Temporarily, this blog cannot receive email messages.

Some unknown person or persons reported the email associated with this blog, claiming that they’ve been harassed by it.

The email server suspended the account.

We have lurkers here, saboteurs…

Which would likely be certain someone’s who have a particular, personal interest in what’s being said.


All self harm and blackouts stopped after the last blog.

The facility did not keep her but one night.

So, “hello” to our lurkers!


Deja Vu

⚠️ Caution: Trigger warning: self harm/suicide.

This last week has been…diabolical.

The new challenge for me since being released from the crisis facility is daily blackouts…

Never experienced this before.

I lie down each night to go to sleep, and wake up somewhere else, usually with a new self-inflicted injury.

But this is all new…

Since I was 12, my cutting has always followed a specific pattern. Always straight sideways cuts on my arms and hands, occasionally thigh wounds. Occasionally burns, scratching and picking holes in my skin. Nothing else.

This last week…

Ugh. Gonna sound crazy…but,

I’ve cut my neck, cut the words “kill me” in my arm…and cut right through one of my beloved tattoos (which I actually got there to prevent cutting my wrists.)

Each injury was done with no conscious awareness.

Some I didn’t find until latter when they started hurting.

The neck wound was deep, required stitches, but the ER didn’t keep me. I told them plainly, I self-harm for stress relief, not suicidality.

BUT cutting one’s throat sure looks dangerous, huh?

It scared me, too! I was trembling as I drove myself to the ER…I thought surely I was a goner.

Shocking, I’m sure…there’s just no other way to say it. Sorry to be so blunt here!

Since my release from the crisis facility, I get up every day, go run errands and what not…and I usually feel fine. Then I come back to the apartment.

Within an hour, I start to feel a dark oppressive feeling, and I can’t get the self-loathing thoughts out of my head. Reliving trauma. Feeling like I have no future, like I’m trapped…no hope. It’s never been this pervasive before.

When I talk to my friend on the phone, I feel better. (She says I sound very bizarre, though, while in that funk…like an automaton.)

When I leave the apartment, I feel fine (my friend notices that I sound like myself again.) Doesn’t matter where I go, as long as I’m out and about, I’m just myself.

When I spend the night at my aunt’s house, I feel no depression at all, and I sleep really good…without all the nightmares.

But just being there…in DBH housing…with my horribly frustrating roommates…and constant reminders…wears me down…in a way I can’t explain.

I feel like someone else is living in my body, taking it over, and doing this to me.

(Typical expression of those acting while under deep hypnosis, by command of the hypnotist. –the Ghostwriter)

I have NO desire to hurt myself. I do NOT want to go back to a facility. I just want OUT.

But I don’t think these people will ever let that happen.

I feel like they broke my mind in half during that last stay…

It feels completely…powerless.

I NEVER wanted to self harm again. And suddenly, I’m doing it in new and unusual ways…with no memory whatsoever.

I can’t control it.

I can’t even remember it.

My therapist is clearly making the situation much worse. I dread our visits.

She tells me for months to call her if I’m in crisis.

So, I did. She called the police.

I told them I was ok, because I was by the time they arrived.

I fell asleep that night…

And the next thing I know, I’ve cut my neck.

It was bad enough to need to medical attention…I’ve been avoiding it for other wounds that probably needed it, just to stay out of any facilities.

The ER staff contacted DBH, so my therapist (and everyone else) knew about it the day after.

Today, I saw my therapist…she ignored the incident.

Today, she told me that she doesn’t want me to call her anymore because it’s just “exacerbating” my “crisis behaviors.”

Well, huh.

So…don’t call when I need crisis support?

She harassed me all that time to call her…and then when I finally did, she tells me not to anymore?

What do I do then?

Well, I found out.

That darkness and depression settled over me again this evening. I stayed on the phone with my friend for 2 hours and 43 minutes. I felt tired, decided to go to sleep…

Next thing I remember, I’m sitting right here in the same damn crisis facility I hate…

Yep. I’m back!

With Tom, the most hated crisis worker. (The one who harassed me before.)

What’s worse, apparently I drove myself here, walked in and told him–of all people–that I was in crisis.

As far as I know…I was asleep!

That’s the last thing I remember…just falling asleep.

It seems really strange to me that the more I see Angela, the more frequent these blackouts become.

The more I see Angela, the more wounds I have.

The longer I see her, the more my self harm morphs into something it’s never been before.

(Neck wounds! Words! Cut my tattoo??? WTH?)

And…the very day that she tells me not to call for help, I take myself to the place I hate above every other place and turn myself in…completely against my own will, and without even knowing I’m doing it.

But there’s more to this story…

Much more.

I haven’t been blogging because I’ve been so preoccupied with all of this…just trying to keep myself safe!

But if they keep me here tonight, I feel certain I’ll be prey to another black out and do something much, much worse…

And maybe never wake up.


Angela said some pretty disturbing things today.

She told me that “everyone knows” how I’ve been struggling these past months.


I was doing really well for 5 months! Suddenly, that’s a faded memory, like it never happened. They’ve changed reality…again.

She also told me today that she’s done all she could to help me and doesn’t know what else to do because I’m *obviously* beyond help.

Oh really?

Then how did I get out of the state so fast? And how did I do so well for 5 months…without any of their interference?

And isn’t this…the same exact script they used last time...before they sent me home from the crisis facility in the middle of the night right AFTER I told them I wanted to check out so I could go home and kill myself???


Exactly what they all said last time.

Angela is repeating the whole scenario.

I’ve got a sneaking suspicion…all of this is leading back to the state hospital, if I survive long enough.

I cannot even express the rage I feel.

It’s like…

Davis Behavioral Health’s job is to drive me to suicide and self harm, so they can pretend I’m beyond their scope of practice…so they can send me to the state hospital…

So the state hospital can restrain and torment me until the self harm stops to avoid the torture…

So the state can send me back to DBH, who lets me alone for a little while, then starts screwing up all my meds and driving me back to self harm…

Then the whole cycle repeats itself.

And they all get paid by the state for every bit of it.

I keep thinking of that social worker in the state hospital who told me:

“Patients are like bouncy balls. We bounce them out so the system can bounce them right back in.”

He wasn’t exaggerating…

There’s no way out.

I’m court ordered and force by the law to continue receiving “treatment”…

Trapped and forced to keep bouncing in and out, until I’m dead.


Met with Angela today.

She spent half the time trying to convince me how much all the staff–including her–care about me.

The other half was trying to convince me that my mental illness is so severe, I’ll never be free of meds, treatment, or them.

Neither position is a position I can agree to.

During my entire stay at the crisis facility, Angela never once called me or came by to check on me. I haven’t even heard from her in over a month.

I’m not complaining, I enjoyed the break.

However, someone who knows I’m in “crisis” and has the obligation and ability to be part of my support system who disappears during that time without a trace will never convince me she cares.

Coincidentally, or not, I’m having urges this evening, and have not had this since leaving the facility.

The only thing different since I left there…is that I’ve not been around the staff…and suddenly I feel ok.

Then back to Angela’s office today, and suddenly I’m not ok.

That can’t be coincidence, it’s been going on for too long.

I’m going to be ok, though, one way or another.

Aggravated as all hell, but ok.

–the Ghostwriter

Cage Door Opens

I’m free!

Well, sort of.

Got everything done I needed to do, despite snow and extra challenges. I now have a vehicle, which is a relief.

Back at the transitional housing.

New roommate…the other one, I was actually glad to get a break from. This one looks to be equally as challenging.

Not sure putting a bunch of mentally ill people together in a home with no supervision is such a good idea, but whatever.

My food is all either spoiled and/or missing (roommate #1 has entitlement issues.)

Due to the government shut down, I don’t have food stamps to look forward to.

I’m on two meds that make me constantly hungry, so starving is a bit more challenging than usual. I’ll get by somehow.

Dr. Shark put me on daily meds, which means I have to drive across town every morning to take my meds under supervision.

Not sure where the gasoline to get there will come from…but we’ll see.

I had a nightmare from hell last night in the facility, and apparently woke everyone up screaming. Still disturbed by the feeling of fright it left me, and not totally comfortable about my safety (concerning Quade.)

But I’m looking forward to my bed and Netflix.

How I missed them both.

–via the ghostwriter


Whoever has been praying, thank you with all my heart.

Met with Dr. Shark and Danae the Devil both today.

Boy, were they ever MAD.

It seemed disproportionate to reality…I don’t totally understand it. They were both provoking me.

Dr. Shark was unusually condescending…which means more than normal, and normal is plenty condescending. I exerted an immense amount of self-control in refraining from cussing her up and down.

Danae was unusually outwardly apathetic…the mask sort of just fell off.

She claimed that I was “emotionally abusing” her when I told her that she and all the staff are a**holes.

“No, I’m just stating facts,” I replied.

(Couldn’t help myself!🤷🏼‍♀️)

I left both meetings feeling angry, but ok…no hypnotism today, it seems.



Dr. Shark said I was required to go 3 days with no self harm in order to discharge.

I’ve already done that…had a solid week before the strangulation incident. It seems just as nonsensical as everything else.

I get the sneaking suspicion they’re all mad and frustrated because I didn’t die, and just want me out of here now.

How accurate that is, I can’t say.

BUT…I’m outta here tomorrow morning!

And when I get out, I can go pick up my new/used car…so no more being stuck in that apartment 24/7, which I think will be a bonus.

This whole debacle left me now unemployed, so I’m hoping to get on the job-hunting track ASAP, and will have tons of make-up homework to do…IF Danae actually writes the medical excuse for me.

I think I’m going to be very busy…and hoping they’ll let me be this time.

I’m very grateful for all of the support. It does my heart good to know there are such kind, caring, understanding people out there.

Thank you!

–via the ghostwriter