I love my brain!

I feel bad for things that really dont have feelings. Its just the way I am.

I feel bad if i use one towel more then another. I feel bad If i dont listen to a whole song. I feel bad If I dont leave a little water at the bottom of my water bottle. I hope if someone poor needs a drink and is digging through the trash, they will at least have a sip of water.

I feel bad i roll my eyes at someone. I fear that that person’s loved ones who have died will curse me for being rude to them.

I hope the spirits cant hear my thoughts, because some of them are really not nice.

Thats why i love my brain. I can think all i want and as long as if i dont say it aloud, i am okay.


I HATE nighttime ~

I really hate the night time. I had the dark and i hate to sleep. Everything bad that happens to me, is at night. EVERY Time i went to 2S psych ward, was in the middle of the night except for my last lock up.

I get depressed in the dark and my anxiety kicks in.

If i didnt have to sleep, i totally wouldnt.

I dont feel safe at night, thats when the burgerlers come.

In the psych ward i got used to the bright lights out side my window. I would stare at that light until i fell asleep.

I also had perfect view of the emergency helicopter.

It was nice to fall asleep to.

I remember when i was little, me and my friend D got locked in a closet. we were terrified and DAd found us crying like heck. It was scary for a 6 year old!

Crazy? WHO ME!?

When my psychiatrist told me i had schizophrenia, i was a little freaked out. I have heard the word a few times before, and to me all i thought was it meant crazy.

I was so scared i was crazy!

After that, i questioned everything i did. “Is this crazy?” ”

I was embarrassed. But nobody really explained to me what schizophrenia really is.

A chemical imbalance.

My body changes daily, which means lots of med adjustments.

But, i am not crazy. Far from it!

Evil Step Mother!~

I used to argue with my first step Mother all the time. I was not happy living in her house. She was mean. One day i had enough, i tried to run away. My Dad caught me at the abandoned building next door. I planned on living there.

I love my Dad, but it hurt when he and my step mom fought and Dad would leave me there with her. She would spend the next hour blaming me for everything they fought about.

It was always my fault. She would read my diary. I wasnt allowed to go to my REAL mom’s house until i finished a LONG ridiculous list of chores. If i missed one spot of dirt, i got no allowance for the week.

I refused to talk to her in the car. I just felt so uncomfortable. She accused me of using drugs.

I have never hated anyone as much as her.

I believe one of the big factors of me being admitted into my first psych ward was because of her.

She would give me the broken chair at dinner time.

I wasnt allowed to shut my bedroom door.

She didnt love me, i know that. Thats okay, cuz i didnt love her either.

Its been 13 years since i have seen her. But that doesnt stop me from having nightmares of her.

BUT> I wont give her the power to ruin my life. I am in a much better place now. I am happy now!



I started to listen to voices at the age of 8!!

I have always had a vivid imagination. Since i was little, i used to create stories with my Barbie dolls. I had MANY invisible friends, who were so real to me.

I dont know when, or how, but one day all those invisible friends, became a serious part of my life. I began talking to them as if i were talking to one of my classmates.

I started to listen to what they told me to do, at the age of 8.

Billy told me to throw my underwear out the window, so i did.

I attempted to strangle myself when i was about 10.

My new freinds that lived in my head were becoming a problem.

I was started in therapy at a very young age. But we never talked about those issues. It was always about my parents divorce.

If only i got help at the age of 8 instead of waiting till i was 16, my life may be different.


Where it all began!:

I walked down the hall wondering who noticed me and who didnt. Did they know half the things i saw lately were hallucinations.

THey just assumed i was on drugs. But i wasnt.

I was an undiagnosed 15 year old girl. I wasnt on any medication, i didnt even like to take Advil.

I opened my locker and looked in my little locker mirror. I looked into my dark eyes. They seemed darker then usual.

I grabbed my notebook and went to class.

I was in English class, not hearing a word my teacher said. I was more interested in Cereal and numbers.

I guess my teacher noticed my lack of attention. He called me to the hall.

I backed up against the locker scared what he was going to do.

“You okay?” He asked. I nodded. He gave me a look like he didnt believe me.

So he sent me to my best friend, the guidance counselor. (not) She sent me to the nurse, my other best friend.

THey judged me when i was in a psychotic state. I could not help what i was doing. I got sent home early a lot.

Finally, my parents brought me to my very first shrink. I finally had a diagnosis. Depression.

I was put on Paxil. My very first medication.

Age 15, 16 and 17 were the toughest years of my life. I Had a lot of firsts.

First meds, first shrink, first diagnosis, first suspension, first hallucinations.

It was terrible!

All i wanted to do, was get out of that school.

when i turned 16, my parents took me out of that school. My prayers were answered and i was enrolled into a school that understood me and my actions.

I was finally happy.


I was Sad, Cold and Depressed….


Almost 13 years to the day, I was in Westwood Lodge Psych ward in patient. I was in a bad space of mind.

I was hearing voices and hallucinating daily. I was cutting my belly and throwing up after meals.

I was sad, cold and depressed.

It seems like it was just yesterday, I was singing the alphabet while peeing. That was a rule for the patients with eating disorders.

It was embarrassing.

Me and A became friends quickly. She had bipolar. I Had schizophrenia, but we really got along.

I feel bad that i helped her hide her food at dinner time. She was too skinny! But that was one of her diagnosis’s, anorexia.

I wasnt a good friend and that makes me feel bad.

If i could go back in time, i would not have helped her that way. I would have told staff. That would be the right thing to do….