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The Pages Were All WrongDr. D and I discussed a situation with my sister that came up that required I stick to my boundaries, as hard as it is to do.

Despite my mother having gainful employment, we spent a lot of time living in the car. I have slept with frost over me, slept on the wet street and in the sweltering night. Homelessness for me is a huge trigger. It makes me recoil, makes my mind want to run and never think about the horrors of it, the way it strips you of dignity and humanity. The way people hate you, judge you and look down on you. Routine homelessness in my childhood and young adult life with my mother, has left a scar that opens into a wound during the winter time.

When I'm cold I can't breathe because I can see myself lying under a blanket in a broken down RV with no electricity, no water, no heat, no lock on the door. I could see my own breath, see the frost build up on my blanket and hear my sister cry curled up beside me. We were so close to one another I couldn't breathe. There with us should have been my teddy bear, the last possession I owned, but it was lost in the car we'd slept in that ended up being stolen. Homelessness is a horrible trauma I wish on no one at all, so why have I refuse to offer my home to my sister in need? ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Hard Choices and Boundaries with Family"

There's something about having another living thing making noise that helps me feel less alone. Skip to 20 seconds for the start. His big performance is at 55 seconds. This is what Clyde does while doing his service dog duties of laying on my legs to help with the pain. He falls asleep and snores. Gotta love it.

There was one night when he snored so loudly that he woke me. I was groggy from medication and not clear who was snoring. I had to talk to myself to bring me back to 2017 where I do not sleep in a room with my sister. Usually his snoring doesn't trigger it, it makes me feel safe but some of the content of my therapy session concerning abuse got mixed up in current reality and grog. ...continue reading "Snoring. Dreaming of Flashbacks. Losing Mary Jane."

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I've tried to write this entry since Monday but I've run from it. I don't really want to write it because it hurts.

Therapy was hard, as usual. We went over the dream where the man was stabbed in the hallway. As I told Dr. D the part about hearing the man stabbed to death while hiding in the closet, Dr. D blurted out, "You know that's your brother, right?" I said, "Yes, and my sister." Here I am age 46 and I can still hear them both scream. I can still feel the fear as if I were backed in a corner watching, again. I told Dr. D that hearing my siblings abused or seeing it happen often felt worse than being abused myself. I remember it so clearly and I am certain it's what divides us to this day.  ...continue reading "Therapy Review – Slaughtering Peace of Mind"

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Entry Content: In some areas the dream was funny, strange and then ended violently. There is some sexual conversation, no abuse of children. Violent stabbing deaths. Mention of self injury.

Dream: I was standing in line in a food court with two restaurants serving my favorite food on both sides, but I was in a different line for a free hamburger. I stood in a very long line for what felt like forever. Finally I was at the front and ready for my order when a family of four walked right up to the front and began placing an order. I explained I'd been there and politely went on ordering but they kept talking to me. The family was so nice and talkative that I didn't realize while they talked to me, more family members arrived and ordered their meal for 15 people right under my nose. For my inconvenience, and much to my delight, the company gave me a free 13 inch sweet potato pie with my hamburger. ...continue reading "Dream Therapy: Murder and Powerlessness 1"

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Feelings upon waking:
Fearful. Fearful! I was trembling as my mind went over the crazy parts of this dramatic dream. After I woke I kept saying, 'I'm sorry' over and over again as if somehow dreaming something so violent was my fault. In addition to that guilt, there was guilt for not helping the man in the hallway who was viciously and savagely killed. I listened to him scream and die while cowering behind the closet door. I was anxious and regrettably chewed up my fingers. This is self harm.

Feelings now:
This dream is one day old but it's still a heavy one for me, especially since it resulted in an attack on myself. Why self-injury? To change the fear emotion that overtook me and to counter, over shadow flashbacks caused by the dream. I was shaking in bed, apologizing out loud for being weak. I wasn't thinking about the consequences of my actions. I was caught in emotion. I was not thinking straight. Another apology is needed, this time to myself. ...continue reading "Dream Therapy: Murder and Powerlessness 2"

She had a wide range of peculiarities but one constant; her mouth was always wide open.

Mouth Wide OpenHer violence frightened me as a child. The fact that she's still alive makes me a bit uncomfortable.

The woman with the split earlobe laughed loudly, sang loudly, slapped you on the back while laughing and did everything over the top. It wasn't mental illness, it was plain madness.  ...continue reading "Wide"

Content: Sexual abuse. Innocence of children. Violent speech. Anxiety insight.

I vomited up details just to give them away because I don't want them anymore. I've not gotten to say what I want to say, the way I want to say it. He doesn't flinch when I add anger and resentment to my words.

We talked about not realizing the purpose of the girl's clubs for inner city girls. We talked about how the girls my mother chose for special attention didn't look like me but looked like my sister. I resent that. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: One Too Many Times"

Today Dr. D and I discussed saying "no" to my mother and the consequences of doing so. My teeth began to chatter. I was rocking back and forth. I had to get a hold of myself.

Last night I was in the bedroom and instinctively turned to verify she wasn't in the doorway but for just a second I saw her. Obviously it was my head playing games, but for a second I thought I saw her standing there, which is why I turned to look. I had a scarf hanging over the door which created a figure in my peripheral vision. Turning to look isn't new. I have to force myself to not look at the door. I have to tell myself there's no way she's in the house, stop worrying, remember I'm safe now. But that's not enough, I have to look at the bedroom door to ease my mind. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Control. Gaining confidence."

There were only two of us but we had a nice time. We didn't do anything formal, just tea and cake. One can make tea and cake sound stuffy if important facts are left out. I had the tea already and she brought Little Debbie's. It was a nice visit though with some catching up as well as learning about one another.

I'm just now getting to know her. Interestingly enough, her mother was my foster mother making her a foster sister when I was a child. Small world isn't it?

It's sometimes difficult to be in the same room with someone who knows way too much about me, especially since I didn't get to pick and choose what she knows.  My sister decided this exposure for me which I find unacceptable and disempowering. I don't know what preconceived ideas she has about me, I only know she seems to like me...and yet I don't trust it. Why? In general I don't trust women. That is first and foremost but there's also the concern of being judged. ...continue reading "Tea, Chat and Trust"

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I turned 46 today. I'm not bothered by the age but my heart still desires what it can't have, family connection. Birthday's anymore are difficult. On this day, I feel the ache of not having family to grow old with.

Dr. D and I discussed what it would be like if I had any of my family in my life. The first thing is that they'd refuse to call me by my chosen and now legal name. They'd call me by the name I was given at birth which is totally unacceptable. The second thing is that I'd be asked to accept their reality as opposed to factual reality.

I know all the things that would be emotionally damaging if I were to connect again with my family. We don't have to list them off, I know them. What I can't seem to let go of is the need. I need something from these people that they can't and won't give. I need to belong to a family, without one I feel so ....I feel like I'm just out here floating around. I feel foreign and isolated. I'm a tree without bark, naked. I feel like a woman on an island alone and no one is coming to claim me or take me off this island.

I know this part is morbid but, what family member will claim me at death? Will an abuser come claim my body? How much talk will there be about why this person can't do it and why that person can't do it? Who gets the short end of that stick? ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Skinned. Let her go."

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