Monday, February 27, 2017

Humiliating & Infuriating

Got up just after 11am and thought, wow, it’s oddly quiet around here. Nice, but weird since I’m not used to peace unless it’s at night, and even then I’m subject to some loud vehicles and planes. Sure enough, 20 minutes later someone starts mowing in front. Another 10 minutes I moved to the bedroom at the other end of the house with my coffee and someone’s running a blower. Oh well. It’s still beats listening to dogs bark round-the-clock, and anything is better than loud car stereos, though I do sometimes hear those blasting down the freeway. I think there are very few places on earth that don’t hear the damn things. Sad, huh?

Still doing okay on the steroid gel as far as any negative skin reactions go, but I think it might be making my mouth dry and me a little drowsy. I messaged my GYN to ask if that was okay. I try not to read up on side effects too much beforehand otherwise they’ll be playing on my mind constantly.

I sure am hot flashy today. :-( My biggest fear is the anxiety returning. There honestly is no worse feeling on earth. But so far so good this year. I had just three anxious days in January and it looks like I’m not going to have any at all for February. Still, I live in the fear of it returning, even though I try not to and I try to think positive. It’s just such a merciless and unpredictable thing.

Getting a little watery too, so there’s another period out there somewhere. :-(

Last night I dreamed I was living with my parents and Tammy. Ugh. Tammy’s one thing, but the parents? A small band came over one night leading me to think that it had something to do with a contest I entered and something I won. There were about half a dozen members and they set up their instruments and started playing in our large living room. I soon caught on that they were just trying to sell something, so I yelled at them and told them to get out. One of the female members was crying on her way out. I started to feel bad for her and was on the verge of apologizing until I thought better of it, thinking that they should learn their lesson by this.

After they left I went into Tammy's dark, windowless room where she had three pet rats of her own (haha). On the bed sat a surprisingly quiet three-year-old girl, which Tammy said the band accidentally left behind. I was surprised because I didn’t remember seeing the kid before. We decided to wait until mom came home to ask her what we should do. I picked the blond haired kid up, sat her on my lap, and was cooling gently to her as she sucked her thumb.

Then I had a dream that I stupidly set my purse down just outside some fitting rooms to go glance at something real quick. That was all it took. My purse was gone when I returned to where I had placed it.

In real life I was looking back in my 1996 journal where I wrote about some of my childhood, and came upon something that made me utterly sick to my stomach even 35 years after the fact. Seriously, to say it wasn’t humiliating and infuriating is an understatement! It has to do with when I was in the Northampton State funny farm. I copied an excerpt (in italics) albeit with a touch of editing for better readability. I wasn’t a very good writer 20 years ago.

As much as I like to pride myself on having a good memory, my memory just isn’t what it used to be. Oh, I remember the state hospital quite well. The crazy old lady that beat me over the head with a bag in the bathroom without stall doors… the equally crazy lady in the bed across from me in my cubicle that constantly did herself while staring creepily at me… the guy that threatened me if I ever dared ask him for a cigarette again… but I totally forgot about this part until I read it.

At age 16, I was there for 8 days, but when I first got there I filled out a 4-day notice to leave. Even my parents were furious that I'd been taken there. When my notice to leave was denied, I sat on my bed crying. That’s all I did. I didn't hurt anything, anyone or myself. Yet they tied me down to a small bed in a small room by my wrists and ankles for 2-3 days. My natural instinct was to try to fight them off as hopeless as it was. When I needed to pee, they'd bring a bedpan, and someone fed me as if I were a little kid. Once they untied one arm to allow me to feed myself, but I soon punched one of the staffers, so they tied me back down and continued feeding me themselves. It was amazing that the person feeding me didn’t choke me to death with the way they were shoveling the fucking food into my mouth.

Ask me again why I don’t believe in God.

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