Games, mindwise and otherwise

Games, mindwise and otherwise

So, I joined a group for my Facebook game, Pioneer Trail, because some of the neighbors are no longer player out of my 125 people. I got new neighbors that play actively. But I still have not received my stuff that I need. I am behind in my missions because I was in the hospital. Still not up to speed with the current missions. And today I got really pissed off because I found out you needed to complete a mission inside a mission to get the stuff you need. I stopped playing and just collected rewards off other people. It was easier to do this than send out the stuff I needed in return.

I then had therapy in the afternoon. I would have preferred lunch with my aunt. My therapist read the blog I posted that had another “alter” and boy, did we talk about this for some time. She wanted me to read the paragraph to her and I wanted nothing more to do with the letter. I told her the handwriting didn’t change, but, it sort of did. I wrote a journal entry prior to writing the letter and the handwriting was different than that of the journal. The letter’s handwriting was more sloppy than that of the journal. AND the last thing I wrote was “good night” in Italian. I remember writing most of the letter except the last paragraph. That last paragraph has my mind going in directions I didn’t think were possible. My therapist thinks that it was a part of myself that is angry with her, and she is okay with it. But my “core self” is not okay with it. I hate losing control like I did. And then the fact I slept soundly afterwards is a little bizarre, to me anyways. My therapist thinks it was a way to access the different parts of me through my writing. I just think it is one big game. And at the end of it, my alter is going to succeed in killing me. I thought, up until now, I just had one, Mr. Hyde. Now that I have this unnamed alter inside and it is a he. There were crazy circumstances that allowed this to happen. One, I was on heavy pain medication. Two, I was exhausted from being up very early in the morning. Three, I had lack of sustenance for most of the day. (I didn’t eat anything after I had my mocha that morning.) So all of this seems to factor in. Today I didn’t eat much, except for dinner. I skipped lunch because I just wasn’t hungry. The 4th factor was that my annoyance level was high and I was angry because of dealing with my father that day that didn’t go the way I wanted it to. I had expected to spend no more than twenty minutes for his blood draw and it was almost an hour. That lead to my further blood sugar withdrawal. It was also hot that day, and I tend to be cranky in the heat. I just cannot tolerate it. Add all these factors in, no wonder I needed an escape of some sort and that alter wanted so badly to be let out. But I mistook it for Hyde. I even said in the letter, here is Hyde. But NONE of the writing was his. It was not a suicidal letter/paragraph. It was just someone screaming at my therapist that he was in charge and that you have to let her go, something to that effect. It also spoke of my transgender issues, stating that my therapist should give up the nonsense of calling me a him. Even as I am writing this, I am getting scared it might come out again. The rule that was drilled into me when I was younger was that what went on in the house, stayed in the house. I wasn’t to let anyone know of what was going on. I acted like the man of the house because I was the oldest, and I took this responsibility seriously. Unfortunately, my sisters were not the “good” ones like I was in school. They had their own agendas. They still do.

What troubles me is that I now have displayed a couple of alters while writing. It scares me that this is an outlet for them because it is possible for them to come out when I least expect it to. I think I have some control but what if I lose that control? I haven’t discussed this with my therapist but I think she can agree that my “core self” is in control the majority of the time. It is only when I “choose” to let loose the alter that it comes out. But then I worry about dissociating. That is a different set of rules. The only time I can clearly recall dissociating was last year when I “lost” a few hours and blogged something without my knowledge of it. I blamed Hyde because it was suicidal in nature. I call Hyde, Hyde because it is the “evil” side of me, the dark side that no one sees. It is a benign side, I know it won’t hurt me but it might if let loose for too long. Being suicidal is just too unpredictable. Words can take action very quickly.
My therapist wants me to “embrace” this other side of me. She is curious about it. I just wonder if we were meeting face to face if this person would come out more. It really is hard to predict. I didn’t know this one existed until last week. It was scary. I rather not have this side come out again. But only if I am writing. If it wants to write, I guess I could let it out and write. Just as long as I go to sleep afterwards.

Mr. Hyde and nerve pain

I have been thinking the past few days. Yes that has been the smoke that has been circulating in the air in Boston. Apparently on Tuesday in the throws of another pain episode I was barely aware of, I sent my therapist a text. It said that I cannot go on living like this, with this level of pain. I have no recollection of sending it. I knew I sent it because it is my phone but it sounded more of Mr. Hyde. I have been trying to wrap my head around Hyde. He likes to come around at various times and sometimes I can “catch him” and other time he alludes me. But I am cracking down on when he is likely to occur. When I am deeply hopeless, suicidal, and in severe physical pain. All three must be present for Hyde to emerge. The sucky part about this is my safety because Hyde want to die. I wasn’t in danger of dying, as far as I know, Tuesday but I could have. I just wanted to sleep, and fairly succeeded on doing that. I also have to be in a sleep state to bring Hyde out. He is more likely to show himself while I am overtired. Like I am now.

I just had zaps go through my foot. Just imagine the shock you get when you place your tongue on a 9 volt battery, minus the metallic taste and you have the zaps I get in my feet. Sometimes they are stronger than a 9 volt. And they jolt me awake, like tonight. I was ready to turn in but my PTSD symptoms (hypervigilance and anxiety) have taken over. It is going to take another Ativan to calm down. Hyde doesn’t like Ativan too much. It makes me really sleepy so I do sleep. It doesn’t cause me to do other weird stuff like Neurontin does. I know that I am not having another attack of CES and that things will be ok but in my head, I am “excited” and fearful of when the next zap is going to come. Usually if I stretch out my legs, it makes it worse. So I have to sit with my legs up so they don’t get zapped. And there is nothing I can take for it. The zaps come and go as they please. They don’t last long enough for me to take anything, but boy do they cause havoc!!

I am listening to Luke Bryan. He has some really good songs that I love listening to over and over again. He has that southern voice that I just love. It can be a fast song or a slow one and I just swoon over his voice. It’s not relaxing like Mary Chapin, but it will do.

I really need to go to bed soon. It’s after midnight and I need to be up at six. I need to take a shower and get ready to take my sister’s car. I will need a large coffee to help my mood. The good thing is that I don’t need to rush because I don’t have to pick up my father till 830. I then have to take him for a blood draw for his Coumadin test. He doesn’t know it yet but he will.

Well, I think the zaps have settled down some. I hope I get some sleep tonight. Or tomorrow is going to suck…

songs and their meaning to me

I had my sister’s car today and lucky for me, Taylor Swift’s Fearless CD was the first disc in her CD player. I listened to “Love Story” at least five times while riding around town. It got me thinking about my therapist for some reason, all the struggles we have been through over the years and now we have a “love” that only we know about. The lyrics really struck a chord with every verse. No matter how many times I have listened to this song, I never get tired of listening to it. I can hear it all day and love it just as much as when I listened to it the first time.

Then when I came home, I decided to listen to my Taylor playlist. First song was “Enchanted”. It always reminds me of the time I had my first poster session at the American Association of Suicidology 41st annual conference. It was when David Jobes read my poster and I was flipping out, though I tried not to let him see me freak out. I was just so honor and star struck that he was reading my work, Ten Faces. Funny how songs can stir up these memories.

I did a little editing today but didn’t make it to twenty pages. I only did seventeen. I did it while I was at my favorite Starbucks drinking a new coffee, Jamaica Blue Mountain. It was very good but I couldn’t finish it all. I was too full. Now I am home and think I want to take a nap before I have to pick up my brother in law at the train station. I woke up at seven this morning. It’s going to be a long day because the Sox are on tonight. The game doesn’t really matter (to the Sox) but do matter with the O’s. I feel bad that Manny Machado go hurt and will miss the postseason. There are just three more games in the regular season for the Sox. I don’t know when the first playoff game is yet. I have to look into it. But then I don’t know who they are playing. I don’t know if they will play the wild card or what. I hope Texas wins the wild card. I just hate playing the Rays.

I still am feeling hopeless. I can’t wait to see my psychiatrist next week to give her an update and see if she has any suggestions. Maybe a new antidepressant is out there that might help me, though I doubt it. But she might have something that might help lessen the dissociative episodes. I guess I don’t have to be on Neurontin to get into them. My therapist keeps telling me that since she has known me, I have been dissociative in nature. I don’t have a true dissociative identity disorder (DID), but I do have DID, NOS (not otherwise specified). I don’t think this stuff made it to my book. I just talked about my suicidality, but seeing as most of these blogs have been really good, I might include them as a chapter. It would be interesting, I think.

moment in time

I had an appointment with my father today. It went well though we were waiting a very long time to be seen. I hate it when docs run late. Just want to walk out.

I was able to get an appointment with my therapist today. I have mixed feelings about it. But seeing as last night things kind of got crazy, I think it is for the best. I don’t know where this depression is going. I know I have been writing more about it lately and that is helping me but it also is worrying me that I might end up back in the hospital.

Since I am working with my old laptop, I have decided that I not going to work on my manuscript until the newer laptop is fixed. I don’t have the brain power to work on it anyways. I thought I would be able to do a little bit today but I just can’t. Things are just not making sense to me. And the notes that I wrote up on the previous copy I had, I can’t read my fricken notes. It is in my handwriting, but it’s so scribbled that I can’t read it. MAN, I hate that.

Last night in the morning hours I apparently dissociated when I wrote “Tell Tale Heart”. I am not sure what happened. Last thing I remember is writing the title and everything after that is lost. I think I went to bed afterwards because I remember my mother waking me up because she went downstairs around 0330. I emailed my pdoc about it. Have not heard from her nor do I expect to. She can’t really do anything for me. I talked to my therapist about it because I totally had no recollection of writing this blog. Not even reading it over do I remember it. It is dark and something Mr. Hyde would write, my alter. I am kind of upset by this. I am going to bed early tonight. There is no baseball game that I really want to see as the Sox are off. I am feeling strangely disconnected. Maybe it is because I am tired. I don’t know. I am not in a lot of pain today even though I ran around taking my father to his doctor’s appointment. The coffee I drank did nothing to really wake me up. All noises annoyed me. I just wanted to be back home and in bed. Maybe tomorrow I will just hang out in bed and sleep all day as I have decided to put the manuscript off, for now.

My therapist thinks I am also dissociating with my pain as I am not really feeling it. But I think it is more compartmentalizing than actual dissociation. I don’t lose time like I do when I dissociate. I just put the pain off on the back burners. I have an extremely high pain tolerance so it takes me a while to get in touch with my pain. But if it is being a brat, then I am in trouble and can’t put it in a box so to speak. But me writing that blog…that was pure madness. I was seriously suicidal. It is a good thing I don’t act on it. I had to check my pill counts to make sure I didn’t take more than I thought I did, and I didn’t. I have no new cuts on me or other evidence of self-harm. I just have this blog that got written while I was sleep deprived and no memory of having written it. My therapist liked it. It described accurately how I was feeling at that moment in time. I am just sorry that I worried a friend.