Tag Archives: Posttraumatic stress disorder

Whoa to you, Mr. Lame Date

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I really liked Mr. Lame Date. Of course, I did not know he was a lame date at the moment I became smitten with him. I won’t even call him a boyfriend because it was so short-lived. But it was passionate and, like many relationships in the early stage, full of promise. We had a lot in common, he made me laugh, and those boy-next-door looks of his did not hurt.

Inevitably, once you get past the fun pleasantries at the initial stages you have to start sharing the some of the real-life less than ideal crap that we have floating around in our lives. My floatie is my PTSD and Dissociative Identity Disorder. His is his ex-wife that has schizo-affective disorder.

After becoming close in a relatively short period of time he texted me today, yes, you read that right, he TEXTED me to say that he needs to “apply the brakes.” He finds me intelligent and “awfully interesting” (such an odd phrase), but he’s not ready to deal with someone who has similar issues to his ex-wife. Well, I didn’t know that PTSD and DID were similar to schizo-affective disorder!

It is sad to me that he’s made a broad generalization about my mental illness without knowing a whole lot about it. But, for me, the worst part is that I had him over to my apartment. I let very few people into my apartment, but I let him in because I really liked him.

So, Mr. Lame Date, to sum it up, you’re a first-class jerk. You knew I rarely let people into my apartment, but you persuaded me to have you over, and I allowed it. I allowed myself to get close to you, and incorrectly assessed you as one of the “good guys.” I was wrong. And perhaps most importantly, I regret giving you 4 of my freshly baked chocolate peanut butter cookies. You are so not worthy of such fine baking. Procurement of fine baked goods under false pretenses will inevitably backfire into bad karma.

I hate Mother’s Day

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Of course, given that today is Mother’s Day, I’ve been thinking about the fact that my mother is out of my life. It does not escape me that many of us on here struggle with PTSD or DID as a result of our childhood experiences with our mothers. I’m also certain that many of you, like me, have dreaded this day, especially when you look at your Facebook newsfeed and you see all of these lovely status updates about loving mom, having a great mom, missing a dearly departed mom, etc. This feels like the only place in the universe where I can say that I unequivocally HATE mother’s day.

Saying that you hate mother’s day is like saying you hate puppies or world peace. It’s simply a socially unacceptable thing to admit or talk about in any form where you are not anonymous. Yet, we know that there are children out there, too many children, that are taken from their parents because of abusive situations. We’ve all read stories of mothers killing their children. Then there are the countless other children that go unnoticed and reach adulthood with a terrorizing mother. For all of these children, I weep. I weep because a mother is such a fundamental part of life. We can only come into this life with a mother, but not all of those mothers are up to the task. And there is no rhyme or reason as to which of us in this life are blessed with a kind mother, and which of us are not.

On this day I reflect on how I learned not to ask for my mother for a hug, and how I was not one of the kids who would cry for her mommy. I would cry because I was sad or scared, but I did not want my mother. She was never a source of comfort. There was never that quintessential mother/daughter embrace where you feel that mother/daughter love.

Today my mother is out of my life, and has been since 2006. Unfortunately, life is more peaceful without my mother in my life. Regardless of everything that has happened between me and my mother I only want peace for her. When she does pass away I think that I’ll likely feel the same way I feel on Mother’s day, sadness for the mother I never had.

It’s refreshing to come on here and say that, yes, my mother is still alive. No, I have no contact with her. And, yes, I am very okay with that. No, I will not regret that when she dies. I only regret I did not do it sooner. No, I do not love my mother. I do not hate her either. She is just a person I have to contend with in my life. I wish her no ill will. I only wish that I continue to not see her for the rest of my days on this earth. Life is too short to share with hateful, narcissistic and vindictive people. My mother, unfortunately, falls in this category.

Eternal love goes out to all of you out there that did not have the mother you needed. Listen to me when I say that it is not a reflection of your worth. Don’t let a less than loving mother determine your worth in this life.

24 hours later life feels less daunting …

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There is no explanation for this. I woke up this morning, and I was able to get out of bed without feeling glued to it. I don’t think I did anything differently to make this happen. I think was able to fall asleep easier because I went on a two mile walk. Today I went on a 3 mile walk, and I’m even better for it. The weather was great, and it didn’t trigger me. What a beautiful thing!

I was going to do some work I brought home, but I decided not to because it’s been such a good day, and I want to enjoy it through and through. Such good days are rare, and I decided to just enjoy it to the very end, and so I did.

It’s so odd to me that today was so different because my life is still the same as it was yesterday. I’m still largely alone, and lonely. I’m still dissociative and over weight and in an apartment that is not as put-away as I would like it to be. All these things are still status quo, but the different thing was my brain today. Today my brain was my friend, and didn’t freak or want the world to end, or some other thing that wouldn’t be a good idea.

Today was a good day. If only I could bottle it for the bad days.