THE COUP: ILLEGAL SEIZURE OF POWER

Maybelline sound asleep.  She loves her crate.  Makes her feel safe and secure.

I don’t know if I can write this post.  I feel extremely dissociative at this very moment despite taking my medication.

I don’t know why it’s important to write this, but last night’s experience was so bizarre, disruptive, and disturbing that I need to make sense of it.  

Last night wreaked havoc on me, and I’m not sure I can adequately give voice to it.  

I think something was triggered in our session with Therapist yesterday.  We came home, journaled, and then went to our place of worship.  I was so emotional through the services that I sat in my seat and cried.  When time was up, we had a congregation prayer, and it dawned on me my eyes were open during it.  Then I had a flashback to a time when I might have been eight years old, and I refused to close my eyes during prayer and hadn't been for a long while.  Closed eyes do not equal safety.  You must always keep your eyes open to remain vigilant and safe from people hurting you.  

When I remembered this, I began to dissociate and switch.  It was like the light switch was being turned off and on, off and on, over and over.  The switching was constant, and I had to leave quickly.  

Meanwhile, I came home around 9:30 pm and my lower extremities were in such pain, but I had no clue why.  I hadn't done anything differently to cause such pain. It baffled me, but I took pain medication that never worked.  I doubled the dosage and nothing even came close to alleviating the pain.  

Meantime, Husband left to go to bed around this time of 10:00, but I wasn’t sleepy so I stayed in the living room to catch up on social media, pay bills, etc.  But I kept noticing I couldn’t remembering what I was supposed to be doing.  I would start a task and then forget what I was supposed to do.  It felt like I was flitting from one thing to another, but I couldn’t make sense out of anything I was trying to accomplish.  

I can not overstate it when I say I couldn’t remember from one moment to the next.  It was like being in a dense, thick fog, and I couldn’t process anything.  I was confounded, but couldn’t untangle the mental mess.

I decided to take my night meds and go to bed, but the dissociation had other plans for me.  I wasn’t tired or sleepy despite taking sleeping pills.  

It honestly felt like someone was overriding my medication or it just didn’t affect them.  It never felt like true insomnia.  This felt totally different, like my members were just wide awake.  Almost manic but without the hyperactivity.  I was simply awake and not able to think clearly.

Hours later, I took a muscle relaxer and laid in bed feeling very strange and out of sorts

Sleep finally found me but in bits and pieces, tossing and turning.  

I’ve had insomnia frequently in life but never before did it feel like the hostile takeover of last night.

Today has been similiar.  I’ve been spacey, dissociative, and I have an unrelenting migraine.  

I write this experience because I’m trying to make sense of it, and I’m wondering if anyone reading this might have had a similiar experience because this was way out of the spectrum of normal for me.

Home of the Not-So Brave

It’s been two weeks since I’ve written.  In that time I’ve lost a dear father-in-law to death, moved from a nice home to a cramped, crappy apartment, had an exhausting moving sale where all I did was fight with Birth Mother, and have barely escaped foreclosure on my home.  I’ve had enough.

In the meantime I’ve discovered I’ve been doing it all wrong.  Dissociation and my approach to it.

If there really is dissociation, and I still deny it, I won’t ever heal.  I don’t know how to handle insider people or if I even want to acknowledge them.  Just assuming I dissociate, I don’t want a relationship with them or hold that connection  with them long enough to hear from them what their hurts are, their boo-boos, their traumas.

Even as I type this, I’m rushing.  I want so little to do with this idea of dissociation or blog posting or anything associated with it.

I think at one point I might have wanted that connection, but I’m not doing the work with them I once was.

It is all overwhelming and makes me angry.  There’s no comfort for anyone here.

I don’t know how to create inside safety for them or even me.  Why create safety?  I don’t understand things.

I don’t want to speak with insiders who may or may not be feeling the trauma.  No one is hurting, but how would I know when I refuse to spend time with them?

I don’t care if they are good people or bad people, I want stay away.  

I’m scared.

One article I read said to remove replications of the outside trauma on the inside bodies.  GTFOH.  The author said there might be dirt, blood, mud, or messy stuff on the inside bodies.  TBH, I know this is true, but I can’t get rid of it.

The effing article also said to give the injured insiders “lots of TLC”.  Maybe the reason I am so defiant against the idea of being dissociative is because I am so well disconnected from them.  

And I also don’t have the patience for this crap.

I thought I was at one time building a genuine rapport with my inside people and that there was honest communication.  I think it’s why I like my last post found here.  It felt like honest communication.     But it has evaporated.  It’s like I woke up and had to start all over again with them so I decided I didn’t want to.  

So I hate them and I hate me for hating them.  

I’m also scared.  I don’t think since the original diagnosis over 20 years ago have I made any progress.  Where does that leave me because I don’t want to do the work anyway, so I’ll be stuck here for another twenty years if I make it.

I just want my words back and if one of those bitches took them I’ll be pissed.

What if I don’t have it in me to get better - not better - but have an inclusive, relatively peaceful life?  

I keep failing.  I don’t know who’s really in inside because I’ve shut them out so long.  I know names on a map but not personalities, and I don’t have the fortitude to find out.  

I”m out of time, in more ways than one.