Road Rage on 99W

I must say, the Oregonian drivers I have experienced have proven to be, overall, the kindest and most courteous of drivers.
Thus I was pretty darn taken aback when I found myself in the front row seat of an unfolding road rage incident. It started innocently enough, a fire truck in full lights and sirens appeared in my rear view mirror. I, along with my fellow drivers, pulled off to the side of the road to let it pass. After the truck went by, well, all hell broke loose.
As I reentered the highway, a large SUV streamed past my left, well past the appropriate side of the road. Simultaneously, a small silver car sped up, barreling down my right side. Immediately I became somewhat confused and concerned as I'd never witnessed reentry on both sides of my vehicle and with both cars at higher than normal speeds. My pulse raced and I started to panic as the white SUV quickly cut in front of my and pulled off partially on the side of the road.
He was attempting to cut off the small silver.
The white SUV driver jumped out of his car, obviously angry as per his aggressive body posture and the look on his face. He held up both fists and was beckoning the small silver car to pull over and for the driver to get out of his vehicle.
The small silver, which had to slow to avoid hitting the man, maneuvered and quickly sped away as the angry man reached back into his white SUV.
I became incredibly scared at this point. I wasn't sure what he was reaching for in his front seat. As the silver car passed him, he jumped back into his vehicle and pulling directly in front of me, appeared to give chase.
I was positively terrified now. The situation, a normal, every day situation that I have frequently experienced in the most inocuos of ways, had become unpredictable, frightening and potentially dangerous.
I slowed way, way down in order to give the angry car more than enough room between us. I wanted to cry yet keep a logical eye on the situation.
A red light proved to put an end to the chase as the silver car had passed the traffic signal before smartly stopping the angry car.
I had an appointment to go to, otherwise I simply wanted to turn around, return to the safety of my home and cry.
I proceeded cautiously and slower than usual as I was well aware that I was in a panic state.
That was yesterday. I still feel my anxiety rising as I write. I haven't fully diffused the incident, so I blog.
There's a mishmash of emotions regarding this that I continue to sort out. The jockeying of fast moving vehicles, (emergency vehicle lights elicit a new, troubling set of feelings) the face and aggressive body posture of an angry man, the confusion and panic will need some time to settle.
I think it is both my CPTSD, triggers regarding angry abusers and my Autism, unpredictable and chaos around me, that are contributing to my unsettled frame of mind.

A MPD/ DID Therapist, Searching for a Therapist, Qualifications Needed

I want a therapist that is intruiged, educated, willing to learn. Someone who is willing to walk with me in the trenches of a senseless, painful, ongoing war. A comrade, a rock, a caring and compassionate soul that is willing and able to hear the stories, the battlecries and to see these wounds that I have kept hidden, buried deep inside.
Don't be a surface dweller, out of touch with inane rules that you keep you a foot above the fray. Don't walk on tiptoe and dance around disturbing issues. Don't adhere to the same rules and expectations that you insist upon other non-multiples for a Multiple is a rare treasure, a font of knowledge, a well of insight and a gaping wound of pain forever searching for a listening ear and a compassionate heart.
Being a DID/ MPD therapist is not for the meek, the novice or the coward.
If you wish to explore the depths of human suffering, the extremes of cruelty, the tenacity of spirit and the creativity of the human mind, seek a Multiple.
A Multiple is terrible beauty.
To gain the trust of someone so maligned is an honor and a privilege for the very few.
Walk with me. See me. Listen. Hear.

Sylvia the Movie review

Oh, what a dreadful waste of time and film, to waste upon the life of someone with writing so rich. To devote an hour and a half to a relationship instead of her inner workings, her journals and poems, such travesty.
As if her marriage was the pivotal factor in her imaginative, introspective life. A one woman show would have been more enjoyable and just. She was a person outside of her marriage. It's an indignation to memorialize her on film bound to someone else.

I've read her Unabridged Journals and found a woman acutely aware, sensitive and highly intelligent. She could write about the most mundane in ways that dripped thickly and conjured artistic images. That is what I erroneously was hoping to find within this movie not this superficial, all about Ted thingy that bored and saddened me.

It's a sham, really. It could have been so much more. A true look at her life this movie is not. It fails miserably and shares little of such a deep, profound woman.

When you are completely and utterly alone in this world

When you truly have no one, no close family, no friends that you can call, drop in on get a hug from. When there is no one to come home to, greet you with a "how was your day?"; no one to hug, no shoulder to cry on and you realize, full force, that your journey is truly walked alone...
You figure out how to make it work.
If you, like me, are a bona fide Soloist, you find worthy substitutes for love, companionship and comfort. Without knowing it, if you have existed for years Solo, you probably already have replacements in place. It may be a pet, or two or three. It might be a passion for reading, painting, walking, cleaning, gaming, daydreaming, crafting or any sort of engrossing hobby. It's imperative that you fill the void with something that feeds and nurtures you.
Me, I have always loved plants, gardening, aquariums and writing. I also own a Boston Terrier which is an ideal companion dog as she snuggles, greets me with glee whenever I arrive home and enjoys nothing more than sleeping on my lap or next to me under the covers.
At some point I realized that a significant other is too stressful, risky and too darn much work. Acceptance seriously decreases my stress and anxiety. I don't beat myself up or wish for things that really aren't in the cards.
This Is simply who I am. I make it work. I'm okay with living the Soloist life.

Switching Therapists

Our 1 1/2 year long run with Therapist Neo has drawn to a close. When she left on her annual month-long voluntary vacation the distress was insurmountable. It outweighed any and all benefits we have garnered working with her.
Don't get me wrong, we accomplished a great deal doing super heavy core, heart wrenching memory/people retrieval but, in the end, neither of us would bend. We reached a mighty impasse whereby we felt it best to leave.
The end of Neo was sudden and swift as I, who cannot predict my feelings regarding Anything until the moment arrives, felt the most painful distress a couple of days after she left. It was a tear soaked, insomniatic, chaotic frenzy as we wrestled in a place of enormous consternation and dilemma. It was a cyclone of switching and searching. All possible avenues were queried, dissected and explored. I knew that I would never, of my own free will and volition, subject myselves to such a situation ever again. Big adult logic overruled little hearts and minds. Protectors stood firm in seeking to save the youngest from such pain. And voted along with the Elders. The Council stated it's decree and wrote a formal letter to Neo, the fallen One. She is done. We terminated our alliance. It's time to move on. Hoping to find a therapist without so many walls and such scant little time.
The System stands together, weeps heartily and walks away from the pain.
So long
And thanks for all the fish

When your therapist goes on a month long vacation...

It feels like..