July 19, 2013

It's Summer

We've been neglecting you Daff.  We've also stopped watching the news and have been reading for pleasure.  Twitter is only really being accessed as a reminder that there are people out there working for truth. Now Summer is here now though. Real Summer. There's a lot going on internally as always but needs are being met and that can take a while to get used.  The walking wounded are all standing around bewildered and unsure how wounded they actually are.  Doors are starting to be left open and some are starting to notice. There is also much less of a sense that our existence needs to be known about, to be proved or it doesn't count and isn't 'real'.  We have somewhere to talk now so the issues feel so much less pressing.  Since we last posted there was a couple of drama therapy sessions, fairly regular talking therapy, another half hour session of finding out more about the inner life of my psychiatrist, the implantation of a sex hormone manipulating device and had my head read.  The family drama is as always, ongoing as you would expect.

Its hard enough to hear about the neglect from mum but being there when Alkysis says 'I gave him Wheatabix' and there is no bowl near the sink no dregs cemented to the table top.  She was still saying 'Well they had their breakfast' when me and mum where cleaning at the tea dishes just after five, her abyss programmed eyes, does she believe what she's saying?  When I started writing this post we thought the Spidermonkey and her wee bro were up the road until mum phoned, no one up the road was prepared to rearrange their lives to cover the kids so she took them back down again.  When we spoke Alkysis had taken the kids to the park after consuming an unknown amount of spirits she always hids her drinking, sneaks of to buy it and drink it, rarely admitting she has it and never sharing it.  It think it was Sunday when my mum checked her stash, mostly empty half bottles of generic spirits she checked again yesterday and it was full bottles.  At one point me and mum took the lad from her and physically stopped her from going to him, we've seen her 'skelp' his bum a few times when pissed, we were glad mum stepped up and shouted at her to get back up the stairs.  It was ugly, she kept trying to push her way past us us both and then being pushed back down onto the three step staircase.  The two boys were curios as much as anything but Spidermonkey was hiding and breaking her heart.  Her mum came back down again a minute or two after agreeing to go up and took her on her knee, muttering away in that intoxicated corpse sweet voice, sounded a bit like the wee one was being emotionally blackmailed and being told mothers are much important than aunties but I didn't stay to listen.  I punched and kicked air lots when no one saw and couldn't sleep for feeling my hands round my troubled by sisters throat and finishing it and maybe a little less terrified about her ability to hurt us. Can't see it as a disease or a symptom, its abuse.

The last dramatherapy sessions with the new therapist were quite beautiful after we went back after going in the huff coz our favorite so far is leaving.  We're moving easier, taking up space more comfortable, playing, slowly chipping away at the walls that are blocking the parts that know the traumas from coming to far forward.  Sessions with the new therapist don't begin again until the Autumn and parts of us are pretty relieved about this, solid working class, cynical parts that are never going to be able to have anything to do with being a sculpt, being lead around the room by their elbows or kicking imaginary balls around.  They're there for the socialising with like folk because they know its something that just has to be done.  As natural and necessary as breathing or going for a pish, just something that all people need to do.  Everyone has gotten something out of it they weren't expecting though.

First week of the school holidays I let the wee man stay with mum and cuzs, confident enough that she would take them out and at a safe distance from Alysis, it was only for two nights.  Got a the contraceptive implant the first of the days then went back to sorting out his room.  The day after I got the EEG.  Not exactly what I would of being doing with child free time a year ago.  It felt quite good walking around with dressing on the inside of my arm and not freaking out when the predictable recalls of having had one before started rising.  There's been a couple of twinges of pretty mild period like pain but nothing that really became anything.  No daily battle to remember and willingly take a pill, plus PMS is not something that anyone fucking needs.

Getting to the actual hospital was the worse part with the EEG.  Smoked too much, too late and completely messed up when and where to go for a bus that when eventually caught took an hour to get to hospital. Anxiety levels and audible voices raising all the way the routes went near places where we lived for awhile, my mum worked at the hospital.  After only getting slightly lost finding the department and only asking three different staff members for directions the nurse/technician type was lovely and wasn't pissed off at the lateness.  During the test she kept having to come over and put pressure on my eye lids to stop my eyes from moving around so much.  The eyes move around as different parts speak or move in and out of the body, we communicate a lot with each other through eye movements.  Its the kind of thing that makes passing of as normal extremely difficult when stressed.  Mentioned seeing someone privately for DID and some of the history with the NHS but didn't explain why I thought it was so hard to stop my eyes from moving around whenever the eyes were closed.  Its always felt like the stories where toys, animals all became alive or started talking whenever humans weren't around.  A head full of fairies.  The strobe was alright nothing much happened, there's a speed that's really nice, just before it gets too fast to notice it going off when the pressure starts to build behind my left eye.  See the psychiatrist again in August, he should have the results by then.

We were joking to ourselves that the talking therapist wouldn't recognise the body, people are always surprised when they meet Summer. Its embarrassing and annoying. She said she had never seen us looking so feminine and used the word 'mindful' when I described how we've been thinking about stuff.  It says 'fairly' regular talking therapy appointments at the beginning because SuperShrink somehow managed forget about us and give our appointment to someone else the week before a summer solstice that coincided with a weekend, in a year ending in 13.  We are not asking to many questions about how some of us feel about this, we have a pretty good idea already.  Blissfully though, plants were ripe enough and the depression not full time enough to make major suffering an impossibility.

The solstice week/weekend would often be a dry run, dress rehearsal, a good indication of what the summer holidays were going to be like.  That weekend we drew the face of a much loved part and wrote, played Wii, went to the park with the Wee man and ate chicken and chips in the sunshine.  Hasn't all been domestic bliss though.  The daily battles and heavy negotiations about leaving the house are also still ongoing.  Once out there hes as happy as he ever was until he trips or falls of his scooter, he's not one for a wobbly lip then leaping up and brushing it off.  He wails, full on, heartbreakingly and utterly genuinely to begin with.  Then utterly forced and faked sometimes with the phrase 'I can't breathe', repeated several times..

Will try not leave it so long.