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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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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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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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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I AM the Old Struggle

This weekend was an exercise in futility.  Still reeling from the session with Therapist written about  here,  I unsuccessfully navigated a weekend that was filled with meaning and importance for me, and I failed. I keep going over it in my mind, twisting it, turning it, unknotting it, what was said by Therapist  and I’m starting to feel angry about the session. I don’t know. I don’t know.  I don’t know. I. don’t. know. My guard is up.  My mind is closed clam shut. I reverted back to whom I don’t want to be. Fuck all that. These words are …

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Deja Vu Times Two

I wrote the piece below in April of 1995.  I am posting it today because it still defines my existence.  The writing is about how it is so hard to be hopeful because there is always something to strip me of that comfort. I concede today I choose to live my days clouded with negativity, but Therapist does not understand why I refuse to give in to the fallacy of hope and positive thinking.  I’ve been in places before where I felt hopeful, optimistic, and encouraged, but I am ALWAYS, sooner or later, brought back to where I was born: …

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Postmortem Revival

She has returned . . . a former, archaic version of myself that I had ignorantly believed I would never need again. Her revival has not been so subtle, and she has reprised her role as the destructor of my life, the tamer of hope, and the inventor of all necessity to be alone. She brings with her every negative thought she has collected over this life, constantly reminding me of my baseness and worthlessness. And I, needing her to get me through every elongated second, believe every nasty comment she purports about me. Because God knows every time I’ve …

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God, grant me serenity to accept the things I can not change.

********Trigger Warning for talk of sex and abuse********* The world feels like a dream. There are things I wonder if I dreamed about, or if I actually did them. Such as feeding the dogs this morning. I thought I fed them, it felt like I felt them, but I couldn’t remember at all if they were fed. It’s one o’clock p.m. as I write this. This morning doesn’t feel real. Did I got to the dermatologist or did I dream it? Did I have physical therapy today, or was that yesterday? I am accidental to this world, and my presence …

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Acceptance

I don’t know if I can do this. I’m not much better but a little. The meds my psycho-iatrist gave me have helped a little, but I still have a hard time “soothing” my brain. It always feels disruptive and a bit like ADD. It’s a mad world. In any case, I was reading the meditation for today and though it was pertinent to me. It was about how we always like one thing, but don’t stop to consider it’s flip side. For every positive we get in our life there is bound to be a a negative. For example, …

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All Apologies

To my blogging friends, I feel the overwhelming need to apologize to you. You have been so kind as to offer comments on my blog, and I have not been able to return the feedback. I am not well. I had an emergency session with my psycho-iatrist today. I’m not sleeping and what few winks I get are filled with nightmares. I can’t focus. I cry easily. I’m depressed. Ya da ya da. When I’m better you will hear more from me. Please know that I’m reading your blog and staying current with you comments. I hope to be heard …

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