Sundrip Journals
It’s always cool when we find a song titled with an alters name. There’s a song called Dear Joan by Rob Thomas on the Tabatha’s Secret 1 CD. I was listening to that song while sketching.
“I’m haunted more from this than anything I’ve ever known. Dear Joan.”
The sketch below was done while watching TV. My closed captions caught these lyrics here:
“The very things that let you live are killing you.”
F. Mag
.
Dr. D said I see myself through a different filter and that others don’t see me the same way I see myself.
F. Mag
We talked a little more about the ER visit.
Before any of the oddities of that visit began I had to deal with my name change. I guess I was there years upon years ago and they still had me with my old name but same social security number. They denied all of my ID with a photo or anything at all associated with medical insurance. They kept calling me by the old name. I made it very clear that they could call me by MY name or even a number but the other name wasn’t an option.
The way the name situation got resolved was they accepted my car insurance as ID. They looked at my MasterCard as ID too but I refused to let them scan it or write down the number. Instead of correcting the old information they set up two accounts under the same social security number which means each time I go in there (yeah right, like I’m going back) I can deal with the ‘are you who you say you are’ crap. So, I dealt with being called by my birth name several times before all the real drama started. One thing I kept trying to remember was to answer to my name of choice. I was pissed big time and dissociating. I worried when they used my current name and name of choice that I wouldn’t recognize it. It happens… more than I’d like to admit, so I kept trying to remember to respond as if I knew they were talking to me. I would have looked even more suspicious had I not answered when addressed by the name on my ID. I was paranoid at one point cause I worried they’d test me and walk in and call me Sandy or Nicole or something else and I’d respond to it and look like I’d stolen some chick’s identity. They didn’t believe me when I told them I changed my name. It wasn’t good at all and it only got worse.
Right now I have my typical pre-therapy jitters. Part of my anxiety is I know how loud the waiting room will be when I get there. In addition to the white noise machines which I find highly triggering there’s music pumped in, other patients moving around and employees chatting. The office is loud and it’s dark. My therapist said this ill lit situation is “mood lighting” but for me it’s like sitting in the dark. I don’t like it at all, then add in noise makers and all sorts of movement and you’ve got serious stimulus overload.
When I went to the psych exam the other day the office was just as anxiety provoking. The lighting was fine but the small room had music pumped in which for me made the room feel smaller. Just outside the closed door I could hear other employees laughing and talking. Even with my headphones on I was overwhelmed by every noise and sight around me. This brings me to a series of questions concerning PTSD and waiting rooms. I wonder if others experience the same thing.
Continue reading ‘Waiting Rooms and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder’
I had more material to make another mousy bear. When I put him together I thought, hmmm, I should add a small Chamomile pouch to this. Once warmed it was a beautiful thing.
Both bears and their descriptions can be seen on my art blog. Click the following link to see Aromatherapy and Travel Bear.
All Three Bears Have Been ** SOLD **
The soup cup with the Aromatherapy Bear isn’t included in the sale. My own little mousy bear needs it to rest in. I can’t put my baby’s house on Etsy. He wouldn’t be happy, besides where would he sleep?
See also Honey Bear in Green. She’s in need of adoption too.
Austin
When I told Dr. D about the two appointments back to back he asked if I planned on rewarding myself. I smiled and told him about plans to go see a movie with Birdie and to go to a place I haven’t eaten at in about 20 years. Despite the major flake on support I still got my reward.
Dinner In: This evening I started dinner off with a very small helping of calamari over angel hair pasta with butter and basil sauce. Yes it was homemade. Next I had Eggplant Parmesan. At that point I was pretty stuffed so I had to take a break. I needed to rest up before I ate lemon tart with raspberries and whipped cream. Seeing as how I was in a great mood I figured I’d move my after dinner coffee to the porch. I sat out there with my shoulder wrap and sipped Godiva Creme Brulee. Oh yes, it was the Queen of rewards.
I’m constantly complaining about being broke so let me break the meal cost down for you. Continue reading ‘I Got It On My Shirt’
(This experience is told with permission)
Today I forwarded the cards (including the sunflower seeds) to MeMe. After I got home I was able to talk to her for about an hour which is the longest we spoken since the fire. She told me about losing her wedding dress, memorabilia from her years at Northwestern University, porcelain dolls and jewelry from Japan. Then she sort of chuckled and told me that her husband tried to save something of hers he found when they went back to the house. There in all that rubble sat her portfolio. She also draws and he knew it would be important to her to have her portfolio so he snatched it up however; the portfolio went to her sister’s house instead of where she and her husband were staying. This was a great cause for concern for MeMe because it seems there are no drawings in there just porn. The good thing is there’s a lock on the portfolio so he couldn’t open it and be shocked that his wife keeps such things. Oh he thought he was man of the hour saving her drawings and making sure they stayed safe he took it to her sister’s house, the wife of a preacher. I swear you can’t make this stuff up. As I struggled to breathe and find a chair to sit down she continued. She said in the attic there are a few “controversial” items she’d like to go back and get because she doesn’t want the insurance adjusters sitting everything out all lined up nice and pretty. She said, I can just see it. “Do you want this?”
One never knows when our entire life will be open for everyone to see and put a price tag on. How much depreciation does a vibrator have anyway? So much for privacy.
MeMe, girl I thought I knew you.
Austin – my house can’t burn down. I have too many secrets.
Out of Tragedy Comes Comedy – Friday, March 13, 2009 – 4:13PM EST
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