Thursday, January 15, 2015

The Love Triangle - The Juggling and Balancing Act

For the next three years, I was admittedly with two men at once. I was with both my ex boyfriend and also my new long-distance boyfriend at the same time. I use the term "same time" and "boyfriend" here loosely. There was technically never "a same time" since one was local and was out of town. Also, in all due respect, they full well knew of one another.

I alternated between the two of them constantly and regularly. I would have a relationship locally with my ex and then would pick up and leave for weekends and holidays with my long-distance boyfriend too. Usually, when I was with one of them, the other was bombing my phone. There'd been times where my long-distance boyfriend became so incessant after I hadn't answered his phone calls for a few days that he got into his car and drove five hours to see me. On the flip side, there was a time where my long-distance boyfriend and I were spending a weekend together and my ex got drunk and went off on a whiny tirade of leaving me voicemail messages claiming to be driving drunk on the highway trying to find me. Obviously this was ridiculous since he had no idea where to find me once he found the city I was in.

Being with both of them at the same time eventually became overwhelming emotionally and mentally draining. Not only were they both relentlessly battling with me and themselves internally, they were in a battle with another that I couldn't stop. They both aggressively pursued me. They were both in some kind of arms race competition for my love and they were both relentless. I couldn't let either go though. They wouldn't fucking let me. No matter how hard I tried to push one away, they wouldn't allow it to happen.

My biggest problem was that I was in love with the both of them and both in different ways entirely. I loved my ex because we had history together. We grew up together. He was my first love and I was always going to be attached to him (so I thought). Mentally, he was tattooed in my head. However, on the flip side, my long-distance relationship was so fulfilling emotionally and sexually and it was impossible not to love him. He made me fall in love with him by no fault of his own. He was just such a good person. He was honest and kind and loving and affectionate. Nothing like what my ex was like. Although my ex boyfriend and had a connection, it wasn't nearly as affectionate or nurturing. He didn't take care of me. I felt a lot like my ex loved the way I loved him yet I loved the way my long-distance boyfriend loved ME.

Eventually the burden of the back and forth was too much for everyone. I found myself having to choose between the both of them more and more often and eventually it go to the point where my ex was completely hands off. Three years and he threw in the white towel. After years of trying and fighting, he had finally had enough. Our last few encounters were very emotionally driven and draining for him I think. I recall him telling me that sharing me was a "hard pill to swallow". Eventually he broke down and cried and begged as they had both frequently been doing already and that was that. He was finally out. I tried calling and texting and emailing him. I came to his house, knocked down his doors endlessly but that was it for him. We never spoke again and that was nearly a decade ago.

The Love Triangle - Part III

The stakes just went right up. My ex had been confronted with the truth. A reality he was obviously not ready to accept. After all the years of stringing me along and never being my boyfriend again, he was all of a sudden anything and everything I ever wanted and needed for him to be. I couldn't fucking believe it. My interest in something else was literally driving him insane. I had no idea I could have that affect on him.

My long distance boyfriend was incredible. He was the kindest, sweetest most genuinely caring and compassionate man you'll ever meet in your life. I couldn't believe a man like this even existed. He was so emotionally available and attentive and our sex was incredible. Even though I would come back to my own city and live my double life, I couldn't deny that the attention and love he showed me was raw, real and I couldn't help falling for him. It was impossible not to love him when he would literally do anything for you. It didn't hurt that I loved fucking his brains out for hours and hours and was extremely attracted to him.

The Love Triangle - Part II

And just like that, from three, we were down to two. Now, it was just my ex and my long distance, no longer a band stranger.

I was constantly between my ex, my long distance bf. There were ALWAYS several men in between which neither knew about but those two now filled me up emotionally. One day, my friend called me and told me she'd seen my ex and mentioned my long-distance bf to him. That marked the beginning, of the end.

When my ex heard that there was someone else in the picture, it wasn't the first time. However, it WAS the first time a man in my life other than had been referred to a as "boyfriend" out loud by someone else. I think he panicked. Immediately, the chase was on.

He was so anxiety stricken and concerned I would move on that he came at me full throttle. I had no idea what the fuck was happening. My head was spinning. I had never seen him be so attentive and so overly interested in me. It was a side of him I never really saw and I loved it.

He was calling me constantly, texting me all the time and wanted to me constantly. I was going to take all of it. I couldn't get enough. Nonetheless, my long-distance romance was always happening concurrently. A few weeks into my ex chasing me again, I remember we woke up in the morning together and I went to the bathroom. I came back in and the look on his face was something I had never seen. He immediately confronted me. He'd looked through my phone and found the constant exchanges of "I love you's" between me an my long distance boyfriend. I never forgot the look on his face or in his eyes. I knew what it was now. It was panic mixed with rage. 

The Love Triangle - Part I

On one of my manic filled adventures, I convinced my friends to get into my car and drive 90 miles per hour with me to another state five hours away to meet my precious "James". He was with the band I was a groupie for and they were playing that night; I was determined to meet the band. We made it over there and never made it inside to see the show or meet the band. I can't remember all that much now but my phone was dead and I randomly approached a stranger who's friend had been hollering at us from outside the event venue. He let me use his phone; I guess we exchanged numbers?

Somehow we'd exchanged a few text messages and IM's but as per usual, I was not engaged and bored and found he lived too far. I wasn't taking thing seriously. I was too busy getting high as shit with my very close male friend who'd I just recently met at the bar I was working at. My first night working, it was his birthday and he approached me and said "hey, do you want to go do some rails outside in my car?". I neverat bloomed into a very near and dear friendship to me that was very close. We spent tons of time together but we were on drugs CONSTANTLY. I was a naive twenty-four year old and he was a few years older but we got along like two peas in a pod. 

For several weeks and months I had my local companion whom I would get drunk and high with all the time. I had my ex who I was still seeing and sleeping with and of course, I had my band stranger entertaining me. This was my life for several months until eventually, me and the stranger I'd spoken to and completely used to make a phone call with were swapping countless text messages and spending all hours on the phone together. I was in a triangular relationship with three men who fulfilling different needs and had no idea what the hell was going on (at the time). In hindsight, I think since each man was fulfilling a different need in me I was completely feeling happy and content with my life at the time.

I was still seeing my ex who was entirely filling me up emotional said no to drugs so within seconds, I'd ditched my job to get high with a stranger outside. Thy. I was sleeping with my band stranger and talking to him; exchanging terms of endearment, having constant phone sex and swapping "I love you's", while my close companion was entertaining me regularly by hanging out with me and giving free drugs.

One night, my ever so respectful, attractive, wealthy, kind, compassionate, giving male companion told me he got us a hotel room to party in for the night. When we got to the hotel we had both done a cocktail buffet of anything and everything under the sun that was available to us that night. I remember us having a good time together, laughing as usual. Then things got a little hazy and he started asking to see my body. I had NO intentions of ever sleeping with him but for some reason, my immature innocence got the better of my judgement and I remember him seeing my body because he'd made a comment about how much thinner I was than he'd initially thought. Next I recall him asking to see my pussy and I said no. Next thing I know, his boxers are coming off and he's completely naked and he's got the most beautiful large and very well mans-caped man parts.

It was all very fast and very hazy but he and I were JUST friends and I never once considered sleeping with him. It was not even in my peripheral vision. I had no feelings for this man and there was no sexual chemistry between us. I had zero reservations about spending the night with him in a hotel.  Although I found him attractive, intelligent, funny and incredible, I was in way interested in ruining what I considered to be a very close and real friendship with this man. I remember telling him that he needed to get dressed and that it would ruin our friendship. Then I ran. I got into my car and recklessly and in drunken- drug induced and dazed state; drove my car home several miles away. We didn't talk much after that. He'd gotten married, had a child and then several years later; passed away from a drug overdose. RIP my angel.

My friend had never tried anything on me and had never once mentioned having sexual interest or any feelings for me for that matter. I was fucking twenty-four years old and completely ignorant to the fact that men and women cannot be friends. Something I strongly believe in to this day and will never stray from my position on ever since that incident.

The Void

That void. That emotional void of emptiness which I never quite understood until just a few recent year ago. It didn't dawn on me that perhaps the only reason I was "so in love with" or "obsessed" with my ex as he and others liked to think I was, was because that's the only damn thing that felt good and whole; emotionally.

Between the constant hard partying with drugs, alcohol and sex, there was always something that drove me back there. No other man was able to enter that territory. It was by no means on purpose. Man after man after man and yet there was never any emotional attachment or investment to any one else except for my ex; who was always still in the picture and somewhere in the background during all these sorted rendezvous I had with other guys. 

He never knew about the others but he suspected it after our sex began to change drastically. I became even more open and dominating than I usually was and he could sense it. In return, I could sense his anxiety on the rise. He didn't like it. It was around this time that he'd started to complain about my constant partying, drinking and drug use. He was concerned about my heavy use of cocaine and thought I was developing a drug addiction. I assured him it was recreational. He really had little to no say over me. He wasn't my boyfriend and I wasn't well tamed.

It was around this time that I met two very memorable other men in my life. They both had a big impact in different ways.

Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Sexscapades - "On To The Next."

My whore years were long and plentiful. I fucked just about everyone and I wanted to. I couldn’t get enough of it. However, it’s important to note that I actually WANTED to be with them. I felt so much intensity and so many overwhelming feelings. I was always attracted to the men I had these relationships with and they were always a positive experience for me.

I would be lying if I said I was as a big a whore as my other friends. I didn’t even come close. I stopped counting a few years ago but my number isn’t even really that high. It’s probably only in the twenties now I think whereas I have some friends in the fucking hundreds. Now that I think about it, I’m not even really a whore; really. I did catch up to some of my friends pretty quickly though seeing as how I was only technically having sex for a year when I hit the double digits.

Regardless of how many different dudes I hooked up with, I know I fucked a lot of times; in general. I’m not and never have been particularly a big fan of the one night stand thing. I did it only a few times if not just once. Additionally, even if I fucked the guy just one time, we always general at least spoke again at the bare minimum. Sometimes they were over me, but I would say that approximately nine times out of ten, I was the one who was out; and fast too. Days, weeks or a few short months was my MO.

I liked a big cock in general and I loved to cum and make the men I was with blow their loads as much as loved to blow their minds but eventually, fucking a dick wasn’t cutting it anymore and I got bored and moved the fuck on to someone new who came along.

Once I broke the seal of sleeping with different guys it didn’t really stop. It actually escalated and all I ever had to talk about with friends was guys. I actually relished in being the crews biggest whore. I enjoyed it. I spoke about my sexscapades very openly and I was always quite entertaining with my stories. My friends seemed to enjoy vicariously living through my experiences and I was happier than a pig in shit. I jumped from guy to guy, experience to experience and juggled numerous guys at the same time. I was so distracted by my reality that I didn’t care about much else.

There was the “Romano” from Rome, “pony”, “pencil penis”, “street ram”, “the Polish man whore” so on and so forth. There were obviously numerous others but at this time, it’s hazy. Those stand out immediately. There was also James. Oh how I fancied James. We met online and he went by the name of “Jimmy” but that’s not what I called him. He was so incredibly intelligent; a Harvard graduate. Conversations between us were on a mental level I had yet to experience and he was on the road a lot as a band manager. His home was in another state about five hours away from mine but we still saw each other on a few occasions. I drove to his home town and slept over then left feeling jaded and freaked out on him for not being attentive enough and also met him in another city five hours another way while he was on tour. I guess thinking back to it now it makes sense as to why he eventually cut me off. I suppose he thought I was some crazy bitch who would drive countless miles to meet him whenever he wanted to see me.

I remember one morning after I fucked him by riding him for five minutes, he told me I was cocky. I think he was likely more intelligent than me but I was way too much of a narcissist to realize it. I kept making him show me his Harvard paraphernalia to prove he was a grad. I didn’t believe him. I thought I was in love with him for a considerable length of time after he’d cut me off. I can’t remember why or how we stopped communicating but I know he was not responsive to me any longer. It made me fucking crazy and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I was convinced I had real feelings for him of love. A few months later I met someone new and I was over him but I never quite forgot about him. Every once in a while he still randomly crossed my mind and I wondered how the hell I could’ve had such intense feelings for a greasy fat ass who was ugly as all hell. I guess that’s when I may have first experienced feelings of being a sapiosexual.

What I didn’t notice then but realize now about my male sexual relationships were that they were never longer than days, weeks or a short number of months. They were never anything “more than friends” to me in my head and I never ever had any intentions of a long-term relationship with them. The lack of commitment or thoughts of long-term were not something I ever purposely intended on or pre-mediated, it just sort of ended up that way. I never planned on anything long-term in my mind because it never popped into my head as something I cared about or wanted. Not only did I not care at the time I was in these pseudo-relationships, I don’t think my brain was able think that that far ahead. I think this occurred possibly because things were generally always naturally so short-lived or maybe because by habit, I never had feelings of emotion or attachment. I either “had” feelings or I did not. If I did, then I would immediately engage in a sexual relationship with the man I had met and once I didn’t or found someone I “loved” more, different or better, I would most literally “move on to the next” without a moments’ hesitation or notice to my male companion.

Channeling My Inner WHORE - "On To The Next."

The man after man, guy after guy occurred for a few years. I recall being so obsessed with this one guy who I knew from my neighborhood. I nicknamed him pencil penis later on but at the time, I would’ve done anything just to spend time with him. I had zero interest in him, in fact I didn’t even notice him, but one night at a night club we’d both been drinking and he pinned me up against a wall. He had me right then and there. We went back to his place that night and he went down on me. I don’t think we fucked. I can’t remember why now though. Essentially, after that, I wanted to be with him every single second of every single day. I couldn’t get him off my mind. He was in my head constantly. I would do anything to be near him, with him and for him to notice me. Except for the obvious of course, which was to consistently call, text and instant message him. I did the opposite. I was too proud, embarrassed, nervous and too good to harass him and show too much interest or over contact. So I always waited and waited. I waited for him to make contact but would always see him at the drop of a hat. He used to be a bartender and he worked nights. I worked days but I would stay up all night waiting for the late night booty call and meet up with him. We’d fuck in his car or at his place and I would leave and go to work from there. I didn’t fucking care what I had to do. I needed him, I wanted him and I was going to have him any way I could. It made me feel high in some way. Like some drug addiction.

One day, he and I went to get some drinks together and he told me about this girl he “liked”. That was it. I was over and done with him. I left the bar that night with him being completely fine and normal but I never once thought about him again. He turned me off. “On to the next” as I always said and always did.

Channeling My Inner WHORE - Part I

I was in my last year of College and I started to notice some serious changes in me. I had suddenly shed an exceptional amount of weight, guys were constantly hitting on me and trying to fuck me, I was still always “dealing” with my ex but now I was always out meeting other guys.

It was this same time that my friends and I started partying very heavily. We were regular club goers and were getting drunk on a weekly basis. Essentially it began as weekends only and then eventually progressed to nightly too.

At this time, I began to experiment with harder drugs which I hadn’t been into in my younger years. When everyone was snorting coke, popping ecstasy and doing bumps of K and Crystal, I was too “scared”. I was in College and I was totally on the straight and narrow. I stopped smoking weed because of a bad experience years prior and it made me much too paranoid and brought back vivid flashbacks which deterred me from being interested. Believe or not, I was actually focused on my studies and my friends were pretty boring. They’d go out for “coffee” and “dessert” on the weekends. Yawn right?
Anyway, as my crowd changed, so did my interests. I was hard partying with anything and everything under the sun. I was getting drunk and high and working out. I was driving fast on highways and staying out all hours of the night. I was working at seedy strips clubs and bars selling shooters and drinks and I loved every fucking minute of it.

I also loved the male attention that all this was brining to me. I had sex with new guys weekly. I was fucking everyone and I was on cloud nine. I had never been physically or sexually connected to the male species like I was now and it was intoxicating. The way that men wanted me was something I had never experienced before and I wanted them just as badly. I was “in love”, “obsessed” and “infatuated” with just about everybody. I would meet them, fall for them, fuck their brains out, have them want me and then I would move on to the next guy I met who I now wanted more than the last. Once I had moved on, it was done. I was never one to go back to something I had once left and as my friends and I coined it, I did not have any interest in “the three R’s”. I was not one to “re-use, reduce or recycle”.

Any time I had interest in a man there was almost always interest in return. In fact, I can’t remember a time when a man I wanted didn’t want me back; at least physically any way. I was so in to these guys that any time I slept with them, I would have orgasm after orgasm and I would fuck them like a porn star. It was never a secret that I loved sex. I was always very sexual with my ex-boyfriend and our sex was never an issue with us. I was passionate, dirty, open, adventurous and I was aggressive too. I was very actively engaged in sex and even quite controlling. I always liked being on top the best and I always came. ALWAYS.

Adulthood - Fabulous New Beginings

I was twenty-three and had recently been diagnosed with a condition which affected me in some ways that were very impacting. It turns out that I wasn’t A-sexual after all. It seems that my condition was directly affecting my sex drive and issues with weight and regularity of periods. It was hormonal. After I was put on medication to mediate the problem, I literally shed over twenty pounds in no time.

I always yo-yo’d with my weight over the years but I believe it to be partly due to my condition and partly due to poor diet. Once I shed all that weight and began realizing what “skinny” meant, I was doing anything and everything in my power to maintain that. I started working out heavily, starving, purging and restricting. In elementary school, while all the kids would eat lunch, I wouldn’t. I starting doing the same thing and being “ano” was THE thing and it worked like a charm.

Anyway, my girlfriend and I had decided to take a trip abroad together. When we got to our destination, it was all sun, drinks and bikinis. Needless to say we were very attractive, thin and ready to have a good time. I had always partied hard before with alcohol but this time was different. This time, men were all over me like white on rice; left right and center. I couldn’t push them off of me fast enough. I was like a testosterone magnet and I was fucking loving it. It was the first time that I ever had man after man after man hitting on me. It was wonderful and it was defied all logic.
Over the years, it never once dawned on me that I was never really truly hit on consistently. I had a few guys show interest in me and when I was partying I was always around guys but seldom were they sexually showing any interest. It was the first time I had realized what being “thin” and “beautiful” meant in this world. Everything in this world is about sex, except for sex. It’s about POWER.

On our trip, I immediately fell for a “love at first sight”, “head over heels” situation when I saw a local that I was incredibly hot for. It had never really occurred to me before that I was never really about animal attraction but I was now. I felt sexual intensity. I was horny and I needed to fuck this man. Apparently he felt it too because as soon as our eyes locked in the middle of the day, it continued on into the night at a night club where he stuck his hands up my skirt and fondled my pussy with his bare hands whilst I wore no panties. The next day, we met in the sauna on site and he fucked my brains out in the day time heat of the sun and spa. There it was, I had finally fucked someone new. After six years of fucking the same man, I had turned over a new leaf.

I can’t remember now if I already knew or not (I think I did but clearly didn’t care as usual) but his wife was there visiting him while he fucked me. She was probably sitting at the pool while he banged me too.

Saturday, January 10, 2015

Adulthood - Growing Up - Part III

They say "keep your friends close and your enemies even closer" right? Well that's what I did. I secretly hated this cunt whore of a bitch and I didn't trust her as far as I could throw her but she wasn't going to get away with fucking me over. I would rather have spent every waking moment befriending her than ever allow her out of my sight.

Back in the day when I used to semi-stalk my ex, I befriended his ex-girlfriend who I hated because I was jealous of. But if she could provide with me with any kind of information and thought wholeheartedly for any one second that I was really her friend, I would take the opportunity. I later learned that I wasn't as smart as I thought after-all. Turns out her loyalty was still with him and even though she'd drop information every once in a while, I found out later that they'd still fucked at some point in time and for some length of time.

When I was just broken up with, there was someone I knew from elementary school who (I'm still good "friends" with even up until today) was very attractive but posed a threat. I had found out that he had asked her out on a "date" immediately after we'd broken up. So I quickly befriended her and manipulated her into providing me with details of their relationship and date and immediately manipulated her into believing his friend was a much better suitor for her. She took the bate. Nothing ever came of them.

My ex and his boys were also very close with another girl from my past. The friend who I used to pick up construction workers with in elementary school. I quickly re-kindled our friendship to ensure my army of informants was being built up in numbers. It also helped that one of my other friends was step-cousins with my ex too so I had information coming at me at all angles. Lastly, my ex had an old buddy who introduced me to his then girl friend. We hate each other the first day we met but then bonded quickly over a drunken night. My ex and him are no longer in contact and hadn't been for years but ironically, I'm still very "close" with both these ladies today too.

Needless to say, I stalked my so-called "friends" house along with my ex's house too. All hours of the day and night I would consistently do what we'd eventually coin the term as "drive-bys". This consisted of driving past any and every place possibly known to man that he or she or he and she could or would be spotted together.

None of my other friends ever understood how I would or could maintain contact and a relationship with her but no one really knew or understood what I was up to. I wasn't just driving by houses, parks, parking lots and venues. I was breaking into voicemail boxes and checking voicemails consistently. I knew that every time her phones text notification was going off it was him and I would want to fucking strangle her until her bulging lazy eye popped out of its socket but I waited patiently because I knew once I was "out of her life" any minor guilt she had felt would be gone and I didn't want them to end up together.

He and I were not on speaking terms during this time period and so it was always focused on her only. He and I were "not talking" so therefore she was my only "in". He was off limits. Shit finally hit the fan after months and months of me knowing and suspecting things. I listened to a voicemail he had left for her about them being in the same vacation spot together and I knew it was more than sex. It fucking killed me but I didn't step down or allow it to break me. The final straw was me driving by her place once night and seeing them in an embrace together in his car the night before she was slated to go off on some trip abroad. They both saw me and the cat was finally out of the bag. She tried to apologize and make amends; even calling me from the airport before boarding her flight but I was done. It was over and none of us could ever deny any of it any longer. She was cut off and I wanted nothing to do with her any more.

Adulthood - Growing Up - Part II

Just after graduating from College, my group of gal pals at the time were taking a trip to Mexico. I had never been away before and especially not with friends. I had just turned twenty one at the time and these girls were all about the club and party scene. Unfortunately, since my depression had long disappeared, so had fabulous and sexy anorexic body type.

Regardless, I was going on the trip. There was just one small issue. One of my crew "best friends" had all of sudden become exceptionally close and chummy with my ex boyfriend. The ex boyfriend that every single one of my so-called "friends" knew of and knew very well from past and present. We all knew one another from years ago.

One night, over an online game of backgammon my friend and I were chatting and she nonchalantly mentioned that my ex had "dropped by" her place to "hang out" in her drive way. An immediate red flag went off. I wasn't of the "jealous" type per se but I was extremely possessive and territorial and I was no fucking idiot either. Or so I thought. He and I had been "on and off" for at least five years at this point and it was obvious I still had very strong feelings for him. She maintained they were nothing more than friends and she was doing nothing wrong. Her and some other crew members had known each other for a long time before her and I became "close" she maintained.

Mexico came and went and for the first time in my life, I "whored" myself. I was the "kissing slut of Cancun". I loved every minute of it. I was alone with three other attractive women for a week during spring break and this was me letting loose on a whole new level. I didn't even know this kind of personal entertainment existed. It was exhilarating. The girls would egg and cheer me on and I lost count of the amount of guys I made out with that week.

When we returned back from our trip, something strange happened. My ex had called me out on all the things I had done on my trip. I knew immediately where the information was coming from. My vacation secrets were being shared from my backstabbing bitch of a "friend" to the man I still claimed to love and care about.

That wasn't the only thing being shared. It turns out that my "friend" was sharing a lot more than secrets with him. She was fucking him and I eventually found out from her that it was much more than just sex. Apparently there were feelings involved. This went on for a very long period of time right under my nose and behind my back and I let it happen. The other friends knew but had never told me. I learned very quickly after this whole blowout what "friendship" and "loyalty" really meant and I knew I never had any of it.

Adulthood - Growing Up - Part I

I was in my last year of high school and graduating early because of my age, birthday and surprisingly, because of my ex.

In the period of our cyclical relationship dynamic, he promised to take no classes with me during one period of the day but ended up taking a class instead. In lieu of spending that gap of time alone, I decided to join him in his class and what do you know? I ended up getting more credits faster and being able to fast track into College a year ahead of all my friends.

"Friends".... I use this term very loosely now. Back then, I thought I had it made. I was completely out of the depression and constant state of intense rage and anger that the break-ups depression had brought on me. The dark cloud of pain, sadness and anger had dissipated. The strained relationship with my immediate family, especially with that of my mother, that the bitterness of despair had cast on me and caused me to withdraw mentally and emotionally had lifted. My ex was inconsistently back in life for several years and I was happy take whatever I could get.

I began to get my "social butterfly" skills back and became the same chameleon I always was. Happy, laughing, intelligent and fun. I think back now and realize how ignorant, arrogant, egotistical and narcissistic I was to believe I knew it all and had it made, but they do say that ignorance is bliss.

I had a large array of friends to choose from at any given moment in time. A crew here, a squad there. I became particularly entwined with a group of girls who led me in the right direction so to speak. They "drank" and smoked "cigarettes" but for the most part, they were all on the straight and narrow. Smart and intelligent and came from good, loving homes and families. They were going to College the next year and since I was a year early, I was going to do the same.

I was led down the right path and I attribute a lot of that to them. I always worked and was surprisingly a little "too" careful with my money. My parents were always very frugal and I learned to save money very quickly. Not only did I enjoy making it. I was good at making it. I worked my ass off as much as possible at any and every job possible and I went to school full-time.

I had started classes and they were overwhelming. I was always street smart but my book smarts were average at best. I never got a scholarship or straight A's and I had to study my ass off to do well. Even when I did study, I didn't always particularly do that great. It took me two years to master College courses and realize you study the text book to do well.

I also had little to no idea what my major of study was going to be. The only reason I ended up there in the first place was because the other girls were doing it. The only reason I worked the jobs I landed was because that's just sort of how it all "happened". Nothing I had specifically planned or hoped for. I was finishing my first year of four and I was literally being forced to choose a major of study. I knew I had enjoyed Psychology courses so I chose that as my major. Then I'd overheard a friend of mine talk about this new double major I could do and a light bulb went off. "Good idea", I thought. "I'll do that too".

It was clear that I had no idea what I wanted or needed and had no direction, opinion or decision making skills but somehow, it all sort of "worked" out and things just ended up falling into place. Four long and hard years and I had a degree. It was time to go out into the real world and make money now. Again, I had no idea what I was going to do with my life so I randomly applied for any and every job posted at the time. I would eventually land something and it would open doors to new life experiences and a path of success and destruction.

The Teenage Years - The Break-Up - Part II

Au natural. I spent the whole summer healing from a pain so massive it felt like the loss of a loved one. I couldn't attribute my sorrow and despair to anything else I had ever felt in my life with the exception of the loss of a grandparent four years prior. That pain was bad but it was on no comparable scale with regards to magnitude, length of time and impact to my mentally, emotionally, physically, physiologically and spiritually. This was a kind of "broken" I never even dare dreamed existed.

The school year began just after I had lost all my weight and had cried less than usual. It was the first time we would be seeing each other since the break-up. The day came and there he was. We made eye contact as he was coming in and I was going out and just like that, I ignored him. I turned my head and kept walking. I never looked back.

We ended up having a class together. It wasn't easy but I pretended like I didn't care and it didn't bother me; but it did. It killed me. I would do anything and everything possible to get his attention without talking to him or making any moves. Whether it was in class, at school or at some function. I made my presence and I always made it known. I befriended his friends and ex-girlfriend(s). I tried to manipulate any one he had contact with past and present just so I could keep tabs on him and be wherever he was without showing him how much I still cared and how badly I wanted to be noticed and wanted again.

I can't remember how long this went on but eventually we began to start "talking" again. We'd always pick up right where we left off. I would sleep over, we would hang out, a few weeks or months would go by and the cycle would start and end again. Some times it was weeks of "not talking" and then there were only "days". I think I remember there being a year (yes, a whole twelve months) of us "not talking" but whenever we did, it was like we never stopped.

I did my best to never call him and stay out his life because we never ever talked about getting back together or ever uttered the words "I love you" to each other again. It was never just sex though. In hindsight, I had realized it was really never ever ever even about sex. It was about "human contact", it was about "friendship" and it was about "connection". For me any way.

From the age of sixteen to the age of twenty three, I had never slept with any one other than my ex. He and I never spoke about "other people" during this time-period but we always maintained contact. Physically and emotionally. I realize now how stupid and naive I must've been to think he wasn't fucking other girls all those years. For me though, I never slept with anyone because not only was I obsessed with him and still madly, deeply in love with him, I was A-sexual again. I had zero interest in other people and I was always "dealing" with him in some way or another so maybe my ignorance always thought eventually he would just confess his undying love for me.

He knew he had complete and utter control over me in every and any way. Although he was smart and manipulative, he was never "dishonest". There were never any discussions about relationship commitments or getting back together. I always maintained contact whenever possible and would drop anything at any given moment to be with him but he never really took advantage of me. I was always a very willing participant in just about any of the sorted details of our years of what ended up being a very complicated relationship.

I was so insecure that he didn't love me anymore that I was petrified to ever say or do anything that would risk him telling me he didn't love me. So I never once told him that I loved him after we'd broken up or vice-versa. Not for about seven years any way.

One night, I was on a random date with some guy at a pizza parlor and low and behold, my ex walks right into the same restaurant as we were at. He and I had literally never once been to that place, that area or that restaurant together and it was entirely serendipitous that he caught me. I couldn't believe his reaction. His jealousy and insecurity was off the charts. I was actually pretty shocked about it to say the least. I had no idea anything of the sort would rattle him the way it did.

We weren't "together" and we were not "committed". We only intermittently communicated on his terms and times of interest and engagement. This relationship dynamic continued for several years. The "unofficial" so-called "on and off" romance of what we'd coined as "talking" and "not talking" continued for what seemed like forever.

The Teenage Years - The Break-Up - Part I

I finally got a phone call after some few weeks of no contact. I remember it being a hot, sunny and bright summer day outside and I lay on my bed weeping after hours of non-stop crying and pain. All of a sudden, the phone rang. I answered it and it was him. He asked me how I was doing and I told him I was okay. I was doing fine. I never once uttered what kind of emotional despair and turmoil I was experiencing. I was too strong and too proud to ever let him know I was hurting. My only question was why I hadn't heard from him and he dropped the bombshell on me. He didn't think it was a good idea if he and I stayed friends. It would be too hard for the both of us and we wouldn't be able to move on. It was a bad idea. He was sorry.

I spent the next weeks and months trying to understand what the fuck I was feeling and how the fuck I was going to get through this pain, sorrow and heartache. He was my best friend and he abandoned me. Just left me. His friends were my friends. He was all I had. He was my whole life; my whole world and he was also the reason it crumbled and came down crashing. "What was a little desert without rain?", I thought. Everyone has disagreements. How was I going to get by losing my boyfriend and my best (and what I felt like) was my only friend at the same time?

For four straight months, I cried every single day. I didn't just shed a tear or two, I wailed and sobbed and grieved in despair for hours on end. I didn't eat any more. I lost about forty pounds in about six weeks. I was a shell of my former self (but I looked fucking great). My mother was beside herself. One day, instead of trying to communicate, console and support me like any other (normal) parent would've done, she forced herself into my bedroom unannounced with a muffin in hand. She tackled me on my bed and began yelling at me uncontrollably and forcefully feeding me this muffin I so desperately wanted nothing to do with. It became a struggle and eventually an altercation of unkind words and loud voices. She left the room and there were crumbs everywhere.

Mornings were always by far the worst. I would always wake up with this crippling physical pain in my mid section that I can only describe as knots, punches and kicks from inside. I had no idea what this feeling was. I had never experienced it before in my life and it was debilitating. I began to go to sleep as late (or early in the morning) as possible at night because nights were easier. I spent all night awake watching television because my tears, pain and discomfort had finally subsided and learned that it helped me sleep in much later in the day. No matter how late I would sleep, the pain was always there when I woke up. Sometimes I felt like I was waking up from an excruciatingly painful and scary nightmare but in my waking hours, it was always the nightmare continued.

What I didn't know then, I know now. It was "anxiety". I learned very quickly that if I immediately distracted myself from the pain in my body, it would help for short spurts of time. I would go to work and in between sessions of uncontrollable crying and pain, I felt better. I also noticed that making plans with just about any one and leaving the house immediately to go about distractions was helpful too. I spent the entire summer naturally healing my pain. No drugs, no alcohol, no sex, no men, no partying, no travel and no medication.

The Teenage Years - My First Love - Part III

I had a guy friend who was my ex-boyfriends arch nemesis. My ex was so jealous and insecure about this guy but I was a dumb little girl and didn't understand the concept of "insecurity" until many, many years later.

A few months after losing my virginity, my guy friend offered to drive me to work one day. I never had this feeling before in my entire life. It was almost literally somewhat of a foreign concept to me. I knew what I was feeling and why, but I really realized I'd never felt that before in my entire life. That was the first time I ever recall feeling "bad" for something I had done. I felt remorse and I felt real guilt. It was so overwhelming because of my undying devotion and commitment to my boyfriend who I was madly and deeply in love with, that I had to come clean. I had done something so very wrong because there's no way I could feel something this strong and overpowering if it were anything else but wrong. I felt "guilty". What did I feel guilt and remorse for? I let a male friend drive me to work and I didn't tell my boyfriend about it.

Nine months into my "official" relationship with my boyfriend but about a year or so into the inseparable friendship and spending every waking moment together, unbeknownst to me, it was all about to come to an abrupt and bitter end.

One mid summer night, I just had date night with the love of my life. He dropped me off at home just in time to make my midnight curfew which I never broke and uttered the words I loved hearing before kissing me good night. "I love you" he said, before I left the car. "I love you too" I replied. The next day, it was business as usual, I would wake up earlier than him so he would always call me when he was up and awake mid-afternoon. We made plans like any other day. He picked me up but something was different. Something was wrong. It wasn't a long conversation I don't think and there weren't too many details but it was happening. He was breaking up with me. He said he thought we needed a break and that we just fought a bit too much. I will be honest when I say I don't recall any fights unless it was about an ex of his or his insecurities about my guy friend. Other than that, I thought everything was dandelions and candy colored corn with rose colored glasses on. I was entirely blind-sided. I hadn't ever seen this one coming. How could someone tell you they loved you not less than twenty hours ago and now they're telling you that they don't want to be with you any more? It made no sense.

I remember him walking me into my condo lobby and there a song playing on the radio to which I still cringe at every time I hear it now. The "break-up" song as I call it. We hugged in a long embrace and I remember thinking to ask if we could have sex one more time but didn't. And just like that, I was single.

The next day came and I waited for my morning phone call; still him speaking in his groggy half awake yet I'm still half asleep voice. But it never came. Then another day and another until a whole week had gone by and there was no contact. I was taking drivers ed courses during this time-frame every Saturday afternoon and I remember being so physically ailed, I was unable to eat a sandwich I had packed for lunch for myself. I realized at that moment in time that my whole life was about to change and nothing was ever going to be the same again.

The Teenage Years - My First Love - Part II

We had been officially dating and committed for three months now and I quickly realized that I had never been in a relationship; really. I never really had "boyfriends" and had no concept or context to relate to as a baseline for what it meant to be a girlfriend and have a boyfriend.

I never realized how good being physically close and connected to someone could feel. I was falling fast and I was falling hard. Not only was I best friends with someone who I really liked and enjoyed, but we were doing things physically and emotionally that was mostly all foreign to me.

I don't remember how it happened now, although you'd think that being told "I love you" for the first time by a guy who you knew meant every word of it would be memorable. I do definitely remember not being the one to say it first but when I said it back, I fucking meant it. I'm surprised I don't remember every single detail of every single moment of every single day because I was seriously in love with this person and I knew it. Up until that point in my life, I recognized I didn't know what it meant to feel "love". Just just be "in love" but feel "love" for someone.

I knew I loved my family but this was different. I was in love, and this was very, very, very real. I never wanted to do something for someone so much until that point in my life. I would do anything and everything for this person. I consistently put him and his needs ahead of mine and it felt good. It felt so right and so very natural. I couldn't believe how altruistic and loving I could be to someone and vice-versa. It was magical. I was in love with my best friend and he was in love with me and things couldn't be better.

Three months into the relationship and one week after my sixteenth birthday, I was ready to "give it up". I was ready to lose my virginity. I knew he'd be the one and it couldn't have felt any more right or perfect with him. We'd already exchanged I love you's and fooled around in other ways. Now it was time to get my cherry popped. My mother was a huge proponent of "no sex before marriage" because she married my father at nineteen and he was her first. She prided herself on that and ensured that my sister and I knew about it. She was very stern in her "prude" moral code and I was a naive and immature teenager who lived in a bubble. Regardless, I figured this was close enough and had sex for the first time with the my first love. The love of my life; or so I thought.

The Teenage Years - My First Love - Part I

I regularly started smoking cigarettes at the tender age of twelve. In addition, I spent the majority of my young adulthood getting drunk in parks and smoking weed with friends. We spent days hanging out in groups; loitering and nights in parks, stairwells and garages.

As I mentioned before, with the exception of a pseudo-boyfriend at the age of twelve or thirteen who I fooled around with, I mostly A-sexual. I really had no interest in the opposite sex at all. I wasn't gay or even bi-sexual. I liked men. I just didn't have any physical, mental or emotional interest in them. I only had "friends".

When I was fifteen years old, I had started school at a new high school and met a group of boys through a girl friend of mine. I began to hang out with the "boys" constantly. It was always the group of guys and "me". I wasn't a tom-boy though. I never felt like a boy, dressed like a boy or liked boys sexually but I always "fit in" with the boys. I smoked, I drank alcohol, I swore, I liked weed and hash and generally men seemed smarter and more engaging. I think this is the reason boys took to me too. Not only was I a very well endowed young woman with large tits, but I was funny and I laughed at all the jokes and kept the guys entertained.

By this point, we'd literally spent the entire summer together on a daily basis. One night, I came over to my friends house before all his boys were to come over and hang out for the night. I can't recall exactly how or why this began but I remember laying on his couch on belly, back up and him giving me a massage. I don't really remember thinking much of it but only a few weeks later, he and I were alone again at a school parking lot late one night alone in his car. We got out of the car and started making out, standing up as he leaned with his back against his car. I remember putting my hand down his pants because he was wearing sweats and it was easy access and his dick was like a foreign object to me. With the exception of my "encounter" three years before, I really never saw or felt a cock before. It surprised me that it pointed upward out of his pants when he was erect.

And that was that, the night ended with a hand-job and a goodnight but it opened the flood gates to something I had never experienced before in my life and wouldn't soon forget. As September 1st came just a few weeks after that and we were started school he said to me ... "Since school starts tomorrow, I was hoping to draft you." Knowing his keen choice of words and witty personality, I knew this meant he was asking me to be his girlfriend.

Friday, January 9, 2015


I had several “best friends” over the course of my childhood and into my adolescence. I remember having several if not numerous, very fulfilling and positive experiences with all of these a large number of girls and boys alike.

I didn’t lie or cheat, but I do remember stealing and being a bad influence in some way or another. I got several of my friends into trouble with school and parents.  It was never anything serious or even worth mentioning really. I stole random things and I would convince kids to break rules and leave school property when we weren’t supposed to. We used to call sex lines and sometimes we’d call the suicide help line and threaten to kill ourselves before hanging up. It seemed funny at the time. I would pick up and hit on construction workers when I was ten and landed myself in the principal’s office so many times, I’d lost count. I got kicked out of the school play for pulling some boys pants down in the school yard. I was also told I was exceptionally “bossy” and “mean” (i.e.; a bitch) as per teachers and other students and I had a very big mouth and attitude. Surprisingly, I was never suspended and had a large group of friends and followers over the years. I even considered myself a “social butterfly” of sorts. Overall though, I recall general good times like sleepovers, lots of laughing, spending time with friends’ family and loved ones. I remember being a good friend too and parents seemed to love me. I was very good at being “bad” in private but “good” in public. Even back then I was a chameleon whenever I wanted or needed to being the second grade, I was told by my much older and very attractive male teacher that I was “charismatic”. His words always resonated with me.  I was so young and yet my charm came so naturally to me that even adults couldn’t see the act.

Aside from all that, what is most curious is just the sheer volume of these friendships that I had with girls that came and went. I never realized or thought about it at the time but how could someone have people in their lives and then not have them in their lives and not give a damn? Somehow though, all these close friendships that I had with these people would in some way or another would just disappear and dissolve after some length of time. We’d somehow grow apart and eventually go our separate ways. There was never any animosity or hostility about jumping from friendship to friendship over the years. It was normal and I never really ever questioned it. Nor did I ever think about or dwell on it. Once someone was out of my life, they were almost immediately out of my mind as well. I don’t think I ever really cared or even noticed to be honest. It all seemed normal at the time.

The very first time I ever recall feeling discomfort or minimal angst over a friendship ending was with a girl I was exceptionally close with in middle school. I remember us being so incredibly close that I might even possibly say she was the first female friend I ever “loved”. I didn’t know it then but in hindsight, now I do. I remember buying her a McDonalds lunch one day before I was coming over to her house to hang out and I felt happy doing something nice for her. It made me feel good.

We were inseparable for several months and even possibly a few years. Days, nights, evenings and weekends were spent hanging out together at her place. We’d go to concerts and parties together. We had countless sleep overs and spent hours talking on the phone too. When we weren’t together at after school, we together at school or with mutual girl and guy friends somewhere doing just about anything and everything. Then, one day, at random, out of nowhere, at school one day, she approached me with two other “friends” of ours who were newer to our “crew” but I had known for even longer than I had known her. It was like a fucking scene out of “Mean Girls”. They cornered me and all three ganged up on me for no reason. I was completely blind-sided. Apparently, the two other girls heard how I “talked shit” about them all and all told my “best friend” all the things I had apparently said about her. I even apparently called the anorexic girl in the squad “fat” too.

Needless to say it was completely unwarranted and untrue. I was in middle school and surprisingly I was honest and I considered myself a good friend with no ill will or bad intentions. I don’t remember if I was “hurt” but I do remember it bothered me afterwards. We were never nearly (all) as close after that but it was definitely the first time in my life I had “cared” that someone was gone from my life. I wasn’t ready for the friendship to end and although I didn’t cry or dwell or try to make amends, it annoyed me.

I will come back to this in some of my later posts but in my late teen years and into my mid-twenties, I had a friend who told me a story I had no recollection of from back when we were both in elementary school. She told me that we had a school field trip a few miles away from school one winter where we went to a skating rink during school hours. She told me that her and I had buddied up and then I just blatantly ditched her at the arena and never even looked her way again once I was there or once we’d left to go back to the school. This obviously really hurt her feelings as she’d reminded me of it about ten years later. I apologized but inside, I didn’t remember nor did I care. I assumed I should’ve felt bad but I likely would’ve done it to her again if the opportunity arose for something better. I guess others’ wouldn’t have done something that seemed so cruel and heartless but I didn’t see anything wrong with it and I left no guilt or remorse either. I assume since she’d waited over a decade to tell me about it, it obviously stayed with her for some length of time. My apology was empty but I assumed that’s what I should do as seeing her sad pathetic facial expression filled with obvious emotion gave me a hint that this was something she felt I did wrong and she never forgot about.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

The Wonder Years - Childhood Memories - Part III

In middle school, before puberty, I was very pretty. I had long dirty blonde hair and big green eyes. I was always told I was beautiful and boys always seemed to have crushes on me. I had a few "boyfriends" but I was between the ages of six to eleven so what did I really know?

I remember masturbating as early as six years old. I used to steal my mothers high heel shoes and put them on pretending to be a high class call girl hooker and humping pillows and blankets.

I remember my first boyfriend and I were in puppy love and had known each other since junior kindergarten. When he turned seven, he had a co-ed sleep over party that was a little on the naughty side. All the girls and boys french kissed in the dark in their sleeping bags and I was no exception.

Thinking back now, I remember having many obsessive thoughts about my boyfriend at the age of twelve who was the first boy I ever went down on. I thought about him constantly whether he was around or not and he was always on my mind. It wasn't abnormal for me to dwell on him for hours throughout the day and for a long-term period of time. When I was fourteen I had a similar feeling of infatuation for an older boy but was too shy to tell him how I felt although we did spend time together. I remember being at a hotel party one night with him in bed but nothing ended up happening between us and eventually my obsessive infatuation for him had come and gone.

I got my period at the age of twelve and after puberty hit, I gained quite a bit of weight and my breasts were a size DD. By the age of fourteen I had opted to have breast reduction surgery and my periods became very irregular.

Thinking back now, I really believe I was generally A-sexual during this period of time. I don't recall masturbating or having any general interest in sex or sexuality overall. In hindsight, I realize boys may have liked me and even had crushes on me but I was completely out to lunch and unaware or just didn't care or have any interest of feelings for them. I was too focused on smoking weed and getting drunk to notice anyway.

The Wonder Years - Childhood Memories - Part II

I had repressed many to all of my childhood memories and they only come to the surface when I reflect deeply and consistently over time. I sometimes have to ask my older sibling along with other family members to help me remember because I can't seem to remember or figure it all out on my own.

Until I went to school, I had spent all of my time with my mother who raised me and took care of me while my sibling who is four and a half years my elder was already in school at the time. I never had play dates. I remember sitting in front of the television watching my favorite cartoons like: She-Ra - The Princess of Power, He-Man, Spider Man, Transformers and Inspector Gadget. I was always just under my mother's care. I don't remember much during the period of time.

It was my first year of junior kindergarten. I had just turned four years old. It's a vague, faint memory now which I had repressed for years until just recently but I remember my mother walking me to school and dropping me off in my classroom. She began to leave me there and I recall bursting into hysterics. I was crying and begging my mother to stay and then I remember puking all over the classroom carpet.

I asked my mother and sister about this incident several months ago when I was forced to recall the memory and my mother says that she doesn't remember it happening but says she thinks it happened to my older sister and not to me. Incorrect. It was me. When I asked her if she had come back for me after leaving me hysterical in the classroom crying she replied "no".

That was it. It was the first trauma of childhood abandonment I can mentally recall. That must be where my fears and insecurities must have stemmed from; or so I believe. Over the months and years, I had consistent separation anxiety at school and my sister would have to be called down from her classes to calm me down.

I also experienced intense episodes of crying, anxiety and depression similar to this in my adolescent years at overnight camp and sleep overs. I remember being six years old and having been invited to my first sleep over at my then best friends house at the time. She lived about a fifteen minute walk away from my house down a long side street with houses that lead to a major intersection. It was six o'clock in the morning and I woke up in her room and she was still asleep. I remember panicking and getting my clothes on while the whole family was sleeping and left in my denim shorts. I walked home in the early hours of the morning and was so cold and scared that I urinated in my jean shorts on the walk back home. A three week summer sleep away camp two years in a row was a bust too. I cried for the entire three weeks each summer and wanted nothing but to go home. My separation anxiety was nerve racking.

I remember being in the first grade at school and there was a pretty and popular girl who everyone knew and liked. One day, I don't know why, but I recall her being very mean to me and ostracizing me from group play in the school yard at recess. I remember sitting on a bench far away from the other kids alone in a long winter jacket thinking about how lonely and sad I was that no one wanted to play with me and how I had no friends.

In the process of trying to open up repressed memories when I hit rock bottom, I asked my sister about what she remembered about my childhood years and other than her recalling having to come down to my classes regularly tp calm my nerves because of my uncontrollable crying and anxiety, she recalled me once telling her something that made her heart sink even as a child just a few years older than me.

She told me that one day her and I were playing a game at home and I had told her that I had no friends. It was ironic because even three decades later my internal experience still felt exactly the same. It was eerie and sent chills down my spine.

The Wonder Years - Childhood Memories - Part I

I think about my childhood over and over and over again but to no avail. I have very little memory of my younger years. I once remember hearing someone say that their first memory is from when they were four years of age but I can't seem to go back that far and remember anything from those innocent years of my life.

I recall having a good childhood. I had an older sibling and we close growing up. Both my parents were around and grandparents too. I wasn't abused sexually, physically or emotionally. I wasn't poor, starving or living on the streets. We were a normal, middle class family who took family vacations every year, had friends and loved ones and were close overall.

I recall looking through family albums and seeing album after album of family photos. Always smiling, always laughing. As I think closely now, there's only one photograph I've seen of myself as an infant and my father holding me in one hand about a foot away from his face and body. I recall seeing no photographs of my mother holding me.

I don't ever remember my mother or father holding me, hugging me, kissing me or ever telling me that they loved me. We never used those words or any gestures of emotional intimacy. It was normal though. Growing up, I never once questioned the lack of emotional connection and just assumed that was the norm, Our family showed us love in other ways. My father was hard-working and my mother was a stay at home mom. She cooked, cleaned, took care of the kids and home and my dad went to work and made all the money.

The Borderline Personality as Transient Sociopath -

Before I get into the details of my personal experiences, I thought it would be beneficial to post an external link to an article I found particularly interesting and wanted to share via

It provides a particularly quick and accurate summary of what someone who possesses traits of both borderline personality and sociopathy may experience. Pay close attention to the case study illustrated which will give you some insight into the mind and actions of someone who can be unstable when faced with abandonment but not have any general ill will or ill intentions toward the person they "love". Their actions are generally acted out due to the threat of insecurity, jealousy and ultimately, abandonment . These actions attain some feeling of “vengeance and revenge” but never to annihilate and destroy for the “thrill of the kill”; it’s more so to battle internal hurt, sadness, fear and anger that the person experiences in response to any perceived indiscretion(s).

Self Diagnosed High Functioning Female Borderline Sociopath - The Inside Story

Just over a year ago, I posted my first ever anonymous confession online located at the URL below: 

"Self Diagnosed High Functioning Female Borderline Sociopath":

It all came about at random but it was entirely cathartic. I had spent so many months trying to understand what I was going through and I finally found a place where I could share my internal experience(s) with others who wouldn't know me or judge me and might possibly be experiencing the same or similar feelings and (life) outcomes.

The next several entries in my blog will be an autobiographical, factual narrative of the last three decades of my life to the best of my knowledge and memory. If it feels like a roller-coaster ride of thoughts, feelings, passion, experience, emotion, love, hurt and pain to you, then I ask to you take a moment and try not only to sympathize with and identify with me by tying to understand, but also empathize with what ups and downs I have experienced to date.

"Empathy" will be a keyword to anyone who is diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) or now commonly referred to as "Emotional Regulation Disorder" or possess many of the traits associated with the condition. Similarly, Sociopathy, Psychopathy and Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) which are commonly used interchangeably, also focus an exorbitant amount of attention to "empathy" or the lack of it in addition to a lack of conscience, guilt and remorse as well.

Although I have never been formally diagnosed with (female) Borderline Personality Disorder or Sociopathy, I have concluded that I am a Female Borderline Sociopath possessing many traits only as opposed to having the full-blown disorder of both. My self-diagnoses came about after countless years of careful internal reflection, analysis of past positive and negative life experiences, University courses in Abnormal Psychology, limitless hours of online research from web pages to scholarly articles published in scientific journals along with thousands of hours of watching documentaries and reading documented case studies.

More recently, I encountered a male love interest whom I met after a gut-wrenching breakup from a long-term live-in boyfriend. It was this life situation that opened the door to all this deep analytical soul-searching and personal reflection and required research when I serendipitously learned my new love interests’ secret. He was a Borderline Personality Disordered male and had it not been for him, I would've been highly unlikely to uncover repressed self-comprehension of my actions and my behaviors; both past and present. In searching for answers on him and trying to understand his curious actions, lack of actions and behaviors, I only came to learn, know and understand myself differently and so much better.

But once I saw and felt things I didn’t know or feel or understand before, there was never any going back. The layers of the onion had been peeled back and now I was deeper engrained in my own mind, body, heart and spirt. It was like being blind your entire life and then being reborn and given new sense of sight; or better yet, “insight”. It was both a gift and a curse and now I feel like a third degree burn victim with flesh showing and no way to heal the wounds. Even if the skin does grow back, the scars will always be there and now they’re continuously grazed with every movement I make and yet they still burn the same way they did when I did have the protection of old layer of skin to shield me.

I have changed for what I believe to be for the better but with pleasure, come pain. To date, it has been bittersweet to say the least.