Monthly Archive for September, 2010

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On Sleep, Flashbacks and Dogs

Published on September 13, 2010 in Anxiety, Fear, Pets, PTSD and Trust. 0 Comments

I chose not to take night meds. I chose to stay up all night long. Why? Since Wednesday evening I’ve taken night meds and slept pretty darn well. As a matter of fact I’ve slept better than I have in months, but tonight I chose not to take them. The night before therapy is so difficult. I pace. I rock. I paint until my hands are rainbow colored and I fight to keep my eyes open as long as possible.

I told Dr. D that I like having a bed time because its a predictable end to the day. In therapy we have a start and stop. I know the session won’t last forever. Having a time where I go to bed and end the day also means what I feel won’t last forever. I let tomorrow come and I let whatever happens happen. Let? No, no, no I’m going to stay up as long as possible and fight exhaustion with everything I’ve got. Why? I mean really, why can’t I just go to bed like I did at the end of last week and all week end long?

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Our Arguments are Always the Same

Published on September 13, 2010 in Anxiety, Emotions, PTSD, Relationships, Soapbox and Trust. 0 Comments

We never argue about anything new in this house, it’s the same two arguments every time. We argue about housekeeping and utilities. These are standard for me and Senior but Junior and I have a different issue. Junior isn’t approachable. I never know how he’s going to respond to a question or statement so when I talk to him I stumble over my words and become forgetful.

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I’m Around

Published on September 11, 2010 in For the Record. 1 Comment Tags: .

I’m still here. Emotionally I think I’m doing a lot better, physically I’m still getting my butt kicked.

I’ve been working on a few different paintings in oil and have done a few small crafts. I recently up-cycled Christmas ornaments and made them into decorations for a flower vase, a punch bowl or most anything really. The redesigned ornaments are explained a bit further on the art blog. Recycled Ornaments.

http://www.sundrip.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/glass-and-clay-ornaments-1.jpgI’ve spoken to the young lady I ran into at the store the other day. Honestly it took a bit for me to fully remember specific things about her.  As a matter of fact, specific memories of her are so spotty its not even funny. However, I remember her mother, brother, father and step-father quite well. Thankfully, she doesn’t remember my mother at all. It took me by surprise when I wrote that entry about running into her only to find two comments where she set a few things straight about this person I called “John”. At first I was taken back by it but then I figured it was okay. The entry was, after all, about running into her so hey, if she had something to add then why not ya know?

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Split Faces. Sunflowers. Art Therapy

Published on September 9, 2010 in Anger, Anxiety, Art Therapy, Depression, Fear, Grief Sadness Loss, Medical and PTSD. 0 Comments

Therapy went okay. It wasn’t heavy or anything. We looked at a few art therapy pieces and talked about nothing much at all.

.. .

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That Game We Used to Play

Published on September 5, 2010 in Abuse, Borderline Personality Disorder and Emotional abuse. 0 Comments

I wrote an entry yesterday about how I was told that my then neighbor/roommate died. That entry reminded me of a game my mother use to play called, “Guess Whose Dead?” Out of the blue the mother would come up to my sister and myself and say, “Guess Whose Dead?” “Who?” we’d ask. She’d say someone’s name then wait for us to gasp and ask if it was real. She’d tell us, no, so-in-so is still alive. We’d playfully groan and she’d go on until the next time, when we’d do it all over again. It was a pointless game of announcing the death of a loved one who didn’t really die.

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Then she said, John is dead

Published on September 4, 2010 in Emotional abuse, Female Sadist, PTSD and Trust. 2 Comments

I pushed my cart down the isle of my regularly visited grocery store when a half familiar face said to me, “Aren’t you X’s sister?” I looked her dead in the eye and said, “You look familiar but I can’t place you.” After a short while she told me who she is, at which point I told her that X use to be my name but that I changed it. I knew this girl 18 years ago when her father lived in a small apartment attached to the house where I rented a room from one of the most influential woman in my life. After talking to her for a bit I remembered that I didn’t like her family at all, as a matter of fact I wanted to distance myself from them. Distance was hard since her father lived basically in the same house I lived in, for awhile anyway.

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Giddy-up!

Published on September 3, 2010 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Emotions, Fear, Letters Home and Secrets and Confessions. 2 Comments

Sometimes one thing that goes wrong seems to prove to me that I’m a worthless little something-something that should never try to be anything to anyone because I’ll just fail. It may seem crazy to some to feel so down about the fish dying but for me it feels/felt deeper than that. I FAILED at something I loved and took pride in. Hell, I bragged on here all the time about my beautiful fish and the crystal clear water they swam in.  I even had the nerve to give stats on equipment and the super low price I paid for said equipment. I was really gloating at times because I was so damn proud of them. Now look at me… argh! You get me talking about the fish and I start to glow…but then they died and that said to me that I shouldn’t allow myself to feel pride for an accomplishment.

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