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Wednesday, December 28, 2016

The Show Goes On



I've taken the day off today, for being sick.  I am sick.  My attempts of having to show initiative at work, had caused me great tummy upsets.  All last night, I totally dreaded going to work today.  I woke up sick.  Then this morning, calling in sick, made me feel even more sick.  I think sickness is an adaptation of some kind.  Maybe its a way of avoiding, but it is sickness, nonetheless.

I have to admit I've had a lot of anger to deal with while writing about my bungled attempts at working.  Some of it wasn't so nice.  And it seems strange as I sit here, and I'm literally attacking people who have a hard time paying the rent.  It seems odd and out of place for me.  Am I angry at them for being poor?  No, I am angry at them for being poor and not learning a damn thing from it. I'm angry because they don't see, nor don't care as others get mistreated around them, I'm angry for they will bend over backwards to please the narc, as I shared in my story about a woman who was mean to me, and pushed me out into just doing the clothes rolling.  All this while I drive a better car than my bosses do.  And none of this makes sense.  Not to me, anyway.  I will still carry the ACON card written on my forehead, even with studded tires and a four-wheel drive.  Does that make any sense to you?  

They don't know anything else about me.  Not that I live in a lakehouse, or that I go grocery shopping on a day that is not our work payday.  But, it is my husband who carries the bills here.  You might as well say that I am subservient to him.  And we have had our problems, and oftentimes I am very painfully aware of what a life without him would bring me.  I feel badly about being offensive on here, as I must take this journey, I just have to.  Everything in my body screams for it.  And if there is something in my heart that is evil I do want that revealed to me.  That would be very precious to me. So I will sift and I will search, and if something is out of place, I will be sure to find it.

I remember my mother, and I remember my aunt telling me, that it was just mother's way, and I had to be tolerant of it.  I tried for a time, but I avoided mother totally, some time after 2005, I don't remember how long I'd been back in contact.  The whole family looked down on me, but they were also looking down on me when mother was putting me down.  It was like they were believing what mother to be saying of me.  The put downs were severe, and I was trained to not say anything about it.  It was my duty as a daughter.  But for everyone to laugh while mother did it?  It was only my husband who said mother was abusive, that a light came on, and I started to see more clearly.

But I also wanted to talk about a young woman at work who is seen in the same light as I am.  She is not given more tasks at work, she is given the same job as me.  Running through the store, rolling out clothes.  She is a little odd.  I can see it.  Maybe even more as a misfit than me, she could not get the hang of using a swiftattach, when we were called to duty when there was no one else.  But she is a very nice person, even going above and beyond the call of duty to reach out to me, when I was feeling badly.  And she goes around trying to be appeasing to everyone else, while I just hate them.  

But its interesting, when she needs help with something, she turns to me, and once I discovered I was I was in shit for helping, I told her that.  Others could help her, it was ok, but I did not have the power.  But others wouldn't help her, they just watch as she fails over and over again.  I am powerless to help.  She is part of the reason I'm so sick today.  As we work together, I am hardpressed and I can't take it.  

So I'm going to be giving my notice to quit my job soon.  It was a painful realization I had last night. When I came on to write today, Q1605 reminded me of the fact that there is a difference between acon men and acon women.  If I was a man earning the bacon, then I would have to suck up all this crap.  No kidding.  I would be lost trying to earn my way in the world, and I was lost trying to earn my way in the world.  And I am deeply in awe of any ACON who does somehow manage the bad treatment, and the crappy work.  Sorry, Q for taking liberties, but I appreciate your authenticity on the matter.  This was what I was trying to prove on the matter, and I failed miserably.   We are ACON's and the simple matter of earning a living is hard for us.  And there won't be any momsy or dadsy to comfort us in any way, shape or form.  And actually if you were to tell them they would only have a nice source of supply.  

I'll be giving my notice once I get in touch with my voc rehab worker, as I won't make this big of a decision without her.  It sucks how she told me what to do, and I cannot.  Its like I know it won't make any difference any way to these people here.  But she says it doesn't matter, then what's the point?  I have another idea I will share with her after New Year's.  She won't be back until then.

I'm going to try finding the type of work an ACON can do.  The type of environment we need to be in.  Unfortunately, in this day and age we can't go job hopping, it is not seen well, and I'm going to try to make a transition of some kind, I don't know how, but I will talk to her and find out.  

The world seems to see us as "low functioning".  But it isn't that.  Its more about second guessing ourselves all the time, and learned helplessness.  And that takes a lot of our time.  Unfortunately, its something we have to live with.  And somehow make our ways in the world.  We had to serve at the royal hands of narcissists.  If you were me, you were born with a giant parasite over you, who was sucking the very life out of you. There is just no way to get over that, at least that is what I discovered.  

So, I will tell my worker, I just can't do it.  There are some things about my disability that makes it a disability.  And this is one.  I cannot show initiative on the job.  And I don't care about trying anymore.

Thursday, December 22, 2016

Another Lightbulb Moment



Its great, I have 4 days off now, then a Monday off following New Year's, so that means I won't have any full weeks of work for another 3 weeks.  This has been challenging, and I guess I have to tell you what has dawned on me this Thursday night.  I have been thinking about people all my life, and how they are, and how I see them.

Now, as I sit here, I'm thinking that most, if not all, of these people I work with are very poor.  I think of money and status way too much, but it has got me to thinking.  Most of my life, was challenging, just to secure enough income to survive.  Now I see how that came about.  I was not given, and even had taken away from me, by my FOO, all the instincts, and survival skills that are necessary to live in the world.  My relationships have been challenging, even now, but, the job thing?  Come on, this job a trained monkey can do.  And I have to listen at break time how the other employees are always talking of ragging down a rack properly, throwing the junk out, all like its the most important things in the world.  I want to and maybe I should feel sorry for them, but I don't.

The way they talk, these people act like they arrived late home from the party, and realized they had better pull something together and try to get a job.  None of these people, from what I can see, have a stable income.  This minimum wage salary and benefits they have to pay for, are all they have.  I mean of their own, otherwise they have stable mums and dads who will secure them, babysit for them, do anything for them, so I wonder, what happened to them?  Why are they so poor?  What is their story?

I know some kids in high school were very mean.  They would not do their homework, they spent their lives in a party, fighting with their parents over it, and just never did they ever care.  Of course, there were some kids, who did their homework, but not smart enough to capture the teacher's attention, and they weren't special.  I know a woman like that, she is my age, I went to high school with her, now she is working for a large retail outlet, she had a good upbringing, just not all that much smart in school.  But at least she did find a husband who brings in the breadwinning paycheck, and all she does is the best she can do.

Lots of women are like that.  Just bring home something, but not here.  These are the breadwinning paychecks of these men, these women, and they rely on mum and dad to pick up the slack.  Now its Christmastime and they are still talking about partying it up.  I try to glance a peek at them, one single mom spends a lot of money at the restaurant, always gets take out food at lunch, but had no money?  Hello, I've been there, but I don't know why I'm talking about this.

Just to be fair there are two immigrants who have no other way to earn a living.  One I know, who I talk to all the time is married to a man who can't or won't get a job.  They are going to be out on the street soon.

This might offend a few people reading this, and I can't help it.  I had to pawn my kids Disney movies to buy milk, there was no mum and dad.  Sure my mother came over, but only to call me a loser, there were no words of support.

What do you think, am I working with a pack of wolves in sheep's clothing?

And now I sit here realizing that I am being bullied at work.  No kidding, if these are the same gin runner's I had to deal with in high school, then its no wonder.

Monday, December 19, 2016

My Life Before My Eyes.



You know I'm having a tough time with being assertive, and on the job, even a job that I don't care about.  I wonder why?  It makes no sense.  I have a very good worker through voc rehab, who is setting forth the challenge for me, all layed out, just what to say, and do, and still I remain locked into a dread, a fear that I tend to call the locked in kind.  I would like to talk more about the job, and the people there.

I don't know how they manage.  A lot of them have been there for a very long time, and even seem to like it.  Sometimes I think it is only me who feels this way.  I hear the yelling all the time, usually that is to move production through, but its insane.  But this is how I feel, right?  And my feelings are valid.  But maybe I want something that is less physically demanding, no quotas, and that is not this place.  I don't know.

I get there early so I can eat my cold toasted bagel and drink my coffee.  There is at least one person I won't talk to anymore.  From the beginning she proceeded to give me a hard time, she is an employee and not a supervisor.  But she seems to have a lot of say in what goes on around there, I don't know, but maybe it is just me she doesn't like.  She has nailed me for everyone of the mistakes I had made, and even told it to the supervisors.  One time I was having coffee on the floor, oh no, not supposed to do that, it is against the rules, she went and told the supervisors.  Problem is, I didn't remember any such rules, and I know I read them well.  I don't want to break any.  She came back after her report to tell me that drinking coffee was ok.  Alright, but I didn't need her help, I really didn't, but I guess I was supposed to be grateful she blabbed on me and tried to get me in trouble.  I'm sure she tried.  How do I know that?  Well, there are some other things.

I used to do a few jobs around there.  And one day I was pulled out to do the one job.  When I realized I was only doing one job all the time, I stopped and went to do a job I was doing previously.  Then I had a woman get on my back about it.  I don't remember exactly what she said, I think I pretended not to listen, she was not a supervisor.  She then went away and came back and told me what the supervisor told her.  That I was to go back to the rolling only.  That what what the supervisor told her.  That is what she told me.  I said, I didn't understand, I wanted to do this job too.  She went away and came back with the supervior, and she told me again in front of the supervisor what she had previously said.  The supervisor never said a word, just nodded with her in agreement.

A few weeks later we had someone from another department to help us.  That same person who made the supervisor "tell me" that I was only supposed to roll, told this new lady that she could help out with other tasks, that it was too hard to roll the racks all day.  Then I even watched as she went to the supervisor and told the supervisor that.  The supervisor said, "of course".

I'm trying to tell you what happened in detail here, without putting my own judgement in.  You can see it can you?

She is off on holidays this week.  The dynamics have all changed now.  I'm back to doing several jobs, now, but only out of necessity, there is not a lot of people working here.  But it's only Monday, so we'll see.

Saturday, December 17, 2016

Can I Even Be Normal?



Its funny how I took this picture some time ago, a few months back, actually, but it is nothing what it looks like now.  You don't want to know what it really looks like here.  A few snowstorms and we are now buried in the white stuff.  Like I said, you don't want to know.

So, I started this job 10 years ago.  That long?  Sorry, I forgot, a month or so now, I guess.  I do tend to exaggerate sometimes, but this time this is actually what it feels like.  I know now this company will never fire me, but what they did, actually, was far, far worse.  They downgraded me to the worst position possible, or at least it feels like it.  My voc rehab worker wants me to work my way through that.  I'm doing one job and one job only, all day long.  I do hate this, not for that reason though, it's more because I have to do it while the others tend to get better things, at least in my opinion.  They are given several things, or the opportunity to switch duties with another, and I'm left with one thing to do.  We all get paid the same, so I don't know why it bothers me so much.

Its also a very physical job, and I think I got the most physical one.  I work at a major thrift store, that buys donations from charities then they seek out to obtain a profit from the items.  This is a very noble cause, I think, and it helps the charities make money.  So all in all, it is a good thing.

So I'm doing one thing only, that is to put out the clothes onto the isles.  I have to put them in their exact spots, and there is a time limit, and will get called on it if I take too long.  All day long, I have to do this.  This week the supervisor told me that I took too long.  I said, "Yeah, at the end of the day, my energy tends to lag, I don't know what to do."  This was my passive way of saying that I needed their direction, or help, or something.  After talking to my voc rehab worker, she told me that I needed to be very direct with people, and tell them that I need more things to do, it will get me more stimulated, the one job thing, I feel is very tiring.

So what did my passive approach do?  Well, it caused the supervisor to set up a time sheet for me, to fill out each time I was out on the floor to do a rack of clothes.  I put in the time before I go, and put in the time when I get back.  Not to mention that those racks have rickety wheels, hard to move, etc.  And they never taught me how to do it quickly, to meet their standards.

Oh gee.  Now my blog sounds boring.  I was worried about that.  My point is that I am having a hard time taking the direction of my voc rehab worker, and just doing what she says.  I have nothing to lose by even losing this job.  I said that before in my last posting.  But somehow, I am tied into "behaving" myself.  No matter what.  I told my worker that this is not going to work for me.  I am very unhappy, I don't like it, I am very unhappy.  So she is looking into getting me another job.

So for now, I am happy to just rolling out those racks, and wait.  This sucks.  There must be another way, a better way, but all those things about being assertive I am unable to do.  I flunked this test.  I feel like I'm sweating blood just by telling a supervisor that "I respond better in a positive environment, thus I will need to be treated with respect".  Or, "I'm tired after doing only one job all day, I need more to really get me stimulated."

These are considered very normal things.  I need to ask anyone, anyone at all, do you find any of these things just impossible?

Sunday, December 4, 2016

Finding Answers



So now I am working full time.  This job is with vocational rehab, as I am still with them.  They are monitoring me and my position, but I did get the job on my own merits, so this is very interesting stuff to share.

It is a minimum wage job.  I've been wanting to write more, but my capacity to do so was not there.  I'm dealing with life in a more constructive way, and sometimes that means I have to learn to live with my inabilities.

Its hard for me.  I've struggled with this thing my whole life.  I've never been able to hold onto any type of job, and the learning curve for this job is extremely high.  This is a production job, with time constraints all day long, lots of quotas to meet, pressure and high stress.  My first month there, I witnessed women crying over bullying, another newbie that started the same time as me, well, she was taken to the hospital, she thought she had a heart attack, but it turns out, she just pulled a lot of muscles, and another, and this one is hard to take, well, a girl, has constant seizures, two seizures in one month, and the others think it is the job that is causing that.

So now I guess you can understand why I say this job is terrible, stressful, and overall I get the feeling it is ruled by fear and intimidation, but my voc rehab worker thinks this is just perfect for me. I say that with no tongue in cheek humor, my worker has high regards from everyone in her field. She is a leader in the work that she does, and I've learned to trust her.  Well, sort of, but as best as I can do, I see what she is trying to do.

I remember a therapist I once had, had me do exposure therapy.  This is along the same lines, and I can go see her everyday if I want to, to talk about the job, and work through this.

I'm scared of losing the job.  I told my worker this.  "Why?"  She asked.  Well, I don't think it is working out.  They will get rid of me, like others have done before.  You know, I might have to write this in smaller increments.  This is terrible and I waited too darn long to write it all out and my brain is very foggy of putting it all together.  I might write some shorter writings for awhile, so I can piece back together all that has gone on this whole time.

So when I told my worker I was afraid of losing the job, and that I might not be good at this, she told me, that now we can start to work on the problems, the problems I had working my whole life, it will be painful, but there is no other way, really.

Already, there is starting to unlock some of the illogical thoughts that were plaguing me.  I was treated badly by a supervisor, and my worker said that it was the supervisor's issue, that was going on, it wasn't me.  How to detach me, from what that supervisor did, and how I can see now it was their issue and not mine.

In reality, am I afraid of losing this job?  Am I really?  Well, it is a paying position, with benefits. That's the powerful part.  But I don't need the money, I don't need the benefits, I need to relieve myself of pain and that is all really.

Soon, someday, as I go to my grave, a grave that will not be able to keep me, and I will go on, not even remembering the things that gone on in this life.  Early in my childhood, pain I have suffered, and how I got to the close of that life, and I will not remember, but this blog will carry on the memory of what went on before.  And someone else out there has got to see how this stuff happened to me, how I can recover, and maybe someone else can take this and grow from it too.  Maybe they have been hurt the same way I was, and they are wondering what to do.  I want to grow from this.  I see how confused I was, and the scary stuff my voc rehab worker has me do now, will be amazing.


Tuesday, August 23, 2016

A Letter for Disability



I've written the letter for the disability tax credit.  I feel so shaky and scared, and I feel like a doofus. How stupid can a person be?  But, these things are the truth, and some I have shared in the blog, some I have not.  I don't talk well, and have a hard time communicating.  Writing is only easy because I can correct what I write.  Real life doesn't afford me such luxuries.  I now realize that when I leave the house, and I see regular people treating me strangely, I now know why.  I've delved deep into myself to find these answers.  I feel terrible and awful.

Fear is like this doggy I keep with me always.  I have not been able to get rid of it.  I pray for God to forgive me and search my heart and see if I am holding back the deliverance myself.  Something I am doing wrong.  Fear is a sin of not trusting in God.  I do trust Him, and I don't know why I am like this.

You might find the letter very simplistic.  But it is authentic.  It was a reaching down without anything fancy, and I didn't add to anything, just said what I really go through.  This is what I want to give to my doctor, and it explains everything in a very real and raw way, and stays present with what I go through.  With it you can see what is actually happening with me, not clouded over with fancy words or descriptions, I just love it.  It is very vulnerable, but I'm worried it might be too vulnerable for a government office.  But, oh well, it is the truth.

Lots of it pertain to the way I think.  I have done a lot of work to get better, so when you read what I wrote, where I said that 'I stay at home lots, there is no one there to make happy', this is a regular thought that I have to continually work through.  I know that we are not to be approval seeking, and that is something of a big saying for me, I'm always preaching on it, but automatic thoughts are just that.  Everything else is work.  Not seeking approval is work.  And time, and that is what this tax credit is all about.

I'm realizing now that I don't have to try to cover everything in this letter.  This letter is just point blank on how I feel, how I manage or not, ways that anxiety affects me.  That's it.  The other stuff will be left up to my doctor.  She knows how I talk and have a hard time communicating.  If you heard me talk you would know that I can't make this up.  How I talk is strange.  Its not exactly stuttering, but I tend to pronounce words that I want clearly understood.  I don't know, it all sounds strange coming out of my mouth, and if you ever heard someone who is nervous all the time, and shaky, well, that is basically how I am.

I've really been struggling in trying to write the letter for my doctor and the disability tax credit.  Its really been kicking my butt.  All last week, it was funny, but I really had a connection to what I was doing, no matter how hard it was.  I was watching ROOTS everyday, and it helped me for I had a hard time obtaining my medical records to give to my doctor.

I had to trace them down from the main hospital, but long story short, I was at the psychiatric hospital, finally, tired.  Emotionally exhausted to the point I was ready to just give up.  I thought, 'well this isn't going to happen.  There are still so many hurdles and I can't even seem to get over this first one.'

So I went to the psychiatric hospital, and they gave me my records.  I don't know if it is my imagination, but it feels like no one wants to do anything, and I get there and there are 2 women sitting in chairs talking, behind the desk of the medical records department.  Somewhere, I know there exists massive files on me including diagnosis' from 2 psychiatrists.  All in regards to anxiety.  Even PTSD.  I can't get ahold of them.

So as I first encountered the 2 women sitting there, I kinda poured out my story.  Even telling them, that I am at the end of my rope, fighting this thing.  I can't seem to get ahold of my records.  One of the women left, she said she was going to lunch and asked if the other was going with her, it was lunchtime.  I looked at the clock, it was 12:20, and I wasn't even thinking, I felt so bad and I realized I should wait somewhere until their lunch was over.  I even insisted she have her lunch first, and I would come back at 1pm.  But she said she was going to do this now, and I felt this connection with her, I find so rare for someone like me, so I really did pour out my feelings.

So one of the women left and the other stayed.  She connected all of my files to give to my doctor, it took up her lunchhour.  I can't even imagine my good fortune, I felt good, and apologized to her, and thanked her, and told her that I know my emotions don't make sense sometimes, and she knew what I needed and took care of it.  I've yet to find so much rarity in a person.

So my doctor's appointment is on Thursday, and all I have left to do is write that letter.  A letter pertaining to how my disability affects me in everyday life.  I am overwhelmed.

A lot of it has to do with the fact that I don't understand my issues myself.  And besides that, I have and had this amazing ability of keeping things a secret all my life, and especially while I was growing up.  So when you get accustomed to keeping things a secret, you forget what is going on, and the only focus will be on keeping that thing a secret.

I remember more of what my mother was really like.  Mercurial and dangerous, isn't that the way I described her before?  It is interesting.  This fear, this dangerous and scary woman, you didn't mess
around with.  You told her what she wanted to hear, whether that was the truth or not, and you have to do it.

I remember one time, mother actually standing over me.  I was on the couch and she was standing over me, I had no escape.  I don't remember the exact details, but she looked so angry, and I was telling her something, through her angry looks, watching and waiting for the right thing I would say that would take off that look off her face.  Well, I was not able to take that angry look off her face, but she backed away from me, still having that look, but I must have said the right thing, for she did not hit me that day, nor did she give me the silent treatment after that, and that look only lasted for a little while longer.

I remember I would get worms lots.  This would make mother angry.  One time I decided to conceal my worms and keep it a secret.  I managed to keep it a secret for quite a while, until one day she did find out and blasted me anyway.  The thing was that I was able to keep her from getting angry sooner. So I could figure it out, or not.

She was always angry.  Even one time I saw her sneezing, and she couldn't help sneezing, and with each and every sneeze she got more and more pissed off.  She gave us all the silent treatment for a long time after that, she just couldn't get over the anger over sneezing.

You would just not talk about anything.  I do have all these feelings, these issues, that I must somehow put into direct words.  This is no easy task.  I watch other people and I wonder how they live their lives in such relative peace, and I long for that more than anything.

I'll keep secrets even from myself you know.  I don't like mailboxes even if no one else is around, for I don't want to know what kind of bad news, this will always come back to me in self blame.  I tend to beat myself up lots, and its time to stop doing that.  Its time for me to realize I need to put down the whip.

Even now, I take tremendous risks in even talking about anything.  When I was recently talking of the movie ROOTS, and how it was helping me, I was worried someone would tell me that it is wrong to do so.  Cause slavery is a very serious issue.  And with me relating that to myself, might be taken in the wrong way.  But I had to, it was like I had no choice, I was drawn to do so.  But if someone was wanting to fight me on it, I know how I would feel at that point in time, that my first instinct would be to go to war for my own significance, and it would be hard for me to peel back the cover and actually be present with that person.  It really would be.  Fear would be taking over, fear that my own significance would be lost and I must do something to regain it.

We all would go to war for our significance.  This is just a plain old fact.  It has historical reasons, but we would do the most horrendous things to stay intact.  For anyone.  But in my case it is a very serious matter.

Its hard to fight that.  I did that some months ago, when that horrible SIL was out for supply.  My yoo hoo, was not in keeping with what I was actually feeling.  I should have just stayed present with that. But if I dared to stay present with her and what she was doing, I know what would have happened. The result would have been terrible,  I have much experience with this.  I was raised under the queen of the narcs, I know what to say to them.  No matter what the outcome is still terrible, but there is terrible and there is terrible, and the safest thing to do would be the less terrible thing.  Or the terrible thing you have managed to "cope" with.   Not that it would be much better, but my nervous system has adjusted in such a way that I can get used to that terrible and not the other kind.  What would kill other people, I am accustomed to.  Even if it is very effed up.

So when I saw those grown men with very substantial jobs shit their pants, and I was the only one who was ok.  Cause, yeah, I was used to it.  I got out somewhat of what I wanted to say, without tipping the scales into the terrible I was not accustomed to.  The terrible that I felt would have been more life threatening than the bitching.  I've seen mother with knives in her hands, you just stayed out of the kitchen while she was slicing a roast, you didn't want to take the chance you might do the more terrible things.  They were always on the backburner, just waiting to be said.

Please, please, please, I hope someone knows what I am saying here.  To me this letter feels literally life threatening.  And the feelings are always more real than the logic.  But no one is going to come whipping me but myself.

Fear has become this irrational belief, that keeps me away from doing things, that, you know I just don't feel safe in this world.  My husband asks me why he has to do certain things for me, when I can just do them myself.  Like drive me around, when I'm doing things I need to do.  Well, its because I will get lost, and my mind has to work overtime.  And I can't do that, all I can do is try to take some things off my plate so I can stay focused.  I told him not to ask why.  I told him I am applying for this disability tax credit for reasons that even go beyond me.  But it most certainly isn't because I am this totally capable person who has only lived a life of perfect daydreams, and teddy bears.

I never told him that the only reason he can kiss the narc butt is because he is not even aware of them. Lots of people can't connect to the truth.  There are movies in which the psychopath grows a conscience later on in the movie and he is the most loving and kindest of all.  Actually, I think these movies attract a massive audience.  So if you want to make a lot of money make a story like that.

We would always try to please mother.  There came a point in time where at least me, just gave up.  Now it was just about survival, staying alive.  This was buried deep into my sub conscience, on the surface I still saw mother as a worthwhile person, but deep inside layed the truth.  So I stopped being honest about a lot of things.  There was just no way it would keep me alive anyway.  The automatic thought processes at the time, was to do what you needed to do, stay alive, but love her anyway.  I guess the love her anyway was a survival tactic too, you wouldn't want her to know that you didn't love her, not that she would understand what that meant anyway.  You couldn't reach her with love, she only had a tangible ability to understand it from observances she make from, I don't know, tv or whatever.  There was no love around us, only in keeping the narc from killing you, and you came up with some rather clever ways to do that.  Seedy ways, if you ask me, and I am ashamed about.  But you do what you have to at the time, you know?

So now, I even wonder what hubby thinks of this situation with the SIL.  We are not going there this summer, it appears she is avoiding him too, and I wonder what the rest of the family thinks of this for it surely has gotten around.  We have not even visited any members of his family in quite a while now, and it feels like everyone looks at me wide-eyed.  That's it.  Their eyes are wide.  Mother's eyes used to get wide.  One time I saw a small feather trying to get into her eyes, and that didn't even threaten to stop it.  I mentioned to her the feather.  She used to sleep on a feather pillow, and the little tiny feather must have gotten out.  It sat that on the lower part of her eye, but she was right in the middle of obtaining supply from me.  And she wouldn't listen.  So at that point I didn't even care if the feather got in her eye and scratched her eyeball.

So wide-eyes. Its hard for me to even talk to someone who does that.  And the whole thing about this letter is that there are no eyes, so I have nothing I can relate to, no feelings, just pour it all out, like its so easy.

But it needs to be done.  I enjoy talking on here.  Outside its hard for me to tell the truth.  I think secrets are what cause my anxiety.  I spend so long trying to keep things hidden, fight for it actually, and when the truth comes out, or at least threatens to come out, I am in a state of panic.

But for better or for worse, I will tell the truth on here.  Otherwise, what purpose does this blog serve.  Since nothing is supposed to be new under the sun, that somewhere out there, there are others who can tell this same story, I will tell the story.  The value would be that maybe I can help them out of fear too, if they are too locked in, they can relate to everything I am saying.

If you have fear and panic you have suffered for so long with, that you can't tell which way is up, perhaps we can find it together.

Another movie I've been watching is the 'The Book of Negroes'.  I've watched it countless times. What I've been really watching is how this woman lives and survives.  I like watching how people survive and live through terrible circumstances, so that I can do it myself.  I'm not a sadist.  I don't know how to survive, and in these stories, they are teaching me how to.  They are how to stories. When the worst comes up, the show still goes on, and I am confident at that point in time I can do it too.  Even if it is just a simple matter of checking the answering machine or the mailbox.  I relate it to these stories.  I need these stories.

But darn, the hubby has been on holidays, and he asked me, "Why are we watching ROOTS again?" So I tell him, don't ask, I don't know why, and my reasons won't make sense to you anyway.  You have no way of understanding, for your understanding is clouded over with pansies and sunshine.

It sounds mean and cold of me.  But he always walks away when I say that.  Its because he doesn't want to go down that rabbit hole, he wouldn't understand anyway.  I'm tired of people not getting me, or understanding me.  And yet, in my mind, I couldn't find a man who really would understand me. There is no one.  I feel I'm fortunate for he is someone who doesn't really watch tv, or needs the tv, he only wants ROOTS to stop playing, for to him it is getting monotonous.

So how do I explain any of this to the government?  They have tangible questions, and things are so hard for me to explain that nothing is tangible.  My mind is racing to find a way to explain all this that would be relative to them, but that just takes away my story, you know?  I don't want to downgrade this, but at the same time, how do I make crazy sound normal?

I did get some good advice in my last posting.  Basically to keep things tangible.  Tell them how I have time issues, and issues with OCD.  Good memory huh?  The thing is, I have a good memory with some things, but to remember an address or where I put a phone number is hard for me. Impossible really.  Tell them it was child abuse, but keep that part relatively simple.

So here :

I mean, I was struggling and struggling, then all seemed to be well.  I was holding this big envelope with the info for the doctor, and even my husband was amazed.  My feelings going into the hospital were dim.  I was running out of hope in obtaining the files, and I really didn't  believe anyone would help me.

So last week I was busy.  Now, I'm going to put this letter in ACON format , then I'm going to attempt to put it into a letter for the government.  I took lots of advice from 2 postings ago, so I feel like I'm ready.

I've really done a lot of things that enable me to live a somewhat normal life.  That is a life from being an engulfed daughter to someone who can make it, but only with a great deal of time and effort. This time and effort is not afforded in a normal life, so I have specialized equipment to help me get there.  I have help with my husband and youngest daughter, they are the only ones, my daughter especially, who are able to understand what I go through.  They are my equipment.

Now back to that letter.  My doctor now, wants me to write a letter on how my anxiety has affected me and still affects me.  This is so complicated.  I don't know.  If they deny me, it will feel like a big 'no it isn't true.'  And if I fail to convince them that I do have this disorder, well, it will feel like invalidation.  But I have all the records.  I did everything I can do.  I got it all.  My appointment is on Thursday, so I have to really get on this thing.

I did somewhat, the posting before last, and that one was hard for me to go through.  Even now.  So much is on the line if I don't convince them, including my own validation.  Its almost like, I need their validation now, I didn't before, but now since I opened up this can of worms, I need to follow through, or else my whole life did not matter.

A government agency is going to do what they can to deny me.  That is what they do.  I have to convince them.

I do need support with anxiety.  Even my husband had to go with me to the hospital to get the records.  I would have found all of it too hard to handle.  Even my daughter has to come with me to a birthday party this weekend for my stepdaughter.  There will be tons of people there, and my daughter will make me feel more comfortable.  She is the only one who understands what I have to struggle with, that is my youngest daughter.  The others just pshaw it all off.  But she does understand, so she kind of babysits me.  This makes it hard for me in socializing.

Of course I'm just adding to my last post, this is not the letter.  In relationships it is hard for me to be present with someone, for my mind climbs to the highest disaster possible.  Or I don't see someones bad intent for me.  I had a abusive childhood, so the bad intent does not come automatic thought process, like it would for anyone else.  So if in a relationship, I am getting hurt, I will give the person the absolute benefit of the doubt, whether they have earned it or not.  Be that with my parents, or with a relationship.  I know I have to explain this one better in the letter.  I've had 2 serious abusive marriages, and this is all in the record.

And oh gee, this one is hard to explain. I get misunderstood lots.  I can't seem to make clear my thoughts or feelings to other people.  It all comes out incoherent.  I think I speak a language no one else understands.  I can't be around other people for very long, things spin out of normal for me.  I can't understand them and they don't understand me.

Doing all the normal things like even getting dressed in the morning, takes an enormous amount of effort.  In ACON terms, we know this is caused by self blame, self anger, taught to us by our nparents, but it all comes out as disoriented thoughts, and these thoughts turn into bad feelings, and that feeling of a striking knife in the middle of my chest.  I have to work to get the knife out before I can even manage to put on my socks.

Since I have to always apologize for things I do or don't do, this makes me a target of abuse.  Others see me, and any predators can enjoy a nice feast if they want to.  I seem to be always fighting fear of getting hurt.  And all this hurt, I can believe I deserve.  I've been working on this.  Counselling was never able to help me, so I turned to a relationship coach, and in the attempts of healing my relationship with my current spouse, I've healed a lot of me.  Sure, it all takes a great deal of work, time and effort.  No one has such time in a normal setting, so I can't live in a normal setting. Automatic thoughts are still very messed up, and I have to work on them.

I bounce around from one bad feeling to the next.  So it goes on and on.  This will probably never end.  My main work is spent in not avoiding any feelings.  I have to train myself to feel.  Every single emotion, bad or not.  I have this natural tendency to try to block them, this is resistance.  So I even go beyond what normal people do, and I stay present with my emotions.  If I don't they will turn into bad thoughts that make no sense, but I am stuck with them.  So when resistance comes up, I have to deal with it.  Or I will have quite a few days of hiding at home.  I can't talk to anyone, I just am scared.

I wish I started this letter when I was first asked for it.  But at that time I was overwhelmed with obtaining the other information.  None of this was very easy.  I was like I had to feel that self condemnation first, and really feel it.  I believe you can't get through without acknowledging you have that feeling.  It will linger otherwise.  And this lingering creates a blockage of me being able to do anything else but feel lousy.

I think this is all sufficient for a one page letter to my doctor.  So here goes:

THIS IS THE ACTUAL LETTER GOING OUT

I do need support with anxiety.  Even my husband had to go with me to the hospital to get the records needed for my doctor.  I would have found all of it too hard to handle.  Even my daughter has to come with me to a birthday party this weekend for my stepdaughter.  There will be tons of people there, and my daughter will make me feel more comfortable.  She kind of babysits me.  This makes it hard for me in socializing.

In relationships it is hard for me to be present with someone, for my mind climbs to the highest disaster possible.  Or I don't see someones bad intent for me.  Or I see someone's bad intent, but for me, its just normal.  I had an abusive childhood, so I don't see bad intent as being bad.  But it still scares me.  So if in a relationship, I am getting hurt, I will give the person the absolute benefit of the doubt, whether they have earned it or not.  Be that with my parents, or with a relationship.  I've had 2 seriously abusive marriages.  I can't distinguish how they might hurt me, all I feel is needy and scared and I find someone who doesn't mind that.

At present, I've only been with him for a few years, and a lot of it has been difficult.  He is not abusive, but I find myself unable to talk to him, unable to get my needs met, spoken or unspoken, I have a hard time expressing myself.  Really, I don't know how at all.  This has been addressed in counselling and they tried to correct it, and with medication too, and nothing worked.  We spend a lot of our time doing things apart, with him only helping me when I need it.  When I can express it correctly, and I ask so that he can understand.  He is getting better at this.  Usually I have to blurt out everything I have to say, coherently or not, then he has to figure it out.  I am usually left feeling very panicky at this point, and ask him not to ask me anymore questions.

He is the one who checks all the phone messages, mailbox, and before I met him these things filled up till I could just barely open it, and throw it all out without looking at any of it.  He will never be able to depend on me for banking or paying bills, I can't do that either.

I get misunderstood lots.  I can't seem to make clear my thoughts or feelings to other people.  It all comes out incoherent.  Its like I speak a language no one else understands.  I can't be around other people for very long, things spin out of normal for me.  I can't understand them and they don't understand me.  And they get mad at me.

Doing all the normal things like even getting dressed in the morning, takes an enormous amount of effort.  If I can't figure out what to wear, it can take a long time to figure it out, I'm caught up in what the weather will be that day, and it all comes out as disoriented thoughts, and these thoughts turn into bad feelings about myself, and that feeling of a striking knife in the middle of my chest.  I have to work to get the knife out before I can even manage to put on my socks.  I get stuck in a bad feeling, I can't figure out, I just give up getting dressed.

I have to always apologize for things I do or don't do, it feels like death if I don't. I've been working on this.  It all takes a great deal of work, time and effort.  No one has such time in a normal setting, so I can't live in a normal setting. Automatic thoughts will still happen, and I have to work on them.

I don't easily end up in happy relationships, or social settings of any kind.  If that were the case I would be paranoid and very uncomfortable.  I don't feel safe.  I don't know why.  I feel safer and more comfortable when I'm not placed in environments where a whole lot, like human communication, is not expected of me. Or I'm seen as weird, unable to be coherent.

I work on my feelings and emotions.  My main work is spent in not avoiding any feelings.  I have to train myself to feel.  Every single emotion, bad or not.  I have this natural tendency to try to block them, this is resistance.  So I even go beyond what normal people do, and I stay present with my emotions.  If I don't they will turn into bad thoughts that make no sense, but I am stuck with them. So when resistance comes up, I have to deal with it.  Or I will have quite a few days of hiding at home.  At that point,  I can't talk to anyone, I just am scared.  And my grown children see this.  My oldest daughter is not talking to me right now, for I couldn't do something she needed of me.  She needed me to babysit at the last minute.  I stay at home all day, why couldn't I do this?  Because I need a few days to get up and go.  And I can't explain it to her in any way she can understand.

Only to the husband I can communicate incoherently and he somehow is getting used to this.

I get people mad at me for I can't remember what they tell me sometimes.  I try to figure stuff out on my own instead of getting people angry.  But when that doesn't work, and its all gone wrong, they get mad at me anyway.  Everyone is always angry, I like to be alone.

Only when someone understands me, and allows me the freedom to be the way I am, then they can see that I am a good person.  If not then, people see me as untrustworthy, or undependable, and that feels awful.  So its back to that feeling of 'awful' and work my way back from there, like I've done many times.  This awful feeling makes it hard to focus, so I just stay alone.  I'm going to not remember what has to be done anyway.

I stay alone at home lots.  There are no unmanageable challenges that way.  No one to keep happy. My breathing is more stabilized.  I'm comfortable.  I don't shake so much.  The fear of someone catching me off guarded is always with me though.  I just won't answer the door when I'm alone.

As long as I have someone to help me out through my challenges, and/or time to do it, it all can go well.  I can't do it otherwise.  So those are the things I need, is help from a few family members and/or time to do what needs to be done.  I do get locked down in my anxiety, where things don't even make sense anymore.

My education has not benefited me at all.  These challenges make it so that I don't talk well, work well, I can't put things in order what I have to do in a day.  I have to live with everything coming apart on me all the time.  My husband doesn't depend on me to do his errands, he knows I can't.  I can help the children with babysitting, I am used to raising kids, and little ones don't have all these massive expectations, and with no one watching me, I am an awesome caregiver, even with things falling apart at the seams.  But I can't do it all the time, it does make me tired.  For I do run into things that I do have to plan and organize and I just can't do it at all.

Sunday, August 7, 2016

Describing My Situation




I hope this worked out ok.  I have here what is supposed to be the whipping scene in ROOTS.  To me it represents how our own human will can be forced out of us, Kunte Kinte was the exception.  There were spikes on the end of the whip, which represents to me, how forcefully we have been brutalized, and torn into pieces to just get back what we were born with.  The power to be a human on our own, a person of our own.  An ACON grew up with the spikes being torn into us, freedom was something we definitely had to fight for.

I, in no way, am taking advantage of a time in history, or a people slavery happened to.  This blog is my own truth.  I watch this stuff, and it chills me to the bone.  This is my story too.

I've been asked to write up a one page composition, from my doctor, describing my mental health situation, for the disability tax credit.

I think the thing that bugs me the most about this stuff is that I have to leave out the narcissistic upbringing I had.  By leaving out that piece I am going back to self blame, and I wonder what these people will think of me, having such horrid feelings and thoughts for no reason.  No one else is like this, why am I?  If I was wheelchair bound that wouldn't be the case.  But I have severe mental difficulties that I have to work on daily.  All of this takes me a great deal of time to do a task, and without my parentage, I feel like I am weird for nothing.

So, just as I can explain things better to myself, this is hard.  First I have to get it all out, this is a tax credit I am asking for and I have to prove my mental functions effect me in all avenues of my life, or at least some.  I believe it affects me in everything.  I am to write a one page story on how this all affects my life, as per my doctor's instructions.  She is very thorough, and she said there is no sense of even trying for this tax credit unless I go all out and do it right.  She will attach the letter to my forms that will be sent to the tax office.

My feelings over take me, what can I say to that?  My self esteem is gone, I have to work on just being enough.  Its hard when you have a family and you are the matriarch, and you try to be the right person for them to talk to, and even lean on.  If I feel like I am not enough, and if I don't work on that, my mind, and body wants to escape my own accusations, and I feel that I am not good enough to be the one they can lean on and count on.  That is what gets me, if someone needs me, its a horrible feeling of dread that I won't meet up to the normal standards.  I would rather they depend on someone else, for surely anyone else can be better than me.

Even doing this writing gives me a feeling that I want to escape from.  This tax credit is called the 40K tax credit, apparently that is what some people can gain from it.  So I feel all this pressure to gain that too.  See, that is the thing, if I can't compete, and I know I can't, well, its just a losing situation for me regardless of what I get.  If I get back 10 thousand dollars, it won't be enough, for somewhere out there someone gets the 40K.  I feel like I lost before I even started.  So I always have those types of hurdles to jump.  My brain works against me.

Or when someone crosses my boundaries, I get right pissed off.  Even if the children do it.  As an engulfed daughter I can see why, but that part will be left out of the report.  But it always leaves me scrambling.  My oldest demands this and that, and I feel like she has been taking advantage over my reduced mental state,  I did share with the children my condition, but she told me that I am to get over it, and will chastise me over it.  This makes me cross at her, for I know she did not have the upbringing I did, she was not engulfed, she was able to be a person at her own choosing, I did not.  I did not get to make any of my own decisions, couldn't even dress myself, mother was in total control of me, and even tried to control me in my forties by telling me I am not to leave my apartment.  I wonder how my daughter would feel about that?  What if I called her and tell her she was to stay home all of the time?  She would likely tell me to eff off, and with my mother I had no such luxury.

Nowadays, when I have the grandkids over, I have this horrible feeling that any negative behavior at home will compound on them later in life.  I am having trouble accepting the fact that I'm not perfect. Even a little baby, will feel any tension here at home,  and she will pay for it later in life.  So I started watching all my behaviours and speech, and it was tough.  Hubby wasn't allowed to be grouchy and I forced this on him.  Life is not that friggin perfect, I don't know what to do about life not being perfect.  It feels like hell.

Even now while I begin the program with voc rehab somethings are stinging me.  The past, not being accepted, not being trusted, and I know if someone has to trust me, that means I have to first trust myself.  No matter how hard I try to hide this stuff from the rest of the people a lot of it just leaks out. They know.  And when they do know they can go for the attack or start to treat me like a kid, or as someone with this disorder.  Voc Rehab works in two ways.  Either the employer doesn't know about the disorder and they just find me a job that fits with my disorder.  For example, if I am stressed around people they just get me to work alone.  The employer will not have to know, and it will not be an issue.  Or, they do inform the employer of my condition, and he will be asked to be understanding. That last one feels like such a case for a sociopath to take total control and advantage over the situation, doesn't it?  But voc rehab will be monitoring the situation, I just worry that they will blame me if a sociopath comes as my boss, as sociopaths are not blamed for anything.

So lots of things.  If I try to just get out the door to go do something, I have to fight anticipatory anxiety.  I have to fight anticipatory anxiety all the time.  Even with the simple matter of brushing my teeth.  Sometimes I feel that the toothpaste is too strong, and I have to not use toothpaste at all, I don't want to burn my mouth.  Then I have to fight the dreaded feeling of following the path of all my teeth, all the sides the tops, everything.  Yes, my mind overwhelms me with such thoughts.  If I want to have my teeth last me my life, I have to work through those feelings.

I worked through a great deal.  When I learned not to resist bad feelings but to just let them flow, that helped me quite a bit.  It is also more work too, but at least I can do it.  The trouble I have with it is that I am not used to it.  I really do resist my feelings, of panic, of shame of fear and dread, but it really does take down one wall to reduce my suffering.  But it is a lot of work itself, you know?

I do like a nice drive to the city by myself.  But when I start reaching the outskirts of the city, I tend to not know what I'm doing, or where I'm supposed to go.  I forget what the heck I'm going to town for, and I have to work on not resisting the feelings of panic, then my mind can clear.

I took on a quilting project that is rather daunting at times, to the point where I was seriously avoiding it.  I did one day.  So I just felt into that feeling.  In a while I was back to doing the project not even realizing how I got there.  It was a very liberating feeling, but it took me quite some time to get there.  It wasn't like, just go and do, it was like, just feel, and when you realize your feelings have done what they needed to do, then the task becomes doable.  Now I'm starting to realize how this has effected me in the job force.  Its just an up and go place, and I am needing a lot of psychological supports.

Now, I'm starting to realize this will be more than a one page article that was requested by my doctor. So I'm comforting myself, by telling myself, that first I have to get all the points down.  That is where I start with.  I'm not going to be talking about Nmom too much here, for it can't be in the article that I send to the tax office anyway.  This part is just to clue me in, for me to get how my mind works, so that I can convince them that I do need a tax credit.   One of the specifications on the form is AN INORDINATE AMOUNT OF TIME NECESSARY FOR EVERDAY LIFE, THAT THE AVERAGE PERSON DOES NOT NEED.

I do have a lot of supports.  Mostly I do have a relationship site that goes way beyond teaching about relationships, and reaches down into the psyche.  In ways that are not taught in the real mental health facility, but more real, and more helpful to me.  I do find her advice more painful actually. for you have got to feel those feelings.  But at least I know I am with my true self, and not avoiding my feelings in order to get something done.  That psychological effect has opened me up to the truth about my upbringing, for it always lied buried deep inside myself.  Once I did that I realized I had more support than ever before.  No longer was I just dealing with my feelings, and blaming myself for them, I had reasons, at least for myself, on why I am like this.  And there were people that experienced all the same things.

Of course, I do get a little angry at those people who blame me, that I know full well, they had a good life growing up.  So they expect me to be like them?  Seriously, that part pisses me off.  Even my ex-husband joked about me to his friends, saying that I must be a drunk, for never being able to be even able to hold down a job, just like a drunk.

So here is what I am going to do.  I am going to spend the weekend putting all this stuff together, just random stuff, coming out of my head, then post it.  It might be long, but then I'm going to take the key points needed from the tax office and just include those.  So we don't make it a habit of keeping the computer on, but I will keep it on, and as I go on my day I will be triggered by thoughts and those I will put in.  Memories, thoughts and feelings, and these will be all the truth instead of me just sitting here and trying to remember and think.  It will take the "trying" off the table.  That just makes it pure stress.  Surely, plenty of random thoughts and feelings happen to me in the course of a day, things I can't just think of at will.  So I will stay at home this weekend, and if I do go out I will bring a notepad with me, to jot down anything that comes up.   But no stress right?  This will just be natural feelings and emotions, that are happening to me anyway.

So of course that sounds like a good plan, but already my mind is working against me.  Suppose some horrible crisis happens that throws off the weekend.  Ha ha, well maybe, but I have to accept that as part of life.  Sometimes it is necessary to go through all those feelings of horrible things happening that hasn't happened, just to get to the feeling that it is all alright.  I worry that I have to spend so much time worrying, there is always a double indemnity.  It is so painful, and as I sit here shaking and reeling in emotional pain, the average person just thinks that I am crazy.  I am not crazy, I was programmed to be like this, for it fed the narcissistic mother, for I was only her trapped source of supply.  That is what pisses me off.  There was no reason for this.  Just to feed that monster.

Is it that I'm lazy or that I lack self discipline?  I'll admit a big part of me has a great feeling of entitlement.  I feel like I lacked so much that to hell with the rest of the world.  I don't expect more of other people, but when they expect it of me I feel like I was set up to lose.  That is an overwhelming feeling, feeling that I must accomplish great things, not given the know how, but being expected of me regardless.  I feel like a few companies I have worked for in the past, has played some games with me, for somehow I had leaked information of my lowered state.  God will have to deal with them, I'm not going to be able to fair up the thing.  It is gross, what they did, and and it was like everyone in my path was a friggin flying monkey, and I was clueless as to what was going on.  That is why I feel the way I do, I do deal with a lot of anger, that is uncopeable, but like I said, I am sure God will deal with them.  I leave them to God, unfortunately, we are not supposed to hope God will do the worst to them, but I do.  Hey, these are authentic feelings, no matter how I try to sound polished, that is the way it is.

I don't feel like I'm lazy.  There are times, there are some tasks that are not as much fun as the others, and they are rather grueling at times, and I prefer to sit on my butt.  You know what the cure to that is?  Just continue to sit on your butt, eventually, you will tire sitting on your butt, and get up to do things.  If you are sitting on your butt for years, perhaps you are listening to much to what others tell you, or that you are resisting your feelings.  Resisting your feelings is a big no no.  Don't do that.  Try to think, little children do not resist their feelings, they will scream or bawl, unless someone forces them not to, either with threat of violence or other things.  And our ancestors didn't resist their feelings either, they just went with what they felt, and they didn't know how not to.

Emotions are your hard wiring.  Thoughts can't chase that way.  Positive thinking is never going to help you with that.  It is just thinking.  You actually don't live your life by thinking.  If that were the case we would be like computers, not humans.  So put any thoughts to thinking to rest, thinking will never get you going.  Sure, thinking does have a place.  If you are building a skyscraper for example. Then of course you better think on how to do that.  Emotions will never build a skyscraper.  I think I made my point.

So, if you are at work, you will have to think.  But so much of our day is spent in feelings.  Its how we live.  Feelings is how we humans communicate.  If thoughts were to transcend that life would not be worth living.  I am trying to get to the part where I talk of social skills.  This is a tough one.  Its almost like I have no knowledge of what it even means for me or what it does for me, but I need to put it into place for the writing.

I remember the pain of rejection where it was so vastly important what the other person thought of me.  What they thought of me was everything to me, so I became very low value, taking approval where I could get it, and it never occurred to me that this made me a greedy little taker wherever I went.  But it seemed so normal.  If you are my friend, I will need your approval first, seems like taking, doesn't it?  Normal people don't like takers, its human value taken from them.  So it takes a great deal of effort, and time, to pull myself away and treat myself like I am enough.  No one else needs to give me that value, I don't have to go around taking, I can give instead.  It makes me more of a valued friend, confident, worker, lover, and overall it makes me a better person.

Easier said than done, lol.  Why does not my brain just give me these things?  Why do I have to work constantly against the extraction of others?  People seem to see this right away, and they feel vandalized in my presence.  It takes a lot of work on my part not to be like this.  I think this is a big social skill.  I wrote on social skills before, I think I write on that one all the time.  It helps me put it into place.  Just start with being enough.  How do you be enough?  Is it something we do or accomplish a lot of things, or pretty enough, does any of that make us enough?  No.  None of that makes us enough.  We are enough, because we are enough.  We are born enough.  It is an actual birthright.  A blade of grass is a blade of grass, like it or not, that blade of grass will grow, do its thing, it has no other choice, it exists, it has its place in the world, it needs nothing from anything else.  Maybe the soil and the rain, but we all need these things, see what I'm getting at?  It has symbiotic relationships, it just adds to the soil, it adds to the sun, for what good would be the sun if it didn't produce the greenery we all see?  So we are born enough.

But like I said, easier said than done.  You screw up, its ok.  There is a difference.  Things that make you human, and any weaknesses make you more human, but you are always worthy.  This is something that we just are too, you don't have to go robbing someone to get it.  Imagine that unsuspecting person, who wants to like you and enjoy your company, has to give you permission for all things.  Its strange when you think of it.  I thought it was being normal.

I wake up every morning grateful that mother is dead.  I outlived her.  She can't do anything now. Her body does not even exist.  And for me she has become invalidated.  This wasn't even a real person. I used to think that she was important, valued, lovable.  She had all this going on but it was all just for pretend.  Nothing good about her that went on in my mind didn't even exist.  It was all a figment of my imagination.  When my aunt told me that mother had a lot of love to give, she just didn't know how, it only made me think, 'wow, the games continue even in her death'.  I mean, nowadays, to me, to think of mother as anyone else than an evil monster is deplorable.  You have to stretch your imagination to see anything good there.  This feeling is very hard to try to explain, it is an emotion, a feeling, there are no words.  The mother I thought she was didn't exist, I just filled in the blanks with my imagination.

I still have good feelings about my childhood, but I know that is only in my head too.  When I think back to when I was growing up, their was all this fighting, this triangulation, the infighting was comforting to me.  It felt good.  I got so used to it, that life became crazy when there was any measure of peace.  I needed the fighting, the triangulation, the put downs, to me they were comfortable.

And now, when things are quiet and peaceful, I have a very hard time.  Things are peaceful now, I have a path, a road I'm taking, I've accepted my disability, so I'm doing what needs to be done as a disabled person.  I know I want to be taken care of, I don't like the uncertainty that hubby is giving me.

I don't know how regular people don't see narcissists for what they are.  I think maybe its  because they are too scared of them, but that from my own experiences of it.  Mother was scary, so she used that fear to bring everyone into submission.  For other people who were not raised in this torment, how do they feel when they see narcissism?  Maybe they don't see it.  Maybe its just completely off their radar so much, that they have no experience with it, from childhood, so they don't see it.  So when normal people get crapped on, like me, its because the regular people can see that sin, they are familiar with regular sin, but the sin of the narcissist is too horrible to even contemplate.  They do not see it, not on their radar.  But somehow they manage to escape the brutality of everyday narcissists better than me.

Ok, sorry, I guess I didn't promise any bunny trails.  I have to kinda get it all out, before I can even begin to pour what is expected out of me for this tax credit.

So the social skills, what is that?  I know how to handle social skills now, it takes me a great deal of time to do so, but I can do it.  But I think they want to know more.  How it affects me in everyday life, and this is something I haven't a clue about.  I wrote about social skills, and it was a good one, and I use it, but its still a fight against this dead feeling, which I can't even begin to explain.

So regular people say that we must see the good in people.  Think of that will you?  Kinda deadly for an ACON to do, don't you think?  But regular people already have it where they will not just automatically do that.  They will keep in mind the bad things people do, all the while, keeping in mind the good that people do, and somehow able to keep it all together very subconsciously.  They have no problem keeping up with making sure they don't get hurt.  But we ACON's have to program it into ourselves to not just go around trusting everyone they see, and believing everyone is wanting to do good to them.  Regular folks have their claws intact and can defend themselves if necessary. The narcs don't attack them so much, because they are not easy targets to access.  Narcs need it easy. They have only so much energy to expend on going on the attack and they love way more, the extraction, rather than the extracting part of it.  It does seem to me that they love the attack more, but I know now, that's only because they are getting the extraction all the while they are extracting.  Sort of like pumping water.  They continue pumping, but only will pump if the water comes out.

Darn, I see narcs nowadays, new narcs since my awakening, and its like a big joke for me. And the SIL was on the border of awakening.  So she is now avoiding hubby.  He sent her an email saying we won't be going, and she did not respond back at all.  I still wonder why he sent her the email, and not his brother, but I seem to not even give a shit.  Not much a response from hubby about the lack of response from her, I don't know what he's thinking, maybe he is blaming me for it, another thing I don't give a shit about.  I know that narcs will do that though.  I don't know if its because she is lacking in supply from us, for what I did, and who I am now, she knows it will be hard to get supply, and I will open my big mouth if she tries.  I might be seen as the bitch, but I don't even give a shit.

Did Jesus ever look like the bad guy?  Of course He did, over and over again.  He kept his focus on what He had to do, regarding salvation that is, and didn't care about anything else.  So why should I focus on shit?

So back to social skills.  The form says ADAPTIVE FUNCTIONING RELATED TO SOCIAL SKILLS.    Ok.  What does that mean?  Adapt means to change according to what the environment requires.  Functioning, means to do something important to live.  So since none of this is work related, and has nothing to do whether I need income supports, has nothing to do with how I can earn a living,  the social skills in this case relates only to my everyday life.  Lets see what requires a certain measure of social skills.  Going to the grocery store.  Going to church.  Going to any store. Visiting the children.  Sewing guild.  Anything that is about being around people.  Talking online. Other than going to stores, I don't know how any of the other things are necessary.  Yes, hubby can go to the grocery store for me, but that is where adaptive functioning will have to depend on him alot. Sort of him having to push his wife's wheelchair, anything that is required of him to do, that I can't do, is adaptive functioning.  There are a few times I got him to do things for me.  He handles the banking, I can't do that at all.  He checks the mailbox.  I don't know if any of these things are considered "social", but for me they are.  They feel like an accusation is going to come about at anytime ready to call me "stupid".

So I am pretty helpless on my own.  There is this house to pay for, and work required to maintain it, money to be earned to pay for it, all of which, I think, requires social skills, and I would never be able to pull any of that out of my ass with a ten ton truck.

Ok, I think now I am starting to get it.  Basically what it comes down to is obtaining food, shelter, sex.  I will have to go back to the time of the woolly mammoth to try to sort this out.  You see, women talk alot, well mostly.  Why is that?  How did that adaptation take place?  We would have had to adapt that skill.  At some point in time it was fundamentally necessary for survival.  It is because we were foragers.  We were the ones who gathered berries, fruits, raised children, all that stuff.  Certain plants can be poisonous.  You would have to know which would be edible, or which can be made edible by a cooking process.  Things change, they were hunter gatherers, they weren't always in the same place.  You had to adapt to whatever you came across.  If the men of the tribe found the game was very good in a certain place, you would do your gathering there, it was not usually the other way around.  So you talked to other women of the tribe, learned from their experience.  If so and so killed her whole family eating a particular berry and someone knew about that, you better find out what that berry is.  And where to find the berries too.  You would talk round and round with anyone trying to get as good as a report as you can about local experiences, and where to find the stuff, and if any dangerous animals were around.  You talk, and you talk some more.  That is if you want yourself and your family to survive.  No individual would know all this information, you have to learn how to talk and listen.

So I think I explained the process of adaptive functioning.  Now if I can just imagine myself in an environment where I was a gatherer, how I would be.  Not very good.  I would have a hard time joining in the cliques.  I just barely function in that respect.  We think its silly when women clique up, but it certainly has adaptive functioning.  Tribes were the norm, and you just didn't trust anyone but those of your tribe.  Anyone else would want to see you dead, most likely, but only because there would be more food for them.  Another adaptive function.  Kill everyone around you except for those who will protect you was the way to survive.

Maybe I should just include all that in my tax writeup?  Just kidding.  But know, its helping me to understand that socially, besides bringing home a paycheck, that social skills are absolutely necessary.  But I need to put it in a more direct format than that.  This will be hard, I will have to pray on that one.

You see, for me, social skills is a big one.  I can't just readily imagine myself in any setting comfortable, not without a lot of time and effort.  I'll feel scared just put into an environment where social skills were expected, and I will make other people uncomfortable with my value taking, and they will try to avoid me.  I will never learn what berries are safe, I will die in that respect.

So lets get back to what I mentioned previously.  I said the most fundamentally, ground level, basic reasons anyone does anything is for food, shelter, and sex.  Women have been known to kill eachother to get the most alpha male for he hunts the most game, she and her children will be provided for, and in hunting the most game the alpha male is assured of sex and offspring and to carry on his genes.  Basically, it all comes down to is carrying on the genes.

So I was able to carry on my genes, obviously.  But I wasn't provided for.  I had no skills to obtain the alpha male.  Even now, I don't really consider him an alpha male, it has nothing to do with how much money he makes.  I consider him to be, well, how good was it for me that the person he was with comes last and others come first?  How come he is still sleeping alone?  Is he without the things that an alpha male has?  In old times tribes, the alpha male ate the most, and got the most sex.

So yeah, he does eat a lot.  But it doesn't explain how he has adapted to allowing predators to roam around in our lives.  No way would an alpha do that.

So back to social skills?  In relationships, social skills are paramount.  That man did not have my back, so in such is the case in a "less civilized" society I would have died, long before I would have been able to bear children if I was with him all my life.

It took me awhile but I am now able to get the most of what he's saying.  Men and women don't communicate the same way.  He'll ask me why I'm mad.  I know that is not what he is really asking. If I were to just answer the question as is, it will cause massive problems.  What he means when he asks that, is that he is saying that he is uncomfortable with what is going on, and he wants me to make him feel comfortable again.  So he can go back to the process of food, shelter, sex.

Lacking social skills has been a big problem for me.  In relationships, in a grocery store you name it. I'm always shaky at the store, worried about what that cashier will think of me, worried about what I wear, worried about walking into people, everything.  Bad adaptations, but the tax is not concerned how I got here, only of how it slows me down in life.  I can't say that I avoid grocery stores, but I'm always worried, nonetheless.  Then I worry about that for hours later.

I think the reason I talk about the SIL on here so much, is not so much to get a chance to bitch about her, but its where I got to see hubby's true colors.  His commitment to me was sketchy in the first place, but then I got to see how non-committal he was towards me.  And that's painful, that hurts.  It takes me back to thinking if I was ever good enough.  Yes, that lie keeps coming back to haunt me. Maybe I should be grateful that he helps me see where I'm lacking in myself.  It wasn't so much what he did. I didn't have to announce what he did was wrong, all I had to do was state my position of freedom, and stand on it.  An ACON will always have to fight for her freedom.  I don't know if you watched the new ROOTS movie but at the ending, Tom was saying that to his new baby daughter who was the first one born in freedom.  Don't expect you won't have to continually fight to stay free.

When panic comes over me it feels like this hot acid right in the center of my body.  I've tried to focus on that feeling, but then the worry takes over about what I got into a panic state about.  When I try to focus on the feeling, then I realize that the feeling of panic was caused over something silly, like a phonecall I have to make, something like that.  Sometimes the thing I worry about is not even worth worrying about.  But I'm left choking and trying to breathe.

Even the work I have to do to obtain the disability tax credit.  Its like, 'describe all these feelings,' then I'm worried that if I don't do it right, then I won't qualify, and we've already spent $160 on the doctor to fill out the form.  That was on top of the $140 for voc rehab.  I have an appointment with them this week.  I only got one of the references required by them, I need 2.  I will get the other one before the appointment.

But I do know that I do qualify.  Even for general anxiety someone would qualify, and I have the 'shoot to the moon' quality.  More like regular PTSD.  I don't think I can say that in the form without having been in the Gulf War, but you know what I mean.  But I have been diagnosed with a war disorder, it will be in my paperwork from the mental health facility, so I don't know how I'm going to work that.

It all seems so overwhelming.  I want this tax credit more than anything.  Its a lot of money, thus a lot of protection, but there is no telling how much I'll get.  I've been warned that it will come in my husband's name only, but that's ok, not sure why that would be a concern.  I will just tell him I want it, that its for me and my disability, and he will give it to me.

Even though I don't have certain things to worry about, I worry about other things, there is always something to add to the list of worry.  Its painful.  That shocking, jarring, feeling of panic I am so sure other people can see.  And there is no warning, no escape, no way I am even aware what is happening, otherwise I would just escape to the washroom when it happens.  I become aware of it after, like "oh yeah, it happened now everyone is looking at me."  All of which just adds to the state of panic I'm already in.

Its painful, and scary, and I'm sure that look on my face, that freaks out other people used to feed mother with the nsupply.  You know and that's sick.  That's crazy.  You know, I don't feel guilty about not going to her funeral, but I do dread how other people feel about it.  Isn't that strange?

It is not in my personality to spread a message of anger throughout the internet.  Unless it is the truth, and truth is painful at times.

So I thank you for listening to my ramblings.  I'll have to call the tax place and get them to help me with the descriptions more.  More explanations.  More help with the MARKEDLY RESTRICTED.  I think of it as the "fighting for my freedom" just like in the ROOTS movie.  If you want to know more about freedom, I'd suggest ROOTS.







Friday, August 5, 2016

The Narcissist Appeasers



This might not be the most eloquent writing of all time, but I have to vent, yet again.

What triggered the bad feelings I have is that I went to the doctor's yesterday to fill out the form for the disability tax credit.  She is very thorough, and to make sure this goes through properly, I am to get all my mental health assessments together to give to her.  Not only that, I have to write a one page composition on how my disability affects me in my everyday life.  But she kept the forms.  Without them, I can't do the writing, which I intended to do on here.  I know, I can look them up on line, but I can't find the number I am to put in the search engine.  I called my husband at work, he is unavailable, he has all this stuff in his email, and I am feeling frustrated.  His work email I can't access, this is where he printed all the stuff for me, as we have no printer ink at home.  It is expensive, we never use it, hardly, so we just get him to print stuff at work.

I know, I can probably call the tax place, but its hard to get through, and they would give me the number to look up to see all the descriptions I need to write about.  I can't really just grab random descriptions about it online, they have to be the ones set up by the tax office.  So its waiting time again.

Then I started thinking how I am so frustrated over everything going on in my life.  Lately, I have been so angry at my oldest daughter who picks on me about everything, but lets her evil father skate. He gets a free pass, gets treated well, gets all the lurve, and I get shit all the time.  Its not his fault he has no money.  He has no money because he spends all of his money on dope, and I am sick of the shit.  She is the narc butt kisser of all time, and I hate all the effin butt kissers out there who let evil people just walk, get loved, are you freakin kidding me?

My oldest has been on a spending spree lately and she got hurt, and is finding it difficult to work, and wanted me to help pay the bills and be there for a month to babysit.  She did ask the impossible.  And the stepdaughter has asked me to babysit her boys for a week, on top of that.

This was all caused by me babysitting my youngest daughter's 4 month old baby for a week.  I said that I can babysit ONE child at a time.  There is a reason a woman my age doesn't have babies, and for me to watch a whole family for a week or more, does not equal watching one small baby, who sleeps a lot, and just needs formula to eat.  Besides my youngest doesn't make demands, she asks and she appreciates, and she never lets her father skate.

Its been more than a year now that she is been no contact with her father.  He has been trying to reach her, but she ignores everything he tries.  He is the guy who sleeps all the time, and yes, he can hold a full time job, he quit his job as a manager of Walmart, to sleep all day.  Some might say that is a mental illness, but I am telling you it is not, he is a blatant narcissist, and that is a long description, I've written about him before.

And shall we mention my aunt, that I never went and got the pictures from as of yet.  She made me feel like I was responsible for feeding that pig of a mother of mine.  "Oh, that's your mother."  Why don't we equate mother with a tapeworm shall we?  Enjoy your tapeworm, its your tapeworm afterall, you are responsible for feeding it.  You shouldn't get rid of it, it is your responsibility to love it and care for it.  Don't be mean.  I mean its all very disgusting.

I don't know.  I think I kinda hate the narc lovers more than I hate the narcs.  Afterall, medicine will cure you of a tapeworm, its not that hard to get rid of one, but the lovers, let me tell you they are the most disgusting pigs of all time.

Even my husband narc butt kisses.  He just announced that there will be no trips to visit the brother and SIL this August, which I am good with, but I sneakily want to go there again.  I got a good education while I was there the last time.  I love knowledge, and I am starting to remember more of his disgusting SIL and how she was triggering me, but I was afraid of posting it.  I might have beaten that horse too many times.  But its not what they do so much, and I'm afraid I'll never be able to explain it.  She is one of those clean, but nasty narcs.  Even, she made a comment on why are they naked on that show Naked and Afraid, ever seen that show?  Its rather interesting.  SIL made a comment  the group of men, wondering why they have to be naked.  I said its to risk exposure to the elements, and I thought as a nurse she would know what I mean, but she didn't, and it appears that no one gets to question this bitch, or say anything to her that might make her look bad.  I mean, she couldn't even have a discussion about it, all she did was get pissed off, at lowly me who would dare question a narc.

I mean the whole thing was so sexual.  In my relationship group online we are taught how to be around men, and that some things can be construed as sexual, and we must be aware of these things. Afterall, we wouldn't want to do that around a best friends husband, refer to sex, at all, ever, really. I've seen my own mother do it.  This can put thoughts in their head.  Its ok to flirt if you are single, and with single men, but its done in a way that is not sexual, and we learn this.  What she did was a big no no in any case.  It is not high value behavior.  I think that is why she triggers me so.  Talk sex and nudity to your BIL that you exposed yourself too.  I mean what a whore!

No one sees the covert tactics, and they only can see what they see.  Only thing is, that they are afraid of her, and they act like they have the highest respect for this pile of shit.  But me, yes I will get dumped on rather quickly, if I don't comply with the program.

Funny thing is, that hubby's sister came and visited with me the other day, and we had a nice normal conversation, and I wonder how she is with SIL.  I have never seen them together, so I don't understand how this works.  No one was ever open with my mother, and maybe that is the same here too.  I feel frustrated.

Monday, July 25, 2016

The Disability Assessment



I just got a call from vocational rehab, they are ready to get started, however, it has not been ok'd by disability.  I forgot to ask what this first step was.  We already did the intake, and I was waiting, for I still had at least one more week to relax and not worry about it.  Now, they called me and I am to go in on Wednesday this week, my heart stammered, I was not ready, but ready or not, it is time.

I can't help but feel  that since disability has not ok'd it yet, there is not much for them to do.  It won't be a job search yet, I don't have to have my resume, she told me on the phone, so I have to wonder what the first step is.  I'm wondering if it is an assessment on my disability?  Ways in which they can help me?  It's ok, but this is deeply personal to me, and I kinda would like disability to give the go ahead first, in case this is all for nothing.

And as of yet, I really don't know what my problem is.  I can't hold down a job, I freak people out, ok, but what kind of diagnosis is that.  I can't provide for myself, that's for sure, and if you can't provide for yourself, you still have to get ahold of some money some way, in order to stay alive.

I seem to have trouble dying.  I stayed alive during the craziest of times, did crazy things as a child, that should have killed me.  There was no one monitoring me during those times, and I kinda wonder where engulfing mother  was during those times, its weird.  I used to scale rocks in my bare feet, at one point I remember falling down from a cliff edge, but I somehow got my footing at the last minute, but I remember falling.  Or the time I ate some wild berries in the swamp.  I was used to blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, that was it.  This strange new berry tasted so good, I ate so much of them my tummy was bursting.  Turns out, they were blackberries, and they are not poisonous, and to this day they are my favorite berries.  I got some at the grocery store yesterday and wanted to take a picture of them, but I ate them too quickly, there are gone, sorry.  So many things I did, all on my own, but there are times I was not to leave mother's side, it remains a mystery to me. However, someone once told me that a engulfing narc will be an ignoring one too, it depends on what they want to do.  It was never about 'protecting' me.

So let me gather some momentum, on accessing what my disability claim is before I get into something that won't work for me.  I know I can't share the real truth about my upbringing, only stay in the here and now and figure it out what stops me, what compels me, what triggers me, and what makes this a disability.  What is this?

It's not about needing things to be made easy for me.  The more complicated it is, the more I will like it, unless if someone around me is in a bad mood.  I can't handle people, that is what it is.  If they are good people?  Maybe, but until my body makes that decision on whethere they are nice or not, my body will be triggered.  I can't help but think this is a physical thing, that they can see.  Its visible.  Its sheer crippling anxiety.

I've oftentimes have been put into situations where the job was easy, never being given the hardest tasks.  Maybe they thought I had a learning disability and/or not smart.  Or that I don't even look capable of the task.  I wouldn't have been able to step up and ask for more anyway, although that would have been a possibility.  I had an evil friend at one point in time, and she used to tell me not to bother people, get along with people.  She was a stinking pile of human waste material.

I am grateful everyday for my relationship site, that is really more than just about relationships with the opposite sex.  I am taught there that being nice to people is not the point, afterall, why would I want to be nice?  Is it so that I can extract some kind of approval from them?  Is approval seeking not just being selfish really?  Of course, it is.  Never seek approval, you are extracting value from humans.

So, since I would rather things get complicated for me, it can't be that the job is too hard.  But people must read me that way.  Its funny, cause the assessment worker said at the first meeting, that I am being misunderstood by employers, and she even wrote that down on the assessment form.  I'm grateful for that one.  It is absolutely true.  But only one piece of the puzzle.

Suppose I talk a little more about mother?

When I think of my mother, there is way too much to think about.  One of my last memories is when I lived in an apartment with my daughter.  Mother would call about 4-5 times a day.  And if I wasn't home during any of those times, I had to explain it to her.  I wasn't working during a long stretch of that.

So she would call me, and say that I wasn't home earlier that morning and the first thing that flew into my mind as of what to say is that I was out food shopping, and I told her that I "needed to".  Afterall, isn't food shopping absolutely necessary?  She told me that I was out too much that I needed to stay home more.  And every time she would inform the rest of the people that she talked to that I was always out running around, that I had no business out, that I should have stayed home.

One day I did stay home, and didn't go anywhere, and when mother called all during that day, and found me at home, she told me she was proud of me.  She told me that I was a good daughter.

This was all before I met my present husband.  My daughter was 17, she was living with me, I was trying to find work, and mother indeed wanted me to find work, but I was to stay at home.

"Here's what you need to do," she would tell me.  "You spend the day looking for a job, then when you are done that, you stay at home.  You are always on the computer anyway, you should be able to stay at home, and not be out, bothering people all the time.  You have to understand, it bothers people when you are around them, so stop doing that.  Be polite to people, I know this is hard for you."

Back, growing up on the farm, it was instilled in me to stay home.  I can't figure that one out.  She never explained it.  Nor did I dare ask.  It was just something that I had to do.

I always likened my mother and my life to that Stephen King movie, "Carrie".  In fact another girl in grade school at the time said I was just like Carrie.  I never did like that movie, and I never record it, I will never.  I saw it a few times, and just remembering that Carrie had a hard time going to that dance at school, because of her mother, and the way her mother was, was exactly how my mother was.

I hate that movie, hate talking about it, I hope you can remember the movie, hoping you might have saw it, and maybe you can see what I'm saying.

So, things that get complicated don't bother me at all.  In fact, I do complicated things all the time just for fun.  I don't mind if other people look at the quilts I make, and I'm rather not afraid of that.  At one point when I was growing up, I used to win awards all the time for my artwork and my writing.  I can't do that anymore.  I have entered a contest for my quilting, with prizes, and I did an amazing quilt for it.  I just finished it.  I would post it, but I did so well on it, that I'm afraid that it will get me disqualified.  No one is supposed to see our quilts made yet, they are to arrive at the fall retreat anonymously.  I will take a picture and show it when that is over.  Especially if I do manage to win. My gosh, if I do win, I think I'll be right back to that strong little girl winning prizes again, not the person that took in my mother in 2005.

Things changed for me in 2005.  I was winning awards as a child, but I still had problems.  I had low self esteem, they told me.  I used to win the awards thinking they were just regular things, not thinking I was great at what I did.  Just oh well, don't get big headed about it.  But mother used to tell me sometimes that I was marvelous at what I did.  She did praise me.  Her putdowns were way more extreme than any praise she could give me, however.

But I was always confused about praise.  It is not normal to me.  When I got drunk at the age of three, my mother laughed and thought it was funny.  She did not laugh when that whole thing had the potential to make her look bad.  So she would just say that none of it was her fault.  So it was bad what I did?  So was it good what I did?  Which was it?  Wasn't getting drunk at the age of three something marvelous for no one else could ever do it?  That is what she told me, she told me that no one else ever did it, only me.  So that made me great.

I delved to try to get drunk again.  I again got drunk at the age of five, then seven, then twelve.  She told me that I would be an alcoholic.  Not as a matter of scolding me, but just telling me in a matter of fact way. that is the way it is. You are already going down that road.

I think I got drunk more in my childhood than I ever did as an adult.  I was a child alcoholic.  But it was like God saved me through that, just like he did with the berries, just like He did when He probably held onto me while I was slipping from a cliff.  Do I have trouble with dying?  I think so.  I can't tell you why God allowed me to be born of mother.  I know that is probably what a lot of people might be thinking reading this, but He saved me over and over again.  I had no idea I was climbing a death defying climb, how could I even perceive such knowledge?  I wasn't very old, perhaps about 10, but I wasn't given living skills, so that must be taken in consideration, I wasn't batshit crazy, I just didn't know.

My oldest daughter told me that I never gave her skills to survive, that she didn't know a lot of things growing up.  So I tried to help her, but I found that child in particular very difficult to raise.  She wouldn't listen to me, and I would try, but like most children, she would be contrary.  I was very young when I had her, and I found this child even when very young, very difficult.  She had her own ways, and I was always tring to correct her, but I was wrong way more times than I was right.  I'd screw it up.  Hindsight always came to me, and I did grow, as such my other two children got the benefit of it not her though.

My youngest daughter seems to have a big problem with me getting a job.  She told me that.  She had two children barely a year apart from eachother, and she is having a hard time.  They need constant attention, she does have her guy, the father of her baby, but he works so much, and its hard.  After Wednesday I'm taking the baby for a week, but there is no way to tell what is going to happen after that.  But we only take it a little bit at a time, I've said that before, and I told my daughter that too.  So I learned to just do the best you can, the nature of life is that it is uncertain, the faster we can realize that the better.  If I could tell my youngest self anything it would be that.

But I did know that life can be unpredictable.  This is hard to dissect.  It was like I always had to create certainty when there isn't any.  I can't really explain that one well.  Like right now, I want to pave the way to take care of me, and even that one is hard.  I don't know what is going to happen at the appointment on Wednesday, and we can't proceed with anything until disability says its ok.  And even hubby told me that he doesn't care about money, and I am making a big deal over nothing.  He is a well heeled man, always been a well heeled man, and maybe that's not good.  Money, huh?  He has always been in the position of providing for himself, its like he can't ever relate to me.  I find that very annoying.  This means that he gets along with everybody, and treats me like I'm the oddball. Maybe its the other way around?  Jesus was never approved of by many people, he was rejected, so why do regular humans expect to be treated better in this world than Jesus was?

I'm getting myself into a mess here, trying to access my disability, and its just another trip down the rabbit hole.  I'm struggling with this.  I'm feeling like hubby rejects me but doesn't reject me.  I'm feeling angry at him, but I'm keeping that all to myself.  There is nothing going on to argue with him right now, and its just this constant simmer inside me.  Since I have to feel my feelings, I'm going it alone and just allowing myself to feel, all alone.  It's better this way.

I used to know this girl online that I never talked to.  I went on this forum once, never joined up, and just kind of followed her around on there.  She was strong and I felt that, without her being narcissistic, she had normal self esteem.  She even called out this guy once, that no one would even dare to, he was popular there, but she called him out on his shit.  I saw his shit going on too, but being so popular, he was untouchable, except for her.  She called him a clown.  I only lurked on this site, and this girl had me spellbound.  She was beautiful, from the pictures she took, exercised at the gym, took care of herself, and she only had one arm.

She had only her right arm.  So she was disabled, but she lived like normal people.   She didn't have to go flying down stairs, or play the drums with her feet.  Nothing like that.  But she said she could change a car tire, and even load a gun properly.  All the things people think they don't know how to do.  Things that are really so downright necessary.  She said her father made her practical, and I was so enthralled by this person, who dropped off the face of the earth from me, when she got off that discussion forum.  But I could just tell by the way she talked even, that there was something special there.

After that, I was out on a date with a guy for the first time.  It was 2010, and we met on a dating site. We went to see that movie, called, "Soul Surfer".  Basically, it was about a girl who lost one of her arms while surfing, she was attacked by a shark.  There were such tense moments in the movie, especially the part where she attempted to make her family breakfast, right after healing, and she made a mess all over the kitchen.  She had a lot of tasks to learn, first she had to learn that there will have to be acceptance over her new state.

The movie got me so upset, I was crying spilled popcorn, spilled my pop, the new guy had to share his pop with me, and I felt like I was in an uncontrollable state.  Oh well, guessed I screwed up that date, lol.  I was so sure the guy would be gone from my life forever, but he continued to come after me for more dates, just like that one he said.  No, that is not my current hubby.  That guy started to send me poetry that he wrote, and he said he wasn't a writer.  I was sort of creeped out by him, just for that.  I had to get away from him.  He told me that I would forever get hurt, that the dating site would cause me to get hurt, and I thought it was just him acting out from anger.  I wouldn't see him again.

I'm just pulling things out of my head now.  Things that are tangible, things I can remember.  Truth is, I'm afraid of the assessment.  I think I only need to work in a job alone, and no one around me.  But I don't like to be alone all the time, just I like to control when I'm around people and when I'm not.  In a job you can't make such decisions, and you need to go with the flow.  Go with the flow?  Yeah, sure, tell my body to do that ok?  I can't friggin do it.  So maybe working alone will be best?

One thing I'm proud of, is that all my children can work and hold down jobs.  As much as my older daughter tells me that I failed her as a parent, one thing is for sure, she has been holding onto a job right now for a lot longer than I was ever able to.  She is able to pay her bills, she is able to live normally.  Her mind doesn't scream and call herself a loser, she is capable.  So even if she is very angry with me sometimes, I know she will be ok.  I will have to go without her approval, its ok, as long as she is fine.

Random thoughts, eh?  Ha, ha, its ok.  It wasn't actually my intention to make some great analysis of myself.  This was just to talk.  I remember my last therapist I had who told me that I am burnt out over humiliation and fear of physical hurt and pain.  That was my diagnosis.  I have reached the maximum I can take with humiliation and violence, she told me.  My mother wasn't into hitting, but she was able to use other family members to do that dirty work.  I was afraid of getting hurt as a child, I was afraid of getting hurt as an adult.  I used to think that someone who hurts you loves you. Otherwise, why are they paying you such that special attention?

And humiliation, my gosh, I think I have wrote that all out a long time ago.  Sometimes I think it would be best for me to make a summary of my whole blog.  Put all the pieces together.

After my last posting it has dawned on me that I'm terribly afraid of rejection.  I'm afraid I'll be rejected by the disablility job for being too crazy, rejected by the people, rejected in life.  Maybe I should be talking more about my former work experiences.  Ugh.  To talk about anything specifically, pains me.  Lots of the good people just left me alone.  Even they would trigger my anxiety.  My mind couldn't pick out if they could be trusted or not.  Besides, most of my friends at the time were narcs, so I had a rather twisted notion of what trust really was.

I never trusted myself, even when I felt my friends were tormentors themselves.  I was always second guessing myself, always expecting the worst, and my best friend would compound those feelings about myself in our various coffee chats.  She even said that I probably had a personality disorder.  I was grateful.  I took that to my therapist I was seeing at the time, and my therapist wanted to speak to her about that some more.  What was so funny is that I had no idea what was going on.  My friend declined.  My therapist assured me, that I had no personality disorder, that I had PTSD which was compounded over humiliation and violence.  My friend told me that I had a severe potential towards violence, that I could be very violent myself, and after I told my therapist that, she wanted to see her again, it seemed like she was just dying to see my friend, which she never did.

My last get together with my friend was because she told me that I put the therapist's thoughts before what she had told me.  I told my friend that my therapist had 20 years experience dealing with people, and my friend only a couple of years, she was a social worker too, but anyway, that friend never spoke to me again.  Our last meeting, I screamed a bit while the wind almost took the door off on my way out, and I could see her laughing at me, eyes wide, I almost thought I saw mother.

I screamed a bit, but it what was weird that I wasn't scared or nervous about the door, it just felt like a normal thing to me.  You know I can't put this thing together.  Perhaps I'll just tell the person who I talk to on Wednesday what my therapist had said, that I had PTSD over humiliation and violence, and just leave it at that.  I just hope no more questions will be asked, and we can proceed.