Monthly Archive for July, 2007

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Half A Meatball

Published on July 20, 2007 in For the Record, Mental Health, Relationships and Soapbox. 11 Comments Tags: .

An entire week of no Barney Fife seems inviting after his display of grossness the other day. I wasn’t looking forward to his week long vacation away until he decided to gross me out so badly. Usually I keep my head about me and don’t go off babbling statements that could embarrass the gross one right then and there but there are times when I lose my composure and these statements just roll off my tongue. Okay, so I was on the phone talking to a friend when I noticed Barney cooking out of the pan that has now been unwashed for 5 months straight. He goes off if I wash his pan so I don’t anymore. Well, it seems a mouse got in the house and decided to leave a few droppings in said pan the other day. I hardly cook in there anymore because it’s surpassed triflin and gone right into damn ass nasty. I feel I should mention it is an occasional occurrence anymore to see a mouse here. What with two cats and all the mice seem to stay away but on occasion they show up and head straight for his filth filled pan. Okay so, they left their calling card. I figured he would at least then wash the pan. I was on the phone and I saw him cooking in the pan. Out of my mouth comes, “Dear Lord he’s cooking in that pan with the mouse shit. They’re swimming in it. They’re swimming in it. Oh my God. He’s having meatball and mouse shit.” I went on and on and on. Usually I wait to get away before such comments are made but I was in shock. To make the situation seem even stranger is what he was cooking. He had ½ of a meatball sautéing in this dropping stew. That was what he cooked in the pan with mouse crap, ½ of a meatball.

Now, while you’re thinking, what on earth is wrong with that man you must remember he has Asperger Syndrome. So this whole thing with food is classic behavior. My roommate’s disorder is the reason for his “strange” behaviors. For him this situation was perfectly logical. To me it’s perfectly illogical and “damn ass nasty.”

A person has to understand food behaviors and obsessions affect even the highest functioning person with autism. After all, when Barney works he works as a physics professor at a local university, which is also typical of a person with AS. He’s not a stupid man nor is he off his rocker totally. Barney also deals with food hoarding, food obsessions and fear of gaining weight- also part of his AS.

Many times people who don’t have autism look at a person who does with horror. To describe their behavior they use words like, “he’s illogical”, “he has no horse sense” and “what’s wrong with this man is he crazy?” While I may be grossed out by many of his behaviors at least I know he’s not trying to gross me out and he’s not intensionally going against what I know to be logical. Barney is displaying symptoms of his disorder that while totally gross are still symptoms of his disorder and not outright assaults on my attempts to lead a half way normal life as his roommate. I know why he does what he does. Understanding why usually helps me hold my tongue but this time I wasn’t prepared for the shock of ½ a meatball with mouse droppings. Trust me when I say I wish I’d held my tongue. He was so embarrassed.

I told him while he was gone I’d wash his pan because it was for his own good. Several people told me he’d hide the pan. I know his hiding places for food so that’s just fine. I thought to myself, he may pack it and take it with him though. So I headed out to the kitchen to wrap a bag around it (I wasn’t going to touch it) and move it so he couldn’t take it with him. Then it hit me, if I move this pan and he doesn’t see it before he leaves his entire vacation will be ruined! He’ll think of nothing but his pan the entire time. So I sat water in the pan with soap and left it where it was. I hoped when I got up this morning it would still be there and it is. So, while he’s gone I’ll hang it on the fence outside and blast it with the garden hose.

As important as it is for me to never again see mouse crap sautéed alongside ½ a meatball it is equally as important for him to see that his pan is “safe”. He got to see his pan before leaving and I get to make sure I never see such a thing again. We both get our needs met thanks to a garden hose.

Here are a few AS links: Aspergers’s disorder/syndrome and a dissertation by Taina Nieminen-von Wendt may be informative reading for those who want to know more about this disorder.

Austin

Half A Meatball
Friday, July 20, 2007-12:37 noon hour EST

On The Run

Published on July 19, 2007 in Dissociative Identity Disorder, For the Record, Mental Health, PTSD and Therapy. 3 Comments

Here I am on the run again. Tuesday was therapy with MacBlue. Yesterday was my knee doctor who twisted me around tortuously leading me to believe he’d been trained at Abu-Ghraib prison. Today is therapy day with MacBlue. But lets get back to the Master of Torture Dr. X. My gracious he twisted me in ways the body was just not meant to be twisted. Then he flipped me over and repeated the same torture. I could only feel part of it at the moment. This is where this post moves from laughing off the experience to recognizing my issues with touch and why. So, I’m actually not going to continue down the road of laughing this one off. I’ll just tell you that while he twisted me around I could feel a measure of pain but being a child of torture I was dissociated enough that I didn’t feel its full brunt until later. Oh my gracious! My legs were red and swollen. I sat there thinking, somebody please shoot me. Even my toes were swollen.

The doctor said that he could give me an “oil job” on my knees. I’d have one shot once a week for three weeks. I told him about my past abuse with needles in the roof of my mouth and the souls of my feet. I told him if left up to me I’d never have a shot of anything. I told him I needed him to look at my x-rays, do an exam and tell me in his expert opinion if he felt the shots had more than a 75% chance of helping me. I told him if I had 75% or more of a chance of being helped I’d take the shots and deal with the risks associated with my flashbacks. But if the chances of it helping are less than 75% the risk isn’t worth it for me. It’s more than my knees we’re dealing with here. I have to be able to live with the fact that I’m going to have flashbacks which will make me feel humiliated and lead to unhealthy thoughts and possible negative actions with permanent consequences. At this point we are not doing the shots. I am relieved because I don’t want to have to deal with those flashbacks again. I know a needle to the knee cap isn’t going to be pleasant which means I’ll kick into my old coping skills of how I dealt with my mother’s torture. The humiliation of how I dealt with past torture is where risk turns dangerous for me.

Gotta run, I have therapy today- thank goodness

Austin

Are Borderlines Crazy?

Published on July 18, 2007 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Mental Health and PTSD. 6 Comments

This was a search query that lead someone to my blog. Awhile back Kathy over at Dark2Light decided to blog on the topic of search queries that brought people to her blog. So, I’m going to snatch her idea and answer this one because it grabbed my attention AND it fits my current situation very well.

Are borderlines crazy? No, we are not. Having borderline personality disorder does not make you unlovable, less of a person, crazy or bad. Borderlines are human beings that grew up in a situation where their needs were not met. They were either neglected, abused and/or given mixed messages routinely. Instability during childhood can delay personality development or hinder it leading to difficulties in adulthood. These difficulties do not make us crazy nor do they make us bad people. It means that circumstances beyond a child’s control didn’t allow the personality to develop in such a way that lets him/her communicate, live and thrive as others do. It means we have a job ahead of us to try and learn lessons not given in a healthy way as a child. Crazy does not play into this equation in any way shape or form. However, as informed adults we must learn to change these behaviors and develop life skills that lead to happiness.

Sincerely,
Austin of Sundrip

Wednesday, July 18, 2007-11:03PM EST
Are Borderlines Crazy?

UPDATE

After I wrote yesterday’s entry in reply to a search query I began to think about my mother’s borderline behaviors as well as the borderline behaviors of other parents. My mother is borderline and an abuser but being borderline doesn’t necessarily mean you will be an abuser.

When I think about what my mother did I can see more than her borderline personality disorder at work. She was a cruel woman who loved reminiscing on her cruelty. She’d re-tell my sister and me stories of our abuse (as if we weren’t there when it happened) with much lust. I do not know this type of torture to be a borderline symptom. I believe when it comes to my mother more than BPD was in play. My mother with her lust for abuse is a sociopath/psychopath. She is narcissistic, cunning and an all around frightening person. It is not the BPD that made my mother crazy because BPD is only part of her profile.  Looking at my mother’s whole profile I can see the community is safer with her in a prison asylum.

Thursday, July 19, 2007-9:36AM EST

Rain On My Haven

Published on July 18, 2007 in Art, For the Record, Gratitude Journal and Humor. 4 Comments

Indiana got rain today and boy did we need it. It has been one very dry summer. My flowers and herbs are actually living again.

I’ve been trying to make a little haven out on my porch area. I kept seeing pictures of Carmon’s porch and thought to myself, I can’t add a mountain back drop but I can add potted flowers and herbs. I can sit out and take in nature and have a place of refuge. So, after months upon months of pure, unadulterated jealousy I decided I’d get started on making my little porch into a haven. I sit out there and listen to city nature, drink my morning coffee, read and do whatever. My porch has become a place I really enjoy but I nearly lost my plant life out there with the dry spell. I could have watered them but I was a bit on the distracted side. Continue reading ‘Rain On My Haven’

Dignity For Dinner

Published on July 17, 2007 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD, Relationships and Soapbox. 2 Comments

This week end she slept in my bed. This week end she received a full body massage, had her back washed in a Jacuzzi tub filled with Gilchrist & Soames bath salts. Late Sunday evening she sat on my porch lit with enough candles to bring Wicks and Sticks to shame. She talked about how nice dinner was when she ate well at my table dressed with freshly cut Gladiolas. The day was nice, the breeze was nice, everything was nice.

Dinner Flowers

glads2.jpgThat evening I talked to her again about her relationship with Twister. I told her I knew. She denied that anything happened. The water works started but I offered no sympathy. I didn’t cave to manipulation. I told her she needed to decide what she wanted to do. I defied her wishes for me to decide for her. Sunday evening rolled around and she set the alarm clock to get up because she had a meeting with Twister. Before she could leave Twister called here. She picked up the glads1.jpgphone, said a few words and then peaked her head around the hallway corner and said, “Would you like to go to dinner with us this evening?” I told her no. She teared up. I toughen up. After she hung up the phone she told me that Twister left a message on her phone a few days ago saying he likes us both equally, not one more than the other. I didn’t offer a response. She finished getting dressed, kissed me good bye and walked out of the door. She’s be home later she said. She calls my home her home but I never correct her.

Before the tawdry tart came back she called from the restaurant to let me know she was bringing some “goodies.” She said she didn’t know what to order for me so she just saved me some of what she ordered. I was silent. She asked if I was okay. Oh, yeah, I’m okay. I’m more than okay. About thirty minutes later she walked in the house with a large sack of food.

Oh no you didn’t. I know you didn’t. Girl, tell me this food isn’t for me! Lie to me if you must. After eating dinner with the man she’s been cheating on me with Blossom brought back for me left over steak, left over salad and left over bread sticks. She piled Olive Garden salad in a to go box, tossed in three bread sticks and walked in the house wreaking of garlic ready to serve me up a fine dish of disrespect. My God you have got to be kidding me? Why Blossom, what set of balls you have! Never have I seen a scrotum the size of yours! How the hell do you walk and not fall over? Damn bitch don’t you need a license to carry those things?

After her display of brazen disrespect she then handed me a letter that I’d written nearly three years ago. It said that she is a good person. It said I trusted her and that people like her. After reading it I said, “This was all true when you weren’t cheating.” I explained to her that she couldn’t have the best of both worlds. She couldn’t have Twister and me and that by leaving today to go see him she made her decision. After a bit more conversation and surprisingly few tears she got up to leave. I told her to take the food she brought with her. She asked me why I wasn’t going to eat it. I didn’t reply. I just handed it to her. The thought in my head? I don’t plan to eat left overs, I plan to have dignity for dinner.

dignified dinner plate

Destiny

Dignity For Dinner-Tuesday, July 17, 2007-1:30AM

I Use To Know A Girl

Published on July 17, 2007 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD and Relationships. 3 Comments

I use to know this girl that would tell you under no uncertain terms that you could not walk on her, that you had to call her by her name, that you could not touch her unjustly or treat her like common dirt unless of course she was dating you. She had a strength about her that others fed off of. They liked her. I liked her. It was about 1996 when my friend died. I remember the day. It was April. It was April 19th, 1996 to be exact. I remember exactly what happened. She was already tired because she’d just left an abusive marriage and moved into an apartment directly across the hall from where Baby was thought to have been born. She didn’t get much sleep at all, not being that close to the old apartment, so close to that memory. The day a man sat her in his office and took away what little strength she had left it didn’t kill her immediately, it took awhile, months maybe but she did eventually die. It seemed as if what she had left to fight with was taken in that room with words. They are after all the strongest weapon, words. Continue reading ‘I Use To Know A Girl’

CONGRATS TO MEME

Published on July 16, 2007 in For the Record. 1 Comment

We welcome to the world your second grandchild.

It started off rough but as I hear it you handled it like a pro. I know that must have been the most frightening moment ever. But to go home with your daughter and new grandson was a gift unmatched by any. So we congratulate you for your stamina and perseverance and we wish you and your family well.

Get some rest granny, you’ve earned it!!!! And please, don’t make any homemade wine. No Bartles and James pop cycles made from stolen doctor’s office tongue depressors. Just please tell me you left the still at home. Oh MeMe, what am I going to do with you?

Actually, MeMe is a Northwestern University grad, a well educated woman with daughters who have followed in her footsteps of higher education … a daughter at Brown University is nothing to sneeze at. She’s not the hillbilly wine making girl she jokingly says she is. And she’ll be a kick ars grandma too.

CONGRATS TO MEME- for her new family and for life accomplishments