Last night I had a very graphic dream about something my mother did which was sexually abusive and as a child never understood.Then this morning I received the following email from my her:

“Dear Lisa,

I want to start by saying that I know that you are angry at us for something we have done and I want to say that what ever it was , we are sorry and we really do love you very much and pray that some day you will forgive us.

I want you to know that your dad is ill and in the hospital. I just got home from the emergency room and he is being admitted. He is diagnosed with pancreatitis and they are doing an MRI tomorrow and calling in the GI doctors and pancreatic surgeon to evaluate the MRI tomorrow. At this time we do not know what it is, but with his history of cancer we are concerned. I will let you know what is going on.

Love Mom”

After hubby and I read it two things occurred to us:

1. She wants me to confront her so she can try and be penitent so I will forgive them, and

2. She realizes that my dad may not be around for much longer and she will be alone and it’s starting to scare her, so she needs to try and connect with me (and maybe my drug-addict sister) to take care of her.

I just wanted to note that she did not give the name of a hospital, a phone number or anything. That’s what she does, though. She leaves out pertinent information to make you go to her and then makes you do things for her while she soaks up the drama.

Several years ago hubby and I knew what we would say when she comes asking for help – “We’re sure you’ll find a nice retirement home.”. It’s not our problem, it’s not our responsibility.

Thinking about my dad dying didn’t make me angry or depressed. Rather, I felt relief, hope and freedom. It just washed over and inside me. He hasn’t tried to contact me in months which is nice. If he is dying and wishes to see me I won’t go. I expect there may be phone calls from relatives, but it’s none of their business and I’m happy to tell them so.

I feel hopeful after reading other blogs and how they reacted to their father’s deaths. We’ll be okay and we’ll feel safer and that’s always a good thing.

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I planned on my hysterectomy last Tuesday to be a great big deal, inside and out. In the end the host was the one that had any issues. The alters handled it brilliantly. The host wants everyone to understand that this was a major surgery and we should be worrying about it more, but the alters are glad it’s over, happy about the changes the surgery will bring, and ready to move on. The host wanted all of us to be terribly upset about losing our girly parts, but everyone inside felt nothing but relief.

Maybe the host feels that this is probably the last surgery so we need to milk it. I don’t get much support after I have surgery around here, although the family is doing really well this time.

DID isn’t an issue at the moment. Neither are flashbacks. I’m having recurring nightmares, though, of an area I’ve dreamed of for years, and the medicine isn’t helping, so I’m going to stop taking it. One less pill. I also stopped taking Nexium because long-term studies show that over time it can lead to increased anxiety, racing thoughts, and rapid heartbeat, which is what was happening the past several months. Since I stopped taking it I haven’t had a problem with that and I just need to tweak my diet a little.

School ends this week which means cutting back on therapy and rearranging my daily schedule.

My mother continues to send me annoying emails like this from June 11th:
“Good morning Lisa,

How are you doing?
The girls should be finishing school some time this month, right? Didn’t (daughter) say she was playing softball this summer? I bet they are looking forward to a fun summer. Hopefully it will be a little less hectic for you.
Margaret is coming in from Montana today and Theresa is having a family picnic tomorrow. Margaret has been coming home a lot, I think it’s because Iona is getting older and she wants to see her as much as she can. Iona will be 98yrs old this November. Iona refuses to use a cane or walker and she falls a lot but she will not gives in. She is an amazing woman.
I was thinking a lot about you last week when I was weeding the garden. I was over by the English rock garden you made when you were with us. Right now it is full of your grandpa’s lilies. And a couple of days ago we had to trim your heather bush, it is getting fairly big. The yucca plants are growing good, especially the one in the front yard. Who was it that gave you the yucca plants, for some reason I thought it was someone you met at… college. All but 2 of them are flowering now.
Did you plant your vegetable garden yet? The only vegetables we have is an upside down tomato plant on the patio. I hope it works. We have a lot of flowering buds on it right now.
Did you lose any trees from all the storms. Our neighbor next door had 2 tree limbs fall on the house 2 days ago.
The nurse I broke in a little over a year ago quit and now they are looking again. I still only work a couple days a week.
Your dad is doing well with his health.
Well, I have to go, hope all is well with you and hope (hubby) and kids are doing good.
Miss you and love you, Mom”

I do not speak to this woman (it’s been over one year since I’ve spoken with my parents on the phone), and it’s been several years since I’ve had any contact with the people she mentions. She lives in an imaginary world where we have some kind of relationship. It helps me to post her emails and know that they are out there for anyone to see. Oh well.

It’s quiet inside, which spooks me a little. I made it through the surgery, though, and I thought I wouldn’t. When I opened my eyes in the recovery room they had already put my glasses on and tucked the stuffed animal I brought with me (my oldest daughter made it for me) under my arm. That was cool.

I’m okay today so I’m going to test myself and go shopping. First groceries and then to the video game/movie store to pick up the extended versions of the Lord of the Rings trilogy. With my trusty tummy binder and knowing that I still have some Percocet left for pain I will be invincible!

See ya round!

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.

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.

 

Everyone is in the System house which is quiet, but busy. Working Inside makes it more difficult to respond to posts, but I am reading them.

We reached a mini-milestone in therapy and hope it continues.

We try to stay in motion whether it’s folding laundry, practicing Tai Chi, getting the mail, or spinning yarn on the wheel. Sitting at the computer too long makes us depressed.

We’re taking Minipress at night for trauma-related nightmares, too. Not bad, but maybe when we increase it next week it will work better.

Drawing pictures and writing more is helping, too. So is eating healthier.

That’s all right now. Be good to yourselves.

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 dogs *trigger*

November 9, 2010

My dogs constantly follow me around the house and yard. They accompany me while I fold the laundry and feed the birds. They climb the windows when they see I’m home. The bathroom door needs to be closed when I’m in there because they want to be with me.

They are always watching. Most of the time I think they are looking for food, but that’s not important. What’s important is that they are always watching. I know it’s crazy, but I feel like they have cameras in their eyes and are recording everything I do. I only sit down when I’m on the computer because I think if anyone sees what they are recording they will think I’m lazy because I’m not working, working, working around the house.

As new memories surface I becaome more paranoid and their staring is almost painful to me.

I was trying to pin down this intense paranoid feeling over the past few weeks and it comes down to them. The paranoia is from being watched when I was a little girl while being sexually abused.  I have memories and flashbacks of being watched, and if I’m upset or anxious about that I have two dogs who sense that and stay with me, watching, to help me feel better.

These dogs shove my husband out of the way when I have nightmares or night terrors. They are the best watchdogs. They can smell me just thinking about cooking a roast beef, and I can’t stand to be near them. I want them to shut up, stop making noise when they walk, and stop looking at me.

This post should be about something more important or interesting, but it’s been difficult doing therapy homework with them around. I was thinking about how something as simple as my dogs wanting to be with me brings back the same feelings I had as a child. They are watching me. Other people used to watch me and hurt me, too. The dogs want to hurt me (go syllogism!).

There are triggers everywhere in the big, wide world. I’m dealing with them much better now, but those triggers are outside of my home. It’s hard to get away from this particular trigger.

My family made me very angry today. The stress and heightened emotions from that are making me more upset and paranoid. Tonight is a Xanax night. I am hoping to figure out how to separate the reason my dogs are looking at me from the way I was watched as a little girl. I’ll end up living in my car if I don’t.

my brain is melting

October 12, 2010

(To the tune of Monty Python’s “Lumberjack Song”)

Oh…..I am DID and I don’t care
I might be here or I might be there

I jump and skip
Or go to work
And take my medication

My therapist reassures me
There’s at least 1% in the nation!

(You can stop now.)

I’m bored and restless…..a dangerous combination…..

A water main broke and the kids are being dismissed early from school…like now. I baked them a cake, but little do they know that I have walked around the house and found many, many jobs for them. Mwa-ha-ha! So much for a day off, my little minions!

Tomorrow is the Therapy Festival! I get to go and revel in my confused and twisted view of reality until my therapist says, “Are you okay to drive?”. Ah, what fun we’ll have… We will talk about flashbacks, body memories, littles, nightmares, night terrors and extreme anxiety. I’ll cry and pretend I’m actually getting something out of this and go home and fake my way through parenting and other family obligations. But…if they don’t fix the water main the kids could be home tomorrow, too. I just thought of that. Oh well. I’ll figure something out.

Sometimes I wish I still drank alcohol. It washed so much of this shit away along with my brain cells. If I drank enough perhaps it could wash away ALL of my brain cells…. nah. It’s been nearly 1&1/2 years since I drank.

Oh god. I need to find something to occupy my brain today! Can you imagine what it would be like if I stayed here, typing on the computer all day? You poor, poor people. You would be sucked into my black hole of incomprehensibility. I won’t do that to you, though, as tempting as that is. Consider yourselves lucky……this time……

One of last night’s dreams:

My sister and I move to a new home that my parents bought. The neighborhood is lovely, serene, and everything looks like a Norman Rockwell painting. My grandfather (whom I adored) is going to live with us.

Most of our belongings are in storage at a a house across the street. I go to take a shower and there are no doors, so anyone could walk in or see me. The toilet is out in the open, and the walls are really windows. Instead I go to make breakfast but the stove is faulty and I burn myself. The paint in the living room is peeling off and it smells…well….wrong. My grandfather is just sitting there, doing nothing.

I am frightened and feel a need to either hide or run into the street. I’m going through my purse looking for a vibrator so I can calm down by masturbating (It’s weird that I am consciously, at least in the dream, making this decision. Normally that would happen without my being aware.). I find it, but there is no place to do that where I won’t be seen by anyone, so I don’t do it.

My sister says that my parents will be home soon and I freak. I make everyone go across the street to get some things out of storage. As I’m climbing out the windows I see that the glass is broken, so I move to avoid it, but the vinyl siding is broken with sharp edges and I keep cutting myself. If I get enough big things out of storage than I can hide myself and not be seen. I start to drag things out of the neighbors garage and I sense my parents getting closer and I start to freak out.

I woke up suddenly because Haggis, my Rottweiler/St. Bernard was cleaning me and licking my hair. He always does that when I’m upset. Cute, protective, and sloppy.

My grandfather adored me. He also adored his step-daughter. I think he stayed motionless in my dream because he couldn’t choose sides, and I never asked him to. The dream could symbolize that no matter where I am I won’t feel safe if my parents are around, and that no matter how pleasant or safe that dream house felt, it was filled with traps and fear, and I still feel vulnerable even though I am physically safe now.

I like those type of dreams. They are fairly obvious but they also gauge how I am feeling deep down and present issues I’m not dealing with at the moment. They also leave me wondering if I should reconsider what I have chosen to work on. These days I am working on coping, coping, coping. Coping with body memories. Coping with the laundry. Coping with the littles who have charged in out of nowhere. Coping with recovering from surgery. Blah, blah, blah. I didn’t feel I had any safety issues that needed attention, but apparently I do.

I would like to assign an alter to each issue that needs to be worked on. That would really help me get through this easier. Then they could write out their reports in separate journals and I could turn those in to my therapist. Done.