Category Archives: triggers

To Michael

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English: Broken Heart symbol

Dear Michael,

I miss you, still miss you though it’s been over a year since we parted ways. Honestly, I wish you were out of my mind forever. It would make it easier to get through life. But the truth is that you’re in my mind a lot, more than I would like. I know that we went our separate ways because of my PTSD, and that fact makes me mad at myself. I keep thinking that if I had just been better, less apt to start shaking that we would still be together. You might be confused with all of this since I’m the one that walked away ,but I knew you were freaked out by the PTSD. I knew it was untenable.

You were special, a rarity of a person that does not come around everyday. When I’m really missing you badly I reach down into my soul, and find that part of me that felt your deep love for me. Just thinking of it right now makes me cry. I don’t just cry because I miss you, I cry because no one ever loved me that deeply, and it still amazes me. I wish I had been aware the that last time I kissed you or hugged you would be the last time forever. I would have lingered longer, treasured it more, paid more attention to the entire moment. I would have made sure to inhale your scent one last time so that I could try to bottle it up in my memory bank forever.

I vividly remember one night when we were together and you started telling me how special I was, and you asked me to promise that I would always remember that I’m special. You started saying, “Promise me, promise me …” I then noticed that you were teary as you were imploring me to remember that I’m special. When I look back I wonder if that was the last night we spent together, but my brain fails me, and I’m not sure if it was.

Cooking with you was fun, so fun that it did not feel like work when we did it together. We were so good at cooking together it was like choreography. We were magic when we cooked, no doubt about it. You were a great cook, and I was a fab baker, a perfect match. Every time I hear Michael Jackson on the radio I remember rocking out to those silly songs while we were making dinner one night.

I’ve never spoken to someone about myself like I did with you. It’s because of you that I write again. You helped me rediscover my love of writing, and I treasure that you helped me remember that I love writing. I was able to be myself with you, and I love you for that.

We were close to having a forever love together, so close that it might have been better for my heart if we had been nowhere near such a thing.

I suppose it’s still good that we met, even though I miss you terribly. I write again because of you, and I see myself in a different, better light because of you. Still though, I try not to let my mind embrace the fact that I will likely never see you again.My mind shuts down when I think of this, so I just let it float, float into the vast lake of the unknown with a droplet of hope that will likely never be.

Yours always,

Beatriz

(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A first look … and I didn’t like it

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This past Monday during a session with Doc I had the experience of a 5 year old version of me making an appearance. I tried writing about it afterwards, but the post was too hard for me to finish. I started writing the post as present-day Beatriz, then, before I knew it, I noticed that the 5 year old version of me took over the post. I had already been scared by the session, and having that happen in the blog post scared me even more.

Finally I just put my laptop under the couch because I couldn’t bear it anymore, the evidence of my DID was too much for me. Then, I don’t know why, I started feeling like I shouldn’t live, and I started having paranoid thoughts of homelessness. I’ve no idea why all that happened after the session. I had even had a a string of good days prior to Monday, but it seems like after that session I was a mess.

Thankfully I had the sense to call my friend Dan while I was in that state of despair. He stayed on the phone with me, got me to take a Xanax while I was on the phone with him, and then stayed on the line with me until I was in bed ready to fall asleep. He wanted me to come over and stay at his place, but it was late, and I didn’t want to pack my crap. Plus, I don’t think I was fit to drive, and I didn’t want him coming over here to get me at such a late hour.

I’m finally feeling better, BUT I have another session with Doc tomorrow, not to imply that Doc is the issue. I just start to wonder if it’s really okay to let the peeps out in therapy. We shall see. I can only wonder who, if anyone, will appear tomorrow in Doc’s office.

A pink hamster

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I’ve been incredibly negligent in keeping up with comments and reading other blogs, and I apologize. I’ve been caught up in a number of things, one of which is preparing for the new job. Many thanks for the support y’all have given me on that very exciting development.

Last week I had a training session in my current job that I had to attend with my colleagues. It was one of those fluffy-team-building things that makes the introvert in me want to run away. I know it makes no sense. I have no issue with interviewing witnesses in employee misconduct cases or going to a hearing to represent our employer. I do well with facts, contracts, and laws. I can argue and question someone on all of those things. But team-building events where all the extroverts will be talking over each other and order will cease to exist just makes my mind shut down.

And that is exactly what happened. The extroverts were all over themselves talking and talking and outdoing each other. I could feel my peeps inside of me going haywire. I was trying to keep it together, but I was sitting at the table upfront (how did that happen?), and it was growing difficult to keep myself from shaking. A few shakes escaped from me.

The peeps liked the large training tables. They wanted to get under the table. I started reminding them that we can’t do that at work. It was exhausting doing all of this internally while trying to look engaged and unaffected.

Finally the trainer called a break, and asked us to come back as soon as possible because we were behind on time. I thought I was going to lose my mind because I had hoped to get outside just for a few minutes. I didn’t know what I was going to do. I must have had a look of utter panic on my face because my boss, who was sitting right next to me, asked me if I would like to go across the street to get her a cup of coffee. God love her, in that moment I wanted to throw my arms around her. I was so stunned that she mistook my silence for a wait for money from her. Finally I snapped out of it and said that I was happy to get it for her, my treat.

I flew out of there like my life depended on it. I felt so relieved to be outside. I could feel my peeps start to finally settle down. My legs then took me to the drugstore next to the coffee shop, and this is what I found …

Someone, I don’t know who, needed something. I didn’t know what they needed, but I had the sense that I wasn’t going to find it in the coffee shop. I walked into the drugstore, and right in the center there was this kiosk of stuffed animals. When I saw it I knew that was what at least one of the peeps needed, though I sense it was more than one. I approached the kiosk, and I immediately started negotiating, “Ok, I get it. Today is hard, very hard. But we cannot get the huge stuffed hamster. We have to be discreet. How about this guy?” That was when I picked up the small pink hamster-looking thing that you see right here. It appeared to be a workable compromise.

I paid for Mr. Pink Hamster, and made sure I got a shopping bag. Usually I forgo shopping bags to cut down on waste, but today I needed one, as I was not going to walk back in with a stuffed pink hamster for all to see, especially since I anticipated returning  late to the training.

Finally, I got the coffee, and when I got back to the training session they were still on a break. My boss then said to me discreetly that she remembered that I had told her that I liked running errands, and that she saw that I was uncomfortable so she thought I might like an errand.

My boss is one reason that it will be hard to leave when I do so in a couple of weeks. She’s smart, fair, and very reasonable. It’s too bad my heart is not in this work because she’s a very good boss. I even showed her the hamster in the shopping bag, and she thought it was a great idea to get it. She’s familiar with my PTSD and my DID. We were friends first, and then she became my boss. That was how she already knew about my situation. But she would be, and is, supportive with any of her staff, not just me.

Supportive people can be found in unexpected places. For me, it was in a job that was not a good fit for me. This detour in my life led me to some very great people. Perhaps that’s why I had to come here.