erg. November 9, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentI’m thinking too much
Sometimes I wonder how releasing it would be to abandon all of my responsibilities, to give up trying to hold onto my sanity and just act with complusion. No emotions attatched. It gets almost too tempting sometimes…
They’re back November 4, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a comment…and I’m so relieved.
Believe it or not I’ve gotten attatched to these little voices. Even if they have anxiety attatched to them, and even though I don’t understand why I get them, and to the extent that they actualy live…are they concious or are they merely voices that my imagination has figmented? From what I gather it is somewhere in between the two- which…does absolutely nothing to help me on my quest of finding out what is going on.
The Bell and The Locket October 9, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Memories, Musings, Uncategorized , add a commentAs a child, my mindset was that if you weren’t smart, or didn’t have a talent then you were useless. In my mind at the time I would have rather be dead then be stupid, I was sad and felt worthless because I thought I wasn’t paticularly smart and I screwed up at things all the time. I felt as if no good could ever come tfrom me and that I was just a nusance to my parents and to the other adults who looked after me. I used to read a book called The Locket. It was my favorite book and it was given to me by my grandmother. It was about a girl who was so clumsy and messed up everything but then her aunt gave her a “magical locket” and then suddenly she became better at everything, but the inside of the locket was a secret. One day she opened of the locket because she wanted to know what was inside that made her magicaly better at everything. Inside was a little mirror. I think the meaning went completely over my head but the dose of hope the story gave for myself was nice. Another time it was around christmas, I told my parents about how useless I was because I had no talents. They said that I wasn’t litsening to them, just tinkering the silver bell. It was only after a bit of thoght that I realised that this bell wasn’t perfect, that it wasn’t the biggest or the best or the prettiest bell around but my parents still chose it because they liked it, and I still loved it anyways. That people were like bells. It didn’t help me love myself any more then I did (which honestly I didn’t love myself and I still find it hard to) but it helped me get over that mindset.
You know… September 28, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentIt’s a little sad that even though (according to my scetchy memory) nothing really all that bad has ever happened to me, I still hold on to that belief that I’m going to do something bad to make someone mad at me, or just plain think that the default mode is to dislike me in general and you have to work your way to earn people’s tolerance, respect, or affection.
Even though I had an awesome time at my friends house this weekend I feel uncomfortable whenever I go to anyone’s house because people like to pamper their guests and that makes me feel like I’m imposing myself on them.
Probably a combination of the old belief I held as a kid that parents are exploited by selfish/ungrateful children, and the “oh my god, you are the most selfish child ever, I thought I raised you to be better” lip that I got from my dad once when he was pissed off that I didn’t let my to-be-stepmom on my computer for some reason everybody except for my mom, step-dad, and psycologists seem to think that the only reason why someone would want privacy would be that they are either being selfish or are doing something shameful or illegal.
Stupid anxiety. Grr.. I just wish I was somehow horribly ill tomarrow so I didn’t have to go to school.
Feeling well September 15, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentMy old T once told me about how sleep deprivation can cause depressive symptoms, but I’ve probably getting anywhere from 3-6 hours of sleep a night (technically not a full night’s worth) and my mental health couldn’t be better! No depressive symptoms, no real voices in my head and I’m spacing out a lot less. The only big thing is that I’m still han’t quite fixed my bad eating habbit that I’ve unfortunately gotten back into
Memory is a fickle mistress August 25, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentSo after thinking about an article I read about a girl who has psychosis, I’m begining to doubt wether or not I am too. There are alot of paralells, but I dunno. The person said that it generaly “creeps up” on people, little flashes, before it becomes full-blown episodes. The parents realized after the psycologist told them this that they realised that she had been having flashes her entire life even though they were so shocked by her sudden outbursts. I thought about this for a bit….and realised by their standards, technicly I have too.
i didn’t think anything of it, I’d be paranoid on the bus ride to school that the other kids could read my thoughts, that even now how I believe that everyone is talking about me behind their backs, that I had the power to reflect people’s true emotions in intense situations. You could say that’s just kid stuff but aparently it isn’t.
And can you really call what my expiriences with the others anything BUT hallucinations? I know my past, I know that nothing traumatic ever happened to me to create what feels like seperate identities in my head when they feel the need to speak up for themselves.
The one difference is that my behaviors are not like hers, sometimes how I wish that I could act out my feelings but I don’t because of the paralyzing fear that people would mock me for it, wether to my face or behind my back.
As I was pondering this, I wanted to make a poem in dedication to Skye, who I think I unintentionaly let down because my mind never made the connections to realise that she was in a really bad situation to do anything. But you know what? I can hardly remember anything from that time period.
From that time, here is what I DO remember:
. My “friends” were three spoiled rotten children, I felt so bad for the mom that I always offered to help her in whatever she did. My behaviors I’m sure were similiar to her own children’s at one point or another in my life, but the difference being that they never seemed to understand or appreciate all that their mom did for them. Here are the things I remember doing together with them:
. Played baseball and some other outdoorsy games
. They pulled a trick on me once by pretending that we were talking to ghosts, they would hold a marker to the white board, and then I would hold onto it too, and then the “Ghost” would write down a message. They told alot of stories about abused and murdered children, oddly enough, and then they pretended that a ghost would haunt me forever. Well, it was a nice prank for them but I really believed it was real and started getting hysterical, they really had to apologize alot and kept saying that it wasn’t real and they were only joking. Ghosts really scare me.
. We built a tiny, (and very well controlled) bonfire in the middle of the driveway during the 4th of July…we had a blast toasting marshmallows and hotdogs over it but the landlady was REALLY mad at us though and dumped a gallon of water over the thing which I swear was just a 1 square foot little fire that was surrounded by bricks and stones anyways so that was a little overkill…being kids we thought it was SO out of line and unreasonable of her, and were shocked that our parents were just as mad at us when we told them about it!
. they would play a game called psycho were they made themselves pass out and the other people would interveiw them to see what they’d say. Oh my god, this game freaked me out so bad! I couldn’t watch, I just hid behind their door, peeking in. They told me I was acting really weird and that it wasn’t a big deal.
. Exploring the woods
. This one little brat of a child who would always pick on me. He made me so angry!
. sometimes I’d overturn rocks just to look at the bugs crawling around, and feel their bottoms for warmth during those summer evenings, I’d also hop around and paw and the sand like an animal when I felt alone, if there was an island up mud in a puddle, t suddenly became a nation with a rich history and culture.
The Magical Peanut Queen August 16, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentBah. I’m feeling depressed.
Maybe writing a little fairy tale will cheer me up.
I’ll post it later though
Intoxicated Butterflies August 10, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentIt’s so hard to concentrate
Just want to fly away
Dash from one thing to another
Maybe I’ll outrun my thoughts
But that’s impossible
Alot of nice things happened to me though lately
Horrific News Story (*TRIGGER* CHILD ABUSE) July 24, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentSo today, we were talking at dinner time. My steo-dad told me this story, about how they found a little girl (to be exact: 3 years old) in the middle of a very busy road around here…just wandering. Nobody stoped to help here, they just drove by and beeped their horns. Finaly a pair of cars desided to stop in order to block the trafic until the cops came to help the child and such.
This child was…very severely abused. Apparently she went to the hospital because she had a broken arm and rib, but when she arrived, they also found out that she was sexualy abused and had clumps of her hair missing from when they ripped it out.
My mom has faith in the foster care system, that she’ll go into a foster home and be adopted into a family so she can live as normal of a life as possible. She thinks that the youngest of the abusers (her brothers) have the SLIGHTEST chance of being rehabilitated. My step-dad got into rant-mode though, about how broken the foster care system is and how they were SICK and were raised that way and there is no changing them so they should be castrated. Or killed. Or Both.
Meanwhile I’m just hoping that she goes into a wonderful family and if I wasn’t still a minor then I’d adopt that poor girl in a heartbeat…sure, it would be difficult, very difficult. I’m aware of this. BUT…I don’t want to see this little girl hurt ever again. She deserves better…everyone does.
as for the sides: based on what I’ve learned about the foster care system from the news, and from friends who are in the system, and also what you learn about abusers just by litsening to the stories people confide to me…as much as I would like to be optimistic like my mother, I really o have to agree with my step-father on this one.
Bad dream (Triggery, by the way) July 14, 2008
Posted by mirla in : Uncategorized , add a commentBlackbird, Blackbird, fly away home.
I had another bad dream recently. It seems my theme of murder has been replaced by a theme of stalkers…most of whom try to molest and murder me. This dream was different though. In this dream, I was getting married (actualy the second dream of it’s kind) oh it was lovely, the problem being that I had NO IDEA WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON. Seriously, in this dream everyone just did things and expected me to know about it like some psycic. I had a stalker too, who would sit in the branches of this tree outside our house, record my movements that were humorous, and then saved them…planning on using them for her cellphone or something and sending it to other people. (fun fact, my house has no blinds or curtains or anything, so you can see right into my house, both in the dream AND in real life) Well, I just got so damn frustrated and embarassed and everything else I just went nuts. Picking up a knife from a drawer, threatening to everyone and vowing to myself to slash myself until I die. I had the knife in my hand, I was going to do it, but, like in real life, i just can never make up enough nerve to cut myself…no matter how much I desperately want to.
Damn, do I wish that I could take out all of my pains and frustrations like that, just take out a knife and mutalate my hideous self until I die from the blood loss. But I just can’t. I know how much that would hurt, I have a very low threshold for pain, so even something like a pin prick REALLY stings. Does that make me a coward? I think it does.