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June 2005

Theres gotta be something postive about this, At least I tried?

Well For anyone who cares, I went to my 5th live job interview since January yesterday. I have been interviewed twice at Panama Bay Coffee Company, Once at Walgreens, Once at the Antioch Press (where I still have the freelance writing postion, but it appears i am about to lose it) I had a prelimanary interview at Hot Topic last month and yesterday I had my "second intertiew"  there.

Not to mention the countless applications I have put in, and the countless sectretary jobs i have seen in the paper and called about.  Since January, I besides the interviews, i have had applications into, Three video stores, A place that sells carpet, A christian bookstore, Another coffee shop, A grocery store,,, like i say i just can't count the number of applications that did not result in an interview.

I tried okay, and I give up, there just are no jobs around here. The therapist i went to the other day, finally was someone who didn't blame me.. he said, "Anna, I just want to make sure you know that you are in a HICK area, and jobs for unusual looking people are going to be hard to come by here" "If you could get to berekley (which i can't) it s impossible, you would have a much better chance"  "but it isn't your fault, antioch and brentwood are full of a bunch of close minded hicks"

So, I am trying to take that into consideration as I cry over this latest job rejection. I tried, thats what i have to keep positive about. I made the effort. It didn't work, but i made the effort.

Yesterday, was not an "individual interview" in fact it was horrible!  A group of teenagers, I would say about 10 of us and me arrived at Hot topic yesterday at 3 p.m. The assitant manager said this was going to be "group interview"  Right away, i was terrifed, I had never heard of such a thing.. I am really shy and having to do a "scary thing like a job interview" in a group was so very difficult.

So, we all went out to the food court, and after about a half hour of each of us going around the table and answering various questions, such as "what was your first concert?" "What is the most important thing about working at Hot topic?" what could you bring to Hot Topic?"  Melissa, (the assistant managger) a girl about half my age, very pretty with about 50 tattoos  (thats not a lie) tells us all that there are no jobs available now.

Nothing like losing any dignity you had left, to a child who is half your age, putting you through an emormous amout of stress and then saying, "Well if any of you guys want whatever becomes available, you just have to keep calling, just like this interview was for nothing"  And apparently, it was for nothing. I asked, "when we would know" and she said she had no clue, nothing was available right now.

That isn't what the other assistant manager told me, brain, but i think he is gone now.. people come and go there like night and day.

All, i can say was it was a day of deep disappointment and total humilation.. Here i am almost 29 years old, fighting for a job along with 10 children who the oldest was barely 18 probably. A job, in which i have to stock shelves, lift boxes, organize CD's.. There certainly is nothing glamourous about it... Thats why I don't understand why it is so hard to get work..

I read something vaguely, in one of the papers out here about how high school graduates from Calfornia are going to be facing a big job shortage this summer.  I guess maybe thats the problem. But i am almost a college grad,, not a high school grad.. and having to lower yourself to fight for a crappy job along with some undereducated kids, is hard enough,, being rejected for the jobs as many times as I have makes me know there has to be something wrong with me.

I tried, really hard, and being mentally ill and in chronic pain, that takes a lot of work. but i did try. So, past the rejection, its more than i ever would have done at home in Tennessee. I don't have to make excuses here. I did well. I tried very hard,, (with virtually no support) no therapist, one best friend, and a boyfriend who could care less... I did very well, i know i did..

So, i have to stop being so down on myself. At home, I sat there, wallowing in my sadness for eight months, barely leaving the house.. Here i have gone on many interviews and faced much rejection. I had the courage ( I have no clue where i got it from to face the rejection that comes with trying)

and i think thats really good.

So, even though nothing has workd out for me.. I have tried very hard and i am happy for that.

I have been smoking cigarrettes to get me through this scary time.. In my whole life i have never smoked, I have smoked a total of six menthol virginia slims in the past few days.. Last night after the tough interview I smoked a couple,, didn't agree with mee.. I woke up with my eyes burning from the smoke, and i woke up in another terrifying cold sweat after having a bad dream.

Like, paul was in such a bad mood yesterday, I thought for sure, he would be so happy i had tried. My best friend was really proud of me. I was very thankful for that.

I did need the money that this job would have brought in,, its not just about still not having anything to do. I have half of my homeoweners insuracne to pay 300 dollars by july 13th, and a 600 dollar mastercard bill by july 12th.. pretty soon.  and my car insurance is also due in july.. I feel really bad about just keeping asking my accountant for more money..

He wants me to get a job or get onto disabiltiy. actually, he hasn't mentioned disabilty "he doesn't believe i am all that sick" But i am not sure how much is left in moms trust.. If i didn't have to buy a new house,, man i would be set..

So,     I guess, Happy unemloyed 29th birthday to me. i hope i at least graduate. I have been so job stressed i have kinda ignored that..

Paul and me are taking my last course, a VERY accerated spanish course. He is doing most of the work, I am not making excuses for me.. but really i have worked on my own for ten years to get to this point. And now, he is doing one, two and half month class for me so i can graduate. but he is just livid about it. He hates doing it, he hates helping me out.

the people who read my entries, know that i change subjects very quickly in what i write,, a clear intication of adult Add and not being able to focus. I am so drugged, i just was not able to tolerate the strattera, the adult add medication i was given not long ago. I cannot concentrate, just on  one thing. I just can't. as anyone can see from my journal ramblings. 

I mean this has nothing to do with not getting the job yesterday.. 

i am just telling the truth, according to an IQ test that was given to me when i was 18, by a professional education examiner.. I have A VERY VERY low IQ. it is actually borderline retarded,, its so low..

However, I made it through a lot of years college with straight A's for many semesters.. SO I DO HAVE A BRAIN.. I just don't have one on drugs..

I feel like i am refereing to that old 80's frying pan hitting the egg commercial.. "this is your brain" this is your brain on drugs" any questions'?

Now I am on, high levels of morhine, oxycontion, cymbalta, clonazapam.

I took another od on monday.. i should have saved it for today.. HA HA.

It was a joke, i swear..

I took about 180 mg of morphine.. the highest i have ever had is 120 mg, along with 40 mg of oxycotion, 6 mg of clonazpam. and my antideppresant. Paul made me throw the drugs up, with ipecac syrup. I was barfing all night. he said if i do it again, hes sening me home, and I DON"T FUCKING BLAME HIM<< I REALLY DON"T. but as cutters and people who "attempt suicde a lot know inside" we really don't wanna die,, we are just tired. We get tired of things and overwhelmed by things.

if you have people who love you, you are VERY LUCKY, don't hurt them by always trying to attempt suicide unless you are going to go througgh with it, because it is very selfish.

For me, I have one person who loves me.

Thats the honest truth, i am not whining, its just true. At home, In TN, i could take the same amount of drugs, not meaning to die, but because no one cares about me at home, i probably would end up passing away..

My roomate doesn't give a damn about me, and she would  basically not check on me until my body started to smell. I know people say,, how is that possible? But it is.. that is being truely alone.

On monday, paul and i talked about the OD i took at home. the one where i used to not be very tolerant of these drugs. I only took about 12 clonazapam, and some zyprexa,, an antipsychotic i was on at the time. THis was before i met my friend ellen.. all i had was alison,, the slightly retared one. WHat happened was i was feeling faint so i at first called the SOuthern Poison control center, and of couse the lady said, "call an ambulance right now"  but i was scared, so i called alison, and i said, alison, i think you might need to call an ambulance for me, and then i blacked out.  She never discussed with her parents if an ambulance should be called. she never called back,, she let me lay there for three days, passed out on the floor.

If, i hadn't woken up, of course that would;ve been the end of my life. but that is the extent of my lonliness at home.

I think that when I was in methodist north with my mom,, me on the 10th floor mental ward, and her in the cancer ward. that i just should have accepted what one of the counslors TOm told me.

He basically just put it all out on the table, no sugar coating.  I used to think what he said was cruel, but now i just know he was being honest.. I was laying on my bed, maybe refusing to go to group.. I don't know.. and he came in and said.. "Look, your mother is going to die," you have no other family, you have no choice but to flat out face the fact that when you're mother dies you will be compeletly alone in this world." I had just turned 23.

He was right and i guess i appreciate, his brutal honesty now.

God, this entry went off on a million differnet subjucts

I am trying so Hard to look at the positive side of things.. Like i really tried and i should be proud of myself. but then all the negativity comes back to me.. and i think who cares.. I tried and I did something hard and it didn't work,,, but in the bigger picture of my life.. that one achievement meant nothing.

One of the questions the manager asked all of us, was what did we feel was our biggest achivement? Hmm coiendence?  "I said mine was, through after much stuggle about to graduate from college with honors with my Bachelors degree,, and also seeing my name in print, in the couple of newspapers i have freelanced for out here.  

Most of the teenagers said some type of musical achievement had been there greatest achievement in life. (like starting their band) or making different types of records))  I don't know what exactlty to say to that.. I guess they are just kids,, with no worries on how to pay bills, Just kids, with basically no worries.

When i look back on today I would really like something positive to come from this entry.



My 29th birthday is three weeks away,, so as i near the end of my youth.. I want to say that my life has not been a complete waste.. even though I don't believe it.

My moms poem that I wrote for her-2005

My Mom's Poem

Mom's School Pictur e, she was a music teacher. Mom1_small

The end of my beloved mothers life, This is me in the summer of 2000. I was 22. This is my mom's nurse Ann, who said she would be there for me and then abandoned me. Mom had an inoperapable brain tumor and waited to die here in this Memphis nusing home for over a year.

THIS is my mothers grave at memorial park funeral home and cemetary in Memphis, TN. When, I visit, I am the only one to put flowers on it. No one else visits. It hurts me so bad, that in the end, everyone abandoned her.


The last leaf has fallen, Changing Life into death

You were taken from me, as nature gasped its's last breath

Autumn descended from the heavens

As skeleton fingers on naked trees hungered

for their former spring vest

The Last Leaf Has Fallen

and so it goes, I must let you go

I love you mom---September 1, 2001

This is the only poem i have ever written about her death, I love my mama. Rest in Peace. I wear the cross you gave me all the time. I have the ceramic angels I gave you at home. One of them, remember is playing the harp, which is what I know you are doing now in heaven. I always think about how my life would have been so different if you had just lived. We could have started our relationship over again. No matter how much time goes by I will always feel like a scared orphan. I know you would not want me to destroy myself, but I will NEVER SEE you again in this life,, and that is just too much to take.

God, I miss you

Your one and only child,

Annemieke Jeanette Patterson
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california vertical labret..

62505_small 2005_0625piercing0007_small Silver Suicide Number 9, Vertical



No more lip ring or Regular Labret!

As, i mentioned I am doing a "piercing Makeover" I decided to get started early with this 12 gauge Vertical Labret. It is I guess "Hip" compared to what i had.  It was extremely painful because usually piercings start out at a 16 gauge or a 14 gauge. The lower the number the bigger the piercing is. Then you stretch the piercing out. But i started with a 12. I feel like a freak, but thats okay.. I'll just have to get used to it.. 

I loved it, until i got home and i met the most rude guy i have ever met on the internet. I am going to put down his entire message session in the next entry. The guy is anti-gay, anti-jew, anti-black, anti-mexican. He attacked me because he thought I looked like a transexual or a man.  He said I should stop with the "pathetic attempt at individuality" not before calling me a delusional cunt, and several other psycotic things. This persons yahoo Id is ryan_laz2003.

When i run into people like this on the net, it makes me paniac, have paniac attacks, makes me afraid of the world. I am already terrified that there are no more nice people left anwhere, and that when i die I will be buried in a hefty bag, My uncle on my mom's side is still pending a lawsuit against me (MY MOM's BROTHER) for $7,000. He wants his money for my mom's funeral.. (and this is one of the closest relatives i have) 

So, now my body is in shock from the piercing and I am so afraid of people and their hatred.  I hope that when i post the conversation that it will shock whoever wants to read it. Its horrible against any group that isn't white and straight and completly normal looking..

So, that took the pleasure away from my new "individuality"
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some extreme examples of my self abuse interesting mentally ill stuff yeah i gave myself that black eye

First of all, I want to say that i stayed up ALL FUCKING NIGHT TO REDO THIS PAGE!! SO PLEASE SOMEONE READ!!

I really don't get it, back in 1998 when I started self abusing, It was like the most shocking thing in the world.. Now, its just like a fad or a phase that everybody seems to be going through, so it means nothing. Well, I personally think thats complete bullshit, For every cut, I have made, for every word i have carved into my arm, I have carved Crosses,, One into my forehead,, 187,, which means murder,, TRY,, Tons of words, which scars and letters are still visable. Does the probably 1000-2000 dollars worth of damage i did to my house in Memphis mean nothing. There are massive holes in just about every room. where i kicked in the wall, or hit it with a crowbar. Do, the times I smacked myself in the arm with a crowbar, do the times I beat the SHIT OUT OF MYSELF, and ended up with bruises all over, mean nothing,, Just because its NOW "the cool thing to do" My story "confessions of a mascositc junkie" was going to be published,, but now its old news.. What about the times I cut my lip open, and then went to the store and the lady at the register asked me if I had been in an accident.. All those times, meant a hell of a lot.. They were my pain, my soul crying out for help. I don't know, I was going to make a blog about it, but why bother? it just isn't shocking anymore!

very interesting a window into mental illness Memoir of a Severe Cutting incident-long but good-june 20, 05

Saturday, Bloody, Saturday,, Long entry, but informative

The following incident and the pictures at the bottom that go with it, are a symtom of an illness that I have been fighting since I was 22 years old. If anyone is at all curious and does not think i am a total loon after seeing the pictures here are a couple of books about the subject.

"Skin Game, A Memoir"
By Caroline Kettlewell
"A Bright Red Scream, Self Mutilation and the language of Pain"
by Marilee Strong

The 7th of May,

Last month I was sitting on the bathroom floor in my boyfriends house with blood streaming down my arm. My back to the bathtub, watching as the blood dripped onto the hardwood floor, all over the pink showercurtain and all over my sweatpants and blue corona shirt. As I sat on the floor, I began to feel a little bit weak. I wondered, perhaps if this time I had gone too far. Terrified of what my boyfriend would say when he got home, and staring blankly at the white dingy bathroom ceiling, I accepted, perhaps my impending death and I was happy. (A little scared but happy) Finally realizing that I was not going to die I called my best friend and told her everything that had happened earlier that night. Then I waited, cold, weat, bloody and tired for my fate, which I was sure was going to be terrible.

Earlier in the afternoon things had just gotten off to a horrible start between my boyfriend and me. The night before,we were watching Sue Joe on Oxygen and a woman on the show had concerns about her bisexuality. I asked if my boyfriend had  ever looked at other men. I kept edging him on. wandering who, I thought it was surely someone in the past (like my thoughts for the same sex when i was young and confused) but instead he threw out a name of a guy in his office!
So, I said i hated him because he was gay, Then I apologized and said it just hurt my feelings, The same way my feelings got hurt when he used to look at other women all the time. I said that was why I lost all the weight I lost it so he would stop looking at other women. I also said thats why I started nude modeling so he would stop doing that.

Then the fighting started again, I was still hurt so I called him a fag. His response to that was I basically, I don't care about your work as a model. He said, "Why would i care if I am with a nude model, WHy did i think it was such a big deal. He said, We never touch, never take showers together, never cuddle with each other nude, never have sex,, He asked,  What difference does it make having a bunch of nude pictures of you??

Right then, I stormed into the den and ripped in half all the nude pictures of me that he had printed out last night for my portfolio.
WHen he saw what I did, he came back and I was "the stupidest person he has ever known in his life."  I ask why he would say that and then add.. "You don't care about my work, you don't care, why should i? So I ripped up the pictures. I said if he didn't care about my work, then i would stop.  i would miss the three jobs i had lined up because there is no point to the modeling anymore if he could care less. Then he left the house once to go get a carpet shapooer I left too, I put on my skates and took a handful of morphine. Then i went outside for two hours, skating and laying in the sun (then i got deathly sick from my medication).

So, after he leaves and before i leave for skating, I stab one of my 8 knives into his computer desk, with a note attached saying FUCK YOU.

Later that day we got back at the same time, he saw the note and sarcastically asked me if I wanted to go to a movie. I whispered that i didn't think we should be around each other right now, and he walked out. When he came back again, he asked if I wanted to go to Wal-Mart, in the same tone. This time I did not even answer him. So he slammed the door and left.

As, I sat on our bed, pulling at the torn blue and green comforter, I could feel the fury inside me began to grow. I had no idea how Paul and i could start talking again unless i did something drastic.

The first thing I grabbed was a framed black and white nude picture of me, taken in September of 2004 at Black Diamond Caves here in Northern California. I threw it across the hallway and it shattered into a million pieces against the closet door. Next, I destoyed the Star Wars Movie collection I had given Paul for Christmas. Tearing up the DVD's with all the passion I had. My anger showed no signs of stopping, so I reached for one of my razor blades. The shiny new kind, the straigtedge blades that come in a box individually, very sharp and dangerous. Before I went for myself, I ripped up a shirt i had given him for christmas, leaving a nice pile of mess by the closet door.

Finally, I went for myself. I closed my eyes, and with the brand new razor I began to slash my arms with full force. When I opened then, I had four cuts which were very deep.. and a few smaller ones. As I started to bleed and bleed, more blood than i have seen in a long time, my fury still spurred me on. I slashed my arms even more, going into my room and ripping apart the stuffed animals he had given me, I cut them up and threw them into the growing pile in the hallway.

My fury began to turn into hurt when I saw my cat Georgie cowering in the corner by the Big slidding glass door. I started to cry, begging him to come out. By this time, I was bleeding all over the white rug. Little drops of blood that resembled a red trail of breadcrumbs. Terrified he would cut himself on the broken glass, I wobbled over to the den and grabbed him, blood sticking to his white and orange fur. I put him and my other cat both into the back room. Now since i had lots of blood to spare, I destroyed some more things. I ripped up the pictures in my modeling portfolio, smearing them with goo. I smeared the sticky substance on almost everything that was destroyed,

In my mind for some reason I was certain Paul would reataliate and certainly destroy something of mine. So, with that thought I went into my room and i cut some more, I bled for over 45 minutes. The color of the yellow carpet in my room beginning to turn red. I couldn't remember ever bleeding for so long so I started to become afraid.

The main thing in my room that I love, I just cherish is my 1984 Firestarter movie poster. The poster features an eight year old Drew Barrymore standing alone behind a torrent of orange flames. I began to stare at it, and for some reason i was sure my boyfriend would destroy it upon arriving home. So, I started to cry, pleading with myself, not to rip the poster off the wall. "I kept shaking my head, no no, not my poster. Please not that.. I was having a conversation in my mind. But the sensitbity gave in to irrationaitly and I took the poster down, ripped it in half and smeared all the blood that i had left on my arm (which now resembled a piece of ground up meat onto it). I was so SAD. I threw the poster into the pile in the hallway.

That brings me up to the bathroom floor. As i sat there still bleeding, I sung a few hymns and I said the Lord's prayer to try and comfort myself. I chatted with God and my mother who has passed away. My best friend who is also mentally ill with manic depression lives in Memphis and I was sure she had gone out for the evening, but i decided to give her a call anyway.
I got her, which was a god send.. I told her everything that happened during my tantrum and i was crying hard. Normally, I am afraid to show my true self in front of her when I am in trouble, for fear that she will abandon me, like so many other friends have in the past. Fortuanley, She calmly asked if i needed to check in to the mental hosptal which she always does, everytime I attempt suicide with drugs. This was not a suicide attempt, since i am a cutter and have been since 1998.  Ellen calmly asked if i was still bleeding and did i need to put a turniket around my arm. I told her i was terrified of what paul was gonna do to me. Gracefully she offered to talk to him on the phone and try to calm him down before he got home and saw the extent of the damage i had done.

Unfortuanelty,he ended up calling first  from wal-mart and i couldn't let ellen calm him down i had to say what i did. By, now I had lost a lot of blood and was not in the mood for a tongue lashing. Sadly, he sounded totally annoyed and pissed. I didn't talk to him long. I talked to ellen and told her he was coming back. Finally, he got home, angry. He talked to my best friend while i sat slumped over from blood loss on the computer. Wanting to cry, I listened to his final cruel comment to Ellen. "Why did she have to do this today, why did she have to get blood all over the floor when I just shampooed the carpet"?  Eventually, he put aside his anger and noticed my failing abilty to stand or speak. We ended that horrible night, with me cradled in his arms like a baby. I got my strength back, but was bedridden for a few days.
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California tragus, June 19, 2005

Silver Suicide Number Eight

It is five in the morning and my sleeping patterns are just OUT OF CONTROL. I was sad that Paul and me weren't able to make it to a club in San Francisco tonight, so to ease my boredem, I took 40mg of Oxycontin as well as my regualar 60mg of Morphine which I took earlier in the day. Yes, I am a druggy!

But the point of this entry, is that I got My "eighth piercing earlier today. I have a diagram here of all the different types of ear piercings you can get.

Today I got what is called a "Tragus". Hurt like hell, This guy named Russel In Antioch, did it for only 35, which is a surprise because he wanted 70 for my belly button ring, and i "said hell no" so I went to Berkely and had that done. It bleed pretty bad, and I was surprised.  In the past, I have had an "industrial strength rod" The large piercing at the top,, I have also had, an orbital, which is not on the diagram, but its good i found a diagram, its for my education as well as anyone else who is interested in ear modification.  I, of course have my lobes pierced, and i am hoping to start streching them out soon so i can get plug.. The industrial and the orbital,, just did not heal up for me so I had to take them out. I hope i have better luck with this one.

So, here is a picture, right after I got it done. If you look closely you can still see the scar from the orbital

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Short Book Review, june 14 05

Short Book review, I chose this picture because there are thousands of homeless mentally ill who live on the streets of San francisco as well as Memphis. There are days when i am terrified i will become one of them. Marie is a testimate to fighting this fate!

  I just finished reading a WONDERFUL book which was very inspiring to me. It is called "Nobody's Child" by Marie Balter and Richard Katz. The opening page begins "For all who seek hope"  and the end quote which reflects Marie's deep religious faith says, "I will build an altar unto You, O God, of the broken pieces of my heart"

Mary Balter was put into Sutton State Hospital in massachusetts at the age of 17 in the year 1948. She subsequently spent a total of 20 years of her life in what the paitents dub "the castle"  Marie endured many of the barbaric treatments that plagued mental hospitals in the early twentieth century.  She was thrown into dark seclusion naked like an animal. She was given ECT or shock treatment before there was anestisia! She also had Hydro-therapy and wet packs.  In the wet packs sheets were wrapped tightly around Marie so she couldn't move and the sheets are dipped in ice cold water. It was used as a means of punishment. IN the mid-sixties Marie is given Massive doses of an experimental drug called Stellazine. The maximun dose a day is 40 mg, but she was given 2500 mg a day.. So for two years, Marie suffered through terryfiying hallucenations brought on by the medicatioin. She was not psychotic, but had clinical depression and paniac.. but back then no one knew.

Finally, Marie just decided that she had to get better,, she had to do it on her own. IN the hospital, it seemed noone wanted to help her get out. So, slowly she tried to do little things and eventually was realeased from "the castle"

The wonderful thing about this inspiring lady is that she "was on the inside for so long" she saw first hand how the mentally ill are treated when they are "locked up"  I, of course have seen it too, and it is not pretty. 

She wanted to get her degree in social work so she could become an advocate for the mentally ill. And she did just that! NOt only did she do that, but she got married,, was soon widowed. and had a TV movie made about her life..  She still continues to advocate for rehibilation programs for the mentally ill,,, rather than just locking us up and throwing away the key!  She meets with a lot of resestance still, even after all of her accomplishments.... This unfortunatley, shows how predijuce people still are about the mentally ill.

I wish so much that there were more people in the world like Marie.. she gives me hope that there is kindness, on this horrible earth and some people are sent here to be angels to inspire the rest of us. 

THE END!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!