Yesterday I was very tired from Monday’s two appointments in the chilled rain, and still kind of wierded out from the party Sunday night, that’s how wild it was. I tell you, and I do not tell you.
So counseling on Tuesday morning was good to straighten out my perspective, during which we also realized how big a perspective shift I am attempting with this “consider the circumstances” balancing act. I mean, think about it, almost all of my (more than 20) alters developed quickly to dissociate away from the painful and shameful circumstances of abuse itself, and yet, here I am, trying to say, Hey, Shame and Pain, I am aware of you and it’s Okay now. I accept you. We escaped from the Island of Pain, as it were. We swam through the currents and subsequent storms. We are fine now. And all the alters are like, whaaa? Shaking and like, new and stuff in this new place with their different time zones. (1965, 78, 73, 82, 92, etc. in no order at all …)
Clean heart. So yesterday I felt very surreal and dissociated like I had never woken up all day and I thought it was the weather, Monday, the party, fatigue. It turns out it’s “consider the circumstances”, too. Or maybe all. It will not all be waking up at once. Shaking up all at once. Freaking wierd. But I’m hanging in there.
Chupacabra got drunk and woke up at 11:30 and fell and hurt her ankle or something and had a temper tantrum. When her toddler ran to her to help and said, Mommy! she hit her and the teen said, Why did you have to hit her? and whatever the hell broke loose and crying and tempers screaming and I woke up Jason and said I want to call the police and why and he said put the earplugs back in and I did. Effing hell.
At four am something the teen ran out and the dad went and got her and she was laughing at something inside and mom hit her a few times and she was still laughing. At 8 am teen went out and Chupacabra was screaming at her in the parking lot so fast I couldn’t keep up with the Spanish. I wanted to call someone then. They know I’ve called Children’s Protective Services because the teen’s school has talked to the teen. So maybe the teen has a hope for getting help now. I have earplugs. Bloody hell I hate this. I’ve got enough going on.
So I’m wearing the second made-up maxi skirt today. It’s lovely, a peach, kind of burned batik and slight gold leaf print. Full, but needs a ten-inch kick pleat in back for walking a dog. My dog. Hee. Maybe we can get that done next year. Right now I’m hoping to sell my bike for a much-needed full body massage.
Yesterday post-counseling, I walked Chipper, ate a quick lunch and ran off to physical therapy. My physical therapist worked on my right shoulder, which I use for EVERYTHING, mind you, and said that the bone is pinching a tendon in back and we can fix that with retraining the muscles. Kay. I’m up for that. Then she realized, again, that I have serious TMJ issues, the previous jaw relocation surgery story, etc. and she starts working on my jaw — SCARY — and for once, with all the stuff she’s ever done to me there, I whimper — Oh, she says, that must hurt a lot, because I know you. Yeah, I said, You gotta stop.
So I’m sore from PT today. But I’m much, say 10-20 percent more present today. Here and there. Not wanting to be in bed covered up nearly as much as yesterday. Hey, I’m writing here, that’s a lot.
It’s also much prettier outside. Much more seasonal. This weekend — rainy and cold — agh! We shall snuggle and coze.
Now for painting — counseling’s not ’til three — only the one appointment today!
So, first, I painted in this lovely pistachio … then a vivid deep burnt red … hmm … you like? I like … it will make much more sense as the rest of the puzzle pieces are fit in …
To me, to the left middle is a heart of sorts now …
Now to rest and meditate and process a while before counseling … enjoie!