Monthly Archive for January, 2008

Phoenix

Published on January 30, 2008 in Art, Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, PTSD and Therapy. 1 Comment

We talked about feeling rather disappointed by Holiday when she flaked on me. We talked about my anniversary coming up, about nearly walking into the emergency room two days ago because I wasn’t sure if I could keep my promise that I’d be okay. We talked about how Cappy Crunch has clung to me since the other day when I felt rather defeated. We talked about how I wanted to show up to therapy today because I needed renewed strength to keep going and how I needed something to hold onto for just a little bit longer.

I thought to myself it would be horrible for Barney Fife to come home to my dead body in the bedroom. Would Captain even let him back here? That would be horrible to do that to him. I got up out of bed and set out to the Quickie Mart for a cheap donut because I really needed to get out of this house. I wasn’t going to take Captain with me but I did leave him in the yard so he could watch me walk over there. He can see me because it’s not that far. As usual he gave me a few barks to protest that I wasn’t taking him but what concerned me was that he kept barking. I looked back to see that boy fly over the fence to come and get me. I knew I was dissociative but I also knew laying in bed or sitting in the house wasn’t good either. I figured I’d get a donut and come back. I’m okay enough to do that right? Wrong!!!!! At first I thought, well you silly thing, you know how to open the gate why didn’t you just open the gate and come after me? What’s with the dramatics superdog! I giggle at that but truly, the boy is my hero. He’s so cool.

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Spit Fire – And Inner Conversation

Published on January 29, 2008 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, Morton's Pride and PTSD. 2 Comments

Angela – At least you get a birthday, I’ll be 15 forever.
Joan -Would you please go away.
Angela – Where? Go where? I’m stuck in this body with you forever. Where am I going?
Joan - Oh my gosh, a little me? Oh the humanity of it all.
Angela – I know you didn’t!
Joan – Please Angela how am I to get some sleep if you’re rattling on?
Angela – I just figure if you’re able to cuss I should too and not hear that dang on “because you’re a kid and kid’s can’t cuss” bullshit.
Joan - I just want to go to sleep, can’t we talk about this tomorrow?

Little One- You know if we do this we won’t get a resurrection.
Joan – We only took 2 milligrams sweety, we aren’t dying.
Little One- But you want to and if we do we won’t get a resurrection.
(At this point I’m holding the little one on my lap, she’s looking up at me.)
 Joan – You don’t really think that do you? Suicide isn’t the ultimate unforgivable sin sweety.
Little One- No, but we won’t get a resurrection because we’re not right.
Joan – Yeah I know.
Little One- So can’t we just try to hang on for only a few days. We always change our mind after a few days. We can just try and sleep.
(I’m taking her back to her safe place but she’s dragging behind me, doing the thing I did with my own mother years ago. She’s trying to talk some sense into me.)
Little One- All we have to do is sleep. We’ll get better. I know we will. We always do. Can’t we just wait a few days.
Joan – Sweety, I swear, it was 2 milligrams which isn’t enough to hurt me just enough to help me go to sleep so I can rest.
Little One- Your promises are only good to other people.
(I whipped around in shock. Her eyes got really big like she’d done something wrong and was in for it now.)
Joan – It really was, it was only 2 milligrams. I swear it, I really do. It was only 2 milligrams. We’ll be here tomorrow morning then we’ll wake up and you’ll see.
——–

Continue reading ‘Spit Fire – And Inner Conversation’

All Weather Friends

Published on January 29, 2008 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Mental Health, PTSD, Relationships and Soapbox. 5 Comments

I was desperate so I wanted to go over there. I would have agreed to go anywhere but here. Over there was what was immediately available so she said she’d come over after therapy, pick me up and take me back to her house. That was the plan after talking to her and telling her how I’m really doing. Things didn’t go so smoothly though. Right in the middle of talking about how I’m really doing, right in the middle of toning down laughter and masking she said, “I don’t mean to change the subject but…” Then she told me the weather outside is really nice and something about sleeping with the windows open. The conversation went from feeling like I’m going to lose it to the weather in a split second. I stopped her and said usually when a friend says they’re on the edge the other friend doesn’t change the subject to the weather. She said from all she’s read if a person says they want to kill themselves then they’re not serious about it. She said if a person really is going to do it then they don’t talk about it they just do it. I told her when I ask for help it’s because I need it. I don’t even like to ask for help so when I do I have to swallow a hell of a lot of pride to ask. She said okay and that I could call whenever I needed to. Then she said to give her a call when I got in from therapy. Continue reading ‘All Weather Friends’

Ne me quitte pas

Published on January 26, 2008 in Art and For the Record. 0 Comments

You never know what you’re gonna find on this blog. For some reason I really like this song. Forget that he’s sweaty, strange looking and at times appears to have a nervous tick. The song is beautiful and the English translation I’m sure loses some of the romantic appeal to the French words but man is it pretty. A king dies because he never met you. Oh be still my beating heart. Just so you can be near me you’d be my shadow or even the shadow of my dog. I’m speechless…just speechless. The truth is, this song is also on my ipod. I kid you not. This as well as him singing Amsterdam. What’s a girl to do?

ENGLISH TRANSLATION to Ne me quitte pas:Don’t leave me

We must forget
All we can forget all we did till now
Let’s forget the cost of the breath
We’ve spent saying words unmeant
And the times we’ve lost hours that must destroy
Never knowing why everything must die at the heart of joy
Don’t leave me don’t leave me
Don’t leave me don’t leave me
I’ll bring back to you the pearls of rain
From a distant domain where rain never fell
And though I grow old I’ll keep mining the ground
To deck you around in gold and light
I’ll build you a domain where love’s everything
Where love is king and you are queen
Don’t leave me don’t leave me
Don’t leave me don’t leave me Don’t leave me
For you I’ll invent
Words and what they meant only you will know
Tales of lovers who fell apart and then fell in love again
There’s a story too that I can confide
Of that king who died from not meeting you
Don’t leave me don’t leave me
Don’t leave me don’t leave me
And often it’s true that flames spill anew
From ancient volcano’s we thought were too old
When all’s said and done scorched fields of defeat
Could give us more wheat than the fine April sun
And when evening is nigh with flames overhead
The black and the red aren’t they joined in the sky
Don’t leave me don’t leave me
Don’t leave me don’t leave me

Don’t leave me
I will cry no more
I will talk no more hide myself
To look at you and see you dance and smile
And hear you sing and laugh
Let me be for you the shadow of your shadow
The shadow of your hand the shadow of your dog
Don’t leave me don’t leave me
Don’t leave me don’t leave me

The Inner Life of A Cell

This is a very pretty video I found on Stumble Upon of the life of a cell put to orchestral music. Very nice. My little people loved it.

Poetic Accomplishments

Published on January 25, 2008 in For the Record, Gratitude Journal, Pets and Poetry. 3 Comments

Multi grain nut bread rising – one loaf
Rag doll stained for that antique look accomplished in just a few dips.
Two emails out to one major dip.

White toast I munched then swept the crumbs away
To a bag overflowing since yesterday.
Data transferred, saved and filed.
Lighter flicked, candles lit.
Litter box cleaned and sweeper run.
One more smile before my day is done.

Sipping soup from a mug the size of Texas I watch my girls
All fuzzy and content with catnip satisfaction.
In the softest spot by the window sill they settle to
Steal a moment for one more purr, one more doze before the close of the afternoon sun.

In a back yard in the suburbs small
A large black dog he goes a charge after a rollie ball in chaotic bounce.
Slobbering, prancing he never suspects
A bath is sure to follow when one rolls in winter’s remnants.
What sweet joy in one day’s results of chomping, dipping, charging and sewing
Playing, chatting, resolving and growing.

——-

So that’s what I’ve done today. I’ll return comments either later today or tomorrow afternoon. There’s a lot more I have to say on being strong. But for now I’d rather go smell some multi-grain nut bread and sip decaf coffee.
J of A

Poetic Accomplishments
Friday, January 25, 2008-4:22PM EST

“You’re Strong”

Published on January 24, 2008 in Abuse, Borderline Personality Disorder, Dissociative Identity Disorder, PTSD and Therapy. 5 Comments

Dr. D asked what it feels like to know he worries about me. I said I worry that it means he’ll want me to go in the hospital. I said it makes me want to tell him I have a plan to keep myself safe. I also told him that worrying about someone to me means the worrier realizes a person has limits and that they may be getting very close to that limit. My experience has been that the phrase “you’re strong” prevents any real help from actually getting to me. That phrase means to me that people think I can handle this when I can’t. Do we worry about the strong, not as much as we do those who we know are shaken and battered. It’s the overall view of strength that ends up blocking help. If I am viewed as strong then I am less likely to have assistance, it’s a fact. Even strong people have their limits and I’m reaching mine very quickly. I told him that. To hear he worries says to me he knows I’m not an endless source of strength and that he doesn’t plan to just leave me out here to struggle with these flashbacks on my own. I appreciate that. Continue reading ‘“You’re Strong”’

How Angry Am I?

Published on January 24, 2008 in Borderline Personality Disorder and PTSD. 3 Comments

Five years ago I would have emphatically given a negative response to the question, “Are you an angry person?” but over time that answer has changed.

Four years ago- “Well, I mean you know, I feel anger like anyone else I suppose.”
Three years ago- “I might feel a little more anger than one might accept as normal.”
Two years- “I have anger issues.”
One year- “I feel a lot of anger.”
This year, last month, this month, this week, yesterday, today -
“I’m pissed. My sarcasm shows it, the pressure behind my eyes show it, the tightly bound muscles in my neck, my back and my shoulders reflect the anger and anxiety I feel. The answer to the question is a definite “Yes, I’m angry.”

What do I plan to do about that? Do I plan to change it? Not right now, no. For the first time in a very long time I can say I’m angry and not have to justify it. I can express it in better ways than I have but I CAN express it. I don’t have to accept the belief that I can be angry as long as I hide it. I’m angry. There it is, I’m angry.

How Angry Am I?
Thursday, January 24, 2008-2:52PM EST