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#personal posts

It’s 8am and it feels like it should be noon. I woke up at 5am to go grocery shopping with my mom during the disabled/elderly shopping time. I brought my cane in part because of gas cramps but also just to hopefully avoid getting questioned and it worked. I had my Medicare and inhaler to prove I’m disabled but I didn’t want to have to go that far, you know?

Thanks to extra EBT benefits I could shop for what I want and need and get extra without worrying about breaking my budget. My mom doesn’t want to grocery shop for the next two weeks and it was so nice to be able to buy for that. Aaaand I still have $71 left, which is $10 more than my normal monthly benefit. Why can’t this be my regular benefit because if I got $198 every month I could get pretty much all of my own food and avoid a lot of food triggers and make it easier on an appetite that’s barely there.

I am a little bummed that I didn’t even noticed the pansy trays that I walked right by. Didn’t occur to me to get any and then I see my mom who got a headstart with flowers in her cart. I was already in the store with stuff in my cart so I didn’t want to abandon my cart to get pansies. My mom has to hit up another supermarket anyway to get something she can’t get at her local haunt so she promised a tray for me if she sees any. At least I got my daffodils I just wish they would bloom already! There are buds but it’s taking forever. :/

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“Everyone keeps a darker place
To lose control, you’re not alone
And when you come looking for embrace
I know your soul, I’ll be your home
Till you can breathe on your own
Till you can breathe on your own

[…]Hold tight, you’re slowly coming back to life
I’ll be keeping your head up
I’ll be keeping your head up, darling
Let go of all your haunted dreams tonight
I’ll be keeping your head up
I’ll be keeping your head up
And I won’t let you down

[…]Don’t you know your pain is mine?”

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Uptown Girl is on the radio, so you know what time it is; missing dr. Aaron Conners hours

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Ordinarily, I tend to get bummed out when I’m not REALLY GOOD at something, but today, I was given the project of making my family some masks 😷 It’s nice to feel useful. We’ll see how it goes 😋

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I think I’m one of the parts who are so strict about keeping up our routine. 😬

I don’t have a name, but I know that I belong to Rose and Freja. I’m very similar to them. But I was “made” to be the perfect patient. I remember crying in therapists’ offices, trying so hard to be good. My first memory is from the first time we were admitted to a psych ward. I knew bad things were going to happen, but I just kept on knitting. And I tried so hard to do everything right.

I know that others are scared by me or the memories I carry and how hard I try to do everything right… I probably only write this, because it is the right thing to do too. I want to be good, so I have to be a good part too. I want to be cooperative and help. But I’m also so scared. I’m scared that I will be admitted to the psych ward again when I’m “bad”. That’s why I have to do everything to be healthy. I have to be good.

- a girl without a name

Please don’t re/bl/0g.

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Monday is supposed to be really nice so I’m designating it for fixing my bike, assuming I feel well enough. In the meantime it’s rainy for the next two days and I just got bag of pot, so why not do some spring cleaning?

I’ve mentioned many times before, I live in the smallest bedroom in the house. I have a twin bed with less than 3 feet from the foot of he bed to opposing wall. I have a small L shaped walkway from my door to the closet with my TV next to the door on top of my smallish dresser. Every inch of my room is stuffed with shit, especially my tiny fucking closet.

I have done cleanings before to remove junk but I’m going to try and apply the Marie Kondo method and really let go of as much as I can, while being reasonable about what I need to keep “just in case”. When you’re poor it’s harder to let go because if something breaks you might not have the money to replace it but if you have a spare it can be money saving. I think the biggest thing I need to differentiate from is what I would need of I ever get to live alone versus scraps of fabric, clothes, electronics, etc… that I keep just in case by don’t really need, or tell myself I’ll use but it’s been years now and I need to admit myself it will not be used. I need the space so badly.

Hopefully I can do all this and not overdo it physically. At least I don’t have to worry about running out of meds and have enough to deal with some extra soreness tomorrow.

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When we had that first interview with that therapist, she asked us what our everyday life looks like to which the part who was present replied, crying, (because of course we were crying throughout that whole appointment) “I just wait for the day to pass and then I go to sleep and wake up the next day only for it all to start again.”

I still think that’s sad. Anyway, the therapist suggested we should get a behavioral therapist to help us with this kind of stuff (daily routine). What she didn’t know, and of course she didn’t know, was that this is not at all what our everyday life looks like. She was talking to a very depressed part who’s very dissociated from our present life. We do have a good daily routine. We are excellent at that kind of stuff. We get up at the same time every day and go to bed around the same time every day. We have regular meals. We leave the house every day. We work out. We keep ourselves busy with activities that are meaningful to us. When the part who had this conversation with this therapist is around, we may really sit and do nothing for a couple of hours, but this is not our normal.

Anyway, ever since that conversation happened some parts are very obsessed with making us stick to this routine very strictly. Very strictly. Due to past experiences with behavioral therapists, “I think you should do behavioral therapy” sounded like a threat to them. They fear “it” (psychiatric abuse) will happen again if we don’t “behave” and “do what she says”.

Reassuring words and gentle promises frighten these parts, but I want to acknowledge their pain, at least.

I am getting overwhelmed by fear right now. I will take care of this fear now (wasn’t finished writing this post but okay), but I still want to leave this here.

[not seeking advice and please don’t reb/l0/g.]

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