Sunday, June 21, 2009

Firetruck

Dear Firepersons,
Would you mind turning off your lights? They are all blinky and keeping me awake. You probably don't know, but I'm crazy. My PTSD is bad and I don't need all your blinky shit keeping me awake - especially since I am also in a fuckton of pain from my sinuses.

That's right. Less than a month after surgery and I have unbearable pain again. I know that this is what Percoset (I can't spell; quiet y'all) is for. I just don't like to drive while I'm taking the strong junk, and my little bro is only here for a couple more weeks. The fact he is trying to end up a productive member of society by going to college is totally interfering with my plan to have him take care of me and be my personal assistant for the rest of my life.

I'm also having some trouble telling what's real and what was a dream. Like whether or not my mother grew to about eight feet tall and demanded $25,000. This whole reality thing can be soo confusing.

So please turn off the blinking outside my house. That would definitely solve all my problems. Thanks.

Your Friend,
Carla


-- Post From My iPhone

Fathers' Day

In my world, some things are much more important than others.

I prefer the words in the card and the sentiment they bring over the present the card came with.

I would rather have great company and great conversation than a night in a club with people I don't know.

I love having unwavering support in all that I do and a best friend who always knows how to cheer me up when I feel down.

I love living in the moment and being silly. A silly companion is better than a serious one.

I love to travel and to travel with someone much wiser than myself.

I love to laugh.

These are just some of the many reasons why I love you, Dad!
Happy Fathers' Day!

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Brain Soup Bondage

Dear Friends,

I usually have to deal with a lot of people not understanding my cystic fibrosis. That I am used to. I also am very good at explaining it and my daily life so they sort of can pretend they understand what my life is like. I don't often have to explain my mental health issues, but today I do.

I know lately I haven’t been myself. I’m assuming you all have noticed and this is my attempt to explain that. This is my email to all of you and I’m also going to post parts of this on The Blog. So mainly you’ve probably noticed or been informed of my problems with a female friend. I’ve been unreasonable and heinous. I am the first to admit that. Only in the last couple weeks have I realized WHY I have such problems and why I’m unable to control myself.

Said female friend tends to be a little controlling, and sometimes reminds me of my mother- and with what I’m currently going through she is a PTSD trigger for me. I will explain more of what that means later. For those of you who were at New Years at Eli’s, Boy Who Made Me Cry is a trigger for me because he was following me around when I was still being stalked by my high school teacher. The melt down at New Years was mainly because he is a PTSD trigger and I couldn’t stop flashing back.

First I should explain why I have PTSD. It’s a complicated mess. I was stalked by my history teacher, my mother is abusive, and all the medical things that have happened to me have rolled into one crazy (haha, crazy.) case of PTSD. Anxiety is a big part of my PTSD, and I tend to deal with it with anger and manipulation to try and avoid having flashbacks. I go into survival mode. It’s what I do.

I'm going to keep this internet-anonymous, but I'm not going to pretend that ya'll won't know exactly who and what I'm talking about. I'm so fucking tired of trying to explain why I'm a crazy bitch. I have decided to embrace my crazy, mail it to my friends and post it on the internet.

Why should I deny my inner self the chance to shine? Why try and be a perfect dignified person when you really are a lunatic? Now maybe I'm the good kind of crazy - and that would be wonderful - but I know that rolling around in my skull are paranoid and obsessive thoughts along with a whole ton of sinus goo. And I'm hoping that combination makes either brilliance or at least a great new soup.

I have anxiety. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder has the tendency to take over my brain and make me bat-shit crazy. I'm severely sad - this is usually called depression, but I prefer the term 'severely sad.' What can I say, I'm a fan of the alliteration.

I am medicated, and I would perform sexual favors to keep myself on those medications because you don't want to meet un-medicated Carla because she is scary. Let's leave it at that.

I'm going to right now try and describe what PTSD does to my brain. PTSD takes my brain and puts it in bondage gear, which would be all and good if we were practicing safe BDSM. Unfortunately, Brain uses the Safeword and PTSD refuses to stop the torture or cut the bondage ropes. That is the easiest explanation. When the PTSD creeps in I can’t run or hide. It gets me. And I fight so hard with my own brain to make it stop. I get so tired of fighting with my brain I tend to spill over and pick fights with ya’ll. And I’m sorry for that. I know several of you have been the victim of the “Late Night PTSD Rant.” My brain takes anything that bothers me, picks it apart, puts it in email form and hits send. OR even better is when I talk late at night on AIM and you become the victim of a live fight.

Ya’ll know me. You have known me a long time. I LOVE people. I don’t put up with bullshit, but I try never to fight. That is the real me. Causing problems among my friends is the last thing I want to do. I discussed what has been going on with my therapist and we have agreed that I am fighting for my survival. When the PTSD flashbacks start I just want to stop the world and get off. I may seem extremely controlling – and that is me trying to prevent situations in which I know I will have problems. I have begged certain people for help with this, but it really hasn’t made them understand. Or they understand and are reluctant to really help. The one true solution to make me better is to keep me away from my triggers. If I am nowhere near a trigger I am less likely to flash back.

This makes things complicated.

All I can say now is I’m doing my best and I need your support. You all are a lifeline for me, and if I don’t have you, I don’t know what to do. I love you all very much. I hope I have explained this in a way you can understand. Feel free to let me know if you have any questions.

Love,
Carla

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Crazy

Patsy Cline would be so proud. I'm that Crazy.

Being crazy is harder than being a CFer. Can I give up now?

YOU love me, right, Internet?

More about being crazy later, when i'm feeling less crazy.


-- Post From My iPhone

Happy Birthday Baby

Happy Birthday Luca!!!

I know your mom and I count your birthday differently, so in my mind you turn 8 months old today!!!

I can't believe you are so


big! I love watching watching you crawl and pull yourself up on things!! And yesterday you had your first gelato! Big deal for me!

I love you so much kiddo!


-- Post From My iPhone

Twitter DOWN

Twitter from my phone is down, so I'm going to post some observations from the day.

*sitting with friends, eating ice cream, and watching fireworks is one of the best things in the world.

*the town should have called their event something other than "big event"

*in my ideal world, I would get married and we'd live with my favorite couple and their kids. I think it would be great to have 4 adults live in the same house.

*I'm sleepy.


-- Post From My iPhone

Friday, June 12, 2009

Dear Friends in short

Dear Friends,
I love you. I love you more than you know.
And right now I'm having problems with my PTSD, and my mother. I will give you info individually about my mom.

I need you to know that I need your support more than ever right now - and I know that a lot of stuff I've done recently probably seems out of character and mean. I'm sorry for all of that, but the short answer is PTSD. It is awful.

I love you and hope I can still count on you guys.

Love,
Carla


-- Post From My iPhone

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

How are you doing?

People often ask me how I'm doing, and I'm never quite sure how to answer. But today I'm going to answer.

My CF life is going well. I'm pretty healthy and feeling good. I also have clean sinuses!

My mental health isn't going as well as I would like it to. I would like to stop picking. I would like to be able to control my emotions better and be in control of my life. I want to stop hurting myself. I NEED to stop hurting myself.

Thank goodness for getting in to see my therapist tomorrow morning!


-- Post From My iPhone

Monday, June 8, 2009

WANTED: Emotional Mother

I have a physical mother. She gave birth to me, and for the most part, takes very good care of me. But not everything is quite right. I know all families have their problems, but I have a big one. I am never good enough for my mother. No matter what I do, it never makes up for mistakes I have made in the past. I am never responsible enough, never thankful enough, just not good enough.

I have had "last straws" in the past while dealing with my mother. I have sworn to make it on my own, but I have absolutely no idea how I would do that. I don't know how to do things without help. I sit here in my living room right now thinking maybe I should move in a place with roommates and take the bare minimum of things with me. Maybe I should just do it. Maybe I can't. Maybe I don't know.

Maybe there is another solution. In addition to the loads of therapy that will get me through this, there is another way to help myself. I now need therapy for my depression, worthlessness, and the urge to hurt myself, so my psychologist is going to be in business for a long time. Maybe the other way to help myself is to surround myself with strong women who believe in me.

I always look up to strong, intelligent women. Women who are caring and loving. I have always desperately been looking for a woman who will take me under her wing and be my emotional mother. That is what I need. A mother who will support me emotionally and make sure I know that I AM good enough. Just being me is good enough.

My mother makes me doubt myself to the very core of my personality - the very essence of who I am. She takes a strong, confident young woman and tells her she is worthless. She tells me that I don't care about her and treat her like shit. She tells me I am mean to people - my brother, specifically - and I am a mean person who only thinks about herself. She makes me feel guilty about anything and everything that has to do with money. I can't and won't discuss money issues on a public blog, but I can say that money shouldn't be an issue, but it is. I am lucky to be in the situation I am in, and I am grateful to be able to do the things I do, but my mother makes me feel guilty and says I am taking advantage of her and I'm not thankful.

Everyone tells me none of this is true - I'm strong, and responsible, and honest, and a good person - and I try to believe it because deep down somewhere I know it's true, I think. I want it to be true, but my mother makes me doubt myself so deeply I don't know who or what I am.

I do know that I'm not living up to her standards, or the standards I have set for myself. I want my place to be more organized. I want less clutter. I want to have flawless skin and I want to not hurt myself, but those are things I have trouble with. I want to do my own laundry and dishes and cleaning, but I can never find the energy.

I want to be a productive member of society. I want to support myself and live on my own and afford everything I need without any help. Those are standards I am not living up to. Those are a big issue for me because I know I am going to be stuck under my mother forever, and she will be able to have this control to make me feel bad about myself forever.

I am a bad daughter because I didn't get around to getting my mother anything for Mothers' Day. I tried and tried to find something online to have sent to her while I was in the hospital (I was in over Mothers' Day), but my dad talked me into making her a card instead of buying something. I made a card, but it wasn't good enough. My hand-made card with real heartfelt sentiments isn't good enough. My mom didn't even keep it. I think it's among my discharge papers.

I am a bad daughter because I am skipping Breakfast at Wimbledon this summer. I usually go home so my mother and I can watch the Wimbledon finals together, but this year it is the last weekend before two of my closest friends move to Seattle, and I want to spend that time with them - because they are moving to Seattle. And because I'm choosing my friends over my mother I am a bad daughter.

Even other people notice how horrible I am. When I was in the hospital, my mom and my nurse were talking about baseball and I rolled my eyes or somehow indicated that I was bored, and my nurse said, "The world doesn't revolve around you, Carla." And I thought she was joking, but now I'm not so sure.

My world is blurring and I don't know what's real and what's not anymore. I don't know who I am or how to go on because I know nothing will ever be good enough. I've stopped working on my book because I had my mother help me with a little and she didn't like it. This was more than a year ago, and I haven't touched it since because I'm terrified the whole thing is horrible. j

One of my goals for the summer is to finish my book, but I'll probably fail at that too, because it's what I do best.

I'm drowning in my own self-pity and self-doubt. I know I need a swift kick in the pants to bring me out of this - and usually I can do it for myself, but what if I can't this time?

I'm placing a Wanted Ad for a new Emotional Mother. Apply within.

Labor of Love

I have mentioned my brother, Darin, is staying with me. He didn't get a summer internship, but has a camp counselor job later in the summer. Until he leaves, he is living with and taking care of me. Before my sinus surgery we did some cleaning and laundry. By "we," I mean "he did the work and I barked the orders."

I barked out where to put away all the things I had in my suitcases, where to put clean laundry, how to load the dishwasher, how much water to put in my glass, and how to pour my weekly meds. I sure will miss him when he leaves.

The main reason I'm writing about my brother today is because he's amazing.

My surgery was figuratively and literally painless. I checked in about 1/2 hour early and was taken to my room right away. Darin and Mom were both very good, but especially Darin. I'm used to Mom taking care of me and doing things for me before and after surgery, but I'm not used to having my little brother there.

Darin did wonderful things for me. He and I looked at the fail-blog to keep me laughing before my surgery. My nurse Caron was absolutely brilliant and we kept her laughing, too. Because I'm that funny. I got a dose of Valium, and have decided that it is totally worth it's weight in gold. If I ever become a drug seeker it will be for Valium. Man that stuff is grand.

I was taken to surgery and then woke up in recovery. I was angry in the recovery room because I was having a hard time waking up. Finally I woke up and was taken back to my room. There we got word that Pulmonary had said that I would be fine to go home same-day (Let's not talk about this decision, because I don't want to get into all that). I finally was able to get up and walk, get dressed and go home.

Before I came home, when I was waking up Darin was feeding me ice chips and my grape slushie. He was helping me with everything - including walking to the bathroom and changing from my gown to my clothes, and then he even blotted and removed the grape slushie that stained my white sweater. He's my Healthcare Diva.

I wonder how much money he'd have to be paid to stay in Madison after graduation. I don't know what I'll do if he ends up in California, or worse, abroad. I guess I'll pack my bags and move with him. He'll be my Will and I'll be his Grace.

I have the world's best brother. He even is willing to give me a bath when I'm too sick to do it myself. And I don't know many brothers who would bathe their older sister. He is, however, afraid of my breasts, so he makes me wear a swimsuit. Whatever, either way, I get a bath and time to jam to my tunes with my brother.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Surgery

I had sinus surgery :-) yesterday. Felt better immediately and got to come home same day! Now my anesthesia is wearing off completely and I'm on a pain med. That is all.


-- Post From My iPhone

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