Daily Archive for July 29th, 2006

Knit Picking Little Weed

Published on July 29, 2006 in Mental Health and Soapbox. 1 Comment

Well Blossom (aka Weed when she’s pissing me off) has been on this overly emotional kick for a bit….she’s in good company ‘cause I’ve not been that stable myself. Well, I try not to knit pick but it seems to be her thing. At first the whole litter box thing was kind of funny. Now it’s just annoying. No, I will not run and clean the box every single time they do something in it. I’m not going to do it. She does that with Torti but I will not be over there running behind them to clean it up like that. I think once daily is more than a heck of a lot of people do. She doesn’t like the fact that I’ve changed litter from the scoopable to pine chips. I didn’t think I would like them but I’m sold on it now. I won’t go back to the clay or the clumping kind. For some reason its seen as horrible for them to have to go in there with pine and not litter. She thinks it a matter of money. They cost the exact same. I haven’t skimped at all. They cost the same!!! It’s about quality, about smell and about being more biodegradable than other litter. I guess too I get a bit irritated when she says to me, you can’t afford this or that why don’t you let me pay for it. Damn! If she says that one more time I’m going to spray Blossom with some weed killer to see if I can make it stop! This is clearly a matter of my pride. It’s just, okay, yeah, I know I’m dead broke but must she remind me of that at every turn? Oh, remember you’re a quarter away from flat broke, do you want me to come to the rescue? That’s it!!! That’s it right there. It feels like I’m being told that I have needs that aren’t getting met and that I need someone to step in and get those needs filled for me….that I can’t take care of myself. She says it all the time, “You need this. Let me buy it for you. I don’t mind.”

It makes me feel … normal..competent…not so different than others…to walk up the cash register and pay for something on my own. I don’t need someone standing behind me going, “You can’t afford this.” Well, I have been on disability since 1992 and I’ve somehow managed this tiny bit of money I’m getting. I had the worst urge to cut at this moment so I’m going to walk away from this right now. I need to eat something anyway. Since the whole vomit session this morning (a Lupus thing) I’ve not put anything on my stomach. I should try and eat something.

Me

Tossed Out Blessings – Section 8

Published on July 29, 2006 in Mental Health and Soapbox. 1 Comment

Tossed Out Blessings-Saturday, July 29, 2006-10:11 PM

My stomach is in knots. I am flabbergasted that Blossom is tossing away this blessing so she can stay right where she is. It doesn’t make any sense to me at all. The hard thing is that this is the second time she’s been given this opportunity and it is the second time she is going to toss it out. Who one earth is ever chosen twice for a Section 8 Certificate worth $600 guaranteed as long as you are disabled which for her degree of Bi Polar disorder is forever. My goodness it’s sickening to watch her toss this out the window so she can stay in the slum she’s in now. What is it that she doesn’t see? She doesn’t notice that the people around her are taking and selling crack in the hallway or that she keeps having to be rescued from the elevator because it stops all the time? My goodness, has she forgotten that it’s not even been a month that the fire department pulled her out of the elevator through the safety window in it because the elevator stopped and wouldn’t open for so long? Has she forgotten the crime, the hopelessness there? Living there was so damn stressful for me that I had to leave. I couldn’t stand it any longer. But she wants to stay. It seems like they are pulling out a dead body every friggin weak. Either someone dies of old age, of an over dose or by another man’s hands but they are forever pulling a dead body out of there. The last time I was at her house there were 2 funeral notifications up there. It’s not uncommon to see that. Her friend was just found dead in his apartment. It turns out it was a drug overdose. My goodness!

Yeah, she has a great view but damn 20 floors up isn’t worth all the other crap. You have to worry about her damn next door neighbor selling crack all night and fighting with his drunken girlfriend. She has to worry about the fires that are set, the water damage from the sprinkler system, the fact that they keep moving in people straight out of prison. What part of “home” falls in between all of that? And why can’t she see that every time she walks in that building she takes chances with her safety? I tell her this but she doesn’t seem to realize that where she lives puts her in danger every second she’s there. You can’t live next door to crack heads and drug dealers and sleep soundly. My goodness! And to be on the 20th floor and have to walk up the stairs all the time because the elevators are down is just insane. I had to do it when I lived one floor below her. But she wants to stay. She wants to pass this up AGAIN and somehow I have to not press and make her do what I know she should do. This is where I have to just let this go, take a deep breath and realize that sometimes people toss away blessings…they toss the same one twice evidently.

She tells me I think I know what’s best for her. WELL I DO! But I know that when it comes down to it this is her life (as misguided as it is) it’s her life. And I have to think, if there was something I didn’t want to do and someone else thought they knew better would I want to be pressured into it? No. So this is another thing I have to let drop. I may see the benefits clearly but hey, if she wants to stay in the crack infested slum she’s in then so be it. I’ve heard of people trying to buy these certificates. I’ve heard of them trading dignity for them because they knew for sure that it meant they would have a good amount of security with it. So when someone just simply discards it, twice, it makes everyone who would trade dignity and money for one sick, sick, sick. I happen to be number 20 thousand on the list. I’ll never see that certificate.

I wonder how much my jokes about my low standards of living have to do with the insulting toss away of Blossom’s blessing? It is an insult to everyone who would do so many “off” things to get one. It’s an insult. It doesnt make our stupid arguments any easier to take either.

Austin


Working Template- Low Standard of Living

Published on July 29, 2006 in For the Record and Soapbox. 3 Comments

Why is it so hard to get a good working template? I like this blue one. I dont like the others. I’m use to this one but it’s horrible on IE. Lord, I need to stop obsessing. I can not keep worrying about this stupid template working on IE. I dont even know why I’m worried about it. I haven’t had anyone say that the blog is hard to read cause IE can’t get the template right. Nobody has complained about the template just the content. I depress people. Well get some meds for the depression but let me warn you about the side effects! I’m clearly obsessing over that too, depressing people I mean. I seem to have cooled off in other areas. I’ve asked WordPress and they said that it’s IE not a picture or something that I’ve done wrong…so why can’t I just leave it alone. My blogs not perfect. Lord! I’m for sure on a blog black list now. Shit, i need some sleep. Here it is 9am and I’ve not been to bed yet. Sheshh! I stayed up playing Majh Jong. I seem to have made it a life time goal to master all the screens in a timely manner…meaning 20 min per screen. I better live a very long time cause i’m only on like the 5th board. This is on my short list of things to do before I die…master Majh Jong’s boards with time of no more than 20 min to clear each board. My standard of life is wayyyy tooo low! I require nothing more than coffee, cigs and Majh Jong. Ultra low standard of living. Actually, I’d like to talk to whomever made that game…the online version of it I mean. And i’d like to talk to them in a dark alley..talk to them about why they made the darn tiles so small! Its crazy being all up on the screen trying to match East tiles but clicking on the #5 tile instead. I can feel my retina burning as I try and beat my own time. Eye ball on fire trying to beat my own time. I have no clue what the score is cause I’m only worried about the time. Its the only thing I’m worried about at that moment because its hard to concentrate with that amount of eye pain and the game while worrying about the wide spread depression I’m causing. I can only stretch my brain cells so far. Anyway…I wanna talk to this guy. That little viewing window on the game…is that supposed to help? Cause it doesnt. It’s annoying…it keeps making me lose concentration cause something is flipping in and out on the side of the screen. what is that about. Yeah, I need to talk to that guy in a dark alley. Jacked up template and jacked up game. Arghh…okay, I have to try and get some sleep.

Must sleep…

Anger Issues: Last Week’s Therapy Discussion

Published on July 29, 2006 in Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health and Therapy. 2 Comments

Anger Issues: Last Week’s Therapy Discussion-Saturday, July 29, 2006-1:38 AM

The T got to talk to Freeman with the mild English accent of hers. He didn’t miss a beat though. He shows shock on his face from time to time. I appreciate not having a stone faced therapist. He didn’t show shock at her mild English accent. I’m not certain why Freeman was there but she was. They talked about EMDR or EDMR or whatever it is. They talked about it for a few minutes at the end of the session but for the most part we talked about how anger makes us uncomfortable. I try to avoid getting angry because I know that anger that gets out of control can be very damaging. Unchecked anger has always lead to violence for me. I told him that. The only anger work I’ve done in therapy is throwing clay balls at a wall when I was in Grand Rapids, Michigan. In all my years of therapy I’ve never done more anger work than that. It was frightening but I have to say I felt better.

I have a boxing bag and gloves here at home. They hardly ever get used because I hate the thought of hitting. He asked if I ever thought of the mother when I hit the bag, if I saw her face and saw myself hitting her. I said, No, that’s when I switched the week before last. He asked if I hit the mother and that was all she wrote. I was gone and gone for several days in fact. I didn’t realize that but I did stay gone for several days.

School shootings, abused kids, domestic violence, violent crimes…it all gives me one huge affirmation that anger is an emotion that you just don’t ever let get out of hand. But I don’t want to handle it at all.

I can say, yes, I’m angry at the mother but as I say it I feel nothing. Actually I do feel something. I feel alarm, like I want to shrink back because for me anger is at the end of a fist and at the end of her tongue as she spits off my name like its some horrible disease that has no cure. I just don’t want to be like her and for me anger is my mother..that’s what anger is to me…its my mother. I do not know of any examples of anger carried out without some harm being done to the person OR someone leaving. It’s rejection, its abandonment and it’s physical and emotional pain. Hell no I don’t want to touch it, not with a ten foot pole. He gave me hand outs and they lay crumpled in the bottom of my book bag.

Austin

Flashbacks: Life Without Pain

Published on July 29, 2006 in Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD and Therapy. 0 Comments

An old therapist asked me what life would be like without pain. I was stumped by the question. Life without pain? Hm, what is that? She was talking about giving up cutting. I knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon and I told her that. I told her that if I was going to work on issues I had to be able to at least have the option to do that. I told her that it is my decision if I will cut or not. The bottom line is, at this point I need that option. She didn’t like the answer but then again, it is my body.

In therapy last week we talked about this physical reaction I have before I walk into the restroom. I have the hiccups just before opening the door. I know why. I mean shehhh..i know exactly why. At first I didn’t. I had to try and think about what just happened before the hiccups started and then stopped. It’s just before I open the restroom door. From there we talked about flashbacks and EDMR or EMDR, whatever it’s called. He said that it could help alleviate some of the flashbacks and make daily life better for me. The reaction I had surprised me. It seems like I would jump at that chance but my reaction was that I needed the flashbacks. Strange, I need the flashbacks.

Sometimes the only thing I have to hold onto when I think I might be exaggerating about the abuse is my diagnosis and the flashbacks. The theme is the same, the “players’ are the same, the places familiar and the time frames are filled with viable proof. When I think I might be making shit up it is the flashbacks and the dx that let me know that there is no way on earth I could keep the same damn flashbacks for years upon years and keep them at the rate and at the intensity that they are and have it all based on fiction. So when he said that about getting rid of flashbacks I worried that I’d have no more real proof that she hurt me. Yes, they make life almost unbearable. They make life seem like a burden and a waste of time but they also serve as a symbol of undeniable truth that the woman hurt me. If anything at all is consistent it’s the flashbacks and the fact that I can’t get away from those three little letters (DID). Hell, as many doc’s as I’ve seen I think I can reasonably stop doubting that I’ve tricked them all. I mean damn, she said I was manipulative but give me a break here. I’d really have to do some serious lying to them and myself and keep up the details of the lie. Lies are hard to keep up with. You have to tell one to justify the other. They grow and get out of control. The story changes when it suits itself. My story hasn’t changed one bit. The flashbacks haven’t changed in theme and I don’t think I could get a reasonable doctor to tell me I don’t have DID. So if the flashbacks stop what do I have to tell myself when doubt does kick in?

Again, I’m a worry wart when it comes to this. I worry so much about being the liar my mother said I was. I worry that somehow, just maybe I really have taken it all out of context. So if the flashbacks are gone what do I have to counter that argument with? What can I say?

I just had another thought….why would I need to say anything? If this is a step to move past all this and not feel like a liar wouldn’t it be a good thing to have fewer flashbacks and progress to a healthier me so that I can be the person I want to be without hearing that bitch’s voice all the damn time? What if for one day, for 24 hours I didn’t hear her voice in my head telling me that people know it’s really me and not her that’s the problem? What if for one day I went to bed without this overwhelming fear that she will be standing in the door later in the night? What if?? My God!

I have this fear that I’ll get better or that I’ll challenge the things she says so much that I get better and then for sure the mother will think I’m a bad person because I’m no longer under her mental thumb. So letting go of her voice means letting go of any hope that I’ll be the good girl I tried so hard to be. It’s also frightening to think of because saying anything against her and believing it seems wrong. It’s like speaking out against a Charismatic Church and saying they are wrong about this or that. The fear is that strong that I’m doing some sort of “hell bound” wrong by saying anything at all against her. Like I will somehow upset God by going against her and saying that she hurt me and that she was wrong for doing various things.

There is a certain part of me that needs the emotional pain, a part of me that feels she needs to be kept in her place by the pain so that I don’t think too much of myself. So I don’t ever really reach happiness because it’s not really for me. I’m not worthy of it because I’m inherently bad. There is a part of me that needs the pain so that I never really reach happiness and have the audacity to accept it as if I actually deserve it.

The therapist gave me a hand out on EDMR. It’s waddled up the bottom of my back pack with the hand out on anger. I do not take it lightly that Captain has stayed by my side since the last therapy appointment. I know to watch how he responds to me so that I get a good sense of how I’m doing. It is without effort that I leave myself but it’s more than effort to get back and feel my body and realize that maybe, just maybe I need to not push so hard. He’s a good grounding helper and a good reality check…my K9 friend.

This entry is closed to comments. I’m not so certain that I could hear anything other than my mother’s voice anyway. I’d see some sort of wrong with the comments. I’d see some way that lets me know that the whole world wants me to deny her. Man she taught me so well to fear her in a religious sort of way. She never said she was a god or godlike. But man she sure has an angry godlike quality to her. And I sure as heck don’t want to hear someone misquote the Bible to me and tell me that all I need is Jesus Christ in my life and things will be okay. I just don’t want to hear it. It’s just so confusing right now.

Austin

Flashbacks: Life Without Pain-Saturday, July 29, 2006-2:24 AM