Leave the bourbon on the shelf

tic toc goes the clock
nice ring says the queen
no matter how you put it
were still doing the same damn thing.

There's an interesting dynamic going on with my alters right now. I'm switching alot, I'm not losing time but i'm definitely switching more than I think most people around me realize. A few weeks ago pandora's box was opened, and now there's no stopping it. I'm not uncomfortable with it at all. It doesn't feel bad. It's not scary. I'm embracing it. It's relaxing, to press pause on yourself so someone else can have a turn.

Reality swirls and twirls around you, the ticking of a clock becomes an unbearable tremor. You long, don't even know what exactly you're longing for, only that the feeling is there. After so long of disasociating life in real time drags on and on. It's foreign and uncomfortable.

"You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
They called me the hyacinth girl."
— Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.

"Do

You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
Nothing?"

I remember

Those are pearls that were his eyes.
"Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?"

d.i.d at the workplace

I started last Monday as a housekeeper at the motel 6. I hadn't worked since i was still pregnant and I'd forgotten just how much having multiple personalities interferes at the workplace. They want me to remember specific room numbers, how many beds were in them, etc. etc. It should be simple, but it isn't. I'll be asked if i've done a specific room and i have no idea without looking at the clipboard where i write down all this information. I've walked into clean rooms I already did twenty minutes ago. And I'm not even having a big problem with disasociating right now. This is just normal. I have to conquer conflicting urges. GO faster, get it over with, take your time, sit on the floor and look at the bug, smoke a cigarette. It's hard to block all that out and just do my job but i can do it. It might take me a little longer, i might do things different than you, but I do it. I am still capable.
   My son is staying with my mom and sister for the time being. He comes home on weekends and I try to see him as much as possible. I don't feel guilty or wrong or anything some people might want me to feel. I know I am doing the right thing for Everett. It's not the cookie cutter life, but there is nothing about me that is even remotely cookie cutter. My babys doing great and healthy and happy. How I choose to raise him is how he needs to be raised, it just looks different.
    I guess what I'm trying to say is, maybe they have tattoos and piercings,  maybe they're illegal immigrants, maybe they have mental illness, maybe they're gay, or transgender, either way we're all just trying to make it, same as everybody else, so before you judge remember, we're all the same, we just look different.

Back after only six days inpatient. Just the same way my brain "snaps" into crazy mode it "snaps" back into functioning. While there in kc i learned something pretty interesting, my eyes change colors when i switch. I think that's pretty cool.
Mentally i'm doing much better. Mood is levelled out, no more mania, no more delusions and hallucinations. Big sigh of relief. Emotionally it's a different story. I'm just so sick and tired of everything. I don't want to have to explain myself. I just want to for once get out of this house, it's beautiful, and i keep it clean, all lovely whatever but it gets old. Really really old.I feel like i'm reaching my minimum potential. I feel stifled and tamed and alone and i don't like it one bit. I've never really been happy but i have had alot of fun and that is one thing that i just don't have anymore.

the sky is crying and everyone can see it

I was discharged early from two rivers hospital due to unexplained medical reasons. I've seen a few doctors and narrowed it down to crazy side effects from some anti-crazy pills I was perscribed. I go back Saturday.      
Everyone (when i use this term it's usually referring to everyone inhabiting my body) is at a loss for words. No lies, just love. (bright eyes, look it up)all these things to be feeling, shame, embarrassment, loss, depression, sadness so deep you can't help but drown in it. I don't feel like i'm disasociating but I don't remember anything either. It's all enveloped in a one huge chorus of "it's all your fault, all your fault, all your fault." Pointed fingers, fat and accusing.  The rats are hungry, the squirrels are screaming. I'm a heavier, slightly wiser, version of myself three years ago. The walk back up is a daunting one. But i'll be damned if i stay like this forever.

on my way to hospital stay number 5. surprised?dont be. its another notch in my belt. at this rate of almost two hospitilizations per year by the time im 40 ill need a new belt. already im desperately homesick. desperately despondent. Even if i dont continue the cycle of abuse i continue the cycle of pain to those closest to me. no good no good no good. i am no good.

i should be sleeping

I should be sleeping, but i'm not. "sleep when the baby sleeps" This is the advice i've gotten most. Except it's not so easy. I've never been a napper. In fact, other than my pregnancy, napping was a skill I could never quit accomplish. I can lay fitfully on the couch for a couple hours, but I need all lights and noise off, doors locked and closed, and nocturnal hours to really get to that wonderful blissfully ignorant place called sleep.
So what does that mean for someone like me? I feel like i'm seventeen again. Lost in a sea of sleep deprivation, depressed, confused, and abandoning all sense of giving a rats ass. Add to this taking care of a newborn. Which it so happens is a 24/7 job. No, i do not have postpartum depression. I am not plagued by images of my baby slamming against a wall, i don't fantasize about leaving my family, this is just me returning to me. All those zen pregnancy hormones have gone.
Again everyone has an opinion, has a task they'd like to take over, a song they want to hear. I'm dancing to six different tunes. It isn't easy, but it's familiar.

Be still and know that I am God

warning: may be offensive to those of monotheistic religions, particularly a judeo christian one


Sometimes, I can think rationally. Even more rarely I actually get around to meditating, when I do a common mantra i use is
"Be still and know that I am God."

Because of it's blatant biblical associations, usually I take off the god part on the end. But it's all good. The whole thing. I know I'm taking it out of context, but each tiny sentence in this sentence is full of wonderful truth.

Be still.
With all the chaos in this world. My family, my new immediate family, my five personalities, I tend to forget to do this. Sometimes I don't need  to take another xanax, sometimes I just need to be still. Just breathe. Don't worry about doing anything else but being.

Be still and know.
This is the next good part, i don't need to define what it is I know, purely the fact that I know it. Know that you are capable, know that you have the power, the godness within you to trust your instincts and navigate through whatever waters are testing you.

Be still and know that I am God.
Yes, I'm being blasphemous. I'm not saying that I am the one and only god, i'm saying that there's godness, goodness, genuine love and purity in every living thing. In and of itself everything is as it should. It's always a choice whether made by myself or others that corrupts this.

I say this over and over in my head. Be still and know that I am God.Be still and know that I am God.Be still and know that I am God.