Recent posts
#1
Frustrated? Set Backs? / Re: stuck in a loop
Last post by Blueberry - Today at 04:19:35 AMAsdis, is there any chance you could get hold of pesticide-free fruit and veggies, so either somebody else's homegrown or organic, especially from small farms or small market gardens where you can trust that they are actually organic? I know that's a long shot but thought I'd suggest it. No need to justify yourself if not feasible because I can imagine all sorts of hindrances.
Before I knew I had cptsd I worked on my own ED both inpatient and outpatient. I remember back then I was a little underweight tho I didn't believe that, I was often exhausted, i had a lot of stomach pain and digestive trouble plus on the advice of my doctor at the time I was avoiding this food and that food and everything was getting worse rather than better... I saw a different doctor who did the 'right' tests the way dollyvee probably means and he really listened and I found out later that in his opinion I couldn't digest anything anymore in a figurative way. In my first inpatient stay in the ED group that's the kind of thing they said too, or rather they'd ask certain patients: What else can't you digest? Who else/What else are you allergic to? I had a nut allergy when I was admitted and based on various of my emotional reactions I'd say now that there was a lot of fear behind the allergy. In fact towards the end of that super-long inpatient stay, I tried out nuts and I had no reaction. In the intervening years whether or not I have a real reaction to nuts that I mistakenly consume depends on how emotionally stable I am. I never reacted again with the intensity of the pre-inpatient stay, and even if I had a minor itch, I could sometimes talk myself out of it. This isn't to say that allergies don't exist, because they do! But there could be an emotional component too. If it doesn't resonate in any way, just ignore all that. It's going to be harder with DID anyway. It would be wonderful if all your docs and therapists etc could work together to tease it all apart.
Anyway I hope you can feel a little lighter even with just writing it out here and feeling understood or semi-understood.
Before I knew I had cptsd I worked on my own ED both inpatient and outpatient. I remember back then I was a little underweight tho I didn't believe that, I was often exhausted, i had a lot of stomach pain and digestive trouble plus on the advice of my doctor at the time I was avoiding this food and that food and everything was getting worse rather than better... I saw a different doctor who did the 'right' tests the way dollyvee probably means and he really listened and I found out later that in his opinion I couldn't digest anything anymore in a figurative way. In my first inpatient stay in the ED group that's the kind of thing they said too, or rather they'd ask certain patients: What else can't you digest? Who else/What else are you allergic to? I had a nut allergy when I was admitted and based on various of my emotional reactions I'd say now that there was a lot of fear behind the allergy. In fact towards the end of that super-long inpatient stay, I tried out nuts and I had no reaction. In the intervening years whether or not I have a real reaction to nuts that I mistakenly consume depends on how emotionally stable I am. I never reacted again with the intensity of the pre-inpatient stay, and even if I had a minor itch, I could sometimes talk myself out of it. This isn't to say that allergies don't exist, because they do! But there could be an emotional component too. If it doesn't resonate in any way, just ignore all that. It's going to be harder with DID anyway. It would be wonderful if all your docs and therapists etc could work together to tease it all apart.
Anyway I hope you can feel a little lighter even with just writing it out here and feeling understood or semi-understood.
#2
Recovery Journals / Re: the next step
Last post by HannahOne - Today at 03:50:21 AMHey SanMagic7, I'm late to your journal but just wanted to say I"m sorry that T didn't respect your clearly stated boundaries, and I was glad to read you set the boundary again with a letter. I admire your ability to know your own self as well as you do, communicate that to others, and then insist on interactions and treatment that is within your boundaries and safe for you. 
Finding a good T is often challenging, I'm hoping for you!
Finding a good T is often challenging, I'm hoping for you! #3
Other / Re: Psychosis as a result of t...
Last post by Teddy bear - Today at 02:29:21 AMThank you! 🤝💚
#4
Recovery Journals / Re: Desert Flower's Recovery J...
Last post by HannahOne - Today at 02:06:14 AM So glad you were able to get an appointment with the psychiatrist, and persevere to get the help you need in a challenging system! #5
Recovery Journals / Re: Blue Sky Blooming
Last post by blue_sky - Today at 01:30:44 AMThank you for the hugs xx
Gosh yesterday was so difficult. And today suddenly is all good. Sometimes I hate these extreme rollercoaster-ing of days, it's too confusing.
I woke up nice and early and feeling fresh too. Everything feels normal today and I feel stupid for how I felt yesterday.
Still coming to terms with "It was okay to feel what/how I felt yesterday".
I had told myself that I'd work for a couple of hours and then bail. However I did stick around the whole day so for that.
Gosh yesterday was so difficult. And today suddenly is all good. Sometimes I hate these extreme rollercoaster-ing of days, it's too confusing.
I woke up nice and early and feeling fresh too. Everything feels normal today and I feel stupid for how I felt yesterday.
Still coming to terms with "It was okay to feel what/how I felt yesterday".
I had told myself that I'd work for a couple of hours and then bail. However I did stick around the whole day so
for that. #6
Recovery Journals / Re: Living As All of Me
Last post by HannahOne - Today at 01:20:40 AMMy stitch-uation continues. The part of me that pulled the stitches out wanted to erase, undo what happened. I stopped pulling, but it turns out my body doesn't like the stitches and is actively spitting them out. I feel like Frankenstein, every day another one pokes through. Should I just cut them all? But under the skin they're still there....I cut the end of one and by the next day, it's sticking out again, like I'm growing wiry thread. This is ridiculous.
I called the doctor every other day for a week asking for a callback. None came. Part of me thought no answer was an answer, but part of me was not happy with the stitch-uation. Finally I called and asked for an appointment. That worked. Sometimes it's a matter of finding the right words. Not, "I'm concerned about something," or "I have a question," but "I'm calling to make an urgent appointment." Ok.
Today I went in. Apparently the mass was near the chest wall so I am a many-layered cake at the moment with layers of stitching. The doctor said the top layers were healed enough, and given my body is rejecting the stitches, she said we should pull out the ones that were coming out on their own. Cue surprise. She looked at me over her glasses and mask and clarified, "_I_ will pull them out, you don't touch!" "Is this going to hurt?" "Yes." But the troublesome ones are out and hopefully no more will come through. Being more stitch-less, I have to be a bit more careful for a few more weeks so that my layers don't separate.
I am trying to be careful. Mindful. Mindfully cautious. Appropriately concerned. I also have a torn ligament in my knee and we don't want it to totally tear or my kneecap will float up to my thigh, so I'm told by the PT. Ok. So I go down the stairs sideways, not using the right knee, not carrying laundry with the right arm. I go up the stairs using only the left leg, not carrying groceries. Trying to be mindful, dont' carry, don't carry. Be mindful, don't pick up that water jug. Be mindful, walk past the trash bag. Mindful, mindful. Habit still takes over, and I want to go back, go back to "normal." But I'm staying here, not going back. There's nothing back there. Go forward. Mindfully.
Franklin D Roosevelt the Rabbit had surgery this week himself. From time to time he must get his teeth filed down. Otherwise they grow into the flesh of his mouth and he can't eat. He's a prey animal, so he hides his pain. To show pain or weakness would attract predators. It took me way too long to realize when I got him why he was drooling, hunched, and underweight despite piles of green hay. He didn't want me to see his suffering for fear I might turn him into stew. "Why didn't you tell me?!" I chastise him. He just blinks at me. Survival of the fittest, dummy.
I still have to monitor him regularly to see the signs that his teeth have overgrown again. I have to be mindful that he's got a stitch-uation going on that's not his fault, he was born with a smashed-in skull, overbred for generations by cruel and stupid people, he was born to a stray mother and born into a February blizzard and half-frozen, thawed in a farmer's pocket, then had to fight for his life in a hutch too small for so many. He had a rough start. I have to be mindful. He'll never be the bunny he could have been. "You're a wonderful bunny," I tell him. He's been drowsy all day, and eating only bunny oatmeal, a mash of water and hay bits. He wants to chow down on fresh hay, but he can't. "You're in recovery!" I tell him. "Oatmeal only for you today!"
The root of recovery is Capere, to take. In recovery, we don't receive something back. There's no way to regain what was lost. The book of my life was scribbled in before I got to even pick up a pencil. Despite my attempts to undo, erase, there is no eraser for life. I want to go back, back to normal, back to Before, but I can't, there is no there there. I can only be in recovery.
Is this going to hurt? yes. I have to take it. Tolerate it. I can pull out the stitches, but that doesn't mean I'm healed. Healing takes the time it takes. Frank stares mournfully at his pile of green hay, and flops on his side in despair. "We have to be satisfied with our bunny oatmeal for now," I tell him. "You're still healing."
I want to recover, but I can't receive anything back. There's nothing back there. Whatever I get back of myself I have to take, wrestle, struggle for, now, in the present. Take delivery of it. Take account. Take it into account. I have to take into account that I'm in recovery. I have to take into account that I can't lift, carry, or move without being mindful that I'm in a stitch-uation not of my making. Not of my own making, but one I alone can carry, mindfully, lightly, with as much grace and compassion as I can, up the stairs keeping the right leg straight, compensating at the hip, leaning only on the LEFT arm, not the right... a rather awkward janky journey for sure. Frank hops over to look at me, moves his head up and down to get two images to put together and see me in three dimensions. Why am I hopping in such a janky manner? Don't I know I might attract a wolf if I'm so obviously compromised, a literal wounded animal? "There's no wolf here and now, Frank." I say. "Go eat your oatmeal."
I called the doctor every other day for a week asking for a callback. None came. Part of me thought no answer was an answer, but part of me was not happy with the stitch-uation. Finally I called and asked for an appointment. That worked. Sometimes it's a matter of finding the right words. Not, "I'm concerned about something," or "I have a question," but "I'm calling to make an urgent appointment." Ok.
Today I went in. Apparently the mass was near the chest wall so I am a many-layered cake at the moment with layers of stitching. The doctor said the top layers were healed enough, and given my body is rejecting the stitches, she said we should pull out the ones that were coming out on their own. Cue surprise. She looked at me over her glasses and mask and clarified, "_I_ will pull them out, you don't touch!" "Is this going to hurt?" "Yes." But the troublesome ones are out and hopefully no more will come through. Being more stitch-less, I have to be a bit more careful for a few more weeks so that my layers don't separate.
I am trying to be careful. Mindful. Mindfully cautious. Appropriately concerned. I also have a torn ligament in my knee and we don't want it to totally tear or my kneecap will float up to my thigh, so I'm told by the PT. Ok. So I go down the stairs sideways, not using the right knee, not carrying laundry with the right arm. I go up the stairs using only the left leg, not carrying groceries. Trying to be mindful, dont' carry, don't carry. Be mindful, don't pick up that water jug. Be mindful, walk past the trash bag. Mindful, mindful. Habit still takes over, and I want to go back, go back to "normal." But I'm staying here, not going back. There's nothing back there. Go forward. Mindfully.
Franklin D Roosevelt the Rabbit had surgery this week himself. From time to time he must get his teeth filed down. Otherwise they grow into the flesh of his mouth and he can't eat. He's a prey animal, so he hides his pain. To show pain or weakness would attract predators. It took me way too long to realize when I got him why he was drooling, hunched, and underweight despite piles of green hay. He didn't want me to see his suffering for fear I might turn him into stew. "Why didn't you tell me?!" I chastise him. He just blinks at me. Survival of the fittest, dummy.
I still have to monitor him regularly to see the signs that his teeth have overgrown again. I have to be mindful that he's got a stitch-uation going on that's not his fault, he was born with a smashed-in skull, overbred for generations by cruel and stupid people, he was born to a stray mother and born into a February blizzard and half-frozen, thawed in a farmer's pocket, then had to fight for his life in a hutch too small for so many. He had a rough start. I have to be mindful. He'll never be the bunny he could have been. "You're a wonderful bunny," I tell him. He's been drowsy all day, and eating only bunny oatmeal, a mash of water and hay bits. He wants to chow down on fresh hay, but he can't. "You're in recovery!" I tell him. "Oatmeal only for you today!"
The root of recovery is Capere, to take. In recovery, we don't receive something back. There's no way to regain what was lost. The book of my life was scribbled in before I got to even pick up a pencil. Despite my attempts to undo, erase, there is no eraser for life. I want to go back, back to normal, back to Before, but I can't, there is no there there. I can only be in recovery.
Is this going to hurt? yes. I have to take it. Tolerate it. I can pull out the stitches, but that doesn't mean I'm healed. Healing takes the time it takes. Frank stares mournfully at his pile of green hay, and flops on his side in despair. "We have to be satisfied with our bunny oatmeal for now," I tell him. "You're still healing."
I want to recover, but I can't receive anything back. There's nothing back there. Whatever I get back of myself I have to take, wrestle, struggle for, now, in the present. Take delivery of it. Take account. Take it into account. I have to take into account that I'm in recovery. I have to take into account that I can't lift, carry, or move without being mindful that I'm in a stitch-uation not of my making. Not of my own making, but one I alone can carry, mindfully, lightly, with as much grace and compassion as I can, up the stairs keeping the right leg straight, compensating at the hip, leaning only on the LEFT arm, not the right... a rather awkward janky journey for sure. Frank hops over to look at me, moves his head up and down to get two images to put together and see me in three dimensions. Why am I hopping in such a janky manner? Don't I know I might attract a wolf if I'm so obviously compromised, a literal wounded animal? "There's no wolf here and now, Frank." I say. "Go eat your oatmeal."
#7
Recovery Journals / Re: Living As All of Me
Last post by HannahOne - Today at 12:49:21 AMSenseOrgan, your comment made me smile. Yeah, Frank just is 
And yes, I need to hold in compassion the little stitch-puller. One who erases and undoes what was done. Good plan, kid. Just not so useful right now.
Thank you.
And yes, I need to hold in compassion the little stitch-puller. One who erases and undoes what was done. Good plan, kid. Just not so useful right now. Thank you.
#8
Recovery Journals / Re: Dalloway´s Recovery Journa...
Last post by HannahOne - Today at 12:47:34 AMDalloway, I am sorry to hear the struggle you are in. It is a long winding road and we didn't choose it. What choices remain to us? I am with you in the struggle.
While so much doesn't make sense, your feelings do. Hopelessness makes sense. It can be part of letting go of what could have been. The numbness makes sense, it comes and goes as protection.
I see you in your questions, not hiding from the raw truth. Taking account of what happened in your life. Taking delivery of it. With courage and strength.
While so much doesn't make sense, your feelings do. Hopelessness makes sense. It can be part of letting go of what could have been. The numbness makes sense, it comes and goes as protection.
I see you in your questions, not hiding from the raw truth. Taking account of what happened in your life. Taking delivery of it. With courage and strength.
#9
Other / Re: Psychosis as a result of t...
Last post by Chart - January 15, 2026, 09:13:10 PMGreat news Teddy bear! Well done with the work and searching and results!
#10
Frustrated? Set Backs? / Re: stuck in a loop
Last post by Chart - January 15, 2026, 09:07:55 PMAsdis, Dollyvee put it really well, "I'm sorry, all that is really tough." I second that. Sounds like you are working double shifts with the symptoms and research, all on low energy. I understand the low energy. I'm also struggling with foods, but not allergies, just sugar and carbs. But even that is hard to avoid, so I empathize immensely with your allergy limitations.
It takes a long time to see effects on a deep level, but working with the nervous system and parasympathetic stimulation might be an avenue to explore. I have great faith in Indian and Ayurvedic approaches.
Sending care and support
It takes a long time to see effects on a deep level, but working with the nervous system and parasympathetic stimulation might be an avenue to explore. I have great faith in Indian and Ayurvedic approaches.
Sending care and support