"on the inside" The real life story of my fourth mental hospitalization. the truth about ECT


 "Me at 23, the same age I was admitted to Methodist hospital in Memphis for a month"

In my life, I want to tell THE TRUTH about mental hospitalization. I have been hospitalized 4 times in total and I am 39 now.. This is the short story of the most dramatic which occurred when I was 23.. at least 20 years ago.. but its the truth.. lets get to the truth!


On the inside

I do not remember being admitted to the 14th floor of the Methodist Central psychiatric center. I have no recollection of the usual intake process. However, almost immediately I felt somewhat comfortable here in my new home. Our ward was certainly a much nicer place than I was used to. Everyone had a phone in their room.

 There were very little rules for an adult ward as long as we behaved. Most all of the patients had a great deal of freedom; we were allowed to walk around the hospital grounds without supervision. Sadly, I was so anxious when I first arrived that I had to sike myself up just to go downstairs to the gift shop. My mother actually was in the same hospital with me at the same time, but she was on the oncology ward. We did not visit much.

The hospital routine was very similar to my previous admittance, we all woke up around 7 a.m. and went to bed at 10 pm.

When I first arrived, I had no idea that I was about to be introduced to 

my main problem even now, psychiatric drugs.

During breakfast, the nurses and the patients would all gather in the "day room" and wait for the "drug cart" We did this both morning and night.

I remember being very nervous as I stood in line for my individual cup of multicolored poison's. This was the first time that I had ever taken any drug at all. During the first week of my stay, I met my psychiatrist, Dr. Jackson. He was a jovial black man who had decided to treat me with any and all drug combination that he could imagine. I certainly felt like a human psychiatric guinea pig running around and around on my own little wheel.

After breakfast we all went to group therapy. Sadly we didn't have any individual therapy here and I don't believe that I ever said a word in any of my groups; all I did was listen. During group, I met a very inspirational black woman who had tried to slash her wrist. The injury was so severe that she needed a great amount of stitches. I seemed to identify with the things that she said in group. Sadly, I don't remember this woman's name but she made me feel more at ease and comfortable when the occasional uprising occurred.

As time went on, all of the patients mostly behaved because of their fear of the 12th floor. I was not aware of this now, but I would soon be going to the "dreaded" 12th floor, myself. The 12th floor was where the hospital housed the "severely mentally ill" for example those who could not take care of themselves, severe schizophrenics, etc.

One day, in group we all witnessed a terrible uprising and broken rule by a woman who was talking about past sexual abuse. It was traumatic on everyone


One to see a patient taken by force downstairs. to the 12th floor (a reason I never spoke up in group, is because I never felt that I had it bad enough)

Anyway, as the women in group spoke she became more and more irate. The doctor in charge tried to calm her down but to no affect. She was beginning to pose a threat to the group.

When threatened with the 12th floor she still did not calm down, so the only choice was for the staff to come and get her. They literally dragged her out of group kicking and screaming and pleading not to take her downstairs. I cannot remember if they put her in some kind of restraints or gave her tranquilizers, but she soon disappeared from the 14th floor. I don't know what happened to her downstairs.

There were times on the ward when things were rather tolerable. I made a few friends and we would chat about our different experiences. A nice lady named "Lisa" even bought me a flower upon her departure and told me to remember that, "I would bloom again." As had occurred with my former hospitalization when my insurance ran out, my doctors decided that I was not any better. So unlike my previous experience they had an idea.

"ECT" or according to Wikopedia, "Electroconvulsive therapy also known as electroshock, is a controversial psychiatric treatment in which seizures are induced with electricity for therapeutic effect. Today, ECT is most often used as a treatment for severe major depression which has not responded to other treatment, and is also used in the treatment of mania, catatonia, schizophrenia and other disorders".

My Ect was a doctor's idea. A much older doctor than my own, Dr. Harris. He approached me as well as an elderly woman about undergoing the procedure.

I read books about the procedure and my stepmother (who is NO LONGER in my life) took me to visit a man who had had the procedure done and had his depression cured or lessened. Unfortunately, this man was in his forties and I was in my twenties, there has been and still is controversy about ECT being a good choice for the young. For some reason it works much better on older adults or the elderly.

Even though I had done a fair amount of research on what I was about to endure, it seemed that there was really nothing very conclusive that had been gathered about ECTs effectiveness, what I was doing was basically a shot in the dark.

My memory is foggy when it comes to each treatment; it was certainly an extremely difficult decision to make. According to Wikopedia, "ECT first gained widespread use as a form of treatment in the 1940s and 50s; today, and estimated 1 million people worldwide receive ECT every year; usually in a course of 6-12 treatments administered 2 or 3 times a week."

I cannot remember but I assume that I received about 10 treatments which were done a few times a week. ECT was given ONLY on the dreaded 12th floor; during treatment I learned why the "back ward" was such a scary place. Upon my first visit to the 12th floor I was literally horrified. This ward was nothing like the 14th floor with our comfortable schedule, TV time, socialization and phones in our rooms; it was much more like a holding cell for those who were completely incapacitated.

The floor was very small and it honestly had a distinct odor in the air of urine. Most patients roamed the halls dressed like the mental patients that my father had preached to back in 1983; they wore hospital gowns, some of them weren't even able to dress themselves and the gowns were always falling off in some sort of manner. There was no routine here; there was only a small "day room" with a Television that only got about two channels. There was nothing else.

I was literally amazed and terrified that human beings could be treated the way that everyone who was receiving ECT here was treated. Here I was in the United States (the greatest country in the world) and people were being looked at almost as animals rather than humans.

The morning of a treatment, I would arrive at the 12 floor and then go to the small "day room" I happened to notice that stretchers were lined all against the wall with people in them, like a cow awaiting a slaughter. Once, someone's treatment was over, they pushed them back out into the cattle line and came for the next person.

When it was my turn, I would slip into a hospital gown lie on a stretcher and wait to be wheeled inside. According to wikopedia, "the aim of ECT is to induce a therapeutic clonic seizure (a seizure where the person loses consciousness and has convulsions) lasting for at least 15 seconds".

The most frightening thing to me was going under the anestisia. Since the procedure only took about 30 minutes, the amount of anestisia administered was much more concentrated than it is in a usual surgery.

It felt like nothing I had ever experienced before. As soon as Dr Harris filled my IV with the medication I would have almost 60 seconds until I went under. It is hard to explain this feeling, but I believe it felt something like dying will feel. I was fully awake one second and then suddenly my head and extremities would tingle, then everything would go black. I would go into a little tunnel as If the medication was squeezing the life out of me, then I wake up with a terrible headache.

After all the treatments were completed, I knew that I had done the wrong thing. The ECT did nothing for my depression, it seemed to help my anxiety but otherwise it was more of a terrifying experience than anything else. I believe that ECT is a barbaric and dangerous approach to treating depression. Now days, I still have memory loss as well as confusion from this ordeal. . Fortunately, research has found that ECT causes no permanent brain damage,

 When I got out, things where no different, I was put into outpatient aftercare for a month which was basically therapy that you had to drive yourself to. The ect did nothing to help my anxiety or depression, so for me the month long hospitalization accomplished nothing.


THE truth is, maybe it helps some people, but it did not help me. At 39, I am still basically in the same position I was in back then. Except I have a boyfriend to take care of me.


I hope this shed some light on month long hospitalizations. Decide for yourself or with your own experience if they are worth it or not.. 






My paper on Borderline Personality Disorder-READ IT MIGHT HELP!

( here are some of the injuries I have done to myself to the left AT THE TOP) 

I had a disease which in the psychological world really does not have a "firm" label. However, it is very serious and should NEVER be taken lightly. Back in 2002 when I wrote this article for a college assignment I was deeply affected by my self-injury, however now I am happy to say that I only "hurt myself" now periodically; whenever things seem too out of control for me to handle.

Back then, self-mutilation was spreading so fast that movies, support groups nor medications could keep up. According to a study conducted by Armando Favazza of the University of Missouri, self mutilation was extremely widespread. The survey found that 1,400 people out of every 100,000 or 2 million Americans purposely hurt themselves.

I wrote this article from a first person perspective because I wanted to tell others about the horrors that I experienced. I also sincerely hoped that anyone who read it might change their mind about the stigma surrounding the disease.

The typical profile of a self-abuser is a teenager or young woman, however men do engage in this behavior also. Self abuse means that a person purposely cuts or burns their skin. It can also involve hitting themselves or breaking bones. All this is done in order to relieve any inner pain that the person is suffering or unable to release any other way.

The traits of most self-abusers are the same. They are normally shy, lonely, ignored and have suffered from some type of post traumatic stress. They have no one to listen.

I, myself was 22 years old when my battle with this began. My father had passed away from a rare liver cancer when I was 17. According to Marilee Strong's book, "A Bright Red Scream" many cutters start because of a severe loss.
"Cutters almost uniformly report the same sequence of events and emotional states before and after episodes of self-injury. Cutting bouts are generally precipitated by an experience-real or perceived-of loss or abandonment"

I know that I was angry and afraid. I could not find a healthy way to express that anger or fear. In high school, I was never involved with drugs or alcohol so that was not an option for me. However, one night in November of 1998 I was watching an episode of "Dateline NBC." The episode was about a girl who hurt herself. Finally, I seemed to have found a way to release my anger and fear. I became a "cutter" too.

Although, I do not remember my first actual cut. I know that I did it with a box-cutter. Most likely, inside my fathers old Toyota Camry. I do know that once I began to "bleed" out my self-loathing I was hooked. According to a boy who was quoted in Marilee Strong's book he felt the same way.
"I hate myself," the boy said. "Its almost an insult for people to refer to it as a self-esteem problem. I am talking about active, passionate hatred."

At first, I tried to keep my "dirty little secret" away from my mother. Whenever, I knew that I was going to cut I brought along a red plaid shirt. I affectionately dubbed it my "blood shirt." Sadly, not to long afterward a friend that I had confided in told my mother what was happening.

My mother immediately started to hide all the kitchen knives and scissors. She was convinced that I wanted to commit suicide. This, in itself, is the biggest misconception about this disease. Suicide was never an option for me. The cutting was keeping me alive.

According to another girl that was quoted from Marilee Strong's book, she felt the same.
"There is no hazy line, the girl said." "If I'm suicidal I want to die. I have lost all hope. When I am self-injuring, I want to relieve my emotional pain and keep on living. Suicide is a permanent exit. Self-injury helps me get through the moment."

All hell broke lose one spring day when I came home to my mother encased in blood. We had just engaged in a massive shouting match and I sped away in my car, I didn't quite know exactly where I was going. Finally, I stopped at a local park. Nature had a certain calming effect on my nerves sometimes, but this was not one of those times. Sitting down on a swing-set I noticed a family grilling and I became depressed.

As I swung, I took out my box-cutter and began to slice my arms. I kept swinging and slicing for a long time. I watched as the blood began to drip down from my arms onto my clothes and legs. When I came home to my mother I decided just to see how she would react to the situation. I did not wash the blood off of my legs, nor did I hide it with my shirt.

My mother suddenly became absolutely infuriated. She threatened to call the police. I was terrified of being arrested and thrown back into the mental hospital. Here now in 2007 I still wonder why she failed to comfort me or try to understand the pain that I was experiencing.

My sincere hope is for parents to please help your child if you find yourself in this type of unfortunate situation. Threatening your child with the police, therapy or involuntary hospitalization is simply not the answer. The only thing this will do is drive your already fragile relationship much further apart.
Here is a quote from a boy named "Steven" that proves love not punishment or threats is the best way.
"No one was there to help me. No one was there to say 'Hey I understand.' And even if they did I don't think they would have listened."
Marilee Strong's book expresses some important information on the subject of parents and their misunderstandings.
"Emotional attachment from the parent makes a child feel connected and supported, not alone and helpless. Abused and neglected children never learn from their parents how to soothe themselves and cannot trust others to help them do so. So they may turn to cutting and other forms of self-injury as a means of self-soothing"

In late August of 1999 my self-soothing abilities would be put to the ultimate test. The unthinkable happened; my mother was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor. Mother was 58 and I was 23. Early in the year 2000, she was taken out of the hospital and put into a nursing home. I became more and more paralyzed by my own demons during this time. We all knew that both of her "attempted" brain surgeries had been futile. At first, mother was able to speak and talk normally, however I don't think that either of us understood that her mind would be going soon.

I desperately wanted to talk to her about what was going to happen after she died. I had so many questions:How do I manage by myself because I am an only child with no close relatives? Was mother scared of going to heaven? Would she be looking down on me when I graduated from college or got married?

Unfortunately, no conversations like that ever transpired. We both swept the inevitable under the carpet. As her mind got worse I became extremely depressed. I basically slept all day and stayed up all night. I didn't go to work or school, all i did was self-abuse.

After about six months mother became completely incapacitated. Whenever, I came to visit she didn't recognize me. It didn't matter how many black eyes that I had given myself or how badly my arms were scarred, she just didn't know who I was. It hurt so much. I couldn't handle the horror she was going through or the terror I felt inside. Soon, I would be completely alone.

Mother finally passed away on Thanksgiving morning in 2000. At the funeral, I proudly showed off my scarred and burned arms. I showed them to my cruel and ignorant relatives. I chose not to hide them because having them was the only way I could handle the pain. Now, I was an immature 23-year old adult orphan, I was stuck, I had no where to turn, so I turned it all against myself.

Two years after mothers death my self abuse seemed to reach its peak. It seemed that I wasn't in control of my actions anymore. It felt like the devil himself had taken over my body. The abuse became much more violent and psychotic. I decided that I was going to hurt no matter how unbearable the pain. It was normal for me, during that time to smash walls, shatter glass, throw knives with my bare hands, punch myself in the face, carve letters and numbers into my arm, hit my arm with a crowbar, slam fingers into the car door and to take chances with my new vice (prescription antidepressants) Some of these things I would do in public, such as at my college or at the mall.

Looking back at the five years where I would do these things everyday, I am not quite sure where I got the strength to handle such tremendous physical pain. However, since my last cutting and burning session was only about over a month ago, I certainly realize that I am not completely cured and that I may never be. These days, Borderline Personality Disorder is becoming a way for therapists to help patients put a "label" on what seems to be just out of control at times. I was finally diagnosed with BPD a few years ago, sadly even with all my medications I still have not gotten much relief.

Please, for all the self abusers out there, Please do not give up because there is help. You can get better. Here is one resource that I found, its called "THE S.A.F.E. treatment center and its number is 1-800-Don't-Cut. Especially if you are a teenager or a young woman who is facing these feelings for the first time tell your pastor anyone, if you cannot talk to your parents.

I would like to dedicate this article to the walking wounded. "May they no longer suffer in silence," Marilee Strong.

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For the Lonely and Depressed.  FROM

This prayer comes from, http://www.beliefnet.com/.

I suppose, it was rather a coincidence that I got this particular prayer in my e-mail today. See, i tried the cough syurp pills last night, now even though i feel no high. to be honest I am much better on this drug than when i am not.  Paul, sees the drug as just a pain in the ass. While the DEX is still in my system, I feel just human. Human enough to fuck around with him. (what i mean is tickiling) annoying shit he hates. annoying shit that anyone would probably hate. When i am not then I can show what i feel like, look like, am. 
Uh, i actully found thi s art looking for myspace stuff. so come could be there too... sorry!     So,  I think this art work is not so new if you use it for how you feel when you are depressed. this is obviously, hopelessness, lonliness, despair, and only one tiny piece of light, through the window.            Looking around, you are I may have nice things, but when someone feels this way, they cannot see them, all they see is nothing. At least thats how i am. So if the only cocksucker that likes me is to dumb to know that i would rather have DEX than this, then maybe fuck him... HE SUGGESTED I GO HOME several times tonight.   


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This one to me, is man, i can't think when i have stayed up all night.. opinions?

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My therapist didnt work and BPD

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SIGH.. WEll my new therapist is very expensive and i really can't afford her, However i had a second session with her and i just didn't want to work with her anymore. I know my b/f will be totally pissed. I dont know what to say to him.

                         I just feel like i do everything WRONG.. I have BPD.. I wonder if anyone else on the board does too?

                     Borderline personality disorder, I have read so many books on it.. I finally understand it, but this therapist did not even ask me what i had been diagnosed with.. I though it was odd.

                         when you are borderline, you hear things differenly than other folks.

My therapist said, " In order for you to get better, you have to go out in the world, and i don't think you are ready to do that.

Well, what i heard was, In order to get better, you have to go find a job, right this second, otherwise there is not much point in treatment if you don't do what i say"

Now, that wasn't the comment she made, but thats what i heard.. I walked out feeling very bad about myself.

I thought she would be my "saving grace" so to speak.. Now, i guess i am screwed.

With a personality disorder that is soooo hard to treat.. I just cannot find a doc that understands at all. I never have been able too.

One of my biggest problems right now, is turning or acting like a bratty kid or selfish teenager, when i turn the BIG 30! (in a month) HOLY SHIT.. but thats another story!

So, bratty kids don't necessarily hear things correctly and then the real adult inside gets very hurt. Then the situation just turns bad.. (like i don't wanna see that therapist again because of what i thought she said)

THis is a big characteristic of borderline.. its not like Multiple P disorder or anything.. I know who i am.. but If i need to act like a little child for a while, then i think its okay. but no one else does.. or if i need to act really really angry. ETC. borderline moods can change every hour.

It is very hard on a relationship and i know that borderlines have a tough time keeping a boyfriend.. because one minute we can be happy, the next minute we can yell, the next we act like a baby..

I am not ashamed of the disorder at all.. i just can't figure out why i cannot find a therpist who somewhat specializes in its treatment, ya know.

I feel like this therapist did not take me seriously, e ven after i told her her remark had hurt my feelings.. I actually walked out of the office crying a little.

You just don't treat a borderline that way. You sit them back down and explain to them what you just said. So that there is no way that it can be misinterpreded.

Comments that are left misinterpreded can make a borderline feel worthless, like everything is there fault, not good enough for anyone, ugly, loser, lazy.. i mean it goes on and on.

and last but most important.. we are not worthy of love.

So, thats what happened today.. i hate like hell that i did.

Serious Depression..

I am so depressed
I haven't updated in a while because i havent been able to get out of bed. I am proud of myself for one thing though. Over memorial day weekend, Paul (the skaky ground relationship) and I went to the Monterey Coast. It was hard on me, because the day was long and we had to walk and walk and walk. Plus I had pretty much no sleep at the hotel.. But I made it, even through the chronic pain. and I difussed a few fights that broke out..

so, whatever i think i handled that trip well. However yesterday, I went to bed normal time around 2 am and i didn't wake up until 9 PM! (yeah) Today, is just the same. I am starting with a new therapist tomorrow! YEAH! I get to sit and chat with some bitch and pay her 125 dollars out of my pocket, and if the relationship is not there.. than seems like any hope i have is flying out the window.

I haven't showered for a few days or brushed my teeth. I am not a drinker.. because i take so many drugs,, but during the trip i felt i needed to drink... before the trip i drank an entire bottle of champane.. (nothing happened)

And now to try and muffle the depression, I am going on my second bottle of corona LIGHT of course.. DId you know light drinks also have 105 calories.. GREAT!

During my time of being in bed all day today,, one of my cats Peed on the bed.. She is doing it cause i haven't taken her to the vet to get spayed.. Well, i don't fucking feel like it.

My boyfriend is gonna be pissed. I didn't do any of the chores he wants me to help out on . All i wanna do is lay there.

Even in a bed covered with cat piss.

I don't think that the folks who read my journal called (there is nothing worse than this or something like that for a title) the one that told of a possible break up with my boyfriend.. don't really get it. (I am not trying to be snobby or anything) I am totally over the edge.. so please cut me some slack.

I will be 30 in a month and a half. I am not 18 or 19 or 20. I am 30, and i have severe mental problems.. MY parents are DEAD.. as most of you know.. I HAVE NO SIBLINGS as most of you know.

but the advise i got for that was very surprising. that is the advice you would give a teenager or a child in her early 20's, with a parents safety net or a home or a family to go back to..

30, is almost beyond marriaging age. This man is ALL I HAVE ON THIS EARTH. So, yes my depression about him is still there big time..

Also, my chronic pain has been overwelming this weekend. Ladies and possibly gentlman. let me describe for you, what the pain of vulvodynia feels like. Ladies,, it feels like you have just take a bath in acid and made sure to get your private area covered. Then as you try to wash it off, it burns and burns and burns and never stops..

thats what it feels like.. men.. the same,, like dipping your privates in acid.

I don' t know how this severe of a depression came on me, but its been like this for a long while. Before i was trying my best to answer other folks journals.. hoping to make a small differnence.. But, I don't think i can do that anymore for a bit.

I can barely take care of myself... WEll happy drinking everyone.



Yesterday,April 4, Tuesday I woke up at 2:30 pm and the scale said 110.6. I decide to follow and add up all my calories today as well as what i did.
It was raining again yesterday. I took a shower so Paul could come pick me up to go to Dr. Zheng's.
For Breakfast: I had an 8oz class of Light cranberry Juice---40 calories
1 packet of popcorn----100 calories

Then I took my birth control, My centrum vitamin and my extra calcium.
Next I took my 90 mg of Morphine.

Then I called my hair dresser and she can't see me until the 24th of this month, she is going on a trip to Australia.

So when Paul got here, we had a LONG-NON TALKATIVE car-ride to Tracy,at 3:30 we saw the doctor at 4:30 and then we stopped at the mall where the book store is. I bought two books.
The controversial, "A Million little pieces" by James Frey. This book has been on Oprah's book club list. It is about well, james and his trip to rehab.
Second a bought a cute book called, "Good Grief" Its about a young widow and her dealings with a new life.

The Ride home was less in silent! SO we stopped at Walgreens for some flavored Water and some milk and some SlimFast and to pick up my morphine I had just gotten.

Then we
came home and I took my laxative!

then at 7 pm I went for a 30 minute brisk walk in the rain!
i have been so depressed lately, I can't believe i did it! PAT ON THE BACK! i don't know if i can get up the energy to do it today, but you are supposted to have 30 minutes of exercise every day for a diet.

I smoked around 8-12 cigarettes for the entire day because i was bored. I went out into the shed a few times

FOr A SNACK, I HAD ONE SLIM FAST DRINK---180 calories--Then i took two Leptopril--Diet pills at 8 pm.

For dinner we kinda had to calorie estimate.. we had Spagetti-400 calories
Sauce--160 calories
Green peas-52 calories
carrots- 95 calories
Par Cheese-20 calories

Total Calories for today is 1247 calories!
As for pills, I took 2 more diet pills at 11 pm.
My night medication of antidepressant, seroquel and Clonopin
THen finally 60 more mg of morphine.

Final weigh in for yesterday 111 pounds.. A pound and i have more than i started with!
big point i made an entry on march 11 and said i weighed the exact same weight

111. now its been about 3 weeks and diet pills, I have lost no weight!!!! point is maybe diet pills DO NOT WORK!!!

Somewhere in between my pill popping and calorie counting day We got in bed and watched the movie MOTHRAAAAAAAAAAA!! that is the giant moth you see at the top. It was a japanese movie made in 1961 where (A GIANT MOTH) comes and crushes a little model city of Tokyo.
It was one of the weirdest things i have ever seen! was boring as hell though.. but everyone has to see these weird ass movies at least once!


so, i cut the word FAT into my arm last night, after i binge ate on some graham crackers and caramal ice cream topping. If i want it to stay,i have to re-cut it of coure. I am actually gonna try some diet pills.. i can't believe this. what else will mess my body up? So, I just layed here the entire weekend, got up at 6 pm tonight.. I am doing worse than ever. I mean really bad.. My dads 12 year death anniversary is in two days.. who cares.. i have no one to talk about it with.

The answer it seems is a job or a cool hobby,, but no.. the answer is ONE friend.. A friend here in the bay area, here in my neighborhood, that can come over a girlfriend.. if i had one friend everything would change.. I have been writing that for ages.. but whatever.. my two prospects didn't work out..

I can't get a handle on how weak i feel.. thought maybe it was a UTI.. but probably not.. just extremely depressed.

Ron, is supposedly settling mom's estate.. I am being totally irresponisble.. I didn't call him back about it, CAUSE I SLEPT. I didn't call my trust officer on dads side CAUSE I SLEPT.. i got taxes to get together.. my car insurance cards haven't come even after i charged the bill.. now i have to call them again..

i don't even feel like taking a shower, much less working out.. its make me wanna cry that i care so much how fat i am.. when it doesn't matter really.

I am 29, and i know friends just don't come to you, but theres a huge hole in my heart that i wanna like grab and pull out,, it feels terrible.

every time i do something dumb.. like barf from smoking and i lay there with a headache from hell and i think i am dying. i pray no i don' t wanna.. but i do.. its just the unknown of death.

god, i repeat the same shit over and over in my journal. I just can't get it together. I just can't. Maybe paul will kick me out.. cool..

well, i guess i'll go clean the shit out of the cat box.. what i was born to do..

Scale woes

Oh bad idea, i stepped on the scale.. 111 pounds!! OMG!! I am a total lard. i need to lose 11 pounds! now how does one go about that in a healthy way?
I feel like i totally failed, since my only job is NOT TO GET FAT..
I mean no one cares... i am not modeling anymore.. i guess thats over..no one asks me to work anymore.
How is losing 11 pounds gonna solve my relationship problems, my money problems, my severe lonliness.. lonliness that is getting almost too much to bare.

it won't.. but if i could gain the self control to stop eating so much,then like most folks with an eating disorder...its one thing I can control.. while everything else spins away.

well, whether I lose the weight or not, i am still fat and unlovable. I love candy.. I mean?

I worked at a factory in like 1995 and I ate A LOT on breaks and for lunch.. I think would work make me not eat as much... but when i think back to that factory work.. i kinda doubt it.

i am so lonely, its killin me.


By the way I am baby's ass bald as of two days ago. (Thats my head of course) I have no confidence In myself at all. If anyone cares, please a compliment, a boost, something?  The days just drone on and on, They never change. I am going insane. I can't handle it. I tried me some Jack Daniels last night, never had it.. hard shit. had three shots, didn't get happy or didn't get put out my misery.. Just got sleepy.  I am too down to exercise (which i do without fail) I feel so unloved, so in a runt.. so useless, so pointless. (My  boyfiend) Has been at his wifes house since 9 this morning. it is now seven p.m. Funny thing I don't even care.. I am on my own, because i am trapped in this house.. I have no confidence. NO, modeling jobs,,, (guess i'll just erase my OMp profile)  Newspaper fired me.. now, i sleep all day and all night, wake up to try the next escape.. in last nights case,, hard liquor. I am just such a pointless waste of skin and body parts.. (except my liver may be going) They could have not had me, or aborted me and given my parts to someone who would have had a pointless life.. I want someone to love me.. There is no love here.. Day in, Day out.. I sleep, I watch TV.. I sink further and further down.. If i was loved, I would be helped on finding an activity to get me out of this house... Sincerely cared for, and asked, what can i do, can i take you karate, get you back involved in that?  But nothing,, no love, just wants me to be down here in the gutter, and to stay, and then can't understand whats wrong with me..

Someone please, i hate myself, I hate myself. I am useless, i am ugly, i am fat, I am unloved. I am garbage.. Please someone give a shit..

God, i don't know why i bother

When I was born my dad was devasted that i wasn't a boy. i haven't been good enough since birth

Situational depression about my birthday.

4 days and counting until 29, AGONY, Severe situatioanl depression

I close my eyes
only for a moment
and the moments gone
all my dreams
pass before my eyes a curiosity
dust in the wind
all we are dust in the wind

Same old song
just a drop of water
in the endless see
all we do
crumbles to the ground
though we refuse to see
dust in the wind

Now, donĀ“t hang on
nothing last forever
but the earth and sky
it slips away

And all your money
won`t another minute buy

Dust in the wind
all we are dust in the wind
dust in the wind
dust in the wind.

I know those pictures at the top may look stupid, and yes that is the old Kansas lyrics to "dust in the wind" Sometimes I wish I was capable of drawing or singing out my feelings of depression, But i can't draw. It seems drawings are the most conviencing.  To me the drawings above, symoblize whats its like to be in a deep "situational" depression.. The kind that lasts only a few weeks or days.  I was sick again last night having to lie in the bed all night with a infernal headache. Since Sunday, I have been sleeping all day and night, feeling just ill, kinda just shuffeling around the house. I ate a candy bar that was in the fridge,, not even caring about the calories, then today also I made myself a bowl of chocolate pudding,, not caring about the calories either... I must be REALLY down.. I haven't showered in the past couple days, you know the typical "situational" depression thing.. I am so sad about turning 29. Paul says, "Go outside and sit in the sun" that will help.. "He says, I found a bunch of baby kittens on craigs list you can bottle feed". at least look at them, at least call the people about them"  Thats what he said on the phone today.. I just mumbled "no" and wanted to head back to sleep.

I guess he isn't very good at recognizing "situational" depression since i am clinically depressed all the time. I wish he was good at it.. For now, I am alone and crying and just wish my birthday and everything else would just go away. So, yeah, I am having a blast! can't wait for my birthday. I try to cry when hes not around, just cry and cry (which isn't too hard, cause he's never around)  He keeps saying asking what i want to do saturday.. I think he will think it is his failure, if i end up doing nothing or receiving no material things that I like..

But, I have that depressed person smell, U know, musty just I don't know how to describe it. So today, I was awake enough to watch an ondemand documenatary about jewish children being sent to england during the holocaust.. didn't find it too interesting... I just really wanna be left alone.. Like for a long time..

When you are deep in a situational depression, you just want the world to go away, yet you want someone to understand.  I figure, heres how it'll go the closer i get to saturday.. I won't pull out of this,, he will keep insisting on me doing something, getting me some kind of gift,, when i don't respond and just sleep, he will get ANGRY. Say, I am messing up my birthday, or something weird.. he'll get defensive and storm off somewhere.. I guess thats good, more sleeping time for me..

Just as a side note, I wonder where Ellen is. If she reads this which i know she does from time to time.. No ellen i don't feel like calling you.. I need you a lot, but I think you are pissed about what i wrote about sara Morley.. Sorry, my best friend, but this is my journal, and once in a while I get pushed to limit.. I wish you would call, but i can't make you.

THere is nothing i can apologize for, I feel like the second woman in the picture, all curled up in a ball, just wanting everything to go away..

After my birthday, maybe the worst of the depression will leave, i have no idea.. next comes dealing with flying back to Memphis for graduation. That is depressing the hell out of me too. I want to go home So bad. I am so homesick for the ghetto and two cats and my lard ass roomate, and my mom's grave.. (pretty damn pathetic huh) Dealing with paul in memphis is not fun, and i'm not looking forward to it.. He has mentioned buying the plane tickets a few times. at the point, i am just ready to have my diploma mailed to me.. And go to a state hospital.. That is terror.. I hate him,, I want a new boyfriend. He wants to make me "happy" and we have had several counsleors who have told us both that that is impossible in a relationship. but he still insists on trying. So when we get to memphis, he is a holy terror, because he feels inconvienced, just for a week. I have been away from my house for 8 months.. I don't understand him.. I care anyway..

You know when you are so Depressed and you just don't feel like talking to anyone even if they have the best the best of intentions. It just takes too much energy!! I don't feel like talking to him, and in sense it will ruin my birthday, like this depression is my fault.

Yeah well, so this is what its like 4 days from being 29. I can't imagine as it gets worse.