And so it goes.

Meg is away, playing poker and doing fun things; I can no longer accompany her because of my current (precarious) financial situation, one which is not being helped in the least by the panic attacks I am having throughout every day any more.

I have an appointment to be screened for PTSD later in the month; I suppose then I will get stronger medication, I do not know. Probably nothing will change. I am trying to not become a bitter recluse, really no-one understands how hard I am trying, and in a way, my months in a semi-dissociative haze, when I was denying everything, were easier. I have always felt that my dissociations, from extreme compartmentalisation to full-out 'non-presence' (which has only happened a few times in my life) were more of a blessing than anything else, and for that reason, I have no need or desire to discuss, dissect, or 'cure' something which I do not feel to be broken.

And for the record, I'm a firm sceptic with regards to DID, I actually think it is an iatrogenic pseudo-disorder stemming from possibly a predisposition to dissociate accompanied by a desire to please and a tendency towards the fanciful and dramatic...on both the part of the pt as well as the therapist. Just my two cents.

There is not much exciting right now; it is hard to sell oneself as spectacular when one is actually feeling Quite Worthless. I also have a sneaking suspicion that my case legally was listed as my declining to prosecute; I base this on an unusual comment from the Advocate to whom I had been assigned, but there seems to be nothing I can do about it now. Nor, really, do I care to. I am tired of fighting.

I am trying to keep to a normal sleep/wake schedule, even though my mind just does not want to cooperate most days. I figure that the more I force normal behaviour and do not engage in self-indulgent stupidities, the sooner my brain will catch on that I do not give a fuck what it thinks, so it can stop having crying jags, flashbacks, emotional upheavals, and making up fake sounds and smells all the faster.

I do believe that things will be better after I change a little more about my life (like my job). I want so desperately to be contributive to things again...that alone will make things better.

I haven't felt very friendly towards some of the old group of friends, so I have been keeping to myself a lot. I don't anticipate this changing because, away from a certain few, I realise that I never much cared for them anyway.

It is time to try to sleep. I am desperately craving thus awesome chicken sauté from a local Turkish restaurant, but I am not up to taking myself. At least not right now; thinking about doing it is exhausting, and I don't know how to stop that feeling. Maybe the PTSD-specialist psychiatrist will have some drug for that, too. I dropped the counsellor I was seeing; in between not listening to me (I don't need this horseshit 'you aren't to blame' PC fuckery when all substantive evidence, including the Ass't DA's own words, spells out pretty clearly that I am the ONLY one upon whom blame rests in this case), she dealt fabulous advice (such as 'be a bitch!') which I found remarkably unhelpful. But the fact is, this isn't her problem; it is my problem, and I am a fool to look to anyone to change things for me.

Anyway...good-night; I will just leave with an archaic thought from Locard, whom no-one appears to read any longer anyway. I think we are all the poorer for it, but...yes; there's that fag talk we talked about, Dr. Lexus.

Sigh.


'Physical evidence cannot be wrong, it cannot perjure itself, it cannot be wholly absent. Only human failure to find it, study and understand it, can diminish its value.'




- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O