#WordlessWednesday: Regrets

It’s a long, long road
From which there is no return
While we’re on the way to there
Why not share‘Regrets’ (c) Rob Goldstein 2018

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Rob’s News Wrap Up 01/18-01/25

“Michael Cohen feels like his personal safety has been threatened by President Trump, that’s the kind of anxiety known only by every other person on the planet.” Stephen Colbert

In the last 48 hours, we’ve had a year’s worth of news; this is a big collection of videos.

The standoff between House Democrats and Trump’s lickspittles in the Senate
was a focus of coverage.

Michael Cohen credibly accused of Trump of witness tampering but this got lost
in coverage of the #TrumpShutdown.

Friday we woke to news of the indictment and arrest of Roger Stone.

Read Mueller’s Indictment of Stone on LawFare

This was followed by Trump’s capitulation to Nancy Pelosi and the end of
a month long shutdown of the Federal Government.

Trump got no funding for his racist wall.

01/25

I’ve added Steven Colbert to the list because I think his political monologues are brilliant.

On a personal note, I’m coming out of a lengthy funk, and feeling good.

01/21

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Rob Goldstein January 25, 2019

The Executive

The alarm rang and the radio spat news.

Bonwit Teller opened his eyes to a foggy San Francisco morning.

He threw off the comforter, angrily pulled down the shades, and
crawled back into bed.

The phone rang

“Hi Bonwit, it’s Jerry. This is your wake-up call per your request.”
“Hi Jerry”
“Are you up?”
“Yeh”
“That was a helluva rant you gave last night”
“Which one? I was drunk.”
“About Old Man Lazaro.”

Bonwit sat up.

Jerry continued: “You made Old Man Lazaro look like a jackass.”

Bonwit sighed: “I guess I owe him an apology. I say wicked things
when I’m drunk. Thanks for the wake-up Jerry.”

Market Street looked like an Exodus scene.

“Let my people go,” Bonwit heard a beggar say.

He dropped some cash into the beggars’ cup and hurried into
the underground.

He saw another beggar sitting cross-legged in front of the
ticket machine.

His sign read: “Dying from AIDS. Please help.”

Bonwit dropped some cash into his cup and hurried onto
the platform.

Bonwit was desperate for the train to arrive.

He thought of Old Man Lazaro: his face boyish, yet old, kind, yet cruel.

Bonwit spat on that face and remembered his rage at last night’s dinner.

Lazaro compared Bonwit to a General in a noble army:

“That’s what you are.” Lazaro said. “The sales force is your army. They depend on you for supplies and protection. Your people need you Bonwit.”

“I’m just a fucking travel agent and you’re just an old queen!” Bonwit drunkenly snarled.

Bonwit rose from the station and entered the Pyramid.

Bonwit thought; I am truly a pain in the ass.

As if I don’t know why I’m here

He smiled benevolently at the housekeeper. “Good morning Violet.”

’’Morning Mister Teller.”

“Have I met my obligations to you this week?”

“I got a paycheck if that’s what you mean?”

“I’m so pleased.” Bonwit replied.

He entered his office and rang his secretary: “Mary, will you call the Whiskey Shop and have a bottle of Macallan 1939 delivered to Mr. Lazaro?

“Yes Mr. Teller. Mr. Lazaro is in his office. He wants to meet with you.”

Bonwit entered Lazaro’s office and took a seat.

Lazaro glared at him. “Bonwit, darling! You’re late.”

“I walked this morning.”

Lazaro laughed.  “I’m removing you from the Booth Account. Shirley
complained this morning.”

“About what.”

“She said Baxter’s tickets were late.”

“I had those tickets printed and sent before Shirley ordered them.”

Lazaro shrugged and smiled. “Maybe she has it in for you. Maybe she doesn’t
like old queens.”

Bonwit returned to his office and crossed to the picture window
behind his desk.

He studied the expanse of the Bridge and the shimmering blue
waters below.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2019
‘Behind the Pyramid’ (c) Rob Goldstein

First posted May, 2017-Revised and re-posted January 2019.

 

 

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Dissociative Identify Disorder: A Sliver of Grief

It was easy to get lost in a virtual reality; I’ve always lived in one

My experience of dissociative identity disorder is unique yet part of
a pattern of signs and symptoms expressed by different people in
similar ways.

Each person is unique but our bodies are variations on a theme
shared by all animals.

I like to give a clinical context to my discussions of life with DID.

People with DID are not crazy, I use reason to cope with a chaotic
inner world.

I’ve addressed the experience of psychological regression in earlier posts.

Digital painting of a child weeping in a pool of blood

Regression: n. a return to a prior, lower state of cognitive, emotional, or behavioral functioning. This term is associated particularly with psychoanalytic theory, denoting a situation in which the individual reverts to immature behavior or to an earlier stage of psychosexual development when threatened with overwhelming external problems or internal conflicts. —regress vb. —regressive adj.>>>>

 

Atavistic Regression, a term first used in hypnosis, describes a reversion to the ‘ancestral self’.

Dissociative Identity Disorder begins as a protective self-hypnosis that becomes more extreme and elaborate over time.

“Self hypnosis is central to the development of dissociative symptoms and DID.”Dissociative Spectrum Disorders in the Primary Care Setting

A person with DID may experience atavistic regression on a spectrum from feeling oddly younger to becoming a child self with all the mannerisms and speech patterns of a child.

Child alters often talk in a child-like way, but unlike a biological child they can normally understand abstract concepts and long words. They are often found to hold memories of child abuse which occurred at around the age the child alter feels he/she is.  Some may have the speech or appearance of a very young child, the youngest being unable to talk, read or write. Child alters should not be confused with the concept of having an “inner child”, which applies to non-dissociative people.  Child Alters and DID

Bobby is one of the teens: he has access to a lifetime of information.

My first best friend

A brownie snapshot of a boy age 8 and a girl age 5
My Sister was my first best friend.

I last saw Sandra In 1980.

We watched the sun set at Colonial Lake and reminisced about a game we called Super Girl; I lay on my back and raised her up on my hands and feet: she stretched out like an acrobat and flew while I sang nonsense lyrics to the theme from ‘Superman.”

When Sandra died I went numb and flew to West Virginia; I spoke at her
funeral and flew home the next day.

Sanpshot of the wing of a plane against a surreal horizon taken with my Samsung
On the Flight from Charlotte to San Francisco

Death’s Anniversaries

“Anniversary reactions are the re-experience of a prior traumatic event — a death, a disaster or an individual tragedy. They are triggered by a specific date or event that strikes a chord deep inside our minds, which can be a traumatic portal to the past. A birthday, a notable date or a holiday can link to an earlier moment in our lives that was full of trouble, hurt or conflict. When they do occur, a person who may be highly functioning can be overcome and feel powerlessness, even immobilized.”  Mastering the Anniversary Reaction

When Sandra was born, I was 4 and already dissociating.

When Sandra started walking, I ‘became’ a little girl. I called
myself Sara.

We spent hours playing with dolls or making mud pies on the porch.

Everyone grieves but not everyone grieves in fragments.

After my sister’s birth, my Mother’s abuse worsened, as did the anti-Semitic
abuse of our Evangelical neighbors.

Jews were not the ‘right kind’ of white people in the segregated South
of the early 1960’s.

When I was six I signed my name ‘Antonio’.

I don’t know how many child parts knew my sister and loved her.

Shortly after Christmas, I noticed I felt like a child.

I lost confidence in my writing and lost skills; I forgot how to
proofread and spell.

Then grief and tears and a thought: my first best friend is dead.

‘My first best friend is dead.’

A Sliver of Grief

The Nurse picks
you up and shows
you to

Daddy,

and I
cry

because

I live in

the future

and
you are
dead–

and I am
alone.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2019

This film is an over the top yet accurate depiction of how DID feels inside: