Weight Gain

I know I’m supposed to gain weight. I know that it’s to be expected. I’m pregnant. I get it. 

But I’m struggling with body image a LOT. I’ve always been a small girl. I’m 5’2 and petite. I’ve always been under 100lbs, or just at 100. 

I’m 124 now. My trusted and true comfy jeans don’t fit me anymore as of this morning. They won’t come over my thighs. 

I wanted so badly to be the goddess mama that embraces her curves and fertility. And while I love being able to create and sustain life, I’m struggling to get dressed in the morning and look in the mirror. I struggle when people hold eye contact with me for more than 2 seconds because I just know they’re looking at the weight I’ve gained in my face, or the dark circles beneath my eyes. 

My self confidence is plummeting. 

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Under the Shirt-Trigger Warning- Incest

I remember the first time I ever thought, “I want to kill my self.”

I was twelve. I was alone in the house with my abuser. He was thirty-eight. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he slid his hand under my shirt. He commented on how he loved that I didn’t need a training bra yet. I was beginning to feel the disconnect. Each time something like this happened, the dissociation would happen quicker and more intensely. 

He told me to take my shirt off. I was wearing a black, silky spaghetti shirt. (Sometimes I wonder if it was my fault because of what I was wearing that day)

I pulled my shirt off and he grabbed it from me, tossing it to the floor. He stood back for a moment, looked at me, stared at my chest. “You have perfect little tits.” 
He proceeded to grope me, taking fistfuls of my into his hands. “You only need a handful.”

With his mouth running along my chest and neck, he forced my hand down to “feel what I was doing to him.”

And I thought then that it would be easier to kill myself. It would be easier and safer to kill myself. 

This Day Last Year

It’s raining today like it was January 19th of last year when I got out of the hospital for my 5150. I couldn’t help but cry in the shower this morning, feeling overwhelmed at the changes in my life- for the better, but still. How different things are now.

This day last year, I couldn’t feel anything. I had no emotion left inside of me. I could harness no gratitude for life. I remember getting home and showering… nothing felt real to me anymore. I was only in the hospital for a few days. Maybe it was purely trauma from attempting suicide that made my brain kind of shut off.

This day last year, I was completely apathetic and empty. I was laying on my bed staring at the carpet wondering if I had actually died. The only thing I could think of doing was going to a bar and drinking; maybe then I would be able to feel. They had taken away my benzo stash. I dug around my drawers and closet looking for leftover Ativan, Hydrocodone… anything. Nothing.

This day last year, I was released back into the real world and I was scared of leaving the confinements of the hospital because I didn’t feel ready to live. (However, it was better to be out and have free will than it was to be trapped like animal, drugged and shuffled in and out of group meetings.)

This day last year, I desperately called my ex-dealer for heroin.

Everything is different now. I have a great life. My relationship(s) are going so well, they make me incredibly happy. I feel that I’m moving forward- despite my normal career anxiety, financial worry, etc. But overall, I’m safe and happy. I’m in SUCH a different place.

So, why do I feel guilty for it?

I got what I wanted, but I still sometimes feel like I don’t deserve it. I feel selfish for surviving.

Whiny Fucking Baby

I feel guilty.

I feel guilty about having a dissociative disorder because the more I think about it, the more I think that nothing THAT terrible has happened to me. So I can only conclude that I am a whiny fucking baby and I have just been unable to confront minor every day life struggles.

Is incest a normal every day life struggle?

Maybe I’ve just blown everything out of proportion. My father’s suicide, my mother running out on me, the molestation, the child pornography,  the rape in college, the suicide attempts, the drug binging.

I really don’t have anything to complain about, or be “broken by”- I made it out alive and there are others with actual, real issues. Yet, here I am, continuing to self-harm because I blame myself for my parents leaving, for my cousin sticking himself in me, for allowing myself to be raped and abused.

Whiny, selfish, dramatic, stupid, and worthless waste of space.

New Blog, Follow Me There

I’m moving my poetry over to a new blog: Rhymes with Duck

You can find my writings here, https://rhymeswithduckblog.wordpress.com/

I’ll still update here every now and then with personal shit.

Thank you to all my readers. You’re all amazing.

The Phone Call

I spoke with my childhood abuser last night.

Out of mania, or compulsion, impulse, or maybe just the simple need for closure, I sent him a Facebook message yesterday asking him to please talk to me.

My childhood abuser is my cousin. When I was 12, I was raped and repeatedly sexually abused by this man, then 38. For years my family swept my trauma under the rug (they still do, for the most part).

Yesterday something pulled me to message him. I’ve done this before. I’ve texted him, called him, have pleaded for him to acknowledge me in my adulthood for the pain he’s caused me. He has never responded to me; until last night.

I received a phone call and I knew it was his number. My heart kind of froze. I thought for a split second about not answering it, but I did.

His voice was eerily comforting. I almost… missed him. I felt relieved to hear his familiar lowness, the scratch in his voice.

He thanked me for the message, that he’s happy I reached out. He was happy to see me at our cousin’s wedding a few weeks ago. He cares about me, he loves me. He wants to talk to me and give me that acknowledgement.

My logic told me to be cold and angry, yet I found myself asking him (as I’ve always done before), “How are you? Are you okay? How are the girls? You’re still working for the same company? Thank you for calling me… ” It seems the effects of Stockholm Syndrome were still present.

My body was shaking from the adrenaline, yet I felt nothing. There were no emotions on the surface, nor deep down. There was nothing to pull out. No anger, no fear, no sadness.

He wants to set up a time to meet with me and talk. I want that, too. I want so badly to hear from him, face to face, what he did.

Now the World Knows! World Mental Health Day 2016

About a year ago, I was contacted by a media group in the UK asking if they could interview me and possibly publish an article about my experience with Dissociative Identity Disorder. Well, a year later, it’s here.

The Sun, UK has published the interview, as well as the Daily Mail.

What the fuck.

I have mixed emotions…

My main concentration is to raise awareness- with mental illness, DID, suicide prevention, rape… I mean, just things that I’ve personally dealt with. That’s my entire focus. I want people to inform themselves, to know that DID specifically isn’t this silly little game, but it’s YEARS of personal turmoil. It’s trauma, it’s real life pain, confusion and work.

When I started this process of being interviewed, I was in such a different place in therapy, in life, with myself. Now that this has been published, it is actually quite trippy to see my progress.

(I’d also like to point out that there are definitely a few errors on the articles. One of them being that Rogue is a “sex addict.” So not true. )

ANYWAYS, there’s lots I could say on the subject.

And to new readers, yes, I am real. 
Yes, DID is actually a real disorder.
No, I’m not like Sybil. I’m a relatively normal person just like everyone else.

Overall, if you’re curious about Dissociative Identity Disorder, I encourage you to educate yourself.

Here’s a link to an article I wrote regarding DID from a personal standpoint- https://lazarusandlithium.com/10-things-we-want-you-to-know-a-letter-from-a-multiple-to-a-singleton?iframe=true&theme_preview=true

And here’s a link off of NAMI: https://www.nami.org/Learn-More/Mental-Health-Conditions/Dissociative-Disorders

Sunshine- Todd Snider- on a Suicide Attempt

 

Standing on out on the

Edge of the building

Watching the traffic below

Drinking a beer and thinking of jumping

Not far from ready to go

Below me the crowd

Slowing gathers around

Cops cars with news cameras too

I just can’t get out of this pain I’m in

And I don’t know what else to do

Sometimes i feel like

I’m so uninvited

Like something so out of touch

They tell me depression

Runs in the family

Well, that doesn’t help me much

The crowds yelling “jump”

Over a cop on a bullhorn

Making them harder to hear

He’s saying something about

Having so much to live for

I’m almost threw with my beer

(Whistling)

Squinting my eyes to

See through the sunlight

The crows even bigger now

There’s no point in wondering

What afterlife’s like

It don’t matter anyhow

We’re already in hell

As far as I can tell

Just listen to these people scream

This feels like a rally

In a high school field house

I feel like the captain of the team

Well, here goes the captain of the team…

(Whistling)

Follow the light to the Garden of Eden

You stand at the pearly gates

Saint Peter comes over

His hand on my shoulder

He’s telling me I got away

He says, “You know you can’t kill yourself

And still get in here kid. But you look like

A victim of circumstance

So I’m just gonna break every bone in your

Body and give you another chance”

Waking up slowly

Looking around me, alone in a recovery room

But closing my eyes

I can see the new sunrise

Over acres of flowers in bloom

I don’t know when it will be

But the next time you see me

I’ll be tapping to a whole new beat

Walking souls in to the holes of my shoes

Down the sunny side of the street

Sunshine…

(Whistling)

In Remission

I have been embarking on very unsettling territory recently; stability. Perhaps, dare I say it, even happiness?

Over the past couple of months, my mental health has been on a steady incline. The voices have ceased, compulsions have stopped, self-harm tendencies have vanished, and insomnia has been replaced with a regular sleep cycle. It dawned on me this morning during meditation that depression is no longer my safe place. While I acknowledge that this is a GOOD thing, it is still slightly unsettling. For as long as I can remember, depression has been my go-to. It’s easier to curl up into a ball, self-medicate and flirt with suicide. However, now I find it increasingly more difficult to allow myself to succumb to it. Sure, I still feel depressed from time to time. I give myself room and space to cry. Then, I get back up, walk my dog, watch a funny YouTube video and move on. I find it irresponsible to get drunk now. I’m not interested in putting myself in harmful situations. Happiness and self-integrity has become the new go-to.

Moreover, I’m not fragmented. This is me now, in my entirety.

There was a shift weeks ago. I had taken ecstasy with my girlfriend. (I am not condoning drug use.) I respond well with natural remedies, including psychedelics. During this particular experience, I felt a lot of my superficial worries fall away as the maternal spirit of the universe visited me and assured me to begin trusting myself and also start loving myself. She told me it’s now time to start shedding childhood pain. She assured me she would stay with me through the healing process. Sure enough, since then, life has been getting better. I found my way back to nature and she has kept her word.

I know, it’s a little esoteric and perhaps absurd. But I find a lot of truth behind the divine and feminine energy.

Anyways, my point is I’m getting better and I feel better about myself and the situations surrounding me. I’ve been working hard on myself and my relationships. I’ve especially been focusing on trying to let go of unhealthy thinking patterns. Anything that has been weighing on my heart and soul, I’m trying so hard to let go of. The common lesson here:

Let go.

For example, I noticed I had a lot of illogical worries and controlling thoughts in my romantic relationship. And it’s not just with my girlfriend; these are patterns I’ve carried from my very first relationship. They stem from childhood abandonment, I’m sure. I have trouble letting go. How? I’ve worked so hard in my life to keep people from leaving. I’ve become a master of tethering my loved ones because “everyone leaves.” I want so badly to be loved, so badly to be wanted that no matter what love anyone has ever shown me, it’s never been enough. And that’s not fair.

I’ve been letting go of selfishness. It’s difficult. I want to say that I don’t want to be selfish. I genuinely care for others. Again, this is another survival tactic from my youth. I NEEDED to be selfish in order to make it. In my adolescence, it became a part of me. Now, as an adult and as a woman who wants to care for others and do good in the world, I am making a conscious effort to reject my previous ideas that the world revolves around me. I am not better than anyone else, yet at the same time, no one is better than me.

I’m letting go of control, in the healthiest way. I’m trusting my intuition, trusting the universe a little bit more. Everything will be okay.

I love me.

My girlfriend loves me.

My friends love me.

My dog loves me.

And despite the grudges I hold, my family loves me.

Ugh, what do I do with all this positivity?

More on Arlo

LOOK AT THIS FACE! LOOK AT HOW CUTE HE IS!! HELP!

Arlo the service pup IT has been going on some pretty spectacular adventures.

Since having him, my social anxiety has dramatically improved. I was getting severe panic attacks before leaving the house to go pretty much anywhere- especially new places. But now, I hardly experience them. We even made some new friends at the dog park! There are regulars at the park by my house and they are very friendly and have wonderful dogs. Arlo’s best friend is a Husky Malamute named Spock. Spock’s human also suffers from depression and Spock has helped him get out of the house and make friends, too!

Arlo loves being out and about, running errands with me. He politely tucks himself away at restaurants and is the best companion.

I’ve noticed that I feel more responsible and more apt to handle things that come my way. I don’t feel as paranoid anymore since I rely on Arlo to be attentive to my surroundings. I feel safe and I finally feel like I can relax. He distracts me during anxiety attacks and provides tons of love with I’m feeling low.

My girlfriend has been amazing and SO supportive. Arlo loves her! She’s a great trainer, too. I plan on having him task trained soon, to meet more specific needs.

It’s been great with him so far. I seriously love this dog.