Wrangling tornados

•August 9, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Can tornados even be wrangled? I wouldn’t think so. They are a force of nature so strong that they whip up everything close to them and put it back in way that  doesn’t even begin to resemble how it started. Everything happens in a moment and there is no time to take a breath or form a thought. All you can do is hold on tight and hope that where you land is somehow better than where you started.

I feel a bit like that right now, like I am caught in a whirlwind. It seems like a wonderful thing, and I don’t really want it to slow down…but I also worry that it’s so fast and intense that it will simply burn itself out like a magnesium flare (sorry dear readers for all of the scientific and meteorological references today). I haven’t been this truly and genuinely happy in a while. That isn’t to say that I don’t really enjoy life, but I feel like I’m floating (and not in a dissociative way either).

Right now everything feels very intense and I want to hold on so tight. I also know that holding on tight is the worst thing I can do. Part of that comes from knowing that we have a limited time before we both get infinitely busier. College won’t be a quiet place once the students get back and the sheer amount of work I’ll have related to that will keep me pretty tied down. I’m also going to have to go back to actually sleeping at night. I’m enjoying spending those hours awake and talking. I’m not excited about giving them up.

My hope is that, instead of fizzling out, we will simply settle into a comfortable rhythm. After only one week and one day, my head still feels like it’s spinning. I’m not usually the clingy type, but I want to spend every waking moment with him. He makes me feel so amazing when he is near that I don’t like having to be apart. I truly hope that I can do the same thing for him. He’s constantly on my mind. Last night he asked if I was becoming ‘addicted’ to him. I wasn’t willing to admit that, but the truth is that I am. I think that will calm down eventually, but in the meantime, I just want to be with him. No one has ever done this to me before or made me feel this way. Who knew anyone could??? I want nothing more inthe world than to be with him and to make him feel as wonderful as he makes me feel.


Accepting uncertainty

•August 7, 2010 • Leave a Comment

…because really, what other option is there???

Nothing is guaranteed. I can’t even be certain I’ll live to see the sunset this evening. Just because I can’t see something tragic on the horizon doesn’t mean tragedy isn’t coming my way. In the same vein, it doesn’t mean that tragedy is staring me down either. All I can do is make choices with the information that I have at hand. I can do my best to be a caring, considerate person and try not to hurt others.

If I start to worry about everything that might happen, I won’t do anything. Every action I take will affect others like ripples on a pond. If I sit around and take no action at all, eventually I will die and my death will cause ripples too. Connecting with others can be painful because not all connections are successful. Each time I put myself out there for another person, I am handing a piece of myself over to them. Even if they take good care of it, I still have no guarantee that  I won’t be hurt in the meantime because no one is perfect. I’ve probably been hurt far more times than I’ve been successful, but the successes justify continuing on.

It’s easy once you’ve been hurt to pull away from people and fear getting too close. The pain feels too immediate. I don’t know of anyone who gets injured and immediately wants to put themselves back into a similar situation risking the same injury. Often in life, I do that because I have to do it. If I cut myself while chopping potatoes for Thanksgiving dinner (yup…done this more than once), I still have to pick the knife back up and keep going once I’ve taken care of the wound. I don’t really want to, but I do it anyways. In relationships, it isn’t quite that easy. No one forces me to step back into them. I usually can’t pick up where I left off with the same knife (now wiser about what not to do). I often have to start all over with a different person, taking big risks all over again. With a new person, I don’t know how sharp the knife is, which ways of holding it are dangerous, or anything else about it. The risks of getting cut seem imminently huge. I may know that it’s more than worth it to try again, even knowing the risks…but can I force myself to take the risk when the pain from the last cut still hurts?

I might need time, but I also need to remember that I won’t gain anything without risking the pain and loss. In the end, what I gain is worth it. I spent a long time getting over the last cut. It was deep and it scarred, but I learned that I’m strong enough to heal even from things like that. It may hurt, and it may be a risk, but I wouldn’t ever want to stop making the effort. There are people in the world who are more than worth it…even if they don’t know it.

Coming out (Part 2)…and stuff

•August 6, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I made the jump and it went really well. He didn’t run away screaming and still thinks I’m a cool person. I couldn’t have asked for a better reaction. He even asked what I needed from him in relation to it all. I don’t really need him to be supportive at this point. The likelihood of him ever being exposed to it given the current situation is extremely small. If that changes, I’ll tell him. Right now I just need him to not be judgmental and be willing to try to accept changes as they come. He can do that. I really can’t believe he’s a real person sometimes…

The other stuff…

I like him…a lot. It’s a problem because, although we have great chemistry as people, he wants a friendship. It’s hard because he is turning out to be everything I have always wanted in a partner and a best friend all wrapped up in one person. I’ve never even found anything close to that before.

I’m not a fan of “friends with benefits” relationships because someone always develops feelings. In the past (for me at least), it’s always been the guy who developed feelings for me. This time I know I would be the one to fail miserably. Although it would be a variation on that theme, and not that type of relationship exactly, I’m already having a hard time keeping those feelings at bay. I’ve never been on this side of things…being the one who’s developing feelings that aren’t reciprocated (and may never be).

Now I don’t have any idea what to do.

Coming out

•August 6, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I met a really great guy recently. We have a ton in common and he definitely stands to fill the currently vacant role of best friend if things keep up like this. Unfortunately, we’ve now come to the place where I’m going to have to come clean about my “secret.” I don’t want to keep investing a lot in this relationship unless I am sure that he can really deal with DID and the stuff that it can bring along. I am already finding myself pulling back from him, afraid that I’ll get too attached and it will hurt too much when he bolts (which I assume he will…even though I have no evidence for that conclusion).

I’ve had a lot of bad experiences in telling people about it. I’ve had people learn to call out alters (during a period when I was barely managing to stay out anyways). I’ve had others who simply couldn’t deal and made me feel guilty for not being different (read: ‘fixed’). I’ve had others who said they could deal with it, but wanted me to be out always. I’ve just been burned a lot.

Telling him is a huge risk for me. I like him a lot, and I don’t want to ruin it. On the other hand, I know that if I don’t tell him, I’ll continue to pull back out of fear and that will ruin it anyways. At least if I tell him there’s a chance that I’ll still have a good friend. We had a conversation early Thursday morning (when we got out of work we went and talked for what was supposed to be a few hours and ended up lasting until sunrise) about disability. He sees a lot of people who are on disability who have the ability to work and isn’t too happy about the state of things. I am on disability and I am afraid that might be enough of a deal-breaker for him. In some ways I am very highly functional. School is the only memory that I have all of and have never forgotten. School is where my skill set falls. When I am in school (working on my first Bachelors degree now), I appear highly functional. When I am not in school, and am instead working, I am far less functional. Granted, I do not decompensate to the point that I used to when I was spending half of the year in a psych ward, but I still have a lot of problems.

I don’t want to have to have this conversation, but I’d rather get it over with than constantly wonder how he might react if the secret comes out.

This is going to be one rough afternoon.

And now???

•July 23, 2010 • Leave a Comment

I am dealing with major writer’s block…or blogger’s block. Whatever it is, it is keeping me from getting out the things that are going on right now. In short (since I don’t think I can write “in long” at the moment), therapy is up in the air, ED is rearing its ugly head for the first time in years, I went and bought the stuff I need to SI without adding permanent scars (again, for the first time in years), and I’m trying to balance way more things than I can possibly keep in the air. Needless to say, this isn’t working. What’s that definition of insanity? Doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result? I feel like I am there…yet again. Proof that life doesn’t work this way is in front of me again, and I still keep trying the same old ways to fix it. I just need some help (and some relief).

What it means to quit

•July 20, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Today I had to face that therapy is going nowhere. Despite wanting to actually do work and move forward with my life, I am at a standstill. Who knew that what I want and what I am actually capable of doing are two different things? I, for one, didn’t have a clue. I walked out of therapy a few minutes before it would have been over (“Thanks. I’ll email, but I need to go.”) T just replied, “okay.” He sent me an email after…and I just replied. The emails are pasted below.

From T:

I’m sorry this decision is so painful, difficult and the consequences seem so dire. I want to say something supportive and reassuring here, so that’s my intent. I fear that you are seeing yourself as a failure in this therapy. I don’t see you that way. Truly. If you aren’t ready to deal with these issues (and you certainly don’t seem at all ready) then you haven’t failed. You aren’t in control of when you will be ready. I know that for me that has always been the case. And for the clients I work with. I often see the issues they need to work on. I line them up in my mind. But they might work through one and not be ready to deal with any others. They come back a couple of years later and do more.
I want you to know that I care about you as a person who has a good heart. I’m sorry this is causing so much pain. I’m here if I can be of any help.

My reply:

Yes, to some extent I feel that I am failing at this. I want something that I cannot figure out a way to force myself to do. It is not failure in the sense that I am completely incapable of it, but that I feel like I should be able to find the
answer…the way to move around the obstacles.

Remember when I said that I had never failed at something I truly wanted? That’s an unfortunate truth in my life. I have failed many times, but never in that context. I always find a way to figure out whatever is keeping me from my goal. I don’t know how to do that this time, and that feels like failure to me.

I do not want to do this later. I want to do this now. (Not that it makes any difference since I’m figuring out quickly that what I want and what is possible aren’t necessarily the same things.)

I know this isn’t you giving up on me (and in the end it will be my decision to stay or go), but the little voice in the back of my head says otherwise. I am beyond help so I should just quite trying and get as much out of life as I can before it shatters beyond repair. Catastrophizing…I know (but the knowing doesn’t change the feeling).

I remember telling you when we first started out (and many times since) that I didn’t want to have children until I had things straightened out. Not doing this now (whether it’s because I’m not ready or some other stupid reason) means putting off children. As much as I want to try to pretend that I can just move on and ignore all of this stuff,
I’m not sure that I can risk having a suicidal meltdown when my child reaches some triggering age. It isn’t fair to put a child through something like that…or even to bring one into my life knowing the risk.

I honestly don’t know that I can make this choice. It would be so much easier if you would just tell me that we’re wasting our time (which I know we are…and I know you’re aware of it too). I don’t want to admit to myself that I cannot find a way to make this work.

Do you realize what that kind of admission would mean to me? You can’t fully know where my head is taking me right now because I’m not articulating it. I wish I could. Suffice it to say that it isn’t a happy place. It is a dark, dangerous, scary place…and I don’t want to go. I’ve been there before, and I do not want to go back.

If I walk away, essentially admitting defeat, what do I do then? I don’t expect an answer. You can’t tell me what to do “after” any more than you can make the choice of whether I should remain in therapy or not (even though I’m sure you have your opinions).

I wish I knew how you could help right now. Should we even bother meeting between now and the time I figure it out?

Feeling kinda directionless (read: lost and hopeless) at the moment,

Crashing waves

•July 15, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Have you ever been to the ocean? One of the most fun things is to go out a little ways, to a sandbar if you’re lucky, and ride the waves. If you have somewhat large waves that aren’t cresting, it’s fun to jump just as they reach you and let them carry you in to shore. If, on the other hand, they are cresting, you dive under them and then find your place back on the sandbar. Although it’s a lot of fun, it isn’t necessarily the safest activity. I remember doing it once and coming up too late after diving under a wave. When I stood up on the sand bar I was facing the beach and didn’t see the wave that almost immediately crashed over my head. I got caught in a circular tide (I think they’re called longshore currents) and spun around and around. Eventually the current threw me out, but not until it had carried me several hundred feet down the beach.

That is life right now. I feel caught in that tumbling current. I know it’s taking me somewhere, but I doubt that it’s anywhere good. I feel powerless to escape it. I know that fighting it only seems to keep me here longer, so I feel like I just have to wait it out.

I just mentioned to the counselor yesterday that I don’t deal with switching from triggers anymore, but that I think it is more an effect of the system being pretty shut down than the fact that I don’t have them anymore. I still get random PTSD symptoms that last for a while and then go away again. It’s like riding the waves. I just have to let it carry me until it’s finished, and then I can get back to shore and move on with life. The “random PTSD symptoms” started again yesterday evening. I found myself feeling kind of self-destructive (read: SI urges), depressed, and anxious. Last night I was afraid to go to sleep. I had to leave the lights on and turn on music to be able to finally fall asleep. I don’t know exactly what set it off. It might have been the meeting with the counselor yesterday, but it could easily have been something else.

I know I’m being bitchy to the roommate, but I don’t know how to explain it. I can apologize, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen again. I feel awful about that, but I really don’t know how to stop it. For the moment, I am staying mostly in my bedroom. It’s just easier that way.

Can I go through life this way? I want to say that I can so I don’t have to actually do the work. In the end, though, I get the feeling that I am actually risking my future this way just as much as I would be if I tried to get communication back (see gambling post from yesterday). Is being moody and anxious and depressed and whatever else really better than the alternative? It is in the short-term because these periods are somewhat predictable. They don’t last too long (a few weeks at most) and they don’t really interrupt my life. Triggers and switching would be far more disruptive in the short-term. However, I could eventually learn to manage the triggers and organize the switching. I don’t know that I could even get to a point where I could prevent or minimize the personal disruption of the random PTSD symptoms.

This is all just way too complicated. I’m awful at decision-making.