problem with local law enforcement. So, again I started studying/stalking them a little recently to discover a pattern in their activities. This then allows me to spend my time relaxing in my own way at the park during the times I feel the need. It has worked several times without a problem, but every now and then I lose myself into some deep thoughts when writing and get caught. Luckily Officer R was in a good mood this time and let me off with a polite warning. Thanks.
Being bi-polar is very rough. It can lead you down roads you normally would be to frightened to travel, and you find yourself doing things that later leave you wondering what the fuck you were thinking. Such as thinking about cutting myself deep enough to need stitches. But I don’t want anyone to find out, so instead I’ve been inflicting small injuries where others can’t see, or won’t really question what happened. It was just something to shock my mind out of feeling unpredictable, and to slow the racing thoughts. Sometimes that is not enough. Here is where the police come into the picture.
Where I sit at the park, I can see where they are in the distance. I‘ve even done this at other parks in different towns. When I get to the level where I want to do extreme cutting, I go park where they are within a short distance. ( Q-Trip is sometimes a good place to park:) ) Then instead of cutting, I write. From past experiences I know if law enforcement were to view my ‘accident’ they might try to lock me up somewhere. Locking me up actually makes things worse, because the moment I’m left alone, I will cut myself deep. It’s like a part of me says it’s okay now to cut, because if you cut too deep someone will be there to help you. Later is when it messes with my mind.
I’m still finishing up the rest of my thoughts that I wrote the other night, so I’ll post it a little later.
I’ve been in this ‘pissed off at the world’ kind of mood for several days now, and I feel an overwhelming need to get away from everybody and everything. Even if it’s just a few yards, I need some sort of distance. I’ve been extremely edgy, yelling about the things that are not in their place, about how unclean everything is around me, just yelling about everyday stressful things that take place.
When I get like this, I have to write. I do most of my writing at home on my computer, or in my bedroom in one of the various notebooks where I keep most of my more serious thoughts. But every now and then, I escape to one of the local parks. Mostly because I enjoy the feeling of being around the trees, smelling the fresh air, and being able to feel alone with my thoughts for a little while.
There is one park that I mostly tend to lurk around, which is fine during the daytime, but at night this causes a problem with local law enforcement. So, again I started studying/stalking them a little recently to discover a pattern in their activities. This then allows me to spend my time relaxing in my own way at the park during the times I feel the need. It has worked several times without a problem, but every now and then I lose myself into some deep thoughts when writing and get caught. Luckily Officer R was in a good mood this time and let me off with a polite warning. Thanks.
Being bi-polar is very rough. It can lead you down roads you normally would be to frightened to travel, and you find yourself doing things that later leave you wondering what the fuck you were thinking. Such as thinking about cutting myself deep enough to need stitches. But I don’t want anyone to find out, so instead I’ve been inflicting small injuries where others can’t see, or won’t really question what happened. It was just something to shock my mind out of feeling unpredictable, and to slow the racing thoughts. Sometimes that is not enough. Here is where the police come into the picture.
Where I sit at the park, I can see where they are in the distance. I‘ve even done this at other parks in different towns. When I get to the level where I want to do extreme cutting, I go park where they are within a short distance. ( Q-Trip is sometimes a good place to park:) ) Then instead of cutting, I write. From past experiences I know if law enforcement were to view my ‘accident’ they might try to lock me up somewhere. Locking me up actually makes things worse, because the moment I’m left alone, I will cut myself deep. It’s like a part of me says it’s okay now to cut, because if you cut too deep someone will be there to help you. Later is when it messes with my mind.
I’m still finishing up the rest of my thoughts that I wrote the other night, so I’ll post it a little later.
Friday, November 06, 2009
Frolicking Around in the Land of Oz
----Warning Adult Material----
The people in this town think I’m nuts,
they just don't know how right they are.
they just don't know how right they are.
People around me, give me my inspiration. Thanks for the story. No harmful intent is meant to anyone, this is just for simple pleasure. This story draws characters from real life, however the story itself is 100% fictional. This is the world of fantasy and fiction where the hidden corners of the psyche may be explored.
Years ago I lost the ability to catch the type of fish I was after, so I devised a plan that involved using a different type of worm. That was where my neighbor became involved... she became my bait. She is young, pretty, thin, and has child-like qualities that my type of prey tend to desire. All I had to do was stick the hook down her throat and she would unknowingly help me vanquish my enemies. I no longer had to chase my prey, she would bring them to the surface for me and reveal their hiding locations. Then I could rob them of their wealth, or force them to perform sexual acts of humiliation.
Frolicking Around in the Land of Oz
Jay was in for what he thought was going to be a lousy weekend. Normally he spent his weekends patrolling the streets, preventing crime by spending most of his shift driving up and down well known streets. But for this weekend, he had agreed to change shifts with another officer who needed Wednesday and Thursday nights off to attend a meeting out of town.
He sat home alone, thinking about the different women he attracted just because of his uniform. Even though some of the encounters were frightening, it didn’t stop him from enjoying the job he loved. Occasionally he would spend his night shift posted at the local Q-Trip store watching the young girls come and go, flirting only with the ones who possessed young flirty girl-like qualities.
Officer Jay sat in the darkened room, smiling, thinking about a girl he had flirted with many times, when he was suddenly startled by a noise coming from his bedroom. Jay quickly rose, heart beating rapidly in his chest, took a deep breath and picked up his weapon from the coffee table. He heard footsteps coming his direction, so he quietly stepped behind a door going into the living room and waited on the intruder.
Jay was somewhat shocked when the intruder began walking into the living room. As the person came closer, he was surprised to see it was one of the girls he had flirted with at Q-Trip. She was dressed in low cut, tight fitting shirt and snug fitting jeans. He couldn’t help being turned on as he watched her stroll across the floor towards the kitchen, but then his officer training took effect and Jay stepped from the darkened corner.
“Put your hands where I can see them!” Jay shouted from the darkness.
All four foot, nine inches of Jennile froze.
“What are you doing in here?” Jay asked as he stepped towards her.
Jennile slowly turned around with a big naughty smile on her face, licked her lips, and stepped up to Jay, making contact with his body. “I just came by to say hello.”
Jay looked down at Jennile as she stared up at his 6’1”, 200lb body. He could feel the heat of her breath on his chest and it sent waves of pleasure descending deep enough to cause his cock to throb with excitement.
“How do I know you’re not here to rob or kill me?” Jay said with a slight smirk across his face.
“What do you want me to do? Take off my shirt to prove I’m not hiding anything?” Jennile giggled, took a step back away from Jay, and began removing her shirt. As Jay watched, she dropped it onto the floor, then removed her jeans and tossed them next to her shirt.
Jay began to smile. “That’s good Jennile, but you might be hiding a weapon in your bra. So, I think you need to removed it, so I can make sure.”
Jennile unfastened the bra and dropped it on the floor as Jay leaned forward to exam her lightly tanned nipples, and her smooth lean stomach. Jennile giggled like a schoolgirl as Jay ordered her down on her knees. She obediently knelt down in front of him. Jay reached down to her small petite body and stroked her pretty face and short black hair.
“I’m a bad girl. I need to be severely punished. Just please don’t take me to jail officer. I’ll do anything you want.” Jennile again giggled at the playful remarks.
Jay smiled and decided to play along with her little game. “All right, my little thief. Looks like I’m going to serve up a little harsh punishment. Unzip my pants.”
Her fingers lightly brushed against his semi-hardness, sending delicious tingles up and down Jay’s spine. Jennile swallowed hard as she reached her little hand inside his jeans. She could feel the soft cotton of his briefs, and the thick hardness of his cock underneath. Every movement of her fingers brought him pleasure as she slowly removed his cock. In her small hands, his cock looked like a monster, and she gasped when she saw its full length.
Jay grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her towards his cock. “Suck it for me you little bitch thief. And if you tell anyone, I’ll have you arrested for stealing.” Jay then pulled Jennile closer to his cock and ordered her to open her mouth. Jennile took his cock fully in her mouth without hesitation. Her tongue moved tentatively against the bottom of his cock, leaving a hot wet trail. Jay began taking short pants of air as he forced her head up and down his thick cock.
Unfortunately Jennile was much weaker than Jay and she couldn’t stop him from forcing his cock deeper into her throat. Jennile gagged and had to force herself back to keep from throwing up. Jay pulled his cock out of her mouth, grabbed her by her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Well, now little thief, that was a good start, but now put you hands behind your back.”
Jennile started to resist, but with his strength he was able to quickly restrain her. He cuffed her wrists together and pushed her onto the couch so that she was kneeling on the cushions, her face pressed into the back of the couch.
“What are you going to ...” she tried to say, just as he pressed a washrag into her mouth. Jennile struggled to spit it out, but he was on top of her, easily holding her in place with one knee on her back.
Jay’s cock had softened a bit, but it quickly became rock hard again as he reached around her and pulled down her underwear. His eyes hungrily sucked in the sight of her firm young ass as he yanked her panties from her thin body. Jay slid a finger in between her legs and started rubbing his finger over her smooth cunt. He slid a finger into her opening and began rubbing it back and forth. Jennile squirmed, trying to let out small squeals of pleasure. His excitement began to build as he placed the head of his cock near her tight anal opening and began rubbing the head of his cock up and down.
Without a warning, Jay felt someone behind him, but didn’t have a chance to even turn around before he felt a object being smashed against his skull. He awoke to his head aching.
He cradled his head in his cuffed hands as his eyes scanned across the darken room. He tries to struggle, but he can’t move.
----------------------------------------
For part two of this story you will have to visit one of my other sites since Goggle does not allow me to post naughty stories on this site with ads.
or
Hope you have a sexy ass day!!
MsPsycho
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The Return of the Psycho Thoughts
Some days I feel like sitting in a darkened corner, and simply muttering incoherent thoughts to the wall. Today this blog is my wall.
I’m tempted to write some far-out, freak-imaged, kill-all nonsense, while patently being uncaring about what others think or how they respond. I stopped posting a lot of my more atypical stories, mostly because of my last tryst with law enforcement. Since I’m fairly sure they still occasionally return, I‘ve been trying to hold back on the bizarre thoughts of wanting to psychically hurt Officer .... Why? Because the other day while I was in the process of returning something my son didn’t need, officer ... felt the need to stare me down. Why? I wasn’t doing anything illegal! He followed me to the return counter and waited until I got my refund, then he walked up to the lady behind the counter and spoke to her about something. Maybe it was just my untrusting side, or my deeply rooted hate towards law enforcement that sent my mind digging around in the mud, but my thoughts are turning intrusive, which only means one thing.... It’s time to kill Officer ... then steal everything he has.
I believe as high as 90% of people have thoughts about killing someone at some point in their lives. It’s like crawling into the heart of darkness and you no longer think rationally. The brakes fail, and the sudden impulse to kill enters the mind. Different people have different reasons for crossing that line, but usually it is because of one of the reasons such as extreme hate, they are experiencing envy, some do it for the money, jealousy over what the other person has that they don’t, revenge is always a good reason, and then there are the ones who are just plain psychotic and do it for the thrill or notoriety.
The first time I crossed that line, it was because my emotions overcame my ability to reason. At the point of the kill, my judgment was set aside, and I was utterly oblivious to the consequences of my actions. There was never any plan, or time to prepare scenarios for the different possible outcomes that I later discovered would happen when taking a persons life.
Weeks later, I began entertaining thoughts of what it would be like to kill someone that involved taking a bigger risk. I repeatedly prepared scenarios, going as far as acquiring a weapon, stalking my possible target, selecting the best time, making sure I had an alibi, and lastly how to dispose of the body. My first kill was completely disorganized, but by the time I had killed more than one person I had learned how to plan for the possible different outcomes.
While I deliberated on who to kill next, I would have vivid and recurrent homicidal fantasies that would reach such an intense peak, that the brakes on my murderous impulses could not be stopped. My thoughts invariability precede the deed. After many years of not getting caught, I began going longer and longer in-between kills, until I was able to turned those thoughts off.
They say our nature is shaped by outside forces such as teachers, parents, peers, society, media, and culture. So, what happens to an individual when all these outside forces respond with nothing but negativity towards this person? Teachers treat the student with no respect, parents abusive, peers repeatedly tease, society laughs and mocks. Does this person one day just snap, and lose touch with all reality?
A few years ago I was pulled over for improper lane change by a local officer. The officer said I didn‘t signal quick enough before I got over in the other lane. I was in a bad mood, my blood sugar was really low, and I thought it was a ridiculous reason to stop a person and give them a ticket. But I knew the real truth, he didn’t like me, and I was fully aware that he thought I was nothing but a waste of sperm, so I had no respect for him. What pushed me over the edge was when he called me fat and stupid. At that moment it didn’t brother me as much as it did later when I was alone and thought about his actions. I wanted nothing more than to hunt him down at that moment and take his life for making me feel worthless. He did what many others had done to me throughout my life, he undermined my self-esteem, making me believe that I would never feel wanted by anyone.
After years of not killing, I once again grappled with my thoughts, going as far as tricking someone else into finding out where he lived. When I found out where his apartment was in Tulsa, I stalked him for a few days, discovering his daily routine. While I sat nearby and watched his place, I began entertaining alternate solutions of how I could keep a fantasy from turning into reality. Eventually I decided on another plan that didn’t involved killing him, but would still cause problems in his life. I still have an assortment of opportunities, but instead I choose to deliberate, for years if necessary. Maybe again someday my emotions will overcome my ability to once again reason.
-------------------------
My next story will be for the officer who stopped me last night at the football field. Smile for me, because I know you really can't stand me...hehe.
I’m tempted to write some far-out, freak-imaged, kill-all nonsense, while patently being uncaring about what others think or how they respond. I stopped posting a lot of my more atypical stories, mostly because of my last tryst with law enforcement. Since I’m fairly sure they still occasionally return, I‘ve been trying to hold back on the bizarre thoughts of wanting to psychically hurt Officer .... Why? Because the other day while I was in the process of returning something my son didn’t need, officer ... felt the need to stare me down. Why? I wasn’t doing anything illegal! He followed me to the return counter and waited until I got my refund, then he walked up to the lady behind the counter and spoke to her about something. Maybe it was just my untrusting side, or my deeply rooted hate towards law enforcement that sent my mind digging around in the mud, but my thoughts are turning intrusive, which only means one thing.... It’s time to kill Officer ... then steal everything he has.
I believe as high as 90% of people have thoughts about killing someone at some point in their lives. It’s like crawling into the heart of darkness and you no longer think rationally. The brakes fail, and the sudden impulse to kill enters the mind. Different people have different reasons for crossing that line, but usually it is because of one of the reasons such as extreme hate, they are experiencing envy, some do it for the money, jealousy over what the other person has that they don’t, revenge is always a good reason, and then there are the ones who are just plain psychotic and do it for the thrill or notoriety.
The first time I crossed that line, it was because my emotions overcame my ability to reason. At the point of the kill, my judgment was set aside, and I was utterly oblivious to the consequences of my actions. There was never any plan, or time to prepare scenarios for the different possible outcomes that I later discovered would happen when taking a persons life.
Weeks later, I began entertaining thoughts of what it would be like to kill someone that involved taking a bigger risk. I repeatedly prepared scenarios, going as far as acquiring a weapon, stalking my possible target, selecting the best time, making sure I had an alibi, and lastly how to dispose of the body. My first kill was completely disorganized, but by the time I had killed more than one person I had learned how to plan for the possible different outcomes.
While I deliberated on who to kill next, I would have vivid and recurrent homicidal fantasies that would reach such an intense peak, that the brakes on my murderous impulses could not be stopped. My thoughts invariability precede the deed. After many years of not getting caught, I began going longer and longer in-between kills, until I was able to turned those thoughts off.
They say our nature is shaped by outside forces such as teachers, parents, peers, society, media, and culture. So, what happens to an individual when all these outside forces respond with nothing but negativity towards this person? Teachers treat the student with no respect, parents abusive, peers repeatedly tease, society laughs and mocks. Does this person one day just snap, and lose touch with all reality?
A few years ago I was pulled over for improper lane change by a local officer. The officer said I didn‘t signal quick enough before I got over in the other lane. I was in a bad mood, my blood sugar was really low, and I thought it was a ridiculous reason to stop a person and give them a ticket. But I knew the real truth, he didn’t like me, and I was fully aware that he thought I was nothing but a waste of sperm, so I had no respect for him. What pushed me over the edge was when he called me fat and stupid. At that moment it didn’t brother me as much as it did later when I was alone and thought about his actions. I wanted nothing more than to hunt him down at that moment and take his life for making me feel worthless. He did what many others had done to me throughout my life, he undermined my self-esteem, making me believe that I would never feel wanted by anyone.
After years of not killing, I once again grappled with my thoughts, going as far as tricking someone else into finding out where he lived. When I found out where his apartment was in Tulsa, I stalked him for a few days, discovering his daily routine. While I sat nearby and watched his place, I began entertaining alternate solutions of how I could keep a fantasy from turning into reality. Eventually I decided on another plan that didn’t involved killing him, but would still cause problems in his life. I still have an assortment of opportunities, but instead I choose to deliberate, for years if necessary. Maybe again someday my emotions will overcome my ability to once again reason.
-------------------------
My next story will be for the officer who stopped me last night at the football field. Smile for me, because I know you really can't stand me...hehe.
Monday, October 19, 2009
ROAD TO HAPPINESS: (Under Construction)
First off, update on my spider bite. My regular doctor sent me to a specialist at the Women’s Breast Center, where they removed a piece of dead tissue about the size of a half-dollar from my left breast. I now have a open wound that will heal shut with time, but it will leave a scar. (Pictures at the bottom of post.)
On to a thought or two...
Time has a sneaky way of slipping past a person when they aren’t looking. When you are young, you’re carefree, frolicking through the life with no thought to the next moment. As a teen you become invincible, and somehow you know the answers to everything. In your 20s and 30s you don’t really have much time to think about anything, you just move along, trying to make it to the next day. When you hit your 40s, something changes and you realize you are probably at the half-way point in your life. It’s that mid-life crisis thing, and you’re convinced everything from there on has to go downhill. Anyway, that’s how my life has been.
Some of the more recent things that have happened in my life has caused me to seek out old companions, just to see where their life is now compared with mine. It’s been interesting reacquainting myself with some of the people I went to high school with on facebook, but its also sad thinking about the fact that it has been 25 years since I saw any of them. Time has blinked away, leaving nothing but memories...some good, some bad.
High school was rough. Not just on me, but others had their own demons to deal with. I guess I was just to busy dealing with my own demons to notice how the smartest kid in school had parents that were janitors at the school, and he felt shame because of that. He pushed himself hard after high school, fearing he would turn out to be no better than a janitor or a dishwasher. I never really noticed or thought it was that big of a deal, but it was to him. That’s why he fought hard to become someone better, someone who ran his own company, and then paid others to clean up after him. It took him 25 years of fighting to keep the demons at bay, but he finally won. He says he’s now truly happy.
There are days when I wish I could find the kind of happiness that he proclaims he is now experiencing. When I really think about it, my life hasn’t been 100% horrible, tragic, or devastating beyond recovery. I have had my days when I wished to end it all, but somehow I made it past those days, and was later truly thankful that I did. I will probably always have psycho thoughts, but I will deal with them when they occur. For now, things are quiet.
On to a thought or two...
Time has a sneaky way of slipping past a person when they aren’t looking. When you are young, you’re carefree, frolicking through the life with no thought to the next moment. As a teen you become invincible, and somehow you know the answers to everything. In your 20s and 30s you don’t really have much time to think about anything, you just move along, trying to make it to the next day. When you hit your 40s, something changes and you realize you are probably at the half-way point in your life. It’s that mid-life crisis thing, and you’re convinced everything from there on has to go downhill. Anyway, that’s how my life has been.
Some of the more recent things that have happened in my life has caused me to seek out old companions, just to see where their life is now compared with mine. It’s been interesting reacquainting myself with some of the people I went to high school with on facebook, but its also sad thinking about the fact that it has been 25 years since I saw any of them. Time has blinked away, leaving nothing but memories...some good, some bad.
High school was rough. Not just on me, but others had their own demons to deal with. I guess I was just to busy dealing with my own demons to notice how the smartest kid in school had parents that were janitors at the school, and he felt shame because of that. He pushed himself hard after high school, fearing he would turn out to be no better than a janitor or a dishwasher. I never really noticed or thought it was that big of a deal, but it was to him. That’s why he fought hard to become someone better, someone who ran his own company, and then paid others to clean up after him. It took him 25 years of fighting to keep the demons at bay, but he finally won. He says he’s now truly happy.
There are days when I wish I could find the kind of happiness that he proclaims he is now experiencing. When I really think about it, my life hasn’t been 100% horrible, tragic, or devastating beyond recovery. I have had my days when I wished to end it all, but somehow I made it past those days, and was later truly thankful that I did. I will probably always have psycho thoughts, but I will deal with them when they occur. For now, things are quiet.
Spider bite before dead tissuse was removed. 
After dead tissue was removed.
Picture from 2 days ago.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
Living With Harmful Creatures Everywhere
WARNING GRAPHIC PHOTOS BELOW!!!!
I seem to have developed a new disorder, but at least this one I understand why. Last Sunday evening, around 7pm, I had just returned home from a long day. Wanting to relax, I took off my shirt for a more comfortable, older, I’m at home kind of tee-shirt. I then turned on the TV and laid back on my bed with a half-joint that I had gotten from a good friend. By the time I began to finally relax, I began feeling odd. My heart rate was racing too fast, I was beginning to itch everywhere, I was having a difficult time taking in a deep breath, and then I started coughing and coughing.
One hour later, my coughing finally begins to cease, but now the middle of my chest is on fire, and I’m getting the hot and cold chills. At my age, I freak out a little bit, and decide to go online and read about the symptoms of having a heart attack. (Instead of going to the ER right then and there....dumb me!) The main pain at the time was staying in the center of my chest and not spreading outward, so my thought was it was just from all the coughing I had done. And it was only hurting when I moved or twisted, so I felt safe that it wasn’t my heart, but something was wrong.
By 11pm, I was down. My body was completely drained and I could barely move. It was then that I noticed the large area on the underside of my left breast was swollen and discolored. On the right side there was a small, but still very red, irritated area. I still wasn’t putting it all together that I was having a reaction to being bitten by anything, let alone a Black Widow Spider, and decided I could ‘sleep it off. ’ I was quickly asleep, but within a short time, I was having the most extreme pain (rated it right up there with child birth) in my left breast.
Still, I kept thinking it would just go away, because I really didn’t have time to deal with what was happening. I was suppose to ride along with my older son the next day to show him how to get to his college campus at Spartan. He has never drove in the area, and was afraid of getting lost, plus I needed to come along and fill out more financial aide papers. Problem was by morning, my body had begun to shut down.
I couldn’t force myself out of bed, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I slept until 5 p.m. before a friend bought me some soup and water. I only managed to get down a couple bites of soup and a sip or two or water, before the nausea slammed my body. With the urging of my good friend, I got dressed and went to the ER.
By the time I arrived, the pain was unbearable. I only waited a few minutes, but it seemed like forever. I remember thinking, that I wished I had been brought in by ambulance so I could receive faster treatment. Finally, the nurse called me back and began asking me several questions and took my vital signs, which weren’t very good. My heart was racing 158 beats, my temperature was 103*, my blood pressure was high, and I was sweating. I showed her the spot on my breast, and told her my chest was hurting. She quickly got a wheelchair and took me to a room.
Everyone quickly rushed around me and began hooking up monitors, blood pressure cuff, oxygen, EKG, while one nurse hooked up a IV in a vein that kept collapsing. They gave me morphine for the pain, which helped for my chest, but the pain in my left breast was steadily intensifying. They then gave me more pain medication, and began running numerous test and x-rays.
My entire body ached from head toe, and it was very difficult to move or breathe comfortably. Inside my breast, it felt like someone was squeezing the inside tissue with a handful of needles, every few minutes. A little after midnight, they took another large vial of blood, to make sure no damaged was being done to my heart.
Around 1am, my son came to pick me up after they decided it was safe enough to release me. They gave me a round of steroids, more pain medication, a heavy duty antibiotic, and the scripts to get more filled. I crashed hard the minute I got home, but sleep was never deep. I repeatedly had fears of being bitten again, because I hadn’t found what bit me, and along with all the pain, sleep was not an option.
At least I now fully understand what the deal is with steroids, and why men like them so adamantly. But damn, it doesn’t let me sleep much, and I think I’m eating way too much. Still, if that is what I have to do to deal with this infection, then I’ll just worry about how I’m going to react to coming off of them later. (Watch out police department...just a joke....or is it?)
Tuesday I went to see my own doctor who put me on even more steroids and stronger antibiotics, along with what I’m already taking. I developed a severe rash from the pills, but if I can’t take them, then it means going to the hospital for IV antibiotics, so I’m fighting through the horrible itching.
Anyway tomorrow is day 7, and the wound looks horrible. I’ve been doing some research on what is expected to happen, but my doctors reaction alone tells me, its not going to be better for a very long time.
So, I now have arachnophobia... A extreme fear of spiders.
(To my followers...please forgive me if I'm not around for a little while...thanks for stopping by.)
Warning graphic photos:
Day 2
Day 3
I seem to have developed a new disorder, but at least this one I understand why. Last Sunday evening, around 7pm, I had just returned home from a long day. Wanting to relax, I took off my shirt for a more comfortable, older, I’m at home kind of tee-shirt. I then turned on the TV and laid back on my bed with a half-joint that I had gotten from a good friend. By the time I began to finally relax, I began feeling odd. My heart rate was racing too fast, I was beginning to itch everywhere, I was having a difficult time taking in a deep breath, and then I started coughing and coughing.
One hour later, my coughing finally begins to cease, but now the middle of my chest is on fire, and I’m getting the hot and cold chills. At my age, I freak out a little bit, and decide to go online and read about the symptoms of having a heart attack. (Instead of going to the ER right then and there....dumb me!) The main pain at the time was staying in the center of my chest and not spreading outward, so my thought was it was just from all the coughing I had done. And it was only hurting when I moved or twisted, so I felt safe that it wasn’t my heart, but something was wrong.
By 11pm, I was down. My body was completely drained and I could barely move. It was then that I noticed the large area on the underside of my left breast was swollen and discolored. On the right side there was a small, but still very red, irritated area. I still wasn’t putting it all together that I was having a reaction to being bitten by anything, let alone a Black Widow Spider, and decided I could ‘sleep it off. ’ I was quickly asleep, but within a short time, I was having the most extreme pain (rated it right up there with child birth) in my left breast.
Still, I kept thinking it would just go away, because I really didn’t have time to deal with what was happening. I was suppose to ride along with my older son the next day to show him how to get to his college campus at Spartan. He has never drove in the area, and was afraid of getting lost, plus I needed to come along and fill out more financial aide papers. Problem was by morning, my body had begun to shut down.
I couldn’t force myself out of bed, and all I wanted to do was sleep. I slept until 5 p.m. before a friend bought me some soup and water. I only managed to get down a couple bites of soup and a sip or two or water, before the nausea slammed my body. With the urging of my good friend, I got dressed and went to the ER.
By the time I arrived, the pain was unbearable. I only waited a few minutes, but it seemed like forever. I remember thinking, that I wished I had been brought in by ambulance so I could receive faster treatment. Finally, the nurse called me back and began asking me several questions and took my vital signs, which weren’t very good. My heart was racing 158 beats, my temperature was 103*, my blood pressure was high, and I was sweating. I showed her the spot on my breast, and told her my chest was hurting. She quickly got a wheelchair and took me to a room.
Everyone quickly rushed around me and began hooking up monitors, blood pressure cuff, oxygen, EKG, while one nurse hooked up a IV in a vein that kept collapsing. They gave me morphine for the pain, which helped for my chest, but the pain in my left breast was steadily intensifying. They then gave me more pain medication, and began running numerous test and x-rays.
My entire body ached from head toe, and it was very difficult to move or breathe comfortably. Inside my breast, it felt like someone was squeezing the inside tissue with a handful of needles, every few minutes. A little after midnight, they took another large vial of blood, to make sure no damaged was being done to my heart.
Around 1am, my son came to pick me up after they decided it was safe enough to release me. They gave me a round of steroids, more pain medication, a heavy duty antibiotic, and the scripts to get more filled. I crashed hard the minute I got home, but sleep was never deep. I repeatedly had fears of being bitten again, because I hadn’t found what bit me, and along with all the pain, sleep was not an option.
At least I now fully understand what the deal is with steroids, and why men like them so adamantly. But damn, it doesn’t let me sleep much, and I think I’m eating way too much. Still, if that is what I have to do to deal with this infection, then I’ll just worry about how I’m going to react to coming off of them later. (Watch out police department...just a joke....or is it?)
Tuesday I went to see my own doctor who put me on even more steroids and stronger antibiotics, along with what I’m already taking. I developed a severe rash from the pills, but if I can’t take them, then it means going to the hospital for IV antibiotics, so I’m fighting through the horrible itching.
Anyway tomorrow is day 7, and the wound looks horrible. I’ve been doing some research on what is expected to happen, but my doctors reaction alone tells me, its not going to be better for a very long time.
So, I now have arachnophobia... A extreme fear of spiders.
(To my followers...please forgive me if I'm not around for a little while...thanks for stopping by.)
Warning graphic photos:
Day 2
Day 3
Day 4
Day 5
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Daily Life Goes On
All day long I’ve been walking around with all thoughts on what to blog about, and I just really can’t seem to stop on just one line of thought. I usually try to force myself to post a blog on this site at least 4 times a month, no matter what my mood may be for that day. If I don’t do this, I feel my mind becomes cluttered beyond recognition, and I will seek out relief in non-standard ways. I honestly don’t like going to those extremes, and hope I never have to go that far into the darkness again.
So let me clear my throat (love that song).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqfCluBH3qY
For days now I’ve been so busy helping my oldest son get his life in line, that I really haven’t had much time for me. Which is actually good, because staying busy has kept me from doing things like my last act of stupidity. But tonight I’m alone. Alone with my thoughts, and I’m struggling hard to let them try to form into something coherent enough to put into words.
I can’t say that I’m unhappy, or happy right now. I just exist. Mostly I exist for my boys. If it wasn’t for them, I would have checked out of this life a long time ago. Focusing in on their needs has been my lifeline to staying in the real world. I guess I’m like most parents, I want to give them more than what was offer to me when I was a teen.
It all started a couple weeks ago with me taking both my sons to the DMV. My 19-year-old had yet to pass the test, because he just didn’t study enough. After failing the test for the second time, I think he was afraid of failing again, so he didn’t try again until almost a year later. And then it was only because his 16-year-old brother wanted to get his learners permit.
Nobody had better ever tell me I don’t love my boys, because after only getting a couple hours of sleep, I got up at 5:00am to make sure we were the first ones at the DMV. A light rain fell as I drove along, jacked up on a large cup of French vanilla coffee. My thoughts kept running to, “I hope the rain stops before my older son has to do the driving part. I don‘t want him to wreck the car I just got in May.” I was more worried about that than him passing the test. Mother instinct told me they would both pass the written part, and they did.
Both of them had the biggest smiles on their faces, which made me feel really good. The rain ended, and my older son took off in my car. Ten minutes later he returned with a big smile on his face...he was now a licensed driver. All week the smiles have continued, as I let my younger one take the wheel on the way to the store, or on his way home from football practice, and my older one has the dream truck of his life. I’ll admit, I love the truck myself, and the price was really good.
I just hate all the crap that comes with getting a vehicle. The salesmen are like vultures, hovering and circling above the meat, waiting to dive down and grab a bite. Then there’s all the paperwork, and the signing of this and that, agreeing to ... Etc... In the end all that disappears when you’re driving away from the dealership, inhaling the fresh scent of a new/used vehicle. It’s even better, when that’s your first vehicle. I felt deeply for my son.
Some people have already told me that I went to far when I helped my 19 year old son get his first dream truck. But again, I want to give my boys every opportunity I never had, to achieve their dreams. It’s stressful agreeing to a large loan for my son, hoping he doesn’t fail and leave me having to figure it all out. Still, I sucked up the stress and did it anyway.
He should start Spartan in a couple weeks, and things are really going to get hard on him. And I’m going to be there for him, as much as I can be, signing papers, agreeing to loans, paying for his gas back and forth...etc... Isn’t that what parents are suppose to do?
When the President of the United States got out of college, he owed over a hundred thousand dollars in loans, but look where he is now. When my first son finishes school, he will owe a lot of money, to a lot of people, but hopefully he will have learned enough to get a really good job and be able to have a very successful life after I am gone. When it’s time for my other son, I will do the same for him.
So let me clear my throat (love that song).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqfCluBH3qY
For days now I’ve been so busy helping my oldest son get his life in line, that I really haven’t had much time for me. Which is actually good, because staying busy has kept me from doing things like my last act of stupidity. But tonight I’m alone. Alone with my thoughts, and I’m struggling hard to let them try to form into something coherent enough to put into words.
I can’t say that I’m unhappy, or happy right now. I just exist. Mostly I exist for my boys. If it wasn’t for them, I would have checked out of this life a long time ago. Focusing in on their needs has been my lifeline to staying in the real world. I guess I’m like most parents, I want to give them more than what was offer to me when I was a teen.
It all started a couple weeks ago with me taking both my sons to the DMV. My 19-year-old had yet to pass the test, because he just didn’t study enough. After failing the test for the second time, I think he was afraid of failing again, so he didn’t try again until almost a year later. And then it was only because his 16-year-old brother wanted to get his learners permit.
Nobody had better ever tell me I don’t love my boys, because after only getting a couple hours of sleep, I got up at 5:00am to make sure we were the first ones at the DMV. A light rain fell as I drove along, jacked up on a large cup of French vanilla coffee. My thoughts kept running to, “I hope the rain stops before my older son has to do the driving part. I don‘t want him to wreck the car I just got in May.” I was more worried about that than him passing the test. Mother instinct told me they would both pass the written part, and they did.
Both of them had the biggest smiles on their faces, which made me feel really good. The rain ended, and my older son took off in my car. Ten minutes later he returned with a big smile on his face...he was now a licensed driver. All week the smiles have continued, as I let my younger one take the wheel on the way to the store, or on his way home from football practice, and my older one has the dream truck of his life. I’ll admit, I love the truck myself, and the price was really good.
I just hate all the crap that comes with getting a vehicle. The salesmen are like vultures, hovering and circling above the meat, waiting to dive down and grab a bite. Then there’s all the paperwork, and the signing of this and that, agreeing to ... Etc... In the end all that disappears when you’re driving away from the dealership, inhaling the fresh scent of a new/used vehicle. It’s even better, when that’s your first vehicle. I felt deeply for my son.
Some people have already told me that I went to far when I helped my 19 year old son get his first dream truck. But again, I want to give my boys every opportunity I never had, to achieve their dreams. It’s stressful agreeing to a large loan for my son, hoping he doesn’t fail and leave me having to figure it all out. Still, I sucked up the stress and did it anyway.
He should start Spartan in a couple weeks, and things are really going to get hard on him. And I’m going to be there for him, as much as I can be, signing papers, agreeing to loans, paying for his gas back and forth...etc... Isn’t that what parents are suppose to do?
When the President of the United States got out of college, he owed over a hundred thousand dollars in loans, but look where he is now. When my first son finishes school, he will owe a lot of money, to a lot of people, but hopefully he will have learned enough to get a really good job and be able to have a very successful life after I am gone. When it’s time for my other son, I will do the same for him.
I'm out for the night...
Saturday, September 05, 2009
Hell, Maybe I'm Just Plain Psychotic
I’ve been spending a vast amount of time doing things ‘normal’ people would never consider doing, or even having the thought cross through their mind. Most of the time, I feel very little remorse about having psycho thoughts, so when they begin, I will sometimes let them bury me in the deepest hole, or fly me to the moon. I have safely done this in the past, so at that moment, I felt I had no reason to refrain from indulging in my hunger for stimulation. I just wasn’t fully aware of where my thoughts were going to take me this time.
Even to me, there is no obvious motivation behind what I did. Maybe it was because of my desire for excitement, or I was yearning for something more than my usually boost of adrenalin that I get from speeding. I just know that I had a strong overpowering impulse to deliberately do what I did, in order to relieve the intense tension that I’ve been experiencing for the past several weeks now. I was at a point, where I was willing to do anything in order to shock my system back to some sort of ‘normal’.
I’ve just been feeling incredibly powerless to cope with all the stress in my life, and the psycho thoughts were consuming my every waking breath, so I repeatedly began seeking out means to discharge all the tension by doing various activities, including many that are illegal, but caused no harm to anyone. Each one that I attempted, failed to help me stop the burial of my mind. With no control of my impulses, I went to extreme levels, but my actions finally managed to induce the euphoria that my mind needed/craved in order to stabilize my moods.
It has been many years since I had to bulldoze that hard to get out of my depression hole, and I hope I never again have to manufacture that kind of excitement, in order to elevate a potential crisis. At the time, I couldn’t envision any way to achieve the relief my mind was seeking, so when the opportunity presented itself, it occurred without thought. The euphoria continues to linger as I think back to my actions, which has been very helpful in stabilizing the chaos in my head.
It’s Labor Day weekend, so I’m going to have a couple of mixed drinks, and stay in the safety of my asylum for the night. Tomorrow, I’m going for my long walk in the woods at the back of Lambert Park, and enjoy the freedom my mind is experiencing.
I am writing this to prove
Even to me, there is no obvious motivation behind what I did. Maybe it was because of my desire for excitement, or I was yearning for something more than my usually boost of adrenalin that I get from speeding. I just know that I had a strong overpowering impulse to deliberately do what I did, in order to relieve the intense tension that I’ve been experiencing for the past several weeks now. I was at a point, where I was willing to do anything in order to shock my system back to some sort of ‘normal’.
I’ve just been feeling incredibly powerless to cope with all the stress in my life, and the psycho thoughts were consuming my every waking breath, so I repeatedly began seeking out means to discharge all the tension by doing various activities, including many that are illegal, but caused no harm to anyone. Each one that I attempted, failed to help me stop the burial of my mind. With no control of my impulses, I went to extreme levels, but my actions finally managed to induce the euphoria that my mind needed/craved in order to stabilize my moods.
It has been many years since I had to bulldoze that hard to get out of my depression hole, and I hope I never again have to manufacture that kind of excitement, in order to elevate a potential crisis. At the time, I couldn’t envision any way to achieve the relief my mind was seeking, so when the opportunity presented itself, it occurred without thought. The euphoria continues to linger as I think back to my actions, which has been very helpful in stabilizing the chaos in my head.
It’s Labor Day weekend, so I’m going to have a couple of mixed drinks, and stay in the safety of my asylum for the night. Tomorrow, I’m going for my long walk in the woods at the back of Lambert Park, and enjoy the freedom my mind is experiencing.
I am writing this to prove
I once lived in a world which didn't understand
nor cared enough to find out...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)