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 ...

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My Fiance won't stop masturbating. We've been together for a year and a half. In that time, we've had sex at least twice a week, average. And he has been able to finish only a handful of times. I have begged him to stop. Tried to explain to him how awful I feel when I can't make him finish. Nothing works. Today, we had a big fight about it. Because he told me, yet again, he hasn't stopped. He tried to compare the fact that I cannot finish during sex to him not being able to. He makes me finish every time we attempt to have sex, it isn't vaginally but it still makes us both feel good. He was mad at me for not having the ability to finish while he is inside me. Something I can't help, something out of my control. He thinks that is the same despite the fact that this wouldn't even be an issue if he would just stop masturbating. Claims that if I can't, its okay that he doesn't even though it makes me feel awful knowing he is just going to do it later. We are getting married, planning our life together. What if we can't have children because we can't have sex? What if we end up resenting each other because of this? Am I wrong or crazy to think that something has to be done?

I'm a teen and I have an Anxiety and Depression disorder, I'm not positive but I may also have mild OCD. I'm really new too this website and forums so sorry if I do this wrong . I have so much running through my mind right now that it's really hard to decide what to say, so sorry again if what I say doesn't make sense. My parents have always been the over-protective type, both of their childhoods sucked and apparently they were both bullied tons. Unlike them, I was never bullied at school or anything like that I quite liked it, but I hate it at home. My parents like to start a fight over basically everything, either if it's with me or with each other, but either way, it always ends up my fault. I have a younger sister too, she's currently the age of 10 and I'm pretty sure she stopped aging at 6. I mean she's always had it easy, and her attitude towards me has never changed. I was never allowed to watch TV other then Family channel or Disney until late Grade 6, but she started as soon as I did... Meaning she was only in grade 2. Meaning, my mum thinks that everything I can do or/have she can do or/have. Moving on, my mom always treats me like I am her when she was my age. She decided I was a Tom-boy, that I don't like "girly things" like clothes, make-up, dating, going to the mall, going to the spa or looking good. And she really had be convinced that I was that person for a while, but once I was a little older (around 10, but not the dating part tbh none of my friends have even dated before.) I noticed that all my friends liked those things now too. I was getting older, and I wanted to act more like my gender. That's normal isn't it? Well, after all my friends changed more "girly" then they were before, I thought I should too and not just because they were but because I felt like I wasn't being who I really was. But to be completely honest, I was scared to change. Strangers looked at me and saw the fun-crazy-weird kid, the one that didn't want to grow up. And apparently my parents thought that too, so when I did start looking at different clothing at the stores when me and my mom went shopping she would say things like; "Oh no, that's nothing like you." or "Don't you think thats a bit too fancy?". When really all I would be showing was casual clothes, clothes that my close friends wore. My anxiety would kick in and I would just shut-up, agreeing to whatever she bought me. What really confuses me about this is that she always complains about the terrible clothing her mom bought her when she was a kid/teenager, and I thought that would make her want to treat me better? But I'm a teen now and guess what, you will still only find pairs of jeans and leggings in my closet with basic tees and you will only find a pair of runners and a pair of gumboots on the shoe rack that belong too me. It's not fair that I'm not allowed to grow up, I'm not allowed to be a girl, that I have been stuck in the same hole for my whole life and it's only getting bigger. All my friends wear mascara, a bit of eyeliner, eye shadow, lipstick, and all that crap, but I can only wear concealer and a bit of foundation (whatever the difference is) to hide my acne. Note: My friends are good friends, my parents have no problems with them and I have known them my whole life. Even though I'm currently only talking about 2 of them, because technically the rest left me for some unknown reason. But I do have other friends, although they are all online . Onto another subject now, remember it may not seem like much so far but thats because it's all the little things that build up inside of me. My parents like to fight with me or each other ALL THE TIME, it's really bad. When its just the two of them fighting, and it's...

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I have been wondering this for a while now. Ever since I was little, my Mom tried to fit in with her boy friend's life style. The guy could have been a raging alchoholic, who was a complete ass(most of them were) and she would stay with him, no matter what. Last year, I told my mom that my step brother had been sexually abusing me for a little over two years. When I told her, she at first seemed shocked and had called him in the room with my step dad. They kicked him out of the house for two days; during those two days, my mom didn't talk to me, yet alone speak to me. She began making me feel guilty for getting in trouble, and even tried bribing with my graduation dress for my 8th grade ceremony. I eventually gave in, and they moved him back in. I was forced to live with him for six months, until I ran away to my dad's house. The thing that I have had trouble coping with is how she could have just turned away from me. It hurts so much. I would have maybe understood if she was a dad, since they don't really go through the pregnancy and the pain mothers feel. I have just have had the hardest time grasping how my mom could have just left me like that. She told I could tell her anything. Why would she have done that? I'd like to assume she just has some mental illness that she had never told me about, but maybe she just didn't care what happened to me.

Mood: Exhausted
Listening to: Blake Shelton - Sure be cool if you did


It is one of those nights where I cannot get my mind to shut up. I am so sleepy but alas it manages to escape me. Racing thoughts and the like, This is my first time online today and it is 4:45 am so I guess that would technically mean that I was not online at all yesterday. I have not been able to focus enough on one thing to read a book. That is very stressful as reading is an outlet for me, I have my youtube playlist playing on shuffle so I don't even have to make a decision about a song cause right now my mind won't let me even think on it enough. I thought coming on here and writing for a bit would make me feel better or at least give me something to do but even now it is difficult to focus enough not to stray the subject. I love music there is rarely a time in my life that music is not playing. I listen to just about every genre I can think of with the exception of polka. Lately when I try to go to sleep paranoia takes over, it seems like the moment I become "still" the $#%^ hits the fan so to speak. Paranoia,agitation, conversations in my head with more than one voice. WTF? I moved across the country and have yet to see a therapist or mental health professional for that matter. I have been off meds since roughly June. I sometimes feel like I am watching my life play in front of me like a movie without the option to react. I mean my body is reacting but I am not, what the hell is that about? The other night I went to bed around 3 am to try to sleep but the moment I stopped listening to music and reading articles online and settled down in my bed with the lights off it got ugly. First the paranoia set in, it was extreme. I felt like I was screaming inside my mind but no sounds escaped me. It seemed endless then a soft little crying voice was in my head like a thought but not my thought. Then the weirdest thing happened.... I got this mental image of a little girl crying holding a teddy bear curled up in a corner. I don't know how I knew but the little girls name is Sophia and she is 6. I have never seen this little girl before so how would I know her in my mind? Let me say this, My name is not Sophia and I have never personally met anyone by that name. After the image of the little girl left the "screaming" in my head started back up. I don't know.... I am lost and not sure what is going on. After that night I called and made an appointment with a dr in the new town I am in. I am nervous about going to a new dr, I do not trust easily and I don't know if I can open up to them.