I sent 16 of my own men to the latrines that night!

My therapy session on Tuesday left me feeling reflective.  We talked about my family members who have died.  I shared with her why I cried for a year after my brother died, and told her about him.  I think she really understood why I loved him so much.  I had never done that before.  Even thinking about it now has me smiling.  It was incredibly healing.  He visited my dreams last night, but I don’t remember the circumstances.  Just that I was glad to see him, and was aware it was a dream.  He’s never far from my thoughts.

I’ve also shared with her aspects of my relationship with my Mom that have previously been private.  I feel like my Mom is with me 24/7.  Not a physical presence, but a lifelong acknowledgement.  For my entire life, I’ve been in an ongoing internal conversation with my Mom.  It’s so seamless, it’s like breathing.  Even before I could speak, I thought my thoughts to her, and accepted her words as her answer.  It wasn’t always logical, sometimes was hilarious, but was most often effective.  When I left to serve in the Army, I continued.  I had a good idea by then what my Mom would say in many situations.  When we talked on the phone, I would report the incidents in which I used her “voice” to guide me through a tough situation.

It probably hasn’t been helpful when I talk to other people, though.  I struggle with conversations.  It’s a sophisticated dance between controlling my anxiety, and comprehending/staying present well enough to remain on topic in real time.  In my eyes, I come off to others as having a low intellect, and an intermittent ability to connect with others.  I know that in actuality, I have a high intellect, and suck at conversations.  I do far better when I can type versus speaking aloud.  But texting is ideal.  I text back as soon as I notice.  This could be immediately, or a few days.  The time it takes to respond means nothing negative.  I have 2 phones. I only give out the number for 1 of them.  The other is an extension of my brain.  I don’t even know the number for that phone.

Therapy is exhausting, but that’s not really a con.  I’ve been sleeping regularly.  Every single night I sleep now.  For between 4 and 6 hours.  I haven’t done that since I was in the Army.  It’s a combination of a new sleeping med, having the mountain on my back excised, being drained from therapy, and not being afraid to go to sleep.  The fact that I can run outside now is probably contributing as well.  I like the awake me better.  I despise feeling sluggish.  It’s a panic trigger, which becomes a twisted level of hell, Dante style, when I don’t sleep.  Fuck that.  So I’m pleased with how it’s going.

I just found out that Prince is dead.  I’m going for a run.

Dancing with depression

It’s ridiculously cold.  Last night, it dipped down to -15F with a windchill of -34F.  You’d think this would deter college students from hitting the clubs and returning afterward to hold loud conversations in the parking lot at 2AM.  Between that, and listening to drunken stair climbing, followed by door slams, I was annoyed.  I did manage to fall back asleep, though.  Mostly thanks to the Advil PM I took due to leg pain.  I hate when my insomnia catches up to me, and my legs start to hurt.  It feels like bone deep pain, and it’s a dull ache that keeps me awake.  I think it’s my legs telling me that they’ve had enough, and they’re going to sleep regardless of what shenanigans I’m engaging in.

I’ve been paying attention to the weather in Denver.  It’s really mild there.  I’ll be able to run outside year round.  They have a lot more races there too.  While I have no desire to run a marathon ever, I do like 10K and 15K races.  In my case, I think running a marathon would have long term consequences.  It’s not something I’ll put my body through.  It would alter my body chemistry in a major way, and I can’t afford that with PTSD.  My body is too sensitive.  Surgery has this poor effect on me, too.  Fortunately, the only surgery I foresee in my future is implantation of some sort of device that aids in maintaining the ideal body chemistry.  Once it’s invented and made available, anyway.

I’ve avoided weighing myself for weeks now.  I can tell I’m too low by how much clothes fit, but I guess I’m running with denial for now.  My appetite is low to non-existent.  Every so often, I have intense protein cravings, though.  I hate that it’s such an interruption.  I just want to work on my projects without being interrupted.  I’ll have to think about this, and find a new plan.  I’m starting OT again next week.  I’ll be focusing on food prep and adding variety to my diet.  I was upset about it, but I talked to a friend, and now I recognize it’s for the best.  When I move, we’ll reassess if it’s necessary to continue there.  I can feel a steady, constant anxiety in relation to moving.  In my mind, I waiver on it every day.

I think I’ll start with visiting there, and increase the length of my stays until I’m there more than here.  I know if I move my cat there, it’ll get me to stay there.  That and the inconvenience of traveling.  I can tell it’s low level stressing me out already.  I’m not set to move until August.  I’m an overachiever when it comes to needless worry.  There is some intangible sense that accepts a new space as home.  When I was in the Army, I had a confident grip on that sense, and could resettle in a few days without feeling displaced.  I think I need to focus on getting rid of a lot of my stuff.  I hope that by August, I am rid of about 80% of my stuff.  I’ll photograph a lot of stuff I like, but don’t want the burden of owning.  That will help tremendously.  Owning too much stuff is stressful.  Especially when I know there are others who would treasure many of the things I neglect.

When I was a kid, my mom would have an annual purge of toys and clothes.  We would get to choose 2 things we wanted to keep, and the rest was given away.  It involved a lot of crying at first, but we always managed.  The Army reinforced this by teaching that you should never own more than you can carry.  As adults, it’s interesting to see how this affected us.  Heather became a hoarder who couldn’t part with anything, no matter it’s condition.  Steve used to move a lot, and leave most of his shit behind.  Guy is a minimalist who favors black and white decor.  My oldest brother is a nomad.  My oldest sister likes large, luxurious things.  And then there’s me.  I guess I focus on lots of open space so I can run around, pace, and play with my cat.

I’m most deliberate about my bed, because I’m always at war with sleep.  I make it as inviting as possible, choosing soft linens, etc.  I wish it worked.  The rest of my space is about my interests.  In Denver, it’ll be set up according to activity, with lots of cabinets and drawers to keep everything in it’s place.  One of the perks to having master cabinet builders for nephews.  The lighting will be soft, so that alone will make it more livable for me.  Lighting is so important to me.  I wish those buzzing fluorescent overhead lamps were outlawed.  I still have nightmares about them from primary school.  Whoever decided on the format for classrooms is an asshole.  It’s certainly not conducive to learning, regardless of neurodiversity.  The groups are too large, and the students aren’t even involved.  I’m hoping VR glasses are something I can tolerate.  I know I’ll be taking them apart and reverse engineering an alternative that will accommodate my glasses.  I’m off to clean.

Kaisai

Today has been awesome.  I got 3 hours of continuous sleep.  Yay!  No nightmares.  Shoutout to estrella1982 for suggesting I look into lucid dreaming.  It’s fascinating, and I’ll absolutely be utilizing the technique.  I started my dosage change today.  Prozac has a long half life, so it’ll be about a month before the change takes effect.  It helps that I run because it requires me to remain well hydrated, and helps flush toxins out of my body faster.

I followed a woman on Twitter recently, and have discovered that I struck pure gold.  She’s beautiful, kind, and makes Vines that encourage people to be loving and accepting.  Plus she’s a cat lady.  Gold.  I got my responses back from Twitter regarding the racist harassment I endured a few days ago.  They basically praised their own concern for preventing harassment on the site for the first half of the email, and then told me that they didn’t find anything they consider harassment in the screen shots I sent in my reports.  I have since perused their rules regarding harassment, and discovered that unless someone directly threatens to kill you, or commit suicide, they don’t care.  So I wasn’t surprised by their email.

I accept that this is their stance on the topic.  I’ve decided to continue utilizing the site with my more thorough understanding of the role they’re willing to take in keeping the site safe in their view.  Logic is easy to accept.  I’ll utilize the block feature more readily in the future, should I encounter such hatefulness and racism.  It’s the perfect tool to assist me in protecting myself.  For some reason, in the instance I reported, I had to block the person twice before it took effect.  It could be that I double clicked the option rather than a single click.  I’ve done that with favoriting before.

I would like a more tactile option.  Like a huge red button mounted on the wall that I could whack with a purpose when encountering such unpleasantness.  But instead, I’ll just visualize it.  I’m not playing in the hashtag games today.  They are tags that encourage gore and violence.  Not my thing.  I know it’s not literal, but it’s still disturbing.  Heroes Reborn is on tonight.  I hope I can pay attention.  I missed The Big Bang Theory on Monday because I was having sensory overload issues.  Heroes Reborn is one of those shows that is right at the limit of what I can handle as far as violence and suspense.  I wish I could read it first.  Same with Minority Report.  

I’m presently reading, The Cycle of Arawn trilogy, by Edward W. Robertson.  It’s a fantasy series.  I’m liking it so far.  After that I have a new book by Amanda Palmer titled, The Art of Asking.  It was recommended by a friend on Twitter who’s awesome.  Every day she shares links to fascinating stuff.  Whenever I’m waiting for code to compile or content to render, I pop over to check my feed.  A few times, I’ve gotten absorbed in the hashtag games and spent more time than I should have goofing off.

I make up for it on the weekends, when I allow myself to hyper focus on my projects.  Allowing 2 days per week to let myself become completely absorbed in what I’m doing has been the best way to avoid meltdowns that I’ve discovered so far.  Aside from my cat, no interruptions are heeded.  I live for weekends.  I’ve been so much more social now that I’m paying attention to Twitter.  It’s hard.  Even though it’s mostly reading, it still can overwhelm me.  Today, someone I follow changed their avatar.  It really threw me.  I took a moment to stim and collect myself, and then forced myself to respond to it in the most positive manner I could muster.  She acknowledged my response, and mentioned she may put it back how it was in the future.  I felt relief at the prospect.

I’ve unfollowed a few people who change their avatar like most people change their undergarments.  I don’t understand why someone would do that.  It’s like changing your face.  It’s really upsetting.  But I’ve learned not to expect people to understand this.  Sassafrantz is the only one that doesn’t rattle me when she does this.  It’s not often, and she keeps tweets the photo of her new avatar when she changes it, and keeps the former one in her photo timeline.  That helps.

I can tell I’m still a little loopy from sleep deprivation.  My mind is all over the place hahaha.  My cat was so funny this morning.  I was laying on the floor beside her after my run.  I started to sit up to do my stretching, and she got so offended.  She made a loud, very long meow sound, and then hit me on the arm with her paw.  I don’t know what I did wrong that offended her, but it made me laugh really hard.  I guess she wasn’t ready for me to start moving again.  I apologized to her and then praised her for a bit while stroking her cheeks.  She settled, and I carried on.  So funny!  I think my cat is autistic too.  Here she is falling asleep on her Flintstones/Jetsons quilt I made her.