I feel like throwing up. I feel like rolling over in the fetal position to cry.
This is the second time the CNA 2 talked to me about homosexuality. The first time I didn't say much. Today she went into detail and told me I look like a "stud". That is not a compliment to a person who is not an stud. She said I "look gay" and that I am not a "girly - girl. " She commented that I don't wear long nails, eyelashes and makeup. I told her I prefer the natural look.
The main difficulty of being called a stud is that it removes my femininity, something I cherish.
As a child, my mother used me as if I was a man. Also, she would say, "Are you gay? Are you a boy? Do you want me to cut your hair?" As early as the second grade she began chipping away at my birth right to be female. She hounded me, always asking if I thought I was a boy. Never did I feel that way, but she did use me that way.
She started the same crap with my brother. She kept asking him if he was gay. The boy was three! Three years old and she was hounding him, too.
Dr D and I talked about how I will need to reason with myself on the matter. When I look in the mirror I don't see anything masculine about me. I don't feel masculine. Whatever is seen by others is not under my control. I can still be comfortable in my skin as a woman and throw off the absurdity from my CNA 2.
I have two CNAs and one nurse. CNA 2 is the one who crossed boundaries today.
Dr D asked if I switch personalities when the cna's are inappropriate. No. I just listen like a good girl, just like when listening to my mother. I give no indication that I'm disturbed and upset. That has changed recently. I tell them when they have crossed the line but I don't show that I'm upset. That's the main thing for me, never give what they're looking for. Never give them a reaction of shock or dismay. I learned that dealing with my mother. She was looking for a reaction so I refused to give her one! I do this w a lot of people now, no physical reaction no matter what!
Content: Aunt tried to kill herself. Brief discussion of cocaine. Death.
The gist is that my aunt refused to call me by my name, called me everything else. I refused to answer. Then she called me a 'bitch' so I gave her a full account of how much I hate her. I reminded her that she has "everything" others work their whole lives for: a boat, house, vacations, good job, yet she's unhappy. I went as far as to tell her that even though everyone else knows it, she's in love with someone who doesn't love her back and that's the real reason she's unhappy. I said she should let his gay self go and find a straight man. ...continue reading "Dreams: Burying Fantasies"
It was a packed session. We started off talking about what took place in the hospital yesterday. I was given news that should have made me happy but I can't seem to trust it. I'm still 'stage four' Lupus with issues associated with my kidneys and vascular system but the medications are working very well and have stabilized me. I have no new blood clots. I still have a lot of nerve damage but I can walk and that is something they weren't positive would happen. There's still a long way to go with my nerves healing which means I hurt quite a bit, but I am stable and out of the woods.
I told Big E, my Oncologist, that I want to be happy about the news but I'm still shell shocked. I said, it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. He said, I know, I was there. When he said that I wanted to cry. I was so happy he said it. He was there, every single solitary day for three months he showed up by my bedside. Week days and weekends Big E was in my room checking on me, three months straight! ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Stability. Forgiveness. Gratitude."
Dr. D and I discussed a situation with my sister that came up that required I stick to my boundaries, as hard as it is to do.
Despite my mother having gainful employment, we spent a lot of time living in the car. I have slept with frost over me, slept on the wet street and in the sweltering night. Homelessness for me is a huge trigger. It makes me recoil, makes my mind want to run and never think about the horrors of it, the way it strips you of dignity and humanity. The way people hate you, judge you and look down on you. Routine homelessness in my childhood and young adult life with my mother, has left a scar that opens into a wound during the winter time.
When I'm cold I can't breathe because I can see myself lying under a blanket in a broken down RV with no electricity, no water, no heat, no lock on the door. I could see my own breath, see the frost build up on my blanket and hear my sister cry curled up beside me. We were so close to one another I couldn't breathe. There with us should have been my teddy bear, the last possession I owned, but it was lost in the car we'd slept in that ended up being stolen. Homelessness is a horrible trauma I wish on no one at all, so why have I refuse to offer my home to my sister in need? ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Hard Choices and Boundaries with Family"
There's something about having another living thing making noise that helps me feel less alone. Skip to 20 seconds for the start. His big performance is at 55 seconds. This is what Clyde does while doing his service dog duties of laying on my legs to help with the pain. He falls asleep and snores. Gotta love it.
There was one night when he snored so loudly that he woke me. I was groggy from medication and not clear who was snoring. I had to talk to myself to bring me back to 2017 where I do not sleep in a room with my sister. Usually his snoring doesn't trigger it, it makes me feel safe but some of the content of my therapy session concerning abuse got mixed up in current reality and grog. ...continue reading "Snoring. Dreaming of Flashbacks. Losing Mary Jane."
I've tried to write this entry since Monday but I've run from it. I don't really want to write it because it hurts.
Therapy was hard, as usual. We went over the dream where the man was stabbed in the hallway. As I told Dr. D the part about hearing the man stabbed to death while hiding in the closet, Dr. D blurted out, "You know that's your brother, right?" I said, "Yes, and my sister." Here I am age 46 and I can still hear them both scream. I can still feel the fear as if I were backed in a corner watching, again. I told Dr. D that hearing my siblings abused or seeing it happen often felt worse than being abused myself. I remember it so clearly and I am certain it's what divides us to this day. ...continue reading "Therapy Review – Slaughtering Peace of Mind"
Entry Content: In some areas the dream was funny, strange and then ended violently. There is some sexual conversation, no abuse of children. Violent stabbing deaths. Mention of self injury.
Dream: I was standing in line in a food court with two restaurants serving my favorite food on both sides, but I was in a different line for a free hamburger. I stood in a very long line for what felt like forever. Finally I was at the front and ready for my order when a family of four walked right up to the front and began placing an order. I explained I'd been there and politely went on ordering but they kept talking to me. The family was so nice and talkative that I didn't realize while they talked to me, more family members arrived and ordered their meal for 15 people right under my nose. For my inconvenience, and much to my delight, the company gave me a free 13 inch sweet potato pie with my hamburger. ...continue reading "Dream Therapy: Murder and Powerlessness 1"
Feelings upon waking:
Fearful. Fearful! I was trembling as my mind went over the crazy parts of this dramatic dream. After I woke I kept saying, 'I'm sorry' over and over again as if somehow dreaming something so violent was my fault. In addition to that guilt, there was guilt for not helping the man in the hallway who was viciously and savagely killed. I listened to him scream and die while cowering behind the closet door. I was anxious and regrettably chewed up my fingers. This is self harm.
This dream is one day old but it's still a heavy one for me, especially since it resulted in an attack on myself. Why self-injury? To change the fear emotion that overtook me and to counter, over shadow flashbacks caused by the dream. I was shaking in bed, apologizing out loud for being weak. I wasn't thinking about the consequences of my actions. I was caught in emotion. I was not thinking straight. Another apology is needed, this time to myself. ...continue reading "Dream Therapy: Murder and Powerlessness 2"
She had a wide range of peculiarities but one constant; her mouth was always wide open.
Her violence frightened me as a child. The fact that she's still alive makes me a bit uncomfortable.
The woman with the split earlobe laughed loudly, sang loudly, slapped you on the back while laughing and did everything over the top. It wasn't mental illness, it was plain madness. ...continue reading "Wide"
Content: Sexual abuse. Innocence of children. Violent speech. Anxiety insight.
I vomited up details just to give them away because I don't want them anymore. I've not gotten to say what I want to say, the way I want to say it. He doesn't flinch when I add anger and resentment to my words.