#(also shes insanely powerful and a bit schizo like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hospitalterrorizer · 5 months ago

Text

diary251

5/25-26/24

saturday - sunday

wowowowowow!!!!!

i love guitar wolf and i also love life!!!!!!!!

today was really good, the bands that opened for guitar wolf were all basically good, one had songs that would go on too long, one was like, they do not work recorded but the guitarist/singer is so insane live (schizo-phonics) that they're incredible to me.

i'll talk about that now i guess, he was just like, thrashing so violently, doing the splits, staggering around the stage, hitting his guitar and playing with one hand while singing, jumping onto the barricade, sliding all over, falling, screaming, and the music was like, really basic garage rock blues scale stuff which honestly added to the general insanity of it, there was one song that was pretty good but i have no idea what it'd be called. just an insane thing to see, the guy was so destructive to his own body, and his own body was like, or is like, this basal thing he is so reminiscent of bataille's essay about the big toe, the places where the body admits its fall, against the upright-ness that develops, as we become as trees or heavenly. the point of non-transcendence, the pin in the side that makes it impossible. this is a liberating thing, though, to acknowledge that, run with it. very very incredible ways to move your body, to me. and the way he played guitar really was violent to the thing, just like, punching it, tapping on the strings with one hand, violent windmilling of it, the acrobatics were psychotic and it looked like he wasn't even playing the guitar but i know he was. he looks like this guy i know who runs a bookstore in downtown, like, very similar, which is super funny.

but anyways, before getting to guitar wolf (is there even much to say? they were loud and incredible, one of the best concert experiences i've ever had, like melt banana and machine girl in ways, and in ways different (i like that they antagonized the venue with their encore antics)). the rest of the day was crazy!!!!!!!! for some reason a bunch of people in downtown were getting married today, so many gowns out and about and stuff. like wow, how weird.

but also like, while walking around downtown, we saw guitar wolf!!

we got to take pics with them (which i am sure i look terrible in...) and that'll appear on their instagram at some point i suppose. but that's so crazy. they're so nice, all of them. the bassist, gotz, especially, we saw him after the show and he was very kind, we got one of the setlists and he signed it, he took pics with my gf, he shook my hand, he liked that she spoke japanese to him. he was so genuine, taking pictures with everyone, talking to them, just really sincere. seiji was backstage, but he was also lovely to everyone, and meeting him in front of the mantis was nice. he was so cool, all the feedbacking, the final encore bit was he went out alone and did a solo song, just so much fucked up playing, singing about love. and it really almost made me cry, it felt like real love, not just like, because it was messy, but its volume, inconstant in form and meter but this does not mean it is not there, only constantly ambling, it is a limping song, but powerful, so odd and sweet he is.

but that's really not all!!!

we also got to hang out with friends before the show, they didn't go to the show with us but they were hanging out. we got lunch with them and hung out for a while after, just killing time, and there's this new thing in downtown also they're doing, nic pizzolatto, the guy who did most of true detective re:writing and some directing, is doing a movie, and apparently it's got vince vaughn and al pacino in it, and we saw them working on that, not the actors but we saw like, the director seat, we got kicked out of a bar because of the filming. so funny and stupid... they also stuck up new signs out in parts of downtown, fake bs for the movie. with all the weddings and the supposed presence of vince vaughn, i kept making elaborate wedding crashers jokes. like he's going to begin crashing the weddings by killing everyone, things like that.

we also got to see our other friend who works at that bookstore i mentioned farther up, my gf thought maybe she was mad at her (semi long story about a birthday dinner thing she tried to do for my gf going poorly recently) but really they both were anxious on behalf of the other more than anything to do with actual resentments. and i love seeing her so i am glad i will continue to do so.

also, here's what i looked like today:

when our friend had to leave a few hours before doors opened to the venue, we kind of had to kill time, so we just sat outside for a while, loitered in a little zone where there were people taking photos after getting married, a party for people who got married, and then like, closed businesses (for the day not shuttered), and then we walked to the mantis again, saw a bunch of tourists staring which is always funny, and then went over to the venue.

the crowd was a lot of older people, which is fun(ny), they were all super respectful and kind, which is also nice. just a good environment, everyone was receptive to everything it felt like.

a very nice night. one thing that sucks, i broke the door handle off the fridge. this place is really ... sucky. in lots of ways. i hate a lot of the appliances and things. but you know. at least i have this stuff at all i suppose...................................................................

i also just worked on one song, more than i thought i would, so very happy with that. i also worked out today, but i expected not to. i'm still on my 6-5 days a week working out and then 1-2 days of break. this week i am gonna do 2 days of break, sunday i'll be off of working out. very happy with the effects of working out, hoping they get more pronounced as welll..............................!

anyway, i need to sleep, really, so

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

1 note · View note

eastendeagle-blog · 6 years ago

Text

MARCH

I knew I had to run at that point. I have been in a lot of thrilling situations in my life, but it was never like this. The adrenalin rushing through my body, the level of tensity so incredibly high. Covered in sweat, blood, and pure evil in my mind. It was like I ended up in the most exciting scene of a horror film. I ran far away from the fire in the woods, and as I ran, underneath the green of the northern lights sky, I realized: this is the night I’ve been dreaming of all my life. It was something, I knew, I will not regret. I knew that ever since I can remember. This plan, it all worked out in the end. I felt so much relief and satisfaction, even a little bit of peace.

I had my side buddy, Jussu, coming to pick me up in his blue Audi, his headlights were dimmed. It was parked aside of the many empty roads, as it is at 4 in the morning in Finland. I got in the car and Jussu went full crazy on the gas. He was talking to me but I couldn’t hear a word. I finally did what I wanted to do. I think I ended up in trance. I couldn’t be there in reality. I remember thinking, I didn’t want to wash his blood of off my hands. Oh, this moment is so sacred. His blood is sacred, and I looked at my hands, it’s his blood on my hands made from his blood. I wanted his blood on my hands, my face, for so many years. I dreamt about it when I was a kid. As Jussu was talking to me, or trying to talk to me on our way to his hidden shack in the woods 15 miles from Kuusamo, my thoughts were so damn loud that his voice sounded like life on the bottom of the sea. My thoughts were controling everything. I was just thinking, that I just ended a never-ending chapter, but the kind of one that fucking ended. So many dreams I’ve had all my fucking life about doing what I just did to him, how my dream became reality. Finally. How much fun I had while I was doing it, how much I enjoyed making him suffer. It was his deepest karma, and he knew this day was coming because he raised the ‘Devil’s son’, like he always called me. Fuck, I’m just as sick as him, I realized now. But at least I have manners, my mother taught me that. Or what’s left of it. But I destroyed the man who destroyed me, my life, my will to live; the reason why I hate myself and the reason why I do drugs – the reason why I’ve tried to kill myself for so many times, but couldn’t do it because it made me feel like “I” was the loser in the fucking game, I couldn’t kill myself because my desire to have the ultimate revenge on him stopped me from throwing myself off of a building. And the many rooftop parties I’ve had in New York City, standing on top of the city, how every single time I was there thinking I should throw myself off the edge. But, I never did, because it would make my father win the game. While in the car with Jussu, I was still going insane. It’s not like you do this to a person every day. But it felt so good. I really needed this and I can’t understand why I’ve never done this before! So pathetic. If I could I would do it all over again, just to relive the moment of seeing his scared dying eyes, the empty look in his face when life hits death and his body runs cold. This was the best day of my fucking life. How I wonder, would my mother be proud of me or would she hate me now? She hated that man. He’s the reason why she killed herself. Do we get to discuss this one day, mother?

But this is also a beginning of a whole new (paranoid) chapter. It’s the first thing the very next morning that Jussu was trying to make me clear. I realized my mind was still not fully ‘there’, far away from recovery, as I was sitting on the couch feeling empty but yet still being ‘there’ in the moment of last night’s activities. But Jussu is a rude son of a bitch and just like many people having patience dealing with my absent schizo mind most of the time, Jussu didn’t have time for that at all. He slapped me in the face a million times to wake me up, screaming at me. For once, I was treated like a normal human being, equally, not the kind of being to be concerned about all the time. However, it kind of helped me to wake up a little. Just the way my father rolled, as he had no time for my mental instability, even though my father struggled with schizophrenia himself. So… I hope I can keep this in control, feeling mentally instable like this, there’s a possibility I could think Jussu actually IS my father. But please, don’t get too lost in my mind, I thought to myself. And so did Jussu say, as he yelled at me, “you’re gonna do exactly what I’m telling you, and one thing specially; DO NOT GET LOST IN YOUR HEAD”. Jussu is not the kind of man to fuck with, he’s been in this business for 20 years, a dangerous man with blood on his hands. I have to accept the lines of my new boss. He’s 53 years old, smells awfully, drinks and smokes a lot, looks like Santa Claus. He’s the kind of man you have to get to know better until he becomes nice to you. Sounds like a 53 -years old me. This man, he’s gonna make sure nobody finds out as long as I bring these supplies safely to England. In return I get some stacks to flee. He makes sure I will get away with the situation to continue my life. I have to trust him on that.

It’s one week later now and we have left the country awhile ago. We’ve been traveling from the north of Finland all the way to the south of Germany now. I will not recall the exact locations because I’m dealing with crazy paranoia these days. About that; it reminds me of how ill I am, in my mind, that in times like these schizophrenia is really trying to kill me. I struggle a lot, but I try to drown the darkness in my mind by drinking vodka all day. But honestly, this is what I get in return, I was aware of that even before the action. I knew I would become very paranoid, I always do when I do ‘such things’. I had to flee from The Netherlands back in 2012, for the same reason but not as dramatic as this time. I still haven’t gone back to that country, and I still live with a second identity – I got rid off the paranoia for just a bit since that time, I mean life keeps you busy, but it’s always there, and now I’m fleeing again the paranoia and voices hit me like a backlash, like a powerful storm. These days I’m reminded of how sick I am, although I have my tricks to ignore whatever it is that I hear in my mind, but it’s really fucking bad. My life is now separated in two sides; fleeing and trying to continue with my life, making sure that everything ends up fine, literally fighting for my freedom and my peace- but I am also feeling extremely down, suicidal you could say, because well, they keep screaming at me devastating words, scaring me by making me feel so paranoid, and it really puts me in a terrible mood. Sometimes I feel like crying or whatever. It’s that bad, and I truly mean that because usually I’m very detached and disconnected from my emotional side. But I gotta man-up for now, get through this misery like I did the last time I caused this kind of mayhem. Jussu will keep me distracted until he drops me off at the harbor in France. But we’re not there yet, it’s still a few days to go.

I just hope everything goes well for the upcoming time. I wouldn’t easily hurt a random person this bad, but this was my sweet revenge, I had to do it for myself, to feel emotionally free again, and I like to call it an act of self defense for my emotional progress. It was always him who haunted my mind, knowing he was still there trying to destroy me from a far distance. This is not the solution to kill my past traumas which he caused me, but he did not have the right to continue to live a life where he’s put the sickest marks on people without remorse, without a single ‘sorry’, a sorry for what he did to me and my mother, ..just until he was about to take his last breath, his wickedness reduced a bit and I could hear him whispering an excuse. I suppose it was too late. I finally had the power over him, and it was the sweetest feeling I’ve ever felt. Oh… how I would love to relive that night over and over again. I have no regrets at all, and I couldn’t feel more satisfied.

If I have to explain you why I feel no remorse about what I did to my father, it’s because I don’t see him as my father in the first place. Second, I lack empathy and I don’t even come close to feeling remorse or sorry to most people. But about my father, it’s because he never behaved like a father to me. I didn’t really have a father. He was just there, all the time, day and night, giving me and my mother nightmares. He was a demon in our house, and has been telling me that there’s a demon inside of him since I was little. He was viciously violent, aggressive, threatening and a danger to his surroundings. He threw knifes around the house, he attacked me or my mother out of the sudden without any warning. Sometimes I think of it as a miracle that I survived my youth with him. I don’t know what made him do what he did to us, it’s his aggressive nature, which is something I deal with, too, but he couldn’t stop. There were not periods where he was even a little bit nice to me, or trying to behave like a father should. He was a Satanist, which shouldn’t be a bad thing at all, but he was just very dramatic about it. He saw himself as a “God”, and he taught me to do the same. He was addicted to alcohol, cocaine and heroin, never sober, and he forced me to take these kind of drugs when I was a child (except heroin, that happened in my teens). But he did taught me how to prepare and inject heroin in his veins when I was 6 years old, and when my mother would interfere in the situation, he would beat her up right in front of me until she lies unconsciously on the ground. My father was not really a big guy, he always reminded me of a skinny Peter Steele type of man, the long black hair, the metal -look, the angry look in his eyes. And even though he was not really physically big, he was very strong once his anger was triggered; probably caused by a combination of adrenaline and cocaine. Whatever my mother and I did in situations like that, which happened almost every day, we couldn’t fight him. We couldn’t stop him. My mother and I, we had no rights. We had to listen to my father, as we were his slaves. He raped us. He abused us. He stabbed me in the back when I was 17 years old when I was trying to escape from home during the night, as I was climbing out of my window, he stabbed me once in the back and I fell out of the window down on the ground – I’ve been in the hospital several times because of his acts. He always told me how he wanted to kill my mother, how he planned it all out, and after he killed her he would kill me. It was funny, because on the night I was with him a few weeks ago, to make him suffer, I looked around his house and saw papers full with a plan to kill me, papers and documents that went on for years. He never had the possibility to do so. But back in the old days, there was no chance for me and my mother, he tortured us for such a long time. I never wanted to take my friends to my home to hang out because I was ashamed of the whole situation, like my father saying crazy stuff, and the entire house covered with drug marks, sometimes blood on the walls because of all the abuse and what not. My father always said to me right before I left the house to go to school, that I should be home right after school to do heroin with him, and if I didn’t listen to him he would rape me. So, that’s how I got addicted to that stuff, but sometimes I couldn’t show up right after school, and I would receive the backlash during night. It was so fucking awful. It happened for years and years, over and over again. It made me sick. And I was dealing with crazy mental issues in my head, I went fully insane.

I’ve been dreaming about killing my father ever since I was a kid, because he was the demon in our house. I wrote songs about it, made paintings about it. All of my crazy fantasies lead to killing him. It started when he drowned my dog when I was a child, in the lake near our house in Finland. When I got home from school and I was looking for my dog everywhere around the house. Scooby, it was a miniature bull terrier, I got him for my birthday and it was the only thing that brought me happiness. Because my mother was always busy with my little brother Jesse, who was a baby back then, and I felt like she didn’t care about me anymore so Scooby became my best friend. And as I walked miles in the woods to find him, looked about 10 times in the shed, but only to find him lying dead in the lake, drowned, and my father was the one to blame for. He was standing right next on the land with that stupid smirk on his face that he always had whenever he did something evil. Something crazy. “That annoying bark is gone now, it’s gonna be you and me now”, I remember him saying. It was so fucking traumatic. It must have been one of my first childhood traumas. My father, he was a sadist, a sociopath, like a narcissist, a PSYCHOPATH, he liked to play with fire, with lives. He didn’t feel empathy, or emotion at all, just evilness and anger.

But just like my dog, he had been trying to drown me, too, while on a vacation to Finland when I was 15. He drugged me, I don’t know what he put in my drinks but it made me very dizzy. I don’t remember it clearly because I was out of this world, but I do remember him pushing my head under water in the lake, while he was screaming at me to die, he kept pushing me deeper and deeper under water, and eventually it was my uncle Anton who saved my life that time. He yelled at my father to quit that shit. And for some reason, my father doesn’t listen to anyone except for his own brothers. I don’t really remember what happened right after that. It’s not the first time he tried to kill me. During my teens, we lived in The Netherlands, where we had a dark basement where he did all his Satanic rituals, soul offering, prayers to the Devil, he dragged my mother and I into the whole Satanism thing. I consider myself a Satanist, but as a normal Satanist, I’m not an obsessed freak about it like my father was. While my mother was Jewish, it was especially her my father wanted to make her a Satanist and make her tell it to her family. The basement was very well isolated, you couldn’t hear a thing what was going downstairs in the basement when you were standing in the living room. My neighbors, they had no idea. They did know about my father, he was the notorious Satanist of the entire town, but they didn’t know what was really going on inside of the house. In that basement, he sexually abused me, at least once a week, as a punishment. I wasn’t a good person myself, and I refused to listen to him sometimes. He just wanted control over me and my mother with his stupid demands. I’m really trying to accept what happened, and for a greater part in my life I couldn’t talk about what happened in my past, but writing really helps. It’s just the sexual abuse part in my life that I still find very difficult to open up about. It pains me, still, even when I’m writing about it. And I still dream and see flashbacks about it very often that it completely paralyzes me to the bone. Whenever he dragged me down to the basement and started to rape me, to own me and control me, because that was his purpose, not because he was gay, it was so painful and as I was crying and screaming, he made it even worse. He yelled at me the kind of things, “I’m gonna rape ‘til death if you don’t shut your mouth”. He taped my mouth sometimes. It was very frightening because every time it happened I thought I was going to die, and sometimes, I just surrendered and let it happen, just wanting to die.

I’m in England now. I have arrived in Dover about 5 days ago. I still had the supplies with me, luckily, and everything went well. But what a terrible experience it was on the boat on my way to England. Fucking Hell. I went crazy. I was so scared the police were following me, and I constantly looked behind my back, I do so ever since I left Finland. I became so insanely paranoid to the point I became delusional when I literally saw a police man running up to me with a gun in his hand, screaming at me, I just fainted. It just went black for my eyes, I realized the voices stopped whispering, too. I woke up with a middle aged woman by my side, a British woman. She told me that I fainted and fell down on the ground, she was thinking I might be seasick so she offered me aspirin and I was all confused. I had no idea what I was saying but it was not properly English, or Finnish, I couldn’t get my speech in order. She found out that I was mentally confused and I had to spend the rest of my boat trip at the doctor where I refused to speak because I was dealing with illegality and crazy mental issues at the time. I didn’t want people around me at all.

I was happy to leave the boat where my friend Jaimy was there to pick me up. I know Jaimy from the same business but I met him in high school back in The Netherlands. We haven’t seen each other in years. We were in a fight because we both did something to a certain person, and I had to flee and so did he, and he refused to talk to me so I got pissed at him. I was not happy when he contacted me again after so many years, after everything that happened. But I had to go somewhere, and since he has a place in London now and takes part of the same business I ended up in now, he is the safest person to be with now. He picked me up at Dover harbor, as he was all excited to see me and acted all cool around me, I went really quiet. I wanted to talk but I still had to deal with the voices in my head that made my mind a chaos which causes me to speak pretty much disorganized and everything, it wouldn’t make any sense. I remember thinking, it’s better to keep my mouth shut. I heard 3 voices at the same time, 2 alien figures and Jaimy talking, in Dutch as well which made it even more confusing, so I just had to open the window and have some fresh air. I heard Jaimy saying, “dude, are you okay?” I saved all my energy to make my speech work as I turned to him and said, “no offense but can you shut your mouth for one second?” I really felt sick in my mind. He kept his mouth shut for the next hour until we arrived at his place. We went inside and he offered me some booze. Hell yeah, did I need that shit. Alcohol makes me function properly, and I’m glad Jaimy still remembered. After a few drinks I started to talk more, voices were still there but I could concentrate on my own words again. Jaimy noticed how I’ve went through stuff the past few weeks, it’s something you can easily notice - I lose weight, I have this scared, paranoid look in my eyes with a layer of bags underneath my eyes, I become twice as pale as usual. And especially my behavior tells everything. “I’m going to fix you, mate” he told me. He offered me some more booze. It was a good night.

The third day in London, I became very stressed and paranoid about everything again. I woke up during the night, suddenly, thinking

This shit doesn’t feel right. Why Jaimy of all the people? He must have something to do with this all. He has not spoken to me in years and out of nowhere he comes back in my life. Maybe he’s with the cops, maybe he’s my rivalry.

I tried to go back to sleep but these thoughts kept me wide awake. It became even worse.

What if he is trying to kill me? Maybe Jussu is my rivalry too, maybe every single person I spoke along the way is against me and trying to kill me. Fucking Hell, I need to get out of here before they have their revenge.

I got out of bed and was looking around the house for weapons that Jaimy might have hidden for me. I went to get a knife to defend myself, as I was walking to Jaimy sleeping in his bed. I woke him up and he jumped. “Calm down, man”, he said. I told him about the realization I just had. Thinking this is just an odd and suspicious situation. He tried to talk me out of it and I no longer had the knife in my hand. But in return, I wanted to look through his phone to see if he didn’t have any deals with people from the business about trying to kill me. He told me to just relax and go back to sleep. As I replied that maybe he should just listen to me now, in situations like these. That if he will not listen to what I demand, I’m going to be in the mood to kill him anyway. I need proof. So, I got his phone and went searching for an hour. All I found out was how many bitches Jaimy has and that he’s addicted to gambling games. A few texts with people from the business but he never mentioned my name. Sure, I apologized.

Situations like these happened for another few times but Jaimy fixed Xanax for me to help my anxiety go away, my paranoia for just a bit. I still hear voices but when I’m on Xanax they don’t really get to me. The fourth day in England I finished the deal, as I got stacks in return. It was a scary moment but yet very exciting, and I realized how much I missed the thrill of being in this business. At least I have some money with me now, but not enough to rent an apartment in New York City or Los Angeles- I suppose only for six months or so. But I need to continue to be part of this business for a while, to make some more stacks. I’m familiar with some of the people here. I know I can really get into this stuff again. In a way, I’m just like my father but with the unnecessary violence. I do like violence, but only to those who deserve it, who damage me and betray me. But now I have shaken him off my back, I feel like not only my life is going to change ; I feel myself slightly change. But I’m always changing, always going places. Eventually, I got rid off the biggest bug in my life, my father. That’s all that matters to me now.

0 notes

aquarianlights · 7 years ago

Text

Little Rant About My BPD And The Super Awful Psych Industry

You know, I used to think schizo-affective disorder was my most prominent disorder. . .but I've slowly come to realize that Borderline is my most prominent disorder. I exhibit every single symptom; even the obscure ones. And it sucks. It fucking sucks. I hate having both disorders. . .but if I had to choose one to get rid of, it would be my BPD. I cannot even express to you guys how much BPD has destroyed my life and obliterated my relationships. I can't even tell you how many friends I have lost due to my being BPD. Do the meds help BPD? No, not really. There really aren't any meds out there that dulls any of my symptoms even a little. . .becauae my BPD is so much more aggressive than most peoples. The most recent anti-psychotic I was prescribed helped a TINY BIT. . .but I was mostly on it to help with the schizo-affective and the suicidal ideation I had. And, yeah, it helped those things. . .but it turned me into a very unhappy person. And the worst part of it was that antipsychotics make you so numb to the world and the things and people and events around you. . .that you can't even RECOGNIZE the fact that you've turned into a very different, very unhappy person. It was only when I finally quit my antipsychotics cold turkey that I realized I wasn't even close to "me" when I was on them. I had no life left in me. I saw everything in black, grey, and white, instead of the normal neon, rainbow colours I see. I really had no desire to do anything. Nothing was exciting anymore. Yeah, these are all depression symptoms. . .but it wasn't depression because I was completely content with my life like that. . .because I didn't know any better. . .because the antipsychotic was blinding and numbing me to the reality of the situation. When I finally got off of it. . .I had never felt more free and happy and full in my entire life! Getting off antipsychotics was the best thing I ever did for myself. But, at the same time, the little bit of help it was giving to my BPD, along with the MASSIVE help it was giving to my schizo disorder and suicidal ideation just. . .vanished. However, the major difference this time was that I was on a stable dosage of the mood stabilizer I had been taking. I didn't stop taking or change the mood stabilizer. . .and it has helped me IMMENSELY in learning how to cope. I can handle SO MUCH now in my life. I can handle almost anything anyone throws at me. I just don't get affected by things like I used to. It's fucking fantastic!! Yet. . .although my other disorders have been either taken care of or are being coped with without medications. . .my BPD still remains completely and totally untreated---neither with coping skills OR medication. BPD is the only thing still sabotaging my life and, especially, my relationships. And I don't know how to stop it or what the hell to do. In fact, I don't even really know much about BPD. I know only what my psychs have told me, which is mostly all relating to me. Telling me I have a very aggressive form of BPD. Telling me that I have every single symptom. . .even the obscure ones. . .albeit I don't even know what any of them are. And the fact that if I ever want to have a healthy relationship, I need to learn to cope with my BPD or at least get on medications to control it. Basically. . .all I know is that I have it. And that it's the reason why none of my relationships---platonic or romantic---ever work out. And I also know it's slowly ruining my life. How is it doing all of this? Well, tbh, I have no idea. When I was diagnosed with BPD years upon years ago. . .I used to tune out when my psych would explain my disorders to me and tell me how they worked. I absolutely hate everything about psychology and I didn't want to hear ANY of it. I still hate psychology to this day. I think the whole practice is a fucking joke. And I think the same way about psychiatry, too. Fuck everything related to the psych field. It's all a bunch of fucking tests on human beings that never come out conclusive. No psych ever knows wtf they're talking about. All psych meds are extremely experiment. THE ENTIRE PSYCH FIELD AND ANYTHING RELATING TO IT IS A FUCKING JOKE. You know what psychs REALLY get paid for? No, not advice. . .they get paid to have a fucking opinion. To give their unwanted and usually wrong opinion out to unsuspecting, innocent, ill, desperate people who will do anything a "professional" will tell them to do. And it's not right!!! It's not right at all. All psychs do is take advantage of sick people for their money. And the ones that aren't getting paid "enough" for their liking? They don't even fucking PRETEND to care like most psychs do. Psychs just put on this front of caring and love and concern so they can get that money and so you will trust them and keep coming back. They want to FOOL YOU into thinking they care. . .GUESS WHAT. They don't. They never did. They never will. You are merely an experiment for them to play with. Psychs are just people who get paid to have ridiculous opinions and perform experimental treatments on innocent, yet sick, human beings. Where was I going with this. . .OH RIGHT OKAY. So I used to tune out everything she said when she would explain psych-related things to me. . .and it wasn't just her. It was with every psych I had from then on, in psych wards and in private out in the world. I would tune them all out. So I don't know anything about BPD. I got re-diagnosed several times within the past 7 years to keep my mental health records up to date. And every single time, without fail, my BPD is, by far, the strongest of all my disorders and most prominent. I've seen disorders come and go in me. I've healed a fuckton over the years and I don't have NEARLY as many illnesses as I used to. But BPD has remained constant in my life since my teenage years. Yet. . .I still know nothing about it. Not that I actually want to. . .but part of me feels like I would be able to cope better and control my symptoms better if I knew what to look out for. This is an insanely difficult dilemma to me. I would do anything in my power to stay ignorant on all the disorder explanations. I don't need or want to know any of that bullshit. . .because that's all it is. . .complete and utter bs. Psychs playing with big words to scare people into submission. Which, btw, everything I have described about psychs in general? ...seems to be a constant no matter where you go. Private practice psychs, corporate working psychs, sliding scale psychs, psych ward psychs....doesn't matter where they work or who they work for. They're all the same. I have been to them all. Also doesn't matter where in the US you are... I've been in various types of therapy in Florida, Colorado, North Carolina, Georgia, Massachusetts... doesn't matter where in the US they are, either. They're all the fucking same. No, they don't care. Don't be fooled by them pretending to care in order to get your business and your money. They will NEVER care. How the hell can someone care about a complete stranger like how these psychs portray how much they "care"??? They enjoy playing god with your life. "Oh, this script can make EVERYTHING BETTER...but it might make you want to kill yourself, too. Experimentation time~! Whooo~!" They are paid to throw useless opinions at you. And you, being desperate, are stupid enough to take them. The world is gonna die off. The human race is going to painfully burn to death in some fiery explosion from the sun, if we don't all kill each other sooner than that. We all die in the end. So why the fuck are you trying to get someone you don't even know to give you their opinion and label it as advice? Why are you trying to force someone you don't know to care about you? They don't...and they never will; But they can sure as hell fake it! So all this is happening. . .so why the fuck not go out and ENJOY LIFE instead??? Why not just bury your problems for the day and have fucking funnnn! Like I've said since high school, "Live fast, die young." I'm not going to waste my time in therapy anymore. I think I am living proof that therapy doesn't work or help. At all. In fact, it may just make everything worse. And all I'm trying to say is these are MY useless opinions. Don't freak out if you disagree; Just move along. People are allowed to have opinions. . .as long as they have solid reasons to back them up, like all of mine do (via a plethora of personal experience). Yeah, I know, I'm on a mood stabilizer and an anti-anxiety med and they work damn well. But you know how I WORKED UP TO THE RIGHT MEDS? Literal YEARS of experimentation. So yes. . .the psych practice is all just a bunch of mixed up experiments that work differently on every human being. Fuck that. Fuck all of this. And most of all. . .fuck BPD. I would trade anything not to have BPD anymore. Hasn't my life and relationships been destroyed enough? Why the hell do I need HELP destroying everything I work so hard to accomplish??? Fuck BPD. This is legit the most debilitating mental illness I have. . .and have ever encountered. Period. PS: I didn't write this to piss anyone in the psych field off. I wrote it to vent. Because I'm KINDA needed to get this out to the world. And hell yeah it made me feel a WHOLE lot better! If you disagree. . .just quietly agree to disagree and move on. If you're REALLY so inclined as to tell me you disagree. . .at least add in why. And do it FUCKING NICELY. Don't be one of those people. Don't be that super obsessive anon hater with nothing better to do than harass innocent people like me. I am 200% more likely to actually listen to a single word you say and listen to the meaning of your message if you're nice about it. Fuck the hell off if you're not. Kay? Fucking kay. Aight. I'm done. Peace, fam. 🖖

#bpd #borderline #personality disorder #borderline personality disorder #personal #psych #psychology #psychiatry #disorder #mental disorder #basically tagging for triggers #tell me if i missed anything fam #and i will add the tag for you

1 note · View note