Her hair is curled, her make-up on. Her clothes are nice, although a little loose. She wants to go home, but she does not have one. She is made of ash and what comes from ash returns to ash. It is becoming late late late. She suffocates on her hopelessness and despair. She looks in the mirror. The mirror will not look back. How did she slip so far again and why can't anyone see? I scoop her up to hug her but she falls to pieces in thy arms. To save her I try. She is too sick to be spared and too sick to care. We break off and leave her behind. It is not right, it is not fair. But we all die in some way. Which doll will be next? The silence gives away the answer.
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...and then some more

it is such a dark night. while there is so so much to say, nothing will extricate itself from our stubborn need to open the vault. there is wide spread panic, and while we've pulled through before, things are out of reach, out of control, out of time. we are lost. there is no music, no words, no insides, nothing to connect us to life.

we are in a dangerous place. we've been here before, underneath the bell jar that stole Sylvia. we are under the water, drowning, and OH! how embarrassing. how many times do we have to revisit the same dumping ground that reclaims us and spits us back out. even hell doesn't want us.

mark the finality. it's a dark secret, and you walk the halls and wonder if people realize the treasure you have in your pockets, that you can take something away from them they may want, something you tried to want, but didn't work out for you.

ALERT!!!! To all therapists: just because a patient mentions things that he or she would like to have in ones life does NOT indicate hope. You should be more fearful for their safety. There is NOTHING, almost nothing, worse than wanting something i can't have and knowing i will never be able to achieve or possess it.

yes, we are in a precarious position. what will the insiders do? who is the strongest?

it was the afternoon. we were walking the halls and realized we couldn't remember this morning. d. mentions a conversation he says we had recently, an extremely an important conversation. New clothes, piercing I don't know. Don't belong to me. I can't live split in to tiny fragments like this. I don't know who I am?

And the thought that brings comfort brings shame. why should it? you are just a person in an extraordinary amount of pain. But it's pain that is getting worse. I wanted the pain to go away, not intensify. I can't deal, cope, manage. everything is a struggle and no one can do anything about it. for one day, i would like to be free of this. for one day, i would like someone to take care of the me's.

i feel like a loser. so out of control. i didn't exercise today. i was too depressed. and i feel so lonely that i can't even finish that statement. if someone knew. if more than someone knew. if people asked and genuinely wanted to know how "i" am.. i am not okay. suffering of the worst kind imaginable.

are we there yet? if a hug could only take it away.

i feel ugly, loathsome, hideous, scary, revolting, ostracized, and just plain outcast. I don't i don't I don't feel a part of anything. there is no connection to me and this world. nothing to hold on to, nothing that tells me i was here.

i admit it, we have dissociative identity disorder. it doesn't change anything. i am so stuck and i don't want to try anymore. i won't say that anymore.

my spell check doesn't work and my eyes are closed. how many mistakes?

bar-b-cue, roses, shed, sunflower clock, bobbly GA head doll, concert tickets, cards, extra long twin beds, two windows with pull down shades, a t.v., hard carpet, stereo, the coke bottle. these were all in the grandparent's house, most in both uncles's room. i hate them both. just like i hate me. but i hate me worse, because i'm still alive. at least one has the graciousness to be dead.

It's storming inside somehow you don't hear a thing. It's dangerous when it gets like this. A tear rains down for each reason. God save us. We need help tonight. Just can't do it anymore. It's so quiet it's scary. Whisper
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Screaming at the bottom of our whisper.

i don't know what to write. I'm supposed to be creating a "poem" for writing class about "Where am i from?" I'm having a hard time, needless to say, and it is depressing the hell out of me. Really, really, tear drops, and knives depressing me. i don't understand why i have to do this myself, why someone can't do it for me. why someone can't just take me under their wing, hold my hand like the little girl i feel, and make me better. i just want to be better so i don't always have to write sad words. it's always sad words, sad eyes, sad feelings, sad face, sad me, sad me, sad me. doesn't anyone love me enough to get rid of my sad eyes.i hurt. my belly hurts so bad. make it go away.

she's got her music on.

i feel real dark and dangerous. i could almost set us free. i'm working on that piece of bull and i keep coming back to the night some were born. how can i write that? i don't know what to write. i'm trying to be true, honest, emotionally engaging, yet not exploitive. we all hurt tonight.

i don't know who she is but that she says she's eight and i just want to hold her but what good would it do. i'm surprised tina's not here. my heart can't take much more. she's right. nobody loves us.

i'm getting angry.

my spell checker doesn't work anymore. dammit it to hell. I'm not that smart.

My favorite music is on. I play this, the theme to The Notebook, and the Moonlight Sonota. Moonlight I've asked to be played at my funeral. There was always somthing about the piece of music that spoke to me, just like the Main Title to The Notebook.

I feel so sad it should not be tolerated. It can not be quantified or qualified. It just is and there is no going away of its abilities to eat away at me and kill me. Can i say no no no no no. i forget so much. and i'm tired. and i'm worthless. and i just want to die. how do you fix that. how do you save someone that doesn't want to be saved and for all the rice and tea in china you will never convince that i, she, or anyone else in this brain wants to be saved. there's too much damnation, too much hurt, and there will never be opportunities to trully laugh from the gut, to laugh a real laugh, not a fake laugh, but a real laugh that you enjoy and has meaning. a real, fucking laugh.

i wish someone would hold my hand. i want to play but i don't have toys. i have crayons but she won't let me play. they say i can play on here but i don't like this stupid thing. i want dolls and stuffed animals. and big fat crayons and cupcakes but she won't let me have cupcakes. i really want a mommy. my tummy hurts so bad. no one wants to watch cartoons with me and tina only plays with me sometimes.

Enough.

Withdrawals

I can't help but wonder what gets into me some days. not that today is not one of the "some" days, but I wonder why I want to go skydiving so much. i look at other blogs and receive the most beautiful comments from people who technically don't know me from Brintey Spears and I feel ashamed to want to die. But I can't help it. the pain suffocates and feels like I'll never get out of it.

Others write that they have, a merciful chocolate, I hope they are right. because if they are right, then i have a chance. if they are truly recovered/recovering, that's shows it's possible. tina is always in the mind saying how it will never last, theirs or ours; have we not have up's before, only to crash and have major problems.

Spring is around the corner, at least in the South which is where I live. A southern peach. Spring has always been a time of turmoil and I know I remember back to the wicked, hell of a hourse and dreading the leaves on the trees because that meant exposure. Most of my suicides attempts, hospitalizations, and just frankly bad times have been in Spring, so I worry. But I will hold on to Reading Rainbows words as a salve. They came just when I needed them.

There is a problem with my medication and I don't know what it is. I deal with D.I.D. but I also deal with a herniated disc, L5 S1. The pain, without medication, is unbearable and doens't allow me to function. For some reason, my body feels like it is going through withdrawals. Shakes, visual disturbances, tremors, stomach problem (no compalaint there.) All this time I thought it was general anxiety because I am taking my pain patches as prescribed. I learned the hard way not to mess with them. So why I would have withdrawal symptoms is beyond me. Except for one thing. The nurse asked if I was eating enough and said that the patch works on body heat and if you're not eating there's no body heat so my patches might not be releasing enough medication. All is well. I can just switch back to pills. They're even deadlier.

See that bull shit talk. Can't get over it. I didn't mean to blog this early in the day. I haven't been able to get ANY school work done so I have to write a new piece for school entitled "Where I'm From." I already had tears with the professor. This will be a hard one. I don't want to say "we" but I don't want to write "me." Unfair. I hear the littles.

Thanks for nothing

i really don't know what will become of me. The anxiety is so so bad that i was so close to D. taking me to the medical hospital. i coulnd't walk, the room was shaking, I wanted to jump out of my skin. And no matter what I did I coudln't get better. Today, no matter how many tranqs. I took I was still seeing double.

I can feel the buildup because I've been crying during these attacks. and please, someone, realize how far gone i am. i can't do this anymore. and things go though my mind and my last skydive is prepared for. it's easy to do. i just have to do it. and there has to be another way. this is more than my everyday general misery. this is the height of it. and i don't know how to stop it. the shrink finally called back and I'm starting to get to know her style. no wonder randy recommends her...they are both scattered and don't listen.

i'm having hot and cold flashes and i haven't felt this bad since last summer. enough said.

Julie likes Ryan Gosling, but we will not discuss Julie tonight. We are too far gone. This will be a short...even final blog. I'm concerned about my classes. I cannot do the work as long as the anxiety is like this. out of all the work i have to do, i've done none it. didn't even work out at the gym and that is clear indication that we don't feel well. i've been in bed today except to drive out to the tattoo parlor to get my cartlidge pierced. most people would say ouch, but when I was living with D. and B. I pierced my cartlidge myself. It hurt like hell, but I got off on it. I may have a millionm piercing by the time all this is through. i don't give a fuck. i may pierce that other piece of ear before...lost the thought.

i want to move to Charleston so bad i can take it. the only thing is that i can start a Masters program if I stay right where I am and not teach. it's a delimna because I love to write and i would love to get a Masters in writing, not that I would ever publishing anything. my currrent professor loves my work although i don't know how much he'll like the next piece.

i wish i was a teenager in the fourties. i wouldn't have to deal with all the shit i deal with now. life is so complicated and so unforgiving. it is so painful and there are no answers. i need simplicity and love and tradition. my life is devoid of that. i hate my life. i can't breathe. this anxiety will kill me before i can kill the anxiety,so to speak. one has to give. the hot and cold flashes i can't bear, and i can't bear the visual ticks, the visual disturbances, the way the room rocks back and forth.

i had a memory earlier i wanted to share. i remember it now. it wasn't anything big. it was based on music. I miss the Music Maiden. Once I get the music back I'll remember. I believe it was a trip I took to Florida by other families who could read the unhappiness etched on my face. I had a psuedo friend. My former best friend, I'll call her D.C., has been written off my list. The last time we talked, I confided in her some of the trouble I was having. I only just now heard from her. She left a message on my VM. I'm hurt by that and at least ought to give her the benefit of the doubt, although part of me believes I ought to see how interested in our well-being she is by when and if she calls again.

all i can do is ask for help, and when i'm denied, no one can blame me.

she's so dark and black, but she speaks for the rest of us. the one thing we wish to fantacize about is the one thing for which we can't speak. and we wonder, if we live, what happens to our classes? they're gone. We get a "W". I dont' care if the circumstances are "understandable." But then you don't worry when you skydive. you just enjoy the freedom that type of life gives you. skydiving is another way to escape, but the final way. and when you shore yourself up with the necessary equipment, no one can take the feedom away from. D. doesn't know I want to skydive, so I've hidden all my equipment. He was remarking in the car today about how he feels he failed us, hasn't taken good of us. He bought the littles the graham cracker bees from Honey Maid but it pisses the bigs off because some of us have weight to lose and we can't be tempted with that shit.

He doesn't know how to buy a gift for his life. just do a god damn gift certificate. i don't want lingerie, i don't want food. i don't want what you think i want. so cut some slack. what a waste not to make it to the half year. what a waste anyway. the waste is what types. somewhere deep inside i know he loves us. but what different does it make. i've argued with Randy over and over that people shouldn't live for other people. why i would make D. happy is irrelevant, why I be a good teacher and have a positive impact on my students doesn't translate into a reason to live. but something hasn't. there has to be a reason to live and unless we find one soon...

i was watching "The Notebook" and the beginning of the love scenes. I would be able to tell from a million miles away what Noah was after and if I were Allie I would have run a million miles. If caught and trapped, I don't know if I could have pretended like I enjoyed it as much as she did.

How do people stand it when someone else's hands are on them, only to gratify themselves, not the person whose body they are groping. How can people be naked beside each other. I just dont' understand it. the more questions I don't understand, the more of life I miss it, the more I realize I different I am, the more skydiving throught the beautiful cloudless sky seems real and probable.



i hate life!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Julie

You forgot to mention Julie in the last blog. She was with us and Randy. Don't forget to write about her next.
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You're once, twice, three times a bitch

i feel sad. this is typical of therapists and anyone in the mental health field. I called my shrink yesterday because I was feeling horrible. I'm taking my meds as prescribed but the last four or five days I've dealt with the worst anxiety and panic attacks, especially on T/TR when we have our writing class. I left a message, knowing I wouldn't hear till later in the afternoon or evening. I left a message saying I was having trouble functioning, the anxiety was extreme, shakes, twitches, restlessness, jumping out of my skin, etc... We all know what anxiety is. She doesn't call till this morning, I can't get to the phone, and leaves a message to try out the same antipsychotic she has been trying to push on me since day one. I called her back later this afternoon, crying and shaking the anxiety was so bad. I researched for the millionth time this medication that can cause weight gain and I WILL NOT WILL NOT WILL NOT take it. Her arguement is if someone has an eating disorder it they generally dont' respond to the cues the med gives them to eat. So fucking what. No way, no how we are putting anything in this body that will even remotely or possibly cause us in any chance to gain weight. The answer I left her was no. Through the tears I asked if she would be willing to use something to augment the tranqs I take 2x a day; the other doctor did and I had no problem with abusing them. Has the Bitch called me back. NO NO NO NO. I feel like crap. My mind is tripping out, I can't focus, I'm stumbling into walls. I left work early because I couldn't perform. But she's too busy to call, and I'm mad because I'm suffering and I need help. I already had major doubts about the mental health system; I know they aren't perfect, but if on your VM you say you will call before the end of the day, CALL!!!!!!

I just feel like cutting. I threw up earlier. I won't be gross but it made my body physically sick. I hate throwing up because at this point there isn't enough energy or focus to last through the work out. I've decided it would be pretty to cut a circle around my forearm, like a tattoo. Cirlces are for infinity and for me to cut a circle would signify that we will never stop and that are torment and pain is never ending.

Damn, I sound hacked and depressing. I'm depressing myself.

D. and I are fighting again. He doesn't understand me and he will tell me that. I can't f*ing help it. He says one thing, I say another, and then I can't remember the conversation but the feelings of anger are still there and he gets pissed because I'm pissed but don't know why I'm pissed. I can tell I'm anxious by the way I'm typing. I'm not taking a break in my sentences.

I got one assignment done today. Hooray for us! One down, six to do. I ought to be working on them but I would rather document for anyone with D.I.D. what NOT to do if you want to get better.

The difference between you and us is that you want to get better. We just want to be special, loved, and cared about. I just realized what a pipe dream that is. If the own husband can't love us, despite the crazy times and when we don't know what we're doing, how will anyone else love us?

That is a sobering and depressing thought. That's something not too pleasant to think about. Sheila on this line.

We need help. We need someone to help us want help. We don't want help. We'll never get better if we don't want it. so sad. What's left then?