One little, two little, three little Xanax

Four little, five little, six little Trileptal

Seven little, eight little, nine little Abilify

Ten little psychiatric drugs!

Everybody sing!

One little, two little, three little Wellbutrin

Four little, five little, six little more Xanax

Seven little, Eight little, nine little coping techniques to help with flasbacks

Ten little things I never expected I’d need after being diagnosed DID!

+++++Keep moving…..nothing to see here….+++++

Hubby inherited a little money from his grandmother, so what do we buy? Underwear and gloves. We are so exciting. Maybe we will move on to the exciting world of pencils and erasers next.

+++++Please ma’am, let the professionals do their job….+++++

Tomorrow morning I have a GYN appointment. I’m going to make sure the younger ones are safe and secure and hope my sexual self-injuries are healed. Maybe I won’t need an exam since it is a follow-up. I hope, I hope. I’m scared. If she sees it will she want me hospitalized? I already rescheduled once because of my sexual self-injurious behavior, but she is busy and I need a new prescription for my endo.

I don’t relax anymore. Pace, pace, pace….. I have sewed 6 curtains, one pair of capris, a mixer cover, two oven mitts, 2 aprons, a hot pad, and crocheted a shawl, coasters, and decorative hangings over the past week. I have cooked up a storm and cleaned a lot, too. If I relax they will all start talking and I’ll just cry and cry. If I fall asleep the nightmares will start and I can’t wake myself up from them. I’m stuck. The therapist asked me to take it easy and look what happened. At least I’m productive and not taking it out on myself or drinking anymore.

Meds are making me sleepy. Hello nightmares. Good night you lovely people.

Yesterday I made my own pitas and hummus because I couldn’t find any ones that looked good in the store. Simply cooking and making those have been very triggering, and things are going on in my head that I don’t understand. I keep hearing my mother making patronising comments in her fakey voice. It won’t stop and I don’t think I can eat them.

Her voice has been following me around for days and I keep seeing her reactions to things – the rolling eyes, accusing stares, and the “Oh, PLEASE” look. It makes me feel like no matter what I do I will fail.

It’s been difficult trying to communicate inside about who is experiencing this because I sense so many inside experiencing it. It is a miserable chorus of emotionally and psychologically beaten girls.(I don’t even know how many parts are inside)

My mother isn’t simply manic-depressive, she is cruel and heartless and enjoys putting me down. It makes her feel better, I suppose. She still does it whenever she can, about anything she can. What a neat hobby for her. I don’t know if she does it to my sister because I have no contact with her. Her comments, etc., are very loud inside and unless I am doing absolutely nothing it’s not stopping.

——–and now for something completely different——-

I had to drive for an hour-and-a-half yesterday, but I was really worn out, and didn’t feel like it. While I was driving I asked for an alter with a driver’s license to please help me with the driving. I started to dissociate, got it under control, and was co-conscious while driving with the alter. It worked great, but I’m not sure that was the healthiest thing to do. What do you think of that? Is that a right or wrong thing to do?

This post has been brought to you by Abilify – “Sleep Is Overrated“.

Side Effects

May 13, 2010

Lookie! It’s 1:20am again! At least my insomnia is consistent.

The insomnia began in earnest when the dosage of Abilify and Trileptal were increased last week. These medications seem to be helping, so I don’t want to stop them, and when I do go back to bed in an hour or so I fall right asleep. Both Abilify and Trileptal share similar side effects such as – dizziness, drowsiness, nausea, trouble sleeping (who would have thought?), fatigue, and constipation. At the same time they make one sleepy, and falling asleep at first is no problem. Waking up at this time, which always happens to be 3&1/2 after I go to bed, is not really a problem. It feels okay and I can get things such as dishes or crocheting done.

I was thinking about how DID is a possible side effect of chronic and pervasive child sexual abuse and neglect. Wouldn’t it be nice if we came with warning labels? Human infants are used to propagate the species. Use as directed. May be taken with or without food. The success of human infants are based on your medical condition and response to the infant. To reduce the risk of side effects the infant must be treated with unconditional love, acceptance, and nurturing. Use as directed. Possible side effects if infant is not taken care of properly are loss of sense of self, inability to establish successful relationships, mental and sexual disorders, fragmentation of the self, inability to trust among other side effects too numerous to list in this blog.


At first I wanted to write about the effects of child sexual abuse and neglect but so much has already been written. The left panel of this page is replete with excellent information on that. The only thing to add would be my personal story, but it’s so similar to millions of other stories that I feel mine would be lost among them. That doesn’t bother me but I wish I could add something new or fresh, something that would make a difference, something that would make you stop and say “Ah. She has a point there.”.

While I wade through the potential side effects of prolonged abuse I feel that all I have to offer is an example of what not to do with a child. I was hoping to be a little more, like the person who cures cancer, or the first person on Mars. I do believe I am creating a positive situation with the way I raise my children, but it doesn’t feel like that is enough sometimes.

Here is a corny analogy: I wanted to make a splash in this world, but I’m only able to start a ripple. That is closer to how I feel.

Now I feel sleepy again so I’ll mosey on up to bed. Toodles.

The Cure is probably not the best band to listen to when you’re felling depressed. I’m switching to Daft Punk. Tonight it’s 2am and “Fun With Insomnia”! I’m taking Xanax and waiting for unconsciousness. That got me thinking about how I often wait/wish for unconsciousness. Do you have the ability to fall asleep/power nap at will? I can sleep anywhere. It came in handy sometimes, but I also remember how I used to sleep under my bed, in my closet, and in the attic for different reasons.

I firmly believe that it is important to be honest in this blog. It helps me because I receive excellent advice, perhaps it will help someone else, and I have nothing to lose. The following paragraphs are an excerpt from my personal journal. Sometimes I just write the first things that come to mind and it often provides insight, especially when I discuss it with TherapyWoman. I don’t edit my journal, but I have edited this a little bit:

***********trigger warning***********

…I feel little, small and invisible. Little in age. Things look so far away and no one sees me. I walk around and my genitals have a tingly feeling like one might get right after sex. I don’t feel like I’m being violated the way I did before, or that I need to be “ready” for sex. It just feels like it’s over and I’m still here, but no one knows. That doesn’t even make sense.

I don’t have a good attention span lately. The days are done so fast, too. It can be hard to read and I lose interest quickly.

I’ve been forgetting how to drive over the past several weeks. I get into a vehicle and I don’t know what to do. Sometimes this happens while I’m driving, too. I’m trying to stay focused, though. Even cooking is getting weird. I’ll forget how to cook certain things, can’t think of what I should cook, or forget that something is cooking and I burn it.

It feels like there is no escape from this, from me. When I start to feel better the depression, apathy, and fatigue come back.

Dizzy, tinnitus driving me crazy, fatigue, despair. I have no one to talk to. There is no one I know (besides therapist) that I would want to open up to…

…Are you disappointed or frustrated with me? How can I be a better patient?…

…Some disturbing images came up last night. I was rolled up in a blanket or something and being hit and shouted at by my mother. Another scene that really bothered me was of her scratching my genitals the same way I do and mumbling incoherently. I don’t know if these are real memories or not (thank goodness for denial), but I do know that my mother was definitely involved in doing something like that. When I asked inside if there was truth to my mother abusing me in such a way there was a resounding “yes” from the younger ones. This is really bothering me. I know my mother hates me and is jealous of me, but I have never had any memories of abuse like this.

More 80’s New Wave music making me feel good. I love my new MP3 player that I didn’t know I bought.

*
A good part of my days are spent feeling like I’m being molested. … today a memory surfaced… of myself, around 4 years old, and those same boys who raped me later were molesting me and it hurt. Maybe it happened more often than I thought, but I don’t know that for sure. I hope to learn more from the little girl later.

Why do I feel like I’m being raped sometimes? Is it body memories?… I can even hear the sounds, feel the ache and burn, but rarely see a face. Why doesn’t it stop? This past weekend it was nonstop as I sat with my son watching You Tube and I was so embarrassed, feeling like he (or anyone else) could read my mind. So fucking frustrating. I can’t find a good, practically fool-proof coping technique for this…

****end of journal notes****

I do understand about body memories, but I just wish I could get a more linear-memory thing going here. Sometimes my therapist is so frustrating. She wants me to find the answers within myself but it’s hard, and when I really, really try they bury themselves even deeper.

I’m just going on and on and on. Isn’t insomnia great?

I don’t understand why healing has to hurt so much. I don’t understand why people did this to me. I, I, I…..I’m so tired of talking about myself.

The Xanax is kicking in and I’ll try to sleep again. Thanks for reading this shit.