What Brought You Here?

Saturday, December 29, 2007

DBT is *hard*

This was originally a reply to the excessively chippy commentary/addendum/rebuttal? left by a Buddhist-Scientologist on MDMA (i.e. "wattsian") after a review of Skills Training Manual for Treating Borderline Personality Disorder. As usual, I said too much and rambled too long. And since little in life sucks with greater force than that of amazon bandwidth published by those who've never laid eyes on the product, I did the usual. . .

I agree w/ gutenberg. I've just started trying to look at a couple of the skills with a therapist I'm fortunate enough to see2X a week, and I can scarcely comprehend a fraction of what we manage to go over together, let alone retain and apply it.

It's all well and good to use active verbs like "to encourage" "to choose" and "to learn", I suppose, when you're not struggling to effectively (conjugate) "be" through the cognitive dulling of a sick brain. Idealist- I certainly agree with you that there's a pandemic of the "worried well" in the US, and it's pretty scary that even some MDs no longer pretend to differentiate between commercial materials and clinical matter. I can bite my tongue when they crack the PDR or the DSM in conversation with me- I'm sure that's a sign of respect in the MD world. The patient feels "ownership" of the diagnosis and complies triumphantly with the prescribed treatment- the full color picture in the PDR and accompanying multipage infotorial agree, no need to disclose that pFarmkobub crafted the entry for Euphidexine and paid a nice sum for the article, with a premium for the indexing. It's hardly a secret that the manufacturer makes a wild claim in order to distinguish its drug from the 5 or 10 novelty-knockoff competitors in its therapeutic class. God forbid, Cymbalta is not an analgesic. Zyprexa is not an anti-depressant. And shyness is not a mental illness. Thank God that little cartoon showed up with a detailed explanation of a simple personality trait can uncover 8 painful symptoms of crippling neurosis, talk with your doctor about Paxil for social anxiety if you checked any of the above. . .

These are the ridiculous diagnosis, those based upon a photocopied 10 pt T-F quiz, with a logo imprinted across the top. The transparency of each new attempt to reword the question "do you have psychotic manic episodes?" is insulting. "No, Abilify-no. I do not fit the template you're marketing to today." I don't know whether the copier had broken in a fit of rebellion against Beck-Inventories, or he was out of sponsored disorders to seek for his samples, but he seemed very certain that denial of mania on the basis of that quiz, cemented major depressive disorder. With nary a glance at my records, where he'd certainly have found some food for thought. (Vanilla misdiagnosed my eating disorder, as well.)

At any rate. . .yes. Treating mental illness is tricky- particularly when there's so very much money to be made on rewriting the diagnostics to include everyone insane and patenting new uses, prodrugs, every imaginable method of administration. What remains is this: serious mental illnesses cannot be willfully righted by those in their grips. True- the brain can change. We surface or reach terra firma, as the case may be, over time or quickly, naturally. It's called cycling- and it's inevitable as ignoring bedtime, and likewise benign for a few. Unfortunately in the trough (and the peak, I'm imagining) there's no mind present to give word form to feeling. There is no thought at all- no joy (but not despair, either), no interest, no attention span, concentration, or indulgence in sanitation/hygiene. Diminishment of all the senses. No hope- it's only at this point (a fairly high point in the cycle) that I experience things I can describe as a feelings (disappointment, disgust, despair, hopelessness, loneliness, boredom, fear, paranoia, frustration, regret, embarrassment) and begin to have some relatively coherent- if uninteresting/repetitive- thoughts. While I'm ruminating on the details of my latest low, I try to shovel a path through the crap that I let accumulate, the junkmail dropped anywhere in the kitchen, laundry strewn around the house, empty wrappers, bottles, vials, bags, cotton balls, receipts, charge slips, appointment cards, sundry toiletries, office supplies, and condiments carpet the bedroom floor. Books. Everywhere. Ignore, for a moment, disasters yet to be recovered from the last emergence. Oh, forget that I haven't finished *unpacking*. There's clean, crumpled laundry in the car. And a can in the kitchen begging for the dumpster. But enough of the filth, what did I *ruin* when I was in this state?

Well, Christmas. This is not the person you want at your holiday table in any event, but devoid of all thought, emotion, and energy, I wasn't even a civil laundry leech.

And. . .my career. Or rather, confirmed its demise through my inability to produce a paper suitable for presentation before an academic audience in time to present it. Or ask someone with the dosh to rent a room at the conference to read it for me. Because I was without thought, interest, or energy. Nevermind attention span and concentration.

Yes, the brain can change. Mine has lost mileage (by almost an entire variable of IQ, if that means anything to you.) I know what I've lost, and I hate that the most.

Thursday, December 20, 2007

meme from LJ Dear Santa

the Great Pumpkin, amazon Abraham, Santa Claus Concrete intangibles: A sign that MY ENORMOUS WHITE FLAG HAS BEEN SPOTTED BY the only omniscient Jewish Carpenter I believe in. An evening/possibly an entire day(?) out with family parameters not limited by an eating disorder. 4 nights of sleep; 4 days of relative emotional/physical stability; and the complimentary self-care & "other tasks" maintenance. Permanent- preferably total and immediate- acquisition of the skills I need to make this 4-day show into a voluntary life, one with actual purpose. I want a DBT skills tool kit neurochip in my stocking. An endless stash of sugarfree, nutritionless popsicles, fudgesicles, and low-sodium V-8 would be nice, but I'd settle for a stocked freezer at my mother's house, followed by a mysterious string of half-prices sales in the supermarkets on my circuit. And to keep my 2nd lower right incisor, which I can tell is trying to erode away. Cliffnotes for the ADD'ed or those who just wish they were: I want my sister back, and I would like to act like a minimally normal human being during my holiday visit to my mother. I have would like, to relearn tolive. Not like a "normal person", but like pretty much anyone, briefly, who has no issues with ADLs. For better or worse, what I wish most is actually engaged in the world-with sustaining reasons to live. The unfortunate thing is that I have to do all this "internal tinkering" nonsense until I can (I'm guessing) perform acts of self-stewardship as automatically as is deemed necessary to stay safe and healthy. I wish that it were evident to those who don't struggle; yes, entropy is easy, but digging out is inconceivable. The stench alone from the justification of week after week (it's too cold to get in the shower/ I don't have any clean clothes/underwear/socks//My linens are dirty and I haven't any to replace them- what's the point of putting a freshly washed head amongst 6 months of grime//I *miht* work out later) The latter was the true start, but I don't run anymore. There's no excuse not to shower. On the road/in the woods/ in the summertime in Moscow- I made due. Before the disintigration I believe 10 days had been my record, and this was not disqualified for intermittent lakeswims. Mine is definitely a water sparing history, mind you. But even as a stinky hippie I was conscientious enough of my own comfort to invade the local health food store with the single bathroom each morning and attend a few choice hygiene issues as needed (while iserting cotact lenses, no less.), Unlike. . . say as a deeply neurotic depressive bulimic, who managed to avoid both toothbrushing and any notanle change of clohing for days on end. Until some items became so clearly covered in food (much longer tolerence) or vomit (could take a visit to the outside world without changing to note) that a change was merely easier than keeping track of towels or having napkins on hand. But even as the outer clothing would molt, the underclothes would remain because (see beginning of cycle).
Of course itching sets in, eventually. . . and while I fully believe the odor of a single note can be covered by generous doses of an essential oil (hippie bath- "patchouli") I don't think much can be don't for the multiple odors of vomit, sweat, and byproducts of decaying flesh from the kidneys as well as the mouth, with added notes of waste products possible if diuretics/ laxatives are used excessively , or even when strength and response time lags, as it does in any severely impaired person. Depending on the state of mind, the person may not bother changing the soiled pants even after such an an episode. Unless he was stirred to shower beforehand, little short of total saturation through two layers will call for major action.

So. A dose of essential oil to the pits upon realizing that one will be forced to exit one's enclave does not disguise this. Perhaps if the drops had been scattered about the body, on a daily basis, over the weeks, it would have sufficed. Maybe if one were in the habit of looking into a mirror, one would notice half digested food remnants stuck to one's chin. Or if one were in the habit of washing one's hair, surely the vomit would have been brushed away by the running water. But at this point 5 days ago seems "recent"- you don't see the dullness in your hair. What gets you in to the shower is the huge patches of (?) skin (?) that have begun the form and flake off all the areas of hair on your body. When it was merely constant peeling of your hands and toes, your own alternately rising and disappearing unwashed stew (sweat is scarcely noted, only actual tangible pieces of vomit male an impression and are usually, albeit belatedly, manually removed, you won't likely notice your own breath - unless you have a sinus infection- and perineal odors are compounded/contained by the clothing that contains the offensive materials, meaning you only get a whiff when you've got your pants off. But the itching will eventually become unbearable, the flaked off "skin" matting your hair and turning you from a merely lazy dirty person into a disgusting dirty person. Because going out in public with vomit on your arm in jeans you'd yet to launder after not quite making it in time for a wee is not disgusting. At any rate, it is hard, especially once you'e accumulated a certain quantity of laundry- you might have been on top of it from the beginning with adequate facilities (you've no money, there's no laundry in the building, you've no detergent). It's down to figuring out what's *least* odiforous, and balancing this with maximum stain-free area. Just for the public- the ones that need to be moderately impressed with your functionality i.e. doctors, therapists, case managers, parole officers, presumably. . . potential employers. These are the same people who merit Dedicated Shower Days. If you've been in the shower within the past week, honestly- you're doing prety good. Probably- that is, I don't know what endocrinological issues you might have. But if you're getting in there frequently enough to keep the pipes from from rusting_much_ you're probably not walking around looking like a psychopathic slob most of the time. It should be noted that the genpop apparently showers every single day, as a rule of thumb, and that most people apparently can't go more than 3 or 4 days without vidually appearing "unwashed." I believe it's the hair, more than anything. Some people actually claim they find they're hair unacceptable greasy after skipping just one day, whip seems a bit excessive. However, be aware- whether you can see it or not, if it's been more than a couple of days- or if you don't remember when the last one was, exactly- you need for appointments.

Opa, right now I want a shower. But first I want to go to the food pantry. Thanks St. Rod Blagojevich.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Country Road Take Me Home

I want to go live with those nice people in the country.

You know- the people with all the land, who your dad brought your dog to live with after he got sick.

Saturday, December 15, 2007


The problem with illiteracy on the web comes into play when it obstructs meaning. This is certainly a issue with irritating contagious lolspeak- especially when it takes a word/phrase that's already slang/ acronymed and further obscures its meaning via deliberate mispelling. "Lulz," I was able to contextualize. I smiled and nodded when anyone employed "pwned" until I came across a single affirmation that my understanding of its origin is correct, then ceased thinking.

Now, "werd"- I'm pretty damn sure I had that one wrong all along. But how do you determine whether your interlocutor is a moron or not when you consistently spot this misspelled, decontextualized WORD in their writings? I confess- I noted a distinct absence of the word "weird" in the TF vernacular, and an irritating upsurge of "werd"ness. As it so frequently constituted the one word summary emotional/evaluatory response to (all manner of) block quotes, I projected.

Why on Earth would a pigin opt to assimilate and bastardise boring, utilitarian "word" rather than fascinating, multiform "weird"? I suppose this is the worst of examples to harp on: it's not applied in a wide enough range of situations to make a precise definition really important. (If I understand, at last) the lolspeak "werd" is derived from English "word," in the sense that it means "grunt". (Variously translated as "yo!" "I feel you" "straight up" "fuck that" "help me Jesus" "yes, I would like fries with that" and so on and so forth.)

It was never that important to me to know the precise meaning of "werd" (annoying, yes) because generally no one interacts with me in that language. However, if someone replied to a flame I'd made with a one-word exclamation, I would want to know whether it meant "fuck that" or "I feel you".

I think it's important to be aware of grammar and spelling, and to do what you can to avoid an obscene degree of typos. It facilitates communication. When you take the time to make your post readable, you make it known that you want me to read it. I understand random bypassed typos from ordinarily conscientious typists. I understand learning disorders. I understand non-native English speakers. None of the three seem to present consistent boundaries to comprehension. what d oes hcause iss u eswi th readability isrando mspacign and trnasposal oletters.
What kind of keyboard trouble (or eyesight loss) cause this? If you type like this and people still respond, you must be someone special.

There are many E-Mail sites that have anything you want. Sometime they pester you to death but you will fine most are not looking for new customers, and if some one will vouch these guys are not your average could I buy some Valium There was a incident a couple days ago where I live base ball bats I heard it through the grapevine his buddy dropped a dime they think he'll respond to simple pictures in a year in a year or so. The market is screwed up now Cops took it down it was call link basecom. My advice do mess with it unless you want way more problems than its worth.[/quote]
This is a real post from another site. It's an excellent demonstration of how spell check/ grammar check cannot redeem total @(*$! of content. If you can stand to parse through it, you'll notice that there are no spelling errors (except those instances where spellcheck clearly autosubstituted the wrong word for the poster's original copy). Other than the absence of punctuation, it's entirely grammatically correct. It's also incoherent, no?

This poor guy is going to be part of internet infamy, because this gem of perfect nonsense was posted on a board that doesn't allow editing. He probably thought he was doing everything he possibly could to facilitate communication: spell check, grammar check, cable internet connection/social phobia/150mg of valium. . .[b]hold up[/b]! Sometimes we are so eager to share and connect that we post utter nonsense before we realize it. It's hard to recognize your own nonsense sometimes- no computer in the world is sophisticated enough to catch it. You might not be able to see what other people point out. . . without the perspective of time and a clear head.

The TF demographic is far and away more "literate" than the (most of the) other forum populations I've encountered. It would be wrong to assume that this makes us immune to creating logical nonsense. We are also youngest, more commonly diagnosed with MDs, and more commonly medicated for an MD. These three factors alone throw us straight back into the pit, as each of them might fortify false bravado, impair judgement, evoke particular thought patterns, feelings, and behaviors. Having applied it to girlie_edgehead's myspace friend's cousin, I should probably assume a prevalance on TF of some "~social phobia"- social issues are the cornerstone of a strong forum and their presence is what makes us reach out to one another. [b]Oops[/b]. . .I just implied that posts might be written under the effects of a anxiety disorder. The poster-however educated, intelligent, responsibly medicated, and (hell, yeah- why not!) far along in her ED recovery (=not distracted by starvation/ indigestion) might anxiously create a logical nonsense post that will easily pass her eyeball proofread. Having impaired judgement sufficiently to land give bizarre emothoughts concrete form as grammatical bs the wave of anxious evolves to encompass the bravado to-submit-immediately!
Her post- submited in a fit of desperate need to connect- feels in every way appropriate. She cites and agrees with a previous anonymous poster,
she identifies with the OP and shares her own situation. However, what she has posted does not make sense, despite (due to, rather) her sincere desire to connect. Had she used [b]more[/b] words, the intent of her post would have been easily decrypted. Had she been calm enough to concentrate on the post(s) to which she was responding and read through the thread, she would have afforded herself an opportunity to develop her response in consideration of the discussion, even if she was not interested in reconsidering the content of her initial reply. She would have taken some time to consider the nature of a forum as interactive, dynamic, dialectic. She might have added or dropped some words from her post in order to make [i]it[/i] more interactive and dialectic. She might have realized she needed her own thread. She might have lost her bravado entirely and saved said post away from server until she cool down/ get it back up and reassess with a clear head- whatever that might mean to her.

I need to cut enormous chunks out of this to facilitate comprehension. I want to communicate. I know it won't get read in its current form, so I won't be posting it as is. I'll wait until I can make it less rambly. Too many words are as bad as too few words. Both of which are more or less sins on an equal level of grievousness with hyper/hypopunctuation. n' abbr. disooorder!!!! Allow me to be "ageist" for just a second here: If you are old enough that you can no longer devote the larger portion of your budget to Lisa Frank, then you should not be writing this way. While it doesn't always impair (by itself) the signal as much as the other "official" egregrious errors compaired and controlled on a quantitative basis- it's more annoying, period. Your posts lose 50% on the respect factor.

To be honest, the same is true about the proliferation of netspeak. I dealt with my personal issues above, so I'm going to attempt to gloss it into this end of the discussion. It's inherently silly: anyone who customarily utilizes this pidgin on all fronts is not going to be considered particularly mature, and employing netspeak in serious social intercourse simply is not appropriate. Grammatical English has been the international language of commerce & science for some time, and will continue to be for the foreseeable future. This really has nothing to do with the self-evaluations of a bunch of middle-USA 20-somethings. It [i]is[/i] "contagious" and appears to be mutating. It would be a matter of decorum if those of you who regularly engage in it would *attempt* to regulate your public use, try to limit the introduction of new words into the general population. . . or at the very least, please use English in the support forums? Trying not to catch it. . lol, I noe u don care, but some day ima need to be able 2 write agin.

Seriously. If you want to communicate in a different language, I hear German is open to bastardization.

Saturday, December 8, 2007


Suicide is selfish.
But is it really any more selfish than refusing to pick up the phone when you see my number? Deleting my e-mails? Pointedly ignoring my pleas for chaperon when I am stuck alone with my hopelessness? Well, yes, it probably is. . .however-

Suicide is painless.
"Whatif I'd answered the phone/ whatif I'd returned that note/ whatif I'd stuck by her and offered that support" may crawl in and out of your head for the rest of your life, but that will be your pain. Lift a pinky to show me that the pain my death will cause you is greater than the pain my life is causing me, and I might consider extending the deadline. Until then- call me selfish, self-involved, self-centered, centrifugal, whatever you like. But if you can't bother to pick up the fucking phone and call me, then (I'll repeat- you are out of the question)- suicide is painless.