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  • Aug 07, 13

    "Also, do you ever feel like you are the only one that has the problems you do and that no one in the world can understand what you go through? Although intellectually I understand this to be false – I know other people experience many of the same things I do – it still doesn’t feel that way sometimes. Sometimes I feel like I’m living on my own little remote island, and sending messages to the mainland using Morse code, or something like that. Connected to the world in some minuscule way, but not really."

    • For the first time in years I am seriously considering writing the sequel to my book Becoming One! So much has happened in my inner world since it was published in 1997. I have much more to say about dissociation, dissociative identity disorder, and the therapy process. I’ve evolved in many ways. Book Two has waited patiently for me to reach a point where I feel I can do it justice.
    • I’m excited about having so many new writing project ideas! It’s sooo overdue. Once the mental health resources are presentable, I’ll be back to let you know what I plan to do with them. It’s a new journey, and I’m hoping you’ll come along with me!

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    • Letty did not want to leave my friend’s house today. It broke her heart to leave as we had been there all weekend. She cried in the car for much of the way home. It was a long two and a half hours home. It’s still disconcerting to have the awareness that there is a part of me that was upset with leaving, and another part that was very calm about it.
    • I know I should write more, think more about why Letty gets upset when she anticipates being alone. But my brain just shuts down when I contemplate this, and when I start to write my brain goes blank as well.

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    • As we depressed people heal, the need for medications like antidepressants and/or anti-anxiety may become unnecessary or may be reduced. This article is about Pfizer's Pristiq and the issues that have arisen with my weaning off of it.
    • Others have experienced more side effects. Several forums exist online if you just google "Pristiq withdrawal". The Mayo Clinic has a discussion forum and there is one called Surviving Antidepressants.

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    • I’m still figuring out how to be a good blogger and do the D.I.D management thing. Is it just me or do they come out more in type. I mean, they come out in my handwriting for sure but…I don’t seem to get as distracted I don’t think. I can’t click away the page anyway. I tend to come up with things when I’m not at a computer too.  I think I need to get better at keeping my daily issues recorded for myself so… I think it’s time for a new journal. Ha, I think I just want a new journal, I always want new journals.
    • Man, roughly 6 years of my PTSD & D.I.D. diagnosis then too. I switched my living situation, I changed therapists a couple times, I’ve had one of my “worst”/abusive insiders do a complete 180 and he’s now learning to be a good helper part, I’ve learned a lot of symptom management, I’ve learned I can survive if I am in the same space with old abusers, I’ve learned how to set boundaries and stick to them, I’ve learned EMDR is hard but soooo worth it, I’ve learned how to trust friends, I’ve learned to trust and forgive myself, I’ve learned there is someone out there that will love me back even if I’m a little bruised up from my past, I’ve learned that yes I was affected by things that happened to me as a baby even if I don’t have the same kind of memory of those events as I have memory of things that happened when I was verbal, I’ve learned how I can stop self-injuring, I’ve learned I am DEFINITELY NOT CRAZY
    • Out of the blue

       

      Now we’re afraid. Afraid to call our shrink, lest she admit us to the psych ward. We’re afraid to talk to our family. We’re afraid to talk to our friends. We are just afraid of it all at this point. Life.

       

      Life. Is. Scary.

    • Husband says that we told him we wanted to die.  He said we begged him to kill us.  We screamed, “Just shoot us in the fucking head!” and collapsed onto the bed in a crumpled mess of tears and mucus and blood from where we’d scratched ourselves.  This is the first time that I can remember us voicing suicidal thoughts since our last severe breakdown, which occurred after our father died, years ago.

       

      This wasn’t the first time we’d had suicidal thoughts; it was just the first time we’d spoken of them aloud to anyone other than our shrink.

       

      That can’t be good.

    • ear Mom;

       

      If you read my blog as the daughter YOU were, instead of as the mother you ARE, can you honestly tell me that you would not completely relate to what I am saying? If I wasn’t YOUR daughter, (if I was your next door neighbor), I know you would be a fan. 

    • I have found so much freedom in realizing that I don’t have to explain or justify my decision to draw boundaries with my parents or with anyone else, to anyone. I don’t have to help people ‘understand it’. I don’t have to defend myself or prove myself.

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    • I have found so much freedom in realizing that I don’t have to explain or justify my decision to draw boundaries with my parents or with anyone else, to anyone. I don’t have to help people ‘understand it’. I don’t have to defend myself or prove myself.
    • The people that have a need to stick up for the dysfunctional family system are the ones that have judged me the hardest. The hate mail I get always leaks the truth about the writers own abusive childhood and the need to defend their own parents. These comments/emails contain statements such as “my parents beat me but I deserved it”. Sometimes I get a huge paragraph describing the offences that they endured at the hands of mean hateful parents and the final sentence is “but I know my parents loved me”. (I want to ask “HOW do you know that they loved you?”)

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    • I disappear under the collapse of the padded walls in which I am mentally locked. I seem to have spectacularly careened off the solid road of recovery and engaged in behaviors that have sent me back to being someone emotionally unstable. Barely making it, I am now suffocating with the awareness of all the frivolous attempts at a sane life I've perpetrated, like so many lies spilling from my unselective mouth.
    • When I try to complete them, I go completely blank. I have no answers. I can't even come close to anything resembling an idea. If I can't recall basic memories and details of childhood, how can I write a whole book dedicated to the most poignant moments of my life.  
       
       
       
       
       And I hate to fail at this, too. Writing this memoir is supposed to be symbolic of making it through hell and living to tell about it, and hopefully someone reading it down the road can say, “I wasn't alone”. I don't want to give up, but is the struggle worth it? Do I even want the memories and feelings I need to write this book?
       
       
       
       
       This whole scenario, front and back, inside and out, is derailing me.  
       
    • My earliest conscious memories regarding my name was of never being allowed to go by a nickname…even to the extent that I was threatened to be in trouble if my mother ever heard someone call me anything other than my full first name. Others did not understand this, nor did I. But it was my reality and the reason for it was more serious than I knew.
    • I decided that I wanted to become the woman God created me to be rather than the woman I was pressed into being. All my life I was always being what everyone else wanted, but what did “I” want? What did “I” like? And even more importantly, what did God create me to be? So, I set out on a journey of exploration. I wanted to find out who “I” really was/am. And what a journey it was!

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    • There are many difficult situations swirling around my existence.  One in particular that I have tried to allow myself to feel is the loss of my twin on our fourth birthday. I keep hearing a melody… I keep sitting down at my keyboard trying to find the notes and chords to play.  The words come a bit and I record what I can… the tears become so flooded in my soul that my heart feels like it’s going to shatter.
    • I’ve decided to password protect most of our posts.  If you would like to have the password you can comment to this post here with your Email address and we will be sure to get you the password.  I will make sure your Email will not be posted for others to see.

       

      Thanks for all the support!

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      • Thankfully, I no longer feel like I am teetering. Yay! :) Potential contributors to the wobble were as follows:

         
           
        1. Promotion
        2.  
        3. Dissertation
        4.  
        5. Hearing
        6.  
        7. Medication
    • The final thing I wrote about in my previous post was about meeting up with a chap from t’internetz. We met at 8pm and were chucked out of the cafe at midnight. We have quite a bit in common and regardless of whether this turns into anything, I reckon I’ll have made a good friend.

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    • A month or so ago (?), I said to myself/my brain, “Look, I want to remember.  I want to process this stuff and move on with my life.”  I asked whatever part of me is blocking to step aside.

       

      I have already written about this, but I expected something like movie reel memories.  I knew they would be difficult, but I guess I thought it would be sort of like watching them on a screen.  There would be feelings involved, of course (ew, yuck, not FEEEEEEEEELINGS), and they would be painful, but hey, at least I’d know what was going on.  I’d have my neat, tidy memories and I’d figure out how to unwrap them, process them, and then let them go.

       

      Oh, how naive!  

    • I am physically miserable all night long, and it’s a combination of anxiety and things that I can connect to abuse, even if I can’t connect them to specific memories.  It is awful.

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    • My marriage is over, it may never have been a legal marriage but it was a marriage to me in my heart. After almost 7 years I left…perhaps that doesnt make any sense after struggling for the last 2 years to fix the damage we both did but its what I had to do.
    • I did an insane amount of soul searching, I looked at who I was before the relationship, before the affair, now, and who I want to be. I looked at who he had been and who he is now, I realized everything that had made us who we were together was gone. More over when I tried to get it back he blatantly wanted nothing but to keep on where he was going.
    • Sometimes we have "episodes"...that's what we call blank spaces is what has currently/recently transpired.
       
       Last night we had one. It's been awhile.
    • Thank goodness midterms mean we're half done with classes. That class, anyway. Science gurus, we are not. Not one single one of us.
       I'm too old for most of this shit. Mid-December can't come soon enough.

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    • But then I realized “it’s ok”.  It wasn’t just the fact I was in a marital arts studio where people “should be on the right side of the law”.  However, it was many different things like knowing there are windows floor to ceiling, security cameras everywhere, it’s a place of business and just my interactions with the majority of them (a few I don’t know well).
    • Funny thing is, the other day while in the main class I’ve taken, the instructor was giving us tests.  He asked us to close our eyes.  I knew I was safe, had no doubt.  However, the simple act of closing my eyes, wow.  I could HEAR a fly flapping it’s wings!  No, not literally, but the instructor approached me and I knew he was there before he said anything.  It was hard to keep my eyes closed, but I did do it.  I was safe, but maybe because I was lacking a sense that I depend on heavily was taken.

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    • I was recently nominated (twice) for something called the Liebster Award. No, not lobster. Liebster. The award-nominating blog-o-sphere claims liebster is a German word meaning favorite, most beloved, lovely, kind, pleasant and valued.
    • Upon doing a bit of online detecting, I learned that this award was, perhaps, created to encourage blogging and new bloggers. It seems no one really knows the award’s origins, which is kind of fun. It’s part recognition and part blog challenge. As far as anyone can tell, the nomination is itself the award – you simply copy and post the Liebster Award image.

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    • I’m totally freaking out because I’m having surgery on Friday, and I have no one to freak out to.
    • The doctor who finally said yes was my last hope, and I went in fully expecting to be told no again, because I’m still in my thirties. When he said yes I cried, something I never do.

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    • Anyway, lately I have been getting quite a few e-mails from people coming out of the churches who have been pretty burned and are very disillusioned  They are waking up to the fact that main-line religion is all a scam and is mostly programming mind control. Not just Christianity, I believe all religions are infected on this planet. I really believe religion was created to put humans in bondage and to control them. I do not think the Creator ever intended that in any way. Jesus Christ never taught that while he was here either. If you believe the gospels, Jesus never taught anything about religious practices. He was about loving the Creator with all our minds, body's and soul's and to love one another. We are to care for widows and orphan's and those in need and by doing that we were honoring the Creator.
    • Christ never taught about building funds, mandatory church attendance and giving all your money to the 'Ministry'. He said to follow Him and you did that by forgiving others their trespasses, asking for forgiveness for our own sins, loving others as Christ loved us and basically living out our lives as a living example of His love for us all.

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