Princeling

Just because we are both in NA
Doesn't mean a fuck to me
You need to back the hell off today
Pay attention to my body seethe, please
Hear
my
Clear
verbal
no.
See my hand outstretched for a handshake.

I will not capitulate
When you state
"But we hug in NA"
Ah, hell no.
Especially if my body you can't respect.
You're acting like you're not grown.
Not a man
yet
not a king
yet

I can tell just by quietly observing
They way you've been behaving
Little Princeling
Walking in the rooms late and loud
Slapping hands with yr boys
Disturbingly proud
before finally sitting down
Legs splayed out
Hat cocked back,
eyes scanning the crowd
For folx to 13th step with, newbies to plow.

*Oh, a Footnote for the confused
You've heard of the 12 Steps, right?
A life and death fight
for sobriety for those who choose?
A quest for life through spiritual health.
Meaning not god exactly
(yeah, ah hell no!)
Oh, sorry, I meant to say god is not for me
Instead I use
willingness, honesty & integrity,
just to name a few

So, well, 13th stepping is when
NOT grown men & women
Do the opposite of sobriety zen
Instead of growing and and letting going
They use the rooms to 'hit that'
Chopping struggling saplings with an ax
Preying on fresh meat
Jackels stalking wounded gazelles
Taking two sobriety's down in one fell
Swoop

So just because we're both in NA
Doesn't mean a fuck to me
Put your arms down and away
I shake hands when we meet
No hugs here until I CHOOSE.
Until you just say "Hi" and
look straight into my eyes,
thinking of ME, not YOU.
Until you quit interjecting
and start respecting
That hugs are two way street
and you have swerved over the double yellow lines
Brother mine.
Now you are going the wrong way down my side.

I dont know you
You arent touching me
yet
Just because we're both in NA doesnt give you permission
I am on a mission to save my life.
And your fervent man-boy pheremones aren't what's gonna keep me clean tonight

I want to hear your thoughts
The real feelz
Deep down
Brave and spoken OUT LOUD
in a meeting
I want to hear you read a reading
Not just speeding through
I want to see you seeing instead of looking
Instead of preening
Why can't you see I am a Yew tree?
I cant hug
yet
But I am strong, just check
Lean your Heart against my Bark, just not your arms
Yet
I will touch when I trust
But I listen always
I will stick and stay
I will never look away
I can help staunch your bleed,
Eye to eye to infinity

Because I, this man-woman child
has some bleed of her own
Ax chops in childhood
until my sap was almost all gone
And I need personal space
To explore on
Wild hiking boots soled with diamonds
On the journey to reclaim my baby BoiGrrl
Still alive somehow inside my flames
I am Daenarys Stormborn and Grey Worm combined
And I am out to win my life
Win the Full Grown Genderfluid Titanium Throne

So, go my princeling, my budding King
Please stop scamming on newbies
Daydreaming through meetings
Go my brother, my sweet talking kin
Growing slowly into your adult skin
Go my princeling, go
and I know
You also
will find, create and
Win
your own
throne.

Man, I got caught.

I am forcing myself to sit and write this.  This is like when J says she has to do things bit by bit, dragging herself inch by inch to do them.  This is that.  I don't want to write about this, mostly because I am not use to it, it is stretching, it is uncomfortable.  But it has to be done.  Now is the time.  It is time to write about stuff, when I am not fucked up.

I got caught on the phone last night with a new butterfly friend named E.  We were talking, doing the therapy story swap when she asked if I was high.  I immediately snapped as back to reality as I could, and said "there is absolutely nothing wrong with me."  So I lied.  Panic, then immediate shut down about that topic set in.  She let it go, so I guess she believed me, or she didn't and she just allowed me to lie.  But that is not OK.  She is also a trauma survivor and I cannot lie to her about reality.  It is absolutely unethical.  So I am going to tell her the truth today when we meet for the first time for dinner.  Yay, great.  I am a fucking asshole.

I've been mulling this over in my head every spare moment since it happened, and that's why I'm writing, because I need to process this BEFORE I talk to E, not WITH E.  I don't know her that well yet, and it would be innapropriate and unfair, and immediately fuck up our new friendship boundaries, and I don't want to do that.  So maybe I'm not the right friend for her right now.  And if she decides that, that would be fine, I have to be fine with it.  It does not mean I am a bad person, but just not healthy enough for her.  And I don't want to be perpetrating my crap on her.  It is not fair to her.

I'm also almost gleeful that somebody FINALLY fucking caught me.  I didn't know this, but I was waiting to be caught.  And this is where this stuff gets personal and vulnerable.  I think I am using DXM to test dissociation vs reality?  Like, if I can handle everything on DXM, then I can handle anything?  Or maybe, if I can handle life while on DXM, I can allow myself to dissociate in real life (in safe supportive setting)?  That's it.  I am so fucking afraid of appearing "crazy" or "out of control" or "not rational" that I have a major steel fucking door on anything that seemed irrational, which included allowing voices in my head telepathically telling me something.  So I shut that shit DOWN.  And I learned to concentrate.  CONCENTRATE. To the point of a laser beam.  So nothing could distract me.  And for the most part on the surface at least, nothing ever did distract me.  It worked.  Welcome physicist Civil Engineer.

But now through 3.5 fucking years of INTENSE fucking therapy with many different people, but mainly L, I have learned it is safe to let go.  If you learn when it's safe, when it's the right time.  Because it isn't always the right time.  But my problem was more that I NEVER let go, rather than letting go in the wrong places, which seems to be what is the problem for most other butterflies I've met.

And with DXM it is so easy to get to that open, creative sweet spot.  Without it I have to....  what .... I guess I have to concentrate, hah.  I have to let go.  I have to allow myself to be silly and make intuitive leaps that may not seem normal or rational.  And it is not being crazy.  It is being creatively co-consciously altered.  It is being a healthy butterfly.  Without drugs, and without being crazy.  It is NOT crazy.  People may look at me weird, but that's because they don't understand.  And I think that has been what I've been doing in therapy, learning exactly what dissociation is and isn't, completely and thoroughly, enough so that I could teach it to someone else.  And that someone else I was teaching was me. 



Wow.  OKay, so back to E. What is the gameplan?  What is enough and appropriate to tell her and what is a boundary violation to a new friendship?  OK. 1. Tell her she was right about me being high.  Validate reality.  2. Apologize that you lied to her, because you understand that invalidating a trauma survivors reality is extremely wrong.  3. Tell her you are working on it, and promise never to talk to her high again without telling her.  4. Tell her you are working on the problem, that you take it seriously, but it is not completely under control yet.  5. So, with this info if she thinks its not safe to be around me, I perfectly understand.  I am see-sawing trying to figure healthy out, and I'm going to even out eventually, I'm just not totally there yet.

If she wants to know what I think about it:
I think I can be a good friend to her.  I can watch my boundaries.  I will utmostly respect her path to getting better.  But I honestly don't know.  That's the truth, I don't know what's right.

What I don't need to tell her about:  why I do DXM.  My personal science experiment with DXM.  No talking about the creative sweet spot with her.  No talking about dissociation too much with her.  I can later, but not today.  We don't have enough intimacy yet.  We ARE NOT IN THERAPY together.  There is a difference, although right now I am having a hard time figuring out what that difference is.  She does not need to know every thought that is in your head.  You are not lying if you are not telling her every thought in your head.  That is not deceit.  That is technique.  Your insightlfulness can hurt people, including yourself, if wielded at the wrong time, just as if you were carrying around a sword, an epee.  Very useful tool, but you can't just slash it around like you've been doing.  Which is Ok, you are learning.   But really, you seem to have a talent that others either don't have or don't admit to having, and just like if you were an X-men, you have to learn to wield your power correctly.  Really, it is just like the laser beam eye guy.  Except you have to build your own glasses to control the beam yourself.  And you are.  Yay.  Cool, in this metaphor, L is Dr. X.  I'll have to tell her. :)

Can't Sleep

Hey all non-existent blog readers.  I can't sleep, so I got up and decided to write.  Dr. S is leaving program to work where she can use her talents.  Right now the HP is not giving her enough to do since our group disintegrated.  This makes me very sad.  Unless I go to see her next week to say goodbye, I will never see her again.  This really, really, really, really sucks.  I am going to miss her so much.  She helped me so much and I want to be able to keep in touch with someone who had such a strong impact on me, but alas, I fear boundaries are going to make that an impossibility.  I am really going to miss her.

I slept all day today.  I mean all day.  I didn't get up until 4:30, so I obviously missed my regular 3:30 meeting, which sucks too.  But I did make it to a meeting at 5:30, so that's good.  I've spent the rest of the night hanging out with Carol, practicing music, talking and watching stand-up comedy. 

I keep trying to figure out if anyone is reading this at all, but blogger keeps counting my visits to the blog, even though I set it up so I thought it wouldn't.  Oh well.  This is a blind shout going out to a deaf audience.  Which is fine.  I just want to get my thoughts out.  And out they are.

I'm thinking of giving my Maria Bamford CD/DVD to Dr. S as a going away present.  I had wanted to show it to her when I went back, but well, that's not gonna work now because she's going to be gone before I go back.  UGGGGGHHHHH! 

Oddly I keep thinking about other posts I have made.  What I have previously written keeps popping into my head as I'm trying to fall asleep.  Stuff I think is witty, or particularly meaningful I guess.  I'm not sure why.  The cute boy and mental health post is one that is making the rounds in my head.  Maybe because it was one of my last normal nights before I turned into a full time mental patient.   I used to have a real life where I went to art openings, then out for drinks afterwords with new and old exciting, vivacious, successful people.  And I was one of them.  Ugh, I hate what I am now.  I shouldn't say that.  But I want my old life back!  And I don't know how to get it.  I guess by starting to volunteer.   Then maybe go back to school.  Be around smart, interesting, passionate people again.  I am bored now.  Bored, bored, bored, bored, scared and bored.  Yep, scared snuck in there too.  I am scared of trying again for a real life and finding out that I am not capable.  That it will all crumble fantastically away from me like it did before.  I don't trust myself or the world.  I feel like maybe I am just incapable of being a full human being.  I'm afraid any attempts I take for a real life will fail miserably and I will be worse off than I am now.  I hate Michelle for thinking and assuming I have to do better.  Fuck her.  Why do I have to be successful to be OK? 

Am I ever allowed to just be, and have that be OK?  I've been producing and proving myself my whole life.  Nothing was ever enough, just as nothing was ever supposed to be to hard for me to do.  I was expected to excel at everything I did.  Which I did for all of my life.  Why do I still have to do it now?  I just want everyone to leave me alone.  I want to be a beautiful failure and still have people love me.  Fuck everyone else, and especially you, Michelle. 

There is something wrong with me

Yes, I think there is something really wrong with me.  I watch this extreme porn that is degrading and humiliating to women.  It's the only kind I like.  I want to see the women hurt, extremely.  That is not good.  I don't think it's good.

I would like to be touched.  Hugged, cuddled, loved.  I would even love to have sex.  But I can't.  For a few reasons.  The main one right now is that I am terrified of men.  Strike that.  I am terrified of people.   And you sort of have to hang out with people before they will touch you.  People scare the shit out of me.

Except of course for my infatuation flavor of whatever day it is.  I mean, it's still sort of F, but since I no longer see him or live in his town, then I'm not gonna be doing much with him, am I?  Even if it's mooning over him.

I saw this amazing video that deconstructs what is going on with the characters Laura and Paul from "In Treatment".  I've seen this video before on youtube, but was watching it mainly because I love that storyline.  Come on, it's about a chick who is in love with her shrink.  What else am I going to be interested in, right? 

Here're the links, there are actually two awesome ones:    In Treatment: Laura testing Paul  and   In Treatment: Understanding Laura

Anyway, this therapist takes apart what Laura is doing, and it is exactly the same shit I pull all the time.  But it doesn't say she is bad or gross or that it's "her fault".  In fact, it sort of lambasts Paul and his crappy therapy.  Paul doesn't handle her testing well at all.  And he lets her down.

One thing this therapist states is that Laura was most probably sexually abused, probably by her father.  That doesn't turn out to be true later in the show, but we do learn she had an affair when she was 16 with a much older man.  I guess I should not call it an affair.  I guess I should say she was taken advantage of.  I should say she was abused.  Anyway, I sort of did that.  Or at least I tried. 

See the difference between Laura and me is that I never follow through with my guys.  Or they never follow through with me.  I needed someone to take a little more overt action because I was scared to death and didn't know what to do.  But if I had known what to do, I would have done it.  I was waiting for them to touch me first, and they never did.

I guess I am writing about Uncle Kevin.  And yes, he's my uncle by marriage to my mom's sister.  Not actually blood related to me.  But I had a huge crush on him when I was a teenager that blossomed into an even huger crush when I visited them when I was 20, just turning 21.

All this stuff with F, it falls right in line with what went on with Kevin.  It's the same damn pattern over and over, and it never gets satisfied.  I never actually have an affair with these men, I just pine and pine and pine and hurt over them and never do anything.  And feel guilty for even liking them in the first place because they are so inappropriate for me. 

I'm an addict in love with her shrink

So, it's almost a complete week since I last posted here.

And I'm going to admit myself to detox/rehab tomorrow.  I waited until I could tie up all my loose ends- my cat's care, my classes, and most importantly, my job.  So, I told my boss on Thursday that I was going to substance abuse treatment for the next 3 weeks.  Which is a lie, because it's only 2 weeks.  But i can't seem to utter a word without it being a lie, so who gives a fuck.

My boss (Tod) (seemed to be) extremely understanding, and told me about how this is the right time to do this before I got licensed and things could really go bad. And I told him how the Jerrod thing really scared the shit out of me.  Jerrod was fired for coke after he had already been through our company's paid rehab.  I don't want that to be me.

So yeah, now I am a total fuck up.  And I am drinking tonight to fulfill that definition.  If only my shrink would follow through with me tonight, I could definitely complete the total picture.

Maybe I should try to find his apartment tonight and show up.  What would he do?

He would have no idea because somehow he missed that training during his M.D. training.  Yeah, right.  But that's what he said.

So, I am trashed right now.  Wish I wasn't but I am.  So now I'm going to ride my bike to his apartment and see what happens.

Am I going to do this? I'm not sure yet.  I'm going to change first, then maybe get back to you.

Chin on his chest: my psychiatrist's reaction to my confession of attraction.

I talked to my friend a long time today about what happened with F on Weds.  I even remembered and told her more than I told my therapist, mostly because I've had time to process it and let it soak into my brain a little longer.

I am now watching "In Treatment" like it was CRACK.  Laura and Paul, ooooh yeah.  I sound like the Kool-Aid guy.  Anyway, the first two episodes when Laura reveals to Paul that she loves him; hell yes.  Then his (and her) subsequent reactions in later episodes are manna from heaven.  It is exactly how I feel about F.  Or did feel about F.  I think I'm getting over him, especially because of how he reacted when I told him I "liked him."  Cripes, how juvenile a term is that?  I guess I was too embarrassed to say "attracted."  I will not be next time.

Yes, F.  I want to sleep with you.  Perhaps after I get to know you better.  But, if it were the only option, I would fuck you right now.

I DID IT!!

So I saw him today.  We went for our 30 minutes.  He gave me a diagnosis of PTSD with Borderline traits.  Not Borderline.  Yay! Then I asked if I could talk to him for another 10 minutes. But, on to what happened next.

OK, actually first let's go over what happened during the first part.  I walked in, he did his frown again, and I asked him what that was.  He sort of wiffle-waffled, so I said "You did it last time too."  He said it was due to the fact that he was trying to remember what went on in last session.  I said "So, it doesn't mean you're trying to tell me something without telling me something?"  "No" he said. (He also said  later that doctors were human too, which I think he was relating to the whole frowning thing.)

So we got on with it.  He asked me a ton about my drug use.  I told him everything.  LSD, my one time with Crystal Meth, GHB, K (done with that chick with needles), Ecstasy, the little coke I did; fuck what else?  Hash, pot, DXM (of course), whippets, Xanax, alcohol (obviously), no heroin though.  I'm sure I'm forgetting some, but this is getting tedious.

Good gosh, I hope my family never reads this and figures out it's me.  Right now I'm the good kid who is not an addict and has her shit together.  Ha.

So next, he asked me a bit about my father.  When he died, how often I saw him. I told him about him hitting me when I was 13, and Uncle Sam's fuckery.  Then going to Uncle Sam's house the next night for dinner.  He asked about mom's shit and I told him about the walking home.  F asked about verbal abuse. I told him mom told me I was unlikable and mean.  Not stupid.  But fat, in a veiled way.  And gross.  And mean and unlovable.

F then told me he was abandoned, ignored, and not taken care of.  He said this on his own, I didn't ask.  But I love hearing it.  I mean I didn't love hearing that he was hurt.  But, I just want to relate to him.  I just wanted to take care of him. Pathological, I know.  But he is so attractive and fragile.  Fuuuck I like him.  Or at least what he has let me know about himself in session.

He tells me he thinks I have PTSD, not borderline.  Yay, again.  I don't know how to fix it though.  And he's just my meds check guy.  He basically told me that later.  Yeah, so later.

We get done about 10:45. Someone calls him on the phone to check to see if he's heading out to a meeting at 11 am.  He tells them to go on without him.  He then talks about how there's a merger going on and they are having many tedious meetings about it.  He doesn't want to go.  I think I volunteer that he can say I'm in crisis and not go.  He may have brought it up, I'm not sure.  But I say, if you have 10 minutes, I have something I'd like to talk about.  He assents.

So I say, "I don't think I can see you anymore because I like you".  He gets an "oh, I don't know what to do" look on his face. And he doesn't know what to do because he says NOTHING.  I blunder on saying I looked it up online and know it's transference, but online they say you should tell your doctor.

More later.

OK, I'm gonna do it. Talk about it, I mean. Not "do it."

OK, so I see him tomorrow for my second session this week.  And I've decided I'm going to do it.  I'm going to tell him about how I feel.  I don't know why, it probably isn't necessary, but I'm doing it anyway.  I don't care.

Or I have too many reasons, and don't know which is the most motivating:

• This lust is driving me crazy.
• When I left last time I wanted to go and drink, I was sooooooo keyed up.
• Maybe he'll sleep with me :)
• Maybe he'll drop me so he can date me and sleep with me later.
• It'll be fun to talk about- It'll be the closest I'll ever come to doing it with him.
• Yeah, that's def part of it, it'll be tantalizing and sexual to talk about
• I can wear a skirt tomorrow and not look weird because of my cast.  Which gives easy access to showing him my cuts.  Which are on my very upper thigh.  Which then will give him a glimpse of my super hot new underwear I bought for the occasion.  This would be extremely trashy and gross to do, so I will not do it (probably).  But damn, it's good masturbatory fodder.

I wonder if he would get hot knowing I get hot about him.  Man do I get hot for him.  I hate it.  I'm sick of it.

I just want to date someone hot and have sex with them.  Now.

But unfortunately Dr. F is hot.  And smart.  And a smart-ass.  And educated.  And accomplished.  And arrogant.  And fucked up.  All the things that are attractive to me.  He even has diametrically opposed political views to me, which also gets me hot. UGH.  I hate this, I really do.

I think I've finally gotten the courage to do this because I have a therapist.  So I have her to go to tomorrow to talk about it.  So if F freaks and drops me or is mean to me or whatever, I have her to go to and lick my wounds.

OK, need to try to go back to sleep.  Gotta look rested and beautiful for tomorrow :)

PS  Have begun talking to hot chick on OKCupid.  Maybe I can get it on with her.  There are no hot guys on OKCupid.  They are all arrogant and gross.

Yeah, I'm still infatuated, what else did you expect?

I am still infatuated, but the tenor and flavor of the infatuation is changing.  I don't really think it had gotten into my emotional (vs intellectual) core that if he fucked me he would be basically violating all of his professional ethics.  This of course would ruin his career, as he already has the drug issue on record.  Also, it would make him vastly less attractive, because who can be hot for a guy that has no ethics?  So, no sleeping with my shrink.

But perhaps more important to my mental health is realizing that I think I've been making this whole thing up.  If he were interested in me, he would be not blowing me off on Facebook.

So, he's having fun in session, talking about himself, perhaps to make himself feel cool, hip and young.  But damn I like him when he's trying to be cool, hip and young.  But I've got a suspicion that it has nothing to do with me.  Other than I'm a chump and let him talk.

I'm embarrassed that I have to process this so much, but I do.  So I will continue.  I am listening to "Across the Sea" by Weezer.  How appropriate.  "I could never touch you, I think it would be wrong."  The next best song would be Police's "Don't Stand so Close to Me."  Maybe I'll make a playlist of all the songs of fucked up forbidden lust.

I don't know what it is with F.  I truly don't think its transference, if only that we haven't had many in-depth conversations for me to attach to him.  But maybe it's projection.  Here's what I do know:

• He has told me intimate details about his rehab.  That he has to do a urine test every week.  That he was abused by his mother when he was young.  That he grew up Pentecostal and doesn't like it now.  That he has social phobia and took Ambien to help it.  That he uses drugs to get out of his own brain.
• Shoot, is that all?
• I want to keep asking him questions about himself, because it makes me love him more, and I feel that we are connecting that way.
• He is not returning any of my valid scheduling/business calls.
• He did not give me a diagnosis at the end of the last session.  I need to get it this time!
• I love the way he sits and walks.  Not really anything to do with me, but it turns me on.  He sort of struts, and sits with a strut.  Don't ask me how, but he does.
  
• I want him to date me.  I want him to drop me as a client and date me.
• I started cutting myself after this shit started. Well, I also started fucking a boyfriend and drinking heavily around this time as well.  So perhaps we should not blame this on F.  Having sex is probably the causative factor.  I haven't fucked the same person regularly for years, it's always been just random shit with random girls/guys.  But always safe.  I'm sure of that.  Tested and clean baby.
  
• I compliment him on things and he seems shocked but pleased.
• I am ugly and he would never want me in or out of the office.  If I met him at a club, he would look right over my head and into a real woman's eyes.
• I am not real.
• I want him to hug me and tell me everything is all right

Therapist #2 and her views on F

So now onto the therapist I saw today. She's the good old regular talk therapy style, which is what I want (I hope it's what I need).

We talked a while, and she listened. She seems smart. She was def doing that whole being a blank slate/mirror thing, because I didn't get much of a judgmental or emotional response from her. WHICH IS GOOD. That is what I'm supposed to be getting from Dr. F.

So I didn't tell her everything, I wanted to leave time at the end so that I could talk about Dr. F. Sad and pitiful, but true. If I don't talk to someone about this (other than bf, whom btw is no longer my bf, more on that later) my brain is going to explode.

And Ralph on justanswer.com just told me to get rid of him. Yeah, that's what I should do, but it's not what I wanna do.

So therapist #2, let's call her Jan, listens to me about F. And she doesn't react much, I realize now that I expected her to get outraged like Ralph on justanswer.com. But she said it's normal for me to be infatuated with him. And that sometimes therapists choose to share things for therapeutic reasons. There was a word for it but I forgot what it was.

I was nonplussed. I asked her if he was flirting with me, if not, wtf was he doing?  She said she didn't know. So actually it was a pretty limp conversation, but it helped. Just talking about it helps.

For the past few weeks I have been preparing to conquer this guy and really and truly try to somehow finagle him into sleeping with me. And hey, if he jumped me now, I'd do him.

But maybe I wouldn't. I sort of like him as a person, I think. What I know of him I like. And I don't want him to ruin his career/life. (But hey, if he's fucking other clients, then I wouldn't mind. It wouldn't be my fault then :-))

So yeah. I think I'm slightly over him? God I hope so. I've been wavering with the thought of just telling him everything on Monday when I see him. I would tell him that I'm confused with his self-disclosure. I like it very much, but it is confusing me. Does it mean he likes me?

"Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me. Aren't you?" Stick Dr. F in there and that's me. That's how I feel.


And if you aren't flirting with me, you are breaking my heart. You are toying with someone who isn't in the greatest place right now, and you should stop it. STOP IT. But maybe he doesn't even know what he's doing, and I'm a dolt for thinking it means anything. I'll tell him all this and he'll be like "that was not my intention at all. I don't like you, you are my patient, and whatever you read into this was all your transference blah, blah."

Ugggghhhhhhh. Fuck it, I know when a dude is somewhat flirting with me. And unless he's an idiot, he should know that I'm flirting hard back.

He's made his Facebook page private. Smart man.