Monthly Archives: July 2013

The Aftermath of My First Flashback

I had my first flashback of sexual abuse/assault/attack last night.  It was horrible.  I’m still shaken up from it.  Maybe I’ll write about it later.  I just don’t know.  I could barely tell Jay about it.

Speaking of Jay, I would like to retract my blog from yesterday, where I said I don’t feel loved or like I matter.  Things have been rough off and on lately with us.  Plus, I have borderline personality disorder.  You know, feeling things too much and all that black and white bullshit.  I do sometimes feel like I don’t matter as much as I’d like to, but, after last night, I definitely feel loved.

While I was lying on the bed, sobbing and crying, feeling like I had just been raped, Jay had his arms around me.  Tight.  He was hanging on to me to let me know he was there for me.  He kept telling me how much he loved me, and that I hadn’t done anything wrong, and it wasn’t my fault.  He was absolutely perfect and exactly what I needed after experiencing that flashback.  I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t been there.

Categories: Abuse, Anger, Anxiety, Borderline Personality Disorder, BPD, Child Abuse, Dissociation, Marriage, Mental Illness, Sexual Abuse | 3 Comments

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Kacey Musgraves – Follow Your Arrow

I’m not really into country music, though some of it’s ok.  My supervisor gave me some Kacey Musgrove songs, and I gotta say I like the entire CD.  I especially like this song.  The basic message is that everyone is going to tell you that you are wrong.  No matter what you do, it won’t be acceptable.  Damned if you’re do, damned if you don’t.  So….you may as well do whatever the hell you want.  Be true to who you are, and don’t worry about what anyone else says.




“Follow Your Arrow”

If you save yourself for marriage
You’re a bore
If you don’t save yourself for marriage
You’re a whore-able person
If you won’t have a drink
Then you’re a prude
But they’ll call you a drunk
As soon as you down the first one

If you can’t lose the weight
Then you’re just fat
But if you lose too much
Then you’re on crack
You’re damned if you do
And you’re damned if you don’t
So you might as well just do
Whatever you want

Make lots of noise
Kiss lots of boys
Or kiss lots of girls
If that’s something you’re into
When the straight and narrow
Gets a little too straight
Roll up a joint, or don’t
Just follow your arrow
Wherever it points, yeah
Follow your arrow
Wherever it points

If you don’t go to church
You’ll go to hell
If you’re the first one
On the front row
You’re self-righteous
Son of a-
Can’t win for losing
You’ll just disappoint ’em
Just ’cause you can’t beat ’em
Don’t mean you should join ’em

So make lots of noise
Kiss lots of boys
Or kiss lots of girls
If that’s something you’re into
When the straight and narrow
Gets a little too straight
Roll up a joint, or don’t
Just follow your arrow
Wherever it points, yeah
Follow your arrow
Wherever it points

Say what you think
Love who you love
‘Cause you just get
So many trips ’round the sun
Yeah, you only
Only live once

So make lots of noise
Kiss lots of boys
Or kiss lots of girls
If that’s what you’re into
When the straight and narrow
Gets a little too straight
Roll up a joint, I would
And follow your arrow
Wherever it points, yeah
Follow your arrow
Wherever it points

Categories: Borderline Personality Disorder, BPD, Daily Life, Life, Music | 1 Comment

For Jay

I miss Jay.  These songs are dedicated to him.  I hope he comes back.  The monkey has totally taken over his body.



Categories: Bipolar, Borderline Personality Disorder, BPD, Friendship, Marriage, Relationships, Sad | 1 Comment

The Monkey

I don’t like going home anymore.  I would much prefer to be at work.  I left for work this morning around 6:30, and I’ve been staying late just to avoid being at home.  To avoid being around Crazy Jay’s house guest.  If anyone’s read his blog, you know that he says there’s a “monkey” that takes control and makes him crazy.  Makes his mind race.  Makes him sad.  Makes him mad.  Basically all around fucks with him.  Jay is gone.  The monkey has been living in my house for the past couple weeks, and I hate it.  I hate that fucking monkey.

Yesterday, I went to see Jay’s and my joint therapist.  I’m actually glad that we’re both going to go see her.  We’ve seen her separately, and we’ve seen her together.  Since Jay is her patient, too, I don’t have to worry about spending half the session defending the fact that I’m still with him.  I don’t have to worry about thinly veiled attempts to tell me I would be happier without him.  I mean, I know things are especially bad NOW, but, like the Buckcherry song goes, “it’s not like we don’t ever get along.”  I know it’s bad now, but I know it will get better…and then worse, and then better, and then worse.  LOL  It doesn’t matter, though, because I’m in it for the long haul.

Back to the therapist.  I went to see her to try and get some insight as to how I should behave when the monkey comes to stay.  The monkey does not allow me to show emotion that might make it feel badly.  I cannot be upset, sad, hurt, irritated…basically anything other than happy and agreeing.  I have to watch every little thing I say.  The monkey has an extensive past filled with many many hurts.  The wrong word will bring up those old feelings.  As I’m watching what I say, though, I have to make sure not to appear withdrawn.  The monkey doesn’t like that either.  I must be properly responsive, but in a kind, gentle way, and never disagree, no matter what it’s about.  Even if I am correcting straight up facts, that is unacceptable to the monkey.  It makes the monkey feel like I’m disrupting his “happy” mood, and trying to insert a hard dose of reality.

When the monkey becomes angry if any of the above happens (or whatever sets him off that time), it feels it’s acceptable to lash out at me.  Screaming at me about what I’ve done.  Telling me over and over that I need to be different.  Bringing up all past hurts and telling me that they are current.  Telling me that I need to change this thing.  And this thing.  And this thing.  Telling me I deserve the verbal assault because of whatever I did that triggered something.  The monkey tries to make me responsible for its mood, its feelings, and its behavior.  The monkey believes that everything is my fault, and that I am ruining Jay’s and my marriage.  The monkey will tell me not to speak to Jay (or shut my “dumb fucking mouth”) until I can stop offending it.  The monkey tells me Jay’s and my marriage is over until I stop doing x, y, and z.  The monkey goes on for hours and hours.  Berating me.  Calling me names.  Telling me that everything I’m doing is purposeful to try to control and manipulate Jay.  The monkey follows me from room to room, never giving me any peace.  If I don’t respond, it infuriates the monkey.  It comes at me harder, trying to lure me into battle in the pit.  If I apologize for what I did (or didn’t do), the monkey tells me that I think I can act in whatever hurtful way I want and then apologize.  The whole “It’s better to ask for forgiveness than ask for permission” kinda thing.  If I lash back at the monkey, it becomes hurt and rubs in my face the nasty thing I said.  Over and over.  And over.  And over.  Basically, when the monkey is visiting, I cannot do anything right, no matter how I try.

The therapist told me that I need to be “an observer”.  That I need to achieve some kind of balance in all of this.  Of course, I know that I cannot change the monkey, nor can I kick him out of my house.  I need to be there, listening, but not being affected.  I need to know that I am not responsible for making the monkey happy.  I do not need to feel guilt for the monkey’s bad feelings.  It is not up to me to keep the monkey placated.  After the monkey gets its first rant out, it was suggested that I ask the monkey what would make it feel better, and then decide if I can do that.  I was told to stay more “in my soul”, rather than in “my human body”.  This chick is kinda New Ageish.  I took it as staying in the spirit vs being in the flesh (it’s a God thing).  She also suggested we print off a picture of our dog to remind us that we need to take him into account, too.  All the screaming, banging, and knocking things over that the monkey does are very upsetting to our sensitive dog.  I already knew this.  When she brought the dog into the equation, I started crying.  I feel horrible about what I go through with the monkey, but even worse about what our dog goes through.  He doesn’t understand what’s happening.  He’s just a dog.

When I got home last night, I tried to respond to things that Jay said, but not really say too much.  The monkey came out the other day when I told Jay I was “glad he had fun with his new friend.”  The monkey said I was being demeaning.  I never know what I may say that will cause the monkey to rear up and take over.  Things were a little tense, but peaceful.  Jay sensed that I wasn’t being completely open, but the monkey has made it impossible.  All of a sudden, things changed.

Jay asked me to pause the TV so he could speak.  The monkey thought he saw me roll my eyes, and said something.  Now, I do not think that I did roll my eyes.  Rolling my eyes is something I haven’t really done since I was in high school.  If it happened, it was not conscious.  I started to tell the monkey that I didn’t think I did that, and if I did it wasn’t on purpose.  Instead, I swallowed all that down and apologized.  The monkey accepted.  It didn’t leave, though.  It was quiet, but it was waiting.

The next time the TV was paused, the monkey accused me of sighing or huffing.  I’m sure I did make a noise.  It probably had something to do with the way I was laying, and then a sigh came out as I shifted to grab the remote.  Either way, I didn’t even realize I had expelled breath.  The monkey was very angry at this point.  I apologized.  I apologized again.  The monkey was on a rampage.  I don’t think it could even hear what I said.  When the monkey stopped to take a breath, I asked it what would make it go away.  What kind of banana do I need to give it so it would go off in the corner and leave me alone?  The monkey then started telling me what I need to change, and how if I did, it would go away.  I was more clear with the next question:  “Monkey, what do you need RIGHT NOW to make your anger go away?”  It told me I asked a good question and agreed to think about it.

I thought the monkey left.  It was quiet for several minutes.  I thought Jay was back.  I was wrong.  The monkey came back, yelling and telling me how I ALWAYS do this and this and this and this and this.  This went on for quite a while.  I asked it several times what I could do to make the anger dissipate.  I asked it what would make it happy, RIGHT NOW.  I asked it why, when it seemed that we would resolve one thing in the fight that evening that it would bring up another issue.  I asked why the monkey wanted to keep fighting with me.  I soon realized that the monkey was comfortably settled into Jay’s body, though, and was unwilling to leave.  As the monkey continued yelling at me, I slipped deeper and deeper into myself.  The monkey’s voice became a loud drone until it was tired and fell asleep on the couch.

The monkey was back this morning.  It showed up when I told Jay I did not want to snuggle in bed.  That I was hurt from the fight last night.  That I was hurt from the fight the night before.  I am always being yelled at and having hurtful comments hurled at me by the monkey.  When Jay comes back, he hardly remembers saying anything, and doesn’t see a need to apologize.  As a result, I’m left with anger, hurt feelings, and absolutely no resolution.  The monkey chased me out of the house this morning at 6:30.  He didn’t chase me out physically, but its words sent me running.  I was in a very bad spot this morning because of it.  When I left the house, I went to a nearby grocery store and perused the aisles looking for a glass bottle I could break up and use to express my emotions.  The monkey has let me know that I am not allowed to feel upset or hurt.  At work I can’t sit and cry all day, like I’d like to.  It seemed like the only way to express myself was to further mar my skin while thinking about all the things the monkey has been telling me.

I couldn’t find an empty bottle, though, and I wasn’t in a position to wash out a jar that had food in it.  I did not cut this morning.  I haven’t in a while, and didn’t want to start again.  I feel like the monkey gives me no alternative.  I do not know how to function with the monkey being a constant presence in my life.  I hate the monkey.  He makes me miserable.

Jay is trying to eradicate the monkey, but, in the process, it seems he’s unleashed it all the more.  He has increased the power of the monkey.  I know that it will take Jay time to work through things and finally kill the monkey.  I am willing to stay with Jay and love him until the monkey is gone.  I even try to love the monkey, but it is incredibly difficult.  I despise that motherfucker.  It makes my life hell, and then laughs about it.  It mocks my pain and tells me I deserve it.  This is not a threat to take my life, but I sometimes wonder how I will get through each day with the monkey.  It’s starting to seem hopeless.

Categories: Abuse, Anger, Anxiety, Borderline Personality Disorder, BPD, Marriage, Relationships, Self Harm, Self-Injury, Therapy | 4 Comments

Acceptable Harassment

I just found a very interesting article on The Daily Mail.  It’s titled “How Many Women Find Street Harassment Flattering: None”.  Women talk about walking down the street and feeling threatened and violated because men think they are being complimentary.  A website has been established to spread awareness of the sexual harassment that takes place on a daily basis in the most benign of places.

This was actually a HUGE problem I had while living in Little Rock.  Guys thinking they could talk to me, proposition me, harass me.  It was constant every time I walked out the door.  It’s no wonder I have such major anxiety issues.  It’s no wonder I was crying in my car, unable to even go to the grocery store because I was afraid of the aggressive men.  They never said anything to me when Crazy Jay was around, but I read stories in the above article with women saying that it doesn’t matter if they are holding their boyfriend’s hand, they will still be verbally sexually harassed.

And that’s exactly what it is.  It is harassment.  Harassment is defined as “threatening or tormenting behavior”.  I don’t know about anyone else, but I feel threatened when I walk past a group of men (or one man…or boys) and have to listen to them make noises at me, comment about my body, and proposition me.  Because of my experience in Little Rock with the constant sexual harassment, I now carry pepper foam (Not a spray – FOAM to stick to your eyeballs!) and a keychain I like to call “Punchy”.  Punchy looks like a bulldog.  Upon closer inspection, one realizes that the fingers slip through the holes where the eyes should be for a nice solid grip, and the ears are actually solid, pointed plastic that will puncture a person’s neck in a second.  I accidentally knocked it into my thigh when I was shutting my car door once.  I was bruised for over a week.  Imagine what it would do with some guided force…

The world today is not doing much to try to stop this unwanted behavior.  In fact, the media, television shows, movies, and even many other countries portray men as beings brimming with so much sexual energy they just can’t contain themselves.  I’m constantly seeing movies with men drooling and transfixed over a female, and it seems they can do nothing but stare.  They just can’t help themselves when they see a pretty girl.  It seems acceptable that men are so overwhelmed with the desire to have sex that they can’t keep their mouths shut when a female – any female – walks by.  The article mentioned that it doesn’t matter the woman’s age or appearance, she is likely to be subjected to verbal harassment by men who do that sort of thing (not all men do).  Other cultures and countries punish the female if she is raped.  They say the attack was triggered by her clothing, her words, or even her gestures.  They say she didn’t try hard enough to stop the attack; even if the female is 11 and the attacker is a grown man.  Some cultures make women cover up from head to toe to avoid being objects of lust by the men who can’t seem to control themselves.

The article ended by saying, ‘We shouldn’t face a battle when we go out in public, hiding our bodies and averting our eyes. . .  I wish I could understand why these men feel we would respond to their attention.”

For those who missed it at the top, here’s the link to the article.  Definitely worth a read, male or female.

Categories: Abuse, Anger, Anxiety, Borderline Personality Disorder, BPD, Daily Life, Life, PTSD, Sexual Abuse, Stress | Leave a comment

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