I'm in my 50's. I live with my mother because I'm bipolar with psychotic features and because she has dementia. Wonderful, right?

Mother was very physically and verbally abusive when we sibs were children. She was very angry about having a child out of wedlock in the 50's. She was institutionalized during the pregnancy. This also made her very bitter. She was treated badly there and felt the depth of her imprisonment keenly.

She took her anger out on us and on my father.

Now to me. Because of how I was raised I became angry, bitter, vengeful and a pathological liar. I hated everyone and everything except for animals, especially cats. I bonded emotionally with cats. The mere sight of a cat makes me cry and long to hold it.

I worked in a violent area of law enforcement, a stupid choice for someone like me. I'm sure it had something to do with control. I hated it. I'm an extreme introvert and I spent 30 years dealing with the worst of society. Very stressful.

In 2008 I had a nervous breakdown and that's when the psychosis emerged. I was unstable for three to four years after that.

I'm on disability now and I'm trying to come to terms with the kind of person I was before my fall. I was a troublemaker because it excited me and I lied and manipulated my way through life as if there were no consequences.

My breakdown was my wake-up call.

Now I am in a fierce battle with myself. My brain is never still. I have tremendous guilt and shame that I really cannot deal with. I was a liar and this hurt other people. I was arrogant and this hurt other people.

Candidly, although I know it isn't really him, I argue with Satan all day and most of the night about the fact that I'm going to hell.

In desperation I went to Mass, confessed everything, but I still don't feel any better. I feel worse!

I'm no longer the person I was. I try very hard not to lie or manipulate. With my mother's medical condition I sometimes have to tell little lies or subtly manipulate her in order to maintain peace and to take care of her (get her to shower or take her meds, etc.).

Will there ever be an end to this profound misery short of the grave? I hate myself in a deep, deep way. I can't take back the things I've done and said. Confessing my sins was an empty exercise done in desperation.

I haven't committed any crimes yet I feel as if I have. And Satan is in my mind 24/7 to remind me what lies at the end of my road.