Shocker! And not the good kind…LOL!!!!

Well, I added a theme and some new websites I found.  Please let me know if it translates well.  I really do appreciate feedback, because I love different perceptions.  Really, that is what life is made up of-different perceptions.

So, I’ve been doing Partial Hospital, which is like IOP- 6 hours a day of groups and then I get to LEAVE!!!!  WOO HOO!  But, Thursday, one of those financial people came to see me.  *Bitch* *Cough*  Informed me that I only have 9, yes, 9 more Medicare days left- FOR LIFE- at a Free Standing Psychiatric Hospital.  That’s it.  That’s all I got.  So, I took a deep breath, walked outside, sipped my monster and brain stormed.  Okay, because I have an additional Medigap policy supplemental to my Medi/Medi benefits which pays for my therapists.  Yes, “s”.  Plural.  I’m not going over why again.  If you’re new to me and this blog, re-read the previous chapters.  Trust me, there’ll be a test, there always is…Anyways, I call my newly discovered case manager thru my PPO.  She started poking around, and I started researching when I got home.  Because, If I could find a psych unit attached to a regular Medical Hospital, like U of M, say, I’d be covered and cool.  And this is where the learning curve came in.

Called the Mayo Clinic first.  Well, they only treat people from the surrounding states of MN.  And I’d need a referral- fucking DUH!  This ain’t my first rodeo- and of course, how to get there, do they have a bed, what’s their model, blah x3.  So all the rest of the hospitals I called- about ten, I found a Newsmax article about the top ten hospitals that treat DID.  Del Amo, Dr. Ross’ CA hospital was Number Uno, but they were ALL Free standing psych hospitals.  So, I have to covet my days like a mug.  I’ll hop into partial if I feel the blues coming on or I start to flash a lot.

Dr. Ross was there Thursday.  Did I get to see him?  NOOOOOOO!!  The Clinical Supervisor, who was my first case manager there, asked her underling to make it happen that I saw Ross that day.  I overheard her tell the supervisor-her supervisor- make it happen, she said, “I’ll Try”.  WTF?  I’ll try?  FUCK YOU GUYS!!!  I’m finishing partial.  Apparently, God thinks I’ve got plenty of skills and resources to not need to be hospitalized anytime soon.  Which is awesome that God thinks I’m a Bad Ass, my shrink was not listening to a word I said, doesn’t understand how Medicare works and was telling my outpatient therapist that I wasn’t making any sense.  No, motherfucker, you calling me by my childhood name doesn’t make any sense, you fucking pill pushing and taking away doctor motherfucker!

So, I took Friday off.  My 99 year old grandma and my Aunt were coming up to get their hair did and have a Mother’s Day meal.  My grandma went down into the basement to google stuff with my dad while my aunt went shopping for a gift for a person.  Three guesses what my grandma-99 year old- wanted her son to google for her…give?  Her old boyfriends.  I LMFAO at that.  Now I know where I get it from.  Between the two gene pools I come from, it all makes perfect sense.

Yesterday I returned half the shit my part-Sheila-bought.  Made her print out labels, sit back while I drove my mom and myself to the UPS store.  Made her watch the whole process.  Then, we went shoe shopping with my mom. I needed a pair of casually dressy sandals.  I had found a pair when I was at the shoe crack store (DSW) returning a pair that Sheila had bought.  Yeah, her job is to make me happy.  We need to redefine that.  June 10th Rev. Horton Heat is coming to town.  June 12th is my birthday.  I’m busting out my psycho billy gear and have a ball- sober!!!!  But, I took my mom shoe shopping cuz she needed new dog walking kicks.  Got her a sweet pair of navy blue, hot pink and neon green laced Nikes.  I had a ten dollar cert, so I bought that pair of Born sandals.  They fir me the best. They’ve got toe bondage as Dave used to say.  He could find bondage in office supplies.  He used zip ties and diabetic needles to shoot his meth with.  Near the end, he was smoking it.  His teeth were disgusting.  He was disgusting.  UGH!!

So, it’s Sunday.  A huge trigger day for me.  So I’m gonna pick up my bedroom, clean the bathrooms, move a tub of IDK what out of the desk area, and we’re (ma and I) going to move the book nook out of my room and into the front desk area.  Then, we’re going antiquing.  Great store in Hastings called Davall’s.  Used furniture and antiques.  Although, I went to Indy last week to visit my friend, swear to God, just a friend, whatever. He works at a furniture store- Nice furniture and I picked out a chair with leopard print fabric for my desk in my bedroom.  It’s where my creativity comes from and where I work from.  My cat’s all curled up and I’m a typin away on my king size, listening to Linkin Park.

Oh!!!  I met the last two parts- the twins.  The angry, rage filled, self-injurer is Sophie, and the other one is Lily.  Lily is gentle and soft and vulnerable and sweet.  But she only turns her head towards me.  Never looks at me.  Sophie, well, it’s time for a new map anyway.  I see my therapist tomorrow and go back to partial Tuesday.  I’m going to see how much longer I can drag that out.  It really helps.

Well, that is enough for now.  I put up some new links.  I hope they work, and are beneficial.  I finally feel rested.  It’s been quite a ride.  Could use some calm.  Have a good day y’all!!!!!

Sunday Funday!!!!

So, as my therapist says, “You’re overdue for fun.”  And I’ve been denying myself love and creativity.  Which, in theory, could be the same thing.  So, I turn on a playlist to create by and it’s my celebrity boyfriend, Pitbull, with, Time of our Lives.  Yup, you are so right Pitbull.  I need to go to the Allegan Antique Fair Opening Day, Ballin’.  Hee hee.  That is so ridiculous sounding.  But, it’s true!

I’ve been all work and no play.  I was supposed to go Friday to see a band and their last show in Lansing, Friday.  Potential problems:  From the nineties- i drank that whole decade away, one of my ex-boyfriends used to drum for them, so he would’ve prolly been there, did I mention it would be in a bar?  And yeah, I had been crying all day Friday.  It was a recipe for disaster.  My friend will not speak to me after I told her the deal:  I haven’t slept in three days- I forgot to tell her about my anaphyalactic* reaction to Bactrim- and I had been crying for days and crying that whole day and I had no business being in a bar.  I tried to let her down easy and set boundaries with her:  We’ll listen to the first set, then leave, right?  It was also an hour away.  I’m done.  So, now, she won’t speak to me.  Rightfully so, I did cancel on her, but I gave her plenty of time to find somebody else. She’s not the type to go out on her own, I was kinda hoping she’d do that.  But, I can’t control shit. I just tried to do the right thing, and take care of myself.  That, right there, being the biggest thing:  Taking care of myself.

So, usually my mom and I go to opening of Allegan, but she volunteered for the church garage sale, so I think I’m going to go regardless.  I’ve got some cash, a check book, and a charge if I see anything my little greasy heart cannot live without, I’ve also got an iPod to listen to because I really don’t want to be bothered, it’s colder than a well digger’s you know wut, and it’s great exercise, so I’m up early, and some fresh air leads to fresh perspectives…

Plus, I have been working really hard on my system and this week ain’t going to be fun.  With new maps being drawn up etc.  More dialoging, more uniting, more integration.   I just want to get to the point where I’m at least cohesive enough to work part to full time.  And I’m grieving a lot of relationships.

Like, my first love, after some hinckey shenanigans, he clearly hasn’t changed, so any romantic notions colored by rose tinted glasses were abruptly smashed this week.  Worked through the Greece guy, which was hard.  We actually reunited twenty years later.  About three years ago or so.  He has MS and is a RAGING alcoholic and has PTSD up the yin yang and is one sick puppy, and then, there’s my Issues of Vogue.  Ms. Train wreck waiting in the wings…  So, all in all, I think after this past week’s shit storm, I deserve to go walk the fields of dead people’s stuff (Yes.  There is actually an antique store called, “Dead People’s Stuff”).  So, I have to leave by seven.  It is 6:13 EST here, and I need to shower and prep.  But, my brain droppings are not done, I’m sure.

I spent yesterday with a friend eating Thai food.  Thai iced Tea is the best.  I don’t care who you think you are, that stuff is the bomb.  I’m a lil worried about her with this guy she is dating.  I did voice my concerns.  She has the same ones, but I told her: three months and the warts come out.  Meaning:  The ugly patterns, insecurities, etc come out.  They raise their ugly heads.  Both people think their comfortable, so they let the facade slip.  And if you’re not careful, vigilant and mindful, all those red flags that were and have been unfurling can wrap around you tight, and next thing you know, you’re trapped.  Trust me.  Ms. Queen of unhealthy relationships over here knows what not to do.  I have no idea what to do, but I definitely know what not to do.

Sometimes, I like to think that when I integrate and learn to love myself fully, learn to be my own hero, I’ll have a healthy relationship.  Like, I’ll get a happy ending, you know?  But I know life doesn’t work like that.  I can’t wait for anything or anyone.  They aren’t waiting for me, so wtf?  I have HIV.  I have an ex who qualifies as a serial killer/infector.   He’s notorious.  I’ll always have a part of him in my body.  You know, like a constant reminder of him.  The five Stairsteps.  God, I hope so.  Cuz this shit is getting old.  I had to detox myself from men and especially unhealthy people/men.  I’m still detoxing.  I need to purge my system.  My other friend is going through the same thing.  It’s hard to admit you’re codependent.  Or, as I like to call it, CO- D- P!  and make the hand/gang symbols of the letters.  I’m silly.  But it’s hard when your whole life you have been programmed to save people, diffuse volatile situations, soothe ruffled feathers all so you don’t have to look at your own shit.  Then I just feel depleted and resentful.  But it sure can be easier than looking at your own shit.  Nice diversionary tactic.  Doesn’t work very well, for very long.  Because I grew up in chaotic environments on all fronts, this detoxing is scary as hell, as well as doing parts work.  My friend found some CODA meetings.  I think that would be a good place for me to start. Mmmm, “Secrets” by Mary Lambert.  Good stuff.  I looooove this song.  So over it.  I don’t care if the world knows what my secrets are- sing it girl!  Preach and Testify!!!!!  Yup.  Lay it all out there.  Our secrets keep us sick.  I’m tired of being sick.

The ENT asked me how old I was when my nose was broken: 6 years old.  What happened?  They busted it with a 2 x 4.  They both cringe,  Sorry!  My truth is fucked up.  But it’s got to come out.  People may not believe in DID or want to accept the concept because they cannot and WILL NOT accept the etiology of DID.  Yes, I was four years old watching people and children and babies be sacrificed.  I went to the police with the one sacrifice I remember- have I heard from the cop?  Nope.  Okay.  I’ll go to the county tomorrow.  Because that family needs relief and answers.  My Shrink asked me what we did with the bodies- cannibalism?!  Destroy the evidence.  We held the rituals in the basement of a funeral home in the town I grew up in, and all the big wigs of the town were Satanists in the cult.  I was supposed to kill myself when I reached 40.  I was a potential, “Bride of Satan”.  Do you seriously think anyone wants to really: A.  Believe Satanism exists in this day and age?  B.  That barbarism like that can exist in the 20th and 21st century?  C.  That children are utilized in the rituals and the adults in charge of these children let it happen?!  It’s jaw-dropping, stomach turning, revolting!!! NO!  NO ONE wants to accept how people like me- Survivors of SRA- can walk around and walk and talk AND Chew gum.  No One wants to admit that this kind of disgusting and vile shit exists.  Well, yeah, it do.  And I’m living proof it do.

Inhale.  Exhale.  Do a little four square breathing.  it’s 6:45 am.  I need to shower and get my ass to the antique show.  DAMMIT!

Sundays are the worst days for me, especially between 3-6 pm.  That’s when I spent the most time with my abusers after the SRA.  When they took over the Methodist church.  I just wish there was enough bleach for my eyes and brain and there isn’t.  I live with this shit everyday.  People don’t like it, so, naturally, they don’t like me.  It’s my reality.  For now.  In due time, it will change and grow.  But for today, it’s my reality.  So looking at dead people’s stuff doesn’t bother me.  I’ve been around a lot of dead people.  And no, they don’t taste like chicken.

Hug yourself, and keep your loved ones close.  There’s no telling.

Love,

Zu