Archive for the ‘PTSD and Dissociative Disorders’ Category
Well, I can try. Second night at Dad’s now. My sister and uncle just blasted into the room as she flew in from across the country. Things are now getting more and more stressful as I’m coming face to face with extended family members I kicked them out of my life (including my father in the next room.) I did so because they would give you Ebola through a simple phone call.
When I saw my sister, I started crying because I haven’t seen her a bajillion years. She was pretty cold, ambivalent maybe? Both? She did complement my shoes.
Still running on fumes. Actually had a full meal today. For dinner a Bison Burger! Welcome to Canada! You wouldn’t see that on every restaurant menu though.
Tomorrow I have to go the Funeral Home with my sister and pay for the Cremation. A financial glitch, but I would have done it anyway! She was my mother!
I’ll get reimbursed. It will be covered by a Government Pension Mom was receiving. Of course, I know to get a Death Certificate. When dealing with Estate Laws you ALWAYS get multiple copies of Death Certificates for everything that you have to handle.
I meant to write more about my feelings and emotions. There is just so much going on. A concoction of business, chaos, miscommunication and exhaustion. It doesn’t leave much time for even the slightest pause or glimpse into one’s inner thoughts, and time to reflect upon them. Right now, I’m either the walking dead (bad pun) or functioning on a UFO’s Autopilot System.
That expression formally endswith six. Someone I worked with used to say it all the time. With six.
He’d do it out of frustration, when he’d made a mistake, when somebody was going through a hard time to help or cheer them up, and always while joking.
I never understood what the expression meant. I’d never heard it before up until that point in my life. I’d always gone along with everyone else at work. I laughed and smiled. Inside? I felt like a total goofball.
At one point, he and I were alone. I felt totally awkward and ashamed (why?) We both loved each other. A lot.
NOTE: some Asperger’s behaviour with all of this? Can you see that? Plus, a lot of my colleagues were mean. Must hide.
So, I finally asked him.
“S., what on earth does that expression mean? You’re always saying it, everybody else seems to know. What the ‘fuck’…hahaha…is it some kind Orgy Rule?” We were both in stitches when I said that.
After we both gathered composure, he told me to think about it. THINK ABOUT IT???You, little… I have thought about it! That’s why I’m asking! Doofus.
We were both in our 20’s. He was a few years younger. Since we were so close (damn near in love with each other) he enjoyed with great pleasure to tease and embarrass me while working. In front of the public! Anything to make blush. Which can happen before a hat enters a room to drop anyway.
I told him to fuck off and just answer the damn question. Otherwise, I would beat it out of him. Which would be impossible without many weapons. I’m tiny. Even though he was thin, he stood about 6’1″ To hug me, he’d almost have to pick me up. Especially if I wasn’t wearing shoes.
Anyway, for those who do not know, the expression means that you tell everyone in your life to yes, fuck off, screw themselves, go to hell etc. Except for only six people.
Why? You need six Pallbearers to carry your Casket when you die.
I was almost on my knees, laughing so hard. I could barely breathe. It was a good thing he was right beside me so he could pick me up. I really was that close to falling. He just smirked, satisfied he’d almost made me look, once more, like a fool in front of the public.
My number two? Well, I’m wearing almost “Death Bling.” Two of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry I’ve ever seen.
A very close friend I met so long ago “gave” me his Cross. He was also a very close lapsed Catholic. I dare you to find me a bigger one. However, his Mother was extremely Devout.
She gave him his Cross when he went fully through all the Stations. Confirmed as a young boy. If she ever saw him without it, the Bible and more would hit the fan!
One night we were drinking and fooling around, being our idiot selves and I took it. I put it on, making jokes about how Catholic he was, I was the better one by not being Catholic at all!
I went home, and realized I still had it! HIS MOM!!! I called and left a voicemail. Nothing. This went on for YEARS.
Constant contact back and forth.
“Yeah, later.” ‘Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow.” “Let me send you an email in a couple of days.” “Don’t worry, I know it’s in a safe place.”
He died and I found out after the fact. What about his Cross?! It was “missing.” His Mother. Did G. tell them anything? I never got a phone call. Granted, my number is unlisted. But he knew where I lived.
Some people later told me after all those years, the constant excuses, never coming to get it, questions before dying? It meant something. What? I was totally clueless.
They said it was because he wanted me to have it. I still didn’t understand and couldn’t grasp that concept. In fact, it still seems a bit odd to this day.
After a few years though, I think I might have figured out why.
I knew he had ADHD roughly 10 years before I knew I had ADD! He confided in me, something he’d never told anyone else. His Mother had Mental Health Issues. And all around, I was the only person who really understood him. No words were ever said about it. I don’t think he could have put any letters together to start a sentence for it!
The cross is gold. 14K. Maybe an inch high so proportionate. It has the entire Lord’s Prayer in Relief on it!
ASIDE: Relief is a Coin Collecting Term. It means any part of a coin that is raised. The higher you can feel it, and the cleaner it is on the coin (and the cleaner the coin itself) the better Relief. Then, it is extended to all metallurgical engraving.
The second piece of jewelry is from my Nana. My Mom’s Mother. I loved it so much, even as a child. I actually became so bold when a teenager, I asked if I could have it when she died! She just laughed and said of course I could.
It is beautiful and obviously sentimental. A locket shaped as a shield. 18K. I can’t even begin to describe its complicated and intensely gorgeous engraving.
Inside, there are two little pictures. One of her husband, my Grampa, a dashing, young man. The other, a baby picture of my Mom.
Neither of these are coming off until? Definitely not until we take care of Mom’s Estate! And probably longer. Definitely longer.
Have you ever wanted to write a Blog Post and you just can’t do it. I mean, you really want to do it. You HAVE to do it.
If you don’t, you’re going to totally blow up, go insane, disintegrate into pieces, or you have no clue.
Because you’re too “preoccupied” with the Post you HAVE TO WRITE!!!
Well, there’s both the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea! It’s called your head!
Because there’s nothing you can do but let those seething, boiling waves drown it over and over with your thoughts. The thoughts you want to get out so bad, you would trade choking on them, just to make it happen.
I’m choking, but nothing’s happening. Except for this. And clearly it’s not what I want to talk about? Yes? Well, if it wasn’t clear, there you go.
So my brain is trying to keep it’s head(?) above all of that water. So many thoughts churning around and I’m trying so hard to get a grip. Find the sandy beach.
Hell, I’ll even choke on the sand if that would help!
Where’s Spock? He’s always my good side at sorting these things out.
Went out tonight. Getting ready to leave. This one guy I know through association from a friend (they work together) was there. So, yeah. Nice guy, and we got on well too.
Another guy I’ve known for a few years got into this game about, “Which one wanted to go out with me more?” A totally stupid game as one of them was married!
Enter, THIS FUCKING BITCH.
Now, I had tried to be nice to her since Day One. She was sometimes on, sometimes off.
I’d like to say she’s a total, MOTHERSHIT PSYCHOPATH. In fact, I will.
So, nice guy by association and, well, MOTHERSHIT PSYCHOPATH pulled this bizarre “thing” recently.
We were sitting at the bar, I had my sunglasses on for head-injury-photophobia, and nothing was happening. Just silence, watching the TV, I’m not even close to him or saying a word to anyone. Then, she snaps a picture of us on her mobile phone.
After done, begins howling MOTHERSHIT PSYCHOPATH LAUGHTER! Almost like she was ready to fall off her barstool. I asked if I could see it. She showed it only to him.
I said I had littler things that I could care littler about. I mean, what was MOTHERSHIT PSYCHOPATH going to do? FB, Twitter, Instagram or whatever this “harmless” picture?
Well, tonight was a real topper!
Association-Dude-Small-Cock-Oedipal-Complex comes running over with some guy’s information on it. He kept saying he’s looking for someone to date. I should call him. He’s really nice.
Perhaps I too loudly said, “WHY THE FUCK WOULD I CALL SOME STRANGER FOR A DATE, WHEN…” At that point, I was interrupted.
“Well, can I give him your information!”
I think I might have shrieked back? I’m not sure.
“WHY THE FUCK WOULD I CALL SOME STRANGER FOR A DATE AND YOU GIVING HIM MY INFORMATION? THAT’S SO FUCKING INSANE! THERE IS NO WAY I WOULD GIVE OUT MY PERSONAL INFORMATION TO A TOTAL STRANGER! EVEN YOU ASKING IS JUST PLAIN RUDE!”
I like the fact that I actually brought up proper manners at the end of my tirade. What can I say? *shrugs* I have proper manners.
Then MOTHERSHIT PSYCHOPATH starts screaming, “He’s got lots of money!
And the massive laughter continues…until she lays another one on me: “Oh, are you crying???”
Snark back, with irritability and sarcasm: “No. I’ve got my sunglasses on.”
Not without a traveller. Highly illegal but my local does it. I didn’t even have to pay because the guy working was pissed off too.
I’m close to the owner. If ANYONE ever gives me a hassle they could be kicked out the door.
I’m on the fence with this one. Tell him about it? See if more shit happens?
I always take the high road. Unless cornered? Which I certainly was tonight. Now after thinking and calming down, I wish I could have handled things differently.
I felt like my Asperger’s was back in FULL BLOOM. Like my entire life. Looking back at everything. Bullied since born.
It still happens as an adult. More times than this. It makes me wonder, “Bullied until death?”
I’m not sure, but I think this might be the worst thing a sister could do to her own. This sister, who is an Aunt to her other’s two daughters and one son. Even worse, this sister who learned all about it from their Mother. Charming.
The information happened in stages. Actually, I should correct myself. I’m not sure if our Mother knew the third part, but that is irrelevant. This is about ME.
I can’t believe she didn’t tell me any of this. Much more her “excuses.”
My youngest niece moved about a three hour drive from where I live. This was several months ago. Then she got married approximately two months ago. After the marriage had settled in for a while with both of them, they planned to move across the country.
I never see my nieces and nephew. They love me so much, as I do them. At least I’ve always been told that IN THE PAST. What of the love of my sister she always said she had for me in the past?
Oh, that pretty much disappeared years ago.
So I thought I’d just give her a ding to chat recently. “Hey, what’s up?” I had actually forgotten what Mom had even told me–until the end of our conversation.
Of course I asked why didn’t she tell me about the wedding! I let her moving well before aside because the wedding was more important. If nothing more it would have been nice to meet the Groom!
“Oh, well, I’ve told SO many people I couldn’t even REMEMBER anymore! And there were so many problems with transportation! My car’s a piece of junk and couldn’t make it so we were switching cars all over the place to try and get everybody there. And, oh my god! Her Mother-In-Law just took over everything at the last minute, so it was a TOTAL nightmare! So after everything calms down, they’re moving to (said Province.”)
So now we’ve got the stunning excuses but the REAL BOMB at the end.
People, Canada is a very large Country. For me to fly to where she’s going takes the same time for me to fly to London, England.
That’s just the epicenter within the Province as well. It could take me longer for several other places that would require Transferred Flights to get them.
I’ve been there before. Once it was about seven hours due to a delay of a Transfer. I just sat in the Airport and got drunk to amuse myself. It was late at night and there was nothing else to do!
I kept my cool and made a joke that it was a good thing they were moving if her Mother-In-Law was going to be like that! My sister just laughed and agreed.
My heart is breaking as I’m writing this.
So we stopped chatting and I decided it was time, after so long, to unleash the damn Elephant in the Room! Email!
However. Kid Gloves! Time to really use my writing to the Max! So push those words out properly. Bend, twist, roll, turn them upside down but not a complete 360° Get into her head.
Keep it brief, no drama, non-confrontational, nice and even, and toss out the Elephant. Hopefully get it through her thick skull, I will not be her personal little punching bag any longer. That’s also apart from this story.
I told her “it was a bit of an ouch” that she didn’t tell me. I would like to think that being all of her kid’s Aunt, I’d be at the top of the list of people to tell.
I continued that we were so close years ago, but I didn’t think we were anymore (ELEPHANT!!!) That was alright though. Things change. If we weren’t so close, then at least we can be honest about it and have peace.
Oh, wait. I must have forgotten. There were two Elephants? That final statement was the one that could barely FIT in the room.
No response, naturally. Some kind of blame placed on me for something, naturally. That’s fine.
I’ll take my own blame for everything I ever did to hurt us. But I’m not putting up with her abuse anymore.
I still feel a bit scared of her, but I feel some relief now, too.
Nonetheless, I’m staying far, far away. Even if that means never speaking to her again.
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Someone might be checking me out now. Looking at my blog to find out more about me. I’m not sure.
But that’s okay. In fact, it’s great! I want you to know me!
However, if you are looking at my Blog and checking me out, know that I am SO much more than these words.
If you are reading, I hope you see this. If you took a look and don’t come back? I’ll be so mad of not thinking of this sooner!
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Well, generally through overstimulation. Add some stress on top of that? Okay…
WHAM! BANG! SLAP!
I guess the above sums it up. The vague causes it is. Dissemination? Dissection?
A friend with serious, serious problems and he comes to see me every day to unload.
It’s not like I don’t want to help. I guess I just have a life with issues of my own?
This friend has Bipolar and unbelievable levels of OCD I think a diagnosis is absolutely warranted. That probably makes his daily, morning visits more important.
My Inzombia is at an all time high. I’m so exhausted, I hear my buzzer after some, what, hours of sleep and early, I know it’s him.
These days, I hit the buzz to respond and say I’m still sleeping. Nope. Too late. I’m awake now. Goodbye pillow.
Rambling. Nonverbal online? Well, unless you’re yelling at your own Blog Posts.
We ordered pizza at his place and thank god I told him what an Asperger’s Meltdown can do to you. That awful, terrifying feeling of being so infantilized. The crying, mumbling, whining.
My friend has members of his family, one Schizophrenic, one with Asperger’s.
He also has a four-year-old son. That was the BEST way for him to handle me.
I’m still here. Wow. How long have I been Nonverbal? He’s playing games on his mega video system. And I’m writing this. Longing to go home.
I just can’t move.
Thank you for reading. Do you feel ill now?
I FINALLY got back to an AA Meeting today. I think it’s been about six weeks of constant interruptions that were really beyond my control. I’m serious. No excuses for any flakes.
Two visits to hospital, twice sick when one required bed rest for two weeks, appt. changed at the last minute.
Boy did it feel good to get back. Home sweet home.
I’m trying to find a Sponsor right now. I’m in a pretty vulnerable place. Well, all Alcoholics will stay in vulnerable places until they die. That’s how I see it anyway.
When you’re an addict, it’s not like having a target on your back. It’s more like having targets all over your entire body. And it hurts. It hurts A LOT.
Why am feeling more vulnerable right now? I’ve reached two weeks of sobriety. The most I’ve ever hit before was about three to four.
Yes, yes! Go PA! You’re already half way there! You can do it! HUZZAH!!!
Well, if anyone is gonna say that to me, thank you. I’ll take all the support I can get!
However, in real life, it’s a lot different. Sure, day by day. That’s applicable to so many other things in life! Not just me trying to stay clean and sober.
I actually haven’t been taking it day by day so much for these past two weeks. I just wake up and know I’m not going to drink. It has no appeal.
Well, I need to put some serious, bloody effort into things now! Day by day, hour by hour, second by second.
Because in AA there isn’t any “goal setting.” It’s not some Therapy Group that practises CBT, DBT or anything else of that nature. There’s no mandatory attendance so you won’t get your wrist slapped if you don’t show up.
However, I feel like I have a “goal” looming over my head like a guillotine. I HAVE to make that month. I have to stay sober for the next two weeks.
Then maybe I’ll feel stronger than I was before. It might raise my confidence. Yes? Hopefully?
So here we go. The clock starts now.