The swirling and whirling inside my brain

Friend is a 4 letter word

I'm fucking useless. Why am I even alive? So I can be shat upon by American society since I reject most of its culture and "norms"? No, I don't have kids. No, I'm not married and you couldn't pay me enough to enter into that legally binding contract. No, I don't have a partner, male or female. No, I'm not Xtian and have no desire to be ministered to and converted. No, I don't have any siblings -- and how is that somehow MY fault? 

According to one of my previously mentioned "friends" I'm a schemer, a liar, and a gold digger who twists his words like clowns do balloon animals. I am so hurt by the things people have said to me over the past week. As Kurt Cobain said, "I hate myself and want to die."

Everyone wants me to get "help." I'd LOVE TO. Problem? I don't have health insurance because I can't fucking afford it--where I live, a single female my age will pay $320 for a plan with shitty coverage. So, it's MY fault I can't get help? I have tried many, many times. No money, no treatment. 


My brain.


So I reached out for help today to the only two people I cpnsider friends.  The first told me, forget about everything I promised previously, you're on your own.  Oh, and you're too mental for me to deal with. The second said, Don't have time for you any more, you served your useful purpose, so leave me alone.

How do I continue to choose the wrong people to become attached to and trust? I don't trust myself AT ALL ANYMORE. 

On the Inside

The Reasons No One Cares

I live in a patriarchal society and I'm merely a woman, so how could I possibly know when something is wrong with my body or mind? I have to have a man diagnose me to ensure I'm not lying, right? I have no value in this 3rd world country masquerading as a first world country.  My opinion doesn't count because I don't posses a penis. To survive here, a vagina MUST be attached to a penis. After all, we're just hysterical females unable to think for ourselves.

This is me on the inside

Things I Have Survived (cont. 1)

7. Being bullied and beaten by classmates for being Buddhist and because I was White 

8. Being told by classmates and teachers I was going to hell for being Buddhist

9. Being rejected by my father for his family

10. Being rejected by my mother at 16 for my "best friend"

11. Being rejected by my "best friend" so she could have MY mother

Stumbling through the Darkness

Things I Have Survived

1. A (mostly) absent father who worked constantly and was rarely seen for 24 hours straight

2. An unmedicated, undiagnosed Bipo!ar mother with anger issues who regularly beat me and left bruises

3. Being de facto disowned by my paternal family because I was raised Buddhist 

4. A paranoid schizophrenic first love who after 5 years attacked and tried to kill me 

5. Being de facto disowned by my maternal family at age 20 when my grandmother died 

6. Being raped by my boss and a co-worker at age 21



The weird, the bad, and the ugly


Very few people are privy to the fact that until age 12, I grew up in a cult.  Both of my parents were members when they met in the mid-70s.  I'm not going to mention their name, simply because I don't want anyone to ever come across this, be curious, and get sucked in.

My parents and I were forever going off to do 'activities,' as they were termed.  My father was a 'leader,' so between his job in the medical field and his duties as a leader, he was scarcely around. Therefore, it became obvious to my mother that she would basically be raising me alone. 

As I'm sure you can imagine, it wasn't the best environment for children who didn't hold hard and fast to the rule, "Don't speak until spoken to." I was much too gregarious and loquacious for a female child and I received many a talking to for not behaving in ladylike fashion. For the most part, I didn't like most of the adults because they weren't usually very friendly. There were exceptions, and I am thankful for that.

My Life

I have no self-esteem left. Beatings, rapes, constant reminders of how stupid, useless, and selfish I am have killed that. I've had to come up with a way to punish myself when I've done something wrong--usually in the eyes of family, since I have no friends. So I just stop eating for days on end. No one here has even noticed--that's how much they pay attention to me.  Since I'm a big girl, it really doesn't matter. I've got plenty of fat stores that need to be used up.  But I MUST punish myself if I'm the problem. 

Alone in the Darkness

Social Anxiety

Fear of Friendship

 I'm old enough to have come to a very ugly milestone in life: I can no !onger say that I have even one friend who I actually, truly trust deep down.  All of them have betrayed me along varying degrees--some of which I NEVER could have imagined.

This is why I don't look to make new friendships.  Eventually, they're just going to rip my heart out in the end, anyway. Why build up happy times to make the pain of betrayal that much worse?

View of the world


My mother used to beat me often and severely until I was approximately 12.  My father pretended to play the"Good Guy" by speaking up and disagreeing. However, on the other hand, not only was he complicit, he was actually the reason I got beaten.

When my father fears a bad reaction or feels he may "get in trouble," he lies. As a kid, he'd break something and blame it on me when mom asked--a beating (with my father suddenly absent) would soon follow. This happened a number of times to the point that my mom eventually told me (after beating me) that she knew he was lying, she just wanted to see his reaction. He didn't protect me, he actively put me in danger. Willingly.


     I'm bipolar and I have PTSD from IPV and multiple sexual assaults. My BFF lives in Illinois (I'm in the Southeast). He also happens to be my exact opposite-married, kids, good job, responsible as hell.  

     I don't have health insurance so I can't afford/don't qualify for counseling in my state, so I talk to him about how I'm feeling.  Only, I can't do that anymore because it's really upsetting him. So, unfortunately, that means we're not talking much. And usually only via text.

     So that is why I started this blog, not caring if anyone else ever reads it. At least I have someone to talk to now.