Burning Down My House

The one I love the most said to me the other day, ” You kept starting fires, then trying to put them out, sooner or later you find that you have burned your house down and are now homeless!”

Needless to say, it stuck with me. It has gone through my head so many times. I am guilty and now homeless.

Having gone from my early teens to early 40’s thus far, I have not been properly diagnosed with whatever mental illness I possess. Fact is, I fought against it getting diagnosed.


This is typical with majority of our society. Some data reflects that at least 62% of people suffering from mental illness go untreated. Whether it be the stigmata, creed, or just the fact they are scared. This is a huge issue in our society, which a lot is from technology and what it has brought into minds (think social media, advertisements, etc.). There is lots of reasons, even the food we consume and how unnatural it is to our genetic make-up.

Me, I am scared. Have been scared to face my demons for many years. Yet I created a monster. Something that any amount of shame is no match for how I feel. Honestly, have always felt.

From years of childhood physical, emotional, and sexual abuse to neglect. I developed a persona. One to help me become stronger and more powerful than what I had experienced. A protector in a way. Although, this protector became more than that. It became something I could not control when my anxiety, stress, and emotions became too much. Sometimes, not that much. Just triggered. Within this, I construed a lie to go with it so it made sense and could not be construed as mental illness. How did I know to do this? I knew something was wrong, I just didn’t want to end up in a psych ward looking at a lawn eating meds and not remembering my name. This is what I saw on TV, so this is what I based my outlook on going for help.

These episodes bring on feigning medical emergencies, explosive outrages, and even coupled with delusions. Sometimes delusions of grandeur. Thing is, I can’t clearly remember them. I don’t believe I have Multiple Personality Disorder. I honestly am not in full belief that exists. That being said, I am no doctor. I know those memories exist, and here lately, having been leaking from subconscious during dreams and during work during the day. They hurt. It hurts to see what I did. It burns lacerations of disgust into my mind and soul.

This playing with fire has caused so much pain unto others. Unbelieve emotional abuse and trauma. A vast majority was while under the influence of alcohol, which made extreme cases of rage. I had to read texts the next morning and listen to my friends and loved ones tell me what I did. The amount of hurt, fear, and complete and utter shame of what I heard would trigger what I was raised around. To play it off and deflect. Call people out and call them liars, crazy, and tell them to get over it. This I learned from the ones who abused me. A perfect example of this behavior would be our last president.

Either way, I continued a viscous cycle. I wanted it to stop. Which, in 2017 I decided to seek help for alcohol abuse. After a week spent in a rehabilitation center, I was released, but the psychiatrist knew there was something underlying, but I did not give her enough time to figure it out. I checked myself out. I have stayed sober for about 95% of the time since I checked out of that center. It helped, yet I found myself at different moments grasping for alcohol to numb myself. Which all ended in me triggering that again.

I will say, the medication I was on after the hospital, worked. I felt good. I just should have taken the steps to get into consistent a therapy routine. It takes more than pharmaceuticals. They just treat symptoms; therapy gets to the root of the issue and works out the problem.

I am guilty. I did not. I thought I was “good”, and I could manage it! Well, I could not, I was sick. I would fall back and let that other persona take over, it would not be as bad and extreme as when coupled with alcohol, but still maniacal and diabolic depending on the level of stress or anxiety I was under.

I have even thought I was possessed by a demonic presence at one time. No shit. My wife and son gifted me a beautiful cross necklace, which I wear to this day, for Christmas some years back. I never got burned when I put it on, so I crossed demonic possession off my personal agenda. I cherish this necklace. It is more of something they gave from their hearts, hearts which I broke and crushed a thousand times. This necklace saved my life a load of times and kept me from doing other things I would regret. That is what is means to me.

As I kept setting these fires, I guess I never felt the consequences of such. I denied and pushed down ownership of my mental illness. Many people do and the outcome is never good.

Now, I am homeless. I burned the house to the ground. Having lost my beloved ones to my darkness. A son first, and now a wife. I never grew up knowing love really well, which is no excuse. The love I knew, was given by a grandmother for a short time and an aunt for about the same short time. Majority of my youth was spent receiving what I was now and had been dishing out, but I am not that person. I am total opposite of whatever it is I created and have kept this illness as something else. People who truly know me and it hurts them to see the darkness come out. Either way, it is time. Time, I admitted my illness and get it properly diagnosed with a plan of action. Reconciling a past full of trauma is rough yet has to be done to get healthy.

Has it gotten better since alcohol cessation? Yes. But it still lingers around.

So, admitting you have an illness is the first step. The next step is getting the proper help. After that, it is keeping yourself healthy and continuing to treat it. That is what I am attempting to do at the present time. It’s hard, as getting an appointment with a psychiatrist is almost like applying for jobs. Long and strenuous. But you cannot give up. I am still waiting for a call back, but I will keep calling them until I get an appointment.

I want to give up so bad. It is where my emotions and shame take me. Having to face the destruction and pain you sowed, now it is time to reap. I cannot run from it; I cannot let the persona take over and deflect. Suicide is bullshit. Enough is enough. The time is now.

I will testify that the pain of admitting to your illness is rough. I have a feeling the freedom I get soon will be worth it. I have come a long way in the last two years, but I have to finish the job.

When you find yourself setting fires, get some help. If you burn your house down, get help. You get the help you need to build a new one devoid of reasons to ever start a fire.


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