The People Behind My Eyes

I Can’t Get Over It

Sunday, May 21, 2006 - 11:37 PM

I told my therapist that right now the DID doesn’t seem to be my biggest issue, PTSD seems to be the overwhelming fault in my life. He suggested that I get the book: I Can’t Get over It: A Handbook for Trauma Survivors by Aphrodite Matsakis. He says it’ll be very triggering and that I should take it slowly. I’ve looked the book up and my plan is to buy it online next month. Getting it from the library isn’t an option for me because of the time factor. Two weeks can go by without me even knowing it then I look up and I owe the library another $200 in fees cause I forgot I had their books for two years. I was gone and I believe it was our host who was out and then things kind of got messed up from there. I ended up getting those fees reduced because I was able to return the books. It really was 2 years. So, it would be better for me to buy the book than to try and go to the library, keep myself grounded enough to remember to return the book in some half way understood concept of two weeks time. I’ve supported the library with my 10cents per day late fees enough to have my own dedicated library wing…The Aussie Dissociative Wing. Anyway though, so the library is not an option but ebay is and so is Amazon and some other book sites where the shipping cost isn’t more than the book itself.

After my second nap of the day (Lord knows I’m still exhausted) but after the second nap I woke with a nausea that moved right into vomiting. I woke from a really aweful dream about my mother going into a dance club/department store where she was slaughtered with an ax. What is interesting is that the dream started at the same shopping mall that we went to as a child. That shopping mall is in a lot of my dreams. She and my sister went inside but I left my ID at an apartment complex that also finds itself in many of my dreams. I asked the bouncer if I could go in and look for the mother but he said I had to pay him full price to get in. that’s when things just got crazy. Some guy came up to me and pushed me then asked who, not what but who I had under my sweatshirt. He then picked me up and slammed me against the revolving doors. From there everyone started fighting and stabbing each other. It was brutal. I ended up escaping with some other people but my mother and sister were killed. I ran out and strangely enough all these yellow cabs started to drive up to pick up the survivors but they didn’t know we had just survived that massacre and no one was telling. So I got in one of the last available cabs and asked to go to The Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnessed down the street. He took me there. I woke up.

The Kingdom Hall, the shopping mall, the cab company and the apartment complex are usually in the same dream. I dream this all the time except for the part about everyone being butchered save a few people. It was quite disturbing. I guess it still is because I just started rocking while typing.

I’m getting sick of the PTSD issues. I’m getting sick of avoiding certain parts of town because the mother lives there. I’m tiring of Robert calling us by the birth name and of us looking over our shoulder in fear of running into the mother. I’d like to be free. Our goal for next month is to get this book.

Although we’ve done a lot in therapy there are things we’ve not really touched on. We haven’t really gone over the abuse. Most of therapy has been about separating myself from her. I’ve been completely out of contact with her for only 4 years. I think that is why so much of this is so fresh in my mind. The last time that woman asked me for sex was when I was 24 years old. So, even though I’ve been gone since I was 20 I’ve only been separate from her for 4 years. All this time I had her voice contradicting all I was learning in therapy. I was too afraid to touch on the abuse. I worried that somehow I was seeing things wrong or worse, that ………

I have no idea what I was saying. It’s just gone. .. Well, okay then…enough for tonight. I can take a hint. This is what happened in therapy in our last session. But again I know what this means and I need to stop. I am slightly un-nerved right now.

Austin

I’d Get Over It- Poem

If I could get over this I’d jump as high as a mountain, up and over
If I could write it out of me, write a few lines and whisk away the pain
I’d smear ink, I’d chicken scratch years of scorn and mocked name calling
And I’d get over it.
If I could stand up and walk away
If I could just walk away I’d do so in a heart beat
But right now my heart beats to one slow tune
The sound of your voice telling me how much my pain burdens you.

Milwaukee, age 12
inside Morton’s Pride
November 25th, 2006