Family and Sexuality

I'm a day late with my weekly blog update, but all of yesterday disappeared into oblivion somehow. Lots of working, spending time with my family, and trying hard not to focus on today's appointment at the hospital. Which was, by the way, absolutely horrible. Getting a camera on a cable shoved down my throat isn't something I'll be doing again, that's for sure. The real unpleasant part is how my body tensed as I tried to throw it up, but couldn't since the damned thing was already deep down in my intestines. Not. Doing. That. Again. So there.

Anyway, back to the usual schedule.

This entry is the last of the sum up entries, as February is closing in and I'm about to start that journey of mine into 2012, and a better life. And I figured I'd talk about my family, which is an important part of my life, and my sexuality, which is a constant annoyance to me.



I have a very deep and close relationship to my closest family members, and they really do mean the world to me. I'd do anything for them, and if anyone dare hurt them then they've made an enemy for life. This inner circle of mine is my mum, of course, my dad (whom is actually my stepdad, but I've called him daddy for years), my younger brother, my two younger sisters, and my grandparents (my stepdad's parents, that is). But they are also the only ones that I do allow into that circle of mine, and whom I'd do anything for. Got a rather good relationship to one of my cousins, whom I party a lot with, but that's about it. The rest of my family... Well, I don't really get along with them all that well.

My biological father is just that; my biological father. I've had a bad relationship to him for as long as I can remember, and even though I tend to forgive him his idiocy, I don't think I'll ever trust him. What little I remember of my childhood with him is how much he drank, cursed, beat his dog, and basically scared the living shit outta me. I used to cry when my mum sent me off to stay with him, cause I was certain he'd end up killing me and my sisters (we have the same father, but not the same mum, so we used to stay with him every other weekend). I was deathly afraid of him, even though he never laid a hand on us. And still I loved him, because he was my father, and I trusted him when he made me promises that he eventually ended up never keeping. He hurt me. Over and over again. And he taught me never to trust a man.
I do care for him, of course, and I talk to him every now and then. He's my father, after all. I'm not afraid of him anymore, cause I know he's just a silly little man, nor do I get sad when he breaks a promise. I've learned to accept that that's just the way he is. But, I carry a lot of anger and sadness inside me because of him, that I have yet to deal with, and it's not good for me. One day, I will have to confront him and tell him of all this pain he has caused me, if only for the sake of me learning to put it all behind me.

The rest of the father's side of the family? They've always looked down on me. They're "noble people" and no one is as good as them. And when I've struggled with my self-esteem most of my life, I tend to just stay away from them. I have an uncle who's a real business man, stuck up and on his high horse, whom I care very little for, and a pair of grandparents that always serve me sarcastic comments that makes me feel bad. I don't think they really mean to be mean, but that's how they end up being. It's just how they are. I do care for them, I'll admit that, but visiting them is unpleasant so I avoid doing so. People think badly of me for not visiting my own grandparents, but I'd rather be seen as a mean grandkid than hear how much of a failure I am as a person.

My mother's side of the family is in a league of it's own, and I've struggled all my life with accepting them. My grandfather is dead, unfortunately, and he was one of the few that I liked. My grandmother is... Well, I want to like her, but I just can't. Not after all the things she has done towards my mum. No one has ever hurt my mum more than her, and I will never forgive her for it. And my mum's sisters, my two aunts... I tried to accept them for mum's sake, but now I'm just fed up with them. The way they've treated my mum, after everything she's done for them, makes me sick to my stomach. I know, better than anyone else in this world, how much mum has sacrificed for their sake. To help them. I know, cause I had to suffer for it. I hated the phone. Whenever it rang, it was them, needing something, and mum had to leave. And I was left behind, alone. My grandmother was a drunk, mum's youngest sister was as crazy as can be, and her oldest sister was a drug addict, and every time something went wrong they called my mother to have her fix it. And today, they claim that mum never did anything for them.
I will never, ever forgive them for that. They ruined my childhood, and now they can stand there and claim nothing of it happened? They've hurt my mum, badly, and nothing in the world can ever make me forgive them for that. So, yeah, I don't really have much of a relationship to my family.

But, you see? My inner circle is everything to me. I never forgive those who hurt them, and I'll do anything to protect them. That's how I am. The people I love is my world, and there is little I wouldn't do for them if they ever asked me. I protect mine. But those outside that circle? I tolerate them. But if they step over the line, then they've made it on to my list of people I don't get along with at all. People I'll never forgive. I may forgive even the worst of things that people do against me, but I never forgive those who hurt my loved ones.

And that's just how it is.



Putting that behind us, I'mma drag out a pretty different subject; my freaky sexuality.

Why would I talk about that? Well, becuase it's been one of my biggest annoyances all my life. Me and my sexuality, we just don't get along that well.

For some strange reason, I really want to put it in a box, and say that this is what I am. Which is why I've settled with telling people that I am a lesbian. Which is semi-true, and the easiest way to explain things. But, it's still not 100%, and that bothers me! I'm not a lesbian! Not entirely. But no, I'm not bisexual either, nor pansexual. And I'm far from straight, I can tell you that right away. After 27 years, I still don't really know what I am.

Some people claim that I am closet-straight, which is just ridicules. Me? Straight? I mean, come on. I haven't flown straight since I was 5 years old, so they're way off course there. Mum is pretty sure that I am pansexual, which is pretty nice. That's what I've always wanted to be, cause pansexuality is what I believe to be the "best" sexuality out there. You don't like someone based on their gender, but on their personality (a quick wikipedia link about pansexuality). It's pretty nifty, and way better than being bisexual, which is what a lot of people have believed me to be for many years. I've been in long relationship with both men and women, and had sexual relationship with both genders, so I've been a bit all over the place. But in the end, I still struggle.

I do feel a lot better about things after settling on being a lesbian, and telling people that. Which was something I settled on as late as early last year. But it still don't feel right. I mean, I can get attracted to both men and women, and go as far as fall in love with both, but that's where the similarities end.

When it comes to men, I'm very picky. Few men fall under my category of good looking, and even fewer fall under the category of having a good personality. And, of course, those that fall under both categories are rare specimens indeed. And most of them are game/anime/movie characters. Oh, if some of them had been real, and available for me, then I'd go for it, no doubt! But they're not. And when it comes to real men, I'm as picky as can be. Sure, I can flirt with them, and enjoy spending time with them, and even go as far as to kiss them! But that's where I draw the line. If it gets more intimate than that, then I freak out. I panic. And every single part of me tells me that this is wrong, and that it needs to stop. And if I ever do go as far as to have sex with a man, I feel filthy and disgusting afterwards, and feel like I've done something wrong. I generally have a problem with men touching me. It's just... Wrong.
Of course, male friends that I like and trust, I don't mind if they touch me, snuggle with me, or even kiss me. I'm okay with that. Because I've managed to get to a point where I feel safe around them. But strangers I don't feel safe around? If they touch me, I almost feel like throwing up. So yeah, even though I tend to have a rather big mouth and flirt around a lot with random guys, I never want to take it very far. Because, when it's not intimate, it's not real.

As for women... Oh, my, how I love women. I find something pretty in almost every woman I see, and a pretty female face is enough to render me speechless and redfaced. Of course, I'm picky when it comes to personality, so I don't fall in love with every woman I see. But as for looks... Seriously, the world is drowning with gorgeous women, and I could spend the rest of my life just staring happily at them all. Oh, and how I love flirting with them. And cuddling them. Kissing them. And, ah, you know... Hehe, I really love women. I am, however, not the wildcat everyone believe me to be! Yes, I've had my share of women in my bed, but that don't mean I'm confident. Hell, I'm as shy as can be in bed, and I'm constantly afraid of not being good enough. When I like a woman, I want so badly to please her, but at the same time I'm almost afraid of her. I'm really, seriously, shy. And I mean supershy. I may be strong and dominant on all other areas, but when it comes to sex I'm as submissive, unsecure and shy as can be. And that's the plain truth.

So yeah, I confuse myself. I'm never shy around men, and I don't mind playing sexy and dominant with them in bed, though I'd rather avoid getting there with them in the first place cause intimate contact with men makes me feel bad. And I love women and can never get enough of them or their touch, but I'm so god damned shy around them that I always end up making a fool out of myself! What the fuck is wrong with me? In what way am I wired together? I seriously don't get it.

I know it's silly of me, cause in general I hate labels and boxes, but for some reason I have this burning need to box and label my own sexuality. But no matter how much I try, and ponder, and analyze, I just can't seem to figure out what I am. Can you?

Out of my mind

I've been planning this entry for about a week now, but now that I'm finally sitting down to try and write it, I have to admit that I'm at a loss for words. So, almost this entire entry have been copied from my other blog, because what I wrote there was... Well, perfect. One thing I never hide from people is the fact that I've had a lot of serious problems in my life. Mainly mental problems. Though I have gotten significally better these past months - past year, really, but it's only in these past months that I've really started to notice it - it still doesn't change the fact that not all is 100% okay, and that those many years of living with my problems have given me some nasty scars.

And, since I've decided to use the blog entries of January to go through things that have been and still is before starting on my road forward, as a way to get rid of all the old to make room for the new, I figured I'd dedicate this one to my sickness.


Because, I have been very, very sick in my life. I tend to forget about it every now and then, how sick I've really been in my worst periods, though it's probably because these memories are extremely painful ones. To say that I've been completely insane is an understatement. As I like to say - I've been the kind of crazy you see in movies.

The daily struggle with the voices in my head, and the many things I could see that no one else saw, not to mention the many different personalities arguing about who's really me. I was living a nightmare, every single day, while trying to maintain a decent facade to fool people into believing that I wasn't completely insane. The constant fear, the anxiety, the many hours of hysterical crying while begging for someone or something to come and take me away from it all or just kill me... Those were the worst years of my life. And I faced them alone.

I've struggled with things all my life, that much everyone know, and I've been diagnosed with a general anxiety disorder and a severe depression, but when I moved away from my home town to try and begin my new life after my friendship with my ex kind of cracked, it all went down the drain in a rather ugly way. Though I did enjoy living in that town, the life I lived on the inside was a very unpleasant one. Now that I think about it, I realize that there's a lot of things that happened during those years that I've just chosen to pretend never happened. I always say I can't remember much of those years, but when I really think about them I find that I walked around in a constant state of insanity.

The voices in my head was the worst part. They were pretty intense, especially the first two-three years or so. It was like going around with a constant radio in my head, and the shows weren't pretty ones. Telling me to do things I really didn't want to do, and teasing me for all sorts of things. They were just annoying at first, but as time passed they started to scare me. After a while, they were telling me to kill people, and on certain days they were so intense that the only thing I could do to keep from doing what they told me to was to somehow use pain to snap out of it. Just taking something sharp and randomly stab myself somewhere with it usually helped. But I had many, many hours during those years where all I could do was lie with my hands over my ears and cry while begging the voices to stop talking to me.

The many things I could see didn't really bother me much. It somehow turned into a little game, where they were teasing me while I was in public to make me screw up, and I had to find ways to communicate with them without anyone noticing that I was talking to something that wasn't there. The woman in the mirror, however, did bother me a lot, cause I never figured out who she was. And to be honest, I have a lot of difficulties remembering much about her. I just remember that there was a woman there, instead of my reflection, that used to talk to me, and she was usually in a very bad mood. Either mad or depressed, though sometimes I wondered if she was just bitter or hurt about something. I never found out. But the goblin-like creatures and the many other weird things I saw? No, they were just fun and games, even when they were annoying. In the end, I learned to just ignore them.

The personality issues were strange ones. I never really figured out what the deal was there. Sometimes it felt like I was just a shell of a body that had several different other people inhabiting it. And they all claimed to be me, yet none of them really were. The constant arguing and bickering they had was tiresome, and the uncertainty and the anxiety that came from it all was enough to choke me to death on certain days. It certainly made it difficult to breathe. I lost what little I had of myself during those years, and spent the following years living in utter confusion of who I truly was. Needless to say, it was horrible.

And the "thing" inside my head. During those years, I was scared to death of some being I was absolutely certain lived inside my head. I was told, by a friend of mine, that one time as he was keeping me company while I was throwing up in my bathroom after getting drunk on a monday afternoon, I had made him promise me that if I ever started to act differently he would chain me up somewhere and not let anyone go near me. I was deathly afraid that something inside my head would take control of me and do horrible things. I used to dream that the world ended just because that "thing" got out and managed to get in control of me. Whatever that was, it was one of my biggest fears, and I walked around being constantly afraid because of it. I never trusted myself, especially around people. What if it took control while I was in public? What if it made reality of the things the voices wanted me to do? It made it imposible for me to be around people.

Though the blackouts where rare, they freaked me out when they occurred. I could suddenly wake up in strange places, with no idea how I got there, or with wounds I didn't have before and with no idea how I got them. I don't know what they were, but they were anything but pleasant. Some times I only lost minutes, while other times I lost hours and even days. Most commonly, and hour or two would be gone from my memory, despite apparently having done a lot of things during those hours. It could've been my head surpressing my memories, or it could've been some other part of me taking control of me. I never really figured out what it was, and at some point (as far as I know) they stopped.


I've had a difficult life, most of my life, with troubles and whatnots of mental problems, but after I turned 20 I started living a nightmare. Everything inside my head went haywire on me, in the worst way possible, and the voices in my head and the things I saw went from being strange and unusual to directly horrifying. To be quite honest, I am glad no one got to see the hell I was living on the inside of me, cause I'm sure it would've scared them to death. And there is no doubt in my mind that they had locked me up somewhere. On certain days, I was the kind of crazy you only see in movies, and I can promise you that it wasn't a pretty sight.

After a while, things started to get a little better. The voices silenced themselves, and I didn't see things as often as I used to. The anxiety and the depression was still very much present, but the hysterical breakdowns and panic attacks dimmed down. I moved back to my home town, to be closer to my ex since we had gotten back our contact, and slowly forgot about how bad things had been.

Then, a couple of years back, things hit bottom for me again when she dumped me, and I fell back into a bad state. Started seeing things again, and my depression and anxiety flared up to the point where I'd get hysterical panic attacks and breakdowns whenever my head started teasing me by showing me things that weren't there. And once more, I started to lose contact with reality. I could stand in the middle of my own home town, that I knew better than any other place, and think to myself that I had never seen this place before. It was so alien, and even though I knew I had been there before, I just couldn't recognize it. At times I didn't even recognize myself, and I had periods where I couldn't look myself in the mirror cause the person looking back at me was someone I hadn't seen before. She wasn't me. Things felt unreal, and I had so many times where I had to ask myself if this was reality or not, cause I honestly didn't know. I walked around with constant anxiety, scared to death of everything around me - and inside me - and quite honestly wanted nothing more than to just die. To get away from it all. To get away from myself.

But, despite those years being as hard as they were, they were nothing compared to the hell I lived through when I was 20. Cause, this time around I had people around me to lean on. I had my ex there, cause things were still good between us, and even though things are as they are I bless her soul for the support she gave me back then. I got to live with her during some of my worst periods, and she took so good care of me and gave me all the help I needed from her. Though there was nothing she or anyone else could really do to help me during those days, it was good just to have that love. To know that I just needed to ask her, and she would be there. Especially since I was so addicted to her. It really meant everything to me.

6 years ago, I didn't have that. I didn't dare involve anyone. I stood through the hell all on my own, with no one to help me. With no one to lean on. And it made the problems even worse. Cause with no one there to drag me out of my worst psychotic states, I just managed to dig myself even deeper in. I didn't even see a psychologist, so all the issues I had were issues I had to solve on my own. It was my own choice, so I'm the one to blame for the hell I lived, cause I didn't want to bother anyone. I was so scared, thinking that I'd be a burden to my loved ones, or that I'd scare them away with all my crazy. And truth be told, I thought that if anyone ever knew what I was going through, that they'd submit me to the kind of nut house you see in the movies and just drug me down while I'm chained to my bed in a straight jacket.

When I tell you that I was the kind of crazy you only see in movies, it's not a joke. It's dead serious, to me. And it was horrible. I'm grateful for every single day I have where I don't have it like that, and I pray that I never have to experience it again. I'm scared to death of falling back into that place again, because I know better than anyone how close to jumping off that edge I've really been, quite literally. My own head almost killed me.



But, what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. A lot of things changed within me last year, and I think I started on a very important road that I hope will one day lead me to the place I've always dreamt of being. I was healed by a family member of mine in April, and she helped me get rid of most of my anxiety, which was what really made the ball start to roll. Of course, it helped that I had just started to work on myself on my own, by analyzing my own head and trying to figure out how to fix things, so I was more open to the healing.

Last year was my most turbulent one yet, even compared to my insanity years. Spring and summer was the best ever, cause I had gotten over my anxiety, were moving away from my depression, and things were better than ever between me and my ex so I was living with her again. Then things started to go downhill. A carefully planned trip in August didn't quite turn out the way it had been planned, and my ex got her little mental breakdown in the middle of it all. And then, eventually, things between me and here ended badly as she threw me out of her life after breaking my heart. Which was, of course, one of the worst things I've ever been through. I lost everything, after finally gaining control over my own mind.

I have my days were I meet a rough patch every now and then now, but it is nowhere near how things once used to be. Yes, I do worry that I'll start hearing and seeing things again, cause my head can still have it's golden moments of disconnecting, but I want to believe that it won't happen. I want to believe, that even though I've been out of my mind, I am now safely back inside it again, and will stay there.

Happy Birthday

To me.

Today I'm 27 years of age. Or, at least I will be at 22:21 PM tonight. To think that it has been 27 years since they forced me out into the world on a cold winter's eve at Selfors hospital. I nearly killed my mom upon arrival though, along with myself. Hours upon hours of labour, and she lost 3 liters of blood, before they finally got me out of her. I never wanted to be a part of this world, even from the very beginning. Me in a nutshell! And of course, being the drama queen that I am, I had to make a dramatic entrance.

Anyway, today is my day. I've celebrated it by going out with my closest friends the day before (so I'm hung over like hell today, which is totally worth it). and I had an amazing time! Today, my mum served coffee to my closest family, and my grandma baked me a cheesecake. Got some amazing gifts, and warm hugs, and many good and comforting words. It's been good.

Which is a huge thing for me.

For as long as I can remember, I've struggled with a rather massive birthday anxiety. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure as to why I've had it. Bad childhood memories? Can't say for sure, since I can't really remember any of my birthdays at all before I turned 18. Like most of my childhood, it's just gone. I do know I've got some Peter Pan issues every now and then, when I honestly don't want to grow older; I want to stay a child forever, so that can be a huge part of this anxiety of mine. Growing older scares me, for some reason. Maybe I'm just afraid that I'll grow too old too fast, and miss out on things I don't want to miss out on. I don't know. But it's been a rather serious issue for me for as long as I can remember.

So, every single year, when my birthday is coming up, I freak out. Hell, I even start freaking out a month before, and then spend that entire month freaking out even more. During my worst periods, I've had serious mental breakdowns because of it. Like last year. Turned out to be one of my worst birthdays ever, and I'd do anything to just forget about it. Most of it was my own fault, of course.

I was living with my ex at the time, and she was well aware of my birthday anxieties. And in that period, I wasn't doing so well mentally on a general basis, so my birthday coming up just made it all worse. Anyway, the day before, my ex wanted to invite some of her friends over. Now, I had told her earlier that I didn't feel so good that day, but since it was her apartment and her friends, I didn't really feel like I could say no. I was only a guest after all. But, I should've had the brains to at least go back to my own place for the evening. Or she could've told me to go there, especially when I told her I didn't want to be around when she had her guests over. But, idiotically enough, I stayed there, and just hid out in her other livingroom when they came. I really didn't feel like having people around me a t all. So, when they all came and asked me to please join them, several times, I felt the pressure build up, and even though I mostly just wanted to crawl into a hole and die, I caved and came to spend time with them. In the end, it turned out pretty ugly. They decided they wanted to go out, and I was mad at myself for feeling like shit, and a bit sad that they wanted to leave, so I had a bad reaction to it, and just hid out in the other livingroom again. And I had a breakdown, where everything just turned itself inside out inside my head. Those breakdowns... They really are the worst. And right there and then, all I wanted was to die. Because, sitting inside your own head, and feeling that you're slowly turning insane, and you're fully aware of it, is without a doubt the worst thing I have ever experienced. And I'd rather die, then feel that way. So yes, I wanted to die. Intensely. And when my ex came and asked what was wrong, drunk, I told her to kill me. Which, of course, made her break down completely and lock herself up in the bathroom.
I still feel bad about that. No matter how insane I was at that moment, I should never have asked such a thing of her. Especially not when she was drunk. I never meant to hurt her like that. Yes, I was completely out of it and not fully aware of what I was saying or doing (I found out later I had managed to scratch myself pretty badly and had been bleeding without being aware of it), but that is no excuse. She shouldn't have to suffer for my insanity. But, thanks to one of her guests, who was amazing, she managed to force me back into control of my head again so I could force myself to pull myself together to help my ex. It took everything I had, but I had no choice. I had to snap out of it, for her sake. Things got better, and we ended up going out. I felt miserable the whole time, but hid it and acted like nothing so I wouldn't worry them any further.
But the next day, my ex were feeling anything but great. She was crying, and she couldn't remember the night before, and was generally completely out of it, so she ended up leaving to spend the rest of that weekend at her mother's place. I don't blame her; she had a rough time the night before, and her best defence against bad things is running away from them. It's what she does. But it felt horrible, being left to spend my birthday all alone, and not even in my own home. I spent the entire day crying, cleaning her apartment, and packing my things. The next day, I moved back home, to leave her to herself and not be a bother to her anymore.

It may not seem so bad, but to me that was one of the worst experiences I've ever had. I've struggled with my birthday anxiety for years, and then I have an absolutely horrible birthday to make it even worse. I spent several days after it, just wishing I was dead. I hated myself, and everything in and around me. And I hated my head more than ever. And no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to put it behind me. It still hurts.

So, this is why having a good birthday means so much to me! It tells me that I can manage to break this "curse" of mine, and maybe learn to look forward to my birthdays. And enjoy them! Because, in the past, no matter how good the birthdays were, I never truly enjoyed them. The dread, and the anxiety, was like a claw around me, every single second. And I wish to break free of that claw, and be rid of it, forever. This birthday turned out to be amazing, and I didn't feel that claw suffocating me for once, so I have taken a step forward, in the right direction. In time, I'll be alright. In time, I'll be able to love having my birthday.

Ex-traterrestrial

Love is a dificult area for me, in many ways, and even though I claim to be a romantic person who believes that love conquers all, I have to admit that usually I hate it. But that's mostly because I've never had much luck in it. I've been stepped on, lied to, used, and hurt more than I could ever describe. I've got scars in me, caused by love, and some of these scars have left me uncapable of moving on with my life.

My worst scars are ones I have gathered from the same person through 15 years of love, and I am currently going through "rehab" to try and get over her and move on with my life. So, this entry will be about the one person I fear the most when it comes to love; my ex.



We were... Everything. We were as close as sisters, best friends, soulmates, lovers, and whatever else we felt like being. We shared worlds between us, and in all my life there have never been anyone I have allowed to come closer to me than her. She knew me, every part of me, and I gave her all of me. I gave her my heart, my mind, my body and my soul. She had every single part of me in the palm of her hand. And she ruined me.

Let's start at the beginning of things.

When my mother met the man she's now married to - my stepdad, whom I've called daddy for as long as I've known him - I gained an entire family. I was about 11 years of age when she met him, and that was when I first met his younger cousin, who was about a year younger than me. And I fell instantly in love with her. We became the best of friends in no time, and as time passed we learned to share everything between us. Even sex. And I came to love her so deeply and intensely, that I became addicted to her. I couldn't live without her. I couldn't do anything unless she was there with me.

Few people liked the close relationship me and her had. They told us it was unhealthy. That we spent too much time together. And that we were bad for eachother. Well, actually, for as long as I've known her, people have told me to stay away from her cause she was a bad person. That she'd only use me. That she was selfish and mean. That she was a psychopath.
A lot of people told me all sorts of bad things about her, and I told them all to shut up. They didn't know what they were talking about. They didn't know her like I did. Sure, she could appear both selfish and cruel to outsiders, but I always knew it to be nothing but a defence against the world who had treated her badly. She was fragile, in truth, and I needed to protect her. And I truly wanted to do anything for her.

The teenage years with her were chaotic and fantastic. We had fun. And I cherish those years as the most valuable time in my life. We really did everything together. And as the days passed, we spun stories together and opened portals into other worlds we could explore together. It was the time of my life, and with each passing day my love for her grew stronger.

It was the year I turned 18 that things started to change. The day after my birthday, she finally spoke the words I had waited years to hear. She wanted us to try being in a relationship. She wanted to be my girlfriend. And two months passed like that, and I was as happy as can be. Until she cheated on me. With a guy. It was years ago, and I still remember it like it was yesterday. I remember the day after, going to town, and a friend of mine wanted to introduce us to someone. She introduced me, and then she introduced my girlfriend, whom was holding hands with some guy. The looks they all gave me. I can still feel the pain of it. Later, she blamed me for it all. Told me I had approved of her cheating by leaving her alone with the guy. The truth of that was that I couldn't stand to watch how they were flirting in front of me, so I just left to spare myself the pain. I was also told, later, by her, that she had been making out with some other random guy at a party, while we were together. Adding more salt to my wounds, it did. Her excuse, from that moment on, was that she wasn't made to be with one person. I just had to accept that. And that was the end of our short relationship.
Later that year, everything in my life became chaotic. New friends, trouble, arguements, and some random guy from another town that I somewhat fell for. It was first just to see if I could make her jealous, since making her jealous by spending time with other friends didn't help, but it developed further than that. And as the friendship between me and her cracked, I moved away to be with him in his town. And she started getting into serious trouble, and drugs. Everything that had been between us, came to an end. And my years of misery began.

6 years I lived in that town, and those years were the worst years of my life. I was with him for a year, before finally managing to break free from him. He never abused me physically, but the mental torture he put me through drove me over the edge. That on top of dealing with the loss of her, the love of my life, made me insane. I had periods where I saw and heard things that weren't there, and my split personality issues became worse than ever. And every single day, I thought of her. I missed her. And still loved her.
I met some other guy, and eventually moved in with him. 4 years we lived together, me and him, and I just got worse. My depression worsened, and my anxiety grew. And still I longed for her. Every day. And that, on top of my mental health, and the fact that the guy I was living with was anything but mature, put a heavy strain on our relationship. Of course, the fact that I was trying hard to deny and ignore my sexuality didn't exactly make it any easier. In the end, we didn't last. And the same year I broke up with him, I met her again.

My mother had kept me somewhat updated on her every now and then, since she was my stepdad's cousin. I knew she had been doing drugs, that she had a son, and that she had been very seriously ill. The drug abuse nearly killed her. When I met her again, on the 1st of May 2008, she was still sick, but she was clean. We met in town, we hugged, we walked around and talked, and suddenly things were like before. She came and visited me several times, and I visited her, as if those years without eachother had never been at all, and the year after I decided to move back to my home town so I could be closer to her. Once more, the things we had shared came back to us, and we were closer than ever. And my addiction flared up worse than before. I needed her. And people told me she was like a drug for me. Whenever I got a dose of her, I was as high as could be, but if days passed and we didn't talk I'd get irritated and depressed. I was seriously addicted to her. I could harly breathe without her. And as our relationship became even closer than before, and we were more mature and things got more serious, we decided to try once more to have a proper relationship.

It was sometime in the spring of 2009, and we lasted all summer. It was the best time of my life, really. I finally had the love of my life as my own, and I treasured every single moment of it. Sure, things were up and down, but I couldn't be happier. I could show the world that she was mine. I could kiss her in the middle of town, hold her hand as we walked around in public. I could show the entire world that I loved her, and feel no shame about it. And, you know, I even believed that she loved me back. We were happy together. Even joked about getting married, and having kids. My biggest dream is to become a mom, and since she couldn't have any more kids because of her back problems, I would be the one to carry the child. I was so happy.

But, of course, it didn't last. Her ex came to town - the father of her son - and it immediately became clear to me that something was off. She had told me so many times how much pain he caused her, how he abused her, and how broken he left her, so I hated him before I even met him. He was a psychopath, according to her. And as he came and we spent time together, she couldn't keep her hands off him. They were flirting openly, in front of me, and when I came to visit and she was sitting on his lap, I reached my limit. It was too much. Things got tense between us, awkward, and when he left we talked about it. We didn't talk much, but I had to ask her if she still loved him. And she told me she did. And that she'd always love him. It was painful to hear, so when I left that day, the air was heavy around us. We didn't speak for days, but I was told that he had been visiting her every day, from morning until night. I said that it was only because he was visiting his son, but people just shook their heads at me.
Finally, I had to confront her about it, so I asked her to come over so I could talk to her. The 11th of September 2009. And I told her how I felt, and I asked her if she could please keep her hands off him. She told me she couldn't. So I told her that she had to choose then. Me or him. And she told me she couldn't, and left me. She said she couldn't choose, but she did so anyway. She chose to leave me. To end our relationship. All just to keep whatever it was she had with him.

She broke my heart. And she broke me.

After that, I completely lost my foothold in life. I fell over a nasty edge, and finally gave in to all the mental problems I had been trying to fight off. I didn't have her there, so I had no need to stay sane anymore. Of course, as time passed, our friendship still stayed in place, and we remained as close as ever. But the pain of her "dumping" me like that never left. She left another nasty scar on me. And my insanity took a nasty control of me from that moment on. 2010 became one of the worst years ever, sanity wise. I even got submitted to a mental clinic, though I didn't stay long. I couldn't handle being there.

Me and her stayed friends. I came and lived with her several times, and she took care of me. My addiction to her was stronger than ever, to the point where I felt like I would die if she left me. I loved her so deeply. She was everything to me. And living with her, and her son, was like a dream come true. Even if we weren't together in an official relationship, we still shared everything between us. We were lovers, friends, and everything in between.

Things were up and down, back and forth. But as I finally managed to become well, mentally, last year, things got more intense between me and her. Spring and summer became the most treasured time of my life. We became even closer than before, and we were starting to speak openly about feelings and things like that. She even told me, up front, that she loved me, and couldn't stay away from me. But that she couldn't be with me like that, because she couldn't handle being in a relationship. And I respected that. I loved her too much to push her, so we stayed lovers and friends. And I did anything for her. People hated me for dedicating all of my time to her. I neglected my family and friends for her sake. I never made appointments, in case she needed me. Everything I did, was for her. And, you know, after she had told me that she loved me, and things had become so intense between us, I started to hope. Hope that one day her feelings for me would help her overcome her issues with relationships, so that we could be together. And I thought about proposing... Even looked up rings.

Then something happened. She had a mental breakdown. Things from her past caught up to her, and things got bad. The night it happened, I was staying with her, and we fought pretty hard. I'm glad I'm stronger than her, or she would've beaten me up pretty badly. She did try. In the end, I had to give up and just leave. The day after she couldn't remember anything, and she was so out of it that they had to send her to a mental clinic. She had totally lost it. And I despaired. The love of my life, broken. And I could do nothing to help. In time, she got better, and came home, and I stayed with her. She had her ups and downs, until she finally had another breakdown. I moved back home after a while, due to some personal things, and because she had more or less asked me to, and our contact was up and down. There were periods of constant contact, and dry periods with none.

Then her birthday came, and I spent the weekend at her place to celebrate with her. We went out to dinner with our mothers, and after that we went out on town together. Drinking and dancing together, and just having fun. And then she met some random guy, and the two of them were all over eachother. She even told me straight up how fantastic he was, and that she was falling in love with him. It was like getting shot. After a while, I excused myself and just left. I couldn't take it. Watching her glued to him like that was just too painful. So I went back to her place and made the beds, and waited for her. But she never came. I didn't even get a text. So when the morning came, I got worried, and texted her. She came home shortly after that, and I learned that she had spent the night with him. And all she could talk about was him. I could feel something shattering inside of me, every time she mentioned him. But we spent her birthday together, and I went home the next day.

We didn't talk for a while after that. I was nursing some wounds, and she was... Well... Busy. Met her in town once, cause she asked me to come meet her, and we had a cup of coffee and talked about random stuff. Other than that, we didn't really have much contact. And then, I find out after reading some comments on a status of hers on Facebook that she has a boyfriend. And I go into shock. The very next day, she changes her status from "single" to "in a relationship" with the guy she met out on town that night. Needless to say, I was heartbroken. I completely shattered. I had been living on her words, and the belief that she actually did love me. That she couldn't be with me because she couldn't handle being in a relationship. And then I get this thrown in my face. She was in a relationship with a guy she met two weeks earlier. Can you imagine how I felt? I had loved that woman for 15 years, and done absolutely everything for her. I dedicated my entire being to her, hoping and praying that one day she'd see that I was the one. And then this. She didn't even tell me. We were best friends and lovers, and she didn't even tell me that she was with him. I found out through Facebook.

I felt used. I felt like I had been lied to. And I felt absolutely worthless. My world crumbled, and I cried for days. I blogged about it, cause I needed someplace to write down my pain. I never mentioned names, nor even what had really happened, but I wrote that I was in pain. I poured out my hurt, because I had nowhere else to put it. It was too painful to keep it inside. And after publishing that blog entry, I get a text from her. "I have no words. I can't believe what I am reading. So tell me straight up; what the fuck?!" She was mad at me. Mad at me for what? For having my heart broken, and writing about it? I don't know. But she was mad, and I was too hurt to even answer her. A couple of days later, I get a new text, asking me to come pick of all my things. It was clear that she wanted me out of her life.

I had my parents pick up my things from her, cause quite honestly I couldn't handle seeing her. She broke my heart that time she broke up with me a couple of years back, but that was nothing compared to this. It was the worst pain I had ever experienced in my life. I saw her again once after that, when she came by to drop off the rest of my things and to claim back her house key and give me back mine. She was as cold as ice and as hard as stone when she dropped of my bags and demanded hers. In the end, she was just glad to be rid of me. After all those years, and all the things we had shared, she kicked me out of her life and turned her back on everything.

I haven't talked to her since.

It's been almost three months since all this, and I'm going through rehab. My addiction for her was stronger than anything else, and learning to live without her have been hard. People have been extremely supportive, though they all have said the same; "we told you so." They all had told me for years that she was selfish and cruel, and only using me. That she was bad for me, and that she treated me badly. That she was a psychopath that couldn't be trusted. And all those years, I had turned a blind eye to all that and just continued loving her no matter what. I let her get away with everything she ever did towards me, making excuses on her behalf all the time. Standing up for her and protecting her as best I could, all the while sacrificing myself and my feelings. And my own needs. The only thing that ever mattered to me, was her happiness. And that I could be a part of her life.



I still love her. I always will, unfortunately. She taught me that. She taught me that when you truly love someone with all of your being, you never stop loving them. And she taught me that without even knowing it herself. She taught me through my own feelings for her. She made me realize. So I know. I know I'll always love her, despite how she has treated me.

But forgive her? No. Not this time. She stepped over my boundaries. Boundaries I didn't even know I had. So this time I won't be able to forgive her. I wish her all the best, and I hope she's happy now, but I can't forgive her for ruining me like this. Do she even know what she has done? I doubt it. Does she even care? I doubt that too. If she ever did love me, that love wasn't worth much, judging by her actions. She's through with me, and that's that. And I will never, ever sacrifice myself for her sake ever again. When this is the result, it's just not worth it.


Someone asked me a while back, what I'd do if she ever came crawling back to me. Truthfully? I don't think she ever will. In her eyes, she has done nothing wrong, so why should she? I'm the bad guy here, after all. But, if against all odds, she did seek me out? I'd welcome her. I'd welcome a friendship. If she truly knew how badly she had treated me, and were truly sorry for it. Then yes, we could be friends once more. But I would never give her any part of myself. Not ever. It took me 15 years, but now I have finally learned my lesson. Never trust her with my heart.

And because of all this, I fear I'll never be able to trust anyone with my heart.

Happy New Quest

New year, new blog.

I'll kick it off by describing myself and who I currently am, from my point of view. That last part is important to keep in mind - it's from MY point of view. The way I see myself isn't always the same way others see me.


Who am I? That's a very good question.

My name is Anett, but I'm a hoarder of nicknames so you can call me pretty much anything you want. The blog name Aratri comes from two words - Ara; meaning "female", and Tri; meaning "3". Random detail. I like random details. I'm soon to be 27 years of age, I'm a Norwegian female being, I don't work cause I'm on some disabled pension whatever thingy (translating the Norwegian word into English is hard, mkay?), and I live alone in a small apartment that I own. I live in my home town, but I dream of moving away from here. Again. I did manage to move away once, but got drawn back again by friends, family and love. Still got friends and family here, but love kind of killed me, and that's reason enough for me to take off. Buuuut, moving is expensive shit, and I don't got money, and I still haven't found a decent place to settle down, so it won't happen any time soon. It'll be when it's supposed to be, I guess.

I've got a bit of a shifting personality. One moment I'm one thing, and the next I'm something completely different. Sometimes I control it, others I don't. It's just a part of who I am. I can be extremely childish and playful, yet I can also be mature and very protective. I have trouble saying no to people, cause I live to please others. I can't handle rejection at all, and being left is my biggest fear in life, so I pretty much do anything to keep those around me satisfied so they'll stay with me. To the point where I let them take advantage of me, walk all over me, and I basically just ignore myself and my own needs to fulfill theirs. I'm a bit of a loner and I don't like having people around me, but when I have my social days I can almost overdo it by trying to be the scenter of everyone's attention. I can be charming when I try, but for the most part I'm sure I appear as a bit of an idiot. I have no self-esteem at all, and in my own eyes I'm more or less worthless. I can't do anything right. And I can't for the life of me finish a project no matter how much I want to. I have trouble taking in compliments, and I don't believe it when people tell me they like me, or even love me. I've been lied to a lot, so trust is difficult for me. I love with all my being, and tend to get very dependant on those I love. I can't live without them. When I appear as a confident and independent woman, it's only me playing a role to be able to get by in life.

I'm not pretty, but I'm not ugly either. I'm pretty average, really. My eyes tend to shift between pale blue, teal and grey, but they're hard to spot behind my glasses. My hair is, at the moment, shoulder length and kind of red-ish, and in desperate need of some love. I should do something about it, but I'm lazy. My skin is pale right now, cause it's winter, and my face is freckly. And I got the ugliest grin ever, cause my teeth look like they were thrown into my mouth. But, I've got pretty lips, so I can't complain. I like my lips. My weight is up and down, but at the moment it's somewhat low. You'd think I'd manage to put on some weight with all the food I had this x-mas, but no. Still skinny as hell. But, I'm far from well trained, so even though I'm skinny I still don't look nice. I'd rather be well trained and a bit overweight. That's what I find attractive, at least.

I'm a thinker. I always have a lot of thoughts that swirl around in my head, and the things that come out of my mouth is just a drop in the ocean of what's going on up there. I do think too much. My thoughts go in all sorts of different directions, and I have a tendency to think about the strangest things. But, I think first and foremost on others; on those I love. I always wonder if they're okay, what they're doing, and what they're thinking about. I think all day about the ones I love, and I always wonder how they are. But, there's that issue of how not every thought of mine is spoken. I'm not good at telling people that I think about them, and that I care, cause that's something that usually just stays inside my head, where I have a tendency to think things to death.

I think and I analyze a lot of things - well, the analyzing is mostly just of me and my own thoughts - and I firmly believe that I could think an entire nation under the table.  My head is my greatest weapon, but unfortunately I have a bad tendency to use it against myself. You know, thinking things to death. THAT is something I'm good at. But, because I'm a thinker, I'm a big fan of entertainment. Movies, TV-series, games - those are things I like to fill my time with. Stimulation for the head, or something like that.

I'm a gamer, but I mainly go for one specific genre of games, and  I only got a handful of games and game series that I stick to. Zelda, Final Fantasy, Kingdom Hearts, Resident Evil, Grandia (both 1 & 2), Alundra (only the first one, cause the second sucks), Grand Fantasia (an online game) and Lord of the Rings Online. I also love the old classic pen and paper roleplaying games, like Dungeons & Dragons, though Call of Cthulhu is my preferred game. If you got a good GM, that is. I probably love roleplaying because I like playing roles. Being someone other than me, is something I'm addicted to. I do have my own roreplay that I've written (an eternal WIP, really) and people have bugged me for years about publishing it. Probably won't though, cause I just copied the d20 system from D&D and copyright issues and stuff is too bothersome - I'm too lazy to make my own system. If I ever get rich, I'll fulfill my dream of making it into a Massive Multiplayer Online RolePlaying Game. That would be absolutely perfect, cause it has a lot of potential.

When it comes to entertainment, I'm a bit divided when it comes to the things I like the most. One part of me really likes pure action, and I absolutely love watching action movies that have no real plot or anything else deep and meaningful in them, so that the only thing I'm fed with is pure action from beginning to end. They don't make me think, and every now and then it feels pretty good not thinking.
But, I also love things that make me think even more. The type of crime scene series, like CSI, NCIS, Bones, Criminal Minds, Numbers and even Veronica Mars are things I really love. It's all about figuring out who did what, and giving the bad guys their deserved punishment, and I think I like it because I like figuring things out and because I have a built in need to be a hero that catch the bad guys.
Of course, I also have a thing for more special types of series like paranormal stuff, fantasy and science-fiction. Series like Heroes, Firefly, Angel, Buffy, Torchwood, Dark Angel, and many, many more are high on my list of things I like to watch. It's probably mostly cause I like running from reality and submerging myself into other and more exciting worlds.
I am also a highly emotional person, and I actually like to cry - something I do extremely easy - so touching scenes are always entertaining, especially for those who's there with me and who's watching me bawl my eyes out. Disney is definitely a favourite of mine. Comedy is also a plus, cause I absolutely love to laugh!

I like music - rythm I can move to and lyrics I can sing - and I simply love Owl City. I have a very varied music taste - anything from Garth Brooks and Disturbed to 3 Doors Down and ATC - but if I had to pick just one thing then it just HAVE to be Owl City. Adam Young is an amazing creature, and his music is fantastic. It almost always suits my mood - which changes a lot and pretty randomly - and I love the cheerful rythm and the way his chaotic lyrics fit my mindset just perfectly. Owl City always lifts my spirit, and I can listen to it for hours. It's the kind of music that makes me smile. And I love to smile!

I like a lot of things. And dislike some. For many strange reasons.

I love hot water, and I can stand in the shower or soak in a tub for hours. I just wish I had a bathtub. I love the feeling you get right before, during, and the first seconds right after an orgasm. But I hate the feeling you get afterward when you just feel empty, used and dirty. I love clothes, and I love having a closet filled with different types of clothes in different colours that can fit every single mood I might be in. I love colours, preferably lots of it, because colours make me smile. I like the rainbow, cause it unites sun and rain and shows that the world is colourful. I love close contact with people I like and feel safe around, and can almost never get enough no matter how intimate it might become. But I hate close contact with strangers or people I don't feel 100% safe around, and almost want to take sandpaper and scrubb my skin if they give me as much as a hug. I like having a good view, so living high enough to be able to see the entire town from your balcony or taking walks up the mountain so you can see the entire area around the town is something I really love. But I don't like high, unsafe places where you can fall down - they give me a fear of heights. I like it on the extreme edges - either up in the heights, like the top of a bunk bed, an apartment in an attic, on the top of a mountain, or onboard an airplane, or somewhere on the bottom, like a very low bed or a matrass on the floor, an apartment in a basement, or just plainly somewhere under ground. Somewhere in the middle is something that rarely suits me. I love it when I find solutions to problems, but hate it when problems appear to be unsolvable. I love sitting under a warm blanket with something nice to eat and drink and just enjoy a good movie, a TV-serie or a game.

I'm also an obsessed collector, so my home is slowly drowning in things I'm collecting. KEYS is my main obsession, and I'd do almost anything to get more. I friggin love keys, and calling it an obsession is an understatement. Just ask anyone who knows me. But I collect other things as well, and even though keys are at the top of my love list, these things also got a room of their own in my heart: Ordinary playing cards, tarot cards, dice, gaming consoles, figurines of Wolves, felines, dragons, dragonflies, phoenixes, fairies and bears, Bayala figures, drawings of my characters, snake accessories, triquetra and crescent moon things and accessories, lego, and things that make me feel something special. I like my many treasure chests that contain all sorts of weird items that I like. So, yeah, I'm a bit of a hoarder.

In generally, I'm seen as a somewhat weird person with strange habits, or so I've been told. I can easily sit up until 3 AM and drink beer while I'm talking to my TV. You know, my TV is actually my best conversation partner. Sure, I do get a lot of strange answers from it, but I like it when I sit and shout things to it and serve funny and sassy comments to the things it show me. I talk to myself as well, but I do try to avoid that since even the smallest conversations tend to end up with nasty arguements where I get so angry that I give myself the silent treatment for days. That's why I always find other things to talk to. Like furniture, animals, trees, and whatever else I might trip over - some times quite literally. But talking to people? Eh, well, no. Every now and then my phobia against social contact kick in, so I'm not that good at talking to people. I'm shy and insecure, though I can be extremely good at hiding it by pretending to be confident and outgoing. Of course, I usually just end up with a panic and just spit out the first thing that comes to mind, and more often than not it tends to be the things I really shouldn't let escape my head. I've scared people away on several occassions with my weird comments, so talking to people can often end in a catastrophe (mraw?) on my part. I like flirting, but have a bad tendency to overdo it to the point where I give people the wrong impression. I'm really not a good people person, even though I pretend to be.

But I do say a lot of weird things, and have a tendency to blabber on uncontrollably. Especially when I drink. I have a big mouth, and when I drink it gets even bigger. and that's when I end up talking too much and all the strange things inside my head escape. Unfortunately. Writing is also something I like doing. I actually prefer it as a way to get things out of my head, instead of talking about it. I'm really not good at talking to people, especially about how I really feel. But I'm really good at avoiding talking about it! I tend to save it for blogs or whatever else I find to scribble things down on. My only problem is that when I first start writing about my thoughts and my feelings, I can't seem to stop. Too bad I can't say the same about the gazillion book projects I have. I'm really good at starting on them! But, all the stories I have in my head are hard to get out, so I usually just end up with the beginning. And then they get put away cause I get a writer's block, and I simply forget about them. Hopeless.

I'm hard to excite, in a lot of ways. I'm not exactly a sexual person, even though I pretend to be (I've got a dirty mind, everyone knows that), so sex is something I shy away from, but that's probably cause I do have a bit of a social phobia. Other than that, it's hard to get me excited in other ways. I do like a lot of strange things, but getting me to become so passionate about something that I dedicate all my time and energy to it is almost impossible. I tend to lose interest extremely quick, so my life consists mostly of projects that I've just started on and that'll probably never be finished. I wonder if I'm lazy? There's a possibility for it, when you think about how little I can get myself to do. But it's probably mostly cause I often have a hard time becoming really interested in something, and keeping that interest.

I have a lot of hopes and dreams, but I've more or less settled with the fact that most of them probably won't ever be fulfilled. And that's mostly because I haven't found the strength within myself to make them real, and nothing else. I can say a lot of harsh and bad things about the world, but it's not its fault that I can't make myself make reality of my dreams. It's my fault alone. But I have figured out that if I am ever to realize any of the things I dream of, I firstly need to figure out exactly what I dream of, and who I really am.

And, THAT is exactly the real meaning behind this new blog of mine. It's a way for me to document my steps down the road of finding myself once more. Cause, after everything I've been through in my life, and especially the last year with the many changes that happened in my life and the love of my life more or less stepping on my heart and killing me, I've realized that I have no idea who I am anymore. I died, and I'm not coming back to life again. So, as I set my goal for 2012, and deciding that I am going to use this year to find myself, and to finally sort things out within myself and in my life, I make this blog to have a place to write it all down. Having something like this to look back on when you need to be reminded of how far you've walked is.. Well, it's a good idea. And, I'll try to update this blog at least once a week, most likely every sunday.

So, walk with me.
Be by my side as I try to answer the biggest question in my life;
who am I?