Letter to Army

(Note: trigger warning for self-harm and dark thoughts)

Dear Army,

I don’t need you.

I don’t need these feelings of helplessness.  I don’t need this terrified semi-triggered state where I curl into a ball in my bed at 6pm and wish wish wish sleep would claim me. 

I don’t need to dream of you.

I don’t need to start compulsively keeping that bottle of sleeping pills on my nightstand again.  I don’t need to reach for them when a mere hour has passed without sleep.

I certainly don’t need to take two. Or three. Each day adding one more because, hey; they don’t ‘effin work anyway. 

I don’t need to have the blade ready.  I don’t need to toss a promise made in a moment of delusion when I thought I had actual courage and strength. What a silly idea. A stupid idea.

I don’t need to be in charge of the beautiful life of a perfect and devoted dog who only gives love and acceptance and doesn’t see me as the broken shell of a person I am.

I don’t need to think about those days when I was dependant on a whole other person. Those days I didn’t have a thought of silver blades and sweet aching hunger sated by putting a cigarette to my lips and inhaling to see the sweet sparkles behind my eyes (way better than food anyway).
I don’t need to remember that it was so easy to fall into being the other half of someone’s soul. A soul that can be ripped out and grown again because I am silly and stupid and not important and codependency is a real problem. Why can’t I learn that and that I better learn it because I am a wounded bird and she’s so done being my white knight.

I don’t need reminded of my joy in “being domestic” and having meals ready, a house to clean, laundry to do. I don’t need to be reminded of the loss that you don’t give a damn about that may have robbed me from my heartfelt desire of being a mother.

I don’t need you to be the first person I think about telling when I have something happy- sad- scary- funny- happen to me. I don’t need to start daydreaming about a day where you’ll want me to be domestic for you and you’ll say I’m yours and yours alone and the thought of being without me physically pains you. 

I don’t need support because a lady is to stand alone and face the world as just me because a lady is strong, silent, and doesn’t ever complain. A lady can go through life with that mask always firmly in place. A lady never ever shows the world pain or fear.

I don’t need.

I don’t need.

Ever.

All the love in my heart that is crushing me (killing me),
Pen

My Personal Angel: Zoe

Trigger warning for description of self-harm.

I’ve tried so hard to be good to myself.

We all made that promise weeks ago. And we followed through for a good while. Long enough for the constant ridge of barely healed slashes above my left knee to attempt to become scars.

But the stress piles and piles.

Work is becoming too much with my demi-boss’s passive-aggressive bitchiness. This time she actually managed to be bitchy about my bronchitis and lack of ability to communicate verbally for most of the week. I have a feeling she’s going to drag me into another “you-need-to-shape-up” meeting with our department supervisor.

Most of me doesn’t give a shit. I’m not going to roll over this time. I’ve done nothing wrong or unprofessional. She’s the one creating fucking drama that isn’t there.

But my second stresser makes me want to roll over and take my lashings because I can’t afford to lose this job.

Shadow Dragon just told me yesterday that her landlord sent her a stern letter basically saying I can’t live here and must be out by the end of January.
Now, this change in situation could work out because Army is possibly about to have his lease broken (due to his roommates divorcing, not anything he’s responsible for) and he’s asked me to live with him again.

Again I’m torn.  I’ve talked it all up to my mom and friends when they ask about how I feel about moving back in with Army. But truthfully….I’m not sure. My relationship with him has changed so drastically over the past two months that I’m scared to change it even further. I don’t want to tear down more walls. I can barely build them strong enough to keep him out.

I know I can’t be trusted to live alone. Look how badly I just backslid today, with just simple stressers and multiple sources of support.  I spent a chunk of my evening chatting with Shadow Dragon and Puppy, which relaxed me at the time.

But once I’m alone in my room and the insomnia beast sets in….I spiral. Down, down, down.

I take a strange focused pleasure in tracing the lines of the scars, opening the same slashes from weeks ago.  That focus and pleasure lasts until a soft jingle distracts me and Zoe noses closer.

She licks the thinly bleeding lines.

My heart breaks.

From my leg her tongue moves to my arm, my hand, my face. Then she settles her head firmly in my lap so I can’t bring my knee up to my hand holding the razor blade.

And all I can do is hate myself so hard, so deeply. How did someone so weak, broken, and selfish as me come to have such an angel of a dog to walk this path with me?

I don’t want to be here anymore.

And yet, when I look down into those golden eyes of devotion- I don’t want to be anywhere else.

Friday Reflection

Good news:  My coworker/mentor really liked the necklace.  And she was floored to find out I made it, which is a high compliment from her (she’s very chic and buys most of her clothes and jewelry from very high-end stores).

Bad news: I started my period.

Bad news: The cramps are really bad this time around (the cramps are debilitating about every 3rd or 4th period I’ve had since the miscarriage.  Probably not a good thing, but I hate doctors looking anywhere near my naughty bits.)

Good news: The coffee shop downstairs had ice cream.

Good news: And pickles

Good news: It’s Friday!

Good news: I’m done with work

Good news: My coworker gave me six free tickets to a comedy show for Sunday night

Bad news: I’m having trouble finding anyone to go with me…

Bad news: This period thing is gonna make my weekend suck…

And that is my current tally of pros and cons for the day. I’m trying to not feel down, as that is a lot of pros.

The Root of the Problem- Mistrust in therapists

The first time I saw a therapist it was under duress.

I was seventeen years old and a senior in high school.

I ate an average of maybe four times a week. Sometimes less. My grades slipped whole letters, going from the normal A’s to C’s and even a D (unheard of for me).

This all followed on the tail of Uniballer dumping me for Texas mere weeks before. Part of it was the stupid emo-teenage loss of a boy.
The other part was the loss of a best friend.
And even bigger: no one gave a shit. No one noticed me falling apart. Not my parents, my teachers, not even my other best friend, Germany.

It was Katherine who brought it to the attention of my mother. Mom took a mental step back and realized just how much weight I’d lost. She called my favorite teacher (the subject was German) and asked how I was doing.

It looked bad.

She tried to talk to my father about the idea of me talking to a professional. He balked, as he doesn’t “believe in psychology” and said I just needed to suck it up. In a rare moment, my mom put her foot down.

The therapist’s name was Joy. I rolled my eyes when she told me.  I didn’t want to talk at first.  The voices (I wasn’t aware of what the DID was at this point) told me not to trust anyone with feelings or secrets.

Slowly she got me to open up a bit. I told her about the betrayal of my ex and friends. Joy was the first person I confided in about my attraction to Katherine, which terrified me as I was so sure I was straight. Being seventeen, I still blindly thought love had to be firmly defined.

Then we got on an even bigger subject. My father. I went on about his emotional distance, his firm rules, his apathy. I talked about how he reminded me constantly that I had to move out and go to college.

Her response?
“This is all because he loves you. He loves you so much. I think you’re just having trouble seeing it.”

The internal whiplash was physically painful. The voices swirled and buzzed in anger.

I stopped seeing her pretty soon after that (I had turned eighteen, so it was my choice).

It was Katherine who got me to start eating more regularly.

And it was a long time before I tried to trust a therapist again.

Case of the Uglies

I’m feeling really awful today.

First of all, I’ve been feeling really fat and ugly lately. I suppose it’s the season and the whole Winter Blues thing.  It’s been leading to a bit of craziness.  I haven’t been eating much, though I’m trying not to let it get to dangerous levels. That’s been hard. I’ve also been a bit harsh with the beauty regime; using toner and cleanser and an expensive overnight cream.

Then Mom asked me to house-sit and watch my youngest brother for the next couple days. Tonight while he and I were watching a movie, he told me some nasty and hateful things his dad (my stepfather) said to him about me.  My brother is thirteen years old.  And I’ve always been polite and helpful to him.  I don’t think I deserve such underhanded and rude trash talking.

But maybe I do….

I’m trying really hard not to self-harm. I’ve been so good the past couple weeks.

But tonight is hard.

I don’t think I’m strong enough.

“A Paramedic’s Story” – review

Grey (my brother) lent me this book a bit ago and I just finished it today.
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“A Paramedic’s Story” by Steven “Kelly” Grayson is not so much a single narrative story as it is chopped up bits and excerpts from his EMT and paramedic experiences.

I decided to read it, despite my triggery issues with the medical industry.  Mostly because of Army, who is a EMT in the middle of getting his paramedic certification.  Kelly, the author and narrator of these collection of stories, has the exact same snarky, cocky, but heart-of-gold attitude that Army does.

It’s a good book.  It’s well-written and the humorous but caring way Kelly describes his various calls is entertaining while still being fulfilling.
I will warn anyone interested in checking it out though- Kelly is liberal with his medical talk.  He only explains the most complicated terminology and assumes that you must be at least semi-aware of some of the basic and intermediate terms.
There were a lot of texts to Army along the lines of “Why does this guy keep giving something called ‘nebulizer cocktail’ to his pickups? Especially from nursing homes.”

The last chapter did throw me for a loop.  Still having a bit of trouble from it.  Let’s say it combined my medical-trigger with my babies-trigger.  I still consider it a highly worthwhile read.

It also helped me sort things out about how I feel about Army.  I think I could be okay with a possible step forward.  This book has me feeling a bit “extra connected”, if that makes any sense.

Of course, now I have the problem of trying to figure out what on earth to read next…

Minty Goodness

(Note: the answers to the Halloween trivia from yesterday are on that post now at the bottom of the page)
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I absolutely hate the crampy, achy, pre-period feeling I get.  Hate hate hate.  Almost as much as I hate periods.

(male readers: isn’t this topic super interesting???)

I just have to thank the Powers that Be for Holiday Mint McFlu- I mean…minty ice cream treats that can be purchased at a popular fast food drive-thru.

Normally the speed at which December holiday-related items assault our various senses after Halloween annoys me.

But not when it’s a delicious, sweet, cold, melt in my mouth, minty awesome soft-serve cup of AMAZING.

Better than Midol, Pamprin, ibuprofen.  Hell, better than Vicodin.

It’s fantastic when the best solution is something so tame 🙂

Halloween Trivia!!

Edit: The answer key is now available at the bottom!

(a regular post will come eventually- I promise. Just been so so busy!)

This is the trivia sheet I compiled for the office- thought it might be enjoyable for you guys.  I know you have the gift of Google to easily find these answer but…it could be fun to try without 😛

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Halloween Trivia – 2012!

1. The Jack o’ Lantern originates from what country?
a.) South America
b.) Ireland
c.) Germany
d.) Russia

2. What was the first wrapped candy?
a.) Tootsie roll
b.) Hershey bar
c.) Reese’s
d.) Starburst

3. Who was the Peanut’s character who waited for the Great Pumpkin?
a.) Lucy
b.) Charlie Brown
c.) Snoopy
d.) Linus

4. Where does the idea of Halloween originate from?
a.) Celtic New Year
b.) South American Day of the Dead
c.) Catholic All Saints Day
d.) The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

5. What phobia do you suffer from is you have an intense fear of Halloween
a.) Wiccaphobia
b.) Halloweenphobia
c.) Phasmophobia
d.) Samhainophobia

6. What year was the first citywide Halloween celebration?
a.) 1881
b.) 1921
c.) 1950
d.) 1901

7. What percentage of pet owners dress up their pets?
a.) 10%
b.) 80%
c.) 50%
d.) .01%

8. Halloween candy averages how much annually?
a.) 1 million
b.) 2 billion
c.) 100 thousand
d.) 8 billion

9. How many different colored M&Ms exist?
a.) 10
b.) 8
c.) 25
d.) 16

10. If you see a spider on Halloween, what does this signify?
a.) a demon in disguise
b.) a loved one watching over you
c.) a witch trying to curse you
d.) an omen that you’ll die soon

11. How many licks (on average) does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?
a.) 2
b.) 252
c.) 876
d.) 75

12. What percentage of parents sneak candy from their kids haul?
a.) 10%
b.) 30%
c.) 50%
d.) 90%

13. The act of trick-or-treating originates from what holiday?
a.) All Souls’ Day- a Catholic holiday
b.) Samhain- a Celtic holiday
c.) Day of the Dead-a Mexican holiday
d.) Saternalia- a Roman holiday

14. What national crisis officially halted trick-or-treating for almost a decade?
a.) the Cold War
b.) World War II
c.) The Great Depression
d.) World War I

15. Why do black cats have such a bad rep on Halloween?
a.) they were thought to be witch’s helpers in disguise
b.) they predicted your death
c.) they would lead ghosts and ghouls around town
d.) they would steal the souls of children

16. What movie got an Oscar for best actor, despite him only being on screen for a mere 16 minutes altogether?
a.) Fredric March in “Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde”
b.) William Hurt in “Kiss of the Spider Woman”
c.) Anthony Hopkins in “The Silence of the Lambs”
d.)  Kevin Spacey in “American Beauty”

17. What substance was used for blood in the original 1960 “Psycho”?
a.) chocolate syrup
b.) corn syrup with red dye
c.) store-bought fake blood
d.) pig’s blood

18. By what name was the famous sci-fi horror movie “Alien” almost called?
a.) It Bursts From Your Stomach
b.) Star Beast
c.) Terror in Space
d.) Frightening Foe

19. Who is the scary movie character who kills people in their dreams?
a.) Michael Myers
b.) Jason Voorhees
c.) Freddy Krueger
d.) Hannibal Lecter

20. What is the name of the killer clown in the movie “It”?
a.) Pennywise
b.) Crazyclown
c.) Pumpernickel
d.) Squeakers

Answer Key:
1.) b, 2.) a, 3.) d, 4.) a, 5.) d, 6.) b, 7.) a, 8.) b, 9.) c, 10.) b, 11.) b, 12.) d, 13.) a, 14.) b, 15.) a, 16.) c, 17.) a, 18.) b, 19.) c, 20.) a

How’d you do?

Adventures in Insomnia

(I am going to attempt some humor now.  I know I am not usually of that persuasion.  I’m trying to be more positive lately.)

I am struck by the hell-beast known as insomnia about 3-4 times a week on average- which I think is rather normal (or even low) for someone dealing with mental-health and depression issues.

However, normally this hell-beast simply takes a nibble from me and then departs to the greener pastures of musicians, emo-poets, addicted gamers, and computer programmers.

Tonight, however, the hell-beast has decided I shall provide a full 8, 9, perhaps even 10 course meal.
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10:03pm: I arrive home from my lovely night with Texas and chat briefly with Shadow Dragon about our days.  Let Zoe out so she can sniff a lot of things, run around, stand around, and then finally decided “Oh yeah! I have to pee!”.  She then proceeds to drink a gallon of water.

10:50pm: Settle down in my bedroom, write a post about my night because, gosh darn it, I am turning over a new leaf and will not have a negative post at the top of my homepage any longer.  Starting texting with Army about our crazy days.
Check Facebook.
Zoe starts being slightly bothersome, then obnoxious, slowly escalating into full blown bugging-the-shit-outta-me.  I realize she has to pee that gallon she drank.

11:00pm: Go outside with Zoe to make sure she won’t bark and piss off the neighbors.  Bring phone with me, continuing my banter-fest with Army.  We are joking about me getting a tattoo that’s insulting to Obama (he’s conservative- but my opinion isn’t necessary the same) on my butt so he can have obscenely hilarious sexual antics.
I watch Zoe walk around the yard, bring me her stuffed hedgehog, then run in circles for a bit before deciding to pee.  We go back inside and I firmly tell she isn’t going out again because “Mommy has to sleep, dangit.”
Ha.

11:30pm: Technically I haven’t turned off the netbook and attempted to lay down, but I don’t feel my normal drowsy.  Check Facebook.  Check a couple blogs I follow.  Comment here and there.  Continue snark-fest with Army via text.  Our conversation is occasionally stalled by him completing a run (he’s on shift with the ambulance company he works for).  He is complimenting me on my ability to actually get him to laugh verbally.  Apparently insomnia makes me semi-funny.

12:15pm: Check Facebook. Not as many insomniac friends on as I’d hoped. Start a game of crossword puzzle on my phone.  Find a couple obvious ones before determining that words are stupid. Start looking at trashy websites such as TextsFromLastNight.  Check Facebook.
Meanwhile, since my light is still on, Zoe is attempting to be cute by rolling on my netbook’s keyboard and gnawing on my toes. After the fourth or fifth gnawing, I push her off the bed (lovingly, of course).

1:00pm: By this time I am truly frustrated.  It occurs to me however, that I have not turned anything off.  Of course! That is the problem. I check Facebook before I turn off my light and shut down my netbook.
I lay on my pillow.
I can hear my hair scratching as I breath in and out.  I adjust to a different pillow.  Nope…still scratching.  Very loudly.
I contemplate hunting down the creators of my pillowcase, which is supposed to be soft and silky, and ask them why the heck is my hair scratching SO FREAKIN’ LOUDLY ON IT??
Realize I have a dog.
Call Zoe up on the bed.  She dutifully responds, but doesn’t want to be interesting.  Instead she curls up against my side adorably and grunts grumpily when I try to pet or reach her belly for a rub.  I give up.
I grab my phone and check Facebook before opening up the crossword puzzle again.  I solve it and it informs me that it only took me 2139 seconds (my best time being 232).  I do not click “New Game”.
Roll around a bit. Zoe decides to hop back down on the floor.
Check my phone to see if Army has texted back. Nope. Must be a long run this time.

1:45pm: Decide that maybe I have to pee.  Get up and use bathroom.  Return to bedroom and sit dejectedly before deciding “To hell with it” and turning the netbook back on.
Check Facebook. Check WordPress.
Notice there’s an update from Becca over and LadyorNot! Yay! Read it.

1:55pm: Well. That didn’t take long. It did make me laugh though, which is good.  Decide to comment when less insomnia-inebriated.  Although…Army did comment that I seem to be amusing so sleep deprived.

1:57pm: Decide to write a post about my insomnia issues. Hope it will be semi-amusing. Check Facebook.

2:00pm: Write post in between texting Army.  And checking Facebook.  Wonder briefly if I have a problem. Decide I just really care about my friends and family.  And it’s not like I’m doing anything besides skimming the main news feed.  I mean, if I were truly addicted I would be looking up specific people’s profiles, wouldn’t I? Wouldn’t I??
…check Grey’s page specifically to see how he’s been doing since we haven’t gotten a text in a couple days.
He seems fine- innocuous update about his laptop finally getting fixed from earlier this evening.  When normal people are awake.
Wonder if there’s anyone else we could text at this hour.  Nope.  Army is pretty much the only other nightowl who will accept non-emergency middle-of-the-night texts without being mad about being “woken up” or something.

2:20pm: Oh yeah, I was writing a post.

2:36pm: Finish up post.  Check Facebook one more time.

2:40pm: Hope doing this will somehow get rid of the insomnia hell-beast….

2:45pm: Laugh waaaaay to hard at this picture:

Laughing for like, 4 whole minutes. That tired.

Decided to add to post and share the funny.

The end.

Hopefully.

God I just want to sleep.

Good Ol’ Texas and Tattoos

I’m feeling much better.

Had a lovely evening with Texas where we got quotes on our tattoos we shall be getting (more on that later) and talked about the Germany email.  I’ve come to realize a couple things:
1. Germany is a whole continent away.  She isn’t in the situation like the rest of us.  Obviously she can’t completely understand
2. Though I didn’t make the stupid choices she implied I did, I have made stupid choices the past couple weeks.  I need to be responsible for that.
3. I decided days ago (with input from Texas and Shadow Dragon) to stop dwelling on this whole Jeff situation and what I could have done, how I could fix it,  how I could have changed it, etc., etc.- and move on with my life.  I shouldn’t let comments relating almost entirely to that bog my whole week down.
4. I have some fantastic friends right here in this zip code that are being perfectly supportive and I don’t need to be that doormat people-pleaser I desperately tried to be most of my life.

So I am just going to forget about it.
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Moving on- Texas and I are getting tattoos next week.  It will be merely the second one for me and the….I’ve lost count for Texas (they’re all beautiful and able to be tastefully covered though).  There are a couple various reasons as to why we’re getting them together, even though they aren’t technically “for” each other or anything like that.  I don’t like “memorial”-type tattoos.

(side note: Army actually has one written in Latin on his forearm that’s for his crazy cheating-abusive ex-wife.  Sometimes I tease him about it.  He takes it [always a good sport] because he’ll be the first to admit it was a dumb tattoo to get.)

Anyway, Texas’s idea is charming. I discovered a picture that is pretty much what she’s getting.

Couldn’t find a better version of this quote and illustration…

I don’t think it’s specifically for me- she’s a big fan of Winnie the Pooh and has many friends.

Mine’s smaller, but a bit more complicated.  I’ve always been a been “symbology” sort of person.  My fox and butterfly tattoo has multiple meanings (some only 2 or 3 people even know).

This is getting touched up too- the butterfly was *supposed* to be a “forest green”. Not yellow.

My second tattoo shall be no exception.  I do not have a mock-up of the actual design that will be going onto my body, as a lovely artistic friend of mine is still working on that, but it is going to incorporate the following symbols:

The rune Algiz (also known as Elhaz). Simple, obviously.

A treble clef- pretty self-explanatory. It’s a music symbol.

The idea is to sort of “entwine” this two symbols together in a very organic way (like a vine or tree).  It’s going on the inside of my right wrist.  To remind me of my support and strengths when my thoughts go to dark places.

I shall upload pictures of the actual tattoo once I get it done!