Crawl
I’m bitterly grief stricken
Filled with anger and resentment as I drown in a sorrow that drags me with its undercurrent of past events
I find myself reaching for a life jacket made of stone memories anchored to crystal-clear humiliation at the bottom of a mud filled ocean.
Why do I keep doing this? Why can’t I ever reach the shore?
Why does my mind break then rise to endure even more?
Endurance is applauded only when the body is pressed beyond what it was created to do.
Humans marvel at a broken athlete willing to crawl across a finish line
He’ll receive nothing but admiration, no gold, no silver, bronze or even tin
But the crowd will cheer and years later they’ll remember him.
My knees are scraped as I labor across Mental gravel to a finish line I can’t even see.
There will be no crowd gathered, no support team cheering.
My knees are just as bloody and my soul is tired.
Yet I crawl not for a medal, for glory, for title or fame
I just want to survive this life and not have to rise to endure it again.
December 13, 2005-Maureen of Morton’s Pride
Yesterday I found a Growth Sheet on BoyyM MPD Information Pages. When I looked at it I could see areas where I’ve improved and areas that still make me shutter. I love stumbling on sheets and forms like this and things that are spelled out clearly where I can examine the past with the present.
Things have changed for us. It seems that although I meet crazy people I meet a lot of good people to make up for it. I trust a little bit more, I’ll admit when I someone though I refuse to say it too much because it’ll come to sound empty. I can leave the house now without Captain sometimes. I do not cut everyday or isolate as much. Not to run it in the ground but my biggest issues right now are PTSD. Last nights nightmares are quite clear that there is a lot of work to be done. On the sheet I noticed several things I need to work on: adapts to new situations, able to shake hands, accepts praise well, enjoys love making, chooses supportive relationships.
What all of this says to me is that I still feel like I’m bad inside. As much as I’ve worked through that underlying thread keeps going through it all. I’m bad and that’s why my mother hurt me. When I think about being touched I shutter. I hate it when someone extends their hand for me to shake. I shutter when Sg wants to hug me though I have found that sometimes I long to be held..it just doesn’t feel safe to do so. I’m dead during sex. I leave just as it starts. I’m okay for the 4 play but once it starts I’m gone. The exception to that is with my ex-husband. The reason I enjoyed sex with him was because he found me repulsive. Certainly that was not healthy for me. It is good to know what I’ve got to work on but it’s also good to know what steps I’ve taken forward. I think this was the idea Boyy M had in mind when he posted the growth sheet.
Alright well, I’ve got to get ready to see Dr.B for therapy.
Austin
I guess I discovered your journal at a good time. I can really use some links. I’ve been asked to add more links and info about DID to my website (the dot com site, not my blog). But, I’m so far behind on updating the site, at least I can put some links on my blog for right now. Thanks! Also, I am very moved by your writing. I can really relate to the analogy of never reaching the shore. I’ve written about despair kinda like that. I’ll be doing some more research on here. Thanks for providing such valuable information.
Actually, I am rather attached to the name Blood. My grandfather was a physician, known in the tiny town where I grew up as “Doc Blood.” People either remember it forever or repress it immediately, and I have heard virtually every theme and variation of joke on the name (I keep the best to use myself.) The most impressive response I have gotten to it was having a client simply faint and slump slowly to the floor when we were introduced. At least I have an effect on people. All are welcome to my blog and to other sites I am developing.
Peace, Doc