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Colorful and hopefully optimistic but maybe hateful occasionally

(1)
I'm proud of myself. I managed to make a video and put it in an online classroom. One of my biggest fears :) and it worked out fine.

I think that it's likely that my self-image is getting better. I didn't cringe away when I saw my face. I kept a bird on my shoulder to help me feel calm which helped. However, I did have troubles not spacing out. But I did it.

Only thing I don't like, my teeth. Still hate them. I know they aren't actually bad and they're about to be great but still. But hey, it's realistic to not assume that I'll like 100% of me. I wouldn't grow as a person if I did.

(2)
I'm still upset about my mom insulting me. I tried texting her and then it got worse. First of all, she's ignoring me, and second of all, I realized that I wouldn't even be upset if when I cried (which is a very painful activity for me), she had just said, "Oh dang, sorry, didn't mean to make you sad. I'm just frustrated when you say things and don't explain," which would have opened up dialogue about things. But instead I got insulted and then got a silent treatment. She was and is angry that I got upset.

Which is ridiculous. I've actually talked to her both about going mute when I'm scared/under pressure, and about Brandi refusing to let me keep secrets, which makes it feel even more dangerous.

But when I try to talk, get scared, and go mute, my mom tells me that I shouldn't even bring things up. And I'm tired of being invalidated by her and at the SAME TIME being expected to take care of her, while listening to her ask me leading questions about if she's too worthless for me to let her do things.

And yet she keeps insisting that she's too old for therapy. Lady, you're not even sixty. I've been in university classes with 90-year-olds and group therapy with 80-year-olds, don't even talk to me about it. You're wrong. It's called distortion, look it up.

And no, I'm not going to be your therapist either. In fact, that you treated me like I should take care of my father and you set me up to end up with someone like Brandi, and to be pushed around by someone like my brother-in-law, and to end up afraid of ever saying the wrong thing. And that's messed up.

In fact, stop asking me too-personal medical questions and then get offended when I act uncomfortable. Your doctor sucks. You've been saying so for years. So get a new one and quit asking me disgusting questions while not even taking care of your diabetes and insisting that doctors only look at the untreated diabetes when it's "definitely" a different issue.

uuuuuuuuugh.

I still remember when I managed to report my dad and get him removed from our lives. After our mom didn't give us up, I was excited. I thought she was the good parent, that it would be exciting to get to know the woman who wasn't allowed to speak to me despite supposedly being my mother, but whose bed I'd try to sneak into when a storm came by (even the not-violent ones), despite the risk of my dad grabbing me by the shirt and dragging me down the stairs before I could stand on my legs.

But no. I miss Sp the cat, and Fz the cat, and Lp the cat, and more. Because they had clear boundaries and don't feel like strangers trying to get to know their roommate who cooks for them.

I witnessed Sp dying and she didn't even say a word to me. But then, my dad was there. I guess she couldn't. Just let my dad bury her (not alive though, she was already gone, but he did bury her so quickly afterward that I was scared that she would turn out to still be alive and suffocate. He had gotten a bit impatient I guess).

My dad wasn't a psychopath if cats were involved. I mean, he still wasn't very human and put himself first, but he liked cats way more than he liked humans.

Kay, that's out.
 
(3)
My stolen bike was found! The police said they'd be happy to literally drive around looking for it, and it was placed in front of the police station (right across the street from where I live). The assistant chief/detective knows me pretty well because he knows my service dog is for PTSD (he told me in secret that he suspects more people even in the police force have it but don't want to be viewed badly, and says he understands), and he found me in the dining hall of all places and told me that he had seen it. Really made me feel a bit better :)

(4)
Some dickass neurologist (he was incredibly nice though) told me that my brain's structure shows up in a way that demonstrates that my brain "is physically incapable of processing memories," which, according to him, explains why I seem to have trouble forgetting things, and why I get tick-like phrases ("shh" "be quiet" "i like cheese" "i hate cheese" "i hate you" "shut up" (those are the ones I seem to go to most, not making that cheese one up for humor unfortunately)) whenever a memory/flashback comes up. And why my memories are clear enough to feel like I'm reliving them, even if they were positive or not traumatic ("typical negative," he called it).

Well, I have doubts. There is no way my brain would be functioning at all, nor would I be capable of learning or dreaming, if I weren't processing things. I'm gonna need some sources to compare to, my dude. I don't believe I'm not processing anything.

But, in light of that, I wanted to try an experiment. I wanted to try writing down positive memories as if they were as clear as my traumatic memories, because while complaining over text to my therapist about this, I realized that I have rarely talked about good memories. You know -- like I might have processed them. And when I'm incredibly depressed, I've noticed I can't recall happy memories at all, which might mean something about human brain anatomy and function in general :)

But yeah, I think I'm going to ask him to get a second opinion. I think that's BS. No offense, neurologist, I think you're incredibly smart. Everyone has dumb ideas sometimes. Like that time I thought it would be super cool to be Brandi's friend

(5)
My electrical appliances have all started doing things by themselves, at the same time. I hope that means a ghost is trying to let Nestle know that she's protected or something :P Ice machine overflowed despite the weighted stop, air conditioner is turning itself down, a lamp turned itself on (was creepy enough to jolt me awake). Luckily I am terrified when machines start to act up. Thanks, dad. I could not have been this way without you
 
I'm proud of myself.
me too me too!!!! yeah!!!!:hug:
You're wrong. It's called distortion, look it up.
I am really happy you are able to get a different view on your relationship with your mom. That is some HUGE growth
My stolen bike was found! T
Yea!!!!
But yeah, I think I'm going to ask him to get a second opinion. I think that's BS. No offense, neurologist, I think you're incredibly smart. Everyone has dumb ideas sometimes. Like that time I thought it would be super cool to be Brandi's friend
Yep -- that's our littloc standing up for herself!!! happy dance!!!:chicken::chicken::chicken:
 
I often think about recording something that happens in my daily life and messes with my life quite a bit, but then I get embarrassed and ashamed because it’s childish. But, that’s possibly half my problem and why it’s bothering me. I can’t share it.

And I’ve been more mute than ever after my mom’s insult, even to my therapist. I’m trying so hard not to be, but I guess I have to let my brain chill or something.

I don’t deserve this.

My bird is back to letting me pet her, though, so that’s amazing :D
 
Also, OCD has been acting up, which is not surprising considering all the stress. I’ve been having insanely intrusive thoughts of horrible things happening. Usually incredibly gory. Where I’m worried about helplessness in others or them living through seeing something horrible. I’m just trying to ignore it, because honestly the adding-a-fake-looking-Godzilla works better when the scene isn’t terrifying? Or maybe I should take more time to take the power away from the images. Things not going perfectly does not equal instant carnage, believe it or not

I’ll be moving into a new place for a month, so that’s nice. But I’m a bit worried about the month after that. I do want my room, I hate all the stuff in it, and I don’t think I want to be near my mom too much. I’m tired of getting invalidated all the time and told I’m being selfish in one breath, and thanked for being the only one who does any chores in the next. I hate being the one expected to take care of my mom, when she can’t even be nice to her cat, and will make a big deal out of it upsetting me for months. Months. It’s been months, and I think it was reasonable of me to ask her not to almost-hit a cat.

I don’t know why I’m so angry. It’s really distressing. It feels like my dad taught me this.

@Freida hahaha, good point. I’ll think about sharing sometime :p

I think I’m afraid of people feeling bad for me, because for me, feeling bad for someone is an awful feeling. Not in a moral way, in an emotional way. I don’t like it when people feel bad for me. Also, I’m half positive that this will be the one thing I’ll be alone in, and that I’ll definitely be called a loser :p
 
A doctor confirmed that one of the medications I’m using for migraines is making me more anxious, making it more likely that I’ll cry and get a bad migraine. I thought that was pretty funny (that is not sarcasm, I actually did)
 

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