I killed her ~ with a razor blade ~ in the 'secret hiding place'

Tonight, CrazyBrain has metastastized into this huge fatal tumor.  Must cut her out of me after numbing with copious amounts of ketel one.

DEATH TO CRAZYBRAIN!

I fucking hate her!
FINISHED!
I don't give a fuck if I am imposed with the death penalty!
It'll be worth it!

In the death of CrazyBrain- how do you plead?
Guilty, your honor - by reason of insanity!
** having major sui thoughts tonight.  As I see it- it will pass, or i will follow thru with them- either way is fine with me right now.

Simmer Down, CrazyBrain...

All week CrazyBrain has been boiling with anger and last night the emotional volcano erupted; CrazyBrain slipped past the internal guards, who obviously had fallen asleep on the job, and went on a full -fledged crazybrain freak out! Like, in my house, the FREAKS really do come out at night! Angry and shaking uncontrollably, screaming for it to stop...but it wouldn’t stop. CrazyBrain is angry and distrusting all the time.

I keep thinking there has to be a way for her to get past this…work through it, once and for all - and put it behind her and move forward. I know the core issue is “trust”. Shattered and broken~ pieces of trust swirl around inside of me like a tornado. And it all comes down to finding a way to stop the tornado inside of CrazyBrain, and rebuild the trust. But how? Sometimes I think it’s futile…a waste of my time, a waste of the therapist’s time…like- if CrazyBrain hasn’t learned it by now – it ain’t gettin’ in! In the argument of CBs distrust and the therapist’s patience…the therapist’s patience won last night. I don’t know why she still cares…but I’m really glad she does.

After the week of screaming and fighting you would think that I would eventually fall into a slumber that would mirror that of Rip Van Winkle – but it never happens. At night, the monsters and demons play games in my head and they keep me awake. And I am scared every night.

The therapist doesn’t have an extensive background in dealing with “traumaheads” like me…but she can juggle all of the parts of Grace pretty successfully. In the past 4 years she has fought and argued, pleaded and struggled…she has built trust and set limits with “all” of Grace. I imagine there have been times when she has done all she can and has to go on hope that I can stay alive for another day. And depending on the moment, I curse her and thank her for helping me stay alive. I know that I am lucky to have her in my life. I hope someday, the really traumatized and untrusting parts of me will see that too. And I hope that until that happens, the therapist will continue to hang in there, knowing that she has already helped me so much, and I do love her.

You can GUARANTEE me all that? Well, where do I sign up! I think we got ourselves a ZEN revival!

I will concede that I don’t take very good care of my body – in fact, I take pretty bad care of my body…and I know it. I never learned how to take care of my body – and in fact, truth be told…I hate it. If there were some scientific research study looking for volunteers to learn to live without their body, I’d be the first to sign up! Obviously, an area I need to work on. I get that. The therapist wants me to take a self-defense class, a yoga class, do some meditation…something that will help me (as she says) learn to “love” my body. I told her I would look into it. I would LOVE to have a punching bag with Marsha’s face on it…but I haven’t been able to find one yet!

I like to stay busy…I like to work on a lot of things at one time…I call it multi-tasking – but it’s really the only way for me to stay out of my head. I’ve done this for so many years I don’t know how NOT to do it. What’s that old definition of insanity? Trying the same thing over and over and expecting different results? But, see, here’s the thing…I don’t expect to get different results by doing this. I expect the same results I’ve gotten for years – and that is to NOT feel crazy, to NOT stop and listen to the craziness inside my head. This is a way for me to do that…I multi-task- I learn- I’m successful at it, professionally..in fact, on paper – I could not look better!  You should see my professional and financial portfolios - you'd be amazed that a crazybrain could accomplish so much:-)

I have asked friends about their interest in taking a yoga/self-defense class…and I have had positive responses. But *yoga* ain’t going to make me “love” my body. Been there, done that…still have the water bottle. But I can commit to yoga….

The Zen spiritual stuff ~ not so much. Since I live less than 20 miles away from the Granola capital of the U.S – there are a lot of people practicing meditation – and from what I’ve read experiencing quite the *soulgasms* (that cracked me up!)…but I cannot buy into the spiritual BS that these Meditation Masters are selling. I raise an eyebrow and feel vomit rise into my throat when I try to “accept” that they really believe that their “prayers” and “meditations” take away all their “needs”. Really? ALL of your NEEDS? Don’t we, as humans, always have “needs”? I guess not if you’re a Zen Master.

Here’s what I have to say to those “Meditation Ads” that *promise* if we spiritualize our lives we will: BECOME HAPPIER, SMARTER, MORE LOVING, MORE POWERFUL, MORE ATTRACTIVE, MORE STABLE IN OUR FINANCES, LESS ADDICTED, LESS DEPENDENT, and LESS SICK.

Is that a money back guarantee? Because the “GOD” I prayed to as a kid while being fucked- yeah, that “Church” promised me that too. I didn’t get it! I guess I didn’t *want it bad enough* right? I didn’t “pray” hard enough? NOW I can’t stay in my body because I need to meditate more? No one can hurt you if you meditate hard enough.

WoW! That readin’ was more enlightening than the Billy Graham crusade my grandmother took me too when I was a kid – I prayed and prayed there-and it felt great! It was the day I gave myself to GOD…but I guess he didn’t want me- cuz the SF still f’d me when I got home).

But wait, let me read that again: Are you ready to spiritualize your life? Everything will go better. WE BECOME HAPPIER, SMARTER, MORE LOVING, MORE POWERFUL, MORE ATTRACTIVE, MORE STABLE IN OUR FINANCES, LESS ADDICTED, LESS DEPENDENT, and LESS SICK. Really? You can teach me all that?  What if I already think I'm smart enough, invest my money soundly, physically attractive enough (on the ouside)?  Can I skip those classes or are they prerequisites?  Where do I sign up? Does that include the soulgasms, too, or is that all “sold-separately”? Are buckets included too?

I think we got ourselves a ZEN REVIVAL!
This ranting has been brought to you by the untrusting, angry, willful, disbelieving one who knows better than to believe a sleep study and some BS meditation is the "cure all".

"Sometimes the injury is so bad – you have to cut – and cut big."

In last episode of Grey’s Anatomy ("I like you so much better when you’re naked" - no, really, that's the episode title) Meredith Grey says, “Sometimes you can’t limit exposure. Sometimes the injury is so bad, you have to cut, and cut big....and once the incision has been closed, you wait...and you hope that you haven’t, in fact, just made everything worse.”

Meredith was, of course, talking about surgery in a literal way, but I am now going to take her words and apply them to my night last Wednesday when my 4 month SI hiatus came to an end, and the clock had to be reset.
Some nights the pain overwhelms me and I do not know what to do with it. It suffocates me and traps me and I cannot find a way out of it. Nothing feels safe and nothing brings comfort. I shake and cry and try to quiet the angry scared screaming voices inside of me – but I cannot escape the brokenness.
That happened to me last Wednesday night. I locked myself in the bathroom and at first I tried to talk quietly to those inside as I rocked myself in an effort to soothe them. But it didn’t work and so I tried to call a friend, she didn’t answer. So I tried to call the therapist, she didn’t answer but she did return my call an hour later. In the chaos of my mind I did not hear the phone ring, but I did get a voicemail from her. In her voicemail she said, “ I’m sorry you’re having a rough night. If you feel the need to give me a call back I’ll be up till 10. I do ask that if you call me back I do want to know not just what the problem is but the things you’re trying to do to at least tolerate whatever’s going on...so we need to have a constructive conversation. If all is alright, that’s fine too - you don’t have to call me back, but if you do, bear that information in mind and we’ll talk later.
The therapist’s voicemail made me feel like a failure. Obviously she didn’t think I had tried to *self-soothe* and just expected her to fix everything. I felt angry and ashamed and I did not her back. I took a razor and I cut myself instead. I cut myself because I could not limit my exposure to the chaos inside my mind. It hurt so bad I tried to cut it out of me. I cut myself because it felt like the only option left for me. My body was shaking so bad I could not escape. I wanted someone to help me calm them, calm myself, but I felt like a failure for reaching out because I couldn’t do it on my own. And I shouldn’t have relied on someone else to help me. And so I cut myself.
And I was too tired to move Thursday and Friday. I felt even more ashamed and I really just wanted to stop breathing – I wanted it to stop – I was afraid I would cut again because I was constantly thinking about it.
I marked the calendar in my daytimer with a big red “S” for shame and I started the clock at zero. Four months of SI free is now only 5 days free. I touch the scab of shame and I chide myself for giving in, for giving up. Tomorrow I have to feel even more ashamed because I have to face what I did in front of the therapist. I tried, nothing else was working. I was not able to limit my exposure. I was drowning in the poison and I had to cut- and cut big. And now I have to wait for the incision to heal – and hope I haven’t made everything worse.

There is no monster in your house, Grace...turn the light on and look around. You are safe now.

The therapist tells me I should not sit in the dark. I know she thinks I never listen to her or work on my own to improve the nights as they exist currently, but I do. And so I’ve been trying to leave a light or two on at night. But it doesn’t seem to make any difference. I find myself in this paradoxical conundrum: the little girl is afraid of the dark ~ but she can also hide in the dark. The therapist tells the 5 year old and CB that there is no reason to be afraid anymore. Turn on the light and see, Grace. There’s no monster there with you now. There is no lion in the room. Get up and turn the lights on, Grace. And do it now!

So in an effort to "learn" from the CB/5 year old freak out last night, I tried to remember what happened right before the irrational hide/shake fest began on the stairs. It happened another time last week. The running to the darkness of the stairs peering under the door to where the light is; heart racing, wating for the shadow to appear under the door... What the hell did she see that freaked her out? Because the goal is to figure it out-and "reframe" it so she doesn't freak out again, right? Was the freak out caused by a shadow on the kitchen counter?

I know it is hard for a non-crazybrain to take what I am saying at face value and not roll their eyes and call me psychotic – but at night she cannot hide when the lights are on! And there are freakish shadows in the light, and a freakish monster looking face on the counter in the kitchn. Yes, adult rational Grace understands that the monster face on the granite in the kitchen is a reflection of the pictures and stuff on the wall ~ but you cannot tell that to a 5 year old who was fucked by a monster. And she stood up from the chair (chair with the blue blanket on it) and looked into the kitchen, saw something, freaked out and ran straight for the stairs where she slammed the door shut and called the therapist in full-fledged crazybrain panic. It was obvious from the huge exasperating sigh on the other end of the phone that the therapist was not happy about the late night phone call but she helped crazybrain anyway.

The therapist said no one ever died from a panic attack and we weren’t going to die either. But it feels like it when can’t slow down your heart and you can’t breathe – it feels like you’re going to die. Anyway, the therapist helped calm CB down and she slept in the laundry room by the dryer with Hello Kitty blanket and blue blanket.

The therapist said she wasn’t mad, just tired (yeah, tired of Grace!). But the 5 year old did see a monster in the kitchen! I didn’t mean to make the therapist mad. I should be able to do it on my own. I should be able to count on the hus to help me sometimes...but the truth is – he’s sort of the monster too. I didn’t mean to make the therapist mad last night. I don’t think I’ll leave the kitchen light on at night anymore. 

Dear Little Gracie...

Dear (5 year old) Little Gracie,

Please just stop it. I do not know how to help you right now. I am as lost as you are and I really need you to stop crying because if you do not I am going to cut you right out of me. And I know that neither of us want that. I know it hurts and I know it sucks right now. I know you’re scared because there is no one to help you and you have to lean on me and we all know that I do not have a clue. Hell – I don’t even like kids (no offense).

Yeah, I screwed you up. I know that. I would tell you I’m sorry for last night but sorry doesn’t really mean much…people say it all the time and to say I’m sorry would imply that it won’t happen again, and we both know that it will. I know that I am the grown up and I should be better at dealing with this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Gracie, I don’t know why I cannot get a grip. But how can I possibly take care of you when I cannot even take care of myself?

It just feels like nothing consoles you, you know? And I don’t know what to do except scream at you to go away. I want to cut you out of me, Gracie, I do. I know you feel that too. I know it isn’t nice but gawd I’m as fucked up as you are! And I blame you for that. I do. I get that it isn’t fair to blame you for everything- but I do it anyway. I blame you because you make me remember and I don’t want to remember, Gracie, I don’t want to see it again. It was way bad the first time around- now the pain is unbearable. I don’t know why you survived. And a lot of the time I wish you wouldn’t have lived. I know that’s a horrible thing to say but it’s how I feel.

I’m sorry the therapist forgot you last night…but you know better than to count on anyone else to do what they say they will do. You’re not worth it! I know you think the therapist cares about you –and I’m sure she does: “In the limited ways that she can…” –and I don’t get how it happened either but she forgot- so get over it and stop crying about it because if you don’t – I will cut you. I will. You know I’ve done it before – a thousand times- and I’ll do it again if you don’t stop crying. I will!   And stop depending on the therapist to do what she says she’ll do – would you? It’s not like she’s going to be around forever – it’s not like she can take your pain away either! No one can! We’re on our own girl! Just as it’s always been – so suck it up! You have to stop with the crying! And you have to stop crying now because if you don’t – I’ll have to shut you up – and that will only hurt you more, Gracie, you know that. I’m all you got girl – and we both know I don’t even like you. But I’m all you’ve got.

Yeah, he hurt you. And then I let everyone else hurt you too. The therapist forgot you last night. I let him fuck you again last night. The list of your grievances is endless, isn't it?  But I will not tell you I’m sorry and I will no longer listen to your crying today.  So stop it right now – or I will give you something to cry about! And neither of us want that. Right? I swear I will!  And I will pour vodka down your throat and I'll let him do it again tonight.  You have to stop it right now, Gracie.  Stop it right now!

Be quiet kid – life’s a bitch! You should know that by now….be a good girl and shut up and behave yourself.

In Frustration, Grace

Last night felt like a Friday. But it's been a bad week, so maybe it wasn't really...

Last night wasn’t Friday was it? I know Fridays are really bad for me, but this past week, every night has been bad. But last night couldn’t have been Friday because I did not get an email from the therapist –and the therapist ALWAYS emails on Fridays (well, when she doesn’t forget –which has now happened 2x this month). But maybe last night wasn’t really Friday because I only remember about 10 minutes of the night anyway. And those 10 minutes are sort of sporadic and not really a “whole” picture of the happenings of last night. Which is probably a good thing – since the 10 minutes I do remember are not pleasant, and when I woke up at 3:34am in the basement, sans clothing and freezing cold, I tried to put more together but it just isn’t there. It felt like Friday but as I said, it’s been a bad week, so maybe it wasn’t really.

I haven't eaten or slept in days. I called in sick to work Thurs and Fri because I could not bear to leave the house....and it looks as though today will be more of the same. I am so tired of all of this. I can barely move right now. But I'm not "calling" out for help…It doesn't matter anymore. 

I have reached the bottom of the well of logic & rationality today ~ and it is bone dry!

Gosh, it sounds like you had a really *scary* night last night.
Really?  I hadn't noticed Dr. Obvious!  I don't need "validation" about how hard the night was!
***NEWSFLASH***
I WAS THERE!  At least for some of it!
And the most fabulous thing is...if you hang on till the next day, no matter how much it sucks, you get a quick pat on the back for not "hurting" yourself.
***NEWSFLASH # 2***
Doesn't make it suck any less!!!!!

I have reached deep into the well of logic and rationality today and the well is dry.
So I'm done!  FINISHED! 
NO MORE TALKING OR REACHING OUT!
It doesn't matter.  It never did. 
I can't do it.  I am not strong enough.
And it seems as though it doesn't matter how difficult it is as long as you don't cut yourself - then everyone thinks everything is fine.
And I want to just scream out: NOTHING IS FINE!!! CAN'T YOU SEE THAT?
I COULD NOT BE FURTHER THAN FINE! 
But it wouldn't matter if I did...no one listens. 
If there are no external scars - no one listens - so it doesn't matter.

I am taking away your maladaptive coping skills!

YOU MUST ELIMINATE THE FOLLOWING BEHAVIORS:
cutting, boozing, promescuity, ODing on benzos, vomiting, excessive spending....

I am taking away all of your maladaptive coping skills...if you need them, they will be in either my purse or the refrigerator - neither of which you are allowed to prowl without my permission, which of course you do not have.....
And what will we be replacing them with?
Oh -I'm glad you asked, Crazybrain! 
We are replacing them with the following:
Radical acceptance
Wisemind
Half smile
Oh, you could exercise too, if you want: fat-ass!
Just deal with it! 
I personally think it's stupid to take away a person's crutches in life and expect them to deal effectively for more than a couple of days - without a mental meltdown!
Because then you get to live in hell until you can learn to short-circuit the brain's automatic responses that you developed because of a lifetime of f**kedupness.
DUMB!   I'm just sayin'    D~U~M~B!

I just want to feel safe, dear therapist. It’s been a really long time since I’ve felt safe.

I had a bit of a mental meltdown last night.  (That's a big shocker, Grace!)

The therapist had not emailed me by 10pm, and it had already been a really emotionally charged weekend. By 10:01~ the 5 year old was crying from fear and feelings of abandonment, and PAG was hoping the therapist would forget again so she would have a reason to be pissed off at the therapist. Okay, that isn’t a fair statement~ PAG gets pissed off at the therapist all the time for reasons she makes up in her crazybrain. Maybe it would be more accurate to say PAG wanted a reason to that she could throw in the 5 year old’s face to PROVE to the 5 year old that the therapist doesn’t care about her. Anyway, it didn’t happen for her because the therapist emailed a few minutes later. It didn’t matter though. Crazybrain was already at defcon 4 and inches away from self inflicted pain. So Grace called the therapist for help, but PAG wouldn’t let the therapist help, she just wanted to fight with the therapist….the therapist was not in the mood for a fight (she never is) so she told Grace that if she wanted help she had to listen and stop fighting the therapist! Eventually Grace listened because there are no cuts or bruises today.

Thanks to the therapist’s help and patience, we stayed safe from self-jury, but were still unable to find a sense of safety, it was a constant battle to stay present and not dissociate but it was a losing battle for most of the night. In the moments I was in my body, I felt like there was a bolt of lightning constantly circulating through my body. I could not relax, I could not concentrate, I couldn’t even order coffee at Starbucks! Calling in sick was not an option because it was a day packed with deadlines and yet I could not even find a folder that was right in front of my face. I thought I should make a list of things that I had to get done but I couldn’t even figure out how to get that done! Extremely frustrating to find myself in a position where I cannot concentrate at work. Typically, work is a place I can escape the craziness in my head but it wasn’t working! Nothing felt safe and yet a small rational voice knew there was no logical reason for the fear and anxiety which increased the frustration, leading to more anxiety…and suddenly Grace is on her own personal Crazy~Brain~Carousel, complete with the circus music!

I met with the therapist at 10am this morning but I still couldn’t explain what was happening with the lightning inside my body or the fear inside my head. I couldn’t speak or look at her for the longest time. Eventually she asked me what I wanted to get from the session today and I said I didn’t know. But I did know. I just wanted to feel safe…even if only for a few minutes. I just wanted to feel safe. And the therapist made me feel safe today. Today, even just sitting there, in her office, my body full of electricity and 10 different voices inside my head, the therapist made me feel safe….just because she was there. Just because she’s the therapist....

She listened, she sat with me, she tried to help me stay grounded today...but most importantly, she made me feel safe.  She was still there...still trying to listen and understand *all* of Grace...because she is kind and patient.  Because she is the therapist.

Grace, if it wouldn’t have been the onion – you would have found something else to be mad about, another reason to push her away…

I had lunch with my friend L today. L is my friend who will “tell it like it is” no matter what (not in a rude way, but she isn’t that friend who just agrees with you no matter what you say…I like that about her). It’s been such a long time since L and I have really “talked” ~ so it was really nice to catch up with her. We always go to the same restaurant and we always sit at the same table…silly, I know, but it’s “familiar”. I’ve been in a really bad place for awhile (really, captain obvious, I hadn’t noticed!) so having lunch with L was really something I really needed today.

We talked about everything! Christmas, how much her parents spoiled her during the holidays, her BF…and then the dreaded topic of *therapy* came up. I told L about the fact that I’ve been really f’d up since I shared way too much of myself with the therapist, and then about the onions and the cat thing, and then the fact that she forgot Grace last Friday~ thing…and on and on…and she actively listened to me.

And when I had finished speaking, she said, “Grace, you do realize that if it wouldn’t have been the onions, you would have found another reason to be pissed at the therapist. You felt like you shared too much of yourself, which made you uncomfortable, you got scared, and so you’re now trying to find a reason to pull away, to push her away, to really piss her off so she will tell you to go away….instead of really dealing with the real problems.”

“Yes”, I told L, “But then the therapist said she would be patient again, and I hate that because I want her to tell me to F off because I am so mean and disgusting! And I know she thinks that too – and she just won’t say it. NO ONE is that patient! And I’m not getting any better. I mean, I haven’t SI’d in over 3 months – but I think about it all the time, and I think about SUI all the time...and I have so much time late at night that I don’t remember but I’m not asleep – and I just don’t think I can get better.”

L told me that she does think the therapist knows what’s going on with me, and why I’m *acting out* right now, and that if I haven’t pushed the therapist away with the behavior I exhibited in 2008 and early 2009 then she ain’t going to leave now –and I have to learn to be patient with myself, just like the therapist has said she will be patient with me. L said that she KNOWS I am better now than I was 2 years ago – because she has been there to witness it.

I don’t know…I love L and I treasure her friendship and I trust her… and I know she made some honest and valid points today…but I just feel freakin’ lost! And tired! Ya know? Like I feel like I paddle so fast and hard to get upstream and then I stop for a minute and I’m suddenly back to where I started. I don’t know the answers. But L got me to eat something which is more than I’ve been able to do for myself in nearly 4 days… And she’s right – about the therapist. I know that. And yet still…there’s doubt.  And I'm still scared.

I'll be patient while you work through your anger, Grace...."...or you could just die already, that'd be fine, too

That’s what the therapist said to me last night, in the Wed night email, that we “agreed” too ~ when she doesn’t forget…. She said, “I am optimistic that you will find a way through this irritation at me. And if not, the part of you that continues to be angry must feel a need to stay protective and guarded...and so I will wait, seek to understand and gently challenge when called for from my perceptions.”

So, since I’ve had a couple glasses of wine, let me just throw it all out there, before I go puke (having some serious digestive issues as a result of the wine, no food intake, no sleep – and some overwhelming rage/anxiety/depression). Here it is…coming around again…her seemingly endless “patience” at my acting out behavior (I will use that because I know that’s what she thinks it is). Gawd, Grace is acting out again! But like the parent of a 2 year old in the midst of a temper tantrum…I will just wait it out, until she calms down and I can reason with her. When really, I would prefer her to just scream right back at me, tell me I’m a GD baby and that she HATES dealing with me and wishes I had never crossed the threshold of her onion smelling office, and that I would never return again! That’s what I would prefer…and I think it would make me less angry – if she would just say it! I’m not 3 years old! I’m a 38 year old bitch! Sometimes the tears of frustration fall and I want to call her up and tell her that I hate her! Because I know she isn’t really that “patient” ~ no one is! And I know she must truly hate me.  I'm sure of it!

And then when things start to calm down, there is that part of me who is attached to her, and when that part of me starts to feel cared for, safe, and trusting again, then another part of me goes on high-alert and starts looking for some reason why the therapist cannot be trusted. And the most recent reasons: she leaves her cats alone for days, she forgot to email me on Friday when she know how hard Fridays are for me, and she ate onions right before my appointment, in her office, stinking up the whole joint – and not taking me into consideration when she knows my history about onions (because the trusting part told her...told her way too much!).

When I get angry and pull away from the therapist, the 5 year old screams even more ~ and rather than try anything to comfort her, I wish she would just DIE already! She is so GD annoying! The week after Christmas when the therapist changed my appointment time by 15 minutes, the 5 year old freaked out like there was some big announcement going to be made and the therapist needed the 15 minutes between appointments because she knew the 5 year old was going to be a complete mess....something the 5 year old can't handle because life is so "unpredictible" and all.  That's why I hate that stupid whiny baby! I want her to shut up and if she can't - then I want her to die! 

So now what…now comes the part where she throws out the whole, “I’ll be patient while you work through your hurt and anger at me, Grace.” And what she doesn’t realize, is a really big part of me believes that she either cannot see how close I am to just ending it all, or she doesn’t care. My stubbornness is as endless as her patience…I wonder who will win because I am ready to die for my cause!

And why should we“trust”the therapist? Every time we do, she does something that hurts and makes me pull away –and then PAG goes on a BL rampage trying to hurt both of us because she obviously doesn’t care or she wouldn’t have (enter: forgot to email ,eaten onions etc). So, in an effort to make me think she’s all non-judgmental of my out of control behavior directed toward her (inappropriately, I’m sure) she will be “patient”. And that’s because no one was ever “patient” or “listened” too little Grace…so the therapist thinks she can change this? Really, it just makes me think she is just biding her time, avoiding me, until I get my behavior in check and act like an adult…so she doesn’t have to deal with me. And I just hope that I can go long enough without eating or drinking anything that my heart will just stop. Yes, it really does hurt that much now! I was in the bathtub earlier today and I curled my arms around my legs, like a pretzel, and put my face in the surface of the water…and I wondered how hard and painful it would be to just leave my head there, under the water…until my heart really did stop.

I wish it would have. But it didn’t. But she can continue to be *patient* until I’m dead. And even though her patience seems “endless” ~ I hope it doesn’t take that long because I'm really effin' tired….and I don't want to hurt anymore ~ I don't want to feel anything anymore.  I want to go away.  I want the therapist to go away.  I just want it all to stop.

Why are you always such a mega-bitch, Grace?

Tuesday afternoon I gave up my excellent parking space at work to go to a therapy appointment that was worthless and a waste of my time.  AND there were a million distractions AND her whole office smelled like ONIONS - which make me nauseous as F**K!  Which, of course, she totally knows and still ate a bunch of raw onions in her office right before my appointment .  I wanted to puke the whole time!  Maybe she could have saved them and forced me to eat them too!  That would have had about the same affect!  I'm not saying the woman should alter her eating habits to accomodate me, but JC!  She KNOWS I hate onions and they remind me of the SF.  To her credit, she did offer to spray some lovely lemon pledge smelling air freshener - which would be great for the olfactory sense - onions mixed with lemons!  Subconsciously she probably did it on purpose to get PAG back for her rude and borderline expressions of discontent at the therapist's *forgetfullness* on Friday night.  Or, perhaps she just forgot about the "onion" thing too.  Or maybe PAG is right and she just doesn't give a flying fuck about how Grace feels about onions and Friday nights! 

And then when I tell her that I was f'd up all last week after talking about the *bad* stuff and so now she isn't allowed to talk to her, she was all like, "Well, I'll talk for her then..." WTF was that about?  She'll do what?  Um...newsflash!  Can't speak for someone when you don't know what they're thinking and feeling.  That was like the dumbest statement ever!  So stupid!  I can't even talk for her!   Maybe she ate the onions for her too!  Maybe we can watch a really scary movie next week!  Or have pancakes!  GOD!  WTF!
Whatever the *reason* be it conscious or unconscious - I'm sure it's really *none of your business, Grace* - yeah, well, I think it ALL SUCKS and right now I think the therapist sux too - although that's really none of my business either....I got that.
I just love it when she throws out the NOYB in the same sentence as discussing "our relationship".  I get that the fossil situation isn't my business but she doesn't have to be rude about it!  I'll be sure to leave ALL humor outside of "our relationship" from now on.
Strictly business.  I'll talk about my "symptoms" and she can clinically help me get them "resolved"...however, I'd like to be on the advanced, high-potency meds so I can not really see her, or smell her onions, for much longer. 
And then the fact I again brought up the fact that she is billing w/a Dx of BPII and she never said I had BPII, nor does my PDOC bill with it - she told me AGAIN that she bills it to get the claims paid -really?  So it's okay to lie to get the claims paid, or do you really think I'm BPII?  Of couse I get the standard MHP answer of, "I don't like to label..."  Really?  Because you were really f-ing quick to slap it on a HCFA form!!!  Yeah, I'm not big on labels either, but I'd rather not have someone look at my "confidential health records" (come on- we all know there's no such thing) and say, Whoa - I didn't know you had BPII?  And I'd be like, "Well, that makes 2 of us!"  Apparently only the therapist and the ins co knew it until now!  Some F-ING HONESTY would be GREAT about now!!!!!!!!
I feel strangely disconnected from the therapist, anyway, right now.  Yesterday, it was like having a conversation with someone you're sitting next to on a flight from Houston to Dallas - just interesting enough that you don't *pretend* to be asleep for the short jaunt from city to city.

GAWD, GRACE!  Why are you always such a MEGA-Bitch! 

OH!  Because I can be!  That's why!

Around and around and around we go….where crazybrain stops nobody knows...not even her

I thought it was only my body he destroyed, but sadly, while he destroyed my body, they both destroyed my mind. And now, every ounce of grey matter has been infiltrated with trauma, making every thought so distorted, it is as though it is seen and processed through a carnival mirror. I still have an above average IQ, and can speak intelligently much of the time, but only when it is about logical data that has no emotional impact on me whatsoever.  Take away the logic, and the statistical data, and throw in some sort of (ICK) feeling or emotion...and CB takes over and that girl is on a personal mission to *distort and destroy*...and not even kryptonite will stop her!

Friday afternoon, I was lying in the bathtub (my favorite hangout lately) and suddenly my *crazybrain* became strangely fixated with the well-being of the therapist’s cats. I can give some insight as to why these thoughts started flying through the frontal lobe, but alas, to a *non-crazybrain* (a *not-crazybrain*, or an *un-crazybrain*, if you will)  it ain't gonna make sense.

But here goes....I know that the therapist isn’t always home at night and on the nights she isn’t home, crazybrain wanted to know who was taking care of her cats. That’s really how it started...suddenly, all rational thought processing went right down the drain with the water from the bathtub and all CB kept thinking about were those poor little kitties at home without their mother to love them and keep them safe because she was at the BF’s house.  And the poor kitties were left alone to fend for themselves. Now, by this point, CB had worked herself into such a state of anxiety, she actually called the therapist to find out the state of the poor kitty-cats. Yes, seriously, she did...and that phone call was only the beginning of Trauma Brain Defcon 5 Day...

I am hanging on to the words you say ~ that I am not crazy, and I will be okay

"You are not crazy and you will be okay". I am holding tightly onto your words, dear therapist. I have hidden them under my tear stained pillow where they can be easily reached when I wake up in terror and confusion.

Last Friday night was the worst I’ve experienced in a long time. I know in part it was due to the shameful disclosures I made in the therapist’s office, but there is more to it than that. And I have been trying to put the puzzle together, yet there are still missing pieces lost in the darkness, and it seems as though I have caught another case of trauma brain, in addition to a head cold. As you know *borderline freak outs* are a common side effect of trauma brain and I appreciate her endless patience when dealing with PAG. I understand there is no reasoning with her, which is why I choose to leave when she comes around.

I am sorry that I told the therapist that she doesn’t “get it” ~ that wasn’t fair, and I am sorry for hanging up on her and telling her that I do not need anything from her, including her ‘support’. Last Friday when I was talking to her the giddy sound in her voice and the fact that I perceived she called me back in front of the BF made me feel even more ashamed and embarrassed. And she sounded so happy and from my perspective not in a place where she could possibly understand that Grace’s internal security threat level had gone from a barely supportable ‘orange’ to unendurable “RED” and yet I had no way to communicate that to her because…well, I don’t really know why, exactly…I can only hypothesize and surmise and draw my own conclusions drawn from assumptions and guesswork:
1. I was angry that the therapist called me back from her BF’s house (although, I have to say I do like him better than the fossil – obviously he has email and a dog – and anyone who loves dogs is a-ok in my book) but I didn’t want to be a high-maintenance pain in the ass ~ or rain on her *happy parade* especially since she sounded so giggly and happy and I was in hell.
2. The kids were not home on Friday night and I knew that would make it worse for me ~ they are at least a distraction for part of the night.
3. The hus had already made some inferences that had kicked the 5 year old fear into full defcon 5 trauma brain.
4. I could not regain control of any situation on Friday night. I was not able to control what came out of my mouth, or what my body would do. Nothing! And the later it got ~ the worse it got. I could not stay in my body, or mind, for even 10 minutes.
5. I was not able to soothe any part of me or find any safety at all.
6. I felt like an inconvenience ~ she did not say that...in fact, she was trying to help me, but I felt like an inconvenience because…well, because that’s how I’ve always felt when I need help.
7.  ....and other stuff
I know at one point on Friday night I was talking to my friend Lynn on one phone and the therapist on another…but I remember only a snippet of each conversation. It was all surreal – like I was not attached to my body at all – and I couldn’t feel anything, but could see what was happening- and it was complete chaos. I felt like the body I was seeing was dead and there were these people around her trying to help her live but she couldn’t understand them. And it was so loud and chaotic and confusing that I could not handle any of it so I stopped watching because it was weird and scary and tiring and no one could make that girl understand anything – and she just wanted it all to stop. The next thing I remember was the hus waking me up outside at 3am – wondering what the hell I was doing outside, as was I.

And just as I told the therapist she doesn’t “get” what it’s like for me at night, I surely cannot “get” what it must be like for her to try to figure out where I am and what’s going on when I cannot communicate with her and we are on the phone so it’s not like she can ‘see me’ – and I certainly do not “get” what it’s like for her to get a frantic phone call from me when I am in that state…and it’s discouraging because I thought I was doing better. I really did.

And I couldn’t deal with any of it the rest of the weekend so I just stayed in bed. But I’m still holding on…the therapist told me that I will be okay and I am not crazy. I am holding onto her words right now. Because I do not feel okay ~ and I do feel crazy. I feel like I am falling apart…

TEMPORARILY AWAY: relocated to the Island of Misfit Survivors

I don’t know where to go from here. I am bleeding inside and it hurts. I want the hurt to go away and yet I do not want to reach out for any type of help. I continue to struggle with the conflict inside of me, and making decisions that are not consensual with all parts of me, and the backlash that occurs as a result. Once the decision is made there is pushback and anxiety and I while I realize there are no ‘take backs’ I feel like I need to run away to the Island of Misfit Toys right now.

I want some semblance of sanity in my life. I want the pain to go away, or at least dull ~ I want the body stuff to stop and the movies to stop at night. And I know I need help for that to happen….but I don’t want help because I don’t want to depend on someone to help me, and I don’t want the vulnerability of actually talking about it. So where does that leave me? Yes, exactly! On the “Island of Misfit Survivors”, that’s where!  Feelings of vulnerability compromise my ‘inner security’, which then sends out alerts to PAG, who then makes life hell, and not just for me. Who doesn’t have issues with trust and vulnerability, right? That’s not a unique quality that simply I must bear. Especially in a one-sided relationship like therapy.

My mind is reeling with the thoughts of someone else seeing the ugly death inside my body that has metastasized into all 5 foot 3 inches of me; and I'm  wondering if I even have the ability and strength to try to figure out a way to communicate what I can only describe as an intense pain that cannot be expressed in the verbiage of the human language. The words simply do not exist. And even if they did I don’t know that I would be able to verbalize them.

Last night I found myself literally “Rocking around the Christmas Tree” in the quiet desperation of the darkness. And I sat on the floor, crying and wrapped in a blanket, rocking and counting the white and red lights on the tree in my living room. And when the lights would blur from the tears in my eyes, I would close my eyes, reopen them, and start again…counting and rocking…counting to save myself from shattering, counting to save myself from falling deeper into the pit of hopeless abandonment. Counting and rocking… counting to save my life.

I don’t know what I need ~ to pray harder? That doesn’t work well for me. I should ask someone to pray for me? Maybe that would work. Prayer for strength? I cannot believe I that I am doubting myself yet again just when I thought I had taken a step forward in this fight. My mind is a chaotic mess! I need to go throw up and then try to find something else to focus on. The less I think about this right now, the better.

To all the ones I've *wronged* before ~ and an extra special gift to the man to "accidentally" grabbed my ass tonight...

I had to apologize and make amends to a friend of mine this afternoon for something I said last week, as well as some unbecoming behavior exhibited in the course of the conversation.  I don't remember the conversation, but I've no doubt it happened....

Late this afternoon a friend of mine walked into my office and in such a kind way she told me how nice I looked and how much she liked my sweater (I, too, think it's a great sweater ~ I wore it once on a day I had T ~ and the therapist told me it looked like a Rorschach test...Really, dear therapist, and just what did you see in the sweater pattern? ~ I guess that was a compliment coming from a shrink?)  Anyway, my friend went on to tell me that the last time I wore the sweater....let me use her words, "It wasn't you!"  She told me I was mean to her (well, I never!)...and I don't remember the conversation at all.  She went on to tell me that I had stormed out of her office in the middle of the conversation, telling her she was acting like a shrink (Ok - I said my shrink) and when she called me a bit later I refused to talk to her.  What?  I'm sure she's telling the truth (must be the brain tumor) so I apologized to her and she said, "Well, it's nice to have Grace back...." 

I hate it when I do things I don't remember...yesterday in T I told the therapist I thought I was doing better and I haven't had any borderline freak outs and sent her any crazy, hateful emails in a long time.  And she said I did send one not too long ago...(?)  WTF~ wasn't in my sent file!  So I freakin' apologized to her too yesterday! 

It's not been a great couple of days...in fact, I've had some of those freaky body issues, more than a few crying spells, done a couple of really stupid things (I tend to *act out* when I get really angry or feel unheard about something ~ even if I don't say out loud what that *something* is...something to do with a local police officer who came to pick up the toys we collected for the local kids and I have *priors* with him), have a horrible migraine, and a terrible case of insomnia...my mind has been racing ~ and I haven't been able to focus for a week now!

And I hate that the therapist isn't working tomororw night (although I'm sure she isn't hating having the weekend off...) because I know I'm going to need help tomorrow night ~ especially now that both DS and DD are spending the night with friends and won't be home ~ GREAT!  WTF!  I don't really like DH right now!  But really, I don't like myself because I can't talk to him about ANYTHING!   And there ain't no way I'm asking for help tomorrow night ~ not even if there's bloodshed!

Now ~ the kicker to my week, thus far!  Tonight, I was shopping with a friend and this disgusting man 'accidentally' hit my shoulder and then grabbed my ass! WTF!  Of course, I didn't say anything ~not even when he invaded my personal space at the cash register later, loudly proclaiming how he was shopping for his 'god-daughter' and 'aunt' ~ I care because???? Again, WTF?  What the hell gave him to right to grab my ass and fuck up my night!?  Of course, marsha dear, would tell me no one but me can eff up my night and I should let it go....cuz I sure can't change it...but it has jacked up my already messed up week! 

I am SSSOOOOO a grown-up and I am NOT reaching out for help!  Not tonight or tomorrow or the next night!  I can and will do this on my own!  And I don't care of that does mean some 'maladaptive' behavior and bloodshed!  I don't care!!!!! 
And what I'd really like is a martini right now!  Where the hell is that demon bartender???? Make it a double ~ STAT!!!!! 

F**K!!!   SH*T!!!!!!   DAMN!!!!!!

Your feelings and needs are safe with me and you will not be forgotten...

But what if you do? What if something comes up and you don’t have room for me anymore? What if you do forget how much it hurts? …………but what if you don’t?
I have an idea of something that I think might work in trying to reopen the lines of communication with the therapist…but something is still holding me back…is it fear?  Trust?  Safety? 

A girl holds a pillow in front of her face, her eyes water but she doesn’t blink so no tears fall. She is screaming inside, “I am afraid. You will hurt me. You will destroy me. You will get sick and tired of me and you will throw me in the trash just as they did. I am afraid of you so I will remain quiet and I will try to be good.”

And another girl speaks, stubborn and questioning all thoughts of safety and trust, “Now you want to ‘hear’ me again? NOW? Where were you then when I needed you? Where were you? Why should I trust you? I did trust you and you took it away. Shattered me. I can’t let that happen again! It’s easier to deal with it myself than to trust someone else. You won’t be there when I am frozen in pain and forget how to breathe. You won’t be there. It is too much for you. I will not talk to you. You will tell me to get over it, stay in the present moment. If I tell you I need to hurt myself because I deserve it you will send me away. You won’t understand and you will think I am pathetic and weak. I will walk away right now! I do not need you or your help!”

Another voice questions the genuiness of the therapist’s words, “Why do you try so hard to be nice to me? I don’t need your kindness because it isn’t real. Your kindness cuts me, it makes me sad. It hurts more than any pain. I prefer to fight you and push you away because I know how to do that! I know how to fight back. If you accept me, if you know me and accept me and then still tell me you care and treat me with kindness and respect? And then if I accept your kindness and lower my wall, my defenses, then I will be exposed and you can hurt me then. You will hurt her.

There is another girl, a smaller one, one who cries because she is so lost and afraid…because it hurts so much inside and she does believe in the therapist but the others, they won’t let her talk. They try to protect her but really they are hurting her. Because every night her body hurts, her body feels things that her mind cannot process. It scares her and leaves her aching with shame and badness. She whispers things we don’t speak of. She wants help now. She wants it to stop.

How do I make it stop? How do I make it stop for her? I am filled with uncertainty and pain. She told me she would be here. She said she would not leave me and she would try to help me to the best of her ability. She said my feelings are safe with her and she will not forget me.

Dearest Therapist,
I am trying really hard to find a way back to trusting you. It is so hard to find a way to navigate through all of the internal conflict and pain. I cannot do it alone and I have an idea that I am holding close to me right now still cautious and uncertain. Because I cannot fail in this again…I really need to trust you. I really need your help.
Because it hurts all the time and I need to find my way out.
Can you help me if I can find a way to talk to you?

I am stuck in this place of begging for someone to listen to me and denying my own desires to talk

It is still here – the longing to cry with someone – but it is impossible now. It’s been impossible for so long I don’t know why I even bother with any of it. I don’t know to help her…no one knows how to help her.

It doesn’t matter if you feel like a victim or a survivor, or at times, both…it still happened. It was me. It was me lying there – it was my body. I am no longer that little girl but it was undeniably me. I was hurt, I cried, I yielded all of my power to him. Me. It was me. No one helped me. I can’t make that any different. I can’t change that….not through my writing, not by speaking, not inside my mind. I can’t undo it.

I want to bury this hurt in an airtight coffin until it suffocates and can no longer damage me. I want to smash the pain with a boulder until it is crushed and no longer alive in me. I am stuck in this place of begging for someone to listen to me and denying my own desires to talk. It all comes back to the forbidden words of trust and need and I’m having a difficult time trying to shift and reposition myself in a positive, healing way.

It’s difficult to get the words out without the tears and emotions. And I won’t cry in front of anyone…and that list now includes the therapist. There are times when I am aching with the desire to talk about difficult things and I hold back. Why? Multifaceted…complicated question and an equally complicated answer. First, there is a part of me that does not trust her, or even want to trust her. A part of me is embarrassed at the Grace she sees when the tears start. It is not the me that everyone knows…it’s the miserable, self-indulgent, childish, hopeless me. And I cannot risk being seen like that. And there’s a third reason…it feels incredibly undignified to cry in front her when she just sits there…silent and unmoving. And in the past few months I have become much more conscious of the fact that she is really, in some respects, a stranger to me, especially when the dramatic shift from ‘caring’ to ‘symptom’ management occurred. Late at night, when it is overwhelming and relentless, I don’t reach for the therapist because I know it is not her ‘job’ to be here, but I ache for someone to talk to about this pain, someone who loves me, not someone who is paid to listen.

Recently I had an opportunity to visit with an old friend I had not seen in 4 years ~ and she told me I needed to tell my mother to go to hell, once and for all, and asked me if I thought that would help.  I told her maybe.  There are many nights I want to call her and tell her to go straight to hell! It's probably a good thing I don't have her phone number ~ and definately a good thing the bitch doesn't have email ~ because PAG would certainly be burning up the phone lines and cyberspace...because she has a lot to say to the host body.

Dearest Host Body ~ Fuck you! Go have your fucking mental breakdown! Drink and pass out! Go lock yourself in the bathroom and OD and try to kill yourself while your alcoholic husband rapes me! Go ahead and wallow in self pity while that monster hunts me like prey, and skins and kills me when he catches me…over and over and over again! 
I am broken! I am so full of infection…pain and rage and disgust – I can’t find joy in the “gift of life” you so graciously gave me! There is darkness inside of me and inside that darkness is nothing - void of all humanism. Tell me mother ~ was I born this way? Was I born defective and broken?
Fuck your problems! Fuck your anger about having the responsibility to take care of your kids – which you never did anyway! Fuck your sadness about your life! Screw you! Fuck your misery! You can’t even take care of yourself! You never could! You could have helped me but you didn’t! So fuck you, mother!
You never loved me, you never showed me how to love!  But you taught me how to hate, mother - and I hate you!   Grace

Is that seriously your suggestion? Well, allow me to retort! **WARNING**Borderline rant with many expletives & triggering comments

UUUUUURRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Me, screaming, after puking, and before borderline ranting that will hopefully not end in a serious dissociative episode where Grace wakes up in a pool of blood, with old faithful Demon Bartender serving up bottomless Grey Goose/Ativan cocktails at the open bar, and bowls full of razors ~ with the only “NUT” being ME! However, as God as my only witness, I promise to harm no one other than the stupid bitch who actually swallowed the bullshit served up on the platinum spoon engraved with the word “THERAPY”, yes, that would be me, Grace! 

After a horribly frustrating therapy session yesterday (at least she got that part right!!!) where I once again proclaimed I am afraid of the therapist, her office, her ability to stay with me…and the strong overpower the weak, which makes her job hell – and my fucking life hell!!!! This is seriously the suggestion of the day? Who the hell thought this was a good idea? Multiple Choice: The flying fat-ass nun ~ OR ~ the former-fossil ~ my old DBTC, the "friend of Bill's ~ OR ~ a Buddhist monk…perhaps all of the above!? OMG! OMG! OMG! I think I have the answer! It is most likely the genius suggestion of the other Marsha-wanna-be...the the therapist's “DBT” Friend who told me she had to go to anger management classes because she couldn’t stay in her present moment and respond appropriately to her ‘feelings/emotions’…

WITHOUT FURTHER ADIEU….

Dear Grace,
I know that our last session was frustrating for you as you struggle to figure out how to find a path to the dialogue that you are strive for in session. I, like you, believe that your words and feelings deserve to be heard and understood within a safe place. While there is likely no perfect or absolute safe place for this, I have strove to create some close approximation to this with you, I also understand that this can change and needs continued attending to, through our mutual communication in the moment and after reflection on past experiences. Our joint presence and attendance to painful and difficult material is no small matter, and while I know that writing in email feels essential for you, perhaps you can bring some of the most of important emails to session where you can connect and address your written material in person. This way it doesn't go unspoken. This may feel scary or shameful, but I think one possible place to start?  Your commitment to yourself is just another signature of your strength and desire for inner realness and peace. Natural changes are occurring and you will get there.... Keep striving for less judgment and more realization that change is happening without you knowing right now.
Sending you warm blankets on this really cold night.
The Therapist

Dear Therapist:
Yes, you are correct on the frustration and struggles I continue to try to work through as it relates to actually look you in the eye and try to believe that you are being honest and sincere with me. Just a hunch I have that you are NOT – but I’m sure that my disbelief in your genuine honesty and sincerity is just an overgrowth of my trauma history and shall I reflect on it further, I will find that it has everything to do with me, nothing with you, just my transferring feelings onto you that should be directed at myself and the host body…and all the other dishonest and insincere fuck-heads that roam the earth! Especially the ones who can look you in the eyes and fucking lie! I like those the best!
Thank you for the validation that you believe I should be heard in a ‘safe’ place…I can tell you, I have a safe place, it’s called anonymously typing my pain and shame and frustrations behind the anonymity of a computer screen. Yes, in the past you have ‘strove’ (who uses the word ‘strove’???) to help create a safe place for me ~ and as I have told you ~ I really appreciate what you did, and I VALIDATE for you the hard work it took, and that you truly went above and beyond in earning my trust. And I “EMPATHIZE” with your struggles of dealing with the untrusting, psycho, border! It AINT EASY, I KNOW! 
However, trust was scattered into the wind when you told the 5 year old to 'deal with it' cuz you were busy, and hung up on her because you were with the fossil (before setting any "limits"), and said she was unrealistic and manipulative...yeah, I'm sure the gatekeeper will give you the fucking master key to all the inner thoughts now!
I just told you that she will not allow me to call you or email you, but you think I can actually write the shit out that I want to say to you (well, the ‘former’ you) and say it to your beautiful face????? First of all, it does not go ‘unspoken’ because I have friends who will listen, and I can write away out into cyberspace and ‘express’ myself all I want to (such as right this fucking minute) it just doesn’t get written, or spoken, to YOU! Yes, emails USED to feel “essential” to me, USED to! **Please note the PAST TENSE I mean to convey here!) however, I no longer email you since I have told you REPEATEDLY! That SHE WON’T LET ME email you or talk to you! So just what “emails” are you ‘suggesting’ I bring to session and read aloud to you? I could bring a fucking Dr. Suess book, if you like! That seems to be more “OUR” level of communication now!
Yes, I can SEE the changes, Dear Therapist! I can fucking walk around my kitchen all fucking night long talking to myself and touching shit in my present moment…I can and have had to do that on A LOT of occasions! And I can fake it like a fucking ROCK STAR! I’m fucking amazing! I know!
And I would like to take a moment to thank Target for filling my ativan script twice today (in one day!) and also to Medco for approving double refill and not denying the claim as a refill-to-soon! Even MORE geniuses at work! I typically say I don’t like stupid people ~ tonight I like ‘em a LOT!
The Demon Bartender has arrived, and so I shall now end my cyberspace borderline ranting and go make that vodka and razor my bitch! Just as the step-father made me HIS BITCH!
 
So, as my child-fucking step-father used to tell me as he fucking ripped my body apart, “Write that down in your book and go tell Granny!” (I'll change it to Marsha for you since I realize that's who you consult with.... )

Oh, thanks for the offer, but you can keep your ‘warm blanket’ ~ I have plenty of my own, I don’t need to ‘borrow’ yours ~ and anyway, I’m sure you wouldn’t appreciate getting it back with puke and blood on it

I can't do this anymore.  Any of it! WTF!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!