Oh thank the gods my friend is okay. That dream has had me messed up for a few days now, and he finally posted!

Freaked out

First off, I have a new symptom, and it's driving me nuts. This extreme cramping in my calves while I'm sleeping. It's so bad it wakes me up, and I don't know what to do. Nothing helps it. I usually end up bending my knees and just waiting for it to subside. But this sucks!

And now why I'm freaked out. I had a dream last night that I was at a graveyard and I was looking for my friend's grave. I couldn't find it, and I was so upset. I was crying. I needed to see that grave. The thing that really gets me is it was a very specific person. About a month ago he attempted suicide, and was saved. But I haven't seen him online in a couple of weeks, haven't heard from him. And now I'm freaking out.

The first time here

My mom and daddy are coming over to the apartment tonight. We're having hamburgers and just sitting and talking while they get to see the apartment for the first time. We plan on having a housewarming party too, but I wanted my parents to have the chance to come over on their own for a quieter night. I'm excited.

And then tomorrow we celebrate Litha as a group. I'm busy baking herb bread today and solstice cookies! We're having a lot of summer food, like ribs, corn on the cob. It'll be delicious! I'm the one who is planning the entire day, and I'm really nervous. This is my first big ritual. I usually am not a ritual writer, but we want everyone to get the chance to plan something. I hope I do a good job!

I have some posts to make, like about the graduation, but I'm so emotionally drained right now. I'm having a hard time seeing the point right now. I just want to sleep....

The dangers of medications

I'll talk about the trip to California later because I feel talking about this might be a little more important right now.


Now, I am a firm believer that medications can be very, very helpful. I also believe that if you get the right doctor, it's not about his paycheck, but about what they can do to help. These are the kind of doctors I have so it's not like I am against the medications I'm on. But sometimes something happens and it makes me a little afraid of other people dealing with it.

I messed up big time on this trip. I mispacked my medications. I had no Lyrica. I had to ask Asher to send it out next day mail.

Withdrawls from HELL.

I had shakes, hot flashes, so much extra pain, and more. It was horrible. I was shaking so hard the day I finally got the meds in the mail. I hated having my cousins see me like that. But this is the price we pay for taking the medications that help us. There is always a chance of withdrawl.

What's funny is that I have never taken illegal drugs in my life, but I have had the horrible withdrawls multiple times. It'd ridiculous.

Musings of a cutter

Every time I get undressed, I see the remnants of what I have done to myself. Sometimes I'm fascinated that it has such lasting power. I will probably still have these scars on the day I die. Other times I'm disgusted by my quickness to go to the blade for help. And then, more than anything, I feel ashamed that I let myself get to that point.

My parents both have very different reactions to my cutting: my mom was sad and upset, while my father seemed more annoyed than anything. I will never forget being told over the phone that as long as I was cutting I wasn't welcome in his house. I wonder what he would say if he knew I still cut. Just because you haven't heard about it doesn't mean it just went away.

It's that ugly little secret that I don't bring up a lot. I prefer to talk about it in the past tense, as if I was far away from the time when I would cut myself. But I know I'm really not. The wrong thing, and it sends me spiraling over the edge.

I see those commercials a lot for those creams that help reduce the look of scars. Sometimes I want to get it and see if I can erase my past. Other times I don't want to erase it at all, because it's a reminder of what I have lived through. You'd think it would be an easy choice, but it's not.

Why do I cut? Because it's like this huge release. I have all of this tension, anger, and sadness building up inside me and if I don't let it out somehow, I feel like I might explode. I cut, and it's just this wave of calm that crashes over me. The tension in my shoulders go away. And then I know for the next couple of months I can escape that explosion.

Friends threatening me with not being my friend anymore, and parents threatening that I wasn't allowed to visit, was actually one of the worst things they could have done to a child who was cutting because of depression and suicidal ideation. It made me feel more alone and unloved.

I have Papa to thank for teaching me how to take care of my cuts. I told him and my Ma once what I had done, and they were disappointed. But more than anything, Papa wanted to tell me how to clean it out, wrap it, and take care of it so it didn't get infected. I do that every single time. As much as he hates my cutting, I hope he takes some solace in knowing that he taught me well at taking care of the wound. I know that so many would have gotten infected without his advice.

My name is Emi, and I am a cutter. I think I will be fighting this battle of not to cut for the rest of my life.

(also, happy 100th post!)

Apartment

Still trying to get the internet sorted out. Right now we're just hooking up the computers right to the connection, which isn't in the long run our ideal set up. We want computers working in the other rooms. So we'll see what happens. Ash needs to work on it a little more.

Did I mention how incredibly happy I am to be at this apartment? I feel like this new door to our future has opened and it looks amazing from this side.

And I love our apartment, from the small, tiny kitchen to the bare patio. It doesn't seem like much when you look at it, but with all of our belongings, and just knowing that it's ours, it makes it like a fantasy world. We will have many amazing conversations on that patio. We'll eat amazing food out of that tiny kitchen. It's perfect.

Moving day!

Moving went well. We still have a lot to unpack, and it seems like a huge mountain to surpass at the moment. But then I look at all we got accomplished just tonight in unpacking, and it seems as little less daunting. I keep going back and forth on what the boxes make me feel.

The bed is in the process of being built by the boys, and I'm back with the cats at mom's house. I'll probably go to sleep soon. It seems early for me, seeing as 10 is usually when I start to settle down, but we've been up since early and have been going, going, going.

Cats go to the apartment tomorrow. Can't wait to see how they react to this strange, new place!\

And yes, moving does suck as someone with chronic pain. I can barely walk right now. I want to go back downstairs to get some water, but the idea of having to actually put pressure on my poor feet seems so horrible. I may just go thirsty over having to go down the stairs. :-/

Been so busy lately. I have just about everything packed up and done. And today we move to our new apartment. I can't wait to be in there, done with all the unpacking, and just living. We just need to get through the moving part of it all. I can't wait to see the cats' reactions to the new place. They'll have so much room to romp and such huge windows to look out of. They'll be in heaven. lol.