Jump to content

judas10

M. Member
  • Content count

    12
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Profile Information

  • Gender
    Male
  • Location
    West Coast
  • Interests
    Playing guitar, drums, and writing music. Walks in the woods / on the beach. Watching basketball.

Previous Fields

  • MembershipType
    Survivor

Recent Profile Visitors

61 profile views
  1. I can't fucking sleep! I feel as though I am living out "A Nightmare On Elm Street", and that Freddy Krueger is nipping at my heels. I don't want to go to sleep because of the nightmares I have, but I'm so fucking tired that I can hardly keep my eyes open. Shit! I drink to numb the pain, and to try to go to sleep, but it doesn't work anymore, nor is it a healthy method of coping! I know this! It doesn't actually make any sense for me to not want to fall asleep, yet drink to try to sleep. I know it's fucked up, but that's my reality right now. I'm getting really tired right now, and know that Freddy is on his way. Ugh!
  2. I want to be clear...I self-medicate. I try to numb myself in order to cope with my past. It's not healthy. It's not how I should cope. But, it's my current reality. I don't want to keep this up, nor can I continue to drink like I do and expect my past to go away, or my life to get better. I'm slowly killing myself, and it pisses me off! However, I am currently trying to get into rehab, although my insurance is denying my request (another story)! From the start, I was physically abused by my father. He was an arrogant, religious, physically large man, that thought that sparing the rod, would spoil the child. He would pray for me before he beat me, and never forget to mention that he was doing it because he loved me. He would say that he didn't want to, but that he had to. The blood he drew would always say otherwise, but who was I to question. At 10 years old, while attending a Christian school, that was also where my family attended church, the preacher had his way with me on a regular basis. My memory is blank as to the details, but there is a reason for that. I only remember bits and pieces, but every time I got in trouble (which was often), the preacher would pray for me, spank me with a wooden paddle, and then comfort me through the act of molestation. Can anyone relate to this? If so, please reach out to me. I'm numb, yet still in pain...if that makes sense!
×