Monthly Archive for December, 2008

Nurse Stupid and the Multiple Dilemma

Published
by
JoanofArc
on December 31, 2008
in Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, Relationships and Soapbox
. 6 Comments

I few months ago I saw a nurse practitioner who suggested I pay her with artwork. That didn’t happen. I waited for her to accept my insurance. Well, I finally saw her again. I’ll sum up that appointment in one word: next.

This quack suggested I stop taking 200mg per day of Zoloft cold turkey and start taking Cymbalta. She said to take 60 mg once a day for a week then double that the next week. From there I’d stay on 120mg.  I asked her if it’s safe to stop taking Zoloft like that. She told me yes. Of course I was skeptical because all my treatment experience says I can’t. I accepted the script with no intentions of filling it but still I was interested in how much this new med was going to help with physical pain. I knew I’d heard of the med but I wasn’t sure about side effects. Well, come to find out it’s one of those meds from a commercial I’ve made fun of time and again. You know the type, the ones that say if you live you’ll be fine? Yeah, that’s Cymbalta. No thanks. I’ll skip, especially if I’m putting myself at serious risk while going through serious withdrawals from Zoloft. Not gonna happen. Next.

Not only is this the lady that wanted to exchange services for art, she’s also the quack that wrote the name Joan on a script for me.

Continue reading ‘Nurse Stupid and the Multiple Dilemma’

Food, Pets and Sleep

Published
by
JoanofArc
on December 30, 2008
in General Chatter, Humor and Pets
. 1 Comment

Again I’m up at 7AM but at least the day went better than yesterday. I actually got out of the house for a bit. I visited with a few people I know then came on back home. When I got back I was so tired I couldn’t stand it but I knew I needed to eat. I made a real dinner tonight then fell asleep with brownies in the oven.  My roommate, who will eat anything, decided they were too “crispy”. I suggested he use his chainsaw to cut them but he thought it was a bad and dangerous idea. His saw isn’t that powerful I guess. It reminds me of the time I put chicken in the oven and turned it on to what I thought was bake. it ended up being “clean.”  He didn’t want that either. Picky little something. Now I am going to pick my warmest blanket and get under it. Maybe Gracie will let me keep my ear plugs in tonight. She has a bad habit of taking them out when she thinks I’m asleep so she can play cat soccer with them. She’s so careful when she pulls them out.  After I close my eyes they aren’t motionless. Bella likes to paw at whatever that ball thing is that’s moving. Somewhere between a thieving cat and a chaser I’ll get some sleep. I’ll have to give the brownies another go tomorrow/today.

Dog update: for the most part Little Bro is doing well. He’s coming along on basic training and has the housebroken stuff down pat. He still likes to get into everything though. As soon as I leave the room he’s up and into something. it’s almost as if he makes a mental note of what to get into when I turn my back. He can appear to be dead asleep but you let me get up for two minutes and he’s into something. I walked out of the room and came back and he was tearing stuff up. I was gone less than two minutes, I thought he was sleeping… what the hell??? Was he faking? … I can just see it, “Watch this, I’ll act like I’m sleeping then when she gets up for a glass of ice I’ll snag item 87 on page 12 of my mental notes.” ……Like I said, mostly he’s doing well but ya gotta watch that guy cause he will get into stuff.

J of A

Sign of My Times

Published
by
JoanofArc
on December 28, 2008
in Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Mental Health, Morton's Pride, PTSD, Relationships and Therapy
. 4 Comments

Robert: Put your shoes on bitch.
Me: What?
Robert: Put your shoes on bitch. This is Morton talking to you, now do it.
Me: No it’s not. Morton doesn’t talk to me that way.
Morton: No, I don’t, but please put your shoes on before you start that.
Me: Okay. Whattteverrr.
Morton: Thank you.

We are only at each other’s throats like this when our stress level goes into over drive. I know what cues to take note of and how to recognize when to put on the breaks. In the last few days those cues have been in the form of dynamite explosions. I know I’m way too stressed when I see stuff out of the corner of my eye. A doctor told me it’s not psychosis but the brain misfiring due to an overload of stress. Thank goodness. I thought I was really losing it.

I know I need to put on the breaks when:

Continue reading ‘Sign of My Times’

My First Bear

Published
by
Austin
on December 26, 2008
in Art
. 7 Comments

The deal was if she posted a photo of her doll I’d post one of my little bear so here goes.

This is the very first bear I’ve ever made. She’s made from weathered muslin and is filled with poly fibers.  I think she has a vintage or primitive look to her. I also think I need to go back to the drawing board and figure out a better way to make bears cause this particular pattern needs work.  Even so I’m going to keep her for myself cause I like her. She’s the first and she’s mine, mine, mine.

It is quite possible that I am obsessed with doll making. The other day I found a small wall hanging thing. I can’t remember what they’re supposed to be for but I use it to store scrap materials. I have a small chest full of lace, yarn, ribbons, flowers and all sorts of extras to add to a finished doll. Then of course there’s a drawer full of dresses ranging from sweet to vintage. When I see something that would work on a doll and the price is right I pick it up. I think I may be obsessed but this obsession isn’t new. A very long time ago when I lived in Kentucky I wanted to use my second bedroom as a sewing shop so I could make dolls for therapists. I wanted to make a doll without arms, one without legs, some without mouths and some completely faceless. I wanted to make them to be used in a therapeutic setting. I had the desire to do it but I didn’t have enough therapy under my belt to handle it so the second bedroom was simply a second bedroom. As of 2008 I may need a third bedroom.

I very much enjoy trying new projects such as making a teddy bear or smaller doll but the real joy for me is making the larger ones with a flowing dress, ear rings and big brown eyes.  (I keep posting shots of her because I like her and she’s my first, the one that brought on all the other Charlene Dolls. )  Anyway…from time to time I venture out and do something with a hint of whimsy but for the most part I like to stay with a formal look.

The friend pictured in the photo is now in my Etsy shop . The bear is for photo purposes only … it’s mine all mine all mine.

Update: The doll has found a home. Thanks to everyone who inquired about her. There’s one more coming very soon. Layaway is available.

Austin

A Tree Cut Short

Published
by
Austin
on December 26, 2008
in Letters Home, PTSD and Soapbox
. 7 Comments

Call it ba humbug if you will, I call it straight up truth. This holiday bugs me. I’ll forgo the whole non-Christian aspect of this and skip right to the other reason it bothers me so much. It is a very deceitful day, it’s the day when people will sit at a table and look in the eyes of the person they resent and utter a few words tradition mandates. “Merry Christmas.” I think I’m angry about this holiday because nationally families in trouble will pile on ornaments and false faces and call it the Christmas Spirit. I can’t stand the falseness.

I’m sure there are families that don’t do this so I suppose I’m not saying this about you. But I guess it gets to me when I know people that tell me how horrible their mate is or how un-supportive they are then turn around on Christmas day and say how grateful they are for that person. Give it a few weeks and they’ll be back to the same undeserving mate. Then of course there are the mates that are abusive and cruel. I suppose a gift from them makes the rest of the year okay. What about the family members who will show up on this day with the excuse, “But it’s Christmas” as if this one day wipes away crimes that would have gotten them stoned in Bible days. Trust me, nothing is wiped away on this day. No amount of songs can drown the real you out. And no amount of wrapped garland can choke out the memory of what was allowed or perpetrated.

Continue reading ‘A Tree Cut Short’

Woman on Fire

Published
by
Austin
on December 24, 2008
in Abuse, Female Sadist, Letters Home, PTSD and Therapy
. 5 Comments

The more I’m bombarded with memories of you the stronger is my belief in the death penalty. Each time I sip my coffee and it burns my lips I believe lightening should strike and burn you to the ground. And each time a tear hits my pillow I wish you to drown again and again in your own filth. Even so, I wonder what your death would serve now? Years ago it would have been productive but not now. Your painful untimely death wouldn’t serve a purpose now and that is a serious injustice to human kind, a serious and grave injustice. I think of the girls in your little club and the stories they surely have. But mostly I hear my sister weeping and that makes me want to search for you and strangle the life out of you for having the audacity to put your death hands on her.

It bothers me that no matter how much pain you feel it will not feel to you like justice. It’ll just be me being your bad and lost daughter. No matter how many chains are wrapped around you you’ll never fully grasp what it means to have your soul tied to a stake with fire at your feet. You won’t get it. You won’t understand this is because you had the nerve to harm your children. Each licking flame will be confirmation that I am the one in the wrong.

Monday my therapist asked me why I didn’t want to take swimming class in high school. He asked what I believed would happen if I was seen in the suit and people witnessed that you’d been there on my back and legs, arms and neck. I simply told him I didn’t have an answer for it. The answer is I bought into the lie that I was the problem. If people saw the scars they’d know and maybe they’d take me away but that would all be my fault. I truly thought I deserved to be harmed. I believed I needed to be dominated and stripped of all dignity for crimes I wasn’t quite sure I committed. Each scar was symbolic of how I failed you.

Continue reading ‘Woman on Fire’

Therapy Discussion: Everywhere at Every Turn

Published
by
Austin
on December 24, 2008
in Abuse, Depression, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Female Sadist, PTSD and Therapy
. 2 Comments

I try to find some resemblance of normalcy despite the fact that most everything is triggering or reminds me of something. When I get in the car and close the door I pretend I haven’t flashed to my hands being slammed in the door or the trunk as a child. I put on my safety belt despite my intense fear of being tied down. I turn the key and pull off. I’m okay, the windows are cracked. I know I can get out if I have to. I probably won’t have to escape at a moment’s notice because I’m behind the wheel not my mother. Still, they’re cracked. It doesn’t matter if it’s snowing, raining or hell fire hot, the windows are cracked.

I arrive at the store and see the yellow lines I’m to park in. I throw out of my head the phrase, “I don’t like how yellow tastes.” I’m okay though, this is now, and that was then. I’m okay. I climb out of the car and deal with the door shutting again. My hands weren’t in it. I’m okay.

Inside the store I see children in carts and avoid eye contact. I don’t want to see my own reflection. I try not to walk behind anyone because I don’t need to walk five paces behind anymore. I’m fine. Just get your stuff and go. I’m fine. I swear I’m fine.

Continue reading ‘Therapy Discussion: Everywhere at Every Turn’

Shower, Powder, Hair, Nails

Published
by
Austin
on December 23, 2008
in General Chatter and Therapy
. 3 Comments

The other day as I sat … well, it’s not really important what I was doing… anyway, I thought to myself, “It would be nice to go to therapy in this instead of getting dressed.” I had on a baggy pair of dark blue sweatpants, a gray T-shirt and a pair of running shoes. I wanted to show up to therapy in that but I couldn’t let myself do it. I’m a bit too trained to leave the house without putting on a “real clothes.” I can pamper myself, give myself a break from time to time and even buy myself small gifts but when it comes to certain things I still hold on to old ideas.

I was raised to “dress right” which means when I walk out of the house I’ll be showered, have on pants (not sweats) and a nice shirt. If the shirt  has long sleeves I put on a T-shirt under it. It doesn’t matter if it’s screaming hot outside, I’ll put a T-shirt on under a long sleeve shirt. That’s how I was taught to do it. I feel like a bum when I don’t. I hate that I can’t relax enough to let go, not even when I go to Village Pantry or Wal-mart can I let go. Usually when I’m at home I’m dressed, save shoes. I hardly ever wear shoes around the house and rarely will you catch me in lounge clothes. When I was younger my family got up and got dressed. There was no such thing as play clothes (not that we played that much anyway) and there was no such thing as jeans or sweatpants.

Continue reading ‘Shower, Powder, Hair, Nails’

Pleasing Moments and Self Correction

Published
by
Austin
on December 22, 2008
in General Chatter, Gratitude Journal, Mental Health, PTSD, Pets and Poetry
. 5 Comments

There are a ton of things I’m grateful for or found pleasing this week. Here are just a few for my Gratitude Monday entry.

The good stuff

1. I picked up the phone to hear my friend’s voice on the other end. We talked for about an hour. A week seems like a long time. We had a lot of catching up to do.

2. Watching Brody and Gracie play. Listening to Brody snore.

3. Scarfing pizza while watching Pirates of the Caribbean and laughing my head off.

4. When the lights went out during the snow storm Thursday I sat with candles and sketched. I enjoyed the quiet. It was a very peaceful moment.

5. I found a lot of inspiration as I looked at arts and crafts by other survivors and by people who live with chronic pain.

6. I spent a 5 dollar gift certificate on 3 thirty-two ounce candles at Wallgreens. Awesome sale.

7. I slept the other night without feeling haunted.

8. I found out my piece called PTSD was featured on Redbubble in The Healing Journey group. It nearly brings tears to my eyes to see it.

9. I understand very well that my life is a roller coaster but it pleases me that I am not so bitter that I can’t laugh and enjoy myself. I appreciate the small things that make me smile such as burning popcorn while my roommate laughs hysterically at me for doing so. It was a non-Chef moment with a pan and a few rouge kernels. I shall stick to my air popper.

Here are a few things that changed this week

1. I’ve been trying to combat my verbal assaults

While fiddling with the aquarium I spilled some water and yelled at myself for doing so. “Can’t you do anything right? Just leave it alone.” That venom was silenced by, “It was a simple mistake. Let it go.”

2. I was able to silence a flashback which could have gotten nasty.

I figured since I found some straight pins with little sunflowers on the end that I might be able to use them without a lot of trouble. Boy was I wrong. I have to be okay with not being quite ready for that step. While using them I had a strong flashback where I could hear everything and feel it. I was able to get myself grounded by saying out loud, “Stop it!” I’ve never tried that before but it worked for me. I was able to quickly get myself together.

It’s been an up and down kind of week but all in all I think I managed okay.

In the middle of a rainstorm I will raise my strong umbrella. I shall not be washed away.
In a shower of tears I will drape myself in joy. Joy shall not be wiped clear.
In puddles of congregated drops I will dance
On lighting strikes, swing
And when the rainbow comes I’ll drop to my knees and  praise Thee.

Austin

Glossy – A Tale of Cake and Cream

Published
by
Austin
on December 22, 2008
in General Chatter and Humor
. 7 Comments

T’was the eve of Monday, the day I was to travel to the post office and mail out a huge box. I held said box against me breast as I made my way to the dinning hall. Upon entering the grand room I witnessed before me  King Fife sitting not on his thrown but on the carpeted floor wrapping presents with glee. “King Fife” I says, “What a wonderful craftsman you are. It’s magical how you adorn boxes with bright cheery paper.” As I spoke the King’s suspicions grew so that he looked up from his craft with a crooked eye. There I stood in a flowing gown of scarlet holding a box and a goblet of wine. “What are you wearing?” said the King, “And why are talking like you’re in a fairy tale. Really, you should stop watching pirate movies and The English Patient.” “Never mind that” I said. “I have a proposition for you ma-Lord. If you wrap this here box with your magical nimble fingers I’ll give you a huge slice of lemon cake and cream.” The King’s brow began to soften, his eyes glossed over and he, as if in a trance, moved towards me with his arms out to receive the box. And I, the fair maiden felt pleased with myself that again I tricked the King into doing my work.

Translation: I needed to mail a box but I suck at wrapping so I tricked my roommate into doing it for me. I gave him a piece of lemon cake with whipped cream. The trade was a good one.

Glossy – A Tale of Cake and Cream - Monday, December 22, 2008