I have really good days here but some are filled with what I’d call insanity and an unquiet mind. Sometimes I feel grounded, resolved to move forward, even lucky, but other times I feel disturbed. This move happened so fast and under such strain that I’ve yet to catch my breath.
Archive for the 'Dissociative Identity Disorder' Category
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Part of me wants to hide from my friend’s husband while part of me wants to hear him talk about his life a home with his mother. The whole time I saw him I had a hard time staying grounded. It was almost as if he wasn’t real. I could hear him talk, I could see him but it was as if he wasn’t real.
In the hospital there was a real art therapist who talked to us about establishing our own world. I kind of had a hard time hearing her because as she spoke I sat at her table filled with markers, paints, crayons, clay and paper. I nearly drooled.
Above my over joyed heartbeat I heard her explain that in our new world we’d decide who can and can’t come to our world. We’d decide if people worked, how they lived, how they got their food and so on. Everything was up to us. When I heard that part assignment I declined to participate. I just messed with clay while others drew a world they felt they could be happy in. Not surprisingly many removed the so-called good idea of capitalism. I found that interesting.
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.
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.
Sleep is vicious to me. It acts like I’ve personally offended it and is now set its life course to haunt me until I lose my mind. Wish it would tell me what I did or leave me alone.
While not sleeping I’ve been painting a bit…a lot.
This particular piece has a lot going on it it. I’ve got two pages filled with my own art therapy symbols then a little girl laying down seemingly calm and happy. At first glance its a happy picture of a little girl in a field with flowers but my symbols for anxiety stand out big time.
Sunflowers: Abuse, multiplicity, divisions
Swirls: Chaos, fear, confusion, overwhelmed
Flowers: Spilling of emotions positive or negative, usually negative and heavy emotions. The two emotions most represented by the presence of flowers are sadness and fear.
We talked about the dream called Focus and Move Forward where I mentioned my first love Danny. His time in my life was a typical Hollywood love tragedy. If you’ve seen the movie My Girl then you get a good idea about the two of us. There was fishing, catching crawdads in the creek, catching fireflies and climbing trees. I even played in a field of wildflowers, farmed rows of corn and walked across a rope bridge. Just like in My Girl it ended with one dead and one holding on to beautiful, beautiful memories. I don’t regret knowing him or his family but I hate how it ended. I try not to think about how it ended, just that we had some really good times.
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