So, yesterday I spewed my frustration about the spa. I filed a recipient rights complaint. Over the voice mail. Today, it’s on my list of things to do. My therapist couldn’t even fit me in yesterday and I missed her call. I can’t hold all this in. It’s too much. I cannot put it here. I don’t want to trigger or give anyone ideas about what they can do to another person. But, I don’t know what to do. I slept for 16 hours yesterday afternoon til 4:00 am this morning. That’s escapism. No doubt. Today I’m gonna make a ghetto scene if I don’t get someone to listen to me and a slot with Doc Ross. I’m a Mess to quote Ed Sheeran. I feel like shit.
IDK. I just feel really hopeless right now. I feel like I have no one to talk to. Even my professionals have let me down and they know what a huge deal this is. It’s frustrating and they’ve got to know that. One can only handle so much human sacrifice, blood, gore, guts, and sexual assault for so long. I was a “Bride of Satan”, for chrissakes! At age 4? Hello?! That’s a whole lotta fucked up. What do I have to do?? Drink?
Had a dream about that last night. Not drinking, but a person I had a misunderstanding with in the program. I miss her. But it’s too late. It’s been too long. Besides, I don’t show my face at all the hot spots, they naturally assume I’m out drinking. Alcoholism is a progressive disease. I left off at Death. Only the grace of God and Dave (Smith- The AIDS KIller) not wanting to be discovered, was what saved me. I got sober then, August 15, 2008. If I were to drink, I’d be dead within 24 hours. I know what I and my system are capable of.
Speaking of my system, I saw the twins. One of them, anyway. I was down to seven- Phylis, thee executive; Matthew, Protector, Sheila and her subsystem; Vicky and her part, Veronica; and then the twins. They are my self-injurers. I have never been a self injurer, never. I have five tats, but no cutting, burning, branding et al. I made them promise when I was in the hospital, that if they didn’t hurt me, I would turn my upper right arm, and ultimately my right arm into a sleeve. So I touched base with my tattoo artist. But I don’t know. That’s money I don’t have right now. But I’m working on it.
Fuck, I’m working on everything. I was in the hospital counseling my friend- who is only my friend when he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and believe you me, that hurts and is not okay. And yes, I gently broached the subject with him. But, right now, I need a friend. “s”.
I’m terribly lonely. The prospects are nil. And I am not nearly cohesive enough to be in a relationship. I can’t even be a FB with anybody because of my HIV. People have such a bias against…me. I’m like every ism you can think of- mental illness, HIV, recovering alcoholic/addict, Arabic, Roma, tattooed, single, over forty with cat. Never married, no children. Jesus. I’m the poster child for hate. Or, is that how I see myself? I don’t know. I just feel when I hold the crap in too long, I feel like an alien. SRA is so lonely. It’s unbelieveable. DID is unbeliveable enough on it’s own face value, but when you thrown Satanism in there- you really feel like an enigma. Maybe that is what I am, an enigma.
I know I cannot spell to save my life ever since a few years ago. I can’t do a lot of things. It’s fucking freezing out. I know that. I better be able to get some of this stuff off my chest today or I’m going to explode. It’s almost 6 am. Guess I better start my day. Whatever that means.
I missed Partial yesterday and wound up sleeping 16 hours. I have a feeling this is the only zen I’m going to find all day. Yucky.