What being able to afford only going to therapy 50 minutes a week feels like.

My insurance company granted a “one time exception” to partially reimburse my psychiatrist bills from 2013. I don’t even know what that note means, but I get the feeling I’ll be on the phone with them for hours again soon.

I’m also convinced now, after having flipped back and forth a few times, that a good diet (which is low carb lacto-paleo for me) is not just the icing on the cake, but nearly critical to my mood stability. Probably 25% of it right there. Yep, blood sugar. Which absolutely sucks, because processed carbs are cheap. And I love good food. 

So. Lots of bacon and eggs, tuna salad, and discount beef cuts.

Anonymous asked: How do you write about your trauma? I think I need to because I'm just holding everything in, but it won't come out.

iamnotthesociopath:

You have to bleed it out.

It’s less about organizing thought or making it sound beautiful.  It can be ugly because trauma is inherently ugly.  Before I write, I think about a particular theme of trauma and then let the rest flow through me.  It can be messy.  I can be disorganized.  

And honestly, writing about trauma is really the only thing that’s saved me over the past few years.  You need to give voice to these things so they no longer strangle you.  It can be so much to walk around with the enormity of a traumatic wound in your psyche.  

Just write.  Just write down whatever comes to mind.  Don’t worry about elegance or beauty in it.  Just get out the story.  

Bleed it out.  

Beautifully said.

I’m sitting in New Jersey, drinking a 10” tall coffee from the local convenience store. My host is a dear old friend who some of you may remember as lev3k or sheepbat. It’s wonderful to spend time together, and a weekend in an ubergeek lair. It’s kind of like a suburban NJ version of Noisebridge, but with a lot of pen-related things.

I took a couple of interesting photos last night when we drove by this gorgeous building, which turned out to be the East Jersey State Prison, and a busted up old bus stop or something in front of it. Next mission when it’s not raining: an abandoned factory nearby that’s absolutely stunning, although I have to find out how bad the chemical spill was before I go near it.

So: I forgot to pack pants, for the most part. I have black ones and cropped jeggings (um, hi cold), but I completely forgot about my laundry (among other things), with jeans, etc. This is truly the most disorganized packing job I’ve ever done. I knew breaking my no-flying-before-10am rule would be a questionable idea.

Aaaand my passport. Sigh. At least Ryan can bring that before Canada.

Two Bitcoin conferences, lots of hanging out with people, maybe a fetish party… it’s exhausting and exciting to be both on your game, and spending time with people you’re comfortable with.

I have exciting new things to talk about coming up… watch this space ;)

Near the end of therapy today, I was working through the struggle I have with emptiness and feeling like I don’t exist. I explained how that state is the most deeply painful one, even compared to major distressed outbursts, during which I just don’t really know or care what I’m doing. I said how terrifying this place is, and how, upon entering it, I panic and will do anything to get out. That’s always a tall order. She asked if I could try to sit with the emptiness to explore it. Even if it was just one moment longer. I decided that writing down the experience was probably a better idea than relying on my own memory.

I was scared, and then I felt empty. I went through my fears and distorted thinking one by one, and managed to calm myself down most of the way, but then I was just sad and alone. Like nothing existed. I was only what my senses perceive, but nothing else. I wanted someone. I wanted to cry. I felt so alone. I cried a little, but it was hollow and pointless. Then I sat with sad. Tightness. Remembering to breathe. Feeling like a pouting child. Dejected. Unwanted. Who cares?
  1. Vacuuming must be in a diagonal pattern on the carpet. 
  2. Never light a decorative candle. 
  3. Socks go in colour order, from lightest to darkest. 
  4. Socks are always folded, not balled. The latter stretches one of the socks. 
    I recall visiting my older sister in northern Ontario around age ten, standing agape at a wicker basket of balled socks. 
  5. You don’t dye the milk blue for April fool’s day or hide the coffee mugs. This makes mom cry and gets you in a lot of trouble. 
  6. Faux plants must be dusted weekly, and have any plastic leaves cleaned with a vinegar solution. 
  7. Mommy needs to lie down for the afternoon.
  8. You always wear slippers. Think of the oils on the bottom of your feet ruining her beige carpet. 
  9. You never wear your slippers outside, even to check the mail. Duh. 
  10. You do, however, always make sure your hair and makeup are done before you check the mail. 
  11. Always check the ingredients for egg whites. They will kill her. Except it’s a lie, and you’re the only one who knows it. 
  12. Your LEGO is sorted in tiny compartmented storage containers, with no two dissimilar bricks touching. 
  13. You do not “bang on” the piano. You play quietly, an—“Mom is on the phone!”
  14. You never damage a toy. A Barbie with a bob would be heresy. 
  15. Never, ever, ever lie. It is the worst sin possible.
  16. You do not compliment mom that she looks beautiful when she soaks her hair with the hose on an unseasonably hot day. It makes her cry and argue with you. 
  17. Get mommy her cigarettes?
  18. You tiptoe up and down stairs; you don’t clomp.
  19. You have a fever.
  20. You get the family a spaniel puppy, but she is too energetic to be a lap dog, so you give her away to someone who likes her (thank you, Father Ben) after a few months and get a purebred shih tzu.
  21. You don’t make faces in the mirror.

discontinuationsyndrome asked: didn't want to leave this on the main page. that picture seriously worries me. whatever is happening with you, at least know that there is someone who gives a shit. we have never met but i have an empathy for what you might be struggling with. i have a bunch of letters after my name too, ADHD, OCD, Panic Disorder, Bipolar, GAD...lots and lots. just remember that people care a great deal and keep it in mind when it gets really tough. it's easy to forget, esp in the moment, but it is true.

Big hugs. I did, and that’s part of what got me through it. The reality of it all, and the people who would be hurt… that has a big impact if you can let it in.