integrating's Diaryland Diary


integrating once again

When I was living with Kris, my son with an extreme case of PTSD, who was constantly threatening to kill me, bash my face in, shoot me in the face, couldn't say a word to him without having a door slammed in my face, screamed at constantly...the whole time I'm writing about the knots in my stomach, constant state of anxiety, taking the chance of dying every time I got in the car with him. I saw times where I would become so engrossed with real fears of him killing me and I was already dealing with my own PTSD.

I was always saying I couldn't sleep. It was because of the paranoid anxiety. When I did attempt to sleep I was haunted by things that have happened that I wished I could have a do over or things in the future that have not happened and probably never would.

So when something would happen and I was terrified or just plain tired of it I would get on the phone with my dad.
"I want to move to Montana."
Then, "I can't leave my kid alone."
Repeat this about every day. My father became frustrated with me.

Same thing with a friend of mine. He had been wanting to be roommates for a very long time, so he comes to mind when I want out but don't want to go to Montana.
"I want to be roommates."
"You can move in anytime."
"I'm sorry, I can't just leave my kid alone."
"I just turned somebody down, Kim. That's pretty weak."
And I continued this with him also.

The story changed when I went to live with my aunt. Great stories with great characters.
I'm not consumed with paranoid anxiety anymore. No more knots in my stomach, but the verbal and mental abuse became too unbearable for me in the end.

Move to MT. The minute my belongings were on the truck, my dad's true colors were allowed to be released. It then became real to me. I regretted it from the beginning, but I couldn't stand it at my aunt's house any longer.

It was real rough in the beginning. I just found out that my cousin and my aunt, both from his side of the family, told him to leave me alone. I remember it was like, one day he was suddenly afraid to piss me off. He's been nice ever since.

My Montana doctor wants to change the drug that controls pretty much everything about me. It worked very well for depression, but unfortunately makes the patient balloon up to a ridiculous weight.

Thank God they took me off of it. Lost 45 lbs with no effort. So they changed it, let's see how this one works.
How am I feeling...
"I am feeling depressed. Can we up the dosage?"
"No, that's the max we can give you because nah nah nah. Let's try this one."

*SIGH* Here we go again.

The first new med didn't work. So here we go with the second experiment.
"This med doesn't work."
"Well then let's try this one."
How do I feel...I can carry on with life, but I still have just enough depression to exhume my creativity.

With my new mindset, my new focus, and my new surroundings, things are different. It is only reasonable to want to write about different things.

My life will go on, so will my diary. Don't like it, don't read it.

If I spill my guts out to you and you listen and suggest options for my imaginary problems, then I think of you as a real friend. Don't think that I believe it's anything other than that. I'm not stupid, and I am extremely observant.

So here we are, integrating once again.

6:49 a.m. - 07.21.17


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