Archive for October, 2013


Please read this post as it is an urgent, “Breaking News” update!

I mentioned that I had been passing messages back and forth to a bartender (at the bar the guy and I hang out regularly.)

This bartender is like a brother (a very older one!) a father, a total goofball like me.  He’s my bodyguard, a lifeguard, and obviously someone I can trust.

I tried to keep things cool.  He played things cool, but between us both knowing each other so well? Me constantly asking about my Croatian friend? At times, I’m sure I looked quite desperate.

The guy hasn’t come back here since the night we met.  Odd behaviour for a “regular?”

I’ve practised enough CBT on myself to know what THIS means. Or THAT means?

What do you think?

Cheers! *raises Vodka*

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How pathetic is this? Waiting around in a bar for nights when you’ll probably never see him again.  I’m actually waiting for him here right now as I type this.

He hasn’t called but that’s the painful part (I’ll get to it–more than a one night stand–pathetic…well, no…?)

Looking around the neighbourhood everywhere you go, doing double, triple, endless takes? If you see someone vaguely resembling him, you have to stifle yourself for actually screaming out his name?

Let me take you back in time a bit.  On October 23, 2013 PA took a guy home with her.  Surprisingly to both us (I believe!) we had sex.

Now, it is not the first time PA has had sex with guys since she proclaimed herself “gay.”  She also hates labels and could go on and on about that.  It was just “easier” to label herself that way. Men didn’t “do it” for her on so many levels.

And they’ve never given her an orgasm when having sex.  This guy…? Oy!

This “guy.”  Totally different (and forget the orgasm where I did have to become a bit of a gymnast.)  I hate the word “connection” but a bond and a serious sense of intimacy was formed that night. And I was not “played” in any way.  Too many variables and the biggest was that he was Croatian and his English was not very good! I spent a lot of time translating!

But what hurts? The phone call.  To be serious friends because we both didn’t really have any.  That was pre-arranged before the sex had even existed; not even on the map because the map didn’t even exist itself.  The call was for friendship, which he shyly said he would do.  Call me for that.

I’m not being selfish.  I’m worried about what the hell he’s thinking.  Am I being selfish in what the hell he’s thinking? It is of me.  Because that is what it all comes down to.  All is silent because he’s thinking of me–or at least the two of us.

A friend I met online told me to just let it go.  When you get into one night stands and even stranger danger sex, that’s just how it works.  It sucks, but that’s how it goes.  She knew I was in a lot of pain over it.

Well, the healing process is a bit slow going.  Here I am feeling like this.  The Lowest of The Low.  Begging for scraps in the streets or gutters.  Have I reached “Stalker Status?” I’ve already left several messages with a trusted bartender (he and I are both regulars here.)

I woke up crying over him today.  Why? *pauses to go for a cigarette while obsessing if he’ll come in tonight*

I don’t know.  I guess for me.  Not in worry about him.  Like my friend said, “Let it go.”

If we cross paths again (we live not far from each other) then we can talk.  Otherwise, don’t expect any calls or txts.

“Let it go.”


I just realized I was a bit contrary in this post.

I said that I shaved my head for a lot of reasons.  However, I then said I wasn’t going to post a picture as it wasn’t a “sideshow.”

I apologize, folks.  When writing the post, I think I was a bit shaken up.

It was the exact day I heard of my friend’s mother’s death from cancer.

Thus, it was the exact day I immediately ran out and shaved my head.

I also did it before even finishing the post.

Here I am.  Bald is beautiful.  Even more so if you want to read my crazy post above? Yeah, I was a mess that day.

Get Off Your Lazy Ass And Advocate

What Part Of My Hover Did You NOT Understand?


NOTE: I had to edit this as I originally started writing it on October 09, 2013.  Obviously that is not the date today.

My friend R. who lives in London (but born in bred in the same city I live in) had to fly back recently.  His mother “had cancer.”

Immediately after he arrived, he said, “It was such a surprise to everyone!” Alright.  We do have the aspect of cancer sneaking up on you.  A sort of “surprise” where you seem fine for a while, and then you become gravely ill.  Or something to that effect.

Well, Dr. PA felt she needed to share a medical aspect.  She reminded him of her brush with breast cancer and sure, “everything” was benign, but some things may have still remained (or even have come back.)

Anything dormant or returning may not have be noticeable.  Then, they became malignant.  The speed of the malignant tissue and/or tumors metastasizing, could have spread so incredibly exponentially.  It was only at that time the cancer appeared.  Then, when it had affected so much of her body’s systems, she became terminally ill.

This woman woman was A ROCK.

I don’t know how much “a lot” is, but she definitely had her fair share.  And never a stumble or a trip; always the craziest sense of humour and a smile that would crash any other rocks to bits!

She loved me.  So much.  Countless Sunday Family Dinners where we always joked, I was the “Surrogate <insert my name>” because it is the same as their daughter living to far away to attend the Sunday Family Dinners

Here is an ABSOTIVELY, POSOLUTELY INSANE example of how much she loved me.  It was regarding one Sunday Family Dinner.

There would always be pie for dessert.  I don’t really like fruit and they were always fruit pies.  I would politely decline or maybe ask for just a tiny sliver (and then completely slather it in ice cream to get it down!)

One night, she asked me about pies.  I told her I really didn’t like them.  I didn’t like fruit ones, at least.  I didn’t like fruit!

She looked at me squarely in the eyes and said there must be some kind of pie I liked.  There were lots of them out there.  I thought about pies.  With all of these types of pies spinning around in my head, I thought maybe I didn’t like any!

Wait! Pumpkin! It’s not fruit! Yes!

I showed up for the next Sunday Family Dinner.  She made a fruit pie for EVERYONE ELSE and a PUMPKIN PIE FOR JUST ME!!! 

To hell with pumpkin pie?

I’m already an open book so I didn’t care what R. said to any of his family members about me.  I was so close to them anyway! He told her a lot.  Apparently.

No direct conversations or words were ever uttered, but countless times she would always say, “If you want to come over, you’re always welcome!”

That would mean I’d stay in R.’s bedroom.  Wow.  How many memories would that little space hold.  I certainly would have liked to come to the house but I wondered if staying in his room might be a little TOO much.

The last time I saw her, after the last Sunday Family Dinner, she changed her suggestion to me.  She knew I was alone.  She knew I had so many problems.  She knew I was in pain and in so much trouble at times.  R. would have told her all my diagnoses; everything I have battled my entire life.  I know he told her that I had tried to kill myself (more than once?) He visited me in the hospital for one before he went overseas!

Instead of, “If you want to come over, you’re always welcome!”

It was, “If you need a place to stay, you’ve got one here.”

CONTINUATION, POSTSCRIPT, WHATEVER: 

R.’s mother died today, this morning, this was supposed to be a #FF post but when I found out? Fix this post, on Twitter, time was passing, “Crap! I gotta get out and do this now!” More…

I went out and shaved my head.  Right down to #1.  I’m pretty bald.  And no pictures.  This isn’t a sideshow.

I did it for her, others that have had an impact on me personally (family for sure!) Others I’ve I’ve worked with who are terminal.  I get anemia infusions in hospital.  I see the cancer patients on the other side of the floor getting chemo when I drag my tree to the bathroom there.  On and on…  I wanted to make a wig but my hair wasn’t long enough–even for a kid.

Wake the hell up people!!! And if you don’t know why I’m bald? If you don’t even ask? I’m going to scream why in your ears anyway!!!

I went out a bit.  Dressed all in black.  Quite formally and with my formal cane as well.  I had a drink which I shouldn’t do.  But under the circumstances? Fuck it.  My own way of a wee mourn.  Until the funeral comes around.


Now, where were we? Me unable to move in bed.  Hardly being able to type on my mobile.   Thus dropping it all over but that was okay.  It was landing on a soft surface.  Me. *smiles*  Oh, bugger! I just dropped the damn thing again!

This post is going to take a while.  Well, I’ve got lots of time.

I’ve had about 12 hours of uninterrupted sleep brought on by the Grim Reaper.  Then, after that period, I was resurrected with only a few memories of Alien Abduction.  Or “someone else” doing “something else” to me.

But I don’t know exactly what.

Harvard knows people can be extrasensative to generics.  She went to Harvard to practise Neurology! Even man-on-street would probably know.   For some people generics can be intolerable to the point of severely dangerous.

Harvard hasn’t encountered many people who have found themselves under the “no subs” ruling.   “no subs” meaning, “No Substituions.”  Yep.  Your physician has the right to be Judge, Jury, Grim Reaper, Aliens in your bedroom and whatever else.

So what the hell happened? Harvard has NEVER had a problem with any of the multitudes of the generics out there.   She went to see Merlin #2 and because of the EXISTING med changes, insomnia is a problem.  He prescribed her non-generic Seroquel that she takes for sleep.   The original recipe, Grandma’s secret blend of ingredients for her chicken soup to cure all ills-until she died five years later-and took it to her grave.

Sort of.   The patents run out in five years.  After that, all the other Big Pharma Companies jump on it so they can make money too.   However, slight glitch in the Matrix.  Since you’re dealing with a patent, you need to make some sort of “innocuous?” change.

Maybe Harvard is having a problem because she’s never been on a Brand med.  Right now? I’m gettin’ the good stuff…totally pure…not cut with no baking soda, or any of that shit! *laughing*

Too much.  Ah, this med change will be nothing compared to everything else! It’s just so out of this world!


Brand? Brand? Maybe it was just because I was feeling so exhausted!

Though if that was was simply the case, you’ve slept like the dead for…

BRAND? BRAND? BRAND? o.O

I’m flat out on my bed trying to type.  I am very slow. I am moving a lot slower than normal.  I keep dropping my mobile, but luckily it continues to fall onto a soff

I’ve just woken up from almost 12 hours…

…and I hit something, somewhere to publish this to soon. Let’s try again.

Posted from WordPress for Android. Let’s see if it works.


Well, actually I have no “plan” per se, as I’ve never performed one. I’m just going to wing it.  Do whatever feels right.  But let me tell you, just collecting all of the “pieces” I need and knowing I’m going to do it? Now that feels right!

Womb Twin Survivors have a tremendous obstacle in forming relationships with people.  And definitely romantic ones! They are the vast majority.  For me, it’s always been that way.  I write off all my disastrous friendships falling apart or not even working period, to having Asperger’s.  Bar None!

A thought occurred to me the other day that morphed into a massive trigger.  By the end of the night, you might as well have stamped, “HOLY SHIT! FUCK ME! OH MY GOD! NO!” all over my entire body.  Just that one thing began a cascade of things back to my teenage years up to a few years ago.

I have Dissociative Amnesia.  It falls under several categories of Dissociative Disorders.  Mine is SO extreme, I can’t remember basically my entire childhood, massive chunks of my teenage years and still my adult ones! No, huge per centages of the last two.  It’s so hard to put a number on it–BECAUSE I CAN’T REMEMBER!!! *rolls around crazy and laughs*  Maybe 70% to 80%? 60%?

So for a trigger to take me back to HALF of my Dissociative Amnesiac Mind? For that much, it’s huge.  Since my Dissociative Amnesia is SO HUGE you know it’s locking up a HUGE amount of trauma.

The next day, I managed to calm down a bit.  Even the day before when such grand PTSD HELL was shitting itself all over my head, I was madly scribbling down notes that were a total mess.  I had to record every single thought before I “lost it.”  Back into my potentially, deadly Pandora’s Box.

So what exactly IS the problem with Womb Twin Survivors and romantic relationships? They are continually looking for their lost (i.e. dead) twin.  Or it could be twins.  Yes, you can be a multiple twin survivor as I am.  It’s actually almost like I have DID. However, please see my category for some insight on that! Yet, please feel free to comment on it here!

Now, how on earth would it be possible to try and find your dead twin in a relationship with someone living that you love, want to plan your entire future with, get married, have children etc.  There is a very simple answer to that: YOU CANT!!!

When your twin/s bonded with you in the womb and then died? Make no mistake.  You lost a part of you.  A bigger part of you than you could possibly imagine.  Trust all of us Womb Twin Survivors and med geek PA.  Embryos go SO FAST and the neurological and biological connections grow out of control within the first to second trimesters (think of miscarriages?)

Nevertheless, it is an enduring problem for all of us.  It’s a trap. So elusive; so painful.  Because it’s a cycle and we don’t even know it’s happening! Then it becomes a cycle with the mates we find ourselves involved with.

Everything that crashed down upon me recently made me realize it.  I found it.  I found “them.”  Or at least as many of them as I could remember.  All of the women I had fallen in love with in trying to find something related to…searching for…what was missing…  In being a Womb Twin Survivor.  I was looking for my dead twin (or my twins as the case turned out to be.)

One question might be lingering in your mind after reading this. What about my existing twins.  What about my relationships with Melissa, Jason, Amelia and Bruce?

I had a discussion with them all prior regarding this issue.  I told them that I know you guys already! I know your personalities, I know what you’re all about.  That said, how could I be looking for anything in YOU regarding any romantic relationships?

They’re quite a bunch! We’re One Big Happy Family!

They told me nothing.  Since I already “had” what I needed from them, it was ultimately a nonstarter.  In essence, it “was” almost like a DID Integration Process–and an extremely complete one–although they still have the capacity to change.  The twins and DID? I’ve said this before.  Picture some sort of Venn Diagram.

They told me to look for the signs.  Therefore, the circle of the trigger, all of those women, and finally my Ritual.  I have something representing each one of them.  All of those women. And all of those things are going to “go away.”


Harvard is working on a REALLY heavy med change at the moment.  Today?

EXTREME CHANGE! STAT!

Everything was going along tickety boo.  I’m lying here listening to Erik Satie, EXTREMELY more than firmly having EXTREME hatred for the entire human race.

Thus, I don’t want any single more of them, not even one of them, in my life. Forever. Until I die.

Lest my doctors for my meds.

I’ll be just fine.  Until ANY SINGLE HUMAN BEING COMES NEAR ME!!!!!!

Med changes are fun, yes?

Hopefully Harvard did the right thing. She kicked the right pill out the door and she’ll be on a better track in a day or so.

Dose to Dose Ratio, more med geek stuff, also in bloody Typical Absence Status Epilepticus too!

Half hour until peak plasma.  Clearing up a bit?  Hmmm.  Well, humans are maybe looking a tiny bit less disgusting.