Walking with mental illness 7

I know the things I just shared with you in the blogs before this one are probably hard to comprehend. I understand. When we get to 2017 you will see why I decided to come out. I told you in my first blog on" walking with mental illness" that people that called themselves my friends would disappear. But I also told you everything I will say will be true. I knew the risk. I am okay with that.
 Now Larue Carter ended up being closed down due to unethical treatment of patients. Someone wore a video camera in there and showed it to someone of importance. The patients got nothing but sent to somewhere new. Like dogs.
I had already left before they were shut down. And I am Thankful everyday they did.
 Well we got through that. (breathe)
  I spent another year in a children home. It was nice there. I met my first love. High school sweetheart. He broke my heart not once but twice ,  Are you seeing a pattern? I had a very hard time with relationships because I didn't know how to love or receive love. Most of all I hated myself. I was really good at pushing people away. I was emancipated by the state of Indiana and lived under a bridge until I was 18. I had no job skills. No life skills. So I started doing the only thing I knew how, Dance. The day after my 18th I was hired at the gentlemens club. In four months I had my own beautiful apartment. Everything in it was bought and paid for. By me. For once as an "adult" I was doing okay. But I still had the  voices. I still was uncomfortable in my own skin. And now not only did I have that to be ashamed of, but I was a stripper too. Needless to say my personal circle didn't understand. I was still seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist. Hell by now I had seen almost every therapist/psychiatrist in the state. I couldn't tell them I was still hearing voices. For fear of being put away again. But I thought I would go legally insane without all the medicine.  But it seemed like all these medicines had to have another medicine to counteract the first medicine. And if the side affect was "suicidal tendencies"  I had that side effect. From jumping out of second story window to ripping the veins out of my arm with a pencil.  I started to realize that when I was on stage I didn't hear my "voices" I was able to get completely lost in the music. I loved music. Pink Floyd "Mother" and "wish you were here". Man they hit home for me. Not to toot my own horn but I was a good performer. Toot-Toot. I was strong and moved elegantly. I loved to be on stage. I didn't like when the music stopped. Which leads into dual-diagnosis. My addictions. Not just one. My addiction was running from myself and my mind. As you will soon discover..