I'm Sorry

Morning ... I thinking its kind of a dark morning, but maybe its because we haven’t opened the drapes yet. Hold on let me try that. I think. We’re wrestling over the idea now. Someone complains that her eyes are tired. It’s hard to work in a direction that would make somebody else feel bad. In a multiple system it is known as being considerate. We feel sort of like we’ve closed down. I know we are feeling bad, but we don’t want to think about it. It’s like a crabby feeling of not wanting to be bothered by stuff. I know that eventually we’ll have to be happy again, but maybe just later.

I know we’re not doing so good, cuz we’ve been reminded to take our meds. At first it was because we forgot, but by now it feels like rebellion. We just don’t want to take them. Feel angry. Please stop reading this entry if you don’t like crabby. Because we are! Out of 20 parts, you all just don’t get happy all the time! We hear our friend saying to us, "Are you feeling sorry for yourself." "Yes, we are!" So what of it?! Happens. Holidays aren’t good for all folks. Sometimes they are terrible. I’m having one of those kinds of days.

Last night was like this too. We had problems with negative parts wanting to act out. We went down that road a little bit, but then decided after writing to Dr. M. That we should just go to bed. Not a perfect system, but it works. Bottle it, can it and ship it in a box. Sort of like in the Ghost Busters where that green slimy stuff of bad emotions is traveling under the city through the subway tunnels. That’s how we feel. I don’t want you all to catch this flood of poor feelings. For the few of you out there reading ... Maybe today you could go visit someone else? It’s not a good idea to be around me today. We’re not kicking cats yet, but feeling dispirited.

It’s probably not fair that we are writing at all. Our favorite saying is that, If you are not part of the solution, you are part of the problem. Today, I feel like I’m part of the problem. Hearing that nagging voice telling me in it’s good Brownie way to put on the happy smile. The next thought is of that Brownie traveling down my digestive system! I don’t think I’ve ever written about being just mad in my journal. I’m being superimposed by the thought, "I don’t care." I know there are some in my system that are teasing ... "Yep, yep definitely regressing!" So what? Do I always have to care? What’s the sense there?

Hmm. For a while one of the cats decided to sit in my arms. He was warm. For a few moments our breathing and thoughts slowed down and the only requirement on us was to pet his soft tummy. Well, it’s not like you have to be mad all the time, but it’s ok some of the time. I think the rules go ... it’s ok as long as you don’t hurt anyone else. There are reasons that suggest why people who’ve been diagnosed crazy should never own guns. That would be me. Frankly, we’re against them, although I made it a point to watch that movie where the incensed woman drives over and over again her husband. Fortunately, we’re not married or kick cats!

I’m not to the point of pouting ... pouting comes after a while when you are willing to be coaxed out of the bad mood. It’s like saying ok, I’ll allow you to help me out here. I’m not there yet. If I were, I might as well take the damn pills. Each holiday we go through something like this. We think we are going to be stronger and more prepared to be alone, but then it comes and you don’t feel able to try the measures you’d put up to safeguard yourself. Over and over again, we get the message, "I don’t care!" Well, obviously we must care about something ... our ex still lives and the cats still trust us. Though one is now looking at us suspiciously. They taunt me with their blackness ... they become shadows in the dark room. They peek out under the drapes to where the light is sneaking in. Curling themselves in a ball, tail wrapped around their body they wonder if they shouldn’t just go to bed. Or, maybe that is me wondering.

But, I think I’m too crabby to just sleep it off. Angry that this mood is taking up a part of my day already. I see a picture of my doctor ... just before he leaves to take his holiday. "Let’s look at that for a little bit." "No, no, no" She screams. Let’s not look at that! We’d been tricked by the party earlier into thinking that the day was going to be spent lightly and frivolously. Should be a law against being serious right before the holiday. I know that if I’m going to be mad, being mad at your psychiatrist is the right point of focus. But, I hear him thinking to himself, "Why is she mad at me? I’m such a nice guy." Apparently, we did not all come to that same agreement. Thinking now of the one who called him a witch.

That’s kind of scary. We hear the word echoing in our mind and know that it is us who are the witch. Casting out a spell on our world and turning it into ice. We refuse to study the word, "Doctor." We refuse to look into the self-destructive thoughts, and we refuse to take pleasure in a holiday, that in its least implies there are things we ought be thankful of. We’re just that darn cranky. I no longer wish to see people. Though most likely it’ll be us burning in hell, not them. What has one thing got to do with another. Today, I think my look would kill. No, I’m not a happy camper.

Why in God’s name does he allow feelings like this to exist? Is this the feeling of rejection? Abandonment? What makes me different and places us on our own to punish our minds and poison the air we breath? It is like a vile stench. Shriveling from its cold touch upon our senses, we lie down submitting to its power. Damn! You’ll not take us easy you devil! To hell with you too! Surely, you wouldn’t, couldn’t survive a nap. Thinking desperately of the enrapture of the soft warm down blanket cuddling our soul. Remembering an image of being left out on the driveway of a frosty cold morn. Fine, fine ... leave without out me, see if I care.

Feeling lost ... alone ...

A card arrives ...

Have a great weekend ... If you’d like, you can.

   

The doctor writes ... and a friend stops by.

Maybe not so alone. 

Maybe I should take the medicine ...

Maybe the kitties would help me sleep.

I'm sorry ... just tired? 

Let it go ...

I cry but I am not alone.

Here kitty, kitty ...