Monthly Archive for January, 2009

Page 3 of 6

Thoughts That Kept Me Up Tonight

Published on January 20, 2009 in Mental Health and Morton's Pride. 3 Comments Tags: .

These are pretty much in the order they were in.

  1. I’m going to suffer after eating those cheetos.
  2. I laughed to myself about Barry Manilow trying to sing 80’s songs like “Never Gonna Give You Up” by Rick Astly. I can’t even get through the whole video it’s so bad, but Mandy breaks me up every time.
  3. A friend of mine hasn’t said a word on her blog for days. I worry about her. I should email her to see how she’s doing. It worries me when I don’t know.
  4. My mind wandered over to Brody. I haven’t gotten word yet as to if I can adopt him or not.
  5. I can sort of see my therapists face. That worries me since I don’t remember anyone’s face after I’ve left their presence. Why his? I can’t really see it, it’s dark but I can almost make it out. It’s weird.
  6. I heard the song Mandy in my head until I had to get up and dink around in the living room.
  7. While sketching I scolded myself for being up so late. I told myself I should take some clonapin and go to sleep.
  8. I’m happy Blossom isn’t here to see me mess this sketch up. I hated when she stood over my shoulder and watched me draw. She always had something to say. She’s not here, good. It’s just a sketch, don’t worry about it. Yeah but I feel like a total failure over something so simple. Why? How does a messed up sketch prove my entire life is a failure? Somehow it feels like it.
  9. I shouldn’t have eaten those cheetos, man my stomach is killing me. Tomorrow I’ll have big o’l fat hands which will make typing difficult. My feet will swell and I’ll curse the very ground I waddle on. I know I can’t handle that kind of salt. What’s wrong with me? Continue reading ‘Thoughts That Kept Me Up Tonight’

Therapy Thoughts and Review

Published on January 20, 2009 in Abuse, Borderline Personality Disorder, Female Sadist, PTSD and Therapy. 3 Comments

I’m not sure what he meant when he asked if I feel less alone with dolls in the house. He wants to know if they make me feel less alone. No. I got kind of quiet because I’m rather sensitive about the dolls. I still feel rather silly making them, a grown woman getting so excited about them seems strange to me. More than that I still hold on being told how stupid they are so when someone asks me if I feel like I’ve got company with the dolls in the house I can’t help but feel even more stupid.

He too asked about how long they take. As I said before, they take forever. The bears take about 5 hours straight; the dolls take about a month or longer. He asked how much time I spend doing the dolls and if I spend more time than before. I told him it’s about the same amount. I guess I just talk about them more. I wondered if he thinks my mother art is set aside for this. I’m going to say no. Heck, there’s a bunch of new stuff over on the art site.

I almost wanted to bring in video of my apartment so he knows I’m not some crazy doll lady with a doll everywhere you turn and a sunflower to match. I don’t have either all over my house. I’ve got one small area in the living room and then doll cases in the office area. The sunflowers are here and there but not nearly as many as one might think. Continue reading ‘Therapy Thoughts and Review’

In These Shoes

Published on January 19, 2009 in Depression, PTSD, Relationships and Therapy. 2 Comments

Years ago an ex of mine was afraid of everything. Everything was triggering. Everything reminded her of something horrible. She didn’t want to go anywhere. She stopped eating, etc, etc. At one point it got on my nerves and I told her to get over it. I was fed up with her PTSD symptoms and just snapped. All I wanted to do was sit down to dinner not deal with the etched pattern on the forks or worry about what colour the napkins were. I just wanted to eat. When I think back on this I’m humbled because there are countless things I won’t do because of what they remind me of. I never thought I’d walk the path of unbridled fear but I am. I feel as if I’m eating my own words.

That’s where she was in her stage of healing and it’s where I am now. As difficult as it is for loved ones to deal with, it’s even more difficult for the survivor to live with. We’re not trying to make an issue out of everything but sometimes “everything” is an issue. Abuse touched so much of my life so triggers are everywhere. As much as I try to control them there are times when I refuse to cross that line from barely managed anxiety to puddle of tears. It seems easy enough to ignore the floral design on a butter knife IF it has little significance to you. For me it was easy as pie but for my ex it crossed her pain and anxiety threshold. Continue reading ‘In These Shoes’

DREAM: Half Born and Deformed

Published on January 18, 2009 in Dreams, Female Sadist, PTSD and Therapy. 2 Comments

The dream started with me in the kitchen area of the house I now live in. I messed around in the kitchen as Bella watched a mouse slowly die in an overturned trap. Her mouth was watering, her eyes large and evil. Then I saw three other cats in the kitchen that I didn’t know. They seemed to know Bella and she seemed to know them. They kept as far away from me as possible while still letting me see them. It appeared they came in each evening through a side door to Fife’s sitting room and roamed the house freely as Fife and I slept. In all there were 4 cats I didn’t know plus my two cats.

Fife came home and all 6 cats were in the kitchen with me. I immediately told him only two were mine and I had no idea where they came from. He asked if my girls had litters. I reminded him both are spayed. He kept telling me they all had to go. I walked away to go back to my area of the house. As I did I heard loud agonizing screams coming from my bedroom which ended up being a bedroom from a different part of my life.

It’s been a long time since I had a dream about deformed cats and half born animals multiplying once they breach. I guess my “dry” streak is over for such things. As I entered the room my dog Brody (an 8 month old male boxer mix) lay on my bed screaming as he gave birth through his belly button. I was in shock because the dog is male and having puppies but even more I was concerned about his pain level and helping deliver the pups. I dropped everything I was doing with the cats and began pulling the first pup out of Brody’s now fully opened belly. Continue reading ‘DREAM: Half Born and Deformed’

Sewing Machine Project

Published on January 17, 2009 in Art. 3 Comments Tags: .

Sweet Dolly Sue is the first completed doll using my little Singer sewing machine. The bear seen with her was done by hand.

Thank you to the individual who tossed their sofa pillows out on heavy trash day. They’re soon to be turned into more bears.

Note: The pillow fabric was washed very well prior to being sewn. We call this sanitary recycling :-) Her little hat use to be a small lamp shade and her hair use to be a winter scarf. I call this creative up-cycling.

The little bear shown here is about 8 inches tall, creamy white and is wearing a handmade plaid green/cream/brown scarf. I have two bears available.

The doll is 20 inches tall. She’s wearing a blue and cream coloured jumper with a cream coloured lacy ribbon and small navy blue shoes. Her hair is curly black, her eyes are greenish-blue and her lips are in the shape of a happy heart.

I need to stop before I make myself diabetic from the sweetness of Dolly Sue.

The bear and the doll are sold separately. The sunflower is for display purposes only.  Please see the small gallery below for price details and contact information. These are available through PayPal or my Etsy shop. Click the photos twice to make them larger.

fma
Sundrip

Be Quiet. Shush.

Published on January 17, 2009 in Dissociative Identity Disorder, Morton's Pride, PTSD and Therapy. 5 Comments

Last Monday I told Dr. D I feel like my brain is torturing me. I want it to stop, to be quiet and let me go to sleep. I want some peace. He said he’s never seen me like that before and suggested I go in patient. Of course I objected cause I don’t like going in the hospital. I feel better than I did and my brain is quieter but not at peace. Dr. D told Robert to stop tossing memories at us and to stop the screaming and emotional torture. Stop calling me by my birth name and stop calling me a bitch.

All of this has been going on since my mother and sister showed up on my front door step Christmas Eve. I know I just now mentioned my sister accompanying her. I have a harder time with her than I do with my mother so I avoid that conversation at all costs. My mother doesn’t go anywhere without my sister so of course she too showed up on my doorstep.

I said I have it in me to forgive my mother and all hell broke lose with Robert. He knows part of us really wanted to lay eyes on her. We long for our mother… or should I say a healthy version of the mother I was supposed to have. This has put him on alert. He doesn’t want us to get hurt so he keeps before us exactly what she did. He makes sure we feel like nothing so we keep our walls up and don’t get hurt by her again. It would seem what Robert is doing is for nothing more than cruel play but in his mind it is to protect what is left of us. He doesn’t want us down that road again. Continue reading ‘Be Quiet. Shush.’

STORY: I Will Watch Over You

Published on January 16, 2009 in Poetry and PTSD. 0 Comments Tags: .

The Watcher pulls the covers to my shoulders and strokes the hair from my face.
“I’ll be in the other room if you need anything. Sleep well.”
“Will you stay?”

She pulls an old throw over her legs and sits in the chair that should have been tossed several years back. I can’t bring myself to do it though. There’s something soothing about that big old brown chair with kitty cat claw marks, coffee stains and other age spots. So I keep it, right there in the corner of the room. Sturdy, aged and proud, it sits beside a brass floor lamp that illuminates its precious position. And now my Watcher has positioned herself comfortably in it, for the night will be long and certainly difficult. Continue reading ‘STORY: I Will Watch Over You’