From what I have been told, I was talking and walking by 9 months old. Perhaps it is an exaggeration, but I can attest to the ease I have experienced in school, with dealing with problems, and assessing the “right” behavior in situations.

I have had one imaginary friend, from what I can remember, since I was about two years old. I remember when he first knocked on the door, a back door with a mud room in my house, and I let him in. I would tease my Dad that he was my boy friend. He kept me wonderful company and was an enlightening, safe harbor. I remember another time when someone entered through this same door. I remember that I was handed a stuffed animal by this man, but I cannot recall any more.

When I was seven, I remember feeling sure that I could survive on my own, if only my parents would let me alone. In kindergarten, I could read chapter books and would forge my mother’s signature on the homework list each week. I remember wanting the independence from my mother to moderate my own life.

My favorite thing to do at that time was read. I had a children’s encyclopedia and learned about sexual reproduction in this fashion. I discovered an obsession with looking at Michael Angelo’s “David” sculpture. I would sit and look at it for different durations each day.

Between seven and nine, my parents split up (though, I had suspected it for over a year). At this time I began having very sexual, very vivid dreams. One dream I remember was of my self in a hotel room, seducing a much older, ugly man. I believe between six and seven I was sexually abused again, by the same close friend of my family that had been in my life much earlier, and that I had let into my home through the mud room door. I cannot remember it happening, but I have returned to a certain event when I remember I was alone with this person, and there are blank spots in my memory.

I started touching my self with my dolls or stuffed animals around this time, I don’t really understand why. I would “tell” my sister’s fortune by looking into my crystal ball. Around the same time I stopped feeling normal. When I saw myself in the mirror, I felt an intense, unnatural feeling. It was almost disgust. It increased when I had on feminine clothing. I still feel it, sometimes seemingly random and sometimes by noticeable triggers, to this day.

When I was nine, I realized that my father was not scary. I saw that he would raise his voice to intimidate me- and, I saw that it was just that- and that I was capable of it too. This led me to a strange relationship with aggression. I began to “dominate” my siblings, feel an anger that was confusing and overwhelming. I felt as if something in me was red fire hot, and I had no control over it, nor the ability to stop it, nor the knowledge of how it started. I felt like a victim while I victimized other people. And still, though less frequently and with more control to mask it, I have this sensation of being a puppet. At this time I also began trying to study witch craft and wanted to be a vampire. I would mediate and attempt to make spells.

By the time I was eleven, I was not only participating in on-line sex and wishing to be kissed by a boy at school, but I was finding attendance at school more difficult, as well as having increased bouts with anxiety and depression. This only worsened as I got older. And by fourteen, I was full blown suicidal. My parents attempted to get me help, but the doctors, therapists, teachers, and medication were so easily manipulated that no one could touch me.

I would get into these crazed, raging fits of frustration and aggression. I would yell, scream, shake, cry, weep, sob; I was frightening. I started “cutting” which was mostly scratching. I started messing around with older guys. I started lying and going out and trying to drink/party as much as possible. When my father would have a chance to sit and talk to me, he would try to hug me, but I would yell insults until he would give up. I remember that was when I began writing a lot of poems (I had started writing thoughts since I was six, because I was so private). I remember writing down, “I push away only wanting to get closer”. But when my insults would drive my father away, I realized that I had only wanted him to last through my abuse, to show me he really loved me, to force me to be held. But the minute someone would touch me, I would feel like throwing up. I have written obsessively in request for silence from the noise.

(Right now, ten years from that point, with a million more destructive actions inserted into my painstakingly fantastic memory, I believe that I was sexually abused as a young, young girl. I can’t remember it, but I want to let it go because whatever it is that I feel unclean for, it could not have been my fault and I just want to be able to let the people who love me, love me.

I want to be able to love them back. I want them to see the love I have for them, and feel it in a positive, consistent, healthy way. But, I don’t know what is wrong with me, or how to make it happen.)

As an adult, I have not been able to maintain schooling for more than one semester successfully. I have not been able to happily keep the same job for more than 8 months. I talk to myself habitually now. See shadows that I believe to be spirits. I believe myself to be in contact with the goddess, her enlightenment, the glitch in time, and other extraterrestrial forces. I find myself to be so special that I cannot allow anyone to know what I truly think. I cannot let anyone truly know me for fear that it’ll be someone evil in a mask and that they will get me, or find me out, or use me. I believe that I banished two different evil spirits from my soul last year alone.

No one in my life would ever believe the things that I consciously keep inside my own mind. I know to poke fun of my strangeness socially, so to not seem “crazy”. I am even paranoid to use the internet for the abundance of forms (such as this one) to get help, or understanding, because I think somehow it'll be used against me.

I have decided to try to get some help soon, hopefully (money permitting), by find a sliding scale psychotherapist. But, any advice, insight or information regarding anything I’ve posted would be so incredibly appreciated.

This is the first time in my life that I’ve asked for help.