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Dreams: Running, Flying, Dying
Lately I’ve been dreaming about flying. I fly across the room to go get a small item or fly to the store through the air as if it were the most natural thing ever. I’ve even had a few dreams that took place at night which is unusual for me.
Last night I had a dream that I ran a marathon in Madrid, Spain then someplace in China. The runners all put their belongings in a huge pile on the floor of an empty stadium. Someone I didn’t know suggested we pilfer whatever was of value. I began looking for high top red converse but didn’t find them. As we sifted through their belongings I looked to the left of me out of the window. Outside the window was a huge, beautiful castle, something you’d see at Disney World but without that dang on mouse hanging around. It looked real but still had a Disney quality to it. I decided not to investigate but to continue through the stadium to meet friends for lunch. Once I got to the cafeteria it ended up being a huge group therapy session. I sat and chatted with a large black woman who told me she keeps her distance because I can go from 100 mph to zero in 60 seconds flat and that I’m temperamental, arrogant and not willing to listen to reason. She said she felt there was a lot of hope for me but she couldn’t be of assistance in my healing process because our personalities didn’t mix. I basically fed her back everything she said and apologized for being so unstable and unpredictable. She then handed me 3 cigarettes and escorted me out of the door.
I Feel Different
I feel so self conscious and very needy right now. This isn’t the normal me. I don’t cling or need validation at every turn, not usually anyway. Right now I’m worried that this and that person will be angry with me or I’ll do something foolish and push people away. I feel lonely and basically not like myself. All the self loathing has me physically exhausted. Well why wouldn’t they go away you stupid….blah, blah, blah. Shut up please!!! I’ve even been begging in my dreams. I don’t beg or plead but recently it feels like my heart only does those two things followed by deep, deep sorrow.
Today a friend called to moan about no longer having a maid to clean her apartment. She said she had to clean the apartment all by herself and make her own dinner. I thought to myself, please call me when you have a real problem. But I said nothing. I just listened UNTIL she said, “I wish I had someone like Maureen that I could pop out and have clean my house.” Oh no you didn’t. You didn’t go there. You wish you had been so damaged by abuse you split off into parts that function separately? And please don’t go, Oh that’s not what that means. It just means I wish I had extra help. Well, it’s not extra help just by itself. It’s extra help with issues. So just don’t go there. Besides, why bring up Maureen, who has been MIA for months just cause you had to fire your maid? Gracious!!! Too sensitive of a topic to just toss out her name cause that bitch is too damn lazy to cook or clean for herself. You don’t work. You don’t do anything at all and you have a maid? Girl stop, please, cause I can’t take it.
Where Is My Voice?
At Wal-mart the other day I was paying for my items when a woman said to me, “I know you from somewhere.” I looked confused and said I wasn’t sure where from. She asked me my name. I gave her a name. She kept looking at me with this “I know you” look. I asked her name, playing along like I had no clue she’s a friend of my mother’s. I walked away having pulled off the best acting job I’ve ever done.
A different time at Wal-mart I figured I’d save some time and cash a check there instead of making a run to my bank. I figured I was already there so why not cash the check. I gave my ID and the man said there was a problem with me cashing the check. He asked me if I’d ever changed my name. He asked me what that name use to be. I said it didn’t matter what that name was because it no longer exists. I had proper ID, my SS# matches and that’s all the questions I was going to answer. That’s the first time since changing my name that anyone has ever asked me that. Of all places Wal-mart wanted to know if there was another me out there. I should have just gone to the bank. It was a friggin $50 check and not worth the hassle. I’ve banked with the same company, used the same phone company and everything else I had before I changed my name. They all got the paper work and there were no problems. Years later Wal-mart wants to know what that name use to be. Give me a break!
Mismatch Thoughts
I wish Barney hadn’t left a dowel rod on the kitchen counter for a week. I wish I’d said something about it a week ago. Why didn’t I ask him to move it?
I can’t give you another chance. I won’t give you another chance.
I have the money to go buy those red converse but I just can’t bring myself to go get them.
I liked giving you that gift but I didn’t do it out of kindness.
I won’t do too much panicking until the asshole moves in and gives me a specific reason to panic. I can’t believe he’s bringing his little dog. As anal as he is I’m sure he has a Shitzu.
The only colour in this house that’s bright is red.
When I go shopping if I don’t bring home something red I feel sad. It’s strange.
My house is girly. That’s not a complaint.
I don’t look my therapist in the eye when I talk to him.
I miss Maureen.
I’ve been jumpy lately.
You really know how to turn a small imposition into a catastrophe.
When I’m angry my language gets rough. I seem to curse like a sailor. It gets really bad. “Do you want a fuckin cookie? You want some motherfuckin’ milk with that shit?” It really gets bad, not quite that bad but bad enough. My language right now could use some soap.
When everything else seems out of control and unstable I grab onto whatever I feel I can control or keep stable. I just need one thing to stay the same and not change. I’ve eaten pizza daily for over two weeks now. This has to change because I’m lactose intolerant. I’m sure that sounds funny but I’m not happy about the change.
I’ve been painting pretty much non-stop for a few weeks now. There’s a large piece of paper on the door to the restroom, the door leading to Barney’s area as well as in the hallway. I also doodle and have 3 small paintings I’m working on. I need the feel and sound of brush against paper.
Joan
Mismatch Thoughts-Wednesday, May 14th, 2008-1:06AM EST
Tried It. Didn’t Like It!
I already knew when I walked in the door that therapy would be interesting. I had no idea one comment would lead to a headache of a session. I’m overwhelmed by the thought of a “few changes” that are taking place here at home but what Dr. D thinks about my views on parents and what he thinks I might deep down want are just dead wrong.
I told him that Princess Fife (Barney’s daughter) her husband and their 8 year old son will be moving in this house with us in a few short weeks. Of course there is much trepidation on my part because this means less privacy. I need my privacy. They won’t be living in my area at all but the fact still remains, I’ll share some space with 3 other people, one of which is a son of a bitch to the empth degree. I can handle Princess Fife and the boy but Prince Jackass is a bit much to take. He’s more OCD than I am he also has a very strong Obsessive Compulsive Personality. He needs everything and everyone around him to be perfect. Sorry, but that doesn’t work for me. So anyway, I told Dr. D that I understand why Barney won’t tell Princess Fife that she and her Slave Master can’t come here. I said, just like every little girl should, she’s got her father Barney wrapped tightly around her finger. It’s just the natural order of things. Every little girl should have her father wrapped around her little finger. Okay, so we went on to discuss the clear problems this whole situation presents but he got back to me and my father. I’m not sure why he can’t let go of the idea that there is a woman out here that has no longing for a father figure. I’m sorry but the idea of me having a father wrapped around my finger is totally different than what I think others should have. I can’t even think in those terms, of having a parental figure that I trust and depend upon or take for granted. Me and parental figures don’t mix. I’m sorry but I see parents as offenders. I look at Barney and his daughter and think “this is how it’s supposed to be” but I keep my personal experiences separate from them because if I don’t I’ll start looking for signs that she’s pretending to feel okay around him but in actuality he hurt her. If I do not put up a wall when watching normal interactions I’ll skew them with my own experiences which aren’t good ones.
A Million Pieces
I know when I’m closed off it means something intense is going on inside, something intense that I just don’t want to feel or deal with. I wasn’t sure what it was until I sat in therapy and it came to me that my neighbor I’m helping care for told me I’ve been different since last Wednesday. I asked Dr. D what we talked about. It seems the whole sister issue came up yet again. I really have trouble with that one. I’m not use to feeling so angry with her or let down by her. I’m just fine with being pissed at the mother. I can see her for who she is but I’ve always had a fantasy view of my sister. She’s always been my big sister, the one that hung the moon. The one that I brag about because she is such a great seamstress. She’s pretty and smart. I always looked up to her. Yes, I did her homework, I gave her my food rations, I fought for her when other kids beat up on her and all that jazz. I never hit her back when she hit me. I even tried to show her how to leave when the mother used the dowel rods on us. Still I looked up to her. I thought she was the best thing since sliced bread. But now, to look at her sexual abuse of me makes the face I painted for her turn ugly.
I stopped caring a very long time ago about my mother’s approval but I felt like I needed my sister’s. It hurts beyond belief to look at her as the person she is and catch a sharp resemblance of my mother.
Self Destruction: Therapy Discussion
Wow, my therapist about threw me for a loop in our last session. He tossed something at me that I wasn’t expecting. I rather freaked out on him a bit. He explained himself as I sat there quietly, frightened, angered and in the “I knew this was too good to be true” mode.
We talked about how part of me really can’t stand Blossom but another part of me wants her company. I said that most of us can’t stand the girl but Destiny has “some use for her.” How horrible to say that but it’s true, part of us really just want to sleep with the chick. We felt horrible saying that about someone we detest but it is true. Then he said something about how Destiny is part of me and that when I mention a particular alter feeling one way he thought it might be important to bring up that the alter is part of me. I guess I thought he was telling me that he wanted me to think of myself as whole instead of divided and not continue to mention DID in therapy. Of course I went on alert. I mean, my goodness. But what he meant was that he wanted to let me know that even singletons have mixed feelings and that by saying “I” feel a certain way I can begin to integrate emotions instead of split them off. That sets so much better than what I thought he meant. I thought for sure he was about to tell me that switching was off limits. I figured from there he’d give some magical pill to make me a singleton. Thank goodness he didn’t lose his mind and tell me to act like a singleton when in his office. It really threw me. He didn’t tell me to use the word “I” instead of “we” or that I couldn’t talk about insiders. It’s not what he was saying at all. He was only saying that he wanted to point out from time to time that when I have conflicting feelings it makes me like everyone else, multiple and singleton.
Slightly Irritated
I believe I may be slightly irritated at every living thing and pissed off by anything that might move the wrong way.
When it comes to stupidity this girl is an over achiever. Now, I’d never say that to her face cause that’s just down right cruel but you know, people push ya and you just want to scream. This is what happened on the 6th of April: Usually if my phone rings at 4am it means someone is having a hard time. I immediately grab a Pepsi and get ready for a nice long phone conversation. I figure anyone who has my phone number is welcome to use it 24/7. I’d rather get a 4am phone call from an anguished friend than the coroner. Well, this morning the phone call came in from the ex-girlfriend who wonders if we still have the connection we once had. I took a deep sigh as she tearfully explained that we once had such a strong connection that it was as if one of us could pick up the phone to call the other and go, “What’s the matter?” She said she could still feel my pain but that she was really having a hard time and she wondered if I could still feel hers. “What is this about?” I asked. I mean, really, why ask me this at 4am? I figured something else was going on. Come to find out she was having a hard time and was upset that I didn’t sense it.
Note to all: If there’s something you’re feeling please do use your voice to tell me. Don’t send me brain wave messages then complain because I didn’t get it okay?
Life With The Functionally Dysfunctional
I use to rent from an older lady, it was my first real home away from the mother. My bedroom was dreamlike with it’s soft yellow lace curtains in the bay window, an old fashioned vanity and a huge walk in closet. I had to climb three sets of stairs to get to my bedroom, which I absolutely loved. I had everything I could need in there. When I was home I didn’t spend much time downstairs with my landlord, I stayed out of the way in my room. Just when I thought things were going well she marched right up to me and said, “I might as well live alone. I thought you were going to be good company but all you do is stay in your room.” I was floored. I figured staying out of her way was what she wanted me to do. Although staying with her has bittersweet memories I have to say I learned a lot about life outside my mother’s home. What I thought was the norm wasn’t. I was simply unprepared to deal with functional people.
When the elderly lady approached me this way it reminded me of staying with my foster family in the 11th grade. I stayed in my room. I stayed out of the way. I spoke as little as possible. One day at the dinner table the foster father blurted out, “We can play this game too. We can be silent.” There I was caught off guard because all I was trying to do was not cause any trouble. I was trying to lay low, trying to not ruin that family like I thought I’d ruined my own. I just wanted the chance to stay there without messing it up so I was quite, reserved and evidently it seemed like I was playing games.
It has recently come to my attention that the gentleman I live with feels sometimes like he lives alone because I spend most of my time back in my own area doing my own thing. He’s not the type that does alone very well so when he comes home he likes to come home to someone, anyone. Staying back here all the time makes him feel like he lives alone. What a thought, someone actually wants my company. They don’t consider me a bother.
This is the third time I’ve come across this situation in my life and I’ll tell ya, I’m simply unprepared to live with another person without real concern that I’m going to become a bother. I can’t help but think the more a person gets to know me the more they’ll dislike me. They’ll find out just how jacked up I am. They think they want me to hang around, watch TV, eat dinner or just come out from time to time and chat but boy they don’t know what they’re getting into. They don’t know what they’re asking. And I don’t know how to do anything but hide. That is what I’m skilled in. I was not prepared for life with the half way normal nor was I ever given the opportunity to trust a family setting. This is new territory that I just don’t want to walk on. I’d rather leave things the way they are. Pay rent, clean up after myself and stay the heck out of the way. Doing so doesn’t allow for growth but it’s what I know how to do. I nearly have a PhD in staying out of the way hiding.
Life With The Functionally Dysfunctional-Friday, April 04, 2008-6:06AM EST
Men vs. Women Part 1 of 2
The subject has come up several times in the last week on blogs that I visit. It also came up in therapy Monday so I figured I’d go ahead and put some thoughts down on paper, mostly in jumbled format. First of all, Dr. D and I discussed gender confusing messages that I got from my mother. We talked about how she kept asking me if I was a little boy and if I thought I was a little boy, are you gay, all of that since I was very little….like around age 4 until I was a grown woman. Of course there’s the sexual abuse from her, the sister and two males but what was most confusing for me was the mother and sister. I was raised to believe that men are bad and little boys are nasty. So when my mother asked me if I was a little boy or if I wanted to be a little boy she pretty much asked me if I was the very thing or wanted to be the very thing she despised. But it occurred to me early on that the safest sex to be was male. I figured that being a girl made me a sitting duck, a target. I thought being a girl was part of why I was being abused so often and by so many. I figured if I were a boy life would be easier because I figured they’re despised, disliked and therefore left alone. But that wasn’t true either because I had a brother and a male cousin who were abused. In my mind though, girl equaled hurt and boy equaled hated but safer.
