Secrets

I know her secrets.

I know when she says “I miss you” she means “I love you”.

I know when she says “I wish you were here” she means “please don’t leave me”.

What a dumb bitch.

I do like that she’s screwing herself over though. Less work for me.

He is getting too close. Wanting too much. We don’t need that. That is badbad. Dangerous. Notgood.

Alone is better. This whole “romance” bullshit just drags everything into darkness and destruction.

…though destruction at least means things won’t be boring.

All these secrets she keeps from herself. Just going to collapse. Soon soon soon.

Triggers of pregnancy

I knew this would happen.

I mean, that I would eventually be triggered.

I didn’t expect it to be in this way….

________

So of course I have to tell Army about Zoe being pregnant.  I mean, not only is he like- lets say a godfather to her, but he’s over at my place occasionally.  He’s gonna notice at some point.

I expected him to be annoyed at me for not keeping a better eye on Zoe.

He was not.

He is ecstatic.  He is begging me to contact him the moment I know she’s in labor so he can be there.  He wants to help her as much as possible.

Everything just….just the complete opposite of how he responded to me a year and a half ago.

So now I mean less than a dog.  And puppies are much more important than a-

No.

I won’t say it.

If I don’t say it, then it isn’t real.

I feel that fracturing and I don’t want it.  I can’t have it.

splits and cracks and bones and blood and lets hurt him- lets maim him.  like he maimed us.  have the blood and the pain and the hurt-

I have too much to do.  I have to work on getting a car.  I have to keep things afloat at work-

Has she told you how work is going?  I am doing my best to keep things from falling apart, but the program is going badly and turnover is decreasing exponentially.  There is a high chance that I will have to shoulder the blame.  Despite it not being remotely my fault.  I may end up being fired.  I cannot be fired.  I do not get fired.  I am good at my job.  I am an excellent multi-tasker with exceptional attention to detail.  I am highly motivated by deadlines and task lists-

I don’t want to fracture.  I don’t want to start losing time again.  I just want to be normal.

But I don’t want to listen to him coo and smile over her.  I don’t want to hear that.  I don’t want to watch it.  I can’t.  I can’t.  I can’t.

Don’t worry.  You won’t have to.

Splintered

I am splintered.  Really struggling with the whole unity and “I”.  Feeling only like a “we” the past couple days.

And we are not agreeable or allies in any way.
__________________________________________________

I’m not sure what made me decide to confide in him over text about being fat and ugly and needing pills and laxatives.  I’ve never spoken to anyone about it before.  I did take some pills and washed them down with a couple shots of liquor.  It makes it easier to not think about food.  I don’t need food.  Food makes me fat.

Then he texted us.  And sent everyone into a tailspin.  Charlotte is squirming in that nasty way she does.  He asks if I’m all right.  If I’m coping with all my new stress.  He says he misses me.  He asks about the new guy.  I don’t want to talk about Craig.  He says he’s worried about me.  He wonders if I’m handling living alone all right.

And I tell him.

I tell him I’m so fat and I have to take the laxatives on the weekend because otherwise I can’t go to work.  That during the week it’s hard and I struggle so bad to be a good girl.  That the other ladies at work always look so chic.  And they notice when I lose weight.  They notice every single pound.  And they are so happy for me.  So very happy.  They praise.  They congratulate.  They sing and shout and smile.  Their white teeth take up their whole face like fence posts in front of a perfect house.  A house a lady would have.

He cuts off my rantings and calms me down.  His encouragement and praise for my body being the way it is skitters into my brain and wraps around me like a blanket.  He dismisses the thoughts of blubber, of fat, of sludge.  I tell him it’s been weeks since he’s seen my anyway.

He says it doesn’t matter.  He doesn’t like me being so cruel to myself.  He says he cares.

How can he care?  He just leaves and dismisses me.  He doesn’t care at all.

He never cared when Audrey was hurting from the mess he made.
(he never thought the pregnancy was a two-person effort)

Why am I the one who feels pain at his words?  I don’t care what boys think.  What is wrong with me?
Charlotte’s affecting me too much.

More pills.

-Victoria

__________________________________________________

I’m not exactly sure who told Craig our address.  My best guess is Charlotte or Kit.  It’s hard to know.  All I know is this boy stands in my living room, offering gifts of chocolate, ice cream, diet coke (Kit’s weakness) to try and make our back pain better.

But I barely know him.  I certainly don’t know him well enough to chose to let him into our residence.  But someone thinks he’s safe.  I think about enlisting Rika to help me boot him out.

It’s Charlotte that surfaces instead.  She entices him into the bedroom, saying they’ll watch a movie.  I wrestle control enough to stiffly watch a movie with him.  The damn muscle relaxers are messing me up badly.  Me, who can handle most pills like a trooper.  It is my talent, after all.

The rest of the evening slips past me.  I doze at one point.

The body dozes.

The boy doesn’t leave.

It’s me who wakes up in the cold light of morning and feels the pressure of an arm slung over my waist.  Rika fights her way forward but is caught by something.  By someone.

And suddenly I am gone.

-Midori

__________________________________________________

no one knows self-sabotage like i do.  the boy moves closer, muttering something about mornings and food.  i remain perfectly still.  i am a statue.  i am always a statue when they want me to be.

but he wants to get up and go get food.  i stare at him.  he remarks that i can’t go to a restaurant in pajamas.  i look down and notice that i am fully clothed in a t-shirt and the loose pants that say coca-cola in red.  i glance back up at the boy.  he is fully clothed in jeans and a black t-shirt.  he tilts his head slightly and says something.  then he smiles in a sickeningly honest way.

i run

-daria
__________________________________________________

I could eat.  I change clothes in the bathroom and accompany him to Bob Evans.  Breakfast sounds the best.

I am a little disappointed over the lack of activity last night, but he seems to be the type who isn’t into a quick roll in the sack anyway.

In my disappointment, my thoughts easily drift to Army as he natters on about his antics with friends back during his school days.  I wonder how much Victoria’s craziness scared Army.  It doesn’t seem like much, considering he last texts are about how he’ll always listen to us if we need it and all he wants to do is help.  I idly wonder what sort of help I might be able to get that offer to extend to….

I snap to attention when Craig mentions children and stare at him.  He speaks again, talking about how he-wants-a-family-and-he-has-name-ideas-and-he-thought-his-ex’s-baby-might-have-been-his-but-the-timing-wasn’t-right-and-that’s-probably-a-good-thing-anyway-because-he’s-done-with-her-and-a-child-should-be-with-someone-he’s-attracted-to-and-cares-about…

His eyes focus.  I blink.  And frown.

No fucking way.

I fucked that shit up before.  I am not gonna be the one to crack open that jar this time.  Not to mention that the last time was a complete accident.  This guy sounds like he’d hide our birth control pills.

Fucking hell.

-Charlotte
__________________________________________________

Fat (TW)

I hate having to deal with the aftermath of a self-harming episode.  I hate dealing with the withdraw from Middi’s pill popping. I hate dealing with the stinging of Daria’s mutilation whenever clothes or above-tepid water touch the tiny cat-like scratches.

But what I hate the most is having hide Victoria’s crazy self-mutilation. She cuts and burns actual words into my skin. Not something I can pass off as a dog or cat scratch after a week of healing. Nope. Something I have to hide for months until the scar fades enough that it can’t be read.

It’s been almost a year since she last tried to do this. And someone was able to stop her before she managed anything resembling readable English.

Not this time.

I’m so ashamed.

All it does is give power to her desire to starve us to death.

Every time I look down and see those three letters, I believe them.

It doesn’t matter what others say. Even a completely unbiased (and well-meaning) friend of Shadow Dragon who was over last night said “Where’s the rest of you?” and some other comments about my supposed dramatic weight loss. But it’s so hard for me to see it myself.

Why? Why?

Why do I only see flab and fat? I just try not to be as bad as Victoria. But I see it. Every day.

And now those three letters carved into my skin whisper to me that I’m not good enough. I’m not there yet. Moremoremore.

I don’t want to die. I know parts of me do, but most of me wants to live. Why can’t those parts be stronger? Why do the negative parts get away with so much? How do they get so much power? Why does insecurity always slip back in instead of the compliments I hear from friends and family?

I don’t understand.

A Lesson in Feelings

This whole past weekend has been a lesson in how I really feeling about various things.

Let’s go by topic to keep things simple and readable for your lovely persons.

Housing
Well, the rental app didn’t get approve.  The letter of explanation they supposedly wrote and attached to our email was corrupted when we got it and now we can’t get them to give us a straight answer.  But this makes Mom and I just think there’s something fishy going on.  Whatever.  There will be other opportunities.  I was surprised at how easily I shrugged this off, though I suppose it’s because of other things I’ve had to worry about this weekend.

The Past
After the last post where Daria got triggered by Mom writing our childhood address, things got worse before they got better.  I volunteered Friday at an event near that horrible old house, and afterwards while driving back home, someone hijacked the body to drive past that place.
We were all startled to discover that the house was not torn down by McD’s.  It was right behind their dumpsters.  The backyard.  The tiny garage/shed with the slate blue paint.
Stupid Memory Lane.  I lost almost 2 hours that night.  I’m not sure if it was all spent just parked by that house, rocking back and forth in misery or if we went somewhere else.  I only remember a glimpse of the house, then I was back home letting Zoe outside, 2 hours after I’d left the event (only a 20 minute drive away).
I hope the dark thoughts are behind us.

Army
We almost broke up Saturday night.  Technically we did break up for about 40 minutes.
He was supposed to do something with me Saturday, and I didn’t hear from him until 8 or 9pm.  When I asked for an explanation, it was that he was “sleeping”.  Then he asked “Are you mad?”.
Hell yes, I was mad.  I told him too.  And I explained that he needed to see it from my perspective.  This is the third time he’d flaked on me in two weeks.  I didn’t feel important at all.  Then he made some vague sort of promise to “make it up to me”.
I told him I wasn’t sure if I could do it anymore.  Be with him if he was just going to be all flakey and make vague promises.  To which he replied “I’ll just leave you alone then”.
I was floored.
And what surprised me more was my utter sadness over the whole thing.  I literally sobbed for a good half hour, trying to talk to Texas about the matter.
I didn’t realize that I was in that deep.  I’ve never cared before.  When we parted ways a couple months ago, I didn’t bat an eyelash.
What’s different now?
Anyway, he texted me back about 40 minutes later and asked that I explain further because he thought our relationship was too important to just forget about.  I poured my heart out- well, sort of.  I always hold back a bit. Especially lately.  He then said he really didn’t want to lose me and that he cared too much about me.  And then Sunday, he took me out for lunch, ice cream, on a walk, and to the dog park with Zoe.  It was great.  We talked and it was…amazing.  I’m terrified about this whole thing.  I’m not sure if I can put myself on the line like that again.  I haven’t even tried since Katherine.  I don’t know…

Germany
She emailed me again.  It was a hurtful email.  I can’t even get into here because I’ll just start crying again.  Basically, she doesn’t want to be friends if I can’t admit that I’m a “manipulative, compulsive liar” and seek therapy for it.  I was nothing but honest about the situation with Jeff.  I didn’t paint a pretty picture with me as some hurting damsel.  I stated plainly that he was the wronged party and I regretted it.  But she said because I spoke so “flat-toned and simply” that I must be looking for “validation” about being the wronged party.  I don’t understand.  My heart hurts over this whole matter.  This is my best friend for over a decade.  She’s always been there for me.  Always.
Why this?  Why does she have such blinders when it comes to Jeff?  I’m not asking for her to “take my side”.  I don’t want that at all.  I don’t want sides.  I’ve said that from the beginning.  I don’t even want to talk about the situation at all.
I just want to be able to talk to my friend.
I am heartbroken.

A shudder and a whisper

why did she show us the paper she filled out?

why did we zoom in on a previous address she put down. the third one down. has Mother only lived in 2 places since that place?

we never knew the name of the street it all started on.

hide and seek. hide and seek.

oak grove lane.

a tree? but trees are safe. i like trees. i like to climb them and hide. He doesn’t climb.
i learned that fast.

why why why why did it have to be a safe name for that street?  that street wasn’t safe.  it should have been…
highway to hell road
full of demons drive
childhood lost forever avenue

i didn’t wanna know.  none of us wanted to know.  it needs to be erased.

at least it’s now a mcdonald’s.  the house doesn’t exist.

but the house was never the badpart.

hide and seek is an outside game.

outside.

with trees.

Idiosyncrasies

(We were inspired by Carol Anne’s post this evening having to do with “being recognized”.  Things are a bit hectic tonight and some sorting out would be helpful.  Our system always likes talking about being separate, even if we are trying this uniting/getting along thing.  It settles us.)
___________________________________________________________

There are little behaviors, movements, actions, words, etc. that usually identify a particular person.

With someone who has a system or is a multiple, the alters each tend to have ones to call all their own.

We’re all feeling a bit restless and needed a sort of “freewrite”, so to speak.

I thought listing some well-known idiosyncrasies we use to figure out who has control of the body would be a good way to settle down.

Kit had a similar list handwritten in a safe location when we were at our worse switching and losing time and had to try and attempt to figure out some order.
_____________________________________________________________

Armes
-hums, especially Disney or Glee songs
-colors
-bites her nails
-tends to only whisper
-likes to eat food “in bits”, picking off pieces slowly and taking tiny bites (especially with cookies and pastries)

 

Charlotte
-flips her hair, especially when flirting
-expressive use of her eyes, especially with flirting
-always crosses her legs
-flicks her Zippo lighter case compulsively
-smokes like a true addict- savors the cigarette

 

Claire
-twirls pens and pencils
-tucks her hair behind her ear compulsively, especially when nervous
-won’t make eye contact with a male
-chews on pens and pencils’ ends while writing

 

Daria
-rocks back and forth, especially when nervous
-mutters under her breath and never speaks above a whisper or hiss
-leaves out self-harm implements (most of the self-harmers clean up after themselves)
-repeats words and phrases over and over

 

Kit
-eats pickles in a very slow and particular way, almost like an ear of corn
-likes to relax lying on her stomach, legs kicking in the air
-will compulsively play with jewelry the body has on
-likes to drive with all the windows down
-will leave the TV running when drifting off to sleep (especially during storms)

 

Midori
-sings when she thinks no one’s listening (especially while baking)
-foot jiggles when reading a “good part” in a book
-ability to block out practically any distractions when reading, baking, composing, or gaming
-smokes in a sort of distracted way, as if it’s only a placeholder for another habit
-will take painkillers compulsively if she can gain access to them

Rika
-leaves the radio in the car really loud
-smokes cigarettes like a chimney, not pausing at all
-drives a bit recklessly
-If someone on the road does something to piss her off, will talk to drivers in an angry patronizing way as if they can hear her
-cusses every other word

 

Roms
-prefers cats (with the exception of Zoe)
-enjoys water in any form, will try to swim or take long showers when out
-goes out of her way to check on any nearby children
-takes her time to examine art objects or photographs (like in a new place)

Serefina
-pulls hair into bun
-reads non-fiction books, especially relating to law
-speaks in a highly professional tone with a lot of large words
-doodles in margins of papers she takes notes on (she doesn’t like admitting this)

Victoria
-braids the body’s hair
-refuses to eat
-has long beauty regimes (face masks, body lotion, sloughing cream, etc.)
-tries to have a self-harming item in one hand, even if not actively using
-only alter who does burning self-harm

Risks of romance

Things are taking a strange turn with Army. Technically good, but that has half of the system trying to backpedal as quickly as they can.

There is something about being being treated sweetly and wooed that always has red flags raising in this head of mine.

First Army goes to Horrorama with me and is absolutely wonderful. I spend the night at his place after and it feels way too good to be held by him again.
Red Flag #1

Then he invites me to dinner on Halloween, but his job sending him on an extra call causes him to stand me up. I am upset. He spends hours texting me all sorts of sweet and apologetic things until I can’t even manage mild annoyance.
Red Flag #2

This past weekend I had a bit of a rotten time and though he’s technically on shift, he again spends hours texting supportive and endearing messages.
Red Flag #3

Tonight he takes me out to a movie and afterwards we fool around a bit in his car. During the whole “heat of the moment” timespan, he says some surprisingly deep and romantic things about missing me, needing me, wishing we still lived together, and being thankful that I gave him a “second chance”.
Red Flag #4

I go with it during- mostly because Charlotte is fronting and she’s eating it up. But Daria, Rika, and Victoria are all getting on edge together.
Sidenote: I never noticed the “anti-romance” alters’ names all end in “a”. Interesting.

Anyway, when we part ways, there is some serious talking in the peanut gallery/system during my whole drive home.

Victoria just finished texting him confirming that he meant what he said in his car. He’s adamant he feels that way and hinted about things changing and that we “need to talk in person”.

And now my head is a twister.

Uniballer taught us long ago that wooing and sudden sweet talk only leads to manipulation and heartbreak.

But Army’s never been the manipulating type. But he usually so emotionally stunted that we can barely deal. That is not “deep relationship” material. But maybe he’s seeing things differently.
We’ve had friends and Mom tell us that Army and I moving into separate places has made him realize he misses me when he took me for granted before.

But why? We don’t deserve to be missed or needed. And we certainly didn’t deserve the second chance that was ours, not his, as he seems to think.

Our insides are so broken, crazy-glued, and delicate that how is it possible to consider entrusting another person with even a part of that again?

It was mere weeks ago that we were reminded of the lesson of lies men feed us to try and gain trust. A lesson we should be well versed in.

So why is my heart jumping and clenching at the idea? Is that excitement or abject terror?

Is busy good…or bad?

I have been sooooo busy.  And it isn’t over.

I did see Birdemic yesterday- it was FANTASTIC.  I will write about it more specifically in a future post when things have slowed down.

This is my week-

Monday: Try to recover from being sick on Sunday. My only easy day.

Tuesday: Went to get quotes on Texas and my tattoo’s.  I like the artist we picked and he’s charging really reasonably.  I’m very excited.  My insomnia also attacked this night.

Wednesday:  Went to get Halloween decorations and prizes with a coworker for the office party.

Thursday: Got an emergency call from Texas on my way to work.  Her grandmother is going into hospice (she has cancer) and Texas is distraught.  She is hyperventilating on the phone.  Her grandmother raised her pretty much (her parents are drug addicted shit-heads).  I quickly find out where she is, call work with an excuse, and jet over there.  I spend the day with her.  It’s mostly us dorking around, as she’s like me and would rather just have company and avoid the topic- not “therapy about it”.  It was still emotionally exhausting for me though.
Birdeeeemic in the evening though! That was great!  Again, will blog further in a couple days.

Friday: I have the Horrorama charity horror movie-thon thing tonight.  I’ll try to get a picture to upload of me dressed up for ya’ll.

Saturday: A couple parties I’m supposed to go to.  Probably will only pick one and disappoint people because I will be suuuuper tired from Horrorama and I need sleepage (Horrorama goes until 5am).

Sunday:  RECOOOOOOP…hopefully.

Next week: More crazy Halloween stuff….and my new tattoo!

_________________________________

Being busy has been good for having me distracted.
But…it also has me losing smidgens of time here and there.  I think some of the alters are feeling overwhelmed and trying to snatch moments of peace or something.
I assume this because, despite losing time, I don’t come back to myself with any damage or crazy shenanigans having been committed (at least that I know of).
I sort of wonder if this is possibly us starting to make things work better. It was like that briefly a couple years ago and it was nice then.  I just worry about that next thing to “set us off”.

Right- being positive.  Moving on.

But I still wonder about this amount of activity being good or bad in the long run.  I wonder what will happen come next week when we hit that metaphorical-wall.

Trying not to dwell though.

There are…whispers already though.  Of me not being good enough.  Not being able to handle this.  Of all the failings I’ve personally caused in the past.  The normal names of slut, whore, man-eater hissed in my ear.  I’m sure it’s Daria.

She’s always had it out for me. She did seem to come to some sort of truce with Kit (at least temporarily), but she obviously doesn’t agree with the rest of the systems allowance of me “playing host” for a bit.

I know most of the names and whispers are true.  That’s what hurts the most.  But I’m trying to be positive.  Turn over that new leaf.  I’m not that woman anymore.

Maybe I need a new name…

Two small notes

Just wanted to mention two things.  This isn’t a real post-post, just a couple things to clear up.

Sorry for clogging up your reader.

1.  We changed the theme on the blog. It’s because despite liking the aesthetic look of the previous one, it didn’t allow us to do a lot of the navigation we needed to.  It wouldn’t even do a simple drop down list for the pages so we could show more than three. Hence the switch.  Apologies if it looks awful to you.

2. Kit’s back (you may have noticed some little changes in tone of entries, the category the entry was marked it, or our “Meet the Alters” page being slightly modified).
The 30 Day Challenge is actually her idea to try and smooth things back into where she likes them mentally.  She has firmly pushed Daria down though and made Charlotte a bit more comfortable. Things are starting to resemble some normality…