I am Hartlepool_lad, I have tried to type my experience on the blog about seven or eight times but each time I have erased it, the abusive voice in my head yells at me that no one is interested in my story and that I am alone, pathetic and other words that have been planted in my mind which I don't wish to reveal at the moment.

My systematic mental and physical destruction was to start almost immediately, I couldn't call or meet friends I had to explain where I'd been why I'd had to go there and what I had been doing while there and who had I spoken to, my phone and internet were checked as were my texts and e-mails. Bank account details were demanded and checked almost daily and a reason had to be forthcoming if I had withdrawn money, receipts were checked if I had paid for anything with my card, I was cut off from contacting family as she would put it “this is the only family that matters to you now” this was being constantly shored up with abuse of the type that I was crap at what I do, a useless person and painful insults that I can only shudder at now, I was verbally abused everyday, physically abused every day, I have been beaten, punched, kicked, humiliated, stabbed, had buckets of hot bleach thrown over me her aggression hightened if the house wasn't clean enough the dish washer hadn't been emptied or the ironing hadn't been done exactly how she wanted, constant accusations of infidelity, squandering money, being a useless person.

Then the torture of previous relationships started, I was given full and frank details of all the one night stands she'd had, I was informed by an ex friend of hers that she'd had threesomes and multiple encounters in one weekend.

She would regale me with the sordid details of these encounters and once estimated she'd had in excess of two hundred that she could remember and not counting the drunken one night stands she couldn't, all the while telling me that I was worthless, useless, a crap person etc.

It all came to a head in September 2005 when after months and years of such brutal torment the stress levels had reached such levels that my brain shut down for three days, I didn't know who I was, anything about myself, what I did for a job, my past anything.

I was diagnosed with P.T.S.D. Dissociative Amnesia, severe depression, social phobia and I have lost everything, my memories of my life are just shadows, the event is, as always right at the front of my eyes, she still haunts my mind and still continues to influence me inside my head, I have no respite.

Hartlepool_lad.

so i have d.i.d. (dissociative identity disorder) and one of my alters is named benji. benji is an 8 year old boy in the body of a 18 year old biologically female. i have no issues regarding my gender or sex and feel i was born in the right body. benji has such bad dysphoria that he hates coming out, refuses to look at himself in the mirror, refuses to take pictures, and everyone can feel how much sad it makes him. last night was the final straw though when my mom wanted to take pictures and he was co-fronting with me he started to cry because he asked her why she needed to take them. my mom dismissed his feelings and i just want to help him. anyone have something similar to this or have any ideas on how to help? i am so lost right now...

I am 27 and have lived with cutting for most of my life lately I have put quite a lot of thought into when in started or why I started. I think back and remembered cutting at 11 years old why I did it not a clue could have got in trouble or something but it was a *mod edit* razer yet its been months scents I have shopped for the in boulck there still around. its been 16 years I have been cutting....

Today day and time 20th:
Its been hard lately I know what I do is far from OK good or safe
A key that keeps me going to deep or bleed for to long is the thought of tears on my sisters face.
I'm do to have a son in two months.
Her head games to help this time I'm going through.
Its been three days every night shower on blade out cut *mod edit* times upper arm tell my heart slows to a mild beat a twitch here a twitch there I fill like I'm taking to far waking up or fading out in a tub of my sin filled blood

Not really sure why I'm writing all I know is I'm lost only wish I can cry it out ....

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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Hello dear reader, I've recently discovered my disorders and wrote something a while ago in a blog. Sorry if it's too long but I can't really divide it into part, you may find it very boring but I want to thank you to whoever read the whole thing or even just looked at!

Introduction, burning iceberg/frozen flame
I’m not very good at writing; in fact I suck pretty much at everything.

I think of myself as a walking bag of issues. I’m a highly sensitive person, I have borderline personality disorder, social anxiety, I have little bit of OCD and ADD and I often think that I’m bipolar.

I understand that everybody goes through some kind of stress in their lives and that other people might have bigger problems than me…honestly I don’t give a ###$, ###$ those people! ###$ people who judge ( I do that sometimes too but then I get punished at night by my over thinking habit), ###$ people who pretend to be nice, ###$ overconfident people, ###$ people who are shy, ###$ people that like politics, ###$ people that are into religion now that I think of it, ###$ everybody! Myself included!!

I’m sorry I didn’t meant to offend anyone (maybe I did), so I have extreme mood swings(as you’ve already noticed), sometimes I wanna meet people but most of the times I hate people. It’s probably because of my social anxiety, every time I’m in public I feel like everybody’s staring at me, I always thought it was some teenage stuff and that it would eventually subside but it never truly did, in fact sometimes I feel like it’s gotten worse. Each pair of eyes feels like a burn and I start sweating and panicking and I keep telling myself “oh god why are people staring at me? Is it because I’m overweight? (at a time I was but even after I lost weight I felt the same way) is my hair messed up?” Sometimes I do feel ok when I’m in public, most of the time it’s when I’m drunk or in an extremely good mood, unfortunately both don’t last very long and don’t happen very often and sometimes are mutually exclusive.

I feel like I’m the ugliest person in the world, the most weird too but at the same time I realize that I’m just an ordinary guy, nothing special at all. Other times I label myself very special because I’m pathetic and I want that pity but there’s just no one in my world that would ######6 understand me so I only have myself, which is just not enough but sometimes can be overwhelming. My biggest fear and my biggest enemy are both- myself. I tend to over think stuff, stuff that other healthy normal people don’t even care about, don’t notice. I like to analyze my day right before going to sleep, every ######6 time. Every time before going to sleep my brain’s like “Oh you wanna rest? ###$ that! Let’s go through all the ###$ up $#%^ that happened today. The mean stuff people said to you or you said to them. The stupid awkward situations you put yourself or others to, about how it’s gonna haunt you for a couple of years until you do something more ###$ up, which is gonna happen pretty soon by the way.

I always feel lonely and sometimes I just wish I had a girlfriend, actually every guy wants that…but then I remember what it’s like for me to be in a relationship with someone. It’s ######6 hell, both for me and for the unluckiest girl in the world who agreed to be in a relationship with me. Whenever I’m in a relationship (which is SUPER rare now) I tend to idealize (or even idolize) my partner and I cling very tightly to that person. Thinking she can understand me, support me and just always be there (which is literally ALWAYS) and of course eventually I get disappointed, always. Because I’m a selfish bastard, the very kind of people that I hate. It is part of the curse of having the borderline personality disorder, no one will ever be good enough for you and you’re never gonna be good enough for anyone as well. When people I’m really attached to stop messaging me or talking to me for whatever reasons (busy, not in the mood) I instantly take it the wrong wa...

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