Infestation

Delusional parasitosis... Is thinking that bug are on you or around you when they are in fact not. NOW I am currently involved in a REAL bug infestation, which allows my current state of mind to be acceptable. I am also so sleep deprived that I am losing balance, cognitive control, hallucinating and constantly feel like a truck just ran over me. The last 2 weeks I have been battling bedbug demons, haha. No really, they are demons from HELL. And I'm to the point where I have been bitten so much that I caught a skin infection and am now taking antibiotics. The bites swell into huge itchy lumps that sometimes look like ringworm. The itch is almost unbearable when it flares up. I say all this to say THIS, This is reminding me of when I used to hallucinate when I was younger. Because of anxiety and paranoia I used to think bugs were crawling on me. It got worse on my psychotropic medication, and it magnified to enormous measure when I was high on drugs like cocaine, speed or Ritalin. Remembering my old mind makes it somewhat easier to go through this anxiety and distress now. For about a month now I have been suffering extreme exhaustion. Soul exhaustion. And I also believe God is telling me He wants me to learn rest. God, you want me to learn rest in turmoil? He says yes.

detachment

there are times when i still detach from reality.
i remember doing it all the time when i was in my sickness, mentally and physically.

in these times it feels as though i have no arms or legs... like i have no body.
my mind just goes into this way of thinking without warning.

when i am 'detached' i find myself searching more diligently then usual.
i ask questions like, 'what is this body that i am in?  what is the purpose of this?  how did i become formed into this world?  why do i feel like there is so much more to life than what i already know?

the difference between this state of mind, and the state of mind from when i was using and diseased; is that this state of mind, the mind i have now, seeks out all truth.  i am simply driven to unveil mysteries.  and yes, at times it is exhausting.  but satisfying when a mystery is solved!

ACTS 17:26-28
From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands.

God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us. ‘For in him we live and move and have our being.’
'As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are his offspring.’

this Scripture says a lot to me.  through Jesus Christ- the nations were made... that we (His offspring) should inhabit the earth.  we have appointed times.  we have appointed times!  and it was marked out!  we are set apart, decided upon, and chosen to live right now... in this world right now.  the way we think- the way we take action, the way we interact with one another- the way we inhabit the earth... decided upon.

but there is a reason for it!  that we would seek GOD.  that we would ask questions... that we would have a holy discontentment about our state of being and be pushed to search for the truth.  for it is ONLY the truth that sets us free. hallelujah.

in Him- in Christ- we live, move, and have our being.  i feel safe with that.  with knowing that.  no matter how weird my mind can get sometimes- i am IN HIM.  amen.

suicide #7

i walked into the hospital... willingly this time.
i dragged myself in from off the street from a long run with the demons.

it was a point in my addiction where i knew i had exhausted every other option. a point where a came to a calm-death.

i wasnt high, and i wasnt insane at this particular moment.

i was just waiting to die.

i came up to the emergency room and carried my bookbag full of dirty socks and underwear, a hair brush, a couple of pairs of sweatpants and a few t-shirts that were stained with blood by the elbows. i also had just ingested the last of the heroin i had on me and swallowed the last of the xanax too. it wasn't enough to kill me.

'hi. i need to be put away.'

'ok. what's wrong? how can i help u?' said the receptionist.

'i'm going to kill myself.'

she looked frightened. grabbed a clipboard and a pen and told me to fill out the paperwork, and to hang on til she could get me up to the pyschward.

i remember her brown eyes. she was spooked.

at this time in my life i was homeless. surviving all over the place. and i remember just wanting a place to rest. so at this time, it was more that i needed shelter, than it was a physcotic episode. although, i still was suicidal- because most of my life, i was suicidal.

sometimes i just didnt have the energy to execute the plan in my head.
i was so tired on this day.

i got upstairs and was comforted by the fact that i received complimentary toiletries and clean towels.

i felt safe in the pyschward. safe and clean- once i showered and washed my hair of the cigarettes and weed smell.
and i was grateful to have a bed and a pillow. becuz i didnt have to do anything to sleep there. i just had to tell the doctors how much i was hurting, and then i was allowed to stay at the hospital. everywhere else, i had to do things to sleep somewhere. i had to sell myself- or give them drugs or money. at the hospital, i could just rest my body... even though in my mind was a battlefield of flashbacks and silent screams.

they would give me lots of medication that made me sleep all day and night.
i loved being able to sleep without kicking my legs every 5 seconds.

this was a point in my life where the pyschward became my sanctuary.

it was a sanctuary becuz i was free from the prison of drugs and sex for a little while.

suicide #6

i was working at a nursing home, where my 95 year old Nana lived.
i was a very hard worker- high or not high.

as i was helping one of the elderly into their shower,
i noticed she had her medication in the dresser drawer.

it began to eat me alive.
...knowing there was narcotics in my reach...

the addiction burned inside of me.

it did not matter who, what or where i was.
i just needed to be fed.

the next night while working and coming off as seemingly pleasant while doing my CNA job-
i plotted how i was going to get those pills.

i went into her room, when she wasnt there.
there was a camera- so i unplugged it- but stupidly,
i showed my face before i got it unplugged.

i shook as i took the key she used to lock up that drawer,
and i nervously shoved the key into the hole.
i twisted it- opened the drawer-
but the key broke inside of the hole. oh man...

i shook more intensely as the longing for those pills overtook my whole
being.

all that i was, all that i equalled up to, all the i existed for-
was to be a nervous, shaking, heroin addict.

i quickly got the bottles opened,
and at first dumped a whole bunch into my hand-
but then thought it might be too obvious,
so i put some back.

then i tried to tidy up the mess i made and left the broken key in the hole.

and then i ate some pills and my insides finally settled down a bit.

i felt awful. dirty. scheming. lying. manipulating. useless. drug addict.

addiction always trumped any moral fiber i had inside of my heart.
my heart was consumed by the demonic forces of addiction.
my body was a slave to heroin, pills, cocaine, ANYTHING.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

the next night at work,
a state trooper showed up.

i remember getting paged to the lobby.

oh man. thats it. they know.

i timidly walked into the office.
'are you mariah tramonto?'

'yes.'

the cop was holding a VHS in his hands,
'please sit down.'

i wanted to bolt. it took all i had to sit down on the plastic chair.

'mariah, we can either do this the hard way, or the easy way. now you either cooperate and tell me the truth, or you lie and we can be here all night.'

i started rocking in my chair, feeling like my soul just shattered.
there was a struggle going on inside of me.
i was fighting the demons. they wispered in my ear- 'you're nothing but a drug addicted whore, who steals from the home where your Nana lives. you are going to BURN in hell.'

they tormented me. i took the lanyard around my neck, that held my credentials... i firmly tightened it around my neck and squeezed with all i had. harder. harder. i was trying to choke myself to death.

the cop had stopped me. he shook his head. 'stop doing that. whats wrong with you? you have more serious problems, than just addiction, young lady. you need help.'

'im sorry. im sorry. i just want to die.' i started crying.

i didnt want to lie, but i didnt want to tell the truth.
i knew i was found out. i had to just tell him.

finally the interragation was over-
and he escorted me to the cop car.

and off i went to the pyschward. again.
another Mental Hygiene Arrest.
another crime.
another worthless drug addict, taking up the states time and money.

the next day i was out of pyschward and went to pick up my last paycheck-
immediately went to the city and bought heroin.
and then my Nana died two weeks later.

suicide #4 and 5

i had just gotten arrested... again.
my second DWI.

i just crashed my car into a ditch after leaving a party.
i remember steering my car right into the ditch.

like some force took over me,
and took control of my arms.

it was late at night. way past midnight.

i got out of the car- didnt die.
but the whole front end of my car was totaled.

there was another car that pulled over to come see if i was okay.

i was weeping and crying. i was so mad.

they must have called the police. i should have ran into the woods,
but i was too intoxicated to know any better.

i fought the cop. i fought him hard.
i was so violent.
he had to shove my face into the ground,
i remember the taste of dirt. and him yelling at me to
'shut up. stop fighting!'

eventually i was in the back of an ambulance. fighting with them too.
they took my bac. it was over 2. something. deadly high level for a small girl like me.

i was carted off to the pyschward. familiar ground.

i always knew how to get out of the pyschward. just convince them your not gona kill urself, and that it was the drug or alcohol that made u attempt.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
the next night i bought a bottle of tylenol pm. and two candles.
i went into my room after spending the day smoking blunt after blunt after blunt of marijuana.

i didnt write a note, although it crossed my mind that maybe i should let my family know why i was killing myself. but i didnt. they were better off without me.

so i told God to take my soul.
i layed on my bed and i swallowed the whole bottle of tylenol pm.
i forgot to light the candles.

i was confident this would take my life, for sure.
because when i was in the psychward about 5 years prior to this attempt,
the nurse told me if i were to have taken tylenol instead the bottle of advil i took...that my liver would have failed, and i would have died.

my mom came down to my room at about 2am.
she said she had a 'feeling'
she said i was standing there with my pants wet(i just peed myself).
*i think its interesting i was standing... someone stood me up, so i wouldnt choke on my vomit* thank you Jesus.
she took me upstairs and i started 'tripping out'
talking to people that werent really there. seeing things.
projectile vomit.

apparently i was violently ill for a long time. my mom and dad had to take care of me. like i was a baby. i was peeing myself and throwing up all over the place. i am so sorry that you had to go through that, mom and dad. i love you so much.

i came to consiousness and my mom was sitting right next to me.
i remember saying

'i didnt die??'

'no sweetheart, you didnt. you're alive.'

i was so overwhelmed with sadness. i was devastated. why was God keeping me alive? out of all the times i attempted... why?

God saw a purpose for my life. He saw the pain and wanted to show Himself to me through that pain. He wants to pour His love all over me and in me. It is through that pain, that I see the hand of God on my life. Nothing else could have kept me alive. Nothing. He speaks to me and shows me things. I dont rely on drugs anymore. NO MORE DRUGS! I dont rely on men, or boyfriends. I dont rely on my pysch meds... cuz IM OFF OF THOSE TOO! i dont rely on ANYTHING but the Word Of GOD and His LOVE FOR ME.

suicide #3

raging music blasted in my room.
i had purple carpet and loud
purple striped wallpaper from when i was
younger.

i glared in the mirror at the ugly,
distorted image.

my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my
chest. My anxiety heightened.

my 15 year old body burned with
anger. Something took over my whole being.

%@Ugh! I'm so ugly!@%

%@Enraged!@%

%@I am done. Get me out.@%

I grabbed a razor blade that I saved for such a time as this...
And I sought relief.

**sssslice...** owch....lots of blood. But not enough...

More. More.

**ssslice...** blood pours...

Ahhhhh. Finally some peace.

I remember feeling at ease, but then
getting scared because I cut so deep and
The blood wasn't stopping...
And I wasn't dead yet...
And I thought maybe I would end up like one of those
People who have to get arm amputated
Because they did stupid things like this...

I put a kleenex on my arm and was extremely frustrated that
I was still trapped.
The kleenex kept needing to be replaced...
And it hurt real bad.

I hastily thought in my mind that maybe I should go get my mom,
But I didn't want to tell her what I did.

I just wanted to stay in my room and curl up and die and stop hurting.
I just wanted to stop hurting, stop hurting,

In the morning I woke up with the kleenex stuck in my arm.
I started to pull it out and I became hot with pain.
Pieces of kleenex remained in my wound and I left it there and
Bandaged up the evidence.

My soul wept and my sorrow ate me alive.

I just wanted it to stop.

suicide #2

i was pulled out of my bed in the middle of the night,
by some force.

i walked down the stairs and got my moms car keys.
i opened the door to the garage and got inside my moms car.

as i put the key in the ignition,
i rolled down the windows and prepared to
die.

the engine started...
like a big cough at first, then slowed to a
soft growl.

i sat in the car...
breathing in the fumes...
waiting...

it was the middle of the night,
and i dont know why i had such a strong urge to
kill myself.
but i did,

and my attempts were many.

eventually i got bored, because i wasnt dying fast enough, so i turned on the radio.
i remember a song i liked was on and i started to think about
how fun it would be to dance to that song at our middle school dance that
upcoming weekend. i still was thinking of things middle-schoolers should be thinking about,
yet i was so warped and suicidal at the same time.

my memory blurs as i try to remember exactly how i got back upstairs and in my bed. but thats where i was.

thats where i was.

suicide #1

i try to remember how many times I've attempted,
but I always lose count.

my first attempt was when I just about turned 13.

i have many stories of being in the psych ward...
and being locked inside my mind.

the guy in the back of the ambulance was staring at me.
he was cute.
he was an e.m.t.

i was laying on the stretcher thing, coming to, after
swallowing handfuls of advil.
groggy and nauseous and

dedicated to death.

once inside the hospital, the nurse asked me to pee
in bedpan as my parents watched with concern.

a very clear memory that i held onto during my life of
suicide attempts,
is that the nurse told me that i was lucky i didn't take a bottle
of tylenol, because it would have killed my liver,
thus, leading to death.

.... she wasn't very smart.

sometimes the people in medical field are so completely
clueless.
and when ur as sick as i was,
i got great satisfaction of playing on my doctors'
weaknesses.

receiving narcotics and benzos were easily
attainable after a while of being in the system.

i would change doctors and
shrinks
according to my ever changing mind.

drugs were just an escape for me to get out
of my mind.

My mind;
my manic,
melancholy,
malicious,
muddy mind.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
this guy that was in back of ambulance,
i bumped into him at the mall about a week or so after incident...

i was excited at a new conquest and...
boldly walked over to him.

'hey, remember me?' i declared.

he looked over and granted me a familiar smile.

'yes, mariah, right?'

'yea. how r u? u shopping?'

'no, im working, someone passed out earlier here and had to take them to hospital. how r u doing? i was worried about u. everything okay?'

'yea... i just get depressed sometimes...'

oh man, this is awkward, i thought to myself.

'well i gota go.' i said, and i became nervous because he expressed his worry about me, and i didnt like that i wasnt in control at that time and i was embarrassed with my suicide attempt and felt stupid.

my sister and her friend were waiting for me to finish conversing with my latest interest.

'here's my number. call me.' he said.

he handed me his card and his eyes invited me into his charm.

i took it, and walked away with fake confidence.

you would have never of guessed i had just tried ending my life a week earlier.
i was so good at covering up my sickness.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
my counselors would tell me that i was a very confused,
sad
girl...

then they pulled out the prescription pad.

middle school

i was running through the hallways of my middle school.
one of my friends was chasing me.

i had just cut my arms with something, i dont remember what.

i was in one of my manic/psychotic episodes...
where my world turned into a sick reality of a
bad dream-
that was inescapable.

and i was drowning in the dream-
but the dream was really happening.

and i was yelling and running through the hallways...

completely gone...

running

and i ran, and ran and ran.

and i couldnt breathe, and the cement was hard under my feet, pounding,
but i kept running
to run away from
myself.

i wanted to just jump out of my body and
into the abyss.

all my life, i just wanted to jump out of
my mind.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
in middle school was when i first experienced being
bullied.

one of the mean girls hated me because her boyfriend
liked me.

and our mean girls, were not the typical cheerleading
type-
they were the grunge, smoking cigarettes,
stealing weed
from their dads sock drawer kind of popular/mean.

so she had her group of friends who also decided to hate me.

one day in the cafeteria i was eating my lunch and
one of the girls threw a french fry at my back with ketchup on it.

and it stuck to my back.

the girl sitting next to me told me i had a french fry on my back and
who threw it at me.

i gulped hard, and could barely swallow.
there was a pit in my stomach and it was filled with
emptiness.

tears welled up...

i walked calmly over to the lunch lady and asked her if i could please leave.

she asked why and then when i started to explain why,
i got flustered and my face was red and i felt so bad and awful.
and she let me go.

then i ended up eating lunch in the bathroom or the nurses office after that.

those girls would also push me into my locker and call me awful names.

names that i believed was who i was.
and it wasnt until i learned that being bad and mean was how u get to be loved.

so thats what i did.
and in the 8th grade i was very popular and known for my craziness and
was elected to be the class president for our freshman year of high school.

i learned that i could receive love from even the meanest girls in our school,
and that life seemed alot better when everyone loved me.

my dreams of becoming a professional ballerina or a doctor quickly turned into
a joke
as i strived for perfection of evil.