Archive for the ‘Trauma’ Category

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Celebrity Worship Syndrome

November 7, 2011

I searched this knowing that I would find some kind of mental illness attached to it. I didn’t know it would be so in depth though. The reason I’m writing this is for one reason. Merrill Osmond (who I will call MO in this article) of the Osmond Brothers is retiring. So what? You say.

Well when someone in your family has CWS and their celebrity obsessee is retiring, you will worry.

Let me give you a few wiki excerts about CWS:

“Psychologists in the U.S.A. and UK. created a celebrity worship scale to rate the problems. In 2002, United States psychologists Lynn McCutcheon, Rense Lange, and James Houran introduced the Celebrity Attitude Scale, a 34 item scale administered to 262 persons living in central Florida.[4] McCutcheon et al. suggested that celebrity worship comprised one dimension in which lower scores on the scale involved individualistic behavior such as watching, listening to, reading and learning about celebrities whilst the higher levels of worship are characterized by empathy, over-identification, and obsession with the celebrity.

However, later research among larger UK samples have suggested there are 3 different aspects to celebrity worship;[5] John Maltby (University of Leicester), and the aforementioned psychologists examined the Celebrity Attitude Scale among 1732 United Kingdom respondents (781 males, 942 females) who were aged between 14 and 62 years and found the following 3 dimensions to celebrity worship:

Entertainment-social

This dimension comprises attitudes that fans are attracted to a favorite celebrity because of their perceived ability to entertain and become a social focus such as “I love to talk with others who admire my favorite celebrity” and “I like watching and hearing about my favorite celebrity when I am with a large group of people”.

Intense-personal

Intense-personal aspect of celebrity worship reflects intensive and compulsive feelings about the celebrity, akin to the obsessional tendencies of fans often referred to in the literature; for example “I share with my favorite celebrity a special bond that cannot be described in words” and “When something bad happens to my favorite celebrity I feel like it happened to me’”.

Borderline-pathological

This dimension is typified by uncontrollable behaviors and fantasies regarding scenarios involving their celebrities, such as “I have frequent thoughts about my favorite celebrity, even when I don’t want to” and “my favorite celebrity would immediately come to my rescue if I needed any type of help”. ”

Now I would say that most of us experience the first one. We have a favorite celebrity and if something of theirs comes out to buy then we’ll buy it, this one doesn’t seem to be a large problem. The second one sounds like a lot of the fans who say “Justin Bieber is my life” and they are usually quite young. They generally grow out of it as they mature. Now the 3rd one shows some mental health problems, delusional thoughts about someone they don’t know personally.

My mother is the majority intense- personal but can be borderline-pathological.

“Evidence indicates that poor mental health is correlated with celebrity worship. Researchers have examined the relationship between celebrity worship and mental health in United Kingdom adult samples. Maltby et al. (2001) found evidence to suggest that the intense-personal celebrity worship dimension was related to higher levels of depression and anxiety. Similarly, Maltby et al., in 2004, found that the intense-personal celebrity worship dimension was not only related to higher levels of depression and anxiety, but also higher levels of stress, negative affect, and reports of illness.”

People who become obsessed with things generally have a problem. They have holes in their lives that they fill with things, routines and people. It’s normal to want to do it but sometimes it can go too far.

Celebrity Worship syndrome I would say is one of the main causes of my BPD. My mother’s obsession lead to me feeling lesser than MO and less loved than he was by her. She would pay and still does hundreds of pounds of items of his clothing or stupid items he had touched. They hang on her bedroom walls along with thousands (literally) of pictures and posters of him. She turned the marital bedroom into a shrine and my dad now has his own room. She has no money and numerous credit cards. She works to so she can see MO while my dad worked for me and mum. Everything she did and does is for him. She would leave frequently to other contries to where he was often leaving me with a very mentally unwell father. My feelings of abandonment come from my mother leaving me for MO more than once a year, without telling me beforehand so as not to upset me. Although not being told meant that she would leave unexpectedly and it made like seem very unpredictable. It often reminds of the Strange Situation I started off as the secure child, crying when she left, happy she was home but the more and more it happened the more I became Anxious-resistant insecure, I would cry when she left and when she came home, I would be resistant and not want to see her and accept her holiday present with reluctance. It was a difficult pattern and when your parent has CWS you start to hate the Celebrity more and more. She believes that MO can solves all of her problems, he can cure her sorrows and troubles. She won’t listen if you tell her that he will never fall in love with her and that he isn’t interested in making her life better because he has his own life. He may recognise her when she goes to see him but when she pours out her soul about all of her problems, he can’t do anything about it and he knows it’s not his place to. In ways he has crossed boundaries because he is such a nice person and does want to help but then she sees this as him loving her and wanting to save her from her misery. I remember when I met MO it felt very strange, he was so lovely that I wondered why I hated him in the first place, then I realised I shouldn’t have been directing my hatred towards him because it’s not his fault he’s alive. Then it started turning more towards my mother. She believes she is in love with him. But infatuation and obsession is not love. It’s not love at all.

Just thinking about it is reducing me to tears. She always loved him more and she still does. Dad has even said it too, she loves MO more than both of us. Now MO is retiring at the end of next year and I’m scared mum is going to die. She always told me if anything happened and she couldn’t see him again she would kill herself. If I died she wouldn’t kill herself because she would still have MO in her life. Surely it should be the other way around?

How am I supposed to deal with that? How as I child was I supposed to deal with that? Knowing you aren’t as good as some strange in your mothers life.

Edit: I remembered I had this picture that I took of a list I found written by my mother.

If you can’t read it, it says.

List of blessings that I am grateful for!

Merrill.

My hair.

A good pair of working eyes.

My beautiful cat.

Microwave.

Savannah (I scribbled out my real name on paint to protect anon)

I was last on her list and in a different pen to everything else, meaning I wasn’t originally added but was thought about at a later point. Sure I’m on the list I guess but to be below the microwave and her hair…

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Do you remember why?

August 28, 2011

*SELF HARM TRIGGERS AND DISTURBING IMAGES*

I was just looking through some photos and found some very shocking ones of myself with cuts all up my arms. My cutting has reduced in the past year, although not stopped. But it wasn’t the cuts that’s shocked me the most, it was that I couldn’t even remember why I did them. Surely if it was so bad that I had to cut that much then I would remember why I did it? But no I don’t. It just says to me that the reasons that I cut aren’t as important as the cuts themselves. I make a big thing out of nothing as an excuse to hurt myself so people can see how much I’m hurting. I guess.

Last year I did this to myself. I just wish I knew a reason for each cut. Why?

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Dad’s Birthday

August 17, 2011

I told my mum not to go to the hospital. The more goes the more he thinks she wants him back and keeps getting crushed when she says she doesn’t care. Me, J and my aunt went to see him, I made him a cake especially as I thought it would be the best present to get him as anything else he would immediately lose. We got there and they had made him a cake. It was difficult to hold back the tears, I worked really hard on it and it was pointless. I was then only one who ate a slice and the rest was brought home. While there he definately wasn’t well, it’s extremely hard going to see him. He keeps introducing me saying “this is my beautiful daughter!”, it’s upsetting because he’s talking like that because he’s unwell.

One more thing. He says he’s coming home tomorrow. This time it’s real. This happened last week too, the psychiatrist also said to him “we have to ask your family first”. He is NOT well. They keep trying to send him home and expecting us to look after him. There is no way in hell I am looking after him like this. He will get abusive if I refuse to do something for him. They did the exact same last week, so he knows if he doesn’t come home then it’s down to me saying no. They said they will have the crisis team and he will do activities in the day at the hospital but that is NOT good enough. He cannot be home. He will try and force himself on my mother and he will be demanding and unreasonable in every way possible. I was supposed to get a phonecall tonight but nothing has happened. I swear to God if they bring him home tomorrow without saying anything I will walk out of my own home. I don’t even have anywhere to go but I’m not staying at home if he comes back. He keeps talking about bringing women to the house and saying he won’t divorce my mum because she’ll get the money but he says she is still his wife.

It’s true that she is still his wife but it’s only in paper. In every other way she is not his wife. You can’t say “this is my wife” just because you have a piece of paper that says it’s true. You need a relationship with the person too. He wants his wedding ring back for goodness knows what reason but he intends to sleep around and chuck her out. I’m sick of explaining this to the stupid bloody doctors who are trying to kick him out for me to deal with. I reckon they will call me in the morning and cause hassle because tomorrow is my husband’s exam results day so it’s not like we’ll both be stressed enough.

BAH!

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Updates

August 17, 2011

I haven’t written in over a month. Sometimes I think that when I don’t write here it’s a good thing because it means I don’t have anything awful going on but that’s not the truth. I write less because I’m finding it hard to do anything anymore. It’s effort to admit how I feel. It’s difficult. I wish I was writing as much as I used to. I don’t really even have many people reading anymore, It feels like it’s dying out here.

Well my updates. Dad is in hospital, it’s been over a month. He lashed out at my husband and was very clearly manic weeks before but my words were nothing due to him behaving when around drs, crisis team etc. Me and my husband had to leave because I was too frightened to be there, the police escorted us out because I refused to go near him without police there. Even if he wasn’t a threat, my childhood trauma wouldn’t let me go near him. This is the worst he has been since I was 6, when it all began. All these years this has been my nightmare. Yes, he has been unwell since then but not manic. Not manic. Mania is the single most frightening thing I have experienced from my dad, it always ends involves psychosis and delusions.

We came home after we were told he was in hospital and an hour later we had a phonecall from the police saying he had dissapeared. Absolutely petrified I locked myself in the room and of course he came home. The police came to the house and refused to take him, I screamed at them that I couldn’t have him at home and he was supposed to be admitted and I was frightened for my wellbeing and they could do bugger all. I made them call the hospital and get the information they needed to take him and as usual the hospital were useless.

The police finally managed to ask him nicely if they could take him to the hospital, he agreed but we had to go too so he wouldn’t dissapear again. We got to the hospital and were told we had to wait for him to have an assesment. All the doors in psych wards are locked so we were literally locked in a reception room with my psychotic father. 2 hours passed and he wasn’t having any if it. He started smashing things up, screaming and urinating on the floor. I banged on the doors for help. No one came. Some doctors even just walked straight through and ignored us. Some said they would get someone and never came back.

We were at the hospital for 5 hours for an assessment to say he needed to be sectioned. In that time we could have been seriously hurt. Including my dad who was trying to smash the windows so he could “cut his wrists and bleed to death”.

Even the most stupid person could see that he was unwell. He believed he has shut down the news of the world single handedly and he claimed he had loads of corporations that could kill us all at the push of a button. He said he was a millionaire and had loads of women falling at his feet and would do anything for his money.

And then there’s my ignorant mother. Ignorant is a nice word to use. She knew/knows he is ill yet she believes every word he says. She doesn’t understand why he would lie. And to be fair he isn’t lying in his world but in the real world none of what he says is true. So everyday my mum comes into my room and says he’s coming home, setting panic in my heart for me to realise it’s him that says he’s coming home. So it’s not true. But in she comes everyday, “your dad says he’s paying off my debt with his money” “he’s coming home tonight” “he says I need to go and see him and bring him home”. And then there’s his demands. Before he went into hospital he bought every paper he could find because he thought they were worth millions. He gave me and my aunt a stack of papers and said to take them home because he needed to keep them all, we just binned them on the way home. It sounds nasty, I know but at the time he didn’t remember one minute to another so he wouldn’t even know he gave them to us. So he calls mum up. “Your dad said he needs some newspapers and that I need to go and see him this evening”.

1. She doesn’t like him. She doesn’t give a damn about him.
2. She is too stupid to realise that he doesn’t need those things because he is fed at the hospital and the more she goes the more he thinks that she wants him again.
3. She said she is only doing all this because if she doesn’t he will go even more crazy.

So basically I have to deal with dad being in hospital, being frightened of him AND to top it off having a (excuse me) fuckwit mother.

I’ve visited him about 4 or 5 times in the past month even though the bloody hospital is 2 hours away (I don’t drive) and he’s started calling everyday crying and saying I have to visit him every night and if I refuse he gets nasty. I asked them to stop him calling me so he found a mobile phone and called the house saying I can get out of his life and get out of the house if I won’t be at his constant beck and call.

Yes it’s nasty him being in hospital but it’s the first break I’ve had from being emotional stressed out from him and being made to do EVERYTHING for him in I don’t know how many years. It’s nice him being away. And plenty of other people visit. I need a break and I get abuse for it.

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The last week.

May 27, 2011


I have no energy to do anything. The smallest thing just seem likes the biggest chore and can even bring me to tears. I’m not sure what’s happening to me or what will happen to me. I have my last session with Dr L next week, I asked her if I could finish last Wednesday but she said my session is still there for me and she wouldn’t take my session away. So it looks like I’m going. I struggled to deal with my second last session, all I kept saying in my head was “please don’t leave me, please please don’t leave me.” I couldn’t bear it and I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with next week, Dr L is leaving me, forever. I had to explain to her that if she gone then I have to forget she exists otherwise it hurts too much. She mentioned maybe seeing me again in a couple of month for a one off session and I threw it back in her face of course, I can’t go through losing her twice. I think the worst thing about next week will be when I walk out of those doors and I know I’m not allowed to hug her goodbye. When someone leaves, it feels like they die, I go into mourning. Whenever my mum would leave I pretended she didn’t exist because then she wasn’t abandoning me because she didn’t exist and this has become my defence mechanism since. Not a good one as it happens when people leave for short periods of time too, sometimes I forget they exist so if they haven’t spoken to me for a while then I can’t be hurt. Although this means that I’m not good at keeping in contact with friends because I’m too bust trying to defend myself and forcing myself to forget them while trying to remember them so I don’t genuinely lose them. Dr L understands that If we’re going to finish our sessions now, I can’t have one random session in a month and then leave it because it’d just be a mess, I’d turn up and probably just spend the whole time telling her how mad I am at her for leaving me and then forcing me to relive the abandonment again by having to see her one last time (again). I think it’s best to leave it next Wednesday. It’s best to just end it and I can mourne her for however long feels right and then forget she ever existed. I know she may worry that this ending may make me worse and to be honest It will probably leave me reluctant to have any other treatment as she said the only way I will get the treatment I need is to pay for it as no one is going to give me long term treatment on the NHS (pile ofs**t), It’s a disgrace really. This kind of “treatment” makes people with personality disorders WORSE not better because they get so far and oops NHS won’t give you anymore treatment and suddenly you’re abandoned in the middle of a potential break-through and you don’t know what to do about it because there isn’t really much you can do other than try and fix yourself. Or lock yourself away and cry? What do you do when someone tells you “you need long term treatment but no one can offer it and you sure as hell can’t afford it”, do you give up? Do you sell yourself to fund said treatment? What the hell do you do?

Just, please don’t leave me.

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A History- Part 1

March 22, 2011

I got this idea from my friend http://mrshughbankshopewithbpd.blogspot.com/2011/03/who-is-this-person-pt1.html

I haven’t blogged for a while, it’s been strange because I would blog almost every week and in a way it’s good that I haven’t been blogging because it shows that things have been more or less “okay” (in comparison to the usual chaos of course). I do miss it though so I thought as I don’t have much to write about at the moment that I would tell you the history of me and how I came to be here writing this blog now.

Early Years

I was always a quiet child, that’s what I remember, my family describe me as a sweet natured quiet little girl.

My mum couldn’t understand my demands as a child. I wasn’t a needy child but children do have needs and my mum wasn’t prepared to fulfill those needs. I began to realise that It was best for me to be quiet because screaming wouldn’t get me noticed or cared for and If I wanted to be cared for I would get it when it was appropriate for the other person. I learnt that my needs weren’t important. Sometimes I would scream and cry for a toy because I would always get it and this became a pattern, I realised that my screaming and crying did work for material WANTS. I always felt that my needs as a child meant that I was too much hassle, I have always felt that I am too much to deal with. So I wouldn’t make a fuss, I wouldn’t complain because I knew that all my demands were unreasonable. No one would fulfill my needs, if I needed comfort, it wouldn’t be fulfilled so clearly I was unreasonable. I learnt that I was unreasonable and asked too much from my parents, when in reality I was only asking for the things a child needs. Comfort, affection, someone I could go to with my problems. It didn’t happen. I was taught through this that if things are bad and if you aren’t satisfied with something then you just get on with it and shut up because no one cares and no one will help you.

I did have friends as a child, although most of them were false. I wasn’t a very attractive little girl in my later childhood and of course I was bullied for this. I had a few best friends but they all bullied me at some point or another or left me for someone “better”, I always felt other people were better than me. And looks played a big part in this, as a child I figured that the prettier you were the better person you were, the more liked (A habit of thought I’m still yet to fully get out of). I’ve heard many people say “everyone gets bullied” and that may true to an extent but not everyone gets bullied and then has no parental support to help overcome that fear and self esteem knock. THAT, I feel, is the key behind who actually gets severely affected by bullying. One of my best friends ‘G’ was very pretty, she was skinny and blonde, I was overweight with long, messy brown hair. We both had a friend called Z who lived in our street and we both liked him and of course he liked her back and they were boyfriend and girlfriend for a little while, I don’t know how they broke up…how do primary school kids even break up? Anyway, he favoured her and she would rub it in my face. It didn’t seem fair, what was wrong with me? Why did everyone bully me? Why did I have to be so unattractive? I stayed friends with her, of course, I wanted to know how to be like her so people would like me. It wasn’t fair. Then there was L she had a disfunctional home too she was older, always nice to me, unless there were other people around. She would then make fun of me infront of people to get their approval. We would play hide and seek and I was left in my hiding place while L and her friends left me there. They would laugh at me and laugh until I cried and ran home and none of them ever apologised. L just waited for me to come back to her again.

At primary school I was friends with a group of girls, there were 5 of us. The pretty girls would call us freaks and because of all their taunting sometimes I didn’t want to be friends with them because if the “better” girls thought they were freaks then they must be. What mixed up and horrible thinking, and this is in primary school. My beliefs of people were (are sometimes still are) based upon what the more attractive of our species believe because I’m just dying to be liked and accepted by those who are liked and accepted by the rest of the world. When you’re bullied for your looks, this is how you start to think. Beautiful people are better. I am still friends with one of those girls in that group and I’m sorry for how I felt sometimes, I’m not scared to be your friend because you’re much better than them, you wouldn’t judge or hurt a soul. The most gentle and loving of all the girls I know. Katy ❤

I sometimes see those bullies from primary school and I flinch and hide my face. They, of course, are even more beautiful as women now and I feel like I shrink and become insignificant. Sidetracked…

My first brush with mental illness was at the age of 6, my dad’s breakdown. I know you’ve heard the story a bazillion times but I’m trying to include everything. My dad has a psychotic episode, he has been made redundant and as a result his bipolar went haywire and he became psychotic. He was violent and frightening, he would sometimes scream at me without warning and not recall doing so the next minute. My father is a gentle person yet his illness caused him to become violent towards me. He was quietly angry and it would come out when I was “naughty”. The police were called and he was taken away. To where? I didn’t know. Why? Well mum said dad was mad and she would laugh. So I became frightened of people with mental illness from that point onwards. My understanding was that they took crazy people away because they were violent, bad people. But then, he was my dad and I couldn’t believe that of him. So I believe that my splitting may have stemmed somewhat from this view of my dad being jekyll and Hyde. I couldn’t put them both together. They were two separate people.

I was never a naughty child, that I can remember but I always remember being called bad or naughty or as my mum would say to other parents “she’s drives me mad, she’s a devil really”. I would get mad that she would tell other parents that I was bad because I was so well behaved. I wanted to please and be liked. I never got in trouble at school, ever. My favourite time of every year was parents evening where the teachers would tell my parents how good I was and my dad would buy me fish and chips for being a “good girl”. I longed to be told I was good. The only time I was ever grounded was when G was teaching me to ride a bike and I was going down a large hill, I was so scared I froze and swerved into a car. A complete accident yet I was told I was bad and was grounded. I could have been seriously hurt and instead I was punished for an accident because accidents were the only time I ever did anything wrong. If I knocked something over my mistake I was shouted at and told I was a “bad child” and was hit. I would cry and hide in my room. It wasn’t like a deliberately walked over to a stack of papers and throw them on the floor, it was a mistake but I wasn’t allowed to make mistake or I would be hurt. You can see the reasons for my perfectionism. I have to do everything right out of fear of being condemned to being a bad person.

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Self Abuse?- J

February 15, 2011

No it’s not as bad as you think and I doubt this post will contain any particularly strong triggers but there’s always a possibility, so, be warned.

The problem is it IS relatively mild and I ENJOY doing it.

What? You may ask?

Staying up late.

Ha! Big whoop! You can stay up late! Get you!

Yes…. get me…

You could probably find me online, on my own, in the dark until around half 2 every morning. The exceptions being weekends where I’m generally with my dear fiancée and hence sleep like a baby.

The problem is, I just don’t like going to sleep at home, I never really feel like it (other than perhaps coming home early and attempting to catch up during the day) and all that happens when it gets late at night is – life gets easier. For me, at least. The reason being when it gets late, my family goes to sleep and when they go to sleep, they stop shouting. Usually.

My dear brother and father have a strong tendency to snore they stupid fat heads off resulting in a very difficult, stressful environment for sleeping. Even if I fall asleep listening to my mp3, everytime someone opens my bedroom door (which I share with said little brother,) it bangs, makes  a nice loud scraping noise and shakes the bed. Then the shouting begins; again.

I absolutely LOATHE being woken by shouting, the sad truth being I’m almost always woken by it. So, if I stay up a good 4/5 hours more than I should resulting in a good 4/5 hours of sleep. Far from ideal, really. Yet the gain from what IS essentially self abuse is a certain sense of calm, **it don’t matter when you’re tired because you’re tired. The day and it’s events seem further away and hence, easier to deal with. Not to mention I get a good 4/5 hours to myself where I can just relax and do what I want be it work/watching videos/playing games – anything. Sure it’s dark and it’s colder at night but that is no different from during the day for me (except in summer, when I cannot see any sort of computer screen for the life of me,) and the only prominent difference is the lack of other, stupid, pathetic, ignorant people that’re constantly shouting their dull, simple minds to oblivion.
Part 1 – fin

Part 2 –

Well the other side of the coin is anger. Or to be precise – NOT anger.

Not being angry/refusing to acknowledge anger when one clearly has reason to be so, isn’t healthy.

Yes it is polite, yes it may be socially appropriate – but those of us that are tired of fighting back or have never fought back to begin with, will eventually get to the stage where anger simply doesn’t exist to them. It just becomes frustration that is bottled and packaged away and sent ever deeper where it can do no ‘harm’.

Yet another sad truth of life is; that it does. It causes harm where you Don’t expect it to be, where you didn’t anticipate. Sure it’s obvious that you’re not in the mood, you’re angry and you’re going to find some poor undeserving soul to dish it out on.

I’m at the point where I realise now how ‘easy’ it is to not get angry when I should simply because I’m too tired to. ‘Tis also know that I realise: this must be one of the main reasons behind bullying. Misplaced anger. I’ve seen how much angrier and just filled with ugly sharp spitefulness against all those around me I have become, especially those who think they’re ‘better’ than me. Yet I realise that ‘better’ is merely a subjective point of view and can easily be misunderstood or misinterpreted but the point is that’s not going to matter when you’re angry. When you’re angry you deserve, nay, you NEED someone to hear you because if you don’t release that anger by your extraordinary exercise of  willpower then you will explode. Anger is a ticking time bomb and the more you ignore it the more explosive and damaging it becomes.

So, instead of releasing my anger I just ignore the shouting, I ignore and try to get past the ignorance and I stay up late to slowly, peacefully mull things over and just have time to myself.
Yet people won’t recognise it, people won’t see that  I’m deliberately staying up late because it makes me happy and they simply see it as me not caring or not trying. Sure I’m not angry and not bothered to stand up for myself so clearly I must just be lazy because I don’t ‘seem’ angry or upset at all.

Here’s the point where I step back and like to imagine just snapping, grabbing a knife or just anything that would make a nice thudding or slicing noise and just take away the lives of those most troublesome people the way they’ve taken away the functionality and enjoyment of so much of mine.

People are ignorant, about self abuse and the reasons behind it and so many other things in life including bullying. I don’t know about you but I was bullied in school, sure it wasn’t that ‘much’ I guess but it was for an extended period of my time and when you’re young it means the whole world. Even when you’re older, it the consequences of which are devastating and even you may not understand the full effects of it.

I’m not saying bullying is good, I’m saying look at those who do it, they’re usually overweight, have terrible home lives with divorced parents and they usually look tired and poor and just not very nice. That’s because they’ve got issues to deal with and they’re misplacing their anger onto you. I’m not condoning what they do, whilst it is definitely guided and fuelled by the actions of others, the individual still has their freedom and right to choose no matter what.

My bullying stopped because I chose to fight against it, I released some of my anger back towards them so that they would leave me and my friend alone – and they did but not without loss on my part, it was a botched series of actions that eventually culminated in an event which sorted that little problem indefinitely.

That’s what I advise anyone who’s ever suffered or continues to suffer for bullying, realise that they have their reasons to bully just as you have your own reasons not to. Do something nice for them, be the best person you can be and in spite of all their horrid actions, be nice to them. There’s always the possibility that your entirely unwarranted kindness may provoke a change of heart in them but do NOT let them walk over you. Defend yourself or you will suffer far greater consequences for being the passive, albeit better person.

Self abuse is caused by abuse from others, usually largely unintentional or unnoticed resulting in the abusee believing they’re to blame, that it’s their fault and then blaming themselves for what is essentially the actions of others.

I know I am an incredibly angry person and woe to anyone who ever truly angers me. If anyone has any good solutions/tactics/strategies for dealing with anger please share them. I’m sure I’m not the only one who could use them.

In the meantime I guess I’ll just keep trying to not stay up quite so late and keep searching for ways to express my anger, whilst trying not to let others just take control and walk over me and somehow managing to get up the courage to fight back for just that bit longer.

In the grand scheme of things, it’ll all be over soon, I hope.