my awakening consciousness

my childhood survival mantra: do NOT EVER be yourself!

Filed under: daylilies — waterlily at 3:57 pm on Thursday, July 24, 2008

LIE OR DIE; this was pretty much my perception of the way life had to be all throughout my childhood as one with undiagnosed asperger’s syndrome. from at least as early as age five, if i recall correctly. the reason this came to be my mantra was that i’d been made to understand that “myself” was at best unacceptable and the rest of the time worthy only of contempt, disgust and ridicule. this sense of worthlessness and craziness was closely intertwined with the feeling i always had around all people – no matter that they smiled and said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and ate with the correct fork and made much to do about hats and hemlines and going to church and such, i always had the feeling they would just as soon tear you apart limb from limb. that just under the surface was mindless, brutal bloodthirst. not physical bloodthirst though. just nonchalantly destroying another person with words and social maneuvers to establish the pecking order. thinking it’s civilized just because there’s no actual blood. i came to believe very early on that it would be a virtual but violent hunt and kill if i let my true worthless, terrified self show, to anyone, ever. that it was a matter of life and death to learn every single behavior, mannerism, phrase and facial expression and be able to copy it flawlessly in any situation. and it would be best to make yourself believe it too, because the humans can smell fear. learn what to say, and for god’s sake, say it. otherwise the vicious pack of human animals surrounding you will devour you alive. even your own father will be tearing at that carcass. so here i am, now forty seven years old, just now realizing what’s been wrong this whole time, that i’ve been going through my entire life copying behavior and having no strength inside. you can imagine what a train wreck my life now is. the decades of substance abuse and addiction hasn’t helped. even though i’ve been clean and sober for many years, i’m better but still terrified, clueless and there is no one to help. i feel nothing but fear and anger towards other people. i don’t want to know them and absolutely don’t trust them. yet i have this powerful desire to feel connected, to belong. what should i do?

recognitive revelation

Filed under: daylilies — waterlily at 3:53 pm on Tuesday, June 3, 2008

i wasn’t even actively seeking the answer when i found it. i’d seen it before, even thought about it. in an act that only reinforces the validity of it, i dismissed it. pointedly thought about something else. that’s what i do. i did this a few times over these last few months. then one day, i suppose my psyche was finally ready, receptive. and there it was, in front of me again. asperger’s syndrome. that’s me. that’s so EXACTLY me!! i knew it. know it. in my bones, in my gut, in my heart and soul. it’s so clear and it explains every last weird-ass, dysfunctional second of my life. since the moment of revelation, i’ve taken several tests, and reached out to people, and all indications are that my feeling is right on the money. as it turns out, i am not a piece of garbage. maybe one day i will really believe the words.


Filed under: daylilies — waterlily at 9:52 pm on Wednesday, May 14, 2008

is this even a word? if not, it should be. it perfectly sums up my usual mood, lo these many months. far back in the most remote reaches of my mind Curiosity loiters, too: just how long can a person be so pissed off? i say ‘loiters’ because it’s an idle, detached sort of curiosity. i mean, whenever it runs it’s course is when i’ll be done with it. i try not to wallow in the fury or even embrace it, but i will NOT stuff it or deny it. ever. never again. after stuffing anger for forty odd years, i think it’s not only adds up to an enormous amount, but possibly it kind of…mutates. starts to get malignant, even. malignant cells grow wildly fast and out of control, so i just want to get it all out, all the malignancy or potential malignancy. if others don’t, won’t or can’t understand this furiosity of mine, it doesn’t change the fact that, in allowing myself to feel the way i feel without pretending it just isn’t so, i am fighting for my life. i want it back. as long as i am in no way violating the rights of others to live just as freely and safely, i’m going to do whatever it is i need to do. just because it isn’t pretty, doesn’t necessarily mean it’s evil and wicked!


Filed under: daylilies — waterlily at 9:06 pm on Friday, May 9, 2008

some days my psychological paralysis is so extreme that i’m afraid to pick up the phone or leave the apartment. i have no idea what exactly i fear. as far back as i can remember, i’ve been afraid of people. in varying degrees. it’s this vague, visceral feeling; people seem sinister, no matter how pleasant or benign they are in appearance or manner. and sometimes they seem beyond sinister….. like, monstrous. i can remember getting these feelings around some people when i was three years old. i want to know why. i’m forty seven years old and this stuff is just now occurring to me and i want to start living. i really don’t understand a lot of what is happening to me. i fluctuate between two main states of mind – extreme anger and complete, numb, dead detachment. i’m so tired. even the thought of living makes me tired. a few weeks ago, i was talking to my older (by four years) sister and we were reminiscing about old times, growing up. i mentioned the fact that i had had these feelings around people even back then and she said casually “oh yeah, mom and dad took you to a child psychologist once, because you didn’t talk for about a year.” i have NO recollection of this!! i said as much to her and i had a million obvious questions, because our mother died years ago and of course asking the big giant shithead (dad) about it isn’t an option. but she didn’t know a lot and i guess it couldn’t have been too big of a deal if nothing came of it. but it nags at me. not that it especially matters now but i keep wondering if it could be a clue, an insight. i keep thinking maybe back then (it would have been the early 1960’s) they just didn’t know enough to make a diagnosis? unless there was no diagnosis to make. but why would a child simply stop talking, and for such a long time? i just need answers; my life has been so messed up. or maybe this kiddie shrink DID make a diagnosis or hell, just gave my parents some good information but my dad decided nobody needs that information and no one needs to act on it. after all, he did decree many years ago that the entire psychiatric profession is a joke, that only a nutcase would be interested in the field. i’m perfectly serious. not kidding. not even exaggerating. what else would you expect from a man who tells emotionally distraught child to “snap out of it”? a man who finds another person’s pain irritating? i could go on, but i think anyone reading this who is human and also has more than two or three synapses firing gets the picture. anyway, i keep thinking maybe there could have been help for me if not for the shithead and if so, then my whole life could have changed course. i won’t latch onto that as the only possible truth though. things could have played out in infinite other ways. i just need to have some answers. i can’t remember anything really traumatic happening to me as a child that would explain the not talking thing. i mean sure, my dad was a shithead but he did not hit us, or abuse us in any physical way, he didn’t drink, he provided well, gave us a clean, safe home and everything we needed to be (physically) healthy and educated. looking at what i’ve just written, now I feel like the shithead for trashing him. but not for long. he spent my lifetime trashing me. telling me to stop being mentally ill. then shaming me and writing me off as garbage when i could not. and for such a noble parent, how did it escape his notice that all i ever sought was unconsciousness. that my only goal in life was to be dead? either walking dead or under-the-ground dead it didn’t matter to me; it all seemed like inconsequential variations of the same hell. and i just kept up the act. all the right little mannerisms, the right little stupid things to say, just a robot living on auto-pilot, programmed for many different kinds of situations but not for deep, substantial relationships with other human beings. and above all else, programmed to never ever let the real self show. programmed for permanent “nice”. for some reason i find i’m suddenly interested in knowing about all of my ancestors, what were they like and what was the nature and the circumstances of their lives? i want to know what their personalities and their mental condition was like. it’s almost become a need like hunger. i have a lot more pouring out to do but for now, i think this is all.

reality bytes

Filed under: daylilies — waterlily at 8:44 pm on Thursday, May 1, 2008

everything i write seems so boring lately, maybe because it’s a personal journal and my world has become so isolated and insulated….. it definitely doesn’t make good reading even if i try to open up and write frankly about my inner, most demented emotional life. it’s therapeutic for me, sure, but to the reader it’s largely the periodic accountings and rantings of another angry person. i guess this is why i fantasize about writing fiction. why don’t i stop fantasizing about it and actually DO it? i’ve got a million theories but am not sure what the real reason is. as a general rule however, i’ve always preferred fantasy to anything too real. reality – for the most part – is fraught with unpredictability. the only predictable thing is that there WILL be coldness, harshness and cruelty, it’s just impossible to predict what sharp jagged-edged form it will assume to creep or crash it’s way into your day and it seems to have an infinitely imaginative and horrific array of shapes to take when it does. i know there are also joy and beauty and other good things in reality, just as there are courageous, truly admirable and great-hearted people. too much of the time though, this knowledge feels faded and distant, some old theory you can’t for the life you remember how it applies. what does this have to do with why i don’t go ahead and write my novel? i’d be afraid of the nuts and bolts work and the confronting of painful and hugely unpleasant realities of life and myself and human nature and to do so is necessary if you want to write well and really connect with and touch and move and entertain the readers. i guess i’ve been afraid of having nothing to say, no imagination to spark interest and of not doing words justice. i know i’m going to do it though and very soon, because the thought of not even trying is worse than all those fears and more, combined.

this and that

Filed under: daylilies — waterlily at 8:21 pm on Wednesday, April 23, 2008

i think i’ve become indifferent to terrifying situations. it’s like i lived so many months in a state of constant sustained terror, panic and grinding anxiety that numbness finally set in, and it’s still here. i don’t worry about stuff i can’t control like the serenity prayer says, but the problem is i can’t control anything and i don’t know what i’m worried about….it feels like the world is about to end anyway so it doesn’t really matter if i’m homeless next month or next year. and then the next minute i feel life is too harsh and cruel to take because my vacuum cleaner broke, WE are broke and we have two cats and the disgusting carpet filth and massive accumulation of cat hair is going to kill us. my hubby recently escaped cancer just to be destroyed by a giant mutant hairball. yeah, that sounds about right.

seems like a lifetime ago

Filed under: daylilies — waterlily at 6:00 pm on Wednesday, April 9, 2008

i can’t believe it’s been five weeks since my last post….only five. five loooooong, eternal weeks. time is so weird the way it stretches and implodes seemingly at once. with all the stuff happening and not happening in my life, i feel absolutely paralyzed. as if it doesn’t matter what i do or don’t do, as if i have no choice but to sit and wait for stuff to happen, let other people’s schedules and whims and whatnot determine my fate. i just feel very detached, not connected with humanity in any way. some of that’s by choice; i’ve been copping quite an attitude against humanity lately. certain life experiences have made this inevitable i guess, but it doesn’t always have to be this way now that i understand where it comes from. that’s all for today. kind of a blah post, but that’s the way it goes sometimes.; if i’m going to write every day, or at least more often, i’ve got to accept that things are going to be mundane at times. or ugly. or boring. or scary. or just plain ordinary. that’s me; that’s life.

message in a cage

Filed under: daylilies — waterlily at 7:46 pm on Monday, February 25, 2008

long, long tiring day today, full of facing up to a lot of hard things. with hubby sick/in recovery these past few weeks i had a purpose outside myself but also an excuse to avoid my own issues and procrastinate about doing the unpleasant. (and the terrifying!) my day began at 4:00 AM with hubby’s first day back at work on “light duty”. he still needs help with bandages, wound care, and even getting dressed as he still pretty much only has one functional arm and hand. he’s getting better though despite the not-so-perfect diet and the considerable stress. i am so grateful that they got all of the cancer and that he will get better instead of suffering any more. and i won’t have to face a life without him; i’m not sure it would be worth living. hubby, my home (wherever it may be), my two sweet kitty cats: these are my world. i stopped taking meds because i can’t afford them anymore. it’s not too bad. mild withdrawal physically. been kinda all over the map emotionally but what else is new? just a little more so since i stopped three days ago, but then again i’ve got my period so who the hell knows what’s causing what….anyway i just really NEEDED to write today. most importantly, i needed to get a message off my chest and even though anyone reading it will not know it’s true meaning, the thought that another set of eyes might see it somehow gives me hope and fulfills some need i cannot identify (?!). i know it makes no sense and sounds completely insane but i’m doing it anyway, so here goes.

to dadula: the government is one giant, festering, useless pustule; it sucks. ORGANIZED religion blows! i own five cell phones, am changing my last name, and getting a tattoo. i am permitted to have any facial expression or opinion that i want and if it conflicts with your’s, that’s the best indication of it’s goodness and rightness and in any case i AM entitled to it! don’t ever utter the word “spirituality” in my presence again, much less try to preach to me about it. that good word mutates somehow when being spewed from one with no soul, rendering it obscene. that’s right, all those four-letter words are things of pure, near mystical beauty compared to that one other word being excreted from you.

you will never ever be able to feed on my illness again, you arrogant, idiotic, hypocritical, inhuman, life-sucking piece of !@#?*&^%!?$%#!!!!!!

goodbye, dadula. enjoy hell. unless this IS hell. which is probably the most sane assumption i’ve ever made.

now that i’ve excreted some stuff, readers, i feel much better. until next post, toodles!

just a bunch of stuff

Filed under: daylilies — waterlily at 8:15 pm on Thursday, February 7, 2008

well i finally scraped enough together to get my lexapro online. it seems to be the only thing that works for me. a commercial enterprise halfway around the planet is more reliable in getting me the psychiatric meds i need to stay alive than all our government agencies combined. (nothing plus nothing does come to nothing!) what a bunch of useless pustules. no one wants to help, everyone wants to judge. hubby had surgery friday and thank god, came through this one alright. he needs total care and i’m fighting to keep it together from one minute to the next. i want to be strong for him now. i have to be. yet i feel scared, sad and alone. thank god for our one good friend, who is helping us with the transportation to and from the hospital without making us feel like sorry excuses for human beings just because we need help; it’s actual help, not the venomous, self-righteous crap some people offer just to ease their own conscience. tomorrow we spend four hours on buses to get to the follow-up visit and get lab results. please let it be good news. friday is another surgery. we’re both scared. i’m exhausted, feel like i have failed everyone and oddly, like everyone has failed me. i don’t even understand my own feelings these days.

evicting the mind police

Filed under: daylilies — waterlily at 7:33 pm on Sunday, January 27, 2008

i wish it were possible to legally pursue the party responsible for installing my mind gestapo in the first place. i mean forty seven years of back rent has to add up to some real moolah, does it not? not to mention the damages for trashing the place. meanwhile they’re still occupying MY space rent-free, patrolling and interrogating every thought that comes through, judging each and every, pointing out what’s wrong and assigning guilt by the truckload despite being told to get the hell out hundreds of times daily! how am i supposed to heal with these parasites running rampant through the scrambled mess of neurons? it’s just that they’re so comfy there i guess; they’ve called my mind home for nearly half a century now. i’m the hostess and i need to insist they get out and start paying what they owe, but how? in order to finally get past all of this, i believe it’s necessary for me to confront the nazi installer but there is a teensy logistical problem: he always travels with his ceaselessly chattering shield and the two of them have fused into a giant monstrous outshouting thing that i have named the dadula. the dadula will not let me utter one sentence to it’s natural completion. so how are you supposed to say your healing piece to someone who no longer permits you to speak? it’s one thing to know it falls on deaf ears but at least the words are out there. but what if even the words are caged? of course i could seek the help of a mental health professional but there’s a teensy logistical problem there too: i have no job so no insurance. (the fact that the old half of the dadula obliterated my ability to sustain any job in which there is any interaction with people seems to be an inconsequential bit of trivia.) so i guess i’ll just have to get real and stop imagining that i’m entitled to mental health.

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