Saturday, 19 January 2013

Shifting in the past..

ok prepare for some of our old talks.......

equations allow for a hope, a hope that my survival or prime instinct kicks in at some point, and addresses all these personally lifestyle problems i keep enduring........its a strange strange feeling knowing i waste my power of universal destiny in a way like no other, with the ability to create or annihilate, i have buzzing pulsing energy banks stored in my brain of powerful and wise words and life lessons and good feelings and love that i have felt lived breathed believed and learnt, and i know i can shift it, change it and manipulate it dependent on the amount of power i put into my thoughts,

i honestly think if i believed 100% that i had this energy at sufficent level inside me at my disposal i would abuse its powers.....right now i would .... for some reason that little voice gets louder now telling me to sit down and just go with the flow.....i dont know how much longer i can sit around waiting for my future to create itself....the hardest thing powerless to stop this...transition or critical point in my biology or something.....i cant stop doing stupid things......but im thinking about every stupid thing i do now and its alot more detrimental emotionally ......and more than ever have i really sat up and noticed ......and all of a sudden my intuition or my voice makes itself known and says leave it.....wait the time will come.......and i feel like sure ive made it so far in life and ive had fun and all that....but what impact do i make.....what energy am i leaving behind??? im telling you Becky this may sound crazy but i whole heartledy know that what happened between me and you was a cosmic energy kick that could only be absorbed by me presented in the reality of our demise and infidelity ....see i learned the universe dont care for fair or cheats,good and bad or the meaning only in only a sense "cares" about delivering the required energies .....and the required dosage at the required times........because the recipient...or the human / conduit is the only reason it appears and i think subconciously....our brains are always debugging with the trying to figure the universe out when all this time i didnt reaslise it was the universe trying to figure me merely but a fizz of our infinite power.....and you know what cool with that now :)

*For the latest description in video of an ENFP please view this short funny musical:

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Wednesday, 2 January 2013

Borderline Personality Disorder

Last year I saw a counsellor to see if I was going crazy. She said no. She said I was in an extremely emotionally domestic abusive relationship. That was 4 months into the relationship. I didn't listen.. But that's not what this post is about..

Anyway, the woman I saw for counselling; well it was her last day, and despite it being against regulations (in case I required more than one appt) She was left with no option but to see me and apologised profusely from the start that it wouldn't be a very productive session knowing that. Looking back, I realise how much the Universe intervened in my path.

It turned out that psychologist was leaving to embark on a world first Doctorate or Masters or something special that is higher than the normal 'degree study etc'. The area of psychology/psychiatry it was on, was a specific type of disorder affecting many young women. The geographical location was where I had been diagnosed with the same disorder 10 years ago. Now I can see that getting out of that town was the best thing for me, something in the water maybe? Anyway the world wide study, needed to be conducted where the most affected cases reported were. Mandurah, Western Australia.

I'm happy to say the government mental health programs helped me immensely throughout my teenage years supporting myself in the real world balancing work AND school, provided the tools, facilities and support networks to fully overcome what I needed to. I was one of the first to undergo a full course of DBT (Dialectical Behaviour Therapy) with Schema Therapy. I must say those (compulsory) courses, workshops, meetings and compassionate people saved my life. Unfortunately 3 girls out of my class of 7 did not make it through the year from suicide or drug overdoses. But I learnt I could control What i suffering from. Overcome it. Get through it. It took over a year but I persevered, eager to absorb any knowledge I needed to know in order to understand it. Now I can see that's an INTJ thing, loving to learn.

What is interesting, is that during my - what I call - Brain Training, I had a stint at an Bentley adolescent unit in Perth for a little bit. There was a 3 month waiting list i'd discovered earlier in the year after a referral from an 'apparent' attempted suicide. Self harm was not and is not suicide attempts. Anyway, turned out a few months later, an actual Suicide attempt (by means of noose one minutes, waking in hospital the next) was enough to forgo the 'waiting list'.
Don't judge me. I was a lost, lonely, 15yr old girl estranged from my family at that point, living in the back room of a 23yr old nut bag and her autistic 3 yr old; trying to pay and study my first year at TEE, pay rent and food, and work. Throw the complications of love with older men (20's) and an unaware INTJ whom naturally doesn't understand emotions and you may start to see why i somehow thought life would be better on the Other side..

At the Perth institution, The medical team had no awareness, knowledge or understanding of my disorder and dismissed it as 'Not Medically Recognised'. And that is largely due to its incorrect namesake. Needless to say, as soon as I was out of there and back within reach of my support network of professionals willing to assist me, I was much better off than any 'Mental Institution' could be for me. It's like they haven't learnt any new medical terms of any kind since last century. They believed in medication, very fucked up medication, two way mirrors, isolation from the world, even music, shoe laces & lighters were risk items, worthy of a night in 'Lock Down' if caught with them in possession. Lockdown = Dark sectioned off quarters of the building often emitting wails and moans with Automatic security grills that shut the light out for what seemed like 20/24hrs of the day. Straight jackets and electrodes therapy. If you weren't too crazy when you went in there, you sure as hell would be soon after, and there you would stay until you reached 18 and they shipped you off to what is known as 'Greylands'. Perth's Adult Mental Asylum.

Anyway, found my diary entries from my Time in there a few weeks ago. Pretty scary. Thank god I was smart enough to stay sane to get back to the real doctors in Mandurah.
Bentley Adolescent Unit, you were a shame to me and from what I witnessed, in no way shape or form, assisted in helping the well being of teenagers return to a healthy mental state. Maybe it was because the others were unable to be helped. But as I said, the place would turn you nuts within hours. I went in as a Voluntary patient, after my first night being attacked by a patient who escaped from lockdown and tried to kill me, I was suddenly 'involuntary' and had been all along according to my signature on the arrival documents. Bastards. I got them back by using the pay phone in the office to hire multiple prostitutes to arrive calling for the doctors and staff the night after my anticipated departure. They should never have called me Rebecca either, those who did copped Hannibal Style lectures eerily calming yet chillingly haunting from a skinny white girl with no family who visited..
There's a beautiful woman I must thank one day for getting me out of there. Trina, if you ever read this, that day with you and your dad, is a day I will cherish forever... Thank you for being you. A single mother to four young children yet you drove all the way up to collect a teenage girl you hardly knew.. Thank you.
Soooo ive veered off topic a bit, I guess I've been waiting soooo long to talk about that part of my life... Without fear of judgements and ridicule. It is not who I am now, but it is 'how' I was 10 years ago. Remember that, 10 years ago, stop for a sec and remember what u were doing 10 years ago.. You're a lot different now I imagine... Perspective.

But without all the parts to the story, I wouldn't be telling the whole truth about me would I...

So back to the coincidental therapist last year. We discovered in our meeting that she had actually heard about me, my story of success from all those years ago. We discussed the adolescent unit and their lack of understanding. She explained in recent years, the medical world realised this was a real disorder, with escalating cases. The big wigs that be , must have got shit scared that a growing group of the futures next generation of women were; well they wouldn't be there for the future most likely, and if they were, well they'd be fucking crazy.. So now this big study has paid off, and the disorder is now its own major for a degree; AND it is so better understood now.. By the medical field.. One step closer to the public understanding it properly.

This is where this post fits in I guess..

Sooooo my session was great to talk to someone who knew what I'd come through, knew about me - in a weird prototype kinda way and she gave me many new books to look up and 2 leading Psychiatrists names she begged me to get in touch with, one who would be very interested in a new trial study at Murdoch uni. Seeing as i was cured (learnt control) and had succeeded so well in life. They needed to know more about this possibility to help others..
Our discussion/session was all well and good, but I now needed a way to explain this part of my past, without my emotionally abusive partner using it as another tool of leverage to lower me on the rung of relationship-esteem. (Yes I just made those two words put together to make sense)

So she wrote a paragraph for me. To explain it to the people I may want to. She advised against explaining it to my partner, well, she advised against ever explaining a thing to him again.. Not that I listened.. But I kept that piece of paper.. Hidden.. Moved between handbags, books, cars etc..

Today I spring cleaned in Summer.. I found that note. In two pieces.. With the books (one has Buddah in the title) and the doctors listed etc.. And on the back.. The paragraph.. In her writing..

Here we go:

B.P.D is a condition related to difficulties managing emotions. Feelings can be overwhelming and can be very sensitive. Can have problems with managing anger and can have feelings of emptiness and fearful of abandonment..
That's my story with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD)

- Posted using BlogPress

Tuesday, 1 January 2013

Words of a Child

When I was 3 I got a thick little square spiral notebook. With a pink plastic cover. Anyone who knows me will know I am obsessed with these types of notepads to this day, along with my multi colored all-in-one pens.

In this notebook, I wrote songs. I learnt to write & read from babysitter club books.

*World War*
When I was 7, I wrote a poem about the war.. About waiting for the postmans familiar jingle near your bomb shelter.. Waiting for a letter from dad, or word on him. He Bought Lollies on Christmas. I wrote about the feeling my mother expressed, the sounds of the sirens, the sights of destructions. I wrote from the eyes of a 7 yr old during the war. It was accurate and compelling, it was chosen as the young writers short story of the year for the state of WA and as read at Anzac day and remembrance day by surviving war Heroes, in Coolgardie in front of the entire town and school. I still have the world war 2 book and my letter of thank you from the defense force for such a deep and touching story. I remember the elderly men crying as they read it in front of everyone. I had a copy. But my mum threw it out. She never liked my writing.

I've never told anyone how I wrote it. I had help. From a girl that looked like me. In my dreams. Who was in the war. She told me her story. And as I would only write a paragraph each day, I would go to sleep and she would tell me the next part. No she was not a ghost, she was the energy. My own energy from that back. I also had another little girl, from Serbia, who gave me terrible vivid nightmares about what happened to her. One day I might share, but for now, she is safe in my soul, I will never betray her.

When I was 9, I got a phone call from a girl I hadn't been at school with in years (we moved around a lot) to say congratulations. My letter to Dooper dog (countries version of Saturday morning Disney etc) was chosen for the month, read out on tv to every household in WA - with children of course- and had won a massive prize pack. Skateboards, clothes, toys, vouchers, Lollies, you name it, I won it. I had totally forgotten I'd even done it. All I'd done, was written bout my animals and little brother and how much I loved living on a farm. My Labrador, Jack Russel, Budgies (i bred them) Guinea Pigs (also breeder) my Gosling and my horse.. It must have sounded good because I won. I wonder if I can find a copy on GWN's network archives. Thanks Dooper Dog!!

I was 10 years old when I discovered MnMs could make it look as if your nose was bleeding when red ones were licked and placed into each nostrils. It was fascinating. Fake blood from chocolate.. That I could eat after it had served t alternative purpose. It was a Great discovery. As to this day I am still fascinated with fake blood. I was enthralled with this multi-tool chocolate, I wrote a letter to the CEO of the MnM's company in Australia. I explained how if you licked the outside of red ones, then stuffed them up your nose for a few minutes, you could scare your family members into thinking you had a blood once. Amazin april fools prank.
The CEO wrote back. Thanking me for my unusual letter and appreciative of my love of red MnM's...
I counter replied... Adding that licking blue ones you could use them as lipstick!! I didn't hear back from them after that..

I still love MnMs...

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Mile High Poet - Last Poem of 2012

I am so sick of crying.
Every atom inside me is dying.
I'm currently 11km above land, yeh I'm flying..
But too many secrets of late,
Are killing me slowly from hiding.

Obvious is the right path to choose,
Risking it all, everything I might lose.
I'm not willing to give up the love,
I spent so long trying to prove.
In vain, my heart bleeds, so confused.
From sane logic to emotional abuse...

Comfort is what keeps us, Ahead of the changes,
Connection severed and dangerous,
I'm still hooked on the slavery,
Bitter words fought for wages, 12 months took for ages,
Developing, growing through different stages,
I wish you had the strength; the strength to try save us...

As I reminisce all the memories, listen and watch the evidence..
All tainted with unsavory, energy of pain and sacrilege.
No laughter no kindness, The drugs stole our good heartiness.
What happened to it all? Once inseparable, now always departed.

Did we ever actually achieve what we dreamed?
The happiness could have been real so it seemed,
But maybe I'm dilluded, it never was stated..
False realities created, multiple destinies to steal, the end already fated.

If I go down the path, of which is provided,
With life blessings in guidance,
Will my heart still be divided?
Will my head feel decided?
Will this pain be defied and no longer ignited??
Instead finally filled with excitement???
I think, Actually no, I know I am fucking entitled!!!

I don't understand, why it fucking hurts so much...
Or that I've never felt again, that electrical touch...
Instead it's a settling feeling as such,
Knowing I will be looked after, Instead of bleeding from disaster..
Happiness and unconditional love, is all I've ever been after..

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone