Did the latest huge W10 update (aka complete rewrite) and now I'm desperately deleting and moving files from C drive to D drive. I'm running into all kinds of stuff.
Like, here is my dad as a kid.
And a lot of other things that include some interesting street zooms, source code stalking, and heart rending memories.
I kept some of it, trashed the rest. The screenshots of statistic street zooms are mostly gone, the complicit screenshots of the posts involved getting outrageous hits numbers are mostly gone, most of the private convos went poof, and I no longer care about most of the info I stalked.
But remember this. I really do know where some of you live, work, and vacation. The difference between the old hecklers and the new actual baddies was shocking. The biggest gut punch was my family being stalked. You'd think it would have been an actual baddie. I'd love to show off the piles of intel I had to the family stalker, because he'd have peed his pants.
It was a game for me. Lexx was a game. TV reviews were a game. Then I joined the anons. Q is a very big deal. I watched several outed anons take personal hits that should have killed them, how they scraped back from nearly dead like that was a frightening testimony to this war we are in.
And that is why I pulled back from everyone and stopped writing. People are dying in this war. Most of my friends are still sound asleep. They have no idea how close we have come, and during the darkest part, which is very soon now, they will be bewildered and scared.
Stock up your supplies, gas up your vehicles, and hunker down when it starts. Comms will go dark, military will protect us on our own soil, and we will patiently see a wonderful new dawn. The RV has begun. Banks will close while monies flip and renew their liquidity as they will begin compliance with the new gold standard, and people will panic because the fake news wont tell us what is really going on. Panic brings looting, fighting, curfews, etc. Be smart. Be ready.
And look up Dinar Recaps blog. Go look intelligently at what has been going on around the world.
Speaking of dreams like the world is different, last night was a doozy. A friend up the street was very upset with me about twitter. The actual details are sketchy, but the head spinner was waking up with it so fresh and real and then remembering she moved away years before I ever got a twitter account. I've not talked to her in any form since she moved.
I've been having all kinds of intense dreams for years, but lately they seem to be more like living in alt timelines. It's like I get to see could have beens, might have beens, and every one of them feels as real as this one.
Loads of angst from the last 6 months seem to be ebbing back out. Have a long list of things I need to take care of this spring. Lost being able to take naps for a long time, so naps are at the top.
Ice flop this weekend. Had brief super glaze for a couple hours, then the rained warmed up. We're a soggy wet mess. River going over and stuff.
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Today was pretty awesome. Got a nap. Had my husband to myself most of the day. Cleaned out a chest of drawers and a kitchen hutch. I may be getting enough space back soon to get the stuff back out of my bedroom that I dragged in there nearly 3 years ago to make room for more people.
I will be purging my house the rest of the winter. Scott said something upstairs smells nasty. No telling what in the world it could be. We'll have to drag everything around looking.
For now, I'm enjoying my couch, my tv, and a lack of insane rabbit kicking it's cage.
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What I didn't mention are the dreams. I'm still having intensely real dreams that the world is different, and I'm talking to other people as if my life rolled out so differently than it has.
It's like I have to remember the pain to remember I'm here and not there.
Saved $244 at a pharmacy today, thank you online free coupon sites, yay. I especially thank my cell phone putter togetherers and carrier company.
So made it through 3 different doctors in a row this week, could have been 4 but my cardiologist said meh who needs an echo unless they're more obviously dying, so primary jumped on ordering that, neurologist got the gabapentin crisis averted with a 2 month taper plan like I wanted, and psychologist had a new couch so it's all good.
Friday stuff is moved to next month per dire predictions for Friday ice, so I'm not going anywhere this weekend. Since the kids moved out I've reverted back to restocking my stockpile, so I'm set for whatever comes. Tonight is tacos.
This whole springing forth at 3 a.m. thing is something I havent seen in a very long time. It started with me dreaming, a blank black dropping over, and a bolt of lightning like minecraft lighting in a dream, and then my eyes opened. No apnea or heart thumping, just wide awake and ready to boing out of bed.
I used to do that nearly every morning for years between 3 and 5 a.m. I had to make it stop when the kids moved in. My depression got way worse feeling tethered to their schedules. This last year has been especially horrible inside my head.
But today I feel fine. My freedom has returned. My space is mine again.
It really helps being able to go to real sleep when I feel like it. Kiddo used to come in and bounce on the bed telling me exciting stuff, which I tolerated well. What got annoying was her mom shooing her out and then flopping on my bed herself, and for me then, it was just awkward if she wanted to show me what she was shopping for on her phone. The clue never reached a light bulb in her head all this time.
I'm not good at gently kicking people out of my space and making it cute enough to be inviting maybe next time. Gives me a headache even writing that sentence out.
Anyway, I'm looking forward to more joyfully springing forth. Really praying she never breaks up with this guy.
Driving around getting appointments and errands done, listening to a youtube playlist on my phone. I slapped it together during the last couple months of my dad dying, no rhyme or reason except decent nygmobblepot fanvids. I don't question these mad, random searches I go on. Pinky blog amply demo'd the rabbit hole tendencies over the years. It's like a free association thing where the most random popups in your head wind up leading you through a thought maze and you wind up at a refreshing mental destination somehow. I've been doing that for years.
Anyway, this one came on and bam, I was back in the day as a young kid, probably elementary school somewhere, feeling so alone and suddenly feeling another me bump in and say you're not really alone, I'm here. It was so like another person just being there, but not really saying anything. I've had some really bad high depression days even as an adult where I wind up in a messy ball of weep over 'nothing' and sometimes out of the blue I get that again. I can't call it up or fake it or anything, it just shows up.
And then the song after it immediately triggered the memory of the day I burned the box. I've been wanting to know things about that day, blocked off for years. Well, my best friend from childhood to adulthood was viciously horribly murdered one day, and the day I found out about it, the other me hijacked me and took over, and then the next day burned a box filled with 4 years of letters we'd written back and forth (3 to 4 letters a week for all that time) after my family moved. That other me stayed 'out' for awhile, making huge mistakes and not really knowing how to handle them, I'm guessing because that wasn't the typical social me, but one day about 3 years later? maybe 4, the blocked out me kicked through because the situation had become so dire I was on the verge of losing custody of my child over a really bad marriage. So 'other me' saved me from the nasty pain of grief and loss, but really f*k'd up my life for awhile making very poor decisions. The day I woke up and realized I had to get back out there started with me desperately making long distance phone calls at work trying to piece together what might still be left, and I was so terribly shocked to learn that it was far too late to send flowers to her funeral or condolences to her family. This was me kicking my way back out past a personality that had been hijacking me through pain all my life, without remorse, guilt, or any other feelings whatsoever. The cold me that survived everything. I think I'm kinda seeing how we have been sabotaging each other for a very long time as we swipe control back and forth. I think this is where the narcissistic love/hate thing I have with myself springs from.
Sometimes I lose a little time or 'forget' things, and I've been mixing my timeline up for many years. I can't recall or remember getting from point A to point B to point C even though I can remember most of all three points. It's like sharing space, but who retains the logical sequence for sure isn't me. I am mixed up most days, lost like I'm floating around, constantly remembering little things I meant to do and haven't done yet, hours going by without me feeling them.
I think Pinky is the explainer. The identifier. The one who organized how to proceed after I kicked through, saving the day talking to the right people in the nick of time to retain custody of my child. The situation was ugly and dire and needed a highly skilled chess player.
Pinky is easy to share memories with. Whenever I need real help, Pinky goes all executive command. I feel like a mess, Pinky sorts it all out. Like blogging. When I first started blogging I was a ball of pent up thunderstorm struggling not to strike the ones I love, filling up private blogs with all the negative junk I could barely contain. Over time, Pinky slipped in and was all like Let's just straighten this messy desk up, and next thing you know there are blogs for this, blogs for that, like a sorting machine for all my stuff in the way, and THEN Pinky went public and that was about the hardest thing I have ever had to manage. I had to learn to step out of my own perspective and look over my writing with fresh eyes and then learn how to make it more fun to read, because I was horrible. I still can't go reread my private blogs without cringing because I was so unforgiving and angry.
Blogging has been a very interesting way to see how I hide things from myself. I go back and reread my posts about honesty now and just shake my head. I mean, I was right, right? Pinky was right about that stuff. But I was the one it was written for, this mess of mes, not the people I thought it was about.
I'm very hard on me. It would be better understood to say it like one of me is very hard on original (prime) me, the me that falls apart. That one is very strong because I don't have to feel anything, and of course very judgmental on the me that can't be strong. We are forever at odds. I beat myself up in ways I can't even see, but it stills affects me.
Now that I can look at me as me prime, me Jacky, me Pinky, me Janika, etc, it's really helping me fill in a few holes. I'm still having some problems accessing memories, but I think the last few days feel more like a cooperative effort going in a positive direction.
Side note, my parents never liked the name Jack. I was around 5 when I met a boy named Jack who hated his name and said to call him Guy instead. (Wonder how messed up he was himself...) I wanted to name a pet Jack, both my parents said no (I had weird parents), and I guess I internalized Jack onto the other me that showed up sometimes in my head or something. I never even thought about that until lately. Outwardly, there are plenty of clues that I latch on to anything Jack, like Jack Wild, Jacky Chan, Captain Jack, the OMD song Jackie Bue, stuff like that. My first really big step out into public was my Bluejacky blog. So I guess Jacky is the one hijacking me until Pinky steps in and sorts things out. I guess Pinky had a lot of sorting to do, because I wound up getting a psychologist in on it.
Me prime is autist. By default, so are the rest, but me prime is content to be alone all day long working on whatever interest absorbs me. Me prime has never done well in school, in crowds, in social settings of any kind. I've always had to employ gimmicks to survive relationships. I step into role play in real life nearly everywhere I go, and cringe myself silly stepping back out when it's all over. Me prime is the proverbial hiding and rocking maxed out. But I wasn't allowed to be like that as a child, and I had to develop survival methods very quickly because the punishments kept shutting me down and I was so confused I couldn't cope.
Yes, I do get jealous of the mes who can cope 'out loud'. Yes I hate that I am a wimpy mess that I would like to stomp and squish like a bug. Yes, I do think I'm super smart and dumb as a rock at the same time. Yes, I do get it and fail to get it at the same time. Yes, I am stuck and can't click over when I want to and I'm so frustrated I could tear up whatever is in front of me. (I've broken two door frames in my house. Thankfully, I'm completely against breaking dishes and throwing objects.) (Funny, I tear up doorways... wonder what Freud would say.)
But maybe that I am starting to see all this now, maybe I can find some peace.
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On a whole different subject, do you ever think what the f*k and just shave your whole face? I'm turning into a fuzzy terrier of some kind. What is even up with that?
This is a repeat post from 1-3-20. I'm going to put the markers in now. This is what I mean about the others stepping in to talk. I was literally having a convo with myself and realized partway through that it was an actual convo between at least 2 of us. Makes me wonder how long I've been doing this. Now that I'm coming to recognize it, I can see the switching off as I read back over and re-feel what I was feeling. The 'under' me is pensive. The 'over' me thinks more melodically than methodically. Together we make words, hence pinkyblue. Bluejacky itself is an amalgam. Jacky (sometimes Jackie) is variants on a spectrum of feels 'underneath'. I've known that for a long time but more in an abstract way of knowing. Jacky is a very domineering personality that other mes force down a bit unless we need a research digger. It wasn't until Jacky broke free on a blog in 2007 that we started to see some of the inner workings.
I've been very slowly thinking through reconciliation.My inner split wasn't amicable.I ripped part of myself away, kept it away.
It's like going under anesthesia. You generally don't remember what happened, but it's only because the memory is disconnected as it's being constructed. It's literally still in there. I know because I have awakened under full anesthesia several times and have full recount of what was happening and things said, including me talking, even though I was given more to put me back to sleep. Under anesthesia we can still be responsive to commands.
There is a part of me that stays 'under' where I can't see. I don't have access. My best example is that library book I mysteriously went straight to without being able to remember the title or author. That part of me actively listens and interacts with me, but I'm not aware of it.
As I'm becoming aware that this explains why I've been looking for myself and things I've lost, I'm realizing I've had a running dialogue with myself all this time. I really do take care of me, I just can't see it happening. I've had to trust myself when I fear myself the most. Me in my head has been like this for a very long time.I'm not sure how to reconcile. Should I even try? I'm not sure how to trust the person who can help me.I don't know how to share dominance and let the others talk.It was so hard having to learn how to talk in the first place. The me saying this is the me 'under'.I'm just letting whatever comes out type itself while I watch.
We've been taking turns. Maybe some can tell when the words switch off. It's fun coming back later and reading it fresh.
But yeah. I'm the mean one. And I guess I'm ready to try negotiating or something. I want to retain my autonomy but it's getting more obvious that medication is the only way I'm not wrecking things up.
So Jacky, as a personality, has been around a very long time, known to be extremely obsessed with the color blue and easily infatuated with reams of information. Jacky is probably the closest I can get to seeing my own brain working. I'm not sure that the red stuff is all Pinky. Pinky is an interface, a smoother outer, a thinker working on puzzles. Yablo is the fun one but didn't get a name until I got on the internet back in the 90s, not generally a talker. Janika as a name has been around since everything fell apart in the 80s, but more like an extension of original me (Jan, a bit oblivious). (Oblivious blaze of glory is like Jan+Yablo, which usually backfires horribly once all the fun dies down.) Jacky definitely goes back the longest as far as an 'other' goes. I feel like there is at least one more, possibly two (there were 6 in the car during the lyrica incident). All of this goes back to childhood trauma of varying types and degrees, but it's very important to notate that, as far as I know and can tell, none of it was sexual abuse or maliciously done. I think it's very important to realize that the older gens raising my generation were expected to be tough on kids, and all that was both prompted and rewarded via socialized propaganda and religion. However, when your parents are also mentally ill themselves, this slants a child into a special sparkly place where the brain mildly splits into compartmentalized personality slots that handle various stressors, if I'm understanding the material correctly.
Getting names on my slots was accidental. I never talked to an imaginary friend with a name growing up, although I can look back and see that I did talk to myself constantly inside my head. Constantly. I was there with me all the time. I was even mean to me, and I didn't like me, and it was all very confusing who I was and which side I was on from moment to moment. I was probably lucky I could even see some of that. I realized during high school that I was 'crazy' and deliberately asked to be tested in college. That is documented across a couple of blogs.
Whenever there was something very hard going on, though, one of my two dominants would step up, step forward, however you want to think of it. One had no feelings, one was sweet and kind. They are like oil and water. It was like literally being ripped in half, and sometimes I was glad for that because having no feelings in the way during hard stuff makes it much easier to do what needs to be done. But that also means having to come back later and feel the brunt of what wasn't felt earlier, so my life was a bit like move over and fear me being cool vs weepy puddles of anxiety and sadness. Sometimes I'd go a long time without a tear and then be a mess for awhile afterward, but when it all rolls up into going back and forth on the same day, it gets rough. Imagine having a discussion about whether you're bipolar on top of all this going on. How do you pin down what you even need if you can't see what is really going on in your head? I am understandably reticent about going on head meds until I can get help with whether that might make it all worse.
Anyway, the goal is trying to find the moments where the splits happened, pretty sure I've got the Jacky split discovered, not a clue yet about Yablo since it's not dominant at all, but since Pinky is definitely the yappiest, Pinky split must have come later enough to own the verbal IQ. Pinky is also the chess player, although I never thought of myself as Pinky when I learned to play chess. The interaction is what Pinky is better at than the others. I think I've got the Pinky moment down.
That is the first time in my entire life I've attempted to define these parts of me in a useful manner other than my own amusement.
I think the most frustrating part living inside all this is that I can't see my own self switching off while other people can't help noticing, and they don't know I don't know it's going on. It hasn't been until I started talking about it out loud that I started finding out it's very real, and that other people can see me flip like a light switch in and out of conflicting personalities. I may remember what I say and do (or not remember patches of it), but I don't see, feel, or remember 'switching' unless I'm paying attention to it. Once this was validated by family members, I was able to learn how to pay more attention and see it happening.
The hardest part is when I am watching my mean self take over and I can't seem to stop it. My mouth keeps going, I know I need to make it stop, I know the consequences I'll have to deal with, but I'm simultaneously locked into a mode and somehow completely unaware of the me watching in horror. Imagine living two perspectives at the same time. I live like this.
