New Year’s Eyes.

I’m constantly going through a battle in my head concerning the way I approach this blog and perhaps that’s one of the reasons why I haven’t written anything in awhile. Do I buck up to the reality of things? Not hide my identity? Try to be objective as possible about my experiences so that I may learn something from them? Or do I tell everyone that the entire journal is a fake, made-up, fictitious version of a reality I created about people who may or may not exist. And then when I think about the exciting, socially-unacceptable details of my stories, I get elated, but then suddenly feel like I’m walking the plank, when my fingers are resting on the keyboard, surging with the energy to let go and say everything I’ve been wanting to say, but was too afraid of saying, and think to myself, “Did I really do that? Is this too much for people? Do people want to hear this? Will I be judged and persecuted? Will I be praised for my honesty?”

Maybe some of you guys could comment and let me know what would be more interesting for you to read.

I’ll admit I’m struggling. I believe this is because I could really not focus on my issues with work and school and everything that went on during the semester, and so now that I finally have such little responsibility (just to show up to work and be functional enough), all my shit is coming out, and I’m having a tough time.

Finding a therapist is now the priority, so that I can get that done before the next semester starts in February. It’s not just a priority because it’s what I should do, it’s a priority out of necessity. I think the only thing that keeps me sane is my ability to shut down my brain when my thoughts start to spiral out of control. The only way I’m able to do that is because the thoughts become so incomprehensible, that I shake them off, similar to a dog shaking off excess water after an unpleasant bath. Only I’m not clean after, just peculiar.  I am realizing that I have a lot of demons I have to face, and I’m really scared to face them. Deep down I don’t believe that I can ever make sense of the way I think and the things I do. As much as I want to be a person of conviction, and someone who knows what they think and why they think it. I used to be like that when I was about 16-17. I remember it was one of the most peaceful, simple, happy times of my life. I loved going to school so much. Going to class made me horny. Sometimes  I’d be so excited, I’d be gently squirming in my seat. I was being stimulated and challenged and I know that I grew intellectually during this time. I felt good about being in the world, like I had a grasp on reality, and reality was subject to my every wish and whim.

Now I just finished this last semester up with 3 A’s and a B, which was an incredible feat for me. It’s the first time I had been to school in two years after living way too fast and impulsively. The idea of one semester was a terrifyingly huge commitment. To be somewhere at a certain time and place, ever week, was like saying yes to a baby or a marriage. Surprisingly, and through some major changes in my life, I finished the semester, diligently studying and turning in all of my assignments. It was a huge improvement from my inability to do anything “normal”.

Something that I’ve come to realize over these past couple weeks, is that I do not have any close friends in my life. I have three in particular, actually, Pete, Allison, and Lily, who are the kind of friends that I know without a doubt, will be my friends for the rest of my life and will always be there for me. Perhaps if I lived in the same city, I would have them as my everyday friends, but my world is so separate here. It is very hard to include people in my life solely over the phone or internet. I guess I tend to jump from thing to thing, at first with an intensity that could not be trumped, for whatever or whoever it was at the moment. Which explains why I have no long-lasting friends. It’s not that I feel that this is a huge hole of emptiness inside me. I really feel fortunate to have met all the wonderful people I have. Sometimes I wish I would have kept a more diligent journal of all these characters so that I could write about them. Most people certainly bore the hell out of me, but I also look back and remember the most wonderful people I thought didn’t really exist, the kind of people that for some reason inspired you instantaneously, making you feel at peace with the world. A quote by Thoreau in Walden comes to mind, “There is an incessant influx of novelty in the world and yet we tolerate incredible dullness.”

I’m done for now, though not finished, and I can already predict that I will leave many blogs left to be finished at a later time, or to be forgotten alltogether. Either way, I’d rather post this now then wait to finish it as then I’d never post anything.

xo Free Bird

Many people don’t know this about me, or would never know if meeting me, that I have extreme anxiety and panic disorder. When I was younger, I never understood the word “anxiety”. In ignorance, it sounded like a bunch of psycho-babble bullshit. I never really felt anxious when I was younger. It pretty much all started after I had left “Braiden”. Psychologists agree that certain personality disorders can be triggered or become much worse after I traumatic event, and in my case rings true.

After returning home from Montreal after 6 months, my behavior was erratic. I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I moved back in with my parents and I knew that I wanted to get back in touch with my family and spend time with them, for it was in Montreal that I really learned the importance of a good family, which was definitely my family. But I also became lazy and unmotivated. I tried to go back to school but dropped out, not being able to be somewhere the same time, several days a week. I indulged in a short affair with a complete loser. He had a kid that he couldn’t take care of, didn’t have a job or aspire to have one, mooched off of me and his friends to party and get drunk most days. I indulged in it perhaps, because it was the first time I could start to learn my boundaries with men, without the fear of losing them, as it would not have been a big loss.
I remember one time, I was driving to work and I started to have a panic attack out of nowhere. I could hardly breath, I felt like world was ending, and I could barely drive. I was crying, and finally I made it home. I went to my mom as she always knew what was going on, or how to help. It was then that she told me that she had read in insurance reports from about a year and a half previously, that I had something I should check out. I had no idea what she meant, I thought she was talking about something physical, like cancer or something. And when I sat at the computer, waiting for her to tell me so I could type it into google, I was surprised to hear the words, “Borderline Personality Disorder”. What the hell was that?
I typed it into google, found a wikipedia page, the source to all higher learning, and learned all about it. Going through the symptoms I found that I had felt every single one, and that it made my life make so much more sense to me. I finally had something tangible with which to compare my life, decisions, and experiences. My mom had waited so long to tell me because when I was gone, her and my dad attended sessions for people who had family members with Borderline. They all told them not to tell you, but instead urge you to go to therapy so a professional could tell you in the right way.But I’m not like that. I’ve always been self-aware and thirsty for the truth. Finding that out was like a giant slap in the face. A wake up call to all the things I was doing without even aware that I was doing them.

It’s been just over a year. I’ve read several books about it. Ones with funny, and all-true titles like, “Get Me Out of Here”, “I Hate You, Don’t Leave Me”, and “Sometimes, I Act Crazy”. I’ve tried to understand where it comes from, if it’s neurological or environmental, what treatments are, what symptoms are. The word borderline is used because the disorder is one part neurosis and one part psychosis. Neurosis is a class of functional mental disorders involving distress, but no hallucinations or delusions. Psychosis involves delusions, hallucinations, personality change, bizarre behavior, and inability to interact with other people. From my understanding, borderline can be genetic as well as environmental.

To help you get a better idea of what this is, Borderline is characterized by the following symptoms: 1) Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment. In this case my frantic efforts involve leaving and moving around. 2) A pattern of intense and unstable relationships characterized by alternating between extremes of idealization and devaluation. 3) Identity disturbance: markedly and persistently unstable self-image or sense of self. 4) Impulsivity in at least two areas that are self-damaging. 5) Recurrent suicidal behavior, gestures, or self-mutilating behavior. 6) Affected instability due to a marked reactivity of mood (intense episodic dysphoria, irritability, or anxiety usually lasting a few hours and rarely more then a few days). This symptom I have strongly. 7) Chronic feelings of emptiness. I also experience this symptom strongly. 8) Inappropriate intense anger or difficulty controlling anger. 9) Transient stress related paranoid ideation or sever dissociative symptoms. I have this symptom a lot as well.

It’s been an incredible six months. I can’t believe my progress, but I am also becoming fearful of the future. One part of me thinks, I’ve gone this long, I can do it for longer, and the other part thinks you’ve gone this long, much longer then usual, so any day now could be the day you fall apart.
Having an anxiety disorder, especially with being Borderline, can be tireless and endless. One minute you can be totally happy and at peace, and then the next minute you feel like tingle in your body, and your mind starts to drift towards what you’re suppose to next, until your paralyzed with an anxiety that makes it hard to breath, and move, and function. Then, you’re mind goes somewhere else, temporarily distracted, and things ease back to a comfortability. Sometimes this happens for seconds each time, or minutes, or longer, and each day is an unpredictable “what-am-i-going-to-feel-next”. There’s not much stability for someone like that. I’m capable of stability, and that might heal me. But my decisions rarely allow me to be stable. How do I break that cycle?
I’ve developed this nervous tick. I’m constantly fiddling with my hands. Obsessing, really. I’ll start by taking my thumb in the other hand and using my fingers to press along the outside of the entire nail, feeling the texture, if it’s rough, or if there are little pieces of skin. I squeeze my hands together. I press down on the tip of the nail and feel the pressure on my fingertips. I write a lot and get painful calouses on my index finger and I like to take a pen and go over the top of the tough skin, pressing down on it which causes that good-hurt feeling. Then it get’s irritated to I wash my hands and put lotion on them. This helps me deal with anxieties.

(To be continued at some other random time…)

I’ve been writing some crazy papers on my first time stripping, and getting back in touch with my family for the first time after nearly 2 years… but it’s not done, so I don’t want to post it . For now, I just wanted you guys to check out the trailer for The Gruesome Death of Tommy Pistol. I play an infected porn chick in “Attack of the Staph Spider”, which I believe is apart of this movie.  Also in this is Gia Paloma and Kimberly Kane which is pretty exciting. My boobies are starred out for youtube safeness . If you’d like to see Attack of the Staph Spider, click on the “Porno/Horror Porno” page, and there is a link to it.

xo Daisy

But I didn’t just accept because I had no options. I also accepted because I have an adventurous spirit, and this wasn’t some random entourage who asked me, but my boyfriend’s “relationship” teacher. I had been one of the girls who was successfully trained to pick up threesomes and live in girlfriend’s and now I was being moved from the student to the “guru” himself. His girlfriend and I were also incredibly fond of each other.

Stephane wasn’t exactly the most attractive man. He had a belly, an unimpressive dick and grew long hair in an effort to mirror other spiritual gurus. He was 32 years old, but looked older. This was probably due to the fact that he was a closet alcoholic and drug addict. He was the leader. The success of his business, Ideagasms.net, was a marketing phenomenon. He became well known in the pick up artist community because of one simple interview he did with marketing genius David D’Angelo, which was put on a CD and sent around the world as a part of David’s PU Artist Interview series. In short, he taught “heart-centered” pick up, couples how to achieve circle relationships, a relationship with one man, and more then one woman, and claimed to be able to train women how to have squirting orgasms.

Ghita, his primary girlfriend, had been with him for four years. She had met him when she was young, 18, and was now 22. She was the “model” girlfriend. She was beautiful, young, and did everything he said without question. All the students thought she was the greatest girlfriend on Earth, and set out to train their girls or future girlfriends how to be carbon copies of her. I was one of those girls.

Greta was his other girlfriend. She was from Poland, and closer to Stephane’s age. Which made a difference. She was 27. There was something odd about her. I was suppose to be in love with her and I didn’t even know her. Stephane always told his students that falling in love was unnecessary, and that you could learn to love anyone. And I was suppose to do this with her. But I didn’t even like her. There was something in her face and in her eyes that screamed, “My intentions are not pure. I am tricking you all.” I had to conceal all of this if I wanted to be in the circle.

It didn’t occur to me at the time that the problem wasn’t just Brandon, my captor, my “master”, my boyfriend, it was the entire program. That this was in fact a cult. A cult is characterized by many different things and I knew that many of the characteristics of Ideagasms matched up with this, but somehow, we were all convinced that we had free will, the only thing that separated us from cult hood.

So I left Brandon, and joined the leader in Montreal thinking that my troubles would now be over. Now I would be free. Now I would be with a man who really knew what he was doing.

For the couple weeks, it was just that. It was a party. I was invigorated. But slowly, one by one, my freedoms were being taken away. I was with the Master of manipulators. It’s as if he knew that I was coming from being in a literal prison, that for the past year I was a puppet and Brandon was the puppet master, and he showed me the good life and thought that he could slowly start telling me “no” undetected.

But I knew what was happening. I learn fast, and I already learned that lesson from Brandon. I also learned that I had the will power to escape. I could surely make it on my own. If I left Brandon, I could do anything. And that is what I decided.

You know how some people say that you should never make life altering decisions while on drugs? Well, it was another sort of party night. Stephane had “quit” drinking and doing drugs after having a so-called “dark night of the soul”, which meant that the party was over for us. This went on for weeks, until Stephane rationalized drinking a glass of wine, which turned into a bottle, which turned into calling the drug dealer, which turned into Stephane doing coke, and four of us splitting a bag of mushrooms.

It was my first time ever doing mushrooms. I didn’t take enough for it to effect me hard. I was incredibly giggly for an hour, but that’s about it. Stephane called me into the laundry room, as he often did, when he wanted privacy. We lived in a loft with no real rooms, and students were always hanging around.

He pulled out his cock and told me to suck it. But I didn’t want to. I had already tried to leave twice before and he manipulated me into staying. He made me feel as if it was my duty to remain in the relationship and that I would be letting down thousands of students if I leaved. I would be ignoring my higher purpose if I left and it would be the biggest mistake of my life.

I was at the end, I wasn’t feeling like this was fun anymore, and I didn’t want to put his cock in my mouth. So he pushed it in. It was limp and he pushed it in and out of my lifeless mouth.

He was never really attracted to me, and I could sense it. Now he verbalized it. He said, “You know… I think I could become attracted to you. You’re like a little boy, and that’s sexy because I can teach you how to be a woman. You can be my project.”

It was then that I knew in my heart, just like I knew in my heart that something was tremendously wrong with Brandon, and I decided in that moment that I would wait for him to fall asleep and then I would leave for good. I knew that I couldn’t leave with him awake, that he would find some way to manipulate me into staying.

So that’s what I did. I pretended to be asleep. But my heart was pounding. There was no way I could sleep. My whole body was trembling at the notion that as soon as Stephane closed his beady eyes and went to bed, I would be escaping.

I planned it all out in my head. I could not take more then a backpack’s worth of stuff, but it was winter in Montreal which meant is was negative 25 degrees and snowing. While he was showering, I slipped into the living room. I put everything into my backpack that I had noted on my mental checklist. Only the essentials.

I filled my backpack with some underwear, socks, some shirts, and an extra pair of jeans. I took my laptop, which would be my only source of communication. I grabbed my passport and took $600 from underneath his pool table. Some of which he owed me, but he always promised that if I needed to go, he would be able to buy me a ticket home, and so I took just what I figured I needed, what he owed me, and nothing more.

I wore layers, and my only scarf, gloves, boots, winter coat & hat, and shoved packs of cigarettes into my deep coat pockets until they were full. I was ready to go. He didn’t fall asleep until noon the next day (he could inhale a lot of coke), but the second he did I slipped out, leaving a note that I had just gone out for a coffee.

My mind was reeling. I was alone in a different country and I knew no one outside of the Ideagasms cult. I had nowhere to turn and no real idea as to what I was going to do. All I knew is that it was the first time I ever felt truly free in all my life. My fate was mine to decide. I felt more powerful then I could have ever imagined. I could have gone back home to California, but now I could do anything. I was resourceful enough. I was already there, why leave? And so in the cafe, while drinking my coffee, and so high on pure endorphins that I was dizzy, I began to map out my stay in Montreal.