Struggling with the Elephant in the Room

A Manic Depressive Blog

Manic Depressive Illness: Looking at the Root of My Mental Health and Examining My Past

Root of Life

Root of Life

I hope everyone has been having a great week and hopefully things haven’t gotten too bad…I wanted to start this post by saying how hard it’s been this week to write and that my mind was racked with pain, which is exactly what I wrote in my head but I’m having a hard time forming the actual sentences. As usual I’ve been putting off blogging all day and because of this I’m struggling to produced a post. Couple that with the anxiety of having to work and you can see why it’s been hard to write this afternoon. Not to mention the fact that my head is begin clouded by an annoying voice constantly telling me how bad the post is, how many times I over used the word “and,” why I’m horrible writer and that I tend to shift past and present tenses within the same post which would drive my high school English teachers crazy (which actually is the truth as I still struggle with past/present tense which is evident in a lot of my posts, although I try my hardest to make them uniform, sometimes it just doesn’t work). On the subject of high school English, I’m going to continue my story from a few posts ago, although not in the exact time period we are going to fast forward a few years (don’t worry we will revisit my original diagnosis and what happened afterwards, I just wanted to write about my middle and high school  years, or at least bits and pieces of them. Hopefully I can keep all of the time periods together in my head, if not then we will have quite the jumbled life story. If it works it will be art! *chuckles to self*)

It had been a few years since I was originally diagnosed with ADD and my parent’s had moved my sister and I to a new city. Not knowing anyone, it was hard for me to make new friends, let alone talk with other people. Well actually that is not entirely true, come to think of it I was a pretty talkative kid. That’s right, it wasn’t until college that my anxiety developed and I lost my extroverted ways. In fact as a kid I was really hyper and constantly trying to talk with everyone (hence the ADD). I think it was the awkwardness of being “different,” coupled with moving to a new city that made it hard for me to make friends. I did make one friend, however, his name was Robert. He was the same age as me and we both hit it off on video games and seemed to have pretty similar tastes. Unfortunately, his current friend was extremely possessive of him and didn’t really like me (this part is really hazy, I vaguely remember him but I might be confusing him with someone I knew later in life), however, when our school trip arrived he was unable to join our class due to his mother being paranoid that he might get hurt or sick. It was because of his absence that our friendship grew. In fact, when we got back to school his family invited me to join them at the Long Beach Grand Prix (it’s a massive street circuit motor race that was held a few cities over from where we lived), which was their annual family tradition. This was huge for me as I had never been invited anywhere as well as having a “real” friend…

Well I take that back, I did have one “friend” in elementary school. His name was Christopher. I remember going over to his parent’s condo in Long Beach and playing an airplane simulator on his parent’s computer. In fact I still remember where they lived and I can picture their condo/house in my head. It was a tri-level, smashed in between two other tri-levels at the entrance of a residential neighborhood. There were trees in front of it, and their door faced out towards the main highway. Now the reason I put friend in quotations, was due to something that happened later on. We were close for the first few years of elementary school, however, in fourth grade he was invite to join the GATE (gifted and talented education) program. Unlike most schools, our’s segregated the GATE program from the rest of the school as they believed the progress of the gifted children would be hindered by the “normals.” In fact, the GATE program had portable classrooms that were completely isolated from the rest of the school and on top of that the GATE students would eat lunch at a different time then the rest of us.

End of Friendship

End of Friendship

At first Christopher was the same, we still hung out during recess and went to each other’s homes after school. However, as time went on he began to change. He became distant, arrogant, corrupted. I don’t know what happened, but one day we got into an argument, or maybe he taunted me, or maybe something was said, but all I remember is that I charged at him and pulled a Mike Tyson- I bit his hear and pulled a small chunk off (this was before the famous Mike Tyson fight). What happened afterwards is a bit hazy, I didn’t get suspended or even a detention, we just never talked again. And if we saw each other on the playground we walked the other way. This exemplifies how unstable I was as a child, as without thinking I partook in a violent act towards another human being, something that was not normal for me. I think I had already been diagnosed with ADD at that point and that’s why I got away without much punishment, but I’m not really certain. All I know is, that was a defining moment in my life as it would seem my “friendships” over the next decade would all be unstable, volatile and in a turn of karma extremely painful for me. This includes Robert.

My life is very disjointed, quite like this post. Everything that has happened to me has led from one painful moment to another, each growing in size until they all culminated in my psychiatric hospitalization. Most of my blog has been about the time after the hospitalization and how I have coped with my mental illness. What my goal for the next month is to pull back and examine my life prior to my hospitalization, so as to ascertain the root of my struggles and maybe gain a better understanding of myself in the process. I have no clue how this will proceed as my mood still changes rapidly, but I’m hoping to spend most of my posts examining my past (this will be very painful for me, as I have tried hard to forget a lot of my past and have spent a great deal of energy burying the memories, but I think it’s necessary for me to look at my past.  Plus some of you guys might find it interesting).

I hope you guys will join me as I venture through my past and who knows, maybe something amazing will happen. I also want to open up some of my posts to your guys questions, so if you have anything you specifically would like me to write about, or if you have a suggestion on what time period I should examine, please write a comment on this post.

Well that’s all for now. My eyes are dry and as usual I’m late for work.


Ps. Just to let you know, not every post will be about my past, most days I have no clue what I’m going to write as I formulate and structure everything while I type. I guess that’s one of my talents. I never had to create outlines while working on school papers as I was able to write a structured report in my first draft, I don’t know how it works, the words just seem to flow out of my head and through my hands as I type. It just happens, I guess subconsciously I’m drafting everything.

Domino Demands: Can I haz Ur Blog Post

As I’m sitting here falling asleep in front of my computer, I realized I hadn’t posted today. I don’t want to break my promise of writing everyday for 30 days, so this evening will be a fast post, I have no clue what it will be about, but rather a stream through my mind.

Today was a weird day, I saw my therapist for the first time in three weeks (she was on vacation) and the session was a bit stressful. Unfortunately, I got there late, which usually isnt somethasdflaksdjfal;sdjfl;aksdjf.

Hello humans, this is David’s son Domino, I just wanted to say hi to the world in my own style: 




Commanding his Troops

Commanding his Troops

Don't steal my towel!!

Don’t steal my towel!!

Why are you looking at me like that !?

Why are you looking at me like that !?

Bow Before Me!!

Bow Before Me!!



What are these infernal things doing on my back?

What are these infernal things doing on my back?

That's me before a few days before I met my daddy.

That’s me before a few days before I met my daddy.

(noises rumbling in the background, squeaky things everywhere and what’s this, a squishy ball? I must smell it, and I need to re-smell the entire area around said ball. I guess I can let the human have his blog back. Meow…)

Sorry everyone, well honestly I’m pooped. I think Domino and I are going to call it a night.

I hope you are all well :)

Dave and Domino.

Withdrawal Hell Consumes Me

Today started out so promising, but as the day wore on my withdrawals got worse. Now I’m just a pile of nerves looking for various things to do while I wait for the pain to go away or at least keep my mind off of the constant shivers, muscle spasms, odd tingly feeling, fever aches, nausea and just plain old despair. Whatever you do don’t go on Subutex (and if you do don’t stay on for very long, I’ve been on it for over two years and my body is a slave to it now) , although it helped me immensely, the withdrawals are a bitch. I’m not going to quit as it has kept me away from opiates and I’m afraid that once I go off I’ll go right back to using (and this is true, the subutex is the only thing keeping me from using oxy and heroin, there are times I just want to quit the subutex and go right back to using, but I have to catch myself and remember how bad it got which can be hard due to the opiates becoming a psychological crutch for me when dealing with society. For the longest time I was convinced I couldn’t deal with other people unless I was high, even today I really struggle with this), unfortunately I ran out a few days ago and I’m now in a living hell-maybe this is exactly what I wanted deep down, I tend to do things like this to myself, constantly sabotaging my progress, constantly putting myself through painful situations hoping that one day I crack. And when that happens the lights would truly go out. I just hope that day never comes.

Well that is all for now, I apologize for the short post, but I wanted to get on here and update everyone especially where I stated I’m going to write 30 days straight. I really want to make that goal as it would help greatly with my self-esteem and maybe prove to myself that I can accomplish whatever I want.

Thanks for the previous comments I will be continuing the story tomorrow, hopefully, as long as my mind is somewhat stable.

I hope you are all doing well,


Life Is Confusion and My Mind is Filled With Broken Memories


I really don’t know how to start this post so I will just write whatever comes to my head. The reason is that I’m scared to write. I scared to accept the fact that I’m a writer and I have something to offer society. And my mind is convinced that if accept that fact, then maybe I actually have a future. For the last 7 years I have been in a non-stop battle royal with my brain. For the longest time I was convinced my brain was a corporeal being that was trying to kill. But after awhile I realized that it was just my self-pity and self-hatred taking over my mind and my body. It was the constant pain of depression and uncontrollable impulses from my mania. So when combined together I had a lethal ticking time bomb of a brain. Eventually I ended up in the hospital, met my current psychiatrist and found my current therapist-both of whom have saved my life and shown me that there is a future for me and that I don’t have to succumb to the dark thoughts in my head. The problem was that I had been so used to the emotional turmoil and endless depression, that I started to sabotage myself (this is examining what happened the last few months, eventually I will go back and write about my pre-hospitalization days but it’s going to take some time as the memories are painful and hard to deal with. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to suppress them. But I think that is part of the problem, so maybe writing about my past can give me some closure) through destructive behavior, drug overdoses, excessive eating, lethargy, agoraphobic isolation and numerous other “activities.”

I was desperate to not accept happiness.

Fear of happiness. Loss of innocence.


For some odd reason I started to believe that I didn’t deserve to be happy, that I was worthless and that no one cared about me. I believe these thoughts began in high school, when I was “deathly” afraid dying. I would wake up in the middle of the night unable to breath. When I calmed myself down, my mind started to examine death, the fact that in the near future I would no longer exist, that I would enter an endless void where I no longer thought, acted or spoke, rather I would just disappear from existence. These thoughts haunted me for many years and it got to the point that I had to constantly tell myself “go away bad thoughts” “go away bad thoughts” “go away bad thoughts” over and over again, till the voice and fear of death dissipated. I remember vividly ridding the exercise bike in my parent’s living room while watching a TV show, my mind had begun to wander and thought of death and failure overwhelmed me, it was the first time that my self-hatred began. It was also at that point I finally told my mom I couldn’t remember my childhood; in fact I couldn’t remember anything prior to 5th grade, save for a few disjointed memories (I still don’t remember much of my childhood, which drives me crazy as I have a photographic memory and have the ability to remember places, conversations, emotions and people perfectly, in fact sometimes it’s so vivid that I completely leave reality.

But I can’t remember my childhood.

It’s completely blank.

Absolute nothingness.

Confusion, fear, hopelessness


One of my therapist told me it was brain trying to empty itself of useless memories, to allow for new memories to form. Bullshit. If that was the case then why can I remember almost everything that has happened to me since the 5th grade, but prior to that nothing exists. My mom was at first confused, then frustrated, then angry. It was as if I had accused her of being a bad parent and causing me to have a horrible childhood. But that wasn’t the case, in fact the few memory fragments I have left are extremely happy and joyful memories, or at least the emotions that are still left in my mind are those of happiness and love. I had to explain to my mom that it had nothing to do with my upbringing, or my parent’s parenting. Rather, I was convinced it was due to the therapy I had to go through.*

*I need to pull back a bit so as to provide you with some background. At the age of 7 I was diagnosed with ADD by this child psychiatrist my parent’s had found. I remember two things, she gave me poppy seed muffins and had me take the Rorschach test. She was friendly and kind. It seemed like she cared about my well being. I vaguely remember sitting in a chair that was facing her, both of us were sitting in front of a window and across the way in the other room was a massive window overlooking LA (I’m just remembering this, it’s been years since I’ve thought about this psychiatrist and these experiences. I’m surprised I even remember them. But right now I can see myself sitting in front of the psychiatrist while she administers the Rorschach test. According to my parents I also took an IQ test, they refused to tell me what score I had received because they didn’t want me to become like my uncle who had scored genius level on the IQ test and was an arrogant, stubborn and angry scientist. My only guess is that I must have scored as high as my Uncle did, otherwise why would my parents have hid the test from me. They also told me when I was “of age” they would show me my IQ score, but according to my dad it was lost a long time ago. Let’s get back to the story of my diagnosis. Eventually the psychatrist determined that I had ADD, my dad was devastated but my mom who is rock of our family pushed forward and asked what she could do to help me (it took my dad awhile to come to terms with my diagnosis.

He saw it as his fault that I had been born like this and that he had failed as a father. It saddens me to see my dad suffer like this, and although I have talked with my dad about what I’ve gone through, it has only been a few times. Although, my dad did save my life as he talked me through an extremely unstable and violent manic episode. Well now that I think about it, my dad has come around quite a bit as I’ve finally told him about the extent of my drug use and how bad it had gotten. That I had overdosed numerous times and was mentally unstable. I told everything and although I was scared, I was able to finally talk with my dad as son, instead of as a friend (for the longest time all of my conversations with my dad were about sports and politics, nothing else. The reasoning behind this is another complicated matter, lets just leave it as being a result of abusive and unloving parents. Something my dad has fought hard to overcome).

Following my diagnosis, my parents searched for the perfect therapist and they found one in Dr. V. At that point we were given the option of medication or intensive cognitive behavioral therapy.

I’m going to stop this post right here, I know it’s in the middle of the story, but I want to know from readers if you guys are interested in hearing more about my childhood and the struggles I went through while dealing with mental illness at a young age.

I hope you are all doing well and I look forward to hearing from you,


Even When I’m Stable, It Feels Like I’m Lost in a Dark Hole

Right now I’m going through hell. As usual I ran out of my subutex and now I’m experiencing horrible opiate withdrawals. Every month I do this, and every time I want to die; in fact I tried overdosing a couple of times, my drug of choice being ambien. What’s scary was, I blacked out one night during an ambien bender, and woke up the next morning to find half my my carpet burned, my keyboard melted, and multiple blisters on my right hand. I guess while I was blacked out I torched my apartment some how. And things only got worse when I realized I had taken the entire bottle of ambien (30 pills). This isn’t the first time this has happened. The day I got out of the psych-ward I overdosed on ativan- I was so desperate to get high


(being that I was initially in the out patient program I had to take a drug test weekly, which meant no more weed or pills. It was an insanely hard period of my life. Not only was I unstable, but I lost the one thing that made me feel sane. Yes, I self medicated, yes it was a bad choice. But unfortunately at the time I thought it was the only way to stop the dark thoughts in my head as well as allow me to converse with other people. And that was the biggest problem, after awhile opiates became a crutch as it allowed me to be a boisterous and gregarious person, constantly talking with everyone and participating in class or in various activities. But like most addicts it got to a point where I was so out of control that my body started to fall apart. Well it was more my mind. There are two points in my life when I had a massive breakdown that had been fueled by drugs. One happened in 2009, right after I quit working for the labor union and hotel- this is a story for another day. And the other one happened in 2011 while I was in graduate school at Claremont School of Theology. I had become so erratic and unstable that one of the professors suggested I should go a hospital or at least an out patient program- I have to thank that professor as he indirectly saved my life. I had to drop out of Claremont due to “mental health reasons,” which is what Claremont put on my record. About a month later I was committed to a psych ward and met my current psychiatrist. At that point I had gone through 3 horrible doctors, all of whom took advantage of me or messed with my head. Dr. G however, was kind and structured. He examined my files, asked me numerous questions and then consulted his books and notes, coming up with a med cocktail that finally calmed my mind down. It was a miracle. He also prescribed me Subutex as a way to stop the cravings and help me move forward with my life).

psychiatry problem

I’m using the above cartoon as a way to show the dichotomy of pharmaceuticals and how they have taken complete control over patient care. Over the last couple of years, I’ve come across all different types of people, who have both been deeply hurt and helped by medication.  And that is what makes it so controversial. Is it worth taking a life threatening risk so that we can be stable? 

Sorry for the long tangent, because my whole body is in pain and my mind is mushy, the words that are flowing out of my mind and into my hands are quite disjointed. But rest assured I will explain everything that has happened in my life, looking back at what my childhood was like, how my mind evolved over time, how I dealt with being diagnosed Bipolar, how I dealt with drug addiction and withdrawals and most importantly what it’s like to bipolar type 1 in today’s society.

My life has taken me to the depths of hell and back. But I wouldn’t change if I was given a chance to go back in time and start all over. The reason being, is that mental illness, the struggle and the drug addiction all humbled me. It showed me how dark life can be and it made me realize how unrealistic our dreams are when in school. Maybe that’s just me as I’ve lost all of my hopes and dreams for a better future

(everything I’ve wanted to do has not panned out and now I’m stuck with endless emptiness and a perpetual feeling of hopelessness. At this point I have no clue what I want to do with my life, I no longer have a dream I’m striving for, rather I’m spending most of my time in a fantasy world created by TV shows. Because I quit using opiates I had to put my addictive nature towards something else, so TV shows became my top choice. I would watch 10+ hours a day and I would feel at home. Not only was I able to escape my life, but the characters became my friends. Real friends that don’t judge or try to take advantage of me because I’m so kind towards other people. Rather, the characters in the show provide me with comfort. Yes I know this perverts the who social thing, but it’s the only thing I’ve found that has curbed my addictions and depression. The sad thing is I only have one friend, he is 20 years older then me, but he is a truly amazing human being. Because I was struggling to pay my rent, he offered me a chance to live with him and his wife. At first I was going to say no, as I hate change and I especially hated the fact that I would have to live with other people. However, my fears ended up being baseless, as I’m left alone and allowed to isolate hours on end. But M and his family (3 kids and the wife) are there for me when I need to talk with someone. M has gone through similar experiences as I’ve gone through. But the biggest thing is that he is optimistic about everything. Although I’m nice and polite to other people, I’m a pessimist. I hate everything, or at least I did. It got so bad that even my last therapist made rude comments to me about being so negative. But I’m trying, I’m working hard to change my entire attitude, so that I’m more accepting of other people as well as accepting the life I was dealt.

My life seems to be a lost cause, but deep down I know there has to be something that is ready to break out and allow me to pursue my next “unknown” dream.

hope and candle

I don’t know if this post works, it’s kind of my thoughts and memories merging together in a disjointed matter. Hopefully it sparks some discussion or at least brings everyone closer. As I’ve said in my previous posts I want to work hard to make this into a thriving and safe community for everyone to take part in. If you have friends or relatives who suffer from mental illness, have them read my, it would mean so much to me.

Well that is the end of Today’s post and this is also the first day of my 30 day writing challenge.

I hope everyone had a great week,


Tomorrow I Start my 30 day posting challenge

I finally decided that I want to write a post every day for a month. This will be a great way to get me back into writing as well as build my confidence. I’m really looking forward to this because I have so much to post about, so many things that I need to get out of my head and onto paper (well in this case blog posts). Further, during the week I’m going to work hard on building up my readership, through the use of my twitter, LinkedIn and Facebook account. As well as participating in various forums and commenting on different blogs. I’m sorry if this seems egotistical and partially narcissistic, but I really love this blog, it means a lot to me as I’ve been posting on and off for the last 3 years, which means this blog is now the longest project/activity I’ve ever worked on. Furthermore I love my readers, you guys have made such an impact on my life and helped me through some of the darkest points of my life. Every time I read your comments it reminds me of the kindness of humanity and gives me hope that there is goodness in everyone’s heart. Further, it means a lot to me that my posts have made a difference in your guy’s lives, and my hope for this blog is to turn it into a thriving community that provides a safe place to talk, comment and work towards a better future.

Well that is all for now, I need to leave in a bit for work (I’m currently doing door-to-door sales, which has been an amazing experience thus far. I will write about it in a future post).

I hope you have been well and I hope that everyone has a wonderful and restful Friday afternoon.


Ps. I was wondering if you guys have anything specifically you want me to write about (whether it’s about my own life, or what it might be like to deal with mental illness in today’s society, or how psychology and psycho-pharmacology has changed over the years). If you want, post a comment on this post about topics you guys might be interested in, as I have a lot of writing ahead of me :)

PPS. I’ve just registered my blog on paperblog as a way to possibly bring more exposure to this community. I’m looking forward to seeing what will happen in the coming weeks. 

Hope for a Better Future or Am I Just a Confused Mess?

Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.

-Albert Einstein

Does hope really exist? Can we learn from our past mistakes and push forward to a new beginning? Can I hope for a better life or will my future be devoid of happiness? These questions have been swirling around my head the last few weeks as I’ve tried to understand what has happened to my life. Last week I took a long shower and bemoaned the fact that my life has completely stalled; ever since graduating high school I’ve been in a never ending free fall. Do I deserve hope? Do I deserve a better life? At times I truly believe that I deserve all of the horrible things that have happened in my life, but that is just me feeling sorry for myself. And that’s the problem. For the last couple of years I’ve become used to self pity and self hatred. I don’t know why, but the feeling of despair can some times be comforting. I’m at a loss. On one hand I really want a better future for myself, I want to become self sufficient, I want to move forward and allow myself to heal. But I also believe I’m doomed to live a horrible life.

Honestly, I don’t know where I’m going with this. I have a sore throat and my head is fuzzy (this is the first time in over 3 years that I’ve been sick, so I was not prepared for what would happen. I guess this is what I get for living with other people. My brain has been quite jumbled the last few days and I hope this ends soon), but the above questions are pertinent as I have been struggling to understand if I deserve to be hopeful. I guess the answer is yes, I really do want to make a difference, I really do want to get better and maybe have a life worth living.

Sorry for the odd post, I just haven’t written in awhile and I wanted post something. It’s frustrating, everyday I log onto my blog and everyday I can’t get myself to write. It’s frustrating because I love writing, it makes me feel amazing and it’s something I’m good at. But that might be the problem (just as I pointed out above), maybe I’ve convinced myself I don’t deserve to be happy, so instead of doing something I love, I torture myself. I constantly tell myself I’m going to blog more often, but like most things in my life I just ignore it and pretend I’m living in a fantasy. I just can’t get myself to do something consistently, which has been a major problem the last few years (well more like the last decade).

I’m going to stop my post here as it’s not making much sense.

I wanted to ask you guys, what are some good ways I could get myself to start hoping for a better future and to write more consistently? How do you guys deal with the feeling of hopelessness?

I hope you have all been well and I look forward to our future conversations :)


Is Life Hopeless? My Time in the Shower Confirmed this

Isn’t it the moment of most profound doubt that gives birth to new certainties? Perhaps hopelessness is the very soil that nourishes human hope; perhaps one could never find sense in life without first experiencing its absurdity.

-Vaclav Havel

Sorry I haven’t Posted Much

It’s weird, every day I start by signing into my wordpress dashboard, look at the stats, look at the comments and then think about writing a post, but that is usually where I stop. I get myself so stressed out about writing the post that I usually do nothing, and before I know it one day of not writing turns into two weeks. That is actually typical of my life- I’m controlled by this intense urge to escape from reality and let myself fall into a fantasy (tv shows, anime, manga, video games), a world that is completely different and wonderful. A place where I can forget about my troubles and pretend I’m someone different. A world where I can have friends that don’t judge me or take advantage of me. That’s why I’m so obsessed with TV shows, I can let myself become sucked into the world and the tv characters become my friends, my world and my life. It’s kind of pathetic, but its my way out, my safe place. And unfortunately I’ve had to escape from this world due to some problems that occurred at my support and my struggles with the issue of that girl putting me down for being to “sick.” Couple that with my need to make enough money to pay for rent and support myself and you can see why I’ve tried to escape from this place.

Again sorry for the short post, but I need to go back into my fantasy world, yes this is childish and a cop out, but it’s the only way I know how to keep myself sane without using drugs again. I just wish I actually had real friends that respected me and wanted to actually be with me instead of just using me for moral support. I hate being lonely, and I really want to have a positive outlook on people, in fact I think everyone has potential, everyone is brilliant  and I try to look for the good in people. But that seems to burn me quite a bit. I’m really lonely and I really want to connect with people and I truly thought the support group would be a great way to meet people but I was wrong it was just another cesspool.

I hope you are doing well,


As Quickly as Life Took a Positive Turn, It can Collapse into a Confused Mess

How does one break through a confusing situation?

How does one break through a confusing situation?

Just as the title indicates, my life seems to fluctuate at a rapid pace. Although my depression and mania are in check as a result of my medication, they are not able to stop life’s actions. It seems as if my life is destined to be full of pain and failure. No matter how much I fight for a better future, luck seems to have a different path for me (I don’t believe in the idea of fate, rather I believe only in luck or the lack of luck. I don’t like the idea that my life has been determined for me, rather I believe that certain major events can have a devastating impact on one’s life. There have been numerous instances where these events have occurred that forced my life in a new direction. And it seems to keep happening no matter what I do). Well another one of these events has occurred, although I’ve found a job, I’ve now lost my support group and the “friends” that I had there. I just don’t get why all of these bad things keep happening to me and my family. A black cloud seems to follow us wherever we go no matter what we do….

I’m stopping this post here, because I have to go to work which is something positive, it clashes unfortunately with this dark pit and causes me to have mixed feelings. Although I’ve allowed myself to be consumed by the darkness I’m trying to push  forward, I’m trying to forget the girl that I liked who responded to question of love with a vile response, one that hurt quite a bit (but what hurt even more was that I had told her a few months prior in a text that I liked her, but she never responded. In fact, she didn’t text me for over two weeks, but when she did resume communication with me it was as if I never asked. I saw her during my support group and she acted “normally,” she didn’t look at me differently, she didn’t tell me why she stopped testing and she didn’t ask me about the text I had sent her. That was the most frustrating and hurtful experience that I had encountered, and unfortunately it combined with my already deteriorating mental state and sent me off into a horrible mixed episode. Now I know what you are thinking, that I am not stable enough to date as it would not be fair to the other party and you are right, however, in this instance it would have been better if she just said “no,” as I would have been able to move on instead of obsessing over her and the possibility of love. However, when she sent the text message to my friend, my inner self became consumed with rage and despair. Not only did she not tell me herself, the response she gave was quite hurtful. Understandably, I had Jason ask her if she liked me, but she could have at least sent the response to me, or text me later that day. But I haven’t heard anything from her since and as a result of this event I’m stopping myself from going to the support group as I noted above. The reason is that I constantly gave my hear to these people, spending a great deal of time helping them with their issues and struggles. But when I needed help or advice no one was home, no one came to help me as they didn’t care what happened to me.

A chance to break through the confusion

A chance to break through the confusion

However, one person did help me: J (please see the previous post to find out who J is), the leader of the support group. J has helped me immensely over the last year and in return I’ve helped him. He is an amazing friend and someone I am beyond lucky to have in my life. Not only has he given me hope that there can be a new future but he has also given me a job. I don’t know where I would be without J. Yes, this paragraph is the complete opposite of the previous one, but I guess I just wanted to share with you the one positive that came out of the support group. I’m still livid with the group and I don’t know if I can ever forgive them, but I do have a chance to make a new future for myself, one that has me learning to accept my own strengths which is going to be hard because I am so used to hating myself and putting myself down. The anger I have towards to myself is massive to the point of suffocation, for the longest time I did not believe anyone when they said I was bright or kind, or gregarious, or talented with writing, I thought I was a worthless piece of shit that was a burden on everyone around me (I don’t know when this started, but I became aware of it a few years ago). It saddens me to realize that I think about myself in such a negative way, however, I need to positive and hopeful that I can change.

Well that is all for now, as I have to get ready to go out and paint some curbs. Wish me luck, so that I can make enough money for rent. Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read my blog.


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