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What Bad Shit Have You Done - Daily, As it Comes To You, Your Past, Lets Be Honest

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well alright, here I go...

3 years ago or so a trust set up by my folks became active (had no idea it existed) and I was a assigned a trustee, the peron who holds the purse strings.
She and I have been through some tough times, but have established a very good relationship as of this writing. When the money first happened, I found myself relating to her as if she were one of my parents, they manipulated all their kids with money. I was aware of my slips, and would appologize. We did in truth work well together, but I swear to god the parental connection thing would get in my head and... Then the maket crashed at the end of '08, my anxiety diorder kicked into hi gear and I became an ass hole to her. A total dick head. It perisited off and on for months. Finally, something clicked in my head, and it stopped. But not before she stopped taking my phone calls. Who could blame her? In truth, and I kid you not, she is one of the shapest business people I have ever had the oppotunity to work with. She has to baby sit semi-dysfunctional beneficiaries, probably a lot of grown ups who hated their folks, just like I did.
I am aware of the triggers that drove me to be verbally abusive to my money source - undoubtedly the finest professional I have ever worked with - and am doing really well in my communications with her. But boy, I am afraid I made her life hell for a while there. Yikes. Not cool. Easy to see the pattern now, but being in the eye of runaway anxiety...just an appaling lack of judgement on my part, some realting to self-sabotage. Just to be able to see this and write this is a step for me. I hate myself (!) when I am hostile toward others...it is my abusers, still inside me. My goal is no more appologies because I will not allow any more F-ups...no way. I believe that cycle of my life has ended. Honest, I'd rather just take a hammer and smash a finger on my hand than mistreat another human being. I can't even hit a punching bag without getting triggers. But verbally, I was a class A dildo to her, and there is no excuse for it. Alright, tears flowing...that's enough for now.
 
I just found this thread thanks to Heather for telling me about it. I have a lot of things to write but will do it in stages. When I was first diagnosed with PTSD it was in 2004 when I worked for this unbelievably abusive boss for a year. I was a new veterinarian and in desperate need of a mentor. He was a brilliant vet and taught me a lot. One moment he would be kind and nuturing and then would explode into violent rages. He would scream at me and tell me I was the worst vet ever and stupid. Then some days would be encouraging and "kind" and tell me how smart I was. I started having sex with him so he would stop abusing me. Then I had a major depressive breakdown and woke up one day psychotic. I was hearing voices telling me to "pick up the gun" meaning shoot myself. I checked myself into a psych ward. The psychiatrist explained to me that my abusive past was all brought out by this asshole boss and that I had PTSD from child abuse in combo with working with this guy (ironically his name is Dick). So I stupidly went back to work right after hospital and lasted a week we had a fight where he almost hit me and I quit for good.

OK here comes what I did bad. He had asked my ex to bring his old vet truck back to our house months earlier and said my ex could have the vet box because he wanted it removed and my ex wanted it for some reason. Well my ex kept procrastinating bringing the truck back. After I quit my job I had symptoms so bad I couldn't leave my house for 2 months I laid on the couch shaking and terrified. Everyday I would look in the driveway and see that truck and it would trigger me. I begged my ex to get rid of it but he was really busy with work and kept putting it off. So I finally said f-it I went down to the local gas station/store and had one of those 5 gallon metal military fuel cans and filled it with red dyed diesel. My friend who happened to be the fire chiefs son stopped and asked what I was doing and I told him I was going to burn the truck down. He said "cool call me when you do it and wait until dark so people won't see the tires burn (lots of thick black smoke when tires burn) and oh yeah here is a flare" and then he showed me how to light it. I lived on an Indian reservation in Montana at the time and fortunately for me there was very little law and order. Anyway so then I called my cowboy buddy Cody and asked him if he could help me tow the truck out into a marshy area on our ranch. He asked me why and I told him I was going to set the truck on fire. He said he'd be right over. So we towed it out there and he told me I was one crazy bitch (in an affectionate way) but he had to leave because he was already in trouble with the law. I then poured diesel all over this truck. Opened every drawer on the vet box, open the hood, poured it all over and inside the cab too. I went back to the house took a shower and changed clothes so I wouldn't set myself on fire. I got a 12 pack of beer and waited. It doesn't get dark in MT in summertime til about 10pm so I finally said F-it and struck the flare and threw it in the cab. I then called the fire cheifs son and he came over and we sat back, drank beer and watched the truck catch on fire, slowly at first and then it exploded and you could see the fire and smoke for miles. He had a scanner of course and at least 20 people called 911 there were fire volunteers driving by requesting the tribe send helicopters in to extinguish the fire, etc. My buddy kept calling his Dad and told him all was OK I had just lost it. The fire and police never came. I was so lucky I didn't get arrested and go to prison only in Montana could you get away with something like this. It was a very bad thing but was worth thousands of dollars in therapy. When I look back on this it makes me laugh especially at the fact that at no point did my buddies try to talk me out of it. Yeah it was bad but I don't regret it.
 
I’ve just read this thread and I have to say that I’m an angel in comparison. Now don’t get me wrong. What I’m trying to say is that I have been told by the powers that be (psych-doc) that I took it all onboard and kept quiet about it. It seems this made my situation worse. There was no hitting back, no shouting back, not even the tiniest taste of revenge or retaliation. So what I’m trying to saying is, try not to beat yourselves up too much. You might even have done yourselves a favour by letting it out.
 
Ugh. Where to begin (which sounds weird since I know I'm a wee little one still... ok... 20 lol)

Let's go with the biggies:
10- started using coke. Long story but jist is friend's brother knew of my terrors offered it and then raped me. Rinse repeat for a few years (this on top of abuse from fam members, big surprise it happened).

Fast forward to 14...met dealer. Have dealer stalk me. Date dealer for 2 years so it's not stalking now
rolleyes.png
.

Fast foward 17, been clean for a year steal principal's car on a dare (ok I drove it back to his house and left it there but still, never got caught for it, though he was very confused).

18 Start college, strip to make money close to full time with full course load. (ok illegally since I was 16, but that was a part time thing during hs) start using again 6 months after starting said job (yep I'm a good one for bad choices I tell ya).

19 still stripping, but uncle is in debt to people my dealers know, somehow I end up sleeping off his debt while he is serving in Iraq (still don't know the full story on that one since he's still not back from his tour)

BUT,
Got my shit together about a year ago, no more of paying uncle's debt (finally accepted help from my rowing coach), no more self medicating with drugs, no more stripping (more help from coach to find a job I didn't have to lie about, but still could make decent money at) no more bad stuff more or less.

Though I did skip class yesterday because it was supper nice out and that prof makes me fall asleep all the time anyways... I tried.
rolleyes.png


Little shit I did is easy to talk about and get off my chest, only truely embarrassed by and ashamed of stripping, drugs, and basically being a whore for 3 months.
 
My first blackout
At 24 I had a roommate who was pretty wild and just off the streets of SanFrancisco. I took pity on him and wanted to help him b/c he had prostituted himself to support his drug habit. He moved back east to escape this life. I thought he was fun, upbeat, and hilarious at times. Then he started using again. After many months of him stealing from me and not paying rent I finally told him he had to move out. He started screaming at me (he was high) and saying all this bad stuff. Next thing I knew I was kneeling on his chest, punching the holy shit out of him, blood all over his face and my fists, my shirt. I completely blacked out still have no memory of the moments between him screaming and me "coming to". I never saw him again by morning he was gone. Scared me that I had that in me.
 
17 yrs-picked up the local paper and the headline was about how my stepmom's American Airline plane was hijacked (1988). She was the head flight attendant (I was living with my Mom @ the time). I was glad it happened I had that much hatred for her at the time. I can't believe I felt that way what a horrible person I used to be. BTW the plane safely landed and she wasn't physically harmed.
 
I'm afraid to ask, but you're a Presidential Member? Ermmm... :confused:

LOL, my status change was just a little response to a few posts in Anthony's Thread on a need for a revolt in America. I made an off topic comment and there were a few responses that I would get votes for President, LOL. So obscure that most don't get the humor, he, he. Now I have to worry about assassination! Where is the Secret Service when you need them?

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ISH
 
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