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ARE YOU READY FOR THE BIG CHANGES?!!

Maybelline loves this heated plush throw I bought, and she has been hunkered down in my arms to share it with me. Winds of Change I’ve decided to make some changes to the blog.  First off, every Monday will be considered “Music Monday”, and I will give three songs that I feel have some commentary on recovery.  I will draw from all types of music, country, rap, R & B, pop; nothing is off limits.  I will also add why I chose that song and why it’s relavant to my recovery at that time.  It’s my hope that you will …

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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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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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Great Unrealistic Expectations

My dog Maybelline is stressing me.  She wants to go on a walk, and I just don’t have it in me to get off this couch, which makes me feel like a terrible pet partner. Taken from today’s journal: Been a busy day.  Service, errands, back pain.  The works.  I wish I could take a muscle relaxer right now, but I’m supposed to take Mabes for walk, and I can’t do that if I’m asleep. Times and days are running together.  I find no support anywhere.  I was doing fine until Husband came home.  I was busy packing for our …

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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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A Gluttonous Hijacking of Words

I want to talk. I really, really do.  But it’s just too late.   Games are all I can do, and I’ve been messing with you.  At least I’m honest. What a shame for me to annihilate chances to get help and for you to get so close to the truth and have it disappear in your hand like a puff of unicorn dust.  I don’t always enjoy doing it, but we all have a call.  I supposed you could say this is mine.  And yours?  I haven’t decided yet. I do know this.  When I tell you the truth, …

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I don’t feel well.  I have been dissociative, spacey, and dizzy all evening.  There’s a sense of urgency to write, and I can’t escape it.  I must, I must, I must eject what’s in this crazy, demanding  head. I was anxious this morning, but I knew I would be taking my dog Maybelline for a walk and that would help dissipate some anxiety, and it did.  After our walk, my anxiety lessened until this evening. But this evening the anxiety shot back up, and the dissociation made it impossible to think and speak clearly.  I’ve had some things on my …

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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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Not As We

Nobody lives here anymore. Poke and stir the ashes of yesterday’s consumption, you will not find me . . . and they have been missing for a while. There were signs it was happening. My soul became painfully still and quiet. I couldn’t locate myself in the expanding vacuum. I fell . . . lost with no identity, no way to get home. Voices often went missing in silence. Regardless of frantic searches, they were never recovered. Without their presence, I was perpetually absent. I did not realize how much I needed them until they were gone, and my fading …

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Metaphor

I am a proofread, amended manuscript. An altered copy of the undesirable original where history was unnecessarily edited: Delete this. Add that. I was broken down into parts, each line, each word, each letter declared this blue-eyed literary initiative all wrong. The authors claimed I was filled with mistakes: disconnected, superfluous, unstructured, fragmented. Each page was rewritten until I was nothing but a collection of multiple revisions, decidedly unfit for publication. But authors don’t write stories. Stories write stories. I am my own story, my own unfinished truth, my own work in progress, my own creative effort. And in the …

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