Bad Ass Bitch

Howdy!

I have been a hot fucking mess lately.  This is the time of year for Halloween and all things reminiscent of the cult.  I am EXTREMELY hypervigilant now and sleep one night on, two nights off.  Why do you think I used to take 16 Klonopin, 4 Xanax, Choral Hydrate and Oxi Contin, AND drink?  And my shrink wonders why I think about the sister fellowship.  *eye roll*

Anyways.  Sundays, worst days of the week for me, aside from 3-6 pm everyday.  So, this last Sunday, Matthew decides to integrate.  Just is like- you got this.  I tell him I do- now, see?  I can talk to my system in my head and my system and the safe place and their rooms, and common areas, etc. are all in my head.  I suppose, I could draw it out, but after chair position for five plus minutes this morning, stairs are not my friend.  However, Matthew is like, “you got this”?  Yeah.  Open the door.  “You serious?”  Yeah, open the door.  He does.  For the first time since I can ever, EVER remember, he is not wearing his overcoat, his trench, dig?  His fedora, all that.  He’s in a white t-shirt and black trousers, and all the littles, like five of em, boys and girls, just tackle him to the ground and smother him with love.

In my safe place for my parts, I have a waterfall, lake/salt free Ocean, with dolphins.  Happy, no predator stuff.  So, Matthew dives in and goes swimming with the Dolphin.  And breathes.  For the first time, ever, Matthew inhaled, and let it go.  He’s been waiting to exhale for a long time.  No pun intended.  And if I would look good in Orange, yes, I would have set fire to Dave’s truck.  Hellz yeah.  Nero, bitch.  But, I digress…

So, ever since Sunday, I’ve had no sleep, on and off.  Like I said, one day on, two off, bitchy fucking people, mean fucking people.  All coming at me.  It’s like they know I’m on my own- get to that in a minute- and I’m like, fair fucking game.  It’s crazY!!!  Absolute bonkers, yeah!  I unfriended two long-time- whom I thought- were friends.  One was not.  Hadn’t been a friend since she got wrapped up with a guy, the other chose her husband.  Totally understand both, but the first?  She was like, rubbing my face in it?  Why?  Cuz you’re engaged with no ring, guaranteed to be miserable ever after?  YUCK!!!!

No thanks.

So, me and my labels?  Which are as removable as they are applicable, will be over here, trying to figure out who we are under all these AXIS dx.  Fuckers.  Strengths perspective.  No, you’re an Axis !, and that’s WHAT, WHO, and ALL you are to them.  The DSM was invented to treat, but mainly to classify, disseminate, and label for insurance purposes so people could get paid, yo.  Straight.  You’re not a strength, you’re a file.  A “Patient”.  You’re not human, you’re a number, an insurance claim.  Quality of life in mental health is zero.  They could give a fuck.  Too bad you’re a female with psychosis and the only neuroleptics (anti-psychotics) that work are Zyprexa and Seroquel and you have somnabulism (sleep eating) and crave sweets, lack energy and get fat.  But you’re clock radio is quiet now, isn’t it?  Fuck you.

Anyways, sometimes, being in recovery with the Axis that I have, DID, is the worst thing.  Then, HIV?  HOLY FUCK.  There is truth to the stereotypes, to the diagnoses.  Otherwise we wouldn’t receive treatment.  Appropriate treatment.  And I’ve had two different rounds of nine treatments of ECT.

I was walking by the grocery line today and Drew Barrymore is on the cover of Star or some shit, with the headline quote: “I’ve had the weirdest life ever”.  Ever?  Really.  Swim in my water, punkin.  Swim in some of my friend’s pools.  There’s 31 flavors of fucked up that you won’t experience anywhere, even if your gene pool is Barrymore.

Back to the point, Matthew integrated and has been very quiet and away.  Gone.  Weird.  Explains the hypervigilince(sp) at night.  Who is going to protect me?  Who is going to keep me safe?  WTF, over?!  I’m terrified.  My fiercest, bad ass, warrior, protector, who stood up to Dave, and Dave hated since cuz from what I remember when I switched to Matthew?  Told Dave right the fuck off and called his shit, OUT!!!  Where is that fierce protector?  That loyal dude?  FUCK!!

He’s in my heart, safe.  My part is no longer splintered, separate from my core, but part of me again.  Just like when I was three before all the shit went down.  I was/am a creative, smart kid/woman.  Matthew had always been a part of me, but when the shit hit the fan, I created him into an imaginary friend type, almost?  I could pull him out like Spiderman, put him on, kick ass, then have Alfred help me through the crisis and fallout the following days from fighting the evil in my head.  The evil that Matthew and I, us, we…me saw and experienced and felt and smelled and tasted and saw, and heard screams, and physical pain and terror, and recoil, and just abject fucking terror and no one to protect 4 -year -old me from monsters and atrocities against God and man.  So, I created Matthew to protect me.

Follow?

Now, he’s gone, and I’m closer to integration- complete.  Everyday, every experience, every interaction, I am extremely hyper critical of myself and how I re-act and react and reenact.

I’m hungry.  no.  I don’t want a fucking taco!

I’m Done

I’m done.  Totally over it.  I’m done with politics, St. Francis, Facebook, all social media…I’m sick and tired of bullshit.  And it’s me I’m sick and tired of.

You take PTSD, DID, and bipolar type I, put em together and what do you get?  Someone whose behavior mimics Borderline Personality Disorder.  But my Axis II is always deferred.  When your one abusers middle name is Chester- and my last name is an alcohol?  God shore has a great sense of humour.

I’ve also come to the conclusion that people hate living in reality.  They like fantasy.  They don’t want to live in the cold and ugly and mean truth.  Brutal honesty is for cromags, tact is in…

My God, I have been through so fucking much. I swear, people keep telling me to do more, be more.  I’m lucky I’m not fucking nonverbal okay, assholes?  I’ll probably never get married and I’m totally okay with that.  I don’t know why, but I’m okay with that.  They can come and go as they and I please.  I just know Dave made me a woman, he taught me  better way of life.  He’s teaching me how to live and how to, as someone I adore greatly said, “Find what makes me happy.”  Another person I admire greatly had a meme up, with Buddha’s picture and a caption that read:  Suffering comes from giving too many fucks. Attachment is the root of all suffering. Yupo.

I’m frustrated.  I see people who were pretty fucked up a few years ago, healing and ,moving on, and I’m like, WTF, over?  And my mom doesn’t want to come over to my place because I am a cluster/clutter fuck.  Well, I got a fucking bachelor’s and half a MSW.  I’d say for someone who was fucking put through hell and splintered into 79-82 or however many little pieces of a whole, that’s pretty fucking good.  Sorry you don’t understand me, just like I don’t understand you, but I’m a loyal fucking person.  I don’t turn on a dime, unless shit happens.

I’m over all of it.  Just am.  Sick of it all.  Great band, by the way.  At least their name is great.  I’m uber frustrated.  I’m in a great deal of pain.  My knee is all fuct up.  I have-my fucking cartilage in my right knee is flaking off.  And floating around my knee.  No matter what, I’m gonna have to have surgery.

I also started asanas in yoga.  Held plank for not a consecutive, but total five minutes. Oh Dear Ganesh, am I sore!!!  I wail like a yenta, but with Hinduism.  No wonder people don’t get me, I’m a blend.   Herbie said, “31 flavors of fucked up.”  I like to think, 31 flavors of collaborated bullshit.  But, Let’s try being nicer to me, shall we?  How about, 31 flavors of awesome sauce?  I like that.  31 levels of awesomenessoisty.  I make the fuck up out of word, so let’s go.

Yesterday my bed was vibrating and shaking and my alarm clock was on iPod and making AM radio noises.  I smudged, white candles, gave it back, all that shit.  Banish x53, so mote it be.  I hereby banish hate, fear and loathing from myself, a process which has already begun, let it continue on, until the burning of the sun.  So mote it be.  ABOVE ALL-KEN-HARM NONE!!!!

Oh dear Lord.  There’s that 31 flavors of blended awesome sauce.  Jesus H.  OoP!  There’s another flavor!

Okay.  I need to clean.  And banish.  I have Feng Shui smudge I’m going to get busy with. Usually about this time, I’m fading, but now, I am coming alive.  I swear, I got 13 fucking hours of sleep last night.  Slept right through an obligation.  Damn.  But, I feel better,  With Grief it is either feast or famine.  Fall makes me happy.  Going up north to see the colors change, would be awesome.  Maybe I’ll scoot out after the 8th, and go to some places I have never been before.  That would be wicked cool.  Sleep in cheap motels, yeah…  I’m digging it.  I likey.

I’m over it all.  Just over it all.  Not going drink, not going to do drugs, not gonna any of that shit.  Just need to free my soul.  Re-new, re-member, re-knew again.

And…scene.

Dave is Dead

About a week ago, I found a magnet on my door.  Some fuck nut had put a magnet on my door (private entrance), and it fucked up my security system.  So, all morning, I was on the phone with personal calls and then to the security company.  Well, I didn’t have the proper information.  My father was here when it was installed, because I was probably in the hospital.  Anyways, there was A LOT of information I needed to get clearance that I did not even know I needed.  Communication is weak in my family.  Very weak.  So, my dad is up North watching my 100 year old grandmother.  He’s being a smart ass- cuz, naturally, I thought it was Dave fucking with me.  So, my father blows me off.  Which hurt and caused old wounds to open up- you don’t care, you never protected me, blah x 3.  Then, he calls me back and tries to tell me what to do, he wasn’t hearing what I was saying.  So, we yell and he hangs up on me.  K.  Dee.  (His father)

So, then I call Dave’s old Parole Officer to see where to send the PPO.  The PO calls me back and leaves me a message: “Dave is Dead. He died last week.  Dave is dead.  You don’t have to worry about him bothering you anymore.  Dave’s Dead…”  WTF!!!!!!!

So, after I inhaled, I started to sob.  Belly aching, heart breaking sobs.  I mean, like, the full body sobs?  I’m a mess.  He was a monster.  And why he was a monster and how he became a monster, I’m not 100% sure, but I know some aspects and those are private.  Some things are best left unknown.  Even he deserves some peace. He always tried to seek God.  He tried to be a monk, he tried to go to church.  He tried everything.  Well, God is love as one of my friends told me tonight.  And, as a medium, he did make it to the other side- the light side.

His PO has no idea what he died from, we guess physical problems- HIV, HEP C, Diabetes, IDU Meth Addict.  I think he overdosed on meth as a suicide run.  That’s my bet.  AS his PO said, “doesn’t really matter, we all wind up the same.”  A freaking men.  A freaking men.

So, after I gained my composure, I called the security system company.  Apparently, my system has been in test mode for some time and I have a faulty device.  Really?  Just so happens, the beginning of the year, my neighbors stole my WIFI and changed my password.  I had to change it to something they would never guess.  Then, the magnet on the door, and something else.

And now that Dave is gone and no one knows?  Mm mm.  I gotcha.

SO, now that Dave has passed away, how do I feel?  Torn.  Really torn.  But really glad he’s not in pain and tormented anymore.  Neither are we.  We’re all free.  I think that means I have forgiven him and now I can heal.  Really heal.  Cuz I was never able to heal or grieve constantly looking over my shoulder since 2012. Jesus, what a shitty year that was. Christ!  Lost F Dog, lost Chris, Lost Button, found out I was a SRA survivor, Interferon and Dave’s trial.  Fuck that year.  If I was ever going to drink, that would have been the year.

So, I can’t sleep. I’m starving and all I have is a turkey Lean Cuisine.  Every time I get  up, I get out of breath and my chest hurts.  I don’t know wtf that is about.  I’m tired.  Just tired.  And I got a four year old coming tomorrow morning.  Er, this morning.  Jesus.  I can’t do it.  I can’t do…everyday is a battle.  With PTSD, DID, HIV, alcoholism squirrel brain, war with God, neighbors, no friends, no men, I’ve been sick with a bacterial infection for two weeks.  I was so sick last Friday, I was hallucinating.  Fuct up.  I just can’t do it.  At least, right now, I don’t feel I can do it.  I just feel like I’m almost at the top of the mountain.  Just a little further and I’ll be there, but I’m so fucking tired.

I cut a bunch of fuckers out of my facebook account.  I cut out some really long term friends who have just not been there for me and I haven’t been there for them, insensitivity, circumstances, life.  Just trimming the fat.  Plus, if they don’t give a damn about me when the shit hits the fan in my life, when I’m there for them when the shit hits the fan in their life, wtf am I hanging around for?  Or, I never hear from them?  What’s the fucking point?  None.  Just noisy fuckers.  Fuck em where they eat their eggs.

So, it’s 2:37 am here on the EST.  Usually they’d be coming home, waking me up.  I’m thinking about a food run.  It’d be fast food, but it would be something in my gut.  I need to take care of myself really hard core especially now.  No lip service, action only.

Well, I hope you are all doing well.  Life’s a bitch.  Get a helmet.  Thanks Denis Leary.