Monthly Archive for September, 2007

Disastrous Desserts

Published
by
JoanofArc
on September 30, 2007
in Borderline Personality Disorder, General Chatter, Humor, Relationships, Soapbox and Stupid People
. 9 Comments

I should have asked for ID before inviting her over. I should have done a background check, a horoscope check, did some numerology or some sort of voodoo to see if I should leave the house but no, I went about this date thinking I’d be okay. Okay was not in the cards for me, no sir re Bob. So here we go, we’re sitting on my porch eating pudding, watching the stars through a fog filled sky when she decided she’d like a Pepsi. Well, I didn’t have any here so we went to the store. At the store a drunken 80’s band singer wanna be stumbled in. Instead of just letting Mr. Rock N Roll go about his business she started talking to him, asking him what was in the cup. Now, it’s not like I wouldn’t have done the same. It just would have been at a time when I wasn’t on a date. So, she’s talking to him, tells him she can smell the Polo he’s wearing. She asks him if he’s drunk. He said he was fine but then turned to me and said, “But I can see two of you, fat ass.” I said, “Please feel free to kiss both of my asses.”

I have no idea how I got involved in that whole thing but he decided to drag me in it with a “fat ass” comment. My response got a laugh from on lookers so I didn’t feel as bad as I would had I not come back with that. Before he could stumble out in his super tight white jeans and hair that was two strands shy of a mullet she went into a rant and rave about being fat. It seems this 25 year old mother of 4 is also sensitive about her weight. (Note to self: ask age and number of dependents before agreeing to a date.) Can this get any worse? On the way back to my house she asked if I’d be able to support her financially. So much for we’re just having pudding. Back at my house she picked up her rant and rave again. She explained that she’s on SSI for anger issues then went on to express unbridled rage directed not at the super skinny 80’s rocker but at “Mexicans”, Deaf people, White people, Black people, Muslims and men. I basically dated the female version of MacBlue. It seems she has issues with McDonald’s employees too. The whole “may I take your order” thing gets on her nerves. She turns around and leaves when asked that stupid question. In case you’re wondering, no I didn’t meet her at the local loony bin. At least I didn’t shave my legs for this.

I have to admit, the more I date casually the more I realize just how laid back and almost conservative I am. I said that to someone today, about being conservative. She (you know who you are) was rather shocked I’d use that word in reference to myself. I guess what I mean is, I’m a homebody, the domestic type, a girl not looking for a wild night out on the town. I’m opinionated and out spoken but not loud and boisterous. I’m not the crowd type at all. I think I know what’s right and wrong and I’m willing to press my ideas on others. I’m willing to say, No, that’s not right and here’s why I think that. I’m not always open to agree to disagree, not with a strong sense of being a know it all. I may shut up and not argue but it doesn’t’ mean I’m not set in my ways. Lord, at 36 I’m set in my ways. I’m also quite shy when it comes to dating. I lose my self confidence big time and get rather shy, dare I say girly until much further into the relationship. Even further in I’m usually not the dominant one. I’m outspoken always but when it comes to relationships I tend to speak my mind but cave to her needs.

So what do I want? Space. In between that space I want someone to pamper then I want more space. After a bit of space I want someone to share a dinner with, maybe trek around the golf course awhile, go to the dog park, watch a DVD, go to a museum and other low key stuff. I want a reader, a homebody like myself. I want someone with self confidence, someone I don’t have to always build up and reassure of their inner and outer beauty. I need her to have a bit of culture, someone who doesn’t think Red Lobster has the best seafood in town. She doesn’t have to have a college education. She doesn’t have to sport a passport that’s been to various third world countries. She doesn’t have to be a 10. I want someone kind, someone on the same wave length with me at least 50% of the time.

If I’m going to date between spaces I’ll need to find someone I have a little more in common with. I might have to remember not to be so opinionated though. It tends to make people uncomfortable. Opinionated people come off as judgmental and that’s not really a great thing to add to my “why you should date me” list. Nobody likes to be judged.

J of A

Just Dessert

Published
by
JoanofArc
on September 29, 2007
in Borderline Personality Disorder and Relationships
. 2 Comments

She’ll be here after she gets off of work. It’s going to be cool this evening but that’ll be just fine. I’ll set up a nice outside picnic area nicely lighted but no romantic music or anything too strong like that. We’ll sit outside and eat homemade banana pudding, still warm cause it’s better like that. We’ll chat a little bit then awkwardly end our first date.

Thank goodness before Barney left for Missouri he fixed the lawn mower. Not only did he fix the lawn mower and mow properly but he pruned the trees. He’s motivated by money. I told him if he didn’t do it I’d pay someone else with my rent money to do it. A limb fell off a tree just inches from my boy. I wasn’t pleased. When I woke yesterday I found pretty nice looking yard. I was quite pleased. His timing couldn’t be better.

I wouldn’t exactly call this back in the saddle again. I’d call it willing to share dessert. I’m still rather hurt by how my relationship with Blossom turned out. I think about the girl daily. Most anymore I move back and forth between down right bitter to sentimental with no middle ground. Emotionally I’m still raw from the break up. I feel rather broken by it but not broken like other experiences make me feel. This one I figure I’ll recover from. I don’t, however, plan to think about that this evening nor do I plan to talk about “her.” I plan to eat banana pudding and talk.

It should be interesting to say the least. I feel like I’m going into this date hiding much. Something tells me she isn’t exactly coming over without her personal baggage but I still worry about my own. I still worry she’ll be able to see the broken parts of me. For a few minutes, if for nothing other than to enjoy myself, I’ll have to remember we’re just two people trying to enjoy an evening.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHN2JKuqNNc]

I have to remember there are no expectations. I’m not trying to make a life with her; I’m trying to eat pudding. If there are few or no expectations does it matter what my baggage is? Oh my gosh, what am I going to wear? I’ve been so focused on pudding that I forgot to think about what I’m going to put on.

video: James Morrison - Undiscovered.

Austin

Stuff In My Yard - Brown Mantid

Published
by
Austin
on September 28, 2007
in General Chatter
. 2 Comments

This Brown Mantid was on my door for hours. I find him quite amazing. For those of you that might not appreciate looking him/her in the eye I made the image thumbnail size. LOL

Brown MantidIf ever you wanted to see a praying mantid/mantis close up without it biting you or flying on you here’s your chance. This is certainly not a prize winning photo. It’s a quick capture of a bug on my door right after it sank his little claws in my right upper arm.

I found out today that these little carnivores are capable of eating small mammals like humming birds and little bitty mice. Despite popular belief the female doesn’t always eat her mate. And, did you know in some countries the praying mantid/mantis is an endangered species? My gracious.

Guess how you can tell the difference between the male and female? A male has more abdominal segments than a female. A female has 6. A male has 7. How cool is that. From my photo I wasn’t able to determine the sex. I’m not sure where to start counting either. Does the very last little sticking out stinger appearing thingie count as a segment? I have no clue. All I know is before I hit the sheets I’ll take one more look of my mantid/mantis bite, put some sort of gel on it and lay my head down.

Night

Austin

Survivor China - Week 2

Published
by
JoanofArc
on September 28, 2007
in Humor, Soapbox and Stupid People
. 2 Comments

OMG I love that show. Let me be truthful, I love the fact that most of the girls are running around in their underclothes because they were forced to leave their worldly possession behind. The black chick (Sherea) is wearing a Just My Size bra with purple panties. The professional wrestler, well she chose a Victoria Secret-like lacy panty. She’s kinda skinny, not my type but in those knock off undies, I wasn’t complaining. Okay, enough of that. Anyway, I don’t know if anyone noticed James. You know, the buff black guy with the bald head who should never, ever, and I do mean ever wear a shirt to cover those abs and perfectly sun baked skin. Yum James. Just one word, yum. He said he’s shy and not too social. I guess being a grave digger doesn’t give many opportunities for socialization unless you’re from Ghost Whisperer. He said he hopes people will fall in love with him. James, let me say this, “I love you.” I profess my undying love for you until the black chick comes around to Indy to spend forever with me.

Okay, onto challenges. The poker player Jean is on his last card. He’s got to remember he’s not at a poker table. He’s got to remember strategy works but only in conjunction with physical action at camp and during competition. At this point only he knows his strategy but everyone else knows his inaction. Step it up Jean or you’ll find that you’ll be forced to step out of Survivor China.

As for the radio host aka “Thumper”, girl stop trusting the tiny fairy Todd. He’s not trustworthy. He’s a schemer, stop trusting him. Jean called Fairy Todd devious and was correct. It’ll come back to bite him and when it does he can take his flight attendant self right back to where he came from and embarrass his church there. End of fairy tale. No happy ending for him. I have to give it to the radio host for not bowing down in the temple. I wish you hadn’t cried like that but I offer great respect for being willing to walk out of there because you thought it was the right thing to do. “They” said this isn’t worship but lets go inside the temple and bow down 37 times before an idle. You said no and I respect that however, please stop crying Thumper, let go of the whole emotional trip and play the game. I’ve only seen you do it twice but it’s already old. Don’t get on my nerves again okay? It won’t fair well for you on my blog and I know how important it is for you to fair well on The People Behind My Eyes. I have much in store for Fairy Todd. I plan to dog him and Jean left and right. Don’t put yourself on my personal chopping block because you’re a friggin cry baby. Suck it up and play the game.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IdpVaXrTTbw]

I’m not sure why it was important for Survivor to name Todd the “gay Mormon” unless the purpose was to embarrass the Mormon Church. If that was the purpose- mission accomplished. Survivor seems to like their “gay Mormon’s”. They seem to bring in one as often as they can, but that’s neither here nor there. What is the purpose of noting the sexuality of the players? No one calls James the “heterosexual gravedigger should be a Chip-N-Dale” or Sherea the “super hot heterosexual school teacher and member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc. who should consider women.” I’m not the straightest girl in America but if I ever find myself on Survivor (yeah right) I won’t introduce myself as “Austin of Sundrip, the lesbian blogger.” My surname isn’t “Lesbian” so it doesn’t need to be attached to me and every organization I’ve ever been a part of. Enough said.

As for the leader of Zhan Hu, your overbearing ways are going to put you on the chopping block. You have good ideas. Making bricks out of the mud was a good idea but your attitude will put you in the same fire you so desperately try to build. Don’t be a jackass. The other tribe has physical strength against you. You need the food. You have it. Eat something ya moron. Feed your tribe and use the energy you gain from food to work and compete. Superman you aren’t so stop trying to prove something and play the game to win for your dissension riddled tribe. The other tribe has brawn; it makes sense that they’re winning physical competitions so figure out how to pit them against each other and make their strength become their weakness. Heck, let them get puffed up, go in with the attitude that they can’t be beaten then break them down one by one. Sabotage wins wars my little tired and ego driven leader.

You might also want to look from within and see why it is you’re allowed to be so annoying. Perhaps your ego overshadows your brain. Look at your people, look at who hangs with whom and question it. You might see you’re not just a leader but a pawn. I personally would like to see you out wit the light footed one who put you in this position of authority.

Black chick in the Just My Size bra and blue-light-special panties please call me. Until then, I’ll see you in my dreams. I should go to bed early.

That’s all for my Survivor China week 2 rant, rave and catcall.

Austin of Sundrip, Lesbian blogger
Austin of Sundrip, Lesbian ex-Catholic School Student…
Lesbian ex-chef . Lesbian starving artist. ...see, it’s senseless.

Survivor China- Week 2
Thursday, September 27, 2007-8:56PM EST

Disneyland and Bridges Dream- Dream Therapy Part 1 of 2

Published
by
Austin
on September 28, 2007
in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dream Therapy, Dreams, Mental Health, PTSD, Segments, Therapy and Therapy Assignments
. 0 Comments

This dream is from 09-27-07

I was in a waiting area outside Disneyland sitting on a bench talking to strangers. I’d seen my mother several times in the theme park but she never saw me. Just before she left I found it quite offensive that she never saw me so I went to chase after her and call myself to her attention. I called out once but she didn’t hear me. Then she left the park and crossed the street. I decided to approach her but before I could she got in the car and left. She managed to get off the grounds of Disneyland, get out of her front row parking spot and leave in two to three minutes. The person I was with decided we should follow her but she was already out of the parking lot by the time we reached the crossing light of a main street which was two feet from where we were when we saw her go into the parking lot before getting into her car. It was somewhat amazing to see her disappear then drive down the street and out of sight again. The friend (whose face I never saw) told me he knew a short cut to her home and we could meet her there to question her activities. I just wanted to let her know I was at Disneyland the whole time she was and that yes despite not living with her I could afford a Disneyland vacation.1 When we got to her house 4 cars were parked out side and only two porch lights were on out of a possible four. I told my friend something wasn’t right about it. Just as we did a man came outside in his underwear and asked what the hell I was doing. He recognized me right off. He asked if I was trying to get shot. He said my mother shoots first and asks questions later. The older man said that she would have shot me before she could turn the lights on to see me. My friend and I told him why we were there but the older man didn’t care. He was too upset that we stepped on his property giving her a reason to kill us. He went back in and shut the door. My friend pointed to the tree in his yard and said he recognized it as being the same type the mother parked under, it was a Cyprus tree he said. 2

Footnote 1- In the real life nightmare with my mother she raised me to be totally dependent upon her. She raised me to believe I could not live without her. She had me so convinced that when I left the state alone I actually wondered if I’d cease to exist. She told me I’d starve, the world would come after me and ravage me and she was the only person I could trust. My exaggerated sense of self reliance I’m sure is based on the need to prove I can make it without her.

Footnote 2 – The house this faceless friend and I went to in the dream turned out to be the home I live in right now. It was my roommate Barney that answered the door in his underwear and who was annoyed that I put myself in danger on his property.

Disneyland and Bridges Dream- Dream Therapy Part 1 of 2
Thursday, September 27, 2007-4:03PM EST

Disneyland and Bridges Dream- Dream Therapy Part 1 of 2
Disneyland and Bridges Dream- Dream Therapy Part 2 of 2.

Disneyland and Bridges Dream- Dream Therapy Part 2 of 2

Published
by
Austin
on September 28, 2007
in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dream Therapy, Dreams, Mental Health, PTSD, Therapy and Therapy Assignments
. 0 Comments

Bridges Dream:

Blossom drives me over the highway looking at traffic that’s slowed other parts of traffic way to a crawl. We pass over several slow moving sights via alternative routes. As we do we see apartment buildings advertising rentals. The buildings look good on the outside but inside they’re run down, infested with bugs, mold and in need of serious repair. The apartment buildings are various shades of blue. We passed about 5 to 6 different apartment rentals before reaching Blossom’s house. To get to her house you have to drive over a cliff area. I stiffened. I couldn’t breathe but I wouldn’t dare let on for fear she’d loose concentration and drive right over the side. This time my fear wasn’t warranted because the cliff wasn’t deep nor was there a valley below filled with trees that had been cut down half way and left jagged beside smooth cut rocks. Had she lost control the result would not be death unless there was some freak way the car landed three feet down. But still I responded as if I were a young teenager crossing the bridge into Kentucky 3. I was quite as if it meant my life to do so. I was stiff, hardly breathing at all until she reached her home. She made one turn just a little short but managed to keep the car from dropping three feet. Every time she left her home or returned home with me in the car the same high stress reaction took place.

Footnote 3 – A yearly visit to Louisville, Kentucky meant driving over the bridge to enter that state. It also meant a yearly nightmare which included threats of driving over the side if my sister or I moved an inch. Plummeting to my death wasn’t something I found exiting nor were her threats of small infractions that would lead to it. You simply sat there, still as a stiff until we got to the other side. Let the vacation begin.

Only one time before did the mother drive off the road in a rage. We were on the West side of town when she screamed “I’m going to kill us all.” She drove off the road onto a field and slammed the gas peddle. I reached from the back seat and removed the keys from the ignition. I gave her a pep talk about how everything would be okay. To this day the only place I’m claustrophobic is in a car. I have to know I can get out.

Commentary:

I found it interesting that I was offended that she didn’t see me. I found it interesting that she had such a nice parking spot. When pretty much everyone else had to take a shuttle to find their car she was in the front row under a huge tree. She was able to move about a themed park with ease when everyone else had to wait in long lines of traffic. Comfort and privilege come to mind when I think of that part of the dream.

If I were to re-write this dream I would let it go that she was in the same area I was in. I wouldn’t think twice about approaching her. I’d be resolved to finish my vacation.

If I were to re-write the second dream I’d change my reaction to driving to Blossom’s house. I’d prove to myself that I could get out of the car if I needed to. I’d open the car door and look down to prove that I was in a different place and time and that I didn’t have to be afraid. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to open the car door without warning or without my seat belt fastened.

Disneyland and Bridges Dream- Dream Therapy Part 2 of 2
Thursday, September 27, 2007-4:03PM EST

Disneyland and Bridges Dream- Dream Therapy Part 1 of 2
Disneyland and Bridges Dream- Dream Therapy Part 2 of 2.

National Pity Party Day

Published
by
JoanofArc
on September 27, 2007
in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, PTSD, Soapbox and Therapy
. 4 Comments

Here is my blog entry for National Pity Party Day.

My first complaint above all is sleep. I’ve said it a hundred times if not more, I need good sleep. I need sleep without nightmares. I get kind of tired of writing about that on the blog because it’s like, well, nothing’s changed. Why don’t I just move on, act like sleep is regular, pretend that at night I’m a 36 year old woman who doesn’t remember that 4 nights out of 7 were met with violence from 3 to 20. It’s been 16 years since I lived at home but it’s not like I don’t see and hear home at every turn. It’s like being Catholic or Baptist or Presbyterian, Mormon or any other religion a person grows up with. The ideas, valid or invalid, are in your head and you see the entire world through those views. I’m getting really tired of my “religion.” It’s taken a toll on my health, on my mind and my spirit. It makes me weak physically and emotionally. Can I declare myself an atheist from this early form of thought? After all, my mother did set herself up as God. I don’t want to give my entire life over to that god. I recognize the authority this particular god has over me. I’ve experienced her wrath despite doing my best to avoid it. I do my best to not upset memories. I avoid places I know will bring them back. I avoid the bed. This fight is getting wearisome. (Please do not leave comments about religious practices as the above merely uses religion as an example. It is not a plea for Scripture.)

I’d like to pick up a paint brush again. I’d like to have my health back. I’d like to not have my skin bruised with signs of Lupus or my eyes dimmed because of Lupus, my bones eaten and my organs eaten by Lupus. Lupus is ugly and most days anymore I feel ugly. I look at my skin and think, my goodness, is this me?

I’m getting sick of being broke all the time. That keeps me up at night too. The newest financial struggle is with the food stamp office who decided to lower my stamps from $51 a month to $14 a month because I should be able to pay what I pay in rent then manage the remaining $185. The thought of having $14 this coming October to add to food costs angers me beyond belief. It’ll be even more imperative that Barney not eat my food come October.

I’m getting a bit annoyed that he’s willing to go on 2 hikes a day three times a week but he’s not willing to mow the lawn. Today he said it’s just about the end of the year which means he shouldn’t have to mow the lawn until early spring. He doesn’t mow the lawn during the fall. He lets the leaves fall from 8 huge trees in the yard and doesn’t even attempt to pick them up. Rain beats the leaves down into a nice breeding ground for mold and bug life. The sun heats it up, the rain beats it back down, over and over until the weather changes and the snow degrades the leaves into mold and bug infested “mulch”. Today he said he doesn’t plan to mow the yard until spring. He was serious. I was dead serious when I told him I’d take part of my rent money to have the yard mowed. What kind of lazy crap is that?

I think I might be crazy. I think half the stuff in my head if ever put on paper would get me labeled as crazy. If my behaviors were ever witnessed by anyone I fear it would get me committed or force me to openly accept that I’m crazy. I feel like I’ve lost my mind. Most nights I feel like I lost it several nights before.

I think about suicide as a way out more often than not. I didn’t sign up for this war. I want out.

Most mothers say they’d wait for their kids to grow up before every killing themselves. I figure when Captain passes I’ve got no real reason to stay here. He turns 8 years old October 1st. Goodness, that was the first smile of this whole entry. He’s such a good boy. One mention of Captain even slightly gets a smile.

I cry most days when before it was hard to get a tear out of me. I’m getting tired of everyday struggles and having nothing. It’s getting to me, very much it’s getting to me.

My anxiety level reached a peek two days ago when I realized I’ll see a new therapist Monday afternoon. I’m just spinning my wheels I think. Nothing’s going to change. My life is reduced to surviving and that truly angers me.

Joan of Arc for Morton’s Pride

National Pity Party Day
Thursday, September 27, 2007-5:45PM EST

Hair Despair Conspiracy Theory

Published
by
Austin
on September 24, 2007
in Humor
. 2 Comments

You think you know people. You call them a friend then they go behind your back and register you for a product designed for people with bad hair. There I was on my computer whistling innocent tune (dee, dee, dee, dee, dee) and what happens? I get an email from someone I thought was a friend. They sent me an email telling me they are aware of my “hair despair” and that they’d like to help. Let me just go ahead and quote this email okay.

Hey there!

You have a friend who cares. (Enter friend’s name) is well aware of your hair despair. It’s time to get hairapy and actually do something about that ‘do!

No matter what problem your hair may have, (enter friend’s name) wants you to know that Sunsilk is here to help and has the solution. Learn about our hair care products and get your free sample at gethairapy.com. Then be sure to thank your friend for putting you on the path to beautiful hair.

Sincerely,
Sunsilk

SunSilk Hair Therapy

I was in such despair I could no longer whistle. My “friend” was not able to keep my secret. She had to go and put me on a website for people who suffer with bad hair. Now everyone knows my problem. She can’t keep a secret and I, well, I can’t whistle a happy tune knowing this Sunsilk intervention is set in motion despite me being perfectly satisfied going about in hairy denial. I’ve tried to whistle again. I followed the age old instructions, “Just put your lips together and blow” but I don’t know if I have the wind in me left. I may never whistle again.

If it’s not bad enough that one friend decided I needed hair therapy another actually went out and purchased this item for me. Is this some sort of hairy conspiracy? The other “friend” said they were free samples …talkin’ ’bout she some extras…..and she thought she’d share them with me. Now I know the truth.

Hair Despair Conspiracy Theory
Monday, September 24, 2007-2:21AM EST

An Open Invitation To Complain Freely

Published
by
Austin
on September 23, 2007
in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD, Soapbox and Therapy
. 4 Comments

Self respect is hidden in the phrase “Why me.” I hope you can see it.
I hope you one day find the strength to say it.

Pity MeFor a few days there was a graphic displayed on my sidebar that said, “Pity Me.” Are you wondering what that was about? The graphic you see here links to Enola’s site where a blog pity party will take place. To participate in this party only one thing is required, talk openly about how you feel without adding coping skills or reasoning. You do not have to be a survivor to join the pity party. All you have to do is be willing to give yourself permission to openly talk about whatever without resorting to the “pull up your boot straps” mentality. You don’t have to explain why you feel a certain way to justify your actions, just let it hang out. You don’t have to show strength, write a perfect entry or anything like that. Just write, write about your issues, about what might be going wrong right now, about whatever.

With that said let me say that I feel two ways about self pity. I think self pity can be both validating as well as slow down the one who wears pity as shoes. If every step you take is dedicated to letting people know how you’ve been done wrong then self pity can slow down progress and growth. On the other hand, if a person can say to themselves, “I was done wrong. That shouldn’t have happened” then it shows a measure of self respect. If a person can say, “Why me?” it shows they understand they aren’t wicked at heart, worthless and always destined for bad things.

The first time the phrase “why me” came out of my mouth was maybe 6 or 7 years ago. For the record I’m 36 years old. In my opinion I spent quite a bit of my life not questioning why certain things happened. I was quite certain they happened because of something I did, some inherent badness. I feel that the phrase “why me” validates a persons good heart that doesn’t deserve to be treated unfairly, unjustly, criminally.

In response to “why me” I’ve heard it said to ask “why not me?” I think in few situations this response is accurate but for survivors there is no relevance. In everyday life separate from abuses that question might have some validity but in my opinion the cases are few and far between. I hate that response. I think it devalues us as human beings. I think it tells people they shouldn’t feel like they are above injustices. “Why not me” might make a person sound like they think they’re better than injustice. Well, guess what? I am better than that and so are most other people. That’s just my opinion.

So, now that you know how I feel about self pity you’ll understand what I say on the 27th to be a tribute to my personal healing process. You are cordially invited on September 27th in the name of self pity, to blog and blog openly. Put your link on Enola’s blog letting everyone know you plan to participate.

Self respect is hidden in the phrase “Why me.” I hope you can see it.
I hope you one day find the strength to say it.

An Open Invitation To Complain Freely
Sunday, September 23, 2007-4:45PM EST

Now That I Have Your Attention

Published
by
Austin
on September 23, 2007
in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, My reply, PTSD, Relationships, Soapbox and Therapy
. 1 Comment

In response to Beautiful Dreamer:

I so admire how well you seem to know and understand your system. Just knowing each part’s function is something I haven’t quite managed. My parts probably have different physical symptoms, as yours do, but I just don’t pay enough attention to have a clue.

I need to know what they do in order to help them. They need to understand why they do what they do in order to help themselves. Being an insider doesn’t make you helpless so self care for each alter of age is important. We want to know who we are, have to know so we can decide what characteristics we want to encourage and what characteristics need better understanding. Understanding motivates change and/or tolerance.

Probably part of my not knowing my system better is my reticence about making my world all about DID. It would take more time and concentration for me to really get to know them all, and it seems like most of my focus would be on my disorder, which is not what I want.

Sometimes people take the whole DID thing too far and make their entire world about their disorder for the purpose of bringing attention not to the cause of the disorder but to themselves. It takes a lot of courage to say you have DID because it means someone stole from you, someone ravaged childhood like a wolf in a sheep shop. It’s a painful thing to admit and often times when you do people think you’re going to go “Sybil” or “Three Eve” on ‘em as they say. Coming out as DID is kind of tricky because many find the support is limited and the understanding of it is even less, the teasing incessant.

I don’t want to be focused on either. To me, if I’m focused on then it puts me at greater risk of being hurt. My need to blend in, not be seen as different is strong. I need understanding because of the disorder but what I don’t need is everything changed for me because of the disorder. I live in a world with others who should have their feelings considered too. (One of the reasons I go off on my blog about stupid stuff is so I get it off my chest and don’t let it fume and spill over into real world stuff. Half the crap I complain about on my blog doesn’t get brought up in my 3-D life.)

My entire blog and many other blogs are dedicated to the healing process but one thing I don’t think I’ve mentioned before is that outside of therapy you won’t hear me bring up DID in the 3-D world too often. It’s not part of my regular conversation. I don’t tell many people about my diagnosis 1) because it’s none of their business and 2) because it’s none of their business. I may be very, very open on this blog about symptoms but in my personal life issues with PTSD and things along that line don’t find themselves at the center of conversation. For the most part in private non-cyber space life I’m in the closet about my DID, Lupus and all that other stuff.

Focusing on self- many times understanding the inside helps us live in the world but there is a point when a person has to realize everything in the entire world is not about their disorder. Even though many of my responses in life are DID and PTSD related I try and strike a balance between my issues and the issues of those around me. Let me say too that there is a difference between talking about issues to heal and talking about issues so that others will say, “poor pitiful you. it must be so hard to be you. i couldn’t suffer so gracefully.” I try not to put myself in a position where “you poor thang, how do you keep going” is a response. I’ve never seen you put yourself in the “poor me, can’t you see how pitiful I am” position. As a matter of fact I don’t see it that often on survivor’s blogs but when I do see it I think of it as a snag in their personal fight to move away from their injustices. Still, on my blog I worry others will think I want to wallow in sorrow and keep myself stuck which is the way many people see self pity. I hope I’m not seen as one who lives for trauma and drama with the purpose of seeking attention. (That’s a whole ‘nother entry)

Anyway, just wanted to say that I do admire how you relate to your system. You seem to have a genuine concern for them, and a deep affection.

One of the things I didn’t ever think I’d hear myself say is that I have the luxury of therapy and healing. What I mean by that is, there are many with a full time job, a family and a ton of responsibilities that can’t stop to go, “Why am I reacting this way? Let me go blog about it.” Not everyone can take a day off from responsibilities, toss aside housework or eat out of a peanut butter jar for dinner “just cause” they don’t feel up to taking care of themselves that day. I have that option. The “option” means I don’t have basic necessities (ya know, money due to fixed income) but truthfully, having time to heal is priceless.

I apologize if this is a very flat response to such a serious subject. It might even seen choppy or like some of what I’ve said it out of place for your response. I’ve been thinking about this subject (of making DID a focal point of every step I take and making life all about me ).

Thanks for giving me an avenue to vent and thank you for commenting,
Austin of Sundrip

Now That I Have Your Attention
Sunday, September 23, 2007-3:20PM EST