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    Healing journey part 1 - TRIGGER SA/SI
    * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * TRIGGER * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    This story doesn't have a happy beginning, or middle, but damn it it has a happy ending. I know because I am living it every day.

    For me my journey is wrapped up tightly with self injury so there is much talk of that in here. Be prepared and stay safe. Its not terribly graphic as when I first posted it Caprice wouldn't let me get away with crap LOL.

    For anyone reading along who doesn't know, I have Dissocitive Identity Disorder DID aka multiple personalities, you will hear me mentioning them in the story.

    We used to be able to post longer posts so I will need to chop this up into segments. First peice will be a test to make sure all the spacing issues are okay.
    I'm not really a psychopath, I just play one on the internet.
    DOGDANCING_TCOS responded:
  • *************************** ***************************** ********* ****************************** **************************** ********

    A healing journey - part one - From which I came

    I had already decided life was not for me when I was 3 and tried to kill my self. I don't know when the sexual abuse started, but by the time I was 5 I was fracturing out into sub-personalities. I knew two things as a child.

    People hurt you and I was put on this planet to be hurt. I hated everyone. But my worse enemy was my body. ooohhh how I hated it. I hated it for being weak and wanting/needing to be touched. I starved it, I put it into danger, ran out in front of cars and tried to freeze it to death. Couldn't shake that monster that was around me... encased me. We hated each other.It was weak and

    School was a new hell. The abuse continued tormented and harassed my classmates. "Oh PAD-JA" they would call slaughtering my name, slicing into my soul. I was the witch, the weirdo, the stinky shy ugly girl who talked
    to herself. Was there no where to escape to? I had only one friend, she moved. found another, he died, found another she moved...I give up trying.

    Find the Beatles records in my parents closet...I have friends at last. Friends that can't hurt me. They sing me to sleep night after night.

    I was never 8. That year is gone, purged from my rotting mind, what ever personality was there at that time died some horrific death.

    I speak to no one. I am alone in my mind...I am so afraid. I am weak. I punish my self for being weak. The switch from the apple tree cuts into my flesh again and again.

    My dark eyes reflect madness and hatred behind a veil of bangs. DON'T LOOK AT ME. I am invisible. I think I have cancer. Tumors rotting in me. Hope they kill me.

    I want a mama. Someone to hold me and tell me they want/need me. There is no one to hold me. Mama is cold and distant. We are strangers. I am afraid of her. I tell her nothing. Dad works hard but he looses his temper and I see rage of frightening proportions. I am afraid he is going to kill us. I have that same rage brewing in me. I wonder if someday I will go super-nova and kill someone.

    I start burning my selves in 1977. I plan to cover my self with scars and as they fade to ghost white - disapear. I think, if I make my self ugly enough no one will want to touch me again. Doesn't work.

    I'm not really a psychopath, I just play one on the internet.
    DOGDANCING_TCOS replied to DOGDANCING_TCOS's response:
  • ************************** ***************************** ********* ****************************** **************************** ********

    December 8, 1980 little house on the prairie is interrupted. John Lennon shot. I know he is dead. He is dead cause I loved him and needed him. He falls victim to my mental madness. I vow to never love again, no one, nothing. to keep the world safe from my poison.

    Oh the pain... my only "friends" found a way to hurt me. I walk away and Ste mans the ship.

    I have three goals in life.
    1. To have dark circles under my eyes.
    2. Have grey hair.
    3. Be dead by the time I am 23.

    Graduate at 17 and start working graveyard on a locked geriatric-psych one will find me here among the demented. I feel strangely at home locked up with madness and the voices hollering "help help help" . I save my money and that November buy a travel trailer and move into on my parents property. Just days before my 18th birthday I am at last free of the sexual abuse.

    I am a mess. A child in a grown body. No idea what I want in life or where to go. Hate to be near me. I set sail on the endless waves of depression and sleep my life away. No one knows I breath. No one sees being a evil rage filled sub-humanbein, not worthy of being spit on.

    The night shift psychosis is sweet and I enjoy the new madness in my mind. I move my trailer to a co-workers farm. We pool out measly min-wage checks and live better.

    We are social outcasts and we hate people. I ride her horse to
    escape...endless hours cantering through the woods. I happily plan the day I will die. My 23rd b-day. At last my pain and suffering will be halted. I will be free. Free of the stink of my decaying brain. Free of this body that clings to life with no food and fresh blood tails dripping down it.

    Co-worker I live with's daughter has a baby girl. Despite my attempts to not love her, I fall head over heals. I protect her vigilantly, no harm will become this child. She never lacks for touch of love from me. I watch her during the day while Mom works. I am sitting on the couch feeding her and with my right hand writing out my will. Gleefully thinking about the approaching day of death. Ste stirs in my head and turns my head to look at
    the baby. "PICK UP THE PHONE" he hisses in my ear.

    I am too afraid.

    I am too afraid. I make Jennifer do it. She bubbles to the surface and gleefully calls mental health. "I have a friend who burns herself."

    He pauses and then said. "was your friend sexually abused?"

    my heart pounds. I feel exposed. I panic. I hear Jennifer say "I don't think so".

    I never allowed my self to think of what I went through as abuse. It was simply how life was for me. I feel validated. Maybe there is hope. Jennifer sets up an appointment and before I know it I find my self with a list of therapist.

    I scan the list and see Richard N. I WILL NOT talk to a woman. She would be like my mother...there is no way. I choose Richard for the sole reason that he shares the same name as the Beatles drummer Ringo.

    Our first appt. we tell him we plan to be dead by the time we are 23. He nods his head and asks when my b-day is. I tell him. We have a DEAD line, a time table, we have a lot of work to do.

    We begin by Ste forcing me to tell Richard our dirty secret. We have had sex with all of our brothers. A brick falls from the walls that have surrounded me, isolated me and protected me for so long. No light comes in cause they are so tall and I am
    so deep inside. Doesn't matter the healing has begun.

    (to be continued in part two)
    I'm not really a psychopath, I just play one on the internet.

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