Untouchable

(There is another girl with my name, found on Google, who does some kind of dance or ballet routine to a song called 'untouchable.' That's a coincidence - it's not me.)

Well, this could be a long blog with many different subjects in it. I don't know how long I will make it, or whether I might divide it into more than one entry. Maybe it won't be as long as I'm thinking. It was going to be about an incident with Dennis, but then it connected to an incident involving Martin, and if I get into telling more of the Martin story, I also wanted to mention another idea I had, which would make the story get even more complicated.

Here is the 'another idea' first.

I'm noticing that I tell the Martin story gradually, adding layer by layer of detail. It reminds me of progressively encoded jpeg files. Whenever you save an image as a jpeg, you can save it in a way that tells the browser to load the image from the top down to the bottom ("standard encoding"), or else it can load it as a bunch of large blurry squares, which gradually get smaller and clearer as the image loads ("progressive encoding"). I saw my story as being like the progressive encoding, adding layer by layer of detail gradually. It seemed like a neat way to describe how the story was being told.

Back in the early nineties, I still lived in West Virginia with my parents. Dad used to tape Star Trek - Next Generation on the VCR. Then we would watch it together when I was home. We had this one episode that, for some reason, we all really liked. I could look it up on Wikipedia to find out which episode it was, because I forgot the name. It was about a time loop... (I should put a 'star trek' tag on this post! THAT would get me a lot of traffic! There's a Star Trek movie out right now. Everyone would read my blog hoping to find a review of the movie, which I haven't seen, and which this blog *isn't* about.)

They kept going through a glitch in spacetime, over and over again, and the same events kept happening, like deja-vu. But people noticed slight differences, and they kept getting a 'haven't we done this before?' feeling. By the end of the time loop, the ship was about to be destroyed as it was heading towards the spacetime anomaly, and they had to make a quick decision about how to escape. But they failed over and over again, and re-entered the loop.

Eventually, Data the android solved the problem by secretly sending himself messages containing the number 5. It's hard to explain, but his message meant that he had to listen to the person whose ranking was represented by 5 stars on the little gold pin attached to his uniform. There were several people offering advice about what to do to escape the spacetime anomaly, and everybody was wrong, except, I think, Riker, who had the five stars badge. (It's easier just to watch the show than to explain it.)

For some reason, my whole family really liked that episode. Even though it played the same series of events four times, it was interesting to watch them as they noticed the slight differences each time. I've thought about this a lot. A well-written piece of music will do this too. It repeats the same phrase again, but then changes it slightly, and the changes are interesting and surprising. It can't be all new and random, but instead, it has to repeat itself a bit.

So it reminded me of the way I'm telling, and retelling, this story, adding more each time.

Like I said, this is really long because there was more than one topic.

Well, what happened with Dennis?

As usual, my complaint was about a reaction I had after touching him. But it was more than just that.

I recently got a new work uniform, and I also bought myself new work pants at Goodwill. I said that I thought I was having an anti-anxiety drug outbreak, but I'm not sure if that's what it was. There are some other things it could be. After noticing the phenomenon of contamination, and finding out about drugs and chemicals that go through the skin, and finding out how hypersensitive I am to tiny amounts, it seems like I'm having a new reaction to something every other day or so. I can't always know for sure where it came from.

But the work pants I had were over a year old. The cuffs of the pants legs dragged on the carpet at my apartment, which is contaminated. Every time I would wash them, that contamination would spread around and get on the rest of the fabric. I was able to tolerate it for a long time. However, I started noticing that I was getting very sleepy and slow every time I put on my work clothes, and I was moving very slowly and sluggishly while at work, even if I had been feeling energetic before putting those clothes on. That's really a bad thing when I work someplace where I have to move quickly and hurry to get everything done on time. I was also having a forgetfulness problem, where I would feel a dopey sensation in my head, and then I kept forgetting what I was about to do. I would do one activity, like, make a pizza, and then plan to go fry chicken a second later, but forget what I was doing. Then I'd stand there for a few seconds trying to remember. This is a drug-induced, chemical-induced problem. It isn't always from contaminated clothing. It happens to a lot of people, not just me, and it can happen for a lot of reasons, but if it keeps happening over and over again, then you have to find out where the drug/chemical is coming from. (That's pretty easy if you're actually USING a drug in the form of a pill.)

I think the forgetfulness problem is a combination of two things: 1. being on a particular drug/chemical, and 2. being attacked. The attacks I experience cause problems when I try to enter certain brain states, like focusing a certain way, or self-hypnosis, or dreaming. Whenever I am about to change from one activity to another, I have to change the way my brain feels, and I go into a brief hypnosis-like state where I envision and plan what I am about to do. Most of my attacks have to do with hypnosis and with visual planning and imagining. Even if it's something simple and familiar, an everyday routine, like something I do while at work, I forget it, because I have to enter 'planning state' to switch from one routine to another. Forgetfulness happens to another blogger I read - I think his address is TIworld.blogspot.com but I would have to check that.

So anyway. I got a new shirt, but I still felt a problem with the pants. I finally got new pants too.

'The voices' went nuts about this. They were pestering me and nagging me about it for days. They were obsessed and full of anxiety. I will explain the reason. Last year at this time, I hugged Martin goodbye for the summer, but apologized to him because I had some kind of drug contamination on my uniform (I had already told him about my clothing contamination problems, so he would have understood what I was talking about). 'They' have been pushing me to ask him some more questions, to find out when he's graduating (I still didn't know for sure if he graduated this semester or not, but yesterday, he was at work, while the graduation ceremony was going on, unless he went to it early in the morning, but I don't know what time they did it), when he's going home for the summer, if he's going to continue working here over the summer, etc. I am avoiding asking him those things (except in this blog) because he told me not to communicate with him.

Anyway, by getting a whole new uniform, right at this time, 'they' were obsessed with making it seem like I did it all because of Martin and was trying to do the same thing I did last year. That is *not* the reason why I got a new uniform - it is a coincidence (perhaps a fake, scripted coincidence) that I finally got around to getting a new one, after needing to get one for a long time. (Note: they *were* actually concerned that I would contaminate him, however I don't think I will have any opportunities to do that. I cannot even look at him, much less speak to him, or request physical contact.) I got a new one because the old clothes were so badly contaminated, I could not function well enough to do my job, and was having brain problems and fatigue problems every time I put my work uniform on. It was because of myself, not him.

Well, 'they' were terrified that Martin would see my clothes and that he would mistakenly believe that I was going to try to do what I did before. They kept rehearsing, practicing a lie that I would tell. They thought maybe my coworker Christina would be the one who noticed and would comment about how I had finally gotten new pants. I was supposed to lie, and say, I got new ones because the old ones were really ripped and shredded. That's true, they were shredded. At the bottom, the cuffs had ripped completely off, and there were always strings and threads unwrapping, and I had to tear them off. However, the truth is, I couldn't care less that my pants were ripped and shredded. That had nothing to do with buying new ones. I would have worn them until they shredded all the way up to the knees before buying new ones, because I don't care. Anyway, they kept forcing me to rehearse the lie, right before work. They were very anxious about whether people might notice that I had new clothing, and I was supposed to practice ahead of time and know exactly what I would say, and I was supposed to claim that it was because they were ripped and shredded.

(I used to wear a pair of jeans that had huge holes ripped in both knees, all the way around, so that you could see most of my ankles through the holes. And yes, that was in college, and I wasn't shaving my legs back then either. Ah, the good old days. You'd be amazed how *few* people ever actually confronted me, or complained, or said anything at all, about not shaving. Every now and then I'd get a disgusted, grossed-out look from someone. But usually, nothing. Maybe a glance. Sometimes, I got compliments.)

But I had to argue against them verbally. I had to talk back to them. In the 'real world' I wouldn't have to argue verbally against internal voices, because that's *not* how the brain naturally works. You shouldn't have 'voices' that you have to 'argue' with at all. If you 'rehearse' something ahead of time, if you are mentally practicing something you're going to say, over and over again, for hours, while doing some other activity, that's fake - it's something they're forcing you to think about. It's not really you. That is what they were doing.

So I got angry at them and said I was going to tell the truth: if anyone asked me about it, I would explain that I have chemical sensitivity, and I got something on my clothes that made me sick, so I had to get new ones. That is the truth.

I made fun of them because they were terrified of 'what would people think?' 'Oh my God!' I said. 'Martin might accidentally think that I wanted to hug him! THAT WOULD BE THE END OF THE UNIVERSE!!!' Heaven forbid he should ever realize that I am attracted to him (even though I have already told him this, and he knows!). And not just him, but everyone else. What would they do - throw me in a mental hospital because I claimed that I'm sensitive to a chemical I got on my clothing? The worst that would happen is that they would think I was a little bit weird. *They already think that!*

I have my own reasons for doing things, and my whole universe doesn't revolve around him!

So there is no reason to lie. Why do the voices tell lies about stupid, trivial things that aren't even important? They tell lies about things that are no big deal, and they panic about it, like it's the end of the universe, and this *absolutely must be kept secret!*

Yes, I was afraid this would be a long blog post.

So, back to Dennis. Here I am yesterday, wearing my new clothes. I felt clearer and more energetic than I had felt in months! I was working and I was mentally focused and I wasn't all sleepy and slow. It was definitely the uniform, and I had fixed the problem. Yippee!....

Then Dennis showed up last night. I was leaving work. 'They' got upset about it, for a different reason than I did. Dennis wanted to give me a new computer gadget. I told him I'm postponing all my technical computer projects until I get moved to a new apartment. I just can't focus on so many different projects at once. So everything he gives me is going into a pile, and it might be months before I install or set up any of it. And it's not needed urgently.

However, Dennis is brainwashed to believe that his only value as a human being is his technical skills and his computer knowledge. This is a very strong psychological pattern and it's not something where you can just push a button and make the belief system go away. So, he gives me computer gadgets, and hopes to receive love, affection, friendship, and physical contact in return. I have complained about this before, but I wasn't very nice about it, and I described it as 'paying for a prostitute.' But it's more than that. He's paying just to be my friend.

So I was walking to my car and he was parked there. He gave me Little Computer Gadget X, and I don't even really need it right now, as I said. Then he asked for a hug. Several weeks ago, I had told him we would occasionally hug each other as friends. This is a legitimate need and I respect that. I am the same way.

However, there are people out there who are less trusting, less gullible, less naive, and more paranoid than I am. Some of my 'personas' were *not happy at all* about Dennis meeting me in a dark parking lot after work, even though we have known each other for months. I do sort of agree with this. It was inappropriate behavior. Sue was sitting in her car talking on her phone, because she had left only a few minutes before me, so she was right there while he and I were talking. Still, it was not appropriate.

(You know, if I tagged this blog with 'Star Trek,' I wonder if it would get as many hits as the one blog post where I tagged it with 'Family.' That was the busiest post ever. That's the one where I said Martin has some brother/cousin/friend who almost looks like an identical twin in one of his pictures. Apparently, that was the most interesting post I have ever written. LOL. 'Family' is one of the largest, most general, commonly used tags in Wordpress. I think 'most interesting' is probably one of those 'jokes,' because I told Martin I thought he was 'interesting' in one of the emails when we were still talking to each other.)

Well, of course, when Dennis hugged me - and it was brief, too, very quick, a 'shallow' hug with very little contact - I started to get the tickly skin sensation, which means I got hit with transdermal tobacco contamination. Then I started to feel that I was getting into a bad mood.

We were there only briefly, chatting, and then I left. I drove around in my car for a while because I was getting into a worse and worse mood. I felt sick, depressed, 'violated,' hopeless, annoyed and angry. I am also frustrated, because I wish that I could help more people with decontamination, but decontamination is a *huge* project which involves throwing away clothing that cannot be salvaged, and getting rid of a large number of your possessions that can't be cleaned, and moving to a new house where there aren't any carpets... I myself am still doing *my own* decontamination!!! It is an enormous project, very expensive, very traumatic, and I won't tell other people to do the same thing unless they have a life-or-death severe contamination problem. If your house was contaminated with a deadly poison that could kill you, then I would say yes, start throwing stuff in the garbage. That's what I did when the ephedra problem started, which I've written about in earlier blog posts.

I am going to insist that there's nothing wrong with Dennis personally, but instead, his 'bad vibes' are caused by something toxic, a chemical contamination. And I think a lot of other people with 'bad vibes' have the same problem. It's a bad smell, and no, I've decided that 'body odor' isn't bad, but instead, it's chemicals or drugs, like kerosene and tobacco. Those are the ones that make people sick. The 'natural' smells of the humans themselves are much less disgusting than something like kerosene. So all these TV advertisements telling you that you have bad breath or you need to wear deodorant, a lot of those things are missing the real problems, or failing to explain what causes them - bad breath can be caused by metallic dental fillings... don't get me started on the 'medical diagnosis' thing. There are health problems that can cause bad breath. It's stupid to just treat the symptoms. Anyway...

Diana Leafe Christian wrote something that I agree with. I totally love those books. She (or maybe some other community-oriented writer) said that having communication skills means, you can talk about sensitive or controversial subjects, but still remain connected with somebody. You don't just drop someone forever because they disagree about one tiny detail (or, not just a 'tiny detail,' but also, disagree about really big stuff).

I haven't always been this way - in fact, it takes a lot of effort. I had been avoiding all human contact for years. I gave up on trying to communicate with anybody, and just used the internet for socializing. All of my sensitive subjects of conversation were too controversial, too difficult, and nobody understood, and I couldn't talk to anybody. It's still true, but - and I hesitate to ever say that 'they' have done anything useful or good - but 'they' have been encouraging me to talk openly about all of my controversial subjects with people, instead of hiding them and keeping them a secret. The goal is: to stay connected, to remain friends, even though you told them a painful truth, and they disagreed with you.

However, I do still have the problem of 'too many new friends' and I do need to set some limits about how to meet people from a dating website, because females really do get bombarded with dozens and dozens of emails from men, and you simply cannot accept all of them. As I've said before, it doesn't matter what you look like. I got dozens of emails before I even put up a picture. There was just that blank 'no photo available' or 'ask for a photo' image there. All you have to do is, be a female. So even though I'm saying 'stay connected,' I might have to disconnect from some of the new guys who contacted me.

Anyway I have been telling Dennis about his contamination. I am making rules about how to avoid having a problem - for instance, I no longer go inside his trailer at all. I am going to give him a note to talk about it some more (he is disconnected from the net for now because of not paying the phone bill, because of unemployment, so I'll give him a note on paper). I have to tell the truth, even though it is painful. The contamination is real, even if other people don't believe me, and even though detox is a huge, expensive, traumatic project to do, and it's not possible to do it perfectly.

So, my brand new uniform now has mystery material/tobacco contamination on it.

I've been remembering how in India, there used to be an 'untouchables' caste. There might have been a good reason at the time when it began. Diseases, drugs, chemicals, or skin parasites.

Okay. How does this connect with the Martin story?

Last spring, I was affected by even more drugs than I am on right now. I suspect that an attacker might have entered my apartment and drugged me, but I'm not sure. There were some unusual drug symptoms, and they weren't the normal experiences I had from my contamination. So my emotions and moods were more intense, and, as I said before, I had a lot more courage and gall to do strange things, and also, the Martin situation hadn't gone so badly wrong yet. So I wasn't yet terrified to speak to him or approach him. We could still talk.

This event is humiliating to recall. The 'inappropriate behavior' incidents that I was doing at the time - it bothers me to remember them, and the beliefs and feelings, and the influences from 'them.' I remember that he was going to be leaving soon for the summer. At the time, I thought that he and I were going to have a dating relationship and that he was going to be my 'boyfriend.' (I don't usually like to use the word 'boyfriend.' Man friend? I don't know.)

So, at the end of work, I went up to him - and I had written a poetic blog which had been inspired by voices and images and thoughts that were part of the 'this is a big huge deal' attitude, the 'deal of the millennium' thing. I wrote a poem telling someone to come down from a high place, to meet me. It was both symbolic and literal.

(After I wrote that blog, there was a 'voice attack' that evening - I hadn't yet seen Martin at work - and the voices were telling me to come down the steps out of my apartment, in the middle of the night, and I told them, absolutely not. I am NOT going outside in the middle of the night because the voices tell me to.)

So I asked him to come down to talk to me, because he was in the upper office area where you have to go up some steps and it's a higher level place.

I had to ask him several times to come down the steps to meet me, because he didn't respond, and he looked uncomfortable and embarrassed. This was 'unusual or inappropriate behavior' for me. At the time, I thought there was nothing wrong with trying to make friends with him and trying to talk to him, but it turns out that it was perceived as very strange or inappropriate. It seemed normal to me at first and I just felt entitled to talk to him whenever and however I wanted. So I was surprised, whenever he started giving 'uncomfortable/inappropriate/embarrassing' signals. I just took it for granted that it was a casual relationship and that I shouldn't be afraid or uncomfortable about talking to him. So, I learned, in several different incidents, by being humiliated and rejected, that for some reason, it was 'inappropriate' for me to talk to him - even as a casual friend.

He finally did come down the steps to talk to me for a minute. I asked him if I could (I hate to remember this) wait for him out in the parking lot (yes, a dark parking lot, didn't I just complain that it was inappropriate for Dennis to meet me in the dark parking lot after work?) because I wanted to talk to him. There was an awful look on his face, he frowned, or winced, and it was very obvious and very visible. It was an 'oh no,' reaction. He said he couldn't, because he was about to go meet some friends someplace right after leaving work. I told him it would be really quick, like less than five minutes. So he agreed, and I left, and waited. I didn't have to wait too long because it was almost time for him to leave.

He walked out with Emery beside him, so Emery would have seen that I was there. I was already ashamed, and regretted asking him to see me. And then there was somebody else who saw that I was waiting there for him. But at the same time I felt like I HAD to ask him a couple things.

So we stood by our cars and I asked him whether he was going home for the summer (I don't remember exactly what I said) and whether this was his last day. A couple things happened. I would describe it as 'conflicting or contradictory signals.' He was sometimes showing 'inappropriate, get away, leave me alone,' and other times, 'i'm attracted to you.' There was confusion when he started talking. He told me that he was staying a few more days because he hadn't gotten his work schedule changed soon enough. I felt as though I couldn't understand the words he was saying, and I scowled and tried to ask him what he meant. The sentence seemed like gibberish, like he wasn't speaking English. I have had this happen a few times and I'm guessing it means I was being attacked. However, at the time, it seemed to mean that he was either lying, or not being specific enough, or avoiding something. But I want to add: I have seen him, several times, act like a 'puppet,' and someone asked me just recently whether I had multiple personalities - I don't have MPD severely enough to say that I have it, but instead, I remain conscious, and feel as though somebody controls me or forces me to say something, while I'm still conscious. I've seen him zone out, like going into a daze, and then say something strange, bizarre, or out of context, that had nothing to do with the situation. This is why I feel sort of sad and concerned, as I write this. I'm not angry at him, or blaming him, but instead, I feel like he sometimes has the same problems that I have. That is why I write blogs theorizing about what kind of parallel universe he lives in, what he experiences, what the voices in HIS head are doing to HIM.

(I hear them sometimes. They claim to be voices associated with him. They say, 'For the last time, Martin, I SAID NO!' It's like an overprotective mother who won't allow you to do anything. There are other voices associated with him, not just that one.)

The 'i'm attracted' signals: twice, while talking, he stepped towards me (not away from) to approach, then stopped himself. I hadn't asked him to. I had to get all of my questions answered (another voice associated with him is always screaming, 'ANSWER MY QUESTIONS!!!') about what he was doing for the summer. So I was confused and didn't really understand, but I got the idea that he would be here for a few more days, and then would leave. Afterwards, I asked if I could give him a hug; he hugged me, and my hair snagged his collar button, and he said 'sorry about that.' I let him go and we both got in our cars and left. I went home and wrote all about it in my notes, all excited about what happened with my crush. However, that was pretty much the last event in the 'pleasant, innocent, trusting' phase of our relationship, and over the next weeks and months, it very quickly changed into silence, avoidance, distrust, fear, and being unable to talk and unable to look at each other.

When I think of this incident, I keep remembering Dennis.

I've written before about my anxieties about touching people. I grew up feeling 'untouchable' and 'rejected.' When I was a young infant, I was *almost* autistic. I was hypersensitive to sounds and touch, and when people used to touch me or hold me, I would scream and cry, I would twist away from them, I would flinch and avoid them. My dad, in particular, could not touch me. It hurt his feelings very badly, being rejected by his own daughter. We talked about this after I grew up. I was very hyperactive and very uncomfortable, and spent a lot of time running around, or getting into physical fights about bedtime, and screaming and being loud, and climbing on things, and destroying things, and I even used to abuse the animals - I used to sit on the dogs and cats and pull their tails. (This is unthinkable to me nowadays. I am very, very gentle and loving with animals, and animals trust me instantly and are not afraid to approach.)

My parents put me on the Feingold Diet. I cannot advocate this diet enough! There are similar diets - the Failsafe diet, the wheat-free-dairy-free diets, the urticaria diets. A lot of diets do the same thing. You avoid certain foods and chemicals, and as a result, the child's behavior and mood drastically improve, they calm down, they sleep at night, they stop screaming, they stop having tantrums, they stop having ear infections and other health problems.

So I turned from Hyde into Jekyll, literally overnight - on the first night of the Feingold diet, I slept through the night for the first time in my entire life, without waking up and getting out of bed and fighting. I was about four years old, if I recall from what Mom tells me. (She survived four years of pushing a screaming, fighting child into the bedroom, every night, and holding the door closed, against someone very small who had amazing strength and was able to push back. They tell me that I was like Linda Blair, on the movie 'The Exorcist,' who gets possessed by the devil.)

Dennis also had a major rejection/abandonment incident, around age four. His mother was unstable and she kept moving the family from place to place, and finally dropped off the kids with their grandmother, and left them. I still see 'rejected/abandoned' on his face, the sad hurt look in his eyes, even though he is decades older now.

Well, because of all those things, I grew up never feeling comfortable with touch. For a long time, I only touched people if they touched me first. I'm a little bit more courageous nowadays and I'm sometimes able to request touch, but not usually. I'm still very antisocial.

So I look back at the 'inappropriate' incident of talking to him in a darkened parking lot, waiting for him after work, and for whatever reason, just talking to him at all. And I don't have enough time now to write it all because I'm hungry and I also have to get ready for work. But it is humiliating to look back on that incident, especially because he started avoiding me and refusing to reply to any emails or phone calls.

There is a lot more... I will build up the story little by little in more detail over time.

I told you this was going to be a long post.