Monthly Archive for February, 2006Page 2 of 6

Open This Book

Published
by
Austin
on February 21, 2006
in General Chatter
. 0 Comments

Open This Book
Monday, February 20, 2006
11:59 PM

At first glance these flowers look real. Some of them are, some arent. Some came from the florist but others are cheap plastic, something I found in the trash and put in a vase that cost me less than a dollar. They’re all beautiful though.

UK and I were talking the other day about how she has few female friends. I know why. She’s a threat to other females because she’s drop dead gorgeous in a supermodel kinda way. She’s 6 feet, she’s thin and she’s got an ethnic look with long blond hair to her butt. Heck, she might make a few models think twice about befriending her.

A woman I use to know stands about 5 foot 8 or 9, she’s a bigger girl, butch looking and rather immature. She appears to be no threat to anyone when it comes to jealousy and envy.

A man I know is average height, average build, older in years and wears a uniform and has the worst mouth of any man I’ve ever known. He might even turn you off before opening his mouth because nothing about him stands out. He looks like the average Joe. He doesn’t draw you to him like Denzel Washington, Tom Selak or those super fine Bridges brothers.

Had I been the type to judge a book by its cover I would have missed out on these special people. If I’d been the type to be easily threatened by looks I’d have missed out on how funny UK is. I wouldn’t have gotten to see up close what a good mother is. I wouldn’t have gotten to know that she is a good, good person and deserves friends both male and female. I get to watch her personality grow. I get to be here for however long to witness growth, back stepping and everything in between. Those that refuse to get to know her based on her looks will miss out on these things. Too bad for them!

Had I been the type to judge a book by its cover I wouldn’t have ever known what true safety feels like. Taz is the only person on this earth that I’ve ever felt completely comfortable with. When I laid in her arms I didn’t worry about anything. I relaxed; I enjoyed her laugh, her immature nature, her quarks and most of all the warmth that she showed in most situations. She too is a good person. I could have missed out on knowing her had I judged her by the way she looks or worried about what others would think about how she looks. For the time I was given with her I got to see her move about life clumsily, go from job to job and squander away her youth like most do. What she use to do is no different than what others have done. You know what that means? This woman is just like everyone else, a little different, unappreciative of youth and generally warm underneath a rough exterior.

This man that I spoke of is close to my heart. By all rights he’s the average Joe. You know what though? The average Joe is what I want. When he opens his mouth I have to get past all the cursing but I can hear in the tone of his voice that he has more to offer than what is on the surface. People could learn from his work ethics, from his dedication to animals and human kind. They could learn how to be more flexible. He can go from rough and tough to gentle in seconds. I’ve seen this armed man go from his “super cop” ego to humble when approached by a child. It’s a wonderful thing to see. He does not have a halo and doesn’t have wings beneath that blue uniform. As a matter of fact he barely scrapes by on the moral scale but what makes him a person worth knowing is his vulnerable side, the human side. Underneath all that language and off beat cop humor is a man that struggles to find his place in this world. Underneath all that confidence there are true insecurities that everyone in the world shares.

None of these people are perfect, in fact they get on my nerves routinely but all in all they have something to teach me about life that I may have missed had I judged them by how they look.

If you’re willing to open a book before judging the contents you just might find that on the inside people are the same. We want the same basic things but most importantly to live we all require the exact same thing.

I don’t have angel wings either. I get on people’s nerves. I mess up, fail people and step on toes often. But basically, I’m a good person. So who am I? I’m a fat black chick that stands 5 foot 5. I can make you laugh or come up with a slur that’ll cut you to the core. I make horrible first impressions but I have to ask you to look past that and give me a chance to show you what’s inside. If you choose not to get past my first impression then I can’t blame anyone but me because I know my first impressions suck. But if you get past that first stumbling block and you decide you don’t like what you see then leave. But if you judge me solely by the way I look then I pity you. We could have had a wonderful exchange.

This Is What I Understand

Published
by
Austin
on February 20, 2006
in Soapbox and Therapy
. 0 Comments

This Is What I Understand
20 February 2006
1:45 PM I watched the movie Hide & Seek last night. I can see a few parts of last nights dream that were taken from that movie. The parts that coincide with the movie are highlighted in red. The part that represented my mother AND was part of the movie is the very last bold red highlighted area. My mother was a business woman. She seemed lovable, funny and odd but she didn’t appear to be an abuser. Boy was she!

I had a dream that I lived with my father instead of my mother. In the dream my father was Michael J. Fox. I have no idea why, maybe because when I was a kid I watched that show a lot and my mother said that I was very much like him. Anyway though, in the dream he was my father. He was an abusive father though. This particular day I did something he didn’t like and he was going to use the dowel rods on me. He sent my little sister (who does not exist) into the kitchen to tell me to stop prepping the turkey and come get whipped. I didn’t budge. I cut basil leaves and kept doing what I was doing. When I turned around the little sister had a thick dowel rod in her hand about to swat me. I stopped the dowel rod before it hit me and looked up at the mother. This was her first appearance in the dream. The scene changed to me in a different kitchen playing the board game Sorry, a game I played as a child. I told the mother I didn’t want to play that game with her because she took it too seriously and it always ended up in her wanting to hit me. The scene switched again to a playground outside. It was dark and the playground was flooded from several days of rain. There was a huge cage inclosing the playground. Something happened but I can’t remember what it was.

I wanted to show her how it felt to be whipped with a dowel rod. I started chasing her but it wasn’t her, it was Michael J. Fox. He made it out of the maze type cage and ran across a field. He then just sat down with his back to me. I swatted him several times but I remember thinking that there was no way he could get the full effect because the dowel rod was too thick. There was no give to it, which decreased the amount of pain. This meant he didn’t get the full understanding of what it felt like to be hit with one of those things. While trying to hit him he managed to stay clean from all that mud. While trying to hit him we talked about his childhood. He said his mother used a dowel rod on him. I asked why he didn’t use a belt like other people did. He said he didn’t think they’d work. He repeated that his mother used a dowel rod but then added that he often thought he’d lose his mind when getting hit by them. The whole time we were talking I was hitting him on the back. I asked him if he thought it was right to make his own children walk that same edge because of a dowel rod? He said, “I didn’t know.” I thought to myself, how could you not have known, you’ve felt this?

We started walking back to the house. I hit him on the back every few steps. This is what happened to my great-grandmother when she was a little girl except she was hit with a horse whip every few steps back to the farm house. Back at the house things were normal again until a new mother came into the picture. This was a talk, thin black woman about 50 years of age. She had long dark brown hair and features that were not that attractive but she was to be my new mother married to my father who was still represented by Michael J. Fox. By this time I the younger sister was about 6 years old. She stood beside me and an older brother (who does not exist) as I told her about the dowel rods. She started to explain that she wasn’t trying to replace our real mother and that she knew she was an outsider coming into an already established family. I told her that if we didn’t love her and trust her we wouldn’t consider her our mother. I then told her that the only time our father ever touched us was when he was hitting us. She was shocked, like she didn’t know he was a violent man. He put on airs. He was a business man, a well dressed, very social and distinguished character that no one knew had a different side. I remember laying in the new mother’s chest feeling like someone had come to rescue us from him.

When I explained that Fox’s mother used a dowel rod on him did you say to yourself, “Oh, okay” as if things fit together to explain his behavior? I know abused children often grow up to abuse their own children. I know this is a fact. I think what gets under my skin is on more of a personal level. To me is seems to offer understanding to my mother. It offers pity and maybe even forgiveness. That makes me angry because I know what she did to me. I know what my nightmares are like and I know how she worked hard to break my mind. To offer her any kind of understanding takes away understanding that I feel I should get. She’s the one that hurt me but when other say, “oh, okay” then the focus is off what she did and turned onto possible reasons for why she did it. The case is, she did it and now I have DID. It’s not going to help anything to go back and say, well she was abused and that’s why she abused you unless of course I'm looking to offer blind forgiveness. I can not, I will not offer her any understanding because what she did she could have prevented. She could have gotten help but instead she looked for ways to maximize the pain. That is why she used a dowel rod instead of a belt. One day I asked why she used a dowel rod. Her answer was, “because it hurts.” Tell me where blind forgiveness is in order and I’ll find a way to fit it in.

To me, an abused child who becomes an abuser is worse than those that abused him. He knows how it feels to be at the other end of a fist, at the other end of abuse. To do this to another being, especially a child, makes him a bigger heartless monster than his parents were. If you know how it feels but you do it anyway then there is no “oh, okay” that can explain any part of your behavior.

If you decide that abuse is something you’re capable of and you carry out that abuse, don’t ask me to be willing to remember how you grew up so that I can “understand.” I'm not willing to look for truth and answers in places where I’ll only find lies and excuses.

We tell adults that they can’t always fall back on, “but my childhood was abusive.” We tell them that they have to move on. They have to leave the past behind them UNTIL it comes to explaining why they themselves became an abuser. Then we offer understanding by saying that her parents were abusers. We tell people they can’t have it both ways then we make room for them to have it both ways.

I know that many abused children grow up to abuse and some grow up to be murderers. Our childhood has much to do with the adult we turned out to be. I believe if that foundation is rocky it will be difficult to build a stable adulthood. Difficult doesn’t mean impossible. If you know how it feels to be broken why on earth would you ever want anyone else to feel that powerless or that humiliated? If you know the fear that was in your heart, if you know and can feel those huge hands on you why on earth would you ever put your hands on someone else that was defenseless? If you do this, don’t ask me to remember how bad you had it as a child. I’ll remember that you knew how it felt. I’ll understand that you had choices and options unlike the child you hurt. I’ll understand all these things when I'm sitting on a jury of your peers to decide how long you should stay in prison.

Forgiveness

Published
by
Austin
on February 20, 2006
in General Chatter, PTSD, Soapbox and Therapy
. 1 Comment

Many people say that forgiveness means to move on and to let go of the anger and that it doesn’t mean that the person is no longer responsible for what they’ve done. They say that forgiving an abuser is more for the abused than the abuser. Evidently letting go of the anger is a major part of this forgiveness that people talk about. I’ve been told that I harbor anger and that until I let go of it I won’t totally heal. I know there are different definitions of forgiveness. When I was in Grand Rapids, Michigan one of the psychologists explained her version of forgiveness. She said that forgiveness means giving up the right to revenge. I can live with this definition. It’s concrete with no ambiguity. It’s simple, unassuming and clear cut, just like I need it to be. I can live with that definition but the forgiveness that I get shoved down my throat from others is based on what they can live with, not what I can live with. Many people tell me that I need to forgive my mother based on their rather blurred description of what forgiveness is.

This is still a complex issue for me even with a clear cut definition. I mean, I won’t be killing her but it still feels like it’s not enough for some people. My view of forgiveness when it comes to my mother is that I’d have to say that I wouldn’t hold the abuse against her anymore. Based on that, forgiving my mother would mean to me that the air between us would be clear and we could start over. It would mean that no justice should be sought for what she’s done and that she got away with it. While I don’t feel that prison is the place for her right now, I do feel that she should have to remember daily that she ruined the life of her children. The problem is, she doesn’t accept responsibility for what she’s done so she isn’t feeling any pain like I feel. She’s not up at night or tossing and turning in bed. She’s not fretting when she sees the colour yellow or when she sees a green Ford roll by. She’s not even close to feeling the pain I feel and not even considering owning up to what she’s done. She’s not suffering like I suffer so would it really make a difference if it the abuse was kept before her daily?

This is all swirling and there is so much going through my head right now. One thing is for certain, I feel like I’d be giving up the right to be angry and the right to say that what she did was horrible and damaging. It feels like I would need to stop working through this shit and that I’d never get any better because all has been forgiven and I should just move on from here. Like maybe the slate is wiped clean and now no one talks about how Austin is supposed to heal from what was forgiven. Forgiveness in this sense seems like it would trap me in this very spot, like if I forgave her then I should never bring up the abuse again. Like maybe it all gets shoved under the rug and we don’t look at it anymore because I forgave her. I’d just be out here trying to make it on my own with no real right to talk about these things because if I did it would mean I removed the gift of forgiveness and that would make me out to be the bad girl. If something is forgiven then it’s gone, you can’t see it. If you can’t see it you can address it. If you can’t address it then nothing gets fixed and I end up muffled when what I really want to do is stand up and scream THIS WOMAN HURT ME GODDAMNIT. SHE HURT ME.

I spent many years building walls to keep that woman out of my heart. I spent many years fighting her emotionally and mentally. It’s who I am, it’s the only me I truly know. Outside of being a survivor I’m not sure who I am. Outside of my experiences with her I may not exist. Does this mean I want to hurt at this level? Hell no, it means that once I figure out how to not feel so defeated I’ll be free to find a new identity. I’m willing to do that. I’m willing to find a way to not hurt at this level while not offering any compassion to her. What I’m not willing to do is say the way to do it is to exercise some vague idea of forgiveness. I’m not willing to say I forgive this woman so that others can feel comfortable or validated. When it comes down to it, it’s me I go to bed with at night. It’s me that I see in the mirror and me I have to be able to respect. To say that I forgive her based on an abstract idea is to lose something I fought so hard for. I lose me. She was wrong and few dispute that. She was terribly wrong so how on earth does your general idea forgiveness jive with that?

I think one of the biggest problems I have with the idea of forgiveness is that it’s an abstract idea. There isn’t any clear cut way to do it. But based on the definition from the woman in Michigan I can at least gather that and make a conclusion. Forgiveness means giving up the right to revenge. That’s simple. I can do that. I won’t kill her. The only thing to do from there is move on to the next step. But this other idea is much more complex and doesn’t really offer any guidance through the maze. So, based on what I can grasp and I feel I’m capable of I can offer my mother forgiveness in the form of giving up the right to revenge. If you ask me to offer anything else in the form of forgiveness be prepared to give a sound, concrete way to do it. If you only have abstract ideas of forgiveness then don’t waste your breath or your time, just keep on walking. The last thing I need is a bunch of puzzle pieces with no idea what the end result is supposed to be. Don’t give me anything abstract.

How Forgivness Is Explained As An Abstract Idea

Forgiving myself Part One of Three

Forgiving myself Part Two of Three

Forgiving myself Part Three of Three - Forgiveness Opens and Closes Doors

Forgiveness
20 February 2006
4:00 PM

Coping Skills Cache: Cigs-Coffee-Token

Published
by
Austin
on February 20, 2006
in Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD and Therapy
. 0 Comments

It is written that we should live by faith and not by sight. Because my mind is human and frail I lean towards tangible understandings, things I can see and feel. I depend on concrete images and stimulants to stay grounded and in the present. This is where my coping skills cache comes in. When things go hay wire inside and I want to hide under a table or sit in a corner and rock there are three items that help keep me half way stable until I can get home. In order of importance my coping tangibles are: cigarettes, coffee, token.I’ve been a bit nervous about this whole state wide smoking ban. The campus is said to be totally smoke free by August. Great! One of the things that keeps Joan forward is smoking. It keeps her grounded. There have been times, many times, when the only thing keeping Joan forward was having a cig in her hand. She’s got about a 2 hour max for being in public. After that we go into panic mode and things get hairy from there. If you ask us our name we can’t tell you. If you want to know where we live, we can’t tell you. We can’t get ourselves home. We brake down quickly and end up handing someone our note that Cappy carries telling them to call our emergency contact person so they can come and get us. That is humiliating to have to do.

Joan is our front runner, she takes us to the doctor, to the store, the bank and anywhere else we go outside the house. She handles all outside people except the mother, Morton handles her. When inside is chaotic it’s kinda hard to get everyone completely asleep and stay asleep so that Joan can focus and stay grounded. Sometimes the others pop out while she’s trying to get us to and from places or trying to visit with others like UK or the secretaries at the med center. What Joan does for us is extensive but how she does it is simple, smoking, coffee and a token. If you take out the smoking then we lose a major functioning resource. Joan is the one who walks down the street, gets the mail, interacts with our roommate, talks to Mic or anything dealing with us outside of our apartment area. When the phone rings Joan picks it up. When the door bell rings, Joan answers. If she can’t smoke on campus or in the cab coming home then there are a lot of times when we will simply have to stay home.

Coffee makes up the second part of our coping tangibles. In addition to cigs, coffee can keep me grounded for an extended period of time. The other day I was joking about Folgers having the answer for everything. Well, I was sorta kidding and sorta not. I use to say that I could walk through fire if I had a cup of coffee. It’s that important in my coping skills cache. I didn’t really understand why until a therapist of mine explained that the aroma of brewed coffee carries a similar ingredient in Prozac and that that ingredient assists in mood elevation. I had no idea why I could simply brew coffee and not even drink it but feel better until she explained that to me.

We also use what is called a token to help keep us grounded. We borrowed this idea from a group of clients that we use to see awhile back. We worked with Autistic individuals as well as those with profound Schizophrenia. The Autistic clients carried a token with them that they pulled out when they were losing it or about to lose it. One guy had a playing card that he wrote his name and address on. For some reason that was enough to ground him. He’d pull it out and look at it and you could see him begin to calm down almost immediately. It was quite amazing how it worked, so I figured I could do the same thing for myself. I carry a wooden ladybug that I got at a dollar store. It had wire antennas on it but since I was holding it in my hand and flipping it around I had to take them off. It was just quite painful getting scratched up by the wire so I loosened them and plucked them out. It makes it easer, and less painful, to spin in the palm of my hand and run through my fingers. I keep it in my pocket at all times. They’re supposed to be table cloth weights but I don’t use them for that. Sometimes I clip one right on Captain’s service jacket.

These three things are important to my functioning. When it comes to staying grounded I seem to need something other than the sound of another human voice to keep me in the here and now. It doesn’t matter how much another person tells me that it’s 2006 and I’m safe because a voice is as abstract as the ideas it is spitting at me. Every other voice melts into a sea of other voices, mine, those inside, every voice is the same. I can’t see it. I can’t touch it. I realized how much I depend on visual cues this week end. I was rethinking my living room arrangement when I realized that one item couldnt be moved to another room comfortably. I was going to move my coffee station to the office area but I realized that I needed to see the coffee station in the living room. I spend a lot of time in the office but the living room is where my dining room table is, that’s where the main TV is and it’s where my company sits when they’re here. To move the coffee station into the office would be to remove a symbol of security and a reminder that if I need it I can flip the switch and have Folgers “in an instant.”

I’ve been drinking coffee forever. When I was about 18 I got my first coffee maker. It was a 4 cup Mr. Coffee that sat on my dresser. I knew then that I wanted a whole area dedicated to coffee. Since then I’ve designated a part of the house to coffee. It’s my own little coffee shop or coffee station. Yes, I’m obsessed. I know. But this little area means a lot to me. It’s all mine and set up just the way I like it. Sometimes people would like to have little areas set up for prayer or a certain corner and chair set aside for reading. I have one for coffee. It makes me happy so I do it. Ah, I should mention that I often drink decaf or ½ and ½ so as not to overdose on caffeine. I’ve even cut down on the amount of coffee I drink. I was at 2 twelve cup pots a day of regular coffee. I’m down to decaf 2 cups a day. So, I’m doing pretty good. All I need is to see it and know it’s there and I’m okay. Maybe in August when this state becomes less free I’ll be seen with a full mug instead of a lighter and menthols. I’ve got to do something or I’ll be stuck in this house too afraid to leave.

**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**

Hide & Seek

Published
by
Austin
on February 20, 2006
in General Chatter
. 0 Comments
I just watched the movie Hide & Seek, OMG that is a good movie. A friend of mine told me what the movie was about so I felt comfortable watching it. There were parts that bored me and I wanted to fast forward but man, oh man! I see why people say Dakota Fanning is a good actress. All I can say is OMG!!

There were times when I though, oh, that’s not right. This is wrong in so many ways but I kept watching. I started to get up and turn on the light but I was rather glued to my chair. At one point I jumped so high that it scared Captain. It was funny. I can’t wait to tell UK I borrowed her sister’s movie two days ago and I just now got around to watching it. She said it was good. This is my type of movie; I don’t like the supernatural, spirit-type movies but this type of movie I can enjoy. I’ll never watch The Exorcist or heck I won’t watch The Blair Witch Project or Chucky but this one was pretty good. I’m a Robert De Niro fan too. I love that guy. He was good in “Godsend” as well.

When I watch movies or read books I flash back to the days when I took English in high school. We learned about foreshadow and things like that. I kinda kicked into that mode with this movie too. When I saw the cat yawn in his cage I knew he’d have a certain roll in the movie. I didn’t expect him to get killed but I knew he had a roll in the movie. I think the neighbors were just characters to throw the viewer off base so it would be a surprise who the real killer was. All the town’s people were weirdos I mean to tell ya. They creeped me out more than De Niro did. I’ll definetly be watching this one again when I reactivate my Netflix account next month.

Oh yeah

Published
by
Austin
on February 17, 2006
in General Chatter
. 0 Comments

heck yeah, Barney is gone until Monday. This means I can move about the house freely, no worries about dressing appropriately because he's home. He said not to have any wild parties while he was gone. I told him that the last time he was out of town he had no idea that I'd thrown 2 parties and that he'd have no clue when he returns this time. I also told him that I'd be renting out his bed to drifters but that I'd have it washed and made before he returns and that all the pepperment (my favorite candy) will be gone when he gets home too. He said, okay, as long as it's all clean when I get back. He's going star gazing with his daughter. I didnt even know he had a telescope. I've never been up to his part of the house so I didnt notice that he had a huge telescope in his upper study. I learn more about this guy every day.

i found out that the reason he cleaned the other day was because he had a date. it was too sweet. he had a large heart shaped box of chocolates on v-day. I left a note on top of it telling him that the chocolate guide was no good because I moved all the candies around. Of course I didnt but it was funny.

i watched half of my favorite movie today. I like the movie The Village. I like the way they word things.
i talked to Mrs.R* and told her that I love her. She told me she loves me too. we talked about a few things and then her phone needed to be recharged. we hung up from there.

last night the winds got up to 70 miles per hour. I expected to wake to see the privacy fence face down but it wasnt. its going to have to be replaced though because its damaged now. the part by my window will need to be replaced. man did it howl last night. it rained pretty hard too. I like to listen to it when I sleep. It's soothing.

I'm in one of those isolating moods today, low key, mild and not up for much company. Maybe I'm not so much isolating as I am one that prefers to the quiet of being alone. I'm supposed to go visit UK later today. I hope Joan comes back out because I'm not that much in a social mood right now. I started the lavender plants yesterday evening. It said to start them inside 6 to 10 weeks before spring. they look really good in the Starbucks bottles. I had fun filling them. UK and I are supposed to fill more today but if Joan doesnt find her way out it wont happen. She doesnt know my dx. I dont want to show up and not be the person she knows and expects to see. I did see her once and she noticed the lack of zip and skip that Joan is known for. she said I was quiet and withdrawn.

Maureen

symptoms

Published
by
Austin
on February 17, 2006
in Dissociative Identity Disorder and Mental Health
. 1 Comment

i slept most of Thursday. I was so tired for some reason. I've had a lot of unexplained fatigue lately. I'll see about it on Tuesday when I see my regular doctor. I wonder if my emotional state is effecting my physical state. I've started having headaches again too. the anxiety is through the roof. I'm still taking clonapin daily were as I only needed it maybe once a week before. my appetite is low. the palms of my hands itch. It feels like a frikin attack sometimes, they just start itching like crazy. the right hand feels so cold sometimes. the fingers feel really cold. i think it can all be explained away as symptoms from emotional stress save the itchy palms. I dont know what that's about. Anyway though, I'm going in to see Dr. P on Tuesday. That'll be a long day too. I see him in the morning then come home only to return at 4pm to see the therapist. I dont know if I'm seeing Mic or not. The am doc is at 9. I wont be hanging out at the medical center until my therapy appointment. that's crazy.

i've got to lay back down.

i use the word lay even though i know the proper word is lie. I dont like the word lie.

I Can Relate When I Feel Validated

Published
by
Austin
on February 17, 2006
in General Chatter and Therapy
. 1 Comment

When I hold Gracie on my chest I sometimes bounce her up and down. I've asked myself why it feels sometimes that I favor her over Captain. I realized today that it's because when she lays to sleep I'm watching over this defenseless life. I'm protecting her so she can relax and sleep well safely. she doesn't need to have a care in the world as she sleeps on my chest. Captain doesn't seem defensless so when I'm feeling a bit down or a bit unstable I find comfort in being the protector of someone more at risk for harm than myself.

 

this brings me to something i said just the other day.
I was wondering why it is that people watch shows like Three And A Half Men for entertainment. I wondered the same thing about CSI, Without A Trace, Law & Order and other shows that deal with death or victimization. I realized yesterday that I watch them because I can relate to them. I can relate to the hurt children on SVU, I can relate to the pain felt by those looking for their loved one and I can relate to the passion shown by Grissom on CSI. I watch them because I can see a little part of me. I watch them because they validate me. They don’t entertain me, they validate me. I don’t know if the producers feel the same way or if it’s all just a money game for them. What I do know is I tune into these shows for self expression. Sometimes what I feel is so locked up that it takes seeing someone else’s struggle to pull out things I need to work on.I often feel isolated and insignificant. I isolate myself emotionally by refusing to get close to people. When I turn on the TV I guess I see some of the characters doing the same things I do. It makes me feel like I might be half way normal or equally as crazy as the rest of the world. Because so much is bottled up I need to borrow their emotions so that mine can be triggered. Now, I'm not say that I turn on the TV for therapeutic reasons or that I sit and think, hum, what show can I watch to trigger emotions? But when a show comes on and a red flag goes up I sometimes ignore the flag and watch the show anyway. I watch to almost give myself permission to feel, permission to not stuff.

There are still shows out there that I just don’t get. I don’t see the purpose of them, like say the show House. I hardly ever watch it. The man makes me angry. He’s callous, reckless and a bad example for those seeking to excel in the medical field. I don’t get that show; it’s a simple as that. What I do understand and can relate to is his fear of intimacy. But that one connection isn’t enough to make me put up with his other behaviors. I see he has talent but no personal life. His character has a good head on his shoulders but he’s held back by odd and reckless behaviors. His mind is good, his body is bad. His mind is strong, his flaws and failings are stronger. Is this why people flock to the show? To see a man teetering on the edge of being broken but somehow manages to keep his feet on the ground? Is that the connection that draws people to that show?

I don’t get red flags from House. I’ve only seen the show a hand full of times. I watched the show with one of the other characters in it. He was the man that killed himself in the movie Dead Poet’s Society. I got plenty of red flags while watching that. When that red flag goes up and says that I'm going to be triggered but I watch anyway I know I'm looking to release a lot of emotion. I write a lot. I draw, paint and exercise but I manage to hold back more than I express. I'm afraid of it. I'm afraid that if I really open up I'm going to crumble. I make little cracks in these walls when I disregard red flags to watch SVU or Criminal Minds. Maybe these little cracks will let out emotion slowly so that when it comes time to really knock down these walls there won’t be an uncontrollable flood.

Joan of Arc

Wednesday in a few words

Published
by
Austin
on February 15, 2006
in General Chatter
. 0 Comments
Wednesday in a few words

Wednesday, February 15, 2006
2:00 PM

A friend says that she didn’t pity me until she found out that I’m lactose intolerant. It’s a good thing I didn’t mention that I’m not crazy about chocolate. I did something totally out of character last night. I walked to the Quickie Mart at 1AM to buy chocolate covered peanuts. After Barney gave me one of his V-Day chocolates I wanted some so instead of smacking him with my coffee mug and running off with the box I went and got my own. This means I still don’t have a criminal record. I came so close though. Sheshh, close call.

Aussie

113999286704910496

Published
by
Austin
on February 15, 2006
in Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health and Therapy
. 0 Comments

there's a lot of shit rolling around in my head right now. the therapist and i were going to touch on why I feel so guilty and why its so hard to talk about the abuse of my brother and sister.