Monthly Archive for August, 2009

Page 2 of 4

Gus’ Very Bad Day

I write Gratitude Monday entries to document positive changes  and improvements in my life. I write about pleasing  observations or even to list things that touched me in some way during the weak.  This entry here will start off with Gus’ very bad day and end with me smiling and grateful to have him and his furry little sister in my life. Click the category Gratitude Monday on the sidebar to see other entries or view the entry which explains further how this category got started and the importance of it. So, here goes…..

Gratitude Monday – Gus’ Very Bad Day
August 24th, 2009

I think Gus decided to abandon all training and be a total butthead today.  Earlier he robbed my roommate of his peanut butter sandwich then a few minutes ago on our walk he broke his choker chain in half, took off and chased a golf cart. The people didn’t stop. They drove faster and Gus ran faster. I called his name and he came right back to me. I thought both things were funny but still, Gus isn’t having such a great day when it comes to behavior. It’s only 5:30 which means there’s a lot of the day left. What else can he get into? Lord only knows.

This weekend we’re getting a new fence put in the yard so he has an area to play in away from the general area where people come and go. This is much better for me because it means I can see him at all times. If he goes around the side of the house I can’t see him and that worries me.

Here are a few things I say to Gus:

Continue reading ‘Gus’ Very Bad Day’

Thirty-Eight In This Body

It feels odd that I’m about to turn 38 years old. I think I expected to have a hard time this year because last year I was a tad bit depressed, but not so much this year. I don’t feel the dread I felt last year or shame for living. I don’t want to curse God for allowing me to survive nor am I overly grateful that he did. I guess I’m just saying at this point I don’t have the same feelings I did surrounding my birthday. I still don’t celebrate it (for religious reasons) but at this point I don’t loath this date or feel foolish for having the nerve to be alive.

One thing I find interesting as I approach 40 is that despite the age of my body we usually feel young at heart. I know my body itself feels old and tired but I think there’s a youthfulness to us connected to our alters. We only two alters inside over the age of thirty-five. The one that is out most (me, Joan of Arc) is and has always been 28 years old. Maureen and Robert are nineteen. Renea is nine years old. They spend a lot of time forward as do the twins who are 5 years old. With these changes I have an idea of what it’s like to be a teenage girl, a teenage boy, and a child. I know what it feels like when a 35 year old male is forward but I don’t know what it feels like to be a 38 year old woman.

Continue reading ‘Thirty-Eight In This Body’

Respect – The Broken Vessel

We in this house spend a lot of time judging one another. So-in-so isn’t doing enough around here. So-in-so gets a check and doesn’t work. So-in-so sleeps all day. So-in-so does this, that and the other which I’d never do because I’m responsible. Why can’t so-in-so be perfect like me? Oh yeah, we toss words about one another all the time. What’s more, we each act like our own routine is more important than the other person’s routine. We even all act like fools (in our own way) when our routine is interrupted.

How do you manage a house full of people who have no respect for one another and who are prone to acting out? How can we expect those around us to manage their behavior when we ourselves are out of control?

Continue reading ‘Respect – The Broken Vessel’

I Woke Up Happy

Sanctuary 1

This morning I opened my eyes and smiled inside. I was hugging my cats teddy bear. She was about a foot away from my head. Gus was on the floor but there was evidence of his presence on the bed in the form of fur left behind. We all lay there for just a bit before the daily grind. Then the cat stretched, Gus stretched and our day began.

Continue reading ‘I Woke Up Happy’

Morning Mishaps

Yesterday morning I got up and prepared myself for therapy. I had coffee, fed the critters and jumped in the shower. Just as I was headed out the door I thought to myself, oh my gosh I only shaved one underarm. I check and yup, only one underarm. I wondered if I began to smell would it be only half as bad? Thank goodness I use Sure, ya know, just in case I needed to raise my hand or anything.

The other morning in my sleep induced stupor I made my way to the restroom. When I went to get up my butt cheek was pinched in the cracked toilet seat. My eyes were as big as saucers. Oh God help me! It hurts. It hurts! It took forever to break free. Note to self: get a new seat next month. How many left butt cheek bruises must you suffer before you finally get a new seat?

So far this morning I’m safe from mishaps and broken blood vessels. We’ll see what tomorrow morning brings.

Joan of Arc

Therapy Thoughts and Fears

Dr. D,

I fear I’ll walk into therapy, take what feels like forever to sit down and you’ll roll your eyes and sigh, “Here we go again.”

I worry you’ll think I’m harping on being in pain. I worry you’ll tire of hearing it because there’s nothing you can do or say to make it stop. At least with emotional issues you can offer clinical skills and hopefully down the line we’ll be able to make use of them. But I fear when I tell you I hurt so much I can’t think that you’ll sigh with impatience and say I’m maybe causing this myself. I fear you’ll tell me I’m avoiding. I fear you’ll tell me that Lupus and Fibro are my body’s way of telling me I’m avoiding my issues.  I worry you buy into, even in a small way, the idea that these two illnesses prove I’ve internalized my mother. When you said there are some school of thoughts along those lines I hoped beyond hope didn’t go to that school. If you didn’t then why would you bring that up? Did you bring it up to let me know you didn’t buy into it and you hoped I didn’t either? I’m confused. I’m worried and scared you’ll think this is all psychosomatic and not as bad as I say it is.

Continue reading ‘Therapy Thoughts and Fears’

Sensitive

When it goes on and on like this……

They’re going to tire of hearing me say this. Lets talk about something else. Say something encouraging. Mention something minor, something people feel they can act on and fix. ….. I’ve come up empty, so lets go back to the same old complaint.

I’m sensitive. I’m dissociative, delayed in my responses and slow in thought. I’m energized for a moment then depleted of strength by the same moment. I’m unsteady and ashamed of it, unorganized, unmotivated, emotionally fatigued. I reject. I accept. I mourn, plead, then settle on apathy. I catastrophize, rant and rave, refuse to speak and refuse to open my eyes. I see sunshine the same as darkness, gray the same as gold. Sweet tastes salty. Cool water offers no refreshment. The air is heavy, heavier than my eyes.  I feel stunted and forced to again move forward and drag my feet through hope turned to ash.

Acceptance, rejection, can and can’t. I swear I won’t be broken by this. I promise myself, recount what I’ve survived.  I tell myself just a few weeks more and this will pass like always. The realization, the truthfulness of that statement brings tears to my eyes. We’re going to do this again. I don’t want to do this again.

Assurance and proof of strength, long suffering, unbreakable will falls hollow, as if on deaf ears. I’m not the same person.  No, I’m a fraction of that soldier and tired of the service.

Joan of Arc

Tuesday, August 18th, 2009 @ 3:17am EST

*** comments are off  ***