Triggering (SI) - SI self-justification - story *graphic* & other autobiography

sorta the beginning of what was to be an autobiographical story i wrote a few years back. don't know if i'll ever continue it or not. warning, it is graphic. and no, i am not condoning self-harm. just showing what i felt like back then and how i justified cutting to myself. it does mention a tool but it kinda takes away from the description to take it out but if it's against the rules i apologise and the mods please edit it.

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She smiled as the blood seeped through her skin. A pang of guilt struck her, but at least she had obtained a tool that had worked. A piece of glass, a razor blade – it was all the same. As long as it removed her torturers. The seemingly harmless scratch elongated, much to her satisfaction. Perhaps it wasn’t as deep as she would have liked, but it was there. The emotional release and silent recognition of her pain was enough for the moment. Insignificant as it was, it held a fascinating power she could not comprehend. Addicted before she ever began, it was the blood, always the blood.

After months of torment, she had given in. Why hold back in the first place? Was it that serious? At least it wasn’t suicide. It kept her from that. It let her feel as though she wasn’t insane, although even she could not always elude that haunting thought. It was in this solitude that she found herself most at rest. Although the darkness was heavier, there was no one to touch her there. The fear, the guilt, the discomfort, the jealousy, and the hate could all be ignored here. And although the mixture of pleasure, pain, release, and guilt she felt in each self-inflicted wound confused her mind and drew her deeper into sadness, it was better than being alone in a crowd. Here she was truly alone, with her mind as a companion.

She need not depend on anyone else this way. She could keep it all inside, living in her own world, yet seemingly fit so well into the superfical interactions of her daily routine. No one need know the truth. She wasn't hurting them. In fact this was being done so she could stop hurting others by taking it out on herself. If she withdrew, she couldn't say something hurtful, ashame someone else, or herself. At the same time she was protecting herself and others. An act such as suicide on the other hand, she reasoned, would be hurting those around her. And therefore if she just silently kept the pain, and released it by physically hurting herself, no one but her would hurt. And the guilt could be partially alleviated.

And so she sat there, staring at what she had done. Bittersweet, no doubt, as she often liked it. She loved to feel alone, as if nothing could touch her. And as the darkness swept over her, she felt consoled within it, although so terribly afraid of true judgement and alone in the world of glass she had created. She wished to exchange tears for silent bleeding, so that no one but herself would know of her pain. No one could hurt her with no ammunition. In the past she had sought help, only to be disappointed. She didn't blame those who had tried to help her but faded, however. She too would have grown tired of the repetitive pleas for help and the vague explanations of indescribable pain -- pain that existed for no reason she could entirely rationalize. It was in this guilt she lived and had decided the only answer was to shield herself and others from it all, and so the guilt might lessen.

Originally she had tried to stop the cutting, being repeatedly told it was wrong and perverse. But the thoughts only persisted, and finally she had given in. It was merely a cultural taboo anyway, she reasoned. It was hurting no one and keeping her from a regrettable act. It lessened her pain in some form, and she felt she had somewhere to release all the insanity burning in her head.

She quickly put it back in its hiding place, fearful that someone might find it. False explanations and excuses raced through her mind until she had a perfect plan if such a thing were to happen.

[Intaytia]

Hun, this is amazing!! Really well written, and i can relate to it. Like i'm sure many of us can. i think you should write more! =D (no pressure...)

[PaperClip]

i agree - i think you should write some more!! Not only for us but for you too!!

thanks. :) I might try some more sometime.

ok so i followed you guys advice and wrote some more. couldn't believe how much i came up with. haven't edited it yet, and it's gonna all be in random pieces of my life which I will eventually put together into one continuous story. but i can only write it as i remember certain things clearly.

warning, some of it is very adult, some ED related, and is continually graphic.

one piece of it...

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She looked down at the scars on her legs. Too many to count… some faded to near invisibility, some looking as though they’d never disappear. Some were fresh cuts, not even scars yet. Could anyone love her for that? She hated her body. Small breasts, tiny hips, scarred legs, a curved back… nothing was right about her body. Maybe, she thought, if I had had the scoliosis surgery, then I’d be attractive, though I’ll never have my sister’s perfect shape. Or maybe if I’d never cut. Perfection was something to be sought but realistically, never achieved.

She knew she was small, but yet she’d starve herself just for the pure control of it all. No one ever found out except for the small hints here and there. And it never was that bad, she reasoned. If only I’d had more self-control, then I could really be anorexic. Stupid me. Always having to eat. And unhealthy stuff at that!. And it really wasn’t even about getting skinny. She was “too” thin to most people. And it had absolutely nothing to do with attention. It had all to do with control. Just like the cutting.

She thought back. She’d never been in control. At least that was how it felt to a seventeen year old who was never allowed to have boyfriends or go out without her parents any more than was needed for school. Yeah, yeah, for my protection. That’s what they always said. That’s why I couldn’t go out. **** that. I’m messed up anyway! She harbored so much anger and resentment. The worst of it wasn’t even the not being able to do this or that, but that she was constantly trapped with her parents, had no outlet, and really had no fun free from the constraints of overprotective parents peering over her every action.

But then, a pang of guilt so deep, cutting so much deeper than the razor ever did into her heart. I’m just selfish. I never was abused. I shouldn’t complain over something so stupid as not being allowed to go somewhere. When it came down to it, she felt so guilty for cutting, as though she didn’t deserve to feel pain, because she had experienced no abuse. To the rest of the world, her life looked perfect. She graduated at sixteen due to homeschooling. She was going to university to be a neuro-surgeon. Pre-med. Her parents were leaders in various Christian places. And they were still married. She had no step this or half sister that. So everything was perfect, right? But she could never have gotten the thoughts of the cutting out of her head. It’s not fair. I never wanted to start! But those stupid thoughts. They just wouldn’t let me not cut!

That’s when she realized she was having a conversation with herself instead of studying, and wondered when she’d truly go insane. She could recall being terrified to walk out of the library because she believed she would be hit by a gunshot. Or when she thought everyone was laughing at her. Even though she didn’t know them. Or that a Satanist group had put spies everywhere to watch her in the library. Shut up! She screamed internally at herself. There’s no such things as demons and that Satanic stuff is just ****! You’re just making it up! No one’s watching you! It all brought back the feelings of being maliciously watched. But then she reasoned that she must only want to be classified as mentally ill for attention. She wasn’t truly ill. She believed she had made the entire thing up.

If only she’d try harder, she might stop cutting and get on with her life – her schooling. That was everything now. Nothing else mattered but that. Friends didn’t exist. They’d either leave or her parents would make it so she couldn’t see them. She didn’t have control over friends. But school, she had control over that. If she studied long enough, if she listened close enough, she’d get perfect grades. Her parents couldn’t, or rather wouldn’t ever interfere with something to do with school. She had control. And it boosted her shattered self-esteem. Besides, it was interesting to see how isolated she could make herself. Being different was another form of control. Not that she really realized this was all about control, but the mind games gave her something to do and fulfilled that desperate need.

ok here's the other piece. again, i haven't edited it yet, but i wanted to get it out there.

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She walked into his house with as much confidence as she’d had in her life, which admittedly still wasn’t much. He was cute, and he was actually paying attention to her. Who knew, maybe she’d get to fool around for the first time. Not that she thought he loved her or anything. Who ****ing cares about that. That can come later. She was angry that she had no idea what intimacy, even making out, felt like. And that she had never had the opportunity. Again, it was the control. She reasoned, If my parents had just let me be in situations where I could say no, maybe I wouldn’t want to do this so bad. There was no reason to assume though that anything would happen. Maybe he doesn’t even like you. Quit being conceited. Don’t let yourself get disappointed just cause he invited you over. You’re probably not attractive to him anyway. At least if she yelled at herself and expected the worse, she couldn’t be disappointed when she received what she expected, and only ecstatic if she received more.

He held her hand and electricity shot through her. It wasn’t that it was him. She barely knew him. Yeah they’d flirted at work a bit. She hung out with him and another girl yesterday. But they didn’t know anything about each other. It was that she was actually having physical contact with someone. She was normally so emotionally detached that even a hug was something she wanted to get out of, not something that comforted. The cause of this evaded her, but it was the daily truth she lived with. Somehow, her mind had come to view sexual relationships as the only place she could touch and enjoy it. And she had never had a sexual relationship. So even holding hands with someone she found attractive made her feel as though she’d just taken ecstasy.

They talked. Nothing important. They went to a restaurant, where she and he, eighteen and seventeen respectively, managed to get alcohol from a server who came around her work. She only drank half the strawberry margarita; she felt nothing. But there was some sort of strange satisfaction at having defied the “rules” and having drunk alcohol, and in public no less. Her parents had never let her go anywhere unsupervised, so she had never had the chance to say no to alcohol. So now that I’m 18 and you can’t stop me, I’m going to since I never had the chance to say no! she thought, however illogical it might have sounded to an outsider.

They got back, and she realized only later that he was a bit drunk; having had about 4 beers but lying and saying he had about 2. She was naïve enough to take anyone pretty much at their word. And insecure enough to accept a lie even when she knew someone had directly lied.

He took her back into the house. He put on a movie. She hoped desperately he would kiss her. She felt so cold and hard; she wanted to know what it felt like. Yeah, she had a crush on him. But she knew that making out, fooling around, sex, whatever, didn’t equal love. She didn’t even have a clue what love was. Sex was just two people exciting hormones she believed. The idea of sex as love was so foreign to her that she didn’t even care to try and think of it as such. It was just something to do, or at least she suspected it was as she hadn’t done such a thing yet.

As she laid curled up next to him, he started to kiss her. She kept telling herself that she enjoyed it, though in reality it wasn’t all that interesting. Except for the excitement that she was making out, and with a guy she found ridiculously attractive. It boosted her ego basically. Then he motioned for her to get on top. As always, she did as she was told, never even questioning. He pulled off her shirt. Oddly, she didn’t even feel strange at having a guy see her in a bra for the first time. She felt nothing except maybe a little aroused. But then not even that much, though she wouldn’t admit that she wasn’t entirely enjoying it. She took her bra off, unsure of what she was supposed to do. He asked her if she wanted to have sex. She immediately said yes without hesitation. He asked if she was sure, as he knew from yesterday’s conversation she was a virgin. That was nice of him to double check, she thought. Not thinking that maybe he didn’t want to be accused of coercing some girl at work to have sex. She never thought of people as being malevolent despite how many of them she’d been around.

Then panic gripped her. The scars… there were even fresh cuts! Quickly she told him, “There’s something you gotta know about me first.” He looked confused. “I’m a cutter,” she explained, using the label she hated. He quickly said that was fine and began kissing her again. She went through with the sex. He used a condom; she was a sensible girl, she wouldn’t have sex if he hadn’t had a condom. But then when he took it off, she didn’t know what to do. She had no experience ever telling anyone no. Not her parents, not her friends… so they went through with it unprotected.

She left the house feeling attracted to him, though she knew the sex had nothing to do with love. But the negativity began to set in. People are gonna think you’re a slut. You’re such a slut. You just slept with a guy you barely knew after only having kissed one guy, and you didn’t even like that guy! That makes you a slut too! The worry now was not that she had lost her virginity flippantly, but that people might think she was a slut and that her Christian friends would be angry. But it’s not wrong. It’s just sex. Slut is just society’s word for a girl that acts like a guy, she thought sarcastically. As much as she believed it, she still felt worried about other people’s reactions, though she tried to deny this feeling. She took comfort in the physical pain of first time sex for a female, as she enjoyed the ache. She was to discover, however, that other people’s negative reactions in the next few weeks to her openness about a personal matter were only to nearly destroy her.

[Velvet]

Wow, This is really good. Sad but good. Well done

[PaperClip]

This is good - i agree with velvet - sad but you've written it really well - hope you write some more! xx

thanks. i never thought i could write a story. but you guys are encouraging me to write more about my experiences. :)

ok thanks everyone for the encouragement. it means a lot that anyone read it, let alone liked it!

here's more. i've changed names to make sure no one is recognized or whatnot.

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She sat in the hospital bed. All she could think of was inflicting pain upon herself. She had no control here. It made her want to hit her head as hard as she could. But she couldn’t do too much; they might see. And it was too embarrassing to do in front of someone, even doctors. Or maybe it wasn’t even that. Maybe it was that she was too used to doing what she was “supposed” to do, that she would hold all feelings in, no matter how strong, and act as she was supposed to, even if it meant taking it all out on herself later.

She had told the techs that she wanted to hurt herself. She figured she needed to get better; school started in three weeks. That was her only reason to get better, but at least it was a reason. So if I tell them, I’ll get better faster. Plus she really wanted help. This was her fourth hospitalization in six months for either suicidal ideation or severe self-injury ideation. She would never admit that she wanted someone to help her as far as appearing vulnerable. She just wanted the strict psychiatric help… cold, distanced, and nothing to do with vulnerability or comfort. At least that’s what she tried to show everyone around her.

She started crying again. Why can’t they give me my ****ing meds! I don’t think I’m pregnant anyway. They had stopped all her meds as she had said there was a slight possibility she was pregnant. Getting horrible mood swings and migraines didn’t help that she had already admitted herself to a psych ward. Crying spells permeated her days, even after they reinstated her meds upon learning she wasn’t pregnant two days later. She hadn’t even planned on coming to the hospital, but just to talk to someone. But after hearing her plans for cutting herself as deep as possible, they had suggested admission. She thought back to the last few months as she lie there…


After having sex for the first time, she had no feeling of sadness or loss. However, she had managed to start one of the most horrible dramas she had been through yet. She had been told to be open; she had been too isolated before. So she figured, Then I should tell anyone close to me anything. Unfortunately, she knew no balance. She didn’t know who to keep things from and who to tell. So, she first told her best friend, Megan. She figured Megan would be the most understanding, as this friend had done such things with guys herself. But her friend was actually angry and accused her of never listening to her advice. It was true, but she thought, She never listens to my advice, and who gave her control over my life anyway. She had a very strict view that others should not control her life, even if it was for the better. Even though she later apologized to Megan, she regretted doing so, as the apology had been insincere and only to appease her. That was the beginning of the end of a very close friendship. Two other close Christian friends were also upset. The toll it took on her she denied even to herself. She pretended and believed at most times that she did not care what others thought. And most of the time it was probably true. But she could not handle anyone being angry with her.

Next, she had told another friend, who partied constantly and only expressed shock that she had had actually had sex, not disdain at the circumstances. She felt close to Alice. They had been through quite a bit together, even if some of that had included Alice betraying her. But she reasoned that there must be some unknown reason. Or maybe her parents and everyone was lying, as they had in the past. The situation is complicated. I can’t assume people who lied to me aren’t lying now. Besides, Alice was so much fun. She was spontaneous and outgoing and if she were to be honest with herself, Alice gave her access to the most stuff she wasn’t supposed to do. She had been talking to Alice off and on for a while now, and they planned on smoking marijuana and getting her belly button pierced. The last one wasn’t so bad, but it was still something not as accepted, and she liked the way it looked. She had meant to do it months before on her eighteenth birthday, but she had been inpatient on a different psych ward. They had gone through with the piercing, but not the weed before she found out that Alice had spilled the entire story to her relatives who were close family friends of her parents.

Her mother finding out had to have been the worst of the drama. Her mother was understandably worried, but all she could think about it that her mother knew. Her mother had control by just knowing. She was furious at Alice. There was no way it could have been Megan, as she’d trusted Megan before and Megan didn’t talk to her mother anyway. So she knew, finally, that Alice was the only way her mother could have found out. This betrayal by the person she had been closest to in her life added onto all the depression and stress, and not to mention hurt that the guy was now ignoring her, and that night she finally admitted the accusation to her mother and admitted herself to the hospital for the third time. Suicide seemed an all too easy escape, and she knew that would hurt too many people, though she could care less what Alice thought now.

As usual, the hospitalization was traumatic in its own way. She had been put on a one-to-one observation for expressing suicidal ideation in the hospital. She felt stupid later. I wouldn’t have really done it. I just wanted attention. But she couldn’t deny the memory of feeling so out of control and wanting to do anything just to regain that control. She could remember scratching at her wrist until it bled, which only made the hospital staff take more measures against her. She could recall looking at the telephone cord and thinking of strangling herself. She knew it wouldn’t work, but it was some strange grasp at control.

When she was released, she refused to admit that the guy she had slept with had anything to do with the admission. Yeah I had a crush on him, but other’s reactions were the real stress. If they would only mind their own business! And it was mostly true. But it didn’t even concern her that she was so cold as to not even allow herself to feel hurt by a guy taking her virginity and then ignoring her calls and such. Coldness was just another form of control.

Then, about two months after the entire ordeal, Don, the guy she slept with, asked her to hang out. She was ecstatic. Maybe we’ll get to have sex again. And maybe he’ll start liking me enough to ask me to be his girlfriend! By this time she had become obsessed with him. Even though she wouldn’t admit it, she now was dependent on his actions and wanted to be loved. It may not have started off that way, but the hint that someone might really want to be her boyfriend, and that she would want them back, was much too appealing. The truth of it was, she was just so physically attracted to him that all else faded. She should have known it was over before it began, but she was too emotionally unstable to see anything clearly.

They had gone to a movie, and he hadn’t touched her. She thought it was odd, and she was disappointed, though she kept trying to deny it to herself. But the next night, he called and told her that he couldn’t go out as he had no money, but they could go find a place to hang out. Again, her emotions shot to the sky at the thought something sexual might happen again. And maybe, someday, he’d ask her out. She met him at his house and went in the car he borrowed from his mom. She made up some lie to get out of the house as normal. They drove around a bit; he was holding her hand again. And again, she felt so good. It was just as good as any high she would get later. Then he suggested they go to the park. She was almost sure something would happen now.

They got out. It was around 9pm, so there were people, but there were several dark areas in the huge fields. They started playfully playing “tag”. She tried to be as hyper as possible. Guys like “fun” girls. You gotta be outgoing! Don’t be quiet. No one likes that idiot. she thought to herself. Then he suggested they lay down and look at the stars. They were far away from anyone at this point. She knew what he was trying to do, but for some reason it didn’t offend her that he had spent little time talking to her and more time trying to get her into a situation to have sex. She was just all too willing, and that was probably why he never actually wanted her. She was an easy target. Too afraid to play the game of “hard to get” in that she might not get anything, she yielded to anything she wanted as honestly as she could. Only to realize later, that in the real world, honest girls are seen as just that in sex – easy and slutty.

They started making out. But this time, electricity completely shot through her body. She almost forgot what she was doing. It felt so good. She actually had liked him for a while now, and the obsession with him, or rather with the image she had of him in her mind, fueled the arousal. They went farther and farther like before, and ended up having sex, protected at least, using their clothes as a blanket against the grass. She was so wrapped up in the fact that she was with him that she didn’t even really consider the consequences were they to get caught having sex in public. Plus it was just another crazy thing to add to her list of things she did to prove she had the control. She never stopped to think that she had no control when it came to Don.

They put their clothes back on and he dropped her back off by her car. She couldn’t even yell at herself anymore. She was just sure they could work out. He obviously found her physically attractive. He sure says so during sex. And why would he have sex with me if he didn’t find me attractive? She never stopped to think that he might only want someone he’d have to play a game for, and that wasn’t her. And she never would admit that he might just be desperate for sex and for someone to brag. She also ignored the fact that she had never had an orgasm either of these two times. She didn’t know there was anything better to be missing.

Over the next week, the obsession with him consumed her. She had finally sent him an email on myspace asking if he wanted her as a relationship or just for sex. She had been so in the heat of the moment that she hadn’t considered how it looked to discuss such a thing over myspace. But she was also much too afraid of confrontation to actually ask him. And she had to know. She told him on there that it wasn’t his fault if he didn’t want more; she had never told him she was there for more than sex. She just wanted to know and didn’t think she could do this anymore as her feelings were too much for him. Little did she know, he was just as scared of confronting the fact that he used her as she was afraid of confronting her feelings out loud. He never answered. She later found out at work that he had told everyone at their entire job, in an environment of mostly older teenagers and young adults, that he had taken her virginity. And this was after he had requested she not tell anyone at work! She was so angry at him; she decided to call him and confront him about it. As usual, he didn’t answer the phone. She probably would have hung up anyway.

That was what had led up to this hospitalization. The humiliation that everyone had been gossiping about it for two months and she had not known was too much. Any control had been stripped out from under her. She had gotten entirely depressed after having sex with him and he ignoring her, once again, and began cutting where even her mom could see. Her mom had been worried about her, understandably, but didn’t know what was going on. She refused to talk to her mother about anything she didn’t have to. Her mother had tried to force her to discuss her personal life in the past, so now she blatantly refused to do so as a form of control, even if it would have helped to tell her mother. Within a few days of learning of his betrayal, she had admitted herself this time.

She snapped back out of the memory. Throughout the hospitalization, staff were rude to her or would make her sit in sight anytime she’d self harm even a bit. It was somewhat understandable, but at one point, she was sitting in the quiet room to calm herself down, and they walked in on her scratching. She had two choices, go in the room they could monitor, or sit in the hallway hearing all the loud noises and watching one patient get continually upset and usually restrained. She chose the monitored room, even though that was where out of control patients went. I’m not out of control. Just wanna be alone. I won’t actually freak out on them. she thought. She almost wished she would freak out. She felt so constrained and controlled that she really just wanted to go insane hurting herself. But she couldn’t even bring herself to defy them. She hated that they were already mad at her.

But when they brought her in the room, she lay on the bed and all she could think of was that the floor and walls were concrete. She lay down on the floor, hoping she could get by with hitting her head a bit. Self injury was a fix to get through anything, and a way to regain control. They immediately saw her on the camera, however, and had her get back up on the bed before she even began to hurt herself. Most of the hospitalization of 16 days went this way. At the very end she finally responded to medication, or was so sick of being there, or perhaps saw that school, her only hope, started in about a week. She’d been out of school six months; she wanted to go back so bad. Whatever the cause, she switched back into being happy and not needing to self harm. They eventually released her, though she never told them about the manic paranoia she felt before she left, thinking that someone had spiked her pills and that was why she couldn’t remember most of the hospitalization. She wanted out of there so bad. And she wasn’t quite psychotic enough to have lost her survival mechanisms. And it wasn’t that bad. Shut up, you’re not really paranoid. You just want more attention. Don’t tell them about it, they’ll think you want attention like the tech said. And they’ll keep you and it’ll ruin school. School is your only hope, she told herself. She couldn’t imagine a world without her career, though it had changed to conservation biology to work with animals at this point. It had been the worst hospitalization yet, and she had more than likely blocked out most of it to deal with later. That had been her coping skill of choice for quite a while now.

[PaperClip]

thanks huni - huggles!! must be hard to write but your doing amazing!!!

Ok here's more. It's pretty graphic adult-wise.

You guys dont know how much it means to have someone read it and like it. Again, it's unedited at this point, so there may be a lot of room for improvement.

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Pick the cheapest ones. You’re gonna overdraft. But this is going to be so awesome! She thought excitedly, picking out the stripper heels from the adult store. She had gotten a bit of lingerie too, and a piece from the thrift store. Whatever it takes. The idea of dancing and of doing something way away from what was “normal” was all too exciting. She and Alice were going to try out to be strippers. Technically exotic dancers, but they could care less about sugar coating it. The more “dangerous”, the better. She looked at the heels. Trying them on made her feel sexy.

They drove around downtown around nine or ten pm, looking for a club that would let them try out, considering she didn’t have her dancer’s license yet. She didn’t really expect to be hired the first time; it was really just something fun and rebellious to do. They finally found one. They filled out the applications; she put Alice’s address as her own. There was no sense in being careless and letting someone she knew find out. They asked her for a stage name – Brooke – she decided on. They walked into the club, and it was so exciting. It made her feel alive. Somehow, she was only slightly nervous. And not about being topless. Hell, she’d have done nude if that had been what the club wanted. She was slightly nervous about the pole dancing, hoping she didn’t fall off. She looked at the other girls dancing. They looked so beautiful on the poles. She found them both sexually attractive and an example for how she wanted to present herself. Having the type of control over men that they had – she didn’t even realize it but once again, control would drive this whole escapade.

They went in the changing room. She had no qualms undressing in front of Alice, and not the other girls either. She liked the freedom to dress and undress without shame. The head manager gave her a run down of everything, telling her she’d need to get her license within ten days. He came across fairly serious. She would come to realize how cold hearted he really was. The other manager took nothing seriously. She had to admit, he was hot. But definitely not someone to hook up with, as it looked like he already had with every other girl there. Finally, it was time for her to go up there. She had practiced walking in the heels all night, and walked as straight as possible to the table. Confidently, so unlike even six months ago, she slid on the table and began the dance. It was a rock song, as she and Alice had let the dj know they preferred. She danced, trying her best to emulate how she had seen the other girls dance. When she pulled her tiny lingerie off, she felt no shame. She felt only sexiness and power over the men watching her and handing her dollar bills. She hadn’t even considered the money seriously before. But all of a sudden cash was being handed to her, and she was otherwise unemployed. She finished the dance and began looking for lap dances as she was instructed. She hadn’t even known what a lap dance was until tonight.

One guy in particular seemed to like her. She had to admit he was quite attractive, and guessed he was in his early twenties. He requested lap dance after lap dance from her and gave her money on each dance. She loved the attention, the unspoken power, and the money. He asked her questions; she didn’t even think to lie as most of the girls did. She found out he was Alex, 26, graduated from college and moving in the next few days to New York. By the end of the night, she had nearly a hundred dollars after tipping out, and she enjoyed it. One dancer, Trinity, had befriended Alice. She and Alice had both immediately noticed her attractiveness when she walked in the club. They asked if she’d like to go to Trinity’s friend’s apartment. She was up for anything, and it was with Alex too. Maybe I’ll get laid. she thought, not caring that most girls would be worried about a relationship. She knew he was leaving, and yeah, that meant no “friends with benefits” like she had restarted doing with Don. Except that Don had moved about a hundred miles away, so no constant sex. She did enjoy it, though she had still never actually “come”. She didn’t really care. She would take what she could get.

They went to the apartment as planned. There was alcohol, even another plus. She and Alex immediately began making out, and he took her into the other room. She could care less that she was drunk off the jack. After all, she’d have slept with him sober. They fooled around, and did everything but sex. She didn’t know until the middle of it that he was too coked out to actually have sex. His snorting more in an attempt to stimulate himself in the middle of it didn’t even bother her. She declined cocaine as always, but she had no qualms being around it. Surprisingly, however, her drunkenness made sex less appealing then typical. Again, she could care less. It was something “exciting” to do. After they finished, she, Alex, and Alice took a shower. Maybe Alice will make out with me. And I can find out if I’m bi. For some reason, learning if she was bisexual was important. Alice only washed her, however, and she wasn’t really that disappointed. That morning she finally went home, having told her parents she was at a different friend’s house. The whole thing had seemed like a big party that she got paid for.

She never even stopped to think how she had gotten so hard, that sex meant nothing, or what control really meant in her life. Yet she didn’t know her own fragility.

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wow - huggles - thanks for sharing huni!! x x

[finding.my.wings]

wow, that would have taken a lot of corage to write- its very good. thanks for sharing.

here's more: thanks everyone! i bolded parts that i had to edit to stay in line with RYL's rules.

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The next few times stripping weren’t nearly as glamorous. She learned the hard lesson that most guys have seen a million strippers, and you’re just one more looking for a lap dance. Plus, she hated lap dances. She felt self-conscious being so close with someone, and any sort of guy at that. She had gone back to see Alex before she left, getting drunk and hitting her head when she nearly passed out. She had then proceeded to have sex, unprotected, twice with him. She had started to consider where she was going with all this. She knew she had better be careful about unprotected sex, but the difficulty was in saying no. She felt embarrassed, and she craved the sex as well. It wasn’t even that particularly enjoyable; it was really just a way to touch someone and feel “ok” doing it. She also knew she had to be careful about her alcohol use; she was on three to four psychiatric medications.

Finally, her parents found out she was still hanging out with Alice. They had known the types of things Alice was into, and although they did exaggerate it, she knew they were really going to be upset when she heard they knew about the marijuana and alcohol use. She and Alice quickly made a plan for her to live at Alice’s house with her abusive boyfriend. She was so reckless, however, that the idea sounded good. They would even split her cell phone and she would help pay for rent with the money from the strip club. She could finally get out of the house and do whatever! It never occurred to her that Alice was continually late on her bills and nearly evicted.

She went home, fully ready to announce she was leaving if things became too heated. However, what ensued was an argument with her father that didn’t end up in her moving out. He ranted about Alice and how the illegal marijuana use would mess up her school. She immediately backed into her scared mode rather than aggressive and said it helped her with her mental issues. They argued for about an hour or two, in which was mentioned that her mother had told her dad about the possibility of some minor sexual abuse when she was younger. Besides being embarrassing in front of her dad, he completely acted as though she was making it up and it was impossible. She wanted to cry. “I don’t even think that happened! Mom just wanted something to blame!” she honestly said. It was just all too humiliating. She eventually went back in her bedroom. She had been starting to self injure and had been suicidal off and on, but now she was serious about it. She once more took herself into one of the city’s many mental hospitals to be admitted. She had to admit that it was no surprise it once more ended here.

In the hospital, the emotions all started sinking in. She felt as if no one could ever love her; all she could be was a sex object.

Inpatient Memoirs

6-6-08

I'm in the hospital again. I wonder if it'll ever end. I feel so empty. I don't know who to trust. Is Alice really who my parents claim she is? Why would she betray me? What's more, to do that she'd pretty much have to hate me. But I don't understand why she'd hate me after all I've done for her. It doesn't make sense. She acted like she protected me. She denies the accusations. But how else could they get that kind of information? I don't know who's lying. Maybe everyone is. I love her; I don't understand why she'd try to hurt me. Maybe she's just trusting people she shouldn't. I don't know. I want to hurt myself when I think maybe she did hurt me on purpose. It makes me sad. I know it'd be easier if I forgot all about people and just focused on school and wicca. But I like hanging out with people. blah... And then my dad going off on me. He acts like it's my responsibility to do what he wants cause partying hurts him or something. I think I should be able to live my life without having to worry what my parents feel about it. My parents wonder why I have sex so thoughtlessly. But I don't really believe anyone is going to love me for me. I don't like my personality. So I get drunk so I'm more fun. But it's not real. No one likes the real me. Sorry. I'm not ever going to be super outgoing. I thought L--- liked me anyway. But once again I find that I'm wrong. People wonder why I isolate. Because I'm continually hurt. I'm stupid. I love people who don't give a **** about me. I should just kill myself. My parents wouldn't have to deal with me anymore. And people couldn't lie to me if I was dead. But I suppose I'd pay for it in the next life. I'm never going to be happy. I don't try to hurt people. So why do they hurt me? I mean I'm not perfect, but I don't purposely try to make people sad. I wish I could cut all over my whole body. Cause that's what I am -- covered in wounds. Sure, I'm pretty. But no one wants me for permanence. I'm real and people can't handle that. I wonder what my past lives were like. Maybe I'm paying for something I did in one of them.

6-7-09

Still kind of depressed. I want to call Alice but I'm not sure what to say. I know A--- wants me to call him. But he'll want to come by and I don't want him to see me like this. I'm so sick of it all. Lies... I guess I lie a lot too. But I don't lie to hurt people. I just lie to keep people from being mad at me. I know it's still wrong. But it's still not the same. I hate my life. Constantly worrying about school or my parents. Or something. I don't know who to trust. I think I may pretend to believe Alice, even if I don't, just to get my stuff back. I want to cut. I'm not worth anything anyway. Maybe if I **** myself up I'll stop using my outer beauty as a crutch. I'm worthless inside. Maybe I should let everyone know on the outside too. Just cut everywhere. Then everyone would reject me and I could forget about all of them. I know that's a bad idea. But maybe it'd save me from pain in the long run. I could never make myself do it though. I'm too vain.

Later

Talked to Alice, She really sounds like she cares. I have no clue who to believe. Part of me wants to get out of here and go stripping again. Part of me is sick of it all. I'm nothing inside. I could never truly love. Even my dad told me that. He thinks I'm a whore. In a way I am. I've only had sex with two guys. But I barely knew them. It's not that I think they'll love me or anything. I just like sex. They use me, I use them. I should concentrate on the god/goddess. I'd be so much better off. I don't want to be in here long.

Later

I'm such a bitch. I totally told my mom off. I know she cares about me. I kept saying how it was my life and I should be able to do what I want. I also bitched about how she tells people stuff about me. I even said maybe I should just die. I want to die. I'm useless. I'll never graduate. I'll never be happy and I'll never make anyone else happy. I want to cry. Tears are so useless. I'd prefer a razor blade. Slit my wrists... swallow a bottle of pills. I love the way the cuts on my arm look. I'd like to make more. I want to bang my head against something. Maybe I will. I just don't want to be in here long. I hate myself. I'll never succeed. I'll always be a failure.

6-8-08

I want to kill myself. Nothing makes sense. I keep cutting my arm with a tool. I'm ****ing crazy. I should just die. I guess that wouldn't solve anything though. I'd pay for it in the next life. I want to leave, but I don't know what I'll do when I get out. My arm hurts. I guess that's what I get for tearing it up with a tool. I could OD. I know people would miss me. But they'd probably be better off. I wouldn't be able to hurt anyone. I hate myself. There's nothing good about me. I don't help anyone. I just cover up bad emotions by partying. I'll never amount to anything. I'm crazy and because of that I'll never graduate. So I'll never be really happy. Everyone just lies to me. I don't know who to trust.

Later

My mom and A--- are coming to visit me. So is V----. That should be nice. I got put on 15 minute checks cause they asked me how I was doing and I decided not to lie. I showed them the cuts. I've chewed all my fingernails off. Just out of boredom basically. This whole mess sure is making me depressed. No one really trusts Alice, including A---- and Megan, but I really don't know why she would hate me like that? All I've ever done is help her. Seriously. I don't even feel like reading. It all irritates me. And I know I may get kicked out if they find out everything. And if I refuse to stop seeing Alice, I'm seriously giving up the weed and alcohol. But I can do that and still see her. We don't even always get drunk or high. I've always said no to the harder stuff. I can say no to the minor stuff too.

Later

My mom and A--- visited. It was fun. But of course I crashed. Still wondering about Alice, Why do I even care? I want to die. But I can't. My mom freaked cause I cut with a tool. I want to hit my head against something. I hate myself. I'm worthless. I don't help anyone. I wish I could cut more. I guess I could cause they didn't take all the staples. I really don't like cutting with tools though. My dad is mad at me. Cause I'm a horrible daughter. **** it all. I can't even make my own decisions.

6-9-08

I want to strangle myself. I tried last night. But they don't know that. Whatever. I want to get out of here. But I know it's not safe for me to be anywhere else. Maybe I don't want to be safe. I should just kill myself. Then no one would have to deal with me. I hit my head yesterday too. No one cares anyway. I want to call Alice. But according to everyone else she'll just lie to me. It's this whole drama that's making me want to die.

Later

I keep trying to kill myself by strangling myself with my item. I know it won't work. But I can't help but try. A--- says he doesn't like Alice. But he won't tell me why because C---'s younger brother are at his apartment. No one knows I'm doing that stuff with my item.

6-12-08

I still feel sad. But I lied to the doctor enough that I think I'll get out tomorrow. I don't think anyone could love me. I'm stupid. I think about stripping. I want to go back to it so bad. I know it's a horrible environment, but I feel pretty with the makeup and the outfits. I want to see Alice and her son. When I don't think of these things I feel like dying. I feel like that was a great life, even if most would say it wasn't. I feel like I have nothing besides that. School feels horrible and overwhelming. Maybe I'll go to Alice's to work on it. My mom hates Alice but I don't care. I'm not going to party. I just want to see Alice and her son. I honestly can't imagine a life without them. I feel ugly and useless in here. I want to die when I think I'll be in here forever. It's only been a week. But I want out so bad. I'm stupid for coming in. Nothing will be better because of it.

Someone Else

Spinning on the pole,
I think maybe I'm beautiful
But this kind of beauty
Means so little to me.

I am thin,
And guys like my face.
But I'm hiding the emptiness --
The ugly scars inside.

I'm wanting you,
But while I'm here,
You'll never come...
But do you exist?

You're someone who cares
For more than just sex.
You love me for me,
But who could do that?

6-6-08

After about a week she left the hospital, feeling just as bad as when she went in. That night, she once again went stripping, and came home with about three dollars. Alice was fired later that night, and she was all too glad to be rid of the whole thing, as if it had never happened. But the imprint of both the good and the bad she felt there would never leave her.

[PaperClip]

OOOH - loving this! Huggles huni! Is there going to be some more?

yeah it's really nice to have an outlet like this. i'll find other pieces of my life to write about. :)

[PaperClip]

your doing a fantastic job in speaking bout all this soo far!! PM if you ever want to chat!!

here's a little more. shouldn't be quite as triggering, though a bit adult. i'm gonna get into that stuff next time. thanks to everyone who reads it!

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Bored, bored, bored… Her parents didn’t want her to hang out with Alice. And she had nothing to do tonight. Her phone vibrated, with an invitation to younglife. She hadn’t been to the Christian college group in forever. She was wiccan, but she figured it was something to do. And Henry said I could come even if I didn’t believe in God… wonders if it counts if I’m a different religion. She was somewhat manic, though, so she didn’t care. She cheerfully announced to her parents where she was going, knowing they’d let her go to a “Christian” function without hesitation.

She pulled on her newest outfit. She always wanted to look sexy when she was manic. It was a spaghetti strapped top and a mini skirt. She didn’t think until she actually got to younglife that people might think something strange, considering it was a fairly conservative function.

Once she got there, everyone was nice to her, as always. But she always felt this superficiality. They think I’m a slut. No guy here is ever going to give a damn about you. Especially dressed like that! Self-doubt started sinking in and she sat by herself and waited through the service. Afterwards she felt a little better, but a bit insecure about her choice of dress, even though an old friend complimented her on it. Self-esteem never had been one of her strong points.

She debated whether or not to go out to eat with them afterwards. Again, it was a “why not, who cares” decision. She had turned entirely apathetic. If she found friends, great. If not, life sucked anyway so it couldn’t get much worse if she didn’t care. When she realized most people would be there, she decided to go since it was better than being bored at home.

Once she got to the restaurant, she ordered only a soda, as her medicated appetite would allow. She had only been out of the hospital two weeks and medication was throwing her body into a whirlwind of side effects. She talked to several people, sitting in the same place, letting people come talk to her. It was easier than taking initiative to talk to people and then getting rejected even by indifference. So she would take on the attitude of indifference and see if that worked. It sure couldn’t be worse than disappointment.

Finally one guy sat down and talked to her for quite a while. They exchanged life stories, and talked until it was time to leave. They traded internet information, and that was that. He’s probably not interested in you. He didn’t even ask for your phone number. She decided she didn’t care if he contacted her or not. She suspected he was interested, but she wouldn’t allow herself to consciously hope so. She had found that not caring kept her from getting disappointed or hurt.

Over the next few days, the same guy, Matt, contacted her and she got invited to his graduation party. Before she knew it, she was dating him, and her life suddenly looked brighter. She couldn’t believe her luck, in fact she attributed it to the idea that maybe there was a Christian God. Over the next few months, however, her struggles returned, and she realized again good and bad things have nothing to do with divinity. They just are a part of life. Having a boyfriend that she saw constantly helped mitigate some of the depression, but the temptation to cut still overwhelmed her to the point of giving in at times. Matt, however, always understood and was a model “good” boyfriend, and her parents loved that she was now in a relationship with a “Christian” guy. Everything seemed to be going her way, at least as much as could be hoped for. She constantly spent the night with Matt, and decided the fact that he didn’t do more than “fool around” with her and was completely devoted and obsessed with her meant that this relationship would work and that she loved him. She even returned to school in August, and she had found some more stable friends through her new boyfriend. Her first serious relationship had begun.

[PaperClip]

Thanks huni - mega squishes!!!

[espoir]

wow just read it all its really good *hugs* xxxxxxxxxxxxx