Daily Archive for November 28th, 2005

Without hope we have nothing

Published on November 28, 2005 in Borderline Personality Disorder, For the Record, PTSD and Relationships. 1 Comment

“Do you know what I expect of you? I expect you to be you. I don’t expect you to call me every day or to say certain things or not say certain things. I expect you to be who you are and if you don’t know who you are I expect you to find out.

So who am I? I’m the woman that appreciates comedy, nature and good conversation. I love my sunflowers, porcelain angels, antique Bibles and road trips. I like history, biology, literature, programming and other intellectually stimulating things. I’m the kid that stayed in to read the World Encyclopedia instead of sledding with the neighborhood kids. I’m the kid that preferred going to the art museum instead of the state fair. The one that started writing poetry in the 6th grade and abandoned meat when she was 8 years old. I was also the kid that listened to Elvis when everyone else my age was listening to Bell Biv Devoe. I was my own person then the same as now. I always will be and I have no time for people that are swayed by every turning tide.”

Knowing who you are is the most important knowledge you will ever have. As many of me as there are the one thing I can count on is knowing what I will and won’t do and what I want or don’t want. Even knowing these things doesn’t mean I’m going to make the right decisions or take proper action to get what I want. I’m just as unfocused as the next person. The difference is, I know I have a path and when I stray from it I have little pieces of bread to lead me back in the right direction. Man, I’m tired of screwing up and feeling like I’ve said too much or not said enough. I’m tired of nightmares and of my weight, of depression and anxiety. Those pieces of bread I speak of are reminders that it won’t always be this way. So when I go down the path of self destruction I can look back on past positives and find my way back to the direction towards the sun(flower).

I read other journals on the web and my heart goes out to the authors because they seem to have no hope and don’t know what to look to to find it. For some reason, a reason I’m grateful for, I have a spirit that just refuses to be broken. I think in my struggle to survive I forget that others are struggling even more. I forget that others have deeper depression and harder things to deal with. Talking to Mic last night really grabbed my heart. As much as I hurt inside this man hurts twice as much. I’ve learned to ask for help when I need it but some people just cant and they are alone with their thoughts and their nightmares. My heart goes out to them and I wish they could see the sunshine that I depend on.

I once said that the sunrise is a blessing of hope. When the sun comes up I have another chance to make this life work. It’s like a new day brings new hope and maybe, just maybe I’ll find a way to make this life a pleasant one. I can’t say I’m hopeless because as long as the sun rises I have another chance to put my own errors behind me and make my own choices as to how I want to live. It’s like climbing up hill all day and then you reach the top and look back to see all that you’ve climbed above and all that you’ve overcome. Then you meet the sun as it clips the horizon, and you know for sure that you’ve been given a second and a third and a hundredth chance to be human with all its positives and negatives.

Perhaps my thoughts of what the sun brings are a bit more complicated than others. But if you think about it, our lives depend on the sun working properly and rising and setting on time. Nope, I don’t worship the sun by any means. But I appreciate what it represents. The rainbow is a documented promise from our Almighty. Without the sun we’d have no rainbow. I see the two promises hand in hand. If I’m wrong about the sun being a good source of hope then please don’t tell me. If this hope is meaningless to others as well as harmless, then please keep me in the dark.

I hope others find hope in something, in something that will keep them going and sooth over old scars. Without hope we have nothing. Without other humans we have even less.

Austin’s August for Morton’s Pride on Sunflower Province

More Brain Vomit with Emotional Diarrhea

Published on November 28, 2005 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Dreams and PTSD. 1 Comment

When I dream about nasty, filthy shit filled toilets I know there is some crap in my head that needs to get out. No laxative required! It’s gonna come out even if I don’t want it to. Good thing I have a therapist as a mental laxative. Sheshhh! I’ve been dreaming about going out on a boat and getting caught in the middle of a storm. The boat gets washed up on the shore and I’m stranded on a small piece of land about 100 feet from the shore. The only problem is, if I want to get to the larger land I have to swim through snake and alligator infested waters. I go from being on a storm tossed Russian fishing boat to being in an alligator infested swamp within seconds of the dream starting. Having lived in Texas and Florida I know better than to chance swimming even 5 feet across waters with gators or crocks. This last dream I somehow found myself with another survivor from the fishing boat. He or she was on the larger land but we couldn’t hear each other even though we were so close.The sun was shining and the sky was clear. I had plenty of fresh vegetation and I didn’t seem to be upset that I was stranded. Maybe I was use to it by then and being on a small strip of land in the middle of the swamp seemed like home. I was relaxed and chewing on a vine of grapes (which you won’t find in the swamp). Another strange twist was that the dream turned and the other survivor and I were inside a make shift wooden house with 15 other survivors. We were all waiting to be rescued. No one feared being stranded there forever. I didn’t know these people, not from the boat or anywhere else. We all seemed to get along just fine. Understandably people were bored and just sitting around talking and playing cards. We were all dressed and clean inside a make shift home atop a small strip of land in the middle of that same ocean. I dream this often save the other people. I’m not sure why it’s a Russian fishing boat though. The way the moon hits the water and the clouds streak the sky is one breathtaking scene just before the waves come and toss the boat like a second hand rag doll.

I slept from 3am to a few minutes before 9am. I don’t feel rested at all. I feel rather sick inside but not to the point that I feel like skipping therapy. The windy, cloudy day won’t make me feel any better but a nice, hot cup of Folgers will. Coffee time!

Me

More Brain Vomit with Emotional Diarrhea Looming In the Distance</strong>
28 November 2005
11:30 AM

Walking Away From The Window

Published on November 28, 2005 in Art, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health and Relationships. 0 Comments

I kept my word to myself. Most often, my word is good only when I give it to someone else. I tell my therapist that I will or will not do something and I stick to it. If I tell myself that I will or will not do this or that it means nothing. Tonight I kept to my safety plan after journaling about past homelessness issues. I watched Shrek, had the cat fish dinner and did some PC art. When I was shooting pics of my roommate for his singles profile I ended up taking a few practice shots of the windows. When I uploaded them I knew I had to a piece on Picture It Publish It. This is what I came up with.

I also talked to Mic. he was somewhat depressed tonight. He says that he is waiting for me to hurt him. I listened carefully. Part of me heard my own voice and another part of me thought he was being manipulative. My trust issues may have been telling me he was being manipulative. I can’t say for sure if he was or not. I think this man is so sad and lost. I think he works so much to keep from running into himself when he slows down. I think his heart is heavy but he doesn’t have the courage to ask someone for advice on how to lift it. I think he misses his mother so much that he just can’t stand it. Animals don’t replace humans but in his life and in the life of many, animals surround him and give to him what he thinks he can’t get from humans.

Slave Girl once said that she couldn’t believe Mic is so sad. She said he had so much going for him. Then she said that maybe I could be what makes him happy. I objected. I told her that there is no one that can fill the hole in a person’s heart when that hole is there for reasons such as his. There isn’t anyone on this earth that is going to come into my life and take away the nightmares or take away the past. I can’t be that kind of savior for anyone else either. What I can do is listen and support. I can give only what I have and that is a listening ear and understanding. But I can’t make Mic happy. Happiness is made up of more than one thing and that one thing is rarely if ever a single human being. I suppose her train of thought is what got her hooked up with Monkey Boy. She knew he was depressed and needy. She wanted to make him happy. Its a sad situation all around.

This piece that I’ve done is called “Walking Away From The Window” (the water mark of Sundrip Graphics is so people can’t just steel my shit) Both of the people in the picture are me. In therapy we talked about how I see through tainted glass and that looking through that makes it difficult to see the real situation. I see things through the eyes of the past and the past keeps affecting my here and now. But it is very hard to forget the past when pieces of it are everywhere. From the colour of an old Ford automobile, a tossed out Christmas tree, a bottle of Fego Rootbeer or the way my hands look like my mothers as I get older… it’s all a slap in the face from the past. It is my desire, my goal to feel less of a sting when the past slaps me in the face.

I’ve got therapy tomorrow. I need some sleep and a cig.

Austin’s August and Joan of Arc