Six Days Later..

So I haven't posted in 6 days because I've been a bit busy around the house. My man *moved* in on Monday. Yes, you read that correctly. This is hands down the craziest and most impulsive thing I've ever done. But as kooky as it sounds, it feels very right. I have never asked a man to move into my house, nor have I lived with anyone for almost 10 years. The compromising has already started but we both seem to be adjusting well.

For years I've said I'd whore myself out for housework. Well, now I have what I've always hoped for. Being he is a contractor, he can do about anything. This week he has repaired my garbage disposal. I now have hot water for my washing machine. He's replaced a couple of slats on the fence and picked up a few more yesterday to replace this weekend. He's replaced both the front and back door door knobs and dead bolts so they will all have the same key. He's filled up the pool with water and will be replacing the pool pump this weekend. He even got the code enforcement people off my ass. When you're single and live alone it's a bitch to keep up a house. I now have someone who takes care of the outside while I play Donna Reed on the inside. I even cleaned out half a closet for him.

It's nice having a dual income 'family.' I feel bad charging him anything for rent. Labor is ridiculously expensive these days and he's already saved me god knows how much money. However, he insists so I will take it.

I feel horrible as he's just moved in and I haven't gotten home from work until after 8p over the last two days. I sent him a text today to see if he could be home by 6:30p or so so we could have dinner together. Of course, the answer is always yes. I ran up to the grocery store (I never go to the market because I eat nothing but crap all the time and a lot of ice cream) today during lunch, picked up a few items, then hauled ass home and made chili in the crock pot. I took out the trash (he's been doing that but I cleaned some stuff outta the fridge and didn't want it to stink up the house) and even cleaned my cooking mess. I'm not sure how dinner will turn out as I did all of this in an hour and fifteen minutes, which includes drive time. He has no idea I've cooked. I'm sure he thinks our meal will consist of handmade sandwiches or something. I know chili in the summer doesn't seem right but I was looking for quick and easy (like I usually am).

Surprisingly enough, Grandma has given her blessing. I wasn't going to tell anyone because again, it is the craziest, most impulsive thing I've ever done, but what the hell? His father is a bit upset with him because he hasn't taken me over there to meet the fam. I think he's told his pops that I'm the one he wants to marry. Oh hell. Looks like I'll be planning a trip to Vegas.

We STILL have not consummated this relationship. He's killing me. Pray I'll get some this weekend. You know I wear the pants in the relationship as I'm basically begging him for sex. I understand where he's coming from though. He had better just not make me wait until our wedding night.

Honestly, I'm happier than I've been in years. I've met someone who really seems to accept me for me. I know he's not using me for sex. He's taken care of me pretty well up to this point and I am hoping to live happily ever after.

But who knows where I'll be in the next six days...

TGIF Bitches!

I am happy it's Friday! I get to sleep in with my man tomorrow morning. I'm calling this week the 'honeymoon' week. Who knows what next week will be like.

Tuesday on the way home it looked like it was going to rain so I turned on my headlights for the drive back to my crib and dumb ass Danielle forgot to turn them off. He came and jumped my car. How nice is that? He came into my house and asked for one of the pics of me I had up on the fridge. The next night at his house I saw it sitting on the dresser and asked if that's where he was gonna leave it. He said he'd had it in his car and it was getting wilted, crumpled, whatever and he didn't want it to get ruined. I said something jokingly about gettin him another picture.

After therapy Wednesday I was unsure whether I wanted to go to his home. I was depressed and crying. He told me that was irrelevant and wanted to see me. I went over there because I wanted him to see me in the sad and sorry state I was in and see how he would react to it. Needless to say, again, he amazed me my telling me he's already told me he will always be there for me, regardless of any of my mental conditions.

Last night I went to Walmart and bought a nice and somewhat manly frame and a really nice card expressing all of my appreciation for him and how he's made my life a more enjoyable (don't worry - it didn't have the 'L' work in it or anything like that). I went home and printed a few of the pictures from the photo shoot I did last year. I headed to his house and gave him the empty frame. He thought it was a very sweet gesture but said he thought I was gonna get him another picture of me. I handed him the card which contained all the pictures and it looked like he may have gotten teary eyed. I know it was cheesy and corny but he really liked my token of sincere appreciation.

I gave Mr. D. (one of the owners of the company I work for) a heads up that I was dating this guy. His father is a contractor who's done work at Mr. D.'s personal home as well as rental properties and has also done build outs in some of our offices. When I told people I was going on a date with Jeff H. everyone would say, "Oh, is that Bob H.'s son?" I wanted to give Mr. D. a heads up just in case he saw Bob H. and Bob H. asked him anything about me. I didn't want Mr. D. to be blindsided. When I told Mr. D. I was dating Bob H.'s son he looked at me and said, "Jeff? He's a great guy. I know he's looking for a serious relationship and doesn't want someone who's gonna play games. I think y'all would be perfect for each other." So maybe my boyfriend really isn't lying when he says all that nice stuff to me.

That's right - I called him my boyfriend. I dated Robert Blake for a month or so and never once referred to him as my boyfriend.

I really believe there could be something super special about this guy. He has way more pros than cons. Hell, I can't even name a con about him. Again, the possibility of someone feeling like this for me floors me. I personally think he's too great a guy and doesn't deserve all the mental drama I can reek on someone. But it appears he is actually accepting me for me, which is something I've never found in a person nor thought could ever be possible. Believe it or not, I've slept over there for the last 6 nights in a row and we still haven't consummated our relationship. He's A-OK with that but I'm hitting my sexual prime and have no idea how much longer I'll be able to hold out. Poor fellow. I might have to rape him.

Am I scared? Hell yeah! Initially I thought it was a little freaky that he was telling me all this stuff so soon but his explanation was that he had told himself that he was going to throw all of his feelings out there to the next girl he meets and really cares about - regardless of the consequences. He's a Leo and I'm an Aries. Look it up anywhere and everything says we are totally compatible.

Is it love? Is it lust? Is it infatuation? I am hoping the glass is half full.

I told Michelle about him and she was the only one who had a con. Everyone in my office says he's a keeper. Even my grandmother who has us moving in together already.

And finally, I'm back to popping my Xanax regularly but that's only because I'm afraid I won't be able to sleep. Next week, when I'm finally home with my babies, I'm gonna try to sleep sans any additional medication.

My 2nd Date with the Therapist

I hate to say it but I actually like this talking lady. She tells me about her own issues and what she's been through and it's nice to talk to someone who's been there and really understands. She said a lot of stuff to me that made a lot of sense but made me nervous about the relationship I'm in. She said we are still in the 'infatuation' stage and infatuation can turn into love or just disappear. She said it's okay and I should be cautious at this point.

I am definitely going back to her. We are going to be working on my 'inner child.' I have a new book to by called Boundaries - Where You End and I Begin by Anne Katherine. I haven't picked it up yet but once I do, I'll let you all know about it.

Medication (and Life) Update V

As corny as this may sound, I am very happy I'm back on my meds and where I am in life right now.


My office still reeks of flowers. Everyone who comes in say just how beautiful they are. I am still ridiculously smitten and very embarrassed to say so. I think I'm gonna get smacked by someone in my office because I've been walking around here for two days with a smile from ear to ear and I have been super nice to everyone. I would like to believe this guy really likes me (he swears to me he does) but it's hard for me since I've been asking myself for years what's wrong with me. I don't even want to go into full detail with what's been going on between he and I but if what he tells me is true, I am floored. When I saw him last night I told him the whole flower thing was the nicest thing I guy has even done for me. He just looked at me and said, "I was thinking about you and I wanted you to know that." He tells me he's prayed for years for someone like me to come into his life and feels that his prayers have finally been answered. He tells me when he was out yesterday he kept seeing signs telling him that I'm the one he should be with. He is looking for a serious relationship, which is super great for me. He's asked me to give him four months to prove to me that he's honest about his feelings for me and prove to me that I am and will always be number one in his life. He's practically begged me not to hold any of my past relationships against him as he knows I've been hurt in the past and I push everyone away. He leaves me speechless. I can't tell him how I'm feeling because I have my 'tough' exterior to contend with as well as my own personal fears. Poor kid - he has no idea what he's getting himself into. I have made it a point to forewarn him though.


They say if it's too good to be true it probably is, but here I am (being ridiculously optimistic) hoping they are all wrong.


I never thought I'd say this but thank god Robert Blake broke up with me. He could have never given me what I'm receiving now.

And finally SHOUT OUT TO MICHELLE! I feel like an ass quoting Pantera when it was actually Suicidal Tendencies. You go girl!

The "Date"

First of all I will quit putting DATE in in quotation marks because it was definately date I went on Saturday and I am totally smitten. Below are the flowers he sent to my office today. Keep in mind - I DIDN'T EVEN PUT OUT! The picture below does not adaquately portray what's here sitting on my desk. This thing is close to 3 feet high and has the whole office smelling like flowers. There are orchids, roses, sunflowers, you name it and the flower is in there. I almost cried when the lady walked in with them and asked if I was Danielle. Again, I am totally smitten.

On the Other Side of the Pond

I feel like this therapist lady is pushing the sexual abuse thing on me. I don't feel this is where my problems lie. Therapy flips me out. I just don't want to end up feeling this way in a few years.

I thought this article was sad yet interesting. To me, the EMO scene is just the new Alternative, Punk Rock, Gothic, Raver, etc. thing for the adolescents to do. I think sometimes kids tend to take things entirely too far in hopes of fitting in.

And finally, as a fan of old movies, I found this somewhat fascinating. I absolutely love the movie Whatever Happened to Baby Jane. To me it was way beyond its time. Bette Davis played the quintessential crazy drunk. When she (Baby Jane i.e. Bette Davis) served up Blanche's (Joan Crawford's) parakeet for lunch I about died. Bette Davis plays such a mental case and nails it. If you haven't seen this flick, you are missing out.

Again, I have no fucking clue what's going on in North America, but ask me about England and it's on.

D's Book Club - Beginning To Heal

So I read Beginning to Heal, A First Book for Men and Women Who Were Sexually Abused As Children at my therapist's request. It's actually a pretty good book if I substitute sexual abuse with my mom hauled ass on me when I was two.

The book has some good techniques in the Chapter Three - The Emergency Stage, for people who go through a period when sexual abuse is all the think about (again, sexual abuse with my mom hauled ass on me when I was two). There's a list called 'Surviving the Emergency Stage, which I think is actually helpful for anyone in a 'crisis' situation.

**Don't try to hurt or kill yourself.
**Remind yourself that you are not going crazy.
**Find people you can talk to.
**Allow yourself to think about the abuse (abandonment) as much as you need to.
**Drop any responsibilities that are not essential.
**Don't use alcohol or drugs to escape the pain.
**Get out of dangerous or abusive situations.
**Sit tight and ride out the storm.
**Develop a belief in something greater than yourself.
**Talk to people who are further along in their healing.
**Do as many nice things as possible for yourself.

All and all I would recommend this book to almost anyone who deals with mental issues. The chapters on Anger and Forgiveness are pretty good.

Medication Update IV

So I've been back on the 'good' meds for about 2 weeks and I am feeling better with the exception of my weird sleeping habits. I get up every morning at 2am, toss and turn until 5am, and then I'll eventually go back to sleep. My alarm then goes off at 6am or so. It's been a real bitch.

Between the hours of 2am and 5am, I'm in one of those not quite awake, not quite asleep phases. I start having these half waking dreams, unsure if I'm in reality or not.

In my waking sleep this morning:
**Robert Blake told me he still cares about me but still feels that he should be
single.
**Ron D. (one of the owners of the company I work for) told me the
ashtray outside looked horrible and it needed to be emptied.
**The guy I'm going out with tomorrow told me he got a new cell phone and
gave me the number.

Oddness I tell you. If my date tomorrow tells me he got a new cell phone number I will just die.

I blame this on the Cymbalta. This is an 'extended release' medication and I think it's fucking me up a bit. I think it releases every 6 hours or so. My normal day goes something like this:

8am - Take meds - as I type I'm clinching the hell outta my jaw.
2pm - I don't really know what happens around this time because fortunately I'm at work and don't notice the side effects.
8pm - The grinding on the teeth starts again. I perk up a bit.
2am - I'm up!

This shit sucks but I'm everyone tells me I need it, so here I am.

On a lighter note - I've not taken any Xanax since Monday night, so this may also be contributing to my sleeplessness. Honestly, I'm scared of the weekends. During the week I have work to fall back on but on the weekends, I only have myself. I'll be 'clean' tomorrow for my 'date.' No promises on Sunday.

Legolas

Two things I don't like: Blond men and Orlando Bloom. I'm not sure why I never got into blonds. I guess it must be that tall, dark and handsome stereotype we ladies are always looking for. To me, Orlando Bloom is one of those people that always look dirty and greasy. Homeboy has never done it for me.

HOWEVER

There is something about him playing Legolas in the Lord of the Rings movies. I don't know if it's the ridiculously long, blond hair, the pointy ears or how he whips that bow and arrow around but by golly, he's smokin' ass hot.

Speaking of the Lord of the Rings, as a bipolar nutcase the character Golem really freaks me out. Through out the three films, Golem is in constant battle against himself and his own mind. He argues with himself, trying to justify and convince the 'good' side why it should go along with the 'evil' plan. His character shows the War Inside My Head (Holla' Pantera fans!), and if you really want to see a prime example of my (or anyone else's) bipolar kookiness, I highly recommend watching these flicks. It is definitely art imitating life.

Things I Learned

They say you learn something new everyday. Here's what I learned yesterday:

1. To have a Xanax free night, put in a long ass movie. One good thing I can say I got out of my relationship with Robert Blake was the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I put in one of those movies when I got home and -poof- it was 9p before I knew it and too late to pop any pills. I'll throw in the next DVD tonight.

2. If I don't go out looking for the boys, they seem to come to me.

Heart Broken

I have determined I am definitely heart broken. He tells me he's just better off single. I felt that way after being single for 3 years and I finally meet someone I am semi-compatible with and this is what happens. I have to ask the age old question - What's wrong with me? My heart's been pulled from my chest and smashed on the floor like glass.

I started humming a melody in my mind yesterday and couldn't put my finger on what it was. I figured it out and Michelle will probably kick my ever loving ass as the band is Bad 4 Good, which was a preteen band from the early 90's, with the lead singer being the red headed Danny Cooksey of Nickelodeon and God knows how many other kids shows; the album being produced by Stevie Vai. As cheesy as it may be, the song nails the despair and emptiness I've been feeling.

Nothin' Great About A Heartache

Somebody told me I'm supposed to feel this way
The heart can never reach a peak of truth until it breaks
That you feel nothin' til' you feel like nothin'
And that real sufferin' only keeps that muscle pumpin'
Well, I'm beat, give me back the inexperience
Keep the heat, let me trade it for deliverance.
There's nothin' great about a heartache
There's nothin' that I want to learn from all this pain
I'd rather not feel love than to feel this way
Like I'm dyin' you've all been lyin'
There's nothin' great about a heartache.
Somebody told me life can sometimes bring you pain
'Cause the spirit carries passion like the thunder carries rain
And that, our emotions are a test to our devotion
Just like devastation is the path to re-creation
But when I bleed
Give me back my childhood innocence and the peace
And my faith in the future.

Badges of Honor

I believe Robert Blake once told me he thinks I see my self inflicted scars as 'Badges of Honor.'

I do. They are my memories of the past when I thought I would never get through, but somehow I managed to.

I'm gonna try the Xanax on the weekends only. I was able to hold out until 5p last night but couldn't get any further. It's all good as long as I don't over do it.

Drowning

The numbness has subsided and all that is left is pain and agony. It is so much easier to sleep through all this.

Swimming

I don't think I want to be happy. I have been content in my misery for many years now. I don't understand the need to change it. Aren't there just people in the world that are supposed to be depressed all the time? Can't I just be one of them?

I remember why I don't like medication. Cymbalta. Effexor. Prozac. Lamictal. Zoloft. It's the numbness. At times it seems I lack all feeling within. Funny how I abuse a different medication for the numbness. Is it better to feel pain and sadness than to feel nothing at all?

Right now as I look around everything seems surreal, like I'm looking out of a dead man's eyes.

Still nursing a broken heart. I'm embarassed to say I miss him horribly. Should I admit that 'him' could probably be anyone who pretended to care and who could make the emptiness subside even if it's only for a few minutes? Is that the truth? I don't even know any more. That's not true, I certainly know. This medication confuses me. I'm having a hard time seeing clearly. Do you think he misses me?

It's hard to deal with the constant fighting in my head. The war is raging and there's no where to run for cover. I'm constantly being pulled, being shoved, not comfortable with any decision, action or reaction around me. I hate the gray. Seeing both the black and the white. Living in the eternal gray. I can't make the pain and sadness go away. Examining, re-examining, playing the devil's advocate at every turn. Unable to make a conscience decision as every outcome has already played out in my mind. How do you make it go away?

Black blood. Broken heart. She doomed all love from the start.

It's easy to forget to take those pills.

rEsearch paper - Jamaica

I've been pretty dark lately and stressing everyone out. I think we all need a vacation. E went to Jamaica last year and wrote about it for me. It is a bit repetitive, offensive and grammatically horrible, but I'm sure it'll bring a smile to your face.

Jamaica - by 'E'

Jamaica is an island in the Caribbean. It is a very big island with alot of jamaican people. They are all black. Bob Marley used to live in Jamaica who is also black. He died. Jamaicans grow a plant called marijuana which is a wild plant and grows even when they don't grow it. It is illegal but all of the Jamaicans people always smoke it. That is why it is a calm island. They talk in a weird language. They speak creole which is english that you can't understand. They always say "no problem mon" which means they don;t believe in problems they believe in situations. They grow alot of spices. They try to get americans aressted for buying marijuana so they can get money. They have no money. They are poor. the island is pretty however the people are not. They are scary. The rastafarians are cool because they have no teeth and they look like monkeys. The jamaican flag is green which stands for hope, black which stands for slavery, and gold which stands for natural wealth. The have abnormally huge thumb nails which mean they do other illegal substances. That is not good. If you go to jamaica never by marijuana. You will go to the Jamaican jail. That would not be good. Also never jump off of the clift even if the Jamaicans pressure you. You will get a bruise the size of the island on your leg. (no exageration)

Cayman Islands have no taxes. It is a very pretty island with pretty water. White people live there also. Alot of them have money. Jamaicans have none.

Saturday

I told myself that last night would be the last night of Xanax so I made sure to do it up right. It's 7p, and I'm just rolling out of bed. I woke up at random times desperately trying to finish the movie I was watching and running to the kitchen for ice cream (it's the one thing I can keep down), but feel like I've had a good night's rest. Life is starting to get back to semi-normal so I do believe it was the last night of my druggedness.

The meds are definitely kicking in. It's not like I feel ecstatic to be alive or anything but I didn't cry yesterday, which was a first in weeks. I actually want to be awake. I'm sitting in my computer at home for the first time in weeks. It's absolutely shocking for me that I've gone this long. I haven't been keeping up with my accounting. I've not been playing EverCrack. Not even solitaire.

I'm crying and surprisingly enough they aren't tears of sorrow.

Sleepy Mary read my blog (probably in hopes of it putting her to sleep) and posted a very uplifting comment. I cannot express to you how instrumental she's been for me on the beginning of this path.

I received an email from a gentleman from "Jeff's Group of Friends" who's been following my blog (I really do have fans!). The support overwhelmed me, as did the feeling of not being alone. He was able to summarize my over all dislike of people in only a few sentences.


QUOTE
"I think I have had some advantage and disadvantage of being partially raised by my grandparents in that I had the old values of male stoicism ingrained during childhood. You must do your duty, you must wake up, you must be on time, you must go to work, you must do what you say you are going to do, you must be loyal. I've also judged people by those standards often been disappointed. I've hated myself every time I have broken those simple ideals and it has haunted me."
END QUOTE


I know that could come off as being negative, but I've always felt that way, and please person from JGoF (we need an alias for you) don't take this the wrong way, but I think that's something else that needs to be addressed in my life. I am very hard on myself and try to hold myself to a 'higher' standard and I expect everyone else to do the same. When they don't, I'm known to go a little kookoo.

Well, I've gotta run. There's an orange push pop in the freezer with my name on it!

Something Happy-ish

I have been obsessed with The Judybats, especially the Pain Makes You Beautiful CD, since I was in 9th grade. That CD is so scratched and skips like hell, but I needed to hear something from it so I bought it used from Amazon. It came in the mail today. I was a little upset looking at the CD cover because there was a hole punch on the side. However, when I opened it, it had been autographed by the entire band. Granted my name is not JIM but this gave me some pleasure.

What did I have to hear?

Being Simple

Hearts cannot be broken. They're small squishy things. They don't break like glass, but they bruise, easily. This one you bruised.
Words will not be spoken never knowing what they mean. Sticks and stones hurt my bones, your promises have broken me, each one you break.
And I want to be good but good is being simple. Simple is forgetting and I simply can't forget.
I want to be good but good is being simple. Simple is forgetting and I simply can't forget.
Eyes are always open. Even when they sleep. Mine are mostly closed, while yours are wondering. You look where you please.
And I want to be good but good is being simple. Simple is forgetting and I simply can't forget.
I want to be great but greatness is giving. Giving leaves me empty. Oh great emptiness.
Souls cannot be taken. They're large and their loud.
Yours merely whispers, lately seems it's shrinking. I wish it would speak.
And I want to be good but good is being simple. Simple is forgetting and I simply can't forget.
I want to be great but greatness is giving. Giving leaves me empty. Oh great emptiness.

I totally relate to the lines I want to be good but good is being simple. Simple is forgetting and I simply can't forget. I want to be great but greatness is giving. Giving leaves me empty. Oh great emptiness line. I let them in and they all bruise my heart. I simply can't forget.

Today. A New Day?

I'm feeling better today although I am still 'using.' I think I do it because I am petrified of what may happen when I'm at home alone. At least this way I'm basically incoherent and incapable of doing something that could potentially be harmful. The emptiness and despair are still there in the morning when I wake up, but at least I had a few hours of not feeling.

I really think my Xanax issue will subside soon. Hopefully next week I'll be blogging about how I'm off it (but probably will be back on it in a week or so).

The sexual abuse book came in the mail today (thank you Amazon for not fucking me over on this one). I've been perusing it and am not sure how I feel.

Here's a few quotes:

There's more than anger, more than sadness, more than terror. There's hope. ~Edith Horning, Survivor (My comment - gag)
If you are willing to work hard and find good support, you will not only heal but thrive ~Book Authors (My comment - I'm tired of working)
It is a tremendous relief to stop running from the pain ~Book Authors (My comment - I've been running for years - why stop now)
If I'd knew anything could hurt this much or be this sad, I never would have decided to heal. And at the same time you can't go back. You can't sweep it under the rug. ~Book Authors I assume (My comment - Hmph!)
Sometimes I think I'm going to die from the sadness. Not that anyone ever died from crying for two hours, but it sure feels like it ~Book Authors I assume (My comment - I actually agree with this one)

Does that make you feel uplifted? Not so much for me.

Book Contents:
Chapter 1 - Healing Is Possible
Chapter 2 - The Decision to Heal
Chapter 3 - The Emergency Stage
Chapter 4 - Remembering
Chapter 5 - Believing It Happened
Chapter 6 - Breaking the Silence
Chapter 7 - Understanding It Wasn't Your Fault
Chapter 8 - The Child Within
Chapter 9 - Anger
Chapter 10 - Forgiveness?
Chapter 11 - Spirituality
Chapter 12 - The Process of Change
Chapter 13 - Resolution and Moving On

I'm sure this book is meant to be helpful but I just don't know. Maybe I should skip to Chapters 5, 7 and 9. Let me just say this book is all of 95 pages, and that's a lot of stuff to be addressed. But then again, that must be why it's called Beginning to Heal. I'm sure I'll have to pick up the next book by these people The Courage to Heal. Baby steps.

I still don't believe my issues rise from this sexual abuse like the lady feels it does, but she is the professional and at this point I'll try to do anything possible to try to get 'sane' again. When I ran away from home nearly 15 years ago (fuck, I'm getting old) I spent a few days at these guys' home, Todd and RC. I was fed 20 roofies in a period of two days, was given multiple MDMA caps and God knows what else. I had sex with at least two people (as I recall). The lady is calling this rape. So here's my run down - Molested at two; Molested again multiple times between 11 and 12; Rape 1 at 15; Rapes 2 & 3 at 15 (almost 16, these would count as the drugged ones when I ran away from home); and finally Rape 4 around 16 or 17. Talk about me being a statistic. I guess I had some very traumatic experiences in my life. Wow. Molestation and multiple rapes. I'm surprised I'm still around. That must be why I never saw myself living over the age of 18.

It will take a long time for me to admit my worthlessness doesn't stem from my mother. I still believe the sexual abuse thing is just something that happened in my life. I believe I've acknowledged and accepted it and that it is what it is. I can't believe the abuse has caused me to have these serious trust issues. And I guess until I believe it, there's no reason for treatment.

The lady said it would be good to keep a journal. I've decided this blog will be my main journal. Why not? I'm at the point I don't care what people know about me. It's made me who I am today and without these experiences I wouldn't really be 'myself.'

I used to tell the kooky girls in my office who were going mental at the time that tomorrow is a new day and will be better than today. If only I believed that and was able to take my own advise.

And finally I have to give a shout out to my girl the EBV or EVB (I can't remember right now). She called me last night and it made me feel better that someone in another city cares about me and my well being. You know, my parents and 'friends' haven't called me since the melt down, but the EBV took time out of her evening to check on me. I almost cried, but in a very good way.

My Date with the Therapist

As promised, I wrote a brief synopsis on my life for my first therapy session. I would really like to post a link but I can't because there is something in there I don't believe I've ever told a soul. There are a few more things that are somewhat intruding on my privacy, that I've accepted and have accepted for years and will share some of them below.

I'm not 100% sure what I think of all this therapy stuff yet. What I thought was abandonment issues with my mother may actually be from traumatic (sexual) experiences in my life. This lady tells me that I'll be reading a lot. The first book on the list: Beginning to Heal, A First Book for Men and Women Who Were Sexually Abused as Children. Huh? I really thought I had shoved all of that into the back of my mind, but maybe that's the problem, it's never really been addressed. I went to Borders to try to find the book but they didn't have it in stock. I called Barnes & Noble but the Carrollwood location doesn't have it, but I can go to St. Pete, Clearwater or Brandon. Can I get a hell to the no? I've ordered it from Amazon with one day priority shipping. I better have that sucker tomorrow or I will not be a happy camper. The lady says in time, when I'm ready, we are going to work on EMDR therapy which I've never heard of but I guess it sounds kind of interesting. Anything that'll make me sane, right? The lady also said that at some point I will need to start making later appointments so I won't have to go back to work after her session. What the fuck is she going to do with me?

Do I have Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome? I am still absolutely floored that she feels the sexual abuse is the root of all my evil. I am totally speechless over this. I really thought it was mainly my mother but there appears to be more involved. I made some comment about my mother dipping when I was two and that's where my trust issues lay, but she was pretty adamant that the bad, bad trauma to me was mainly the cause being sexual abuse. I guess because it stared at such a young age.

Yes, I went home last night and popped what I needed to pop in order to sleep the sadness away. As The Ramones said I Wanna Be Sedated. I am, however, feeling a bit better today. There were fewer tears yesterday than from the day before. I am still harvesting a lot of guilt, hopelessness, and worthlessness but hopefully, after months or possible years of therapy I should be basically cured. I hope I can hold out that long.

Who You Callin' Mental?

Surprisingly enough, yesterday wasn't as bad as the previous days. I managed to get though the whole day at work without crying, holding the sobbing literally until I got in the car to go home. I hit that car and the tears just started flowing like a wild ass river.

People have been telling me I look like hell, so I went to Mary today to find out exactly why so I could appropriately mask it. Am I too pale? I can tan if need be. Am I to thin? Fuck you, that's not gonna change. Apparently I look very, very tired and was asked if I was putting myself into a drug induced coma in the evenings. Hmph. I'll work on my make up in the morning in hopes of not looking so burned out. But I am burned out, dammit! I am emotionally, mentally and physically drained. Stick a fork in me because I am done.

I thought it would be a good idea to give my manager my Dad's phone number just in case. I told her this was not a cry for help or anything like that but I wanted to make sure she knew who my emergency contact was in case I pass out a work or something. Her response to me was "I already have it. I looked it up online, just in case." Fuck, I smell an intervention. I let her know that if I go to my parents house and see her car outside, I'm not stopping. She laughed and said, "You don't know what my mom's car looks like." I then let her know if there was ANY car outside my folks house that didn't belong to an immediately family member, I would not stop. I WILL NOT GO TO THE LOONEY BIN. I will have to be involuntarily committed to do so - I absolutely will not go on my own.

As far as my boyfriend and I breaking up, I think I may have known, and intentionally tried to forget about it with my special numbing medication. How do I know, you ask? When I cut myself up last week, it was my broken heart I carved into my arm.

Well, I get to go to therapy tomorrow. I meant to write a brief synopsis of my life, I figured that would get me through a couple of sessions, but I've not been in the mood to do anything but sleep, and boy can I sleep! Yes, my sleep is drug induced but sleep it is!

I went to Checkers this afternoon determined to keep something down. I managed to eat almost half of the burger and half the fries and have been struggling like holy hell to keep it down. Hey, some progress is better than no progress at all.

By The Way

I would prefer not hear any one's shit about me taking my Xanax. This was legitimately prescribed by my doctor for anxiety and if there's one thing I'm dealing with besides this horrible depression, it's anxiety. I am allotted two pills a day, per the prescription bottle. I took three last night for immediate relief but I will try to only take two a day going forward. I admit, I had a problem with the stuff 3 weeks ago but I'm good now because I'm not taking them to get fucked up, but only to relieve the anxiety.

Debating

I am seriously debating how much information I disclose on this blog. I don't know how many people are reading this. Some who may be reading would be severely concerned over my current actions. I've gotten away with it all for years because I never told anyone what was going on with me. I've got people who are 'worried' me. Don't. I've caused enough stress to those who 'care' about me and I don't want to cause any additional stress. Frankly, I just don't give a damn anymore. Fuck it, why not spill it all?

Did you know my 'boyfriend' and I broke up over a week ago? You didn't? I didn't either due to my drug induced haze. It's my fault. I feel like an ass. Had I known I would have never contacted him in my 'time of need'. I cannot explain what a fucking idiot I feel like. Again, I am humiliated and embarrassed. I found this information out yesterday and had a bit of an episode. What better way to celebrate beside hitting the 'bottle'? I spoke with him last night and had the same conversation he tells me we've been having for weeks. He then asked if I was going to remember the conversation we were currently having. I do/did. I was smart last night - I took notes.

They say the best way to get over a guy is to hop in bed with another. Unfortunately I can't even leave my house to find a replacement. I have a few in mind that would be easy conquests, however, it would be quite vindictive to my latest ex-boyfriend and I'm better than that. Right? Right?! If you answered 'yes' then you have far more confidence in me than I do in myself.

What's wrong with me? I couldn't keep the fat guy. I couldn't keep the married (but separated - his wife wasn't living with him and she already had plans to get remarried) man. I couldn't keep Robert Blake (those who really know me understand why I would include him). The list just goes on and on. So again I ask, what the fuck is wrong with me? This 'it's not you, it's me' stuff is utter bullshit. I give up.

I feel so low and worthless right now. I'm not by any means pitying myself. I just don't care for me right now. Any one who's listened to the Judybats will know the song 'Ugly on the Outside'. This is the opposite of how I feel. The lyrics need to be changed to say So sweet, you're ugly on the outside; Some fright, you're pretty on the outside. I am a horrible person with nothing but my job, house and dogs, and at this point I don't care of I have those things tomorrow. Karma is a bitch, but I really thought I had paid it off at this point. Wrong again. But what's new?

I've been told my multiple people that it's time to drop my hard exterior and start trusting people. Every time I let someone in I get fucked and hurt. This shit with Robert Blake is just what I need right now - it's just the icing on the cake. However, I will get over this like I do everything else - with resentment, bitterness and hatred. Not toward him/them by any means, but toward myself for being such dumb ass for letting someone get close to me.

I am heart broken. I am defeated. I am back on the 'junk'. I understand that sleeping through this won't solve my problems. They'll still be there in the morning, but at least for a brief time the sadness and emptiness goes away. It's sad really. I threw the bottle of Xanax in my purse just in case. Well, that's semi-true. The bottle is in my purse waiting for 5:30p to roll around so by the time I get home, the pain will be temporarily gone.

One a lighter note, I slept over 12 hours last night. I woke up at 4a but was able to roll over and pass back out. I'm still having problems with the food thing. I'm usually an emotional over eater, but this time I've been an emotional under eater. This'll be day two sans nourishment, but I am keeping hydrated. I've always joked about giving myself an eating disorder like anorexia or bulimia but never had the will power. Now I just have no desire nor do I want to eat. Another lighter note, I'm down another pound. Two more and I'll be the same weight I was in my late teens - early twenties. Maybe then nothing will be wrong with me.

Note to self and all reading - When you go to a psychiatrist, psychologist or therapist and they ask you, "Do you feel like you're going to hurt yourself or someone else?" The answer is always NO.

Again, don't worry about me. Don't stress about me. It always works itself out in the end, some how, some way.

NOTE - I know a few of you from Jeff's site read my blog. If for whatever reason you have the desire to contact me (because you're 'concerned' or 'worried' I'm sure), please do not send me a PM through the site. I have no desire to go back there right now. It's way too heart breaking. Today will mark my last sign in for God knows how long. Send me an email through my website (http://www.danielleisonline.com/) or edm4879@yahoo.com.

Regarding my site, I will not take down the Robert Blake stuff for historical purposes, however, links will be deleted once I have the energy to do something other than sob.

Medication Update III

Seems like all I do these days is let you all know what's going on with my meds.

Thursday night I was still sleepless. I think this has something to do with the Cymbalta. I've been taking it at night which I think keeps me up. Still no Xanax so I'm sure that's another reason why I couldn't sleep.

I came into work on Friday with a plan. I was going to eat and I was going to sleep Friday night, regardless if I have to pop a pill or two (or ten). Fortunately it didn't come to that. I came home, got right in bed, and stayed there until Sunday morning. I managed to get down some soup and passed out around 10p, only to wake up, bright eyed and bushy tailed at 3a, with no hope of going back to sleep. I decided to take my meds (I 'forgot' the night before). Again, unable to sleep Saturday night, I was up at 3a. I was fortunate to get a few hours of sleep. I tossed and turned in bed until 8a Sunday morning.

I got up Sunday morning, manic, and started to clean. I nearly cried as I fumbled to get water in my Shark Steam Mop - I was shaking too bad. As I was cleaning my office I found a 4 page, handwritten letter addressed to Robert Blake. I have very little to no recollection of writing this letter. I immediately text Robert Blake trying to find out if he saw this letter. He did. Apparently SCANNED and EMAILED him. Mortified. Humiliated. Horrified. (Pick a negative feeling adjective and insert here.) My heart fell.

Alone, I sat in my home yesterday thinking about how much easier it would be if I popped a few Xanax and went to sleep. I didn't want to feel the emptiness inside. Wrestling (more like fighting) my emotions, I opted against it. As I sit here and type this, I wish I would have.

Today, Monday, I got up and took my meds - I'm trying to move to a morning schedule with this stuff in hopes of sleeping at night. So I'm at work - manic AND depressed (must be why it's called manic depression). Every nerve ending in my body is tingling. The sun is shining brightly. I have a ton of energy. There's so much out there to see, to do, and yet, I hurt inside. I have this sadness that basically incapacitates me.

Last week, I looked fucked up due to lack of sleep and lack of eating. This week, I look FUCKED UP as this medication has got me all jacked up. I've been grinding my teeth like a mutha'. My jaw hurts. My pupils are huge. I look like a crack head.

I feel like a fucking invalid as people are happy I'm sleeping (more); I'm eating (trying); I was able to bathe; I still can't really shave my legs due to the shakes. I feel degraded.

My therapist appointment is on Thursday at noon. I joked with Mary that I should have made it at 5p just in case she had to cart me away. I don't know what good this therapist shit is going to do. When it's all said and done, I'll still be alone and empty.

Medication Update II

This'll be a long one. It's time to tell the truth.


It's my understanding from those around me that I have been on a downward spiral for the last few weeks. Thanks for the heads up.

Monday night I had some internal conflicts with myself and I did something absolutely horrible. I cut myself. I've been a cutter for over 15 years. I remember reading an article about cutting in Sassy magazine when I was 12 or so and I cannot tell you the amount of relief I felt that I was not the only one who did this. It's been nearly five years since I put a razor to my skin and at that time I hadn't cut in 2 or 3 years. I was always smart about it, mainly cutting my thighs (in which I still have scars from when I was 15) so no one knew. I fucked up this go 'round and cut my upper arm where people usually get tattoos. Tuesday I had to come into work bandaged. It must have been a cry for help.

I had a bit (to say the least) of a breakdown on Tuesday. I went into the manager's office, shut the door and laid it all on the table. She told me it was time to get my family involved - that they needed to know what was going on with me. She also suggested me taking a little 'vacation' i.e. voluntarily committing myself for a 72 hour hold. Fuck, am I that bad? I called my Pops to make sure he was home and headed over. Again, I laid it all out and even showed him my arm. Not knowing what to do, my dad called my grandmother to try to get in touch with my (possibly) gay uncle, who happens to be a licensed mental health therapist or something, who deals mainly with drug addicts. Dad tracks down my uncle, who is on vacation in Canada, and makes me talk to him. Sheesh. So for the third time that day, I had to explain the situation yet again. I asked my uncle if I should check myself in somewhere. He said he didn't think they would take me because I wasn't suicidal (things are different in Massachusetts, the only state in the union where gay marriage is legal, which just so happens to be my uncle's residence) and recommended I call the crisis hot line.

I hung out at my dad's for a little longer and showed him the box my mom sent me a few months ago. I guess my 'bio' mom was doing some spring cleaning and sent me a box full of stuff that I had made and letters I had written to her through out the years. Was this woman trying to cut me out? Also included in the box was a letter my daddy wrote her in 1984, telling her he was going for custody of me. The way she always told it was she didn't know he was looking for custody until the sheriff showed up at the door and she was served with papers. The letter my father wrote also stated he wanted her to be a part of my life again and that he would never speak bad about her to me. That man kept his promise for 29 years and still continues to keep it now, even though Tuesday I told my father that woman was a lying bitch who really fucked up my life. My father asked what I was going to do with the stuff in the box. He seemed appalled that she would send that stuff to me. I had no plans for items, so my father decided he would mail them back to my mother along with a letter, that he said he may or may not let me read. Eeek.

Going back to work was not an option. I was bruised, broken and scorned. I went home and followed my uncle's advice and called the Tampa Crisis Hotline. Again (time #4), I explain what's going on. The lady asked me if I thought I could cope with it. When I said 'no' she suggested I check myself in. You have got to be fucking kidding me. Everybody thinks I need to go to the looney bin. I can't remember if I took any Xanax but I went to sleep for a few hours and was awoken when my step mother called. She asked what the crisis people said and I told her the truth. She concurred with me that I was not quite ready for One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. When we hung up, I called Grandma and spilled most it it to her. She told me she'd pray for me.

It was time to get back on the meds. I took my Lamictal, Cymbalta and a few Xanax and settled down for bed. Damn, Tuesday was a rough day.

When I came into work on Wednesday, I spoke with an E in my office who had voluntarily went on sabbatical a year or so earlier, to find out exactly what I would be looking at. You stand in a line when it's medicine time. And they don't let you smoke, you have to wear a nicotine patch. That was the deal breaker. I had to leave work again yesterday due to my inability to function and spoke again with the manager. Again I hear the suggestion of checking myself in - then she tells me the kicker - I probably wouldn't be able to come back to work for 4 - 6 weeks, until I have a doctor's release. Hell fuck no this isn't happening to me.

Yesterday was the first day in two weeks or so that I didn't take any Xanax. I took my meds with a bit of Nyquil last night to help me go to sleep. It didn't work. I woke up literally every hour and sometimes within as little as 15 minutes. I am dead on my feet today. I haven't eaten anything since Sunday. The thought of food makes me nauseous and I think my body would probably reject it anyway. On a lighter note - I'm down close to 7 pounds from this time two weeks ago.

Fortunately, before the big breakdown, I had made an appointment with a therapist for next week. I know the medication isn't a cure all and figured it was time to talk to someone to in an attempt to lead a 'normal' life. I have severe trust and abandonment issues and do not feel like I can function like a human being until these issues are resolved. That appointment is next week and I'll fill you in at that time.

When I spoke with Grandma last night I told her that it was going to cost approximately $300 a month to keep me 'sane'. She said she wants to donate to the Danielle Mental Fund because your mental health is ever so important. I spoke with her this morning and she wants to see me today. I'm going to go over there during my lunch break and have already given my manager a heads up I might be a bit odd when I return.

So there it is - most of it at least. I am far too embarrassed to mention that my uncle thinks I've developed an addiction to Xanax. I called the pharmacy yesterday to get the Lamictal and Cymbalta filled and decided to get a refill on the Xanax as well as I was almost out. Being that it is a controlled substance and I had last had it refilled on 4/23 he could not give me a refill until 5/20. So I called my psychiatrist and concocted some half ass story about my dog getting into my purse and eating the pill bottle. The doc was nice enough to call the pharmacy, but cancelled my remaining refills because I am careless with my medicine. I will have to call him monthly now and have him call the pharmacy when I need a refill.

So what do you think? Have I really lost it?