Fat is not a feeling

So I started an art therapy program and the first lesson was to paint your feelings and emotions (remember fat is not a feeling.)

Red = feelings about my husband and my relationship with him

Blue = feelings about my family

Purple = feelings about my body/myself

Bigger the word = bigger the feeling

A visit from Kiddie

 mr robot serie rami malek GIF
photo credit https://giphy.com/gifs/mr-robot-rami-malek-serie-kg9fAQryp5fMY

So Sunday, my husband was in a raid on WoW, and I was reading a book.  I remember waking up in bed, and my husband was asking me if I was okay.  He said kiddie came for a visit and then took a nap after watching Little Bear on the phone. He said I must have been really tired.  Then on Monday, same kind of situation I was reading, and I got hungry, so I was going to go get some food, and I woke up in the dining room and my husband and I were crying.  I asked him what happened and he said Kiddie came back.  He said he talked to her about me and Sadness, and he said she has her own room in my head (but I only see one room!! so WTF! how many rooms are there?!) and basically he asked her if she knew Kattie Kaboom, and she said yes, but she is just Kattie. And she said something about she and Sadness protect me.  I don’t remember any of this mind you, this is all from my husband, who isn’t here at the time of me writing this so I could be forgetting a lot or getting it a little jumbled, but this is the gist of what happened. Anyway, she said that Sadness locks her in her room, but goes to play with her a lot and that she can only come here to be with Wade when her door gets unlocked.  But she didn’t know who unlocked the door, but she comes out when I get hungry and need help eating. Sadness told her that.  (WTF! I mean okay, yes I have some eating issues, but I was literally going down to eat something when that happened, and I’m not that fucked up about it, I mean at worst I have EDNOS I don’t have anorexia, not even atypical anorexia IMHO.) Also, WTF, Kiddie knows everything???

 spoilers mr robot rami malek elliot alderson christian slater GIF
photo credit https://giphy.com/gifs/mr-robot-rami-malek-elliot-alderson-1bDzFJdSmp2mc

Anyway I talked to my husband about it and he said he thinks when I get a lot of anxiety, like about eating, then it is easier for Kiddie or someone else to come out.  We also discussed, that what if I am not an alter like I thought.  What if I am the original and Sadness came out to protect me from stuff, because Kiddie said that Sadness protects me from the sad times and she helps me eat.  I mean I assumed I am an alter cause I just appeared, and before it sounded like Sadness made me to be here with my husband because she didn’t want to be here anymore, but what if that isn’t correct.  I lost all this time, and the last thing I remember from before was a really fucked up family incident, and then nothing until I am here.  Well basically nothing I remember jumbled bits of other things also.  But what if that is because Sadness took over for the sad parts and then let me have some of the happy things.  Or am I an alter, and she is the original and she couldn’t take being here anymore. Or was she an alter that didn’t want or need to be here anymore so she left. Maybe she thought I was finally ready to handle my own shit. Or fuck I just don’t fucking know anything. So the only thing I do know is that I am here. I am happy here. I love my husband, my dog, my house, my friends. My family situation is fucked up, but it always was so that’s nothing new. I want to stay. I want them to leave me alone.

PS: Mr. Robot has a lot of relevant gifs and images for my life right now.

Of Grandmas and Kegals

Aqua Fit Classes Fitness Connection
photo credit fitnessconnection.com


I have a gym membership to Fitness Connection in my neighborhood.  Friday morning I went to the Silver Sneakers (senior citizen) water aerobics class by myself.  I was supposed to go with my friend, but she didn’t show up. I recently had major surgery (a tummy tuck due to a hernia) and am just recovering enough to start exercising. I thought the old people water class would be the best way to start.  I met a bunch of grandmas there and everyone was very nice to me in spite of my purple hair and extensive tattoo collection.  One little old lady told me that she would adopt me as her  grand kid because her own grand kids weren’t as cool as me! After the regular class some of the women asked if I wanted to stay and do a bit more working out and then play pool volleyball. I had nothing else to do so I said yes. First it was normal isometric exercising but then they were like okay time to do 100 kegals. And I made a face or said what or something because then they explained to me what kegal exercises were (oh you just squeeze like your holding in your pee, really it’s easy, they told me) even though I already knew.

Image result for kegel gif photo credit http://lifehacker.com/kegel-exercises-a-simple-technique-for-improving-orgas-1740985279

So I said fuck it and did some kegals with my new grandma friends. Might as well work out my vagina too.  Then we played volleyball and I went home.  I told my husband the story, and he thought I was joking.  When I told him I was serious, he said that it was the weirdest story he has ever heard, so I thought I would share.


Violet Grenade by Victoria Scott


So I have decided to go ahead and write about some books that I am reading, because fuck it, and Sadness doesn’t own book blogging, and I feel the need to prove wanting to write whatever the fuck I want on my own thing, but on the other hand I feel like I obvi don’t need permission.

This book is about a girl named Domino who lives on the street who has DID. She has an alter named Wilson, who is a much darker personality than Domino. She gets picked up (not kidnapped or anything) by this woman named Madam Karina who runs a girl’s entertainment place in West Texas. Domino chooses to go with her, and then since Madam Karina seems nice to her, she decides she needs to perform better and better, so that she can move up through the levels of the house, and get in better favor with Madam Karina. Also at the house, along with a bunch of bitches, who all have their own reasons for being at the house, is Cain. Domino decides to leave the house, but discovers that leaving isn’t really an option, and has to figure out how to escape. I really liked this book.  This is the first book I have read about DID and even though it is fiction it was very interesting to read about.  The room inside of Domino’s head where she talks to Wilson, is very real to me, I have a room in my head that Sadness sleeps in, so that was pretty realistic.


So Sadness read a lot of books and also ran a bookish blog.  I read a lot of books and running a blog seems fun. I’ve already taken over her whole life and her body so I don’t want to take over her blog also.  Would it be weird if I did book stuff on here? I mean she isn’t the first or only book blogger, but am I stepping over her life too much at that point? Should something stay hers?

~Kattie Kaboom

Like sand through the hourglass..

Memories are fickle fleeting things.

You think they are carved from stone, but really they are ice sculptures that quickly melt away.

Even if memories were carved from stone, they would still be ever-changing. Time and weather can change stone just as time and emotions can change memories.

Sadness shared all of her memories with me so that I can navigate this future world, but they are layered on top of each other, and as shifty as holding water in my hands. Not 100% sure what is hers, and what is mine, and what is real, and what is just dreams.


I’ve always had trouble with mirrors.  Mostly because I have never liked the way I look.  That happens when you have body dysmorphic disorder and eating disorders. It is harder since I am in the wrong body.

Here is what I am supposed to look like:

instead I woke up in a scarred, heavily tattooed, stretched out, flabby, disfigured body looking like this:

Different hair, no piercings, more tattoos, just a totally different body.  One that is unrecognizable to me in the mirror. I tried putting a lot of my piercings back in, or getting stuff re-pierced so that I would look normal, but that did not work either. So I decided if I can’t look like I remember, than I should look totally new.

I love my new hair.  I’m learning to deal with this body.

Oh and here is a picture of Sadness

and a picture of Kiddie if you were wondering.

In which, no one dies.

Okay, so medical stuff doesn’t really freak me out usually.  Sadness was the part of me who had hypochondria, and was sure everything was killing her.  That’s not me. Not normally.  I’m over here close to 30, when I shouldn’t even be 21 yet, and there is a lot going on with this body.  On top of the almost 20 surgeries that Sadness subjected it too, there is aging, and weight changes (I’m talking gaining and losing 100 pounds here.) This body is not the body I am used to, and it seems to have a lot of issues.  It’s not that I am scared to go to the doctor, per say, but I don’t want to be put on a bunch of medications that may or may not work, and most definitely will have some sort of side effect. I’ve lived vicariously through Sadness and so we have been through that before, many times. Not something I am wanting to do again. Ignorance is bliss, right?

But, my mom, who is in a weird place with me now, just had an abnormal biopsy.  And this is real, and it is scary. She had hypothyroidism, and had to have some radiation to kill her thyroid, and be put on synthetic thyroid medicine.  Then they found some lumps. 3 nodules, they called them.  So she had a biopsy, and she got the results. Not all clear. It’s not nothing. Now she has to have surgery to remove her thyroid, and get tested to see if it is cancer, and how advanced things have gotten.  Her hypothyroidism is back, and I don’t know if that is because she isn’t great with taking her medication, or because of whatever is going on with these nodules, but NOT GOOD.

She is taking everything as to be expected. On the one hand she is saying I am strong, I survived dying from a heart attack, and look here I am. On the other hand, she is crying, and telling be how her brother got cancer, and he died so, so quickly.  She said if it is cancer, she would do the chemo or radiation or whatever they told her.  She isn’t ready to die, she said.     She doesn’t even go back to the doctor for three weeks to meet with the surgeon, so it can’t be that serious right? Right?? I mean they wouldn’t wait so fucking long if they thought it was life or death or anything. I hope.

Mom and I are in a weird place, because she doesn’t understand who I am anymore. And I don’t understand the relationship dynamic she had with Sadness, and so she is both upset and disappointed with me, although not making any effort to have the relationship that they had. I am over here, thinking why can’t you just be my mom, why do we have to be best friends? Especially, if I am the one who has to make all the effort, and it isn’t even something I care about.  But now she is sick, and potentially very badly. So I feel guilty. Shouldn’t I make all the effort, every single day, just so I can spend what possibly little time I have with her, trying to make her happy? But, that isn’t me.  I want her to be happy. I want us to be family. I just don’t know why I have to call every single day…..

AND, selfishly, now that she is sick, and who knows how long she has put off going to the doctor (a long fucking time, she hates doctors), I can’t help wondering, should I go get checked out.  Should I have an MRI to make sure this is just mental illness, and that I don’t have dissociative identity disorder due to a brain tumor, or a stroke, or something like that.  I mean it wouldn’t take too much time out of my jam-packed schedule of doing nothing to find out.  But, what if it is bad.

Ignorance is bliss, and no one is dying.






A childhood of sorts

I have trouble deciding how to address my selves.  Should I say I did something, when I know it was Sadness? Or do I say we remember that.  I is easier for other people. They understand better if I just say oh yes I remember, of course I was there for that….even if it wasn’t really me.  It was this body, so that’s kind of like me.  Plus saying we all the times sounds insane. More insane than being different people inside one body.

Anyway, before I became we, I grew up in the suburbs of Houston, Texas, in a small town named Deer Park.  A city where most people were comfortable middle class, but liked to think of them selves as high-class. They did not look kindly on different.  Growing up I had trouble making or keeping friends, so I mostly hung out with my mom.  My brother was a little older, and he had his own friends, so he would only play with me, if mom made him.  Hanging out with my mom was okay, she always played games with me, and when we went to the store I always got the stuff I wanted.  My brother used to complain about this, but my mom always told him, he could have gone and gotten whatever he wanted too, but he chose to stay home.  Not that he wanted for anything.  He always had the latest video game, and all his favorite foods in the fridge. One reason we always got what we wanted is because my mom felt guilty. A lot. You see. my parents are alcoholics, and with that comes a lot of things dark and grim.

One good thing about it was that I could always blast music on the stereo, and almost always my mom let me play the music I wanted.  Marilyn Manson, Staind, Spice Girls, Slipknot, and Eminem…but even if we blared my parents’ choice it was ZZ Top, Pink Floyd, Journey, and Fleetwood Mac, so I didn’t complain much when they wanted their own music on.  You would think with all that music we had playing it was one big party all the time.  It usually started out that way, with my parents with a couple of drinks, maybe some friends over, most often not, but good times, good moods.  That would usually spiral out of control pretty quickly.

My dad worked at a chemical refinery and made decent money.  The bills were always paid, the lights were always on, there was always food in the fridge.  He was an alcoholic, sure, but he didn’t miss work for it. What I can remember of my childhood with my dad is vague.  He was always at work, or in my parent’s bedroom.  Sure there were family dinners together most nights, but by the time I was 12 he had major back surgery, and became addicted to Vicodin, and started eating dinner alone in his room. Whatever good times there had been with dad, like when he would point at something during dinner, and then snatch some of your food, while yelling “pizza thief”, that all vanished after his back surgery, from what I remember.

My mom was a stay-at-home mom for most of my memory.  There was a brief stint where she was a cafeteria worker while we were in school, but for most of my life my mom was just home.  She was very high-strung, and started to develop many phobias and anxieties, which caused her a lot of stress. I think both of my parents remembered being happy when they were teenagers and getting fucked up all the time, and tried to recreate those moments often, but they were older, and it didn’t work out like they wanted.  I think they blamed each other for who they had become. And they blamed us kids. We were the reason they weren’t young and cool and fun anymore.

Because of this my parents would start drinking and my dad would usually pass out early, so my mom would come get me and we would go to her friend’s house so that she could continue drinking.  My brother never came with us.  Looking back, I’m sure I could have stayed home as well, it would have been safer, but it never crossed my mind not to go with her.  Even when I was scared.  She asked me to go, so I went.  We would go through the drive through liquor store and get a fifth of jack daniels or a case of beer, and then pop off to her friend’s house, where we would spend most of the night, while her and her friend got drunk and smoked weed.  I would hang out with them most often, until it was time to go home, then my mom, barely able to walk, would drive us home.  We always made it back in one piece somehow.  Not that we never got into any accidents, but it was mostly hitting drive through speakers, or fast food buildings.  Once when we went to rent videos at Hollywood she smashed into someone else’s car and then just took off, while I cried the whole way home.  We ran inside, and the people we hit showed up a few minutes later.  The employee from Hollywood saw my mom do it, and then told those people our address. My dad talked to them, and gave them $500 to go away and not call the cops.

Most of my childhood was like this. Isolated and alone, usually angry, or afraid.  So I started making up world in my head.  I read a lot of books, and could watch them like movies while I read.  So even when I wasn’t actually reading, I could still escape to other worlds.  Mostly I pretended to be a princess, and I built a castle in my mind, where I would play and be free, and just wait to be rescued. I used to sit on the swing in our backyard for hours and hours, and just daydream away, all the screaming and cussing, that came from my angry, drunk parents fighting.  My husband thinks this is most likely the root cause of my dissociative identity disorder.

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