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A man kept a house with several women tied up with chains. Some he broke so that they didn't try to run. He kept a lion that he fed live humans. It was the largest beast I'd ever seen.

I and another woman were caught as prey. We were in a container waiting to be eaten but I saw a way out and took it. As I escaped the grounds, the Master of the house attempted to stop me. He was furious that I tried to get away. How dare I get so far away from his traps, from his control. He was angry, offended and really wanted to the mastery over me, to throw me to the lion. I was getting away until the Mistress of the house emerged and demanded I return inside. She told me I had to go inside, I had to listen to her. The Master couldn't believe his fortune, that I'd escape the property only to willingly return at the voice of a dominate woman. He was so excited he could hardly contain himself. I woke before reentering the house.

Dr D and I discussed the dream in session today. We talked about how it feels like the Mistress is more my situation than a specific person. The Lion is the beast I face. I'm not always strong so I'm the broken woman who won't run, the new captive not yet broken and the spirit that'll find a way out. But when it's all said and done, I still have to face the Lion in yet another surgery. I'm torn and will be torn more. Parts of me are gone that I can't get back no matter who I out smart or out run. ...continue reading "DREAM : The Mouth of Lions"

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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"

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I didn't have therapy today. I was in the hospital most of the day because of a complication with shingles. A friend of mine said, "What next?" I wanted to break her neck for saying it.

I didn't think I would get to talk to Dr. D before I went in which was terribly upsetting. When he did call, which was just as I was walking out the door, he ended up talking to one of my child personalities who was panicked. We were so afraid we'd not get to hear from him or have that support which we badly needed. For a few minutes he reassured her that he wasn't mad we couldn't be there and that he thought we should go in just as our doctor suggested.

I've just sort of swallowed the emotion associated with the issue. I'm a tad worn out so I've not allowed myself to feel the weight of it. Shingles hurt but there's an emotional side to it, too. That I've put off because my plate is too full to feel it.  ...continue reading "On Shingles and Angels"

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I read to him the entry I wrote about being angry with him. I then assured him I will not lie to him about feeling suicidal or depressed. I need to trust him and he needs to trust me.

I cried from open to close of the session. It's been a hard day physically and emotionally. I had to take pain medication because of spasms in my legs and stomach. I tried to manage as long as I could without pain meds but after a bit it's reasonable to take a dose to ease things up. I also took some of my Passion Flower tincture to help ease anxiety associated with pain. I'm surprised I was able to stay awake for the session. ...continue reading "Therapy review: What I need to hear"

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When I talked to Dr. D he asked how I did with him gone. I didn't want him to think I cared or needed him so I told him I did just fine. I told him I needed the vacation time too, which is true. I didn't want him to go for two weeks. The timing felt bad. I felt like I was in the middle of a medical crisis and really needed my therapist. He has this confidence that my friends will support me. My friends are confident my therapist will support me. I don't feel too supported with the depression and such lately. Someone else will do it, that seems to be the standard.

...continue reading "First session after vacation. Angry with the therapist."

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Dr. D and I discussed the paragraph in my entry where I said I feel as though he drops the ball when the issue of suicide comes up.

When I first went in to therapy I was nervous. I didn't want to be there at all because I knew I was going to talk to him about feeling less than fully supported by my therapist on the issue of suicidality. I feared he'd become defensive but he didn't.

I told him that he does ask questions but that its just information, nothing is done with it. It just hangs there. I said, you do ask how I'm doing but there's little of no response after I answer. I explained that when we talk about my anxiety he probes. He asks how I intend to manage it. I said, you are interested, concerned about those levels and it shows because you engage me. I explained that I don't feel the same level of interest or concern when discussing suicide. I said, you know, sometimes I call you and ask one question, "Am I going to be okay?" I started crying at that point and cried through the entire session. ...continue reading "THERAPY REVIEW: Confidence. Being Heard. Suicide. Perimenopause."

Family tree on my backColors speak louder than wordsI've thought a lot of my mother lately. In therapy Friday afternoon we talked about traveling, the orchestra, theater, opera and all the cultural things she loved. It's a strange contrast between the tyrant and the artist but there was in fact a contrast, one I loved. I recall my mother singing around the house. I knew when she sang it would be a safe day. For some reason when she sang all the vile went away.

One of my mother's favorite animals is the African Elephant which is why I purchased a notebook with one on the cover. I also liked the quote which says: Colors speak louder than words.

The loss is incredible.
Grant mercy please.
She left deep wounds, many questions, but no answers. I have to find resolution in wreckage.

In the notebook I've written letters to my mother, some kind, others telling her exactly how I felt living with her. These letters and drawings are just another step in healing from the war god I called mother. ...continue reading "Mother’s and Grey Elephants"

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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"

"She feels in color"

We talked about feeling depressed in a different way than what I'm used to feeling. There's an underlying feeling of not caring about anything and just wanting someone to take out of my stomach whatever it is that's eating me alive. I'm so tired right now I can't see straight. Sleep didn't come easily.

He said it'll be important to talk to the medical doctor and to tell her that I wonder if there's a hormonal connection. Does that play into things?

He said I'm intense right now. It felt like when talking to him that my thoughts were all over the place. I was tired, holding my gigantic bear, facing the wall.

I told him that feeling suicidal isn't new for me. What's new is not caring. I always find a way out, always. I don't always fight because sometimes fighting the situation makes it worse, but I'm not one to throw in the towel anymore.

I usually feel so much that its overwhelming but now all I feel is black, a feeling of despair and that I don't care. Is that anger? Is that apathy or depression? I don't know. ...continue reading "Therapy Review: Feeling Black Hoping for Light"

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"

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