Posts (page 2)
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old letter |
06/28/2002 |
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February 1999 (just prior to the *official* diagnosis) I’ve been called ‘rebellious’. Let’s start there. From where I stand, rebellion isn’t just fighting authority, it’s fighting "God’s" authority. Is it rebellion to fight a fucked up system of adolescent psychiatric care, or to fight against a school system designed to let the ones who need help the most go without, or to fight against parents whose parents whose parents and so on were screwed and who couldn’t figure it out with a map and a compass? Come on! That’s not rebellion! That’s reasonable. Have I fought against God? Absolutely. As far as I could tell, he’s the one that got me into this mess. Why not hold him responsible? But if you expect to accuse me of a crime you’d damn well better pick the crime I committed. I’ve been called delinquent and incorrigible. How about anti-social? That’s a good one. Let’s look at that. I’m supposed to conform to the standards of society. To mold myself into an image the world can accept. Society? Gimme a break! If society and the standards of the world are so great then why are kids killing themselves at alarming rates? Why are the little girls getting pregnant younger and younger? Why are gangs ruling the streets and why are 11-year-olds carrying guns into school and killing their classmates? The worst I ever did was carrying a knife and a thermos of gin. Shit! And the knife wasn’t for protection or intimidation… it was to stem the flow of pain when it got too bad. Same for the gin. That and the small measure of acceptance received from my fellow rejects. From the looks of society 15 years later, I would be a model student today. Or could it be that it’s society that’s fucked and not me? What about bad influence? I’m a drunk in AA so the friend I drag to meetings because she’s sober less often than I am isn’t an alcoholic, she’s just a poor kid captivated by my magnetic personality. Or the kid who tries to kill herself and happens to be my friend. I must have put the idea in her head. Never mind that a teen suicide attempt occurs every couple of minutes. No, it’s got to be my awesome powers of influence. Yeah, sure. The school reject that everyone calls a freak exerts such charisma that any poor sap within range gets my thoughts imbedded in their brain. Hey! Bullshit! Attention-seeking. There’s another good one. Well guess what. Damn straight I was seeking attention! How do you get someone to see you when you are ignored unless you are perfect or worthless or just plain screwed up? I don’t walk on water so I guess the options are obvious. Come on man! What the hell else do you do? Live with it ‘til your heart finally stops? Go with the flow and participate in the creation of another generation worse than yours for the sake of keeping the fucking peace? Take a damn reality break. How do you make it stop unless you make it too obvious to be ignored? |
YOU KNOW YOU'RE A SINGLETON WHEN.....
1- You start using the pronoun `I'.
2- You get a party line because you miss the voices.
3- One first name is suddenly enough.
4- Switching now refers only to long distance phone service.
5- If you hear voices now, you're schizophrenic.
6- `I forgot' is no longer an excuse.
7- It suddenly occurs to you that you had a childhood.
8- To keep your SO on his/her toes, you imitate an alter every now and then.
9- When you mess up, you can no longer blame it on somebody else.
10- DID becomes just a past-tense verb.
YOU MIGHT BE A MULTIPLE IF...
-If you have to ask who keeps leaving out the crayons and coloring books and you live alone...
-If your Significant Other (SO) asks you to wear a name tag...
-If you change clothes three or more times a day based on your mood...
-If you don't remember the $300 charge on your Visa to Toys-R-Us...
-If you have to buy yourself a lollipop after a visit to the doctor or dentist...
-If you have more toys than your children...
-If you have three complete yet different sets of toiletries/hygiene products and you live alone...
-If you inexplicably find yourself making race car noises on the interstate...
-If your therapist starts each session by asking "How much do you remember from our last conversation?"...
-If you have three (or more) different birthstones...
-If your teenager asks to be paid for babysitting YOU...
-If your 'castle in the sky' is better furnished than your house...
-If you have to adjust the driver's seat in your car and you are the only one who drives it...
-If you buy cereal based on the toy that comes in the box...
-If your hair color has been known to change 3 or more times in a week...
-If you have at least one clock and calendar in every room of your home (including the bathroom)...
Here is where the grand idea of reposting entries hits another roadblock. How do I decide what to keep and what to let go? How do I gently edit without glossing over things and how do I stay true to the desire to see the positive without sounding like I didn't/don't take it seriously?
For that matter, how do I look at my writing style in those first six months and not GAG? blech. This is why the previous attempt to go back and look ignored most of the first six months. It wasn't until November 2002 that I saw something of real value in the writing... more than a place to vent, it had become a place for support and education.
I have chosen, and most of the time am readily able, to accept myself as I am. Accepting myself as I was is truly not so easy... but it's still a choice. A choice I will continue to make.
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so much for 6 mos. |
06/22/2002 |
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finally did it. couldn't take it anymore. at least a liter. feels like more the way my hands shake and my heart is racing. drink a couple quarts of water and some juice and no problem. all better. i tried and made 6 mos. well now we start over i guess. but maybe i'm not ready to start over yet. maybe i need to do it again tomorrow or next week. maybe all this stuff will swallow me whole and i'll start and not be able to stop. i dunno anymore. just know that i feel better and now we can do what we need to do for now. reese |
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god, not now |
06/19/2002 |
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stephanie talked me into helping write a story and we were just getting started on fixing the poor attempt at chapter 2 when charlie walks in. we go, like 2-4 days getting all kinds of things done then usually on a therapy day we just kinda crash. well after 2 straight days on the garage and 2 van loads of stuff taken out we haven't done shit but sit and read or sit at the computer. so the house looks like shit. our room looks worse than the kid's right now and the livingroom is unreal. feel guilty enough as it is cuz we can't ever get everything even close to done. it's like trying to bail out a rowboat with an eyedropper. stop for a split second, you're sunk. so now i feel like shit. i mean total shit. can't win for losing you know? so no cutting. i DON'T CARE ANYMORE!!!!! it's not a want or impulse or desire. it's a g**damn NEED! what am i supposed to do? i swear if i just cut i could relax some and get something done so people are't so stressed or whatever. must be my turn to whine. time to cut. reese |
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this ain't sybil |
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part of what makes my crew different is that we knew from about the age of 13. the problem tho was that few professionals believed in it and because most multiples have no clue about the others living within them, trying to be believed was a nightmare. we were often accused of lying or 'attention seeking' (i HATE that term!!!). the result of that is that we split more in the teen years than when the physical and sexual abuse was at it's worst. the agony of not being believed was almost more painful than what we'd lived thru til then. anyway, don't really know why i'm posting this entry. the real goal is to treat this diary as if no one will see it. if you're interested in learning about DID and it's causes or treatment you can check out this web site http://www.sidran.org/didbr.html the Crew |
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the lighter side of MPD |
06/18/2002 |
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when we go to the movies we get 10 people in for the price of 1 amelia finding out she had boobies. "They feel like koosh balls!" wearing t-shirts that say things like 'I hear voices and they don't like you' and knowing they're TRUE charlie has to ask who's out before he gets frisky because stephanie almost decked him once staying in for the night has a whole different meaning how do you decide what to put in a monogram? having your 4 year old tell you someone else needs to come out because he didn't like 'your' answer how do you potty teach an insider? (thank God we've never had to deal with that.) sitting in the yard for an hour blowing bubbles and not feeling a bit guilty truly seeing the world thru the eyes of a child "how come the star shaped bubble wand doesn't make star bubbles?" changing your mind has a whole different meaning you'll never get lonely figuring out what to make for dinner requires a majority vote watching charlie wrestle with the stuffed animals for room on the bed sleeping with glow braclets on and not being embarrassed we used to have to buy three different brands of cigarettes! multiples tend to look younger than they are.... so being mistaken for your teenager's sister and having her think it's cool. there's more but we haven't thought of them yet. will have to keep putting them down tho. the Crew |
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found the steri-strips |
06/17/2002 |
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thought daniel had played with them all. walmart didn't have them last nite. hid them when i organized the first aid stuff. thought it would make me feel better to have them but maybe not having them was my excuse for not cutting. i can't take it anymore. the shit is hitting the fan. amelia had a cow yesterday when she was playing with john. first time she's talked about the abuse in forever. can't believe she talked to charlie about it but i guess it's good cuz she knows that he's not gonna blame her or say the kinda shit mom used to say. she's scared tho cuz this stuff is getting triggered and she's scared as i am about having to actually talk about it. can't we just share the feelings and stuff with marisa and kinda deal with it that way? why do we all have to go thru this hell together? i know what lyn or dr c would say. we have to go back to it together so marisa can process it and so we can 'break the silence' and talk about all the shit that happened and so we can all merge. god i'm so scared tho. i feel like i'll die if i have to do this. it doesn't matter if we were fucked and used when we were little. the stuff we did when marisa was a teen was stuff we chose to do. well, except for what josh did , but no matter what anyone says, we shoulda known what he'd do. it's not like i'll do it or anything but god i wish i cld run away. just disappear somewhere and crumble and not have to care if anyone missed us. we can't and i won't. the kids and charlie mean too much. i really understand why marisa says he saved her life when he married her. i think we really would have died if he hadn't come along. and him and the kids. god, they really do love us. all of us as much as they can understand anyway. i feel bad cuz kris thinks i'm mad or something cuz i don't hang out with her anymore. how do i tell her that it's just so bad that if i try to hang out i'll wind up cutting and fucking everything up? least i can sorta hide right now. the only safe time is when charlie is home. he's taking tomorrow off work too so he'll be here when we get done with lyn. so we'll prolly just take a tranxene and go to bed. or just go ahead and freak, i dunno. none of this makes sense, but oh well. reese |
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it'd be funny if it weren't so weird |
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okay, so here i am on a saturday, with too much to do and too much going on inside. when i'd done all the housework my back could handle, and stephanie had done all the writing our emotions could handle, i figured the littles could do with some time out. i know how much the kids adore the littles. rachel and john especially. everytime they see amelia they smother her in hugs and kisses. it's sweet, but she just wants to play. part of her function or purpose is to be the 'normal' little girl i never got to be. rachel, i know, understands enough about multiplicity to know that i/we were hurt pretty badly as a child and that's one of the reasons for amelia being a separate part of mommy. i think that's part of the reason she's so overly attentive to her. still, charlie and i try to explain that they need to treat her like any other 6 year old. let's face it. she's a 6 year old in mommy's body. i guess it's just a little hard to pretend 'normal'. john thinks she's the coolest playmate and his best friend. plus he's figured out that what mommy says no to, amelia might just say yes to. we've even had to do some limit setting because they were getting into trouble together. more than once this past week alone he's put his little hands on his hips and stomped a foot while demanding to "talk to 'melia" when he didn't get the answer he wanted from me. there's more to write but the kids are in bed (mostly) and kristen is waiting for me so we can do a midnight run to walmart and shop in relative peace. i'll add to this later... marisa |
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