Monthly Archive for February, 2006Page 3 of 6

Write A Book

Published
by
Austin
on February 15, 2006
in Mental Health and Therapy
. 1 Comment

Write A Book

The song In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel is playing right now. This song makes me sad, I think because it was popular when I was in high school. I never turn it off when it comes on though. I’ve been listening to the radio lately. I don’t watch much TV or listen to the radio much. I listen to CD’s from time to time but mostly the house is quiet. Most people can’t stand this kind of quiet but for me it’s a need.

This is another one of those nights when I'm fighting sleep.

A friend of mine says that I should write a book. Know why I don’t? Because I fear that I may be totally wrong about the abuse. I fear that there will be a huge backlash from my family and I’ll be exposed as a liar and I’ll be shamed and shoved back in the dark. WOW, the strong girl reveals the amount of doubt that exists in her head. Of course ya know, I was raised to believe I'm a liar.

I see that woman’s face as I write this. I see the blank expression on it that comes just before the look of disappointment and the sigh just before she spits my name to accent that disappointment.

(Virgin Millionaires, Bombs Away)
I like rock and punk. I like the guitars. When I hear the song by Godsmack that was in that move with The Rock I can see him bend over and scream the lyrics. There is so much emotion in that. It seems like it would be such a release to be able to scream like that. To be able to scream that way would mean I'm comfortable with moving my body freely and letting my voice be heard without inhibitions. It is so easy to write on the internet. I know people read this but the truth is, the screen is white with little black letters. It’s silent screaming really.

(Kanye West, Gold Digger)
We seem to like the rap songs too. It seems so angry most of the time. It brings out the rebel in us, the youth, the wild side. I have to compliment Kanye West for speaking up during the Hurricane Telethon. While I can’t say I agreed with everything he said, I have to say that he took advantage of a perfect opportunity to be heard. Millions of people in I think it was 30 countries watched him at that moment. He said what he felt he needed to say. Weather people wanted to hear it or not they did. Even if you didn’t agree with what he said, you gotta admit he knows how to make the most of an opportunity.

(Rob Thomas, Ever The Same)lk
This man makes me hurt. This means it’s time to turn the radio off. I have all the Matchbox Twenty CD’s. I like his voice, it’s full and strong. I like his lyrics too. But at this moment it would be stupid to listen to them. If I intend to go to bed anytime soon then it’s best to turn the radio off.

Robert, 19

My First Gray Hair on Valentines Day

Published
by
Austin
on February 14, 2006
in General Chatter
. 0 Comments
When you dont know where to turn, turn to Folgers. When you know where to turn but you just dont wanna , turn to Folgers. Folgers is the answer to all lifes problems. There’s a flavor out there to sooth all your ills. If the flavor doesnt help the cafeene will. Folgers is the answer.
So what’s my problem? I found my first gray hair today. I’ll be drinking for the remainder of the day. If anybody needs me I’ll be on the loveseat drowning in my sorrows in Folgers.
When I first saw the gray hair I panicked. I was like, oh my God; this is supposed to happen to everybody else not ME. After a few seconds I thought to myself, this is a good thing. It’s a good thing because it means I’m getting older. Getting older means I’m further way from the abuse. A friend said I should pluck it out and burn it.
I’m not happy that my body is getting old. I know I’m only 34 but my body is much older. The scars from the abuse are on my hands and my joints. My hands don’t want to hold a pen for long because of all the damage done to them when I was a kid. My joints ache and cause me problems because of sleeping in the snow. My ears have failed to a degree from getting hit in the head too many times. So yeah, my body is much older than 34 years. I feel like a complainer sometimes, like people might think I’m a hypochondriac. Oh well, they’re not here and they don’t know. Besides, they’re not up at night dealing with it so what the hell ever!

So far the goals I’ve gotten done today are nada. The discovery of the gray hair was a shock. I never expected to make it out of the 4th grade. I never expected to make it out of high school. I expected to kill myself before I finished college. To be alive today seems surreal. How on earth did I survive that woman and all she did? I lived through her when by all rights I shouldn’t have. Damn! How ya like me now???Posted by Picasa

For further pick me up go visit: this man is hilarious.

Things that make you go hmm

Published
by
Austin
on February 14, 2006
in Mental Health, Therapy and Therapy Assignments
. 0 Comments

It’s a good thing that I was kinda iffy about going to therapy today because the therapist canceled. Evidently there was some sort of emergency that she needed to attend to. This is only the second time she’s cancelled, that I remember anyway. I think she had strep throat last time. I guess my issue is this; if there is a time when I really need her will she have to cancel then too? The time she had strep throat and had to cancel we were supposed to call about my food stamps. I was so stressed about it because the caseworker was giving me heck and raising then lower them repeatedly. I just moved here and my rent more than doubled but my income stayed the same. I was all stressed out about the caseworker and we were to call her together during my appointment. When she canceled I was so upset. The secretary said she really was sick and that she hadn’t just broken a nail and called in to say she couldn’t see patients. I was a put at ease then. But the disappointment and the anger didn’t really dissipate until much later. I felt like she didn’t come through for me on something very important. I can’t say that I'm totally settled with that canceled appointment because of what we were supposed to do. I felt like she let me down.

This week end was a rough one. It’s been ages since I’ve needed to take Clonapin on a regular basis. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been so closed up inside that any attempt at consolation causes me to lash out. I wanted to throw the kitten. When I block beings out like that and don’t want them in at all it means I’ve got some serious issues and I need to go to therapy. I didn’t want to go last night. I didn’t want to touch what I'm feeling about my brother but when it makes me want to throw the kitten then it needs to be addressed. Cap knows now that there are times when it’s best to not stay underneath me. I don’t feel like I'm a threat to either one of them, not when I know how it feels to be on the other end of fist.

I was supposed to tell her that I didn’t want to have a cupcake party but I got left before I could exit on my own. How do I feel disappointment when I'm the one who wanted to tell her I didn’t want the cupcake party? I like to leave first. I wanted to be the one to tell her how I feel about it but that didn’t happen. I got left first. Abandonment issues are complex.

I don’t see her again until next week. That pissed me off too. I think that what upsets me the most is how disruptive it is to my routine. I'm knocked below my comfort level. If I'd known Friday that I wasn’t having therapy on Tuesday, if I'd known Monday that I wasn’t having therapy today I could have had more time to get my balance. I got up today expecting to go to therapy. I had a message on my answering machine saying that she wouldn’t be able to make it.

I don’t do transitions very well. I don’t do make the transition from day to night without anxiety. I don’t make the transition from being awake to laying down to sleep without anxiety. Heck, I'm not a spontaneous kind of girl at all. I'm routine, lists, planning and executing from step A to step B. when someone changes step B without warning I fell like I'm just spinning.
Although this is not like living with my mother, the feeling of sudden change feels similar. With the mother I had plan A and plan B. If this or that changed then I had plan B to fall back on. Usually those plans dealt with weather or not I would be abused. With the therapist this isn’t the case so I'm kinda like, okay what do I do now? There are no punches to follow the change of plans. There are no insults, no reminders of how much of a bad child I was. So I'm kinda sitting here trying to figure out what to do next. I had some goals planned for the day. I need to get to those. I needed to kinda process this out a bit though so that I could go about my day without all this spinning in my head. Is this where the better out than in theory comes in?

Mrs.R* called. I almost told her I loved her. I didn’t. I consider her my family of choice. If there was anyone that I'd ever see as a mother figure it would be her. What I like about her is that I can talk to her about women’s issues and get answers. That’s a good feeling. I like to be able to say, hey, I'm experiencing this and to have her tell me what her experience has been. I like that. I would love to be able to have that kind of relationship with my sister but as the proverb goes, there is a time for victory and a time to give up as lost. All that I'd have to go through to get the big sister I want may not be worth the big sister I get. I'm not willing to go through all that struggle and bring up all that pain again. It is too bad that she never got to be my best friend. It’s too bad that she never knew how much I valued her and how much I wanted her to like me. What is even more of a tragedy is that she will never know. My mother is at the wheel of that tragedy. It’s the ‘ol divide and conquer thing. She kept us at odds. She made the lines between me and her really clear with words like, “good child” and “bad child” or “stupid” and “smart”.

I need to stop cause I just saw myself (in my head) take a blade and cut the fuck out of my arm. I think it has to do with how hard I worked to make my big sister like me. The mother had much more influence over her than I did. I understand that NOW. I wont be cutting. It was an anger response, a red flag, an issue for my next therapy appointment.

Goals for today:

  • Sort laundry

  • Sweep the bedroom and office area

  • Clean out the tub

  • Write emails

Austin's August

cc: therapist

Baby Brother

Published
by
Austin
on February 14, 2006
in Mental Health and Therapy
. 2 Comments
Baby Brother

Tuesday, February 14, 2006
1:51 AM

It was 3am and I was dreaming that I heard a baby crying. I woke up and realized it wasn’t a dream. I got up out of bed and walked out of my room. When I got into the hallway I could see my sister standing frozen in the doorway of my mother’s room. I could hear my brother moaning and grunting. When I got to the bedroom door I could see her holding down his little naked body with one hand and beating him with a dowel rod in the other. He was three years old. His body was so red and his face was torn. She looked up at me and my sister and said, “Go back to bed or you’re next.” I knew she meant it. That look was in her eyes, the one I knew never to challenge. My sister turned and walked away. A few seconds I went back to bed and put the pillow over my head to drown out the boy’s moans. He wasn’t even crying anymore and he had very few moans left to give. I put the pillow over my head so I could hear him.

The next day she went to work like nothing ever happened. We went to work with her later that evening to do some paper work or whatever. While she was in another area I got on her telephone and called 1-800-4-ACHILD and told them what happened the night before. Two days later they came and got my brother. I haven’t seen him since.

I couldn’t believe I walked away from him. I was 15 years old. I had a lot of experience with that dowel rod. I knew what it felt like against naked skin. I also knew that there was no way on earth that I was going to let him grow up the way I knew I was going to have to.

The day they took my brother I thought I might lose my mind. It was like they took my own son. I mean, I was the one who stayed home from school to care for him. I washed him, fed him, taught him German, and taught him to read and all that stuff. It felt like I was his mother. When we’d catch the city bus he’d read the name of the bus out loud. It was too cute. He liked to swim. We split pb&j sandwiches. I read to him. When they took him it felt like I lost my son. That was the hardest loss I’ve ever had. I was asked by a supporter what I needed to keep myself going. I said, “Mercy.” I couldn’t even breathe.

The mother never found out that it was me that called child protection. She never found out that it was me that I called from her work phone at her desk while she was in the building.

My brother is now at in college playing the violin. It is my hope that something in his life has been good. I have pictures of him but I don’t look at them. I can’t. All I see is the child I walked away from and left with that woman. Yeah I know, I was only 15 but it still kills me that I walked away that night and put a pillow over my head.

this anxiety is rediculous

Published
by
Austin
on February 14, 2006
in Dissociative Identity Disorder and Mental Health
. 0 Comments
This anxiety is ridiculous. i feel anxious enough to fold over and hold my stomach. I’ll be taking another Clonapin. I had a short burst of anger where I wanted to throw Gracie. Of course I didn’t but it made me realize that I’ve got some issues going on inside. There have been times when I’ve wanted to pop Cappy but I haven’t done it. Anger is one thing and abuse is another. I can’t image what they would think if I just went off like that. I mean, I’d go from someone they trusted to someone they feared. That can’t happen. I know that so i took a deep breath and went on about my business. She wasn’t doing anything she doesn’t normally do. She wanted me to pet her. She was climbing on my chest and doing that paw-paw thing while purring. Most of the time I’m okay with it but for some reason it made me want to throw the girl across the room.

Last nights dreams weren’t good at all. i dreamed about the mother. I dreamed there was an earthquake and i was swallowed up. i dreamed I was taken captive with the mother and the sister. We all had to sleep in the same bed. The sister was gutted with a knife. The mother told me to run away and save myself while she kept the captives at bay. For the last few nights I’ve had what I’ve heard called MPD dreams. I dream about secret doors, upper rooms that only I know about and only I have access to. It’s always the same house. A little boy stood at the top of the stair case for just a few seconds the he’d disappear. The mother said she only caught glimps of him but I kept seeing him. There are always a ton of beds squeezed into a bunch of rooms. No one is in them. the doors to these rooms are very small, small enough that a mouse might struggle to get through. I could get through them though. There’s one room in an attick, at the tip top of the house that has a very, very tiny entrance. it has a window that looks over a yard. i sit in it with my knees to my chest. i sit in the middle of the room. it’s not a big room but it’s not tight and squeezed either. It’s light, its dry, it’s comfortable like the closets i use to hang out in.

There’s a lot of outside pressure with dating. Everybody’s like, so what are you and Mic going to do? When I go to therapy, are you going to see Mic today? My neighbor, so where has Mic taken you lately? Good Lord! I also just worry about what people think too much. When I tell them, nope, I didn’t see Mic this week he’s working an extra shift here or there. I get these looks like, “oh, well…okay.” And, maybe I’m reading things into it. I have issues dating a cop anyway because I always worry that people are going to think I’m just his piece of ass and that he has a wife that doesn’t know he’s got me on the side. I worry about what people think too much. Then I get to thinking and that certainly causes problems cause I have all these thoughts running around in my head that may or may not be accurate. And no, I don’t want to talk about it with the therapist or anyone else. I just don’t want to think anymore. It’s tiring. And no, I don’t want to have a cupcake party with the therapist. Why would I want to have a cupcake party with the therapist? Hell, I’ve already been bikini shopping with one, now we’re having cupcakes. And she keeps offering me food when I go into her office. I’m not sure why but she does. I’m like damn, what part of “no thank you” do you not get? Leave it alone already!!!

With Barney, when I see him I stumble over my words. I can’t think. I become timid and clumsy. He points out every single damn flaw in my speech. It makes me want to tell him about why his wife left and about what his son-in-law did with the neighbor in his pool then list all the stupid ass things he does that make me want to go out and flatten his tires and dare his skinny ass to say a damn word about it.

I’m angry at myself for accepting a Christmas present. I’m angry at myself for getting a Valentines present for Mic. I don’t celebrate the holidays. This isn’t me! So why am I doing it? I said I didn’t want to lose myself in this relationship so I’m going to have to let him know (gently) that I will not celebrate holidays with him. it can’t be me because gentle isn’t within my scope of expressions.

I wonder if I would have the same “pressure” if I was dating a girl? I can’t remember this kind of pressure when I was with Colombo. We were together for 10 years and I didn’t feel this kind of pressure to be the presentable couple. My goodness! I’m in new territory. I’m in water over my fuckin head is what I am! I know what to do with girls I know how to act with girls. Well, I’m the more dominant one in the relationship with girls. I feel like I’m a baby bird that’s been kicked out of the nest too quickly. Is this what they feel as they tumble to the ground head first? Sheshhh!

Is it really this bad or am I just panicking right now? I don’t know but my nerves are on edge. I’ve got therapy tomorrow. Part of me wants to go and part of me doesn’t. I feel like I’m stretched thin. When I go to the medical center tomorrow I need to be all nice and smiling and what not. There will be people that will be drawn to Cappy. I’ll have to be pleasant. It feels like everyone wants something. I’m rambling here, ranting and raving but not saying specifically who it is I’m angry with or irritated with. I mean I mentioned Barney but I think the person I’m most upset with his me. I want to kind of sit in the background and get a grip on things before stepping out again.

The nightmares last night were not manageable. I’m grateful for the few days of manageable nightmares though. I’ll take them when I can get them.

My brother is 21 years old today. The last time I saw him he was 3.

Destiny

Every Dog Should Be Pampered

Published
by
Austin
on February 13, 2006
in Humor and Pets
. 2 Comments

doggie spa
Nails clipped
Hair between the toes clipped
Teeth brushed
Carob chips
Much praise

Every once in awhile I’ve got to have a Cappy Day. I haven’t had it yet. This is his normal bath time routine.

Aussie

click pic to make it larger


Hangin’ In

Published
by
Austin
on February 13, 2006
in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, General Chatter, Mental Health and PTSD
. 0 Comments

I didnt realize yesterday was Sunday until later in the day. That means no bread got made, the dog didnt get washed and I didnt make any phone calls. But I had a better day than the man the Vice President shot. I’m not sure why it takes a 28-gauge shotgun to hunt quail unless the quail is the size of Harvey the Rabbit. I’m not a hunter but a the word shotgun kinda sounds like he really wanted quail scraps and not a whole quail. My goodness. Anyway, so yesterday went pretty well. I can’t complain. Barney had a V-Day date with some broad. I’m kidding, she looked like a nice woman. She tested the limits of my OCD when she asked Barney if she could use the restroom on the first floor. He said it belonged to me and that she would need to use his upstairs. My goodness, had she asked me to use my restroom he would have been embarrassed because I couldnt have let her use it. The whole time I lived at my last apartment Slave Girl didnt use my restroom and I was going out with her. For 5 years that woman never used my restroom. I let one person use it one time and I went out and bought a new seat. OCD can get expensive. UK didnt flinch when I told her she couldnt use my restroom. Her daughter (age 15) has OCD worse than I do so she understood completely. And she knows OCD can be expensive.

I actually slept again. I slept on the loveseat again. Well, I started out on the loveseat and moved to the bed. I had nightmares again, manageable ones I’d say. I think this will be a very long day because it’s only 7:30AM and I’m bored as all get out. It’s not like there isnt’ plenty of stuff to do. It just seems so early and I fear getting it all done and having nothing left to do. I look forward to watching Jay Leno cause you know he’s going to have a hay day with this shooting. I just wish it was Bush that shot the guy. We could add it to the list of stupid things he’s done like choking on a pretzel and ending up in the ER, falling off his bike and things along that line.

Destiny

Morning Coffee and Compliments (updated)

Published
by
Austin
on February 12, 2006
in General Chatter and My reply
. 0 Comments

It was a bipolar morning. On one end there was something that just digusted me, Cappy licking himself. On the other pole was something that made me smile a smile that wont disappear soon. I got a wonderful comment on my journal. The rest of the afternoon just went up hill from there.

"Austin, somehow I believe you touch a lot of lives. To be flawed is to be human. You couldn't be the person you are without them."

I can't tell you how much that means to me. I'll be smiling for a long time after that one.

I got to bed around 6am once again. I could tell my body was stressed. This is the 3rd night in a row I've needed to take a clonapin. I also had to toss in tylenol and a stomach med. I fired up the 'ol heating pad and laid on the loveseat to relax. Well, I fell asleep. That's where I woke up at 9AM. The heating pad was still on, the cat was on the recliner the dog was spread eagle in front of the recliner and the telephone flashed announcing a new caller. Goodness gracious, I slept hard and I slept well. I think I might have stumbled onto something here. I haven't slept on the loveseat since I've been here. I dont have a sofa but this loveseat is big enough for me to sleep on comfortably. It's not a bed. There are NO memories attached to loveseats. It's not a bedroom. I knew I slept well on the sofa where I use to live but I think I was trying to force myself to "conform" and sleep in the bedroom. But ya know what, I feel good right now. It's been a very long time since I camped out in the living room. I'd forgotten how nearly stress free it is. Last night the nightmares were mild, they were livable. I can handle that. I've had managable nightmares before but this feeling of being refreshed and rested is one I haven't felt in many years. Oh goodness! I savor this feeling like I'm about to saver a nice cup of java in front of my fireplace. We got more snow last night. I like to watch Cappy roll in it. He's so funny until he comes back in and jumps on my cream coloured bedspread. Then it's not so funny anymore.

In addition to this wonderful comment left on my journal and the good nights sleep, I woke to find Barney CLEANING. He mopped the kitchen floor, wiped the counters, ran the sweeper, filled the dishwasher and is now cleaning up in the laundry room. Oh my goodness! This is the big one. I'm coming home Elizabeth. This means I have to do something to encourage this type of behavior. A scratch behind the ears only works as praise for the pup. Barney might require a little more than that. It's not Sunday yet but I think fresh baked whole wheat bread is in order. He never gets any when I bake it but this time he can eat until he cant eat no mo. I might even have to toss some banana bread in the oven. Oh, and he didnt notice that I wrote, "for sexual favors" on my notes section for my rent check. I didnt think he would. But hey, that's fine. I prefer a clean kitchen to the shocked look on an old man's face.

gotta go.

Austin

update

 

To my surprise, I found out that it IS Sunday!

UK says that when you have two good days in a row that something bad is around the corner. I told her I thought that too and that maybe I needed to build my strength for whatever is coming around the corner. If I sat and worried about what MIGHT happen it would take away from the moments when things are good. So, while things may get ugly again, right now they aren't. when it comes to peace of mind, I'll take what I can get when I can get it.

Austin

Therapy Assignment Part Two: Why Am I Here?

Published
by
Austin
on February 11, 2006
in Mental Health and Therapy Assignments
. 1 Comment

The other day I told you that my purpose in life changes as time goes on but at the moment, my purpose is to make a small difference in the lives of paths that I cross (even as I screw up mine). I might be able to bring a smile to someone's day by flashing a real unfabricated smile. I might be able to pick up the dropped bag for a person who is obviously tired, or give my seat to the pregnant lady who is standing up. Whatever differences I make wont be huge. My difference won't be something that changes the world but it will be something that gives you a moment to reflect and to remember that in a world full of hate there is someone that realizes you're a rose worth stopping to admire.

Posted by Picasa

Therapy Assignment: Why Am I Here?

Published
by
Austin
on February 11, 2006
in Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, Therapy and Therapy Assignments
. 0 Comments

Therapy Assignment What Is My Purpose In Life Saturday, February 11, 2006
5:52PM
Written by: Destiny (Third in command) Posted by Picasa

The question was asked: do I want to be happy and do I know how to be happy? You said that some people dont want to be happy. I said I dont know the meaning of it. This is what I want: I want to sleep without fear. I want to go in public without fear. I want to be able to someday be comfortable with the idea of having a family. I'm not sure I'm ever going to get that at the rate I'm going.

You were saying that a lot of people ask why they’re here and that you even ask that question. I’ve told people before that I don’t question why I was born or why anyone was born. My big question is why am I STILL here?

It seems that when I make my biggest mistakes I bash myself and wonder what all the struggling is for if I'm just going to throw it all away for one moment of carelessness. What is the point of fighting so hard, of processing things, of moving forward if my behavior is dangerous and uninhibited? It kind of makes it all seem like every step I’ve taken has been for nothing and that I’ve wasted my time and I’ve wasted Jehovah’s time. I’ve lied to myself and to him. I let people believe I'm this way or that way and then suddenly I kick into this self-destructive behavior and erase all my previous efforts to heal. So why did I survive just to destroy myself in the end?

When I was little I wanted my mother to know that she didn’t own me. I wanted her to know that there was nothing she could do to smother me the way she did my sister. One of the things that was out of the question and was sure to get ya whipped (with a dowel rod) was to go outside while she was working. For awhile there she got off work around 4pm. She was home by 4:30pm and if I was outside I was in trouble. For almost a year I stood on the porch waiting for her to get home and see me standing there. Of course I got whipped but then the next work day I met her on the porch again. The whole point was, no matter what you do to me I'm going to live, I'm going to have some form of joy and some sort of freedom. I wanted to play outside and do stuff the other kids were doing. I knew I was going to get whipped for something so why not get some play time in too? When I look back on that I see two things: strength and spite. It makes me wonder if I could have avoided some of the splitting if I'd just stayed inside the house like a good girl.

I did go outside and I did take those beatings for almost a year. So now when I give up or stand still I have to wonder if the little me back then would have wanted me to show this kind of disregard for the person she tried to preserve. When I know that I'm doing things I shouldn’t be doing it feels like I slap that little girl. It feels like I let her down. Why am I STILL here if I'm just going to show total disregard for the strength that child showed?

I said several months back that in recent times I'm my biggest threat, I'm my biggest abuser. There aren’t any dowel rods anymore, just a heavy burden with the knowledge that I’ll be the one to destroy myself.