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3 years ago  ::  Nov 29, 2011 - 11:01AM #1
AwakenedGuardian
Posts: 2
Beginning at the age of 5, I started a long trek of pain, frustration, misery and despair.  At that age, in first grade, I had a teacher by the name of Anne Wyler, who, because of her infatuation with a Priest, as this was a Catholic school, and due to the fact that my Nana was the school nurse/secretary, as well as the principal being a close family friend, and my kindergarten teacher, saw me by proxy as the source of her not being able to be with this Priest.  What entailed was six months of being duct taped to my desk, my mouth covered, hands at my sides, for no more than being present.  When I asked my step-father at the time, saying that the teacher was punishing me and I didn't think it was right, he told me if she was punishing me I deserved it.  

This began a slide of acting out, as I never saw a psychiatrist about this incident, but later in the 2nd/3rd grade I did, because I was acting out in school.  As time went on I became more withdrawn, seeking those who would accept me as is, without questioning why I was the way I was, without telling me to feel better for things I could barely even think about.

In the third grade, my mother married a man whom she had been dating, when she found out she was pregnant with my younger sister.  I hung out with kids that I was told not to, because they were in the same frame of mind I was, but more criminal in their actions.  We proceeded one day to enter a convienence store, there upon they promptly went to one side, and I the other.  
They loaded up their jackets with bags of candy and comics, as I was on the other side of the store.  
I had a bit of money in my pocket, and in order to reach it, I placed a Mr. Goodbar in my jean jacket front left pocket, sticking halfway out.  The old man behind the counter commanded me to come with him and called the police..

The officer listened to the old man's story, and we left.  He asked if I'd inform my parents, and naturally I said I would, but he didn't buy it, so, he put me in the back of the car, my bike in the trunk and dropped me off, so he could speak with my step-father..  That culminated with my step-father whipping the piss out of me, and sticking me into a corner for three hours until my Mother got home..  He had just been layed off from a job he'd moved 1,200 miles for, a new wife, and two new mouths to feed in addition to the six he had from his previous marriage.  

To that time I had been trusted by adults, I hadn't ever been a thief, but I decided then and there if I was going to be punished for nothing I'd start deserving it.

Trying to stay out of the house, I spent a lot of time stealing from stores, sometimes people, and even homes. 

My teenage years were spent drifting as a loner, being the smartest kid people knew who did nothing.  Reading books instead of particpating, and still acing the tests.

As I got older, I met my Father for the first time, and through a falling out he had me arrested after he had the locks changed on the door, after coming home from a fishing trip and finding I'd jumped the BIOS, to reset his admin password, left on in an attempt to deter me from chatting, which was my first outlet to finding others like myself that weren't criminal.

After 30 days in county, the felonies were dropped in exchange for misdemeanours, and I was left without a home or friends in a city I didn't know.

I bounced around a while, and ended up back in Kansas.  Whereupon I met a guy who was the cousin of a kid I went to school with, and was dating a girl I had known most of my life.

He showed me some love, which ended up being false.

We all began to sell and use cocaine, meth, and pot.

Eventually I walked away for a while, but ran into him a few years later, at another bad point in my life, having dealt with Narcolepsy and Cataplexy, I flunked out of college.

By this time he was well-established, and we began moving ever larger amounts.

I left again, and went to Texas, only to return to him when I didn't know what else to do.

I didn't understand that I could do things for myself and by myself, I thought I needed someone else, and so I went right back into doing what I had been.

One day I overheard a conversation which should have sent me running..  He was discussing with a contact of ours in STL that I might be ammenable to doing some time if he'd pay me 10K for each year.  I called him on it and he just made it out as the guy was scared and might be looking at some time, etc..

Then the DEA came to the house, and he asked me to go outside while they spoke.  Looking back when the bust occured, I knew exactly what had happened, how it went down, and why.

The smallest contact I was doing business with in STL set me up, he owed me 12K, and I had 9 ounces for him.  He had been setup, as the person before him had, and the person before him, originally snitched on by a "reliable informant this police force has used before".  I have an idea who this person is but not only is it illegal for me to say, it can get me a new sentence.

The DEA threw a stack of paperwork in my face, with names, dates, amounts and such, that only one person could know all of the details of, besides me.

They wanted to see if they could catch me up in anything else, so they let me go, keeping my DL and SS card.  Thinking I'd go right back to what I'd been doing.  But, I didn't, I bounced.  I stayed under the radar for a few years, but eventually because of the living situation I was in, I had to get a new license and SS card.  Within three months they were there with a warrant.

Because I refused to do any controlled buys or undercover work, but had cooperated as far as agreeing to the evidence they already had, I got a lighter sentence, as did all concerned.  Amazingly (sarcasm), the person who was at the root of all the paperwork never even had a warrant issued, and in fact at our sentencing the judge asked the Federal prosecutor directly, who mumbled something about an ongoing investigation.

During my incarceration with the Federal government, I was prescribed Effexor XR@225MG daily, which I took for 7 years, culminating in Serotonin Syndrome, which causes extreme paranoia, delusions, hallucinations, heart palpitations, crying for no reason, unrational behaviour of all sorts.

This caused me one night, three days after going off it cold turkey because it was scaring me so badly, to put myself in a situation in which I decided I'd collect money owed to me for over ten years, but..  I ended up in the wrong house.  I scared someone, and due to the lack of physical evidence, the cops created a situation on paper which would allow for a positive ID.  Even in testimony the witness said I never threatened her, and that when she informed me I had the wrong place, I apologized and left.

Now I have totally detoxed off this medicine, and am perfectly fine, having dealt with all my past issues and emotional baggage, through a process for the solution of a new DSM-V entry, "Complicated Grief".  Introduced to me by a friend who assisted me with some healing, with energy.  

I have loved, I have been loved.  Always there was positivity, but my choice to remain a victim caused me inumerable problems. 

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3 years ago  ::  Dec 04, 2011 - 10:42AM #2
malachan
Posts: 54

"During my incarceration with the Federal government, I was prescribed Effexor XR@225MG daily, which I took for 7 years, culminating in Serotonin Syndrome, which causes extreme paranoia, delusions, hallucinations..."


That's really interesting. I think this may be the cause. The high level of serotonin, may get converted to more melatonin than usual. The melatonin, then gets converted to dimethyltryptamine which is linked to the symptoms your describing. There could be something positive from these symptons, that I wouldn't personally dismiss everything as mere delusions / hallucinations. Although I think some probably are, there's a chance you may have also received important messages / visions. It can be very complex, but there are methods to discern if what you saw, is solely based on your imaginations, or if it was something more.

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