Happy

I am completely and utterly dissocaied now.  and I dont care, wich is coool.  so I am letting this go out as it is.   because this is the truth.   the truth is messy and gross and incorect grammaticallly.   I am watching Girls and I am very happy about the seond season.   They are telling the truth about class and fame and whoring and the lines that blur between them.  I love it. love it. love it.  i am so fcking out of it right now that ovviouadsly i cant type for shit.  but i am safe.  i am in my pretty apt with green grass and sunlight and a hammock.   Safe.  And we paid the rent and made sure there was enough money in the account for the check to clear even though it wont cleear for like a week and a half.  He always takes forever to cash the check.  but that is cool, becuasue the point is when you write the check, you have the money. DONE. via GABRIEL.

Also we own the internet at this place now.  Whooot!!!!!!!!!! We fucking rock!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  We did the thing Nancy does on Weeds.  We did what Jessa does on Girls.  We just took what was ours and were fari about it and 1YATTYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.  And fuck them if they try to fuck with us. Chesire Grin

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.

I'm doing therapy when I do DXM

That's pretty much it.  I am toooooooooooooooooooooooooooo scared of this shit in regular chemical land, so I go to DXM land to do it.  But it is becoming absurd.  Because I know what I'm doing, the curtain is pulled back, the wizard is revealed.   You use drugs to think about things you don't want to think about when your brain is normal.  You are afraid you will die, I guess?  Or that you won't get it right?  We have to

 I N T E G R A T E

Trauma world with the fucking real world.  Integrate Trauma world with real world. integrate trauma world with the real world.  then we would not need DXM, but we are being a little bit of a chickenshit and will not do this without the fucking drug.  you need to be fuckind dead fucking sober and call your mother out.  Not to her face.  But to yourself.  And mayber your therapist, and a friend.  Because DXM land is possible in the real world.  its called facing the truth.  Serioulsy, I think thats what we've been doing this whole time.  We've been fucking frankenstein manhattan projecting this shit, trying to chemically get our brain in the right frame, the right ecology to understand and believe these truths.  Because we are a scientist first, (slowly changing to scientist/poet, but whatever) we fucking experimented with ourselves to cushion the blow?  It's not that simple.  We were not capable of hearing it any other way, or else we would have done it that way.  This is the way we found.  It's  not perfect.  By a long fucking shot, thank you Gina,Brian, Michele, Jeanette, Chris, etc.  But it is a workable solution right now, and I guess thats why I'm not stopping.


WHOAH

Fuck. I am not stopping.   BECAUSE IT FUCKING WORKS. i can access things very much more easily than when i'm regular.  When I'm sober, to get in the same state I have to feel safe and free.  Hah.  So... That means that I have to be alone in the woods but knowing support is available, with sunlight and privacy, and no shame.  I have to be able to do or say or dance or speak or type or fart or whatever I need to do with no shame... 

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiitttttt.  I just called myself out.  I don't need a big 3 fucking ring circus.  I need time, privacy, support, aloneness, nature, basic needs (ie food, shelter, in a nice way, etc), sunshine, growing things, water, and time.   And then more time to record what I just went through.  Record the thoughts.  Write them., sing them, dance them? :), whatever.  So. again. Support. Green beautiful nature. Aloneness. Privacy, no shame. Time. Share with someone, that's it!  Even if it's sharing with yourself.  Share it.  Shout it. Dance it Scream it.  It is the truth and it loves when it's spoken.  The evil is washed out when you say its name.   ......           ......           .....            ....     


That's fucking it.  That's all I need. How did it take this damn long to get here?  I'm joking but not? I had to take every step I took, but it's funny that in the end, it's so simple. 

OK, so I'm peaking on Dxm, and I want to go enjoy it and it's not good for writing anyway.  or maybe itis?  I want Brian to read all of this, if he could continue to be my therapist.  Otherwise I guess, theres not enough time.  It's all coming down tomorrow Yay.  Tellin him everything.

Bryan's Poem.

OK, we are high, that is a consideration.  We just fucking cyber stalked our therapist, but we didn't mean to.  We were trying to find his email to email him this stuff, and then well, internet addiction type of click, click, click, oh, he's been quoted on ABC!  Fuck. He's a good guy. I think. I don't want to get a crush on him. But I have a therapist crush on him, because fuck, how else does this shit work. Fuck I wish I had more time with him.  Maybe he'll take me on as a private client when the summers over.  But, wow, he's a keeper.  He knows what he's doing and he cares and he is intuitive and honest.

And I am soooooooooooo afraid of falling in love or whatever that state is with him, because when you are that open and honest with someone it's like its a sticky tentacle grasp that just happens.  You just fall for them.  And I know that it is not the right course and that it is not useful and that it is part of the therapy and all of that, and IT STILL FUCKING HAPPENS. aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhh.  And I think if I had more time with him, I could work on it.   But we don't.  Because I know he could handle me having a love feeling for him.

when you are that open and honest with someone it's a sticky tentacle grasp that just happens.  you just fall for them.  but it is OK.  this is part of the healing.  having him take my red wet bleeding heart and hold it and hold it and hold it and hold it.  and hold.  and hold.  so i can look at it, i can see it is OK, it is not gangrenous, it is not communicable, it is not green with pus, it is not going to infect anyone.  it is not going to infect him.  it is not going to infect me.  it is going to heal me.  and it is strong, but it will not kill me.  it will not kill him.  he will not blow up.  he can take my strong wet heart and hold it so i can look at it.  so i can study it.  so i can learn to love it.  and he is strong so he holds it.  and it drips blood down his hands.  but he has studied, he has friends, he has a therapist, he has a supervisor, he knows the boundary.  he knows it is not his blood.  he knows he can wash it off.  he knows he is helping to heal, not having a love affair, so he holds my heart.  and i look at it.  i study it.  and i see its strength.  and i am so scared of it. soo sooo sooooo scared of it.  ......................................................

.......................... so i keep trying to give it to him.  to put in his chest.  but he explains that he won't take it because he can't take it.  it is not his to take.  it is mine.  it is in his hands right now but it is mine to take back.

so i think.  and i watch the bleed on his skin.  and i watch him.  i watch him, i watch him.  i watch him.  i wait for his grimace.  his disgust.  the briefest flutter of an eyelid, the smallest unconscious curl of a lip.  and it doesn't come.  he is calm.  he has studied, he has friends, he has a supervisor, he knows the boundary, he has the strength.  he holds my bleeding heart.  it drips my blood down his hands.  he is calm.  he is kind.  he even smiles once, with my blood pooling on the floor, he still sees the point of living.  he shows me i can feel.  because he is feeling.  so i watch him.  i watch him.  i watch him.

and one day, i take my heart in my hands.  i watch him.  how do i do this?  i watched him, so i know.  i am calm.  i let it bleed on my hands.  i feel.  i let the blood pool on the floor.  the pain will not kill me.  it did not kill me the first time,  i lived then.  i made it then.  i can make it now.  oh, the pain.  pain.  pain.  but i am calm.  i feel it.  i cry.  i cry.  i cry.  i cry.  i cry.  then i am quiet.  then i laugh.  then i smile at him.  he smiles at me.  i made it.  i still want to give my heart to him but i keep it.  it is mine to keep. 

And I take it in.  I take me in.  I take my strong red wet beating heart back and put it in my chest.  And I smile.  I say "We made it."  He says, "I think we did."  And I shake his bloody hand with my bloody hand.  And we stand and we look at each other and we smile with our hearts in our chest. 

"Unsolicited Advice to Adolescent Girls with Crooked Teeth and Pink Hair...

Wow, I finally called my sponsor!

OK, so I finally called my sponsor.  But got voicemail, suck.  I actually wanted to talk to her, which is amazing.  Usually I pray for voicemail so I don't have to talk to people.

I talked to S a bunch today after the 3:30 meeting and she was helpful.  It was enough that she was spending time with me.  Some of the things she said I didn't understand or agree with, but again, her concern was enough.  She told me that I have to take action, and one of the actions I could take was calling my sponsor.  (So I did).  The other action she suggested was dealing with not being able to be in program for 2 more weeks and go back like a lady.  Um, the lady thing is not me, but I understand what she meant.  She meant go back as a centered adult.  Which is what I want to be: a centered, calm, dignified, bad ass adult.

It still hurts every day how I was treated by Lara and program.  It hurts, like physically hurts my heart.  I get a burning, aching in my chest and my stomach clenches up.  My heart rate races and I feel like screaming or crying.  I hate it.  I don't understand why they would want to do that to me.  But they did.  And for right now, I am sick of talking about it!

Because of S I stayed for the 5:30 meeting, and it was good and I shared.  I didn't mean to be, but I was funny and cracking everyone up.  It made me want to do stand up, like my hero Maria Bamford.  But stand-up is a lot of work and I'm tired right now.   Maybe I'll just be funny in my songs.  Or at least witty.

I called C today, which I had promised myself I would do before Weds, so yay for me!  He seems to be doing OK, and it was nice to talk to him.  I am worried about his reaction when his best friend dies (he has brain cancer).  I hope C can pull through.  Losing his mother and his best friend in a year is going to be very, very tough.

I talked to Carol tonight about our relationship (while at Chipotle, of course).  We do love the Chipotle.  Anyway, I brought up that I feel our relationship was not going in a direction I liked.  She depends on me for things, and I give her way too much advice and try to tell her what to do all the time.  Not good.  It's like I'm the one on high and she's down below me somewhere and that is NOT how I want to have a friendship.  So I told her I had to stop giving her advice, and that we had to stop talking about program together.  I fucked it up within 10 minutes and started giving her advice, but she caught me.  Which is awesome.  I don't want to be the one "in charge".  I want an egalitarian relationship where there are two adults both giving and taking.  I need to have radical acceptance of her and where she is right now, not how I wish her to be.  I hope we can pull this off, because if not, then I cannot hang out with her anymore.  I do not want to be the person I am now when I hang out with her.  So I have to be strong and be better.  NO ADVICE!  NO CARETAKING!

I'm going off to bed now, first to read a bit.  I just got the new Stephen King novel.  It makes me feel like a kid (in a good way) to be reading Stephen King again.  He's like a comfy blanket that feels and smells just right.  Love him. When he's good, which is not always, but he's good often enough.

Beauty and Radical Acceptance (and some pain)

So it's 11:16 pm and I've made it through another day.  I am truly impressed with myself.  I didn't think I was going to make it.  I thought I maybe should go to the hospital around 11 am, but was too depressed to get out of bed.  So I just slept through the truly horrible feelings, and was able to get up to go to my 3:30 meeting.  Wow.

If I had told myself this early this morning, I would have told myself to go fuck myself.  I hated talking to Dr S today.  I wanted to love it, I was bursting at the seams when I saw she called and I couldn't wait to call her back.  But she talked to me like a robot, giving me no warmth, nothing.  I hate her for that.  Why is it so hard for anyone at program to be kind to me?  She told Carol later that she had a positive conversation with me.  HAH.  I almost cut over that convo, Dr S, so not so positive.  I just wanted to know that she was still there for me, still rooting for me, was still on my side.  She gave me pablum.  She gave me "I hear you have negative thoughts right now"  She gave me "I believe you want to come back and work".  Ummm, DUH.  Thank you, but I already knew all that.  I wanted to know you still cared about me.  And you wouldn't be warm or kind or anything.  I could have gotten more warmth from a fortune cookie fortune.  And at least then I would have at least gotten to eat a cookie.

I went over to look at Gus's halfway house today.  Carol loved it, but I felt it was very small, very congested, and I'm not sure how I would fit there.  With 6 women in it, it would be close to impossible for me I think.  But it seems like the healthy thing to do.  AAAAAARGH.   This personal space thing is not bullshit.  Why can't I find a place that understands that?  If I could have a room, even a tiny one, to myself, then I think I would be OK.  Sharing with Carol might be as close as I get to that.

I'm getting tired, thank god.  I'm going to a zen meditation conference with S tomorrow, and I'm a little scared about it, but I'm also a little excited.  I am going to walk tomorrow morning.  And maybe get my boxes ready to send back to Amazon.  They have taken over my dining room table :)

I walked down to the water a few minutes ago, and it was beautiful.  The air is cool, almost cold, the moon is full and there are whisps of clouds.  Orion was bright.  The water was much warmer than the cold sand and it felt like coming home.  I love it here.  I love the ocean at night.  I love the trees at night.  The air at night.  I love it all.

I talked about radical acceptance in the AA group today, and N really liked it.  She thought it came from the Big Book, and I was amused.  It's from DBT.  But AA's "higher power" and "faith in something greater than yourself"  feels like DBT's radical acceptance to me.  This insane optimism that they espouse- this idea that you are exactly where you need to be and that the answers will come to you and that the universe is looking out for you- has seemed like bullshit to me for so long.  But as I think about it, I don't need to believe in god, or have faith.  I just need to know that having this optimism works.  It works if I think I am going to come out OK no matter what.  I don't have to believe there is some divine hand at work, which is good, because i don't and never will.  But I can understand that by scientific empirical methods it has been proven that being radically accepting and optimistic makes you feel better.  And that is enough truth for me.  Plus it just feels right.  It feels like the best way to be a human being.  And it feels like coming home.