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.

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...

Taking the Long Way

So a pretty OK day today.  Got up just barely in time for the depression support group and was a few minutes late, but that was fine cause I got there before the facilitator.  The group sort of sucked- some woman (new just like me) came in and hijacked the group, talking about her daughter and how sick with mental illness her daughter was.  She said nothing about herself as a consumer.  It pissed me off, so I said something.  I'm really proud of myself because I said it fairly calmly and coolly.  I told her I thought that this was a group for people with depression, not a parent of someone with bipolar.  I told her that she hadn't said one word about herself, just complaints about a person who is just like me.  (she really did piss me off).  She paused for literally only 5 seconds, then continued on hijacking the meeting.  At one point I interjected again, and the group asked me to share, so I did. I told them about how I feel so lost right now, OMG.  I cannot remember what I said.  Wow, is this a dissociative moment?  I cannot remember, I'm guessing.  I think I talked about how I was unhappy with my life and how non-functional I am, but I can't remember.

Holy Shit!  This is the real deal.  A real proof moment.  I cant remember.  And I was angry at the meeting and I think the angry one was out.  Which is why I can't remember.  This is actually cool.  A real prove it to myself moment.  I am not making this shit up.  This is real.

Which is what Lara has been telling me for a year, but I didn't believe her.  (Well she hasn't really told me I'm dissociative, she just lets me see all the dissociation around me and asks me if it looks familiar.  And she asks me why I'm in group.  And don't I feel at home there?  Why would I feel at home if I didn't fit in, didn't have the same thing everyone else has?)

I'm sitting here trying to remember what happened in the group, but I can't.  Anything else I would write would be a mixture of guessing and fabrication, which I just realized, I think I do a lot.  Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.  The angry one was in group!  She's also the charming funny one.  The one that can kick your (and my) ass.   I don't know her name.  I'm pretty sure she's a teenager.  And she hates everybody.  Everybody except Lara and Dr. S.  But now she's hating them a bit because they won't let her back into group.  She want's to tell them to go fuck themselves.  Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I talked to my sponsor today for an hour about.  It was great talking to her.  She helped me a lot.  She understands how hard it is for me right now, and she validated me.  She knows it's hell at first.  Which it was last night.  I couldn't sleep because my inner voice just kept going over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over how bad the program situation is.  How much they all hate me.  How much I hate them right now.  How I am such a horrific, terrible monster because they need to protect groups from me.  At one point I grabbed my head and screamed stop!  IT WAS AWFUL.  I felt like I was going crazy.  That's when I called my sponsor for the second time, still not getting her, only her stupid answering machine.  But she called me back finally tonight.

I love her, love her as a sponsor, but I need someone who is in town more and who picks up their phone when I call (not always me having to leave a message and wait for a call back).  I guess I could have her as a support friend.  I can always call her, but get a sponsor who is in town.  This sucks!  I want R but I she's not perfect!  Ugh!  Oh well.  I guess maybe I'll ask N to be my sponsor.  We'll see.  She keeps not showing up for meetings, and I don't really want that.

I bought diphenhydramine HCL for sleeping (benadryl) tonight.  My body is a little leery of using it, but I don't want the shit going on in my head like last night.  I want to sleep!

OK, tomorrow I'm calling the volunteer place.  Yes I am!  And I will make three calls about Medicare D!  Yay.  I will do it!  I will, because I want to.  But if I don't, that's OK too, because I'm supposed to be being kind to myself and cut myself some slack.  It is OK if I am not super-productive awesomeness all the time :) 

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.

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!