Thursday, December 29, 2011

Yay O_O

I finally figured out how to get the majority of my lost comments back.  Woohoo!  Don't ever change your blog URL twice.  It messes everything up.  I'm still missing some, but I managed to get a lot of them back.  :-)

It's awesome to have fixed my blog but I really wish I was sleeping instead.  I think I might be less crazy if I could sleep like a normal person.  Instead of sleeping I am watching River Monsters on Animal Planet. 

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Christmas gifts and losses

I'm not a religious person, but Christmas is more of a cultural holiday here in the US.  Most of my Jewish friends even celebrate it.  I want so badly to like Christmas.  I really do.  No matter how hard I try I just can't make myself enjoy it.  I fake so much enthusiasm for my gf because she has this childlike excitement and glee about it.  Usually she goes to Chicago for her family but she refused to go this year without me and I couldn't afford to go or put our dogs in doggy daycare while we are gone.  I have no idea why she won't go.  She went for a while in August, so it's not a fear of leaving me alone.

I could see the sadness and disappointment she was feeling because she wasn't with her family participating in her family traditions.  She skyped with her Mom, and then with her dad, and then with her aunt.  She was on the phone all day.  I had no one to call.  Last year was the first year I celebrated Christmas with a family, MY family.  It was the first year I enjoyed Christmas even though I spent much of it extremely uncomfortable and anxious.  I was with people that i really loved and I loved watching the little kids rip into their gifts.  I wasn't sure if they were excited about the actual gifts or just opening the presents.  The two little girls began to ask if they could rip open C's gifts because he wasn't yet able to get what it was all about.  I had never had someone do something so special for me like K did last year with the strange giant stocking full of weird stuff. (blogged about it here)  I want to cry just thinking about it.

I just don't understand how I manage to ruin every relationship I have ever had.  One week she was telling me she loves me and would never go away and literally one week later she was done and I don't know exactly why.  I honestly don't mean to be the way I am.  I really don't know what I do that makes everyone so angry, so often.  I even do it on the internet, with this blog, or through emails.  I just don't understand people no matter what form I interact with them .  Maybe I just want too much from people.  Maybe I'm too needy, but then again maybe I'm not needy enough, maybe I switch back and forth too often.  I just really have no clue how to be a normal person.  I don't know how to relate to people.  I never learned how to make friends or be part of a family.  I never learned how to keep a relationship beyond a few months.  I have NO idea why my gf is still with me.  There have been so many reasons why she should have and could have left.  I really don't know why she's still around.  We don't fight, not really.  We have some serious discussions but conflict makes me panic.  She often asks, "Can I ask you something?"  Whenever she says that I panic and her question is usually about something simple like my opinion on some strange thing she heard on one of her Snooty Intellectual podcasts.  How can she tolerate me when almost nobody can?

like this but I used diff. colors
This year I bought little C these really cute pajamas with different trucks all over them.  That little boy LOVES trucks.  It's really funny actually because no one knows why.  He's offered all kinds of toys, for girls and boys.  He plays with dolls but he goes insane for trucks.  He points them out all the time and wants to read books with them over and over.  So for Hanukkah and Christmas I bought him truck pajamas, and some truck books.  I also bought him "The Giving Tree" which is one of my favorite books of all time.

It was going to be our tradition that I would give K and D a three photo frame of photos of C I have taken through out the year.  I haven't seen C much this year.  The last time I saw him was in the beginning of April.  The photos I have are from April or earlier, but I still found three of them I really liked and put them in a frame.  I also painted the drawing I drew of C a while ago.  I wrapped everything in old paper grocery bags and made designs on top with different colored electrical tape.

My painting of "C"
I was way too scared to take the gifts over myself so I asked a friend that I met in my therapy program this summer to do it for me.  I picked her up at home and drove her over to their house.  I hid my car behind two very large trucks and made her walk like half a block to get there.  She opened the door and handed D the gifts and left.  I wrote in my card that we moved to a new place and I changed my email address to escape my mother (that's going to be true soon) so I wasn't expecting any kind of response from her by the gifts and that I hope it was okay that I got them gifts.  When my friend got back in the car I apologized over and over about making her do something so weird.  She said she didn't mind but she really wanted to go back and leave a flaming bag of dog poop on their porch.  She doesn't really know the story but she was part of my program when K told me she did't want me anymore so she saw me sob for months.  I declined her offer but it was sweet that she felt that protective over me.  I can't believe I just called dog poop sweet.  We went to coffee and then I took her home.  As soon as I waved goodbye and pulled away I burst into tears and I couldn't stop.  I pulled over and cried.  I know how much he would love those pajamas and I know how much she would love those photos and the chocolate orange I always get her.  I wanted to see what they thought of my painting.  I wanted to watch them open the gifts.  I miss them so much and I hate myself so much for not being someone that people want to keep.  I ache so badly but no matter how many pain killers I shove down my throat, nothing will alleviates it.

It's not like I haven't had people offer to be my family throughout my life.  I've had a lot of people tell me they wanted me, but I always manage to screw it up.  I beg my therapists to tell me what is wrong with me so I can fix it but they won't give me any answers.  I just don't know how to keep people around.  I don't know how to be a normal person with normal relationships.  I've tried everything I can think of.  I have given people everything I have, everything they want.  Sometimes i give people way more than I really can or should.  I don't know how to keep people happy with me.

I want love and family and belonging so badly that it's eating me alive.  I don't give my heart away very easily because when I do they end up hurting me and I always have more to lose in my relationships.  I think I always care about people way more than they can care about me, but I can never keep people around no matter how hard I try.  I always fuck things up and I really don't know why I do it.  I can look back now and see things that might have driven K and D away but even when I look back and think about someone doing similar things to me, I just can't understand why that is all it takes to turn away.   I don't know why it was enough to throw away six years.  The only explanation I can think of is I'm worthless and fucked up, and nearly impossible to love.

At what point will it be okay to put me down?  When is it okay to put me out of my suffering?  If I had a terminal illness it would be okay to decide life hurts too much to continue and go to sleep forever.  I was born with something wrong with me and it hasn't gotten better in more than a quarter century.  When will someone decide that it's cruel to keep me alive?  I want a family so badly, but no family will ever keep me because of this fucked up, disgusting, vile little creature that lives in my brain and body.  How do I kill that soul consuming parasite living inside me before it kills me?

Sunday, December 25, 2011

All I want for Christmas

IS YOU!!!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
                                                                                                                                     
http://www.adoptuskids.org/for-families/how-to-adopt
                                                                                                                                     



I wrote to Santa every year asking for a family and I know a lot of other kids did too.  There is no better gift you an give to a child than the gift of love and family.  You will be giving them more than a home.  You will be giving them a future.

If you can, won't you grant a foster child's wish?

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

borderline commitment of the fucked up.

Therapy with Dr. K began more than an hour and a half late.  At least she called me to tell me she wouldn't be able to make it until three.  She didn't actually show up until 3:30.  To be fair traffic in Los Angeles can be really horrible if there is an accident somewhere within a hundred mile radius.

We started therapy talking about my panic last week and then about Maggie.  She later mentioned that CT called her to tell her I asked for an extra session last week and that she wanted to see if there were any other sort of process groups I could join to get extra help...because I'm THAT crazy.  Things between CT and me have been a little tense and so Dr. K and I talked about that.  I said I don't think CT likes me or cares about me very much and how I think she's going to dump me the minute she finds an opportunity.  We talked about that for a little while and that she thinks that CT clearly cares about me, blah blah blah.  "It's really difficult to be a therapist for someone you don't like."  She went on to talk about how hard it is to work with people who have Borderline personality disorder.

"I do not have borderline personality disorder and I am not willing to continue treatment with people who need to give me that label in order to treat me."

"You have borderline traits."

"You need to have five out of nine criteria to be diagnosed with borderline.  I don't."

"I didn't say you were borderline, only that you have traits."

"So what traits do I have then?"

"Your panic, transient moods, not really knowing who you are.  Cutting and self harm are pretty unique to borderline."  She says a bunch of more crap about Axis 2 diagnosis. 

"No they aren't.  I don't think I agree with those things, but even if I did, those things cross over with a lot of other disorders.  There is nothing wrong with my personality."

We talk about this for a while and then she defensively says "Well, how would you like me to describe you?  What diagnosis do you want?  We have to tell your insurance something."

"I know you have tell my insurance something, but my insurance will not pay for borderline personality disorder anyway.  You can label me all you want.  I don't care.  There is nothing wrong with my personality."

It all went downhill from there.  I'm not sure how CT came back into the conversation but she said something about how she and CT don't think I am committed to change and learning to self soothe and that I have to be open to change and learning new ways to do things to improve.  I have to want to put out the effort to change.  I began to cry.  I didn't say much else because Dr. K was clearly flustered and kept telling me things like "You won't let me fix it.  You are making it impossible for me to win in this situation."  I fully admit that I can become a bit tunneled visioned.  When something hurts my feelings I tend to not be able to focus on anything else and I don't really want to because what matters more to me are what people actually think and do and not what they say.  I always think the negative things people say about me are what they truly think about me and that the careless actions are further proof. 

"I see you once a week.  I see CT twice a week.  I go to class once a week, but apparently that means nothing.  I'm not committed or putting in an effort to learning new skills."  I am so upset.  I hate therapy.  I hate DBT.  I always feel like shit when I leave these things.  I have never missed a session.  I am the only person in my class who has never missed a DBT class.  I sat through DBT class last week even though I could barely stay conscious, but you know, I'm not committed or putting in any effort to change my life at all.  What the fuck have I been doing for a year and 8 months of my life?  What the fuck have I been doing?  I guess paying $650 a month out of my really tiny unemployment check so that I can continue treatment means absolutely nothing.  All the time and tears I put into therapy mean nothing.  I walked out of therapy early because none of it matters.  Needless to say I will not be going to DBT class Tuesday tonight.

Fuck I am tired of my shitty life. Maggie is right.  Therapy won't help me.  I need to stop dwelling in the past.  Therapy isn't helping me.  My dangerous medications won't help me.  I might as well dive into a bag of cocaine and ski my life away.  It's not like I'm really as innocent as I make myself look on this blog.  Tim used to cuddle with me and rub my back at night for months before things went further.  I could have resisted then.  The first time he went too far, I pushed him over the edge.  I pushed him to the limit.  I was throwing tantrum after tantrum for hours.  I was obnoxious and he exploded.  He was drunk and raging and I kept pushing until he couldn't take it anymore.

He raped me.  That was wrong.  I get that, but I am the one who pushed him and pushed him until he exploded.  I screamed in pain in the beginning but after that I felt nothing.  Literally nothing.  I drew on the shower tiles with my own blood.  I felt absolutely nothing.  When it was all over and I was bathed and everything cleaned up, I felt nothing.  I felt nothing until I saw my sheets were thrown away.  I cried about my sheets.  I cried hard about my stupid sheets.  I only cared about my bedding not the fact that someone I loved had just violently violated me.  I was a fucked up kid.  Later on when I needed to see doctors for "straddle injuries" I came up with my own lies.  No one told me what to say.  I created my own lies about how I hurt myself.  I never asked for help.  I never told anyone.  I did nothing to help myself.  I could have told the truth and saved myself but I guess I didn't want to be saved.

Maggie is right.  He wasn't always violent and forceful.  He was only that way when he was angry.  At other times he was gentle and loving and I really liked being told how beautiful, smart, sexy, and loved I was.  I liked being wanted and loved.  Yeah, and sometimes I actually liked it, physically, mentally, all of it.  I was a fucked up child.  Sometimes I was the one who instigated it. Sometimes when I thought he was getting angry, I would purposely instigate it to make him feel better.  Sometimes I did it because I knew it would be rough and painful later, but sometimes I instigated it for no reason at all, just because I wanted to.

Sometimes I miss him.  How fucked up is that?  Sometimes my dreams about him are not nightmares.  I feel really sick and confused when I think about all of it and I can't believe I'm admitting it all in public.  How can I think of myself as such a little victim when it's my fault that things happened the way they did?  All of it is my fault.  I started it and I never even tried to help myself.  No wonder they left me at that hospital.  No wonder I was labeled as unfit for a family environment and no longer adoptable.  No wonder no one wants me.  I am a fucked up human being that no amount of therapy can fix.  Even therapists don't think there is any hope for me.  I give up.





Sunday, December 18, 2011

Catching my breath

My shirt bouncing with my painfully beating heart, tingly numb body and face, hyperventilating, uncontrollable shaking and sweating.  Feeling totally detached from the world around me.  That pretty much describes my week.  I've had a few moments of relief here and there but for the most part I've lived in a constant state of panic since Tuesday evening.  I went to my DBT class on Tuesday and on my drive over my heart started to race, my vision began to go in and out and my reaction time slowed down so much that I had to pull over for a few moments to try to slow down my heart.  I was only slightly successful and drove the rest of the way to my class.

Once I actually got into the classroom my heart was racing so much that I thought about going to the emergency room down the block.  Instead I decided to try buying some benadryl, water, and raw almonds.  I quickly pumped all of them into my body hoping something would calm me down.  I didn't have my meds on me so I has hoping benadryl would help.  It didn't and I began the mindfulness meditation struggling to breathe and slow my pulse.  We were listening to this meditation with random loud chiming bells throughout the 7 minutes of silence.  Every time I made any progress in calming down my heart a bell would chime and my heart rate would fly.

Halfway through the class I went to the bathroom and sat with my head on my knees on the floor of the handicapped stall.  One of the doctors in the class came in to check on me and I told her I was okay.  She said she'd come check on me in a few minutes if I'm not able to come back.  I went to the sink and let the water pour through my fingers for a while.  That helped.  I washed my face and returned to class.  My heart rate was still insanely high and I wasn't sure if I was going to remain conscious.  I managed to stick it out until the end of class where I ran to the bathroom again in a full blown hyperventilating panic attack.  The doctor came in and sat on the floor with me asking me to do random things like describe her boots or the tile floor.  Eventually my breathing slowed and she asked me to walk around with her before we returned to get my stuff.  I apologized for being so disruptive and like everything in DBT I was praised for nothing.  "I didn't see it as a disruptive.  I saw you using a lot of skills and you stuck it out when a lot of people would have bailed."

I went to my car but my panic returned and I felt extremely faint and detached from my body.  I wasn't able to drive and had to have someone come get me.  When I got home I panicked some more and needed to take an insane amount of my anxiety medications to calm down a little bit.  I still wasn't comfortable enough to sleep and I had not slept in three days.  The next day I had a full blown panic attack in therapy with CT.  Having a panic attack in public is mortifying and humiliating.  I've always been able to keep them quiet.  Usually they only last a few minutes and I am all better when it's over but I've been staying at a pretty high level of anxiety and panic all week and I really don't know why I can't calm down.  I can't eat, sleep, leave my apartment, or move around very much.  It's really not a whole lot of fun and there is no reason for any of it.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

If you can't change it, it doesn't matter.

Dear

All I am trying to say is yes I want you in my life if that is what you want, but I can't help you deal with the past.  You have to learn to let it go.  I also know that you want answers. I guess the problem is I don't have answers to your questions, I can listen to what you say about tim and I can hear you, I can listen to you.  I don't understand it and that doesn't mean I don't believe you I had no idea that those things were going on. So I don't know how I would have answers for that. You didnt tell me anything was happening with tim.  How was i supposed to know?  You are so angry with me for what he did to you because I didn't know.  I ddidnt see any signs like you say that i should have.  You were a very hyper girl, always getting bruises and cuts.  I just though you were clumbsy.  I dont know why you never said nothing was happening to you if it was so bad.  A man should never touch a child but are you sure  that you are remembering things right?  If he was rough and hurt you so much why did you let it go on so long?  That is difficult for me to believe.  It doesn't mean I don't believe you.  I am just confused.  Maybe at the time it was  wasn't so bad maybe it was something that felt good but now that you know better you feel bad?  Don't take that the wrong way.  I just remember how much you liked being around tim and how you always went with him to trips to town.  I could just never think that something that horrible was happening to you.  I can listen to what you say about him but i am not sure i know what you want me to do.  I can't change the past.  I can't fix it. 

You want answers from me, I gave you all the answers I believe that I can.  I'm not sure what your looking for from me I guess, I know you want me to see your theropist, And I got a feeling that is the only option your giving me.  And maybe someday I can do that I don't know what good it will do, for the reasons I have with you, All I know is what happened my feeling when it happend and I don't have any other answers, I feel I'm missing something here,  You feel like I abandoned you I get that really I do, but again at the time I felt I was doing the right things for what I was told.  I have no other answer to that. I don't know if you will ever understand that or if you will ever forgive me for that. I guess that is what you have to search for. You need to ask yourself can you forgive?

I have been talking to someone who I have worked with for years and she also says we need to move on that going back is not always good. It has been allot of years and there are things forgotten and it isn't as fresh in our minds as it was back then.  We may think so but things get mixed up and we have our own thoughts.

Your right these emails are not good because you can't hear the emotions and the real feelings that could come across in person. I agree on that totally. sometime the words are not put down correctly and it is confusing and sometime taken the wrong way.

All I can say I'm here if you want me but I can't dwell in the past anymore.  this is who I am and either you can take as I am or not.  I can't make that decision for you. I also feel if you think that seeing your theropist one time is going to fix things, I'm sorry I don't believe that. A couple of days visit with the way you feel and what your asking from me is not going to fix anything.  It is going to take time, it may take years for you to trust me.  I believe if we go forward and learn to trust each other and build on a relationship that works for us.  Its going to take time and letting the past go.  we have to move forward. 

Anyhows I don't know what else to say either,  All I can say is I'm here for you if you want me, but I can't keep dwelling on the past.  It's to much and all this negativity is not good for us.

I love ya.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Tears, fears, and letters part 2

I ended up talking with Maggie for over 12 hours on and off on Facebook email.  I had therapy with Dr. K at 2:15 where I cried really hard.  I've cried really hard all day today since 4AM when the correspondence first began.  I cried so hard that I got this weird intense headache in my teeth.  I ran around my apartment tearing through the cabinets, sniffling, wiping my eyes, and searching for anything that had some kind of pain killer in it.  I couldn't find anything so I took "back ache" pills.  What the heck are those?  And then I drank some wine.  I haven't eaten anything all day so that ended up backfiring on me.  Eventually I went out and got some Ibuprofen and now I feel okay, just extremely exhausted.

Anyway, here are the rest of the facebook messages.  I am not proud of a lot of my responses, but this stuff is raw and painful for me and as some of you know, I can be pretty sensitive and feisty with comments and emails. I don't know if I'm being selfish or childish.  Maybe I am.  I just really need her to prove to me that she's going to put in some effort and not walk away.  I don't know why I can't start over with her like she wants me to.  She keeps saying that I need to focus on the positive and that I need to step in the future and step out of the past, but I don't know how to do that when the past keeps attacking my present.  I want a mom and a family so badly and I've dreamed of my her coming to rescue me for years.  I dreamed of having my brothers back and being part of a family.  But I can't just pick up where we left off because where we left off destroyed me.  I know what my heart aches for--my mom, but I know why my heart hurts--my mom that left me and protected her husband instead of me. 


Tears, fears, and letters part 1

Back story links:
http://percolatedparadox.blogspot.com/2010/12/dear-santa_09.html

http://percolatedparadox.blogspot.com/2011/01/open-letter-to-my-former-mother.html

http://percolatedparadox.blogspot.com/2011/05/why-i-tried-to-die.html




I have been corresponding with my former foster mom since she emailed me on Thanksgiving. 

Excerpt from Facebook email:
I am here for you when you want I 've told you that. I would love to have you in my life again, I know that things take time, And I also know that you can't be pushed into something, That you take allot of time to go forward with something. That is why I'm saying I was leaving it up to you to know what you want and how much forward we should go with this. Wait until your ready.

I'm sorry if coming back into your life caused you problems, That is not what my intent was. I also cried for you I missed you so much, You were my daughter and I felt for years that I screwed things up. It did change my life, I didn't want to get close to any other kids, I kept a distance from all other kids that came into my life.
I know that you have mixed feelings, and that is ok. I am here and I will let you go at your own pace like I said. I will not push you into a relationship your not ready for. But that doesn't mean I don't care or I don't want this, All it means is that I want you to feel comfortable with this. I also don't want to get hurt, But I know that it is possible for you to reject me, and I'm willing to find out.

All I want is to know that your doing good. And I would love to talk to you laugh with you be there for you. I'm actually a really nice person and would not intentially do anything to hurt anyone. I may not do things right and I make mistakes but I would not do anything to harm anyone on purpose

How would you think a more profound way would be? Tell me what you think is best for you.

Maggie
My response:

I don't think of you as a bad person. I never thought you were a bad person.  I'm simply expressing my mixed emotions and confusion and devastation about what did and did no happen when I was yours. I have a lot of questions and need a lot of answers.  I can get over the small stuff, the hurt feelings of dramatic times in the house. No one is perfect and I totally understand that. The part that I am having trouble with is how it all ended.

Part of me is really excited that you found me because you were my "mom" the longest in my life if you exclude my real mom and maybe even if you don't.  I know I wasn't an easy kid. I had a good share of problems that you had to put up with, selective mutism, eating problems, bed wetting, sleep walking, panic attacks.  I know all of that couldn't have been easy with four or more other kids to deal with.  I wanted so badly for you to adopt me. I wanted my name to be changed to yours so very badly. I thought you wanted me too. I realize things were more complicated than I probably understand, but all I have are my feelings and my child experiences and memories, as flawed as they may be.

Occasionally, I still cry when I think about that time. I cried for you for so long. I wept for my second mom to want me and come save me.  I cried for the boys and the girls.  I even cried for Tim. I loved him when I was little which probably makes no sense. I even cried for Pugsly and my pigeons, and that little pig, Oliver or something. I cried for my tree fort and all the tomboy adventures I had back there.  I cried for my school and for my friends and my bed. I missed A so much. S too, but A and I were buddies.  I miss playing Barbie monster truck with him and dressing him up like a girl.  I really missed making cookies with you and 4-h and having someone who cared about me.  I missed doing crafts with you and running around the yard and neighborhood all day long.  I was never again allowed to run around and play outside.  I certainly never had a farm full of animals again or goats to headbutt and giant pigs to cuddle and wild angry peacocks to run from for dear life.  I could never run out in the ran and catch toads and tiny frogs and snakes and do stupid things like poke beehives with sticks.  I could never go outside and come back completely brown and crusty from all the dirt and mud I rucked around in.  I never again had someone I could just randomly run up to for a hug or someone who sat with me and talked me through my panic attacks.  I never ever had a home or a mom again.  I never had you again.

Even if you meant to or not, I was abandoned. It feels good to hear you say you wanted me back and it hurts so badly to hear you say you wanted me to be your daughter.  That time was very traumatic and confusing for me. I was so scared and lost and confused. Within one month I lost my family, my home, my school, my best friend, went to a hospital for over a month, my sister was adopted and moved away, my brother and sister were moving back to the middle east and suddenly I was totally alone in life. They told me you didn't want to be in my life anymore. I begged to write letters and have visits. They said you didn't want them--that you didn't want me anymore.

I was never told that you wanted me back, but I wouldn't have been able to go back with you. Think about it. Either I was a child that was being abused in your home or I was a child who lied about being abused in your home with a lot of unexplained medical trauma. Either way, I seriously doubt I would have been able to return to you. It was so unfair to totally abandon an obviously traumatized mentally and medically fragile child that way.  I was abandoned.  You abandoned me, not CPS.  I feel abandoned because you could have kept in contact with me if you really wanted to. You could have fought harder for me. You could have believed me and protected me and chose me.  I'm sure you would have for S or A but I guess it's different because I wasn't really yours. I don't know. Still, you could have written me letters, called me, visited me. I know you could have and you knew how to contact my case worker. Why didn't you want to stay in my life? I'm not angry when I say this, I'm just really sad and confused.  Actually I'm devastated and destroyed.

I'm not upset that you contacted me.  I was just really confused because you seemed to drop into my life out of the blue and then left when I responded with anger and sadness.  It's confusing and painful for me.  I'm not sure if it's lucky or unlucky that you reconnected with me when you did last year. On one hand I would not have been receptive to it any time before then. I would have freaked out and deleted my email address, so the timing was right on that part, but I had just began therapy and just opened up all that trauma and pain so the timing was wrong for that part. Maybe it's not very fair of me, but I feel angry that you didn't protect me before, during or after you knew, even if you didn't believe me. What I wrote in that journal entry was so very benign because I think some part of me hoped you would read it and then make him stop without having to get anyone in trouble or move away.  I was a stupid stupid stupid kid. If you refused to believe the story I wrote in that diary, how would you ever believe the truth? I still don't think you'd believe the truth and I have absolutely no reason to lie about it. What would be the point? He's dead and before he died in January I'm pretty sure the statute of limitations had expired. Tim should have gone to prison for very very along time.

What I'm trying to say is I don't think it's possible to just let time fix things like you keep saying. There's been over a decade of time. Time isn't going to fix anything. It's not really feasible to just start over with our history. You know? I know people make mistakes and I know I'm not really your daughter but I really wanted to be and I really wanted you to keep me and make me yours like you promised. I think in order to have a relationship there has to be some sort of work and I honestly don't think you are up for that. I'm not able to just think positive thoughts and get over things...at least not right now. I live with consequences from the past. I have complex PTSD, generalized anxiety disorder, major depression, and night terrors. My childhood sucked before, during, and after my time with you.

As far as pictures go, I would absolutely freaking love to have pictures. I don't really have any pictures of me from the ages of 5-10. It's okay if you don't have any, but if you do, I would love them. You can just mail me the box (I'll pay postage) and I will sort through them, make copies for myself and mail you the box back. Videos would be so amazing too. I can burn them into DVD's and send you copies too. If you don't have any of me with you guys, that's okay. I'll get over it.

Do I want a relationship with you? Yeah, I think I do. Do I think we can have a relationship? I'm not sure. Not without some sort of therapeutic work of some kind and I am pretty sure you're not up for that much work. I guess I really need to be genuinely heard, believed, and have my story and feelings validated. I guess I need to understand why you just left me without any contact and never reached out to me until last year.

Her response:

I understand that this is hard for you. And I don't know really how to fix things. I messed up, If the same thing happened today I could probley deal with it and fight for you. Back then there was so much going on between tim and I you don't know about. I was not sure of myself and didn't know how to fight for things I wanted.

I can't let you say things like if it was S or A I would have done different. I always felt of you as my child just like J and C. I really thought I was doing the right thing. Now looking back your right there was probley allot more I could have done. I will have live with that, and I'm sorry that it hurt you so much. I can't fix it. I can't give excuses. I can't change what happened. I can't make you not angry with me. All I can do is ask for forgiveness. And if you can't do that then I will have to except that.

I don't what you want me to do, Its not fair to say I'm not up to a little work. We live so many miles from each other and that makes it hard,

I do hear you, and I do believe you And all the other stuff I have no excuses, not anything that would make you understand anyway, I can say all kinds of things all kinds of reasons, and none of them would make sense to you. Because you do feel like I abanded you. 

I don't know if this can be fixed, I'm hopeful that it can. I understand if it is to much for you to deal with, I would be very sad but I can understand . The greatest thing that could happen is if we could get past this and go forward. Yes it will be hard Yes we will have to talk about things. But it could all be good.

I realize that I sound kind giberish going from here to there with my words, but this is hard for me, I'm, so terrible putting my feelings down and making any sense....lol

Know matter what happens I do love you and that will never change. You may say I don't know you, and yes I don't know you today, but I fell in love with you and that will never change you may be different now but you are still my girl and that does not change!

Part two REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY SUCKS.  I've been crying for hours.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Poor choices and acceptance

I've been really anxious about writing since the last few batches of hurtful comments.  The fact that the comments came from people who use fake information and programs to change/hide their IP addresses make it even worse.  I'm not doing well.  There have been a lot of reminders that I am a complete fuck up and will never have a normal life.  Maybe people should protect children and animals from me.  

My trip to Tucson wasn't what I had hoped it would be.  I wanted to feel like I was going back home.  It didn't.  That feeling I was longing for was replaced by the feeling of being disconnected from everything in life.  I am not grounded anywhere.  I don't have roots anywhere.  I don't have a home anywhere.  I changed my blog banner because I feel it better represents my state of being.  I am infected with this unyielding sickness for belonging.  For home.  I am so homesick and I have never even had a home.  I am so homesick for a place that has never existed for me.  I am so homesick for nowhere.  And I will probably always be homesick.  I never had a home because no want wants me and no matter how hard I try to hide or fight it I will always be me.   

My childhood best friend, Alexis, asked me out to coffee but I turned her down because it was just too much pressure.  We were inseparable when I lived with Maggie and Tim.  We would call each other just to watch movies together after I moved away.  We made crazy little comedy recordings of ourselves.  We were hilarious together.  We thought so at least.  I really loved that little girl and I think she loved me too.  But I kept moving away and we lost touch and then we grew up.  I still feel really sad about losing my best friend and I'm sure she's over it--over me.  I really wanted visit with her but the thought of meeting her brought me to a near panic attack.  I don't want to kill my little fantasy of reuniting and having it be like time stood still.  I don't want the reminder of my reality.  I hold onto everyone I love and I always miss them, but people can get over me pretty quickly.  I didn't meet any of my other friends either.  

I made some really poor choices while I was in my "home"town.  I behaved in ways and tried things I promised I never would.  Being in Tucson just reminded me of who I really am inside all this bullshit I fill myself with--behind all the lies I tell myself.  I wear this mask of ability and independence to cover up the fact that I'm a total loser.   Instead of meeting my friends I went to parties with people I knew from high school and my year of college at the UofA.  I behaved in ways and tried things I promised myself I would never do and until Thanksgiving weekend, I never had.  I'd like to say that I tried something new, experienced it, and left it in Arizona, but I didn't.  And why not?  I'm not above it.  I am my mother's daughter, no matter how much my mother wishes that away.  Her e-card to me on Thanksgiving said that she's thankful that I am no longer her daughter and that there is no shame in taking my life if I want to.  Thanks momma.  Two other foster moms wrote to me on Thanksgiving too.  Maggie and another one I haven't heard from in years.  Their emails were nice, but they made me feel like shit.  I am shit.

I went to the house.  I went back to that fucking house.  I have never been tempted to go back there before but for some reason knowing he's dead and she's moved away, I could not overcome the obsessive thoughts and impulse to go back there.  Maybe I wanted to go back in time.  Maybe I wanted to go there as an adult.  I wanted it to heal something.  I wanted it to change something.  I wanted something in me to change.  I wanted something to be different after I left that house.  It didn't, I didn't, it wasn't.

I drove over an hour into a tiny town in the middle of the desert at an obscene hour after the party.  I expected the house to be inhabited by a new family.  I felt so confident as I drove, but once I arrived I was like a totally different person.  I was surprised to find the house empty and for sale.  I was surprised to find the house open.  My initial plan was to sit by the house for a few minutes and then leave.  I went inside the house because I'm freaking insane.  I went in the house and everything was the same, but I don't remember the house being that small.  Once I walked into that house I was stuck.  All that confidence and resolve I felt on the drive over was gone.  I was stuck on the floor in my old bedroom.  I took my anxiety medication hoping it would help.  They didn't and neither did that the gift bag of party favors I was given at the party.  I laid in that room for hours, trapped by my brain and the chemicals I ingested to chase the memories away so that I could leave.  

Last week I told CT that I am done with therapy.  I don't feel better since starting therapy over a year and a half ago.  My life isn't any better.  My life is worse and I feel worse.  There is no fixing what's fucked up inside my head.  All I can do is accept that.  Therapy is useless for me.  I can't keep anyone around, even a therapist.  I told her that I act like what happened between us in March/April doesn't matter but it does.  It still hurts that she wanted to dump me.  It hurts that she told me she couldn't hold my spot for me while I was in the hospital.  I don't even know what that meant, but it made me feel like a paycheck.  I promised to go back tomorrow to keep talking about it, but honestly I don't know what the point is.  I will never have what I need.  I will never be normal.  I will never be happy.  I will never not be totally fucked up and crazy.  Maybe I don't deserve to have a family and maybe I should be kept away from pets and children.  I deserve it.  I deserve all of it.  No amount of therapy will change what I am.  


Thursday, November 17, 2011

break

november hurts and just getting through it is hard enough so im going to take a break from blogging and major decisions.  im going back to tucson on tuesday and will get to go to all my favorite childhood places like tanque falls where you get to hike, rock climb, and jump into swimming holes under waterfalls...yes this place exists in southern arizona.   thanks for the support.  i hope everyone has some place special to go for thanksgiving.  i might not be with my last family t but i will be with someone who has loved me since i was thirteen.

Comment for November Hurts

Fuck, even the supportive comments in that post hurt.  I was so hurt and so upset yesterday.  Some of my comments were kind of stupid and childish, but I was so upset that no one seemed to care about the rest of my blog entry or my feelings about being dumped.  I wasn't just feeling sad about being taken out of C's life.  I was sad about losing my family, encompassing all of them.  I cried all day yesterday because I went back and reread every single email that K wrote to me and my responses to just see if you guys were right.  Reading recent love letters and then recent fuck you and goodbye letters from someone you so deeply love and thought would be your very last chance at a family for the rest of your life is so heartbreaking.  Just writing about it now creates streaking snotting puddles on my face.

Now that I've had a day to cool off, it still hurts that people believe that children, C in particular, and their own children need to be sheltered from me and that CPS would take away my children and I should give away my pets because I would hurt them in one way or another.  I attempted suicide after years of searching for help.  I started therapy.  I went to doctors for medication for the first time since I was 14.  I even went and had my body checked out in case it was what was hurting me.  Therapy left me more raw and the medication did not provide enough.

I even went to the ER because I was searching for help.  They put me in a hospital where they stripped me naked and made me turn around in circles without my clothes so they could document every mark on my body.  As I was naked they asked me questions about each mark and where it came from.  They made me wear a hospital gown and placed me in a place where men were screaming in Arabic and other people were constantly being restrained.  One woman (or teenage boy, I'm not really sure) paced the entire until in the same path all day long.  Men screaming in Arabic and following me around proposing marriage and begging me not to cry fucking terrified me to the point that I could not leave my room to eat or anything else.  I was basically frozen in time.  I was seven again.  Screaming Arabic reminds me of the man in the Middle East who I watched be beaten by police officers with a type of stick that looks like bamboo but makes whooshing sounds as it whips through the air.  I watched the blood spatter everywhere.  I felt myself pee my pants, or my shiny yellow dress and to this day I feel so guilty that I never told them to stop.  I have no idea if he was critically injured.  Laying on my white hospital sheets I held myself in the fetal position with the pillow over my head trying not to hear the man beg me to stop the beating.  Trying not to hear the most horrific animalistic screaming I've ever heard and the laughter that accompanied it.

This is the help I got.  No med change, no therapy, not anything.  Basically they held me for five days in a prison full of my worst fears and then let me go.  That's it.  I so badly wanted help and searched for a million programs but my insurance would not pay for any of them and they would not accept loans.  My insurance does not pay for trauma treatment at all. I was screaming for help and no one came to my aide and then I realized there was no help for me.  There would never be any relief.

I could not sleep.  Once I did not sleep for nearly 5 days.  They gave me some very powerful drugs that knocked me out for two days.  It only helped for those two days and then I was back to 3 days awake, crash for 15 or more hours, then 3 days awake.  When I did sleep it was nightmare after nightmare, panic attack after panic attack.  I have had PTSD most of my life, but it blew up after I pumped my body with hormones for the egg donation.  My flashbacks exploded in my face hurting every part of me.  I needed help in the most painful way and there wasn't anything I could do about it.  I was hurting so badly.

Wonderful people from this blog talked to me and even texted me trying to be there for me, but it wasn't enough to stop the past from haunting me.  One evening my girlfriend and I were sitting on the couch watching a movie and I realized I was about to have a flashback and a panic attack.  I went to the bathroom to freak out where my girlfriend couldn't see and saw all my sleeping pills and sedatives and in that brief moment of extreme suffering I decided I couldn't handle it anymore.  I thought everyone would be relieved to be rid of me.  In that moment I thought leaving my body would be best for everyone so I poured all those blue and white and some weird color pills into my hand, chucked them in my mouth and swallowed.  It went down so easily.  I did it again.  My thoughts as I did this was that I would finally be able to sleep and I would finally stop hurting.  I felt happy.  I felt hopeful.  I felt relieved.  I laid on my bed watching the ceiling fan thinking wow this will be the last thing I ever see and then I realized the first thing my gf would see in the morning would be my body.  And then I realized that would hurt her and leave her with so much pain and guilt, and stranded with five animals and a huge amount in bills.

Then I thought about C and K and D and L and how much I would miss of their lives and then I became scared.  I changed my mind.  I didn't have enough strength to yell or move my body, but I did have my phone right next to me, might have even been on my chest.  I reached for that phone and very slowly began the message to my girlfriend.  I'm not sure how long it took me to write it, but it felt like forever.  I wrote, I'm sorry, I love you so much and there is nothing you could have done.  I just can't do it anymore."  I wrote this message just in case she might not see it in time.  She came in and all I remember are flashes for the next three days.  I didn't want to die.  I didn't want to hurt anyone.  I just didn't want to hurt anymore.  I wanted help and there wasn't any help available and I couldn't survive anymore.  Does that make me dangerous?  Does that mean I don't deserve to be apart of a family and watch someone I created grow up?  I got help.  I'm getting help.  I got good doctors who talk to me for more then ten minutes before they fill a prescription.  I got meds that help me a feel a little stronger even though they are pretty dangerous.  I'm taking them in order to survive.  I got therapy.  I am making a ton of mistakes as I go down this path, but it's my first time and I'm getting lost occasionally.  I am walking alone in the dark with only a tiny key-chain flashlight and I'm scared about a lot of things that are happening to me as I push through the rocky sticky jagged path encompassed with bricks and yellow jello (the worse kind I can think of).

I am doing everything I know how to do so that I can stay alive, so that I can LIVE.  I am documenting it here and putting it all out here as a way to take some risks in life and maybe help someone else or at the very least have someone witness it.  Does that not count for something?  Does that not matter at all because I made a huge mistake that could have had fatal and really painful consequences?  Does that mean I should lose everyone I love, especially someone I created?  Does that mean I don't deserve to be around children because I need a bit of extra help to deal with my prison camp of a childhood?  Does that mean I don't deserve to be loved semi-unconditionally?  I hurt people.  I didn't mean to.  I lashed out at people who were hurting me and scaring me as they pulled away.  But does that mean I deserve to be left when I'm hurting the most?  Does that mean I don't deserve to be told that people are leaving me in person?  Does that mean I don't deserve at least one therapy session and an attempt to talk about it and work things out?  I always only get one strike in life and love.  One mistake and people disappear.  Most people get a family that they can totally take for granted and not be grateful for every waking moment.  I will never have that because everyone who has tried to be my family has always expected me to be super grateful and low maintenance because their love is always laced with a bit of charity and pity.  And no matter how much I try to believe people love me and won't hurt me, I can't.  I know it hurts the people in my life and I try not to let it show.  It hurts me too.  It hurts not being able to feel loved.  Why don't I ever deserve love and compassion and a family who stick by me in life with no motivation behind it except that they just love me?  Why can't I have that?  Why do I deserve to lose everything because of a really huge mistake?  Why do I deserve that in your eyes JenB and even the some of the people I know have nothing but compassion for me?  Why?  Why can't I have that?  What do I keep doing that makes people run from me as fast as they possibly can without looking back as the dust and rocks hit my chest?  All I want is love but I can never seem to accept it or hold onto it and it's killing me.  I just want to feel loved and have it be true.  I just want to sleep and live life like a normal human being with normal human problems.  I don't want to be dangerous to anyone, including me.

Monday, November 14, 2011

November Hurts

November.  It's such a pretty word and it's fun to say.  It's the time of year when everyone looks so colorful and festive in their scarves, hats, and trendy coats.  November is the start of the holiday season.  Starbucks breaks out their red holiday cups and fills them with seasonal drinks like Pumpkin spice lattes.  It's the season of shopping, singing, parties, gifts, love, and family.  November has so much going for it.  November is supposed to be happy and joyful but for me November hurts.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Scared of myself, in love with my dogs

I feel so disgusted with myself because of the thoughts and urges I had towards my dog and the way I treated her on Thursday.  It scared her but it terrifies me.  I lost control of myself and that really really scares me.  I just want people to know that I've never hurt my dogs and I hope that I never will.  I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I do.  I love them more than anything.  I cook for them.  I get excited about buying them gifts I know they will love.  They go to the park at least four times a week.  When I had a job and some money they went to doggy daycare every once in a while for a day of fun.  I spend so much time and energy teaching them manners and commands so that they can go with me almost anywhere.  I just wanted to post a photo blog of my dogs throughout the years as a tribute to them and so that people can hopefully see that I really love them and don't want to hurt them.  Scout is about 5.  I've had her for four years.  Cooper is almost 6 and I've had him since he was 8 weeks old.


Friday, November 11, 2011

What happens when you beat children

Warning:  LONG AND POSSIBLY TRIGGERING

A friend of mine posted a video on facebook of a judge beating his daughter.  I watched it.  I watched all 8 minutes.  I could not turn it off.  I could not look away.  And then I could not stop crying and I continued to cry long after it was over.  At first I was crying for that girl but then it wasn't about her anymore.  I was crying for me.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Birthday antibiotics

My birthday was awesome.  I played Laser tag with some friends and I kicked their butts.  I love sneaking around in the dark with a laser gun.  I wish laser tag was a sport with a league that I could join.  It's one of those activities that burns a ton of calories but I love it so I don't notice how hard I'm working until I stop.

We dressed up like zombies for the late-night zombie hike but we got stuck in the Friday traffic in LA and were a few minutes late for the hike so we couldn't find the other zombies.  We went out to eat as zombies instead.  It was a lot of fun.  The park even had this really awesome Halloween carousel.  So we were a bunch of Zombie's on horse skeletons.  It was great.

The next day I went out with my best friend who I haven't seen in a while because she's trying to get into medical school in Costa Rica.  We met up and exchanged birthday gifts because I didn't get to see her on her birthday a week earlier.  It was really great to see her but at the same time I'm sad because I know she's going away.  I avoid her because I know she's going away which I know it's really healthy.  I might not have a lot of friends but the ones I have are really great.  I have two friends from my partial hospitalization group therapy program I did for half the year that I see about five times a week.  They keep me from hiding out in my apartment by myself all day.  They are really great people and great friends.  They know me more than most people and still want to be my friend.  That feels awesome.  They are both over a decade older than me but that doesn't matter to me at all.  We have so much fun that my stomach muscles are sometimes really sore the day after I see them because we laugh so hard.  I've never had friends like that before.

I hate receiving gifts.  It's so awkward and stressful for me.  My friends got me gifts anyway even though I begged them not to.  I got some watercolor pencils.  They are colored pencils that turn into water color paint when you brush them with water.  I had no idea those existed.  They are awesome.  My girlfriend bought me a really awesome wrap up pencil case so I don't have to carry around pencil tins everywhere.  Another friend got me these crazy looking hand puppet tattoos.  They are so funny and I can't wait to use them while playing some kind of drinking game.  Other than a few things that made me a little sad and a panic attack, my birthday could not have been better.

Not my arm, but my problem
I went to the doctor for my weird hives/bug bites and it turns out they are not bug bites or hives.  I have a serious staph infection on the left side of my body.  My doctor can't explain why it's only on the left side and he can't tell me what caused it.  Lots of things can cause it and some of my meds make me more susceptible to rashes.  I haven't cut myself since august but he said that it's possible I've had it since then.  He took a blood sample and took it into the back.  My doctor used all these big scientific names and kept talking but to be honest I tuned out a little bit once I took my pants off.  Because the kind of infection I have and because it has spread to my blood, I have to be on two kinds of antibiotics and a topical antibiotic for two months.  If there is not improvement in three weeks I will have to switch to injections.  The doxycycline makes me feel really sick so I hope I either adjust to it or it at least takes care of my problem.  Right now antibiotics are my middle name... or I am antibiotics middle name.  :-)





Thursday, October 27, 2011

Epic birthday plans

Tomorrow is my birthday.  These are my plans for the day because apparently I am a 12 year old boy.

12pm:

Laser tag because what's better than sneaking around in the dark with a gun, shooting people with lasers, diving and rolling on the ground to avoid being hit, practicing my Rambo/GI Joe/Wonder Woman skills?  Nothing.
Laser tag (and this ^ show is awesome)

7pm:

Dressing like Zombies and hiking in the dark with flashlights with a bunch of people.


Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Art and sad dreams


I don't usually show my drawings to strangers, but tonight is a special case.  I was plagued with sad dreams tonight.  I have them a lot.  I don't really know if they are considered nightmares or not.  They aren't scary, just really sad and usually real life events.  Sadmares?  I often wake myself up because I'm sobbing in my sleep and holding my breath.  I woke up tonight that way and very overwhelmed with loss and sadness.  When I can't sleep and I can't stop thinking I space out and draw.  I totally go away.  It's like I am sleepily and peripherally watching my hands work.  Tonight my dreams and thoughts were on a particular little boy.  My brain turned off so much so that I wasn't even aware of who I was drawing until I finished.  In some ways I feel better after drawing him and in others I feel more sadness.  Drawing is sometimes the only thing that soothes me when I am flooded and freaking out.  I hope his parents will eventually forgive me for my behavior the first half of this year and let me back in his life.  Why are there so many conditions when people offer me unconditional love and family?  I realize almost nothing is unconditional but I just seem to have so many strict conditions and very little forgiveness in my life.  I know it sounds like I'm feeling sorry for myself.  Well, I guess I am feeling sorry for myself.  I'm feeling sorry for the amount of loss I've had to endure and sorry that I miss so many people.  I just don't understand why I can't keep anyone around.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

Went whale watching

I went whale watching with my gf and two friends.  We only saw dolphins, but three different kinds and hundreds of them!  They were jumping in the waves from the boat.  They were so playful.  They are like aqua puppies!  It was the first time I have ever been on a boat besides a kayak.  The day started out pretty bad because I was up all night sick with flu or food poisoning.  My 3 hours of sleep was full of nightmares and sleep walking.  I had to really push myself not to call and cancel on my friends.  I really didn't want to go, but I always feel that way before I do something social.  I started the day grumpy, and feeling like crap, but I ended the day really happy with lots of new experiences, hours of fun with friends, and a windburned face.  All for $15.  :-)


Birds and dolphins!

My Friend and a baby dolphin

Friends

My friend Nicolette (khaki hoodie) took this.  NJP photography


Thursday, October 13, 2011

I hope...

that someday I can feel that I am more than this: 
And this:

and this

And this:


I hope someday I can be less of this






And feel more like this:




 






But how do I get there?




Sunday, October 9, 2011

When the past hijacks my brain

WARNING:  Very raw

The waiter reached over my shoulder to top off my glass of water.  It startled me.  I jumped and knocked my fork off the table.  His voice sounds familiar.  "Let me get you another fork," he said.


Monday, October 3, 2011

Dear Foster Kids

I know how you feel about yourself.  I know how hard life is for you.  I know what people have done to you...and not done for you and how hard it is to trust and feel safe in this world full of strangers.  I have been there too and I am struggling too, but I hope my pain and this blog can show you that you are not alone.  I don't have much to offer, but I can give you this:  No matter how many parents didn't want you.  No matter how many homes you've been in.  No matter how many labels you've been given.  No matter what you've been through.  No matter what you've done to survive.  No matter who you are--  Don't give up.  You are strong.  You are a warrior.  You are amazing.  You are beautiful.  I love you.  And I want you.  No matter what. 

--Campbell




Thursday, September 29, 2011

Adulthood and growing up in foster care


I believe everyone is just a child in a grown up body.  The older I get the more I have come to realize that the magical maturity I expected to come with being an adult just doesn't exist--at least not in anyone I know.  If normal people feel this way when they grow up, what do you think it's like for foster kids when they grow up?  There should be an extra one of these cartoons about childhood for foster children.  What separates most people from former foster kids is that we never learned how to be kids.  Childhood is about learning to trust, problem solve, have proper boundaries, socialize, love and feel loved, learning how to get your needs met, learning to progressively feel safer in the world until you can manage it independently.  Childhood exists so people can learn about the world slowly and safely with some love, security, support and encouragement from people who know a little bit about life.  Childhood is about practice for adulthood with parents being the coaches and the cheerleaders.  Most of us former foster kids never learned how to thrive and grow up.  All of our energy went into basic survival.  If an infant doesn't receive the love and attention it needs from caregivers that infant will "fail the thrive."  The same thing happens with older children, it's just less physically obvious.  A seedling will not grow if it doesn't get it's basic needs met.  Neither will people.  In order to grow up you have to start out as a child and be nurtured along the way.  Foster kids don't get to be children.  As a result we age out into a scary alien world alone.  Our bodies just got older, but we never got to grow up--not really.  We don't grow up.  We age out. 

Too many kitty videos not enough time


Tuesday, September 27, 2011

I want to change so fucking badly

I had my DBT therapy today.  Maybe that's the trigger to my current emotional state.  I am lost and frustrated, and sad, and disappointed.  Dr. K just doesn't seem to get it.  She apologized for being two minutes late to day.  I don't know why but that made me feel like she was patronizing me.  I try to joke around with her but she never gets it.  She talks so much and so fast, I'm not sure she ever really hears what I've asked.  Today I asked her to explain "Wise mind" to me and how I'm supposed to practice it.  I get that it's where the rational and emotional mind intersect, but that doesn't tell me how to "practice" wise mind.  I asked Dr. K and she seemed delighted by the question.  She's always praising me for really minimal things, which I also find a little patronizing.  She ran to her desk, grabbed her little paperback workbook on DBT and read to me, very quickly, all these little Marsha Linehan quotes about "wise mind."  That was all great and poetic and nice, but it's also just a bunch of pretty words.  I let the question go because her constant high strung, mousey energy is exhausting.  She speaks much faster than I process.  While doing a mindfulness meditation she said my wise mind is in the deepest breathes in my body, so being the facetious person that I am, I asked "So my wise mind is in my diaphragm?"  She praised me for such a good question and explained to me how my wise mind is not in my diaphragm.  She doesn't get my dark/sarcastic sense of humor I guess.  I feel like she really has no idea what to do with me so she's always jumping around, really anxious about our sessions.  

I've been feeling pretty good lately.  I'm not jumping up and down with joy or anything, but I've been feeling...more stable I guess.  I seem to be slipping back into the darkness lately.  I can go from being totally okay one minute and totally devastated the next.  It's like whenever I feel good my mind starts searching for things to feel bad about.  One minute I'm pretty content, the next I wish I wasn't alive.

I started this blog as my outlet, to write about all the things I can't speak about.  As a place to put all my misery and pain for whoever wants to read it.  I've done a lot of dumb ass things with this blog.  This blog has been a roller coaster of it's own.  I've gotten a lot of attention from certain posts, a lot of negative attention by other posts.  I've gained a lot of readers and lost a lot of readers.  I've been way too raw too many times.  I've been way too dramatic at times.  I just don't know where the boundaries are in blogging, just like I don't know where they are in life and relationships.  People (readers and non readers) keep telling me I have a choice in all of this.  A choice in how I feel.  That it is all up to me--that all I have to do is change but no one tells me how.  I'm doing everything I know how to do to change.  Hours and hours and hours of therapy.  My own online research.  I've read self help books.  I'm blogging (the benefit of this is debatable according to my therapists).  I'm taking some powerful and dangerous medications.  I'm taking vitamins for mental health.  I'm researching diets for mental health.  I'm trying everything I know how to do. 

I've had a lot of readers email and post comments loaded with so much feeling directed at me.  Some are very sweet.  Some are very religious.  Some are a need to save me.  Some are angry.  Some are full of pity.  Some readers feel like I really need a lot of "tough love," whatever that really means.  I have kind, supportive readers so why do I constantly remember the ones that say things that hurt?  I shouldn't care what some stranger on the internet thinks about me.  It shouldn't matter what they say.  But I do and it does.  I document my worse and best into this little box.  So really, this blog is a lot of who I am on the inside--the part of me that nobody in my real life (anymore) gets to see.  Maybe that's why it's so painful.  This is me without a shield or filter.  I often don't even edit these posts.  I just post them as they are, typos and all.  This is me at my most vulnerable so it a bit scary when those parts of me trigger such powerful feelings in others.  I don't want to be the cause of anger.  I don't want to be the cause or the outlet for negative feelings.

There are a lot of failed relationships in my life and I am the common denominator in all these cases.  It's not a nice thing to say about myself.  It's something people don't want me to believe, but it's true.  And I want to change.  How?  I'm trying so freaking hard but it just doesn't seem to be working, or at least, not fast enough.