Picking Up The Pen

“Writing is medicine. It is an appropriate antidote to injury. It is an appropriate companion for any difficult change.

—Julia Cameron

I can’t believe that it’s been almost 4 years since I wrote on this blog.  So much has changed in my life. However, some are unwavering. I’ve come to a greater understanding about dissociative identity disorder and how we are to function.  I also still agonize at times to understand why we still struggle. Coach and I still work as a team. I told someone the other day, “Look things could always be worse. You could be my therapist.”  And I stand firm in my belief that she and I are a perfect fit. I get really bogged down in some very painful ditches. And I still get frozen in fear making me too scared to move. But instead of telling me, “Get up you idiot!”  She compassionately inserts her foot into my hind parts urging me to get my balance using her strength to support me until I’m strong enough to continue on my own.

My sons Marshall age 12 and Copeland age 9 are still the reasons that my heart continues to beat.  Big brother always seems to be annoyed. Plus, puberty is also right around the corner. Copeland still enjoys cuddles with momma. Getting Dirty from playing in the woods. Eating anything available. Play with Gel Blaster guns and build anything. There is never enough food. And taking baths are viewed as the evil necessities I still enjoy giggling with them during about any topic. I enjoy continuing to learn about how to be a parent. Coach continues to be a strong presence in that area of my life as well. I’m not perfect but me and the boys always find some much needed laughter when they visit.

My cats Coco and Tinkerbell are still our own little support group when the piercing trauma invades my space and rolls down my cheeks often when I’m alone.  I still struggle with the guilt of many events from my life. Addiction is still very present in my life.  The struggle on many different topics that are always tapping me on my shoulder and telling me to give up. There are wins, losses and battles that occur every minute of every day to deplete my energy instantly.  Both physically and mentally I will always be one big jigsaw puzzle. I still battle depression, paralyzing anxiety, agonizing grief, suicidal ideations, self-worth and paranoia.

 I have so many things to help keep my mind and soul busy. The healthy burden of writing seems like something I need again.  Good or bad. Right or wrong. I feel that I need to continue to tell my story.  Even if it’s just for me.  I just hope that one day I will successfully understand the concept of moderation.   I do my best to continue to carry on and to live life one day, one hour and one minute at a time.

#thispuzzledlife

Her Name Is Marley

Her Name Is Marley

“Emotions are the gifts of our ancestors. We have them and so do other animals. We must never forget this.”
― Marc Bekoff, The Emotional Lives of Animals

Recently, I’ve been thinking of my cats Simba and Nalla who I simply referred to as “my girls.” It’s been about 3 years since I had to have them euthanized. They were 15 and 16 years old when they died. I had raised them since they were 1 week old. And they were also a large part of my abuse history. Losing them caused a lot of grief because there were things that happened to them that I was unable to prevent. When I left my ex-husband, I was fortunate to get them out alive. A lot of my animals were left dead for me to find.

My girls and I shared a difficult time in our lives. I wasn’t going to be able to rush the grief that I had when they died. So, each day when I would open my eyes one of the first things, I remembered was how much abuse they also went through and the guilt that I had for not being able to stop it. They were treated as queens and they knew it.

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While I was living in Texas when I visited friends, I would borrow the love the animals had for a visitor and each time a little piece of my heart would heal a little bit from the grief. Their animals were so compassionate, but I still missed my grumpy cats. The two years I spent in solitude doing healing work many wouldn’t understand that level of loneliness. Do I wish I had an animal to keep me company? You bet I did. There’s just something about having an emotional connection with an animal that you can’t have with other humans. I love domestic animals because they aren’t judgmental. I can’t say the same thing about humans.

Since moving back to Mississippi, I have been thinking about getting another cat. I didn’t rush things because in my heart I would know when the time was right. I had been looking for a kitten but was not in a big rush. The right kitten would be waiting to meet me somewhere and I knew that. I just had to be patient.

For the last couple of weeks, I had been communicating with a local vet clinic. And just like I thought the right kitten was waiting for a home. I barely heard the instructions for her meds because I couldn’t take my eyes off her. We are a perfect match. I watched her for a few hours before settling in on her name. Me and my internal guys settled on a name and her name is Marley. She will also be a part of ongoing healing for me. If service animals were easy to acquire, I would have one. She will be my emotional support animal no matter what. Just like my emotional support beverage called Diet Coke.

“Lacking a shared language, emotions are perhaps our most effective means of cross-species communication. We can share our emotions, we can understand the language of feelings, and that’s why we form deep and enduring social bonds with many other beings. Emotions are the glue that binds.”
― Marc Bekoff, The Emotional Lives of Animals
#thispuzzledlife