Housework, PT, and hormones pretty much sums up this week so far. It's all gone well though, so I can't complain. My relationships professionally are rearing their ugly heads too. It's why I agreed to meet my PT at the gym, or rather, it was her idea. Good, one boundary down, many more to go. My body is what it is, and I love it. She can say anything, and my mind goes nuts. Too bad. My childhood is a poster for those who need to stay inspired and alive. I've been thinking about doing a civil suit for psychological reasons, and then, thought that my childhood PT may not be worth the time or money spent anyway. I have DID, and will more than likely have it the rest of my so called life, so here goes nothing. The childhood staff knew better, but failed miserably at using boundaries. To hell with them. Smite me, O' mighty PTs and staff. I've been to Hell, and I think you'll enjoy your stay.

Anyway, the current PT and staff haven't sent a note yet, so I am still waiting to hear back about how we plan to address my body. The terminology could afford a little shakeup now and then. My mind is a lost cause anyway, so that won't matter.

I'm just trying to reestablish something I never even had...boundaries.

This weekend we babysat, went to the mall, and ran around mostly. Monday I fell, in my bathroom while doing some cleaning. The curtain rod landed on top of me. Not a pretty sight. I went to PT today, and got some stretching and ab work in, which was good. I also worked out late today since I was focused on my memoir, and talking to Kyle. Brian also left a message, and I'm not sure what to make of it. We were scheduled to get together March 3rd, and he never called or showed after calling at noon. Dad is still holding a grudge, which is fine, because it's his to hold. I can't take on other people's anger.

Today Mom tried to help with gait training too, and that was okay. Things have been fairly quiet in the house regarding my recovery. This is a good sign. With the rain we've been having, it's hard to keep the muscles from reacting due to weather, but by Thursday, we should clear out. I have PT again that day, so all should go well. Starting next week, I'll reduce down to one session per week, and see how I feel. Tonight, I am sore. My legs and back are hurting, and after working out, this is normal, however, there may be residue from the Monday fall too.

I'm just hoping for the best the rest of the week, weather and all. Things should start getting better tomorrow when I work out again. I've got to be kind and be good to myself. Recovery is not easy. I have great faith that God will show me the way.

The second half of Columbine Revisited hit home for me in the psychology/psychiatry department. One of four women will experience some form of depression. Women are twice as likely to have it than men too. Medicine has come a long way since I was born, and I know better now. My psychiatrist and I have a good relationship despite some previous concerns. I am currently working on an appeal for Social Security, and seeing my doctor once a month. This is enough for me, since shrinks from the past treated my issues as if they didn't matter, weren't important, etc. Well, the DID was ignored, just like my pediatric pleas for help. Now, 30 years later, I am still suffering, which makes me think God's will is going to be done. Because I am in Hell right now, at this very second, it would make sense that she's preparing a place for me. I've lived the hellish bohemian life for as long as I can remember. And since being put right with God on Monday, things have changed drastically. I no longer fear people. I have what it takes to live my life, and not worry about what others think of the way I live. Sure, I drink some when I write. It loosens you up. All of the famous musicians and writers drink to stay calm. We aren't doing it to get real with others. We drink to stay calm within ourselves.

From Sherry to Mogan David, to Bailey's, and Godiva, I have it made. It doesn't mean I am drunk often. The occasional drink is just as good. You still get the same result. Loose, cool, calm, and ready to tackle your next written project.

Who cares if I get depressed, or have bi-polar disorder, or even manic depression alone? No one. And if you have kids, depression will hit like a ton of bricks. You start to think that you're out of your league. I don't have kids, but when I'm around them, I get all weepy and bi-polar like. It's crazy, but true. My own childhood was full of trauma. Why not cry over other people's kids? Why not cry for the victims and bullies of Columbine? It all makes sense. They all deserve tears. When pain drives you to the point of killing, you cry. And you can't stop. It goes on forever.

March has been great so far. I have been doing a ton of working out in PT and at home. I also got my eyes checked Monday, and things are okay, but not great. I have cataracts in both eyes, and my current left lens is too strong, so a new one has been made for me. I saw my medication management specialist this week too. Since I am not seeing a counselor, I am seeing her once a month to make sure that if I have a bad day, we can tweak the medications. So far, the DID has been controllable with the current dose. I love psychology and psychiatry. Not just because I am a patient, but because the whole thing facinates me. Today, The View will talk about Rosie O'Donnell's depression since Columbine in 1999. I'd be the same way too...it wasn't a pretty day for Colorado. I felt a lot of things when Columbine happened. I understood why the students shot their classmates. When you are bullied at school, there's no escape. You can talk to teachers and principals, and it still doesn't solve the problem. You feel trapped as a victim. Teachers used to yell at me for being so clingy, and what they didn't realize was, I was being bullied too.

My new memoir will have a chapter on this too, so don't feel like you're missing out because you don't find details in here. The truth is, my memoir is full of things that happened to me. I am living with scars from so many people who swore they could straighten me out. Today, people don't scare me. God and Hell don't scare me. Hell is on Earth. When you grow up bullied, disabled and gay, you manage to find ways to survive. People will try to change everything about you, from the orientation to the disability. But they can't. Since they can't, they bully you until you can't stand it anymore. This is why Columbine happened. Kids are cruel at any age, even as adults.

If I had been at Columbine, I would have shot folks too. It's better than being chased through the halls, up the elevator, and down the main hallway to Biology class your sophmore year. All the while, the kids chasing you are making fun of the way you walk. Yeah, I could have put a gun to their heads. I could have done it in college too. Two teenage girls stole my board card with all of my money, and my roommate found the card. Then, the police got involved. Both girls were taken to a juvenile detention center, where they were told that they had to write letters of apology. Ha. And this was supposed to be adequate punishment.

Anyway, something stopped me during these days to actually bring a gun to school. I guess it was my attitude. Whenever people say or do things to me that are negative, I let it roll off my back. There is usually a threat, but I never let it get to the point where I actually want to cause harm the way these people do. Words and actions are things that you should be held accountable for, no matter what, or who you happen to be, police involvement or not.

I'm not afraid of God throwing me away into Hell. She'll do that anyway based on my not spotless past and not spotless present. I come with many stains. And I don't really care who likes me or dislikes me. God is the key person here. She can make the choice to clothe me in white, or leave me just the way I am before I hit lava. Christians that knew me during my school years and even today think this would be the wrong way to approach things. I don't care what they say. They are no more perfect than me, the bullies, or anyone else.

I have no way of knowing God's plan. I do know that I will be judged, and I am ready. Allowing your stained and bullied self to stand before God in judgement is so raw. You have no control over what she'll say or do. You just have to accept it. If the bullies and those Christians think they are in the right, professionals or personal people, God will show them what they need to see as well. Life is not a one way street. It takes two to tango. God will be in judgement of every man and woman.

I am no exception.