I have been screaming inside…and yet no one can hear me.
I needed her to see the message I was trying to communicate. I needed her to understand what I was saying. For many years now…I’ve been screaming inside, yet my screams remain unacknowledged, unheard, by the outside world.
I’ve been waiting for a light to go on…like she’s finally going to understand this terribly important thing that I’m struggling with and she’ll help me understand too, and she’ll explain it to me. But instead, she offers some ‘mindfullness’ thoughts and says, “Keep doing the best you can, Grace. Just as you have been doing. You’re making progress, Grace. “ Meditate harder, Grace
Pray harder, Grace
Find your spirit connection, Grace
Try harder Grace.
You can do it Grace
I tried…I did. I have no spirit guide. No ‘inner wisdom’.
There is no one left to talk too…no one to trust.
Clearly I am of no importance at all. I am less than a client. I am not even a person. I am scared I am not going to get through this…and yet, at the same time, I don’t care if I do, and a part of me actually hopes that I won’t.
I died over 30 years ago. Yet I am still here until I learn to mourn my death. As the great poet Dylan Thomas said, “After the first death there is no other.”
A refusal to mourn the Death, by Fire, of a child in London
Never until the mankind making
Bird beast and flower
Fathering and all humbling darkness
Tells with silence the last light breaking
And the still hour
Is come of the sea tumbling in harness
And I must enter again the round
Zion of the water bead
And the synagogue of the ear of corn
Shall I let pray the shadow of a sound
Or sow my salt seed
In the least valley of sackcloth to mourn
The majesty and burning of the child's death.
I shall not murder
The mankind of her going with a grave truth
Nor blaspheme down the stations of the breath
With any further
Elegy of innocence and youth.
Deep with the first dead lies London's daughter,
Robed in the long friends,
The grains beyond age, the dark veins of her mother,
Secret by the unmourning water
Of the riding Thames.
After the first death, there is no other.
~ Dylan Thomas
Showing posts with label sad/lonely girl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sad/lonely girl. Show all posts
Friday, January 29, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Her Death
Death is a dark, cold, house full of malice.
Surrounded by a garden of dead flowers and trees with a deadly disease
Surrounded by a garden of dead flowers and trees with a deadly disease
With black leaves covering the hateful lawn.
It is the darkest place I've ever seen.
I hear things, snakes, spiders, slivering in the ground
I want to turn away but something keeps me tempted into this scene.
So I keep walking in the twisting darkness, a faint whisper of cold air blowing.
The leaves rustle beneath my feet, swirling in the wind and bleeding on my clothes.
The damp air has turned my tears to ice and the black memories of my past are now drawn about my shoulders.
I close my eyes.
When I open my eyes I gasp in horror at what is before me in this house of loath.
The room is lightened with red broken hearts.
I am surrounded by bodies with empty eyes
the smell of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke is overwhelming.
It is too much to bear, but as I stare into the darkness,
I force myself to face the darkness inside myself.
I sink down to my knees and sob big, heart wrenching, horrible sobs that shake my entire body. I feel bile rising up into my throat and I vomit until my stomach is as empty as my heart and soul.
Eyes tired
Mouth dry
Heart beats
Death she cries
No emotion
No devotion
No creation
Dead inside
Sweet silent sleep
Awake no more
Blessed her heart
Death she greets
It is the darkest place I've ever seen.
I hear things, snakes, spiders, slivering in the ground
I want to turn away but something keeps me tempted into this scene.
So I keep walking in the twisting darkness, a faint whisper of cold air blowing.
The leaves rustle beneath my feet, swirling in the wind and bleeding on my clothes.
The damp air has turned my tears to ice and the black memories of my past are now drawn about my shoulders.
I close my eyes.
When I open my eyes I gasp in horror at what is before me in this house of loath.
The room is lightened with red broken hearts.
I am surrounded by bodies with empty eyes
the smell of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke is overwhelming.
It is too much to bear, but as I stare into the darkness,
I force myself to face the darkness inside myself.
I sink down to my knees and sob big, heart wrenching, horrible sobs that shake my entire body. I feel bile rising up into my throat and I vomit until my stomach is as empty as my heart and soul.
Eyes tired
Mouth dry
Heart beats
Death she cries
No emotion
No devotion
No creation
Dead inside
Sweet silent sleep
Awake no more
Blessed her heart
Death she greets
Friday, January 22, 2010
I know so much ~ but I do not know myself
I am a stranger to myself. I do not know how to be gentle, compassionate, or loving, to any part of myself.
I have always been able to present myself well in most public situations, be it work, school, parental obligations, parties. I can be calm and level-headed. I am able to problem solve in logical and intelligent ways. I can be humorous and glamorous when need be. But it seems as though that power and confidence, that grace and strength, is only a mask. I now have more days when that mask feels heavy. And when I lack the strength to put it on, I have to hide myself. And I’ve been hiding a lot lately. I hid yesterday. I am hiding today.
I hear the words of care that others speak, but they don’t feel real to me. Sometimes I can accept their words while knowing that they do not realize that I am a disgusting person who deserves to be treated badly. They see what I want them to see. I watch them interact with the humorous Grace, the intelligent Grace, and I watch it all from the outside. I want so much more for myself. Who is this Grace that is respected by so many?
I want to be loved and to feel love. I want to be free from the step-father and the host body. I desperately wish to be free from them, and not just in a surface way. I want them out of me forever. My soul cries out for kindness and gentleness – and yet when it is offered I cannot accept it. I want to be respected and loved and yet I do not know how to love or respect myself.
I know how to pretend. I wrote the book on how to hide your feelings. I know how to smile, I know how to laugh. I know that I have been given gifts but I don’t know how to use them. And the ones who were abused, raped, assaulted, degraded…they are afraid to dream that there is more to life than this. They cannot fathom that there exists a world where they can be loved in a gentle way, touched in a way that does not hurt. They stopped dreaming a long time ago.
I want to stop fighting so hard, so much of the time...fighting myself, the therapist ~ the fighting stubborn one just comes out in full-force at any perceived threat and I want her to stop fighting when there is no reason to fight. I want to learn to trust in myself and others. I want the chaos and confusion inside my mind to clear and I want some sense of cohesiveness and togetherness inside of me. I want to believe that there is more to life than pretending behind an illusion of imaginary togetherness...more than just feeling ashamed and degraded. I want to trust that I am allowed to heal. I want to believe that I am worth the time and the effort it is taking, and the pain I endure every day. I want to believe that I am not what they said I am, that real love actually exists, and that I am worthy of receiving it.
And even as I write this, there is that voice inside speaking to me, "But what if you're not worthy, Grace? What if you are what they said?" She is a big part of me~ she has a loud voice. And if I don't believe in myself - how can I convince that part of me that I am good and I am worthy?
I have always been able to present myself well in most public situations, be it work, school, parental obligations, parties. I can be calm and level-headed. I am able to problem solve in logical and intelligent ways. I can be humorous and glamorous when need be. But it seems as though that power and confidence, that grace and strength, is only a mask. I now have more days when that mask feels heavy. And when I lack the strength to put it on, I have to hide myself. And I’ve been hiding a lot lately. I hid yesterday. I am hiding today.
I hear the words of care that others speak, but they don’t feel real to me. Sometimes I can accept their words while knowing that they do not realize that I am a disgusting person who deserves to be treated badly. They see what I want them to see. I watch them interact with the humorous Grace, the intelligent Grace, and I watch it all from the outside. I want so much more for myself. Who is this Grace that is respected by so many?
I want to be loved and to feel love. I want to be free from the step-father and the host body. I desperately wish to be free from them, and not just in a surface way. I want them out of me forever. My soul cries out for kindness and gentleness – and yet when it is offered I cannot accept it. I want to be respected and loved and yet I do not know how to love or respect myself.
I know how to pretend. I wrote the book on how to hide your feelings. I know how to smile, I know how to laugh. I know that I have been given gifts but I don’t know how to use them. And the ones who were abused, raped, assaulted, degraded…they are afraid to dream that there is more to life than this. They cannot fathom that there exists a world where they can be loved in a gentle way, touched in a way that does not hurt. They stopped dreaming a long time ago.
I want to stop fighting so hard, so much of the time...fighting myself, the therapist ~ the fighting stubborn one just comes out in full-force at any perceived threat and I want her to stop fighting when there is no reason to fight. I want to learn to trust in myself and others. I want the chaos and confusion inside my mind to clear and I want some sense of cohesiveness and togetherness inside of me. I want to believe that there is more to life than pretending behind an illusion of imaginary togetherness...more than just feeling ashamed and degraded. I want to trust that I am allowed to heal. I want to believe that I am worth the time and the effort it is taking, and the pain I endure every day. I want to believe that I am not what they said I am, that real love actually exists, and that I am worthy of receiving it.
And even as I write this, there is that voice inside speaking to me, "But what if you're not worthy, Grace? What if you are what they said?" She is a big part of me~ she has a loud voice. And if I don't believe in myself - how can I convince that part of me that I am good and I am worthy?
Monday, January 11, 2010
Maybe you fight me because you are afraid if you don’t, you will lose me
It makes me tired sometimes, the constant fighting inside my head, the constant aruging, yelling, fear, discord. It's tiring. And PAG fights the therapist like the female version of Rocky. Today, as I was leaving the therapist's office, she said, "Maybe you fight me because you are afraid that if you don't you will lose me." When I asked her what she meant, she said she didn't know, that it was just something that popped into her head right that very minute. Popped right into her head...like she could have had a V-8! What? I'm not really sure if she just wanted me to take the statement and try it on, or if she really just said the first thing that popped in her head.
"Maybe you fight me because you are afraid that if you don't, you will lose me"
After I left her office, I stopped to get a diet coke, and I thought about what she said.
When I got back to my office, I walked into my office and took off my coat, and I thought about what she said. I logged on to my computer, and pulled up a report I needed to prepare for an afternoon meeting, and I thought about what she said.
"Maybe you fight me because you are afraid that if you don't you will lose me."
Early this evening, I was talking to my friend L and I thought about what the therapist said. I decided to ask L what she thought it meant, and L said, "I think she means that you look for things to argue with her about to try to push her and test her; but deep down you know she won't leave you. However, you continue to battle with her so there is a state of constant conflict in your relationship so you don't have to deal with the real issues, the real problems that you need her help with. " Maybe she's right...
Since L has been so insightful and has had her own "therapist" hat on, I decided to ask for her help with another crazybrain issue that's been dormant for awhile, but has again reared it's ugly head. Something that I haven't asked for the therapists help on because I know that it won't matter what she says, PAG will just be pissed about it. This issue surfaced nearly 2 years ago, and reappears at times, but not nearly as strong as it was in the past. It's so irrational and embarrassing, and logically it makes no sense - I KNOW that! But yet, here it is, as irrational and embarrassing as walking out of the ladies room with your skirt tucked into your panties and not noticing (not that that's ever happened to me - but it would be really embarrassing - this is that kind of embarrassing).... The 5 year old is scared again that the therapist will leave her when she gets married. And the 5 year old is once again jealous of the therapists' BF. OMG! TOTALLY irrational, Grace - you are so crazy! It is so NOYB and so not fair to the therapist. Yah, I know that...but the 5 year old is still sad sometimes. And if I were to bring it up with the therapist, I'm afraid she would say something like, "Grace, my life - NOYB." Which would totally freak out the 5 year old and piss off PAG. And adult rational Grace "gets" that it isn't about the therapist and her BF - it's really about the host body leaving me for men. And I hope someday the 5 year old will understand that too - but she doesn't right now. And I don't know how to get her from point A to point B.
L said she totally gets it. She said that she still gets jealous of the time her mom spends with her sister and she's 37 years old, not 5. She said that in a kid's mind it doesn't matter - feelings are feelings - and it's not a horrible thing. She didn't think it was nearly as embarrassing as the wardrobe malfunction described above. I, however, still do.
L tried to reassure me that we all have our shit. We all have things we are embarrassed about, and she said that I have to be honest and patient with the therapist and she has helped me, and she will continue to help me, if I let her. L told me that I have to someday find a way to accept that my childhood was less than ideal and it wasn't my fault. And that the things I have done as an adult, willingly, and/or unwillingly, that may feel shameful and wrong to me, I'll have to accept that too...but it will probably take a long time because I have never let anyone know me before, I've never let anyone "in"side my head to really know me...except the therapist. Not even the hus. She said that hopefully someday I will learn to trust other people too, and know who I should trust. I hope she's right.
Before I left, L told me to text her if I felt alone, scared, just needed to talk...and went on to say, "As long as I'm not having sex with the married man I've been telling no for 6 months, but he still comes by and I do it even though I don't want too...I'll text you back."....I fell out of the chair onto the floor in hysterical laughter! See...we all have our shit.
"Maybe you fight me because you are afraid that if you don't, you will lose me"
After I left her office, I stopped to get a diet coke, and I thought about what she said.
When I got back to my office, I walked into my office and took off my coat, and I thought about what she said. I logged on to my computer, and pulled up a report I needed to prepare for an afternoon meeting, and I thought about what she said.
"Maybe you fight me because you are afraid that if you don't you will lose me."
Early this evening, I was talking to my friend L and I thought about what the therapist said. I decided to ask L what she thought it meant, and L said, "I think she means that you look for things to argue with her about to try to push her and test her; but deep down you know she won't leave you. However, you continue to battle with her so there is a state of constant conflict in your relationship so you don't have to deal with the real issues, the real problems that you need her help with. " Maybe she's right...
Since L has been so insightful and has had her own "therapist" hat on, I decided to ask for her help with another crazybrain issue that's been dormant for awhile, but has again reared it's ugly head. Something that I haven't asked for the therapists help on because I know that it won't matter what she says, PAG will just be pissed about it. This issue surfaced nearly 2 years ago, and reappears at times, but not nearly as strong as it was in the past. It's so irrational and embarrassing, and logically it makes no sense - I KNOW that! But yet, here it is, as irrational and embarrassing as walking out of the ladies room with your skirt tucked into your panties and not noticing (not that that's ever happened to me - but it would be really embarrassing - this is that kind of embarrassing).... The 5 year old is scared again that the therapist will leave her when she gets married. And the 5 year old is once again jealous of the therapists' BF. OMG! TOTALLY irrational, Grace - you are so crazy! It is so NOYB and so not fair to the therapist. Yah, I know that...but the 5 year old is still sad sometimes. And if I were to bring it up with the therapist, I'm afraid she would say something like, "Grace, my life - NOYB." Which would totally freak out the 5 year old and piss off PAG. And adult rational Grace "gets" that it isn't about the therapist and her BF - it's really about the host body leaving me for men. And I hope someday the 5 year old will understand that too - but she doesn't right now. And I don't know how to get her from point A to point B.
L said she totally gets it. She said that she still gets jealous of the time her mom spends with her sister and she's 37 years old, not 5. She said that in a kid's mind it doesn't matter - feelings are feelings - and it's not a horrible thing. She didn't think it was nearly as embarrassing as the wardrobe malfunction described above. I, however, still do.
L tried to reassure me that we all have our shit. We all have things we are embarrassed about, and she said that I have to be honest and patient with the therapist and she has helped me, and she will continue to help me, if I let her. L told me that I have to someday find a way to accept that my childhood was less than ideal and it wasn't my fault. And that the things I have done as an adult, willingly, and/or unwillingly, that may feel shameful and wrong to me, I'll have to accept that too...but it will probably take a long time because I have never let anyone know me before, I've never let anyone "in"side my head to really know me...except the therapist. Not even the hus. She said that hopefully someday I will learn to trust other people too, and know who I should trust. I hope she's right.
Before I left, L told me to text her if I felt alone, scared, just needed to talk...and went on to say, "As long as I'm not having sex with the married man I've been telling no for 6 months, but he still comes by and I do it even though I don't want too...I'll text you back."....I fell out of the chair onto the floor in hysterical laughter! See...we all have our shit.
Maybe you fight me because you are afraid if you don't that you will lose me
What does that MEAN?
Monday, January 4, 2010
Just throw me in the recycle bin - reuse the parts that aren't broken for someone else! Someone more *willing* and less *willful*!
Better hurry tho - before I completely destroy the *rest* of me! Especially since I am so unwilling to relinquish my stubborn willfulness *in the service of exploring other ideas*.
Crazy and Trauma are flowing freely though every single vein and artery in my body. The pain has coated the inside of me to the point that I cannot bear to have another person touch me in any way lest they be contaminated by the badness that is me. I am a vessel of darkness that is so sinister, so toxic, I no longer recognize who I once was. So many different parts of me screaming and yelling in such chaos and I have found no way to sooth or accommodate them at all. There is a bad, menacing part, she is venomous and in my inability to work with her, I find it best if I stay hidden from the public eye ~ lest her poison will leak into someone else. I feel so angry and so weary right now.
And I cannot face the therapist tomorrow. I cannot sit there and talk and talk and talk…she would say I am too “willful” and I would say I was plenty “willing” to discuss the “bad stuff” last week and I have been fucked up ever since! And I’m angry with her right now. Angry because I feel so sick right now, and because she forgot me on Friday. Angry because she leaves her cats and thinks they are happy and social and healthy! That’s what people said about me too, therapist when I was a kid!
And I feel sick and jaded and I know that if I go tomorrow and I don’t feel better it will because I wasn’t “open” or “willing” enough and that’s why I’m not better. And I can’t face that right now. I already know how f’d up I am…I already KNOW I’m not getting any better. I know that! I don’t want to hear it tomorrow! I don’t want to hear it again!
Crazy and Trauma are flowing freely though every single vein and artery in my body. The pain has coated the inside of me to the point that I cannot bear to have another person touch me in any way lest they be contaminated by the badness that is me. I am a vessel of darkness that is so sinister, so toxic, I no longer recognize who I once was. So many different parts of me screaming and yelling in such chaos and I have found no way to sooth or accommodate them at all. There is a bad, menacing part, she is venomous and in my inability to work with her, I find it best if I stay hidden from the public eye ~ lest her poison will leak into someone else. I feel so angry and so weary right now.
And I cannot face the therapist tomorrow. I cannot sit there and talk and talk and talk…she would say I am too “willful” and I would say I was plenty “willing” to discuss the “bad stuff” last week and I have been fucked up ever since! And I’m angry with her right now. Angry because I feel so sick right now, and because she forgot me on Friday. Angry because she leaves her cats and thinks they are happy and social and healthy! That’s what people said about me too, therapist when I was a kid!
And I feel sick and jaded and I know that if I go tomorrow and I don’t feel better it will because I wasn’t “open” or “willing” enough and that’s why I’m not better. And I can’t face that right now. I already know how f’d up I am…I already KNOW I’m not getting any better. I know that! I don’t want to hear it tomorrow! I don’t want to hear it again!
Why not just throw my *willful* ass in the recycle bin…surely there are some pieces of me that are not broken, pieces that are salvageable and can be given to someone else to use. There has to be something that isn’t broken!
***STRING OF CB EXPLETIVES *** thrown out in exasperation because I don't know what else to do!!!! I don't know what to do. Why can't she hear that? Why can't any of them hear that? It hurts all the time right now. I need it to just stop.
***STRING OF CB EXPLETIVES *** thrown out in exasperation because I don't know what else to do!!!! I don't know what to do. Why can't she hear that? Why can't any of them hear that? It hurts all the time right now. I need it to just stop.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
"I hose (hold) you mama. I hose you..."
When my son was little and he wanted me to hold him he would say to me, "I hose you mama, I hose you...." ...and he would hold his arms out to me and wait for me to pick him up. I was talking to a friend of mine tonight and we were talking about what it would be like to actually feel "held" in safe way.
I only remember one time I felt "held" safely, ever, in my entire life...and that was 3 years ago when the therapist held me when I cried. I knew the therapist would never hurt me, I knew that I was *safe* with her...and I'd never felt that way before...nor have I ever felt that way since. I don't think I ever will.
My friend and I were talking and I asked her, "I wonder what it would be like to feel safely held by someone without that someone wanting to fuck me." I don't know the answer to that....the only time in my life I ever felt safely held by anyone was during a mental/suicidal breakdown. That was the time the therapist "held" me - the only time I felt safe...ever...I don't know that I'll ever feel *safe* like that again.
I wonder what it would be like to take a bath without 3 washclothes covering the most intimate parts of my body... I've no idea....
I wonder what it's like for "normal" people to sleep without a bra and 3 t-shirts on....
I wonder what it's like to fall asleep without a sense of fear even when you're surrounded by 9 pillows and 4 blankets/comforters.
I wonder what sex is like for "normal" people...I really wonder...because I surely don't know...
I wonder what it's like to actually feel "comforted" by someone else who you *know* won't fuck you...
I wonder....I wonder....I'll never know...but I wonder...
I only remember one time I felt "held" safely, ever, in my entire life...and that was 3 years ago when the therapist held me when I cried. I knew the therapist would never hurt me, I knew that I was *safe* with her...and I'd never felt that way before...nor have I ever felt that way since. I don't think I ever will.
My friend and I were talking and I asked her, "I wonder what it would be like to feel safely held by someone without that someone wanting to fuck me." I don't know the answer to that....the only time in my life I ever felt safely held by anyone was during a mental/suicidal breakdown. That was the time the therapist "held" me - the only time I felt safe...ever...I don't know that I'll ever feel *safe* like that again.
I wonder what it would be like to take a bath without 3 washclothes covering the most intimate parts of my body... I've no idea....
I wonder what it's like for "normal" people to sleep without a bra and 3 t-shirts on....
I wonder what it's like to fall asleep without a sense of fear even when you're surrounded by 9 pillows and 4 blankets/comforters.
I wonder what sex is like for "normal" people...I really wonder...because I surely don't know...
I wonder what it's like to actually feel "comforted" by someone else who you *know* won't fuck you...
I wonder....I wonder....I'll never know...but I wonder...
Saturday, December 26, 2009
You are not her ~ She is not you ~ You do not have to live it...until I did, again, again, & again
Growing up I understood that my parents were not devoted to parenthood, but rather the destruction of my *being* ~ not to be confused with my ‘well-being’ ~ I mean *me*, all that is me, my very essence, my very existence. I lived in a world of shame and fear. I feared his hands, his black leather belt with the silver buckle. I lived in fear of his arms that would grip my shoulders and force me to look him straight in the eyes.
Stop making him mad, Grace. You’d better be careful, Grace. You’re the most willful child on the planet, Grace. Just a bad child. And I knew it, when I looked him in the eyes. I was evil. Of course I was and I could admit it.
But no one would ever know…because if someone knew, surely they would see me as unworthy, evil, dirty. But I told myself, “You are not her. She is not you…you do not have to live it.” And I left that place and I didn’t go back. Until that fateful day I walked by the den.
And it all came back when I saw them there…fucking like dogs in my house. And as I stood there, watching them, I could feel him again, even though he was not with me in that moment, it felt like it. I could feel him exploding though my body, in my mouth. And it's never gone away. It complicates things for me now because I have no words to describe how much it affects in my present life. The therapist tells me it is like the tide, the waves ebb in and then they flow back out and she is teaching me how to ride the waves. And I know she is right, but what I try to communicate back to her is that there are times when something now will trigger a panic inside of me that denies all reason and the waves then crash into me like a hurricane and there is no way to ride them.
Let me give you an example from today. The fam decided to run some after Christmas errands and since I hadn't been out of the house since Tuesday, I thought maybe it was a good idea. "Errands" included lunch out and I've no idea how it came up, the waitress mentioned something her mother used to cook for dinner, "Shit on a Shingle", she said (it was a real classy joint...). She went on to say that she always knew it was right before payday because they would have Shit on a Shingle (chipped beef gravy on toast... the SF cooked that in a cast iron skillet all the time) and I couldn't eat. And when we left, my face was flushed and I was choking back vomit...literally, until I choked and had to puke in the parking lot. That's the part I cannot control~ the 'external' environment...and staying in the house forever is obviously not an option.
And although I consider myself a fairly intelligent person, and when I can think logically, I understand that what he did was not my fault; many nights I am unable to find rationale and logic and on those nights I lack understanding. I find no logic in the deep, dark, murky water. And its during those times when I want to throw myself on the floor like a child and beg the therapist to keep me safe from him...to please make him stop hurting me. It's during those times when I cannot form the words because if I were to form them, speak them aloud, then I would have to admit the truth of the sins I have committed.
Stop making him mad, Grace. You’d better be careful, Grace. You’re the most willful child on the planet, Grace. Just a bad child. And I knew it, when I looked him in the eyes. I was evil. Of course I was and I could admit it.
But no one would ever know…because if someone knew, surely they would see me as unworthy, evil, dirty. But I told myself, “You are not her. She is not you…you do not have to live it.” And I left that place and I didn’t go back. Until that fateful day I walked by the den.
And it all came back when I saw them there…fucking like dogs in my house. And as I stood there, watching them, I could feel him again, even though he was not with me in that moment, it felt like it. I could feel him exploding though my body, in my mouth. And it's never gone away. It complicates things for me now because I have no words to describe how much it affects in my present life. The therapist tells me it is like the tide, the waves ebb in and then they flow back out and she is teaching me how to ride the waves. And I know she is right, but what I try to communicate back to her is that there are times when something now will trigger a panic inside of me that denies all reason and the waves then crash into me like a hurricane and there is no way to ride them.
Let me give you an example from today. The fam decided to run some after Christmas errands and since I hadn't been out of the house since Tuesday, I thought maybe it was a good idea. "Errands" included lunch out and I've no idea how it came up, the waitress mentioned something her mother used to cook for dinner, "Shit on a Shingle", she said (it was a real classy joint...). She went on to say that she always knew it was right before payday because they would have Shit on a Shingle (chipped beef gravy on toast... the SF cooked that in a cast iron skillet all the time) and I couldn't eat. And when we left, my face was flushed and I was choking back vomit...literally, until I choked and had to puke in the parking lot. That's the part I cannot control~ the 'external' environment...and staying in the house forever is obviously not an option.
And although I consider myself a fairly intelligent person, and when I can think logically, I understand that what he did was not my fault; many nights I am unable to find rationale and logic and on those nights I lack understanding. I find no logic in the deep, dark, murky water. And its during those times when I want to throw myself on the floor like a child and beg the therapist to keep me safe from him...to please make him stop hurting me. It's during those times when I cannot form the words because if I were to form them, speak them aloud, then I would have to admit the truth of the sins I have committed.
Friday, December 25, 2009
This is just a terrible time and we just have to get through it. But how?
My life here is not a secret. The Grace in this blog is a lot more of me than I would ever reveal in my real life. Writing what I write here, expressing what and how I feel, is far beyond what I would ever reveal in real life ~ even to my close friends. I cannot remember the last time I let anyone see me cry or let them see the pain I go through (exception being the therapist). But here I am, typing away, open and raw. The painful truth that is me...and that truth is that I am in pain. I pray to just sleep now so I can get relief from the pain. I pray for answers and solutions because I know that long-term sleeping isn’t the answer and I really want to feel better but in my present moment I am settling for any relief I can find. I’m grateful to have this outlet, a way to express what I cannot say aloud, or show to anyone in my real life. It is difficult for me to allow people to see this side of me, to be vulnerable, even on-line. It is certainly not something I can do in real life.
Right now I feel like I am standing above a tornado, watching it wreck mayhem on the girl who was me. But I am beyond expecting anything right now. With every step there is a twist, every fork in the road feels like a dead end. I am ready to fight. I am ready to get past this. It all still mystifies me; how this happens. Just I begin to feel better, things are going well, I can control my thoughts and maintain control over the crazies who dwell within ~ then suddenly it’s like a hammer crashes into my head and a g-force of reality rains down. I had myself convinced that I was better. The hardest part was finally over and the next part will be a breeze! Then it all catches up with me again...I cannot outrun it.
I thought taking this time off from work was a good idea. But I’m quickly coming to the conclusion that it might do more harm than good. Each night I just feel empty and drawn...haven’t I felt enough already? Is there anything left to feel? I feel desperate for relief. It is so hard to find hope and promise when you can’t seem to see past the thick fog of the pain. And it still amazes me how *crazyhead* can manifest itself inside me causing not just mental anguish but also phsyical torment. The first thing I did this morning before coming downstairs to watch DS & DD open presents is vomit until my stomach muscles ache. And the queasiness and headache will not go away.
And it's overwhelming, you know? It's just too much. All of it running through my head ~ horrible things that I cannot even write here. And I want to talk to the therapist about it - I do - because I know I need her help. But when I picture myself sitting there, on her couch, actually speaking aloud the horrible disgusting things from my past and my present - I imagine her sitting there, disgusted with me...she wouldn't be able to handle it. She wouldn't. And I cannot fathom how I would feel to see a look of disgust on her face. To have her see me, Grace, as I truly am...so I am stuck in this terrible paradox ~ needing her help but not being able to express to her what I need help with.
I am trying to see past this time of pain and once again find hope, find joy in life and let other people IRL help me when I am lost. There must be a solution...so what is it? Maybe I’ll go lie down and explore answers to that question. I had better find something quick ~ because it is Friday once again.
Right now I feel like I am standing above a tornado, watching it wreck mayhem on the girl who was me. But I am beyond expecting anything right now. With every step there is a twist, every fork in the road feels like a dead end. I am ready to fight. I am ready to get past this. It all still mystifies me; how this happens. Just I begin to feel better, things are going well, I can control my thoughts and maintain control over the crazies who dwell within ~ then suddenly it’s like a hammer crashes into my head and a g-force of reality rains down. I had myself convinced that I was better. The hardest part was finally over and the next part will be a breeze! Then it all catches up with me again...I cannot outrun it.
I thought taking this time off from work was a good idea. But I’m quickly coming to the conclusion that it might do more harm than good. Each night I just feel empty and drawn...haven’t I felt enough already? Is there anything left to feel? I feel desperate for relief. It is so hard to find hope and promise when you can’t seem to see past the thick fog of the pain. And it still amazes me how *crazyhead* can manifest itself inside me causing not just mental anguish but also phsyical torment. The first thing I did this morning before coming downstairs to watch DS & DD open presents is vomit until my stomach muscles ache. And the queasiness and headache will not go away.
And it's overwhelming, you know? It's just too much. All of it running through my head ~ horrible things that I cannot even write here. And I want to talk to the therapist about it - I do - because I know I need her help. But when I picture myself sitting there, on her couch, actually speaking aloud the horrible disgusting things from my past and my present - I imagine her sitting there, disgusted with me...she wouldn't be able to handle it. She wouldn't. And I cannot fathom how I would feel to see a look of disgust on her face. To have her see me, Grace, as I truly am...so I am stuck in this terrible paradox ~ needing her help but not being able to express to her what I need help with.
I am trying to see past this time of pain and once again find hope, find joy in life and let other people IRL help me when I am lost. There must be a solution...so what is it? Maybe I’ll go lie down and explore answers to that question. I had better find something quick ~ because it is Friday once again.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
I have fallen ~ and there doesn't seem to be a way to be redeemed...
I was just telling a friend of mine that there is so much running through my head and it is preventing me from sleeping. Which I suppose is okay since it's Christmas Eve and I need to be "present" for my children. And the therapist would tell me to stop "indulging" and live up to my responsibilities....(Like anyone ever "mirrored" that for me!) The therapist would probably tell me to stop listening to music that seems to make me feel even more depressed ~ but here I am, anyway, head phones on, listening anyway. Not to be contrary ~ PAG is not in charge right now.
But I feel so effing worthless and sad right now. Here I sit in the midst of two Christmas trees, a mantle full of poinsettas and lights, garland strung on the banisters, frosty jingling behind me and I cannot FEEL any of it. And I want to FEEL it right now! I want to feel all the good things in my life ~ and I can't, which makes me even more frustrated. And the only way to force it is to hit the liquor cabinet (which I have not yet ruled out).
I don't think I intentionally planned it this way but the holidays are usually very busy here...DS and the hus both have birthdays in December ~ DDs birthday is in January as is my 15th anniversary. And I can't get caught up in it this year! I want to and I can't. And my grandpa would have been 100 years old tomorrow, on Christmas day.
And here I sit thinking how I have been married to a man for 15 years and he does not even know me and I'm wondering how that happened. But the reality is, no one really knows me... He loves who he "thinks" Grace is...but I am not really that person at all. And it's really tiring for me to keep pretending to be her after 15 years.
It's been a long long week ~ and it's not even Friday....I guess I got caught up in the suburban fantasy...it happens...I have fallen and the past can't be undone.
I messed up...I don't feel well at all tonight...not at all...
But I feel so effing worthless and sad right now. Here I sit in the midst of two Christmas trees, a mantle full of poinsettas and lights, garland strung on the banisters, frosty jingling behind me and I cannot FEEL any of it. And I want to FEEL it right now! I want to feel all the good things in my life ~ and I can't, which makes me even more frustrated. And the only way to force it is to hit the liquor cabinet (which I have not yet ruled out).
I don't think I intentionally planned it this way but the holidays are usually very busy here...DS and the hus both have birthdays in December ~ DDs birthday is in January as is my 15th anniversary. And I can't get caught up in it this year! I want to and I can't. And my grandpa would have been 100 years old tomorrow, on Christmas day.
And here I sit thinking how I have been married to a man for 15 years and he does not even know me and I'm wondering how that happened. But the reality is, no one really knows me... He loves who he "thinks" Grace is...but I am not really that person at all. And it's really tiring for me to keep pretending to be her after 15 years.
It's been a long long week ~ and it's not even Friday....I guess I got caught up in the suburban fantasy...it happens...I have fallen and the past can't be undone.
I messed up...I don't feel well at all tonight...not at all...
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Avoid Life! It'll kill you in the end...
I have been sleeping off and on since Saturday…more ‘on’ than ‘off’…and I still don’t feel *rested*. The dissociation at night is bad again so it’s better to take the sleeping meds in an effort to ward off any borderline rants ~ they eventually take effect and I wake up, blood-free, somewhere and then try to find my way to bed after taking more. I got up after 11 today and have slept most of the afternoon.
It feels as though I am constantly fighting against the winds of fear and paranoia so I try to avoid the peaks by taking sleeping pills and going to bed. The darkness still invades my sleep but the more medicated I am the less I remember any dreams. I don't know what happened to me. I had gotten myself to a point where I could actually function most days. I had nights when I wasn’t in dreadful pain, or weighed down by the fear and panic. But now I have that gut-wrenching feeling again, the one where you feel like the bottom drops out from underneath your feet and your heart is racing and your stomach is in your throat. I cannot get warm or comfortable, in spite of the down comforters and pillows and the giant golden retriever I surround myself with.
It feels as though I am constantly fighting against the winds of fear and paranoia so I try to avoid the peaks by taking sleeping pills and going to bed. The darkness still invades my sleep but the more medicated I am the less I remember any dreams. I don't know what happened to me. I had gotten myself to a point where I could actually function most days. I had nights when I wasn’t in dreadful pain, or weighed down by the fear and panic. But now I have that gut-wrenching feeling again, the one where you feel like the bottom drops out from underneath your feet and your heart is racing and your stomach is in your throat. I cannot get warm or comfortable, in spite of the down comforters and pillows and the giant golden retriever I surround myself with.
But of course everything has to come to an end, right?
So for now I am avoiding life. I don’t know why I feel like my entire sense of security has suddenly disappeared. I know there is so much more than this and still I find myself so afraid that I will not find it. I know I have a purpose, I know that somewhere I still have drive and ambition. But there is that nagging voice in my head who tells me that maybe I’m not strong enough, that maybe all of this is for nothing and this is as good as it gets. That’s what scares me. Because the truth is I don’t know my purpose.
For now I have to sleep because when I am awake I feel snowed under and paralyzed.
And I’m really tired.
And I’m really tired.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
You keep on knocking but I am still afraid to let you in...
Last night I left a voicemail for the therapist telling her I was not able to come to session today because I cannot leave the house. She left me a response telling me that it's not a good idea for me to miss session and that I sounded really upset and overwhelmed…and that I could call her if I would like help "problem solving" and developing an action plan to get myself out of bed, and then out of the house. But what the therapist doesn’t seem to understand is that I don’t want to get out of bed, nor do I have any desire to leave the house. I don’t want to get dressed or leave my bed at all. I want to take a sleeping pill and go to sleep – and when I wake up – I want to take another sleeping pill and go to sleep – and over and over and over again, until it stops. And even if I show up for my appointment ~ I’m just going to go back home and climb back into bed and go back to sleep. And she has always told me I should listen to my body and do what my body tells me to do, and right now, it is telling me to sleep 24/7. But then last night she asked me, “Do you know the difference between indulgence and doing just what your body needs?” Evidently not, DT, clearly I do not... Very confusing....because I know that if I do not stay asleep ~ something terrible and irreversable is going to happen to me, by me.
But I called her back so we could ‘develop a plan’ to get my ass out of the house and onto her couch…and I told her I would do my best. I love it when she tells me that if I don’t show up and it’s less than 24 hours, I have to pay anyway…and I retort: it ain’t about the money, DT, I don’t give a shit about the money. I’d pay my entire retirement fund (and believe me, it’s significant!...and it's not a big gamble ~ because she and I both know I ain't going to live that long) for a “happy pill” that will make me forget all this shit and give me the ability to move on with my life, pain free. $120.00 bucks does not mean shit to me! Add in the $50.00 I had to pay someone to watch my kids? Still a drop in the *bucket*. I may be one generation away from poor white trash…but believe me, I make enough money in a month to pay for the trailor I grew up in! It ain’t about the money!
I did show up. I wanted to wear my jams but I thought the sitter might question where I might be going to pajamas…and the only answer I could come up with was: my shrink’s for a slumber party (?). So I got dressed, drank some coffee and found my way to the therapist’s couch.
I sat there on her couch, and I was so tired and so sick to my stomach that I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to be back in my bed, asleep! And she would not let me look at the therapist because the therapist is good and we are bad. That’s when the therapist said, “Grace, there is nothing you can tell me that I cannot hear. I can take and accept anything you want to tell me. I will not see you differently.” Really? Because when I name dropped (compared myself to someone…a *famous* whore) she said she didn’t even know who that was…Yeah, me either…Gawd love the therapist...she is so cute and innocent – yeah, I’m sure I could never say anything that has happened to me, or that I’ve done, that would make the therapist blush, or puke into the trash can next to her desk. No – nothing ~ yeah, right! You just don't KNOW enough DT. And I don't know if you ever will.
I wish I could say I feel better tonight…but regrettably, that is not the case. I am barely breathing…in fact, it’s nearly 7:00pm so I think I will go to bed. I don't feel well tonight, not at all...
While I was dressed and out of the house I did mange to get a few presents for DS & DD ~ and I let them wrap each other's tonight and put them under the tree...so at least that's done. But I am not leaving the house again this year. And I told the therapist I cannot make an appointment for next week because I've no one to watch the kids and I'm not taking them.
No – DT, I still do not know the difference between what my body “needs” and “indulgence”…my body doesn’t talk to me like maybe yours does. But I do know that I have to stay asleep to "stay safe" right now. I do know that much, DT ~ to "stay alive" and not call you, or anyone in a "crisis" I must stay asleep.
The good news is that I am on vacation for 2 weeks ~ that's 2 weeks straight I can sleep and not get dressed ~ so I'd better make sure I have enough meds to make that happen- I'm pretty sure I do....
But I called her back so we could ‘develop a plan’ to get my ass out of the house and onto her couch…and I told her I would do my best. I love it when she tells me that if I don’t show up and it’s less than 24 hours, I have to pay anyway…and I retort: it ain’t about the money, DT, I don’t give a shit about the money. I’d pay my entire retirement fund (and believe me, it’s significant!...and it's not a big gamble ~ because she and I both know I ain't going to live that long) for a “happy pill” that will make me forget all this shit and give me the ability to move on with my life, pain free. $120.00 bucks does not mean shit to me! Add in the $50.00 I had to pay someone to watch my kids? Still a drop in the *bucket*. I may be one generation away from poor white trash…but believe me, I make enough money in a month to pay for the trailor I grew up in! It ain’t about the money!
I did show up. I wanted to wear my jams but I thought the sitter might question where I might be going to pajamas…and the only answer I could come up with was: my shrink’s for a slumber party (?). So I got dressed, drank some coffee and found my way to the therapist’s couch.
I sat there on her couch, and I was so tired and so sick to my stomach that I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to be back in my bed, asleep! And she would not let me look at the therapist because the therapist is good and we are bad. That’s when the therapist said, “Grace, there is nothing you can tell me that I cannot hear. I can take and accept anything you want to tell me. I will not see you differently.” Really? Because when I name dropped (compared myself to someone…a *famous* whore) she said she didn’t even know who that was…Yeah, me either…Gawd love the therapist...she is so cute and innocent – yeah, I’m sure I could never say anything that has happened to me, or that I’ve done, that would make the therapist blush, or puke into the trash can next to her desk. No – nothing ~ yeah, right! You just don't KNOW enough DT. And I don't know if you ever will.
I wish I could say I feel better tonight…but regrettably, that is not the case. I am barely breathing…in fact, it’s nearly 7:00pm so I think I will go to bed. I don't feel well tonight, not at all...
While I was dressed and out of the house I did mange to get a few presents for DS & DD ~ and I let them wrap each other's tonight and put them under the tree...so at least that's done. But I am not leaving the house again this year. And I told the therapist I cannot make an appointment for next week because I've no one to watch the kids and I'm not taking them.
No – DT, I still do not know the difference between what my body “needs” and “indulgence”…my body doesn’t talk to me like maybe yours does. But I do know that I have to stay asleep to "stay safe" right now. I do know that much, DT ~ to "stay alive" and not call you, or anyone in a "crisis" I must stay asleep.
The good news is that I am on vacation for 2 weeks ~ that's 2 weeks straight I can sleep and not get dressed ~ so I'd better make sure I have enough meds to make that happen- I'm pretty sure I do....
My body and I ~ we are not connected. And I don’t know how to make that happen.
Monday, December 21, 2009
I am hanging on to the words you say ~ that I am not crazy, and I will be okay
"You are not crazy and you will be okay". I am holding tightly onto your words, dear therapist. I have hidden them under my tear stained pillow where they can be easily reached when I wake up in terror and confusion.
Last Friday night was the worst I’ve experienced in a long time. I know in part it was due to the shameful disclosures I made in the therapist’s office, but there is more to it than that. And I have been trying to put the puzzle together, yet there are still missing pieces lost in the darkness, and it seems as though I have caught another case of trauma brain, in addition to a head cold. As you know *borderline freak outs* are a common side effect of trauma brain and I appreciate her endless patience when dealing with PAG. I understand there is no reasoning with her, which is why I choose to leave when she comes around.
I am sorry that I told the therapist that she doesn’t “get it” ~ that wasn’t fair, and I am sorry for hanging up on her and telling her that I do not need anything from her, including her ‘support’. Last Friday when I was talking to her the giddy sound in her voice and the fact that I perceived she called me back in front of the BF made me feel even more ashamed and embarrassed. And she sounded so happy and from my perspective not in a place where she could possibly understand that Grace’s internal security threat level had gone from a barely supportable ‘orange’ to unendurable “RED” and yet I had no way to communicate that to her because…well, I don’t really know why, exactly…I can only hypothesize and surmise and draw my own conclusions drawn from assumptions and guesswork:
1. I was angry that the therapist called me back from her BF’s house (although, I have to say I do like him better than the fossil – obviously he has email and a dog – and anyone who loves dogs is a-ok in my book) but I didn’t want to be a high-maintenance pain in the ass ~ or rain on her *happy parade* especially since she sounded so giggly and happy and I was in hell.
2. The kids were not home on Friday night and I knew that would make it worse for me ~ they are at least a distraction for part of the night.
3. The hus had already made some inferences that had kicked the 5 year old fear into full defcon 5 trauma brain.
4. I could not regain control of any situation on Friday night. I was not able to control what came out of my mouth, or what my body would do. Nothing! And the later it got ~ the worse it got. I could not stay in my body, or mind, for even 10 minutes.
5. I was not able to soothe any part of me or find any safety at all.
6. I felt like an inconvenience ~ she did not say that...in fact, she was trying to help me, but I felt like an inconvenience because…well, because that’s how I’ve always felt when I need help.
7. ....and other stuff
I know at one point on Friday night I was talking to my friend Lynn on one phone and the therapist on another…but I remember only a snippet of each conversation. It was all surreal – like I was not attached to my body at all – and I couldn’t feel anything, but could see what was happening- and it was complete chaos. I felt like the body I was seeing was dead and there were these people around her trying to help her live but she couldn’t understand them. And it was so loud and chaotic and confusing that I could not handle any of it so I stopped watching because it was weird and scary and tiring and no one could make that girl understand anything – and she just wanted it all to stop. The next thing I remember was the hus waking me up outside at 3am – wondering what the hell I was doing outside, as was I.
And just as I told the therapist she doesn’t “get” what it’s like for me at night, I surely cannot “get” what it must be like for her to try to figure out where I am and what’s going on when I cannot communicate with her and we are on the phone so it’s not like she can ‘see me’ – and I certainly do not “get” what it’s like for her to get a frantic phone call from me when I am in that state…and it’s discouraging because I thought I was doing better. I really did.
And I couldn’t deal with any of it the rest of the weekend so I just stayed in bed. But I’m still holding on…the therapist told me that I will be okay and I am not crazy. I am holding onto her words right now. Because I do not feel okay ~ and I do feel crazy. I feel like I am falling apart…
Last Friday night was the worst I’ve experienced in a long time. I know in part it was due to the shameful disclosures I made in the therapist’s office, but there is more to it than that. And I have been trying to put the puzzle together, yet there are still missing pieces lost in the darkness, and it seems as though I have caught another case of trauma brain, in addition to a head cold. As you know *borderline freak outs* are a common side effect of trauma brain and I appreciate her endless patience when dealing with PAG. I understand there is no reasoning with her, which is why I choose to leave when she comes around.
I am sorry that I told the therapist that she doesn’t “get it” ~ that wasn’t fair, and I am sorry for hanging up on her and telling her that I do not need anything from her, including her ‘support’. Last Friday when I was talking to her the giddy sound in her voice and the fact that I perceived she called me back in front of the BF made me feel even more ashamed and embarrassed. And she sounded so happy and from my perspective not in a place where she could possibly understand that Grace’s internal security threat level had gone from a barely supportable ‘orange’ to unendurable “RED” and yet I had no way to communicate that to her because…well, I don’t really know why, exactly…I can only hypothesize and surmise and draw my own conclusions drawn from assumptions and guesswork:
1. I was angry that the therapist called me back from her BF’s house (although, I have to say I do like him better than the fossil – obviously he has email and a dog – and anyone who loves dogs is a-ok in my book) but I didn’t want to be a high-maintenance pain in the ass ~ or rain on her *happy parade* especially since she sounded so giggly and happy and I was in hell.
2. The kids were not home on Friday night and I knew that would make it worse for me ~ they are at least a distraction for part of the night.
3. The hus had already made some inferences that had kicked the 5 year old fear into full defcon 5 trauma brain.
4. I could not regain control of any situation on Friday night. I was not able to control what came out of my mouth, or what my body would do. Nothing! And the later it got ~ the worse it got. I could not stay in my body, or mind, for even 10 minutes.
5. I was not able to soothe any part of me or find any safety at all.
6. I felt like an inconvenience ~ she did not say that...in fact, she was trying to help me, but I felt like an inconvenience because…well, because that’s how I’ve always felt when I need help.
7. ....and other stuff
I know at one point on Friday night I was talking to my friend Lynn on one phone and the therapist on another…but I remember only a snippet of each conversation. It was all surreal – like I was not attached to my body at all – and I couldn’t feel anything, but could see what was happening- and it was complete chaos. I felt like the body I was seeing was dead and there were these people around her trying to help her live but she couldn’t understand them. And it was so loud and chaotic and confusing that I could not handle any of it so I stopped watching because it was weird and scary and tiring and no one could make that girl understand anything – and she just wanted it all to stop. The next thing I remember was the hus waking me up outside at 3am – wondering what the hell I was doing outside, as was I.
And just as I told the therapist she doesn’t “get” what it’s like for me at night, I surely cannot “get” what it must be like for her to try to figure out where I am and what’s going on when I cannot communicate with her and we are on the phone so it’s not like she can ‘see me’ – and I certainly do not “get” what it’s like for her to get a frantic phone call from me when I am in that state…and it’s discouraging because I thought I was doing better. I really did.
And I couldn’t deal with any of it the rest of the weekend so I just stayed in bed. But I’m still holding on…the therapist told me that I will be okay and I am not crazy. I am holding onto her words right now. Because I do not feel okay ~ and I do feel crazy. I feel like I am falling apart…
And the best you can hope for is to die in your sleep...
Right now I'd rather turn around and walk away forever…make that RUN. It's much easier than facing the truth. I will do virtually anything to keep from ‘feeling’ the searing pain that has manifested itself in my soul in both my 'past' and 'present moment'...and it has made me so very tired. And frankly I don’t know how to survive right now. I have nothing left~ I lack the energy to even make it through the days. So I have been taking advantage of the copious amount of anti-anxiety drugs that PDOC so graciously prescribed for me during *times like these* (aka: “crazy grace” times).
Every hand is a winner and every hand’s a loser…and I have come to the decision that the winning hand for me is to stay asleep as much as possible. I haven’t been feeling well physically – perhaps a cold from sleeping outside until after 3am on Friday night in the below freezing weather...I am not really sure.
And the fact is that I have been plagued by nightmares when awake and asleep. Sunday morning I opened my eyes for the first time at 11:30am and not even a strong cup of coffee could keep me awake and functioning, so I saw the light for only a short time. Why fight it ~ isn’t that what the therapist would say? “Grace, listen to your body and if you need to sleep 22 hours out of the day, then *be okay* with that." So I have been listening to this sluggish, disgusting, hurting body telling me to just take the drugs and go to sleep. And take enough of them to ensure we all stay asleep.
The drugs do not prevent the nightmares but somehow make them more bearable, if that makes any sense at all. I still feel fear, still wake up in a cold sweat with my heart pounding, but right now it is still more tolerable than being awake.
I don’t think I have been this numb to the reality of life in a long time. I have been 'present' and 'in my body' and 'aware' of my surroundings for about 10 minutes the entire weekend. I'm okay with that because in this body is the last place I want to be right now. I’ve done zero Christmas shopping for my children. An inner critic is screaming about the Christmas shopping thing and yet I still cannot seem to rid my brain of the infinite dark cloudiness in my head long enough to even muster up the cognitive ability to order anything from Amazon.
And so I have a bedside table with the necessities to make it through the rest of this festive holiday season: bottles of seroquel, lorazapam, xanax and a bottle of water to wash them down with...and a bottle of wine and some vodka...if need be. I just want to be totally and completely 100% numb for now.
Every hand is a winner and every hand’s a loser…and I have come to the decision that the winning hand for me is to stay asleep as much as possible. I haven’t been feeling well physically – perhaps a cold from sleeping outside until after 3am on Friday night in the below freezing weather...I am not really sure.
And the fact is that I have been plagued by nightmares when awake and asleep. Sunday morning I opened my eyes for the first time at 11:30am and not even a strong cup of coffee could keep me awake and functioning, so I saw the light for only a short time. Why fight it ~ isn’t that what the therapist would say? “Grace, listen to your body and if you need to sleep 22 hours out of the day, then *be okay* with that." So I have been listening to this sluggish, disgusting, hurting body telling me to just take the drugs and go to sleep. And take enough of them to ensure we all stay asleep.
The drugs do not prevent the nightmares but somehow make them more bearable, if that makes any sense at all. I still feel fear, still wake up in a cold sweat with my heart pounding, but right now it is still more tolerable than being awake.
I don’t think I have been this numb to the reality of life in a long time. I have been 'present' and 'in my body' and 'aware' of my surroundings for about 10 minutes the entire weekend. I'm okay with that because in this body is the last place I want to be right now. I’ve done zero Christmas shopping for my children. An inner critic is screaming about the Christmas shopping thing and yet I still cannot seem to rid my brain of the infinite dark cloudiness in my head long enough to even muster up the cognitive ability to order anything from Amazon.
I am tired ~ drained ~ unwell
I wish I could talk about what has happened but I cannot. So please forgive me if I check out for a while...I did not plan this ~ but it is what it is ~ and I cannot change it right this minute. I amdiscouraged, angry, frustrated, fearful, confused...and I cannot face any of that right now.
And so I have a bedside table with the necessities to make it through the rest of this festive holiday season: bottles of seroquel, lorazapam, xanax and a bottle of water to wash them down with...and a bottle of wine and some vodka...if need be. I just want to be totally and completely 100% numb for now.
What? Grace, I thought you were past that? Yeah, me too…but I was wrong.
Now the best I can hope for is to turn toward the window and hope that somewhere in the darkess, I, like the gambler, will *break even*~ because I'm currently out of aces...
Friday, December 18, 2009
Everyone has secrets, right?
Everyone has something they are ashamed of, right? Everyone has something in their in their past that they do not want anyone to know about, don't they? There is no one in the exempt category for this, is there? Even my ultra-religious, never told a lie, grandparents had a secret. They were married for 55 years and when he died, I learned that he had been married before WWII ~ I never knew that ~ neither of them ever mentioned it.
Sometimes secrets are on a 'need to know basis' ~ some secrets are on a 'never to be known' list.
Some things make me feel untouchable ~ some things I do because I don't think I have the right to say no, sometimes I lack the ability ~ sometimes I just give up. Sometimes it just doesn't matter.
Sometimes secrets are on a 'need to know basis' ~ some secrets are on a 'never to be known' list.
Some things make me feel untouchable ~ some things I do because I don't think I have the right to say no, sometimes I lack the ability ~ sometimes I just give up. Sometimes it just doesn't matter.
TEMPORARILY AWAY: relocated to the Island of Misfit Survivors
I don’t know where to go from here. I am bleeding inside and it hurts. I want the hurt to go away and yet I do not want to reach out for any type of help. I continue to struggle with the conflict inside of me, and making decisions that are not consensual with all parts of me, and the backlash that occurs as a result. Once the decision is made there is pushback and anxiety and I while I realize there are no ‘take backs’ I feel like I need to run away to the Island of Misfit Toys right now.
I want some semblance of sanity in my life. I want the pain to go away, or at least dull ~ I want the body stuff to stop and the movies to stop at night. And I know I need help for that to happen….but I don’t want help because I don’t want to depend on someone to help me, and I don’t want the vulnerability of actually talking about it. So where does that leave me? Yes, exactly! On the “Island of Misfit Survivors”, that’s where! Feelings of vulnerability compromise my ‘inner security’, which then sends out alerts to PAG, who then makes life hell, and not just for me. Who doesn’t have issues with trust and vulnerability, right? That’s not a unique quality that simply I must bear. Especially in a one-sided relationship like therapy.
My mind is reeling with the thoughts of someone else seeing the ugly death inside my body that has metastasized into all 5 foot 3 inches of me; and I'm wondering if I even have the ability and strength to try to figure out a way to communicate what I can only describe as an intense pain that cannot be expressed in the verbiage of the human language. The words simply do not exist. And even if they did I don’t know that I would be able to verbalize them.
Last night I found myself literally “Rocking around the Christmas Tree” in the quiet desperation of the darkness. And I sat on the floor, crying and wrapped in a blanket, rocking and counting the white and red lights on the tree in my living room. And when the lights would blur from the tears in my eyes, I would close my eyes, reopen them, and start again…counting and rocking…counting to save myself from shattering, counting to save myself from falling deeper into the pit of hopeless abandonment. Counting and rocking… counting to save my life.
I don’t know what I need ~ to pray harder? That doesn’t work well for me. I should ask someone to pray for me? Maybe that would work. Prayer for strength? I cannot believe I that I am doubting myself yet again just when I thought I had taken a step forward in this fight. My mind is a chaotic mess! I need to go throw up and then try to find something else to focus on. The less I think about this right now, the better.
I want some semblance of sanity in my life. I want the pain to go away, or at least dull ~ I want the body stuff to stop and the movies to stop at night. And I know I need help for that to happen….but I don’t want help because I don’t want to depend on someone to help me, and I don’t want the vulnerability of actually talking about it. So where does that leave me? Yes, exactly! On the “Island of Misfit Survivors”, that’s where! Feelings of vulnerability compromise my ‘inner security’, which then sends out alerts to PAG, who then makes life hell, and not just for me. Who doesn’t have issues with trust and vulnerability, right? That’s not a unique quality that simply I must bear. Especially in a one-sided relationship like therapy.
My mind is reeling with the thoughts of someone else seeing the ugly death inside my body that has metastasized into all 5 foot 3 inches of me; and I'm wondering if I even have the ability and strength to try to figure out a way to communicate what I can only describe as an intense pain that cannot be expressed in the verbiage of the human language. The words simply do not exist. And even if they did I don’t know that I would be able to verbalize them.
Last night I found myself literally “Rocking around the Christmas Tree” in the quiet desperation of the darkness. And I sat on the floor, crying and wrapped in a blanket, rocking and counting the white and red lights on the tree in my living room. And when the lights would blur from the tears in my eyes, I would close my eyes, reopen them, and start again…counting and rocking…counting to save myself from shattering, counting to save myself from falling deeper into the pit of hopeless abandonment. Counting and rocking… counting to save my life.
I don’t know what I need ~ to pray harder? That doesn’t work well for me. I should ask someone to pray for me? Maybe that would work. Prayer for strength? I cannot believe I that I am doubting myself yet again just when I thought I had taken a step forward in this fight. My mind is a chaotic mess! I need to go throw up and then try to find something else to focus on. The less I think about this right now, the better.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Better to understand a little than to misunderstand a lot...
I slept about 10 minutes last night...plagued off an on by dreams and body 'issues'...I wasn't sleepy when I finally decided to lie down in bed and that's always a bad sign for me. I usually wait until I can barely stumble up the stairs before I go to bed. But that wasn't happening last night. I had already taken the nightly allotment of meds and they were not slowing down either my body or my brain. I won't pretend to understand why the exact same drug cocktail can work one night but not another, I'll just hope that tonight will be a night they will work.
Too much on my mind to rest. My eyes are hurting today and even though my body is tired and my eyes want to close, I am not sleepy. This week there has been a small deviation in my schedule which has seemingly thrown a part of me off track. I'm not sure why. But I do know that I am not allowed the ability to multi-task today which is not working out well as I have a 60 page report to review for a meeting on Friday which I now have to take page by page and try to focus. And what would typically take me a couple of hours is going to take me all day today, throwing the rest of my work behind. But I realize this lack of concentration and focus is temporary, so that in itself is not the cause of my current distress. And I am trying to find a way to soothe and alleviate the pain inside of me today and the little girl that wants to sit, wrapped tightly in her blue blanket, and rock herself is going to have to give me another option because I have to work so that isn't possible right now.
And now that I have spoken aloud, in my own voice, some of my friday night fright festivities (both then and now), to the therapist, the restlessness~ and both the physical and mental reminders of the past are bubbling up and spilling over ~ creating an internal environment that is even more unsettling, which leaves me on a tightrope trying to keep the delicate balance necessary to ensure no one falls to their death. Inside there is screaming and crying...and it is loud and piercing...and I have not yet found a way to quiet them.
Despite the screaming and crying, and inability to soothe those inside of me, I am not regretful of the disclosures I made to the therapist yesterday. Painful...embarrassing...full of shame...hell yes ~ necessary and something I needed and wanted to say? I think so. Agreement from everyone inside my brain? Still working on that. But I seem to have developed a stronger sense of control over the defiant one for now. I have to take advantage of this time because I fear she will take back charge in my moments of weakness ~ like today. Because one slip on even the smallest sliver of ice...and I'm in the 'bad' place.
A friend of mine said to me on Monday, "Grace, you just don't seem like yourself today." And I replied back to her, "P, my friend, I don't even know who my "self" is..." And I really don't." But I hope that someday I will....
I don't know how I am going to get through the rest of this week. I will ~ I'm just not sure how.
Too much on my mind to rest. My eyes are hurting today and even though my body is tired and my eyes want to close, I am not sleepy. This week there has been a small deviation in my schedule which has seemingly thrown a part of me off track. I'm not sure why. But I do know that I am not allowed the ability to multi-task today which is not working out well as I have a 60 page report to review for a meeting on Friday which I now have to take page by page and try to focus. And what would typically take me a couple of hours is going to take me all day today, throwing the rest of my work behind. But I realize this lack of concentration and focus is temporary, so that in itself is not the cause of my current distress. And I am trying to find a way to soothe and alleviate the pain inside of me today and the little girl that wants to sit, wrapped tightly in her blue blanket, and rock herself is going to have to give me another option because I have to work so that isn't possible right now.
And now that I have spoken aloud, in my own voice, some of my friday night fright festivities (both then and now), to the therapist, the restlessness~ and both the physical and mental reminders of the past are bubbling up and spilling over ~ creating an internal environment that is even more unsettling, which leaves me on a tightrope trying to keep the delicate balance necessary to ensure no one falls to their death. Inside there is screaming and crying...and it is loud and piercing...and I have not yet found a way to quiet them.
Despite the screaming and crying, and inability to soothe those inside of me, I am not regretful of the disclosures I made to the therapist yesterday. Painful...embarrassing...full of shame...hell yes ~ necessary and something I needed and wanted to say? I think so. Agreement from everyone inside my brain? Still working on that. But I seem to have developed a stronger sense of control over the defiant one for now. I have to take advantage of this time because I fear she will take back charge in my moments of weakness ~ like today. Because one slip on even the smallest sliver of ice...and I'm in the 'bad' place.
A friend of mine said to me on Monday, "Grace, you just don't seem like yourself today." And I replied back to her, "P, my friend, I don't even know who my "self" is..." And I really don't." But I hope that someday I will....
I don't know how I am going to get through the rest of this week. I will ~ I'm just not sure how.
Get it? I get it. Got it? I got it. Good! *no judgement*
I think that the therapist and I have come to a mutual understanding of sorts...for now. I will agree to not take an abundant supply of benzos or slit my wrists in an effort to avoid the inner pain and turmoil ~ and she will agree to not wear the Marsha Suit in my presense and be supportive.
And I can tell her when I feel dizzy and nauseous instead of just leaving my body and flying off into the corner, when I can't continue talking about something. And I find that voicing some random useless trivia facts work just as well as doing math problems in my head to ground me when I feel like I'm going to 'go away' ~ and maybe someday, the fact I shared yesterday with the therapist (in the middle of a conversation - no less) that the average woman owns 18 pair of shoes, but wears only 3-4 ~ will come in handy for her some day during an awkward moment of silence when you feel like you have to say something but you don't know what to say.
Dear Grace, I noticed that at the end of the session, you were looking sad and I hope that my attempts to follow your lead in session today re: Friday nights was not too much. I know that you had asked me not to talk about Friday nights and I was sensitive to this. I also suspect that there is still a lot to these nights that remain to be sorted out. I will continue to honor your pace and needs as you move through this terribly difficult process. And, let me remind you that I seek to understand the whys, what’s, how’s of Friday nights so that I can help you find some type of peace in these nights. There is NO ROOM for judgment in this process of understanding and healing. K? Got it? :0) I think that what was spoken about today re: Friday took a lot of strength from you and you did it in a fully aware and present state of mind. This is courageous and progress. When you get dizzy, then we work to get you back in your body and in the present. Today you only had a brief moment. Despite the inner critic in you, you get to take the pace you need. Let us both honor this fully. ~ The Therapist
Dear Therapist, Yes, there is still a lot to be sorted out and my mind feels very jumbled and messy today. I ain't going to say that it's easy and I appreicate you not making me feel freakishly crazy during session yesterday. I still feel dizzy and nauseous today, tearful and afraid, because I cannot seem to turn off my brain, or quiet the crying and screaming. But I hope that I will be okay some day. I still need the rock, DT. I thought I didn't, but I do. Did you know that the average woman spends $17,000.00 on make-up during her life-time?
~ Grace
And I can tell her when I feel dizzy and nauseous instead of just leaving my body and flying off into the corner, when I can't continue talking about something. And I find that voicing some random useless trivia facts work just as well as doing math problems in my head to ground me when I feel like I'm going to 'go away' ~ and maybe someday, the fact I shared yesterday with the therapist (in the middle of a conversation - no less) that the average woman owns 18 pair of shoes, but wears only 3-4 ~ will come in handy for her some day during an awkward moment of silence when you feel like you have to say something but you don't know what to say.
Dear Grace, I noticed that at the end of the session, you were looking sad and I hope that my attempts to follow your lead in session today re: Friday nights was not too much. I know that you had asked me not to talk about Friday nights and I was sensitive to this. I also suspect that there is still a lot to these nights that remain to be sorted out. I will continue to honor your pace and needs as you move through this terribly difficult process. And, let me remind you that I seek to understand the whys, what’s, how’s of Friday nights so that I can help you find some type of peace in these nights. There is NO ROOM for judgment in this process of understanding and healing. K? Got it? :0) I think that what was spoken about today re: Friday took a lot of strength from you and you did it in a fully aware and present state of mind. This is courageous and progress. When you get dizzy, then we work to get you back in your body and in the present. Today you only had a brief moment. Despite the inner critic in you, you get to take the pace you need. Let us both honor this fully. ~ The Therapist
Dear Therapist, Yes, there is still a lot to be sorted out and my mind feels very jumbled and messy today. I ain't going to say that it's easy and I appreicate you not making me feel freakishly crazy during session yesterday. I still feel dizzy and nauseous today, tearful and afraid, because I cannot seem to turn off my brain, or quiet the crying and screaming. But I hope that I will be okay some day. I still need the rock, DT. I thought I didn't, but I do. Did you know that the average woman spends $17,000.00 on make-up during her life-time?
~ Grace
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
If no one trusts, does it matter if everyone lies?
It's hard to talk to the therapist about embarrassing and shameful things ~ 'bad' things. I can talk to my survivor friend, I can write about it here. It feels different for me, to talk to someone who has shared similar experiences…like speaks to like I guess. I’m not saying I have any idea of the therapist’s past ~ but I don’t get the feeling she was f'd by her father, or hated by her mother…and it embarrasses me to talk about where I came from. What I was ~ what he did, and what I continue to do to myself…it sickens me, and it’s f’d up. So I don’t understand how someone cannot judge something so terrible (not what happened to me as a kid –I know she isn’t going to judge that ~ but the stuff I continue to do now that is messed up). I email a friend and I tell her something that is fucked up and she will say, “Yeah, Grace ~ that’s f’d up.” And I know she’s being honest. That was a topic of conversation today during T.
Yesterday I told the therapist some of what happens on Friday nights and then part of me regretted telling her ~ and so I freaked last night and left her a frantic voicemail that she had to promise me she wouldn’t mention anything about Fridays because otherwise I couldn’t come to my appointment…because I was too embarrassed and ashamed and I can’t believe I said anything in the first place. She called me back and told me that she would not mention it and she would wait until all of us were ready to talk about it.
We did talk a little about Friday nights during my appointment today, and I told her it’s f’d up and I’m a freak…and I know she says she’s all nonjudgmental but I don’t believe that ~ how could anyone NOT be…and I wish she would really tell me what she was thinking, even if it is to say, “Gawd Grace, that’s f’d up!” (and not just because it’s always a goal of mine to get the therapist to say the “F” word…) but because Fridays are, in fact, f’d up! And she said she wasn’t thinking that at all…but I don’t believe that. Isn’t that what all therapists say? Like it’s written on page 246 of the ‘manual’ ~ never tell a client she is f’d up.
And so the therapist told me that I should just tell the hus why Friday nights are hard for me and then maybe we could agree to have sex on another night that isn’t so triggering for me. I nearly laughed at that suggestion, since I did not obviously give enough details to allow her to fully understand that it's not about having sex on Fridays…nope, not enough details. It was kinda cute ~ though, her suggestion., and the way she said it. It was almost like making an alternative suggestion to a 5 year old, “Well, Gracie, we don’t have any chocolate ice cream maybe you can have vanilla with chocolate syrup instead?” For the love of God, if she only knew! She would say, “Grace, that’s f’d up…”
Anyway, I’m already dreading this Friday~ and it’s only Wednesday! And I’m not strong enough to tell anyone why, or stop any of it. Sometimes I don’t understand how I got to be an adult….*huge exasperated sigh*!!! The therapist offered a check in call on Friday, but the past 2 Fridays she was working and that means I can talk to her around 11:30 at night. This Friday she is off so she said we could plan a time earlier in the evening…I graciously declined her offer for 2 reasons: (1) she has the weekend off and I’m sure she has plans, and (2) earlier than 11 won’t work for me. Sammy Terry starts at 10… And I can’t stop it - and the last 2 Fridays I talked to her at 11:30 and I was able to at least not hurt myself, or worse. But it was nice of her to offer. I told her I would be okay…even if I hang on by my pinky fingernail, I’ll be okay. And even though I won’t really be “okay” I'm not telling her that…I’ll live.
But Fridays are not “just another night”. Not for me. I cried all the way back to work when I left her office…I don’t even know why….that's f'd up...
Yesterday I told the therapist some of what happens on Friday nights and then part of me regretted telling her ~ and so I freaked last night and left her a frantic voicemail that she had to promise me she wouldn’t mention anything about Fridays because otherwise I couldn’t come to my appointment…because I was too embarrassed and ashamed and I can’t believe I said anything in the first place. She called me back and told me that she would not mention it and she would wait until all of us were ready to talk about it.
We did talk a little about Friday nights during my appointment today, and I told her it’s f’d up and I’m a freak…and I know she says she’s all nonjudgmental but I don’t believe that ~ how could anyone NOT be…and I wish she would really tell me what she was thinking, even if it is to say, “Gawd Grace, that’s f’d up!” (and not just because it’s always a goal of mine to get the therapist to say the “F” word…) but because Fridays are, in fact, f’d up! And she said she wasn’t thinking that at all…but I don’t believe that. Isn’t that what all therapists say? Like it’s written on page 246 of the ‘manual’ ~ never tell a client she is f’d up.
And so the therapist told me that I should just tell the hus why Friday nights are hard for me and then maybe we could agree to have sex on another night that isn’t so triggering for me. I nearly laughed at that suggestion, since I did not obviously give enough details to allow her to fully understand that it's not about having sex on Fridays…nope, not enough details. It was kinda cute ~ though, her suggestion., and the way she said it. It was almost like making an alternative suggestion to a 5 year old, “Well, Gracie, we don’t have any chocolate ice cream maybe you can have vanilla with chocolate syrup instead?” For the love of God, if she only knew! She would say, “Grace, that’s f’d up…”
Anyway, I’m already dreading this Friday~ and it’s only Wednesday! And I’m not strong enough to tell anyone why, or stop any of it. Sometimes I don’t understand how I got to be an adult….*huge exasperated sigh*!!! The therapist offered a check in call on Friday, but the past 2 Fridays she was working and that means I can talk to her around 11:30 at night. This Friday she is off so she said we could plan a time earlier in the evening…I graciously declined her offer for 2 reasons: (1) she has the weekend off and I’m sure she has plans, and (2) earlier than 11 won’t work for me. Sammy Terry starts at 10… And I can’t stop it - and the last 2 Fridays I talked to her at 11:30 and I was able to at least not hurt myself, or worse. But it was nice of her to offer. I told her I would be okay…even if I hang on by my pinky fingernail, I’ll be okay. And even though I won’t really be “okay” I'm not telling her that…I’ll live.
But Fridays are not “just another night”. Not for me. I cried all the way back to work when I left her office…I don’t even know why….that's f'd up...
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Dear Diary....can you help me?
Dear diary, can you see me?
Can you feel the pain I feel?
Can you feel the pain through my words?
Will my heart and soul ever heal?
Dear diary, can you tell me,
Why I feel so sad?
Why my parents did this?
Destroyed all I had
Dear diary, can you help me?
Can you erase my life?
Can you make me happy?
Erase all my strife?
Dear diary, are you there?
Can you set my spirit free?
Can you kill me, dear diary?
Can you make it ok to 'be'?
Can you feel the pain I feel?
Can you feel the pain through my words?
Will my heart and soul ever heal?
Dear diary, can you tell me,
Why I feel so sad?
Why my parents did this?
Destroyed all I had
Dear diary, can you help me?
Can you erase my life?
Can you make me happy?
Erase all my strife?
Dear diary, are you there?
Can you set my spirit free?
Can you kill me, dear diary?
Can you make it ok to 'be'?
Unable to reach out...she sits alone ~ in tears...
she sits by the old tree
waiting..
a tiny girl in tears.
wrapping her arms around her knees
she embraces the ache of fear
there's a light in a cottage so near
casting soft shadows on a moonlit face
voices serenade the darkness
inflaming the embers
of a belonging so close,
but never close enough...
for her to reach
waiting..
a tiny girl in tears.
wrapping her arms around her knees
she embraces the ache of fear
there's a light in a cottage so near
casting soft shadows on a moonlit face
voices serenade the darkness
inflaming the embers
of a belonging so close,
but never close enough...
for her to reach
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