Our Lady Of Peace, Here I Come - Psychiatric Residential Treatment Facility

Okay, so I am getting ready to drop a bombshell on my dad in the morning.

I have no idea how this is going to play out or how the best way to bring this up will be, but I think I am to the point that it is needed. I have been looking up in patient care geared toward suicide prevention. In the area I live we just happen to have one called Our Lady Of Peace. They have a special Psychiatric Residential Treatment Facility that is geared toward 12 -17 year olds that are suffering from extreme depression and thoughts of self harm and suicide. Many of these treatments specialize in dealing with the aftereffects of sexual assault and P.T.S.D. related issues.

I need to tell dad that I need something more than regular therapy. I know the state I am in and if I don't find some sort of aggressive treatment I am going to do something stupid. I can't get these thoughts out of my head. I have to tell dad I need help and I have to make him hear me, he has to really hear me. How do I do that?

I have two voices in my head and I have a very quiet referee name rationality. This referee has questionable judgment and the voices are beginning to ignore the referee. One voice is telling me that I am never going to be okay and death is so much easier; death will end the pain. The other voice is telling me that I can survive all of this and it can get better. Neither voice is telling me what I need to hear, neither voice is telling me that I deserve happiness or that I deserve to live. The referee thinks I deserve happiness and life, but the referee can't talk through the duct tape that has been wrapped around her mouth over and over and her hands are tied behind her back just like they were in the van.

I can make it till morning when dad gets up, I know I can; but after that I have to get real help. I just have to figure out how to make dad understand. If I can't convince him easily I won't have the will to be convincing. I am losing my mind, I am going crazy and I am so fucking scared. I have all these images in my mind that won't go away. I have all these flashbacks that won't go away. I just want them to stop, I am so tired. I can't think anymore. I can make it till dad gets up in the morning, I know I can.

You must be asking why does Jaime think she's going crazy. Well Jaime did something today that she is ashamed of. She masturbated until she bled and it was the pain that pushed her over the edge so that she could feel that 30 second long rush of endorphins that made her cry. She cried while sitting in the bathtub as the shower washed the blood away. She wished the hot water that was full on with the cold water completely off could have melted her into nothingness and washed her down the drain. She had images of her being in pain going through her mind when she felt that intense rush of endorphins. She feels so ashamed. Even as she writes this she can feel herself detach from reality and she fears she will lose herself in the madness of her own mind. She didn't even really notice that she was narrating her own words in third person until this sentence. This is why I think I am going insane. I'm not even kidding about any of this. I thought I was messed up before when while being assaulted for hour after hour I was made to have an orgasm when he purposefully stimulated me. That's bad enough but it was a physical reaction, I know that. Why did I not think about a tender sexual experience when I masturbated in the shower instead of being in that van? It's weird and surreal to say but the thought of the pain he put me through and the pain from my own finger making me bleed made this so much stronger. That's insane, that's weird, and that's wrong on so many levels.

I got it, I will email this to dad's business email account. He always checks that first thing in the morning. I will be okay until he gets up and he can take me to Our Lady Of Peace. Hell, I even checked our health Insurance plan and up to 90 days a year of emergency in patient care is covered. There was a dollar limit on that but I imagine I will need near 90 days worth of care. I mean I don't think I am sociopath crazy, not yet anyway. He will be awake in less than 5 hours. I can make it to then because I think I could make it a few days if I had to. I will email him this and then post it on my blog and then on A.S.