I am a narcissist. I care about me first and everyone else second or last. My order of people I care about goes from me to my wife to my daughter to my son to who I consider to be my best friend to his wife. Everyone else I really could care less about. Some people I could care about less than others as I do have some good acquaintances that make my life more enjoyable. If I don't talk to you on a regular basis or have never talked to you on a regular basis I really would care if you died tomorrow, this does include some family members, they haven't made any effort even though I've tried.
I am a psychopath. I am homicidal and suicidal. I have absolutely no respect for life. I have megalomania, but only when I am in a manic mood. Speaking of which I am "officially" Bi-Polar with auditory and visual hallucinations, I have a severe anxiety disorder, I am claustrophobic and agoraphobic. I hate large crowds of people. I don't like to go out much, but when I do I like to have a good time, whether that be talking with the people who I consider and can count on half of my hand as friends or going out somewhere to have a good time, I just need to take my pills. Unofficially, because they don't want to burden me with the label, I am schizophrenic.
Speaking of my pills, On a daily basis I take Lithium, Geodon, Wellbutrin, Klonopin, and Ativan (yes I am on two anti anxiety meds) for my mental disoders. If I need it I also take Propranolol, and Zyprexa.
I also have several things wrong with my back. For that I take Percocet, MS Contin, and Flexoril. So all in all I take 11 different pills and on a bad day I take about 19 pills in all. Needless to say I am not always on top of my game.
My brain is full of hole, partly because of the medication, but mainly because I destroyed my body and my mind using recreational drugs in my younger years. I was addicted to marijuana (yes you can be addicted to it, trust me), LSD, ecstasy, heroin, cocaine, ketamine, and a few others that I can not think of right now. I have not, however, ever tried crack, meth, or PCP (I am quite proud of this fact).
I had a father who was an enabler, by which I mean he would buy me and supply me with drugs. My mother was more concernes about herself then she was about me, but I have mostly forgiven her for that. She is a better person now in some ways and, in my opinion, worse in other ways.
I had two step-fathers who abused me physically. One put my head through a wall, the other would start fights with me, did I mention that one was a brick layer, no, well he was.
Without the help of my grandparents, who I love very much, and my aunt I would probably not made it past my fifth birthday.
I have tried to commit suicide more times than I can remember and I have gotten into more fights that I care to remember. Since my daughter was born (I was not much of a father to my son) I have cleaned up my act entirely and decided it was time to grow up.
I have been working on my poetry for years, mostly emotional stuff and stuff about love, which I know so little about, but only recently have I started to throw my hat into the ring of novel writing. I will never give up poetry, it is too much of an outlet for me. Someof it I share with the world for free, other pieces I try to get paid for and still others I keep to myself and maybe one or two only are read by the people who they are directed at. I have one piece like that now. I am just waiting for her to calm down a little bit and be ready to accept it.
I believe that you can love someone with all your heart and still have some left over to give to someone else.
Constantly my mind wanders between reality and fantasy, but I try my hardest to control those changes. The voices have pretty much left me alone since I got on this regiment of medication, but the visual hallucinations continue. I am oh so happy about that (can you sense the sarcasm?).
What I want out of this world is to be recognized for the talent that I am (of course that could be the megalomania talking) and to become a published author in more than one category and genre before I take my dirt nap.
Now you know a little bit about me. My life is like an open book, there are very few secrets I keep close to my chest, so if you have anything to ask, feel free. I will do my best to answer it.
I am a psychopath. I am homicidal and suicidal. I have absolutely no respect for life. I have megalomania, but only when I am in a manic mood. Speaking of which I am "officially" Bi-Polar with auditory and visual hallucinations, I have a severe anxiety disorder, I am claustrophobic and agoraphobic. I hate large crowds of people. I don't like to go out much, but when I do I like to have a good time, whether that be talking with the people who I consider and can count on half of my hand as friends or going out somewhere to have a good time, I just need to take my pills. Unofficially, because they don't want to burden me with the label, I am schizophrenic.
Speaking of my pills, On a daily basis I take Lithium, Geodon, Wellbutrin, Klonopin, and Ativan (yes I am on two anti anxiety meds) for my mental disoders. If I need it I also take Propranolol, and Zyprexa.
I also have several things wrong with my back. For that I take Percocet, MS Contin, and Flexoril. So all in all I take 11 different pills and on a bad day I take about 19 pills in all. Needless to say I am not always on top of my game.
My brain is full of hole, partly because of the medication, but mainly because I destroyed my body and my mind using recreational drugs in my younger years. I was addicted to marijuana (yes you can be addicted to it, trust me), LSD, ecstasy, heroin, cocaine, ketamine, and a few others that I can not think of right now. I have not, however, ever tried crack, meth, or PCP (I am quite proud of this fact).
I had a father who was an enabler, by which I mean he would buy me and supply me with drugs. My mother was more concernes about herself then she was about me, but I have mostly forgiven her for that. She is a better person now in some ways and, in my opinion, worse in other ways.
I had two step-fathers who abused me physically. One put my head through a wall, the other would start fights with me, did I mention that one was a brick layer, no, well he was.
Without the help of my grandparents, who I love very much, and my aunt I would probably not made it past my fifth birthday.
I have tried to commit suicide more times than I can remember and I have gotten into more fights that I care to remember. Since my daughter was born (I was not much of a father to my son) I have cleaned up my act entirely and decided it was time to grow up.
I have been working on my poetry for years, mostly emotional stuff and stuff about love, which I know so little about, but only recently have I started to throw my hat into the ring of novel writing. I will never give up poetry, it is too much of an outlet for me. Someof it I share with the world for free, other pieces I try to get paid for and still others I keep to myself and maybe one or two only are read by the people who they are directed at. I have one piece like that now. I am just waiting for her to calm down a little bit and be ready to accept it.
I believe that you can love someone with all your heart and still have some left over to give to someone else.
Constantly my mind wanders between reality and fantasy, but I try my hardest to control those changes. The voices have pretty much left me alone since I got on this regiment of medication, but the visual hallucinations continue. I am oh so happy about that (can you sense the sarcasm?).
What I want out of this world is to be recognized for the talent that I am (of course that could be the megalomania talking) and to become a published author in more than one category and genre before I take my dirt nap.
Now you know a little bit about me. My life is like an open book, there are very few secrets I keep close to my chest, so if you have anything to ask, feel free. I will do my best to answer it.
Well, William, I don't have any questions because just about everything you said I can relate to one sense or another through the experiences I have gone through in my life with others. You, my friend have traveled a storied and rough road and should be proud you are still moving ahead. This response may be long so I hope you won't mind. I had a dear friend in Kentucky, I'll call him "Sam". Sam lived next door to me when my first husband and I had 2 small boys. Schizophrenia hit him when he was in law school and he lost all his friends including his childhood sweetheart who I'll call "Debbie". He and I both loved music and we made an immediate "friends only" connection and his mother was like a real mother that I never had to me. Well, I became just about Sam's only friend and he was fine as long as he stayed on his meds. Only problem was sometimes he'd come to the kitchen window and yell up "Debbie are you coming out?" I'd say "yes, Sam I'll be down in a minute". I knew then he'd gone off his meds again. He'd go missing at times and his brother and I would go track him down, etc. etc. Well I left Kentucky for Florida and this threw Sam into a a tizzy. He drove all the way to Florida once and showed up at my door step. Now, my husband at the time was a less than stellar guy (that's a whole nother' story)...anyway, we got him back to Kentucky and shortly thereafter he ran his car into a canal and died. The point...stay on the meds and stay close to those that love you. Oh, and try to start taking a few bricks out of that wall - if you were truly a psychopath where is the heart-felt poetry coming from?
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