Monthly Archive for February, 2006

Obsessive Cleaning

Published on February 28, 2006 in Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD and Therapy. 6 Comments Tags: .

When I start cleaning things I know there are issues inside that need to be dealt with. When I see dirt everywhere, when I would do the same load of laundry 3 times if it didn’t look strange to Barney, when I run disk defrag twice or change the bed sheets twice on Monday’s then I know I’ve got some issues to deal with. When I start that damn cleaning every inch of the house then it means inside is chaotic and in my mind that’s “unclean” it’s cluttered, it’s out of control. I know very well that when I start cleaning shit left and right that its really me I want to clean. I can’t scrub enough to get that feeling out of my head.

I was talking to someone, I can’t remember who, and I was telling her about rearranging the herb cabinet. I have 35 fresh herbs and spices so this was no small task. If you add in the store bought shit then the task is even larger. I was there for over 3 hours. The labels had to be just right. They all had to be in the same direction. I had herbs together, spices together, barriers and then whole spices together. Then I alphabetized them according to those specifications. Lord that was one very long night. But it felt like if I walked away my mind would crack more than if I stood there and re-arranged them for another friggin hour.

When I was cooking dinner today I could see every single speck of dirt in that kitchen. At one point I wanted to run out of there back to my relatively clean area. For the love of Pete, don’t let it rain. Rain means mud and that my mind can’t handle. This is getting crazy I tell ya, just crazy. I was watching King of Queens. They had a show about bed bugs. I had to turn that shit off. It wasn’t funny to me. Hell, I have enough trouble laying down in that bed without worrying about friggin germs. So, I turned it off.

I was so happy Barney wasn’t here to see me the other day when I about threw away a glass because of a perceived stain. God that was horrible. I knew I was doing it so I tried to just walk away from it.

Right now I’m feeling rather useless and like a failure. I feel a bit lonely too I think. If I could give in and lay down I might save myself a bit of trouble. Giving in hasn’t been something I’ve ever been able to do. I have to fight until there isn’t anything left. When I get to that point and lay down there is nothing but shame. I call it the Broken Boxer Syndrome. You fight as long as you can but for the sake of living you throw in the towel. There’s a bit of humiliation involved but you get to live in the end. Sometimes it feels like if I don’t lay down I’ll lose my friggin head. If I’ve been up for a few days in a row, fighting sleep, trying to contain my thoughts then that 4th night I end up throwing in the towel. I can’t take another minute of being awake so I just go lay down. But it feels like I have nothing left to fight with when I give in like that. I know what I’m going to dream. Hell I dreamed it again last night. so why on earth would I not fight it like this?

I was thinking too about the containers issue that I spoke of the other day. Not only do I keep containers but most of them are glass. I can see through them. I obviously have control issues. My dishes are mostly glass. I need to be able to see through them. I need nothing to be hidden on them, no areas where I can’t see through them. I have some plates that aren’t glass but most of them are glass and they’re the same exact plate from the same exact store. Again, control issues.

I have to throw in the towel. I have to either throw it in or break my teeth as I grit them and type this damn entry. God help me ‘cause obviously I can’t help myself.

Ariel
Obsessive Cleaning
Tuesday, February 28, 2006-3:46 AM

How To Ruin A Perfectly Good Baby Shower

Published on February 28, 2006 in Humor. 0 Comments Tags: .

Well, a friend of mine will be throwing her daughters baby shower. Having done catering, this would be a breeze for me. It would be an unemotional event, all business with no connection to the guests. I wont be a victim of 3am feedings or get stuck babysitting because the mom to be needs a break….or a drink cause for 9 months she couldn’t have a beer. I won’t be a new grandmother who has to come to grips with the fact that she can’t really call her daughter a baby girl anymore, not when said baby girl will be squeezing out a 10 pounder in a few months. See, I could do this baby shower without emotion but my friend can’t. I’ve decided to show her how to never be asked to throw another baby shower and to insure that she gets no more grandchildren. Also, her daughter’s friends will never return to her home again if she follows these instructions carefully. If she doesn’t follow these instructions she may get “stuck” throwing another baby shower. I’d have to come to the rescue and re-write these instructions. I hate to repeat myself so listen up!!

(for the sake of fun I’ve tossed in some rather questionable conduct not found in my friends daughter.)

Continue reading ‘How To Ruin A Perfectly Good Baby Shower’

The Abused Childs Beacon

Published on February 27, 2006 in Borderline Personality Disorder, PTSD, Relationships and Therapy. 0 Comments

We talked for only a few minutes, but what she said was profound. I asked if I could write about this. She said yes but that I couldn’t use her name.

She was just a kid when things turned from child’s play to the tragic reality of adulthood. She said she wasn’t sure if being abused by a female babysitter made her gay. She said was having sex early but only with like her best friend. Only one friend told her mom what she was doing with them. She worries now that maybe she abused those girls. They were of the same age, about 15 but she worries now that she abused them. She said that she once thought maybe all the girls in the neighborhood had the same baby sitter because none of her best friends objected to her advances. After having sex with her babysitter she worried that she might be gay and addicted to sex. She tried to force herself to like boys because the other 15 year old girls liked boys. Things got so confusing. When she visited her uncle and he tried to “mess with her” she figured it was because she bounced from house to house as an adopted child that no one really wanted. She was adopted but she still bounced around from one adopted family member to the next. She began to wonder if not being wanted by anyone made it okay for people to hurt her. Maybe that made her accessible to everyone no matter what the request, big or small.

It makes me wonder why people adopt just to abuse. I have to shake my head in disgust because I’ve heard it too many times. Children are given up in hopes of them getting a good home but they don’t. It’s a touchy subject, a sensitive situation; one that we hope will end up good for the child. It’s sad really, when someone gives up a child so that they can have a good future but then that child is broken by someone that by all rights could have shown some self control, a speck of morality and a bit of human compassion but they chose not to. That hurts beyond belief. Those that have been adopted into abusive families certainly have more questions than answers. They have a longer healing road than anything I could imagine.

She and I talked about being abused and about how our childhood friends seemed to be victims of abuse also. I told her it’s because we are drawn to each other the same way that abusers are drawn to kids that have been abused. They know us when they see us. They know what to look for and how to read our body language, our speech patterns, and our manner of dress. They know an abused child the way a ship recognizes a distant beacon signaling the presence of land.

Anyone that has had any significant amount of therapy knows I’m an abuse survivor. I dress like one, I talk like one, and I walk like one. I’ve got that beacon even though I’ve been in therapy for 15 years. It shines and anyone looking for someone to hurt can see that beacon. Anyone not looking for someone to hurt but that has been hurt themselves can see that beacon. My clothes are overly baggy. The sleeves on my shirts come down over my hands. My hats are pulled down on my head so that I can cover my eyes in an instant. I’ve got a million pockets in my pants; my hair is pulled back in a pony tail under the hat or in a bun so you can’t even see I have hair. I have a rather boyish appearance when in fact I feel very feminine most of the time. But it’s a way to protect myself, to make myself not stand out as a “sitting duck”… a girl. But all the things I do to keep myself from looking like a victim mark me as one. My behavior shines one big neon word “VICTIM”. I don’t consider myself to be of the victim mentality but the way I hold myself seems to scream it. This was true as a child too.

When it came to hanging with other kids that were abused, I could find them like a ship following that beacon. I could see their beacon the same as they could see mine. I didn’t know I was looking at it but that’s how I ended up with friends that had secrets.

When a survivor stumbles across another survivor they find comfort knowing that someone else understand how it feels to live with a secret. We know they understand how hard it is to do basic things without seeing that persons face right there reminding us that they humiliated us repeatedly. When we lay down, when we eat, when we dress, when we walk and talk, that person is right there affecting it all. When we find someone that knows how hard it is to function this way we find comfort in it. This person knows and we’re not going to hear how we should have done this or that. We should have told this person, we should have screamed louder, fought harder, ran faster, prayed harder. It’s almost like being held emotionally when we find someone that understands what we live with. We’re drawn to them by the same beacon that draws abusers only our intension is to connect not to destroy.

The same beacon that was used to hurt us can help us. When we find someone that understands we can be a source of support for them. We can offer support as well as receive it. It can be a way to decrease the brightness of that light that draws abusers to us. If I had a choice I wouldn’t deal with these issues of light but I do have to. If I had a choice I wouldn’t have a beacon on my forehead that draws people to me, but I do. In order to move forward I have to decide how to use that light. I have to realize that its there and I have to know how to filter out those who are drawn to it. I’m gonna get both abusers and survivors. I have to know which is which. If I never use the skills learned in therapy then I will never know who is who. I’ll never be able to turn something of potential harm to definite good. I want that for myself, I want to see something positive come from this big neon sign on my forehead.

Joan of Arc inside Morton’s Pride

The Abused Child’s Beacon
Monday-February 27, 2006-6:27 PM

Hiding In Black And White

Published on February 27, 2006 in Dissociative Identity Disorder and Therapy. 0 Comments

Saturday
25 February 2006
5:01 PMI read today that a person named Pilgrim collects containers of all sorts. She was saying that it seems like she is all over the place and feels uncontained. I could so relate to that. She says she has containers of all sorts and colours. What I was thinking when I read that was, I don’t keep the brightly coloured ones because colours are too loud for me. For me, colours make an impression, they stand out, and they’re unavoidable.

When I look at my house I see very few colours. The only thing of colour in this house is Captain’s red rug, that’s it. I keep soft blues and earth tones because they are low stimulus colours. I get all wigged out with bright colours. I can’t think and I border feeling frightened. When I do PC art I have to force myself to use brighter colours. Heck, I wear darker colours or plain white. My life is colourless. I seem to avoid it in a rather phobic way actually.

27 February 2006
12:01 AM

I realize that I avoid colours like the plague. It’s wild how far I’ll go out of my way to not be shocked by colour. When I read blogs I read them if they aren’t all bright and overwhelming but then I don’t like to read blogs with a solid black background either. When I write with a pen the ink has to be black, I don’t deal well with coloured ink. I don’t have an aversion to red because of blood issues but then again, you’ll never see me wear that colour. I can take colour in small doses when I'm doing well but other than that I need darker greens or faded out colours such as mauve and cream, periwinkle blue, shades of gray and earth tones. I feel much more calm, and hidden.

I’ve noticed that when I do artwork I want to make the border very soft and have it collapse on itself. I want the border to gradually suffocate the picture. I have no idea why I just described it that way but it is a pretty accurate description.

I have parts of my house that look like they’re …. Um, they’re set up to be sort of a scene or still life type things. I'm not explaining myself very well. The lazy boy is set up just so. Its …….. never mind.

UK says that she’ll be working on me to get some colour in my house. That makes me nervous. She gave me some flowers the other day to add to the house. She was not happy when I removed the colourful stuff and kept the foliage. It’s much more calm that way. It’s not all over the place. It’s contained. I need things that way.

I'm going to stop talking now.

Don Knotts Died but Barney Fife Lives

Published on February 26, 2006 in For the Record. 3 Comments
Its sad that Don Knotts died. I hate that people die.
As I’ve said many times, my roommate looks just like the guy. so i guess, in a way, Barney Fife lives on. what’s even sadder is that my roommates father looks like that famous wooden ventriliquist doll with the mouth lines and everything. and dont get me started on his mothers wig. the whole family is one TV charicter after another.
speaking of characters, Mic says that with no clothes on he looks like the Pilsbery Dough Boy. I must be the Whole Wheat Pilsbery Dough Girl.
What i found great about his movies is that even though he didnt have the leading man look he usually had a leading roll. On MSN they said that he usually got the girl in the end and that he usually had a hero type roll in the movies. I like that. They also said that his movies were family oriented and not huge blockbuster type films. I like that too. They also said he wasnt nervous and figity like his characters. He still makes me smile.
We’re gonna miss Donny and his one bullet.
Austin

Blogger Wars & Misunderstandings

Published on February 25, 2006 in For the Record and Soapbox. 0 Comments

Blogger Wars
Saturday, February 25, 2006
8:09 PMI was quite bored so I went online. I abandoned the music CD’s, DVD’s and housecleaning to read what others have to say about themselves and the world they live in. what I found was quite typical of the blogger world. Most of what I read was irritating, boring and uneventful but there were some that found their way into my favorite’s folder. I’ve discovered that there are cliques online that I just refuse to be part of. I keep seeing these blog rolls that take up half the sidebar. They’re filled with links to blogs that they like to read and blogs that they don’t like to read. I’ve seen a few arguments, one of which sparked this entry here. What gets me most is, people don’t seem to realize that they can decide to not read a persons blog if they don’t like what is written. They don’t have to leave stupid ass comments (of which I’ve been guilty from time to time) and they don’t have to get personal and cross boundaries.

Let me go back to the blog roll thing for a minute. I think I have about 30 blogs in my favorites file but you’ll never see the list on my sidebar. I'm too fickle; the blogs I read change all the time. Also, I'd get pissed at someone and remove their link OR before I really knew the person I'd put their link up and find out their psychopath and have to remove it later. Another reason I don’t do it is because if for some reason a new comer made a stupid ass comment I don’t want regular readers biting their head off for one stupid ass statement. I appreciate the “loyalty” but basically it shows that mistakes aren’t welcome when they are. I cant tell you how many times I’ve said something controversial that I wish I could take back but the crowd tore me apart and there was no way I was going back to explain myself. I just don’t want that kind of tug of war on my blog. I understand both sides of it but for my blogs it has no place.

The biggest complaint I’ve seen today concerns anonymous comments. I am on the bandwagon right there, heck I'm drivin’ that wagon! My thought is this, if you don’t have a blogger account and you want to leave a comment sign some kind of name at the bottom of the comment that you leave. Type in your tag name, some sort of nickname, heck, type Blogger X for all I care, just type in something. There is no such thing as hidden glory. Come out and say it, let yourself be known or shut the fuck up. This attitude is shared by countless blog authors. If you can’t sign “a name” don’t leave a stupid ass flaming comment. One blogger was upset because someone accused her of leaving a flame anonymously. She said something to the effect of, she wants credit for all her screw-ups and public out bursts and for that reason would never leave an anonymous comment. I thought, heck yeah, if you have something to say then at least let people know who to misquote. Leaving flamed comments with no signature is like being a sniper, you may be dead on but you’ll never get close enough to feel the glory. Snipers are considered cowards when shooting an unarmed man. If you have no name then you are unarmed and I dishonor myself if I decide to shoot back.

This leads me to the issue of arguing on blogs because of cruel and flaming comments that are either signed or unsigned.
The reason I blog is different than the reason you blog. My content is different than yours because my agenda is different. My opinions are my own and yours belong to you. I can respect that. When I step into your space I bring these opinions and ideas but I have no right to ever and I do mean NEVER tell you what you should or should not think. When I have crossed the line I have always gone back to face the music. I am human like the rest of the world so I'm going to say stupid things and leave insensitive SIGNED comments but I promise you that cruelty is not normally within my nature. If I become an ass I'm going to come back around to tell you that I know I was an ass and that I owe you an apology. Of course there is no obligation to accept the apology but if I feel I owe you one you will most certainly get it. If you step into my space with nonsense know two things: one, you’ll get a second chance and two, you won’t get a third.

The last step on my soap box is, nothing is hidden on the net. Once you post an entry or a comment it’s here for the world to view. With very good visible and hidden link counters and log counters your every move can be tracked. How do you think you get so much spam in your box? Have you noticed that if you are simply clicking past a site about dog houses the next spam message you’ll get is from someone selling dog houses? (I got spammed by the dog house sellter who's blog I passed by) Yeah, check your yahoo spam box instead of just emptying it. If you surf blogger or live journals and sites like that you will see your spam box total increase significantly. Trackers are everywhere, hidden and laid out for everyone to see. They can pick up info that pretty much gives your friggin home address and phone number. Cookies let people know where you surf and how often you surf. When you click on that Internet Explorer button your every move is recorded somewhere. So just remember, even when you think you are doing something “anonymously” you’re not, this includes entries and comments.

What I write is out here on the net flowing around with the potential to be misquoted and its context misconstrued in countless languages. Case in point: the entry entitled only me where Yahoo has me listed as some sort of DID psychopath with no soul on 10 pages of their directory. This was done innocently but it drives home the point that things can sooo be taken out of context.

Keeping all these things in mind will help you when you log on and read another persons blog or when you log on to post to your own. Just know, when you blog you’ve put yourself out here with all intelligent life and all the idiots who live among us. When stupid stuff comes up show some humor or show some backbone and let it go. If you can’t let it go, ask yourself why you cant let it go. If you feel you have to impress your readers by tearing the fuck out of an anonymous reader then ask yourself why you allow this blog peer pressure to exist. And if you have nothing better to do than to start trouble ask yourself why. Why don’t have I have a life of my own? Why do I feel the need to throw dirt on others just so I can breathe? I know when I’ve left a stupid comment I feel better for a little bit but that little kick leaves after a few minutes when reality sets in. I’ve just stepped on the toes of another human being and there is nothing fun about that. Once I hit that send button I can’t take it back. Was that one moment of spilled anger worth the harm I could have caused? Not in a million years. Think before you post and when you leave comments cause it matters what you say.

Austin's August

Sticks and stones may break my bones but WORDS will crush my soul.

attacks

Published on February 25, 2006 in Dissociative Identity Disorder and Mental Health. 0 Comments

the anger i feel right now is just ureal.
the anxiety is high too.
i started to jump up from this pc more than once just because the anxiety got too much.
pace the floor just to come back for a few minutes and then pace again.
i've been having these itching attacks too. i dont know what thats about. i'm wondering if it's what Colombo use to have. she got hives when she was anxious.

i think i've slept most of the last 2 days away but tomorrow/today i'm supposed to go with UK to her uncles house. it's almost 4am and i havent even gone to bed yet. i'm sooo putting it off. I hate sleep more than anything. i think i hate sleeping when the sun is down. it seems that when its up i can lay down but when its night time i fight it like nothing. the last few days that i've slept away have been actual days, not nights. hmmm… it seems like when the sun comes up a little voice in my head sounds off, "it's safe now. you can go to bed." i climb in with my furry family with very little difficulty.

right now my stomach is bubbling over. its been grumbling all day.
whatever

Destiny