Colorful and hopefully optimistic but maybe hateful occasionally

[littleoc]

I have actually good friends now. :) :) :)

And y'all are chill too. I just don't know you outside of here, lol

 

[Freida]

I'm so glad you are away from that and have better people in your life now. I think sometimes you get so worried about how you acted that you forget how nuts she was. You were responding to her nuttiness as a way to cope. These were put in play by her - not you. You were going along with it because you were a child and were surrounded by so many mentally ill people that it seemed normal to you. That is so very sad.

I keep getting scared that the more traumas I mention, the less likely people will believe me. Like it's too many things, too much "interesting,

yep - I get that. Even though I didn't have that many I still felt (feel) like people won't believe me....

 

[ladee]

I would love to get to spend real time with you !! You know the most fascinating things, and I love to learn.

And we believe you when you are telling your story. Sorry hon, I'm an old lady, and I know you couldn't just make this stuff up, and besides, your pain comes thru so real. Things are just not over till they are over. And you have healing to do in regard to Brandi. But, you have come very very far on this issue...

My experience is, there are certain things in our past, that sort of 'haunt' us, but does not send us off the rails either... we just know it's something that happened. It has less and less power as time goes by and we no longer feel that is who we are, it's something that we remember from our past.

And the fact you still have compassion for her, and hope that she got help..... that speaks volumes of who you are!!! So grateful we are getting to know you, and you to know us... We can all use some compassion for things we could have done differently... but even if we don't get it from others, we learn how to give it our self...

hugs and respect for your honesty. :hug::hug:

 

[littleoc]

You were responding to her nuttiness as a way to cope. These were put in play by her - not you. You were going along with it because you were a child and were surrounded by so many mentally ill people that it seemed normal to you. That is so very sad.

I can't find a way to disagree with you, and yet... I still feel on edge about it.

I'm looking over this and I just... don't feel like it was always this way. Which it wasn't. I feel she genuinely believed I meant to go out and harm her specifically. Because, and I quote, she was "a lonely and desperate girl."

I can't argue the point, even though I'm trying to come up with some kind of evidence. I feel that something isn't right about how black and white this keeps coming out, that I must be manipulating myself to protect me from thinking I would do such a horrible thing.

So I keep going back to how it all first started... but I was 13. Coming out of extreme trauma, still living with my psycho father, about to head into more trauma despite the promised that it was all about to be over. And I remember that she came to me, saying there was a demon in her head that would make her shapeshift if she got angry. Like, no way was anything going to actually believe that. I couldn't have possibly known. And I was well trained to just tolerate things, and to not hurt people in any way. Not even my father when he got depressed. I would hug my father so he would know someone cared about him -- which still affects me greatly. I feel so bad for him, all the time, because he's emotionally isolated and can't get better unless he goes through some kind of guilt first. Pain is bad, I feel. So, of course I was going to keep going once it got to far.

(1) Because I couldn't admit I was "lying" (but that was some kind of manipulation... she just wanted to show me that I was either lying or telling the truth, not that I had been telling stories and playing games...


(2) or I would be hurting her. She would tell me often that I must be insane, and she was stupid for trusting me. I was either lying or insane. And if I was lying, I was a psychopath. She was seriously convinced, without a doubt, that I would hurt her on purpose. When she found a knife in my bag once, she assumed I had meant to kill her with it. When she got into a fight with me, she'd say that I was probably going to just say I lied about everything because I knew it would destroy her.

I have vivid memories of sitting on her floor in fear, while she sobbed extremely loudly and hit herself and cut herself, saying that there was no way this could all be real. I have documented texts to Fungus of her assuming that Fungus was some way to stalk her.

Yet, that can't be all there was to it. I think I feel this way because I was so involved. I really enjoyed it, on some level -- because I was a natural story teller. NOT because I was enjoying manipulating her, enjoying having her around my finger. Still am a story teller. I write every day, or make up something every day through day dreaming. I'm always hunting for new things to shove into it, to make it more real and complete. But not because I want people believing it.

I used to do this with my brothers, when we were kids. Dollhouse, especially. In fact, a lot of the characters that Brandi loved the most... happened to be ones I had created while playing dollhouse with my little brother. Because I was a very dramatic dollhouse player. I lived off that shit. My stories were so involved and plot-twisty that they could last for days. I still have them. Fungus was a small mouse, and the god he accidentally killed was a dinosaur with split personalities. It just got more and more complex, and also the dinosaur made muffins for these three infant human toys I had. Two twin creepy tan ones and one dark brown beautiful baby. (I didn't get race. My parents just never talked about it so I would just refer to their hair and skin color as regular traits. Got funny looks for it when growing up in the public school system, but I hope it's like this for everyone sometime.)

I would tell the stories to my brothers until they were restless, so I learned to let them be so I wouldn't bore them. But Brandi cared a lot. I couldn't have possibly known it was about to get so insane.

And... I really did enjoy parts of it. But they were parts that I would have enjoyed without someone literally believing it was real.

The one time I felt proud that I could convince her that a certain part was real, I was somewhat horrified, but extremely uncomfortable. I didn't realize that the reason I was proud was because all she ever wanted me to do was convince her. To the point that she was wanting me to eventually murder her and move to Wyoming under a fake name, forever not a part of my own family, so she could be with an imaginary man.

I've heard of stuff like that getting out of hand, but it was entirely on those late night murder shows that Brandi would watch. (I don't consider that a bad trait, because lots of people like those shows. Especially prepared people, which Brandi liked to think she was (she wasn't -- she'd refuse to answer her own front door in fear it was a serial killer and she frequently would hide behind doors when she heard footsteps, and I saw her try to wield a long knife as a weapon once when she was certain she heard an adult in the house - and she was 14 and the knife wasn't even sharp enough to cut a carrot.... but what I do consider odd was her absolute obsession with death.) One story of these two young girls in New Zealand in the mostly-still-pretty-religious times of the 1950s, where the parents realized something was wrong between the two girls and tried to separate them, only to have the girls murder one of their mothers rather violently. One of the adults was released and willing to be in an interview, and she said she had not wanted to be friends with the other girl since then and really, really wished it hadn't happened. The two girls had their own world, with their own heaven attached, which they went to for a game sort of. It had celebrities they liked in it. Kid stuff.

The other story was one where a girl seemed to be trying to convince her entire group of friends that she was a real vampire, which probably started as a game but as the girl went further and further to prove her stories, she was cutting the other girls, drinking their blood -- and eventually actually attacked a full grown man (she was about my age when I was watching it, so about 14 or 15) and murdered him to drink his blood in front of them, literally to prove that she wasn't making it up. Somewhere along the way she definitely lost it. Something was way wrong. Those girls may have believed it by then, who knows, but seeing and participating in a murder for a vampire, real or not? Freaky.

The girl had to go to the hospital after the murder and drinking his blood, which is how she got caught. Her digestive system couldn't handle the blood and several of her organs had reactions, as is natural.

Whatever kind of thing that made those two murders possible? Probably similar to whatever was going on between me and Brandi. Except that I was completely unwilling to kill anyone, obviously. I felt such amazing relief when I realized I just wasn't going to do that plan where I killed her.

I was too overcome with guilt. I was constantly worried about when I would die (I was convinced I'd die before I was 18) because it would cut Brandi off from the world she lived in. I was scared about when she'd die, because I was scared either that her spirit would realize it was all fake and be tortured, or that I might be lucky and there would be no afterlife and she would be comforted by the fact that after her death, there would be that world waiting for her to reenter it. She was a queen in that.

That's the kind of thing she liked. Power. Thinking that she was a kind ruler that had a unique background and would pay her slaves (but call them employees, because that was supposed to be less demeaning somehow).

I think that's why Fungus took such a stance against power. But he never told Brandi she was out of line. Never. He blamed it on her husband, who was very Putin-like but less against gay people and also slightly gay. She liked her men to be vulnerable, have a past of abuse that made them dark and distant, and she liked them to be slightly gay but ashamed of it.

It was all incredibly weird. And I felt guilty and isolated the entire time. I felt it was my fault and I was keeping her in my world because it was my addiction. It never occurred to me that I had literally never done this to anyone. I just felt so bothered all the time, and incredibly unhealthy. But I was also going face-first into it, wanting really badly to have somewhere to belong. Something safe, in my control, and more normal than all the insane crap happening around me.

So as payment I had no free will around Brandi. If she started having fits about how I was insane and she was stupid for being my friend, when I was gross and weird... I deserved that, because I thought I was the one who did that to her. I thought I was evil so she could do whatever to me, back, and it wasn't evil. I literally didn't drink water for her, because the species I was before a fungus didn't drink water. It got it entirely from fruit.

And I'm looking back at this like, that's interesting, but what the f*ck? Why wasn't there a time when we weren't playing that game anymore, where I was drinking something, before going back?

I didn't even think the insults were weird. She said I acted like a bird, with my weird head movements and weird eating habits. She said my legs were stubby, and she would steal my underwear and bring it to her mom to show her how tiny I was. She prevented me from going outside and from not eating because she didn't want to be the "token fat friend" anymore. If I gained weight she would grab it, show it to everyone, make sure everyone knew I was getting fat. Because of my duty to her, I would tell her that I was proud of getting fat, and that I preferred fat people and being fat. But I really don't even fully understand why I said that. Both statements are... like, no, I'm not against fat. I don't have to form an opinion on a trait that has nothing to do with the person. I don't even associate traits with personalities well, I couldn't give less of a flying f*ck. But I wasn't fat. I'm not fat. It was pudge, like what's healthy on a person.

But at first she was pretty nice to me. But, not as nice as any of the friends I have now. And when I told her this for the first time in that March of 2016, and tried to never talk to her again (right before the Fungus thing got really insane), she told me that I was the abusive one, because I would say something like that. She told me to go be with my other friends, then.

Wish I'd realized that was manipulation, but at least I noticed it as soon as I typed it this time. Yeah, my other friends were better. If she didn't want to hear why, if I wasn't allowed to criticize her? Not my problem. She called me crazy and said I was always falling apart and going insane. Said I was unwell because of trauma.

She's been through trauma too. But she didn't come out like me at all. I don't say this to try to say my traumas were more significant than hers at all, but I've been through twice as much shit as she had, and still managed to have enough hope, self compassion, and motivation to achieve something. Rather than text a fungus asking to be told what to do with my life, and then getting too anxious to follow it.

That was not a Fungus problem. That was a Brandi problem. Brandi needed a therapist. I am not a therapist. If I was? I wouldn't have done half the stuff I did with her. I wouldn't even have listed schools for her. I would have told her to go look for them.

This made me thankful that I can mention death without consequences now. She was so obsessed with death. She'd start talking about the doubt of what happens after death, but then focus on it with all her might until she was kicking and screaming. And I get that, to an extent. But when you can't even play your favorite video game because a character died...? That's not good. I wanted her to get therapy, and she wouldn't. I backed off and adjusted my entire life to adapt to her anxiety trigger, to enable her basically. And that was dumb. Anyone else I would have been sensitive for too. I understand triggers, bad ones that lead back to traumatic events. I got the feeling that hers didn't (I could be wrong, though I hope for her sake I'm not). I adjust to everyone else with a gentle sensitivity, but I don't fear for my f*cking mental wellbeing when my friends get anxious. I don't feel like I'll be in some kind of danger if a trigger happens. And if I did, I'd call the campus police.

But I remember Brandi accusing me of being insane when I had triggers. She'd threaten to call my mother, and act like I was just a nut. I realize now that she was showing her lack of empathy, and her deep unwellness. She said she was too overwhelmed with her own stuff to reach out, and I believe her. But I also think that she didn't care about me at all. And I think my gut is right on this one. I keep remembering a time when she pushed a q-tip painfully into a glass wound I had, just kind of staring at it and pushing the q-tip in. I was just letting it happen because I thought she was trying to clean it? Probably because she was acting like my dad a bit. But I knew it was wrong and I knew that my mother and my sister had been much nicer about helping me clean it. I was embarrassed for her and just didn't mention it. She should have been embarrassed.

I also remember her saying that I had manipulated her into sex when she didn't want it, and feeling really confused because I was just doing what she was asking. But she wouldn't touch me, because I was dirty and gross. I'd been raped before, so I was probably diseased.

And I remember that she always got her way. I was always afraid to disagree with her, or to agree with her mother. I didn't like her mother either, but I didn't want her dead. I didn't want to make her the symbol of evil and badness.

Oh, wait -- that's that famous side symptom of narcy/psych complex, that favorite person and I'm great and belong in a higher place, but those around me are the worst.

Weird to think she was terrified of the idea of her children hating her. I hope she never has children.

So, I am still failing to have enough evidence to say that I was the evil one. But there was no evil one. That was a trick. If I had actually brainwashed her, which I believed I had, I would have had evidence. I really cared about her. I wasn't trying to use her. She was looking for someone like me, whether she was aware of it or not.

I feel like some kind of stain on her tragic past that she had, that someone in the future will hear about me and know that Brandi needs love because even her best friend wouldn't give it to her. But that'd be a manipulation attempt. Like when she insisted to me that she hated Jamie so much after they broke up in middle school -- apparently because she couldn't get over her. When she became an adult, she even went back to Jamie. From middle school. Cheated on me and Jamie was cheating on her fiance. Brandi said she felt guilty about it, and that's why she suddenly felt extremely dirty for masturbating in front of me and having me do stuff to her. Though, that's not what she said that night... she didn't tell me about the cheating for another year or so. Before that, she wanted me to constantly validate that she didn't have to talk to Jamie if she didn't want to. Then suddenly hating my guts when I said I didn't support her getting back with someone she insisted she hated to the core.

Brandi needed therapy. Not me. Therapy. I feel so sad for her when I think about this mess.

Even though I didn't have that many I still felt (feel) like people won't believe me....

It's nice to not be alone.. that makes me feel better. That means that just fearing I'll be called out for making it up isn't enough proof to say I did. :P

and besides, your pain comes thru so real.

That makes me feel better. I'm glad you can tell I'm being genuine

 

[littleoc]

Speaking of being convinced I'm a bad person, I'm embarrassed to talk about this but this is my diary and my healing space and I'm not using this space to impress anyone (if I was I have long since failed, lol (not a bad thing in my opinion, because that wouldn't benefit me very much; I just want to get over all this mess)) so I'm going to briefly discuss this problem I have even though it's a rare problem unless I'm in the "right" environment.

I finally got the balls to search the phrase "addiction to stealing," really vaguely like that because I don't want my university to think I'm a thief. But, I mean, I am. It's not my identity but I just kind of impulsively have a problem. I found a foundation for supporting people with it and they had info that said that one can have this problem and still be a good, law abiding citizen. Stealing compulsively is not a sign that I am a bad person. It feels incredibly wrong to type out that last sentence, and I feel incredibly uncomfortable talking about this, because I feel like it proves that I'm not as likable.

I signed a code of honor that says I will not steal. I did in 2013. I follow it religiously, and I don't steal from people. I am especially opposed to stealing food from community spaces, and find people who do so to be seriously in need of some self control. I think, I managed it. I fought that urge and it was hard. So they should fight it.

I first stole food when I was a kid, mostly I stole candy but I also took coffee creamers and fruit and bread. I would steal small toys too. I would hoard them in stashes, and on days when my dad was waiting until it was late to feed me, I'd go to them. He used to say that he didn't want to make breakfast three times, so he would refuse to feed us until everyone was awake. Sometimes he'd tell us to wait until he was done talking on the phone. Would usually be the evening by then. He also would put us into those cages but eventually just into our rooms for hours and hours. Said it was our nap time, and we were required to lay in our beds and do nothing so he could have some quiet. I would sneak in toys and play games. He would take them away, angrily, in black trash bags. Except for that one day that he was surprised to see me awake for some reason. (I don't get why my memory is so vivid. This was not a traumatic memory in any way. He was legitimately confused because I'd been so quiet and looked so startled when he opened my door to see me with toys everywhere in the middle of some kind of epic battle scene soccer game.)

At school, I started to steal small toys and extra food from the lunch ladies. I'd take them home and hide them.

I still feel immense guilt, though, for a toy butterfly I stole from a girl. She had brought it for show and tell and I took it later. She cried (I remember this like it just happened for some reason) and admitted that it was her favorite toy. I felt I knew what it was like to lose a favorite toy, and I felt terrible. But I couldn't give it back at that point without getting in trouble. And this teacher was pretty messed up. She was the one who called me gay in front of the class and the one who put me in in-school suspension to keep it a secret from my mom how she was punishing me. I'm not angry about that anymore, but I did feel scared at the time. It still bothers me that I did this to that girl. I feel like I traumatized her. I hope her mother got her a new plastic butterfly. They are, thankfully, not rare. I hope she looks back on it with way less pain than I do.

But that I feel guilt about the things I steal means that I'm not a kleptomaniac. That disorder is rare, and those people do not feel guilt. They just feel like they've done a good thing and get a rush of happy reward hormones.

I also stole from a girl that was just as bullied as I was, but she saw me do it. She told me she had seen me and that she hated me. I denied it, but I felt terrible. But I didn't want to admit I felt terrible, for some reason, not even to myself. Probably being a child with a hurt ego had something to do with that. I should have gotten consequences, but the adults didn't like either of us, so. Maybe I learned it from my dad, who was avoiding punishing me as long as I was mean to my little brother for him.

That also bothers me. Saving it for another time though.

I didn't steal in middle school or high school, but I did go hunting for things of value. I got stolen from quite a bit. But I didn't want to possibly take anything that was important to someone, in any way. Even if it looked unimportant, like a plastic butterfly. (I didn't realize that butterfly might be influencing it any until I wrote it here. I think that did though, and the fact that I know what it's like to be stolen from as well. Or have someone take away things of value. I still haven't gotten around to accepting that objects are material and don't matter. Doesn't fit into my brain well. And my twin brother says this is a moral issue and that mental illnesses don't exist, so that's a thing.)

The last places I stole were insanely impulsive, and I did feel that sense of reward and I did have to plan it during the minutes just after the act was decided and I had to act carefully. I stole on two occasions that I can think of right now -- so, still manageable. (Why can I remember my childhood vividly but can only remember two times I stole after 2016?) When I go into businesses, I am immediately attuned to what things I want but can't afford. Often food related. Not always. I stole a pair of pajama pants from the bookstore (it's a major chain, so I guess I felt I wasn't hurting anyone) that would have cost me 50$ because they had my school's logo on them. I then proceeded to purchase other goods, feeling that I owed money. As in, I felt guilty, but was afraid to turn myself in.

That reminds me of a time my mom realized I had stolen something from a store, but she reacted with fear. She quickly told me to hide it, and then said I could get in huge trouble. What I feel I would do for my kid: Take them back to the store, make them hand it over, make them apologize. I would not in a million years react with fear. I understand that that was probably involuntary, but man was that damaging.

At a pride convention, I was at a booth for pride flags of all types, even with hats and ties for dogs. So, I went over to buy a hat for myself. Watched them sell the hat to one guy for $20. Then to the next guy for 30. Then to some handsome guy for $10. Then I kind of reached for one of the hats and held onto it, like I do when I'm deciding if I really want to buy a toy at a grocery store. I will carry it around the store for the rest of the shopping trip, and if I don't still feel insanely compelled, I put it back. I had no intention of stealing anything.

Then some people came up behind me -- a bunch of them, trying to buy flags to wear as capes. I got a flag, worried they were running low. I walked over the the dog pride hat, thinking my service dog would look adorable in one, but seeing it was $20. The tie? Maybe I could just do the tie. It was marked at $17, though, so I hesitated.

Then, as the crowd came through, I just kind of walked away. It wasn't with the intention of stealing, but then out of nowhere it was all about that. I was casually wandering off, holding this expensive ass rainbow flag, a beanie, and a treble clef pin that was rainbows. And I got this rush of accomplishment?

I circled around the entire convention, being a normal person and buying things. I wasn't stealing. But then I came back around to the same booth with the overpriced goods. I considered the dog hat. I considered the tie. I took them both down to compare. Saw they were both easy to make, clearly made in a hurry without much care. Already falling apart. Not worth my money. And then for some reason I just walked off with them. I seriously wasn't intending to steal them, but I had walked up knowing I easily could, and that it wouldn't hurt them, and also they were trying to rip me off so that was what I was using to comfort myself that it was okay. Because now I was also starting to feel extremely shitty. And worried that they saw me and would have a police officer circling and looking for me. But, no, I'd gotten away with it again.

I called Brandi at some point and she was sad that she was too poor to go to the pride thing. So I said I'd buy her a flag as a gift. (Gifts made her soothed.) This time, I deliberately walked right up to the booth, took a flag, and walked off. They didn't see me.

I was weirdly proud of myself. I felt smart and like I could survive things. But I also felt really weird and shitty about it, and I was telling myself I was an idiot and couldn't control myself. It was confusing.

But I felt really proud when I gave Brandi that expensive flag I didn't pay for. She knows I'm an excellent negotiator on prices in booths. She would have me negotiate with her money at places, because she was too anxious to talk to people and didn't know how to argue a price.

Even when I feel good about stealing -- like when I was holding pajama pants I hadn't paid for, outside the store where they wouldn't ever know it was me -- I knew it was a problem just waiting to happen. I don't want to go to prison for petty theft. I don't want to be a criminal. I have no idea why I'm doing this though. I have no idea why it suddenly started happening again in weird settings.

So, now that I've said this, I can print it out and send it to my therapist to talk about some time. It needs discussing before it's an even more embarrassing problem. The law doesn't care at all if I'm mentally ill or something. Plus I'd be crushed if I was told that I was in need of changing?

I can't think of what triggered it exactly, so I call it impulsive. I need to get myself to not do that, and maybe not fear stopping mid-steal? Except now I'm an adult so I guess I do still have to fear it.

I know this probably makes me seem like a horrible person, so... don't worry, I'm trying to work it out so it stops and stays stopped.

 

[littleoc]

I really, really want to delete that last post. I shouldn't matter at all, but I'm worried people will judge me. Which, I mean... they should. I shouldn't be doing that. So I need to talk about it so I can figure out what's triggering it so I can better notice when it's going on and either remove myself from the situation or straight up say something and then not do the thing.

Confusing feelings. But somehow, knowing that someone else knows at all makes me feel much more accountable. Because I don't want to be viewed as a criminal, even by people I don't really know. That really, really bothers me

 

[somerandomguy]

You are NOT a horrible person.

People who are seriously deprived as kids sometimes do this. Usually food, but often other things as well. This was one of the things we learned before we adopted our son. Our son doesn't do this, but we would understand if he did.

I understand why you do it and why it's a compulsion. Your brain still thinks there's a good chance you'll be deprived again - maybe sooner, maybe later. It's something you can work on, and it sounds like you are! Your therapist can and will help you without judgment.

No judgment here, either. You know it's a problem, you're doing your best to stop.

 

[littleoc]

@somerandomguy That was definitely not the kind of reply I was expecting just then...

Thank you for saying that. I'll be looking it up, I think.. maybe not as an addiction...?

 

[somerandomguy]

Not an addiction. Abused kids, starved kids, kids who've had their possessions taken away over and over ... they're all at risk for that behavior. I don't know what that's called, but I have no doubt that's you. Our adoption classes actually taught us that we should expect it.

 

[ILoveLife]

Hey @littleoc don't worry. I used to do that too. Kleptomania is called. I was able to stop it.
My biggest regret for some reason was stealing a golf ball from my oldest sister. Go figure.
I don't remember how it stopped, I was in therapy so maybe that's why.
:hug: I definitely don't judge you.

 

[Freida]

@somerandomguy beat me to it but I totally agree with him! Stealing to survive is completely different than stealing for the rush of stealing. You learned at such a young age that the only way to LIVE was to steal food. The only way to keep your sanity was to steal toys. You are not a horrible person. You are acting on things that you learned as a child. Things that you no longer need to do, but your insides don't know that yet. So of course you steal. It's tied up in your survival instinct. This does not make you bad. This makes you a very smart survivor with a few habits you need to let go of - once you feel safe.

And I am so tickled that you have worked so much of the Brandi thing out!!! So here's a challenge -- go back though these last posts and mark each time you say "she"...."she wanted" "she needed" "she said" etc.. You were following her lead - because you were trying to save her. You were not the bad guy. You were trying to meet her needs the only way you knew how. You created a fantasy world you could both escape into. This is not a bad thing. Did it get out of control? Yep -- because you were kids! But as your heart in the right place? Yes.

wanting really badly to have somewhere to belong. Something safe, in my control, and more normal than all the insane crap happening around me

This breaks my heart. You were just a child -- and so very desperate for something that could translate as love. No wonder you grabbed hold of someone who needed you

don't say this to try to say my traumas were more significant than hers at all, but I've been through twice as much shit as she had, and still managed to have enough hope, self compassion, and motivation to achieve something.

good girl!!!!!!!!!!!

That was a Brandi problem. Brandi needed a therapist. I am not a therapist.

YES!!!

I am so very proud of you! You are doing amazing work. :):):hug::hug:

 

[ladee]

No judgement, AT ALL. What @somerandomguy shared is on point. We are human. Regardless of what has happened to us... and it is instinctive to get our needs met. Somehow, someway.

I understand the shame you feel about this. But none of it makes you a bad person. Exactly the opposite. Because you feel guilt, and shame, healthy people feel these feelings when we have done something that 'breaks the rules'.

And loved it when you said it's your diary to work things out... exactly. We are sick as the secrets we keep... so it's out there now... something you can look at, and get ABSOLUTE support from us here, because we have distance from the actions, so we are more aware of the 'why' you did it... hope that made sense.

Doubt there are many of us here who hasn't stole something.. I did.. but got caught, and the fear of my mom finding out... ohhh shit, I emptied my pockets and was banned from the store... I never stole again... I don't remember feeling like a 'bad person' as much as I felt like a stupid person.. I was a teenager.. stupid for getting caught... see how twisted my thinking was at that age...??? I hadn't had enough real life experience to truly understand that taking something that was not mine was wrong... Not that I was bad and wrong, but that my ability to reason at that age had not developed enough to understand the bigger picture.

You are not judged. And even if we did, it could never be as harsh as you judge yourself. But putting our history out here, for others to give us a different perspective, takes more courage than I see you giving your self credit for... keep telling your truth littleoc, this is your healing journey. No rules on how this works. Different for each of us... and it's something you DID, not who you ARE...

Lots of respect for you hon... am learning so much from you.

All I can say, from my heart, is my absolute respect for your ability to tell your truth. And you are working so hard trying to untangle it.