Friday, July 5, 2013
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Am I Dr. Watson?
So, I am totally in a spiral of self-hatred, dissociation and shame. I have been stuck in my house for about 2 months (?) basically eating and watching Netflix and whatever I torrent off the internet. I am not in a good place. And no matter how I say it here, I will sound better than I actually am. I am not good. 3 weeks ago, if I had a gun, I probably would have killed myself. Ironically, only my depression stopped my suicide. It was too much work to plan the whole fucking thing, so I slept instead.
I have been watching and "fangirl" ing this TV show I like- Sherlock on BBC. It is about Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson in the present. Dr. Watson is a ptsd guy from the Afghanistan war, and he shacks up with Sherlock to solve crimes. What I love about the show is that Dr. Watson is just like me. He has nothing, no love, no passion, nothing to live for and as he says in episode 1 to his therapist (!) "nothing ever happens to me." And then he randomly becomes flatmates with Sherlock and his life begins. GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDd. Please let that happen to me. I have nothing, no life, nothing. I feel I am unworthy of even a tumblr account. I want a Sherlock to come save me. And I will be the practical human being to his sociopathic/neutral good/asperger's bx. I just need to be saved.
The beauty of the show Sherlock is basically that they fall in love with each other, without either one knowing what the fuck to do about it. So they stay platonic work partners that spend every fucking waking moment with each other. I would be happy with even this fucked up codependent relationship.
I just need help. Help.. I need love. And companionship. But I need to save myself, because no one else can save me. The idea of a Sherlock is beautiful, but misguided. I have to be my own Sherlock. I have to save myself.
PS. After at least a year and a half of abstaining, I got drunk tonight at a lesbian bar and talked to some women. I even sort of have plans for later in the week. And let me tell you, I would trade (and did) all the sobriety in the world to have a life. and friendship. So there.
I have been watching and "fangirl" ing this TV show I like- Sherlock on BBC. It is about Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson in the present. Dr. Watson is a ptsd guy from the Afghanistan war, and he shacks up with Sherlock to solve crimes. What I love about the show is that Dr. Watson is just like me. He has nothing, no love, no passion, nothing to live for and as he says in episode 1 to his therapist (!) "nothing ever happens to me." And then he randomly becomes flatmates with Sherlock and his life begins. GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDDd. Please let that happen to me. I have nothing, no life, nothing. I feel I am unworthy of even a tumblr account. I want a Sherlock to come save me. And I will be the practical human being to his sociopathic/neutral good/asperger's bx. I just need to be saved.
The beauty of the show Sherlock is basically that they fall in love with each other, without either one knowing what the fuck to do about it. So they stay platonic work partners that spend every fucking waking moment with each other. I would be happy with even this fucked up codependent relationship.
I just need help. Help.. I need love. And companionship. But I need to save myself, because no one else can save me. The idea of a Sherlock is beautiful, but misguided. I have to be my own Sherlock. I have to save myself.
PS. After at least a year and a half of abstaining, I got drunk tonight at a lesbian bar and talked to some women. I even sort of have plans for later in the week. And let me tell you, I would trade (and did) all the sobriety in the world to have a life. and friendship. So there.
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.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Cards, Cards, Cards
I had a wonderful day today, even though part of it was spent telling my group why I was a waste of space and should kill myself. Hmmm. Anyway, the rest of the day went really well. Big confession time here, this is something I keep so compartmentalized from myself that it never even occured to me to put in writing: I was arrested last year for shoplifting. I wasn't booked or fingerprinted or anything, but I was handcuffed within the store, then given a ticket/paper that told me to show up for court. I got a lawyer, paid him mucho bucks, and he's been on it since then. Today was our trial date, finally, after lawyer stalled for a year on purpose. His strategy was to continue the case forever, so that when it finally came to trial, none of the witnesses/cops would show up. AND GUESS WHAT HAPPENED? IT WORKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So I went to the courthouse today for the trial, and before it even got started the prosecution dropped my case because no cops showed up to witness!!!! Yay!!!! YAY.
This is a second chance for me. It's like the Goddess said, hey chica, wake up! when I got arrested, but she let me off the hook for major damage. Now I can pay more money and have my record expunged, and I will be as pure as the driven snow. Ha. But I must work on the shoplifting. I now have pretty much accepted that it is part of my whole trauma-liciousness. It actually is on a list in the book Secret Survivors. Checklist to see if you have sexual trauma, and shoplifting is one of the choices. That was quite a shock when I saw that, because it doesn't immediately seem to have to do with trauma. But there's a correlation. Weird.
Lara came back to group today to process more about her leaving. I missed most of it because of court, but it was nice she came. I am going to miss her so, so, so, so, so, so much. Sad just thinking about it.
OK. Good day! I went to walk on the beach to celebrate my courthouse victory and it was nice. I picked up a cool piece of coral I want to make into a necklace.
I am still sort of in love with -. In love is probably not the write word. In infatuation? In like? I want to spend more time with her, and I can't because she's such a damn loner. I miss her when I'm not hanging out with her, and we're just friends. Ugh. I don't know if this is romantic, or I'm just lonely and excited to have a friend who can keep up with me. I don't think I really want to do anything physical with her, I just want to be around her a lot. What is that? A friend crush?
OK, time to finish my dang business cards. I've been working on them for weeks, and I've got to take the plunge, finalize the design and order the damn things! They will be ordered by tomorrow. Yay. Then the official Owl Tutoring will begin. If I get 4 clients a week I would be overjoyed. And I'm pretty sure I can get them! Yay!
So I went to the courthouse today for the trial, and before it even got started the prosecution dropped my case because no cops showed up to witness!!!! Yay!!!! YAY.
This is a second chance for me. It's like the Goddess said, hey chica, wake up! when I got arrested, but she let me off the hook for major damage. Now I can pay more money and have my record expunged, and I will be as pure as the driven snow. Ha. But I must work on the shoplifting. I now have pretty much accepted that it is part of my whole trauma-liciousness. It actually is on a list in the book Secret Survivors. Checklist to see if you have sexual trauma, and shoplifting is one of the choices. That was quite a shock when I saw that, because it doesn't immediately seem to have to do with trauma. But there's a correlation. Weird.
Lara came back to group today to process more about her leaving. I missed most of it because of court, but it was nice she came. I am going to miss her so, so, so, so, so, so much. Sad just thinking about it.
OK. Good day! I went to walk on the beach to celebrate my courthouse victory and it was nice. I picked up a cool piece of coral I want to make into a necklace.
I am still sort of in love with -. In love is probably not the write word. In infatuation? In like? I want to spend more time with her, and I can't because she's such a damn loner. I miss her when I'm not hanging out with her, and we're just friends. Ugh. I don't know if this is romantic, or I'm just lonely and excited to have a friend who can keep up with me. I don't think I really want to do anything physical with her, I just want to be around her a lot. What is that? A friend crush?
OK, time to finish my dang business cards. I've been working on them for weeks, and I've got to take the plunge, finalize the design and order the damn things! They will be ordered by tomorrow. Yay. Then the official Owl Tutoring will begin. If I get 4 clients a week I would be overjoyed. And I'm pretty sure I can get them! Yay!
Monday, September 17, 2012
On what looks like to me, my mother's hand
How do I both love and hate Ani Difranco. She is a genius, but cold. I am jealous of her talent, her drive, her ability to succeed. I don't think I could have ever been an Ani, but I could have been great. Is it too late now? Probably.
I relapsed just now. Watching porn. Ugh. I hate it, but I do it. I also relapsed on alcohol. But for some reason that doesn't seem like a big deal. Because I don't really think alcohol is a problem. DXM is definitely a problem.
"look with all of you, not with just your eyes." Albacore, Ani Difranco.
My hands are aging. My face is not I guess. I got carded tonight to buy my uggy six pack of Mikes Pink Hard Lemonade. The guy thought I was in my 20's. Yay. Or not. Whatever.
I am so sad. And so, so, so, so, so alone. I want to be in love, to have someone love me, but I have no ability to do so. I want a circle of friends that I can love and love me. And I don't. I have 3 good friends. That is good. But somehow that doesn't seem like enough somehow. J says I'm feeling the abandonment. This feeling of aloneness and emptiness is the emptiness from childhood. Maybe so, but how do I fix it? How does that knowledge somehow help?
I think I am close to suicidal again. Death by ennui.
My mother's hands were always on me. Except when I wouldn't touch her. But she always had the god-fucking-given right to put her hands on me at any time she wanted. The right of her being the adult, the right because I was a child, the right because she was my mother and she owned me. The right of the strong over the weak, over the young, over the helpless. I loved her and she used that against me. I put up with so much, because I had no other choice. I should have left. Like Suzanne said, at 5 I should have packed a bag, grabbed my 3 year old bother and fucking flown to Paris. Gotten away from the werewolves. Werewolf mother, werewolf father. Werewolf daughter? No.
I relapsed just now. Watching porn. Ugh. I hate it, but I do it. I also relapsed on alcohol. But for some reason that doesn't seem like a big deal. Because I don't really think alcohol is a problem. DXM is definitely a problem.
"look with all of you, not with just your eyes." Albacore, Ani Difranco.
My hands are aging. My face is not I guess. I got carded tonight to buy my uggy six pack of Mikes Pink Hard Lemonade. The guy thought I was in my 20's. Yay. Or not. Whatever.
I am so sad. And so, so, so, so, so alone. I want to be in love, to have someone love me, but I have no ability to do so. I want a circle of friends that I can love and love me. And I don't. I have 3 good friends. That is good. But somehow that doesn't seem like enough somehow. J says I'm feeling the abandonment. This feeling of aloneness and emptiness is the emptiness from childhood. Maybe so, but how do I fix it? How does that knowledge somehow help?
I think I am close to suicidal again. Death by ennui.
My mother's hands were always on me. Except when I wouldn't touch her. But she always had the god-fucking-given right to put her hands on me at any time she wanted. The right of her being the adult, the right because I was a child, the right because she was my mother and she owned me. The right of the strong over the weak, over the young, over the helpless. I loved her and she used that against me. I put up with so much, because I had no other choice. I should have left. Like Suzanne said, at 5 I should have packed a bag, grabbed my 3 year old bother and fucking flown to Paris. Gotten away from the werewolves. Werewolf mother, werewolf father. Werewolf daughter? No.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Friends?
Hola. So I just painted my nails and am trying to type without smudging them. We'll see. Just got off the phone with Tara and had a good talk with her about Susan. Susan and I are having problems because... well basically because she is clueless on how to be a good friend. I asked her on Weds to hang out with me because I was having a bad day and she said she would come over, even though she didn't want to. This hurt my feelings, and I told her so today. After discussing this for 10 minutes or so on the phone today, she told me our friendship was not going to work out and she wished me luck in life. Then she hung up. So I guess we are not friends anymore? This is really Susan's issue. It is not cool to say you dont want to hang out with someone, but you'll still come over. Not cool, it hurt my feelings, and that she can't understand that is her problem, not mine. So I guess we're not friends, and that's the way it is.
I slept all day today. I mean all day. But I am not going to beat myself up about it. So there.
OK, gotta go, gotta eat.
I slept all day today. I mean all day. But I am not going to beat myself up about it. So there.
OK, gotta go, gotta eat.
Monday, August 27, 2012
Boredom or Fear
So I'm home alone. Which is a luxury, to be able to have my own place, with air conditioning, a comfy bed, a great TV, a blu-ray player and Netflix. But I have too much time on my hands. But I am also afraid to do anything. I do not want to leave the house. I would have nothing to do anyway. As of right now I am in the odd and very lucky position of having all my financial needs taken care of, and having absolutely nothing to do.
I could make cards for my fledgling tutoring business, but I am afraid. I could go get something to eat, but I don't want to leave the house. I just watch tv, screw around on the internet, and hide.
I am supposed to start IOP tomorrow, and I'm worried that I'm only doing it because I don't know what else to do. I need to get myself a life, but I don't want to. But I am no longer suicidal- I know I am going to live, I just don't know HOW.
Ugh. Ugh. Uggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I guess the first step would be to take a shower. Then get something to eat. Then go to a meeting. Then what? Who the fuck knows.
I could make cards for my fledgling tutoring business, but I am afraid. I could go get something to eat, but I don't want to leave the house. I just watch tv, screw around on the internet, and hide.
I am supposed to start IOP tomorrow, and I'm worried that I'm only doing it because I don't know what else to do. I need to get myself a life, but I don't want to. But I am no longer suicidal- I know I am going to live, I just don't know HOW.
Ugh. Ugh. Uggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I guess the first step would be to take a shower. Then get something to eat. Then go to a meeting. Then what? Who the fuck knows.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
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 :)
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 :)
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, November 11, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Personal Space.
I am not sure if my personal space is getting larger, or if I am just more in touch with my boundaries, but I am one raw nerve lately. Anyone I don't know can't get near me without my hackles going up and my claws coming out. I need a good 10 feet at all times. If someone walks by me too closely I bristle.
I had to leave yoga yesterday because an old, gross, wheezy white man with gray hair put his mat TOO FUCKING CLOSE TO ME. A class full of only women and this guy, and he puts his fucking mat next to mine about 2 feet too closely (even for normal spacing). I became infuriated and anxiety ridden and could not concentrate. I could feel his miasma crawling all over me as I was trying to breathe and do the poses. It was more than I could bear so I left. I knew I wasn't in control enough to be polite and ask him to move. I was furious and wanted to strike out. So I very quietly rolled up my mat, got my things and left in the middle of the class. Ready to kill.
I got into the car and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed out my rage and frustration. It sort of helped. But I was still super-touchy and irritable for most of the night. I am again right now just thinking about it. My feelings, although not normal are: HOW DARE HE GET SO CLOSE TO ME. BACK UP RIGHT NOW, MOTHERFUCKER OR I WILL CLAW YOUR EYES OUT. BACK THE FUCK UP, YOU ASSHOLE, RIGHT NOW, AND DON'T EVEN BREATHE IN MY DIRECTION. FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU. DON'T EVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN. YOU ARE DISGUSTING AND I HATE YOU FOR COMING NEAR ME. YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO BE NEAR ME, YOU ARE DELIBERATELY VIOLATING ME AND I WILL KILL YOU.
OK, I actually feel better now. Obviously this is not about the poor guy in my yoga class. And this is why I need to be at program, but they won't let me back. FUCK THEM TOO.
OK, time to chill out and go back to the zen place. Whoooo.
I had to leave yoga yesterday because an old, gross, wheezy white man with gray hair put his mat TOO FUCKING CLOSE TO ME. A class full of only women and this guy, and he puts his fucking mat next to mine about 2 feet too closely (even for normal spacing). I became infuriated and anxiety ridden and could not concentrate. I could feel his miasma crawling all over me as I was trying to breathe and do the poses. It was more than I could bear so I left. I knew I wasn't in control enough to be polite and ask him to move. I was furious and wanted to strike out. So I very quietly rolled up my mat, got my things and left in the middle of the class. Ready to kill.
I got into the car and screamed and screamed and screamed and screamed out my rage and frustration. It sort of helped. But I was still super-touchy and irritable for most of the night. I am again right now just thinking about it. My feelings, although not normal are: HOW DARE HE GET SO CLOSE TO ME. BACK UP RIGHT NOW, MOTHERFUCKER OR I WILL CLAW YOUR EYES OUT. BACK THE FUCK UP, YOU ASSHOLE, RIGHT NOW, AND DON'T EVEN BREATHE IN MY DIRECTION. FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU. DON'T EVER COME NEAR ME AGAIN. YOU ARE DISGUSTING AND I HATE YOU FOR COMING NEAR ME. YOU KNOW BETTER THAN TO BE NEAR ME, YOU ARE DELIBERATELY VIOLATING ME AND I WILL KILL YOU.
OK, I actually feel better now. Obviously this is not about the poor guy in my yoga class. And this is why I need to be at program, but they won't let me back. FUCK THEM TOO.
OK, time to chill out and go back to the zen place. Whoooo.
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!
Sunday, November 6, 2011
Oh I forgot. I LOVE MARIA BAMFORD
Maria Bamford is my new favorite person. "long sleeves, am i right, ladies?" HA, HA, HA, HA, HA, HA.
This whole bit is awesome, but gets great @ 1:38
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeCSKygKOQE&feature=related
This whole bit is awesome, but gets great @ 1:38
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeCSKygKOQE&feature=related
Just Be. And a short description of a radical life changing event.
OK so I'm back again, writing. I found my old LiveJournal from when I lived in Otown, and was so happy I had a window into my life back then. So, I want to have a window into this time of my life too. Thus the writing.
I am not sure when (or ever) I'll be done with going to group. I have not been there for about 6 weeks ? I think, but I'm probably going to start back up this week. I'm meeting with Lara about it manana 9:30 AM. It was really nice to hear from her on Friday. She called me to set up the meeting, and I told her how I felt- pissed off (when am I not?) and feeling extremely judged. She told me I wasn't being judged, and that other people have had to write proposals to come back to group. It made me feel better. Also, she said she was invested in me :)
She's going to be gone from group for the next coupla weeks, so if I go back I will have my most recent (and recently loved) therapist in group as she will be taking over while Lara's on vaca. Hmm, what to call this therapist? How about: Sharon. OK. So anyway I've been with Sharon since May and love her. She is a great therapist, plus I got some raging transference going with her. But THIS time I have a therapist who knows how to handle it. She has talked with me hours about it, and the transference is going away. I really respect and like her still though. And if she weren't my therapist, and in a relationship, I would probably still want to date her. Although she is a bit too much of a rule follower for my taste.
So I am lying around the house, avoiding leaving. I know that if I continue to do this it will lead to depression, so I am going to go for my walk as soon as I'm done with this.
Oh yes, for the past two weeks I have been trying to change my lifestyle around so that I will want to live. I have been walking almost daily and doing yoga 3 times a week. But I got tired the past few days and have not gone to yoga. But that's OK. I will go back. Courage is getting up in the morning and saying "I'll try again." That's a bastardization of a quote I love.
Two weeks ago I overdosed on DXM and a bunch of things happened at once. I incorporated myself if that's possible. I convulsed for hours because of the memories I was having and probably from the DXM too. But I've convulsed before completely sober, so I know it was because of the memories. I wrote them all down as well as recorded them on my phone. I then had a psychotic break and it was not fun. I drove my car high. I got my passport and drove to the airport and was going to fly to Colombia. It is a loooooooooong story, but my brain just sort of short-circuited and it was not good.
But in all it was a wonderful experience. Some might say a spiritual experience. I learned that I loved myself. That I can live. That some truly awful stuff happened to me. And that it hurt me, but I'm getting better. It was wonderful.
And so this past two weeks has been living up to the health and love I felt that night. So I'm taking care of myself- eating more healthily, stopped eating meat (because I find it morally repugnant but never respected my own thoughts enough to do anything about it, but now I do respect myself), started walking for 2 hours daily and started the yoga. Plus going to meetings 5 times a week. The yoga is very hard by the way. I think I am intimidated and discouraged by how hard it is and how beginner I am. Just writing this down makes me feel better about it though. I am on my path, and right now I'm a beginner and that's why it's hard. The teacher even said I was doing well. So there, other teacher who kept telling me I had to push myself! As if I have EVER been easy on myself. The problem for me is not going to be pushing myself, it is to stay kind to myself. So it is OK I've taken a break for the past few days, and it is OK if I go back!
Speaking of taking care of myself, it's time to go for the walk. I'm excited! I'm excited to see Lara tomorrow, I've missed her. I want to get better. I have no idea what that looks like. I have no idea what my healthy life will be. I don't know what I want to do for a living. Nothing. But that's good, and I won't let anyone, be it my mother or the head of IOP guilt me into feeling otherwise. It is OK if I'm not on the fast track to success. I am allowed to just be.
I am not sure when (or ever) I'll be done with going to group. I have not been there for about 6 weeks ? I think, but I'm probably going to start back up this week. I'm meeting with Lara about it manana 9:30 AM. It was really nice to hear from her on Friday. She called me to set up the meeting, and I told her how I felt- pissed off (when am I not?) and feeling extremely judged. She told me I wasn't being judged, and that other people have had to write proposals to come back to group. It made me feel better. Also, she said she was invested in me :)
She's going to be gone from group for the next coupla weeks, so if I go back I will have my most recent (and recently loved) therapist in group as she will be taking over while Lara's on vaca. Hmm, what to call this therapist? How about: Sharon. OK. So anyway I've been with Sharon since May and love her. She is a great therapist, plus I got some raging transference going with her. But THIS time I have a therapist who knows how to handle it. She has talked with me hours about it, and the transference is going away. I really respect and like her still though. And if she weren't my therapist, and in a relationship, I would probably still want to date her. Although she is a bit too much of a rule follower for my taste.
So I am lying around the house, avoiding leaving. I know that if I continue to do this it will lead to depression, so I am going to go for my walk as soon as I'm done with this.
Oh yes, for the past two weeks I have been trying to change my lifestyle around so that I will want to live. I have been walking almost daily and doing yoga 3 times a week. But I got tired the past few days and have not gone to yoga. But that's OK. I will go back. Courage is getting up in the morning and saying "I'll try again." That's a bastardization of a quote I love.
Two weeks ago I overdosed on DXM and a bunch of things happened at once. I incorporated myself if that's possible. I convulsed for hours because of the memories I was having and probably from the DXM too. But I've convulsed before completely sober, so I know it was because of the memories. I wrote them all down as well as recorded them on my phone. I then had a psychotic break and it was not fun. I drove my car high. I got my passport and drove to the airport and was going to fly to Colombia. It is a loooooooooong story, but my brain just sort of short-circuited and it was not good.
But in all it was a wonderful experience. Some might say a spiritual experience. I learned that I loved myself. That I can live. That some truly awful stuff happened to me. And that it hurt me, but I'm getting better. It was wonderful.
And so this past two weeks has been living up to the health and love I felt that night. So I'm taking care of myself- eating more healthily, stopped eating meat (because I find it morally repugnant but never respected my own thoughts enough to do anything about it, but now I do respect myself), started walking for 2 hours daily and started the yoga. Plus going to meetings 5 times a week. The yoga is very hard by the way. I think I am intimidated and discouraged by how hard it is and how beginner I am. Just writing this down makes me feel better about it though. I am on my path, and right now I'm a beginner and that's why it's hard. The teacher even said I was doing well. So there, other teacher who kept telling me I had to push myself! As if I have EVER been easy on myself. The problem for me is not going to be pushing myself, it is to stay kind to myself. So it is OK I've taken a break for the past few days, and it is OK if I go back!
Speaking of taking care of myself, it's time to go for the walk. I'm excited! I'm excited to see Lara tomorrow, I've missed her. I want to get better. I have no idea what that looks like. I have no idea what my healthy life will be. I don't know what I want to do for a living. Nothing. But that's good, and I won't let anyone, be it my mother or the head of IOP guilt me into feeling otherwise. It is OK if I'm not on the fast track to success. I am allowed to just be.
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