Adventures in a Psychiatric Unit and Self Mutilation….part 2

img_5414..So I met my 6th grade playmate Keena in the psytchiatric unit. We were never really friends til we ended up in the looney bin together…ha ha!  She grew up up in many foster homes because her parents didnt want her. She also suffered sexual abuse at the hands of the foster system. I know she was molested or raped and the last family that took her,  just used her as a maid and as soon as she turned 18, they threw her out on her ass. My mom & I took her in a few times because she had nowhere to go. I wasnt about to let her sleep on the streets. She got involved with married men, men who didnt love her in a functional way, she got knocked up with a couple  kids, etc…poor girl.  Anyway, we were inseparable in the bin together. I remember one night we decided to not go to sleep and watch the sun rise from her room window….it was spectacular…what a memory.  We became pretty good friends…I sometimes wonder what ever happened to her…sadly Im no good at keeping in touch with people. Then there was Damon…now this boy…he was something else. His story was published in the paper. He was only 19. He was drinking with some buddies out in the wilderness type of areas as did alot of underage youth would do in a small town…I did my share! Anyway, I guess the story is, they were drunk, hanging out, everything was cool til the 2 guys ganged up on him, both raped him, slit his throat with a knife and left him for dead. Some how, by the grace of God, he was wandering down the side of the road in a daze and someone saw him. I saw the thick rope scar across his neck…it went from one side to the other. Its a freakin miracle that he survived. That event really really f-d him up BAD. I watched him have meltdowns and just cry…I know he blamed god sometimes. He was so sad! I remember him asking me how God could have let this happen.r

I remember one time he wanted me to come back to his room to talk but I didnt because males & females were not allowed in the patients rooms together. I felt really bad because I knew something wasnt right with him…he seemed SO unstable. Anyway, it wasnt but a little while later that he came out and his hand was totally mangled and bleeding…alot. Apparently he lifted his matress, tore up the boxspring and was punching into it…repeatedly. I felt so horrible and guilty for not just talking to him…I wonder what he’s doing these days… he still alive? So yeah, thats Damon….sweet sweet Damon.

Now onto my release…everytime I was released from the psychiatric unit, I was terrified to leave and so sad to leave all these people who understood me and were just as f-ed up as I was. Anyway, life and mental pain continued as normal and I began to slice, cut, burn my arms, and bruise my knuckles punching concrete or walls. It was a way to numb what I was feeling and it worked WELL…it killed severe depression and sadness and apathy was born.

Everytime someone hurt me, I would internalize and hurt my self. I have used serrated edged knives, shaving razors ( I removed the razor), broken, Ive burned myself with cigarettes, stuck huge safety pins in my arms and closed them, how impressive is that? and punched concrete til my knuckles swelled and bruised. Apparently my mom used to beat her hands with a mother like daughter!  I prayed every night to die in some way or in my sleep. I didnt really want to die, I just didnt want to exist anymore. The depression was SO overwhelming plus I frequently had anxiety attacks…they made me feel like jumping through a glass window.  I was living with my mom still at this point and I was just terrorizing her life with all my freakin craziness, manic episodes, self injuries, etc.

I remember one time she caught me hurting myself and she called my psychiatrist crying…he told her to call the police since I was a danger to myself…oh man did I freak out!  The police? That really made it too real…That might have been the 2nd or third time I ended up in the nut house…I have a hard time recollecting memories in order.

I was always terrified of going into the psychiatric unit, but hated leaving…the irony.

Anyway, so Im back in there and I snuck a shaving razor in there so I could shave my legs…no big deal…I thought. I hid it in my light fixture. I brought it up one day in conversation to some patient for whatever reason, I dont remember why. Well as it turns out, , she was brought in because she overdosed on drugs trying to kill herself. She told the staff she was contemplating suicide using my shaving razor. Man was I in trouble. They accused me of purposely planting it so she would off her self…I was like what??? I was beside myself!  Ive been alot of things in my life, but a killer I am not. Ive never even hurt an animal!

It actually went down on my psychiatric record that I did that on purpose. My psychiatrist totally didnt believe me. He was acting very angry and cold…. I mean, it felt like the twilight zone. Thank God, nothing legal was done…I dont think there was any proof of anything and luckily that lady never did anything to herself….I went to highschool with her son by the way….I think she was a teacher…how weird is that??  Im going to stop here because Im feeling a little all over the place….I will resume tomorrow.

Adventures in a Psychiatric Unit and Self Mutilation….part 1

l_57aed2df086198b8022e622fdd83b534So the first time I learned about “self Injury”  was my first time in the psychiatric unit…I was 18. I met 2 other young women in there with massive rope scars all over their arms. It fascinated me and in my mind it was “something new!” One of them, who shall remain nameless, had multiple personality disorder” Her arms  and neck were so badly scarred that she actually looked like a burn victim. She was sodomized so many times by so many different men when she was a little girl, that she was permanently damaged in the rear end region with massive scar tissue. She was grossly under weight because she could barely eat….the pain of going to the bathroom was unbearable so they gave her meds and ointments to help. It didnt help much…That girl was a mess!  I became friends with her of course. The other girl I met had many thick rope scars up her arms and she was really good at poetry but she looked like she could kill you. She was a bigger girl and very tough looking.  I remember she was sitting in the smoking room one day with a tack…she pushed it in and out of  her hand. She just kept doing it over & over while smoking a cigarette…amazingly no nurses saw. It wasnt really tight security in there. I just quietly watched and I asked if that hurt. She says, “naw…I dont feel it at all”

My doctor was doing alot of experimenting on different meds with me. None of the drugs were doing what they hoped for. I was all over the place and going through a manic episode for days. I remember the doc putting me on Welbutrin…I didnt react so well. It was like being on Speed…talk about an adverse effect. I remember myself and multiple girl laughing our asses off and repeatedly ramming our heads into the wall. Dont worry though, there was a thin pad on the wall so it wasnt all bad.  After one day of that, my doc took me off Welbutrin and put me on this horrible non addictive drug called trazadone…it was horrible…I remember waking up the next morning and feeling severely nauseated and in total sleep drunkenness. I wasnt the same at all. All personality left the building… That lasted for 6 months til I adjusted. The adjustment period isnt supposed to last that long…I was also on Lithium for manic depression…so many drugs! I really hated meds though. Except Welbutrin, I liked that stuff.

I was told I was “over therapized” by one of the staff…I knew psycho babble well and I could go through the motions flawlessly. I had been seeing therapists, psychiatrists, and psychologists most of my life, so talking about what happened to me was a very detached thing. Kind of like talking about someone else’s story. Psychology also fascinated me so I became my own study subject to analyze. I bought so many books for my own diagnoses, other people’s diagnoses; schizophrenia, MPD, bpd,  the dsm-3r book of diagnoses because my psychiatrist had the book…I really pissed him off with that one. I was always going off my meds because I felt fine….til they wore off and my lithium levels dropped that is…He actually got mad at me one time and said “why dont you tell me what to do Doctor Candy”…something to that effect anyway…he did call me Doctor Candy though…has a nice ring to it. I thought they werent supposed let their feelings get in the way. It was rather funny though. So yeah, I was obsessed with psychology for awhile there….I thought I wanted to go into that field of work when I realized I dont want to “help” anyone, I just want to pick their brains to see what makes them tick…Now forensic or criminal psychology…there’s a trade! I still love to analyze people…I obsess and read people like crazy. Im meticulously reading body language all the time…that can be very bad. There is more to tell of this story…I must tell you about Damon…the boy who was brutally raped and left for dead and my grade school buddy Keena who had no parents and was sexually abused by foster parents….Come back and I’ll tell you SO much more in the next post…

More monsters….

So I have begun doing concept sketches for my new painting “T.V. Static monster” I really hate beginning a painting…ugh. Once Im in though, it’ll get done. Im feeling very inspired after attending the most amazing art show last night at the POVevolve gallery in Chinatown! Here are a few pics of some of the most amazing creators in the world….So we’ll see what happens, perhaps I’ll try some new techniques.
Well anyway, in continuation of my experiences with the supernatural……it kind of followed me into my teens. I always felt a presence with me and I always saw things move quickly out of the corner of my eye…sometimes it was a human like figure and sometimes it was more of an animal type figure..lower to the ground. They were ALWAYS there…I was was never alone. I got so sick of it that sometimes I would stop what Im doing and yell for whatever it was to show itself.
I remember I was getting ready one morning in the bathroom and I was definitely sensing something particularly weird…somebody or something was in that bathroom with me. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck…then all of a sudden I felt a hand physically touch my shoulder….as real as can be. I freakin jerked backwards like you wouldnt believe and screamed. It really weirded me out…that was just a little too real. I was shaking after that.
I also felt like I could no longer look at myself in the mirror…I scared myself because I looked like a monster, not literally per se. Im not THAT crazy…Its just hard to explain. I would see evil…something scary and I had to look away. Lets just say I avoided mirrors for a while. I remember one night I was having a serious meltdown and severe anxiety attacks…I felt like I wanted to die. So my mom called our pastor in the middle of the night, explained what was going on and he had us meet him at the church. He and other members prayed their asses off for me and prayed against the demons attacking me. It seemed like an eternity. I didnt know it but I was twitching and my mom and they said the look in my eyes was terrifying while they were praying. After the whole ordeal was finished, I felt extremely calm…just total peace. I asked to see a mirror…I couldnt believe it. My eyes looked different, I wasnt scared anymore. I didnt see the monster. I also never saw another demon or monster or what have you or felt that evil presence since that day. I wont lie though, I was terrified for along while that they would come back…but they never did. That pastor, by the way, was the most selfless, caring, real, and giving man I ever met. If ever there was an example of being a true man of God it, was this man. He visited me in the psychiatric unit even….I dont usually trust people in the church but he and his family were different….anyway, thats another part of my story that I’ll get back too.
Dont get me wrong, Im really sensitive to that kind supernatural netherworld type o’ stuff to this day, but no monsters. Just one experience back in the late 90’s. I know it was real because my dog at the time is the one that woke me out of my sleep. He was sitting on my bed staring up towards the ceiling just growling at noises coming from upstairs…shuffling footsteps. Creepy.
Our kitchen was directly above the bedroom. You can ALWAYS trust an animal…thay have that 6th sense. Its so weird.
Thats it though.


Well, in my very first post, I talked a little about my past from when I was very young so I guess I’ll pick it up from there. I really dont know how to begin this portion so I’ll just give you more stories.
I was in between the age of 5-7 (around the same age span I was being molested)…I had a few other incidents. I had a supernatural experience with what I believe to be demons. I had just gone to bed and the light went out and bam, my room was freakin filled with monsters (demons) The monster I most remember is the little nubby man made out of tv static with his evil as hell grin. He was walking right towards me with his short arms outstretched in my direction.
(Im going to paint him. I dont know whay I havent all these years. )
Anyway, I nearly crapped myself. I pulled the covers over my head so fast, rolled up against the wall completely frozen in fear! I was sweating to death and it felt like an eternity under there. Finally, when I mustered up the nerve to slowly pull the covers down, hovering above my bed were 2 huge king cobras… I damn near died. Of course the covers went right back over my head…I was praying to make them go away so hard. I dont remember what happened after that but I know the next morning I told my mom and she prayed for me. I was an extremely fearful kid…always just terrified that a monster or a witch would get me, my dolls were going to stab me to death in the middle of the night, etc.. which leads me to my next short story…I dont know what else to believe because the memory is still so vivid in my memory…I went to a restaurant with my mom and her friend. I got up to go to the bathroom by myself…it was a very small bathroom with only 1 sink and one stall. There was an old scraggly lady in there washing her hands or something. I passed her and went into the stall. As I was going to the bathroom, I could see her through the crack in the door. I watched her as she was just standing there looking at herself in the mirror. She then lifted her hands, turned towards the stall and started coming towards me. I screamed so god damn loud, opened the stall, pushed passed the old lady and ran my ass out of there. The whole restaurant heard me scream and the manager came out all panicked. I really created a ruckus. It could have all been in my head but I was f-ing terrified. I was scared of everything. When I was a little older I also used to hear my dad’s guitar and organ playing at night….of course I always would get out of bed to investigate. Its how every good horror begins..ha ha
Ive also had my bed rumble & shake in broad daylight when there was no earthquake because I went and asked my mom if we just had one….she immediately prayed over me so I guess that means no…ha ha
I had many other experiences with “other wordly spirits” into my teens…but I’ll continue this saga in the next post…..

Something new….

thedarkAlright, Ive been trying to figure out how to go about this whole blog thing and what exactly I should write about. I have decided to give more insight/story to my past events and how it coincides now with all my f-ed up mental-ness now…my triumphs…what it took to get to this place now…a world no longer drenched in death and all the little goodies in between… stay tuned!
I’ll gove you good & juicy stuff…if somebody is reading this, feel free to read my first entry titled “Allow me to introduce myself” Its like a car wreck…messy but you cant look away


newdollfaceHow do I change? How do I NOT be me? That seems to be the question in my head. I mean, how do I not think and feel the way I do? I dont know…I dont know. Everything in my life is one big montage of high school horrors..nothing changes at all. People dont want to ever know that your life isnt “fucking fantastic, man!” every minute. They want the facade…I dont know how to do that. I can only pretend to be someone else on an aqaintance level relationship…hence I have no friends. I hate people generally so that isnt very motivating to get to know them…I guess that doesnt help does it? ha ha
Its funny really, my husband and I both quit our jobs a little over a year ago to pursue a career we pretty much know nothing about and TOTALLY relies on the ability to network with…people. He’s equally as fucked up as I am…so God has a sense of humor. We’re still going for it though…there is no other option for a career..we both have no education, no money, and no business skills but its our dream.
Well anyway, so with the additional “being mental”…My body and mind want to just shut down and go to sleep. Im really struggling here writing this…its boring the crap out of me and I cant seem to put my words together for some reason… I need purpose in my life. Something bigger than me…I dont give a crap about “I gotta sell my art so I can have a career, blah blah”
Okay, Im going to stop writing now. I thought I could properly do this blog thing and have it be coherant but not tonight…Im going to go twitch myself into oblivion…good night

1/30/09 ENTRY 1 “I lost my innocence”

Well, I always hate beginning these things so whatever….here goes.
I am an artist and with that said, obviously Im going to be a little bit disturbed. On a daily basis, I have anxiety. Depending on the amount of stress in my life or that I create, I have twitches and I constantly tense all my muscles. I feel the need to dig my nails into things, I tighten and move my shoulders and back, I clear my throat all the time (which is a newer one), I have twitches in my nose and mouth, I tighten my throat and the newest one is in the back of my right knee, I have to straighten and tighten it. Oh yeah, and Im afraid to drive.
I know this all sounds weird and I must sound like a real fuckin freak but the funny thing is nobody knows…at least I dont think so. Its really weird, its all controllable for the most part but I must really concentrate to make it completely stop. People have caught me and asked me why my mouth keeps moving (twitching)… talk about imbarrassed! I hate that, I try so hard to hide all insecurities, weaknesses, and shortcomings so when Im caught, its a real blow. I know I sound like a real loser here but Im not. Im extremely creative and full of ideas, Im just trying to figure it all out and get my shit together so I can harness it in the right direction. Anyway, the whole reason for this blog is for my own self growth so whatever you’re thinking if you’re reading this, I dont care what you think.
A little about my background and what Ive come from: I was molested by my dad as a little girl (maybe 5 or 6?)…He would masturbate in front of me and try to get me to perform oral sex on him. He told me to pretend it was a lollipop. I was afraid because I didnt want the yellow stuff to come out..Thats my most vivid memory. I also remember him coming to my bedside at night, I think my mom was at church meetings so she never knew. My dad was a drug addict and alcoholic up until a few years ago. Anyway, I accidentally let the cat out of the bag and he went to some rehab for only 3 months. He came back into our lives, Im not sure the exact age but everything seemed alright til I hit puberty and messed up things started happening again. I could never figure out why my friends didnt want to spend the night ever…when you’re “in” it, its hard to separate what the boundaries are. My mom didnt know. I know what you’re thinking, “why the hell did your mom get back with that bastard??” My mom was just as fucked up as I was and was brain washed into thinking she was sinning if she got divorced. She was abused quite badly in her own childhood. Anyway, my dad tried to kiss me on the mouth numerous times, tried to hug me so he could feel my breasts so when asked, I crossed my arms over my chest so he couldnt feel them, he pretended to barge into the bathroom whenever I was in there or showering and a few times I had to run to my bedroom with a towel from the bathroom, he would be waiting so he could swat my ass, etc etc…Im sure you get the picture. I knew I was uncomfortable but I didnt know exactly the boundaries…I had alot of brainwashing myself. I knew I always wanted him to go away forever though…the whole ironic thing was also, our family was going to counseling for what happened the first time! My mom never felt right about it all, but again, she didnt know better either. She didnt really know what was going on. At eighteen, she finally divorced his ass because I spilled the beans with something I said and she was like “come again??” By then, I was seriously a bad mess..I was severely depressed, on meds, burning and cutting my self, obsessing with death everyday and full of massive anxiety and rage and just completely fucked up sexually. The ticks/twitches by the way, had been there since I was a kid.
Well that is just the shortened version of a little of my background but I could go on for days. On a good note, Im am now NOT severely depressed or manic/depressive, I am NOT on medications although sometimes I should be, I am happily married to a wonderful man who puts up with all my weirdness and I have forgiven my dad and still speak to him off and on. That took alot before I got to that point however. So now I am left with many bad behaviors, feelings, disfunctions, & insecurities and ridiculous fears…what do I do now? It is time to get my shit together and deal with it. Its been a looooonng time and Im tired of feeling like a loser and being ashamed of who I really am. If Im going to make something of my self and perhaps my art, this has to change. I need to get to the root and ackowledge what is going on a daily basis. I cant ignore it anymore…my monster is there and it needs to be dealt with….