Its like a buddy road trip movie, except that the buddy is me and we only travel in our head. bur otherwise its excellent!!!!!! So basically that mean to viewer on the outsidfe:: Crazy heavy freckled grirl laughing and taking to herself as she lays in a hammock in the bright orange sunlight. And alsoo crazy freckled gril doing stuff with herse3fl like a schzo, but I am not schizo I am dissociative. :)
Showing posts with label Alive. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alive. Show all posts
Thursday, August 1, 2013
So This Is Why We Dissociate
So I am zoned to the universe on DXM in a beautiful angry orange sunlight place. And I'm Like lets do this. This is wh we sissocdiate. we let it go . or soething . idosn know ifi can type fast enough to get this all down. I am in the moment of NO. NO orange beautiful blasting out. i want it to be world where there3 is no fuckin g need for NO, but that is not the world we live in. Orange is the New Black F*cksgiving That is it. They captured it perfectly. its amazimg. piper says you CANT HAVE ME, YOU COULD NEVER HAVE ME. or something like that. she screams it out in a total seemingly dissociative state and then confirms it by having sex with Vause when she gets out of SHU. And then the audience gets all excited about a love triangle, lesbian sex, blah , blah. BUT THAT IS NOT THE FUCKING POINT
THE POINT IS, THAT YOU DON'T OWN ME. YOU WILL NEVER OWN ME, AND YOU WILL NEVER WIN. I AM ME. I LOVE ME. I CLAIM ME. I CLAIM ME AND ALL ME NEEDS TO BE HAPPY., not too much stuff. But enough to be FUCKING HAPPY. So BASICALLLY, FUCK OFF, WORLD, I AM GOING TO BE A GREEN VEGETARIAN POET WITH A DRUM AND A GUITAR AND A TRUCKLOAD OF MATH AND BASIC CHEMISTRY KNOWLEDGE AND i AM GOING TO LIVE HOW I WANT TO LIVE. WITH BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE GETTING OVER THEIR PAIN BY PAINTING AND DANCING AND SINGING AND RUNNING...... and yoga :) and I want to live a healthy life creating stuff? (dont know what yet) helping people figure systems out, because I am incredibly good at that. I can figure a system like nobody's business. SO. LET'S GET FIGURING!!!!
i love you jeanette.
THE POINT IS, THAT YOU DON'T OWN ME. YOU WILL NEVER OWN ME, AND YOU WILL NEVER WIN. I AM ME. I LOVE ME. I CLAIM ME. I CLAIM ME AND ALL ME NEEDS TO BE HAPPY., not too much stuff. But enough to be FUCKING HAPPY. So BASICALLLY, FUCK OFF, WORLD, I AM GOING TO BE A GREEN VEGETARIAN POET WITH A DRUM AND A GUITAR AND A TRUCKLOAD OF MATH AND BASIC CHEMISTRY KNOWLEDGE AND i AM GOING TO LIVE HOW I WANT TO LIVE. WITH BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE GETTING OVER THEIR PAIN BY PAINTING AND DANCING AND SINGING AND RUNNING...... and yoga :) and I want to live a healthy life creating stuff? (dont know what yet) helping people figure systems out, because I am incredibly good at that. I can figure a system like nobody's business. SO. LET'S GET FIGURING!!!!
i love you jeanette.
Friday, July 5, 2013
Thursday, September 20, 2012
I am exhausted
Well, I am officially a badass. I had one hell, whopper of a migraine last night after I got off the phone, so my sleep was very shallow and troubled. But I got up and went to group anyway. And that is when I was awesome.
Trigger Alert:
I told about the memory I had 3 weeks ago. The memory of being orally raped by a male when I was an infant. Yes. Part of me still has a somewhat hard time believing we can remember something that happened when we were an infant. But most of me believes it. I have read enough research about traumatic memory that I know it's possible. And it happened to me. This is not the first memory I have had about sexual abuse, but it is the most complete and concrete. It was all senses at once. Other times I have had body memories, but no visuals, or visuals when I was high that I discounted because I was high. This happened dead sober, when I was least expecting it, meaning I wasn't trolling for a memory. It just came.
I don't understand someone who would do that to a baby. It is so foreign that it seems almost impossible. But my body memory was real. So I believe myself. I just am devastated. Devastated that I was hurt before I could even walk, made to dissociate before I could even communicate. It is a wonder I'm still alive. I think some seriously terrible things happened to me in that house, and I know seriously terrible things happened to me in the other house. I know my mother beat me, emotionally abused me and terrorized me my entire childhood until I was 21. I told her she couldn't hit me anymore at 21. Twenty fucking one, and she was still in such utter control of me. 37 and the control is just finally waning, after three years of intensive, intensive, intensive therapy. Almost 4 years now. Wow. I don't like to think about it. It feels like it shouldn't be taking me this long.
But fuck that. I was one of the most defended people ever. I was in total unreality about my childhood, because it was never safe before to truly understand how bad it was. It took me 2 years to truly trust the therapeutic process.
I am so sad, but it is a good sad, an authentic devastation about my childhood. I had no one safe, ever. Ever. So, I am a badass for making it through. Yes, I am. We all are.
Trigger Alert:
I told about the memory I had 3 weeks ago. The memory of being orally raped by a male when I was an infant. Yes. Part of me still has a somewhat hard time believing we can remember something that happened when we were an infant. But most of me believes it. I have read enough research about traumatic memory that I know it's possible. And it happened to me. This is not the first memory I have had about sexual abuse, but it is the most complete and concrete. It was all senses at once. Other times I have had body memories, but no visuals, or visuals when I was high that I discounted because I was high. This happened dead sober, when I was least expecting it, meaning I wasn't trolling for a memory. It just came.
I don't understand someone who would do that to a baby. It is so foreign that it seems almost impossible. But my body memory was real. So I believe myself. I just am devastated. Devastated that I was hurt before I could even walk, made to dissociate before I could even communicate. It is a wonder I'm still alive. I think some seriously terrible things happened to me in that house, and I know seriously terrible things happened to me in the other house. I know my mother beat me, emotionally abused me and terrorized me my entire childhood until I was 21. I told her she couldn't hit me anymore at 21. Twenty fucking one, and she was still in such utter control of me. 37 and the control is just finally waning, after three years of intensive, intensive, intensive therapy. Almost 4 years now. Wow. I don't like to think about it. It feels like it shouldn't be taking me this long.
But fuck that. I was one of the most defended people ever. I was in total unreality about my childhood, because it was never safe before to truly understand how bad it was. It took me 2 years to truly trust the therapeutic process.
I am so sad, but it is a good sad, an authentic devastation about my childhood. I had no one safe, ever. Ever. So, I am a badass for making it through. Yes, I am. We all are.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Another day and I am smiling. And crying. And good.
I went to my 3:30 meeting today. I love that meeting. Vaughn called me last night and left me a message saying that he had tracked down my number because he was worried about me. It was wonderful to be so cared for. Karen also called. I am drowning in concern. Which is probably well-founded concern. As I was a fucking mess on Tuesday when I was there last. I started crying in the freaking meeting. Said that I had been thinking about hurting myself. All because fucking jerk off, daughters of bitches program won't let me back, and were rude, shaming and insulting about it. It makes me so hurt and angry to think about it, and I don't mind being angry, but I HATE being hurt. I am invulnerable, tough, and I don't get hurt by the likes of the losers at program. I don't want to be weak. I HATE being weak. I hate asking for something and being told no. I hate being rejected when I shouldn't even care anyway. They have all the power and wield it it seems without giving a shit about whom they hurt. THEY SUCK. Lara sucks, Malin sucks, the other one sucks, they all fucking suck.
So what else is new... I'm still walking pretty much every day. I walked 1.5 hours today. I love walking in the sunshine and stretching in the sunshine and sweating in the sunshine. I love the trees, and the sound of the ocean and all the people walking along the boardwalk. I love humanity, although individual humans bother me most of the time.
I can't seem to get a handle on my time during the day. It just slips away and I haven't done anything I want to do. I haven't called yet about Medicare D, I haven't done my laundry, I haven't cleaned up my papers. And I definitely haven't been writing. I want to write. Fiction. I want to write fiction, but I don't seem to do it. I have to set aside the time and just do it. First is to set aside the time. I think the best time would be in the morning, before my walk? I think so, I'd like to try it. I think I am having no time because I am getting up so late. If I got up early in the morning, I believe I would get more done. Because I always sort of think of the evening/night time as time to relax. So I wake up at noon, walk, go to the 3:30 meeting, call Carol and hang out all night, never getting any of my chores done.
Well tomorrow I'll be getting up early because I am going to see Gus about the half-way house. I'm going to check it out and see if it's something I want to live in. I really hope that the chairs I saw through the window are not how he's furnishing it. Because I want a real living room with couches, etc. Not a cold room full of doctor's office waiting room chairs. It's a deal breaker. We need to make a home. Where we feel safe and comfortable.
I started writing a fairy tale about my childhood and I really like it. I just have to get back to it. Or maybe I shouldn't until I'm back in therapy. What do I want to write about? Caz told me last night that Asimov said that once you have a situation you like, think of the person who would most be effected by that situation and make the story about them. Good advice. Stephen King said to set aside time every day and just write. He also said to read as much as you possibly can, and I already do that. So now I just have to set aside time. I am going to set aside an hour. Just an hour at first. I've never done this before and I have to be kind and easy with myself. Usually I just jump in and burn myself out. So if an hour turns out to be too much, I'll do a half hour. Because the point is to do it daily, not kill myself.
Have I mentioned how fucked up I am about program rejecting me? It comes in waves (of pain and nausea) I almost wound up in the hospital about it, but instead I asked Carol to spend the night with me. It worked. But I still hate them right now. How dare they be so careless with my feelings! FUCK THEM. FUCK THEM. FUCK THEM. FUCK THEM. FUCK THEM. FUCK THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OK, I'm going to go to bed thinking about something positive, because I won't be able to sleep otherwise. I am going to think about how excited I am to walk tomorrow. And to write for an hour. I am really excited about that. I am going to think about how I have found a solution in AA, that I have found people who care, and if I reach out, I can have support and friendship. I really like Vaughn. And Karen. And Ray when she's in town. I am going to think about how I am unstoppable, and incredibly talented and fun. And that I am better than all the negative shit around me. I am clean and pure and light, and I rise above the dark, the evil. I have done it, I am better than it, I have bested the demon at it's own game. We are wonderful, pure, beautiful and perfect the way we are!
So what else is new... I'm still walking pretty much every day. I walked 1.5 hours today. I love walking in the sunshine and stretching in the sunshine and sweating in the sunshine. I love the trees, and the sound of the ocean and all the people walking along the boardwalk. I love humanity, although individual humans bother me most of the time.
I can't seem to get a handle on my time during the day. It just slips away and I haven't done anything I want to do. I haven't called yet about Medicare D, I haven't done my laundry, I haven't cleaned up my papers. And I definitely haven't been writing. I want to write. Fiction. I want to write fiction, but I don't seem to do it. I have to set aside the time and just do it. First is to set aside the time. I think the best time would be in the morning, before my walk? I think so, I'd like to try it. I think I am having no time because I am getting up so late. If I got up early in the morning, I believe I would get more done. Because I always sort of think of the evening/night time as time to relax. So I wake up at noon, walk, go to the 3:30 meeting, call Carol and hang out all night, never getting any of my chores done.
Well tomorrow I'll be getting up early because I am going to see Gus about the half-way house. I'm going to check it out and see if it's something I want to live in. I really hope that the chairs I saw through the window are not how he's furnishing it. Because I want a real living room with couches, etc. Not a cold room full of doctor's office waiting room chairs. It's a deal breaker. We need to make a home. Where we feel safe and comfortable.
I started writing a fairy tale about my childhood and I really like it. I just have to get back to it. Or maybe I shouldn't until I'm back in therapy. What do I want to write about? Caz told me last night that Asimov said that once you have a situation you like, think of the person who would most be effected by that situation and make the story about them. Good advice. Stephen King said to set aside time every day and just write. He also said to read as much as you possibly can, and I already do that. So now I just have to set aside time. I am going to set aside an hour. Just an hour at first. I've never done this before and I have to be kind and easy with myself. Usually I just jump in and burn myself out. So if an hour turns out to be too much, I'll do a half hour. Because the point is to do it daily, not kill myself.
Have I mentioned how fucked up I am about program rejecting me? It comes in waves (of pain and nausea) I almost wound up in the hospital about it, but instead I asked Carol to spend the night with me. It worked. But I still hate them right now. How dare they be so careless with my feelings! FUCK THEM. FUCK THEM. FUCK THEM. FUCK THEM. FUCK THEM. FUCK THEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
OK, I'm going to go to bed thinking about something positive, because I won't be able to sleep otherwise. I am going to think about how excited I am to walk tomorrow. And to write for an hour. I am really excited about that. I am going to think about how I have found a solution in AA, that I have found people who care, and if I reach out, I can have support and friendship. I really like Vaughn. And Karen. And Ray when she's in town. I am going to think about how I am unstoppable, and incredibly talented and fun. And that I am better than all the negative shit around me. I am clean and pure and light, and I rise above the dark, the evil. I have done it, I am better than it, I have bested the demon at it's own game. We are wonderful, pure, beautiful and perfect the way we are!
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Holy moly, a movie can change your life.
Maybe not completely change your life. Or maybe so... "The Graduate" changed my life when I was a teenager. And Paul Simon's "Negotiations and Love Songs" changed my life when I was a teenager as well. Yes, I know that is an album, not a movie, but whatever.
So yeah. I went to see A Single Man tonight, starring (my pretend husband) Colin Firth. Bonus: Colin was playing a dapper, intelligent, and educated gay man. Swoon.
Anyway, Colin's character lost his long-time partner and was planning on killing himself. But he didn't. I'm not going to go into the plot of the entire movie- but it moved me and made me feel a little better about being alive.
(I then went to see "The Book of Eli" and was not as moved. Cheesy and formulaic. Cinematography was excellent, though.)
So, I'm still alive and (barring any mid-night tragedies) will be alive in the morning as well. I am going to ride my bike to the beach and get some sun and exercise. I am also going to write about what has been going on in my brain this week. I want to write about my anger towards Cheryl and J. I am really, really pissed that I was ignored and not cared for. My feelings were really hurt. It makes me not trust either of them very much right now. Which really sucks, because I have to trust them to get better. Or maybe I don't? I don't know. Can you not trust your therapists, hate their guts for being mean to you and still get better? We'll see.
All I know is I'm going to lay it on the line. I've had it with bullshit, lying and beating around the bush. Which seems to be my theme for the past few months. Hell, it's what got me sober and to the hospital. If only it had gotten me a little more sane :-)
So yeah. I went to see A Single Man tonight, starring (my pretend husband) Colin Firth. Bonus: Colin was playing a dapper, intelligent, and educated gay man. Swoon.
Anyway, Colin's character lost his long-time partner and was planning on killing himself. But he didn't. I'm not going to go into the plot of the entire movie- but it moved me and made me feel a little better about being alive.
(I then went to see "The Book of Eli" and was not as moved. Cheesy and formulaic. Cinematography was excellent, though.)
So, I'm still alive and (barring any mid-night tragedies) will be alive in the morning as well. I am going to ride my bike to the beach and get some sun and exercise. I am also going to write about what has been going on in my brain this week. I want to write about my anger towards Cheryl and J. I am really, really pissed that I was ignored and not cared for. My feelings were really hurt. It makes me not trust either of them very much right now. Which really sucks, because I have to trust them to get better. Or maybe I don't? I don't know. Can you not trust your therapists, hate their guts for being mean to you and still get better? We'll see.
All I know is I'm going to lay it on the line. I've had it with bullshit, lying and beating around the bush. Which seems to be my theme for the past few months. Hell, it's what got me sober and to the hospital. If only it had gotten me a little more sane :-)
Friday, February 5, 2010
Like Pearl Jam, I am still Alive
I'm not sure why though. Maybe so I can still go to group on Monday and yell at Cheryl and J. Thank you very much, I appreciate it. Hah.
So I'm off to the movies. Figured I can catch one more Colin Firth movie. Just like me to be in love with a repressed British movie star.
There's an entire AA Clubhouse that's LGBT in Ft. Lauderdale. You gotta love big cities. Maybe I'll check it out. Maybe I can get laid or something. At least it'd be doing something life affirming, right? Sex is life affirming, is it not? Or I could go the Bill route and think it's scary and self-destructive. Whatever. I'm not sure who is right on this one.
"I'm having trouble saying what I mean
with dead poets and drum machines...
Nothing I write is ever good enough"
---Natasha Bedingfield "These Words"
Cheesy song, but has some great lyrical bits.
So I'm off to the movies. Figured I can catch one more Colin Firth movie. Just like me to be in love with a repressed British movie star.
There's an entire AA Clubhouse that's LGBT in Ft. Lauderdale. You gotta love big cities. Maybe I'll check it out. Maybe I can get laid or something. At least it'd be doing something life affirming, right? Sex is life affirming, is it not? Or I could go the Bill route and think it's scary and self-destructive. Whatever. I'm not sure who is right on this one.
"I'm having trouble saying what I mean
with dead poets and drum machines...
Nothing I write is ever good enough"
---Natasha Bedingfield "These Words"
Cheesy song, but has some great lyrical bits.
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