Confused….

Yikes – April is just around the corner. We got 12 inches of snow yesterday. It is beautiful, yet my cats and short legged dogs do not share in my enthusiasm. I do have to admit that I’d love to be on the beach, even for a week. I just find comfort in hearing the ocean and palm frowns late into the night as I drift to sleep. My husband and I can not live in St. Petersburg, Florida where I grew up because of the trauma it represents. I do love this one condo on the beach. It’s within five minutes walking distance of the beach we went to as teenagers. Life was so simple in 1976. It’s what followed the year later that is the kicker. Life wasn’t given to you until you were eight-teen and could leave home.

I’ve been lonely and up and down lately. I sometimes wish I could speak to some one openly without judgment. Enemy is not one of those people of course. I can’t speak to my friends because they have lives, full filling lives that would make me sound trite. I am 52 years old and have no goals in life. I can’t speak freely without feeling I’m going to make a mistake. I have nothing really to talk about. I feel like I’m just done here. I must sound pathetic because I have everything a wife could want in life. I have a generous and loving husband, comfortable living arrangements and caring friends. What I feel inside does not make sense for all I have in the physical world. Medication is a bitch and I don’t know if it is really helping any more. I don’t want to live with chemicals in my body, yet it doesn’t work out to well if I don’t. I am exercising just a little bit lately. I’m in physical therapy again for the sciatica nerve thing. That’s another thing; I don’t want to be around people like that – one on one communication. The art of communication eludes me at the moment. My husband is always listening to me I feel while in public or on the phone regarding business. He means well, but this is not who I was a few years ago. I was out going and loving every aspect of life. Slowly it began to unravel inside of me, not so much in the physical world. I feel it’s a game of hiding -go-seek. It’s what is inside of my mind that I am so screwed up with.

Current life. We have finally refinanced our house, leaving equity in the loan and will pay off our rental property in May. It took only 4 weeks to do this which is a short time compared to other people we’ve talked to. We will be looking into purchasing a piece of land from my in-laws who are tired of paying the taxes on something they never intend on using. It’s cheap – $4000.00 but the taxes are around $500.00 a year. If we build a small house for a retreat, it may be an idea although I don’t want to be tied up in a loan for a new house. It’s just a lot, close to Travis Lake in Austin, Texas. Very nice neighborhood, yet vacant land means a commercial developer may be able to change land usage in that area. I just want another project to keep me busy. Building a house is cost prohibited at this point of time.

Since my father died in August, I’ve only spoken to my mother 2-3 times. She likes to talk about all of the activities she is doing and places she is going. Her current plan is to go to India. She tells me she paid off her house and the rental she co-owns. I wonder if she misses my father. He was ill for three years in which she had little involvement with his care. She was rarely home and I struggle with the thought of why she wouldn’t hire a nurse as my father required. We are two extreme opposites. She is uncaring emotionally where I am the nurturer as my brother and sister tells me. I am trying to keep her in my mind as just a women connected to me by genetics. It ironically helps. My husband sees her in another light after he read the websites on Straight INC. which she threw me into when I was prepared to go back into the hospital. That’s another story. I’m tempted to ask her why she is spending money on herself and not on my father when he was ill, yet what is the point? Perhaps that is why I won’t return her calls and am keeping my distance from her. It’s the past. Maturing is one of my goals in therapy, which of course isn’t happening. I try to make conscious decisions while dealing with myself and those around me. I keep asking myself if there is an ulterior motive before I speak when I share my observations.

On the Enemy front, nothing is being accomplished. He may see it in a positive light, but I see no difference in my life. I’m no longer frustrated with any progress in his scope of the lunacy field. I want to discontinue, yet I don’t know if this is a smart idea. If I ask, he’ll just say something along the lines of “whatever”. There is no “why am I wasting your time” communication between he and I.

I’m watching the Jodi Arias trial – the girl who stabbed her boyfriend 26 times and shot him twice in the head. The State attorney calls it “dissociative-amnesia” while she did this. She can remember before and after and perhaps the camera that was found in the washing machine after and during the killing was helpful as the police were successfully able to extract the pictures of the memory card. Oops – didn’t think far enough on how to take the memory card out of the camera. The defense attorney feels the “dissociative-amnesia” is a crock of bull, especially after she told three different stories of the event. The psychologist is a nut and became emotionally involved with Jodi and his creditability has been trashed, even the State attorney can’t undo what he has said on cross-redirect. I just don’t get how a psychologist could diagnose anyone with any disorder after only seeing a person 12 times in 4 years, actually it may have been 2 years. Total nut job. Richard Samuels is his name. He admits half of the time he was interviewing her, she was telling another story about “Ninjas” coming into the house and killing her boyfriend. Mr. Samuels couldn’t see that she was lying. People put too much trust in professionals who practice in the mental health field. Just my opinion at the moment.

If I were a teen-ager and got caught in the back seat of my boyfriends car with my cloths off, I’d plead “dissociative-amnesia” as I got dressed trying not to hold off a laugh in front of a cop. Apparently this defense could work but not in the Jodi Arias trial.

Humor: I saw an infant car seat on a commercial a few days ago. They now have two cup holders! What the hell? One for liquor and the other for chips? The kids can’t even travel to their destination without two cup holders? And we wonder why the children are over-weight? I thought the DVD player was too much, but now cup holders in a child’s car seat are added. When do parents actually communicate with their tots? They plug them in at home also. The toys are do-it-yourself manufactured crap. The parents are too plugged into their computers gadgets and IPhones to have the time to actually play with the tots. Toys with flashing lights and obnoxious noises – WTF? It gets worse; the parents no longer know how to converse with the tots and now bring these obnoxious toys to the restaurant to avoid having conversations with them. Then the parents wonder why tot has grown up and only communicates through Face book and email/text to them. An eight year old having a face book account communicating to a pedophile dressed as Mickey Mouse? These same parents comment to their friends that they don’t know why older tots never talk to them, that they are self reliant and have friendly people in their lives who give them extravagant gifts. I just don’t understand a tot with two cup holders unless tot is really a teenager with real cups to maintain.

Speaking of cups – where did mine go? I don’t like getting older.

I went to a cosmetic counter at Macy’s last week after learning of a new age reducing wrinkle cream that actually takes years off of your face – not breast though. I ended up getting a make-over because I wanted to learn how to apply make-up due to my older age. Nothing has changed other than eyeliner for me. The first two attempts, I looked like I had black eyes. I initially told the Este Lauder rep. that I felt very outdated and older than I am. After she talked while this process went on, she said that she was 57 years-old. I freaked because she looked well into her 60’s! She said that she had been using these products for over 20 years. My husband agreed that she looked older than 57. Perhaps I will have my 28 year-old daughter teach me how to use $80.00 worth of make-up. I declined a lot of her recommendations for new this and that. I’ll continue going to Walgreens drug store and save 75% on the same stuff. As for as breasts, my girls will have to enjoy the built-in pillows in the bras I buy. At least they stay warm in the winter!

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About crystallball7

Creative,some say "eccentric", dark sense of humor,sensitive. Never the same for too long. Running from lost time. Longing to be on the beach, at the ocean, New England. Afraid of life, extremely afraid of life.
This entry was posted in alter's/colors, bipolar disorder, D.I.D., dissociative identity disorder, Humor, mental health, Mental Illness, MPD, multiple personality disorder, personality disorder, psychology, psychotherapy, "The Enemy",psychologist and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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