Mental Madness

I'm gonna try to talk about mental illnesses. PTSD makes you silent as you tear your memory apart trying to establish who you really are. and questions like "Did I deserve it, how should I have played that, possibly receiving far less injuries." Dissociation, for me is a part of PTSD. sometimes I just go blank and its not just my mind, its my face. I can feel my eyes rolling back. This is the first symptom that I cant hide from. what i believe is dissociation is the appearance of Michelle my little twin known and seen by only me and when there's trouble I used to take her outside and run to my little shed and seat us right in the corner, hidden and protected. another offshoot of dissociation is to run away sometimes with my hallucinations some time without. If my safety was compromised and it looked and sounded like he was going to make me hurt and scared.

Bipolar is surely a dominant force in this race to fuck up Joanne. it can go lots of ways and change over the years. for a long time i could be around men unless alcohol was involved. More accurately I didn't remember the argument at all as i'd slept it of, I remember one day when he beat me and then demanded with the intention of making me pay for him. so I went to the party with a black eye. you can be obsessed by someone when you have bipolar and you don't see the circumstances or intention of this illness. I really cant think of anything else I have that I can talk about today, I feel exhausted and I want to deliver my message carefully and succinctly.

there is a lot of grief in my house at the moment. I froze at Jesse as he said something. it was like arguing with mark.then he would grab Jesse and shake him while screaming, he had Jesse under his iron grip with enough ability to frighten. i used to escaped to Jesse's room and through the window I could call me. Once Jesse was inside and we were silent I was able to tend to my wounds and keep Jesse safe.

A few years ago I was finally ready to fess up to what had been. She sent me to a psychiatrist. Then he put me onto antipsychotics, whole different story. They were the worst drugs. They rendered me zombie like and compliant. I have to go, I think I have covered a little insight into my illness. I have the need to tell my story is because I am currently quit pretending, safe to speak for once and for the continuous breaking down of the cycle of abuse. but I'm sorry because I have to leave you hanging. I'm going to hide, count to 100 and come find me. Here's a clue, I'm in my bed. For some strange reason, they would always find me there and there would be hilarity and warmth and I would make some toast and we would eat it in the bed.....I hope the fucker slept badly that night. ok. off to bed i go. g'nite and xoxoxoxoxox
kobe did most of the spellchecks and finding the words i wanted to use. i hope to be articulate, interesting and fun one day.bye xoxoxxo