???

June 30, 2011

Usually I shove it down best I can so I have control, control, control. Stuff those people down and just talk on the inside. Don’t let them out or let them up and be together with them.

If I didn’t give a shit about this blog I would write about the terrible things they say while I’m doing regular things. It’s difficult to watch a kid play a video game while inside they’re showing me what was being done to them at that age.

Write, write, write. Get it all down and take it to the therapist and talk about it. Then back home and it starts all over.

I think I need to see my therapist more often. Kids are home and there’s no one to watch them and arrangements with the in-laws have to revolve around their schedule.

So I stop talking because I don’t make sense. It sounds like gibberish, like I’m having a stroke. And I play with some toys and draw pictures and I’ve found lots of toads and frogs to play with. Many of the bird parents are bringing their babies and we can go right up to them. We have butterflies and moths and even the snakes are mellow, so I can pick them up and we can check them out.

Okay. Back to work. If it hasn’t been used in the past 5-10 years I’m throwing it out. That keeps me busy lately.

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I wanted to write and rant but it’s sooo loud, loud, loud! Therapy left me more frustrated than ever. We talked about a million things and I cannot focus or finish a sentence or thought.

It’s hard to stop and prioritize. And I’m so tired. So much needs to be done.

I know what mom did. I see the look on her face and I hear what she said. That vindictive fucking bitch. And it’s playing over and over and over in my head.

Inside there is an alter who seems ageless and another one that feels older than me and is very nurturing and loving. I’m trying to give everything over to them so I can breathe. It’s just starting to feel a little better. It needs to feel better because I have:

* another surgery soon

* my daughter’s birthday

* my son’s preparing for college

* and basic running around for food, appointments, sports, concerts, life in general shit

Over the past week I have run out of two stores in a panic, I’m hiding in closets and behind doors in my house like I did as a kid, and continue to search for noises that turn out to be more hallucinations. I forgot my birthday (I don’t celebrate it, though), anniversary, and nearly forgot my kid’s birthday (she reminded me in time). Things are moving too fast inside and out. I cope during panic attacks, walk around the house after I wake up from increased nightmares, and load up on drugs to sleep. I look like I’ve been hit by a baseball bat and makeup doesn’t really smooth it out. On the plus side I’ve lost a dress size and bra size, but there’s more gray in my hair.

That’s my fucking rant I suppose. I’ll call the stupid psychiatrist about my stupid hallucinations and my stupid nightmares even though it’s stupid. Nyah.

Note to Self

March 22, 2011

There are many things I need to keep reminding myself of. Things such as:

*My opinion is not important

*I enjoy being interrupted mid-sentence since I couldn’t possibly have anything relevant or interesting to say

*I really do only exist to serve others (Bene Gesserit maybe? If you get this reference I’ll love you forever.)

*It’s not necessary that I have time to myself

*I must always be at the beck and call of others, and always within hearing range

*If anything should happen to me I must deal with it alone and unsupported

*Anything medical-related is my own problem and cannot inconvenience anyone else

*I am responsible for any and all negative happenings to anyone

*The only hobbies I need to have are those that benefit others in any way I can

*There is nothing I can do or say that have any worthwhile contribution in human society

If all you knew for years and years and years was abuse then you make decisions based on that experience. Can changes be made? Yes. Is it worth the pain, agony, misunderstanding, confusion, and anger to make those changes? Maybe. Do you need to reinforce those changes constantly? Yes. Does it ever end? I doubt it. Will you die frustrated and unfulfilled? Probably. Is this what life is all about? I have no fucking idea.

A couple of incredibly important Tuesday happenings here:

1: R. Lee Ermy hangin’ with his real buddies (thanks to my youngest daughter):

 

2: My road went bye-bye this morning:

 

No school for the next two days. I’m hoping that the inevitable distractions my children provide will prevent the panic attacks that have been plaguing me. That, and I get to play with R. Lee and the Barbies, too. He is my doll after all (he autographed the box for me and everything!). I will NOT let her play with my 30th anniversary original Star Trek Barbie collection! I’m hoping those will help pay for college someday.

I called my therapist last night concerning these panic attacks which accompany a new person inside. This inside guy is angry, threatening, scaring myself and younger ones, and wreaking havoc in general. I’m not entirely sure if he is the cause of the panic attacks, or if there is a trigger I’m missing here. Just talking to my therapist helped me sleep last night. I’m sure I won’t be able to see her this week because of this snowstorm. She wants me to work on distracting myself until my psychiatrist calls and see if that helps with the panic crap.

Take care of yourselves.

 

Today I spent the time between 8:15 am to 12 noon in a doctor’s office and hospital. For me this is another example of “just when things are looking up” going bad, or “Why be optimistic when you know something will happen to ruin it?”.

The reason for my appointment and hospital test visit is not important. What was important to me was the instability afterward. The wrench in my newly-tuned System. The “sabo” in my “tage“.

The next three hours, which isn’t necessarily a long time, were an exercise in futility. Panic, crying, possible heart attack, shortness of breath, racing thoughts, self-injury…the whole shebang. It wasn’t until I put in a fitness DVD for 20 minutes that things began to stabilize again. Xanax, self-talk, and grounding techniques were worthless.

I know it happens. It feels like it has happened all my life. It’s as though it doesn’t matter what I try to do, or how well I feel after something positive happens because it will shortly be fucked up.

It’s my pity party for today. It’s my why-the-fuck-keep-trying rant. And my gonna-eat-ice-cream-’cause-I-can-so-shut-up whiny post.

Depending on the test results I might whine again next week too.

Chuggin’ along…

December 27, 2010

It has been very heartening to read how well, average, not-so-well, or okay many people managed the holidays. I feel it’s important to write it out, whether it is a good or bad or so-so experience. I don’t believe writing it out and/or reading others experiences just for comparison, but rather for inspiration and ideas. Certain times of the year are triggering, or just plain annoying, and reading about how people approach those times of year and deal with it help me feel a little less alone.

Over the past few days I’ve been debating writing about how it has been for me. It was not good. It is not good now, but I’m still here and my kids had a wonderful time. I tried really hard to see this time of year through their eyes and that almost helped. I never want them to associate the holidays with anything other than wonder and joy, so that’s my focus.

I will do whatever I need to do to move through these next couple of weeks intact. Hopefully I will look back and see how I can do things better next time.

No one nurtures Lisa except Lisa. No one asks if I need help or could use a break. No one offers to scratch my back, rub my feet, or play with my hair. No one asks about all of the band-aids on my body. They just come home and eat, mess up rooms while playing, and have their fun. No one asks if I had a good day.

I know they are happy, secure, loved, and comfortable with themselves. I know they feel safe and self-confident. I know that they feel that way because of me.

There is never a break. When I’m home alone it’s a flashback fiasco and a fight to stay aware (There’s this new “twitching” thing going on all the time, like my hands are moving independently. What’s that mean?). Out in public I’m suffering through anxiety attacks in stores, doctor’s offices, and store bathrooms. Last Wednesday I thought I was having a heart attack and asked to go to a hospital, but my therapist talked me down and I was okay. I’m not thinking straight and my vision is blurry.

I feel a little sorry for myself, a bit whiny, semi-suicidal and very confused. It’s this “first year after being diagnosed” stuff, I think, in large part.

On the up side all of the shopping and wrapping is finished. My best friend bought me an Affirmation Ball (“You Can Do It!”, “Nice Outfit!”) which is hysterical, as well as an Emergency Yodel Button. I have baked 4 million cookies, 12,000 loaves of different breads, convinced the kids that Die Hard is a Christmas movie, and decorated the house.

Only one thing left……..the Christmas Eve Chinese dinner while watching Father Ted’s – A Christmassy Ted.

So, what have we learned? Lisa is a whiny, needy bitch, she has some strange “twitchy” thing going on, DID sucks sometimes, the kids are just fine, Christmas shit is done, and Father Ted is epic, so go buy it and watch it.

Have at the very least, an acceptable holiday, however you may or may not celebrate it. I’ll be reading, and in lieu of a complete breakdown I hope to be writing again next week. Huzzah!

The holidays and androids

December 6, 2010

This past Saturday my oldest girl participated in a Christmas play and had a blast.

Next week is her middle school chorus concert.

The week after that is my youngest girl’s 3rd grade chorus concert.

Holiday music is everywhere. Streets and lamp posts are decorated. People are wearing holiday pins, scarves, hats, necklaces and whatnot.

Hell, it is snowing right now.

The kids are playing Christmas songs on the organ and singing in the shower.

I have to buy supplies for their school Christmas parties.

They are having dreidel contests in school.

They have already made decorations and are putting them around the house.

They are clamoring for a tree.

It feels like my eyes are stuck open (a la “Clockwork Orange”) and I can’t stop the input of this holiday. There is no place to hide this year and it’s frightening. The only memory I have of Christmas as a kid is one midnight mass and doing some dishes at my grandmother’s house. Then it’s like I woke up in 1998 and I’m fine from then on.

So….I’ve decided I’m an android that was programmed to awake in 1998 and my memory chip was disabled somehow. I mean, really, what other explanation can there be? Oh, I know it’s probably some abuse thingie, but my android theory is much more exciting and interesting. And as an android I should be able to get through this holiday season by implementing a program that allows me to function without feeling any emotions until..oh, let’s say January 17th.

However, while I am searching my data banks for that program I have to suffer through gagging, vomiting, fear, shaking, losing time and confusion. I will also be careful around my children and smile, sing along with them, decorate the house, keep the cats off of the tree, and force myself to sit through holiday shows and movies (although it’s never a problem to watch “Black Adder’s Christmas Carol” no matter how fucked-up I feel).

I have been reading that the holidays can be upsetting and/or triggering for many of us, but I honestly thought I was immune. The holidays just suck usually, that’s all. This year it’s like they are alive, or have some weird hold over me. It worries me a bit.

Well, I have whined enough about it. Writing this out made me feel a little better, though I don’t completely understand why.

Thanks for reading.

Note to self: Never, ever, ever schedule therapy and a breast care center appointment on the same day again!

Since this past Febuary I have been seeing a nurse practitioner for a breast problem. It’s not cancer, there are no cysts, and everything is normal except for my nipples. For nearly a year-and-a-half they have not relaxed and are constantly irritated. I have tried vitamin E, vaseline, warm compresses, cool compresses, different detergents and fabric softeners, bought new bras and new clothing. Vaseline helps the most, but it’s not fun or comfortable to put it on and then cover it with a bandage or skin tape at night.

It was nearly six months before I made an appointment with my GYN to ask what is wrong with them. Then I had to go to the breast care center where I was naked from the waist up (with a front-opening robe) for two hours while my breasts were poked and prodded and sqished and examined. I tried everything she recommended and nothing seemed to help. It wasn’t until I broke down in her office and said I’d had enough that some progress was made.

Before my nurse practitioner began working at the breast care center she worked with sexual abuse victims, children and adults. I hadn’t told her about my abuse history before, but as soon as I did she gave me a completely different list of options to help ease the pain and irritation. She suggested I ask my nipples to tell me why they felt so irritated, and I did, and I broke down again, but it really helped.

My breast problems began as I started to collect narcotic pain killers and blades for my suicide plan. While I felt suicide was the answer at that time, my body (and part of my brain) was screaming to reconsider. It just happened to focus more in my breasts. I think that’s weird, but I am weird, so it shouldn’t really be a surprise. Knowing me, it could have been my left pinky fingernail.

I have been using this “ask the body part what it would say” idea on other body parts since then. If I have a headache, I’ll ask my forehead why it hurts. The week before last the answer was, “Because you have a sinus infection, dummy.”.

While this technique does help, it also brings up feelings or memories I am not prepared for sometimes, so I don’t recommend this to everyone. Then I have to work through those feelings or memories, which has made therapy much more interesting lately.

Asking my body why it hurts or why it’s irritated is helping me to reconnect with it. Along with that comes actual emotions that I don’t completely understand. Feeling emotions in my body where the damage was physically done is helping me to forgive or understand my body little by little. As of yet I haven’t made any incredible strides, but little-bitty ones, and that’s okay for me. My brain still feels like an alien entity, but very slowly my body is becoming more real. It is also frightening at times, but I feel it’s necessary for me to become the person I want to be eventually.

This is just a different technique that I have found to be helpful, but I do not use it too often, because it can be overwhelming. When I know I’m in a safe space I may ask a body part why they feel shaky, irritated, or just plain bad. I never ask that when I have been triggered or have trouble coping at the time. I wouldn’t recommend this to everyone, and I asked my therapist before I tried it at home, but it has made a positive difference for me inside and outside of therapy.

So, I wanted to share that today before I go outside and do damage control. The winds were so strong yesterday that they picked up our shed, spun it 90 degrees and set it down across the yard. Only the door came off and a few things on the shelves fell down. The weird stuff always happens to me.

Today is Rearrange and Consolidate the Kitchen Day. It’s celebrated several times during the year at my house. Dust bunnies are hunted down, cookbooks that I never use are stored away, appliances (like sno-cone machines) that are seasonally used are stored, and all shit magnets are cleared. The XM radio antenna broke and there is no sound. The TV is too far away for background noise and it gets a little spooky in the kitchen. Hopefully the new antenna will arrive today.

There is no sound except for me…so my brain goes a-wanderin’…and this is part of what spilled out…

 

When you run, run, run,

you become so tired and could sleep all day and dream, dream, dream.

If you stop the past runs up to you, and

you stay for it to reach you,

for them to touch you.

They ask why…what happened…

…did we do something wrong…is this real life…

…how come you never stopped before?

Do you hate us too?

 

I needed to stop and relax for 90 minutes so that weird, little poem could come through, as well as a nasty memory. My super-supportive ETMRT needed to be called in also: https://roseroars.wordpress.com/2010/05/21/emergency-traumatic-memory-response-team/ Well…we dealt with it, we’re okay and now we get back to work.

I am sooooo looking forward to the new antenna.