Author: Cunill

Yesterday, Dr. Dragonfly and I just talked about the week before and whether or not I had given any thought to what had happened. I really hadn’t because my clusters were so bad. We started talking about the resentment piece that was so prominent last week centered around my heart with the rage and anger streaming off of it. Talking with her is different. She is very careful with her words and doesn’t suggest interpretation. She leaves the interpretation to me. Sometimes she’ll help me fill in details when I’m stuck, but she doesn’t interpret. If I ask her a question, she’ll explain or give examples not related to my case.

This time, as we were talking, I noticed a new piece had entered into the conversation. We weren’t talking about how my body felt anymore. We were addressing the actual emotion and how it related to my father. If you remember, last week she had me strangle him (pillow) and at the last minute I let go because I felt that he should suffer and feel the pain he had inflicted on everyone else. This week, the was a confusion piece that asked me why? why do you even care? Why do you harbor such resentment for someone you don’t even care about? What’s the rage and anger about? You already know what you’re going to do with him if Mom dies first or if his dementia gets out of hand. He’s cruel, abusive, mean, overbearing piece of shit. Why do you care? Why does this resentment have such a major role?

“What’s your plan?” Dr. Dragonfly asked. There’s a specific home in Kenton that I’ll put him in. The Home is on one side of the street and a cemetery is on the other side of the street. The message is, one day soon, you’ll be there. Every time he looks out that window, he’ll get that message. I won’t call. I won’t visit.

“So, returning to Ohio is a stressor?” She asked, probing a little deeper. “How many days do you spend in Ohio when you go back?” Three or four, beyond that all of the horrible memories of everything that happened to me there come back to me like a flood and I can’t get out of there fast enough. “Just your dad?” No, my dad, school, church, everything that’s wrong with small town ‘murica.

“Is your dad still combative with you now?” Yes. He still baits me into different kinds of arguments. I avoid them as much as possible until it becomes unbearable and then I shut him down. He’ll get into arguments with Mom over nothing and I’ve told him to shut the fuck up bc I didn’t travel 300 miles to listen to him argue over nothing. He’s tried to get physically aggressive with me and I’ve told him to make the first punch a good one bc my finger is on my emergency call button and I have no trouble putting his ass in jail for domestic battery. Even when he’s in my home, he want to argue and shit. I’ve had to tell him to calm the fuck down. You’re in my house, you play by my rules. He went over to the door. I just told him good. Take a walk. You’ll turn right or left and get to an intersection and won’t have a clue where you are. You don’t have a cellphone and no one knows my name. We have privacy in a city. By the time the police figure out where you’re supposed to be, it will be time for you to go home.

“So, basically, you’d like to keep a close relationship with your mother, but your father is there and you don’t want to deal with him. If your father weren’t there, would you visit more often?” Yes. My mother and I get along. She’s intelligent. My father isn’t so he makes up for it in being mean and aggressive. Mom likes it when I’m home. She has someone to talk to and eat different things with. I’d go home a lot more if it weren’t for her. (an now the clusters-flying doesn’t do much for them either)

“What do you think will happen when he dies?” If mom is still alive, I’ll go back out of respect to her. If she’s not, I’ll stay right where I am. I really don’t care. He was just another person who lived in the house that was really unpleasant. I was never good enough, smart enough, tried hard enough, etc. for him. I was 21 and had just gotten back from a year abroad in Barcelona when he finally told me that he loved me and was proud of me. I just looked at him and said, thanks, but it’s too little and too late. Where were you when I was 8? and left it like that.

Well, today was certainly different. I think Dr. Dragonfly gave up on the time, space continuum thing. She was satisfied that I would be able to retreat to the Construct when necessary. We worked on the Left today. It was kind of scary. I don’t like the Left very much.

I was asked to bring out the first and strongest memory from when I was five or six. It’s not hard for me to do or visualize. I have very few good memories from my childhood. There are only two from that time that are remarkably bad. One deals with an accident and the other with the incessant beatings from my father.

I heard mom and dad upstairs in their room arguing. Rather than leave well enough alone, out of some sense of right and wrong, I had to do something and try to protect my my. I climbed the steps and told dad to leave her alone. The next things I heard were ‘you little piece of shit (or something to that effect) and Jim, leave him be. It didn’t matter. He pushed mom down and started beating me.

In the process, she told me to put my arm up slowly as if I were protecting myself. She could already tell that the left side of my body was at maximum alert. Strangely enough, the right side of my body was not affected at all during the entire session. It was able to stay in the Construct. As I put my left arm up, I could feel pain as if someone were grabbing me hard by the left upper arm. As my arm got closer to my head, the pain extended all the way from my should to my hand. My body was remembering how it tried to protect itself and was powerless to do anything.

She had me open my eyes. Dr. Dragonfly told me to pretend that the pillow was my dad’s throat. There were no consequences and I could squeeze as hard as wanted to. I could choke the life out of him if I wanted. I squeezed harder and harder and harder. ‘Imagine his eyes and tongue bugging out of his head. You can kill him. Keep squeezing.’ I had no idea how hard I could squeeze and twist a pillow, but I did lots of damage and at the last minute, slowly let go.

‘You didn’t kill him?’ No, he doesn’t deserve to die. He deserves to know pain. He deserves to know what having pain inflicted on him feels like. He deserves to know what it feels like to be at the brink of death and beg for death and then for it not to come. That’s what he deserves. ‘Check in with your body. What’s going on in your arm and hand right now?’ The muscles in my lower arm are white hot and between my index finger and thumb are burning. ‘Your body has given you the strength you needed to kill or at least do great harm to your ‘father’ in this situation and to protect yourself. Listen to your body for a few more minutes as it readjusts itself. What do you feel now? Resentment.

Resentment? Where. In my chest. Here. Where my heart it supposed to be. Where good emotions are supposed to reside. It’s just resentment and rage. ‘How does it feel?’ Like a heavy dark weight sitting on my chest, like a black hole. ‘Is there anything radiating out?’ Yes, rage. Just resentment and rage.

While I still mourn the loss of my faithful companion and protector for the last 17 years, I am given new hope and joy by the addition of two new little bundles of energy that have wormed their way into my life.

After putting Midnight down, I came home to a very empty house and my anxiety levels shot through the roof. I couldn’t stand to be in the apartment alone. I called Dr. Dragonfly and she agreed to see me later that day. I went at least thirty minutes early bc I couldn’t stand being in the house.she calmed me down and like the ppl at the vet, pointed me toward PetsMart.

Once I got to PetSmart, the kittens picked me out. I went in the little room and there were two pretty yellow tabbies in the first cage, an adult long-haired something in the bottom cage and beside them were two little energetic and playful kittens that came right too me as soon as I got close enough to them. They we happy to play with me. While I was behind the glass talking about the adoption process with one of the associates, they kept trying to get to me. Astro, the male even knocked over his water bowl trying to get to me. They were so cute that I couldn’t possibly split them up.

They’ve restored the balance to the house and have negated the anxiety. They are absolutely precious. They’ll play with anything that moves or doesn’t. They’re both a handful, but I love them. They love to take naps on me. They will make fantastic companions, but they will never, ever replace Midnight. They’ll just be different.

Today I was faced with the grim task of saying goodbye to the one true friend who loved me unconditionally. I had to put my faithful friend and protector of 17 years down. He knew it was time. I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t cry going to the vet or during the exam. He knew what was happening and wanted it to happen. I simply didn’t even want to see him in pain or ever have him feel pain for that matter. He kept his composure and even sat in front of the door going into the medical part of the office while I cried like a blubbering idiot. It was very traumatic and sad for me. I had even take .5 Xanax and that still didn’t help. It was just a horrible experience that was made worse when I got home. The apartment was empty and my anxiety level went from moderate to extreme very quickly. I ended up having to see Dr. Dragonfly to talk my way through it.

Midnight came from my parent’s garage back in Ohio. I brought him home as a little, tiny kitten. He fit in the palm of my hand. It was obvious from the start that he was a very intelligent cat. I was able to teach him many different commands. The only thing I wasn’t able to teach him with how to walk with a harness. He’d go two steps and plop down on the ground. He’d play fetch and all sorts of other things.

Brian and Major taught him all sorts of other things, bad habits. He started to get a taste for human food. He’s a cat, so I never had a problem giving him raw meat. They gave him all sorts of cooked food, lunch meat, pizza, etc. By the time it was over, he’d eat everything except garlic and fruit. He didn’t care. He’d like the porcelain off of the bowl.

He also looked out for me. He knew when an attack was coming on. He’d jump up on the couch beside me an just lay there purring. If I was already laying down, he’d lay on my legs or up my ribcage, wherever he was comfortable and just stay there for hours. When I moved, he would just shift his weight too until I was back where I had been before. Midnight would even go so far as to hiss and swat at anyone who approached me when I was in a really bad way.

I’m not going to talk about his decline. I want to remember him how he was. I want to remember how he used to clear a floor or a room when he pooped. I want to remember how he ran through the house like a madman after he pooped. I want to remember how he would take cheese or lunchmeat straight out of your hand if you weren’t paying attention or how he would impatiently wait until you finished with the bowl of chili and put it on the ground for him to finish. I want to remember how he would like the ice at the top of a water glass or would put his paw in the glass and like the water off if it was too far down. I want to remember how he could jump from the ground to the top of the fridge in a single bound.

He was a super cat. He was a wonderful cat. He was probably the smartest cat I’ve ever known or had the pleasure to have in my life for such a long period of time. He will be sorely missed and will never be replaced. He will always be momma’s little boy and will always be into something that usually has to do with food. He deserves his rest now. He’s admirably done his job. I couldn’t have asked for more. He was a beautiful, kind and loving cat who followed me around like a lost puppy. He will be remembered fondly as the young, agile, happy cat the he always was.

I’ll always love you Midnight and you’ll have a very special place in momma’s heart.

I’ve discovered that this is really the problem. Other than the paradox of juxtaposing my face and emotions onto the baby in Nydia’s arms while I sit there and watch, the temporal shift, or one of its other various names, tells me or dictates that multiple versions of me cannot exist within the same time and place. I can’t be the baby and I can’t sit there and watch me as the baby and I certainly can’t observe the entire scene in my whole psyche. I still can’t. It’s hard enough trying to imagine watching it on a TV or movie screen with the idea that the baby is me and the person sitting beside the baby is also me, while I watch the whole damned thing on TV. Yes, I know it sounds stupid. For many of you this whole time-space continuum, temporal shift and paradox thing don’t even exist. For someone who devours Sci/Fi Fantasy, though, it’s very real and very hard to get around. This may actually be a sticking point that I will not be able to see.

I can imagine myself as the baby. I can imagine interacting with Nydia, Luís and the older sisters, Luisito and Mitzi wouldn’t have been born yet. I can imagine being allowed to explore, crawl and do whatever I wanted. I would never have been alone or needed anything with two adoring parents and three older sisters, not to mention Mama Flor. However, at this point, that’s as far as my psyche will allow me to go without terror kitty coming out to defend me. This part, I may not be able to do, even if I can talk terror kitty down. Dr. Dragonfly may have to try a different approach here.

I leave the session today more confused than anything. I was presented with a paradox, a ripple in time. Dr. Dragonfly asked me how I saw things at this point. I told her that I saw them as sort of a triangle. I was at the top of the triangle looking down each leg. I could see different events spiraling down each leg (meaning the the ‘alternative family life’ that I had created has been accepted by my psyche). I also told her that I could see where the two legs intersected like little traffic circles. Sometimes traffic was smooth, but sometimes it was chaotic. The biggest piece that she wanted me to see, I still couldn’t. I still can’t see the base that connects the two sides.

Today, we again worked with the Construct. She asked me at what age I wanted to start and I said crawling. (6-9 months). We talked about whether or not I could visualize myself crawling around on the floor. I could. If I could crawl over to the chair Nydia was sitting on. I could. She would pick me up and the empathetic and telepathic messages of you’re loved, wanted and adored would cross between us as we giggled. That bit wasn’t really difficult at all.

Then, Dr. Dragonfly said to put a chair beside Nydia holding me and put my face on the baby. My brain, which was already at a 6 on the cluster scale, went insane. All of a sudden, I was divided into two halves. The left side of my body physically rejected the idea and image completely. The right side, wanted to try to explore the image. Finally, after trying to reconcile the image, but not being able to, out came a huge, very pissed off black cat with his ears back, tail all squirreled out, hair standing up on his spine, glowing red eyes, hissing and claws ready to shred anything that came near him right in front of me. That part of the image died. Neither side won. The cat made sure that he protected me from something I was unable to comprehend. He settled down once I was able to view the image as if I were watching a mother holding her baby after he had crawled to her on a movie or TV screen, but it wasn’t me and I wasn’t present in the room. I calmed down and so did the cat. He sat on my lap for a little while and wandered off, but didn’t go very far.

She asked how I felt during that whole process. How did my body feel during that whole process? I told her that my body felt like it was being torn in two. Half of me wanted to explore the Construct, but the other half violently rejected it. That produced anger, stress and frustration after a while until the cat (anger) completely filled the picture and took over all of my senses since I wasn’t able to comprehend what was happening. The cat took over to protect me. Once I saw the Construct as a TV show or movie objectively and not personally, the cat, and I, calmed down.

I am calm now and so is the cat. I know I have a protector and I know what he looks like. I also know I can calm him down if I acknowledge him and thank him for doing his job, However, I stall cannot make the leap from the image on a screen to being beside the Construct and putting my face on the baby Nydia is holding. It’s to big of a leap for me right now.

I’m sure I’ll be writing more about this as the week progresses.

You would think that after a couple of days that I would be done with all this mess, but no. I’m still so tired and exhausted that I can’t do much of anything and my concentration is for shit. Tomorrow will be a big day, though. I go to the psycho, Target (which I’ve been putting off for days now, but they know I’ll get there eventually) and maybe a haircut. We’ll see after all of that. At least I don’t have to get groceries. I just don’t quite know what is wrong with me right now. It’s still better than Chicago though. I’m in minimal pain, although I think that will change this afternoon and I’m choosing to stay at home, rather than I have to stay at home because the pain is so bad that I can’t get off the couch. I’ll take that as progress. I don’t think September is going to be as nice to me as July and August were.

Well, happily, today some semblance of normalcy has returned to my life. I woke up this morning after having only two cluster episodes during the night. I usually have three or four. The sun was shining through the blinds and my dph and clusters had gone back to the 3-5 range, my comfort zone. The only “thing” that’s happened is that my piece of shit Ikea bed has broken and I’ve had to buy another frame and box spring that was costly.

The whole ordeal over the past few days seems to have past. I’m not going to talk to my mom or anyone related to Ohio for the next few days. I don’t want to know anything. I’ve blocked and restricted Damien on every electronic device I own. For now, I don’t want to know anything at all about him. I can’t. It caused me too much pain and suffering. I go from this point with one less nephew. At some point, he may return to a human state, but for how, he can’t exist in my universe.

The whole experience has left me tired, exhausted and mentally spent. I am unable to think or concentrate on anything I have to do today. I get lost very easily while doing the simplest of tasks, such as giving someone my credit card number. I will just lay low today and rest. Tomorrow will be better. I should be back to my normal self again, whatever that means. I live not 1800 miles from my family for a reason. I hope it’s enough.

Damien,

You are a selfish little piece of poo circling around the toilet bowl of life. Your fantastic journey is about at an end though, even with your enabling mother. I know she gave you food. I know she got your car fixed. I know she gave you money. I know she filled your tank. I even know she made sure that you got at least one job application in. I sincerely hope you’re rejected. I can’t possibly imagine how you would be working round other people when you can’t even take a microscopic bit of responsibility for your own actions. You blame grandma, grandpa, your mom, your dad. your other uncle Mike and now me for all of your problems.

I get that you were unleashed on the world without the tools to make sense of it. I get that you have no concept of how to live on your own. I understand that you don’t have any idea how money works and therefore can’t even fathom a bank account, let along paying rent, insurance, food and utilities. You just spend money as you like and don’t keep track of it.

I was having a perfectly good day. My clusters were cruising between 3-5 and I was in the middle of my morning routine. I stopped absolutely everything I was doing to attend to your needs from 1800 miles away because you said that I was your last resort. While I talked to you I ‘found out’ that you were hanging around in Walmart to charge your phone. You were also thinking of stealing some food because you hadn’t eaten in two days. You also said that you didn’t have any friends left or anywhere to go because all of your friends had deserted you. I started searching for soup kitchens in Kenton where you could at least go to get a hot meal. But, you said that from Walmart to each location, you wouldn’t get there in time. You kept insisting on this job thing. I kept telling you that you would never get a job unless you basic needs were met. Then you launched into what had happened with grandma and grandpa and that your mom won’t even help you anymore. I flat out told you that I didn’t care what they said. I don’t take anyone’s word at face value in a conflict. I look for the 3rd conversation because that’s what’s really happening.

You see, while I had no idea that you were on the move, I was frantically searching for a shelter in Kenton or one of the surrounding communities where you could go for food, shelter, etc. At the same time, I was talking to grandma about picking you up and taking you to a shelter since grandpa wasn’t going to let you back in the house. All the while you’re still crying and I’m still calming you down so that you can speak and understand reason. Finally, you tell me that you’re in the parking lot of a complex on the north side of town. I get grandma to agree to pick you and take you to the shelter against grandpa’s wishes. It was a one-time deal and took me a lot of time to broker. All you had to do was stay put and wait. She was on her way to get you. I heard nothing from you or grandma for about 45 minutes.

You finally texted me back about an hour later through Facebook. You said your phone was dying, so I asked how or why you were on FB. Your response, I just remembered a friend’s house I could go to and kick it and recharge my phone. I told you that I hoped that they had food and everything else for you too, but that you had probably missed grandma and that she wouldn’t be coming back. Again, silence until later that night. You left me a cryptic text that I still haven’t figured out, but you made the mistake of geotagging. I knew where you were.

When I asked you about why you stopped talking to me the day before, you told me that you were just depressed and needed someone to talk to. Hysterical and crying to the point to where you can’t be understood is not depressed, it’s a meltdown. I asked you some of the questions I had before. You didn’t want to get social services help because you didn’t want to be stuck on them for the rest of your pathetic little life. You said you were used to a different ‘lifestyle’ but never did tell me what that meant. However, when I brought up the no food, no clothes, no shelter and no job, but you were able to go to the county fair and were texting me from the county fair, you went nuclear. You told me I could go back to talking about you with grandma and grandpa and that I was just like everyone else and I was a fucking fake piece of shit or something to that effect. I spent/wasted two days dealing with you sincerely only to be spat upon. I won’t make that mistake again. You can believe grandma gave me the story, but the truth is that you gave yourself away by geotagging. You’re not as sly or as intelligent as you think you are. Your lies will consume you. You will hit bottom and then the bottom will fall out. Right now, unless I change my mind, my hand will not be there reaching for you. I will not help you up. You had your chance and you slapped me down. There are only a few things I want to say to you.

Fuck you Damien! Fuck you for making me care. Fuck you for making me worry about you. Fuck you for making me concerned. Fuck you for making me put two to three days on hold to deal with your fake drama. Fuck you for raising both my physical and emotional pain levels to a point where it’s going to take a cycle breaker to bring them down because I’m already overextended on my painkillers. Fuck you for making me hurry back from Puerto Rico because I wanted to be there when you were born. Fuck you for all the time I spent with you when you were 13, 15 and 17 planning your escape from Hell. Fuck you for wasting my mother’s time and energy for your selfish foolishness. Finally, Fuck you! I hope when you do hit bottom it’s hard, and once the bottom falls out and you really hit the bottom it’s even harder. I hope there are no hands extended to you because you’ve fucked all of us over. Fuck you!