Acceptance is the first step…

I have a very good friend, he has begun a new journey of recovery from a different beast.  I will have seven years of sobriety in August.  Acceptance.  For me, acceptance is a process.

When I was dx in 1989 with BiPolar type I disorder, Posttraumatic Stress Dx, and addiction, I had no idea, not a frickin nanaoclue of the ride I was in for.  I was just told, “When you get on the right meds, find the right psychiatrist and get a good therapist, everything will fall into place.”  LIES.  VICIOUS, ANNOTATED LIES!!!!!!!!

There is no magic pill or bullet, you change shrinks and you hire and fire your mental health professionals a hundred times over, until you find the ones that you want on your team, playing with your toys, in your own sandbox.  I have been blessed with some amazing and also, some downright shady, criminal mugs that I have worked with, all leading me to being flooded with a flashback all.  week.  long.

Yessir, it started Monday Morning at 2 am, and it has not left me since.  In the 7 years of having DID, I called my therapist at two in the morning.  She called me back at 6:52 am.  I’d and still am, have been up since 1:30 this morning.  So, whatever this last flashback of Veronica’s and Sheila’s is- A. It ain’t finished, and B.  It crescendo-ed at one in the morning.  That is when I have been waking up and staying up.  This one am bullshit.  They were all so loud this morning!  All having their say and talking over one another, I had to literally yell-in my head- SHUT UP!!!  SHUT UP!  SHUT UP!!  Go in your rooms and leave me be!   They all went in their rooms.  Sheila forgot Marshall (?).  he’s four years old and cries ALLLL the time, poor lil guy.  So, I scooped him up- in my head- handed him to sheila and said, “Don’t forget Marshall.  Especially Marshall!”  Poor lil guy.  He’s a part of me, that just cries and cries.  Which is all I’ve done for the past four years practically every night.  Because if I ain’t doing grief work, I’m going thru something, and if I’m not grieving, going through something, it’s a flashback.  Which is why I’m terrified my shrink is going to throw me in the spa.  My therapist asked, “Do you think you need to go somewhere?”  I’m not homicidal and I’m not suicidal, I’m just going through a really rough time right now, internally.  So, I see my Doc at three today. You damn sho nuff know those two be talking to each other.  What did you do?  What are you gonna do?  Did you know this?  No, she did what?  OMG.  They’re like little mental health teenage girls talking about a boy.  Je- SAS!

So, I emailed the flash back to my therapist.  I do not get into details, especially since it is Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA), and as a courtesy to human kind we don’t get into details.  But let’s just say, sex, sacrifice, and satan were involved, I was 5- an “Official”, Bride of Satan.  And then, the mother rescued me, the daughter/lure/childhood friend stroked my arm through the wool blanket and I remember thinking to myself, at age 5!!!!:  I never want to be touched again ever in my life.

Which has led me to this new revelation- yes, I am slow.  My first love, first everything was just that…a thing.  I was a thing to him.  I was an experiment in love, sex, and relationships.  Once I kissed another boy, he turned into automatic douche king pin, de-flowerer of women and girls, and all around play douche.  And why the hell is I like em all- my men- I am so attracted to their anal structure and smarts and I LISTEN! to how good THEY are, while They NEVER ask how I am.  Pft.  I spit on your family tree.  May it forever be barren and dead.  Yes.  I just gypsy cursed people in cyber space and fuck ya if ya got a problem with it- that is why Google is your friend.  Beyotch.

It’s 9:40 am, EST.  I have a DBT therapy appointment at 11.  Safe- my shrink- is at 3.  He used to be an internal med doc at Henry Ford in Detroit.  Fuckin badass.  And he spoke Pharsi to me.   Damn right, I’m special.  He native tongued me!!   Oh!  That would be a great pick up line for the bar!  You are welcome!!

So, it only took me 7 years of being diagnosed (dx) with DID to accept what my life is:  a long line of singledom, med changes, doc appointments, therapy appointments, heavy emotional lifting, spa visits, relationships that are constantly in flux, and changing relationships all the time.  I’m okay with it now, today, but we’ll see.  It morphs- acceptance=process. But once the switch gets flipped, it never gets flipped off.  There’s a couple of people I’d like to flip off, since we’re on the subject.

But I have to go.  I actually am ready to get in the shower.  I’m ready to look and feel like a woman.  I’m tired.  I think the worst of this flashback is over.  But it never touched on the sexual assault, I just know I was attacked by a bunch of doped up, frenzied Satanists. Fucking Awesome.  And I was 5 fucking years old.  Suck it.

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