Monthly Archive for May, 2011

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Dear you with the sad heart

Published on May 10, 2011 in Abuse, Depression, Emotions, Fear, Letters Home, PTSD and Secrets and Confessions. 2 Comments Tags: .

Dear Mother,

I see your hands when I look down. I see your feet. I see your face when I look in the mirror and I’m okay with it. I hear your voice call me stupid, tell me to shut up, sit down, bow down. I hear your voice remind me that I’m here for one thing only. I feel a heavy sadness on my shoulders as if they can no longer bare your scrutiny. I’m not okay with this. I need your harsh words to break my spirit because I fear I may one day believe I’m worthy of anything then publicly get proven wrong. How could I ever allow myself to fall for the idea of self worth and set myself up for public humiliation? Ah, Faith thought she was equal. Faith thought she was human, she thought she was one of us. What a fool.

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Transitions

Published on May 8, 2011 in Morton's Pride and Trust. 2 Comments Tags: , .

It’s interesting, I just read on Kate’s blog about a request to change the style of clothing they wear. I’ve had some requests lately too.  The request from inside us has been to dress with more color not just gray T-shirts, white or blue.

We’ve got a ton of skirts and dresses which have been worn a lot more lately but they want color. I don’t wear printed shirts but I’m sure I can find a few colored shirts I’d wear. The funny thing is, I can wear the skirt (solid or printed) but I can’t wear a girl’s blouse, at all. I can’t do that yet.

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Stuff She Got Right

Published on May 8, 2011 in PTSD and Relationships. 0 Comments Tags: .

Just like most psychopaths, my mother had parts of her that were not violent and destructive. I’d like to list a few things she did right. The list is in no specific order.

  1. My mother taught me to look decent when I leave the house. Don’t go out looking like any old thing. Be clean and presentable.
  2. My mother taught me the importance of speaking a foreign language of
  3. typing, shorthand and other basic secretarial skills. She taught me to type when I was 8 years old.
  4. She taught me the importance of manners. Thank you. Please. Those basic manners make a difference.
  5. She taught me God’s name. (She did everything in her power to mess with my head with religion but she did teach me God’s name. That much she couldn’t mess up.)

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Dissociation. Milwaukee. Needles

Published on May 6, 2011 in Anxiety, Depression, Dissociative Identity Disorder and PTSD. 3 Comments

I’m not good but I’m still alive ya know. It’s been a rough few days with a good amount of tears and a lot of anxiety.

At one point today the noise level at home was so high that I had to leave. I couldn’t stand it. I looked around my house and it looked like a hurricane came through. Every room in my part of the house is nearly trashed. What happened? After staying away for a few hours I came home and cleaned up a bit. The living room looks great and the bedroom is better. I still need to work on the second bedroom and the restroom but at least the place isn’t as bad as it was earlier today. I wonder what on earth happened?

Clean or messed up I still have a hard time recognizing my surroundings. I know this place yet it still seems foreign. I know the sofa, the drapes and shelves but at the same time I don’t. It all looks very far away.

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The list

Published on May 4, 2011 in Anger, Anxiety, Emotions, Humor, Relationships and Stupid People. 2 Comments Tags: , .

I think mostly I’m irritated with the world for hormonal reasons. Give me a couple of days and I’ll no longer want to hang total strangers on a meat hook or run them over with my car for cutting me off in traffic. I so gotta get this under control.

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Living with a sense of urgency

Published on May 2, 2011 in Abuse, Dissociative Identity Disorder and PTSD. 0 Comments

When I was little the life I had was right then, right there and no more. It would take years before I began to realize I could plan for the next 20 min, the next day. The type of planning I did was to make my little world better which meant trying to appease my mother. I began to work my words just so in order to not upset  her and maybe, just maybe prevent a beating. I began to plan special events for her like a surprise dinner (always horrible because I was just a child) or little day picnics of sandwiches and fruit. I  hand painted cards and cut out hearts to post  all over the house to win a smile. I began to plan for more than the moment because I figured it might lead to me having more than the moment. I wanted more and I realized there might be ways I could get it.

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