my father always was suspicious as to why i get really anxious any time my boyfriend leaves. he thought i was doing drugs with him or something - i'm straight edge, so no, i'm not doing any drugs that cause some sort of anxiety disorder. though i did think about how whenever my boyfriend leaves i get anxious. even so when i'm with him i start to get anxious because he's leaving soon. this only happens with him. i automatically assume i'm never seeing him again. i panic and feel as if i cannot feel okay without him. i absolutely hate this, i don't know how to change it, the only thing i've tried is distancing myself but that only leads to emotional distance in the relationship and makes everything worse. i don't know what to do. i don't want to depend on him to feel okay.

I am a victim of sexual abuse. Most of my previous posts were usually pretty short and very vague about my situation. They were mainly used for ranting, so I didn't expect anyone to read them. Then, I began to realize from being on this website, that this would be a safe enviornment to talk about things. So, here it goes; I am a teen girl, who began getting sexually abused by my step brother in the seventh grade. It went on for two years, until I finally told my mom, which she refused to do any thing, because she didn't want to leave her boyfriend. I am now living with my Dad, and my mom and her boyfriend are now married. The last couple years have been a huge roller coaster of events, from my maternal grandmother dying, my Dad getting custody over me, my little sister getting beaten by my mom, and me finding the two things that I have eternally fallen in love with; Zachary and roller derby. I want my junior year to be the mark of my synapse. I know I still have a long way to go, and I will still have troubles ahead, but this time, I will fight.

What is your definition of psychology ?

I am an 18 yrs old female. I want to have a real relationship, but everytime i get the chance the same thing happens. We hang out for a bit, every thing is great we get to know each other and all that gooey mushy stuff, then as soon as we have sex I lose interest in the guy. and its not like the sex is horrible i mean there was one or two times but most of the time its f-ing great. regardless i lose interest and then i want nothing to do with the guy. sometimes we try and be friends but it just becomes awkward. whats wrong with me?? i try to have feelings but they are none exsitent, why is tht? i am not a promiscous person at all, I havent had sex in forever because of this (6 months and counting).Its hard for me to actually express my feelings. My ex told me i was a robot cold and emotionless. i would just like some opinions on this whole situation. I discussed this with some close friends and they tld me i should see a therapist because i might be a psychopath.

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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