Glimpsing…

from Stuart France

Stuart France

*

From the corner

of my eye…

Through a keyhole…

half seen

unheard

Beneath the door…

Behind a crack in the curtains

A shiver of tree leaf

gurgling-silver over brook-stone.

Musical spheres

The beat of wings on high

fractals of sun shimmer.

Moonshine in stone

Soil sparkle

Gem loam

Song under foot…

Flashes and snippets and shade between formless shape.

Part intruder

Part guest

Host of no-where and no-when

Never here always there…

but still

Glimpsing.

*

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Dissociative Identity Disorder: Learning to Trust

The patients’ job in intensive psychotherapy is to ask why.

Why do I seek out women who are devoid of the capacity for love?

Why do I veer from an extreme identification with the middle class to an extreme identification with the poor?

Why do I force myself to fail economically just as I get closest to winning?

Why do I sometimes behave as if I hate myself?

I first grappled with the problem of internalized stigma during the early days of the AIDS epidemic when I wondered if the AIDS was God’s judgment.

None of the intellectual and political constructions that served me as gay activist in the 1970’s could defeat the internalized homophobia unleashed by AIDS.

I watched men die from grief, self-hatred, and fear and I was nearly one of them.

This was when I realized the true function of any ‘ism’ is to convince the target to self-destruct.

This was why any novel written about gays before Stonewall usually ended with suicide or the impoverished death of the gay character.

AIDS was the greatest tragic ending, infused with the dissonant myth of a loving, yet vengeful God.


Internalized homophobia was the least of my problems.

AIDS was trauma on trauma.

I didn’t know I had a dissociative disorder.

I was living in the worst possible place at the worst possible time
for someone with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Any spot on my arm sent me into panic, so much, so I became a frequent
flyer at the local crisis clinics.

The shrinks eventually gave me a prescription for Xanax.

Xanax
                                 Xanax

The only thing I knew about Xanax was it made the fear go away.

The pharmaceutical industry reported Xanax had an anti-depressant effect.

By 1986 I was on a prescribed dose of eight milligrams a day.

A seizure when I decided to stop the drug was how I learned  Xanax is addictive.

2011 photograph of a mannequin in a shop window on Mission Street taken in 2011 with a Blackberry
Xanax

My DID allows parts of me to form attachments while protecting the parts that are fragile and afraid.

One goal of my treatment is for me to learn to trust a woman.

This process of building trust with a woman who wants what’s best for me and who acts in my interests is a path to becoming whole.

John C. Calhoun Homes
A digitally altered snapshot of one of my childhood homes.

As I enter my 8th year of intensive psychotherapy, the questions I must
ask are less confounding.

When I entered treatment in October of 2011, I felt like a helpless child.

It is now October 2018.

I feel more whole.

(c) Rob Goldstein 2015-2018
The Photo of Xanax found on Google Images

First posted November 1, 2015-updated November 8, 2017 – Rewritten and Updated October 21, 2018

 

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Shake Me Loose…but let me sleep

from The Mind of RD REVILO

THE MIND OF RD REVILO

  • Funny, Some People Think
  • War will be different for them
  • They see the deadly destruction
  • But theirs won’t make them a victim
  • They’ll start the fight on Friday
  • Night
  • Then fight
  • Until Sunday
  • Back to work on Monday
  • And if they get injured or hurt
  • The enemy will nurture
  • Them back to work
  • So they can fight some more
  • And even up the score
  • No loss of electricity
  • Water will flow
  • No pain toward victory
  • No disappearance of people they know
  • It’ll be like a picnic
  • Only ants are pests
  • We’ll be in and out quick
  • Unlike the rest
  • Once they knowwe are serious
  • Fear will make the enemy delirious
  • And sue for peace
  • Just beating our chests will scare the beast
  • Our thunderous protests
  • Will make them confess
  • We’ll sing, we’ll cheer
  • The brave will bring up the rear
  • We’ll snarl, our fists we’ll ball
  • We’ll persist, insist…

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