when I was a child I used to force myself into peoples lives. I used beg for attention from everyone even random strangers. I couldn't tell when I was being rejected and hence constantly acted dramatically. the problem is that I cant tell whether im still like that and I don't know why I do it. its like I have no control over how I act or who i open up to. I open up to people ive just met and I end up feeling worse cos I think theyre laughing behind my back.

My friend absolutely terrifies me. He has never done anything violent or harmful to me and is the most gentle and peaceful person I know (Though he is quite distant). He is also the most dangerous person I know. He usually has a calming air about him. It's calming to the point where he picked a bee off a flower and held it in his open palm for who knows how long before he sent it back on the flower without it stinging him. However, his air about him changes to absolute dread when he gets aggressive. This dread caused a dog to whimper and hide just by being near him. A moment to feel this dread is to ask him about his past.

My friend has a rather dark past. He had drug addict, alcoholic, and sick parents for the first three years of his life who were constantly fighting. He also was being watched by his legally crazy grandparents who were also drug addict alcoholics. He saw his mother brutally die in front of him from a car accident he was in. His father legally died then came back into a coma. He was physically, emotionally, and psychologically abused. He was raped. He was constantly being bullied at school and at home by his cousins. He hasn't seen his sister for ten years. He almost died countless times. He was also taken away from his father by the CPS. I was his first friend ever, and that was in the 5th grade (He was held back one year). I am still one of his only friends. The bullying never really stopped, it's just that everyone was to scared to.

As I said before, he is the best person I have ever met. However, he becomes a monster when aggressive. During these moments, he is not angry in any way. He is actually very happy when he is aggressive. I have seen him do some monster like things when he is like that. Ranging from will his way through a sleep hold to overpowering four football players. A note to take is how he is a 5' 5" 135 lbs slender-athletic build guy who isn't very bulky despite his martial art training, but he is stronger than he looks and is very resilient. When he becomes aggressive, his entire being changes. His eyes become empty and have a death stare, his body language becomes feral and relaxed, He gets a joker like smile and tries to keep himself from giggling and almost growls, the air around him becomes full of dread, and his already efficient and dangerous fighting style becomes even more efficient and dangerous. When he is in a fight, killing an insect, or gutting a hunted animal he laughs harder and smiles harder. He clearly enjoys being hit or hurting things when he is in that state. He also doesn't feel any physical pain in that state. After he snaps back to normal, he bursts into a crying mess, and will often vanish when we all check to see if the guy he was fighting is okay.

When he is normal, he has noble body language, a gentle look on his face, and love in his eyes. He will try to never harm anything and will resolve anything peacefully. He also genuinely cares about his few friends and gives amazing advise and can console anyone.

My friend has gone to therapy, but the fact he couldn't remember what he did in the aggressive moment, the therapy didn't help him know what was wrong with him. He also went to anger management, but he apparently has an outstanding control over his anger. We both wonder what is wrong with him, and I am absolutely terrified of him even when he isn't in his aggressive state.

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 ...

[ Continued ]

Quotes from an interview with psychoanalyst and writer, Adam Phillips:

"I'm not on the side of frustration exactly, so much as the idea that one has to be able to bear frustration in order for satisfaction to be realistic. I'm interested in how the culture of consumer capitalism depends on the idea that we can't bear frustration, so that every time we feel a bit restless or bored or irritable, we eat, say, or we shop.

"It's only in an initial state of privation that you can begin to have thoughts about what it is you might want, to really imagine or picture it. It's very difficult to know what we're frustrated by. In making the case for frustration I want to make it more interesting, such that people can talk or think about it in different ways."

For him, psychoanalysis is a set of stories that we tell ourselves and each other, a way of redescribing our experiences. "To begin with, one needs to understand," he says, "but I think the final project is to relieve oneself of the need for self-knowledge. It's not that it's useless – in some areas of life it's very useful – but there are lots of areas in which it isn't, and in some areas it's actually pre-emptive and defensive, and this is where psychoanalysis potentially fails people, by assuming there is an infinite project and that the best thing you can do in life is to know yourself. Well, I don't think that's true."

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2012/jun/01/adam-phillips-life-in-writing


"I believe in what you see being most of what there is… and that life's passed on to us empty. So, while significance weighs heavy, that's the most it does. Hidden meaning is all but absent."
:: Richard Ford (from the novel 'Canada'.)

Hello. I have been diagnosed with anxiety for a few years now. I am a sixteen year old girl, and I often struggle with intrusive thoughts. My latest anxiety has been sexual thoughts, and feeling guilty about everything. For example, my mom was doing something (I don't even remember what) and was sitting down and was in her underwear, though i couldn't tell if she was naked or not. I looked over at her for whatever reason and just kind of instinctively looked down at her crotch area (I have no idea why I do that when I accidentally see someone naked, even a family member) and afterwards, I felt like I looked too long or it was creepy of me. I have no attraction to my mother or anything. But my anxiety has been making me worry about it all day. I even kind of forced myself to glance at hers and other people's butts to prove to myself that it wasn't weird and they're just body parts, etc. But this kind of thing happens to me constantly, especially when I'm tired. I also always feel guilty and like I'm hurting my boyfriend for having these thoughts and doing these things. Is it weird that I glanced at my mom like that? I'm sorry if this is a strange question, but I appreciate your answers. Peace and love.