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Sunday, June 26, 2011

Another Night

Why is it that I dread the night so much?

The darkness? Or the fact that I cannot sleep anymore? I toss. I turn. I feel like I am crawling out of my skin. There is nothing that will relieve this in me. Nothing that I have, anyway. I know what will relieve it. Narcotics. After all this time, that is what I truly want. That is what I need.

My mum wants me to give her more money. Apparently, she found out about my four-month thing with Robert coming over, falling asleep after orgasm, and me getting first pick of his wallet. He doesn't care, but he doesn't like my mum, either. He tells me that the money cannot be spent on her. I tell him that I cannot keep the money if she finds out about it. At least her addiction is legal, she says.

I am never content at night. Stiff neck. Crawling out of my skin. Too hot. Too cold. Too achy. In need of a fix. Nothing working out. It's too dark. I do my best sleeping when the sun is bright in the sky and the air is warm. I want to stay awake at night and see the stars. It's been too long since I've seen the stars. Perhaps that is why I cannot sleep properly. I have been deprived of watching the stars dance in the sky at night.
Why is it that I dread the night so much?

The darkness? Or the fact that I cannot sleep anymore? I toss. I turn. I feel like I am crawling out of my skin. There is nothing that will relieve this in me. Nothing that I have, anyway. I know what will relieve it. Narcotics. After all this time, that is what I truly want. That is what I need.

My mum wants me to give her more money. Apparently, she found out about my four-month thing with Robert coming over, falling asleep after orgasm, and me getting first pick of his wallet. He doesn't care, but he doesn't like my mum, either. He tells me that the money cannot be spent on her. I tell him that I cannot keep the money if she finds out about it. At least her addiction is legal, she says.

I am never content at night. Stiff neck. Crawling out of my skin. Too hot. Too cold. Too achy. In need of a fix. Nothing working out. It's too dark. I do my best sleeping when the sun is bright in the sky and the air is warm. I want to stay awake at night and see the stars. It's been too long since I've seen the stars. Perhaps that is why I cannot sleep properly. I have been deprived of watching the stars dance in the sky at night.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Hollywood Romance

I've been scouring all the places that don't update automatically, and changing my age. Wow. For over a week there, I was lying to everyone and stating that I was still 30. Oh well. I guess that the few who screamed that I was lying on the internet can actually be correct for a change. *snicker* I mean, I agree with them all. I should be stoned and tarred and feathered for posting such incriminating, horrible, false information! I should think of the perverts who jack off to this! There's a rumor that they can only get hard when they know the blogger is exactly 30. Not 29 or 31 or 32. But strictly 30. Think of all the horrible blue balls I caused them! The internet may never recover...

Enough of that.

The kids are off, playing. The man in my life is back on the road. That left me with some time to do some things that I really didn't want to do, and dig up some old movies that I have never had the pleasure of watching before. One of them was Fatal Attraction. Man. That entire movie brought back horrible memories of DeSlut and her adventures with my brother in law. It almost made me cry. Almost. The horrors that she caused our family came flooding back, and I thought about them for a long time after watching the film. She actually had the nerve to ask me what I was "doing there" in my home with my husband and children. She actually demanded that I turn over custody of my boys to her and my brother in law (what? couldn't they make their own babies??). She demanded that we include her in family gatherings, only to show up drunk and screaming slurring insults at me. One of which was my baby shower for Chloe. Another was my father's Independence Day Barbecue.

We stopped inviting her, and she took to online to harass and threaten and basically make my life a living hell. She would email Namecheap.com and demand the credit card number that bought my domain, claiming that it was her credit card, and she wanted to know the name on the account. Luckily, eNom saw through her act and told her to send them the credit card number and they would compare notes. Otherwise, get a police order or leave us alone. She couldn't do that, so she started lying about eNom on various places on the web. Mostly on boards where I frequented for business and pleasure. The most memorable one was Web Hosting Talk. Man. I was too embarrassed to go back there for years after the scene she pulled there.

Her insanity revolved around her being pregnant by Billy, my brother in law, and demanding that he step up and be a man. Billy denies ever having sex with her, but his memory isn't too good these days. She has been faking pregnancies and miscarriages, all caused by Billy, his refusal to marry her, his refusal to talk about her in public, his refusal to abandon his family for her, since 2002. Every year she would harp about how she had friends die at his art and book shows, so he owed her. She would scream how they got drunk and fucked and she was pregnant. Then when he wouldn't give her huge amounts of money, she would get drunk again, hurl insults about me, my children, my life, at him, and the next morning there would be this huge drama sob-fest about how he made her drink, and she lost the baby. She never once had a baby bump, even when she was claiming to be eight-and-a-half months pregnant. But then she claimed her "smoking cigarettes" made her have extremely small babies. Ummmmm....

That isn't even half of the shit she did to me in that eight-year period of harassment, emotional torture and mental abuse. There is more. Much, much more. But I am not going to air that out here, now. It's not my place, and doesn't relate to the topic at hand: How Billy's love life was a perfect mirror of the film Fatal Attraction. How I saw much of DeSlut in the Alex character in the film. The writers could have been doing a documentary on our lives from 2002-2010, it was just that similar to what I went through.

I put Fatal Attraction on my external drive, to be burned onto one of the many DVDs that I am working on. Eventually, I will watch it again. Just not when it makes me queasy.
I've been scouring all the places that don't update automatically, and changing my age. Wow. For over a week there, I was lying to everyone and stating that I was still 30. Oh well. I guess that the few who screamed that I was lying on the internet can actually be correct for a change. *snicker* I mean, I agree with them all. I should be stoned and tarred and feathered for posting such incriminating, horrible, false information! I should think of the perverts who jack off to this! There's a rumor that they can only get hard when they know the blogger is exactly 30. Not 29 or 31 or 32. But strictly 30. Think of all the horrible blue balls I caused them! The internet may never recover...

Enough of that.

The kids are off, playing. The man in my life is back on the road. That left me with some time to do some things that I really didn't want to do, and dig up some old movies that I have never had the pleasure of watching before. One of them was
Fatal Attraction. Man. That entire movie brought back horrible memories of DeSlut and her adventures with my brother in law. It almost made me cry. Almost. The horrors that she caused our family came flooding back, and I thought about them for a long time after watching the film. She actually had the nerve to ask me what I was "doing there" in my home with my husband and children. She actually demanded that I turn over custody of my boys to her and my brother in law (what? couldn't they make their own babies??). She demanded that we include her in family gatherings, only to show up drunk and screaming slurring insults at me. One of which was my baby shower for Chloe. Another was my father's Independence Day Barbecue.

We stopped inviting her, and she took to online to harass and threaten and basically make my life a living hell. She would email Namecheap.com and demand the credit card number that bought my domain, claiming that it was her credit card, and she wanted to know the name on the account. Luckily, eNom saw through her act and told her to send them the credit card number and they would compare notes. Otherwise, get a police order or leave us alone. She couldn't do that, so she started lying about eNom on various places on the web. Mostly on boards where I frequented for business and pleasure. The most memorable one was Web Hosting Talk. Man. I was too embarrassed to go back there for years after the scene she pulled there.

Her insanity revolved around her being pregnant by Billy, my brother in law, and demanding that he step up and be a man. Billy denies ever having sex with her, but his memory isn't too good these days. She has been faking pregnancies and miscarriages, all caused by Billy, his refusal to marry her, his refusal to talk about her in public, his refusal to abandon his family for her, since 2002. Every year she would harp about how she had friends die at his art and book shows, so he owed her. She would scream how they got drunk and fucked and she was pregnant. Then when he wouldn't give her huge amounts of money, she would get drunk again, hurl insults about me, my children, my life, at him, and the next morning there would be this huge drama sob-fest about how he made her drink, and she lost the baby. She never once had a baby bump, even when she was claiming to be eight-and-a-half months pregnant. But then she claimed her "smoking cigarettes" made her have extremely small babies. Ummmmm....

That isn't even half of the shit she did to me in that eight-year period of harassment, emotional torture and mental abuse. There is more. Much, much more. But I am not going to air that out here, now. It's not my place, and doesn't relate to the topic at hand: How Billy's love life was a perfect mirror of the film Fatal Attraction. How I saw much of DeSlut in the Alex character in the film. The writers could have been doing a documentary on our lives from 2002-2010, it was just that similar to what I went through.

I put Fatal Attraction on my external drive, to be burned onto one of the many DVDs that I am working on. Eventually, I will watch it again. Just not when it makes me queasy.

Monday, June 20, 2011

Goodbye Spring

Today was the day of Chloe's biopsy results. A day that I dreaded for a long time. When I was last called to this floor, in this hospital, I was given the shock of my life. Six months to live. A little girl who wouldn't live to be a teenager. A teenage boy who wouldn't live to see Christmas. The results left me in tears, and I cried all the way to the car. I cried for many days after the prognosis. How could we live in a world where a little girl was going to die so early? How could God exist in a place where a teenage boy was going to die before Christmas? Christmas was a time Jess loved. Once again, I was faced with the possibility that Chloe was going to be taken from us. Possibly while her daddy was away, making a living for the rest of us. Thoughts of how cold and cruel this world was, where a little five year old girl would hear that she had less than a month to live, just a few weeks before her sixth birthday. How a little girl who loved her family dearly was going to be taken from the only people she loved and trusted. It wasn't right. Nick was back with the guys, completely recovered from his injuries, so it was just me and Chloe in the car. Her brothers at home with their granddaddy. Fascinoma played softly on the radio as I drove the familiar streets to the hospital. We parked not too far from the physicians building, and Chloe bounced across the parking lot to the Stop Sign at the corner. Peeked both ways across the street before bouncing to the door of the building. I let her call for the elevator. The tears came in the elevator. The wonders of how this could happen a third time. Chloe wanted to press all the buttons in the elevator, but I told her not to.

We reached the 5th floor, where I noticed the sign for the surgeon who had saved my life just fourteen months prior. I hid the tears well. Not even the receptionist knew I had been crying. I paid the payment, and Chloe and I waited in the waiting room with the faded silk plants and tattered, outdated magazines.





The minutes ticked by slowly. Finally we were called to the exam room. Chloe was weighed on the way there. She'd lost a pound. The nurse said there was an order for an EKG, but it wasn't explained why. More waiting. Chloe picked up the model of a human heart, and started naming the chambers. I was amazed. "How did you know those?" I asked. She smiled. "Momma, don't you remember telling me these?" she asked. I shook my head. But she was correct in naming the chambers, aorta, and other places. More waiting. I picked up a magazine and started to rummage through the pages, not really paying attention to what I was looking at. The doctor came in, did a quick cardio exam. I asked why, and he said there was a "little concern" on the EKG, but nothing that was raising any red flags. He droned on and on about the surgery, how tumors were removed, and how a biopsy was performed. Finally he got to the part I was waiting for.

"The tumor is benign," he said.

The magazine slipped from my fingers and hit the floor in a flutter of pages. "Does this mean that she's going to live to see Christmas? Her birthday?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"She's going to live to be a hundred," he replied, with a smile. I hugged that doctor. :D Chloe and I went out for ice cream after the appointment. I didn't even mind that she ate 90% of her ice cream in the car with no spoon. With a prognosis like that, she could eat 10,000 pints of ice cream in the backseat of my car! My little girl was going to live. She was going to heal. No more painful memories of Christmas, birthdays, watching a young person die. No more worry, wondering, offering high doses of narcotics because nothing takes the edge off the pain. No more tears. No more emotional anguish. No more mental torture.

Thank you to everyone who expressed warm wishes, prayers and thoughts over the past month. I was really dreading another child getting critically ill, but it seems I won't have to experience that again (hopefully!). Whether you expressed those wishes, prayers or thought or not, I am grateful that people care. ♥ to all! I hope that any adversaries anyone I know faces come out as good as my last one did! If the world were like that, there would be no need for Heaven. We'd all already be there!
Today was the day of Chloe's biopsy results. A day that I dreaded for a long time. When I was last called to this floor, in this hospital, I was given the shock of my life. Six months to live. A little girl who wouldn't live to be a teenager. A teenage boy who wouldn't live to see Christmas. The results left me in tears, and I cried all the way to the car. I cried for many days after the prognosis. How could we live in a world where a little girl was going to die so early? How could God exist in a place where a teenage boy was going to die before Christmas? Christmas was a time Jess loved. Once again, I was faced with the possibility that Chloe was going to be taken from us. Possibly while her daddy was away, making a living for the rest of us. Thoughts of how cold and cruel this world was, where a little five year old girl would hear that she had less than a month to live, just a few weeks before her sixth birthday. How a little girl who loved her family dearly was going to be taken from the only people she loved and trusted. It wasn't right. Nick was back with the guys, completely recovered from his injuries, so it was just me and Chloe in the car. Her brothers at home with their granddaddy. Fascinoma played softly on the radio as I drove the familiar streets to the hospital. We parked not too far from the physicians building, and Chloe bounced across the parking lot to the Stop Sign at the corner. Peeked both ways across the street before bouncing to the door of the building. I let her call for the elevator. The tears came in the elevator. The wonders of how this could happen a third time. Chloe wanted to press all the buttons in the elevator, but I told her not to.

We reached the 5th floor, where I noticed the sign for the surgeon who had saved my life just fourteen months prior. I hid the tears well. Not even the receptionist knew I had been crying. I paid the payment, and Chloe and I waited in the waiting room with the faded silk plants and tattered, outdated magazines.





The minutes ticked by slowly. Finally we were called to the exam room. Chloe was weighed on the way there. She'd lost a pound. The nurse said there was an order for an EKG, but it wasn't explained why. More waiting. Chloe picked up the model of a human heart, and started naming the chambers. I was amazed. "How did you know those?" I asked. She smiled. "Momma, don't you remember telling me these?" she asked. I shook my head. But she was correct in naming the chambers, aorta, and other places. More waiting. I picked up a magazine and started to rummage through the pages, not really paying attention to what I was looking at. The doctor came in, did a quick cardio exam. I asked why, and he said there was a "little concern" on the EKG, but nothing that was raising any red flags. He droned on and on about the surgery, how tumors were removed, and how a biopsy was performed. Finally he got to the part I was waiting for.

"The tumor is benign," he said.

The magazine slipped from my fingers and hit the floor in a flutter of pages. "Does this mean that she's going to live to see Christmas? Her birthday?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"She's going to live to be a hundred," he replied, with a smile. I hugged that doctor. :D Chloe and I went out for ice cream after the appointment. I didn't even mind that she ate 90% of her ice cream in the car with no spoon. With a prognosis like that, she could eat 10,000 pints of ice cream in the backseat of my car! My little girl was going to live. She was going to heal. No more painful memories of Christmas, birthdays, watching a young person die. No more worry, wondering, offering high doses of narcotics because nothing takes the edge off the pain. No more tears. No more emotional anguish. No more mental torture.

Thank you to everyone who expressed warm wishes, prayers and thoughts over the past month. I was really dreading another child getting critically ill, but it seems I won't have to experience that again (hopefully!). Whether you expressed those wishes, prayers or thought or not, I am grateful that people care. ♥ to all! I hope that any adversaries anyone I know faces come out as good as my last one did! If the world were like that, there would be no need for Heaven. We'd all already be there!

Goodbye Spring

Today was the day of Chloe's biopsy results. A day that I dreaded for a long time. When I was last called to this floor, in this hospital, I was given the shock of my life. Six months to live. A little girl who wouldn't live to be a teenager. A teenage boy who wouldn't live to see Christmas. The results left me in tears, and I cried all the way to the car. I cried for many days after the prognosis. How could we live in a world where a little girl was going to die so early? How could God exist in a place where a teenage boy was going to die before Christmas? Christmas was a time Jess loved. Once again, I was faced with the possibility that Chloe was going to be taken from us. Possibly while her daddy was away, making a living for the rest of us. Thoughts of how cold and cruel this world was, where a little five year old girl would hear that she had less than a month to live, just a few weeks before her sixth birthday. How a little girl who loved her family dearly was going to be taken from the only people she loved and trusted. It wasn't right. Nick was back with the guys, completely recovered from his injuries, so it was just me and Chloe in the car. Her brothers at home with their granddaddy. Fascinoma played softly on the radio as I drove the familiar streets to the hospital. We parked not too far from the physicians building, and Chloe bounced across the parking lot to the Stop Sign at the corner. Peeked both ways across the street before bouncing to the door of the building. I let her call for the elevator. The tears came in the elevator. The wonders of how this could happen a third time. Chloe wanted to press all the buttons in the elevator, but I told her not to.

We reached the 5th floor, where I noticed the sign for the surgeon who had saved my life just fourteen months prior. I hid the tears well. Not even the receptionist knew I had been crying. I paid the payment, and Chloe and I waited in the waiting room with the faded silk plants and tattered, outdated magazines.





The minutes ticked by slowly. Finally we were called to the exam room. Chloe was weighed on the way there. She'd lost a pound. The nurse said there was an order for an EKG, but it wasn't explained why. More waiting. Chloe picked up the model of a human heart, and started naming the chambers. I was amazed. "How did you know those?" I asked. She smiled. "Momma, don't you remember telling me these?" she asked. I shook my head. But she was correct in naming the chambers, aorta, and other places. More waiting. I picked up a magazine and started to rummage through the pages, not really paying attention to what I was looking at. The doctor came in, did a quick cardio exam. I asked why, and he said there was a "little concern" on the EKG, but nothing that was raising any red flags. He droned on and on about the surgery, how tumors were removed, and how a biopsy was performed. Finally he got to the part I was waiting for.

"The tumor is benign," he said.

The magazine slipped from my fingers and hit the floor in a flutter of pages. "Does this mean that she's going to live to see Christmas? Her birthday?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"She's going to live to be a hundred," he replied, with a smile. I hugged that doctor. :D Chloe and I went out for ice cream after the appointment. I didn't even mind that she ate 90% of her ice cream in the car with no spoon. With a prognosis like that, she could eat 10,000 pints of ice cream in the backseat of my car! My little girl was going to live. She was going to heal. No more painful memories of Christmas, birthdays, watching a young person die. No more worry, wondering, offering high doses of narcotics because nothing takes the edge off the pain. No more tears. No more emotional anguish. No more mental torture.

Thank you to everyone who expressed warm wishes, prayers and thoughts over the past month. I was really dreading another child getting critically ill, but it seems I won't have to experience that again (hopefully!). Whether you expressed those wishes, prayers or thought or not, I am grateful that people care. ♥ to all! I hope that any adversaries anyone I know faces come out as good as my last one did! If the world were like that, there would be no need for Heaven. We'd all already be there!
Today was the day of Chloe's biopsy results. A day that I dreaded for a long time. When I was last called to this floor, in this hospital, I was given the shock of my life. Six months to live. A little girl who wouldn't live to be a teenager. A teenage boy who wouldn't live to see Christmas. The results left me in tears, and I cried all the way to the car. I cried for many days after the prognosis. How could we live in a world where a little girl was going to die so early? How could God exist in a place where a teenage boy was going to die before Christmas? Christmas was a time Jess loved. Once again, I was faced with the possibility that Chloe was going to be taken from us. Possibly while her daddy was away, making a living for the rest of us. Thoughts of how cold and cruel this world was, where a little five year old girl would hear that she had less than a month to live, just a few weeks before her sixth birthday. How a little girl who loved her family dearly was going to be taken from the only people she loved and trusted. It wasn't right. Nick was back with the guys, completely recovered from his injuries, so it was just me and Chloe in the car. Her brothers at home with their granddaddy. Fascinoma played softly on the radio as I drove the familiar streets to the hospital. We parked not too far from the physicians building, and Chloe bounced across the parking lot to the Stop Sign at the corner. Peeked both ways across the street before bouncing to the door of the building. I let her call for the elevator. The tears came in the elevator. The wonders of how this could happen a third time. Chloe wanted to press all the buttons in the elevator, but I told her not to.

We reached the 5th floor, where I noticed the sign for the surgeon who had saved my life just fourteen months prior. I hid the tears well. Not even the receptionist knew I had been crying. I paid the payment, and Chloe and I waited in the waiting room with the faded silk plants and tattered, outdated magazines.





The minutes ticked by slowly. Finally we were called to the exam room. Chloe was weighed on the way there. She'd lost a pound. The nurse said there was an order for an EKG, but it wasn't explained why. More waiting. Chloe picked up the model of a human heart, and started naming the chambers. I was amazed. "How did you know those?" I asked. She smiled. "Momma, don't you remember telling me these?" she asked. I shook my head. But she was correct in naming the chambers, aorta, and other places. More waiting. I picked up a magazine and started to rummage through the pages, not really paying attention to what I was looking at. The doctor came in, did a quick cardio exam. I asked why, and he said there was a "little concern" on the EKG, but nothing that was raising any red flags. He droned on and on about the surgery, how tumors were removed, and how a biopsy was performed. Finally he got to the part I was waiting for.

"The tumor is benign," he said.

The magazine slipped from my fingers and hit the floor in a flutter of pages. "Does this mean that she's going to live to see Christmas? Her birthday?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"She's going to live to be a hundred," he replied, with a smile. I hugged that doctor. :D Chloe and I went out for ice cream after the appointment. I didn't even mind that she ate 90% of her ice cream in the car with no spoon. With a prognosis like that, she could eat 10,000 pints of ice cream in the backseat of my car! My little girl was going to live. She was going to heal. No more painful memories of Christmas, birthdays, watching a young person die. No more worry, wondering, offering high doses of narcotics because nothing takes the edge off the pain. No more tears. No more emotional anguish. No more mental torture.

Thank you to everyone who expressed warm wishes, prayers and thoughts over the past month. I was really dreading another child getting critically ill, but it seems I won't have to experience that again (hopefully!). Whether you expressed those wishes, prayers or thought or not, I am grateful that people care. ♥ to all! I hope that any adversaries anyone I know faces come out as good as my last one did! If the world were like that, there would be no need for Heaven. We'd all already be there!

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Another Identity in the System

Thank you to everyone who remembered me on my birthday (two days ago). So much has gone on since I last updated, and I have some paperwork for the University to finish up before I can truly relax.

Jerry came back sometime in the afternoon on Saturday to get clothes, food, and mutter something about how badly I have ruined his life, with this "family and all". Very strange behaviour. Yesterday, he showed up at family therapy while I was describing to the doctor all that had happened over the weekend and how I had my suspicions that this was another one of his acts where he pretends to be mad at me for days only to give me a new nose screw or a real wedding band or some other present that would mean a lot to me. But not this time. I spent my birthday alone, in bed, recovering from falling in the tub the night before and hurting my knee. Sadly, none of the pain killers I have really kill pain, but they do make me good and nauseated every time I take them.

The doctor talked with Jerry privately in his office, then I watched Jerry walk away, out of the clinic, and that was the last I saw of him. The doctor called me back in and explained to me that another member of the system has shown up. Possibly from a dream Friday night/Saturday morning, and when Chloe woke us up, Jerry has disassociated into this person, who dislikes me immensely, doesn't want kids or a family, and in their own little world they aren't married.

The fuck ... ?

This is the major snag in our relationship.

Jerry has never hit me, that was Trevor.
Jerry has never attempted suicide, that was Alexander.
Jerry has never stolen drugs from my parents, that was Stephen.
Jerry has never hit Chloe, that was Trevor again.

I know I'm on a lot of anti-depressants, have been in two asylums for evaluations, and I tend to take a little more narcotics than needed for my pain problems, to the point where I feel like a junky, but does anyone else get the feeling that this whole disassociate identity disorder diagnosis is a little too convenient? An excuse for bad behaviour? A get-out-of-jail free card for being hateful to me and the kids whenever he wants or needs a "break" from the family? I agree that people should take breaks from their families, children, spouses for a few days or weeks, but at least own up to what you are doing. Don't beat the shit out of your wife and daughter who love you dearly, then a few days later, pretend you know nothing of it, and then find a letter from "Trevor" confessing to it all.

I expressed this to the doctor, and he said that he felt the same way, at first. Then he saw that Trevor was left handed - Jerry is not - Trevor could legibly write with his left hand, something that Jerry cannot do when he is not Trevor. Trevor cannot paint, draw or sculpt like Jerry does. The doctor assured me that this was completely normal for DID behaviour, and if I felt threatened, I needed to work on how I deal with the others in the system. In other words, it's best that I not anger people whom I can't see or tell the difference from them or my husband. I wish I could joke about this and say that it makes for interesting dinner conversations, because you never know who is going to show up, but it doesn't. It just really frustrates me.

Chloe feels that she is the reason the family may not stay together. I am looking into options lately, and I'll write more when I see that I have found some options, good or bad. For those of you who were not reading my site or journal back in 2005, Chloe bonded deeply with her daddy, because I had staph infections, blood infections, and other problems, and couldn't come home as early as I was supposed to. So Jerry took our daughter home, and for the first month or so of her life, was her soul caregiver. She clings to him. Then this shit happens. Or the deal with those stupid doughnuts, where she jumped over the seat in the car and squashed the box of doughnuts and got slapped, in the face, hard, for several seconds. I wasn't able to intervene with that one, but it happened, nevertheless. Of course, Trevor did it. *eye roll* Jerry is back with the guys on the road, for now. Nick called and told me he's still Trevor, so there's no point in me calling yet. Yes, this whole thing sucks. Chloe doesn't understand why her daddy is mad at her all of a sudden. I also have a bad feeling that she's been sick before (she had heat-related sickness, because her father and granddad left her and the boys out in the backyard while I was at my evaluations, with just a wading pool and a bag of chips, in 100-degree heat. Intelligent men, huh? No sunblock. No hats. 12-16 hours in the heat.), and she's been hiding it.

Richard gave me today and tomorrow off, but I have to work through the weekend, and then it's just computer programming work for the rest of the week/month. Next month I think I'll go a little easier on the students.

As always, opinions, suggestions, support, love, whatnot, is welcome in the comments.
Thank you to everyone who remembered me on my birthday (two days ago). So much has gone on since I last updated, and I have some paperwork for the University to finish up before I can truly relax.

Jerry came back sometime in the afternoon on Saturday to get clothes, food, and mutter something about how badly I have ruined his life, with this "family and all". Very strange behaviour. Yesterday, he showed up at family therapy while I was describing to the doctor all that had happened over the weekend and how I had my suspicions that this was another one of his acts where he pretends to be mad at me for days only to give me a new nose screw or a real wedding band or some other present that would mean a lot to me. But not this time. I spent my birthday alone, in bed, recovering from falling in the tub the night before and hurting my knee. Sadly, none of the pain killers I have really kill pain, but they do make me good and nauseated every time I take them.

The doctor talked with Jerry privately in his office, then I watched Jerry walk away, out of the clinic, and that was the last I saw of him. The doctor called me back in and explained to me that another member of the system has shown up. Possibly from a dream Friday night/Saturday morning, and when Chloe woke us up, Jerry has disassociated into this person, who dislikes me immensely, doesn't want kids or a family, and in their own little world they aren't married.

The fuck ... ?

This is the major snag in our relationship.

Jerry has never hit me, that was Trevor.
Jerry has never attempted suicide, that was Alexander.
Jerry has never stolen drugs from my parents, that was Stephen.
Jerry has never hit Chloe, that was Trevor again.

I know I'm on a lot of anti-depressants, have been in two asylums for evaluations, and I tend to take a little more narcotics than needed for my pain problems, to the point where I feel like a junky, but does anyone else get the feeling that this whole disassociate identity disorder diagnosis is a little too convenient? An excuse for bad behaviour? A get-out-of-jail free card for being hateful to me and the kids whenever he wants or needs a "break" from the family? I agree that people should take breaks from their families, children, spouses for a few days or weeks, but at least own up to what you are doing. Don't beat the shit out of your wife and daughter who love you dearly, then a few days later, pretend you know nothing of it, and then find a letter from "Trevor" confessing to it all.

I expressed this to the doctor, and he said that he felt the same way, at first. Then he saw that Trevor was left handed - Jerry is not - Trevor could legibly write with his left hand, something that Jerry cannot do when he is not Trevor. Trevor cannot paint, draw or sculpt like Jerry does. The doctor assured me that this was completely normal for DID behaviour, and if I felt threatened, I needed to work on how I deal with the others in the system. In other words, it's best that I not anger people whom I can't see or tell the difference from them or my husband. I wish I could joke about this and say that it makes for interesting dinner conversations, because you never know who is going to show up, but it doesn't. It just really frustrates me.

Chloe feels that she is the reason the family may not stay together. I am looking into options lately, and I'll write more when I see that I have found some options, good or bad. For those of you who were not reading my site or journal back in 2005, Chloe bonded deeply with her daddy, because I had staph infections, blood infections, and other problems, and couldn't come home as early as I was supposed to. So Jerry took our daughter home, and for the first month or so of her life, was her soul caregiver. She clings to him. Then this shit happens. Or the deal with those stupid doughnuts, where she jumped over the seat in the car and squashed the box of doughnuts and got slapped, in the face, hard, for several seconds. I wasn't able to intervene with that one, but it happened, nevertheless. Of course, Trevor did it. *eye roll* Jerry is back with the guys on the road, for now. Nick called and told me he's still Trevor, so there's no point in me calling yet. Yes, this whole thing sucks. Chloe doesn't understand why her daddy is mad at her all of a sudden. I also have a bad feeling that she's been sick before (she had heat-related sickness, because her father and granddad left her and the boys out in the backyard while I was at my evaluations, with just a wading pool and a bag of chips, in 100-degree heat. Intelligent men, huh? No sunblock. No hats. 12-16 hours in the heat.), and she's been hiding it.

Richard gave me today and tomorrow off, but I have to work through the weekend, and then it's just computer programming work for the rest of the week/month. Next month I think I'll go a little easier on the students.

As always, opinions, suggestions, support, love, whatnot, is welcome in the comments.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Flowers

My husband brought home flowers tonight. I wonder what he's done... lol

Yes, that's a THC pen on my desk. Who are you to judge me???


















We put some in the kitchen. He brought home four bouquets, which really makes me wonder what he's done... Yes, the theme in my kitchen was going to be "Sunflowers", but you can see that we didn't quite finish that thought.















Chloe wants me to post this next photo. It's two of her toy aliens "mating". Where she learned that concept, I can only imagine. But she thinks it's hilarious, and she can't start a blog of her own, so who am I to deny her internet fame?



Before I close tonight, I'm going to make a pizza for the kids' dinner, and snuggle into bed with my man and try to get a good night's sleep for the first time in a while. My doctor is denying me my medication, so I can't sleep or think well. I took my Fentanyl patch off yesterday, and this hour marks 24 hours that I have been patchless. I can feel the difference in my constant yawning, and I have to do something about this. Addiction sucks. Leave warm, fuzzy feelings for me, okay?

I have more news, but the real world is calling me. I need to get back on track and get back to those basics. I know, it's been over a week since I last updated here, but I can assure you, I'm not holding back on purpose.
My husband brought home flowers tonight. I wonder what he's done... lol

Yes, that's a THC pen on my desk. Who are you to judge me???


















We put some in the kitchen. He brought home four bouquets, which really makes me wonder what he's done... Yes, the theme in my kitchen was going to be "Sunflowers", but you can see that we didn't quite finish that thought.















Chloe wants me to post this next photo. It's two of her toy aliens "mating". Where she learned that concept, I can only imagine. But she thinks it's hilarious, and she can't start a blog of her own, so who am I to deny her internet fame?



Before I close tonight, I'm going to make a pizza for the kids' dinner, and snuggle into bed with my man and try to get a good night's sleep for the first time in a while. My doctor is denying me my medication, so I can't sleep or think well. I took my Fentanyl patch off yesterday, and this hour marks 24 hours that I have been patchless. I can feel the difference in my constant yawning, and I have to do something about this. Addiction sucks. Leave warm, fuzzy feelings for me, okay?

I have more news, but the real world is calling me. I need to get back on track and get back to those basics. I know, it's been over a week since I last updated here, but I can assure you, I'm not holding back on purpose.
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