I wrote so much shit the transfer took 23 hours. Seriously. Basically a day. BUT I AM SO GLAD DREAMWIDTH HAS THAT SERVICE AVAILABLE. ALL MY SHIT IS IMPORTED.
I wrote so much shit the transfer took 23 hours. Seriously. Basically a day. BUT I AM SO GLAD DREAMWIDTH HAS THAT SERVICE AVAILABLE. ALL MY SHIT IS IMPORTED.
x-post from tumblr
I've been looking for something that fits my symptoms for AGES. Recently I found out that what I've been calling "emotional detachment" or "backseat driving in my own head" has a name in psychiatry. (I probably ran across it in my psychology classes at some point and didn't understand it fully.) It's called dissociation.
So I started googling personality disorders with that as a symptom. I figured I was looking for a PD, because I had basically ruled out everything else that made sense. Depression and bipolar disorder didn't fit all my symptoms and most of the rest didn't even make sense.
Ran across BPD, also referred to as Emotionally Unstable Personality Disorder. Symptoms include dissociation, inability to control your emotions, feeling like your emotions are in control of you, and as a result of the lack of control, your social interactions would suffer. Impulsivity is a big issue with people with BPD, as is something they call "splitting": basically I experience it as only seeing one side of a person at a time. I'll look at one person in particular-- who shall remain nameless-- and I'll either go "I love them and they're awesome" or I'll go "omg you've done this bad thing you're fucking evil" and I know they're not flawless, I know they're not evil, but I can't see both sides at once. It explains my anger issues, my embarrassing inability to control my reactions when I'm upset or excited or angry, my inability to decide how I feel about myself or what I want to do with my life, my anxiety issues, my occasional depressive states, my absolute terror at the thought of being alone, my pervasive boredom if I don't have something really involved to do, and my urges to self harm (though I've gotten better at managing those).
So I go see my therapist, armed with this information, and basically what happens is once she realises I won't be offended she says "yeah, I have that down as a possibility in your notes from a long time ago."
But the immediately important part is that I have an explanation and a jumping off point for treatment
Update: so I totally misunderstood what my therapist meant when we agreed it was an unofficial diagnosis. It is definitely what I have. We just can't tell insurance that because they will then stop covering my therapy. Because personality disorders are not caused by brain chemistry, insurance apparently thinks it's less valid and stop covering treatment. Even though therapy is literally the only effective treatment for a personality disorder. They know it'll take a while to work through and they don't wanna cover that much. Dickbags.
But here: I recently asked our ST (GM or DM) if it was cool that I used this one-armed character. He lost his arm, it's a thing, but he's a person (satyr) first, disabled second (or sometime after that, whenever it comes up). But I still got weird about it because I'm scared of stepping on proverbial toes.
The other thing is, half the time, I feel guilty for finding non-white people attractive-- and hear me out on this one, I promise I'm not a racist-- because according to Tumblr, if you appreciate an ethnic group aesthetically, you must be fetishising them. I know I'm not. But I still get that twinge of "oh gods I'm doing it wrong."
This is half of what's wrong with tumblr: the crazy social justice bloggers who actually ARE oversensitive.
BUT NOT JUST ANY DRAG SHOW
SHARON NEEDLES HAS COME TO THE CAPITAL CITY OF MY TINY LITTLE STATE
THE WINNER OF LAST YEAR'S RUPAUL'S DRAG RACE
AND WE GOT VIP TICKETS SO WE CAN MEET HER
THE ONLY WAY THIS COULD BE BETTER WOULD BE IF RAVEN WERE THERE TOO
I FUCKING LOVE THEM
CAPSLOCK CANNOT FULLY EXPRESS MY FANBOYISH JOY
Problems keep happening with my application to PetCooooooooo D:
First, it was a problem with the age of my first application. Re-submitted, problem solved.
Then it was an e-mail that I didn't get. It was re-sent, problem solved.
Then the e-mail I sent back didn't get to the right place. Gave the store a physical copy. Problem solved (I think).
Now, I was just asked to edit some stuff on the application, and when I logged on to do so, it told me I withdrew it (which I didn't) and it's no longer under consideration (which it should be) and I can't edit it D:
This is really bumming me out, guys. I was supposed to start working a week ago. And I'm getting really depressed. (I'm on a new anti-depressant, this is not helping. I can't tell if it's not working or if this is just fucking me up.)
I wanna start grooming puppies T_T
EDIT: Well, I've just found out that I'm not gonna get any answers for six fucking days. I was supposed to start a week ago, and I was really excited for this, but now I can't start for at least another week? This fucking sucks. So much for a great opportunity dropping itself into my lap. I'm starting to wonder if I'm ever going to get a job.
I am so absurdly excited.
I also applied at the Potter League (an animal rescue place a town over from me), and they're currently hiring, and it's a really nice place. I was surprised.
Brb, impatiently squeeing~
You who read this at all already know that my aunt didn't support me at all, then started to, and now does in every area that does not involve her kid. I may have misunderstood that bit, but I'll get to that in a minute.
What happened earlier, briefly: my little cousin asked the house at large how to spell my name. She still uses my legal name. My aunt sort of giggled, and said, "J... kidding." I said "I wish." So she suggested to my cousin that they start calling me "CJ"-- because my uncle started that, to try and wrap his head around it, and I like the idea (and it's kind of funny, to be honest)-- and my cousin started freaking out. "I don't want to call her that" and all that. Didn't make me feel particularly awesome, but that might've been the reason Auntie was holding back on the whole thing with her daughter.
I tell my mother this, and she tells me I'm taking it personally, she's only six, I can't honestly expect that she'd understand. I tried to explain that that wasn't the point. I obviously don't expect her to understand; we didn't explain anything, so there's nothing for her to understand.
She continued to repeat those same three things, and that a name is one with the person at that age. I also know a friend of mine in first grade went by three different nicknames in as many months, and I never had a problem keeping up with it. So I asked her, "Seriously, was I not six when I was six?" And she told me that no, I was ten when I was six and gave me evidence that I was mentally almost twice my physical age. Way to take a literal question figuratively.
By this point I was getting frustrated, and I told her I wasn't angry or anything, I was just disappointed. She repeated all the above crap. I just got fed up and said, "okay, look, let me show you part of the reason I'm disappointed." And I pulled out my nook. She proceeded to ignore and walk away from me, so out of frustration, I said "or not."
And then she started on me for getting pissed at her. I wasn't pissed, I was frustrated, and she wasn't listening. Oh yes, and there was beer involved. Naturally.
Incidentally, what I was looking for was this: http://lgbtgivesmehope.tumblr.com/post/
Quoted from the above tumblr page (which is itself a reblog):
The child I babysit sometimes is 5 years old. Last time I went to take care of him I noticed he has this awesome painting of the moon in his bedroom. He told me his mothers friend painted it. After he told me the artists name he then explained to me “She used to be a boy but she didn’t feel good so now she just takes medicine and it helps her to be a girl. She feels better”
It’s literally that easy to explain it to kids.
But she has an issue with a nickname. This is why I'm disappointed. Obviously I do not hold it against her. She's six. I'm just disappointed.
On the other hand, it would help if, when I talk to my mother, she would listen to what I'm saying, not what she seems to want to hear.
I didn't really explain the initial insult, either. But I'm done caring if she sees.
( The aforementioned insult. )
She then made it worse by calling me because she "just wanted to talk", followed closely by "by the way, can you take me to Dartmouth sometime soon so I can get my glasses fixed?" This was about a week and a half ago. So I met her at Empire Tea in Newport, and we stopped at the Mad Hatter bakery right down the street before leaving. She spent the entire time talking about how she was having mental issues with certain things with the boy, which are normal, healthy parts of a relationship. I spent the entire time listening and replying with variations on "that's healthy, you're in a relationship; that's part of being in a relationship", etc.
We went to Dartmouth. She got her glasses fixed. I went into FYE to browse. We went home. She continued talking about the boy. I continued not to talk much, and she didn't notice that I wasn't in a good mood.
If a middle school teacher can tell something's wrong after two minutes, a "best friend" should be able to tell after two hours.
And then she called again, a few days ago, "just [wanting] to talk" and "[needing] to see me", which was quickly followed by "by the way, do you mind picking up [the boy] from work?" I told her I had to talk to my mom about something (which I did) and told her I'd talk to her later. Mum got home kinda late-ish, and by the time I was done thinking about this bullshit, I had a headache, and I refuse to drive with a headache.
I found out today that she also tends to tell different people different stories, and I was never really getting the truth when she'd bitch to me about her boyfriend (now ex, obviously). And, as I suspected-- whether intentionally or not-- she was leading him on, just like this other creep that had a crush on her. (She refused to think that she was taking pity on him OR encouraging him when she went to a family wedding with him. As his date. So either she's clueless or she's a manipulative bitch, but I'm not ready to believe that second one.)
I'm done caring. I can't do this anymore. I don't think I care anymore that she'd be "devastated" to lose me as a friend. I can't handle her shit. She shattered my trust in her, and apparently she never trusted me as much as she said she did either. I'm done.
There was a lot of memory testing, some actual relevant tests, the Swedish fellow administering the tests was impressed with my memory... I brought my wolf plush to hopefully keep me from freaking out; still ended up tearing up my wrist.
I went in at nine in the morning and didn't leave till two. Add that to the fact that I ate an hour plus before that, and didn't get home till 20 past two, I was freaking hungry when I got home.
And I have to go back next week.
Not looking forward to that either.
It's if I'm going to a mall or something. Or a doctor's office, but I get nervous at doctor's offices with or without someone with me. (It just sucks a little bit less if I've got someone with me.)
But anyway, if I have to go somewhere for whatever reason, I end up getting nervous. If I get nervous, I get fidgety. Fidgety has started to translate into "scratching one specific square inch on the back of my left hand", which means I now have a red scratchy mess there, because I also do it before job interviews when I get nervous, or at school if I'm not typing notes or doing a lab.
That's a problem if I need to go do something, which happens often enough, because being home all the damn time sucks. So I go somewhere. And it only helps because I'm not home, but then it sucks because I'm in public, surrounded by people.
Talk about a catch-22.
Counsellor #1 was cool. Seeing her again Tuesday. Sounds like she'll actually help if I can convince her it's not a phase and all that bullshit that I'm sick of having to explain by now.
GameStop interview. Went pretty well, and then suddenly, by the way, you can't have facial piercings.
You can't just ask me to take this out. It was expensive. It's still healing. Not only that, but dammit, I have had to try to save this thing four different fucking times, because I was elbowed in the face, had a hat shoved down over my face, a hood caught on it, AND I had a blister or something on it not more than two weeks ago. FUCK you, I am not taking this thing out. It is a part of who I am, dammit, and NOBODY is taking away one of the only things in my life that I can control.
Counsellor #2. Set me up for psychological testing Thursday. Got a call from a lady counsellor after I left (while I was cutting up broccoli for dinner) and she agreed with my original assessment that it'd be pointless for me to see two counsellors (even if there's a psychologist and a psychiatrist).
This is me not looking forward to Thursday.
There was a reason I was afraid to be optimistic. I hate it when I'm right.
I have an appointment with a counsellor that might actually help me start my transition instead of being an ignorant douchenozzle or a disbelieving oppressive twatberry cuntcake like the last two.
Then I have an interview with GameStop. And it's right the hell around the corner, and my best friend worked there until a few days ago, and talked me up to the people that count, and//or, the people that would listen.
And then because my doctor wanted me to see someone else off a specific list, I also have another appointment with a counsellor for my depression. (I'm calling them both counsellors because I always screw up "psychologist" vs "psychiatrist".)
I'm a little afraid to be optimistic.
Bronchitis has been kicking my ass for a week and a half. My headaches are getting out of control. And my lungs hurt.
One of my friends has just stopped trying.
Another has decided that "now that [I'm] Jim" I'm different. Fuck you, I never was who you thought I was, and apparently you weren't either.
Another friend is moving closer to our other friends, and I might not be able to see her or make it to the RP without her.
I have no other local friends.
The Effexor isn't working. The prednisone made it worse. It's still not getting better.
I haven't been able to get in touch with a counsellor.
I can't do this.
(I wish I remembered more of the beginning; all I know is that somewhere in the middle, Toph was basically cut in half. It was basically one big badass fight scene, followed by Toph getting cut in half and some firebender creepily closing in... yeah. It didn't look good.)
( Here's what I do remember. )
Best dream ~ever~!
- I have an iPhone (which somehow figures prominently);
- Captain America;
- me, running around (usually naked or mostly-naked) on all fours.
( There're several. )
I never explained that lab prof situation, either. Well, suffice it to say, my Chem lab prof is being difficult and refusing to call me James. By now, she's decided to just call me by my last name, and I'm not fond of that, but whatever, at least it's my name. I'm probably just going to cut my losses at this point.
Spent a good portion of the rest of the day in a bad mood. (Including the few hours I wasted on the internet trying and failing to cheer myself up.)
The phone rang around five. I got up to answer it. The moment I got into the kitchen, my left big toe caught in the hem of my pyjama pants and I fell onto my knees. Bruised them both, as well as the instep of both feet because somehow I managed to come down on them as well. (Kinda hurt.)
But after the day I'd had, I couldn't help but laugh at it, because it was a perfectly awful peak to a day that sucked.
I've gotten nothing done today :(