Hello, my name is Jamie or Outis, I'm 19. I am a poet, rapper and artist. Suicide Notes is intended to be catharsis for me spiritually, emotionally, etc. My writing (majority of it is not posted here) is a channel for my anger, sorrow, etc. I hate introducing myself as a rapper, because there's automatically an expectation of you being a status-quo promoting shallow idiot. But I do it just to share what I'm passionate about. I'm inspired by poets like Henry David Thoreau, Sylvia Plath, and Shakespeare. I call this a low trigger journal because I am mostly making it about myself, not PMO. In other words, my journal will be mostly about my experiences and feelings, not the PMO itself. I may go into some details, but too many can be triggers for me, and, possibly, others. the following is a general description of my life and experiences in the past few years, and my experiences may be seen as disturbing to some people. And just because I don't consider it triggering, it still may be for some. -- When I was 13, I used porn and masturbated for the first time. I was already a shy kid and I grew up with parents who had very perfectionist expectations. My mother was an alcoholic, she abused me mostly emotionally, but physically and sexually a few times as well though. My father was always a very emotionally neglectful, secretive figure. I gradually started PMO'ing more and more when my mother went to rehab for 2 months when I was 14. I accelerated to at least once per day. I also started smoking weed, partly to feel like a cool kid/fit in, but also to escape my pain. Over the next few months, it became a daily habit. I started using both PMO and marijuana virtually every day together. The friends I was spending time with I didn't feel all that connected to, and when I would go hang out with them, I felt like I had to force myself to put on a fake happy personality, and smoke more than I was comfortable with. I would always get really quiet and basically bail as soon as I had a chance. I recall one of them one time told me that whenever he saw me, he thought I looked really depressed. And it absolutely crushed me at the time. Looking back, they were more like bullies than friends. Through that I had two people who I was close with in early childhood, who I considered to be very good, lifelong friends, not associated with those people... lets call them Dean and Sam (codenames*, anyone watch supernatural lol). After continuously using both PMO and weed for a couple years, I had one girlfriend when I was 16 for about a year. I felt connected to her at the time, and would only PMO about once every week or 2, and was having sex with her often. About two weeks after we broke up, I learned she was with Dean now. After that relationship ended, I began meditating daily, writing often and rapping. I also learned that Dean and my ex got married less than a year later and now have a baby on the way. (That's not what friends do, DEAN ). Haven't talked to Dean since. When I was about 17, I began seeing a psychologist who I confifed in about my pmo. He basically believed the opposite of what I did at the time (PMO is bad and must eliminate). He told me someone my age should be masturbating 3 times a day, and that I can watch all the porn in the world and it isn't a problem. He essentially gave me the green light to PMO as often as I want with no consequences. This took away a lot of the shame aspect of PMO'ing. So I kept PMO'ng often for about the next year, still meditating daily as well though. Last year, Sam and I moved in the same apt. He was now on lots of drugs and using every day, turned into a complete douchebag. I would wake up in the morning to happy go lucky people smoking and playing guitar, etc. and had loud parties virtually every night, while I would go to work. He would move my food to the bottom cabinet and leave his in the top, basically never NOT have people over. And towards the end Sam and his friend he moved in without asking me came to my job when I was working and demanded I give them my share rent money a few days before it was due or something, don't really even remember what the hell they were saying, it made no sense. Later that night, Sam banged on my door saying I owe him my rent money (I pay the landlord, not you dumbass....) Long story short, we got evicted, and haven't spoken to sam since, other than to pay him back some money he loaned me a long time ago. I had nowhere to go at that point. I ended up being homeless for 2 weeks. I slept in an abandoned house and a house under construction for a few days and was working a minimum wage job. I made my way to the homeless shelter and got a bed and showers and meals daily. This lasted for about a week as I realized it wasn't sustaining me very well, because it is a lot like a prison, employees there really care more about controlling the people staying there and aren't very empathic. There was about 100 of use in one big room with twin bunk beds, many other people talking to themselves and on hard drugs, etc. I got head lice... I got back in contact my parents and got a roof over my head (I hadn't talked to them for about 6 months prior). And being objective, almost a year later, I think that the PMO may have contributed to my homelessness. It was rock bottom without a doubt. It was the most humbling experience in my life, and it was sobering to see that there are many fates worse than my own. Since then, I have been enhancing my life in various ways, taking care of my human needs daily (shelter, hygiene, food, water, clothing, sleep). Yes its common sense but I lacked diligence in the necessities for a while, and I think PMO can distract me from taking care of myself even in just those basic ways. So this is my journal of my recovery from this habit, my journey into future phases of my life.