Monthly Archive for November, 2006

Page 4 of 7

Religion Holidays And Great Expectations

Published on November 18, 2006 in For the Record. 2 Comments

You may be offended – read at your own risk

When I was at the store the other day my favorite Wally World cashier asked if I was going to see family over the holiday. I said no and she gave me this pity speech then ended it with, “Well, have a good holiday anyway.” Would she have felt better for herself or for me had I said I have tons of family and we happen to celebrate this holiday and we’re all going to get together for some tradition that’s been in our family since before I was born? I don’t know but people seem to expect family deficient people to be depressed around the holidays. I am actually enriched without my family and I don’t celebrate the holidays so Thursday will be just another depression filled day…no holiday required. I don’t celebrate the holidays and I have no attachment to them, no emotional dips, highs or lows. It’s another day on my calendar, why can’t other people accept that? Why must people push their holiday oriented mindset on me? I suppose for the same reason I hang onto old messages (true ones and false ones). It’s just the way they grew up but damn if it’s not irritating and offensive when people send me a holiday card knowing full well that I don’t celebrate the holidays.

I know, I know, they’re doing it because they want me to know they care. I know, I know I should see their actions as kindness not an offense. Well send a Rabbi a holiday card based on your personal beliefs and see if he refrains from offering up prayers to have every Gentile stricken with blindness. Why can’t ya just send holiday cards to people who want them and stop fussing about people who don’t? On the other hand – I think it is just stupid that certain Christmas organizations aren’t accepting certain toys with an obvious Christian leaning when Christmas is supposedly based on Christianity. I really think that the parent of a Jewish child or a child of Islam, Hindi, Buddhism and other religions that traditionally don’t celebrate Christmas….if they sign up for Christmas help there should be no offense taken if they receive a Bible or a statue of our Lord Jesus Christ. I don’t celebrate the holiday but it seems obvious to me that if you don’t believe in Jesus Christ as the Messiah then why would you sign up for assistance to get toys on a holiday that claims to be for him? I don’t get it but hey, some organizations are refusing toys and items that have an obvious Christian slant to them. It’s your holiday, crazy as it has become, it is your holiday so do as you please just don’t try and involve me. My point is, when it comes to holidays there are some religions that people are very careful not to offend and go so far as to change their own false beliefs in order to not offend those who have invited themselves to a banquet of lies. I don’t believe as you do but I’m going to request toys so please don’t offend me with said toys. It’s Insanity!

So my point is, when it comes those religions people will take extra care to not offend by offering holiday cheer. Now I’m not saying keep your cheer in your home. I’m saying don’t send it to my home or to my email box. Is that so hard? I’m saying that perhaps some people really won’t be depressed on the holidays because they have no attachment to them at all. In a world that makes an exception for every little thing, valid or not, why is it so hard to simply not send your friends who don’t celebrate the holidays a card or a gift? Why is it so hard to not respect the beliefs of others? I’m not saying you should be a closet Christmas celebrator. I’m saying don’t mail me anything; don’t ask me to celebrate with you. Why is that so hard? Why is that so offensive to others for me to say, no thank you I don’t celebrate the holidays? If the holidays are about giving then why is it so much about you and not about giving me the right to say no thank you I’ll sit out on this one? Hey, it’s your holiday. It’s your holiday based on giving so is it beyond reasonable to request that I be given the courtesy of distance?

I do believe that the vast majority of the holidays are wrong but at this point I do not belong to any religious group at all. The religions my family ascribed to were many, something I lump together as confused mysticism. Black magic and Baptist teachings mixed with a bit of Catholicism and a touch of Apostolic frenzy makes for one beautiful Sunday at Grammy’s house. It got to the point that my grandmother only allowed “practices” in the lower level of the house because she didn’t want to hear my Apostolic Aunt try and save my alcoholic aunt with Christian words mixed with incense and special prayers. Yeah, you wonder why I have DID. There I am sitting in my little dress and shoes while Auntie Apostolic tries to save Auntie Alchi via mystical Christianity. That is not dysfunction that is straight up crazy. My mother did not practice black magic or any form of divination. But oh I have such fond memories of the Catholic Church. Those were early on. She stopped going there when I was quite young but then she traveled to the Baptist church, then a short stop to check out apostolic teachings, an even shorter stop at the Methodist Church. She was a church hopper of sorts.

After a bit of religious chaos my grandmother had a sign on her door that said, “Please leave religion outside. You are welcome but your religion is not.” Perhaps she didn’t realize that Wicca is a religion and so are its very, very dangerous rituals. I say dangerous not because I think they sacrifice people but because of the demonic aspect of it. It’s not something I’m willing to play with. I’m also not willing to play with choices, runes, Ouija boards or other items used in pagan practices. I do not consider them harmless. It is quite clear to me that its wrong and I stay as far away from it as possible.

I do not share the same distaste for Christianity as a whole like I do for all mysticisms but I do attribute most holidays to non-Christian origins. Thanksgiving is not one that claims to be of religious origin. I just happen to think it’s quite cruel and too many people drink way too much then get behind the wheel and kill people. A day of nation wide gluttony and increased drunk driving isn’t something I’m willing to raise my fork to. If others don’t feel this way then so be it. I promise NOT to send you an e-card with crashed cars and crying families, dead Indians and their crying children stuffed on plantations. I promise not to call you and wish you a happy day upon land stolen if you promise not to tell me to have a happy holiday cause I will bring up the true origins and it will not be pretty. Somehow that turkey will not taste so good. Illusions and family traditions will not mean so much to you with each passing year you lift your fork to the third Thursday in November. It’s your choice, we can exchange cards if ya wanna. It is much easier to celebrate an illusion than to talk about the truth. Being polite has gotten me nowhere so sometimes I have to be offensively truthful. My distaste for holidays has nothing to do with my family but the origins of those holidays as well as current celebrations leading to the harm of innocent people. My major problem with holidays is that God’s name is attached to things that he would have nothing at all to do with.

Destiny

written 11-17-06  5am EST

You’re Dismissed

Published on November 17, 2006 in Mental Health and Relationships. 1 Comment

You’re Dismissed
Friday, November 17, 2006-11:20AM EST

I’m more than a little bit depressed. The other day in therapy Dr. B said that I don’t deserve to have people like Blossom in my life because of her negative impact on me. I can not tell this woman to go away. I just simply can not do that. The first thing is I just don’t want to be alone. The second thing is its easier to have her here than to actually get up off my very tired butt and take my soar bones out and meet other people. I don’t need to be in a relationship, that’s not the issue. I just need contact. Where I live now I feel so isolated and transportation is a huge issue for me. I can’t just hop a bus and go someplace. If only it were that simple, to hop a bus and go someplace. The third thing is that I’ve cut so many people out of my life that doing that now makes me feel like there will never really be anyone not eventually subject for dismissal.

I think the only reason that I broke up with Colombia (who I was with for 9 years) is because when I say no to sex that’s what I mean. When she told me I should have kept saying no then her other behaviors were no longer manageable. Despite the fact that she repeatedly tried to kill herself, despite her alcohol abuse then rehab to get clean, despite the fact that she was triggered by every colour, every word, every movie and every moving thing I put up with her. I know that had she not been so aggressive that one day I would have been with her until she left me. That day when I gave in to sleep with her despite telling her no something in me had enough. We never did anything because just before we did she went little and we stopped. I went into the living room. When she came out I told the adult her that I’d been telling her no. when she said I should have kept saying it nothing else mattered to me anymore. It didn’t matter that we had some really good times. It didn’t matter that we traveled together, graduated from college together and sat at our favorite dining spot for hours talking about everything under the sun. Everything else became pointless and she was seen as nothing but unsafe. That is the one and only reason I left her. Is that what it’s going to take to make me tell Blossom to stop coming to my home? I believe so.

I am also attracted to Blossoms pain. The most frightening thought came to my mind. I see her pain and it looks like mine. It makes me want to destroy it as if somehow it would make me stop hurting, as if destroying it would make me stop being bad and undesirable. Somehow bringing up her behaviors makes me not feel so fucking crazy and weird. Well, at least I wash my hands. Hell, I may have a ton of personalities but I put my hand over my mouth when I cough. Hell, I may suffer from lack of sleep or plagued sleep but I’d shave my upper lip in a heartbeat if need be.

I’m going to go back to bed. Today is not a good day at all. I woke up feeling really down. Last night she pissed me off beyond belief. The smoke in the fireplace backed up in the house and all the alarms were screaming. She couldn’t see the need to help even when I asked her to hold one door open and fan it to help get air flowing and the smoke out. Instead of helping she sat at the dinner table and ate. All I wanted her to do was hold the door open and fan it while I held a second door open to fan out the smoke but that was way too much to ask of her. I finally got the smoke out, got Barney to shut the fuck up and then sat quietly until I could get my thoughts together. I was going to use the fire extinguisher to put the fire out in the fireplace because in our wonderful city the fire department has the right to charge for each truck sent if the fire is something preventable. Well, Barney didn’t want me to use the fire extinguisher because it costs too much to replace them. It’s a $15 extinguisher but $500 per truck. Everybody knows the fire department doesn’t send out one truck just like the police don’t send out one cruiser. The only reason I didn’t pull that pin was because the alarms went off with the front door standing open, the back door open and the entrance to my area open. But he stood there with his hand out asking for the little red canister like he was trying to talk a gun out of my hand. He was worried about a $15 extinguisher instead of a bill of $500 or more if the fire department decided to bill him. He owns the damn house it would be his bill. So through all of this Blossom is eating squash at my table. Eventually the fire burned itself out the smoke dissipated. It took much longer for my anger to die down. When I woke this morning to find the smell of smoke covering my living room the whole anger issue flared up once again. I’ve been up since 7am and I seem to get angry then depressed, back and forth.

I’m going back to bed. I’ll be unavailable for a few hours.

 

Opposite Twins-Divisions Drawn

Published on November 17, 2006 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD and Therapy. 1 Comment

There was a clear distinction drawn between my sister and myself. She was the good one, I was the bad one. I was the smart one, she was dumb. I was fat she was skinny. My sister and I were always at odds but not of out of general sibling rivalry but because our Mama made these drastic distinctions between us. My sister is three years older than I am so this entry is not about being twins at birth but about twin alters with the same clearly drawn lines that my sister and I had drawn for us.

My sister is this tall skinny model looking woman with a vocabulary count of 10. She is not the smartest woman in the world but I would not call her dumb either. She is very good with her hands. I for one struggle to put together the smallest item but she puts together detailed equipment without looking at the instructions. She’s one of these people that is a natural at building and puzzle solving. I for one hate puzzles. They frustrate me. I also could care less about building something with my hands. Once in high school my sister alone built a stair case for a play with one arm. She’d broken the other arm trying to ride her bike with no hands. She was so clumsy. Her balance was that of an elephant on a high wire, she was an accident waiting to happen. But the stair case she built was sturdy and she wowed a lot of people building that as well as helping with the back drop for A Midsummer Night’s Dream. My sister is does not have book-smarts but she is very creative and quite the armature carpenter. These things didn’t win her any points in a business oriented family but I still brag about the things she built and the clothing she sewed by hand. I think she has amazing talents. Clearly I like my big sister. The little girl I remember (or the one I choose to remember) got the short end of the stick simply because her gifts were different than what the family thought they should be. I wish she and I could have gotten to know each other, the real us ya know? Not the people our Mama told us we were.

Those lines Mama drew stick with me even today. When it comes to the workings of my inner system of alters there is clear indication of Mama’s black and white thinking and divisions. Those same lines drawn between my sister and myself have been drawn with the twin alters that I have. They’re even at the age my body was during pivotal years. For example, the 6 year old twins have a line drawn between them with language and ability. They even share the same name but the differences can not be mistaken. One is quite cheerful and smiles a lot but the other is mute and struggles to communicate with the outside world. When I was a child my sister smiled often, even when she didn’t feel like it. It was expected and she did it to keep the peace. To this day I believed it saved her the heartache I got for not always smiling. I smiled when there was a reason to not because it was expected.

I was always outspoken and got in trouble for having my own opinion. I was head strong and not easily lead, I didn’t relate to or respond well to the family’s structure because it was based on appearance and not truth. One example of appearances being a dominant theme is the way the mother dressed us to go to her mother’s house. We walked into the grandmother’s house appearing to be perfect little angels and like life was great and good. I had a hard time sitting there properly when I knew what went on in my home. It was hard to smile in my grandmother’s face knowing what she had done to my mother, so I didn’t. The sister and I were always dressed exactly alike. Sometimes the dress was royal blue with lace, other times, pink or a wine coloured velvet dress with three layers of lace underneath and lacey socks to go with our patent leather shoes. We usually had some little hat to go with it too. This is how my sister and I looked every time we went to see her mother because Mama wanted the appearance of two perfect little girls with bright smiling faces. I suppose it was to somehow win her mother’s approval and once and for all her mother would love her. That never happened. As far as smiling went, I wouldn’t which got me in a lot of trouble. It was one thing to beat, starve, torture and sexually assault me but for the love of Pete don’t ask me to smile at all times as well. That was too much to ask of me. The differences I see in this set of twins who share the same name are comparable to my sister and myself around the time my body was six years old. It is a sad comparison but one we worked hard to change.

The three year old twins, (a boy and a girl) hold the “good one” and “bad one” titles. I have a set of 15 year old twins where one is considered pure and the other considered a whore. The age groups, the names, the titles all correspond with events that make those years significantly damaging. They left a lasting impression. Knowing and understanding what happened has helped me to understand those particular alters and assist them in whatever ways I’m able. It has also helped to see that if I continued to allow the old rules to stand and to see each twin in the old light that I hinder their healing not help it. We had to change those negative divisions. The 15 year old little girl who was known as a whore actually had that derogatory name as her surname. I don’t write the names of the children in the journal so I’ll just say her name is Yellow. We use to call her Yellow The Whore. We changed that. We refused to call her that anymore. We just accepted it as her name without question but not anymore. It was just the way it was but that’s not good enough anymore.

It must sound so cruel to know that we as a system called her that but we as a system are made up of our experiences and we function with that divided understanding. Heck, non-multiples often feel inner conflict. The good and the bad war with one another all the time. Sometimes the ideas a singleton has about who they are have been developed by negative words from others. Singletons call themselves stupid, lazy, worthless and good for nothing all the time. It is the same thing when I or one of me uses such a destructive phrase against one another. Basically, inner conflict is shared by singletons and multiples. So if you can think of the horrible names you’ve called yourself or set down hard and fast rules about your abilities then it might be easier to see how a multiple could do and say these things to their alters.

I also believe that continuing these divisions was another way to recreate the past so that this time we could be seen as the good one and not the bad one. Since the mother lied, since everything she told me I was is based on a lie then it only made sense to stop calling Yellow by the other name because it is a lie. As a matter of fact her name was changed completely and is a variation of her sister’s name. The old divisions are not welcome in our system, in Morton’s Pride. We always say we back each other but some of the things we were doing were destructive, like holding onto the dividing lines.

I see so much of my history in all 4 sets of twins (one set was not addressed in this entry). I see the clear distinctions with the three year olds and sometimes it makes me sad. The little boy is seen as a bad little mischievous kid but his twin sister is Deaf and Mute. She neither speaks bad nor hears it and therefore can not be anything but good or produce anything but good. That is a very black and white way of thinking, one can only produce bad and the other can only produce good but it was the common thought at our house when I was a child. However, in my house, in Morton’s Pride we tear down barriers when we recognize them. It’s taken a very long time to recognize these behaviors but slowly we are coming to recognize them and make appropriate changes.

I don’t know that this was exactly what I wanted to say but for awhile now I’ve wanted to talk about the twins and how they were subjected to the old rules. We saw CSI tonight and it had to do with twins. It kind of gave us a little push to write.

Alley Gray inside Morton’s Pride

Opposite Twins-Divisions Drawn
Friday, November 17, 2006-12:19midnight EST

An Uncouth Thanksgiving

Published on November 16, 2006 in For the Record and Relationships. 3 Comments

An Uncouth Thanksgiving-Horror At The Table
Wednesday, November 15, 2006- 11:33PM EST

I was sitting at the dinner table eating the best salad a cheap buffet can offer when my companion began coughing without covering her mouth. Out comes pizza all over my blue cheese dressing.

A nice hot mug of tea sat on the table waiting for me to sip. It seems Orange, Pomegranate and Passion Fruit tea is a new favorite of mine. Before I could savor this new favorite my company went into a coughing fit all over my table and my tea. She did not cover her mouth once.

A freshly clean breakfast bar may need to be sanitized if your company decides to pick her teeth then abandons the tooth pick on said bar.

A perfectly good cheap Chinese dinner can be ruined if your dinner companion blows her nose then sits that napkin open on the table.

It is a good thing I don’t celebrate the holidays. I can’t imagine having all of her nasty ass behaviors at my dinner table after I’ve slaved making that “special” meal. Since I don’t celebrate the holidays she will be spending that time with other friends of hers, as a matter of fact I suggested it. She can’t just come here and be triflin’ like that. I don’t think I should have to put a sign in the restroom requiring her to wash her hands. I should just lock the door from the outside and let her out when I hear the water run, hear the soap pump, hear the sound of the water braking as she moves her hands to and fro then finally the sound of the towel whipping off the holder only to be returned. I will then say “Good girl” and offer her a lollypop.

One might ask why I hang with her and it would be a reasonable question. I’m lonely but not lonely enough to sleep with her. And as nasty as her behaviors are and even with the upper lip hair envasion Blossom is a pretty woman. How you might ask? She is physically attractive. You can’t see the ‘stach but if you kiss her you can feel it. So don’t kiss her and you’d never know it was there. The hairs are blond enough to not be seen but coarse enough to feel. She is a very attractive woman with some really bad habits. Her strengths are that she holds a great conversation, she paints very well, and she’s driven to learn new things. It seems with the daily annoyances as well as the down right disgusting behaviors I forget to write about her strengths and the things she does right. It’s just so dang hard to focus on that stuff when I ask her to remove the napkin from the table or when I ask her not to clip her toe nails on my carpet and please don’t do it in my ash tray either. Somehow this pretty smart woman becomes a major annoyance with all the other things overshadowing the positives.

I’m so happy I won’t be slaving over the stove just to have to make a whole different dinner for myself in case she decides to go into a coughing fit without covering her mouth. Turkey and the fixins + germs and half chewed food offers no reason to be thankful.

Joan of Arc

Sleep What a Beautiful Thing

Published on November 14, 2006 in Art, Dreams, Gratitude Journal, Poetry and PTSD. 4 Comments

Several years ago I had a war with insomnia like no other. It lasted for about 4 months and I think in that time I slept less than 15 hours a week. Things go so bad that I had an in-home nurse come to see me for two hours everyday until things got better. When you don’t sleep for 4 or 5 days in a row your mind and body really starts to break down. That was a horrible time. You know how you get a doctor and you think, wow, she should have changed her name before getting into this field or she should have just chosen another medical field. If you’re thinking of treating male erectile dysfunction please reconsider if your name is Richard Dicks. It’s just not meant to be, go do something else. Well, my in-home psych nurse was graced with the last name Looney. I swear to you it was Nurse Looney. Immediately I could foresee problems. I wasn’t sure if this was her legal name or a title given to her by her co-workers or the grand state o-Texas. My little Texas born nurse ended up being just fine but I’ll certainly never forget that name. So, Nurse Looney came by and made sure I wasn’t dead, did a quick eval to see if I needed to go in the hospital, took care of some basic things and left. She was pretty cool but that was one horrible, horrible time. A sleep deprived mind tortures in a way a terrorist team would consider unusually cruel. I did finally get to sleep and get myself back on track.

That wasn’t my first bought with insomnia but it was the worst. I’ve dealt with insomnia all my life, sometimes voluntary insomnia and other times involuntary. I say voluntary because I just can’t stand the thought of lying down so I can be assaulted by nightmares. It’s like walking out in a Florida lightening storm wearing a magnetized rain coat and hat. I’m going to get struck and burned. When I was awake for the majority of 4 months I didn’t have a choice. I didn’t force myself to stay awake. As a matter of fact I was given different meds to try and help me sleep. They didn’t work. I wanted to sleep, I was willing to face the lightening bolts, but my body wouldn’t let me. I’m happy I survived that time. I always fear having to do it again but I also fear sleep in general.

Conflict- My sleep is plagued and all I want to do is avoid it. I know I should sleep but the thought of doing it makes me angry. I know what’s going to happen, why just go let it happen? So I try and stay awake so I don’t have to endure those dreams. It’s a back and forth thing, either my body won’t allow it or I don’t think I can take one more nightmare so I refuse to lay down. I once wrote a poem about the conflict. Sleep rejuvenates the body. Sleep is vital for life, without it we simply lose our mind then die. For me, it all seems like a catch 22 – don’t sleep and ruin my mental and physical health – sleep and ruin my mental health. The nightmares are often too much to take and that is what I tried to express in a poem I wrote last year called The Affair.

Blessings-The other day I wrote that I wanted to go to sleep but that I couldn’t, my body wouldn’t let me. I was so tired I couldn’t see straight and every small thing seemed some monumental catastrophe. Well finally my body gave in and slept. I think I slept for the majority of the last two days. I got up to take care of Captain and then went back to bed. I actually walked him two times Sunday and two times Monday then came back and crashed again. I ate only once a day but I had good meals. The vast majority of the time my back was planted on the futon enjoying (yes I said enjoying) deep sleep. I slept so deeply that even though I fell off the futon I didn’t feel the need to get right back up there. I tipped it over twice two days in a row and both times I figured I’d just get a few more winks before shoving it back on the milk crates in a semi-stable condition. I don’t have the full futon so it sits on crates. They thought it would be funny to move and toss me to the floor. I just didn’t care. I was so wiped out I stayed on the floor until Cap came to investigate the sight. “Why is Mama on the floor with a futon half on her head?” ….“I’m good Captain, go away. I’m good.”

I may have slept the vast majority of two days but I’m going to try and catch a few more hours before its time to go to therapy. From there I will attempt to get myself on some sort of schedule and maybe, just maybe I can build up a bit more physical and emotional strength. A few good nights of sleep felt like such a blessing. It’s odd that something so simple would feel like a blessing but good sleep is just that for me since either my body or my past denies it on a regular basis.

Austin

The Affair

I’m having an affair with insomnia.
I’m out with insomnia star gazing,
Sharing out dated cereal and listening to records spinning.
We lounge in the lazy boy chair, kick back and count the ceiling tile squares.
I’m having an affair with insomnia when I should be at home with my soul mate.

I couldn’t resist his charm.
He promised nights of no shadows or dreadful ghosts that would sneak up on me and steel my breath, leaving me cold and naked in a sweat soaked bed.
I’m drawn to the way he makes me shake and
The way I almost lose my mind when he’s overstayed his welcome.
I’m captivated by the way he steals that same mind and refuses to return it until it’s broken and useless.

I’m having an affair with Insomnia.
I’m not at home with my companion who offers a greater evil.
I am not reduced to submission or forced to straddling the muddled line between what is real and what is horror.
My husbandly companion is not privy to the longing I have for his contender.
He is unaware that while in his arms I dream of and yearn for his brother.

Time and again Sleep has proven to sustain me and
To support the growth of my heart.
But I turn my back on this soul mate and
Reach for the cold hands of someone who knows me less intimately.
Insomnia does not contain the details of a life I’d rather forget or
Recall time and events in colours too vivid for words.
I’m not in the warmest of beds with the softest of pillows on sheets of 1000 stitches per square inch.
There is no lace bed skirt to drape the box that tethers me to images that tear, rip and devastate an already fragile existence.

My affair does not arrest both day and night nor constantly remind me of my dependency on his plagues.
He only ravages time and space differently, manageable.

I feel the lips of this affair as I lay beneath my husbandly owner,
The one that traps me in a state of fear and suspended time.
The one who walks with me at a saunter down paths that lead to the same dead ending.
I peer over my owner’s shoulder and whisper the name of my lover
Because with Sleep I find no peace.

No One of Morton’s Pride
Wednesday, November 23, 2005 – 3:35 AM

Artificial Stomach That Vomits

Published on November 13, 2006 in For the Record and Stupid People. 0 Comments

Monday, November 13, 2006 4:05 EST

COMING SOON TO THIS BLOG- The First People’s Un-ethical Awards will be hosted on this very Sundrip Journal ™ to honor all those who have broken moral codes for selfish gain. The highest honor dishonor will be given the coveted Rumsfeld Award. Mixed in with the unethical and even the downright criminal will be your everyday idiot. They will be given prizes such as the You So Crazy, Little Dork or the What Where You Thinking award. That award is also known as the doh award and may be presented by Homer Simpson himself. Please check back for award winners.

This newest story caught me off guard but it also made me realize just why I hate clicking the Big Blue E to see MSN. I rarely open that browser. I’m a die hard FireFox fan but I can’t get Bejeweled 2 to work properly on FireFox so I’m forced to go elsewhere. It is top-of-the-list important for me to go past level 15 so I can write to Ordinary Janet and rub it in. When I open this horrible browser I Know I’ll get the usual news about who is dead and who is sleeping with whom. What I opened today took things to a whole new level. There is evidently the world’s first artificial stomach that also vomits. What?! Why can’t I go over to my good game Bejeweled 2 without running into some crazy article like this?

“LONDON – British scientists have built what they say is the world’s first artificial stomach: a shiny, high-tech box that physically simulates human digestion.

Constructed from sophisticated plastics and metals able to withstand the corrosive acids and enzymes found in the human gut, the device may ultimately help in the development of super-nutrients, such as obesity-fighting foods that could fool the stomach into thinking it is full.” click here for more.”

I have a feeling that they fed this artificial tummy a McRib sandwich with a super size fry and a diet coke and that is why it tossed his Mc-cookies. Or they fed it the new Chili Cheese Burger from B.K. and it just couldn’t keep it all down so it tossed it up thereby passing up his opportunity to be a made a man. It’s rumored that he and Pinocchio were seen together in a compromising position, that’s another story though. Maybe Mr. Queasy Belly once swallowed all Bush’s lies when he found out it was all hot air and he had been dupe he lost his high fat, high carb and sodium lunch…aka choice C12 in the coffee lounge.

The world is sick ….and now so are our computers.

My favorite story could have won the You So Crazy Award. This woman showed us all why anger management skills are so important. Nobody in a controlled manner beats anybody with a dead puppy.

My alter ego Aussie The Super Psych Patient needed to swoop down and tell her to count to 10 and think about the consequences of her actions. You’ll ruin little children who see you beating this woman with a very limp pup. “Mommy, why isn’t fluffy yelping anymore?” The world needs me and I, Aussie The Super Psych Patient shall save the world and rid it of all psychiatrically-challenged people OR simply reward them with special graphics. I haven’t decided yet. Stay tuned.

Austin

Losing my patience

Published on November 10, 2006 in Relationships and Soapbox. 3 Comments

This is one of those blind side posts, the kind that comes right out of the blue where you never saw it coming because I didn’t say a word about it. I just let it build up until the friggin dam broke and I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I am just so pissed! I’ve not said this for weeks because I just can’t stand it. I guess it all kinda came crashing in when I got a call from the doctor today telling me that he’d like for me to come in because he’s concerned about the condition of my joints. He said we need to talk about some treatment options. It was one thing when it was “just” physical pain but it’s not “just” that anymore. I know I laughed about weight loss but the entry was more about stupid commercials than weight loss. Anyway, the rapid weight loss isn’t good at all and I’m losing my damn hair. My hair! I can’t believe that. I use to shave my head when I got really triggered by stuff. It’s one of those self injury things. I stopped shaving my head about 2 years ago I think. When I shaved it I never cried one single time about all of my hair being gone because I was the one controlling it. I was the one that shaved it all off. Now, when I don’t have that amount of control it seems much more offensive. There is a difference between breakage, thinning and plane falling out. I am so heartbroken over it. I do love my baseball caps. I like hats in general but I don’t want to have to feel like I need to wear one to cover up hair loss. My thyroid is over active right now and the weight is falling off and my hair is falling out.

I’m so exhausted I can’t even see straight. I probably would have kept this little bit of info off the net but getting that call today after already being in pain just seemed to tip the scales. I needed to write about it. I have to admit, I worry about writing about physical stuff because I worry that people will think I’m a hypochondriac as if you can’t have a physical problem and emotional stuff going on…like you can only deal with one or the other but not both. My mind, well it’s gone but according to the rules I get to keep my physical health. Whatever!

I am NOT in a good mood at all. I seem to snap easily too. Bell climbed on my shoulder and it seemed like I could feel every single solitary nail hit every single available nerve. Some aren’t available because Blossom is on them but those that aren’t were tortured by Bella’s claws. Usually I just kind of pull her off of me but today it seemed like some huge deal that required the raising of ones voice while “using God’s name in vane.”

So 9am Blossom calls me to tell me she put in a call to the director of the women’s clinic about her psychotherapist. I’m happy she is reporting the cow but um, wasn’t it yesterday that I told you not to come over because you flaked AGAIN and we missed doing something pretty damn important because you wanted to sleep? So why did she call me for moral support just before he could call her back? I didn’t even let her come over because I didn’t want to look at her so why did she call me for moral support then add that the reason she didn’t report the cow that day was because if she had she would have been late to pick me up! Oh hell no! She can be late to come here or simply not show up at all but for some reason that day was so important to get over here in a timely manner. Give me a real break woman. For real! Of course I did say that, after gasping that is. Why that day of all days was timeliness important, Miss I can show up 6 hours late like nothing’s wrong. I know I shocked the crap out of her when I told her to stay home. At first I said I needed a few hours to cool off but then I called her back to let her know it wasn’t a good idea to come over. I got a lot done too.

In the last few days I’ve had 6 hours of sleep total. I had 30 min of sleep then got up to go to therapy. I believe that I slept about 3 hours later that evening and I slept a bit Wednesday evening I think it was. All I know is its Friday morning and I haven’t been to sleep yet. Basically I haven’t really slept much at all since that memory flattened me out the other day. I may have only said this twice in my life but, I WANT to go to sleep. I’m tired. I want my hair back. I want to stop vomiting. I want to stop being so overly sensitive to every single frikin chemical that comes along. I want lupus to kiss my ass and go somewhere! Pronto!

And I don’t want anything else on my plate today. That feels so selfish to say. I want my head to stop too. I want it to stop. FUCK!!!!!

relax, relax, relax…take a chill pill woman.

Destiny