Mother's Day Ponderings

Getting ready to go spend a day with my family and have lunch with my Mum on this Mother's Day, preparing to get ready for the endless debate and "not-nagging" of my relationship status, when I'm going to settle down, and most importantly apparently when I'll produce grandkids and become a mum myself.

Normally I try to deflect, but I'm increasingly wondering if I'll be honest and open and say probably not ever be. Its partly fear of passing on my "condition", but its also because my relationships are entirely too... crowded. Having to deal with Her, keeping all the problems She causes under wraps, tends to cause as much problems as if I had a children who demanded all my time and attention and resented the possibility of anybody pushing Her aside as centre of my attention.

But also far too many relationships I've been in have ended on the grounds of lack of trust. Problem is my condition is one of Show and Tell, its better to show it rather than say it. Saying it just labels you as either a crazy woman or joking/lying rather than being honest. But showing requires Her to be willing to either be nice. All too often She isn't, partly on the basis that She isn't a performing seal, but mostly because She'd rather save it for the worse possible time.

Sometimes that's while I'm being intimate, or in public, or its being trapped after a car crash on a deserted mountain road while I'm in the car with someone deathly afraid of Her. Generally it always results in screams, fear and people running away.

I suppose some will suggest that perhaps I should date someone who knows about Her, but that brings its own set of problems...

My life seems to becoming more and more one of predictable unpredictability. Of constantly being at attention, scared that I'll snap or otherwise somehow lower my defenses and She'll take advantage. That my hands will shake, I'll feel warm, and confusion will bleed away to awareness as I hear my bone grind, flesh shift and grow, clothes tear, horror and fear that I can't stop it, that I'll be found out, I'll be arrested fading as desire and lust for it take hold.

And then I'll wake up the next day in the bed of a guy/guys/woman/women/couple/couples I don't know, or the middle of nowhere with little to no more memory of how I got there. And I'll have to lie more and more, that I don't have a problem, that I'm fine, come up with some truthful sounding explanation for my disappearances, bottle up how much I hate my life and the lack of control I have. Wash, rinse, repeat :(

And support from friends, online and off, is drying up as She burns more and more bridges even with people who know about my condition. Its hard to maintain sympathy for me when I'm chatting or calling when suddenly She's raging down the phone as the handset begins to groan and creak in my hand, or Her fingers are virtually crushing the keys as my clothes get tight in all the wrong places. So the only people are are generally persisting are those that don't want to be cured, those who just want Her and see as a hindrance, which of course makes me feel great -_-

My sleep patterns are becoming worse too, increasingly rare I'll sleep the night through, even on nights I know I don't fully change (stretched PJs only) I often wake up uncomfortable and toss and turn before I finally nod off again, like I'm forced to mentally wrestle with Her even when I'm trying to rest. So more often or not I'll only wake-up because the alarm is screaming at me, feeling like I've barely slept at all.

I think...no, I know I'm a caffeine addict, because I'm drinking insane volumes of coffee to counteract that and make it through work, but I know I'm just making things worse but I have no other answer or way to cope apart from booze, which tends to help Her more than me.

Aren't you glad you hung around.

Another New Years

I won't say Happy New Years because... I haven't had one in three years, not since I drank that damned formula.

2008/2009 I tried to have a normal...what was my normal New Years by going to South Bank to see the fireworks, drink and have fun, and well... you can read what happened in the archives of this blog :/

2009/2010 I opted to try and exclude myself from anything I thought might set me/her off, renting a small cabin in the Glasshouse Mountains. Beautiful scenery, total quiet. Went to bed... and woke up next day back in Brisbane in a bed with two guys. Taxi ride back to pick up my car/stuff was insanely expensive :(

This time - 2010/2011 - I was convinced to go to a quiet party at a riverside apartment with some girlfriends, nothing super fancy and they claimed they understood that I had a "prior date and might have to leave on a moments notice" to cover any green-ness. But it wasn't a quiet party at all, it was almost a hens party save we wore little hats saying "Happy New Year". Everybody got very drunk very fast, except me, desperately nursing drinks and trying to maintain myself. I tried to flee but they wouldn't let me, everything was spiraling out of control and I could feel her nibbling at the edges, feeling her smugness, knowing that was about to fall apart at any second.

And then my top starts to get beyond tight, bra is digging in in all the wrong places, skirt sliding up my legs, panties are sliding into my butt, I'm downing my still half full glass in an instant while reaching for a whole bottle to follow, She's giggling like a loon while I'm desperately hoping my friends are already drunk enough to cover what will happen. I'm stumbling about, partly from how much Crusiers I've had, partly the fact my muscles are pulsing and twitching as the grow and change. I practically fall onto a friend, locking lips with her, returning the favor much too fast, people cheering as we start to make out.

Then this morning, and I'm me. In a bed. With her.

I have experimented with such things back in my uni days so not total horror at that. But normally I'd flee as fast as humanly possible, but knowing her personally kind of makes that hard to make a clean getaway. So instead its a more measured pondering on my drunken recolections from last night on who might have seen me. Assuming nobody else came in, and none of my friends are lying, drink lowered my repressed defenses and the wild child within escaped but no color change or massive physiological changes.

That said, I probably won't be sleeping well tonight -_-

Any point going on?

Am I me?

Perhaps a strange question to ask, but I increasingly wonder. I know people change over time, nobody ever stays static (unless their dead) but I have a hard time even relating to who I was only two years ago. Admittedly having a whole other you running around tends to do that, but sometimes I just feel like I've been running around picking up and cleaning up her messes that feel like I'm ceasing to be a person. That at most I'm a shadow of her, trailing along and not actually of substance.

Of course that leads me to wonder if instead of my belief that She's me with all the safety switches turned off, that infact She's the real Katherine and I'm just a pathetic watered version of her.

Twittering away

My life just seems to be on stand-by, progress a little bit and then pause...

... and when it un-pauses I'm somewhere else, half naked with little to no memory of where I am. Or I'm at home half drunk surrounded by smashed memories and items. Or the blog entry I was writing has mysteriously transformed into window of expletives seemingly blaming me from every wrong in the world.

I'll keep trying, but thought I'd mention I'm on twitter

http://twitter.com/KatTF69

its no much, perhaps that's why she hasn't ruined for me yet...

Okay so... old posts

I've been asked what happened to my older posts, and now that I'm not getting rung by Doc every day or so I've had time to figure it out.

I'll blog about that shortly, I promise.

Don't know why I'm here

Well, okay I had pondered on this place being a replacement for my last "home", but its probably too restrictive in how much of her "adventures" I can actually post and avoid a ban.

At the moment, she... she lacks.... inhibitions is one way of putting it.

All those beautiful, calm, uneventful months with my boyfriend are gone... back to square one, and boy is she's letting me know. If I had hopes that Doc could cure our control our shared conditions, much like those hidden hopes of a relationship with him before we both drank that fateful formula, I have no such hopes now, we... we can't be in the same room without our "otherselves" wanting to jump the other...

And the fact that I'm cheating... even if its her and not me-me... is only making me feel worse.

I wish Doc has never come back :(