Saturday, May 24, 2014
Friday, October 25, 2013
A Treatise on the similar aspects of Dissociation and Super Glue
That title gives me a chuckle. Anyway. I"m high, and tried to fix a stick on light that I had "stuck on" my door a few weeks ago, but unstuck itself. Meaning when I came home the other day, the light was on the ground, not on the door, giving nice, safe illumination of my lock.
So, being the tinkerer I am, I tried to fix it now, wihile high on DXM, which was fun, then frustrating, then angry making, and now as I reflect, it is fucking hilarious:). My typing suckx because I have fing super glue on th4e tips of all o =f my fingers. Thus: the dissociation connection:
As I was trying to pull apart then stick together all these plastic parts, the glue strated drying and my fingers became part of the project. I was ensconceed in super glue at the fingertip level. And I was worried because I was high, that I might hurt myself. I wish I could draw a picture lol. I'm sitting at the table, eyes not able to focus, with little white plastic parts slathered in super glue intertwined in my fingertips, and i realize, i'm all glued together. Fun. So, huh. OK, go slow, cause we don't want to rip our skin, so I go slow, and am worried that the drugs or the super glue are not leeting me feel the pain because it doesn't hurt. And I slowly pull apart m y fingers and plastic bits. I'm gonna go back and fix it after this, damnit! But wow, I got all sepaerated without hurting myself. But now, instead of acrylic nails, I have acrylic fingers. I feel like a proto-robo-cop writing this now, my fingertips literally are clacking on the keyboard, they are so hard from the casing of superglue. I love my dorky ass, engineer, drug stupid self :)
So, being the tinkerer I am, I tried to fix it now, wihile high on DXM, which was fun, then frustrating, then angry making, and now as I reflect, it is fucking hilarious:). My typing suckx because I have fing super glue on th4e tips of all o =f my fingers. Thus: the dissociation connection:
As I was trying to pull apart then stick together all these plastic parts, the glue strated drying and my fingers became part of the project. I was ensconceed in super glue at the fingertip level. And I was worried because I was high, that I might hurt myself. I wish I could draw a picture lol. I'm sitting at the table, eyes not able to focus, with little white plastic parts slathered in super glue intertwined in my fingertips, and i realize, i'm all glued together. Fun. So, huh. OK, go slow, cause we don't want to rip our skin, so I go slow, and am worried that the drugs or the super glue are not leeting me feel the pain because it doesn't hurt. And I slowly pull apart m y fingers and plastic bits. I'm gonna go back and fix it after this, damnit! But wow, I got all sepaerated without hurting myself. But now, instead of acrylic nails, I have acrylic fingers. I feel like a proto-robo-cop writing this now, my fingertips literally are clacking on the keyboard, they are so hard from the casing of superglue. I love my dorky ass, engineer, drug stupid self :)
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
W O W
This was stuck in draft mode, was suppossed to be published 8/19/13
ok, so just stream of consciousness going here. what have we done? we have taken in a probably? dissociative boy and done dxm with him twice and have had sex with him twice and he basically lives at our house now. o m g. and i think i love him. i don't even know him. i am so full of shit wtf am i dooooooooooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggggggggggg?
oddly, i feel incredibly calm because i am still high on dxm. so, for the past few months, obvio,usly, we've been using dxm, doing our own therapy, watching art and learning to accept ourselves, all while fairly maintaining? a life. at least a job of 4 hours a week? hah hah hah ah ahhhahhhhahhah and we make it to therapy every time. and we do good shit. But we are dissociative as fuck. Many, many fucking compartments. Here comes the capitalizer, who's that? Fuck Offf. Okey dkey.
anyway. ok, so on wednesday, we went to walgreens per usual to pick up dxm, before I went in i was sitting in the car on my phone and saw two dudes, bros, ya, walk through the parking lot and I thought, huh, they are up to something. Not bad per se , just something. No biggie, just a notice. Then I got off the phone went in, and went to my favorite aisle, and there are two young grungy guys with an empty cart looking both oddly happy and perplexed in front of the cough syrup aisle. So. So. So. I hear them say they aren't sure what to get, and the dark haired one looks at me and says something like "You look like you might be able to help us."
And I'm like... um. Yes. So Science Brain comes out and asks, "You're looking for DXM, right?" Just like that, cool as a fucking cucumber, as if it is totally normal to be talking about my deepest darkest secret in the bright white flourescent daylight of the cough medicine aisle of walgreens. Damn.
"YeAH!"
I point at the stuff, the pure dxm without the guenefisin and other shit. and say something like"That's the stuff."
They look at me, still slightly nonplussed, but excited. We are all speaking the same language here, and it's fun to fucking do it in public. Fuck you, The Man.
I look at what they have in their hands and it's Coricidin Cold and Cough. And I know I've read about triple C's, but I also know I read to stay away from any extra crap/meds if you can and take only dxm. And the Coricidin has at least Guanefesin in it, and probably acetometophin and other shit you don't need and will fucking kill you and your liver, whichever dies first. I say to them, "You can't take that stuff. That stuff has poison in it, it will kill your liver." There are two of them, dark hair and blue eyes. it's like a rocket or a flare goes off in blue eyes eyes. I literally see it flash in his eyes. I say, have you been on erowid? blue eyes says, yeah! dark hair assents. but it's blue eyes who knows. I say, they say it on there, you have to take the stuff with only dxm, no other meds, otherwise you will poison yourself with the extras. I point again at the pure walgreens knock of cough pills- "those are the ones." I grab two for myself, but they somehow don't' notice in their newfound knowledge excitement. i ask, "do you live around here?" to both of them, but dark hair answers, he's the one in charge. "oh, yeah, i live over there a few blocks." I say, "Cool, I live the other direction, toward Wilton Manors." code. it's all code. i'm feeling them out. they are feeling me out. are we gonna play? i guess i fold because i just walk away toward the ice cream aisle.
i fake browse for a few seconds, trying to get my spinning brain to calm down. did that just happen? did i just talk about dxm in public with two strangers in front of some middle aged woman browsing for an ankle brace? wtf just happened? i'm still reeling and dark hair comes to me in the bright white freezer aisle and asks me, hey, "we should get your number?" and i fucking give it to them. i give them my real goddamn number. and dark hair calls my phone which i had left in the car, because i had planned to only be in walgreens for a second.
this is amazing. amaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggg. i never open up to people. never. especially not two drugged out boys looking to get fucked up at the local walgreens. wearing dirty t shirts and cargo pants. with beautiful blue eyes. what the fuck was i thinking? i stayed in numb mode, because i was pretty sure if i started feeling i would want to punch myself in the face. so i down the dxm and do a mild trip, and TEXT THEM TWICE while high appropriately, just to check in. I was gonna see if they were going to ask me to join, but i wasn't sure, and if they did i didn't know what i would say, but thankfully they didn't. we just swapped mg amounts and went on our merry way.
ok, so just stream of consciousness going here. what have we done? we have taken in a probably? dissociative boy and done dxm with him twice and have had sex with him twice and he basically lives at our house now. o m g. and i think i love him. i don't even know him. i am so full of shit wtf am i dooooooooooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggggggggggg?
oddly, i feel incredibly calm because i am still high on dxm. so, for the past few months, obvio,usly, we've been using dxm, doing our own therapy, watching art and learning to accept ourselves, all while fairly maintaining? a life. at least a job of 4 hours a week? hah hah hah ah ahhhahhhhahhah and we make it to therapy every time. and we do good shit. But we are dissociative as fuck. Many, many fucking compartments. Here comes the capitalizer, who's that? Fuck Offf. Okey dkey.
anyway. ok, so on wednesday, we went to walgreens per usual to pick up dxm, before I went in i was sitting in the car on my phone and saw two dudes, bros, ya, walk through the parking lot and I thought, huh, they are up to something. Not bad per se , just something. No biggie, just a notice. Then I got off the phone went in, and went to my favorite aisle, and there are two young grungy guys with an empty cart looking both oddly happy and perplexed in front of the cough syrup aisle. So. So. So. I hear them say they aren't sure what to get, and the dark haired one looks at me and says something like "You look like you might be able to help us."
And I'm like... um. Yes. So Science Brain comes out and asks, "You're looking for DXM, right?" Just like that, cool as a fucking cucumber, as if it is totally normal to be talking about my deepest darkest secret in the bright white flourescent daylight of the cough medicine aisle of walgreens. Damn.
"YeAH!"
I point at the stuff, the pure dxm without the guenefisin and other shit. and say something like"That's the stuff."
They look at me, still slightly nonplussed, but excited. We are all speaking the same language here, and it's fun to fucking do it in public. Fuck you, The Man.
I look at what they have in their hands and it's Coricidin Cold and Cough. And I know I've read about triple C's, but I also know I read to stay away from any extra crap/meds if you can and take only dxm. And the Coricidin has at least Guanefesin in it, and probably acetometophin and other shit you don't need and will fucking kill you and your liver, whichever dies first. I say to them, "You can't take that stuff. That stuff has poison in it, it will kill your liver." There are two of them, dark hair and blue eyes. it's like a rocket or a flare goes off in blue eyes eyes. I literally see it flash in his eyes. I say, have you been on erowid? blue eyes says, yeah! dark hair assents. but it's blue eyes who knows. I say, they say it on there, you have to take the stuff with only dxm, no other meds, otherwise you will poison yourself with the extras. I point again at the pure walgreens knock of cough pills- "those are the ones." I grab two for myself, but they somehow don't' notice in their newfound knowledge excitement. i ask, "do you live around here?" to both of them, but dark hair answers, he's the one in charge. "oh, yeah, i live over there a few blocks." I say, "Cool, I live the other direction, toward Wilton Manors." code. it's all code. i'm feeling them out. they are feeling me out. are we gonna play? i guess i fold because i just walk away toward the ice cream aisle.
i fake browse for a few seconds, trying to get my spinning brain to calm down. did that just happen? did i just talk about dxm in public with two strangers in front of some middle aged woman browsing for an ankle brace? wtf just happened? i'm still reeling and dark hair comes to me in the bright white freezer aisle and asks me, hey, "we should get your number?" and i fucking give it to them. i give them my real goddamn number. and dark hair calls my phone which i had left in the car, because i had planned to only be in walgreens for a second.
this is amazing. amaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzziiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnngggggggggggggg. i never open up to people. never. especially not two drugged out boys looking to get fucked up at the local walgreens. wearing dirty t shirts and cargo pants. with beautiful blue eyes. what the fuck was i thinking? i stayed in numb mode, because i was pretty sure if i started feeling i would want to punch myself in the face. so i down the dxm and do a mild trip, and TEXT THEM TWICE while high appropriately, just to check in. I was gonna see if they were going to ask me to join, but i wasn't sure, and if they did i didn't know what i would say, but thankfully they didn't. we just swapped mg amounts and went on our merry way.
There is a problem
Okay, a lot of stuff to write on here. I am high on dxm and benadryl, and I have double thought myself into quite a knot. Threr is a problem with Gina and Jeanette. and me. and that may be one of the reasons I've been so wonky lateley. A boundary violation while we were at IOP Gina was seeing Jeanette privately. And no one ever talked about it. it was a secret. and that is a problem. and i think i am going to have to call gina out on it.
but, i am high, so we will let it marinateed a little longer ( ala Kissing Jessica Stein). But I think this may have been one of the slivers of glass in my foot for a lng time.
I also want to not the similarities in outward affect and behavior of socio/psychopaths and someon with DID. Both are chamelions, but one is a chamelion because they are scared and one is doing it on purpose. Or can it be both? Basiclly, the question is , whci was my mother?
dr bill was a faker. he didnt have to be, but thats what he chose to do. please dont let Gina be a faker. Well, even if she is, I learned a lot forom her. But I see Narcissim creeping up with the twitter feed shit. Not good. Not Good. Fabebook and titter are about "pay attention to me!" sometimes. I know it cn also be about getting the wsorkd out and stuff., but seems narcissistic to be posting shit that is just feel good platitudes. You can get that anywheree, but you are drawing attentiuon to yourself. look at me. not good. not good at all. also, shes banding us together as "butterflies" and thats not good either. no secret societies. no. alumni, yes, society no. Whew, that felt good to get off my chest. Now, how do I go about fixing this. ???????? I meditatie on it all this weekend. And you tell Jeanette that you love rher, but you have to work some stuff out and it is nothing personal, but you need more time. And you are sad about India Arie, cause you would like to go, but you cant. And we will revist this decision whe we are sober. But wejust had to get this down.
but, i am high, so we will let it marinateed a little longer ( ala Kissing Jessica Stein). But I think this may have been one of the slivers of glass in my foot for a lng time.
I also want to not the similarities in outward affect and behavior of socio/psychopaths and someon with DID. Both are chamelions, but one is a chamelion because they are scared and one is doing it on purpose. Or can it be both? Basiclly, the question is , whci was my mother?
dr bill was a faker. he didnt have to be, but thats what he chose to do. please dont let Gina be a faker. Well, even if she is, I learned a lot forom her. But I see Narcissim creeping up with the twitter feed shit. Not good. Not Good. Fabebook and titter are about "pay attention to me!" sometimes. I know it cn also be about getting the wsorkd out and stuff., but seems narcissistic to be posting shit that is just feel good platitudes. You can get that anywheree, but you are drawing attentiuon to yourself. look at me. not good. not good at all. also, shes banding us together as "butterflies" and thats not good either. no secret societies. no. alumni, yes, society no. Whew, that felt good to get off my chest. Now, how do I go about fixing this. ???????? I meditatie on it all this weekend. And you tell Jeanette that you love rher, but you have to work some stuff out and it is nothing personal, but you need more time. And you are sad about India Arie, cause you would like to go, but you cant. And we will revist this decision whe we are sober. But wejust had to get this down.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Buddy Movie
Its like a buddy road trip movie, except that the buddy is me and we only travel in our head. bur otherwise its excellent!!!!!! So basically that mean to viewer on the outsidfe:: Crazy heavy freckled grirl laughing and taking to herself as she lays in a hammock in the bright orange sunlight. And alsoo crazy freckled gril doing stuff with herse3fl like a schzo, but I am not schizo I am dissociative. :)
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
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
some new rules?
ok, so we are trying to figure out how to dissociate when we are not high. So we've heard that we have to have an hour of alone naked time in the house to run and scream around per day. Ok. Will do, although there was a quyeasy feeling in my stomach just then , but I think its ok. be in the sunlight more!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
okeydokey. sunlight more. alone. we need alone sunlight time. Is the hammock safe enough? No, because of the fucking neighbors. fich. well we'll work on that. laying in the grass. not the hammock. ok
gabriel is gay. he likes boys. we just figured that out. victoria likes girls. problem. not a huge problem, but a funny one. i say. who is i?
snyder park was a safe place. we need to go there i guess. no place else workds. ok. done..once a day? thats a lot. Yeah, vut what the fuck else are we doing? serisously? Yeah, I gueass you're right.
tired, movies. yessssssssssssssssssssssssss.
okeydokey. sunlight more. alone. we need alone sunlight time. Is the hammock safe enough? No, because of the fucking neighbors. fich. well we'll work on that. laying in the grass. not the hammock. ok
gabriel is gay. he likes boys. we just figured that out. victoria likes girls. problem. not a huge problem, but a funny one. i say. who is i?
snyder park was a safe place. we need to go there i guess. no place else workds. ok. done..once a day? thats a lot. Yeah, vut what the fuck else are we doing? serisously? Yeah, I gueass you're right.
tired, movies. yessssssssssssssssssssssssss.
So This Is Why We Dissociate
So I am zoned to the universe on DXM in a beautiful angry orange sunlight place. And I'm Like lets do this. This is wh we sissocdiate. we let it go . or soething . idosn know ifi can type fast enough to get this all down. I am in the moment of NO. NO orange beautiful blasting out. i want it to be world where there3 is no fuckin g need for NO, but that is not the world we live in. Orange is the New Black F*cksgiving That is it. They captured it perfectly. its amazimg. piper says you CANT HAVE ME, YOU COULD NEVER HAVE ME. or something like that. she screams it out in a total seemingly dissociative state and then confirms it by having sex with Vause when she gets out of SHU. And then the audience gets all excited about a love triangle, lesbian sex, blah , blah. BUT THAT IS NOT THE FUCKING POINT
THE POINT IS, THAT YOU DON'T OWN ME. YOU WILL NEVER OWN ME, AND YOU WILL NEVER WIN. I AM ME. I LOVE ME. I CLAIM ME. I CLAIM ME AND ALL ME NEEDS TO BE HAPPY., not too much stuff. But enough to be FUCKING HAPPY. So BASICALLLY, FUCK OFF, WORLD, I AM GOING TO BE A GREEN VEGETARIAN POET WITH A DRUM AND A GUITAR AND A TRUCKLOAD OF MATH AND BASIC CHEMISTRY KNOWLEDGE AND i AM GOING TO LIVE HOW I WANT TO LIVE. WITH BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE GETTING OVER THEIR PAIN BY PAINTING AND DANCING AND SINGING AND RUNNING...... and yoga :) and I want to live a healthy life creating stuff? (dont know what yet) helping people figure systems out, because I am incredibly good at that. I can figure a system like nobody's business. SO. LET'S GET FIGURING!!!!
i love you jeanette.
THE POINT IS, THAT YOU DON'T OWN ME. YOU WILL NEVER OWN ME, AND YOU WILL NEVER WIN. I AM ME. I LOVE ME. I CLAIM ME. I CLAIM ME AND ALL ME NEEDS TO BE HAPPY., not too much stuff. But enough to be FUCKING HAPPY. So BASICALLLY, FUCK OFF, WORLD, I AM GOING TO BE A GREEN VEGETARIAN POET WITH A DRUM AND A GUITAR AND A TRUCKLOAD OF MATH AND BASIC CHEMISTRY KNOWLEDGE AND i AM GOING TO LIVE HOW I WANT TO LIVE. WITH BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE GETTING OVER THEIR PAIN BY PAINTING AND DANCING AND SINGING AND RUNNING...... and yoga :) and I want to live a healthy life creating stuff? (dont know what yet) helping people figure systems out, because I am incredibly good at that. I can figure a system like nobody's business. SO. LET'S GET FIGURING!!!!
i love you jeanette.
Tuesday, July 30, 2013
It's my official coming out party, damnit.
OK, so another fun filled weekend of DXM and drug induced dissociation. And I have officially had enough. I freaked at 11pm last night and called both therapists and left messages and was completely out of control. Which is fine, if I weren't fucking HIGH. Actually its fine even if I was high, but it's not what I want to be doing. Summer did a great job of talking me through it last night though. She also called me on the getting high. I have to get the info when I am sober or it is tainted. I have to internally communicate everyday and accept that I have D.I.D. I have DID. I have it. I do. It's time to finally fucking accept this. It's over. It's beginnning. I have it. I have it. We have it. We have it. We have it. :)
So who's here? Gabriel, of course. He's me most of the time. Him and Victoria. And Allison Lee. And the little one with her cap of black hair. And a little boy. And a baby. Gabriel and Victoria are groups. Groups of parts? Still working it out. Allison Lee is part of Victoria. I think. She's the smiler. Real smile. Victoria is the Chesire grin. But she does it for everyone. We were doing the chesire grin at the beginning of therapy today. We were so embarrassed about calling Ryan fucking high. But he was cool with it. I love him. He is so good at his job. Yay! I am going to miss him.
So who's here? Gabriel, of course. He's me most of the time. Him and Victoria. And Allison Lee. And the little one with her cap of black hair. And a little boy. And a baby. Gabriel and Victoria are groups. Groups of parts? Still working it out. Allison Lee is part of Victoria. I think. She's the smiler. Real smile. Victoria is the Chesire grin. But she does it for everyone. We were doing the chesire grin at the beginning of therapy today. We were so embarrassed about calling Ryan fucking high. But he was cool with it. I love him. He is so good at his job. Yay! I am going to miss him.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Man, I got caught.
I am forcing myself to sit and write this. This is like when J says she has to do things bit by bit, dragging herself inch by inch to do them. This is that. I don't want to write about this, mostly because I am not use to it, it is stretching, it is uncomfortable. But it has to be done. Now is the time. It is time to write about stuff, when I am not fucked up.
I got caught on the phone last night with a new butterfly friend named E. We were talking, doing the therapy story swap when she asked if I was high. I immediately snapped as back to reality as I could, and said "there is absolutely nothing wrong with me." So I lied. Panic, then immediate shut down about that topic set in. She let it go, so I guess she believed me, or she didn't and she just allowed me to lie. But that is not OK. She is also a trauma survivor and I cannot lie to her about reality. It is absolutely unethical. So I am going to tell her the truth today when we meet for the first time for dinner. Yay, great. I am a fucking asshole.
I've been mulling this over in my head every spare moment since it happened, and that's why I'm writing, because I need to process this BEFORE I talk to E, not WITH E. I don't know her that well yet, and it would be innapropriate and unfair, and immediately fuck up our new friendship boundaries, and I don't want to do that. So maybe I'm not the right friend for her right now. And if she decides that, that would be fine, I have to be fine with it. It does not mean I am a bad person, but just not healthy enough for her. And I don't want to be perpetrating my crap on her. It is not fair to her.
I'm also almost gleeful that somebody FINALLY fucking caught me. I didn't know this, but I was waiting to be caught. And this is where this stuff gets personal and vulnerable. I think I am using DXM to test dissociation vs reality? Like, if I can handle everything on DXM, then I can handle anything? Or maybe, if I can handle life while on DXM, I can allow myself to dissociate in real life (in safe supportive setting)? That's it. I am so fucking afraid of appearing "crazy" or "out of control" or "not rational" that I have a major steel fucking door on anything that seemed irrational, which included allowing voices in my head telepathically telling me something. So I shut that shit DOWN. And I learned to concentrate. CONCENTRATE. To the point of a laser beam. So nothing could distract me. And for the most part on the surface at least, nothing ever did distract me. It worked. Welcome physicist Civil Engineer.
But now through 3.5 fucking years of INTENSE fucking therapy with many different people, but mainly L, I have learned it is safe to let go. If you learn when it's safe, when it's the right time. Because it isn't always the right time. But my problem was more that I NEVER let go, rather than letting go in the wrong places, which seems to be what is the problem for most other butterflies I've met.
And with DXM it is so easy to get to that open, creative sweet spot. Without it I have to.... what .... I guess I have to concentrate, hah. I have to let go. I have to allow myself to be silly and make intuitive leaps that may not seem normal or rational. And it is not being crazy. It is being creatively co-consciously altered. It is being a healthy butterfly. Without drugs, and without being crazy. It is NOT crazy. People may look at me weird, but that's because they don't understand. And I think that has been what I've been doing in therapy, learning exactly what dissociation is and isn't, completely and thoroughly, enough so that I could teach it to someone else. And that someone else I was teaching was me.
Wow. OKay, so back to E. What is the gameplan? What is enough and appropriate to tell her and what is a boundary violation to a new friendship? OK. 1. Tell her she was right about me being high. Validate reality. 2. Apologize that you lied to her, because you understand that invalidating a trauma survivors reality is extremely wrong. 3. Tell her you are working on it, and promise never to talk to her high again without telling her. 4. Tell her you are working on the problem, that you take it seriously, but it is not completely under control yet. 5. So, with this info if she thinks its not safe to be around me, I perfectly understand. I am see-sawing trying to figure healthy out, and I'm going to even out eventually, I'm just not totally there yet.
If she wants to know what I think about it:
I think I can be a good friend to her. I can watch my boundaries. I will utmostly respect her path to getting better. But I honestly don't know. That's the truth, I don't know what's right.
What I don't need to tell her about: why I do DXM. My personal science experiment with DXM. No talking about the creative sweet spot with her. No talking about dissociation too much with her. I can later, but not today. We don't have enough intimacy yet. We ARE NOT IN THERAPY together. There is a difference, although right now I am having a hard time figuring out what that difference is. She does not need to know every thought that is in your head. You are not lying if you are not telling her every thought in your head. That is not deceit. That is technique. Your insightlfulness can hurt people, including yourself, if wielded at the wrong time, just as if you were carrying around a sword, an epee. Very useful tool, but you can't just slash it around like you've been doing. Which is Ok, you are learning. But really, you seem to have a talent that others either don't have or don't admit to having, and just like if you were an X-men, you have to learn to wield your power correctly. Really, it is just like the laser beam eye guy. Except you have to build your own glasses to control the beam yourself. And you are. Yay. Cool, in this metaphor, L is Dr. X. I'll have to tell her. :)
I got caught on the phone last night with a new butterfly friend named E. We were talking, doing the therapy story swap when she asked if I was high. I immediately snapped as back to reality as I could, and said "there is absolutely nothing wrong with me." So I lied. Panic, then immediate shut down about that topic set in. She let it go, so I guess she believed me, or she didn't and she just allowed me to lie. But that is not OK. She is also a trauma survivor and I cannot lie to her about reality. It is absolutely unethical. So I am going to tell her the truth today when we meet for the first time for dinner. Yay, great. I am a fucking asshole.
I've been mulling this over in my head every spare moment since it happened, and that's why I'm writing, because I need to process this BEFORE I talk to E, not WITH E. I don't know her that well yet, and it would be innapropriate and unfair, and immediately fuck up our new friendship boundaries, and I don't want to do that. So maybe I'm not the right friend for her right now. And if she decides that, that would be fine, I have to be fine with it. It does not mean I am a bad person, but just not healthy enough for her. And I don't want to be perpetrating my crap on her. It is not fair to her.
I'm also almost gleeful that somebody FINALLY fucking caught me. I didn't know this, but I was waiting to be caught. And this is where this stuff gets personal and vulnerable. I think I am using DXM to test dissociation vs reality? Like, if I can handle everything on DXM, then I can handle anything? Or maybe, if I can handle life while on DXM, I can allow myself to dissociate in real life (in safe supportive setting)? That's it. I am so fucking afraid of appearing "crazy" or "out of control" or "not rational" that I have a major steel fucking door on anything that seemed irrational, which included allowing voices in my head telepathically telling me something. So I shut that shit DOWN. And I learned to concentrate. CONCENTRATE. To the point of a laser beam. So nothing could distract me. And for the most part on the surface at least, nothing ever did distract me. It worked. Welcome physicist Civil Engineer.
But now through 3.5 fucking years of INTENSE fucking therapy with many different people, but mainly L, I have learned it is safe to let go. If you learn when it's safe, when it's the right time. Because it isn't always the right time. But my problem was more that I NEVER let go, rather than letting go in the wrong places, which seems to be what is the problem for most other butterflies I've met.
And with DXM it is so easy to get to that open, creative sweet spot. Without it I have to.... what .... I guess I have to concentrate, hah. I have to let go. I have to allow myself to be silly and make intuitive leaps that may not seem normal or rational. And it is not being crazy. It is being creatively co-consciously altered. It is being a healthy butterfly. Without drugs, and without being crazy. It is NOT crazy. People may look at me weird, but that's because they don't understand. And I think that has been what I've been doing in therapy, learning exactly what dissociation is and isn't, completely and thoroughly, enough so that I could teach it to someone else. And that someone else I was teaching was me.
Wow. OKay, so back to E. What is the gameplan? What is enough and appropriate to tell her and what is a boundary violation to a new friendship? OK. 1. Tell her she was right about me being high. Validate reality. 2. Apologize that you lied to her, because you understand that invalidating a trauma survivors reality is extremely wrong. 3. Tell her you are working on it, and promise never to talk to her high again without telling her. 4. Tell her you are working on the problem, that you take it seriously, but it is not completely under control yet. 5. So, with this info if she thinks its not safe to be around me, I perfectly understand. I am see-sawing trying to figure healthy out, and I'm going to even out eventually, I'm just not totally there yet.
If she wants to know what I think about it:
I think I can be a good friend to her. I can watch my boundaries. I will utmostly respect her path to getting better. But I honestly don't know. That's the truth, I don't know what's right.
What I don't need to tell her about: why I do DXM. My personal science experiment with DXM. No talking about the creative sweet spot with her. No talking about dissociation too much with her. I can later, but not today. We don't have enough intimacy yet. We ARE NOT IN THERAPY together. There is a difference, although right now I am having a hard time figuring out what that difference is. She does not need to know every thought that is in your head. You are not lying if you are not telling her every thought in your head. That is not deceit. That is technique. Your insightlfulness can hurt people, including yourself, if wielded at the wrong time, just as if you were carrying around a sword, an epee. Very useful tool, but you can't just slash it around like you've been doing. Which is Ok, you are learning. But really, you seem to have a talent that others either don't have or don't admit to having, and just like if you were an X-men, you have to learn to wield your power correctly. Really, it is just like the laser beam eye guy. Except you have to build your own glasses to control the beam yourself. And you are. Yay. Cool, in this metaphor, L is Dr. X. I'll have to tell her. :)
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
and stealing. that has to be addressed.
maybe not immediately, but it's a topic that needs work.:) do it.
The summit over Bailey
Don t for get this. Bailey needs love, and we maybe think you need to get him back form her.
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
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.
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.I N T E G R A T E
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.
I know why I'm getting high
My talk with Jem has loosened something else. He remembers so much more than I do. It's all real, I believe him, it all fits, but I don't remember it. But its something else as well. It's not just not remembering. Its the perspective. My perspective of how things were was deliberately subconsciously
OK, it's hard to record this, but I just had a dissociative moment, it's like my thoughts became teflon and not able to stick and I grab but it is all confusion. What are we talking about? Perspective.
Body Tremor
OKay, reread what you wrote...........bang it happens again, I can't think. wtf is going on?..................................................................................................................................
It's something about the perspective of being deliberatley evil. That Mom and Jem shared a perspective of being deliberately bad, and she tried to
ow neck ow, searing tendon,
relax, breathe, ok,
what?
OK, no we are going to fucking do this. Neck roll, check. Fuck Mom. What I am having trouble holding on to is the fact that mom ........................................................................dizzy
i dont know how to say it
mom does things that are wrong on prupose and she tried to get jem in on it and that makes me scared and andgry and sick
good. ok. done. break.
OK, it's hard to record this, but I just had a dissociative moment, it's like my thoughts became teflon and not able to stick and I grab but it is all confusion. What are we talking about? Perspective.
Body Tremor
OKay, reread what you wrote...........bang it happens again, I can't think. wtf is going on?..................................................................................................................................
It's something about the perspective of being deliberatley evil. That Mom and Jem shared a perspective of being deliberately bad, and she tried to
ow neck ow, searing tendon,
relax, breathe, ok,
what?
OK, no we are going to fucking do this. Neck roll, check. Fuck Mom. What I am having trouble holding on to is the fact that mom ........................................................................dizzy
i dont know how to say it
mom does things that are wrong on prupose and she tried to get jem in on it and that makes me scared and andgry and sick
good. ok. done. break.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Long Talk with my Bro
My brother and I have been talking for the past coupla months. Which is a big deal. Because of the way our mother manipulated us, we have stayed pretty seperate as adults. So Jem (my bro) has had a helluva month. He basically has had a trauma breakdown. And we talk/have talked a lot lately about our childhood and our mother and her behavior. There is so much I want to say about Jem, but right now, I just need to get down some points that came up in this convo.
1. Mom sat with Jem at a table and said "You have to become a lawyer, it is like a license to steal." This may not seem like a big deal, who cares. But it is huge. Because the mother I know would never say something like that. So our mother talks to us in different ways. Meaning she is manipulating us, and is fully aware of doing so. The Allison/Mother connection would never think "a license to steal" is a good career choice. We are all about nobility and truth and working hard and making money that way. And doing good, and being ethical and trustworthy. So basically, MY MOTHER IS A LIAR, AND QUITE PROBABLY A SOCIOPATH. A PSYCHOPATH, SINCE I NOW KNOW THEY ARE THE SAME THING. Not just a narcissist, a psychopath.
2. I found out about yet another time when my mother did not tell me that Jem was sick and had had a suicide attempt. She has never told me that Jem's problems were that serious, and thus I was never able to support him. I had NO IDEA how bad it was for him. NONE. And I think my Mom deliberately kept the information from me. She never visited Jem in the hospital, never comforted him. Nothing. Angry, anger starting.
3. Jem just found out that 15 or so years ago, when he was in a relationship with a girl I'll call Mary that Mom did some fucked up stuff. Mary sent a letter to Jem that she was pregnant, and Mom got her hands on it and Jem never saw it. Mom then proceeded to attack this young woman (maybe 19) and call her white trash and a gold digger and that she was making it up to get money from Jem. Mom then paid Mary some amount of money to go away and never talk to Jem again. 16 year old Jem had no idea any of this happened, all he knew was his girlfriend went away and never talked to him again. He was heartbroken and depressed and started smoking weed. Which I now understand, probably made mom very happy in her fucked up head. So fast forward to now (a few months ago), and Mary and Jem connect via Facebook. Mary asks Jem, what was that all about with your mother? Jem has no idea what she's talking about. Mary thinks Jem is bsing her, pretending not to know to not take responsiblity, and it takes four or five conversations before the truth becomes clear- the Jem had no idea, and that mom is a monster.
I am very specifically writing these things down so I can take them to my therapist tomorrow. I am so disgusted and angry that I think I am in intellectualization mode and am numb. But actually, it may be just acceptance. My mother is a monster. I am lucky to have survived. I hope Jem survives this breakdown part of the trauma fucking path. I can only suggest to him what I did, which is to cocoon yourself and GO TO THERAPY. He is a different person, so his path will differ. duh. I just want him to know that he is lucky to be alive, and that he should pat himself on the back for surviving not only our childhood, but also the past month of shenanigans he has self-harmed hisself through. (I am fully aware of my atrocious grammar).
OK, now I am going to fucking be dark and angry and usefully vengeful and watch "Men Who Hate Women" Swedish version, with the amazing kick ass Noomi Rapace. GRRRRRRRRRRRR
1. Mom sat with Jem at a table and said "You have to become a lawyer, it is like a license to steal." This may not seem like a big deal, who cares. But it is huge. Because the mother I know would never say something like that. So our mother talks to us in different ways. Meaning she is manipulating us, and is fully aware of doing so. The Allison/Mother connection would never think "a license to steal" is a good career choice. We are all about nobility and truth and working hard and making money that way. And doing good, and being ethical and trustworthy. So basically, MY MOTHER IS A LIAR, AND QUITE PROBABLY A SOCIOPATH. A PSYCHOPATH, SINCE I NOW KNOW THEY ARE THE SAME THING. Not just a narcissist, a psychopath.
2. I found out about yet another time when my mother did not tell me that Jem was sick and had had a suicide attempt. She has never told me that Jem's problems were that serious, and thus I was never able to support him. I had NO IDEA how bad it was for him. NONE. And I think my Mom deliberately kept the information from me. She never visited Jem in the hospital, never comforted him. Nothing. Angry, anger starting.
3. Jem just found out that 15 or so years ago, when he was in a relationship with a girl I'll call Mary that Mom did some fucked up stuff. Mary sent a letter to Jem that she was pregnant, and Mom got her hands on it and Jem never saw it. Mom then proceeded to attack this young woman (maybe 19) and call her white trash and a gold digger and that she was making it up to get money from Jem. Mom then paid Mary some amount of money to go away and never talk to Jem again. 16 year old Jem had no idea any of this happened, all he knew was his girlfriend went away and never talked to him again. He was heartbroken and depressed and started smoking weed. Which I now understand, probably made mom very happy in her fucked up head. So fast forward to now (a few months ago), and Mary and Jem connect via Facebook. Mary asks Jem, what was that all about with your mother? Jem has no idea what she's talking about. Mary thinks Jem is bsing her, pretending not to know to not take responsiblity, and it takes four or five conversations before the truth becomes clear- the Jem had no idea, and that mom is a monster.
I am very specifically writing these things down so I can take them to my therapist tomorrow. I am so disgusted and angry that I think I am in intellectualization mode and am numb. But actually, it may be just acceptance. My mother is a monster. I am lucky to have survived. I hope Jem survives this breakdown part of the trauma fucking path. I can only suggest to him what I did, which is to cocoon yourself and GO TO THERAPY. He is a different person, so his path will differ. duh. I just want him to know that he is lucky to be alive, and that he should pat himself on the back for surviving not only our childhood, but also the past month of shenanigans he has self-harmed hisself through. (I am fully aware of my atrocious grammar).
OK, now I am going to fucking be dark and angry and usefully vengeful and watch "Men Who Hate Women" Swedish version, with the amazing kick ass Noomi Rapace. GRRRRRRRRRRRR
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