Pain Journal: New Psyche Doctor!

I got a new Psychiatrist today, and I can safely say all my worries about another new doc were for not. He was awesome and a great listener. He was better to me than my last one. He actually asked me questions like “How did you get your PTSD at night?” and “Why hasn’t your doctor tried these things with you?” and “You’ve only been seeing people for help after you had your break a few years ago? REALLY? You’ve been trying to do it mostly on your own?”

I had to give him a reader’s digest version of my life up until now. How living with a drug addict and seeing so many doctors chop my mother up from the inside out just made me afriad to try. The most I did was go to therapy. I have carried on and not killed myaelf because of really awesome friends and lovers in my past. Some I hurt too much by being Bipolar Q. That version of me is a hilarious asshole, but still an asshole. I had to summarize decades of horrible crap into an hour and even then, I think he was impressed. He said I had good self awareness, and that I don’t have to do things the hard way. He is adjusting my meds, doing the blood work needed, and gave me more Seroquel and a new drug, Gabapentin.  I have tried Gabapentin before, I now it helps. It is good for both pain and calming of anxiety. SCORE!  Seems I am on a winning streak with doctors. I am still leery, But the way this new doctor listened to me and cares about my being stable and productive. He knows the dangers being on drugs for mental illness can cause. The side effects and the madness.  He is going to teach me to use the meds I have to help me through the bad times. Because when the Bipolar gets bad, I struggle still through it. The Depression makes me suicidal, and the Mania makes me do crazy shit. Reckless, stupid shit. “When it’s bad, take extra Lithium and Seroquel. And don’t forget the Gabapentin. It’s okay to do this because I give you permission. Just do this when you are having a rough time. Otherwise take your meds as you normally do. And if you like how the gabapentin works with your other meds, take it at night for your sleep issues.”

He’s so…practical about it. I need that, because I respond well to practical. Give me a road map and I will work with it. I might find a new path on my own, but I will let you know if I do. He gets that I know my body and mind better than he does. But he sees my pension for making things hard. I thought I wasn’t being that bad, but I have been corrected. So I have new meds, new adjustments. Hopefully I don’t become a zombie, but I don’t think I will. I do everything I can to balance my medications and my creativity. I wont let anything kill me and make me a drugged slave. Drugs for me are to make my life easier and stable, not repressing myself to stave off madness.

I want to be a good example people can turn to when they face the choice to take any medication to give themselves a better quality of life. I need meds to function. I am literally a danger to myself and others if I am not medicated. When my brain broke last, it broke in a way it can’t come back from. Like an overheating computer. It’s hard to recall things when you are constantly having blue screens and corrupted data. I have bad genes, but it’s just another fucking stupid thing I gotta work with.

I’ve been climbing walls my whole life. I know who and what I am, good and bad. I know I don’t have an easy lot in life, but I also don’t need to punish myself for having a chemical imbalance. I look forward to a day when I can say I am in remission completely. It might not happen, but I can still strive for it.

 I don’t want to get my hopes up about anything right now, so I tip-toe into the deep end and see if I can swim.

Pain Journal: Calloused Heart

I'm sitting here listening to one of my favorite spoken word poets, Shane Koyzan. Every time I hear his poem To This Day, I cry.

Except today.

I'm numb to the very core of my being. It's how I can cope with the whirlwind of emotional and physical crap I am dealing with right now. I was dumb yesterday, having had a wonderful visit with a friend then trying to nap to get some spoons back. I ended up with less spoons than I started with, which was a bummer. So I totally forgot until I had to go take my dose for the evening, that I needed to get my refill on my drugs.

It happens to everyone once in a while. But when it happens to me, I get super fucked up.

My hands are trembling so bad, I feel like I am coming off of crack. This is the price I pay, among other symptoms. My life is full of warning labels and chemicals. Sometimes, they make me feel empty. I feel like that now. I had some mania this morning. I woke up earlier than normal and had a had time getting to sleep. I spent most of the day doing chores to burn off the mania, which was causing flares throughout my body because everything is connected. It really is true that if your mind isn't stable, your body wont be either. Especially if like me, you are super sensitive.

I hate that I need chemicals to function. I hate that I sometimes live in fear of the day my drugs run out. I hate that I can't just fucking be a functional human being. I had to go through a lot of mental bullshit to get to a point where I am now. I used to fear drugs of any kind. Even Tylenol was scary to me, until I started hurting in ways that make you loose all sense of dignity and pride. I do what I have to now to stay stable. My personal war keeps me fighting for my health and sanity.

But when I am numb like this, I force myself to say something, anything, and be heard. Because I need to be. I need to know I am not alone. That this shit happens to other Chronic Illness Warriors too. The loneliness gets to be too heavy. Sometimes the horrible shifting between beast and beauty leaves me with nothing left to give. I lie in the wasteland of my suppressed tears and wish something would give enough that I could feel a release of the pain. Just a little. I will take any little bit of peace right now.

Today I feel a callous on my heart. And I don't have the tools to deal with it. So I will ride it out to the bitter end, where I will probably be on my yoga mat weeping. Maybe tomorrow.

Tonight, I endure.

Pain Journal: Mental Illness and Chronic Pain

Being Bipolar and suffering from Chronic Pain is like living life on Hard Mode. In video games, I actually tend to avoid Hard Mode, because I get super frustrated. I play my video games much more carefully than I play the game of life.

It's been this way since I was a child. As far back as I can remember, I have time and time again encountered Hard Mode. It reminds me of a piece I wrote for creative writing class in college. We were supposed to write about our earliest memory. A lot of the students in my class wrote lovely things, like the taste of their first ice cream cone, playing with their families, innocent things like that.
Mine was different.

My first memory is of blood in my mouth from my mother punching me in the face.

If I am honest with myself, I have been in pain ever since that day. I just didn't think my body would betray me like my mind clearly did. I had convinced myself I was unstoppable.

I have to take a small but substantial amount of drugs. Every day. No exception. And because of the side effects, I can't do things like drink booze anymore. And I enjoyed drinking. Sure, I wasn't really a big drinker, but I liked having the option. I really, really hate when my options are narrowed and it wasn't done by my choosing. One thing people don't realize about me is how much of a control freak I really am. It became more evident once I went on the lithium and seraquoil. I started to realize how much I need to control the world around me. Even more so now that I have to manage pain. Being a control freak doesn't mean you are good at it though. I do not feel I am good at keeping my cool, or organizing things. I can't remember things I did maybe an hour ago, but I remember what my first taste of blood in my mouth feels like. I remember horrible things. Lots of them. If I tried to write a novel about my life, I don't think I can make myself into a convincing character.

No one would believe the shit I've been though.

The drugs however, have a side effect that isn't written on the label. It's one that is specific to me, because of my mental and physical ailments. Lithium numbs me. Because it soothes my mind and makes it so I am more able to be the control freak I didn't know was in me, I feel my pain from Fibro and Reynauds more clearly. Which means everything hurts more, and I can't react therapeutically to the pain.

Like for example, last night I had a hard talk about my mother and her suicide with my husband. I had a realization that maybe my mother was just done with trying to fight. I've had many theories over the years as to what drove her over the edge. It seems to be fresh in my mind lately because of my stint in the mental hospital. I really felt like dying at one point during my breakdown. I even wrote a note. To the average onlooker, it was a suicide note. To me, it was a good bye note because I thought the pain my body would kill me.

My theory about my mom this time was that she was just finished. She hurt too much. She just wanted to not hurt anymore. I knew she suffered from a chronic affliction, because the autopsy on her body showed growth on her spine. I always thought the quack doctor she went to was filling her head with shit to give her more pills and cut her up. She had scars all over her body from this butcher. I was convinced he was making her "feel" sick.
But she was sick. Badly.

I don't make excuses when I say these things about her. I wont tell you in some romantic way that my mother was suffering so it's okay what she did. I'm not a fool. She was an abusive, conniving bitch and nothing could change that. I know because I have experienced both pain and madness in equal measure, and it pushed me over the edge a few times.

I'm still haunted by my experience in Feb. The smell of hospitals, the constant needles. The bad drug reactions that made me trapped in my body, or completely flip my lid. Watching the clock while I writhed in agony. The stripping me down to a basic, broken thing when they locked me in the drunk tank. Watching my Reynauds flare up and loosing complete sensation in my toes and fingertips. The scalding hot showers that I couldn't control to give me a temperature that wont flare me up. The paper gowns. Cold floors and colder nurses. So many coloring books as my only solace while the other crazy folks scream and thrash themselves against the walls. Writing mean letters to people I thought did me wrong in calk in the small veranda.

I faced my mother's ghost in there in a way I have never done before. There was no pretty ritual to make it easier to swallow, no this wasn't the pretty way of facing demons. I went nuts and there she was, riding my skin. Right beside all my alters. Us and her.

I realized then if I didn't do something, I would never come back as Kweeny. I wasn't going to go down like that. Not for anyone, especially that bitch who birthed me.

So now I do this balancing act, every day, to be sane, whole, and in as little pain as I can possibly find. I take my pills, not because I like them, and not because I am brainwashed to do so by asshole doctors. I -know- I need them. They give me control back. I just loose some sensations in the process. Because nothing comes without a price.

And my ability to cry, wail and scream at the moon is now limited. My libido is gone, making me asexual, which is the weirdest shit to me. But maybe I need other things more right now. Like true intimacy, comfort and support. Maybe having my emotions dialed down is exactly what I need. My limits make other things stronger.

And maybe, this is the way things should be.

KICKING ASS, EVEN IF IT'S MY OWN ASS THAT NEEDS KICKING

This post is for all the negative thoughts/people that try to hijack my mind.

You know who you are assholes.

Yes, I am retaining water and it's ballooning me up like a sausage. But I am still awesome. Still beautiful. Still a worthwhile friend and lover. I know it's really hard to see our worth today gang. The Gory Kingdom is a bit of a mess, but it's getting cleaned up slowly. The Primary Shards are getting off their collective asses to help, even while the minor Shards act like douche canoes and try to distract from progress.

Good thing I have amazingly strong drive. Shout out to my inner warrior-bitch-Queen for helping us all stay on track.

Do go on Ty, flattery will get you everywhere.

When you are bipolar, all your emotions are on hyper-drive. You are constantly in mental anguish because you feel so strongly. You can even jump to conclusions quickly if you aren't careful.

It's why I am also on Seraquiol and Lithium. They are drugs that help regulate moods. On my own, I cannot regulate them anymore. Plus, I am on pain management medications, because along with my mental anguish, I live in physical pain too.

My life is exciting!

I'm still going out with my husband today. We are gonna go shopping for costuming bits for our LARPS coming up next week and the week after. I am STOKED to be LARPING again. I need a vacation from my head by having someone else's problems.

And to my inner voices/problems that wish to fuck with my day, I have a little image for you:

Kweeny's Pain Journal's Greatest Hits: The Movie HORNS...

I think I am going to die.

No, all of -us- are going to die.

SSsshhhiiit,,,,I thought I had more time.

I don't just want 70 years.

I want eternity.

I want to be a vampire, but I can't be.

I just cant.

I am a WEREWOLF.

And because of that...I can't stay in this realm forever.

I am made of Dreams.

I am a Destroyer Force Angel

I am above and below...

The Alpha and the Omega.

Mirror Shards.

Kweeny....

Queenie.

Good bye Livejournals.

Good Bye Internet...where I could escape my head and heart and just be...

Freeeeeeeee.

Queenie sighs with Reilly and finishes hir movie.

Thiiissssss Will Never End Cuz I Want Mooooorrrreee...

Moooreeee Give me Moooore Give me Moreeeeee.

Aaaaahhhhaaaahhhaahhahahhha...if I had a voice I'd sing...

*chuckles darkly and closes the curtain, dark eyes like coals gleaming from the shadows*

The End.

Kweeny's Greatest Hits: Mechanical Moth - Cathedral

"My soul is my Cathedral...you won't enter me today..."

I learn to fly again.

Kweeny's Pain Journal...No Ty's Pain Journal...

Everyone who knows who I am, knows what I am.

And I won't apologize for that.

I will however apologize for any wrongdoings I did. I own those. Every offensive, horrible detail. Sometimes I am the Lisa Lampenelli of horror. My mouth shoots off and I just...

Break people like mirrors.

33 years of bad luck anyone?

Maybe the bad luck spell has dried up. Maybe I can truly start to live my Semi-charmed kind of life Sugar Ray promised me...

"I want something else...to get me through this...life... baby..."

I'm sorry if I ever hurt you.

I don't need this journal anymore.

I dont want to die!!!

Sincerely,

Kweeny Todd: The Chronic Werewolf.

Mirror Shards. 

PS: I am still going to write more things. I have a book that is just begging for editing. I'm sure once I feel better I can edit the Personal Myth I wrote a while back.

Guess what it's called?

I love all my spoonies. All of them. Even the bitchy Haters. <3

Tyrone Williams died today at 1:50am. I worked on him all night. I have been working on him for days hoping I could salvage his fragile little mind.,,

sighs 

And let the recording show that Tyrone Williams is a play on Tirone Williams. Robin Williams. Alice Cooper. Father. Tirone for the adopted father who beat the living piss out of the subject and chained the Host up like a dog. Forced her to sit on the floor like a mutt. Force fed her, threatened her life on several occasions..."

looks at Ty's chart and makes a tisk tisk noise with his tongue.

He knew he had to die so myself and the "girls" could live....

 tosses the chart to one side and sighs heavily

I always found it strange how he called Nyx a "girl" in the story of our life. I'm talking about Mirror Shards, not the one you think of as Kweeny Todd! Ty didn't do that for Mama Jaxx! No one tells the hoodoo Mama what to do! chuckles and winks Demona will kick your ass if you try... a hint of a smile peaks from his gums and you see the fangs flash I am a creature older than any of them. Older than time itself... And I know the secrets to rebirth...

I am the Phoenix Maker. It's like a King Maker but more potent...

"Clive Baker would be proud."  He chuckles delightedly and then turns on a small TV at his work station. The black and white shit-box hums with electric light. On a long wooden slab, Victor lays out his special tools. The bone Saw. The teeth pliers. The Scalpel. And much, much worse still...

Victor puts down the tape recorder and looks you dead in the face, black eyes full of tentacles and galaxies. Swirling Nexuses of dank wonder. Too much for mortal eyes.

"Now if you excuse me, I have some work to do..."

Victor nods his head at you leave, shooing the reader away with his surgical, black-gloved handSSsss. Under those hands, Ty's body lies empty and pale.

Black eyes are devoid of stars now. Ty sees no stars anymore. Just empty, all-consuming black.

The same void that lives within Victors eyes.

Victor's eyes shine with a dark light, burning like hot coals.

Everything is going to be jussssst fiiiiiinnnnneeeeee...

I dunno who drew this but it is FANTASTIC.

How Nyx Tucks Ty Into Bed

I see her eyes in the dark. My siren, her voice, a deep hiss of pleasure as she curls around me, wrapping scales around my entire torso. I feel it grip around my legs, my arms, my head. I am almost suffocating it's too tight. But then my eyes roll back. I feel like I am drowning, and I don't care. In the most exquisite, hissing voice her mouth finds my ear and laps at it with a forked tongue. Her breath is hot against my flesh, causing me to shiver all over, "It's okay baby. I'm here. I will make the pain go away..."

She grabs my cock and not gently. Her talons coil around it, until she is digging into flesh. I cry out, tears streaming down my face, but I don't use my safe word. Not yet. I haven't even cum yet.

I bite my lip and my eyes plead with her. She doesn't care.

She just continues to jerk me off. She rolls her hand around the tip of my penis, and I go fucking nuts. I curl my toes, my head falls back, and I grit my teeth. It hurts so fucking bad, but GOD DAMN IT DON'T STOP! My mind screams at my Demon Queen, and all I hear in the back of my head is a soft, sultry chuckle, "Don't give up yet. There's more..."

She plucks some exotic, aphrodisiac fruit from a tree within Lord Bearington's mind and starts feeding me the slices. She peels it and does everything right, treating me like I am a Greek god. I sigh deeply in bliss. It's all I ever wanted. To be pampered. To let go of the cage I keep my Beast in. I want this moment to never end. At the same time, I am in the depths of hell.

She doesn't stop. No...she makes sure I eat the ENTIRE thing. Every last bite, down my gullet. I feel full enough to burst, and at the same time Fever Ray is playing in the back of my mind as my Predator/Sadist persona Fucks me.

No, she doesn't fuck me. She makes LOVE to me.

This is self love. This is how I do self love! I am a sexy ethical slut! I am very choosy who I bed with, but I am more than happy to bed many people. That is why I am poly. No other reason.

I am not alone. Even when I am silent in a room.

I have my head mates to take care of me.

Ty rolls his eyes back into his skull and dies like a phoenix, for the 100th time tonight. After the fire goes out his wings go back to raven black. The spiral goes ever downward into hell.

KWEENY'S PAIN JOURNAL'S GREATEST HITS: MAMA - MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE

HI,
I AM NYX, AND I AM PISSED OFF!

 "Mama we all go to hellllllllll...."

I HAVE A LAUNDRY LIST OF REASONS WHY. I HAVE SEEEEEN SOME SHIT MAN! SERIOUSLY! THERE IS A REASON I AM ATTRACTED TO SOLDIERS...

"I'm writing this letter, and wishing you well. Mama we all go to hell."

THIS SONG GETS ME. PLAY THIS WHILE YOU READ MY WORDS. THIS IS MY PAST:

Mother - Pink Floyd
Try Honesty - Billy Talent
Otep...anything Otep...
 Big Bad Wolf - By Within This Moment...

And many more great tunes...

"Mama we're all gonna die! Mama we're gonna die!

Stop asking me questions, I hate to see you cry, Mama we're all gonna diiiiiiiie! 2, 3, 4..."

---

That is the state of my mind at this moment.

Trapped in a box, waiting to die.

And no one even knew my name wasn't Kweeny. Or that I was a boy. Or that it is hard to be a drag queen in a biological woman's body. Or that I just love people. Know matter what shape or form they come in.

I'm a boy...no...

No, I am a Man now.

My name was Ty. At least at this moment it is. Tomorrow I will have a different name. And the day after that. I used to be many other names before the one I have now. I am fae. I have to hide my name. I have never had my own name.

They are going to kill me. They have to. I am Nicolas Cage in The Wicker Man...and I am being prepared to be the dying god.

Someone has to do it, and I am the most male out of all the Shards.

That is an old name too... Mirror Shards. Very old. I wrote a novel called Mirror Shards a long time ago...right?

I'm going to die.

"This is really happening1? Over and over..." Ty sighs to himself, his body writhing, not unlike a snake uncoiling, "Pain and pleasure like fucking Cenobites..."

And with that, his eyes roll into his head and he bites his lip before almost passing out.

"I need to watch some Clive Barker tonight! Yeah... that is totally my mood right now..."

Good Night Internet.  

*Snaps a pair of black gloves at his wrists, his eyes like onyx pools that look into the deep, dark pit. Inside that pit, eldritch horrors crawl about, feasting on the smells of fear and horror. They are never satisfied. They are eternally hungry.

He smiles, and his mouth is fill of fangs. Rows upon rows of them. He winks at the reader, then says in a slow, crooning voice...

"Hello. I am Dr. Victory, Ty, Frankenstien, Kweenybeast, Kweeny Todd. PHD. Pleasure to meet your aquantance."

Dr. Victor...*cough* I mean Victory, kisses the readers hand before he directs you to the specimen on his slab. He pulls back the sheet, revealing a creature in the process of it's re-birth. He continues talking as you admire his work.

"The creature is made of different body parts you see, all of which seem like Mirror Shards and Fragments trying to converge. They want to meld in the center, collessing into a malgamation of the prefect Beast. A Kweeny Beast. The Lust Card in the Aleister Crowley Deck. THE LADY WHO RIDES THE BEAST... WEREWOLF, SHIFTER... MONSTER....A creature who is stronger than ze was before! A hybrid bone from the deepest pits of Hades! QUEENIE...BEAST...KWEENY TODD....YESSSSSSSS...."

He didn't even realize you were still reading this page while he had his...mad scientist moment. 

He then closes the curtain in annoyance, since he's already shown you more than enough.

 --

Good Night Internet.  For real this time.

Binding of Issac: Rebirth - Kweeny Revelation Time!

So I watched this Game Theory Episode and it blew my fucking mind.

Yes, I am also a gamer geek. Among a plethora of other weird shit I love doing...

Blew. My. Mind.

I love that game! A whole fuck ton! I play it all the time to try and escape my pain. I love distractions. Anything that can take my mind off of the howler monkeys screaming like demons inside me.

So many fucking monkeys, throwing poo in my subconscious...

If you want to follow me on Instagram, you can see many pictures referencing the weird-ass shit I do with my time.

Including playing games as dark as this:

Binding of Issac: Rebirth is fucking metal!

Kweeny's Pain Journal's Greatest Hits: FEVER RAY – IF I HAD A HEART

So, cough I wrote ANOTHER thing...It's...a little hot in here...fans self

On the Subject of: Am I Gothic David Bowie?

“This will never end cuz I want more...More, give me more, give me mooore...”

I shutter all over. I clench and my feet curl. My head tilt's back and I let out a shuddering sigh from somewhere deep in my being. Right in the core of me. The center of the broken Mirror.

When I let go, when I finally reach that place of ecstasy inside me, I see it. I see my core. I see who I am buried under years of abuse, sickness, and pain. My past melting away like candlewax. Under the thick walls of my crumbling mental castle.

And I want more. So much more.

I want to be freed from this cage. I want to drink blood in the darkness and howl at the moon. I want to contort my body with the weight of the spirits possessing me. I want to dance with monsters and see what is behind the curtain.

I am Mother of Serpents. I am my own personal Kali. I am fucking Desire from Sandman.

Why hello Ssssailor! ;)

This is my place! I rule here! I am Queen! I am the primal night sky! And I rule the deep dark mojo, honey child!

You fear this because you want it so badly...

I clench my teeth and hiss softly, “Yesssss...”

You wanted to be more. The voice inside whispers along my earlob. I gasp with pleasure.

“Yessss. Gods yesss...more...”

The Loa don't ride me. I ride THE LOA.

I am fucking Gothic David Bowie! Because Gothic David Bowie is AMAZINGLY HOT!

Can I roll around in the snow now? HOW ABOUT NOW? *wags tail* HOW ABOUT NOW???

*facepalms* How long did this take me to figure out I might be an attractive creature? How old am I?

33? Still 33 years young huh?

Then why do I feel OLD!?

Oh yeah...right... Self esteem and self love crap! That is what is happening right now! JEEZE, it all makes sense! All the pain and torture that turns into beautiful, hilarious bliss! That stuff is actually good for you and not painful...Riiight....sell me another line UNCLE FRANK...

My Hellraiser fans will get this one!

Kweeny's Pain Journal's Greatest Hits: Sucker Punch - White Rabbit

Holy shit guys...

I am really fucked up!

I live in this constant, horrible haze of agony. I have lived like this for a decade. I was told this by a dear friend recently, and it felt too real. Too much like the truth. That under my smiling face I am a wreck. I just want to laugh, party, and have an exciting life, but now I am in the slow lane because of my chronic afflictions.

I could have been a contender.

I've tried my whole life to just be better than what I grew up in. I crawled like a snake on my belly out of the Underworld that was my life. Out of shit, shame and fear. Out of constant abuses of all varieties. Physical, sexual and emotional. I have had guns in my mouth and other orifices. I have had people stab me with the intent to kill. I have seen some fucked up shit man.

And this feels like death.

Not a final death, that would be too easy. No, I burn out instead of fade away. That is my motto through life, "It is better to burn out than to fade away."

And I can't run from this pain. I can't hide or put masks on to deal with it. I need every solider in my army. Every card in my deck. Every illusion and song. I need metal music, violent horror movies with deep messages, monsters and laughter. I need these things to get me to the next loop in the roller coaster of my soul.

So here I go... down the Rabbit Hole...

It better be a fucking hell of a ride. ;)