I am watching a lot of Xmas movies on Netflix. It calms me down. So I guess that I am off the Columbo, Disappeared, and 48 Hours Mystery kick I have been on for months.
Yes, atheists can so too enjoy silly holiday movies. It's not like I'm saying I believe in Santa.
Sweetie stays with me a lot because I believe she thinks we are cats together. I'm just a funny-shaped cat who uses a laptop. I guess I am the Head Cat in Charge.
Everyone else is fine, even though I am still upset over Weebie dying. Things aren't the same without her. I hate losing family so much, I just have no words.
I've been in therapy for a little bit now, and it is helping, I think. I have a psychologist whom I see once or twice a week, and a psychiatrist whom I am down to seeing once a month for meds maintenance. My dx is PTSD. :-/
I have a hard time talking about my feelings, partially because a lot of the time I am not sure what they are, and partially because I feel like I am whining when I do.
Work is, well, work. I am trying to make that better. More on that later.
This will definitely not be the greatest holiday season ever, but I am hoping it will be ok, and I will come out the other end with a better job and a better life. I am working a lot on Me.
And I know I seriously need to fix this page. Sigh...there is a lot I need to fix, and I am going to do all of it. Mostly alone, which my psychologist wants me to change. I am working on that, too.
- Posted using an app that I drew on an Etch-a-Sketch modified to run Free BSD.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Your nose is longer than a telephone wire...
In my latest drama, I am still job-searching, and the Rampaging Fucktard (formerly This Guy, now just RF), is STILL stalking and harassing me. His latest stunt had been to put up fake profiles with my email address on dating websites -- two so far. I am not replying to the tragic men who are emailing me, as it isn't their fault. Everyone with experience dealing with narcissists/sociopaths has told me that ignoring him is the best route, unless I have solid proof that he has violated the order of protection I have, and unfortunately the police are not willing to investigate him to see if he did this; I have to have something solid, like from spraying him with mace when he comes near me. I have a feeling he has had protective orders out against him before, because all of the things he is doing are just 'legal' enough that I would look like a crazy woman if I reported it. So I have been going with No Reaction.
I would not wish this idiot psycho on any other person, or I'd be hoping he finds a girlfriend; as it stands, I hope he gets hit by a bus. Ok, truth is that I doubt someone as crazy and narcissistic as he is could ever find someone who would put up with his shit for longer than a few months, and that's if they are charitably-hearted. Like seriously. The biggest mistake I made was feeling sorry for him. Whether it is a man or a woman, learn from my mistakes: if you feel sorry for someone, run like hell. Normal adults do not seem so pathetic that you feel badly for simply stating that you don't want to be around them. And normal adults do not view or phrase things in terms of their self-worth (e.g., trying to prove they are 'good enough' or better with outlandishly transparent lies; statements such as 'you make me feel so great' ...what is going to happen when you 'make them' feel shitty? Also, really, the ludicrous lies and claims of Greatness that just do not measure up to Reality should be a huge red flag).
Anyway, the same soft head...err...heart that rescues cats now has me getting mash notes from guys all over the US because this loser cannot let me be.
Sigh.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
I would not wish this idiot psycho on any other person, or I'd be hoping he finds a girlfriend; as it stands, I hope he gets hit by a bus. Ok, truth is that I doubt someone as crazy and narcissistic as he is could ever find someone who would put up with his shit for longer than a few months, and that's if they are charitably-hearted. Like seriously. The biggest mistake I made was feeling sorry for him. Whether it is a man or a woman, learn from my mistakes: if you feel sorry for someone, run like hell. Normal adults do not seem so pathetic that you feel badly for simply stating that you don't want to be around them. And normal adults do not view or phrase things in terms of their self-worth (e.g., trying to prove they are 'good enough' or better with outlandishly transparent lies; statements such as 'you make me feel so great' ...what is going to happen when you 'make them' feel shitty? Also, really, the ludicrous lies and claims of Greatness that just do not measure up to Reality should be a huge red flag).
Anyway, the same soft head...err...heart that rescues cats now has me getting mash notes from guys all over the US because this loser cannot let me be.
Sigh.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Wednesday, September 04, 2013
Just for the sake of feeling pain
I am reading something that I shouldn't. And as much as I wish I could quit, I just simply cannot. It's lies, stupid lies. I know this. At least I am not deluded.
- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O
- Posted using SomeBlogApp that I don't know how to use. o_O
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
I will not go quietly
Weebie died a little over a week ago. Considering my mental state, I haven't had the ability to deal with it much. It is my fault; I should have taken her in to be looked at instead of assuming she would need surgery and trying to get a little more weight on her. No matter how I try, I still feel as if I fucked up.
It's because I did.
Today I had an appointment with a psychiatrist because my gyn wanted me to have someone overseeing my Buspar dosing, and christ, did I make a bad call there. I chose to go see the same psychiatrist Harry has used because she managed his epilepsy so well.
So much for that.
She did not listen to a word I said, and raged at me that I am not a doctor (well, I didn't say, I did not go to trade school, I have an academic degree, but, umm, yes, I am), I know nothing about the brain (that'd be *two* wrong, for those playing at home), and...let's just wrap it up with 'and so forth'. I spent more time hearing about what a worthless piece of shit I am than talking about what brought me there. And then I left.
I can only assume she feels that I have no business helping Harry, but whatever.
I am tired now. I have to start looking for another psychiatrist tomorrow. The lesson I am learning from this is that there are a lot of fucktard MDs out there with god complexes. And that, in the end, no one really cares unless you agree with them completely, prostrate yourself before them, and take whatever they tell you without question. And after lambasting me for over forty-five minutes (I stayed largely quiet), her 'wrap-up' was to tell me how smart and beautiful I am, and how if I would listen to her, I could accomplish so much; I told her that sounded like hollow, narcissistic love-bombing, and to please just can it.
Probably I am not her favourite patient.
I may be best off just winging this one, like I do with everything else.
Just don't ever fall for the lies. That's the best advice I can give you. Don't ever listen to someone who says your worth as a human being rests entirely on whether you unquestioningly will drink whatever Kool-Aid they are peddling. Don't ever be that desperate for help or companionship, regardless of what you think it is costing you. The 'sunk cost effect' is real, and it works. Just like love-bombing.
That's all I have.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
It's because I did.
Today I had an appointment with a psychiatrist because my gyn wanted me to have someone overseeing my Buspar dosing, and christ, did I make a bad call there. I chose to go see the same psychiatrist Harry has used because she managed his epilepsy so well.
So much for that.
She did not listen to a word I said, and raged at me that I am not a doctor (well, I didn't say, I did not go to trade school, I have an academic degree, but, umm, yes, I am), I know nothing about the brain (that'd be *two* wrong, for those playing at home), and...let's just wrap it up with 'and so forth'. I spent more time hearing about what a worthless piece of shit I am than talking about what brought me there. And then I left.
I can only assume she feels that I have no business helping Harry, but whatever.
I am tired now. I have to start looking for another psychiatrist tomorrow. The lesson I am learning from this is that there are a lot of fucktard MDs out there with god complexes. And that, in the end, no one really cares unless you agree with them completely, prostrate yourself before them, and take whatever they tell you without question. And after lambasting me for over forty-five minutes (I stayed largely quiet), her 'wrap-up' was to tell me how smart and beautiful I am, and how if I would listen to her, I could accomplish so much; I told her that sounded like hollow, narcissistic love-bombing, and to please just can it.
Probably I am not her favourite patient.
I may be best off just winging this one, like I do with everything else.
Just don't ever fall for the lies. That's the best advice I can give you. Don't ever listen to someone who says your worth as a human being rests entirely on whether you unquestioningly will drink whatever Kool-Aid they are peddling. Don't ever be that desperate for help or companionship, regardless of what you think it is costing you. The 'sunk cost effect' is real, and it works. Just like love-bombing.
That's all I have.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
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
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
Friday, June 07, 2013
Moses -- Gorgeous
I’m inside out
Up and overrun with doubt.
The price of pain
from self-inflicted wounds again.
The need to feel
this low and lonely.
The need to be
this low.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Up and overrun with doubt.
The price of pain
from self-inflicted wounds again.
The need to feel
this low and lonely.
The need to be
this low.
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
Sunday, May 26, 2013
Curiouser and Curiouser
I am not talking to many...well, any really. My tsouris are nothing compared to what two friends are going through: each has lost *their* mother in this past week.
In Interstitial News, I am on blood pressure medication now. I am changing my life. I will not let this bastard kill me.
I am trying to lose myself in puzzles, mysteries...anything where I can, well, lose myself. My preferred outlets are my work (yes, I will be more forthcoming about this soon), and missing/disappeared/Doe cases. To that point, I have just finished watching one of the most (potentially) elegant solutions, one which only serves to demonstrate that, often, our solutions are presented to us; we just fail to attend to the signal (and I could wear my fingers to nubs were I to try to type out all the names, even the ones that immediately spring to mind, so I shan't). For me, for this reason, the event was not fruitless; far from it, in fact. I have no-one in my life who shares my passion for these cases, I have only those who will tolerate my ramblings occasionally, and I guess I am rambling here. But it is well worth watching if one likes to think. I will not bore anyone with discussion of the advancement of Reason as being a service to a Higher Purpose. People cringe when things like that come out of my mouth, so I will just give a little 'z"l' to be decent.
Sigh.
http://youtu.be/2ypHEhf94Qs
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
In Interstitial News, I am on blood pressure medication now. I am changing my life. I will not let this bastard kill me.
I am trying to lose myself in puzzles, mysteries...anything where I can, well, lose myself. My preferred outlets are my work (yes, I will be more forthcoming about this soon), and missing/disappeared/Doe cases. To that point, I have just finished watching one of the most (potentially) elegant solutions, one which only serves to demonstrate that, often, our solutions are presented to us; we just fail to attend to the signal (and I could wear my fingers to nubs were I to try to type out all the names, even the ones that immediately spring to mind, so I shan't). For me, for this reason, the event was not fruitless; far from it, in fact. I have no-one in my life who shares my passion for these cases, I have only those who will tolerate my ramblings occasionally, and I guess I am rambling here. But it is well worth watching if one likes to think. I will not bore anyone with discussion of the advancement of Reason as being a service to a Higher Purpose. People cringe when things like that come out of my mouth, so I will just give a little 'z"l' to be decent.
Sigh.
http://youtu.be/2ypHEhf94Qs
- Posted using Speak-n-Blog from my Fisher-Price Chatter Pull Telephone
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