Buddy's day

Buddy's day was a huge success in raising funds and dnations for teh home;ess and I am grateful tp a;; wjo helped. especially Jennifer, Chrissy, and their friends. It is wonderful that our community came out to do something so wonderful. I wanted to do something in the park, which the police said we cannot do. The goods went to a shelter, doing good for the people, the point of the funds raised.

I was hurt because there were few people who wanted to come here Buddy's poetry, and without the donations it seemed pointless to get out there and read a poem to myself. I am upset with myself for not being able to read teh poem. It's been 5 years and I still can't write anything for him. I wanted to do something for myself, not for Buddy, to overcome my fear and read to a group of people. There was going to be no group. my part of the whole thing was a bust as far as being able to memorialize him with the poem, but it was a success in getting help for the honeless.

If I were not hurt and in bed, if i were not frustrated by the laws, I might have gone, but with only 4 people saying they would be there, it just seemed pointless. I am embarrassed that i let my hurt stop me from going to the park. I gave up.

If you are a survivor of a suicide, you might understand my feelings, but i don't expect anyone to understand. I doon't understand myself.

This is just one more thing I have fucked up.

This Hurts Like Hell

This hurts like hell, this DID diagnosis. Admitting to it after all of these years has made friends turn their backs on me, accuse me of lying, doubt me. I don’t want to be DID. I don’t want to lose friends. I don’t want my diagnosis to be suspect. I am tired of all of this. I wish I could just go back to being only semi-aware of my lost time and odd behaviors. I wish I could go back to lying about memories, and covering for my behavior, but I can’t. This is one thing I cannot undo. I am DID, like it or not. My alters do things I would never do. Two of them buy things, one steals, others are always angry, ready to fight, some avoid confrontation at any price, others dance around trying to get attention, and then there’s me, for years I’ve been putting myself in crisis after crisis, feeling like I want to die. I cannot grow, I cannot learn while I am in crisis. So, no more crisis. No more trips to the ER or the hospital for non-medical reasons.

I have to learn to work with these people, these protectors in my head. I need to become part of a team to save myself from the past and create a new future. If I can’t learn to know my alters, if I can’t become a cohesive team, I will feel like shit for the rest of my life. I will have no recovery, no chance to have a future, a partner, a life that is peaceful. I am realizing now that there may come a time when I have to cut some family ties, not permanently, but long enough to heal and become one with myself.

I am hoping for a job, and that I can hold on to this job. I have to pass this test of what I can or cannot do with my anxiety issues. I have to have my doctor, who I do not trust, to sign a letter written by my therapist detailing my limitations. And then I have to be able to do the job. If all of that works out, then I am also praying that a chance to rent a room from a good friend will become a possibility. If I can rent this room cheaply enough, now that I don’t have a car payment, I might just be able to make it on my own. Getting out on my own will let me do what I need to do to heal. I need to fix up the car as soon as I can and make it reliable enough to drive to therapy weekly and get to and from work. Even if I can’t get the room to rent, if I am working, I can start taking better care of me. I can get out of the house more, not that I really have much of anywhere to go.

I know I have been accused of being selfish most of my life, but perhaps it’s been more self-involved. I don’t really know how to act and interact with other people. I am getting better at it, but it’s a skill I’m learning, like listening. Being more positive is also a skill I am trying to learn. It doesn’t come naturally to me. I missed out on a lot of social skills and learning how to be when I was growing up. Some of my alters may have some of the information I lack, but until I learn to work with them, I won’t know if they do or not.

To the doubters all I can say is I am who I am, what I am, in pieces, trying to become whole. You haven’t lived my life. You haven’t seen all the sides of me. Even people who have lived with me have not seen all of me or known especially when I have switched personalities. My behavior was all over the place not because I was bipolar, but because I am DID. The rages, the unexplained uncontrolled spending, the crying, the hyper-sexuality, and certain behaviors are all part of switching from one alter to another. Some of my behaviors have been because of the PTSD and the anxiety. The OCD comes out of the anxiety and feeling out of control, so I have to take control of the little things I can. I am not a bad person trying to get better; I am a sick, splintered person trying to get well.

Do you?

Do you wonder every day if what you remember is real, or not? Do you wonder every day if people believe you or not? Do you have memories of bad things that no one else seems to think happened, or flat out deny happened? Do you doubt yourself? Do you have gaps in memory, lapses in time you can’t explain? Do things appear in your room that you don’t remember buying? Do you spend money and not know you spent it? Have you been diagnosed as having a mental illness and then been treated like that means you are mentally deficient? Do people you love and care about, whose opinion matters to you, doubt your diagnoses? Do you here people in your head, not like a schizophrenic but voices that seem to belong to you and are not you? Do you often wonder if you are losing your mind? Do you feel people just humor you and laugh behind your back? Do you wonder why no one talks to you? Do you talk too much, too little? Do you cross boundaries or keep them so close you let no one in, or a combination of both? Do you feel socially retarded? Are you socially retarded? Were you raped, more than once, and doubt it ever happened? Do feel like all of your memories are suspect? Do you fall in love easily, but have trouble accepting love from anyone? Do you fear trust? Are you certain everyone will eventually let you down? And still find yourself trusting, and being let down? Do you feel your intuition is failing you? Do you wonder how the word victim ever appeared on your forehead? Why people felt you could be hurt and walked on and you would never say anything? Did you keep your mouth shut out of fear? Do you still fear anger and avoid it at the cost of yourself? Do you feel the need to be the one to fix things, make them right, even when you haven’t done anything wrong?

If you feel any of those things, you aren’t alone.

vent 4/12/10

This is my blog, my place to vent, so I am going to vent.
I totaled my brother’s truck the other day. He was renting it to me. He would have sold it to me, but it was promised to his daughter when she turned 16. He told me she gave him a lot of crap about letting me use it. He told me she gave him a lot, a lot of crap about me wrecking it. He apologized to her profusely, I heard him on the phone.
So I decide I need to apologize to her. I wrote to her and not only apologized but promised that whatever vehicle I get now, she can have when she is 16. I was as nice as I could be. I feel really bad about destroying a truck that wasn’t mine. Her response was to tell me she was sick of hearing about it in a way that might as well have been her telling me to shut up. She didn’t use those words, but that was her attitude. There was no acceptance of the apology, or even acknowledgement of it. There was no thank you for saying I would give her a vehicle at 16 to make up for it. It felt rather ungrateful and her response was nasty.
I didn’t much care for that kind of nasty response. I didn’t like that her concern all of this time has been over the dumb truck. She hasn’t cared one damn bit whether or not I was injured, or why the accident happened or anything. So I wrote and told her several times how much I love her, and how hurt I was that she was so ungrateful for my offer. I told her a lot of stuff I probably shouldn’t have, but some of it she needed to hear, like how ungrateful it was for her to reject my offer, and how hurt I was that she seemed to care more about the damn truck than about her aunt.
She complained to her father. I apologized to her for writing, and then she unloaded some crap on me that I accused her of things she didn’t do or say. I based what I said to her on what I heard from her father about the grief she gave him over the damn truck, and about the shit she said to me. If I was wrong, fine, say so, but she went beyond and told me not to contact her ever again.
So now I just think she is one seriously ungrateful and mean teenager. I love her and I have enjoyed watching her grow up quite a bit lately, but now I just feel like she hates me over the truck, the apology, the offer of another car or truck, and just being me. I guess that’s just one more person in the family who hates me, Yay Me!

another lost friend, more than a friend

Another friend lost. I am accused of breaking a confidence. I say I have no memory of it, but then I say it is possible that one of the alters said something and I don’t remember it. I’m not going to dance around it, this is my blog. I get a text from my nephew’s ex asking if I told him she was dating someone. I say no, she asks how he knows then, I only told you. The thing is she didn’t just tell me, she told us, and if one of the others was talking to my nephew and said something, I don’t remember it. I hate that. I guess I am responsible for what they do whether or not I have memory of it. This does not seem fair to me at all. I felt accused. I said so. I told her that he and I don’t really talk about her. I told her that he and I mostly talk about me. He is one of the few who still listens when I talk about my mental health stuff. He is the one in the family to tell me to follow my heart and not go for safety with my degree. So because of him and my therapist, I have to decided to apply for the MFA in creative writing program. He says follow my heart. Anyway the point is I don’t talk to him about her because he gets all upset and it just hurts everyone. So now one of my alters may have let out information I never would have. The ex girlfriend now hates me and says we shouldn’t communicate. Great. I have done so much to offer to be there for her, been there for her, loved her, but because my stupid “team” can’t keep their mouths shut, I pay the price. I lose her friendship. It really doesn’t matter that much, because she has been avoiding me anyway. But I gave her a heart carved out of soap stone and I want it back. It wasn’t cheap and it was a mate to the ones my nephew and I carry. She stopped carrying it anyway, so I hope she won’t give me a hard time about giving it back.

I hate losing people in my life, but whoever it is inside my head that likes to create drama for other people makes that happen a lot.

free writing

I've never jsut sat here and written before, I always write in word and copy to my blog. I am bored. I want someone to talk to and the person I want to talk to is unavailable. I want to do something, but what? I am too broke to go out. Too lazy to do much of anything. I don't really feel like writing. I want to do something, be with people. I am so fucking bored right now. I am climbing walls. I looking through old writings looking for inspiration or unfinished ideas.

I know that somewhere
in the world today
a woman is looking for me
as I look for her
will we know
when we meet
what happens when
i meet
a woman
so right
and i fuck it
up
what usually happens
i keep thinking
she is the one
she will know
but she never
knows
we have spent many
lives together
lived similar
experiences
i know that somewhere
in the world today
a woman looks for me
i have to stop
looking is making
me crazy
i find
the wrong ones
or right ones
i send away
will she know me
will she fear me
am I too much
are we too much
where am i going
what is my journey
when will the
alters
go away
unneeded
why can't
they stay unknown
unseen
why do I let
them out
let people know
how do i
hold in this thing
after years of secrets
they are hard
to keep
I know she looks
for me
but does she see me
does she know
i am here
am i open to what
might come my way
what choices will I make
what road this journey
travels
I met
the one
but is she
the ONE
I know a woman looks
for me
will she know
me
when it happens
will i push her away
again
I want out
out of this
chase
i want peace
i want her
too late