Archive for emotional numbing


Yes, I am alive.  A sincere thank you for all who have written me asking how I am.

I have thought many times about what I would post here, after so long.  A summary of the absolute hell that was the year of 2009.

But each of you has had your own day, month, year, or perhaps decade of hell.  **shrugs** what the hell do you need to hear my pain for?

My therapist asked if I posted here anymore.  I said I hadn’t.  After many sessions of me telling her I couldn’t talk to anyone. That I couldn’t really trust anyone.  That I felt everyone I’d confided in had somehow betrayed me.  (pause).  In all cases but one, any feeling of betrayal was my interpretation and not their intent.

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Comment: “Why I Hate (or ‘Have’ for those prone to Freudian Slips) Therapy” – Sara K. Penrod

Switch offered up a poem by Penrod called Why I Hate Therapy over at Behind the Couch’s place, in a discussion about creativity. Not only does the message feel real, but I like her writing style as well.

“Let’s pretend” – a First Step in “I” becoming “We”

HF and I started a conversation with a few posts, and we agreed to continue the point/counterpoint discussion. I think it’s cool to talk about severe dissociation with someone who doesn’t believe in it, but who is willing to give it a good think, so to speak.

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Believing the first 4/6 of the Dissociative Spectrum, but not the rest

Does DID/MPD exist as a clinical condition, or is DID/MPD “just an extreme example of what we all do every day.”?

Is this an “either/or” question or do these really say the same thing?

These thoughts and words come from a post that Annenco sent me – a post from someone who attempts to explore and resolve the concept of DID/MPD in 400 words or less. Hers is a kinder, gentler stereotype – tempering the concept into something everyone can more easily reject.

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And now a break from your regularly scheduled integration

I have not written in a while. My life has been topsy-turvey and I’ve not been able to muse much lately about internal realities and external reality checks. But I will not let this blog be driven by diary-led ramblings. Only well-researched ramblings allowed. So I refrain from writing without trying to make a Point.

I have a Point.

<Perhaps two.>

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Alas Babylon – the “Other” language of suicide

When someone you care about finally reaches out in their despair, will you hear that cry for help? How many really say, “Hey, I’m gonna go jump off the bridge now.”

Some thoughts on the less obvious indications you should consider now.

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Crazy Lady in Aisle 9

For years I wondered, why are my emotions all over the board, from nonexistent to all-encompassing in an instant? For no reasons I could discern?

I am an information gatherer. The internet is full of garbage, but amid the flotsam are jewels of knowledge and information.

Many of the jewels anchor my new reality. Please, I plead to the vast masses of disembodied information, show me evidence that I am normal. Alone at my computer, I queried with questions I could never admit to family and friends.

Thankfully, the internet complied.

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