AGE IS NOTHIN' BUT A NUMBER

Mom, I'm out of peanut butter!

I’m not a happy camper.  Plenty of reasons why.  I burned myself yesterday.  It’s only a bummer because it doesn’t hurt today.  I know what will.

We sent a scathing email to Therapist last night.  I’d be nonplussed  if he didn’t tell me not to come back.  But he deserved it.  He thinks I’m too mature, which means too old, to self-harm.  Probs buys into the idea it’s a young person’s disease.

Maybe I am too old to engage in such behaviors, but then why do I want to do it so bad?  Why does it feel so good?  It might not always feel good.  There is shame in it and a wondering of why I’m acting so foolishly.  I should and do know better, but it’s better than nothing.  Reality is filled with uncertainty, disrepair, and unidentified emotions, and I’d do anything to escape reality.  I don’t know how to handle myself in a way that is positive and satisfies my need to have people worry about me.  I wish someone worried about me.  

I can’t make myself stop.  How do you make someone stop feeling ten years old?  That’s how old I feel at this moment.  How can I be  mature when I feel like a child?  Who cares anyhow?

Tales from the visits with Mother-In-Law

I went out of town for a few days.  Not a vacation.  More like looking after recently widowed Mother-In-Law.  I love her dearly, but she came back with me for a week, and I'm already nervous.  My dissociation has heightened to an unmeasurable degree.  I don't play nicely with others, and I don't want to share my apartment with her.  I couldn't even begin to write until I heavily medicated myself and put myself into a sleep.

I don't think it's Mother-In-Law.  I think my new apartment has been created as a place of comfort, and I don't even like sharing it with Husband.   He doesn't appreciate it at all. Which is another story entirely.  As soon as I got home and saw him I felt my skin crawl and the chaos in my head began.  Someone doesn't like him and steals from me.  If I don't resolve life with him I don't think there will be a marriage much longer.  He's got less than a year now to show signs he's willing to participate in change with me.

But my happiest times lately are when I get up, have coffee, slowly wake up, work around the apartment, read, take Maybelline for a walk, and continue my day however.

The cutting has subsided, but I crave burning myself.  Being watched by Mother-In-Law 24/7 and taking care of her in return has left little opportunity to comfort myself.  But I think of burning.  I know what I will do.  I crave it.  I imagine and fantasize about it.

I stuck pretty much to my weight loss plan while I was gone.  I weigh in tomorrow, hating what the scale says, hating what it doesn't.

I absolutely don't want to see Therapist for our session tomorrow.  I'm afraid it will be a let-down session, that there will be no true communication, partly me to blame.  The defenses are already being erected early, anticipating on what he might want to discuss.  It will be a waste if he bull shits the first thirty minutes and then tries to raise delicate issues.  If Therapist is going to bring up shit, he should bring it up quickly.  I don't want to wait there wondering when the other shoe will drop.

All in all, except for dissociative episode tonight, I'd say I'm doing well.  It's nice to be able to say that.