Daily Archive for December 27th, 2005

Therapy Assignment- Self Talk Part One

Published on December 27, 2005 in Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, Therapy and Therapy Assignments. 1 Comment

Self Talk- Therapy Goals Part One
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
2:54 PM

Self talk can only take you so far when everything you see and hear or even think only surfaces after filtering through the mother’s voice.

  • I’m killing us all. Lie down and take it or fight like a woman and die.

Fear is what controls those weaker than you. When a woman stands 5 foot 11 inches over her 4 foot child, she looks like a monster. I already knew she could hurt me. She’d done it before. I suppose that when I was 5 feet tall and still being hurt the monster still looked huge. The humiliation of laying down for her to hurt me is what makes me angry enough to pick up a razor blade and mess my arms up again.

She said that God gave us a blessing by letting the body put off a natural anesthetic so that after a few blows our body wouldn’t feel the pain as much. She said the real blessing came in when after she was done hitting our body would begin to feel warm. She was right about that. It felt warm. It got confusing when I began craving that warmth. I associated it with God knowing I existed. Her voice is what I hear in the morning, in the evening, when I’m praying and when I’m sleeping. She never shut up ya know? Had she kept her mouth shut just once …… and it all plays in my head over and over again.

  • You can’t live without me. All I have to do is sign the papers upstairs and drop you off at the home. You’re killing my love for you. You didn’t eat all your fries, you owe me 35 cents to pay for what you didn’t eat. If you had written Nana Stafford more or visited more, she could have lived longer. I have no friends because of you. You’ll grow old and alone like your aunts. Men are dogs, say it 10x every time you look in the mirror. Don’t marry a black man. You’ll have to stay on disability, you’re too fat to get hired, and no one is going to hire you.

  • Gay men like black women. He’s gay. Are you gay? You’re not a problem child, you’re child with problems. Will you sign a law suite waver so I can write a book about all the funny things you kids use to do? Will you nominate me as mother of the year? Men don’t respect any woman they penetrate.


 

I swear I was raised to be gay. At times I feel foolish admitting that I prefer men to women.

All of this is mixed in there with memories of what she can do if we disagree. Many times it was her voice that dealt the biggest blow.

 

  • Fat people shouldn’t wear sweat pants. It makes them look fatter. Men are looking at your curves. Fat people shouldn’t wear stripes or patterns it just makes them look fatter. Fat people shouldn’t wear white or bright colours. It makes them look stupid. Don’t wear jeans.

When I put on my clothes I put them on to cover every inch of me, to hide from everything and everyone. I try to blend in with the average citizen but I don’t think I do. When I go out the last thing I want is for someone to talk to me. Don’t start a damn conversation cause it will end up with them needing something from me. It’s like I have a friggin sign on my forehead that says, “volunteers: this woman could use an extra push to help her go completely over edge” Somebody always needs something. They always seem to want to tell me their life story and being me I have to listen and offer advice. By the time I get home there is nothing left for myself. When that person stands too close I wonder what they really want from me. I wonder if they are looking at my clothes, at my hair, are they thinking the things my mother said they would think because I’m standing there in my gray sweatpants.

___

When I think about sex with Mic I see my mothers face and know she is gonna be mad. I hear how much men only want one thing. I see myself disappointing her. I was raised to hate both men and women but it was more acceptable to bring a girl home than it was to even say I wanted to bring a boy home. I had sex with a girl in the house and my mother was fuckin in the same damn house. She knew. It wasn’t a man so it wasn’t a huge disappointment to her. The bitch probably watched from some concealed place. Stupid bitch. But then, she hounded me about being gay. She kept asking and kept pushing the issue, almost encouraging it at times. She even began asking my 3 year old brother if he was gay.

  • I’ll love you even if you’re a drug addict or gay. They think you’re mean and call you bad because you won’t smile.

If there is nothing to smile about why cheese for the audience? That’s my sisters job, not mine.

  • You’ve always been my favorite. One day I’m just going to leave. I’m taking you to girls school because you’re a liar. I’m going to put you in a touch love program and you won’t see me until you’ve changed. Are you gay or not? That woman is trying to replace me. You can’t trust anyone but me.

When you learn to doubt yourself then you’ve learned family loyalty. When you question weather what she says is right or wrong, you’ve become a disloyal, disrespectful, ungrateful liar. She called me a liar twice for every time she called me by my given name.

  • You say JL molested you but I can feel that part of the puzzle is missing. What are you not telling me? You’ll put your mouth on anything wont you? Men don’t want you. They want a thin woman with long hair. I think you aunt A & P are gay. I’m in love with Ra. He’s not gay because he eats out Ro constantly. Ra always stairs at my crotch. I’m a good lover. There’s nothing in your eyes. I read a study on introverted people. I understand you now. Now I know its your personality and nothing I’ve done.

Show me how to cut through these filters just so I can keep typing this and not throw it away. Tell me how to not be afraid that I’m doing something wrong by typing this thing?

  • You have MD and will die before you’re 21. Take these vitamins.
    I’m going to tell the police Dr. M* is having sex with you if you don’t stop going to his office. The world says everything is a mother’s fault. That’s not a godly view. You don’t have a heart.

Will it be worth it, the struggle it’ll take to get past her voice? Do you really think that self talk is the way to remove the filter? As I understand it, my voice is the one that is wrong and bad and disloyal and a disappointment to her.I seem to think that nothing and nobody in the world is stronger than her. I seem to think that if she was put before a firing squad and they were given the order to fire she could convince them that I’m a liar and they’d turn the guns on me. Of course I’d live so she could nurse me back to health cause, well, that’s the kind of mother (fucker) she is. It’s all appearances, all lies and always my fault. So tell me again how self talk is going to break her voice?

Now, you want me to come up with treatment goals to do this task. HA!

Joan of Arc with
Morton of Morton’s Pride

**As of March 31st, 2007 all comments to this entry have been closed. This is now an archived post. Feel free to drop me a line at the guest book link found on the sidebar**

Therapy Assignment- Self Talk Part Two

Published on December 27, 2005 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD, Segments, Therapy and Therapy Assignments. 0 Comments


Self Talk and Therapy Goals Part Two
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
3:28 PM

What we are trying to get across is how much we fear this woman. We want you to know that we seem to remember every frikin thing she’s said to us. We fear her every day and in everything we do. She told us when we were little that we should see her face in our head and wonder if she would approve or disapprove of what we want to do. You know what? I’m 34 and I still see her. She’s got that disappointed look on her face right now.

  • You bring up controversial issues just to start arguments. No one is ever going to love you if you don’t change now. You think you have it bad here. When I send you to the KSSCH they’ll beat you and rape you and you’ll have to live with rats. The law says I have to feed you but it doesn’t say what I have to feed you. You kids are thieves. Who took the (chips or pop, peanut butter, etc.)?

She counted items in the house to make sure we weren’t eating anything. When we went out to eat if we didn’t finish everything we owed her a portion of the full cost of the meal. The thing is, when we didn’t eat we didn’t eat, when we did eat we ate large. We ate at some of the most expensive restaurants around the area. We had dinners with the weather man and his family and crazy shit like that. So when we did it, we did it up. But when she was punishing us for something we’d end up eating nothing but potatoes for 2 or 3 weeks. There was no even ground in that house. There were only extremes.

  • You’re a fool. Don’t be a fool. Don’t make yourself look like a fool. People will think you’re a fool.

Lord, I hated hearing that. I swear it was all for appearances cause nothing was right in that home. Even when we did live someplace there were mice my mattress, we had no blankets, curtains, wash rags, cups or basic house hold items like sheets and pillows, silverware or other things people take for granted.I feel like a liar telling you what she’s said. I fear you will think that no one ever tells their kid that they’ll rip their arm off and beat them with it. I fear that you will not believe me when I tell you that even though she made 120K a year that we still lived in the car. I AM A LIAR. That’s all I know. That’s all I’ve heard. I think I might doubt it if someone told me their mother made 120K a year at GM but they still lived in the car repeatedly. The very fact that I’m telling these things to a white woman is enough to make my mother sick to her stomach.

  • You like it when white people fart. You just sniff it all in. (You read that correctly. I did not misspell anything. There are no typos in that sentence.)
    You don’t fit in. Black people don’t want you and neither do white people. You don’t belong to either group. Don’t eat watermelon in public. White people already thing you’re a nigger, don’t prove it. There is no black culture. White people don’t respect black people that don’t speak properly. Speak properly and don’t give them what they want.

When a child grows up in the KKK but breaks away from the family, there will be certain phrases and beliefs that still haunt him/her. It is the same with us suburban black kids who grew up being told that no body black or white wants us but above all, white people don’t want us. If she is right, I do not fit in anywhere. If she is right then nothing I do matters because it will never be seen for its true value, it’ll be seen only as some foolish act by a black woman. Again, we come back to that word “fool.”I think she had something to say about everything. She never shut up. Not ever! As bad as she said I was, according to her I was the only person that could save her life in an emergency. She says doctors only go into that field because it gives them a legal license to cut on people. She says therapists go into the field so they can hear all the juicy gossip. Once when she and I went to the heart clinic she told me that if she passed out not to let the doctors touch her. She said to go get a bag of ice and put it over her heart. We were in a heart rehabilitation center! No amount of ice over her already cold heart would bring her back to life. Hell, I should have signed a DNR waiver. Let her die! Let the bitch die!

L, I want to be able to live without hearing her voice. You tell me to make therapy goals but it would mean I have to contradict all these things she’s said. Part of me needs to hurt so that part doesn’t want to entirely let go of this. I guess it’s to keep that part in its place. But then I know I want to walk outside my house and not worry that I’m going to run into our in the street someplace. I want to believe that I will not cower in front of her. Most of all, I want to have the regular sex life of an adult female and not worry about my mother or see her face. Part of me needs to be reminded of how bad I am. Part of me wants to simply disappear and not have to deal with this so that you don’t find out that this task you speak of just may be impossible. Then of course, we couldn’t show back up because we couldn’t take on the look of disappointment on another persons face.

Joan of Arc for
Morton’s Pride

**As of March 31st, 2007 all comments to this entry have been closed. This is now an archived post. Feel free to drop me a line at the guest book link found on the sidebar**

Anger is Exhausting

Published on December 27, 2005 in Mental Health and PTSD. 0 Comments

I am angry! I mean angrier than I’ve been in a long time. I want to throw stuff. I’m overwhelmed by everything… good or bad. I was learning about java scripts today and when i realized i was getting it i had a frikin panic attack. I wanted to get up and run. My startle response is high. I should go to bed before I lose my mind, or my temper.

Me, a very exhausted me

no title

Published on December 27, 2005 in Mental Health. 0 Comments

I am angry! I mean angrier than I've been in a long time. I want to throw stuff. I'm overwhelmed by everything… good or bad. I was learning about java scripts today and when i realized i was getting it i had a frikin panic attack. I wanted to get up and run. My startle response is high. I should go to bed before I lose my mind, or my tempor.

Me, a very exhausted me