Daily Archive for April 27th, 2006

Life From The Inside Out

Published on April 27, 2006 in For the Record and Mental Health. 0 Comments

Life is like this:your life from the inside

 

It traps you like a bug under a cup. You can see freedom but only through a thin layer, a barrier, one obstacles keeps you from the outside where all the bugs bigger than you are. One must ask himself, do I really want beyond that wall? Do I really want out?

Thus is my advice for the day, ask yourself, what do I really want? What are the consequences of my actions and what can come of getting it? Is immediate satisfaction the best course of action? Should I stay under the glass, in a contained area or should I risk the bigger bugs? Should I take lifes challenges?

The answers depend on what you feel you can do today. Do your best. Your best changes from day to day. Today, I'm staying under the glass. Tomorrow hasn't come yet so I've made no decisions on if I should stay inclosed or face life's challenges. But today, I'm staying under the saftey of the glass.

Aussie

Lost

Published on April 27, 2006 in Art, Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD and Therapy. 0 Comments

2002, acrylic, canvas, dark colours

Lost

Thursday, April 27, 2006

4:14:07 AM

A few years ago I was in the hospital having a filter put in my heart to prevent more blood clots from traveling to my heart. When it was time to leave they told me they couldn’t find my shoes. They were the absolute only pair I had so I was kinda freaked out about it. They said they would get me another pair but to me, that wasn’t the point. They lost MY shoes. They were gone and I dint even know it until the last minute. I worried that they would give me an ugly pair of tennis shoes, something my mother would wear. What they gave me looked brand spanking new. They were colours I like too, gray and blue. They gave me these shoes back in 2003. I’ve had several pairs of shoes since then. I don’t even wear those anymore but I still have them in the closet. I can’t seem to throw them away.

A few weeks back I purchased new bras. I’d been sewing the old ones back together for months. They were getting so bad that I had to re-sew them almost weekly. It seems logical that I would celebrate as I tossed them in the trash but that’s not so. I can’t seem to throw them away. It’s not like I would wear them again but I can’t seem to throw them away. I got to wondering why on earth it was so important to keep something I can’t even wear anymore or that I don’t have to wear anymore. Someone in the back of my head said, “Because we worry that someone will come and take the new ones away.” We really worry about that.

Nobody’s going to come and take back the bras that we purchased with our own money. It’s not that though, it’s the fact that we like them and we worry about loosing them in some unexpected way. The bars that aren’t worth anything, that have more patches than original material…those seem to be Plan B for when someone comes to repossess the fully paid for new bras.

When we were little if we showed that we liked a particular item that item ended up being a target for the next unjust punishment. It got to the point that we didn’t say if we liked this or that. We didn’t express joy or even contempt for anything. If we had a flat affect then it was hard to tell what they should target. I had a Mickey Mouse glass that I liked to drink out of. I was standing in my grandmother’s drive way when it occurred to me that if I didn’t get rid of the glass myself then I’d just be waiting around for them to tell me to throw it away. I broke the glass right there on her driveway. I think that was the very first time I destroyed something so that someone else couldn’t, so that they couldn’t catch me off guard and take something that I liked or loved. I also started with Plan B for everything. When the mother realized that I liked Corey Hart she would come in my room and take the albums. I had back up copies of them. I had back up copies of my artwork, of poetry, of my music of photos of everything imaginable so that if someday she stormed in and took something I could almost smile inside because she lost, she didn’t get over on me like she thought she did. I could still put my headphones on and listen to the song Never Surrender or Chase The Sun without her even knowing it. I still had my poetry; I still had a lot of things even though she thought she’d gotten rid of them.

Now that I think about it, I don’t believe that she knows I like sunflowers. I don’t know if she knows anything about me at all other than that I hate the ground she walks on and the ground she could potentially walk on. I don’t now if she knows what I like or dislike what colours I wear or don’t wear. I seem to remember these things about her though. She’s not even standing in front of me threatening to toss this or that but I still feel like I could lose things that are important to me. it’s crazy really, that I would keep the old torn up bras and the old tennis shoes as Plan B just in case she steps back out of nowhere to take away things that I need or like or love. I just don’t want to lose it. In reality, everything I hold onto like this has already lost its joy and its positive influence in my life. It just sits in the bottom of the drawer where I stumble on it from time to time. I touch it then sit it back down knowing full well I just can’t toss it. My mind cramps, stumbles on old memories and I realize that I’ve lost. If I can’t toss it then for that moment I’ve lost and she’s won. She’s not standing here, she’s not going to come and take the new shoes or the new bras. Plan B with the old stuff isn’t necessary anymore. Even so, I’m not driven to my feet and to the trash can. It’s another example of old coping skills that are ineffective in the present.

Joan of Arc

 

Sick of Being Sad

Published on April 27, 2006 in Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health and Relationships. 0 Comments

8:38:45 PM

I’m sick of being sad. I’m sick of being tearful. I’m past ready for this to stop.

I feel like I’m disappointing people. Then of course the people inside are like, no you’re not it’s just that you’re not thinking right at the moment. But then I think about how I’ve not really supported anyone in a bit. I also know what I do in private. I know that in my own home my life is rather mad and chaotic…

Sometimes it gets hard to not talk out loud to myselves. Sometimes they’re like, if it helps just say it out loud. So I do, then it feel crazy. I know who I’m talking to. I know why I’m talking but it feels like I’ve lost touch with reality for a second. God I try hard to be sane but it seems I miss the mark by a long shot. If you need to scream then just scream don’t give yourself a friggin ulcer cause you can’t scream. If you need to cry then cry, don’t give yourself an ulcer because you won’t let yourself cry. Shut up, I’m tired of you crying. Why are you always so upset? Does anything ever happen right for you? The problem is you Austin, it’s you. It’s not you, not all of it. You’re disappointing people. You’re self centered. You’re a joke. People care about you Austin don’t listen to him, people care about you. They just want something. They haven’t said what but they want something. I can’t think right. How do I know what to trust or who to trust? Shut up! Just say it out loud, so I do, SHUT UP!!! I feel crazy sometimes.

I think about how I’m using Mic right now and how horrible I feel for doing it. When I went back to that old building and we had the manager call the police on us Mic ended up showing up to answer the run. He says we should sue them. He jumped the gun on this one. He called his lawyer and his lawyer called some other people and all of them are like, you should sue them. Well, I really don’t want to sue them. He keeps saying, I was so proud of how you handled this situation. Well, if you only knew I’m using your ass in response to how you fucked me over you wouldn’t feel so damn proud now would ya? I know what I’m doing is wrong. Part of me thinks it’s necessary to get what we need but the vast majority of me sees how wrong this is and can’t find any real reason to screw someone like this. If he tells me how proud of me he is one more damn time I just might vomit.

Speaking of vomit, I go back to the doc on Friday because I can’t stop vomiting and I have the opposite of constipation issues.

I think I am a bit tired of fighting so hard. Mic says that’s why we should sue because with that money we won’t have to worry about anything anymore. You know, I’d have a roof over my head, this is true. I’d have food, very, very true. He said we could stand on top of a hill and tell them to all eat cake. Well, ya know she did call the cops on us and tell me I couldn’t bring my service animal on the property. She wrote a letter stating that and used the term “service animal.” She was dead wrong; man she was dead wrong but to sue them over it? I don’t know about that. if there was blatant disregard for my safety okay, I can see suing. If the woman put her hands on me like I feared she was going to okay I can see taking further action. But I think I proved my point. And to tell ya the truth, me suing that company would be revenge for Mic not me. He hates those people; he hates the woman that called the police on me. this lawsuit would be more for him than for me. I just don’t see any reason to sue these people. I made my point by not simply walking away. Hell, if they think I’m suing then let them sweat. Maybe that’s revenge enough. But not for Mic, Mic says he wants to see that woman eat shit. Well, if he wants to serve it then so be it, but I’ve already been used by him once. At least this time I can see it a mile away instead of getting up close and getting smacked in the face.

Right now, laying down is on my mind. It doesn’t get this touch and go like this anymore unless I have PMS. The good thing is I know why I feel like this and I know that if I can get through the next 3 days or so that I’ll be back to my normal miserable self. I should make some coffee.

Anna-Maureen