I made a total jack-ass of myself today. First, I was telling this trans person that they should stick melons down their shirt to make it fit better. Why the fuck I thought that was okay to tell someone I barely knew, I don’t know. That was not okay. For the record, I tell friends to try to stick random things in random places. This was not a friend. This was a person I met once before. I was using a friend who is ‘morbidly obese’ as an example of someone I tell this to, and this other person got upset because I used morbidly obese. I said I’d stop using that word with them because I don’t want to upset them for something as trivial as that. It’s an actual medical condition, I’ve been morbidly obese, obese, and now just overweight. It’s also not worth fighting with someone about. Some people just don’t like those terms.
Mostly I’m mad at myself for telling a trans person to stick shit down their shirt. The fuck is wrong with me.
However, I learned a few things about myself today so I know that I really need to work harder on shutting up. I get verbal diarrhea when I find myself saying fucked up things. I also realized that cutting myself is mostly a punishment thing. No, I didn’t cut myself, I promised I wouldn’t so long as I’m in DBT. I take my promises very seriously. I feel gross and get a bad taste in my mouth and it is almost physically impossible for me to break a promise, unless I find a loophole. There’s no loophole, I straight up promised “As long as I’m in DBT, for the duration of this contract, I will not self harm or engage in other risky or suicidal behaviour, and if I need to, I will contact Charon/the DBT coaching line for help”.
In other news, I’m having issues with Charon. No fault of hers, I’m just having a hard time talking to her. I’ve been (poorly) trying to explain to her that I think I still have PTSD symptoms at the very least, that it isn’t working backwards, I never actually addressed these issues and they are giving me a huge amount of issues. I had a panic attack on Monday when I went to the Big Red Bullseye Store that I used to go to with my ex, Exacerbating Ex, the abusive one. I felt like a rabbit with how fast my heart was beating and how quick my breath was.
I’m still having problems with nightmares and flashbacks. Just not of the Thing. Of my ex, of living with my aunt and uncle, of my da, of my mum, of my childhood in general, of the ex-best friend. But not of the rape, so I’m good there.
I figured if going to Big Red Bullseye Store, that particular one, makes me panic and have flashbacks, I should keep going and do Exposure Therapy by myself. I mean, I kept thinking any tall white woman with darker hair was her. Her nose was bulbous and if it wasn’t for that, I wouldn’t recognise her anyways. It wasn’t a typical nose. But honestly, I don’t think I’d recognise her unless she spoke anyway. People tend to blur together and I can’t tell them apart very well unless they speak.
I see Cybele, my other therapist, tomorrow. I’m going to talk to her about all this and get her advice. Also, I see Styx, my psychiatrist, on Friday. I was going to talk to her about medical marijuana, but that shit is expensive and I don’t want to pay that much. I also don’t want to get high. So I’m going to have to research other meds. I’ve been thinking about CBD, because then I don’t get high, but I get the benefits, according to my research. I don’t want to be high. I actually enjoy sobriety. Okay, I enjoy being in control, which means being sober.
And this all stuff that’s been happening the last week or so. My sleep is shit and I sleep less than 6 hours most nights, mostly around 4-5 total, with maybe an hour nap. My FitBit keeps track of it.
I kinda feel like I’m getting to the point of skills breakdown. If it wasn’t for the fact that I promised I wouldn’t, I would have cut today. And I don’t like that.
As always, thank you for reading. I hope you are all doing better than I am right now.
-The Sarcastic Autist