Great Unrealistic Expectations

My dog Maybelline is stressing me.  She wants to go on a walk, and I just don’t have it in me to get off this couch, which makes me feel like a terrible pet partner.

Taken from today’s journal:

Been a busy day.  Service, errands, back pain.  The works.  I wish I could take a muscle relaxer right now, but I’m supposed to take Mabes for walk, and I can’t do that if I’m asleep.

Times and days are running together.  I find no support anywhere.  I was doing fine until Husband came home.  I was busy packing for our move, and when he came home we started to feel “off”.  Most would call that experience dissociation.  I don’t know what to call it anymore.  There is still the troubled argument of whether we accept the D.I.D. DX.  Tina gets very angry if we accept it.  But writing and talking just like this, isn’t that a sign of dissociation and of others?  This battle gets old.  I KNOW what’s wrong.  Tina’s doubts have left an imprint on us, but not a lasting imprint.  

*****I wonder if we’re making it up as we go *****

If you have D.I.D., but don’t acknowledge it, can you still improve anyway because the prescription of psychotherapy is still the same?  I hate whatever I’m going through right now.

So I was fine until Husband came home.  Then I felt “off” or dissociative.  I lasted as long as I could but broke down and took an anti-anxiety med.  It didn’t help much.  A muscle relaxer would help, but the timing is no good.  

So why do I feel “dissociative” when Husband comes home?  Probably because he’s so temperamental and to some degree I (and the littles if there really are any) am afraid of him, his moods, his headaches, his temper, his race -car driving.  I never know which Husband I’ll meet next.  So we get scared around him.  

If D.I.D. has lots of faces, shapes, and norms, why couldn’t mine be one?  I question whether I really hear voices of others or is it just my own voice.  I guess D.I.D. has been going on so long I have failed to recognize just . . . I don’t know what I was going to say.

What am I?  I just want to be sure I’m not lying or making a fool out of myself.  Mostly it seems too much to believe.  Bad things couldn’t have happened.  I had a happy childhood.  But, oh, how I hated Birth Parents.  And it can’t be denied that at least on a superficial level there was some abuse and neglect. I own that.

Good God.  *sigh* I think we want to see Therapist more than once a week.  What bullshit.  Some feel “close” to him and have a need for his attention, so they want to see him more often.  Little children who want to feel special.  Is that good or bad?  Does that give Therapist too much power and make us even more vulnerable?  Better yet, why need more attention now?  Has their source of attention dried?  Are they not receiving attention inside?  I doubt Tina, in her crisis, is up to showering them with love and attention.

For some reason, this journal entry feels accurate. I think it's because it feels like we're communicating.  It feels true to what is going on inside, and that is a cause for mourning: Mourning for the system that doesn’t feel like it used to feel, mourning for Tina who is not the same right now and is in crisis, mourning for those parts who require more attention and special feelings, mourning for those who aren’t getting their needs met by this ever-evolving system.  

I can feel Tina seeping her way through this journal entry.  I feel her sending her hate and anger to me, but that’s not all she’s sending. I sense from Tina some subtle undertones of helplessness and vulnerability.   I sense great fear in her . . . and great sorrow.  What a pity.  I almost don’t recognize her at all.

Protecting the Protector

I want to write, and I want to call out Sheila to discuss without emotion and bias what is happening regarding Tina, particularly and her denial of D.I.D.

I'll address my surmise of how Tina feels currently.  She wants to push the agenda that there is no dissociation because she feels out of the loop.  When was the last time she really had to defend and protect us?  Okay.  Besides the handshake incident.  Other than that, not too recently.

I predict her services will be needed again, but she's not used to being in the silent role.  She's used to taking action, not sitting back.  She feels unnecessary.  Everyone here has at least one job, and Tina's job has been to protect the system.  On behalf of Tina, there's been very little need from Tina to protect us.  She feels useless and unneeded.

Imagine how she might feel.  Instead of throwing up defenses to protect the system, in a way, she is the one who needs protection . . . from herself.  Without her anger, where and how does she get her power?  She doesn't.  And she wants in a way to send the whole system on its own by denying us, make us defenseless, so she can feel powerful again.  If she denies the existence of others inside, she gets back some portion of power because she can in a sense make them go away.

What Tina needs now, regardless if she believes we have D.I.D., is for us to rally around her, wipe away her tears, and above all let her know she's needed by us.

However, I don't know how to do the latter yet.  She's the only one who seems in crises.  How do you provoke or bring her out of her defenses?  It will be important to tell her how she defends us to some degree every day.  Whether it's getting our food right at a restaurant, a price right when shopping, or making sure we have good customer service.  She speaks her mind when it comes to getting what we need.  Thank her for that.

But there's another side.  If she has no one to protect, how can she lash out at Therapist and keep him in his place.  And we have to be the ones to let Therapist know what she needs and how she's feeling.  She won't speak loudly enough of her needs.  We must do that.

Tina believes, and perhaps rightly so, that she has a special relationship with Therapist.  I know she want to feel special.  We all want to feel that way, and that will be dealt with soon.  But for now, we must acknowledge the bond she feels toward Therapist.  She spoke up for us in the past.  It's our turn to speak up for her now.

We must remember that while Tina is a Protector, even she needs protection from herself.

In regards as to whether we dissociate, more discussion must take place.  It's true, the system has shifted, and I don't feel a strong awareness of what we're dealing with here and what the system needs and what the roles are now.  I feel the system needs to get to know each other again, if we truly dissociate.  I saw someone's handwriting recently belonging to a woman named Molly.  Is she new?  Are there others that are new?  We must be open to al possibilities and communicate more as a whole.

Conversations with my imagination

Saw Therapist again.  It was another wasted session where I refuted that I dissociate or have the diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder.  To complicate matters more for me, he never came out and said, "Yes, you do have D.I.D." which gives me cause for hope and despair.  If we don't have D.I.D., then what is wrong with me?  I had a happy childhood.  Most of my memories growing up are good, though there are always some you wish you could leave behind and forget.  So now we are floating all adrift, don't know where we're going, how to get there, or what to do if we ever make it there.

Tina, I'm curious.  Why do you feel the need to deny it after all these years?

It's complicated.  I feel I am no longer needed, and if you don't need me I might as well disappear.    I don't know why I was around anyway.  Nobody needs anyone.  You seem to get along fine without my intervention and that makes me unneeded and invisible.  I feel like a damned lie.

Is that why you play games with Therapist, you feel if you keep messing with him he'll be interested in your well-being and you won't be invisible.

Don't play innocent with me.  Have I not done my job, and with no gratitude?  And have I not sat back and watched others embraced by warm, fuzzy feelings only for me to return to my coldness and anger?  Do you not all want attention?   I scan the room and find hearts that want Therapist's approval and attention just as much as me.  Almost all of you want his attention and want to feel special by him.  The littles look at Therapist like he's a father figure, and I'll be damned if we become a case of transference.  I know the Littles can't help it, but should I not protect them from the embarassment and rejection they will face?  And others just need to feel cared for.   So I'm here to protect you, though I feel I've fallen short, you don't need me, and I'm exhausted.  I just don't get myself.  There's proof I'm one way and there's proof I'm another.

It's not the first time you've denied we have D.I.D.  Why again this time?  Why now?

I'm fearful.  I wonder why no one else is.  It feels like something is going to blow up inside these walls.  I have not the imagination to know what it is.   It always turns into nothing, leading to disbelief.   How can someone ever get better with out knowing what's wrong with him or her?  How can Therapist effectively treat us when we don't know what to tell him?   I don't want to talk about this further for fuck's sake, but I will say that I get tired of being the angry, tall, aggressive, protective one. I've grown tired of being on the watch for everyone.   Just once, I wish someone would see I'm crying, scoop me up, carry me away, wipe my tears away, and tell me it will be okay . . .  the same way I did for them all these fucking years. I'm over it all.

Hell hath no fury

I am not in the best of moods. I am very angry at myself. It was a whole weekend of being angry at myself. There is a picture I keep as my wallpaper on my computer of a time when Husband and I went to Charleston. In the picture I look very happy, big grin on my face. But I don't look thin. While nutritionist would argue, argue, argue that I'm at a healthy weight in the picture, I don't feel thin, and if I don't feel thin then I feel dirty and vulnerable. I want to feel thin and invisible. I want to disappear in my clothes so no one can find me.

So Saturday morning when I got out of the shower I accidentally saw myself in the mirror and my collar bones look just like the collar bones of that fat slob in the picture in Charleston. This sent me on a tail spin. From that moment on, I wasn't myself. Both the good and bad sides of my eating disorder kicked into high gear. I was interminably berating myself for being such a loser. In an instant, my clothes didn't fit, as if the mirror had really put weight on me. My whole weekend continued this way.

I was not myself. I was compelled by another member and I don't know who she is. That's the suckiest part of this whole thing: I can't connect with another god damn member. I can't know who's persecuting me.

Today we see Therapist. With every generous fiber of my being I don't not want to go in. He's going to want to know how the weekend went. I can't give specifics. I know the mirror and collarbone incident. I know I binged this weekend. I know I went and helped O. with a paper due on Monday. I can't tell the inches of time in between that made up my bad mood; that made me so worthless. He might ask me to read my journal. I don't want to do that. I just want to go exercise, but I know that won't solve the internal dialogue going on inside.

Even though it's Monday and a new week, I'm still carrying into it the same bad feelings from the weekend. Sure, I got up and showered, did my hair, applied my face. But someone won't let it go. And I've learned it's never about the food; it's always about something else. I fucking don't want to know what the something else is. Therapy has been hard enough lately. Maybe that's the reason for the freak out in the bathroom. Who the hell knows?

I wish I didn't feel so fat. Food seems dirty to me right now. I know I'm not being rational, but try telling that to an eating disorder that's been in existence for 24 years.

So where do I go from here? How do I exorcise these feelings from my conscious? How do I not hate myself so damn much? Most, most, most importantly, how do I feel not so fat? Time will have to take care of me, because no one inside sure as hell will. Enough is enough.

Anger times infinity

Friedrich Nietzsche said, "Nothing on earth consumes a man more quickly than the passion of resentment."

This was the quote for my daily mediation today. I have to admit I've fallen prey to resenting the majority of my life and those who've played a role in its demise.

It's natural to resent being hurt, but if I'm TRULY honest with myself, I've made a career out of resenting those that have dishonored me and abused me. But I don't know how to not be angry and resentful.

Those people hurt me deeply, seemingly irrevocably. How do you get over that? How do you get beyond the anger and resentment? More therapy, indeed.

I'm calling myself out about being eaten alive with hate, anger and resentment. I realize this only halts my progress into a world where I can fully live without being triggered by the anything and everything. People on the outside would never know how damaged I am inside because I put on a front. I have members who are responsible for interacting in the real world. But I'm not at peace and never will be until we can let go.

As I write this it sounds to familiar to the post we wrote about forgiveness. Bad topic. I won't forgive, so if forgiveness means I have to let go of the anger and resentment, then tough shit.

But maybe it's not mutually exclusive. Maybe we can still let go of anger and not forgive. Anger is just a warning sign that something has hurt us. I don't even know what I'm angry at, just that I'm angry. To be honest, and I know some of the blogging community thinks this is bull shit, but I have a member dedicated to anger. It is her job to hold the anger; it's her defense mechanism and the way she keeps people at arms length.

I know she can protect us through other means, but the anger is so much easier for her to revert to. Not everybody is out to get us.

But I'm off track and my thoughts are easily being tumbled and foggy. The issue on the table is letting go of anger and resentment. Anger is a message that something isn't right, and we've gotten the message. The abuse wasn't right, but we can't go back in time. And anger can't be fixed just by acknowleding that the abuse wasn't our fault. So we honestly don't know where to go with this post. We don't know how to get rid of the anger.

Maybe it's something time takes care of. Maybe acknowledging the abuse wasn't our fault will stop us from punishing ourselves, but that takes time. Feelings of guilt, anger, resentment are all tied together. How to untie them is a good question. Moving forward depends on handling the anger towards our abusers, ourselves, and the world.

I find this post flabbergasting. I started it out with one angle on anger, feeling I had answers, and now I've done a 180 degree turn. I don't know how I feel or what it will take to let the anger go. I've confused myself.

Anyone have any thoughts?

Forgiveness or regret

I'm not sure how to begin this post. I've debated on whether to write this, sweep it under the rug, or dive full force into the topic of forgiveness/regret. For us, forgiveness is a four letter word and we rage against people that think you have to forgive to heal.

So yesterday we came face to face with the topic of forgiveness. In our daily meditation book, the topic was forgiveness. Ron Palmer is quoted as saying, "Forgiveness or regret are the only choices we have." It closes with the affirmation, "Forgiveness unties the knot that binds me to resentment and regret."

AAAAHHHH!!!!!!!

First of all, forgiveness is not an either/or choice that people have to make. How the hell can you forgive someone who ruined your life, who abused you as a little girl, who left you with a legacy of hurt, pain, tears, dissociation, ect...? Forgiveness is not a choice and that doesn't mean the only other choice I have is regret, although I sure as hell regret my childhood. I regret the bitch of a mother that didn't protect me from the perps. I regret being different my whole childhood into my adolescence. I regret being different now, not always knowing conversations that have taken place, or whether I paid a bill or not, or what I did five minutes ago. Those are regrets I have, but there is no way on earth that forgiving the people that stole my innocence is going to to make that go away. If I chose to forgive, I would still dissociate, I would still have an eating disorder, I would still be f*ck*ng crazy.

Regret doesn't have to be a by-product of not forgiving. Working hard at therapy, sharing my story, opening myself up to friendships, treating myself well, not perpetuating the abuse by hurting myself, these are things that will heal me and regret is not in there anywhere. I can be whole without forgiveness and regret doesn't occupy any place in my journey of healing.

I'm not destined to a life of regret, or ruined self-esteem, or anger, or sadness.

I am not prolonging my injuries and wounds by not forgiving my perpetrators.

They don't deserve the time of day. I'm not going to spend my precious life and time forgiving the sins of others who ruined me for good.

Hell yes, I'm angry. But forgiveness won't change that. It won't usher in a peacefulness and soak up all the atrocities committed against us.

As far at the affirmation goes, forgiveness doesn't untie anything. I will always resent being abused; I will always resent being dissociative; Mostly, I willl always resent the insuation that if we don't forgive we will have a life of misery and regrets.

B*ll Sh*t.

Off my meds = on to a psych ward

So, since I have no psycho-iatrist, I have no meds. Since I have no meds, I am one heartbeat away from being committed to the psycho ward/looney bin/crazy tank. My emotions are all over the range. Sad, content, committed, depressed, excited, hopeless, frantic, ect... I am fighting with D. day and night. Not just verbal fighting but throwing things, explosive outbursts, and an apt to curse him out. Parts of me just can't control it. It builds and builds and builds. Tonight, I took my laptop to the living room to do my computer crap, blog, e-mails, etc... and I'm surprised I didn't hurl my laptop at him.

Instead, I gathered sweet foods in the house, took the carton of ice cream in the bathroom, sat on the floor, ate, and then gave the food to the toilet bowl so it wouldn't be hungry.

It's getting too hard to handle. I don't, don't, don't know if I can make it. Make it to anything or anywhere. My weight continues to slowly decrease. Painfully slow. I wish it would go faster. But never mind that. I had chest pains today. Scared me for the first time because I wasn't working out when they occurred; I was just watching a movie. I find it ironic though that as intense as this relapse is appearing I actually applied for a summer job and have been called in for a mass interview next month. It's at a water park and I would love the job. I spent one summer as a guest at this water park and it was better than going away on vacation. So how cool will it be to work at the water park! I don't know if I'll be in treatment or not, but I'm going to proceed as if I'm not.

I reapplied to my university. I had to withdraw this same time last year because of the eating disorder and I am determined to go back this August. I miss the university setting and I love to learn and read and really want to be a teacher. We have so much to offer our future students, it would be criminal not to finish school and at least try and be a teacher. If it's too stressful, there are other jobs in the school system that would probably suit us just fine.


I came across this quote and found it thought provoking:

We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and a presumption that once our eyes watered. ~ Tom Stoppard

I don't know what to think of it, but I wanted to include it in my meaningless post. I guess what strikes me is about how we burn our bridges and have nothing to show for our progress but waste and want. It's a rather cynical take on the human condition and trying to get better. Does recovery mean all or nothing? Maybe it should. Anorexia has to be all or nothing. You can't have a little bit of an eating disorder and relinquish some of it, too.

I love quotes and songs and writings. One of my alters stores our words for us and for the past decade has kidnapped all the words that could adequately convey how we feel inside. Sure, we can say we're sad, but the woman with the words could say it in a way that would take your breath away and MAKE you feel through her use of words exactly how we feel and what we are going through. I know she's still around; what I can't figure out is why she isn't as vocal as she has been in times past.

Words from this alter would be just as helpful as meds would be. Words, whether in books or music, are very therapuetic and can save a soul. But I'm usually too zoned out to focus on the book, which is a fear I have of these postings: that they are random and unfocused and hard to follow.

No matter. Don't sweat the small stuff. I can only hope and pray that we'll gain better ground and be focused soon. We have to by August for school. It feels like this time it's all or nothing.

That's alot of pressure to put on ourselves. Gulp.