Monthly Archive for November, 2008

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When Was I A Child?

Published on November 17, 2008 in Abuse, Depression and PTSD. 2 Comments

I have a strong opinion about survival and living as someone who has lived what you and I have been through…hell, what too many have been through. As you’ve written, living isn’t enough. We grieve each day for what was taken. We struggle to understand the world around us from a haze and we fight with everything we’ve got to feel our fantasized idea of normal. When we don’t see ourselves as normal we feel like a failure.

I seem to have a selective memory of my past which bothers me too. I don’t remember things according to how old I was or what year it was. I remember what school I went to and what house I lived in. That’s how I narrow down time frames. But when it comes to what I looked like or specifics, things that made me an individual my memory is either blank or fuzzy. Continue reading ‘When Was I A Child?’

Sometimes When I Fight

Published on November 17, 2008 in Abuse, Borderline Personality Disorder, PTSD and Relationships. 3 Comments

If I ran into my mother out in public I could shoot insults back and be just fine but when it comes to my own home and her crossing my threshold I don’t think I would fight her. It’s gotta be hard to imagine this mouthy girl as a punching bag (emotionally or physically) but when it comes to this woman I become a little frightened child. Some days I think to myself I’d simply not open the door if she showed up. That is what I pray I’d do. I’ve got to make sure I do that and everyone inside knows to never open the door to her. With her calling here recently we’ve been on high alert.

I seem to be able to set boundaries outside my home but not in it. It’s as if I have no right to protect what I call my own.

I can tell a man no in a heartbeat and think nothing of it but I have great difficulties setting and keeping boundaries with women. I’m afraid of men but not as much as I am of women. My biggest fear other than my mother is women.

Sometimes I set boundaries and other times I don’t.

If I were to get into a fist fight I know I’d go punch for punch but if I were attacked sexually I’d freeze…I know I’d freeze because I’ve done it. This ex-friend didn’t attack me for the purpose of rape but he did grab me and hold me in a hug and kiss my neck. I froze. I simply froze. But had he smacked me I’d be typing this entry from death row. WTF!!! Hitting me sends me into a rage, touching me sexually turns me into a puddle.

I feel powerful in some areas and powerless in others.

Continue reading ‘Sometimes When I Fight’

Why Am I Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?

Published on November 16, 2008 in Abuse, Art, Art Therapy and PTSD. 2 Comments

Why am I afraid of the big bad wolf? Because the big bad wolf left teeth marks on my soul. That is why I’m afraid of my mother.

I’m afraid because the child in me, the little girl in this grown strong woman still needs that mother wolf. Part of me doesn’t trust that I won’t throw myself in front of her to once again be devoured. I am afraid of her and I am afraid of myself.

I am no longer a child but I remember the bite. I’m no longer a child but I remember how it felt to be “nipped” in the same spot until it was tender to the touch.

In the middle of the black forest I walk with one small torch desperately searching for the stream which leads me back to safety. It is surely just ahead. Just ahead too I see the eyes of one snarling animal waiting behind the trunk of a hundred year old tree. I think of my inner strength. I think of how I’m big now I can fight and maybe even win. I keep walking but I can feel the eyes. And I can feel the past come so quickly and steal my confidence like a thief. I can feel it. I can feel it.

This is why I am afraid. Not only have I been bitten by the mother, I’ve been tossed to other wolves, handed over as if I were food to be consumed and passed to the next to pick over what is left. Day after day the flesh which remains remembers and grieves.

Art title: Hungry V2.

Why Am I Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?- Sunday, November 16, 2008 – 2:11PM EST

The Point of Return

Published on November 15, 2008 in Pets. 6 Comments

I was tired and angry and hurting but after some rest I went back to that neighbors house for Ladybird. I know where the young man lives so I showed up and got her back. She’s here and in her crate.

She’ll be on her tie out length lead BEFORE she goes outside. That way all I have to do is hook the lead to the pole thing. I’ll start working on getting myself one of those collar things quickly.

Yesterday was a long, long day but what I did wasn’t right. It may be understandable but it wasn’t right.

I’m going back to sleep now.

The Point of No Return

Published on November 14, 2008 in Pets and Soapbox. 1 Comment

And so it was one medium sized dog and a small dog over the fence and through the woods to follow their nose they went. This is time number 9 total but time number 3 for today. When I got in my car to look for the rascals I first found Ladybird in a ditch shaking the life out of a rabbit. When I called her name she came running to the car and leapt from the ground through the driver’s window and into the car. The car shifted, went into a mail box and left a small dent on the box. No charges were filed against me. I pulled the car up to my house where I saw Brody trying to find a way back into the fence. I calmly walked into the house with both of them and put them both in a large cage in my bedroom. I laid down for a nap because I was exhausted. It didn’t take long to find the dogs because 7 of my neighbors helped me search. Continue reading ‘The Point of No Return’

DREAM: I Will Take This

Published on November 14, 2008 in Art, Dreams, Letters Home, PTSD and Therapy. 0 Comments

Here we are together. It’s been what, 27 years? How amazing is that? You look just like you did when you were ten. My heart melts the same as then, then when I thought you were a rock star in a kid’s body. You’re not wearing the tight blue jeans or the lumber jack buck boots with red shoe strings. You’re not wearing a white T-shirt as you cross the small bridge over the stream to the back yard where your chores are waiting. No, this time you’re in a huge house with its renovation nearly complete. You’re still shorter than I am but other than that you look like the little boy all grown up that won my heart first.

I know you’re embarrassed that I caught you in transit. You’re fresh from the shower standing in a towel. No eye contact, few words but plenty of tension. All reason says to let you pass but I’m so happy to see you I just keep chattering on nervously. Finally you excuse yourself then go in the bedroom and lay on the bed, towel half hanging to the floor. I wonder within myself why the door is only half closed.

When you walked away from me your oldest brother explained that despite our history together as children you as an adult are confused and frightened. He said not to depend upon the history we had together but to try and get to know the man you are today. Continue reading ‘DREAM: I Will Take This’

Grieve The Living

Published on November 12, 2008 in Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Grief Sadness Loss, Letters Home and Relationships. 3 Comments

The end of a relationship is like losing someone in death. it is so hard to grieve the loss of the living.

You know what? Part of me wants that crazy woman I was with for so long back because grieving her loss is too hard. I use to say “if” or “i wish” or “If I understood her more I could be different and more compassionate.” But really there was nothing and is nothing I can do to make us good and happy together. We were like bleach and ammonia …mix us and neither one of us can breath. We will both die an emotional death so fast we won’t know what happened until we hit the floor. Separately we can be handled safely but together we can not expect to breath. I am bleach, she is ammonia. Continue reading ‘Grieve The Living’