Archive for the ‘Dreams/Nightmares’ Category

Finally got our own place!

Got most of my crap transferred from NC; gotta work on ‘scripts now.

Moving in has been a bit of an adventure, with all the cleaning, unpacking and buying new things; even qualified for food stamps.

Not ever have I regretted it so soundly as last night; there was a moment where we were those people in line that hold up everything. That put a link in the entire works.

Not that big a deal really (bf had left his wallet at home), and that wasn’t even what threw me into a panic. It was everything that happened after. It was the tremendous, goddamned, self-entitled bitch who still got in line after our sweet, understanding (she really was, I’m not being facetious) cashier told her, ‘sorry, I can’t help you. Go to another line.’

‘I just want a pack of cigarettes.’

‘You can get cigarettes through the other line.’

‘Well just give them to me here so I can go pay for them’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t. They can help you on 9.’

The bitch JUST STOOD there, and REFUSED to move. on my ass like a fucking leech.

So our cashier, as frustrated as I was, asked if it was OK that we just re-run the groceries when bf comes back. It really was about ten-fifteen minutes round trip for him to get it and return, but I said sure, I suppose. I didn’t really have a choice, did I.

And we really weren’t prepared for how busy that midnight trip run to the store would be. In NC, we were usually 2 of about 6 people in there around that time.

Last night, in Wa though? And not even in one of the more crowded cities, either. It was running pretty much like normal day to day activities, which didn’t help my anxiety levels.

The cashier though, saved all our stuff, got another cashier to help us ring out (for real this time) and had to leave, her shift was over. I think she knew I was having a panic attack, because she reached out to me before she left and sorta rubbed my back quickly in a comforting, unsure manner. Like she knew maybe she shouldn’t be doing it but wanted to make sure I was OK, and to tell me that it would get better and not to worry. Things that the bf usually (well, sometimes) does when he is there.

Also a special shout out to the sweetest little old lady with the cane and the flower hairbows in her hair; we’d been up to Walmart earlier and there were no driving carts. I had become angry and cranky because the day was rough already and I was in pain and just wanted to get our shopping done-

She went and asked one of her coworkers to be on the lookout for a cart for me and actually came to tell me so. Very sweet old broad. Tiny as can be!

So anyway.That’s how I came to once regret our decision to move.


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The worse thing about trying to control your hunger when you are trying to save money, and have no groceries yet, but can’t drive because the panic attacks you get are too horrible to risk anybody’s life; is, with my childhood…?

You start reverting to the self talk and self harm you had at ages too young to know such bullshit. You blame yourself for being a stupid fat ass burden and start to wish that maybe you were dead instead; or wonder who would use you, and how, just so that you can have money to eat. 

Granted I think my bitchy sister actually did those things for us… I was always too terrified to do anything. It was better to be invisible and to suffer silently. Grit your teeth, bite your lip. Don’t say anything until you absolutely have to. Especially when the person you tell sighs with anger, frustration and disgust.

As I’ve gotten older I’ve learned that it’s OK to say you’re hungry.

And that brings us full circle to my original point.

Your thoughts tell you that all you are is a burden and how dare you be hungry, you just ate yesterday.

Trying to find balance in that mindset is null. You have to wait it out.

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bf and i have been sort of discussing having children. we both agree that it might not be the best idea, given that i am on disability and that said disability may impede my abilities as a caregiver. (we still want them though)

no doubt that he would make a great father (though i admit i would prolly always be the bad guy!), and it’s not against him.

but i have problems thinking about bringing children into this world- not just because it’s a horrible, everything-phobic, terrorist driven world, but because i have seen some of the monsters first hand. i have been ‘treated’ to the worst the world can offer.

when we are children, our world is small, but it is our world nonetheless. we know very little of the grand scheme of things, so we don’t know what else to believe and cannot see what good might come of it. if we see bad, that is all we see, and vice versa.

i know that i don’t want my child to come to any of the same harms i did, and god/dess knows i never want them (or anyone) to suffer. I know that things can be unpredictable, especially in an increasingly police-like state. people who don’t even know you can ruin your life just as much as your close friends or next door neighbors.

not only do i not want them to suffer, i don’t want to suffer anymore either. i don’t want my child taken away because somebody felt my spanking was abuse, when i know goddamned well that a spanking isn’t even close. abuse is when you are huddled in fear. abuse is when you scream and cry and nobody fucking hears you, or gives a damn. when nobody tries to help you. a spanking is a mere punishment for a wrong doing. you KNOW why you are being spanked.

Abuse has no rhyme or reason.

i don’t want to lose my child to death. i don’t want my child to experience homelessness or hunger.

i know that many of these things are normal thoughts and fears for anybody considering children. so what makes me so special? nothing, other than the fact that i feel like i feel it that much more powerfully.

The thoughts of these things happening have actually stymied my progress as an adult, and in the natural order of things, i just don’t want to listen to that goddamn biological clock.

i have always wanted to have kids- it was never a question in my mind. i didn’t care if i had to adopt them. babies, teens, whatever. hell, i’d even adopt an adult, if they needed it.

but the actual process is not only a trigger for my ptsd, it is also such a life-changing event. yes. i know this- it’s normal. but think of EVERY SINGLE THING you are responsible for as a parent.

oh, yes, babies and kids are fun. you get to play and watch them grow and learn (yes, i have done enough damn babysitting in my life to know this- even at the ripe old age of 8 i was fucking baby sitting, but not because i wanted to-)

but they are also fragile. they are helpless, and all of the people you normies depend on to keep your child safe? i see them as predators. i don’t want them near my babies. those who abuse are the ones closest to the child. the ones given access. and until your child can actively understand how to defend themselves, they. are. helpless.

it fills me with joy to think that i could one day grow such a magnificent, glorious being inside me… but, can’t i just keep it in there?

even Q looks like a predator- i know, logically that he would never, ever hurt them, but… in my eyes? fuck- better leave that thought unfinished. i triggered on it, the moment i tried to type it out, and froze. only when i forced the thoughts from my mind could i continue.

how can i allow myself to trust anybody but myself with this sweet, delicate child, when i know very little of the word? of what it entails?

how could anybody ever be good enough? safe enough?

i don’t want to be the kind of parent who hovers, or micromanages- i want that child to know that i love and support and will always be there for them, but how can i if i can’t even get to the pregnancy stage?

i want for their life, what i never had in mine, and i know i can provide it. i can give them safety, love and security. a part of parenting is knowing that your child will have his/her heart broken, and being able to lend a shoulder when they ache and sob.

that’s a lot different from protecting them from the people who would abuse them, and take advantage of them. from rapists and pedophiles. you know you are automatically putting them at risk, the moment you get pregnant. (no, i’m not saying abort- that’s up to each and every single couple/mother).

what i am saying is this… perhaps maybe i’m asking:

is the only, and best, way to protect your child from the horrors of the world, simply not to have them?

i started feeling like… maybe there was a way. to create a scrapbook of sorts, of lessons i had learned along the way- lessons learned the hard way.

things like cooking tips- or knowing when you should seek legal council, or talk to a cop. to never let the world get you down, and draw strength from yourself.

Lessons that maybe i had learned, but not been able to apply for whatever reason *cough ptsd/anxiety/bipolar disorder cough*.

things like, how to stay warm and soft in a tough, bitter world. how to stand up for yourself and to fight for the things you believe in. how to handle abusive situations. to walk… to run, to just get the fuck away.

to not be jaded like dear old mom.

that’s one thing i love about q- he has had his share of abuse, but he still wants kids, and wants them with me. he wants to give them a better childhood than he had, and he doesn’t want anything to stop him. he respects my thoughts and feelings on it, and is very patient with me. another reason i know he owuld be a great father. he hasn’t become jaded or broken by what happened to him.

i am doing other things, too- like i am crocheting blankets for my friends babies, as well as my future ones. i am collecting things that i can make into heirlooms, like cool eclectic rings. most important, though, is this scrapbook, which i hope they will take out and look at throughout their life.

so, in this project, i have been collecting different pictures and memes that could accurately describe the things i want to teach them, but don’t know how. things that i may never get around to teaching them. things that people never teach, or that people in my situation never learned. i have been thinking and racking my brain for these lessons, because in my childhood, you have to learn for yourself.

people are temporary in my world. you take what you can get, when you can get it and move on until you can’t move any further. once you’ve stopped, that’s it. you’ve collapsed from exhaustion and can barely wriggle and crawl to your next destination. but it’s important to keep moving.

i want to impart this ill-gotten wisdom to my child. i want them to know, and to be smart about life. i don’t want them to be afraid. not the way i am.

Life isn’t about fear- it’s about living. it’s about the joy and rapture you can extract from every goddamn moment. about the feelings you get when you fall in love and touch nature, and when nature touches you back. when you believe in something so wholly, that nothing can waver that belief.

i suppose, in all of this, the biggest lesson that i have yet to learn, is that love can be that belief in child-rearing. that my love and hope for their future, can be enough.

simply because i want to take the time to teach them all the things i never had the chance to learn. and all of the horrible lessons i did.

isn’t that what it’s about? teaching our children to be better humans than we could ever hope to be?


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I started a secret group with some friends on facebook to help and support anybody suffering from mental illnesses (of course it’s open to caregivers and other supporters), but as the days have gone on, I have realized that I am more than ready to support somebody else…. as long as i don’t have to tell my own story at the same time.


it seems like a slightly hypocritical thing to do. Granted, i do not expect them to tell their stories, or even their diagnoses … EVER, if they don’t want to or feel like it… but… as the ‘leader’ it seems that i should be able to let go and tell all. But i can’t. i have a feeling of dread and nausea when i think about it. Though this group is intended to keep us from those who might judge us, i still feel that i might be judged. that people might say “why did you ‘let’ these things happen to you” …. i mean, truly, after a certain amount of time, there is very little fight left. because when you fight back, things get worse. it’s easier to let things happen as they are.


What is it they say? it’s easier to raise a healthy child than to help a damaged adult? something like that? well that’s me.

The fucking universe i had around me as a child was much too fragile and happened so harsh and so quickly that i didn’t know what i could do to change it. I protected my little brother the best that i could… and to a point myself. but there comes a time when survival kicks in and you become like an abused dog. you stay because you have nowhere else to go. you don’t know who to go to for help. or how to help yourself… so you… stay.

i would also like to add that raising a healthy child only goes so far…. so long as you have singular guardianship (i mean when you aren’t hordes and hordes of foster parents and three failed adoptions- i mean one singular set (or even a single parent)). Because foster families in themselves are temporary. but different things happen in different places. sometimes they are good, sometimes they are bad. sometimes they abuse you, sometimes they don’t. mixed messages gets nobody anywhere. Fast.


i have been having nightmares and insomnia a lot lately, and worry i might have undiagnosed bipolar or borderline personality disorders. i have no motivation for any thing and all of my creations have come to a standstill as i sit  around and watch the hours tick painfully by.

i have had thoughts of self injury and mutilation (not necessarily suicide, and no plans of it)… self harm releases endorphins which makes us feel better. but it is extremely harmful in the long run. it’s not healthy. just like running to alcohol or drugs (mary jane, aside). And it is HARD to battled the demons without those crutches… without that ARMOR.

i figure eventually i will get better…. but i know i will never be completely fixed.


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Therapy today went well. I used to have a standing appointment on wednesdays, because i liked the predictability of it. Nowadays, I take what I can get- i hide from therapy, and only make an appointment when i really feel the need-

For example- how you know whose face and voice just shows up in my head whenever he wants. compelling me to be aroused and/or touch myself. wanna talk about sick? that’s sick. (not as sick as him, surely). she told me that was incredibly normal, because at that stage in my life, i was becoming naturally sexually curious (as well as the curious of a probably already sexually abused girl) so i was, biologically, turned on.

like a long-acting, long-release poison pill. it got inside my brain and my body and twisted me up.  it made me so fearful of the idea of children that the guy and i tried for about two months, then quit. (you might have followed the “i might be pregnant” dilemma). i want them, but i don’t want them to suffer. and to be in this life is to suffer, horribly.granted, i am speaking from a malnourished perspective. i just think about all the predators that are undoubtedly out there, and no matter how well i try to prepare my kids, it can still happen to them. they can get raped, kidnapped, killed…. that’s not just ‘criminal minds’ talking. that’s reality. not to mention that i don’t want to be that mom who turns into super overprotective bitch mode when she sees her daughter hugging a man she likes/loves. platonically. fatherly.

the one who starts blaming the child for her very natural behavior. “Get away from him you little slut!” accusing that she is leading him on.

i don’t want to be that, but i desperately want to protect her. i don’t know how to do that; i didn’t ask to be born into this life, and he/she won’t have either.

it’s little consolation to know that her life would be better than mine, because it feels the risks are too risky.

on another note, as dr b is prone to do, i was more validated today. not that the guy doesn’t validate me, but let’s face it, he’s a bit of a smart ass and sometimes it’s hard to tell if he is joking or not.

dr b told me that something in me, in my life and childhood, made me decide that i wanted to fight. to be a survivor, and to make sure i was not the cause of anybody else’s pain; at least the kind of pain i suffered. I’m usually quick to apologize if i am being bitchy or if i play-slap too hard. i try not to condescend, but i know we are all guilty of that. i try not to use people, or abuse their presence in my life.

she even said how when i first started coming to see her, she was amazed at how much of a “phenomenon” i was. because of my background, statistically speaking, i should have ended up in a gutter. Drugs, alcohol, rape, prostitution…. killing.

and that, apparently, really surprised her. that’s kinda my shining moment of the day.

last thing….

i have been noticing, that there seems to be a bit of a trend on facebook to only validate and appreciate positive things in a person’s life/statuses.

everybody wants to support my losing weight, or lowering my blood sugar, but who is there when i am throwing up randomly at 5am? (other than bf). nobody. nobody even told me they hoped i feel better, or asked what was wrong (not that i knew).

so what’s the deal with that?

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Here are all the reasons i think i am preggy.


new hair growth.

nipples itchy and slightly achey. (also have a high pain tolerance, so i have no idea if they are worse lol)

moody/jealous. (i mean, damn, i bawled just watching the trailer for a movie)

curly hair (i always had some volume when air-dried, but this is like i took a curling iron to it)

two months of nausea.

the bladder pressure, too!

things i used to like turn my stomach (butterfinger!!!!)

smells/stenches- i have always had a strong stomach and less reaction to nasty smells than most people i know. today at the store, i almost barfed on a woman’s perfume; the other night i almost did it on the bf’s after work stink.

very small amount of spotting since june…. a few days here or there, and too light(pinkish or brown, and a little more) for tampons/pad (not to mention the attachment blood)

cravings: i want dill pickles and fruit on my sandwiches. the other day i wanted avocados and whipped cream (still do)

feeling pressure in belly when lay on it, heavier when i am not

i feel like i can sometimes smell my own stink when i never could before, unless i was really very stinky-

water is sometimes tasting metallic

higher sex drive (i want it like three times or more a week- granted, some of that could be weight loss)

i am having more breakouts over my body

dry skin breakouts

a lot less intelligent/coherant

twinging, pinching in uterus/cervix, sometimes in belly (not stomach)

and last but not least, it feels like there is an ultra thick tampon in my hoo-hoo (haha)… kinda like it’s swollen.



reasons people are giving me that i can’t possibly be pregnant;

type 2 diabetes (which i have been diagnosed with and am working on)

sugar levels can give that constant feeling of nausea

mold in the room

fibromyalgia (yeahhhh)



i have been convinced since near the end of june that i  am pregnant…  i have taken 4 (5?) hpt’s and all of them have been negative, so has the one at the doc-

finally i am just going to the obgyn to get a serum blood (blood serum?) test… those are supposedly more accurate anyway… but maybe even get an ultrasound to see what the fuck is going on in there. cause if i’m not pregnant, i don’t know what it is.

I know those reasons that people give that i couldnt be pregnant sometimes mimic pregnancy… but…. really? ALL OF THE symptoms?

annnyywayyyyyy here’s hoping for the best and that things get worked out.


in the meantime, take care. 🙂


ps: more baby dreams… .i am more than convinced it is a girl. I have had one dream where it is twins, though….


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wanna know what a real kick in the ass is? when even your own sister won’t read the books you write.

the guy is still friends with her on facebook, and gives me updates on her now and again. today, he started to tell me a status she wrote, then stopped, cause he knew it would upset me. i coerced him to tell me, and he was right. he said she was bragging how one of her friends had independently published a book and that she was now reading it. really?  i kinda got pissed and a lot hurt. i GAVE that bitch a SIGNED copy of one of my books… and she still never said anything about it.

anyway… i guess that’s really all this post was about…. about people who claim to support you, but never actually give enough of a shit to truly support you- either by purchasing, or reading, your work.

including “family”.




also, as a side note, i keep having dreams about a baby girl…. wtf?

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