Day 28 [BFMH2014]

SassyCat 2013Day 28: Do you consider yourself high-functioning or low-functioning?

In a short answer, high-functioning.

When I attended counseling in the summer of 2013, something the therapist pointed out was that I had some long-lasting things in my life. The first was that I had held a full-time job for over 17 years. Sometimes even working a PT job while working that job. Until, I hit the spiral vortex downward into sex, drugs, depression and emptiness.

Second was that I was/am in a relationship that has lasted longer than any other relationship. My marriage is strong, my spouse is understanding and an anchor to my endless floating.

She asked me to attempt to pinpoint why my spouse was and is different from the others. What have I done differently with this relationship than all the others. I remember something my mother once told me and that was “you will reach a point when you will decide to fight and work at the relationship.” I think I reached that point. Sadly, to be honest, those that are like me know that emotions are the most difficult part of any relationship. The doubts of love often fill my head. Moments I need reassurance and understanding.

High functioning. I appear “normal” on the outside to the public. However, you can ask those people who are allowed into my inner circle if I am normal. They will answer no. I often joke “when I’m in your life you will never be bored.” Because those people who are in my inner circle get to see everything. The madness, the emotional ups & downs, everything that I hide from the rest of the world. Those people get to deal with me in that state of who I am. Mostly, my spouse and my #1 fan. Those men are saints or crazy themselves. I have learned to “expel” or “explode” all of it (whatever is causing me emotional distress) in the four walls of my home. There’s where I have my tantrums, of frustration, anger, when I jump up & down in rage.  I tend to “fit” in when I can or if I’m not sure I just don’t get too close. I do what I have to do and leave.

I can “function”  out in public for brief moments before I get feeling overwhelmed or that those around me will find out that I am not who I seem to be.  I can work at a job. However, I do need time away from people from time to time. I do get anxious at public and social gatherings. The anxiety builds up, I tend to freak out a bit. That’s when my “shield” comes in a does his job. My spouse is my shield. When he is not available, I become that “on” person. I’m not sure who or what that is, but I’ve been told by some friends (at parties, gatherings) “be funny” or “Where’s the chick who is the life of the party?” or “here’s a shot you have to make us laugh.” Yeah. I’m the one who makes others laugh, like a comedian. However, I’m usually buzzed on something. When I’m not I’m quiet, withdrawn, shy and stand away from others just watching them.

The more I work on these questions, the more I think that as a person matures, it becomes easier. The symptoms are not so intense. When we are younger we are still learning to adapt to life as we know it. As we grow we reach a better understanding of it all. Looking back I see it clearly. Not saying that the symptoms will disappear but that they are not so disabling.

I never thought there was any thing wrong with me. I just thought I was different. I just pushed through it all. Chalked  each thing up to life lessons. Tried not to repeat some more than others. Now a days I look for my triggers, talk more often with my spouse. I have attempted to mend the broken relationships with my children and family. I do not see a therapist or attend any outside counseling. Now I write a blog about my issues.

I Wanted Him Today

I text him early today. Asking for a favor. (I won’t go into that here)

Got time later…meet me at my house?
What time can u get over?
anytime after 1pm
4 good?yup, works for me

ok, my place 4pm

k c u then

you feeling any better? we fukkin????

up to you. I still cough a lot. I think its bronchitis

I’ll bend u over so you dont cough on me.  LMAO

Whatever!!! I want kisses, but I understand you need your fix of me.

Ok honey, I’ll kiss you.  I love kissing you!

At 345 pm he text me to let me know he was in the shower and that the back door was open. I parked up a ways from his driveway, since his new place can be seen easy.

I get pissed at myself any more when I fuck him . Why I do. I have no idea. It’s not the best sex in the world by any means. I guess I get those feelings again, the emptiness, that needs to be filled. Some how, the sex will temporarily fill that void for a short time. I hate myself so much at times that I use this loser to make me feel worse. Maybe I should start cutting myself instead or making myself puke.

I walked into the house. Looked in the frig for some bottled water. Nothing but BEER, cans, long necks, booze. I yelled out to let him know I was there. I heard him answer. He came around the door as I almost walked into him. Noticing that he had made some improvements to the new place. He walked into the kitchen I asked for some water, he says “in the frig.”  I peeked and said “NOTHING” He laughed and said “opps, next time.”

I walked into the the living room…”whatcha watching?”
Nothing, just playing music.”
ah, ok.”
He walks into his bedroom. I follow. I am reminded to a time when I was young and stupid. A teenager, that first was experimenting with sex. How uncomfortable & awkward everything was & felt. He had his flannel PJ pants on, pulled the bedding over the bed. He laid down.  I unzipped my boots, laid next to him. We made small talk about our mutual friends.

Are you in a hurry today? or you got time to relax?”
“I have time, cause I am alone this weekend.
Where are the kids?
With their daddy this weekend.
OH sweet you can come back tonight or this weekend and we can party more.” (which I knew was a lie, cause he can only take me in small doses. I am just like him, it’s so strange how much we think and act alike).

Making small talk was odd at first, due to the fighting he & I went through. I wish he could have just been honest with me. I don’t give a fuck what he does or who he does (just use a condom!) There is more to the story, but I will not disclose any of that here.

We started kissing, laying on our sides, me fully clothed and him in his PJ’s. He gets up after a few minutes of us kissing. He walks to the kitchen, locking the door. He returns, stripes off his pants. I still have my clothes on. We kiss some more, really getting into it. This is what I missed, the kissing.

He asks me “how do you want me? wanna ride me, what if from behind? Tell babe.”

I stand up and take off my pants. My sweater comes off, lastly my bra. He watches intently. I laid back down next to him and we kiss some more. His hands roam all over me. I thought I never do that to him. I wonder why? We both have things that need to be worked on, his is that the oral sex is missing (only did it a few times) because I think of location and time. Me is that I don’t caress him like he does me.

I had been playing with his cock while we kissed. I remembered his ex had said he was unable to keep his erection. However this time, he seemed to be very hard! Didn’t take long like the last time. I re-positioned myself so that I could suck him off while he watched. I like when he watched. I deep throated him a few times, sucking on his cleanly shaven balls. (Thank you for that) and then mounted him. Our experience in the past is he would go limp at times. Not this time, I think he was relaxed, feeling easy about the everything. Not worried about anyone catching us. Both of our exes could be insanely jealous at times. It would be no surprise if either one of our exes knocked on the door.

I mounted his hard cock, slipped right in. I moaned. I love looking at him while I am on top. I rocked on his cock back & forth. I felt it long & hard-hitting me deep inside. I kept moaning and rocking. I leaned forward onto him, we kissed. He smacked my ass cheek & upper thigh. It felt wonderful.  I heard myself say “harder, again, harder.” He mumbles “harder?!” “Yes, harder.” He pauses rubs my ass cheek and smacks it hard. “Yesss, like that.”

We kiss some more.  I lean up and he pinches my nipples, cupping my breasts with both hands. My hands on his nipples doing the same thing to him. He looks at me saying “if we knew each other when we were kids, our lives would be completely different right now?” I mumbled in agreement. I am sitting straight on his cock, rocking and one hand around my back on his balls, squeezing, caressing, rubbing. He face tells me it’s almost time. I watched  his face as he lets out a deep moan and his head turns upward, eyes closed and his hands pulled at the blanket. My pussy squeezed tightly onto his cock.

Oh god, I missed you and missed this so much!

mmmm, you sure do have a funny way of showing it you asshole.”
lol, you bitch
lol yup, aren’t we a pair.”
“Over there on the table, just reach over. it’s the one I just used for my shower.”
I wiped off, threw the towel at him. He wiped off. We both got dressed and started talking (again) about mutual friends.  Sitting there I got that feeling of “ick” in my head I hear “You dumb ass! Why did I fuck him again. What’s wrong with me?! Jesus Christ. where are your fucking balls?”He went onto say, he was with some mutual friends and I couldn’t help but to get slightly jealous because he is probably fucking them too. Or maybe they stopped fucking him, because they all found out that he is a complete fucking manwhore with no self-respect, so they won’t fuck him anymore.  Making me feel worse, than I already do. Anyway, I sat on the sofa, talking about the old neighborhood, I could tell he wanted me out, be the way he kept pacing and standing up as if to say “any time now you can go.” I made him feel uncomfortable and I like that. He doesn’t know how to communicate, only through visual, body language, that kind of thing. I loved it. I got up and walked towards the back door, he had to unlock it. I no longer kiss him, like I used to, when I would walk out the door. Also, when we have sex, I don’t even have orgasms. Why? because that says to him, “you ain’t doing anything for me.” Wouldn’t most guys in his place or personality want to know that they are the greatest lover ever? I think most sociopaths really don’t care after the deed is done.
Above is a story from my self loathing past. A time when my life was spiraling downward. A time when I used anything, mostly sex to fill that void of emptiness. Built on an unstable relationship with a sociopath.  I can see it all so clearly now. Sure, I knew back then that I “used” men for some form of “high.” The high never lasted long. Like any other drug, I always felt worse afterwards. Then sometimes needing more right away. Sometimes I could last a few days, before I needed another fix of sex. I can see the self loathing. The unstable relationship. The substance abuse. The unstable self-image. The push-pull game. Mostly the impulsive dangerous behaviors. I have learned that this type of behavior is fun, for normal people. It is very dangerous for me to behave like this. I almost feel like an addict working a program, everyday I try not to fall into situations like this.
This story was previously released on my other blog.


Self Harming & Mental Illness [BFMH2014]


I just now realized that there are two different “challenges” at Marci, Mental Health & More. I decided to mix it up a bit. Answering some questions from another challenge regarding my first illness. I really hate that word-illness. Can I use “issue” instead? I feel as if I am putting a limit on myself. And I find that the older I get that the more I notice that the symptoms aren’t there as strongly as they were when I was young. Looking back, I was a wreck in my 20’s. I was truly a wrecking ball, crashing into anything & everything. I had no filter on my emotions, no filter on my actions. I lived reckless and always said I would be dead by the age of 27. I knew that I didn’t wanna live past that age. I figured that would be a great age to go out at.

Feb Photo Fest Day 8

Day 3: Do you self-harm? If yes, how? No. No I don’t. Not a cutter. I don’t intentionally cause myself bodily harm. Not to say I do not like some physical pain. There are times when I find that being spanked or slapped adds a certain sensation in my skin. I enjoy that stinging feeling on my skin. However, I don’t do it to myself.

I will admit to substance abuse, over-eating, purging as a result of over-eating (I have never been diagnosed with an eating disorder). However, I think I do have the tendencies.

Day 4: Have you ever attempted suicide? No. I have always thought of it like this. “I’ll be damned if I kill myself and you remain here. I’m staying here. I wouldn’t ever give any one that satisfaction or whatever feeling, that they affected my life enough that I killed myself over them.” Life has never so bad for me, that I couldn’t cope in some dysfunctional way.

I do remember thinking when I was little that “if I kill myself that my parents would get back together over my death” but then realizing I couldn’t enjoy it, so it was a dumb idea. I think I was 6 or 7 years old at the time.

Day 5: Have you ever written a suicide note? Nope.

30 MIAC Day 16

mia-challengeDay 16: How many people are you “out” to with your mental illness(es)? I am only “out” with my close immediate family. However, there are a few that are outside my inner circle that know about this. Most of my friends do not. I just recently shared this with my mother. Because I see most of the symptoms within her. I have been distant from her until recently. I think that this has a lot to do with it. I used to joke all the time that my mother is “nuts.” There were things that she did, the way she acted. That I thought were just “out there.” Same with my father, however, his story involved lots of addictions & inner demons. I no longer blame either one of them for leaving me when I was young.  They didn’t know how to cope, how to express their feelings & emotions in a positive way. So, both of them did what they did best. They left.

I shared this information with my children. Each one of them had different reactions. I told them because I know that they blame me for stuff. Not saying it’s an excuse, but if I knew it back then I could have worked on becoming a different (healthier) person. Now, each one seems to be looking into their own behaviors. Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

The person who matters to me most is my beloved. He is my best friend, life partner and spouse. At one time he didn’t believe in the mental health thing. There is a mental block on his part, that he just has a difficult time with it all. One of his children was diagnosed with a form of schizophrenia. He had such a hard time not blaming himself for it, accepting that his child will not be able to function with out some form of supervision or guidance. He had gotten better at processing it all. I think that with me, finally understanding a bit about myself. I was always so guarded with him, up until last year in May. We hit a huge bump in our marriage. He yelled “you never let me in, you’re so guarded. Everything is so superficial.” He was right. He wasn’t in the core of my being, he wanted in, right? I asked him. He said yes. I think I cried for about three days. I told him things that no one had been privy to. He & I secured our foundation. I continue to tell him everything that goes on in my head. I joke and call him my therapist. He listens and that’s what’s in important to me.


Why? I haven’t outed myself publicly. Fear. What else is there? Fear that, yes, I will be judged. That I will be looked at differently. It’s the same reason I would never tell people that I have cancer. I’ve seen that information first hand when my grandfather told friends & family. They all scattered like rats from a sinking ship.

Now a days, is almost the “in” thing to have some sort of mental issue. From Hoarding to addiction to OCD to PTSD. Any more it’s really not a big deal to the huge population. But to a person’s inner circle and immediate family it may be slightly different. For now, I’m keeping it a personal secret. Sure, a person can ask. I might tell. A person can speculate about my illness, one won’t know for sure unless I actually say or they themselves are familiar with it.

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Monday’s Madness [BFMH2014]

Monday came and went. I spent the later part f the evening with him. I can see that old habits are so difficult to kill. A willing victim presents himself. What can I do? I warned him. He’s not listening.

I’m falling down the hole, it’s almost like I’m pushing myself. Torn between right & wrong, good & bad.

I hear my beloved’s voice in my head. “Those men see you as a free spirit, you represent lost freedom. Most of them want to experience that again, if only for a moment.”

It doesn’t help that with my “issue” I seem to be able to become what I think those men want, need. I really should get paid for being a fantasy. I’m all good with this, until something turns it all around on me. Then I get too attached, I attempt to bail. Then they chase, I shut down. Hidden behind a tall brick wall. Some bring their ladder to climb that wall, some knock on the door, some use explosives. However, there are a few men who attempt to make that connection. They lack a certain something, finesse, charm, confidence, experience.
There are not many women who even attempt to get close enough to know me as a person. I push women harder than men. Women tend to judge me fast, swiftly and don’t linger in my life.

Only few of those men actually get inside to view the real me. Most of them couldn’t or can’t accept the real me. They stand there wondering what to do with me. Then the little girl runs to the one man who can love her like no other. He wipes the tears, he puts a band-aide on her scraped knee. He accepts the madness that is her, he helps her make sense of the world she sees through the tower window.

It’s true. Those of us that have “this” particular illness. Feel too much. Because I am feeling it now. A rush of emotions are swirling around inside of me. I close my eyes. I can see him. I smile. It’s a beautiful moment, until I open my eyes. FUCK. Reality sucks.

When he finished with “miss you.” My mind quickly started picking apart the meaning of the statement. See, it’s starting. I tell myself to just attempt it as a statement. Nothing more, but there is always a hidden motive behind words. Always.



It’s starting again [BFMH2014]

The madness is starting slowly. I can feel it. I’m pushing it forward, but then when it starts moving to fast. I’ll want it to stop but by that time it will be too late.
The impulsiveness of risky behavior. The hunt for that pleasure I crave so much. It’s even more difficult to control when I have a willing partner in crime. Tonight that partner made it very clear that they were very willing. I know how it will end. I know that the low will be really low. This “game” is too close. I played a “game” that was so close that I reached a new low reputation.
It’s always more fun when the allure of my entire foundation crumbling underneath my feet. That’s the addiction, there’s the rush.
What will happen next? I already know the answer. I’ll get attached, too attached. I’ll have to “bail” before I get to carried away with the rush. But I know I won’t be able to stop. As much as I try to pull away, to detach. I know I won’t be able to. I’m already in too deep.
A part of me wants to know how it will feel. A part of me wants to know what the sparks will feel like. will it be that same as the others or will it be different. Curiosity is a powerful pull towards the madness. If the crime satisfies my itch, I will feel the need to scratch more and more.
Since I know what I’m doing. How to I stop it? The impulsiveness? The addiction to the risky behavior? How do I turn and walk the other way? What do I put in its place?

I can’t sleep. Been awake since 1:30am, because the thoughts are so loud. I can’t drown them, oh yeah, I can “drown” them. However, that would take me further and faster down that hole. It was all fun & games until it was taken too seriously. The thing is, when I read about the “emptiness” I can feel that. Happily married with no fear of abandonment, no fear of rejection. He loves me to the center of the earth and back again. I know this, would bet my eternal soul on the bet. This is all about filling the void of emptiness, to feel…something, anything. Funny, that’s all I do…is feel-emotions. I feel the emotions of up & down. I know how this started. With a few extra pounds that have been gained over the winter. I begin to hear the words from my past. My father’s words, my grandfather’s words and now his words. Although his words are not meant to be malicious nor hurtful, merely out of concern for health reasons. Fear of looking like my mother, oh please no. My body is what I use…”knowing that we have the ability to interest and consume someone with our sexuality or ability to seduce them is a form of validation of our own self-worth.” – Haven

Keep in mind, this is not directed towards every person I meet. Just a selected few, that I put through a series of “tests” to deem them worthy of my time. Men, that will not return once I pull the plug on the experience, the adventure. Once my curiosity is satisfied and those men are used up, they’re set free, they can not return. There are two men that I adore, worship and put up on a shelf. I try not to mistreat or abuse them. However, they do not always the full sexual experience. They get everything else too, the tears, my time, my devotion and madness and clean up detail.

So I gained a few pounds, my self-image sinks down. I look for a fast & quick fix. Some can understand to what I am saying. It’s not the healthy way of shedding pounds. It’s a fast way to get the self-image, the esteem back up to a comfortable level. I need an ego boost. Anyway I can get it. It’s gonna be through acting out, bad behaviors. Tonight, I went out shopping, spending money. I even told him, “I needed that high of a good sale/purchase.” But I didn’t find it, didn’t achieve the high. Sometimes, when he is with me, I can’t get the high. Because I feel the guilt instead. Spending money we don’t really have to spend. But he’ll give into me, I don’t always like that. So, first its low self-esteem, then chasing the spending high, all the while getting the texts on my phone. The risky behavior picks up speed. FUCK! Monday is gonna be uncomfortable. Hang on, because the ride is picking up speed, we are creeping up the first hill of the roller coaster. You know that feeling you’re gonna get in your stomach when the coaster is at the top of the hill and begins to speed downward. It’s coming.

Slowly, It’s Starting to Make Sense

Blog for Mental Health 2014 ProjectI’ve read a lot, since I’ve challenged myself to blog about certain mental health issues that I have.

One thing I have noticed is that more and more people are “coming out” with their illness. I foresee this to be more of a badge of popularity.  Maybe I’ve just been living behind the curtain of ignorance. Also, I view that this will be more of an online thing, not a society thing. In the real world, the world where you see that individual walking & talking to themselves at the bus stop as you drive by, having a mental illness won’t be a desired badge.

Like I said, maybe its just me. Looking at issues strangely, blindly. The reading I have done so far, makes my head hurt. That light bulb keeps turning on, due to all the thoughts connecting, shedding light on my life where there was darkness, mostly confusion.

I look back on my past behavior and think “Holy Shit!” Thankful that I’m not dead or living a life of unhappiness on a consist level. I looked at something today that I seen myself in.

Mistrust, Impulsivity -> Social Stress, Interpersonal Interactions -> Emotional distress, Impulsive Behavior, Paranoid Thinking-> Rejection of/distancing from others, Dissociation.

WOWZERS! Totally makes sense now. Wasn’t to keen on the idea of paranoid thinking. However, I can see it now. It’s what I used to call “over thinking” a person. I would replay thoughts or actions of a person over in my head to analysis their reaction. Then I would read into it that action more than was necessary. To this day I still attempt to analysis my interpersonal behaviors. Then there are times that when I completely pull away from people. I try to “read” others so that “fear of rejection” doesn’t become a reality. This is like being an addict. It’s one day at a time. Now that I have some knowledge, it’s learning how to break the dysfunctional cycle of thinking & behavior. Then again, I think everyone is mentally ill to some degree, some function better than others.  Some days are just better than others, sometimes feeling like I’m muddling through life. I feel awful about bringing kids into the world. Geez. How fucked up are they gonna be? Never mind, I already know the answer. Being raised by fucked up parents, I know…now I have fucked up kids. This can really be depressing to think about over & over & over. However, my kids look at me as kind of normal with a few issues that were the result of having fucked up parents. *laughing*



30MIAC Day 8

Day 8:  What age you were diagnosed at?  At what age do you think your symptoms began? (You can make a timeline)

I was recently diagnosed with the one “main” disorder. Just last year, after seeking professional advice about why I behaved, acted in the manner in which I did. I guess, I got tired of being sick & tired. Ha.

For my ADHD, I think I’ve always known I had it. It was dealt with mental, verbal abuse in parenting. I think back to my school age years, failing miserably in school. Getting yelled at when I got home about not doing trying hard enough. Going to catholic school, a child who couldn’t sit still was made to sit still. I learned quickly.

My PTSD was diagnosed after my motorcycle accident, has been confirmed after the last car accident in 2009. It was about 3-4 months after my motorcycle accident in 2004 when I started having the nightmares. It was when the doctor stopped giving me the medication for the pain. However, the doctors had told my Beloved in the hospital to look for behavior changes, mood swings, severe headaches and most importantly was personality changes. I would wake up from my dreams, sweaty, breathing heavy and just in a panic. It was like the pain meds numbed my memories. Once I could start remembering, I couldn’t stop remembering. The memories would crash into daily life. Once I dealt with those memories, talked about them over & over. I felt a bit better.

My car accident, triggered it all over again. I can hear the sound of smashing metal, brakes squealing. I can see the accident happen in my head like it just happened. But I will say this, As quickly as the memories flood in, the are quickly washed away as fast.

Every now & again I have minor anxiety attacks driving through intersections on a green light. When I don’t know when the light will change to red. Because the fucking bitch who hit me turned left on a green into oncoming traffic. I get a little jumpy, will slow down if I can’t see oncoming cars. I used to be a speed freak, reckless driving was a thrill. Which is a “symptom” of the bigger diagnosis. I would always be speeding, surprising I never had any serious accident when I was younger. All the accidents that I have ever had are always the other person’s fault.

The mild seasonal depression was acknowledged in 2007. Triggered by my only daughter moving out at age 17 to live with her 21 yr old boyfriend. I spiraled out of control that Christmas season. I had noticed years before that my behavior changed in September and lasted until February. However, in ’07 is when the SAD was at its worst. The drinking, drugs, the sex. All out of control. Anything to numb the lost of my child. The attitude became one of defiance & total disregard for any consequences for my actions.  I had looked back on my journals when I hit a bottom. I noticed a behavioral pattern. Mostly at work, I would get so rebellious that I would end up with some sort of suspension or verbal warning.

I was given the regular anti-depressant meds. I would try them out, hated the side effects. I finally settled on Cymbalta & Wellubrtin I would take those starting in late August til March. Now, I don’t take any of them. Why? Funny. But since I was falsely dismissed from my municipal job, I no longer feel stress & pressure. Hell I don’t even go to the Chiropractor monthly like I used to due to the migraines. Since understanding more about these issues, I have been working on different ways to cope. I think I do well now a days.

All these illnesses overlap, sometimes one will flare up more than the others. I just like knowing I’m not losing my mind. That I know why I am this way. What I can do to make my life better. Most important I know that my best friend is there for me. There to assist me with whatever I ask him. Admitting that I can’t do it alone.



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