Tag Archives: sm

Breathing room

I ended up taking on a chat for a while. I figured out why I was so off, and what I needed to make sure to address next appointment.  The person also convinced me to just leave a message for De to let her know I was struggling with some stuff.  I’m not sure she works again until Monday, but even just leaving the message helped.  I guess sometimes admitting the struggle helps relieve it a bit… it’s not stuff I feel comfortable taking to L or mom about quite yet, but maybe down the line that will happen.  I need to come to terms with it a bit more first.
My trazodone is finally kicking in. Night.

Hurricane by MS MR


Didn’t know what this would be
But I knew I didn’t see
What you thought
You saw in me

I jumped the gun
So sure you’d split and run
Ready for the worst
Before the damage was done

The storm never came
Or it never was
Didn’t know getting lost in the blue
It meant I wound up losing you

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind
So dark and foul I can’t disguise
Can’t disguise
Nights like this
I become afraid
Of the darkness in my heart

What’s wrong with me
Why not understand and see
I never saw
What you saw in me

Keep my eyes open
My lips sealed
My heart closed
And my ears peeled

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind
So dark and foul I can’t disguise
Can’t disguise
Nights like this I become afraid
Of the darkness in my heart

Make ash and leave the dust behind
Lady diamond in the sky
Wild light
Glowing bright
To guide me
When I fall
I fall on tragedy

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind
So dark and foul I can’t disguise
Can’t disguise
Nights like this I become afraid
Of the darkness in my heart

hearing voices: a sane reaction to insane circumstances

the power of addictions – what a fascinating dragon

I do not currently self injure, but the urges are there.  I know the consequences would (emotionally) kill me if I picked it up again… but I want to do it again SO badly.  I think about it most of the day, and most of my energy is spent on fighting the urges. I smile on the outside, but that one thought floats around my neurons and synapses.  I know people say you have to stop for yourself, or it will not work (like drugs, alcohol or smoking), but the external consequences have kept me from doing it for a year and a half.  I know that I would lose my marriage (or in the very least seriously damage it), and potentially lose my freedom by once again being hospitalized… but some days I think (just for a fraction of a second) that it would all be worth it just to feel that way again (the relief).  So many people just don’t get this (tho I am guessing other people who self injure and anyone fighting any other addiction would get it).  It’s not that my relationship is devalued in any way, or that I would even want to endanger it.  It’s just that the “high” from the si would feel so good.  That moment of amazing just gnaws at me… I want it again, and have not found any other way to produce it.  It makes my anxiety go away, and my thoughts stop racing, and it gives me a really good feeling, up until the second the regret and shame kick in.  If I could find something that did all that without the regret and shame, I would take it in a heartbeat.  I would do it every day because that part feels so wonderful.  Its powers are great… but so is the crash afterwards.  And that part sucks…

There are days I wish it were socially acceptable to cut.  I wish I wouldn’t have to fight the urges.  I wish I could just do it… but that’s an addiction for you.

making things meaningful

So, in an attempt to find a way to make money fast, and relieve some of the financial pressures on us, I stumbled upon a blog that is all about doing what you love, and making what you do meaningful (the guy makes money off of this, which is how it connected to making money fast), but his original idea is founded in doing what you love…

That got me thinking… I have this blog that, while mainly started for myself, I would really like it to also help others. I began thinking about my struggles to find treatment that works. What are the barriers to finding other helpful and effectual treatments for trauma? What are the instinctual defenses and coping strategies we turn to when we don’t know what we are supposed to turn to?

It reminded me of the way EMDR came about. The woman who developed it noticed that she would go for a walk thinking about her problem, noticed that she unconsciously looked from side to side during her walk, and noticed that she felt better when she returned from her walk. So I began thinking about what my instincts are when I’m stressed. I thought about what others do. People around me are constantly talking and talking about the things that bother them. I do the same thing, I need to get it out and tell someone (or more than one person) what happened or what is bothering me. I think it is not only the telling, but also the audience. So I have 2 ideas that I need to flesh out.

The first is to actually tell the details of the trauma. This poses some dilemmas. One is that it triggers the hell out of me to think about or tell my trauma, so I will need to have support after the telling (that, or I am rendered speechless by the pure force of the emotion and the events in my head, which makes the telling piece difficult). The other is that it has the potential to overwhelm the other person… Clinicians and treaters are just people. They are people with their own troubles, fears, and vulnerabilities. To come up with a viable treatment model that utilizes this spilling of trauma, I’d have to develop (or utilize) a really good support system for the treaters as well as the clients. I would want someone to be able to talk to whenever I needed them, either in person or over the phone. I would want to provide this, or something similar, for the treaters also. I would want to ensure that talk about suicidal thoughts or self-injury would prompt support, and not automatic hospitalization. This somewhat builds on the DBT concepts of riding the wave of emotions, but this time with support and someone “holding your hand” through it all.  While I see the value in learning to handle your triggers and urges on your own, there is also something very powerful about having someone there with you to witness it.  I have always felt this want for someone to be there through the experience; to help keep me safe when I can’t do it anymore.  I turned that desire into action one day while I was working with a particularly difficult adolescent.  She was bent on destroying the house, and pushing the limits of all the staff present (and her house-mates),  At one point, she managed to turn on the stove and was about to put her hands on it to burn herself.  None of what we were saying was getting through to her, so I stepped in front of the stove and took her hands.  I held them as she tried to push past me (she was about a foot taller and a good 80lbs heavier than me, and I’m not small).  I told her again and again that I would keep her safe and I would keep the house safe.  In that moment that I held her wrists, she looked at me and something clicked.  She moved away from the stove after several minutes (and a few half-assed attempts to pull her hands free of mine) and stopped pushing my buttons for the rest of the day.  It only lasted like that for the rest of the shift, but it made a difference for that time.  I think it’s a very powerful thing to have someone there with you in a non-threatening way to help keep you safe when you cannot do it yourself…

The other idea is a spin-off of having witnesses to the journey.  It also builds on a theory I saw on a PBS special.  That theory advocated the telling and re-telling of the trauma until it lost its impact.  They did not flesh out all the points of the treatment plan, but from what they showed, I think it has some merits.  Anyway, and please tell me if this is a horrible idea, I think it might be helpful to do this in an intensive group setting.  Wait! you may say, this will cause a huge domino effect of triggering… Well, that’s kind of the point.  I noticed in groups, the most benefit I got from many of them was when someone’s experiences triggered something in me and I got a chance to deal with it.  This would be tricky as a group where the point is to tell triggering things, and not just walk on eggshells around topics.  But I think with the proper support available (MANY treaters on hand, at least 1.5+ per person in group, because some people need more than one person to bring them back), this could be a viable path to dealing with all the crap we don’t always think of accessing during treatment.  The groups could start with a topic and go from there.  Forget necessarily censoring the details of the event… While I understand that ambiguity of the event to another may help them access their own demons, I find it tends to limit me in the telling of the event.

There are definitely details to flesh out, and many, many conversations with other professionals to figure out the viability of these theories… But I’m determined to figure out a treatment option that works for me… and hopefully I can come up with something that may help others too…

Bring on the firestorm of criticism for this horrible idea! (It goes against all convention and current thinking and insurance company standards…)

On Suicide

I think this is an interesting and important conversation that needs to happen more often. I think suicide is an elephant in the room that so many are afraid to talk about because of the taboos around it, and the knee-jerk reactions even some providers have to it… I have been privileged enough to have many thought-provoking conversations with my former therapist…


Writing on suicide is dangerous because suicide is deemed unthinkable. To think about it, then, and here syntax betrays what I’m going to claim, is understood as thinking about how to do it or when to do it. To think about it is to contemplate it. Thus, one says that one is not thinking about it, but even raising the prospect elicits concern and paranoia: why would one think about it if one were not thinking about it? I want to stay with this formulation, because I think its unthinkability is a problem, albeit a problem tied to the unthinkability of death, and the political and aesthetic imperative to think through life and to cultivate thriving life.

Because suicide always elicits confession, let me tell someone else’s story.

My cousin killed himself when I was a freshman. I was in Kenya during my first (and only) summer vacation, and, as…

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I ditched the job I accepted earlier in the week… it sounded sketchy. They wanted me to do “creative billing” and tack on extra charges… I just don’t feel comfortable with that. So now I feel lost. I gave up the only work prospect because my gut gave me an uneasy feeling about it. I have learned to go with my gut. The only reason I regret it is that now I have to start over again with the job search. I have no leads, and there are no hopes of any money coming in soon. It’s frustrating. I want to have some resources, but there are none… and its making me feel depressed and hopeless. Everything I used to do to make money is unavailable to me right now. That leads to wanting to hide from the world. Luckily, it hasn’t triggered my self-harm urges. Oh, and I need to cancel next week’s appointment with D because I don’t have the $8 to see him. It just all sucks…

My comfort with him blew my mind

I’ve always had difficulty trusting men in positions of power (real or perceived). I was very,  very cautious about the thought of seeing a male clinician,  but since the rest of my visits so far have been less-than-productive, I decided to try. 
I met with D for the first time today.  He is a doctoral student at a local university,  and supervised by the psychologist I had hoped to work with.  He was calm and affirming and in no way intimidating.  I found myself easily taking to him,  and spilling more than I intended.  I was also more honest than I have been since I got down here.  Yes,  he used the textbook responses,  and I could pinpoint what technique he was using and when… but as much as he seems very inexperienced,  he had a very calming presence.  Everyone has to start somewhere.  I just hope I’m not too much for him and he runs screaming from the building one day…
I see the new EAP lady again tomorrow. It will be my last session. While she was nice,  I just didn’t feel like we clicked.  Our focus lays in different spots… and today was too late to cancel. Maybe she can get me hooked up with other services to see if we can get out of this hole we are in.

Early morning pre-coffee thoughts

Why is it that certain words trigger such a strong reaction in me?  There are sentiments that,  when expressed to me, make my blood boil and take away filters for kindness and respect.  I’m specifically thinking about all the references to god and how people have a need to tell me that their god will make it all better if I just believed… The truth about that is that, yes,  your beliefs can improve or deteriorate a situation. But it doesn’t mean that if I don’t believe in your god,  things will stay the same or get worse for me.  Faith can be very helpful,  or very crippling depending on your beliefs,  but it won’t change an abusive situation,  or help your finances. 

As I was trying to figure out why religion is such a triggering issue for me, I remembered the first time I disclosed my abuse to someone that should have been able to help.  I was told to “pray about it and God will make it all better.”  That was the sentiment that was supposed to help keep me and the people I cared about safe. There was no follow up requesting details.  There was no mention of other possible help on the way.  “Just pray about it” and all the physical and emotional anguish will disappear.  Bullshit.  Things don’t work that way.  No amount of prayer healed my aunt. It didn’t stop my dad from being a huge jerk. It didn’t stop his sister from doing all the shit she did.  It didn’t stop my then-boyfriend from assaulting me.  And it didn’t bring me any solace in the least.  So bullshit. Prayer,  gods, and religion don’t make anything better.  Standing up for yourself does. Reaching out to the right people does.  Fighting like hell does.  But religion?  It brings guilt, resentment, and learned helplessness. 
That’s why those stupid posts about bringing god back to schools, and those about trusting god make my blood boil.  I had religion in my schools and it didn’t stop, or even lessen, the violence and abuse.  It didn’t make kids more tolerant of others (quite the opposite actually).  It didn’t prevent students from making bad choices, and it didn’t make the campus safer…  Don’t force your belief system on me or anyone.  You are free to believe whatever you want,  but please stop acting like it’s the only valid belief system in the universe.

i get so frustrated

lately, I have a short fuse… I snap when I shouldn’t. This is a relatively new thing for me. I don’t like it. I’m a bitch, and that’s not who I really am inside… I get mad at other people for getting frustrated and snapping… but I do the same thing they are doing.  It’s really just a huge double-standard. It sucks. I try to be better about it, but I only seem to catch myself after the fact. I hate it.  I hate myself for it.

i was used to it, and now it’s different

I was all comfortable in my blog page being the way it was when I first came onto wordpress, but now they have gone and changed it… I love blue and all, don’t get me wrong, but the black and grey felt so much more appropriate… and what’s with changing the titles of the functions… now they have me all confused.

On another note, I got a job offer. The pay sucks, but the potential for advancement is great. I also get no benefits (which sucks because I will be losing the ones through my wife as her company continues to drop the ball with her transfer), no paid time off… but I set my own schedule, and work as much or as little as I want (and clients need me) in a given week. It will be tough, as I like having the security of knowing I will at least be getting X number of dollars every paycheck, but again, this is better than nothing, and the learning opportunities are HUGE. I have to formally accept the position on Monday, then meet with my only other co-worker in the state for shadowing, training, and meet-and-greets with my new clients. I will start out with 5, so that guarantees me 5 hours a week… now to get up to the other 35… There will be meetings, calls, and paperwork, so hopefully I can turn that 5 clients into at least 20 hours every week. Here’s to hoping… and hopefully soon I will get a bigger case-load. This will also help me in getting my wife signed up for state services (and possibly myself), as this state does not recognize my marriage, so she’s technically below the poverty level even if I’m working.

Now, I will have to pull it together and function at my best to make this all work, but it sounds cool. Case Managers here have more responsibilities and authority than they did in my last state… That will be cool. While I won’t be doing therapy, I will have more therapeutic contact with my clients and gain the skills I have been dying to get and use since graduating with my BA… And maybe we will be able to save enough money to get our credits out of the endless pit they are in and be able to buy a house… We need our own space.

I can’t win against my defenses

When I have no support,  I’m falling apart. When I finally get someone to talk to,  I suddenly can’t remember why it was that I needed it so badly just a few days ago. 

That’s the story of my defenses.  I freak out when I don’t have the support,  but can manage to hold it together when I do. Great.  When the clinician asked me today what I hoped to get out of our remaining 2 sessions together, I couldn’t think of a single thing other then support… 4 days ago,  I couldn’t see past the huge black cloud surrounding me.  Today I can’t remember the look of it. 

Maybe part of it comes from knowing that I will likely not see her after these 3 sessions.  I don’t think I will have insurance again any time soon,  and I can’t afford a self-pay if it’s not a sliding scale.

I see the intern guy for the first time next week.  I’m hoping I am comfortable enough to work with him.  I can afford his fee ($8) once in a while until I get a job… and maybe I can work on my distrust of men with him.  I was able to connect with a male clinician at the trauma program.  Maybe I can do it again…

Hanging by a thread

The universe is conspiring to screw us… I swear,  someone up there hates me.  Things go ok for a moment, then everything crashes again.  Our phones are shut off again. We had paid enough to just get it back on, and now it was apparently only for 2 weeks.  It went offat noon today… all my applications for work have my number on it, but it is useless.  And I still can’t find a therapist to see… I had to cancel my Friday appointment because I will not have the copay… I’m so on my last thread… maybe that EAP lady was right… maybe I’m just a lost cause… hoplessly doomed to this shit for the rest of my life.

Simple Steps to Save A Borderline from Suicide

Simple Steps to Save A Borderline from Suicide.

I kinda like this in a dark comedy kind of way… I resent that I was ever diagnosed bpd, and I wholly resent the way I was treated by several clinicians & psychiatrists because of the diagnosis, but she puts it well… and I guess I can see myself in the diagnosis the way she describes it (some of it… the abuse history, the fear of abandonment, the preoccupation with death as a means of escape, the self injury, the lack of identity…)

hiding inside the wall

I’ve retreated into my shell. That experience with the EAP clinician triggered a fear deep inside me that has sent my mind scurrying into the wall. This is quite unusual, but happens from time to time. It happens when I’m terrified for my life, or my sanity. It’s that moment when even my analytical side hides, and I shut down. I neither ask for help, not do I have access to the part of me that is crumbling. I fly below the radar. My heart breaks, and I feel the weight in my chest, but I’m suddenly too terrified to even recognize that. The insanity in me takes a back burner…

It’s helpful in a way. I can function again, though every fiber in my being is shaking and pulsing with fear. It keeps the urges at bay (to an extent… i know they are still there and screaming, but they are isolated inside a sound-insulated room). It enables me to move about my day. My only worry is when it will burst free again. It always comes back louder and stronger after it hides for a while.


4:36pm – I had a horrible experience with the clinician recommended by the EAP.  Just about as soon as my butt hit her couch, she strongly insisted I see a psychiatrist for meds. I am strongly opposed to medications for myself.  They make me a million times worse than I ever was without them. In the 4 years I was on meds,  I was hospitalized upwards of 30 times.  Before and after,  not once.  She didn’t want to hear that I do not want to entertain the idea.  I thought at one point she may commit me for my refusal.  It was the biggest waste of my time,  and caused way more anxiety that I could ever have dreamed of it alleviating… my heart is still pounding nearly 2 hours later… this sucks.

(9:10pm) In talking to my wife about the whole experience, we noted several other ways in which she judged me and lumped me in a “hopeless” category… She suggested I go to a day program to “help [me] deal with everything” (not that she knew what exactly I was dealing with, but she assumed my history of depression, PTSD, SI, etc were all current and looming).  She asked if I was employed, and when I said “not yet, but I’m looking, since we just moved across the country…” her response was: “I figured”  Really?! WTF?!  She continued to insist that I see a psychiatrist for “at least a full and proper diagnosis” Um, Lady… I HAVE one!  I just listed it to you… She then implied that she had no reason to trust me, and stated I had no reason to trust her… Hmm… great! She also wanted copies of my recent hospital records and seemed put-off when I said I did not have them.  I told her I thought my old therapist did, though, and offered to pass on her number so that EAP lady could get in contact with her.  EAP’s response: “I don’t have a release to talk to her”.  I just looked at her with that one.  I was already in flight-or-flight mode (flight being my instinct), and had little energy to retort that I was sitting right there, she could easily get one… She then proceeded to tell me that she is “a straight shooter” and doesn’t “play games”… Like I was looking for someone to play games with?! I took a shaky breath and thanked her for her “honesty”.  I told her I had worked with someone in the past that did not know what they were doing, and it just messed everything up.  I did not want to repeat that… I sat through the rest of her little speeches, and then launched into one of my own.  I told her of my experiences with medications, doctors and hospitals.  I told her about the work I had done with my old therapist, and the work I hoped to continue.  I explained my dissociative symptoms to her (dumbed it down for her, since she wasn’t getting the more clinical terms), and my reasoning for not wanting meds, DBT, or ECT… to which she tried to interject that I should really give it a second thought, but I cut her off.  I told her that the topic of ECT was a hot-button one with me, and came with it’s own mess of trauma.  She seemed to get the hint and moved away from that topic.  She then spent some time trying to convince me that the local university’s psych clinic was wonderful, with students “experienced in dealing with this sort of stuff”.  I cut her off again and told her that I had called the clinic now 8 times in the last 2 months and have yet to receive a return call.  She suggested I just show up… to which I replied: “I’m not interested in begging for what I need when they don’t respond to me over the phone”.  She suggested I “give it a try”

In the end I left her office with no intention of ever talking to her again.  She did the obligatory “call me if you need anything” and actually wanted to hug me as I left… I don’t know her.  I dislike her.  Why the hell does she want to hug me?!  I’m not big on being touched by people I don’t know, let alone don’t like… Don’t hug me.  I’ll take hugs from people I’ve built a relationship with, and only if I feel comfortable with them, but perfect strangers creep me out…

My wife looked at me as I walked out the door and commented “How was it? you’re smiling” to which I was able to respond through clenched teeth: “I just need to make it out of the office…”  I told her all the things this lady said, and she wished she had gone in with me… I kinda wish she had also… Whatever.  I won’t be seeing her ever again that’s for sure.

The whole way home I was worried about the meds issue with the other therapist I’m supposed to meet next week… The anxiety was enough to prompt me to call her.  She was very nice when she called back.  She said that the clinic had no prescribers, but if I was interested, we could always talk about it.  She said she never refused to see a client just because they refused to take medications…  She did mention though that she prefers if her colleagues do the intake session, and it would be good if I could manage to come in earlier in the week to do it… I told her of my money concerns for 2 copays in one week.  She again suggested the non-profit aspect of the office, and I reminded her that I was very uncomfortable seeing a male clinician in the long-term.  She said it was always an option… The more I think about it, the more it may be my only option, as I’m not having any luck with call-backs… and it looks like my wife’s company is totally screwing her over and she will be timed out of their system by the end of the month. That means I lose my insurance, and would have to start all over again looking for a new therapist… This is just way too difficult.


So, I found out today I have insurance for at least a while… I also got a call back from the clinician from the EAP program… but that happened after I made an appointment with the original therapist I had contacted down here… The EAP appointment is free, but the psychologist will cost me the copay… I kinda want to see both to figure out who I click better with, but I also don’t have the $25 for tomorrow’s intake with the psychologist.  And, I don’t know when I would be able to get in with the EAP lady… i don’t know.  I feel like I should at least call the EAP lady back because the likelihood of continuing with her is greater if I lose the insurance… I’m so confused.


I called the EAP lady.  She seems nice, and had time tomorrow, so I decided to make the appointment.  It’s free.  What is there to lose?

I also called the psychologist’s office and told them I did not have the money for tomorrow’s intake.  They kept me on to see her next Friday.  If I don’t call them back before then, she will just do the intake at that time (I hope to have some money to be able to see her by then).  I’ll let both the EAP clinician and the psychologist know I am interviewing both… then I will make a decision after having met both of them.  I’m hoping the psychologist works out, because I know she does EMDR.  I really want to keep up with that.  It helps immensely.


How strongly should I pursue continuing EMDR? I want to hold out to find a therapist that is adept at it, but I don’t think I can wait long enough. I really need to talk to someone. I need to be able to get my balance back. Almost hourly I have to fight to keep from giving in to the urges to self-harm. I struggle with my doubts about calling a hotline for help. I haven’t had this little support in years. I have trouble asking for help when I feel like I am imposing on someone, so much of the time I don’t ask for anything… and I suffer for it… I torture myself with quiet struggles against self-injury. I don’t reach out even to those around me because I don’t want them to worry. I don’t want to have to explain my every move, so I shut down… which results in the same thing. My actions, facial expressions, web activity and sleep pattern are called into question. I cringe when I get “that look” that questions if I will disappear from life again. I’m trying hard, but not hard enough. I still have trouble over-coming my fear of being a nuisance. I’ve lost too much for being too needy.  My after-hours call, no matter what I may be unable to say, is a desperate effort to stay afloat… If I call more than once in a night, I probably should be in the hospital… I won’t ever say that in my message to anyone, but once you get to know me, you know how much I fear becoming a bother… While I would never be upset if a client called me after hours, I become upset at myself for asking for help outside of the 9-5, M-F grind…

The problem with that is I fall apart much more before I finally seek help, and I seem more unstable. I don’t think I can win. I either ask for help when I outwardly seem fine (thus not able to get what I need), or I beg for help when I completely fall to pieces and wind up hospitalized.

Back to my original question: how ardently should I pursue a therapist trained and competent in EMDR? I know it helps (without it I would have lost my battle to refrain from self harm weeks ago), but I also don’t think I can wait to find insurance or a job. I’m lucky enough to have some access to services through my wife’s EAP. I don’t think I should be too picky at this point. The relief I felt when she told me I could see someone through the company was immense. It made that day a little easier to get through. And today, after calling them again, and calling the referral they gave me, I was able to function for the remainder of the day. Even if I am unable to say the things I want to over the phone tomorrow, at least I have the chance. Maybe I should take notes on everything I want to talk about. I know most of it sounds ridiculous to me when I’m not actively crumbling in the moment, but at least I could have reminders to let me choose whether or not to say anything when I talk to her…

It’s so hard to trust people… the idea of potentially only trusting this woman for 3 sessions, then having to find someone else is a scary one.  I don’t open up easily, unless I’m desperate… I’m quite desperate of late.  But then what? I have to struggle to find someone else to trust that will have a sliding scale and something I can afford on a negative bank account.  I need some consistency in treatment again. I need to find someone down here that knows what they are doing.  I don’t have the energy to convince a treater that meds are the absolute worst route for me, and that no, I do not have to embrace the diagnosis if I disagree with it… and that I need someone open to different methods of treatment for this trauma and dissociation and self injury than is normally prescribed.  I had found someone that I think could be good, but her fees are very high for someone with no job…  I really think she would be good (well, her colleague, but close enough), but I asked for a break and got none.  although I did not ask for a billing option, I did not feel right doing so with no real prospects of being able to pay her in the foreseeable future.  I’m not sure what it was that prompted Dr. C to do that for me from the start, but that is rare… and I didn’t ask for it, she just offered.  While first getting in with her was brought on by a huge stress (my then-therapist ditched me at the hospital because I was too much of a liability, too unstable… but wasn’t that what I was paying her to help me with?!), finding her was the best thing.  She was ok with me coming off meds (though concerned, I was so far down already, there wasn’t much farther I could have gone).  She stood up for me when I had to battle the hospital psychiatrist’s insistence on ECT; supporting my opinion that it would not help for addictions.  She is also very kind… she genuinely helped me refute all the voices in my head that tell me how awful I am, how useless and worthless of a thing I am… and she showed compassion for all that pain I carry with myself.  She helped me unload some of it.  She never once made me feel shameful about my self-injury, despite how sick I got with it…  she helped me understand the motivations, and she let me know that I was not alone with it… THAT was huge.  It made sense in the light of my trauma…  I was the only one supplying the shame for that.  I look forward to returning to see her when we move back…  I hold that relationship in very high regard… Whomever my next therapist is had giant shoes to fill…

[insert appropriate title here]

my chest hurts from the anxiety and the pressure of my urges… Waiting to hear back from this clinician associated with wife’s work… EAP works for spouses too. I may just call them again and say she hasn’t gotten back to me. My head is foggy and the days and nights are difficult. I talked to my wife a bit last night, and it helped, but I still have way more to say that I don’t think I can say to her (or anyone, but we will work on that). Trying to stay motivated… applied for a few jobs, but I feel like a fraud doing it… how can I help others when I feel like this?! this all sucks…

on a positive note, this bout of stress brings with it a reduced appetite, instead of an increased one… and I know when not to drink… so that’s both good things… and I keep breathing… shaking, but breathing… heart’s too heavy… wish I could cry, but all that crap from childhood and my over-analytical mind keep me from it… sucks… i crave that other release… but holding steady-ish to the commitment of not picking up a habit of self-injury again…

Striking a balance.

The trouble with the new year is that everyone expects things to just change.  Life does not know the difference,  it’s only marked on a calendar.  The days will continue to be the same if you let them;  if you don’t work to change them… the same is true for every day.  We need to put forth effort to improve or change the way things are.  Life is not something that simply happens to you. You make big and little choices daily that help steer it in the direction you go.  Even not doing anything is a choice…

So I choose to keep persevering in the direction I want my life to go,  bumps and all.  And maybe I will stop kicking myself for not reaching out. I might actually stop worrying about bothering people on their day off and reach out (or at least try) so I can stop feeling like so much crap.

Wanting to cry

I know it’s a new year, but it’s changed nothing.  My hands brush against my thigh, and I crave a blade.  I’m ready for this struggle to be over for good. The thoughts need to go away. I need to be finally happy again.


Trying to figure what it is about me that tries to trigger myself,  not so that I will cut, but because I need that feeling to come and go.  I watch movies with a very prominent self-injury or abuse component to them.  I listen to music that  is at once triggering and comforting.  I battle with myself about reaching out.  I want to give voice to all the dysfunction in my head, but I’m afraid of the consequences.  I want to let people in, but I’m scared.  So I crave that feeling to have a definite end to it with the change in song or the end of the movie.  It gives the wave of emotion a forced, set path to follow.  It gives me somewhat of a sense of control; and I desperately need that when I start to feel out of control.

I had written earlier that I was kicking myself for not taking the opportunity to talk earlier on today.   I still am.  I toy with calling back and trying to talk to her again.  I toy with calling a hotline and being upfront that I am not suicidal, but I want to self-harm.  I’m scared because I don’t know what that will bring from a stranger in a new state.  I just know I need to reach out some more and I need more support than I can give myself.  I could talk to my wife more, but I don’t want to scare her.  I could talk to my mom, but the same is true… I need someone to talk to that will have a certain level of detachment that can hear me out… I need someone that is strong enough to listen to what I have to say and hear it all, and tell me how fucked-up I am…  And I don’t want to end up in the hospital… But I’m afraid that the knee-jerk reaction would be to send me there.  It’s a holiday, I don’t want to waste their time…  and I really just want someone I can take the risk of talking to without having to see the disgust on their face and the horror in their eyes as I spill the contents of my head… I don’t want them to see me either.  I don’t want them to notice the smile play across my lips at the thought of hurting myself and the thought of the relief it would bring, even if just for a moment, since shame and guilt set in pretty much immediately after I realize that someone may find out… and think of how messed-up I am…  But the thoughts are supremely comforting, even if the act would bring ridiculous consequences that I know I don’t want or need…

I guess I was on the right track…

Managed to talk to my old therapist a bit today.  She said that my symptoms fit the diagnosis of Dissociative Disorder NOS.  The split is there,  but not full-fledged people.  And I have a very difficult time connecting the two sides when I’m in either (hence this blog).  It’s more pronounced here.  It’s a physical feeling when I switch from one to the other.  It’s a feeling of falling through ice into freezing water when I get to the “dark” side (strangely comforting, not necessarily a panic, but a relief because I know what comes next); and the feeling of patching a wall when I come back here.  It’s relatively sudden (a matter of minutes) and I lose touch with what was before… it’s a weird feeling,  and quite strong since I moved back to where I grew up.  Someone plugged in the amp… I don’t want it to progress like it has been.   That would lead to some scary shit…

I keep trying to reach out,  but fear prevents me from opening up too much… I’ve had the chance again today,  but when asked that crucial question,  I said no.  I am not suicidal,  but I do sometimes want to hurt myself… not to die,  but to let the emotion bleed out with the injury… Only I’m afraid if I said that, they would be obligated to send me to the emergency room… because I said I want to hurt myself… so they are legally obligated to act on that… and it’s nowhere near what I want to do, but they may get sued, so I would be sent to sit in an er waiting room for hours on end just to try to convince them that I will not hurt myself… I’ve played that game before because most places don’t understand self-injury even though it’s become a hot-button topic in the last decade or so.  Legalities and all… and I don’t know the total scope of the laws in this state that could get me committed against my will.  I know it is fairly easy to get at least a 72-hour hold by anyone that suspects you to be even a remote danger to yourself… self-injury would fall under that category to someone who is not familiar with it’s stress-release capabilities…  So I stay quiet…  and I fight it on my own hoping that the dissociation won’t get as bad as it was last year when I “spaced out” for 2 days and ended up being hospitalized…

How to make a difference

Do you ever just sit and wonder…? every choice we make,  even the smallest decision can take us miles off our course,  or miles down in the direction we want to go.  How often do we ponder the meaning of the choices we make? Leaving a moment early or late can make the difference between getting where we are going safely or winding up in a car accident… making a call and asking for a break vs never making it out of the house… it’s the little things that make the biggest difference.   The smile to the lost soul, the wave to the lonely old lady… stepping over the bug instead of on it… all those things can save a life…


is it so fucking hard to just find someone professional to talk to?! 2 crisis lines that have since been disconnected, 3 places that are not taking new clients or you have to be on state to get in… UGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I’m not suicidal.  I don’t feel the need to call a suicide hotline just so I can talk to someone and not fall apart in the next few days.  That’s really all I want, just to talk to someone… why is that too much to ask?

This is that point

Where I need to remember the light side… the chaos is fast and furious in my head. .. not really sure how to slow it down…

I pull out my analytical side to combat the chaos, but it doesn’t work that well. The dissociation of one from the other is huge… the rift can be so severe… my panic mode is kicking in, and the other side of me desperately tries to take the reins to keep me on track… No falling apart. Patchwork going on to cover the cracks and keep things in check for another few hours. It’s amazing what our brains can do to to keep us functioning when we fear the outcome of our current trajectory…

Maybe I am DID in some respects, just not as disconnected with fully formed personalities… maybe I’m just more integrated than the average DID person. The change can come on so fast in the way my brain thinks. The analytical, disconnected side can take over to hold things together until the last possible moment… there definitely are two very distinct sides to me… this one steps in and calms me down when I’m about to break… it’s the more adult, mature side that needs to be proper and collected at all times. The other side feels more frazzled and fragile… and smaller. She feels more vulnerable and young… is that where Samantha Jane went?


It just hit me: I was never young. Let me clarify that… when asked about my inner child, there is no young version of me that I identify with… my inner child was always Samantha Jane (in that he or she was always 6 or younger). When my therapist asked me where the young me was, I mentally freaked and could not identify with a young me. All memories carry with them varying degrees of dissociation, but never have I been able to connect my name with a younger me… the image in my head of a young me is also very different than the actual me… it’s weird and I don’t think I’m explaining it well… I was there watching, but never really fully part of the memories… most of them any way. The person I am today for most of the time is far from that terrified little girl. That part never integrated…

I don’t have a good title for this

I’m feeling really overwhelmed by all this.  I don’t know what to do next,  but at least that clinician calling me so many times with different options made me feel a bit better… maybe I’m not so worthless afterall. If a perfect stranger cares enough to work so hard to figure out a solution,  there must be some value to me… maybe?

I don’t have my hopes up about the clinic getting back to me any time soon though… just going to have to struggle through this myself for a while and hope I don’t crack along the way…

feeling so defeated…

ever have those times?… It just doesn’t feel like I can make forward strides at this moment… One thing goes really well, and 3 things fall apart… I just don’t know how to change it. I’m only going backwards. It sucks.

I got a call back from one of the clinicians to set me up in their system… turns out that the only clinician that is part of the non-profit piece is a guy… I have trouble enough talking to a female therapist, forget about trying to talk to a guy… The lady that called me back was really nice tho, and she gave me a ton of other options… I totally appreciate that she called back 3 times with different ideas… I just wish I had money so it wouldn’t matter… but I have no job, and even if anyone is calling me back at the moment, my phone is shut off because we didn’t have the cash for the bill… I’m using my mom’s phone to try to find someone to see… All the places I applied to work have my phone number, not hers… This sucks. I just want to ball up and cry and hide from the world. I’m trying so hard not to crack under all this pressure, but I don’t know how well I can keep that up… When I got off the phone with her the first time, my legs ached with the memory of a cut… those aches have just been getting stronger. The part of me that wants to give in is screaming so loud right now…

I really could use someone to talk to… or: connections

there’s so much that goes on in my head that I don’t voice. I need an outlet for it. Even my old T didn’t hear half of what went on. I tried to tell her, but sometimes the words just wouldn’t form. It was a combination of fear, shame, and guilt for indulging the thoughts and “fantasies” that kept me silent. There were many times when I tried to talk, but literally couldn’t… the air was stuck in my throat and words refused to form. My mouth would open, and shut, but nothing would come out, not even a wisp of breath. I can feel that coming on… this time brought on by fear of someone over-reacting. The words don’t even form in my brain; they just fizzle at the synapses before a full thought can be formed to explain the pictures and feelings in my head. I don’t know why I have such a hard time talking… but then again, maybe I do. I’m not sure where it started, when I lost my voice (in the feminist, allegorical use of the term), but it’s been gone a long time. Once in a while I find what it is that I want to say, and once in a while I can make myself heard, but for the most part, I play alone in the scenes in my head. Samantha Jane used to be there… She used to keep me company, but she’s run off now, and I’m left to my own devices. She was a good little stand-in. She always listened, and I could always protect her (I think… at least… that’s my memory of my inner child… it’s the only memory of her I choose to acknowledge at this time). What happened to her? I’m not quite sure. She never looked the same through the years. She was always young, but her face and her hair changed… The one constant in all my years was the woman with the dark, long hair… She always showed up when I needed to be rescued. She always meant that things were coming to a close, and the horrible nightmare would be over. Her face was never really the same, but I always knew she was the same person. Maybe just the same soul… I’ve met her many times in real life… always someone else, but always the same role… the rescuer… she’s always meant an end to whatever the current drama/trauma was… funny how she has always been there since I was a child. Maybe I remember more than I think I do, I just keep it in the back of a dark closet. She was a neighbor, my friend’s mom, my guidance counselor, my teacher, my therapist, a nurse at the hospital, my doctor… That one presence that was in a different person each time, but always the same presence behind her… I miss her in my dreams. She was always infinitely more comforting in my dreams… or maybe that’s just where I choose to remember her that way… She always made sure I was ok… If I try to put a real face to her, I lose it, but I know her when I meet her… Just like I know Samantha Jane is not anywhere near me lately… she skipped town. I miss her, but I can’t feel her. I feel the lady with the dark hair though. Maybe she will visit me tonight in my sleep… I really could use her presence with me right now…

Does anyone know what happens to us when we die? I’m a firm believer in connecting once again with all we have lost… connecting to the world again in a deeper way. I remember that connection from when I was a child. I could close my eyes and feel the earth breathing… I could see the colors floating and the energy flowing… I would hear horses thundering by the house, and my parents would swear it was the highway… but I believed with all my heart that it was the horses that traveled that land before… A large white stallion that would wait under the window, making noise and breathing heavily after his run… Later that week I found a horse shoe in our yard… It was a neighborhood established for a while, with no livestock anywhere near… He was another comforting presence…

Earlier this week, I was feeling really sad and indulging that sadness when, all of a sudden, the scent of her perfume was in the air… She’s been gone for ages, but she was there at that moment. They are both here… my mom says she smells cigarette smoke in the house… no one smokes, but he used to… Right after she died (3 years after), I moved here and the dog would play fetch with someone, but I was the only one in the house… she would perk up as if being called, and run over to another spot, wag her tail, and lay down as if she was getting a tummy rub… I did not imagine it…


2:45pm – one of the therapists that I had contacted prior to my move was supposed to call today to get me into the system at a non-profit associated with her clinic… she did not.  I know she is likely busy with her actual clients and her life, but please don’t give me a specific time that you say you will call me and then not do it.  it makes me anxious and brings back all sorts of crap… I had simply asked her for the name and number to the clinic… she gave me the name, but not the number, and I can’t find their number online.  she also said she would call me this morning to set me up… I know I’m not at the breaking point, and this is not an emergency (far from it) but I would like to know I have something in place to help me keep from ever getting to the breaking point.  holidays are tough, for a lot of people.  they are triggering and highly charged with all sorts of emotions.  please don’t leave me in the dark at this time… I was quite anxious making the call to her in the first place to see about finding someone else with this move.  the thought of having to trust a whole other person is scary.  the thought of having to build up a therapeutic relationship is scary.  I just want to get it started so I can alleviate at least that bit of anxiety from my life.  is that too much to ask? am i being too pushy? too needy? am I over-reacting? I don’t want to call her because I don’t want to bother her.  I know I’m not her client, and at this point won’t be.  I know I have no priority there.  So I don’t want to be over-bearing… I just don’t want to crash either.  Things come up, and I package them away neatly once again, but I wouldn’t mind help in that department… and I really just want the anxiety of getting this all started to be behind me… I want someone I can talk to about all those thoughts in my head who won’t over-react and won’t get all worked up over just thoughts that come and go… and memories…

::sigh:: to steal a line from an Ani Difranco song: “the English translation is…”

I’m just anxious and unsure of where to turn to next… I could call my old therapist, she left that option on the table.  but again, I don’t want to bother her.  I don’t like bothering people.  I don’t like coming off as too needy… I am terrified of pushing people away… I don’t want to do that.  I don’t want them mad at me or frustrated with me.  I just want to be quietly liked…

It’s hard to hear my wife get texts and calls from friends and family… It reminds me again and again that I am not memorable. I don’t have very many friends, and even those people want to forget me… It’s hard to battle these negative ideas when I have no real strength to push them away and refute them… and I don’t see any evidence to the contrary in front of me… Either I chose not to see it, or it’s not there, but I can’t grasp it when I start to feel so doubtful of myself.  All the old, negative voices and mantras come back, screaming in my ears.  Everything I thought of myself growing up (because I can easily recall so much of the fears and doubts) comes flooding back, and it takes everything I have not to get carried away by it.  I start to think that people only talk to me out of obligation… they only see me when they want to (like the ghost girl in the series we just started watching)… I could easily disappear and very few would notice…

and there it is again, that screaming voice of doubt… I need to find a good way to drown it all out… music maybe, the park, nature… I need something positive to take it’s place…

5:22pm – still spinning.  trying to motivate to find a job and a volunteer opportunity, but it goes as fast as it hits me… I found the contact info for that clinic she told me about, so I sent an email.  I’m hoping they call me back sooner rather than later… You know that feeling you get when you know things are tipping in the wrong direction, but they haven’t fallen yet?  I have that feeling… I don’t know how far things will fall if I don’t figure it out, but I know they will fall to some degree.  I can’t afford the “craziness” of the past, so I need to keep it all together and fight like hell to do so.

9:00pm – the anxiety is building.  little tingles are playing under the scars… I need to keep my head above water for this.  No losing it here… I think I’m making it worse in my head, but I don’t really know how to stop it.  Does everyone experience the same disconnect of intellect and “head” when things start to crack?  Intellectually I know SO much about how to keep this all at bay, but emotionally, that’s a whole different story.  Maybe I should just call my old therapist to get some support until I can find someone new…