Krazy Kat

My Psychotic Ramblings
Ad 2:
2002-11-05 22:12:12 (UTC)

I want to be like You.

So, foregoing I was speaking of the antidepressants. I
haven't taken any at all in 2 days. They are stil in my system, yes,
so I will probably gradually feel worse and worse as the amount of
SRRI's decrease within me. Kinda scary. I don't want to take them.
I'm like afraid of meds...and I have to take a couple handfuls every
day. It's distressing...painful. Gods, I Hate them...with a
passion. I want to be able to make it without them. I want to be
normal. Can that happen? I have my doubts, but then again, I have
my hope.

Well, I think I'm feeling fine at the moment. I am so tired,
though. My mind hurts from all the thinking I did to-day. I want to
rest, but then again, I want to finish getting my stuff done. I've
been pushing myself really hard to-day, and still eating very
little. There's a lot of things I'd like to have done and I'm trying
my damndest to get them there.

I have a 14 page homework assignment for DBT group. It's on Emotion
Regulation. It's basically writing what I already know about
different emotions. Like writing down words that mean the same thing
as the given emotion (the emotions are love, joy, anger, sadness,
fear, and shame). Then I have to write prompting events for feeling
that emotion, interpretations that prompt the feelings, ways of
expressing and/or acting on the emotion, and the aftereffects of
feeling it. I have until next Wednesday to do it, but I've been
working hard on it to-day and putting great effort into it. I
actually enjoy doing it. Maybe something is wrong with me??? Eh?
But it just makes me think strenuously...and things. I'm able to get
really focused upon the assignment, and I forget my troubles.

I usually smoke a cig about every hour. Lately, like the past three
days maybe, I have only been smoking every 2-5 hours. It's like I'm
so busy and tuned into what I'm doing I'm not hearing my poor body
screaming that it's smokey break tyme. I guess it's just that I've
been doing a lot of writing lately, mainly about my feelings and
disorders (though, I feel as if I've nearly been neglecting my
journal). When I'm thinking about those feelings (the ones I've been
writing about) I don't think about the others that I'm feeling, or
would feel had it be I took tyme to feel them. It's kinda neat to be
busy, but, dammit, I want a break.

I'm also redoing my photo albums. I got new pics, pics from long
ago I found, plus some pictures off the puter (from the digital
cam), so I had to redo one whole book to have them in date
sequence. Then I took all the pics out of another book,
and I'm going to put only my favourite pics in it. Before
had a book of just me, a book of just my friends, one of
just my pets, one of my family (including extended family),
and a small photo album of MAtt (my X) and me. I guess I'm
worrying about the photos because I want to show some to my
T. She asked me to find a photo of when I was 7 or 8. (I
was Hurt at age 8). I don't know if she actually wants me
to bring it in or not, or to just observe it. Well, I
observed it. I simply see a young child. By looking at
her, I cannot tell she has been Hurt in such an awful way that she
was. But I know she was. I know Little Me is carrying that pain
deep within. I know she hurts, and I want to reach out to her,
to help her. Though, I do not know how. In some photos
she is smiling, in others she looks disturbed. But
overall, I don't see anything wrong with her. It is the
same way with photos of myself taken shortly after my
brother's death in 1995. If I really look, then I can see
the pain, by how I carry myself and how my eyes are, but by
a glance, I am a normal 12 year old. It's odd. A photo
can capture your happiness even when inside you, you are in pain and
a piece of you is dying.

Well, I just decided I don't want to bring in my photos to show my
T. I don't want her to see them. No. Maybe later in our
relationship, but not this early. I have only seen her three tymes.
She shouldn't see my photos, she shouldn't see that deeply into
my life yet. But Friday I'll ask her if she's interested in looking
at some of my photos. If she is, I'll tell her I'll bring them in
when I feel ready to share them.

About the T... I talked to her and asked her some things.
Actually, I wrote her a letter asking her to explain her
self, and such. She said she changed the subject off of
Nytemares because she thinks we need solid ground under us before we
should discuss deep matters, such as the Abuse and Nytemares.
(That's fine, but could you please let me know that instead of
ignoring the statement that took so much courage to state?) Common.
Gimmie a break here.

She said the reason she mentioned me having OCPD instead of OCD is
because none of the meds are working for my OCD. I don't have
Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder, though. Okay, so I probably do have OCPD, but not INSTEAD
of OCD. I KNOW I have OCD. Maybe I just have both. But there's
really no need to address OCPD. There is NOTHING wrong with my
personality (screw having Borderline Personality Disorder, too).
UGH! I'm upset. Too many bad thoughts. Too much problems existing
within myself. There's not enough room. But how do I go about
getting rid of some (or all)??

My pictures at Wally World have been ready since Sunday. These
pictures mean SO MUCH to me, for they are of Hayden. I fear they
didn't turn out, so I haven't been going out of my way to pick them
up. They were close ups, and sometymes close ups just don't turn out
well. What if they didn't turn out? It's like...Little
Hayden...will not exist in bodily form. Err, I know he already
doesn't, the poor guy is gone now, but...I want people to be able to
see him, his live body. Okay, I think to-morrow I will go pick up
the pictures. I'm tired of worrying about it and wondering about
it. I don't think I have anything else going on all day to-
morrow...except cleaning up the mangley mess in my bedroom. Well, no
I probably won't be able to sleep with a wreak of a room, so it
should be clean before dawn. I should get to cleaning up right now.

Marked with an X;
X.


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