"Woohoo, Text Message!" "Woohoo, Text Message!" "Woohoo, Text Message!"
I think it's about time to change the text message notification I have on my phone. If I don't break the effing thing first! It's a complete catch-22. I hate the ringtone, but I am beginning to love being woken up by it because normally, it's my husband on the other end of that god-awful annoying chipmunk message.
By the time he wakes me up, he is about ready to go to bed. We don't usually get to chat long, but I treasure each conversation. He is supportive, kind, caring, and loving. Each person is a combination of both bad and good qualities, and he has both good and bad; but in most cases, he is one of the amazing guys. The kind that women search for years to find and dream about.
I know how lucky I am.
And thankful.
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I can't remember last night's dream, only that it left me with a piece of memory as I woke up.
Ever since I started seeing Dr. McCoy (teeeeheeeheheheheheee Yes I've watched my fair share of Star Trek) different parts of my memory have kind of been... awakened? Perhaps that is how I will describe it. It wasn't until I started seeing him that I began to see how I am dissociative in many situations. How I can't remember what happened or happens, but know I was there. Recognizing things as they happen is one thing, but being able to stop it is another.
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I slept again until 4 p.m. Mom woke me up to see if I had taken my 2 o'clock pills. I hadn't. I remember hearing my 2 p.m. alarm clock and mom asking me if I was awake, and I remember saying "no". But when she woke me up saying she wanted to go drive by a couple of more houses, I was down for it
None of the 3 we drove by I was particularly interested in. .
I'm not quite sure what happened, but somehow on the way home we started arguing about mental health. We all know I need it, and I was being super serious telling her how important it could be that she pursue some counseling herself. Not onl due to the crap I've put her through, the trauma of having a child with leukemia, not to mention the suicide attempts.... but from her own history as well. I hear the same stupid arguments that I've given and I just want to scream!
What really makes me want to scream, is how she brought it up as a serious idea that she was considering asking if I thought it was a good idea, I agreed, and then it was like she shot it down. It's not all about me.... wait.. this is my blog.. for the moment it IS all about me.. but I felt like I was being told my opinion wasn't worth anything, and by extension, my being was worthless.
Extreme? Probably. But that would be typical Borderline Personality Disorder. Everything that is said or done, is searched for clues (even if they don't exist) that I am going to be dropped, dumped, let down, in short; abandoned. If I am worthless, than she won't want me here. And how does one respond to not being wanted, and having nowhere else to go? Anger? Resentment? Frustration? Does it all make sense? NO. Emotionally it makes NO sense to believe that my mother feels I am worthless. As it happens? My brain screams at the reality of it. And this is the dilemma I am hoping that joining the Psychiatric study at UW will help me with. To not have to wait a day of thinking after fighting with my mom to realize that my brain is being retarded.
KNOCK, KNOCK.
WHO'S THERE?
*silence*
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