Blackouts

Having blackouts again.

Things are also quite fractured. No sense of teamwork. I’m just trying to keep somewhat focused so regular medication and hydration can happen at least.

Army visited this weekend and it’s almost entirely a blur or blank. I don’t think he’s the stress causing the blackouts and switching, but it seems to be worse around him.

At a loss for what to do. Communication is also extremely difficult. Haven’t been able to easily discuss what’s going on with any other parts.

I don’t want to talk to a professional about this. Last time the blackouts were this bad, anti-psychotic medication was prescribed (not always taken) and the possibility of hospitalization was urged. We don’t want those at all. Even though the ED becomes very bad and our blood pressure is shooting through the roof.

I’m worried it’s the nitro pills we have to take for the high BP. They’re new. Combined with the stress of this past week.

I don’t know.

I just want to try and keep things semi-coherent. But it’s hard.

I really hate losing time and being so split. It’s drastically better when we work as a team.

I’m at a loss right now. Trying not to get scared. Then I blackout even more.

-Roms

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.
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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

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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

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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
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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
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Impartial View

This whole ridiculous thing with Army has gotten a bit out of hand.  Especially on here.

No one so far has given a fair, impartial view of what this relationship is like.  Of who is really the problem.  Of what the issues truly are and whether they would be worth working out.

Being that Rika is too much against relationships, I am probably truly the best unbiased judge.  I had some input on this list from Serefina, our “legal-minded” alter.

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Army Factoids

• He works in the medical field with extremely varying shifts, hours, and unreliable time off.
  However, our own jobs are extremely demanding and we don’t like being smothered anyway.
• He’s extremely intelligent
  Thank the gods for witty banter
• He’s mostly emotionally distant, except in times of privacy and intimacy
  We don’t like being all gooey in front of others anyway (unless we’re drunk), so this works out in general.  Sometimes we’re the more emotionally distant, especially during sex.
• He very rarely apologizes.
  This is only a big problem because it’s triggery because of Father.  Honestly, when he’s really done wrong, he apologizes. Eventually.  Usually the first opportunity we’re alone in person.  He doesn’t like apologizing over text or phone calls.
• Despite his military history and extensive collection of guns, somehow does not trigger us as violent or threatening in any way.
  This is lovely and puzzling at the same time.  Though there is no man on Earth we trust with our emotional/mental state, he is one of the few we trust with our physical.  Wholeheartedly.
• He reallllly sucks at the whole romantic stuff (like sweet gifts, random surprises, cute dates, etc.)
  This is only particularly hard because we had gotten used to the smothering romances of Katherine and previous exes.  We aren’t really the kind of woman who needs a bunch of crap.  It’s just nice to be reminded that we’re wanted.
• But he is usually fine with most suggestions we have of date locations and activities
  This almost makes up for the lack of romantic initiative.
• Though he doesn’t love horror movies, he doesn’t hate them either.  He gets that we love them and will go out of his way to watch one with us
  This is a big thing, considering I doubt we could date anyone who couldn’t watch horror movies. It’s not a big thing that he isn’t a huge fan- we like being the bigger geek in that sense.
• He loves anything we bake
  Obviously I can’t say anything negative about this fact.
• Though he isn’t much for comforting, will listen to us when we’re upset.
  We don’t really want comfort.  Just an ear and validation that we have a right to be upset.  He’s very good at that.
• He loves Zoe wholeheartedly
  And she loves him back.  He’s the only person (besides us) that can walk in any door and she doesn’t bark at him once.  She only bounds to him happily.  That says a lot.
• He gives us medical assistance when we’re sick or when we ask- but respects our boundaries and triggers in regards to medicine and medical persons/places.
  Basically he doesn’t drag us to hospital unless we’re in serious danger. And he helps that danger not happen by giving us a bit of slightly unlicensed practicing of medicine.  Whatever, we give him unlicensed law advice (SHHHHHH).
• He can be unimaginative in the bedroom but he is really good at the basics so….not necessary an issue
  The sex is good. That’s the bottom line.  But some of us (*cough* Charlotte) itch for a bit more playing in the bedroom.  However, he has said he’s open to direction.  We’re just not wired to direct.
• He doesn’t like talking about his issues, especially if related to depression or finances.
  Neither do we. We both bitch about how the other won’t confide about these problems to each other. Bwahahahaha.
• He can be really awkward socially, since he really only enjoys two or three topics and can be a pushy know-it-all about those topics.
  It can get bad with certain friends and family.  But he’s gotten better at noticing my uncomfortable and pissed-off cues and will then try to rein himself back on being a know-it-all prick.
• He’s so very good at getting us to feel good about ourselves, especially physically.
  However, this only lasts about a day after we see him at the most.  And we don’t see him often. 

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So there we go.  That’s as unbiased as I can get.  I don’t particularly dislike the man. But I suppose there are relationship flaws.

Not sure if the good outweighs the bad.

This is just my take on things.

Nothing less. Nothing more.

Self-sabotage and wishing

I know it’s bad when I can’t shoot vodka or rum. Just the attempts almost had me vomiting.

They want me to feel this heartbreak.  Won’t even let me drown these worthless emotions.

Thankfully, Victoria helped me manage Vicodin and T4. I won’t say how much. I don’t think it will kill me, but I sort of hope it does. I don’t think so though. Middi and Rika have too much control and they know exactly how much is too much.

Why can’t I deal with pain and heartbreak normally?
Why can’t I even deal with confrontation verbally?
I don’t remember most of this afternoon.
Mute “recorded” some of it internally for me, as Mute does when it’s out, but there are others who were out that won’t share.
One must have been Victoria or Daria, as I vomited a few times.
One was definitely Char or Middi- my clothes reek of cigarettes.

Claire actually screamed/yelled at Charlotte. She showed true anger.  That never happens. And Charlotte took it. Didn’t fight back at all.  But she’s also my main ally in taking these pills, so I know she isn’t guilt free. Claire refuses to talk to anyone now. Even Roms.
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Things are over with Jeff. Completely. Obviously it’s my fault. Completely. I sabotaged it. Like I do with all my relationships. I don’t know if I’ll even have any friends left in a couple days….

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Well that would be because the fuckhead can’t keep his goddamn mouth shut. You just fucking vent anonymously on a blog, but he decides to fucking vent to people who already love to fucking judge us and shit-talk us at the drop of a hat.
But we don’t fucking need friends. This is what happens when you fucking expose your fucking weaknesses like that.  Fucking men aren’t trustworthy. Take a goddamn leaf out of Charlotte’s book and just use them for sex. At least she doesn’t reveal deep fucking personal system secrets. Or get fucking attached. You fucking romantic drama fucking queens. All of you.
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I don’t know where to go from here.

I wish the one-night stand situation with James, The Stranger, had gone further south.

I wish he had killed us.

Practically Friendless

Hello.

It’s been a while.

A long while.

Things went…completely to shit for the past couple weeks. I don’t remember most of it, as the switching was ridiculous.

It pretty much started with my ex, Katherine, contacting me out of the blue.  Really for no reason.  I don’t know why I answer the phone.

Ok, I don’t answer the phone. Obviously. I have no idea who did, honestly.  There were a couple who talked to her throughout the conversation.  But most of us don’t have any interest in remaining acquainted with her.  Except for that alter who answer the phone- when the rest of us wanted to throw it against the wall.
And all it did was send us into a tailspin and what she said make me turn into my normal ostrich coward-self.

I had another mini-hibernation session, so to speak.

After the crippling conversations and texts from Katherine, Charlotte decided to run amok.
It was a disaster.  None of us never really been a person who thinks about carrying weapons around, but last weekend, we all had a desire to start carrying a gun (at least in the car).  Charlotte made a stupid, stupid decision that could have cost us our very livelihood.

We still have bruises. Though to be fair, she started that part.

If it hadn’t been for a firm direction on Shadow Dragon’s part, we would have let him pick us up and drive us all the way to Buttfuck, Nowhere, over an hour from our house.

And been stuck.

Thank god we drove.
The drink we were given…we are suspicious of something possibly being in it.  It was a simple bottle or two of hard cider we drank, but even Rika couldn’t shake the cobwebs enough to drive home until the morning.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

This is only now coming completely to light.  I wasn’t even completely aware of it until Saturday.

Saturday, when all the walls came down and all us alters decided to just be honest and work together for one simple day so we didn’t end up downing a bottle or two of narcotics.

October 6th, one year ago, we miscarried.  And it was the worse day of our life.

It’s been a huge chunk of what’s caused all this triggery switching and stupid destructive behavior.  Sabotaging relationships.  It’s what we do best.

We don’t deserve to be even liked.

And so, despite most of my friendships being currently down the toilet, I can’t really be mad at Midori or Claire for talking to Katherine.
I can’t be mad at Charlotte for acting like a self-destructive slut.  After all, it’s coping mechanisms that were creating years and years ago because they had a semblance of success.  They need to unlearn years of knee-jerk responses to our psyche swirling the drain.

Or maybe not.  Maybe it’s best if we just stay “that sort of girl”.

Our friends are better off anyway.

Sideways

(warning for Rika’s language, as per usual)

Sometimes I hate being the fucking protector.  Claire’s in the goddamn corner, curled in a ball, crying and apologizing to an imaginary Audrey like she’s fucking schizo.

All because of a fucking phone call.

I tried to not let goddamn Kit answer, but then Charlotte and Middi got behind her and I was fucking pushed back like I’m nothing.  Really bruises a protector’s ego, you know?

Kit’s determined to prove that she can “be normal” and carry on a “casual conversation” with Her.  Goddammit Kit, you don’t have to.  She lives in a different fucking state. It doesn’t fucking matter.

Charlotte and Middi mostly want to prove to themselves that they can “not care” or something bullshit like that.  But all it does is put the system into a tailspin that we definitely don’t fucking need.

Why is she calling us?

Well, I listened in on the whole goddamn conversation and it was stupid bullshit.  Just stupid life updates.  Yeah, she mentioned Kally which had Kit flicker back and I got excited, thinking I could fucking wrestle control, but Middi easily stepped up for a bit before Kit settled down.  So I got jack-shit.

Then she ends with some goddamn offer of us playing this stupid role-playing game over Skype with her and some of her friends. Ugh. Fucking…just fucking no. I don’t care if Middi is interested (girl has a strange interest in gaming for being a fucking loner).  It’s not fucking happening.

I’m putting my fucking foot down.

Hear that, everyone? The protector’s foot is down. Ya’ll ain’t going nowhere. Sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up.

Itchy

Forgot codeine makes me so effin itchy.

Shoulda taken the vicodin.

But needed something to make the others calm their shit down. Way too rough and switchy of a night. Hell, weekend.

Kit cannot keep this shit together like she used too.

Something needs to change. I’m going to run out of pills if I have to keep self-medicating at this rate.

We need to take stock and figure out our options. In the morning. Right now, we all need to sleep.

If I could just stop feeling so damn itchy!

Windchimes

Windchimes has been a codeword used by us, our system, and friends for over a decade now. It’s always been a serious sort of warning, a secret in-crowd sort of all-encompassing “there is danger ahead, check yourself”.

It was written on the inside of my car’s windshield tonight.

I don’t know how long it’s been there. It’s writen in the thin layer of smudgey grime that’s built up on my windshield since the thorough cleaning I gave it back in April. Because of this, the word is only truly visible at night when it’s hit just right by a streetlight or passing car’s headlights.

This is the first evening I’ve driven since last week. It could have been scrawled at any time over the past couple days.

I also have no idea what it’s referring to. My job? My health? Internal (switchy-type) stuff? I dunno.

I just know that when I think about it, I get this scary sinking feeling in my stomach.

And no one is fessing up.

Windchimes. A warning. A serious warning. I know none of my system would ever use that codeword as a joke.

But a warning for what?

Rough Weekend (and apologies to all of you)

This weekend sucked.

I don’t really remember what caused the previous post.  Obviously it was from Victoria, not me.
I do know that Friday night was a swirl of triggering from the storm and reflection on our life so far.  Not sure why we were thinking about all that.

Okay. That’s a lie. Heh. Obviously don’t want to lie to myself, especially after the last post. I won’t do that.

I do know why we’ve been so reflect-y lately, but I don’t want to talk about it.  Right now at least.

There was some self-harm, but it saved us from being even stupider, as it usually does.  Victoria knows what she’s doing sometimes.  I have a respect for her that I can’t seem to find for Daria at all, even though deep down, I know she technically serves a purpose too.  But her violence towards Charlotte is unacceptable.

This weekend sucked because of Friday night but also after that, as we had a wicked bought of hypertension, migraine, nausea, and pain that kept us in bed (or the bathroom for throwing up) for the rest of the weekend.

So so much thanks and love to Shadow Dragon, who took lovely care of me over the weekend, even though she didn’t have to.

I’m still not sure about eating much, as even late last night when I attempted simple corn chips, my stomach was not happy.

I have managed a cup of hot apple cider, which is my comfort drink fall-back.  It seems to have worked to settle it temporarily.  I’ll try real food in a bit.

I obviously haven’t been online checking blogs or commenting, and I apologize for that.
I also apologize for the delay in my replies to your lovely comments of support on my last entry.
I did read them Saturday morning and even though I couldn’t bring myself to reply then, they meant so much to me and really made me feel better.

Thank you for being there when I had it rough.

I’m going to try to get back into the swing of the blogging circle here.  Hopefully you’ll be patient with me.  I’m having a really hard time reading others’ entries lately…

I know it’s unfair to make these connections and then just suddenly not be able to handle reading other people’s problems due to triggering and unstable-ness we’re having.  That seems just terribly wrong.

I’m still here and supporting all of you, even if I can’t manage to read your concerns and comment.  I’m so very sorry.

I also can’t talk about today’s Suicide Prevention Day.  I know it’s important and you guys are great for posting about it.  But I’m not strong enough at the moment.  Especially after Friday.

Warm thoughts to all of you.

-Kit

#1 – Hosting a Party

#1 – A Role That Cheers Me Up:
Hosting a Party

Yesterday I hosted a surprise (and belated) birthday party for a friend of mine.  I haven’t hosted a party since way before I sunk into this downward spiral of depression and mental-misery.  I think the last one was a birthday BBQ for Germany over a year ago.

I love hosting parties.  I love planning them, buying supplies for them, getting my place ready, baking, cooking, setting up games/movies and such, welcoming people, making sure they have enough food and drink, etc., etc.
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I hosted my first true party back in high school.  It was a Halloween scary movie sleepover for a bunch of girl classmates.

I was instantly hooked.  I’d been to other people’s parties before and I didn’t enjoy them usually.  I hate the forced social expectations that just would make me awkward.  But I discovered in hosting, I had this measure of control.  And it was exhilarating.

I’ve hosted many, many, many parties over the years.  Some were fantastic and are still talked about.  Some were awful. And are unfortunately still talked about.  I suppose either way they tend to be memorable.

My Halloween ones were a big thing for years, until I wasn’t able to do one last year.  I miscarried in October and was no where near a good place mentally to plan and host a party. I didn’t even want to celebrate Halloween- which says a lot.
In fact, I’m a little nervous about this October as I’m already feeling that one year anniversary of that horrible week creeping up on me and I don’t want to think about it, but I can’t seem to make myself not think about it…
Ahem. Happy thoughts.

Hence this 30 Day challenge to try and shake the crippling blues!
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The party last night seems to have been a success, though it was a little more relaxed and just simple “hanging out” than most of my parties.

I drank too much due to my extreme nervousness at having a party for the first time in over a year.  Let’s just say the party was in full swing at about 6 or 6:30pm and I was generously tipsy at 4pm…>_>

I did manage to contain a couple alter-freak-outs/triggers.

The first was when I went to check on my cat in my old bedroom and someone had moved my old ballerina jewelry box near the doorway.  Armes was triggered and slipped out and curled up, winding it to play while she sucked her thumb and cried, having flashbacks.
She won’t tell me of what.  She hasn’t parted with a lot of her memories of the body’s early abuses. But she only did that for a couple minutes, and then I was able to return to the party, no one the wiser.

Then later a friend spilled a full cup of a mixed drink onto the carpet.
Due to my father being out of town, I was hosting the party at his house (it’s big enough for a comfortable party and has a big flatscreen TV).  We immediately started freaking out about ruining Dad’s carpet and Rika popped out and cussed up a storm at our friend.
Thankfully he seems to just have attributed it to the mess and us being drunk (though Rika instantly sobered of course).  And he kept trying to pet and massage our head which just triggered me or Roms to come out, so Rika wasn’t able to keep control anyway.

The night ended well and I’m glad I got to do a role I enjoy so much.

Below are some snapshots I took (or Texas took of me….) during the prep and the party itself. Sorry they’re so blurry. My drunk-hands take crummy pictures and Texas can’t figure out how to work my tablet.

Enjoy!

The tray of jello shots chilling in the freezer

All the Mike’s Hard and Smirnoff we bought so we didn’t have JUST hard liquor.

Our harder liquor and booze. There’s rum, vodka, and tequlia.

The red velvet cake we baked!

These are the pizza rolls Texas and I made for the party guests. We should have made a lot more than two cookies sheets of them….they went fast!