More on which me am I today.

More on which me am I today.

This me feels optimistic. Unfettered. Had to google unfettered to make sure it was the right word. Easy going. Not immediately fearful of anything. feels like today will go okay even though my son was awake until after 4am and is actually still asleep now, meaning getting him to bed at an earlier hour tonight won’t be easy. It’s just time. It ain’t no thing. This me just said ain’t, but refused to say thang.

This me doesn’t care that I have an overdraft because it will be covered tomorrow when I get paid. It isn’t anything I can fix, anyway. It will all be okay. Optimism. Time is just time. Money is just money. I can only do what I can do. Easy going. Bad with vocabulary. Not as blunt as some of the others.

This is not an unhappy or scared me.

Anyone have anything to add based on me today? I don’t think this is green or blue.

Abbreviations.

Abbreviations.

PTSD. PMDD. DID. I follow the FODMAP suggestions for eating. My son Has ASD. My ex-husband has ADD. I have been to AA. I like to watch OITNB, SYTYCD, and DWTS. Of course, not ALL of those are psychological disorders. But two of them are. Some may argue that watching DWTS may count, but I LIKE DANCING! Anyway, two of them are.

To me, that I have an abbreviation that means something that isn’t a great thing to have, at all, I am infinitely grateful that I know that I have them. I find comfort in knowing that I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. It explains why Loud sounds freak me the fuck out. Why I am beyond hyper-vigilant. Why I suffer with flashbacks. Why my fight or flight response has a hair-trigger. And why my life has triggers, both hair- and regular. I am not PTSD. But I have PTSD. And I cannot separate myself from that. I wouldn’t mind identifying myself to strangers with it, like when I tell people Rob has autism. I would do that. I am not ashamed. I would prefer I didn’t have it, but I do. So, I do everything I can to make my life with it easier. I have read all about it. I have talked with my therapist about it. I do EMDR to alleviate the symptoms. EMDR, another abbreviation!

I am now facing the DID. Most of mes are okay with this. It acknowledges the superiority of my brain, for one. I mean, really, do any of you have to remember what forty six of you may do over time? Or in a day, or however often however many of us do things? I go into rooms and forget why like the rest of you. But I have to cycle through dozens of people to even have a shot at remembering what one of us wanted. Ha. Top that. Honestly, though, I do respect my brain. I respect its ability to survive and attempt to thrive. Compartmentalization isn’t easy. And my system still works. Sure, it will be awesome when some of integrate and combine our brilliant forces. That will be a dandy day, indeed. But even if I am exactly right here forever (which I won’t be, just saying to make a point), my life is still pretty good. I can live with this. I can live with this because I am understanding it.

Reading about DID is painful. So controversial. It’s pretend. It’s suggested by therapists. It doesn’t exist. Whatever. I know it exists. I have it. I don’t know why it scares people, doctors, scientists, whomever, so much that they say it doesn’t exist. And I really don’t care. But, well, kind of I do. I do because that is what makes this seem like such a freaky fucking thing to have. A scary thing. Saying I have it might make people take two steps back and then turn and run away. Only freaks have this.

I actually feel fairly secure in my ability to not seem like a freak. I can totally pull that off.

Yesterday, when I was alone for the first time since discovering my DID, I did have a lot of fear about it. It was one of my parts that fears everything, though. And maybe a few other parts. Largely, most of us are completely fine. I think the scared parts are parts that formed through other people. Like a mirror image. I read that some parts are introjects of the abusers or other family members. So, those fearful of being discovered to not be normal parts probably come from my mother. The little mes who are scared are scared of real things. Not what other people think of us. Most of us don’t give a fuck what other people think of us. What they think isn’t real. And it could NEVER be more important than what we think.

I have always just wanted to be a person. I have never felt like a person. I am happy to have learned that that is because I am not a person. I am people. I love an explanation. An explanation makes me feel happy and satisfied and full of hope and promise. If there is a definable reason, then I am fine. Because I can change and grow. I can find what works. I can make it better. I can help others understand it. I can cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two. I swear, for me the knowing is everything. I do not fear knowing. I fear not knowing, perhaps. But never knowing. The world is open to me because I know. I will only improve and feel better and do better. Knowing is everything.

I feel like this was written by the one of me that isn’t good with words. I can feel it when I try to write. I had to google some simple things. I hope it isn’t too awkward to read. I am not at all saying I am a bad writer or thinker. I am saying this particular me isn’t great. This is in no way an insult to any of myselves. Just trying to figure out who is up today.

Alone Again Or

Alone Again Or

Been avoiding being alone the past couple of days, here. Well, just yesterday. I am alone right now.

Last night, after Rob left, I asked my mom to go a few places with me. I sensed being alone wouldn’t be a good idea. Not yesterday. I don’t have enough information and skills for coping, understanding, and proactively guiding my feelings and thoughts about this. I did get a small demonstration on self-hypnosis. But I didn’t have the wherewithal to do that.

So, my mom and I had a really good time last night. But I eventually had to come here to my apartment and face myselves. Panic. Instant. Oh, God, it is unacceptable to walk around like this. This crazy. How can I be this crazy and walk around the world? No one will like me now. They will think I am far too crazy to deal with considering. This is too much. Heh, obviously. It is so too much I have created an entire system of perspectivettes to deal with every aspect of my life.

But that’s what calms me down. Even when I am alone, I am not alone. I do have help. Inside of me. All highly skilled in their areas.

However, last night, and I think a few times lately, when I am alone, the littles feel safe enough to come out, bringing their deep, raw emotions. And to the me me that is currently running things, those emotions are not coming from present-day reality. They come from so far down, so far back. I think I could just comfort the little who is freaking the fuck out and maybe that would help. It has helped before. Not a lot. But some.

Do I let the feelings out and feel them? I don’t think that is the answer. Those sad-as-humanly-possible emotions have no end. Not without therapy. I worry diving into that abyss will cost me more. More of mes will be in peril.

Do I distract myself for now? Until I have a better idea what to do?

Sitting alone here on the verge of one hundred things isn’t the answer. It’s not so bad. No abysmal sadness, no outward freaking out. Just some anxiety. Just some immobility. Just more feeling like I am wasting my life.

I know the key is, for now and forever, is balance.

The fear is growing old. I am tired of the fear. I miss the fun and the laughing.

And stuff. I don’t know. I am going to go spray paint something and spackle something else. Things to do. The things to feel will have to wait. Not all of these pots are going to be winners.

Note to selves:

Note to selves:

Things you are thinking about tonight, typed up for when you forget:

1. Look for an AAC app for Rob. We could get one of those durable iPad cases with the strap and he could take iPad out into the world and type things to the kids he longs to talk to. We all assumed he can talk enough and he didn’t need AAC, and while that is largely true at home and at school, it is not true at a playground. And your heart will totally shatter watching him stand near the kids, watching them, and not being able to play with the.

Sure, it would be nice if just one fucking regular kid would try to play with him, but that just isn’t going to happen.

2. Try the Visu-clock again. Rob needs to have a grasp on this time thing. Tonight’s complete and total loss of control, going berserk meltdown cannot happen again. It’s a wonder you both weren’t hurt badly. The lad just doesn’t understand 2:30 in the morning. And if that clock turns out to be stupid again, find something else, some other way.

3. Like I told you in the kitchen, you were extraordinary tonight. You handled Rob’s situation so well. Don’t ever forget how, once you got him to stop biting himself and throwing his body through the air, he looked at you and said, I love you, mom. And then, thank you. You just couldn’t take him for the drive at 2:30. The resulting horror was what it was. I get why you usually just take him regardless of the hour.You knew what happened tonight would happen. But you just could not go driving at 2:30. You weren’t awake enough, it really was just too late. And that is okay. Among other things, you are human. And you were brilliant tonight. You helped him, you told him he was safe, that you were taking care of him, that he is precious, that you love him more than everything, and that you will always keep him safe and take care of him. And he thanked you. He actually thanked you. It was a miracle. You were a miracle. Extraordinary work. So much love. So difficult. But you got you both through it. You did.

4. Thanks to all for not cutting our hair. We are doing a great job with that. And thanks for not coloring it so dark any more. Good stuff.

5. You were really interested in the fact that your right leg muscles hurt from running last night but your left leg doesn’t hurt at all. Even though that makes complete sense because of the scootering’s unevenness in leg output, it was still really interesting to you.

6. Buy some spackle.

7. Tomorrow morning, try to feel like a person earlier in the day. Drink coffee faster. You have really been slacking on the caffeine consumption. Heh. Yes, I know that was a goal. But come on. Get moving, get the boy to Flub’s and on an elevator, maybe scooter if he will (we hope!), start the drive as early as you possibly can. I know how hard it is to keep him on track for an entire day. How very Groundhog Day it is. But try.

8. Maybe leave a clue for us when you hide the Ativan from your mom. You are such an awesome hider of things that we often cannot find it.

9. You did a really good job with the positive talking tonight. You comforted us, you praised whomever handled everything. It was beautiful. The self-soothing and praise will help us all. You are the only one we always believe.

10. In the meantime, and in case an AAC app is too expensive, try walking Rob through playing with kids again. I know he loudly insists you leave him alone, but do something. I mean, I know you do. You talk to the kids and tell them Rob’s name. You explain to any nearby parents in hopes one of them would somehow know they are supposed to talk to their kids about playing with special needs kids. They never do, or none have yet. But it could happen.

11. Figure out how to make sure Rob understand not to rub his penis on playground equipment. That doesn’t help matters.

12. Save money next pay period for Crest Whitestrips.

13. You are handling this recent possible diagnosis well. Allow it to simply guide you. You are the sum of your parts.

I would like it.

I would like it.

I would like to hear from you if there have been times where I have seemed strange (or even bizarre). Or if I ever seemed to speak differently in tone or vocabulary or whatever. And in the future, too. Or present. Any of the times.

But if you have anything that sticks out for you, please, do tell.

Post Therapy Glow

Post Therapy Glow

Back from therapy and feeling very soft and light and happy and relaxed. Hypnotherapy is just the best. I learned how to do self-hypnosis, and with that I feel I will be able to improve my daily life. And the planet. And you. I like this Me. I feel just good. And being relaxed is such a gift. Such a gift. I don’t even feel like swearing. I believe Pink is in the group with Dark Blue. The clique that runs things. But she isn’t in charge much lately because she isn’t stern and she does not want to be bombarded with other people’s crap. She floats above it. On a sparkle cloud.

Case in point. My mother just walked in from work and destroyed my safe, pink, happy place in about a minute. Complaining. Her Big Brother feeds are fucked up. The garbage can cabinet won’t close. Did I pick up my meds from Kroger because they called two days ago. Fuck. She is an awful human who deserves unhappiness because she never, ever tries for better.

Okay, whew. Muscles relaxed enough still to feel the cloud under me. Around me.

Motherfucking bullshit crap. Now she is installing a Real Player update for no reason and it asked her to do something to get 2%. That doesn’t even make any goddamned sense. She doesn’t use Real Player. 2% of what? Fucking dumbass.

Who bought the pineapple?

Who bought the pineapple?

pineappleSeriously, ‘fess up. Yeah, yeah, it’s perfect and I love it. And I am glad it was $15 with free shipping. I am mostly just curious. It will be here Friday. We all really like white ceramic objets. I am glad our tastes are similar.

I do wish whomever just hangs stuff on the wall without measuring or thinking first would cut it out, though. Now I have to add a piece of plywood or something to center that ceiling medallion over the bed. Or buy/find something to hang next to it. It looks totally good there, and I am glad it is on a stud, but It should be centered. Maybe we can get an oblong ceiling medallion to hang next to it. Or some old tin ceiling tiles? Oh! Or a moulding shelf and we can put the pineapple on it. Heh.

I guess this personas or DID thing explains why i (we) are constantly rearranging things every time we are there. Anyone know how those mirrors under the paper Ikea lamp got so misaligned? And if misaligned is a word? And if it is a word, is it the right word here?

I wish one of us liked to shower.

I am also glad we all stopped chopping off my hair. I appreciate that. We have become very, very good at self-haircuts, though. I like that about us. We have no fear about hair.