Pasta For One, But Many To Feed

In Life Is Like A … Bowl Of Spaghetti and Spaghetti … And A Few Meatballs you read about the history of sexual abuse I suffered as well as the initial mental illness.  Here you’ll read how that mental illness manifested itself and grew into my adult life.


At age fifteen two new people became visible to me: Pam and Mr. Carhart.  I know today that Pam represents good and Mr. Carhart evil.  How do I know their positions?  Mr. Carhart appeared first and was instrumental in my first suicide attempt.  Pam appeared shortly after the attempt and stands between me and Mr. Carhart and comforts me.

Shortly after my second suicide attempt at age twenty a group of people became mostly visible.  They number seven and sit (3) and stand (4) in a misty haze.  All I can tell about them is they’re human but there is no level of facial/physical detail beyond that.  I can tell two are children, two are adolescents, and three are adults.  And I think they represent those three phases of growth for me.

By age twenty-one, I was dealing with a severe addiction to pornography, voices and noises inside my head, Pam, Mr. Carhart, and The Seven in The Mist as well as colors and patterns in my field of vision.  There were also three others who would make occasional, short appearances at times of extreme emotional crisis.  I was a mess and no one knew.

I told no one.

I kept it all to myself for many reasons – none healthy as I now know.  I was afraid of what it all might mean, the stigma and what might happen to me.  After all, haven’t we all seen what happens to ‘crazy’ people on TV and in the movies?!  Institutionalized and drugged!  I was also afraid of what it might mean for my mind.  I’m a pretty intelligent person and I’ve always valued my intellect.  It’s what kept me ‘sane’ and helped me achieve many things.   Of course it’s also what lead to my current place in exile.  My mind, my ego, said, “I can handle it all,” and for many years it did –  sort of.

I began to seriously break at age 48.  The repressed memories of the rape began to push from subconscious to conscious.  The images seemed so unreal and fantastical that I was convinced they were created out of my own addiction to porn.  How or when did I, a solid heterosexual, have a penis in my mouth?! And in my anus?!  It was too awful to be true.

I also started to have serious, more serious actually, issues in interpersonal relationships with my wife, family , friends and employees.  My work was suffering and I began planning suicide again.  I was a mess again and I told no one.

I told myself I could handle it all. 

I was wrong.

My hope – if anyone reading this has suffered as I did and/or deals with mental illness, you will heed my advice and get help. 

Do it today.  Do not wait.  Do not remain in that prison. 

Almost there, one more part.  Next I discuss my breakdown and how I ended up here in exile. ~ jdoe

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