Monthly Archives: October 2013

In Need




I know I have been so very quiet lately.

And I wanted very much to delete my last entry.  Even speaking of her influence on me has caused such a cataclysmic backlash to my state of mind.  And this week has been so very stressful, job-wise, health-wise, friend-wise, mentals-wise.

Today I would just like to know I am heard.  I am not alone.  I am alive.  

Because I am wondering right now.  I am feeling like a ghost.  A specter, wraith, who merely glides around and attempts to play amongst the living.

If perhaps a couple of you could give me some sort of feeling of warmth, it would mean the world to me.

I don’t like to reach out.  To ask for help.  To admit fault.

But today I am in need.



She is supposed to live three states away.

She is supposed to have no friends to visit.

She is supposed to be long gone. A figment.

A long ago relic of my foggy past.

It is a lie.

It’s always a lie.

She still knows my passion for Halloween. For this charity event. She knows. She always knows where to be. How to twist the knife.

It’s been almost 4 years.

My body retches. My mind flutters. Every single fucking stride I’ve made over these past months…




Those ice blue eyes see right into me. The lips curve with sadistic glee as she recognizes the switching. The shattering. The fracturing.

The chatter of friends is faint. I know, distantly, that they are trying to bring me back.

I am briefly grounded by the warmth I feel at Army and Rogers not only getting along well, but both attempting wholeheartedly to bring me back around.

She speaks about many things. Mostly mundane. It is only as I start to duck out (she notices how early I am leaving) that her mouth forms poison. It begins innocently enough.

“Are you here with Army?”

I manage an affirmative. Her eyes narrow.

“I thought you were done with that immature phase.”

I hear a whispering of what isn’t said. My stomach shrivels, my throat dries.

My cowardice is still strong with her.

I run.


My surgery is scheduled.  November 22nd.


  1. It truly doesn’t seem far enough away.
  2. They added on extra to what was initially planned, which has wrecked my psyche a bit.
  3. I hate hate hate surgery.
  4. And doctors
  5. My surgeon is a guy. I am more uncomfortable with male doctors than anything.
  6. Due to my precarious health, this surgery is going to have to be in a hospital, even though it’s normally an outpatient procedure.
  7. I hate hospitals
  8. It’s going to be a long recovery time: 10+ days.
  9. Though I finally got through all the red tape to get off work without getting fired (my company is too small to qualify for FMLA or short-term disability), it’s going to be pretty much entirely unpaid leave.  So I have to eat that financial hit.
  10. In addition, I have to pay for surgery (my insurance won’t pay even 50%- more like 30%)


I suppose there are pros. Maybe.
Army has said he’s going to figure out how to be off work. That’s nice. All my friends are talking about bringing me ice cream and jello. Also nice. This surgery should not only solve my high blood pressure, but also possibly my migraines. That would be most excellent.

But I’m mostly just terrified.

November 22nd is not far enough away.

Coping with the M word

I’m already dreading Sunday and feeling that curling sick feeling in my stomach.

Probably won’t post this weekend.

I heard two women on the elevator this morning talking about st–lborns and mis—riages.  I have no idea why a person would discuss such topics on a busy public elevator.

I’ve had some planning issues with having company on Sunday.  I’m not sure if it’s going to happen.

Army get some credit though, as he is trying very hard to get a shift swap to take place so he can be off.  The problem is he has this absolutely horrible partner that everyone in his company hates and no one wants to work with.  So I’m not sure about him being available.

Texas was supposed to be, but she said she’s got some homework and her boyfriend’s soccer game.  I keep reminding myself that I need to stop being selfish and other people have lives and sitting with a dumb girl who is just having a case of the mentals is no one’s idea of a good way to spend a Sunday.

Rogers said he’s still down.  And he’s being gracious about Army joining us if he is able to get off.

I’m just dreading it so much.

I know I shouldn’t drink or down any pills that day or my mind will just swirl out of control.  Rogers has offered me the herbal alternative if I would like, but I am unsure how that would affect me when I’m so unbalanced.  Especially with the DID/MPD.

I just want this weekend to pass without me carving words into my skin again while high on pills and drunk on booze.  And alone.  Last year was such a mess.

I just want to have an excuse to not dwell.  If I’m alone, I know I’ll dwelldwelldwell.  But it feels so ridiculous and selfish asking other people to spend time with me when I know I’ll be probably semi-robotic and terrible company.

I should stop being so selfish and just stay at the apartment.  Maybe I could managing some sort of movie-thon on my own.

Ages of Zoe

Army sweetly sent me a bunch of pictures he had of Zoe to cheer me up and distract me today.  They are so cute that I had to share them with you all 🙂

Sofya cuddling a puppy Zoe

Sofya cuddling a puppy Zoe

After a bath! She hated it. Still does.

After a bath! She hated it. Still does.

Cuddling while they're older

Cuddling while they’re older

Good shot of her vaguely heart-shaped white tuft of fur

Good shot of her vaguely heart-shaped white tuft of fur

She was determined to get the white cheddar residue from my bag of popcorn.

She was determined to get the white cheddar residue from my bag of popcorn.

Upside down Zoe (waaay pre baby-nipple-tummy)

Upside down Zoe (waaay pre baby-nipple-tummy)

Curled up on the couch

Curled up on the couch

Finding Zoe

Today I dropped my fur-baby off to be spayed and she gave me a look of such fear and concern that I was not coming back.  Obviously I will be back in a mere 5 hours.  However, I feel it is time to share the story of how I got Zoe.

There once was a girl.

Technically this girl was a woman.  It’s important to this story that she was a woman, not a girl, since she had recently gone through a loss that only a woman can experience.

Pen, the woman, no longer thought she was worthy of this thing called life.

Her well-meaning partner, Army, did his best to distract her with movies and jokes and trips to places she used to enjoy.

To no avail.

On December 20th, mere days before Christmas, a distant friend mentioned her mom’s dog had an accidental litter.  And her mom was very displeased.  The dog was a pure bred Australian Shepherd; a show dog.  And now considered “ruined”.

A concept that hit Pen in the stomach like a sack of stones.

Most of the puppies had been given away and found homes, but there was one left and they’d run out of people who’d take puppies.  Her friend’s mom was going to dump it at a shelter.

Pen felt some vague sense of maternal instinct give a kick deep inside her.

“Just come look at her? Please?” said the friend.  Pen agreed.  She drove over within the day to see this lone puppy.

When she pulled into the driveway, the puppy had already been dumped into a box and was sitting in front of the garage.  Pen’s friend was apologetic, saying her mom said the puppy absolutely couldn’t stay another day.

As she squatted down, Pen’s eyes focused on the ball of red.  After a moment, greenish-gold eyes met hers.

The ice that had been encasing Pen’s heart for nearly two months felt a warm breeze.  It trembled, debating on sweating a thin line of water.  Debating on melting.

The puppy was so very tiny.  Not much bigger than a softball.  Pen turned to her friend and asked the age.

“8 weeks.  She’s the runt though.  Just a scrawny thing.”

Even though she hadn’t mentioned this excursion, she remembered Army had talked about getting a second dog.  Perhaps…

She put her hand into the box.  The puppy waddled up to it immediately and shoved the tiny triangular face into Pen’s palm.  This of course, meant the puppy absolutely had to be picked up.  The tiny warm body easily snuggled against Pen’s heart.

The ice cracked.  The lines thickened, then dribbled.  The heart swelled.

She went from the friend’s house straight to a pet store.  She had a decent stockpile of money in her account due to saving for a baby that would never come.

Now, as she stared down at the red ball that tried frantically to lick her face, Pen wondered if the baby just was meant to be a different form.

When she drove up to the apartment, she saw Army’s car.  She felt nervous for a moment.  She really should have texted or called him.  Warned him.  But they’d been distant lately.

The moment she walked in, Sofya’s nose lifted, twitched, and the sleek black dog froze for a moment, before leaping towards Pen in excitement.
“Wow she’s happy to see you.” Army commented offhand, focused on the TV.  Then he heard squeaks of joy.  He slowly glanced over.  “…what is that?”

Sofya tried to climb into Pen’s arms to get to the puppy.  She was careful to let them merely touch noses, concerned of the reaction.  She didn’t need to worry though, Sofya’s tail was a whirlwind of happy excitement and her long tongue attempted to bathe the red ball.

“It may be a puppy.” Pen said shyly.

Army’s face melted into sweet delight as he rushed from the couch around to the front door.  He held out his arms and Pen smiled, handing him the red ball.

“Boy or girl?”


“What kind?”

“Aussie mix.  Her mom was purebred and the litter accidental. The jerk owner was gonna dump her at a shelter.”

“Bitch. How old?”

“8 weeks.”



“She is super cute.” He crooned, in a way Pen had rarely seen.  Sofya nosed in as he knelt down to let his dog greet the new puppy properly.

The first night, she had a kennel prepare for the puppy to spend the night it.  But it was mere hours before she was curled up with the puppy in bed.  Army came in early in the morning and chuckled at the scene.

“She’s going to be so spoiled.”

Pen secretly thought that she, not the puppy, was the spoiled one.

About 12 weeks old

About 12 weeks old

4-5 months old

4-5 months old

My babygirl recently

My babygirl recently