Friday, October 30, 2015

dang it...the pipers going to be rich...

After yesterdays temper tantrum...which I akin to me being a cranky old rodeo bronc kicking up dust and barring my yellow teeth at everyone. I took a pain pill and muscle relaxer and went to bed for a nap before work.

I awoke to no pain and the headache gone. My mood instantly elevated to normal. The pain sure makes me a cranky dog.

I had the interesting experience recently to sit down for a conversation with a reader of my blog. He has known me for 15+ years, but only from a distance. This was the first time we sat face to face and had a conversation beyond the normal "hi, how are you stuff."

As our conversation eventually came upon my blog, he squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, and I got the distinct impression that the "blog me" scared the crap out of him.

Hey when I say I am talented writer I am not lying. I write the madness in my head so I don't act it out in real life.

Do I shout angrily at people in real life? No.

Have I ever shouted in anger at my husband?


In the only real argument we have ever had. (over weather or not to circumcise our son). Well I say it was an argument, but he didn't raise his voice, only I did.

I have yelled endless in my writings over the past 50 years. For me its a great outlet for venting and maintain my sanity.

So while it may sound like my cheese has slipped off my cracker, that's just the sound of madness in  my writers mind sounds like.

Yeah, it sounds like your a lunatic.

Heh, yup, but if yelling in cyberspace will keep me from hurting my selves, then I am going to keep doing it when I need to.

Thursday, October 29, 2015

I'm afraid the S.A.D has me in it's evil clutches - TRIGGER

Well it took till now for the winter depression to find me. I'm afraid it's got me hooked deeply with it's icy claws.


I've been fighting vicious urges to kill my self.

Pain levels off the charts.

Last month we ran lab work at my request to rule out/in stuff like Lupus, and rheumatoid arthritis.

They were all fine.

The one that was not was my CK levels. Normal range is 26-192

I am 261.


That test indicates muscle damage.

At last a possible direction to do searching for a diagnosis.  What's down that road is some REALLY SCARY SHIT.

Stuff that WILL make me take my own life.

We re-ran the CK level last Wednesday. To see if came down. If its still high I go to see a specialist.

One of the reasons I did the RAI (radiation to kill my thyroid) was because I was have having heart palpitations 24/7 from the Graves disease.

for years....for years I was having them. My heart may have been damaged from untreated Graves disease...

Just a little pissed. I want to be the one who ends my existence, not some fucking disease.

I want that control.

Was rear ended by a speeding car while stopped at a light on the 5th this month. Another car accident to deal with. Yet another thing out of my control. It all makes me feel like I am in a tumbler...spinning endlessly.

So right now until we get lab results and I know weather or not I have to go see a specialist, I am having to deal with CRAZY FUCKING URGES TO BURN THE SHIT OUTTA MY SELVES.

Its that way with me and self injury. The minute you tell me I can't, I want to. sooooo baaaaad.

I won't let me and so I am dealing with this chaos-a-go-round in my head.

I have had a headache for a week. My body is fatigued, pain levels off the charts, hot flashes, suicidal levels of depression....and I can't self medicate by lighting my arm on fire and getting lost in the sweet soothing pain of a nice fat burn.

4 more days to work until my vacation. I get 10 days off.

10 days to hide and cry.

10 days to be alone with my head...

10 days to resist the call of the night.....oh to wake to no pain....

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck me.

You who do not suffer from lucky pricks. you have no idea how blessed you are.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

comprehension (triggery subject)

* * * * trigger for abuse memories  * * * *

We tend to get frozen in time when it comes to abuse. Like little deer caught in headlights, victims tend to freeze and leave "photographs" hardwired in their mind of the abuse.

Something triggers the memory and instantly the image will be displayed in your mind. Flashbacks are like a haunting old slide show that is no fun to watch.

The cruel thing our minds do/did, is that victims also hardwired in the EMOTIONAL aspect of the incident also.

So BAM you are blindsided by a flashback or a trigger causes you to go to that dark space in your head and then the second punch hits are not experiencing it as the grown up you are right here and now....but rather your mind reacts as if you age regressed back to that day.

That is a normal reaction, your mind/body instantly returned to the last hardwired memory.

As strange as this can't work through being abused as a child as an adult. You are not in the same head space any longer. You have many more life experiences then you the abused child did.

To heal you have to undergo some unpleasant digging into your past and looking at it from the child perspective. You will have to reconnect those frozen photographs into the movie format of what is your life story.

You have emotions to uncover and reconnect with.

The healing journey is painful in the beginning. People off doubt they will heal when faced with the hard work and uncomfortable emotions they have to churn through. Don't give up its very much worth the effort to put your past into perspective and get to a place where the memories no longer hold power over you.

Healing and thriving are possible no matter how long ago the abuse took place.

"Healing" is not the right work for the process...Nothing will change the fact we were abused. So in a sense that work doesn't accurately define what happens. For me at least, the "healing" is like this:

(prior to therapy) - I have to walk by a vicious barking dog each day and as I approach the fence the mad dog lunges and barks and tries to bite me. I flinch and jerk away and run in fear past it. Unable to even look at it.

(during therapy) - Therapist and I go stand a safe distance away from the fence and look at the dog, and talk about all the experiences and feelings that come up.

Therapist teaches me how to walk past the dog and how to deal with my emotions and physical reactions to the dog. Basically how to take back my power. We practice until I am back in control and empowered.

(post therapy) - I get back on with my life and while the events did leave a scar on my soul and mind, I am able to go on and keep living my life without the crippling emotions/memories of the abuse disrupting my life to the degree that I am non functioning.

I still have to face the vicious dog each day, but I no longer flinch or look away. I know it is chained and though it once hurt me, it can no longer hurt me. I have taken my power back and can deal with it in my adult mind vs my child mind.
Healing from past abuse's isn't going to come naturally. You are not just going to instinctively "know" how to respond to the trauma etc. Therapy is part padding the landing site BEFORE you jump out of the window. IE: learning skills to help you process the memories.

You are not sending "grown up you" after these memories. You, the grown up, in a strange way "do not have those memories" they belong to the young child who lived them.
You aren't going to be dealing with them initially.

A young child will be.
Its isn't you (the grown up, mature, capable of dealing with lives crap) that will be dealing/confronting with this stuff.
You are sending an unarmed, unprepared child to confront and fight monsters.

Which is why you want a therapist who you trust in your corner for the duration of the fight. A good therapist will eventually gently guide you to look back into the past and go after some of the puss pockets of unhealed/unprocessed memories.

Its easy to think..."I'm coping fine and things are great. why would I want to look back into that pain?"

Because its little pockets of pain waiting to ambush you when you get triggered. The abuse has left landminds (my term for the land mines abuse leaves in your head).

You are not white washing the past, you are going to be surgically, removing the bandage, removing the scab, cleaning out the puss, Appling antibiotics and allowing new tissue to grow and form a solid scar.

You will not be changing the memories. You will not be erasing them. Processing abuse memories is a way to take back your power, a way to gain control, and above all away to re-feather your wings so you can return to the sky.

Abuse beats you down.

Having the abuse stop/end allows you to be able to grow again. But most do it with a flinch in there shoulder, a defensive posture. Proper therapy will help you to change your stance so you approach life with open arms instead of a posture that indicates...I'm here, but I'm tensed up in preparation for the blows.

You choose your pace in which you go sifting back through memories.

A therapist should NEVER push - demand - expect you to present memoires to dissect.

When you are ready, let the progression of memory surfing unfold as it does. You will find things will not unravel in a linear line. Your going to jump all over the place. Let your mind dictate the direction. memories are coded in there own patterns in your mind. Don't be surprised to be working on 5 year old childhood memories and then 34 year old adult memories.

What is the purpose of this...all of it....what is the elusive comprehension you seek?

dear one....

how many times in your childhood did you wish/pray, someone would come for you? Someone who would see your pain and rescue you.

The one you have waited a lifetime to come for you, is the one you see in the mirror. She knows where you hide in your mind. Let her come and take you through the maze of monsters, let her loosen the chains, wrap you in her arms and save you.

You may not feel like it, but you are fierce warrior who has survived. Your shield is dented but strong. Your skin is scarred but free. Do not stop fighting until all of you are rescued.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

have to pay the piper

Darn it. Now I have to pay the piper. I have been trying of late to not post angry blogs that do nothing but put out negative energy and show case my ability to be a gold medal winner at adult onset temper tantrums.

So now I must write a nice blog to make up for yesterdays.

Remember when they forced Wednesday Addams to smile at the summer camp? yeah...that's the smile I have pasted on my face. heh.

Monday, October 19, 2015

pissed the hell off - TRIGGER

 * * * * TRIGGER for angry pissed off rage /rant * * * *


Do you really think I ENJOY being this weight?

Don't you think I wouldn't SELL MY FUCKING SOUL to loose this weight?!

Every extra pound I carry increases the pain I endure with my multiple orthopedic issues.  STANDING, SITTING, WALKING, LAYING, FUCKING BREATHING HURTS. I AM IN CHRONIC FUCKING PAIN.



There are days the fatigue is so great it feels like I am TRYING TO FUNCTION IN A DEAD CORPSE.

I am faced every shift at work with the fear/knowledge that I may squat down and not be able to stand again. I should not be doing the physically demanding job that I do. But I DO IT. I do it through the pain.

Oh and hell yes its a lot of pain.

Peripheral neuropathy in both arms, both legs.
Bone on bone arthritis in my neck.
Herniated disks L4 and L5 and S1.
Fused pubic symphysis
myofascial pain syndrome
surgical adhesions/scar tissue in pelvis
chronic misaligned sacrum
ligament damage to left foot arch
Plantar fasciitis in both feet
Damaged sternal cartridge
Recent labs work indicating muscle damage
degenerative changes to right knee joint

I have to FUCKING beg for pain meds, and the doctors all make me feel like a piece of SHIT for having the gall to ask for pain meds. So its rare I bother to ask for them.

I have been declared permanently partial disabled. I should be living off the tax payers and being a welfare bum.

BUT NO I AM WORKING MY GODDAMN ASS OFF. And using aspirin for the pain.

So when you say... "the tread mill should be easy for you"

I get my knickers in a twist.



and gawd that just guts me....

I ran cross country, I climbed trees, I swam, I rode horses, I roller skated, played basketball, turned cartwheels....I was an active athlete.

All lost to my injuries and declining health.

a 10 hour shift on my feet is ALL I can handle...that is 10 HOURS OF INCREASED PAIN.

"the tread mill should be easy for you"

fuck no.

there is nothing easy about being me.

Friday, October 9, 2015

The secret to catching lightning

Simple times.

Laying on the warm side walk trying to get the pill bugs to walk on my grass stained hands.

My tennis shoes still wet from running through the sprinkler.

Grandfather gets out of his faded truck and adjusts his overalls. He shuffles to the bed and digs around in the tools. My eyes switch to watch him as he pulls out a hammer. He digs a dusty red handkerchief from his bib pocket and heads my way.

I sit up.

He squats slowly down next to me. "show this to your brothers." he says quietly, dumping the contents of the kerchief onto the sidewalk next to me.

Almost before my mind can identify the quarts stones on the sidewalk, he strikes the first one with the hammer.

My eyes widen as I see tiny sparks flash as he whacks it into a chunky powder.

We share a secrete smile as he offers me the hammer.

And the idea that there are hidden magical things in ordinary objects is implanted in my head.

Before long, the wind pushes summer away and ushers in the rolling grey clouds that bring the fat heavy rain drops.

Thunder rumbles in the belly of the clouds.

My older brother collects four D batteries and designs the first lightning trap I ever saw.

He lays them out on the sidewalk in front of the house. and squats next to them eyes looking towards the clouds. He calls me over.

I stand next to him as he excitedly tells me, "I'm going to catch a bolt of lightning! This is my lightning trap!"

My gut sours and I feel the fear creep into my heart. I hastily look up and run up onto the front porch. I pace nervously watching him fiddle with his trap. Half expecting a bolt of lightning to blast him to smithereens. Every time the thunder rolls I run inside in fear.

Eventually he leaves to go find more batteries.

I open the door and run like a manic out and grab the batteries and fling them in to the bushes. I don't want my brother bolted dead by lightning.  I turn to go back inside and the hair on my arm bristles as lightning flashes over head.

I feel the sickly cold of the adrenaline release as I scream and take flight.

And the idea that the trap worked is implanted in my head.

Not long after in science class and we are discussing properties. How things have a solid, liquid and gas state.

I raise my hand, the shyness binds my tongue and I lower my hand. My question unasked.

what is lightning?

I read about it in the encyclopedias and learn its electricity/plasma.

I like that it doesn't fall into the other categories.

Or does it?

My mind remember the sparking quartz...the chilling trickle of the adrenaline...and I know I have answered my own questions.

The solid form of lightning is quartz.

The liquid form of lightning is adrenaline.

The gaseous form of lightning is....warm wind.

Knowing the forms it has makes catching it a lot simpler. To catch lightning all you need is 4 D batteries, and a net made of imagination. To set it free all you need is a hammer. But you don't have to catch it at all, you can just pick it up, and put it in your pocket.