On the personal

The Hostage

“The Hostage” was originally posted 1-1-2013 A poem regarding a night of anxiety in my head with Dissociative Identity Disorder. ________________________________________________________________________ The Hostage Slowly the evening falls upon me. The possibility of peace is shattered into a fairy tale as the night struggles and collapses into the blackest hole. With her naked eye the moon stalks me into hiding. No light is spared. I hear the footsteps of my thoughts scatter inside my mind, running rampant, tunneling through the darkness until I’m found crouched in fear. A tightly woven web of chaos is assembled around me. Motionless, I sit under the glare of tyranny. With unbridled abandon they advance upon me: …

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LIVING A MYSTERY

Maybelline snuggling up with my bear on a road trip.   Worth Wondering. WHO’S ON FIRST? So my session with Therapist was interesting yesterday.  At one point he mentioned an alter, Tina, but she was already and participating in the session, but he didn’t know it.  And I’m like, “Dude, don’t you know after all these years who you talkin’ to?”  Made me lose confidence that he really knows who we are and aren’t.  Does he not know us by now?  You can’t tell I’m in the room?  I HATE being talked about in 3rd person. JOB TALK We discussed things …

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GETTING BETTER: THE CONUDRUM

Maybelline learning to solve a puzzle for her treats. Pieces Taken from Wednesday’s Journal Entry Guess I’ve occupied myself well enough today.  Most of the depression lingering in my soul is dissipating.  Did some cleaning today and cooking.  Breaded pork loin chops, sauteed cabbage, and mashed potatoes were made.  Wasn’t too bad.  Better than the pigs in a blanket I failed at making yesterday.   I’m listening to the same song on repeat called “Good Enough” by Sarah McLachlan, and she has two lines in it that hit me right in the heart.  She sings, “And I don’t understand; you …

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THE COUP: ILLEGAL SEIZURE OF POWER

Maybelline sound asleep.  She loves her crate.  Makes her feel safe and secure. I don’t know if I can write this post.  I feel extremely dissociative at this very moment despite taking my medication. I don’t know why it’s important to write this, but last night’s experience was so bizarre, disruptive, and disturbing that I need to make sense of it.   Last night wreaked havoc on me, and I’m not sure I can adequately give voice to it.   I think something was triggered in our session with Therapist yesterday.  We came home, journaled, and then went to our …

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ARE YOU SAFE?

Trigger Warning YOU ARE NOT SAFE, NOT EVEN CLOSE. I am quite uneasy; be still my nerves.  An unknown nagging feeling keeps jabbing at the back of my mind, worrying me, filling me with concern and disrupting my thoughts.   I am supposed to write something for Therapist, but I don’t know if I have an accurate topic.  Something about finding a reason to give up cutting and restricting.   I suppose this is in response to the fact that I’ve been cutting and joined a weight loss program that I am taking a little too far. So I guess …

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Home of the Not-So Brave

It’s been two weeks since I’ve written.  In that time I’ve lost a dear father-in-law to death, moved from a nice home to a cramped, crappy apartment, had an exhausting moving sale where all I did was fight with Birth Mother, and have barely escaped foreclosure on my home.  I’ve had enough. In the meantime I’ve discovered I’ve been doing it all wrong.  Dissociation and my approach to it. If there really is dissociation, and I still deny it, I won’t ever heal.  I don’t know how to handle insider people or if I even want to acknowledge them.  Just …

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Protecting the Protector

I want to write, and I want to call out Sheila to discuss without emotion and bias what is happening regarding Tina, particularly and her denial of D.I.D. I’ll address my surmise of how Tina feels currently.  She wants to push the agenda that there is no dissociation because she feels out of the loop.  When was the last time she really had to defend and protect us?  Okay.  Besides the handshake incident.  Other than that, not too recently. I predict her services will be needed again, but she’s not used to being in the silent role.  She’s used to …

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Conversations with my imagination

Saw Therapist again.  It was another wasted session where I refuted that I dissociate or have the diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder.  To complicate matters more for me, he never came out and said, “Yes, you do have D.I.D.” which gives me cause for hope and despair.  If we don’t have D.I.D., then what is wrong with me?  I had a happy childhood.  Most of my memories growing up are good, though there are always some you wish you could leave behind and forget.  So now we are floating all adrift, don’t know where we’re going, how to get there, …

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Whispers Heard as Screams

I’m going on record declaring this complete bull shit. —————————————————————————————– I don’t know what to say really.  I don’t know what to feel either. Maybe I am really okay, and it didn’t hurt as badly as it seems.  Or, maybe I’m covering up the greatest pain we’ve ever known throughout the gift of numbness. I’m sure I am being dramatic.  It’s true; I’m not crying.  No, I’m not overly anxious.  Surely there is nothing wrong. I mean, what damage has been done?  Maybe the lack of feelings are because the damage is more intellectual, more cerebral.  Emotionally it’s no big …

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Boom!

It’s not that easy.  It’s not that easy.  It’s not that easy. I will not make it this time.  I am burrowing a hole for myself, digging my own grave.  Only this time, people in my professional life are handing me the shovel and watching me sink.  I’ve discovered my problem . . . at least one of them.  I hate myself.  Sounds simple, doesn’t it?  I should just stop it then, shouldn’t I?  I should stop hating myself. It’s not that easy. The roots of my hatred extend beyond time, and no amount of remediation will allow me to …

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