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Treatment Abuse, Behavior Modification, Thought Reform => Facility Question and Answers => Psych Hospitals => Topic started by: iamartsy on December 02, 2008, 03:15:20 AM
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How many others have found life after "treatment" difficult? Do you find the need to hide your experience? Are you afraid of the thought police?
Trying to hide my past was taxing on me. I could relate to people yet I had to say nothing. I am at the 22 year mark and having the roughest time I have known. I feel, I did not "make it", and they were right that I would "fail". When I speak the truth of what went on and my thought processes it scares people. Shit, it scares me, but I am very removed from it. I still disconnect. I am disconnected now as I type this. I wish I had friends and knew people. I wish I knew safety. I don't. My life is still endless hell. Sleep eludes me and has for years. Those concrete walls are only 242 miles from me. I remember the La Quinta I stayed in the night before checking in. My last night of freedom. My last night of sleep.
Now I am free again, and my family abuses me again. Please don't point out my age. I know my age. I cannot live with the parents and don't want to. Hell I want to be further than 242 miles from the concrete walls. I want to be 2000 miles away. There are mitigating circumstances that have left me in this situation. I am looking for ways out but they are hard to find. All of the under the bridge land is taken. Will I be the next "under the bridge" to approach your car and ask for money? I no longer know. Do any of you relate? Are any of you stuck like I am, please respond.
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Hey you..
Just remember.. there are people out there who do care about what you have to say.
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Thanks Che,
I was beginning to wonder. The sadness is enveloping me lately. I am trying to run from it, but it stays right on my ass. Admittedly when I chat with you it is one of the few highlights of my day. I Am Artsy
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Thanks Che,
I was beginning to wonder. The sadness is enveloping me lately. I am trying to run from it, but it stays right on my ass. Admittedly when I chat with you it is one of the few highlights of my day. I Am Artsy
What is your art?
-DP
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Photography, metalsmithing, writing, design, and digital art. I cannot draw, but use all the Adobe packages. My metal work is with forging and cold connections. The others speak for themselves I guess.
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How many others have found life after "treatment" difficult? Do you find the need to hide your experience? Are you afraid of the thought police?
Count me as one. Oh HELL yeah. Sometimes.
When I speak the truth of what went on and my thought processes it scares people. Shit, it scares me, but I am very removed from it.
I've compared the response from people as..."looking at me like I've grown a third head."
I wish I had friends and knew people.
I'm not in the area, but you have my E-mail. :) Drop me a line whenever you feel like it. As far as me, I usually wind up having no more than one or two close personal friends at a time. That's about all I can handle at once.
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How many others have found life after "treatment" difficult? Do you find the need to hide your experience? Are you afraid of the thought police?
Trying to hide my past was taxing on me. I could relate to people yet I had to say nothing. I am at the 22 year mark and having the roughest time I have known. I feel, I did not "make it", and they were right that I would "fail". When I speak the truth of what went on and my thought processes it scares people. Shit, it scares me, but I am very removed from it. I still disconnect. I am disconnected now as I type this. I wish I had friends and knew people. I wish I knew safety. I don't. My life is still endless hell. Sleep eludes me and has for years. Those concrete walls are only 242 miles from me. I remember the La Quinta I stayed in the night before checking in. My last night of freedom. My last night of sleep.
Now I am free again, and my family abuses me again. Please don't point out my age. I know my age. I cannot live with the parents and don't want to. Hell I want to be further than 242 miles from the concrete walls. I want to be 2000 miles away. There are mitigating circumstances that have left me in this situation. I am looking for ways out but they are hard to find. All of the under the bridge land is taken. Will I be the next "under the bridge" to approach your car and ask for money? I no longer know. Do any of you relate? Are any of you stuck like I am, please respond.
I understand and I also care what you have to produce and say. Say it however you want. Express one minute of agony for me too, though.
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I wish I had friends and knew people. I wish I knew safety. I don't. My life is still endless hell.
Yes! One thing I learned extremely well from my upbringing is how to keep absolutely everyone at arm's length. Hell, sometimes I don't even tell myself what I'm really thinking. But I'm not one who can easily hide my mood. If I'm in a good mood people light right up to me. If I'm not, just attempting to smile in a casual, friendly way can make nice people recoil at about 6 paces. They think I'm showing them my teeth. I'm not really an asshole. I've just been in a really bad mood for a couple of decades. As a result, I'm shit out of luck when it comes to good old friends and safe company.
Doesn't help my situation, either, that I'm living in a small town in SW PA. Nobody, I mean nobody, moves from anywhere to here unless they're assed out and/or have family here. They're not set up for hospitality to strangers and wayfarers like back in So Florida. You have to know people to get a good deal on anything from housing to jobs to furniture.... any and every kind of important hook-up. And you'd better not piss those folks off! That means I get to be the resident shit eater unless and until I can earn my way in. It can get pretty demoralizing some days, but then others are a little better.
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I feel ya.
I live in a big city... and Ive had all but 2 good friends in the past 5 years. both of which are semi estranged.
I honestly think we will never escape what we became because of the program, call me a cynic if you will but I've seen the same kind of odd personality traits with pretty much all of my fellow survivors. That doesnt mean none of us will make it, but more over we might never be truly happy and carefree. The memory and the lasting effects can weigh you down, you gotta be a strong individual to fight it, but in this day n age when we are all scrambling to survive that can be a tough internal fight to devote to. I just try to find solace that there are many many people out there who feel the way I do and although I may be in one way or another damaged I am still part of a very important clan, and I will always find someone here who understands me.
Money, family, relationships, work, stress, responsibilities... all that can take its toll but when you know that youve already been through hell, you should rest assured that the worst is behind you and if you can survive that, the rest is manageable.
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Thanks you guys. Well life got a bit crazier since I last wrote. A decline in the couple down the street. Me almost being disowned again for calling in the sibs. Then me getting my ass reamed out by the sibs on how I should do this or that, with the two hard headed elderly who do not listen to their black sheep lesbian daughter. Now I sit silently and pray that the elderly couple (my parents) don't drive too much and don't hurt anyone. My mom was driving me home, and ran into a post that ripped up her driver side mirror, came through the driver side window, and bashed up the whole side of her car. I no longer know what to do, except sit back and let nature take its course. My brother reamed me a new asshhole over it, I in turn reamed my sister a new one, for not helping me out some, and then was temporarily disowned by my parents again and the sibs (not so temporary). Yes this is how it has been ever since "treatement". Antigen, is there room in SW PA for two of us. I need to hide out. I don't mind cold weather. I just need a hiding place. I want to curl up and hide. To my friends I smile and go on, telling jokes all the way. Ha ha ha ha. Yeah right. Life is a piece of cake. Anyone want a bite? Is there anyone that can help me out? They are 80 and almost 85, and refuses assisted living or even assistance. I Am Artsy