Tomorrow is a different moment.

There are days when I log into Twitter and I’m like “Thanos is a pussy. He only snapped half the universe. I could do a 99 and not even break a sweat.” And it’s at that point I log the hell off. Just way too much blood boiling insanity there and it sucks me in. I don’t like it.

I end up offline for a while, letting the soft notes of whatever is cued up in Spotify to lull me away. I zen. I get back to all sunshine and roses; loving the world and everybody. I go watch the hummingbirds buzz by. I end up euphoric and in love with everything.

Both are my realities. Both are authentically me. Diametric opposites.

I tend to err on the side of Love. Grateful I wasn’t given the power of the snap for I am sure, any excuse would do, no matter who carried such a burden.

In a few more hours my husband will be flying back to me. I’ll be teasing him with pretty little lies that one day might not be such a lie. We know this game well. I do it because I watch how he lights up and come alive. He makes it easy to feel the sunshine and zen. I still struggle with it deep inside. There is a conflict and I am learning to avoid nurturing a hurt.

It’s a simple hurt.

“Please, let me take your boots off.”

“No. I can do it. I don’t like it when you act like a slave.”

This is the place I don’t want to go to after my husband comes home. Right now I’m on the verge of tears because I realise, there is no one there but me to take care of me.

In the Aftermath

GooglePlus is closed.

I finished my tweets, joining in with the voices watching G+ close for the final time. I knew that sense of community stayed together right till the very end. I had to go outside and just sit with myself for a bit. Everything had changed months ago but today was like being at the funeral, watching the casket being lowered into the ground and sharing that grief communally. I wasn’t alone. I wasn’t the only one grieving. Yet, outside it’s a bright blue sky. The rest of life moves on but this moment, I can feel–it will define my future for years to come.

This isn’t my first Google closing. I was one the beta testers/contributors to GoogleBuzz. That closing was kinda meh. But then I got in on G+ in beta. One of the first to have a personalized address, brand account, business page, I was all in-a superfan of Google products. At first G+ was meh. I didn’t understand the purpose. I didn’t get the whole circle idea. It wasn’t a blog, or a forum and it didn’t act like a bulletin board. It was something different, I just didn’t know how to make use of its features. So I treated it like Twitter before Twitter came along. I used to advertise and grow my brand off Google and I found that frustrating. I wasn’t getting the engagement I wanted. Facebook was far more rewarding for engagement in those early days. I could see the use of a smaller business having a GooglePlus Business Page. It was tailor-made for that kind of engagement but there was nothing to drive that engagement. It felt, incomplete.

So I pushed my blog posts to G+ and called it a day for a long time. I used the business page as a central website for my businesses. And that was that. I ignored it for years. I assumed that it didn’t have the engagement I was looking for. I assumed it was a good idea that flopped. I assumed that all social media was supposed to cater to driving engagement and business. I assumed that ad revenue and traffic was all I needed to worry about. I was wrong.

GooglePlus was not a well-developed idea for driving business advertisement and engagement. It was instead an unusual design that was community oriented that encouraged engagement as was as disengagement. It was human-centric at its baseline core. GooglePlus was for all of us, to use or not as we choose. And those that choose, found a home unlike all the other social media platforms out there.

Five years ago I came back to GooglePlus and I dove in. I engaged. I contributed. I participated. I shared. I created. I was all in. I didn’t and still don’t care a wit about Facebook or Twitter or Instagram or SnapChat or any of the new ones like MeWe. Losing GooglePlus has broken my heart. I didn’t really think that was possible but now I know it is.

GooglePlus was the framework in which I connected with and found friends all around the Globe through shared interests. And that is the secret to GooglePlus and why us, the die-hard G+ loyal fans were there to the end. It’s why we tried to save it. It wasn’t the framework, not really, but the connections and the ability to make those connections easily that we were trying to save.

Somehow the designers of G+ hit upon the magic formula of community. By allowing the users to create groups and communities while having profile walls and a very nuanced privacy level the circles allowed the seeds of community to flourish. It wasn’t overnight. It was a slow proofing, like bread rising before it goes in the oven.

And yet there is nothing to replace it. I’ve wondered since the announcement that it was closing, just how much data is going to be lost. There is no Library of Alexandra for the Internet. I think such a task may be impossible. I wonder if G+ was becoming such. Today, an untold number of accounts of deceased users are gone, their works, words, thoughts, are all gone. I know of several dozen and I don’t know what to make of the implications of saving them all. I think I could accept a data wipe far easier than to lose the framework where I’ve lost all my connections with friends all around the world.

I do know today marks a new era on the Internet. I know very few realize it and it will take years for the effects to show. Things have changed. I don’t like social media as I had in the past. I don’t trust giant companies for even the most basic of things. I feel lost on the webs. My data is being sold all over the place and I’m making somebody a profit, we all are, and none of us is benefiting from it beyond free access to this and that. I feel the weight of the machine pressing down onto me, turning me into another cog instead of an individual who has dreams, hobbies, interests, and has this growing need to make connections with like-minded individuals. Today, the world feels smaller. Just a few months ago, I had the world at my fingertips. I could connect with someone all across the globe and often did. Today is the day I say goodbye to that era.

Today, I say goodbye to the dream that the Internet would connect humanity together. We did it. For a little while. GooglePlus was the WhitePages of this time, this era. And now it’s gone.

To my fellow GooglePlus’ers:

Fare thee well.
Though the sun sets,
morning will dawn again.
Hold on. Hold to lessons learned.
We are all One.
We are Humanity.
This Blue Planet is our Home.
Remember, We are One.
This is Our Community!

I need a decision tree.

How do you decide on which narrative is correct?

This has bothered me for sometime. At this point I refuse to assign blame and fault  in discussing the failed relationship with Dreamwalker. I am saying there were deep problems and perhaps they represent incompatibility overall. However, I am refusing to assign the narrative of ‘abusive Master’.

There is a couple of reasons for this. Being DID I am now far more aware how a single event can be interpreted thought a variety of lens and viewpoints that still do not detracted from the bare facts of the event. If anything, the lens add on nuisances of meaning that may not belong or may not be appropriate. It is this problem we as a system is wrestling with. How do we determine which meaning is appropriate?

When it comes to Dreamwalker, I am undecided when it comes to applying any label. Let me explain why before I am dismissed as being too Stockholm syndromed.

There was growth. That bothers me because growth occurs under specific circumstances, one of which does not include abuse. I keep getting the image in my mind of the emotions and plant growth experiment. The short of it is, the plants focused on negatively were stunted and sick and those plants focused on positively, flourished. This is an extremely simplistic viewpoint but I have to wonder where that applies to us as a system. Abuse would have stunted us. But we grew, so can I postulate that there was love?

I have to consider that due to our background of abuse and the regular testing (last six months) that I do tracking specifically my attachment style, (avoidant and detached: test here) that someone showing us love could be interpreted extremely negatively.

I know Isabella used one particular event that I can say was perhaps a case of misjudgment on his part. I could even extend that it might be an understandable misjudgment.  I know setting the narrative can set up confirmation bias. I know feelings isn’t facts. I know feelings change. I know how drastically different the same event can be interpreted as I battle with this daily with my headmates.

My biggest challenge is twofold. How do I honor the growth that I’ve gained from here? How do I determine which narrative is the truth?

More thoughts about DID

A discussion group I’m in for DID, a member posted the video below about DID. I think this is an amazing find and one of the closest I’ve ever seen that describes me. I’m sharing this here so folks can get a better idea as to what it is and mostly, what it is not.

It took a bit to get through that video. The best explanation I’ve seen in a very long time. The more I related to what she was saying the harder it became for me to stay awake. It’s hard to face up to it.

But a couple of things I’d like to address, I think of all of this as being on a spectrum, with PTSD being one point and DID another point further on the line. Yet, CPTSD is somewhere before DID on this spectrum or crossroads of disassociative traumas. I believe that CPTSD is a part of DID or at least I feel they go hand in hand or one before the other. And the older we get, additional traumas have a chance to morph into CPTSD because it also reinsures due to past traumas.

I really appreciate that she mentioned the rules. I think that is an under-awareness of how much DID is actually built on rules. At least it is for me. Keeping hidden and keeping silent were the top two most important rules. But there are so many other rules, all designed to keep us safe and staying safe was the point of all of this. There is an order to the chaos.

About the whole bag thing, I recall a time before I could interact with the other parts of me. There wasn’t a wall or a bag or a car. It was just empty missing time, the vagueness of emotions, headaches, troubles and lots of confusions with other people and fighting with others. I was on the defensive near constantly. I hadn’t done or said something someone else said I did and I was sure I hadn’t and they were sure I had.

Maybe I’m weird but the bag thing doesn’t quite work for me. I think of myself like a giant with people inside who want control of the giant so we’ve gotten into body fights rather severe enough to land us into the floor because it became a free for all. And switching is rather sudden with massive headaches, sneaky as in waking up different, blinking – yeah literally blink and that’s all it takes- those tend to produce the worse headaches when switching out again or most recently, chair riders, having another ridding on your shoulder, sharing your mental space, eyes and ears.

I think there isn’t going to be a one size fits all sort of answer to what fits and what doesn’t in DID. I feel there is a sort of healing progression as well. I went from not having a clue to getting a clue to massive fights to settling down, to communicating and learning what we need as a system, to working on individual issues and problems.

Canapes are the most impressive invention in history.

Canapes, that wonderfully delicious finger food that borrows artistic sculptural elements, that scrumptious foundation of bread layer by layer of contrasting textures and tastes that add up into handheld yum bites. Canapes are the pentacle of the bread culture, a completion of gastronomic evolution and a wonderment of humankinds love and fascination with the complex.

I have a braingasm when I think of canapes. Unashamedly so. These things are sexy! The best are beautifully eye candies with the contrast of colours and shapes; a sliver of ruby tomato resting on a soft cloud of milky white cream cheese resting on rye bread with a bare dollop of herbed olive oil. It’s a delight, contrasting flavours of savoury, soothing, strong and silky paired with those textures, oh my, it’s it’s umami.

So, there is that aspect, a very carnal, very sensual, inhaling of the senses and there is another, the amount of mindsteps its taken to reach this point in its evolution. The culinary bread history, countless tens of thousands of years old, untold generation of ancestors its taken to give bread available at the current level. I look back in wonderment to how it’s got to us.

Some brave soul out there figured out some grass seeds were edible. Someone else saved it to replant. And later, step by step humankind figured out how to pound into dust, bake it with fire ( which alone is just as impressive..somebody had to figure out fire, cooking methods, all the various baking styles..each culture develops its own unique method, philosophy around the staff of life, the grains, one of the first major crops that turned humanity from a hunter-gather culture to an agricultural one. And that’s just to get bread, the foundation piece that upon all the other elements rest on. The bread itself is almost a metaphor for the roots of human society and our creative dependence of each other. It is upon bread and the work of our past and present that unites in this concrete symbol that is so human.

Each of the sequential layers of ingredients has their own independent story of discovery, use, development and cultural significance. You can interpret a myriad of stories just based on what’s in the layers like assembling a bouquet of flowers using the Victorian-based Language of Flowers. And if you take those little interpretations and pair it with the way eating makes you feel; you can be eating love inside and out just depending on all the associations of each flavour. You could eat a story while reading that story.

Wait, wait but that’s not all. Canapes are sensually voyeuristic. They are meant to be consumed in front of others. It is a most social of foods from the most utilitarian to the delicate fragility of crisp layers. Large gatherings of people come together to devour with gastronomic pleasure these morsels. And they celebrate this!

No, Superbowl isn’t about football. It’s about the food during football. Win or lose, good canapes makes the difference between a good night and the dark pit of darkness stalking every fan of the losing team that suffered the most for their team rallying on without good beer, good seats and good canapes. Canapes takes and makes the underdog a winner.

In the United States, canapes came into their own during the Probation and Great Depression. From the hands of labour and the fields, the bits of resourceful ingenuity and kitchen wizardry found new life alongside cocktails and speakeasies. Belly treats to soak up the liqueur and hide away the imbibers from the morality police and of course the law. This rebelliousness wrapped its self around the nature of is colourful form, that pleasurable contrast of colours, eye candy that looking makes things just a bit better.

The Great Depression contributed an eternal nature, of recycling bits and pieces and maximized flavour. Stale bread fried, toasted and topped, cut into bite sizes just lifts down beaten heart. It is a moment where the love of creation, of taking the time, all the time every taken to create that very moment, and it fits in the mouth and nourishes not just the body but the soul that connects with all of humanity.

Just having canapes rejoined with the history humanity has with liqueur and alcohol, the first two gifts to humanity brought back in a divine ritual of joy! its amazing!

In the modern age, you have the complexity of systems that it takes to create that canape, from the farmer, to packing, to the store and from the chef to the lips of humanity. That’s a whole ton of life’s supporting each other in a very basic, unassuming way, inner-woven to almost invisibility, if you are sitting on the top eating canapes and sipping champagne.

They are amazing. They often are devoured without an appreciation of the complexity and history of it, relying on their value in tantalising taste buds to retain its place in our food devotions.