WHERE TO START????....OH YEAH, ZEE BEGINNING, LOL>>>>>>>>>> THIS IS LOOOOONG!
Im 23, got diagnosed a month ago after a FAILED suicide attempt....

The day I tried to kill myself was mothers day, it triggered so much and after a telephone conversation with my dad where he was basically telling me to be more open with him, I just lost it.....

I was repeatedly raped from age 6 to 9 by 3 men who some how decided to make me their toy....my biological mother is what you call a ''SHEBEEN QUEEN". She was that drunk lady down you street you always heard stories about, from the many men who come in and out of her house, poor condition of the house and how her kids just had to deal with all this......*depends on where u grew up*.....anyways, she wasnt around most nights and during the day she either slept or tried to fight off her hang over....it felt normal for me, living like that, I didnt know there was any other way a family lived but it all changed when I met my father, at 6 years old......I didnt know I had a father till I met him, I never questioned who my daddy was because I ddnt know what a daddy was........

life was a bit different during the small occassions he would come and buy me gifts, "ILL NEVER FORGET MY 1ST BIKE"....i felt somehow loved when he bought me stuff and gave my mother money and 3 out of 7 nights we had food to eat at home......I really loved my father......school for me is a blur, dont know why, I had different recollections of certain events but its like i slept whenever I went to school and woke up when it was over.......I remember the 3 men who did things to me and threatened me repeatedly but somehow I dont remember doing homework and writing tests at that age.........
I was around 9 when i started visiting my father during school holidays and eventually met my step mother and older brother. i remember how kind and gentle my step mom was and how I tried to sleep with my older brother when I was 9 and how the nanny caught me naked on the floor and my brother standing by the door looking confused..........that episode was not shared with my father or step mother.......I thought all boys touched girls the way the 3 men touched me.......

anyways, long story short, my step mom was a social worker who noticed my weird behaviour around my brother and other male siblings, I dont know how I acted weird as I have never asked ..........my step mom had to literally hit me for me to tell her about the 3 men back at home....I got taken away from my mother and out in a place of safety after many questions and cross examinations.......that year was the best, I had soo much fun, even though I started being a bully........

a year later I started living with my father, wasnt allowed to talk aor see my biological mother and thats when my step mom became "the grinch".......i wasnt allowed to sit alone with my dad and my brother mostly lived with his biological mother.......LONG STORY SHORT: my step mom was emotionally and physically abusing me and my father being a busy business man was not around all the time.....I acted out by bullying kids at school and got into lots of trouble and went from a star student to a barely passing student.....somehow i did well in school when I was living with my mother and when I was at the place of safety.......anyways, I mostly bullied boys, started hating them, purberty came and i hated them more as I ddnt understand why my body was changing and "crushes"........

High school came along and I was put into a boarding school, learnt about sex, drugs and alcohol......my dad was very strict, wasnt allowed to have friends over when i was in primary......my dad did hit me many times when i got into trouble, its his way of discipline....anyways, I failed 1 year in high school barely made it out alive, developed many eating disorders and was obese by the time I finished high school............made friends, and i did love being away...

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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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Until recently, I never viewed my introversion as much of problem. I was told at work that I "need to be more social". This really struck a cord with me because I never thought that as I began my adult life my introversion may limit my success . So I decided to start this blog and chronicle my journey of becoming 'more social'.

Why are you so quiet? He must me hiding something...

Now this is easier said than done of course. My whole life people have been telling me, 'you're so quiet', 'you should talk more' or my new favorite 'be more social'. It's gotten to the point where some people feel uncomfortable around me because I'm so quiet. What is it that makes them so uncomfortable? Is it that my behavior or lack there of, is so unusual they just can't stand it? Is it that I'm some psycho who's going to snap at any moment? Is it the natural human tendency to be afraid of someone who's not like you? Not my problem right? They should be more understanding. Well unfortunately in a world of extroverts it is my problem. As much as I would love to live in a world where everyone accepts each other the way they are, that's just not reality. It's an extroverts world and if I'm going to thrive and not just survive, I've got to get to work and figure something out. So I'm going to be more 'social'. I'm not sure what that will look like, but in the following months, if not years, I will try and look deeper into the complex relationship that introverts and extroverts have and attempt different strategies for becoming more 'social'.

Why is it that quiet people make others feel uncomfortable?

Please share your thoughts.

At the age of eleven, five years ago, I recall calling a voice in my head the narrator, because he would refer to my life in third person, always negatively, constantly talking, and arguing with me, To this day. As far back as I can remember I have had a want to become female, purely for physical reasons, however, this need was intermittent, usually I had the standardly accepted gender identity, I even imagine being a father- not a parent or mother, a father- and now at sixteen my gender identity feels as if it has split into two, transgendered and 'normal,' while I am now 'turned on' by material of transgendered nature at times, but usually am not. The narrator has also evolved, triggering bouts of sudden uncharacteristic anger, while I am usually calm and cheerful. I sometimes find that my face is curling into a look of anger or contempt, or that I have sudden images of badly hurting people who do something I dislike, that may have been an acceptable thing to do, but for whatever reason I just feel foreign satisfaction in imagining pain.

I began looking through myself, basically just trying to figure out what the hell is wrong, and the following are the results:

At the age of six I had a crush on a girl in my primary school class, she left that year, for other reasons. This is the most definite starting point I can place for my tgism. then, at eleven, I had my second crush, on another classmate, and she walked up to me and told me to stay away from her shortly after the two friends I told this secret to went and told everyone. My theory is that my subconscious took these rejections, and the stereotypical views on geeks and indians, and sculpted from them the idea that I was so repulsive that the only way I could ever have a girl in my life was to be a girl, and so that shard of my gender identity broke away, and from this information I called that shard Lust. Lust doesn't seem to be as conscious as the narrator (who is now named Anger), though she has on two occasions exclaimed on how 'hot' a guy was, though this may be because of nightly masturbation to the idea of being a girl, leading to lust already being expressed. Anger, however, is kept under lock and key, and so usually has a voice. There are other signs as well. I used to use electronic devices excessively, even when supposed to be sleeping, but I voluntarily stopped, and recently I've started feeling tired after 11am, as if I hadn't gotten the sleep that I obviously did. Occasionally, when writing, my hand forms a squiggle instead of a letter, and my handwriting has deteriorated, and today when trying to write while holding the pen loosely, I could only make squiggles.

There may be other voices, occasionally when playing a sport I become giddy, speaking without thinking, and really jumpy, and sometimes I hear a crowd, but that may be Anger messing with me.
There's a chance I am only imagining all of this, but I don't want to take that risk.
Help me please.

I have a poo phobia ! Help?
It's been going on for months now nearly a year, everytime I go out I feel like I'm going to poo my pants, I start panicking and just go straight home! But once I'm home I'm fine and don't need the toilet, also when I'm out my belly starts to hurt like I'm going to have diarrhoea but I don't. It's ruining my life! I never go out because of this! I don't like to travel for long or stay out long incase I do poo my pants help!