Brain’s trying to be my friend in true friend form….

‘Cause this smoke cloud’s giving me shelter
And I feel much better
And demons wave the white flag for me
Still my bones keep pleading to walk out
From all of this fall out
But there’s no way that I could leave
So I don’t leave
Turn my bitterness to sweet
I gotta find a new release, yeah.
So I’m trading blues for green

And so I write!

I have been experiencing a lot of what I call “snapping” in and out of myself in the last few weeks. Snapping just scares the shit out of me. It lasts just a second. I might be in my closet where my sister kept me locked away… or sometimes I’ll see someone in a messed up situation on the street and see myself as them  – there alone – very alone – only I’m 5 or something messed up like that. So they aren’t always situations that I’ve actually been in myself. But the actual “snap” lasts a second. It’s the follow up that lasts forever.

And, it’s not a panic attack. I’m a math teacher. Let me get black and white. It is fear! Shear, immobilizing, fucking fear! My body goes into Lock. Down. I become the little girl I was years and years ago sitting in the middle of my living room frozen in fear for a reason that now, 40 years later, shouldn’t even matter.

My heart beats through my chest. Sitting. Frozen. Tears flowing uncontrollably. Chest heaving. Just sitting there. I literally CANNOT move my limbs. Then there is my brain. My brain never stops. It just goes and goes and goes. It’s obviously moving into repair mode. It starts shoving shit into places to start protecting me from everything that I’m not suppose to remember. It’s like “oops, sorry… messed you up, Friend! Let me just fix that for ya!” It’s wrapping itself up like bandage. HA… This time it’s my best friend. In true friend form… It just fucked me, but now it’s going to fix me. It’s good though because no amount of xanax can help these episodes out.

The “snapping” is definitely coming from me finally clearing out the men in my life. With them gone, there is all this space for me to actually see me. I haven’t been single since I was 22. And when I say that, I don’t mean I’ve been married or with just one, two men. I have been, like my brain, shoving men (lots of them) into my life so I could avoid shit. So, clearing things up has left a scary little nest of abandonment issues in there to see. And, my 3 year little self is not a happy camper – neither are the 4, 5, 6 or 12, 24 or 36 year olds. Mother fuckers are highly uncomfortable!

Lately, life has been a lot like crossing a river – hopping from one small stone to another knowing that missing is NOT A PRETTY OPTION.

I’m sure this is me just dissociating… but I hate throwing terms around that I don’t completely understand. I’m good with “snapping”.

I have been very fortunate with my disease (Says NO ONE EVER!). Seriously though, I have had lows – extreme lows, that have landed me in hospitals for extended stays. But, I have recovered enough to carry on. I have been able to function as a full time teacher for 25 years – granted not 25 years straight… but the Indiana retirement people don’t care about that.

I have experienced these “snapping” episodes. I have heard voices. Politely I have talked back to them. I have seen things that weren’t there as recently as a year ago – damn monkeys! I have hurt myself countless times. I could go on. But I have always been fortunate to recover enough to get back out there.

Inevitably every new doctor will ask me if I am really a teacher… They are polite about it… I don’t think they believe me until they work with me for a while. Therapy Man puffs me up by telling me I’m not that crazy. It’s just a disease… He’s right. It is a mother fucker though!

I’ve just been damn lucky. And, I am grateful for that. I’m sure I will make it through this as well. But, FUCK these scare the SHIT OUT OF ME! It feels like my heart is going to come out of my chest every beat it takes. The eyeballs are going to fall out of my head with the tears as they come rolling out. And, I argue/fight/bitch at God for making me suffer through another one… for whatever reason. And he will again. 😦

I am grateful for what I have in life. That I can get up and go…. because I know how hard it is when I can’t.

Would I be happier without the FEAR of wondering when the next episode or hallucination or voice will come out? You bet your sweet bippy! But I have accepted that those days are never coming.

Do I know what I can do to help “possibly” lessen the chance of it happening? Yep… but, they will still come.

Should I just quit living my life? I mean… not die, but sit home and let everything happen around me or just keep trying to make it happen around me? Fuck it’s sooo hard to do. SEE NEXT QUESTION, PLEASE…

Do I get worn out trying? Hell yeah….. (see last question) It’s sooooo hard to do.

Do I quit? Well………. it’s not in my mixture to do that……… so, no. This is the do I quit for good question. God made me the person who is either too strong to quit (sorry if that offends anyone, but hang on) or, to weak to quit. I haven’t ever been able to truly figure that one out. Either way… I just won’t quit. Nothing about faith or belief. I just won’t.

‘Cause this smoke cloud’s giving me shelter
And I feel much better
And demons wave the white flag for me
Still my bones keep pleading to walk out
From all of this fall out
But there’s no way that I could leave
So I don’t leave
Turn my bitterness to sweet
I gotta find a new release, yeah.
So I’m trading blues for green

Here’s the problem.  I’m afraid of myself!

I’m in Chicago right now waiting for Therapy Man to do his thing. I just officially broke up with Danger Boy this morning. I’m not sure how that will go. I have never done that before. It’s always been him and it has always existed around some sort of shit storm. No shit storm this time (yet). I just got tired of him… um, I  think. Chasing him or whatever game it was we were playing because in the end it was just sex and I was losing regardless… good sex or not.

Ironically,  he got me right where he wanted me to be…. he kept saying, after 3 years of it, that it was just sex and I kept saying it had to be more… finally I agree with him and I’m not interested anymore. He should have just let me do me. Boys are dumb.

How does all of this make me realize that I’m afraid of myself?

It doesn’t.

The rest of my week does. And, the rest of my week is so effing crazy that I’m not entirely sure where to start or even sure if it matters if I do.

I do know that as I begin to remove people from my life I am realizing that all I have left is me…  as I was driving to Chicago it occured to me that I scare the shit out of myself. I’m a goodish person. But, I am crazy as hell. It’s very well documented! I’m not sure I can deal with myself… that is why I let so many awful people in.  Hell, I will let anyone in – case in point.. Danger Boy!

I don’t know.  People do not stay in my life for a reason. If others don’t stay how long am I expected to? I drive others crazy? Are you pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down here people? I am not an easy person to deal with, obviously!

I think you get it… I’m off for therapy. 

and then the Anger will come…

She can sit in this mess.
She can and she has. 

Sitting in the bottom of this fish bowl
as the storm swirls above her

Tears waiting to rush out
Oh, God Damn…

Then the anger will come.
The problems will start… 

The fight unbelievable
Who wins out in the end?

She will name yet another storm
and one more scar to go with it

She wants them to go
Or needs them to go.

And, they will go.
It’s the right thing

Come and go…
Come and go…

Like the waves of the ocean,
Such a beautiful concept really

Such a dangerous adventure
What’s his name this time, beautiful girl?

a little time is best for both of us?.?.?.

“Be my friend, hold me
Wrap me up, unfold me
I am small, and needy
Warm me up and breathe me”
-Breathe Me, Sia

I don’t believe in words.
I don’t believe in feelings.
Not mine. Not yours. Not even his. 

I’m sorry if you have never given me cause… 
I did the best I could. 
I watched. I listened. I even tried.

I studied people to get right.
There is nothing inside of me. 
It’s empty. It’s void. It’s lifeless. 

I believe in one thing – touch. 
It’s more than just a feeling 
I can hear a touch, can believe it 

You walked away other night – said it’d be a few
weeks while you try to figure it all out. I listened and
let you walk. I know I need this time as well. Earlier
in the night, I told you no one has ever been able to
reach me – touch me the way you do. And, while you
didn’t say a word, I “heard” you respond loud and clear.
I’m not sure I can do this “crazy” dance again either, Jason.
But, you came back suddenly when I was at the worst of
my worst. How did you know that? I don’t know that I’ve ever
been at that place before. And you were there… After all of
that time… I have given in at this point. I have little left that I
believe in. But there is one part that I do believe in and that
showed up when I thought I had nothing left…. I think that
scares both of us. So, time is best for both of us. 

Covered In Something Different This Time

Everywhere you touched me you ripped me open
No cutting just raw sex like never before
Blades couldn’t have done what you did
Fear dripping down my body – not blood this time
I needed it. I needed to lay in it and roll in it
I needed to fucking cry it in
And you laid there with me and let me do that

The silence from you – for months
The one night I decide I have had enough
Out of nowhere you come to me
You became my blade
Making it just safe enough for me
Fucking the fear right out of my body

Anyway I look at it it’s self-injury
It was beautiful because it was you
It was deadly for the very same reason
It opened wounds that I’d hoped were closed
And covered me in something different this time

Mornin’

Go on and tear me apart…

Ahhhh…. God what a song….

Go on… if you are having one of those days… just go on… have it! Thanks Ed.  No really!

Creative self-injury. …

Oh… this dog! God, I love ‘er! She’s alittle goopy eyed in this pic, but she’s a basset hound…

[Possible need for a trigger warning… I do talk about some self injury. I don’t normally post trigger warnings but I’m going to this time.]

Alone time. It’s my best friend and worst enemy. I find my greatest peace and deepest pain when I’m alone. I crave alone time… I think  that I might crave both happiness and pain equally. I have stopped self injurying because I will lose both my boyfriend and my therapist. I have been warned – not to mention the threat of hospitalization. I stopped out right cutting.

It doesn’t mean I don’t think of other ways to do it that people might not recognize. I am a creative person – in my head at least.  I try to keep it in my head and I think I have functioned on the “outside” for as long as I have because I have remained creative only in my head – for the most part… I creatively broke things off with Danger Boy last Fall. I didn’t have the nerve or whatever normal people have to do it the right way. But then, there was nothing right about that situation to begin with.

Last night, my real boyfriend decided to fish until the wee hours of the morning. Yeah, seriously until 6 am. And, I,  in all of my creative glory, decided I should get back at him because I was pissed. Or, maybe I was just pissed in general and in all of my borderline impulse glory instead, just wanted to hurt myself…. so, I concocted a whole story in my head. Why the hell not? I couldn’t sleep! I was gonna “hurt” myself badly enough that I’d need to go the ER, get stitches all the while making him think that I was untangling the dog when she got spooked, tripped me up…. hit my head…. he wasn’t home… wouldn’t he feel like shit… yada, yada, yada….

WHAT THE HELL???? that’s about the time Paisley, the real dog, not the one in my fucked up story in my fucked up head, jumped on me…

WAKE UP MAMA!!! I WOULD LIKE TO PEE 🙂

Uh huh…. for fuck sake what the hell actually happens in my head? Because I can VERY, VERY clearly sit here and see that THAT is beyond messed up… and yet,  I fully bought into it 8 hours ago. Fully. Bought. In!!!

Thank God for that dog… smh… I don’t understand it. I won’t, I suppose. Just moving on… day at a time… me and my dog.

Alice in Crazyland

Yelling
Kicking
Scratching
Pulling
Trying to get out…

It’s been a helluva day. And that was only 30 seconds ago.
All of it taking place in the very front of my brain. I can feel it there. Anyone ever experience that? Hmmmm. So weird.

Ya see, we are in Chitown… therapy time. Therapy Man is next door and we are waiting for our turn. I always think I have the sessions figured out. What is going to take place.. what’s gonna be talked about.. and fuck if none of it happens and I end up talking about God knows what. No Control! I HATE not being in control.

Not certain who “we” are. All the stories and me? Maybe? The stories that have been surfacing now that the distractions are out of the way? Fucking distractions! I knew this was going to happen. As much as I can’t deal with the stories, I can’t seem to give into them either. That’s a shocker.

It’s sorta “shit or get off the pot time”. If I can only hold on through the tilt-a-whirl ride this time. I might make it. That ride is a real fucker! Loved it as a kid.. but, again, that’s my problem! NOT A 12 YEAR OLD anymore. I can’t keep hiding and the mess that was my life isn’t going away. Ignoring it isn’t working. I’m going to have to go head on at it.

Still the same shit… different day. Had slowed down my writing for a bit. Had felt as though I was being judged… that’s never a good thing when you are only writing for yourself. Yeah, yeah… we are all going through our thing here. I get that. I came back around though and realized that and decided that I didnt care – hurt or not. Little Ms. Emotional Louise…. obviously hurt….

So, same shit or not… I’m bringin it. I gotta get through it and this has been my method since I can remember. ….whether I spell correctly… use poor grammar…. or punctuate the shit out of a sentence with a thousand periods……….. I’m bringing it. Thank you, though, for letting me know I am not a writer. I appreciate the concern. Ewww, sorry for the shittiness. Sometimes I just can’t let things go. That goes with the whole growing up issue that I’m currently working on. PROMISE.

Ok, with that said. Therapy Man awaits. It would appear, just in time.

Moving on… through Crazyland. Wow!

Inner Critics

I have several posts in the back of my mind… I’m currently dealing with 50 things… ok 47,  but I rounded.  This is one issue. I am hard on myself. ★ UNDERSTATEMENT ★ I suppose all the therapy points to something. Yes, yes Jami, it does. However, its fun being stubborn and in constant psychological pain so I prefer to stay like this… ha, no. I’m stubborn, but hate the pain.

Whatever it points to “it” has definitely created a giant asshole for me for sure.  

Moving on….