Everything hurts and I’m pissed and I don’t really know what’s wrong and there’s all this noise in my head and I want some fucking quiet and there’s no reason for me to be this screwed up and I want to scream and I want to hurt somebody and I want a hug and I want a vacation from my scumbag brain and I want somebody to fix me and I want everybody to fuck off and I don’t know who I am and I don’t know what I’m doing with my life and I’m a bad friend and I’m not a grown-up and I ruin everything and everyone hates me and I have no idea what I’m doing ever and I don’t know why I feel like this and I don’t know how I messed my life up so bad and I want to be normal and I want to have a life and I think I’m incapable of having a life and I feel like I’m just playing pretend all the time and this isn’t my house or my room or my life and I feel like nothing’s real and I feel like the sky is falling and I just can’t make anything make sense right now.
Somehow I’d managed to forget how much painful stuff therapy can stir up.
I didn’t even talk in great detail about trauma stuff. Nancy asked me about my “process of coming out as an incest victim,” and that involved a lot of talking about my mother and how she made it all about her. But then we ended up talking about the state hospital in Iowa. I told her about getting beat up, but I didn’t mention the sexual assaults. I was afraid she wouldn’t believe me, not that she’s given me any reason to worry about that. But it was very present in my mind as something I wanted and didn’t want to say.
I thought I was okay. I was aware, on some level, that I wasn’t feeling anything, but I thought that meant I’d dealt with this stuff enough that I was okay with it. Clearly that’s bullshit–some things you can never be okay with. I guess I just want so badly to be okay, for the L-methylfolate to have fixed the trauma stuff too, that I’ve just been repressing it.
I was feeling off the rest of the day but ignored it. But then at kung fu, when we did our meditation, all I could hear was hysterical crying in my head. So clearly not okay. And I have no idea what to do. I don’t know how to cope because normal coping skills seem laughable to me. I don’t want to self-destruct, which should be a good thing, but it leaves me with no way to deal with the pain.
I fucking hate this.
It doesn’t help that I’m also in physical pain. My back hurts, but I’ve been trying to lay off the NSAIDs because my toilet and I have become way too close and I have a rash across my torso. I have an appointment with the physiatrist’s NP later this week, so they’ll probably schedule another cortisone injection. But in the meantime, what do I do? I won’t take narcotic painkillers because I get loopy and dissociative, but my body is apparently very unhappy with the NSAIDs. Ugh.
New July 30, 2012
I’m all moved into the new place, although my internet isn’t hooked up yet. It’s a really nice apartment, and Winston has already christened it by pooping on the floor. And I’m dead exhausted.
I feel like crap right now physically. My back started hurting again a few weeks ago, and probably moving didn’t help. I had movers for the furniture, but me and my team moved all the boxes ourselves. Plus I’ve got my period, and the cramping makes my back worse. Nurse got me an appointment this coming week with the physiatrist–I guess I’ll get another cortisone shot. I don’t love getting a needle stuck in my spine, but it gave me months of pain relief. I just wish there were a more permanent solution. But I need something because I’ve been eating NSAIDs like candy, and they’re really messing with my stomach.
Other than that, things are good. Winston and I have been working on training–he’s kind of got sit, but only for treats. Things are going well with NT1.0 so far, and that gives me hope. I see her again tomorrow. We haven’t gotten into any heavy stuff, at least not in detail. I’m a little hesitant after what happened with the last therapist, but I definitely get a much better feeling from NT1.0. I guess I’m just nervous because I don’t know where it’s going. But you don’t ever really know where therapy is going, so I dunno why I’m so anxious.
Damn. I just really need my back to stop hurting.
Exhaustion Takes Over July 26, 2012
I am fucking exhausted right now.
–packed up the office
–walked Winston over to the park and ran around with him while he played with other dogs (He can’t go off-leash yet because he doesn’t always come when he’s called, so I was running around with him)
–helped ex-housemate move her crap out
–packed up the kitchen
–packed up the living room (mostly)
–chased Winston around again while he played with another dog
–packed up some of my bedroom
–went to the chiropractor
–did a phone bank for the Obama campaign
–went to kung fu
–washed 4 loads of laundry
–packed up some more of my room
–dropped dead from exhaustion
Okay, so the last one hasn’t actually happened–yet. But I feel like it might at any minute. I still don’t have all of my bedroom packed up, and I’m supposed to have it done by tomorrow morning. I just don’t think that’s gonna happen because right now I’m so exhausted I can barely eat ice cream, and for me that’s really saying something. Of course I’m getting all stressed out about not being done with my room: “Team Leader’s gonna be mad at me!” Which is dumb, but I’m still stressed.
Tomorrow’s probably not going to be quite as bad. We’re taking all the boxes and stuff over to the new place, so that will probably wear me out physically. (My back’s already hurting.) Then I see New Therapist 1.0 at 11:45, and I’ll take the bus back home. I think I may be able to get someone with a car to help me take stuff over to the new apartment in the afternoon, too–I don’t think we’ll get it all done in the morning.
I just wanna sleep for a week.
Money Panic July 24, 2012
God, I am so on edge tonight. It’s mostly hormonal, and I’m trying to remind myself of that. It just isn’t helping, and my psychiatrist is having me do this month-long hormone test…which means I can’t take any hormones to relieve this.
I’m mostly stressing about money right now. There’s not enough of it. See, right before Housemate moved out, she wrote herself a check from the household account. This was legit; we do it when we spend our own money on shared expenses. But she didn’t enter it in the register, so I didn’t know she’d written it. (Annoyingly, we can’t do online banking with the Windhorse account, so I couldn’t check the balance easily.) So that meant I ended up bouncing a couple checks. Team Leader fixed it, but now I’m short for the month. My personal account is also short because it’s the end of the month, and I spent a lot of money adopting Winston and getting stuff for him.
Meanwhile, I’m supposed to be moving on Friday, and I can’t afford the movers. Not that I’ve actually gotten a single fucking moving company to pick up their phones or return my voicemails. So maybe the not affording it part doesn’t matter, since I don’t actually have movers. Does this constitute justifiable homicide? Somebody please tell me it does, ’cause I really need to rip somebody’s lungs out right now.
Then there are the bills. None of them are that high, but if I pay them, there’s no chance I can afford the movers.
The fees for my kung fu class are due the first of the month. Plus there’s the weekend kung fu camp in August that’s another $100. I really want to go, but how in the hell am I going to afford it? I don’t even know if I can afford regular kung fu classes next month.
Let’s not even mention how expensive food is. Dunno how I’m going to afford that either.
God, I feel like this huge failure. You’d think I’d be able to handle this stuff by now. It’s normal stuff, but I fuck it up. And to think, a couple weeks ago I was considering going back to college. Like I’m gonna be able to manage that when I can’t even keep my bank accounts in order.
Also, my neck/head/shoulders are killing me, mostly on the left side. There’s this pulsing pain with sparks of what feels like either extreme cold or heat. I’ve been seeing a chiropractor, but I’ve only seen him twice so don’t know if it works yet. I’ve been taking every OTC pain med in the book. They take the edge off but don’t really fix it.
I want to binge and purge, but there’s no food left in the house because I’m too fucking broke. I want to cut, but I know that’s not a good idea. Fuck. I know it’s just hormones, but srsly, why does my endocrine system feel the need to host a murderous mutiny in my brain once a month? This fucking sucks.
Picking Fights July 23, 2012
So…I have this problem.
When I get angry, I go looking for fights. Not physical ones, just arguments and stuff. I don’t start them, but if somebody else starts crap with me, then they better watch out.
Like there’s this person on an ED forum we go to who posted a cute little video where she made her cat dance to music, just like waving his paws around and stuff. This other woman got all ranty and said it was cruel because cats aren’t supposed to dance and you shouldn’t make animals do stuff they’re not supposed to do.
So I butted in and said, “I have a German shepherd puppy, and his instinct as a herding dog is to bite your legs to herd you. He does it to me and other people and animals, and when I first got him he was biting really hard. But I guess according to you I should just let him bite people, because that’s what herding dogs are supposed to do, right?” Then she gave me this long lecture about training my dog and not letting him bite people (of course I don’t let him do that), and she just totally missed that I was making a rhetorical argument to point out how stupid her post was. So I posted a link to an article on logical fallacies, and I really really want to just yell at her about how she’s dumb and self-righteous and preachy. It’s really hard to keep myself from doing it.
I’m really trying not to be mean, but I’m just so mad at everything and everyone right now. I have my kung fu class tonight so I can go hit stuff, but what am I supposed to do till then? I’m not good at dealing with my anger, but I don’t want to be mean. What am I supposed to do?
Violence July 22, 2012
I want to explain a little more about how I’m feeling and why I’m reacting the way I am.
Tuesday morning, I turned on NPR as I usually do. There was a story about a shooting in a bar in Northport, Alabama, near Tuscaloosa. Seventeen people were injured, including an off-duty cop. My sister is a cop in Northport, Alabama. I tried calling her, but we haven’t talked in probably a year, and the number I had for her was no longer right. I called my mother–no answer. Finally I called my youngest sister, who told me Middle Sister was fine and gave me her new number.
When I was 9, my father told me to choose whether he would hurt me or her. He did this pretty frequently, and I’d always told him to hurt me. But this time…he’d raped me the night before, and it hurt so bad, still. I didn’t want to choose my sister, so I froze. He pulled the gun out of his desk drawer and told me to choose. I couldn’t speak. He pressed the muzzle against my forehead and took the safety off.
I chose my sister.
I’ve never been able to forgive myself for that. I know I was just a kid, I know it was an impossible choice, I know I just wanted the pain to stop. But I still can’t forgive myself. That’s why I’ve made myself be okay with my sister being a cop like our father. That’s why I’ve made myself be okay that she took money from him and then recanted her accusations of abuse. I tell myself that if that’s what she needs to do to be okay, I owe it to her to be okay with it. And I think I am okay with it, at least most of the time.
And when I heard a cop had been shot, I was terrified it was her. I thought I’d failed to protect my sister again. I thought she’d been hurt or killed and it was my fault.
And then they’re saying the shooter was crazy. Then there’s the Colorado shooting, and they’re saying that guy was crazy. My father said I was crazy and had me locked up in a mental hospital where I was abused again. I don’t know why all these things are connected–I know it doesn’t make sense to anyone outside my head. My sister. My father. Guns. Mental hospitals. Terror. Pain. Dying.
I can’t stop crying, but I can’t ask anyone in real life for help. I’m afraid they’ll hate me as much as I hate myself.