I've been working on the subject of ancient Rome for the boy's home schooling. Of course, with so many years involved, and two completely different children, I not only have to break down such a complex study, but also divide the historical timeline into sections. Right now, we're still "at the beginning", post-Greece (which they studied with delight) and now into the "founding of Rome". My obligation, as I see it, is to instill as many of the basic components as possible, so that they may build upon these as they mature.
Hence, we're discovering that the Romans were credited with inventing concrete, a complex system of aqueducts, that they lived in "flats" (and no, Dante: a "flat" is not a skinny person, as he put on his test) and that we know these things through the study ofarchaeology. What I mean to say is that a few historical remnants are left for all to view, such as the Colosseum; but many more have been buried under layers of silt, clay and debris. People have continued to live within these areas, and have simply built new lives over the past. The study of course, must include the subject of mosaic tiles.
For the children I merely needed to show them photos of partial digs, with college interns painstakingly sweeping eons of soil away, gently uncovering extraordinary works of art. A few at-home art projects using tidbits of colored paper, and a simple template; and they were creating their own mosaic art pieces. Of course, within a few minutes we were able to discuss how "boring and repetitive" this task was, how many "tiles" still remained, and how large the template seemed to grow as they were filling it in. Now: imagine doing so as a slave, without pay, without credit, and the historical lesson continued.
Which led me to reflect this morning on the same subject, yet from a different perspective. So many of us with DID have felt as if we must uncover, or "dig up" the past in order to understand the present. In reality, that is true. Unfortunately this requires patience and time as we often uncover old wounds that are still festering and painful. It simply is not an endeavor that one can quickly accomplish, view, document and then move on from. Just as archaeology requires the painstaking work of removing layer after layer of the past, so does the very act of reflection as to our personal lives. In discovering who we are, and which contributions have made us the way we are....we must do so tenderly, with gentleness, for often the very act of "digging" becomes a re-traumatizing event in itself.
For myself, I recognize that I discovered a complex mosaic hidden deep inside of my very psyche......one which made little sense initially, but through patience and study, I have begun (just begun, mind you) to understand. Thousands upon thousands of fragmented memories, all connected to form the larger picture: that of myself.
And yet, when viewed from the perspective of DID, this analogy is rather quite accurate. Layers and layers of life, the everyday debris of existence has slowly covered over who I truly am. I am still here, but I am hidden beneath history. Is that where I want to be?
Dante, my oldest son, and the one who is apparently preparing to be a philosopher, made a statement while we were driving the other day. He was talking about Plato and Socrates, and the various viewpoints people have, all in the quest to answer questions that no one has quite yet defined an answer to. When, after a period of silence, (for which I was grateful for, terrible mom that I am!!) he said: "You know momma, the only thing that is real, is right now. Whooop! There it went. And now......whooop, there it went again. For once that second goes by, it becomes the past. The future we cannot touch. We can't change the past, and we can't touch the future, so the only thing that is "real" is right now. But it moves so fast, that it's almost impossible to grab."
And how true.....the present time is simply: here, and then fleetingly blends into the layers that become our "past". We really have very little power or control over anything but where we are right now. We can make choices within these seconds of time that impact the future, and hence leave marks upon the past, but to recognize that we truly do not have power and control over so much in life is truly humbling.
So....... I may be a unique and exquisite mosaic that has taken years to create. I may have been buried under the tonnage of filth left in the wake from individuals in my life, but in the here and now: that is who I am. This short period of time is all that I literally have any semblance of control over.
That very concept promotes a freedom I have previously failed to recognize.
Jane Austin wrote in her publication "Pride and Prejudice", to "think only of the past, that which memory brings you the most pleasure." Of course, when one reads the entire novel, it is clear that she is not referring to ignoring important life lessons. Instead, she is advising one as to how to live in the present moment: and how to make that moment as pleasurable as possible.
For that moment in time is the only thing we do have control over.
Have a wonderful day.......
Last night an interesting combination of events occurred. The intersection of a wide variety of thoughts and emotions all triggered by something as relatively harmless as making supper.
The boys and I had been swimming for hours, and as it was approaching evening, I began to prepare dinner. I asked what they felt like, since the heat tends to destroy what appetite I do have. They said they wanted "a sandwich, with meat in it". Hmmmm, looking at the refrigerator, that was not exactly what I had in mind. A sandwich with meat in it.......well, they are always asking for homemade hamburgers, and I always say no. I have those ingredients, so I might as well make hamburgers.
Oh how delighted they were......all the way through supper, "thank you momma!", "how wonderful these taste momma!", "we didn't know you could make these momma!" over and over. One simple meal, and they were overjoyed.
And yet, all I could think was: I hate hamburgers. I seldom eat them when out dining, but when I do, I prefer sauted mushrooms and onions, and melted Swiss cheese......not the "standard" American hamburger, and certainly not what I was taught to make as a child.
That's when it occurred to me: I can't stand the smell. The grilling of the meat, the slightly smoky taste from grilling them, the ordinary catsup, mustard and mayonnaise combination. Every aspect, every component brings to mind images of the low educated, white trash, trailer park, dirty children, plastic wading pool, beer drinking family that I shrink from.
Which is interesting....first, to be so obnoxiously prejudice and stereotyping an entire culture (which is inaccurate to say the least), and second: that the issue of homemade hamburgers could bring this all to mind.
Ah, now there's the kicker. My therapist has mentioned delving into the subject of mindfulness. She's not the first therapist, nor counselor to suggest such a topic, in fact, I studied it deeply while in college. I'm well aware of why she has suggested the disection of mindfulness, for many who are diagnosed with DID, share a common tendency to not be fully aware of what they are sensing in the world around them. Due to extensive trauma, that part of the psyche has been shut down: to feel, to be aware of one's emotions, to simply be fully conscious of the world around us.
I thought for a moment about this idea, and truly wondered at the connection between homemade hamburgers and the embarrassing mental image that was immediately called to mind. Truly, what is the connection?
Well, it's relatively easy to state that yes, I grew up making hamburgers, within a dysfunctional familial unit, and therefore do not care for the smell. But, the fact that I was aware of the smell, brought to my attention the very essence of mindfulness.
My therapist, as many have, has handed me a sheet with over 21 questions on it, all in order to formulate a foundation of personal awareness. Basically the goal is to reach the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding that so many of us excercise regularly. "Notice 5 things you see, 4 things you smell, 3 things you can feel, 2 things........." We practice this in order to center ourselves in the present, and although lengthy, the questionaire she provided me meant to accomplish the same things, yet to a deeper level of consciousness.
"Describe yourself as a person" (What do you like most about yourself? What do you like least about yourself?"
"Describe your father. In one sentence, describe your father's life"
Of course the questions continue through the entire family unit, childhood experiences, personal standards and values, etc.....until you finally reach question number 21 (and are absolutely fed up with the intensity of the exercise).
And yet that is where mindfulness comes into play. How we FEEL. Well, we feel a lot of things, and many of them are unpleasant, hence we have learned to block these away, to release a Novocaine injection of a psychological sort that numbs our very mind from any sensory input.
I read a quote from George Elliot later that evening: "If we had keen vision and feeling for all ordinary human life it would be like hearing the grass grow and the squirrel's hear beat, and we should die of the roar which lies on the other side of silence. As it is, the quickest of us walks about well wadded with stupidity."
What truly am I aware of around me? Although I despise the word "stupidity", I immediately connected it with my earlier biased thoughts regarding homemade hamburgers and the stereotypical "white trash" upbringing I cringe in reaction to. There was no denying that it was indeed "stupid" for me to formulate such a negative and inaccurate conclusion as a result of preparing supper. So, answer the question: What am I truly aware of around me?
And just as easily the memory came to mind of the smell of both of my boys when they were young. I literally would tuck them deep under my chin and inhale their fragrance.........there's something magical about how a new baby smells. It's not the baby powder, it's not the dryer sheets, or laundry detergent. It simply is the smell of a wee one's life.....his (or her) skin, the pure newness of everything about that precious 10 pound bundle.
I thought of the smell of garlic as it hits the hot pan, and how much I enjoy adding fresh herbs from the garden. Even now, the herbs may be store bought, but there is nothing in the world as fragrant to me as cumin when it responds to the heat. The aroma is pure joy, and communicates an absolute headiness I anticipate from the first moment I reach for the ingredient. I know, I can feel, I anticipate what I'm about to experience. That, in a nutshell: is mindfulness.
Rachel Carson says: "For the sense of smell, almost more than any other, has the power to recall memories and it's a pity that we use it so little."
It occurred to me then as well, that (as usual) I was watching the boys intensely while they were swimming, ensuring that I knew exactly where they were, that they were well behaved, and that they were safe. It wasn't until later, when I climbed into the pool with them, that I recognized their arms wrapped about my body. Their little faces, with missing teeth so unique to this age group, and I could almost see the babies they once were. Before I knew it, I had pulled them both in close, tucking their heads next to mine and inhaled: ahhhhh, there's that aroma. The smell of pure boy-ness mixed with chlorine, the macaroni and cheese they had for lunch, and a bit of my perfume. That: is mindfulness.
So, I may despise the fragrance of homemade hamburgers, but the reality is that for my children, the experience created a memory for them that was truly positive and will be heartwarming for years to come.
And, as much as I may display reluctance to answer all 21 questions......life isn't all about the negative memories. There are positive ones.....and it's time for me to start calling those to mind as well.
Have a wonderful day today everyone......
I'm going to take at least one moment today to recognize the sensation of something positive within my immediate environment. I'm going to ask myself: how does this smell? How does this feel? and perhaps most noteworthy of all: how shall I remember this?
It's hot. Period. Okay, the coldest person ever in the existence of humanity is actually HOT. Someone emailed me and asked if TX even has a winter? I don't know......it was cold when I got here in January, and they did have teeeeny tiny snowflakes, but extra large hail stones. So, from what I know of TX.......it's HOT and humid, and if you hear a siren, that means it's a tornado warning.
We're hoping the pool will be open later....it's usually closed on Mondays. I know one little boy who is going to be in melt-down central if he finds out it's closed "formaintenance".
Right now, I have a little dog who has been eaten alive by......get this: mosquitoes. They got his belly, poor thing, and he doesn't know quite what to do with the welts. No good telling him not to scratch, that only works, and sometimes at best, with the boys! Not one single flee or bitey creature on him, just mosquito bites on his belly where the fur is thin. Go figure.....didn't know dogs could get bitten by mosquitoes, but then again: he sleeps on his back. Even I have been eaten alive by the mosquitoes here, which aren't quite as big as they are in FL, but still, big enough to fly fish with!
Now that all the insiders were able to have their issues out in relation to writing the second book, peace is finally on board. Whew.....it's (like I said) disconcerting to realize that they don't think like I do. Now, if everyone thought as I did, then we would have no problems in world whatsoever. (I can't take credit for that statement, someone told me it many years ago. Made me crack up to think how single minded the statement was.) But, the reality is that they don't think as I do, and cooperation was highly under-appreciated on my part. Okay.....moving on and learning.
I discovered that by having everyone's opinion listened to and actually "heard", a different understanding was achieved. I also see where quite a few very important facets of my experiences were being ignored in my single-mindedness, and have since been remedied. What a difference it makes when everyone is on the same page! (No pun intended!)
So, after reviewing the material already written, and allowing all the insiders to take the time to read and reflect, many changes were made. I must admit: I'm happier with the direction this book is taking now. It makes much more sense, and is accurately reflecting our thoughts and experiences. To be honest, I was surprised to see how much was added to it, and yet how organized and clear the communication became.
Aramis is ultr-clingy of late, due to a number of reasons.....but apparently he still has auditory hallucinations and a few delusions. They are much more easily addressed now than before, but exist none the less. His recent belief? That I will disappear.......just poof! and be taken away by "them". Hmmmm, not to my knowledge.....'taint happening. But, by his belief structure, if he maintains constant tabs on my location, he just might be able to prevent that dreaded event from happening.
I attempted to take his mind off the subject, and incorporate a bit of home schooling into today by explaining why this day is so significant, and why Dad is home from work on a Monday. His response surprised me.....as his clarity is improving daily. He listened, but didn't appear to be truly hearing what I was explaining, until he said: "All those people stood up, against opposition, and because of that: I am here. If they didn't, if one person, just one did not, I would not be here. That's all it takes. And you can't go back in time and fix any mistakes."
Okay....well, first, I didn't realize he understood what "opposition" meant, but apparently he does. Time machine? Well, that's a recent belief structure thanks to viewing a Dr. Who episode. (Which isn't great for schizophrenia by the way!) But he does have a strong grasp of his native American roots, as well as the Irish heritage that my side contributes, so I was more than a little pleased that he is retaining information. THAT is a huge improvement in itself!
So, although I may be a pacifist, it does appear that Aramis is able to think much more about subjects outside of the auditory and visual hallucinations, and form his own opinions. Dante has decided (right now) that he desires to go into politics. Oh boy.........he's out of my league on that one! Aramis expressed clearly that he wants to "carry a backpack and travel all over the world......can [he] do that?" You sure can darling....just make sure to take your medication and call home occasionally. I want to know where you are.......he agreed, and also wanted to know if I would travel with him? Well, in case you haven't noticed, we're sort of doing that right now with Dad's job
I was able to get a hold of the main company the produces the medication that Aramis' takes....and after several hours, found out that they will provide his medication (right now at $360 per month, soon to be doubled!) for free for the first year. They also asked, since his condition is rare for his age group, if we would be willing to occasionally answer phone calls and give them feedback on the dosages and side effects? I think that's great, and have no problem with doing so. The more information that can be shared back and forth, then hopefully the less "danger" will be presented over the extended period of time that he will require using the medication.
Well, I'm off to give the poor wee dog a bath that might help his skeeter bites, and cool him down at the same time. We've just been told that the pool IS open, so off we go!!!!
Have a lovely day everyone......
Okay, so I slept in uber-late and played with the boys this morning as they woke. I also went to bed uber-early.........which was uber-perfect on both ends!
The boys, Dad included were playing Skyrim until late last night........oh so boring by my thoughts, thus the perfect opportunity to give everyone inside a break.
Some of them have been arguing, so a nice long rest should do the trick. The heat and humidity really began to hit strong, hence the puppy and I laid under the cool ceiling fan, found a nice cotton sheet, and slowly drifted off into never-land.
It's hot as can be already today, but perfect by my standards here in TX. I've got my coffee, what's left of a pack of cigs, and so far a breeze. The birds are chirping like mad....oh, they're out of food, well, they can wait until the refill cuppa. The cardinals, chickadees, red and yellow finches, sparrows, doves, starlings and squirrels are literally lined up and waiting. 'taint they sweet.........and can wait. Perhaps they'll pick up the seeds they dropped down below.
I thought I'd share this image (above) that someone sent me via FB.
The image and its statement just hit me in a nice way, as this is just a wee bit of what the insiders are arguing about of late. Odd, the disconnect, between their upset and my own emotions. It's always been this way though, with slight improvements over the years.
To share and what not to share? THAT's what they are arguing about. Strange.....I would have thought talking about DID would have upset them more, but no, it's anything related to the Kingdom Hall. Why that subject? Well, we're working it out, with a lot of interesting comments. At least we're at the point of everyone talking......beats fighting any day.
It also came out that one of the insiders is mad at someone on the outside....gee, I didn't know. But now much more makes sense. I really find the disconnect with the variances of viewpoints a bit disconcerting at times. I mean: I'm here too........just didn't "see" the same scenario or situation from their perspective.
Reminds me of my oldest boy. He can look at something, and see the entire picture. Sometimes he struggles, but until he can understand the entire image or concept, from every angle, he's not happy. Once he can, oh! what a delightful person he becomes. He's like his father in that regard: both lack any concept of music, can't find a beat if it hit them on the head, but they can "see" a subject or image from all sides. Dante has more clarity than his father, perhaps that's life choices, or his age, I don't know. But even his father can grasp all the components of a blueprint, where I simply "see" the completed project as a one dimensional image. "It's a tree, made out of concrete, and appears real." No, not from husband's perspective.......he can comprehend all the layers involved, the inner structure, what is required to support and balance the creation, and can tell you exactly how much concrete was used, versus discarded. He can frame something, and have it to exact specifications, which even in his field is difficult to do......to the millimeter, he can comprehend what variances must be allowed for, and what cannot be changed. Real life? Ahhhh, now that's the challenge for both of them. Hand Dante a three dimensional image, and he can draw all three sides, sometimes without even "seeing" what's hidden behind. But people? They both struggle with the complexity of communication, and all the variances of the human spirit.
And yet, in a way: DID presents the same challenges to me (I don't know about others). I can "see", to a degree, that there is a problem. BUT, it takes quite a while before I can recognize how deep the problem delves, or the variances in viewpoints. You would think, logically, that the insiders are all a part of the system, so hence: we would each view the world or a subject the same way. Nope, the concepts are as varied inside as they are on the outside. It's my perspective that tends to be single focused most of the time, and to my chagrin: often challenged by the perspectives of those on the inside.
I can "grasp" music, I can hear all the instruments involved, hear the various harmonies being sung, and can grab the beat, the call to the emotional center within each of us as humans. I can also, typically look at someone, and "see" all that is typically hidden away. I may not know what it is, but I recognize that it does exist, and is present. The intangible "something" hidden behind someone's smile, or simply the look in their eyes. The non-verbal communication that comes from the body. And yet......
I cannot comprehend how my insiders will react, nor the way they may see the same situation or individual. They each have their strengths, and alas, their weaknesses, as we all do. But, one would think that I, out of anyone, would be able to comprehend how they would feel about various life issues. Nope.....they hold secrets that are as hidden from me as the average person I meet on the street.
Sometimes, I believe I am blinded even more so.....by the myth that as a part of "my" system, I should naturally just "know" what they think, or how they feel. That's a fallacy, a pitfall I've discovered more than once. Perhaps the most frustrating thing of all is that, at times, they know me better than I know myself. Things I choose not to see, or choose not to address, they clearly recognize and have strong viewpoints regarding. "Know thyself" is far more complicated than I often give credit to.....and to discover that I've missed critical aspects to an issue (that they have not) is humbling.
Aye....but at least there does exist communication. What a beautiful thing, and for that I'm appreciative. It's uncomfortable at times, and often contains messages that I would rather not hear, and yet: is that not the very risk inherent with communication? To communicate effectively with anyone requires actively listening.....not just hearing the words or message, but listening to what is being said. To absorb the entire concept, and to process it completely before responding. That is the difference between "listening" or simply "hearing".
So, my system is not as smooth running as I would wish it to be, and I must admit that I am particularly to blame for not truly listening to what is being said. And now that I've stopped and heard, it's important for me to process the variances of viewpoints. I hear their complaints about not being recognized, about their feelings not being validated......and as a consequence, I feel the natural reaction to scream back:"What about MY thoughts, desires and feelings?" Here we are: at the very crossroads of working in a DID state. No where else is a balance so critical, the validation of each portion so important, and cooperation so desperately required.
We shall find it......as we have again and again over the years. We have come a long way from the mumbling's and ghost-like sounds in the beginning.......and just as we have progressed in that area, we shall continue to progress. Today, I need to appreciate that as often times humans do, I have blinded myself to several important issues in my life. But, unlike most humans, my eyes have been opened to these concepts by a collection of insiders who shall not be silenced.
It's time for me to process this information, and learn from it.
And perhaps a bit more gratitude for the way my state of mind functions......in that, just as my insiders have protected me over the years, they are still doing so today.
Have a good day everyone.......
Well, I didn't intend to....but that's the very essence of making mistakes at times it seems. I'm every so peeved at myself right now.
Husband's company is very tight, very close knit as the crews often move together from state to state, and hence only know each other. Family is extremely important, so they try very hard to keep the group together and functioning with as little drama as possible.
So, last night, they planned a Birthday part for one of the supervisors down at our pool. Low key, about a dozen of us all together....there's only three children including ours, and they play together well....swimming and giggling which is great. All the wives came, and although we don't associate together daily, we tend to follow the same attitude as the company: family first.
I knew they would be drinking, probably beer, and I haven't drank in two years. I truly didn't think of it, as it's now been a non-issue for McK for quite a bit now. Additionally: I hate beer. BUT, I knew that the manager had sent a bottle of Tequila for the party. I did know that I would be tempted, and thought just for a moment: one drink won't hurt.
As the group was doing their thing...... I happened to meet a new and interesting person. There was a lovely older woman who felt very alone, and we struck up a conversation. She wasn't part of our group, but I invited her to join us since she has lived in this apartment complex for 8 months and has yet to meet anyone. As she was born in Belgium in 1946 we had the most fascinating conversation throughout the evening. To my delight, she had studied philosophy, was one of the first feminist in Belgium, and had so many intriguing ideas that through our conversation we discovered we both shared many ideologies. As my background is highly sociological with a strong basis in history I could have lept for joy to meet a fellow humanist. To actually be able to talk with someone about Locke and Hume, let alone Kurkengaard......it was wonderful! Some of the other wives joined in, although it was apparent that many of them weren't as well read.....still there developed a commonality. We discovered that one of the wives father was Swiss, and mother lives in Valencia, Spain. Oh, the stories and the information that poured forth once people realized what intelligent conversation is really all about. Even husband began to talk about his ancestry, the Birthday boy (just turned 60) began to share his "reflections" from earlier in the morning. I truly don't think these subjects would have even come up without the addition of this fascinating lady from Belgium.
However, someone handed us both margaritas, and I was so actively involved in conversation (like the "old days") that the habit of reaching for it just seemed natural. What's one drink, while enjoying an evening of conversation? We continued to dissectdifferent philosophies, sharing viewpoints, and discussing subjects that one normally does not find in this group setting. And there I was: cigarette in one hand, margarita in another, laughing and challenging arguments right and left with people who finally began to open up about ideas and concepts, not just "concrete and work". We ended up discussing such varied topics as mental illness, politics, the social structure of America, history through WWII and Vietnam, Geography, philosophy, religion, attitudes, critical thinking, and what humanity is all about. The men of the crew were very eager for the wives to grow closer, and for me: this was the most comfortable way to do so. I truly love fascinating dialog, with a diverse group of people. I also discovered things about the other wives I never knew before.......the children weaved in and out, and occasionally would have a thought to add......everyone truly became engaged in discussing deeper topics of conversation.
And then I got home. You know the little labels on the side of your prescription(s) that say: "May cause dizziness", "Don't operate machinery", "Don't take while pregnant", "Alcohol may intensify the effects of this medication"? Well they aren't placed there because the pharmacists likes to play with stickers. I take THREE meds, and all three have the warning labels.
I have never been hit so hard by alcohol before. I drank before, always a few shots, and have been drunk. I have honestly not been sick....never, sick. Last night? I had not only the spins, but was actually throwing up. Poor husband, he had to take care of me, and here I could barely stand and kept thinking: "I don't want the boys to see this." Husband told them the truth: Momma is sick because of the alcohol. I thought I had one drink.......apparently I had several.
I know logically that my meds have been changed so much recently, it was extremely hot, I was probably dehydrated already, I haven't drank in 2 years, I hadn't eaten, etc......but I have never been made SICK from alcohol ever.
So, I blew it......lost focus, and didn't even think of the consequences. Boy, if I never smell tequila again it will still be too soon. I guess that's one thing, the very idea of going through last night again is (right now) enough to ask for a "virgin" next time. What was I thinking? Well, I wasn't.....and what little I did think was that it would do no harm. We weren't driving, the group was small and safe, and truly: it was like old times. I've always been enchanted by meeting people, especially educated people who are open to new ideas, and yet willing to share their own. Whiskey was, and will always be my weakness.....but Tequila? It just seemed like a harmless glass of a cooling, strawberry slushy.
So, for me: this was the first time falling "off the old wagon". I didn't even consider it a serious thing prior to going....but the consequences certainly weren't worth it. My stomach is still upset with me.....but I did learn something that I won't ever forget. My original reasons for quitting drinking was that McK often made poor choices (sexually) when doing so, and I was beginning to use alcohol as a crutch to avoid memories. That was growing more and more out of control.
Last night showed me that I can't even have one drink. Perhaps it's the medications, perhaps I have lost all tolerance for it. I don't know....but I don't want to feel that way ever again.
So the point for the day is: that even when things are moving along smoothly, it's important to pay attention. I didn't......and now I regret what seemed so small and unimportant at the time.
I was re-reading Sarah Ban Breathnach's book: "Simple Abundance" yesterday, and I ran across a page that somehow never really caught my attention until now. What I mean to say is: that I read this page, followed her advice, and continued on with life. What I did not do was reflect on what I had learned from the experience. That action didn't occur until yesterday.
In this particular section, she speaks of ways to discover who you truly are, and what makes you the unique individual that (supposedly) you can admire and feel comfortable with. Now, considering that many of us diagnosed with DID ask repeatedly: "Who am I", this is an interesting concept. Who we are, which one of "us" is the main, who do we need to be versus who we wish to be.....are all questions that an individual who has suffered trauma in early childhood and adolescence struggles with. Yet, here is a non-DID individual with some fascinating ideas.
She quotes Jessamyn West initially, who says: "Knowledge of what you love somehow comes to you, you don't have to read nor analyze nor study. If you love a thing enough, knowledge of it seeps into you, with particulars more real than any chart can furnish."
Well, I'd have to argue with that a wee bit. Knowledge of WHO we are is not quite as "seeping" as the quote leads one to believe. At least not for an individual with DID. Somehow, who we are or who we were meant to be was pushed aside to permit our basic survival. The natural development of growth was interrupted by either constant trauma or the basic dysfunction of the familial unit. Many of us frankly are simply surprised we are still present in this world, alive and breathing......and only now have the opportunity to face the reality of "who" we have become.
Add to that the fractured component, the fact that our psyche's have been divided in order to survive. A wonderfully beautiful survival mechanism that leaves behind shattered remnants of the individual we once were. Now, we must somehow piece these back together in order to answer so many questions that have typically been sorted out by the average person once they reach adulthood. Who are we? That sentence alone sums up the confusion so many of us face daily.
Robert Louis Stevenson is quoted as saying: "To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to keep your soul alive." Now, THAT is a statement I can agree with, and therein lies the beginning of discovering who "we are". I know what I was "told" to be, how to act, what was expected, and what my self worth was so often that these very concepts became my core foundation of belief. It was as if I was brainwashed into interpreting who I was, and the secret of having "insiders" merely added even more protective layers of confusion.
Who am I? What do I know of myself? What do I know of my different states or insiders? What do I like? Can I answer any of these questions definitively?
One quick glance through any DID forum will show the average reader that these are questions repeatedly asked of any survivor of abuse. The energy exerted in order to survive often sacrificed any time for personal reflection and self discovery. These are subjects that as "free adults" we are now trying to ascertain. But how to do so?
Now, that's where Ms. Ban Breathnach caught my attention. She refers not to journaling, as many of us do daily; but to explore additionally who we are as individuals. Her suggestion is to use an artist sketchbook, and keep it by your bed. Every evening, scan through your favorite magazines and collection of the little things that caught your attention throughout the day. By spending a few minutes nightly, selecting out what calls to you, and pasting these into your sketchbook, slowly you can uncover who you are deep inside. The answers may surprise you.
For me, I was astonished to discover that there were little quotes on some of my tea bags that tingled my innermost thoughts, and those were added. Cards that contained words of thanks for particular acts of kindness that I initially thought nothing of, provided another clue as to the sort of person I truly am. Pictures that called to me, paintings that I simply could not take my eyes away from were each placed within my sketchbook. To my surprise, it was as if daily, layer by layer, all the way down to the very core of my being, I was being revealed.
I discovered that my insiders were not as I perceived them to be. Their additions to the sketchbook allowed me to see that they had delights I never truly recognized; little poems contributed by some, and simple lines taken from songs that for some reason or another awakened an emotion long forgotten were added by others. This honestly shocked me.......
Colors came to life that I had no idea existed. Pink scribbles from some of the young insiders and doodles from the older ones. Interesting pictures that recalled childhood events that were not traumatic, but were certainly memorable were included. Daily tidbits, things that delighted us within the present time: a fortune from a fortune cookie, a receipt from a recent outing, the drawing we found left behind from one of the boys, pressed flowers from walks almost forgotten, a portion of a butterfly wing that was found after a storm,.....all provided a visual reminder of the person we have become.
And perhaps, most astounding of all, was that this simple activity not only uncovered who we are, but also enlightened our minds to a world that often is overlooked. That of the present.....and who we are now. Not shattered and fragile, but a unique and truly beautiful collection of novel thoughts, ideas and standards.
It made me recall the time I spent working near a stained glass shop, and the hours I spent rummaging through the scraps of glass to find certain odd shapes that delighted me. Particular colors, textures and prisms, all in an effort to create a design that illuminated what my mind saw. I still have many of the things I made, and I find that I often stare at them in wonderment. This delights me.......the simple knowledge that just as that stained glass work of art was once simply fractured pieces of glass, has now been translated into an extraordinarily beautiful Koi fish window hanging.
And upon reflection, the bigger picture: that no matter how many pieces we may have become, we are still an amazing work of art. We are individuals who are truly unique and exquisite.
May each of us find a delightful component of who we have become today......for it's truly there.
Have a wonderful day everyone,
Sounds right, yesterday was Tuesday, although husband thought it was Wednesday.....he's no help when it comes to what day it is sometimes! Was he disappointed to realize that now he had to work "an extra day", as he had thought yesterday was Wednesday. Poor guy: no breeze, high humidity, and hot already. A few of the guys he works with want to sign on with a company out of Florida, and are re-thinking the whole "work year round" appeal with the heat and humidity concept. Concrete, as I didn't know at first, is HOT already.....they actually have to use ice right now to get it to work right with the weather. The whole crew comes home so tired, hot and covered with concrete, it makes me realize that I have a cushy day by comparison!
So, it's Wednesday. Got it.......husband didn't know that the pdoc had put me on an anti-psychotic, as I hadn't told him yet. Frankly, I knew he wouldn't be thrilled anyway, so I didn't announce it to him. I figured IF there were bad side effects, then he would have an unbiased recognition of them. This morning however, I wake to the question of why is this medication listed on the daily medication chart I use? Well, this isn't the first pdoc to recommend it, the psychiatrist's since the hospital have all been saying I need an anti-psychotic, and I see his face change. He is reacting to the term "psychosis" much like I have.
He does remind me that I had side effects from taking it for the short duration last time. Yes, I know....but I also know that side effects come with most medications, and I'm sensitive to meds. So, half the dose, give it some time, and let's see. The reality is that each of the pdocs have recommended either Saphris, Seroquel, or Latuda. I know what Saphris does, so let's give it some time first. Half the dose, and watch......I feel clear already, and that was a benefit that I liked with it. He said: "what about the facial twitches?", well darling, still have them, and they should have been gone already. Frankly, I had them when I was 17.......a wee bit embarrassing, and I had them during college.....and that wasn't that long ago. He's worried about manic phases, but the pdoc said what I experienced was more energy and clarity, not mania. I have to agree with that, I grew up with a manic personality (my mom), so I know what the "grandiose thoughts" are in actuality, and that is not what I'm experiencing. Anyway, he then says: "Well, I threw the meds away, so let me pull them back out of the trash." Mmmmmm, good idea since they are very expensive.
Go figure, I found a picture, beautiful really, that someone had put near the trash can. I hung it up, and the boys and I have been waiting to see how long it will take him to notice. He hasn't yet. I also hid the chocolate, which he raids, and he hasn't found that yet. BUT he finds the meds.....really? He'll find the chocolate next, but the picture he won't notice until we move again. Sometimes, he makes me laugh. He can find most of my hiding spots for sweeties, but cannot tell you, right now, where the strainer is. Same place since we moved in, but it's not a high priority. I don't blame him one bit for keeping tabs on the medication, there are so many, it takes both of us to keep track of who takes what and when.
He said a co-worker asked him yesterday why I always look so mad? Huh? I didn't know I looked mad! He said, well she's writing a book right now about her experiences in the Kingdom Hall growing up, and you only see her when she's out on the balcony writing. That made the crew laugh, as one of them, it turns out was raised as I was, but was kicked out of his home at 16. His parents are still very devout, and as is typical, he had to adjust the hard way from a life of isolation to instantly being "outside". He was shocked to meet "another one", as we often feel when meeting other people from our generation who were raised this way. We often keep quiet about it......I mean: who would understand, except anyone who has been there? Anyway, they all had a good laugh over the subject.....but it made me think: do I really look "mad"? His co-worker said, "well, sometimes she smiles, and it's beautiful, but generally she looks focused and like you really shouldn't talk with her."
Well, I can tell I switch, and I've seen my reflection at times in the window while out and about......and no, I'm not exactly approachable all the time. Most people that I talk with end up wanting to be "insta-friends", and I'm not keen on that, so I don't really walk about with an expression of openness. It's true, his co-workers only see me while I'm outside typing, so yes, I do look serious and am concentrating on difficult subjects. Additionally, the few people I have talked to where ever we live comment that I'm soooooo kind and enjoyable to talk with, that now they want to visit every time they pass by. No thank you......I actually will go inside the house if I see that it's that time of day, where people are now coming and going. I end up knowing everything about everyone in no time at all, and truly am not interested. I'm just easy to talk to.......which is weird that his co-worker says I always look mad. Hmmmmm, never considered that. But the boys do say I look different when I'm writing my book, which makes sense. I just explain that I have to concentrate. They get it......and apparently the co-workers did as well.
Yet, I remember when we were at the hotel for the last job......and everyone commented that I looked so serious and non-approachable, until they caught me smiling and talking. Then, the "insta-friend" would occur......and frankly, I don't want to be that involved in everybody's life. Especially as most of the road workers (like we are) don't have family along, so the men tend to be very lonely. Conversations can go on forever it seems, and really pushes my defenses by a certain point. So, I suppose, whether I realized it or not, I've learned to stay focused on my own business, and not appear friendly. That's sad in a way.
But do I want to change? Not really........I'm not bothered that the general public isn't eager to approach me. It saves me from a lot of hassle, and there are enough people who seek me out for dialog where ever I go anyway. I have made a habit of ending conversations nicely, as they can go on for extensive periods of time, and then the typical request to "email" each other. Really? No thank you.......besides, I'm here with my boys, and need to stay focused on them, where I'm going and what I'm doing. So, yeah......even when I was in classes, I made friends, but also kept a lot of people at bay. That's fine with me.......I'm not changing.
Interesting, my boys say that my smile is like my hair.....I keep it up and tucked away when in public, but when home: they both come out. They say it's because "they are too special for everyone to see". I'm not sure if this is such a healthy thing. However, there's no denying that when I used to live by putting on a smiling front, I was literally so approachable that everyone clung to me; and I was open to not only everyone's ideas and opinions but victimization as well. Since I've stopped smiling to please everyone, I've become more aware of people who are truly unsafe, and have also avoided those who are simply overly curious about my personal life.
I'm not sure.....maybe this will change in a few years, or maybe I've just reached a point where I realize that I don't have to please everyone, and I don't have to be emotionally available to all. Frankly, a lot of people wave to me on the balcony, and I don't know who they are. Most are men, and to my way of thinking: I don't know who you are, so I'm more than a little hesitant to wave back. I just smile a wee bit, and go back to my work. I honestly don't know why most of the cars who pass by wave...maybe it's a Texas thing. Since most are men, I really am uncomfortable with smiling or waving in response.
Then I recalled that I have always been this way with men. I have never been open or approachable. Of course, mom had her rules and the Kingdom Hall had strict regulations on behavior, so some of this stems from that era of my life. But, I have also been hurt a great deal by men, so I have just learned to keep a distance. I had a boyfriend tell me once that I remind him of a beautiful cat who has been abused. I sit there, all charm and beauty, but there's something that says I just may scratch and hiss if you get too close. I also have some wonderful girlfriends who tell me that the only men I have let near me were those who (with the exception of my husband) were so pushy that they ignored any boundaries or defenses, and that was the first red flag to several bad relationships. Husband has been the only one who has treated me gently.....and he's certainly not the most outgoing of people. However, he never pushed me, and has always allowed me the peace to simply relax around him. I don't have to perform or be a "certain way".
He has commented, (as many others have), that my facial expressions often remind him of Lauren Bacall, Bette Davis or Angelina Jolie. They claim there's something in my eyes that communicates much more than mere words. That observation often reminds me of a Broadway musical tune that I've sung for years:"no words, can tell, the story my eyes tell, when you look my way, you'll hear what I say......to the people in the dark, still out there, in the dark."
As Dante is growing older, he notices more often the switches that occur. Of course, raising children places different demands throughout the day. He in particular, can become quite challenging at times. He told the psychiatrist that my eyes change and he knows that he needs to stop arguing and listen. As he put it: "she can make a face that makes you feel like you're the smallest person in the world". Oh no......what am I communicating to my children?
So, later I asked him about it.....his response was actually reassuring. He said "I just know when your face looks different, that I have pushed it too far, and am not listening. I know what I'm doing, but sometimes I just feel like arguing. Then you look at me, and I realize how rude that is. I feel really bad, so I stop. I'm glad you don't yell or hit, you just look. I'm lucky." Okay.....I think I understand.
Hence, I conducted an experiment. I actually allowed myself to switch voluntarily.....I allowed one of the insiders who I suspected dealt with Dante the most to come forward. First, I said: "does the face look like this?", and then allowed the insider to come forward. Instantly he smiled and said, almost joyfully: "YES!!! That's the face, that's the look you have when I'm being sneaky, or doing something that I know I shouldn't do. It creeps me out, but I know that's just you telling me to stop."
I wondered at his joyful response, until I realized that to his perspective, this was still "mom", the person he loves and feels comfortable with. Even with that insider full out, he was relaxed, not terrified, but certainly respectful. Perspective is an interesting thing, and as he explains it: "I don't get hit, or yelled at....you just look a certain way, and I know I'm going to lose the argument." So, apparently Meghan (the insider) doesn't degrade him in any way either.....it's simply a matter of boundaries and respect.
Husband confirmed as well......there's facial expressions with each insider, and the only time he feels concerned is when a particular insider becomes insecure or frightened. He recognizes that as a sign that I am not centered in the present year, and that I am struggling with flashbacks and memories. Well, for all intents and purposes, that is what is occurring, and I'm grateful that after many years, he can understand. He says he wishes he could "fix" those emotions, but realizes that only I can do so. I must reconnect with myself and my system simply needs to reground in the present time. I have to face my past, and the emotions inherent within those memories, as no one else can do so for me.
Just my thoughts for the day......I truly don't know if this behavior stems from childhood, trauma, DID, or a combination of them all. It could also be that I'm finally recognizing boundaries and in reality, and not bothered in the least that some people find me unapproachable. The only thing that does concern me is that I have learned to not trust the general public. What message does that deliver to my children? And yet, to live differently has also shown me how many predators there are in our daily existence.
Perhaps, as time goes by, I will change yet again and learn to trust the world more. Perhaps I won't....and this is simply who I am. Two things I do know is that I'm not repeating the parenting style I was raised with, and my life is far different now than it has ever been. Would I change these things? Absolutely not.
Just my ten cents for the day......hope everyone can find a bit of peacefulness today. Sending warm support to those who feel alone or are hurting......
Where'd Monday go? Oh yeah....pdoc visit to fix the medication mix up, which then threw the entire day off.
Arrived at the pdocs office, in less than perfect shape....really, don't change the medications around! Met the grumpy lady at the desk, who was grumpier than usual, and as I was switching like mad, she was very fortunate that I contained myself. Good lawd woman! You work at a psychiatrist's office....don't you know that most of these people just may lose it on you with that attitude? Fortunately for her, I was switching constantly, and someone had just spoke to me in Spanish, so I could only respond in Spanish....which she wouldn't understand. Hence, smile and silence......I don't need to deal with her, I only need to check in.
Pdoc "fixed" the medication, long story short: apologized and we both realized that somehow I forgot to tell him that I don't react to medications very well. (I could have sworn that I told him, I usually do, but perhaps he didn't take it seriously.) Too many have been "tried" on me, and each hit me like a brick wall, so to change them has to be gradual. VERY gradual......and don't lower the Citalopram, I'll be at the hospital. Again, his apologies......but got it all fixed. This is the same pdoc who says I'm very lucid, very together......well, I wasn't yesterday, and that was after being back on the "right amount" for two or three days. Even he was shocked at the difference, but at least he has his thoughts together and all the records and prescriptions are set right now. Apparently he wrote down his goals of where he wanted my medications to be at, and somehow that ended up being the prescriptions. His notes are corrected, the prescriptions are corrected, and he did spend an appropriate amount of time talking with me to find out just what needs to be addressed.
Both he and his psych nurse said what a strong person I am to get through this, sorry, etc.......strong person? I don't know....I just replied that this has been my dx for almost 20 years, you just start to figure things out: when to get to the pdoc right away, when things aren't right, how to fake it through switching, how to ground yourself to get through the flashbacks, even if that means every 15 minutes.....but somehow, you just learn to live with it. No....they said I'm strong, and very wise.....well, whatever you want to call it. Main point? I'm not here because I really, really like visiting with you both, I'm here because the medications cannot be changed to such an extreme.
So, ended up with a migraine by the time we arrived back home. Of course, had to stop at the pharmacy to clarify things with them too.....they blocked Aramis' medication as he was too young by the standards for Seroquel and required an over-ride. Got that taken care of.......geesh, I'm still an advocate....thought I retired!
Pdoc ended up putting me on an anti-psychotic....which I've been fighting since I went to the hospital. I had to ask myself: "Why?" It is that in accepting the prescription, I am now admitting that I have mental issues, not "just" a disorder? I didn't realize I thought this way. I could justify it all, by claiming that I'm just leery of new medications (which is true), but the reality is that as soon as the first, second and third pdoc said "anti-psychotic", all I heard was "psychosis". No way.....not me. I don't have THAT.
Really? What a closed minded attitude to have. Especially, since I'm not keen on labels anyway. I'm still "me"......but over and over the pdocs are seeing indicators that this medication is necessary. Not one, but almost every one I've seen. I still refuse....and now have to ask myself "why?"
It's the label.....and yes, it bothered me to realize that my son had such a heavy diagnosis, and to hear the term "psychosis". I've adjusted to that now.....but to hear it in conjunction with myself? Ouch.........does that mean I'm like my mom?
No.....and I know better. Or at least I thought I did. I also thought if I went to the hospital it meant I was "insane", which was wrong as well. Geesh, for all the papers I've written regarding labels and destigmatizing mental illness, I am very guilty of the same thing. Certainly requires a bit of a mind adjustment on my part.
So, I'll try the anti-psychotic, and give it time. Perhaps it really will help, but only if I try will I know. It's the time component, and, as I've realized, that often once you feel a bit better, it's easy to think that you don't need it. Often, there are side effects, so it's very common to think: "hey, I'm fine, and why put up with the side effects?"
I'm not switching so much today, which was a real problem yesterday. But finally had my first real night of sleep since all this medication drama started.....and for that I'm grateful. The pdoc said the anti-psychotic would work almost immediately in that regard. Give it a bit to help stabilize the switching. Okay......we'll see.
Tried so very hard to work on my second book over the last few days, but just couldn't get settled and find clarity. Literally, I was overwhelmed by the organization required to put so much information into a logical format. Words are flying around my head, loads of thoughts and ideas, and still: just confusion.
But, let's focus on the good news: the pdoc now has a huge memo that says to not mess with my medication, I've finally agreed to an anti-psychotic, and Aramis is doing much, much better.
That's about it in my corner of the world....
Hope everyone is finding a bit o'peace in their day......
Sending positive support to everyone......
Hey, got it right off....it's Friday......wait, double check: yeup, FRIDAY.
Youngest boy woke me up much earlier than I would have liked; his cute face simply staring at me until I "got up" really was quite effective. He has truly become a morning person, up with husband and then out to wake everyone else up for the day. Older brother ignores him better than I can, even the dog buried his head in his fluffy tail. BUT....nope, not so little guy was still sitting there staring. I'd smile and cover my head, but I KNEW he was still "there". Every time I checked, he'd say: "Are you ready to wake up? (smile)" Finally I gave in.....okay, okay......where's the coffee?
My head isn't so swimmy today, but still a bit of the migraine. Pdoc's office called and said "whoops, we really messed up your meds!" Really? No kidding.....how'd you come to that conclusion? They said I was "smart" to telephone and let them know right away. Hmmmmm, well, I'm glad I'm "smart" on occasion then. Okay, so I am now to go back to normal dosages and take a trip in to see them again on Monday. There's no way I'm driving right now.....I did tell them that I'm going to have to be more assertive with them about changing the medication amounts around. They agreed, and said they are going to have to fix their records too.......they aren't correct. (!!!!) But from now on, they see me on a different day from the boys.
It does look like everyone is healthy again, and now to get back on track. I have a stack of things that need to be done, some were due several days ago, but with a bit more coffee, they can be tackled. Mostly documents, so one at a time and a fresh pot of coffee.
A thread was started at another DID site, which asked: "Where do the names of insiders come from? How many people made them, are they descriptive, or were they just 'there', etc?" Which often leads to the next question: "How many people have animals or alternate creatures inside?"
Interesting, for as long as I've talked with others about DID, these two questions always come up. Especially for people new to their dx.......where, why, how come? The reality is: that there isn't one straight out answer. Everyone is different, just as each of our backgrounds were different. Even two people, living in the same household will have different reactions to the same environment. That subject alone has been studied through and through. Anna Freud had a field day studying with some of the greatest minds of her time this very subject. Her father wasn't so thrilled, but then again: they uncovered information that had previously been unavailable to them. Ahhhh, one of the deplorable benefits of post-war trauma.
For me? Well, they just had names......and it did honestly confuse and panic me in the beginning. Finding poetry or notes written by someone else, signed by someone else, and at other times NOT signed by someone else, but certainly not something I recall writing. The style was different, spelling was close, but certain spelling errors were repetitive....sentence structure, and above all else: content matter was different than what "I" would have written. When names were signed, I honestly was confused as to "who" got into my most sacred of private writing areas.....and what was the purpose? Of course, this was pre-dx, and then the months following, and still occurs today, but with less confusion.
Over time, I came to understand where or how they chose their names. So for my system: they chose them. Husband would call certain ones "that dark one", or "that mean one"....but they weren't names or descriptions I had given. It was merely his way of trying to describe the difference. Now we have come much farther along, and he can tell many times by just the way my face will change, or my tone changes. Some speak more rapid style, others are very blank.....he can tell, and says it's all me, just divided into sections. I must admit, that's much nicer than being told: "Hey, THAT dark one is back!!! Who are you? And what did you do with Shelly?"
Frankly, those questions got him no where, as there would usually be silence afterwards. Poor guy, had to wing it until a great therapist stepped in and helped explain. Both his therapist and mine......and with that, as well as dialog came a lot of growth.
But who chose the names? For me, the answer is that they did. I can understand now where they came from....but 10 years ago, I had no clue. Even recently, through active therapy I have been able to understand much more as to the initial splittings thatoccurred. Hence, therapy and a good therapist at that, is critical.
It makes me wonder though, at the confusion that is displayed sometimes by the psychiatric community. Of course there will be confusion, for DID is the result of trauma, and no two people experience trauma in the same way. A coping mechanism that adapted as a person aged, with the inherent secrecy demanded by the presence of a dysfunctional familial unit. That much is understood, but I must admit: I think sometimes it is forgotten that no two people are alike: let alone two insiders within the same unit.
I've always been fascinated by the history behind mental illness, and how often the psychiatric community has both correctly and incorrectly interpreted the complexities of the human mind. A hundred years ago? Well, I'd be diagnosed completely differently. 500 years ago? Hey, I wouldn't be here.
And today: the mind is a fascinating organ that still confuses and frustrates both professionals and humans alike. Like a bank vault, it literally fights intrusions of any sort, let alone those interpreted as threats. I've spent hours studying the human mind, both inside and outside of the class structure, only to hear the same statements again and again: "We know this, but we don't why, and we don't know this, and we don't know why."
So, you want to know where "the names" and sub-types come from? That answer is as varied as each of us, and the only way to truly understand is to figure out who you are, and how your system works. The sad thing is that so many people are trying to figure out their dx, let alone trying to find a normality of sorts. Where do we fit in? Are there others like us?
Well yes, and yes....and as to normality, the only commonality is that we are all humans. How we've reacted I don't believe is unique to our generation, nor to our culture. Pick any time in history, and there exists reactions related to trauma that are interpreted based on the knowledge of the time.
Medication always makes me think of my vehicle. One mechanic may say to add fuel injection cleaner, another will suspect the computer system, where another will be looking for a blown fuse. The reality? A vehicle is a complex set of components that all must work together, and seldom is there a printout that says: "The problem is right here, and put this item in its place and all will be well."
Thank goodness we as humans are treated far more humanely than vehicles, as any "Pick-A-Part" business will prove. History has shown periods of time where humans were treated as such, but today: at least professionals are trying. The concept has finally sunk in: that we are complex creatures who will survive.
That is something to celebrate....despite the deep chasm of unknowns as far as the human psyche is concerned, we will continue to survive. We find ways to adapt that are truly unique, with one goal to reach: that of remaining alive. Thank goodness for whatever component of our system it is that provides that constant spark. It may be threatened, but it still remains within each of us: that flicker of hope for a better future.
Well, that's my soap box for today. There's a lovely breeze in TX right now, and I have two darling boys who are darting around the house like young colts exploring delightfully the world around them. They revel in their safety, and for that: I'm grateful.
Have a good day everyone.....
find a bit o'peace today, and remember to take care of yourselves.
Okay, so I sorta lost a day I think....I know we wrote yesterday. I think.....
It's......drum roll: Thursday. Ahhhh, Thursday already?
Well, yesterday went from bad to worse......remember ages ago when I ended up in the hospital? Well, it was then that the powers that be determined that I needed 60mg of Citalopram, not 40mg. That amount was waaay too low. So, years later, this pdoc wants it at 40mg. By the time husband got home the spins had gone into nausea, severe migraine, crying (I don't cry, and especially not over commercials!), and the shakes really bad. He freaked as much as the "Oak Door" freaks......I tried everything: a shower, laying down really, really still, eating, (which was a baaaad idea) and husband walks in with sushi. I don't turn down sushi........last night? It looked like power bait.
He immediately goes over all my medications, and asks why I have Klonopin left over? The pdoc said to skip the afternoon dose. He asked what day it was, etc......and told me I was giving three different answers to each question. Some answers I didn't even have, but I knew I was in bad shape. I'm an active person, not "sick" like this.......he said I was two steps to going back to the hospital. Soooo, he did the math, this all started when the doc changed medication, dropping the Citalopram 20mg, and asked if I called the pdoc? I remember that, I did call the pdoc. Husband says to take the 60mg, and be very assertive with the pdoc about this. Took hours for the spins to stop, let alone everything else. So, I guess, as the pdoc puts it I'm "fine with medication", that this medication must be 60mg. To give him credit, he did say to call immediately if there was a reaction. I wonder if he realized that "a reaction" could be so debilitating that clarity would be shot by midnight? I had the worse night........
But feel better today. Head still hurts, yes: I know, it's withdrawals, but geeze louis, not a good place to plunk a DID'er. Not this one at least. I'll get a phone call from the pdoc today, and will end up going in AGAIN next week to have it all corrected. If I had a nickle for every time he said he was "sorry" for medication issues.......
And, a scary place to be with two boys.....the youngest wasn't pleased to say the least, planted himself on top of me until Dad got home. In some strange way I think he was trying to help. Hey, I went Monday thru last night, with the symptoms only getting worse. I know where I'd be today if husband didn't look things over.....back in the ward with the on call psych bumping the Citalopram back to 60mg. Glad husband was able to stay calm and do all the simple math. One and half tablets, vs one tablet, but one half tablet for the older boy, but what was it again for me? When was the RX filled, how many are left, what should be left........and of course the obligatory checking of arms. No damage....frankly I was too sick.
I didn't know. I keep a chart and mark it off during the day when we take our meds. The boys included, that way nothing gets confused. But all these medicine amount changes hit me like an angry Clydesdale horse. Not fun.........
I tried to sleep in, but youngest boy was scared and wanted to see me up and at 'em.......then he could calm down. Literally, he stood at the side of the bed staring. If I opened my eyes, he'd say: "I'm scared...I'm really scared, it's time for you to get up". Okay......but I'm moving slow today buddy, so don't ask for too much. I do feel much better today......and to think: the pdoc asked if I wanted to try out two different medications at the last visit? I said no to that....actually I said to stop playing around with what's working. He scared me with the heart issues....but hey, yesterday wasn't fun either. My head and eyes still ache from the dang migraine.
Boys are fine with their medications......the youngest just seems a little moody, but he's clingy to me and I was obviously getting sicker yesterday. That scares him every time......another reason to not mess with the medications that are working. When the Citalopram went from 80mg to 60mg, I only had benefits. This last jump was a baaaaad idea, 60mg to 40mg.
The inside girls are all tucked back into their safe little rooms......when I started seeing double, they didn't like the outside world very much. They'll come back out later.....when it all seems safe again.
Well, that's all folks......with all that going on, there's not much more to say. THAT was yesterday.....today appears much better.
But sushi still sounds like power bait....so glad I didn't attempt to eat it. Dry crackers was all I could get down.
Looks like Manhattan is still in the plans.....wonder what the pdoc there will want to do? I definitely need to be more assertive after this last episode.
Hope you're all well.......
have a peaceful day today.