The People Behind My Eyes

Broken Boxer Syndrome-Sunday July 23rd, 2006 9:05 AM EST

I’m doing it again, putting off sleep until I just can’t stand to be awake any longer. I call going to bed the broken boxer syndrome. The boxer fights and fights, takes blow after blow and finally he falls. The judging man stands over you counting to announce that you’ve fallen and that you’ve failed. The bigger man still standing has his arm, stained with your blood, held up high as a victor. And there you lay, a broken boxer, having given in to the count…. that is what it is like to go to sleep. To take all you can take until you finally let the count ring out and then run out…..and let the sleep in…let the other man win. I know that every minute I stay awake is going to get harder but what comes after that, laying down, giving in and laying down will prove to be the final blow. I just don’t want to go to bed.

What comes after giving in is vivid memories of the past only the images switch my child’s body with the adult body I have now. So I see myself being abused as an adult. That is humiliating because I see myself cowering before the mother monster. I see me, a 5 foot 5 woman cowering, laying down and fearing her. Humiliation is what drives me to things like cutting and even attempts on my life. I can’t say I’m anywhere close to wanting to hurt myself, not even cutting, but I know from past experience that I have to watch my steps. I have to watch what I do because in the blink of an eye I can be on the other side of safety.

I guess the difference is that I have a bigger support group. I have people I can call. I have friends and that makes a huge difference in my ability to handle this life. Not even 5 years ago I felt so dang on alone in this world. Heck, when I was with Columbus for that 10 years I still felt alone. I felt I carried all her burdens and mine. I supported her, gave to her and received nothing. But my friendships are different now. I can at least tell the difference between a friendship, a blog-ship, an acquaintances and other levels of relationships. I have levels of relationships where once I had none. Now how cool is that? Ha! I can actually say, yeah so and so is a friend or no, I’m only acquainted with that person. Before, it was simply Austin. Now, it’s Austin and friends, blog-buddies and acquaintances….friends I hang out with for a nice night out, friends I have a good evening in with, friends that I talk on deeper levels with. Somehow none of this matters when I’m up considering throwing in the towel and seeing my mothers face tell me that no one will ever love me. I hope to get to the point where it matters and where I hear my friends say to me, it’s okay to let go. Man, Blossom said that to me the other day. She said, “It’s okay to let go. You’re safe now.” She said it to Morton, of al people Morton. He was very impressed. Not many people speak directly to him but not only did she speak to him but she told him he didn’t have to be strong.

You know, being expected to be strong is a burden unto itself. We always say that when people say, “oh she’s strong” it isolates that person and the help they may need could be withheld because after all, so in so is strong, they can handle it. To me, strength is synonymous with the word alone. I’ve never known it to be anything else. I’ve known it only to be something negative, something that takes away instead of supports or carries one to another destination. Blossom told Morton it was okay to let go. She said we didn’t have to hold on like that anymore because we were safe. We heard…. You do not have to be strong ALONE anymore. And those words are healing to even the most broken of hearts.

I am going to bed now.

This Is My Dream

It’s my dream to make my life what it was intended to be.
It’s my dream to close my eyes and never see the reflection
of sorrowful times
To never be forced to endure the sight of
hope dripping down a windowsill
Dripping to the ground that nourishes the very weeds
that choke out my ability to breathe.
Painful and burdensome, bleeding and bereaved
It’s my dream to never use these words in reference to me.
It is my dream to see colours in their vibrant, flowing form
It’s my dream to never mourn
To never regret missed wishes on falling stars or
Never pass up the chance to dance
when everyone fears the ridiculing eye of another.
It is my dream to wake and not remember who I had to be to survive
my mother.
This is my dream.
This is my dream, awake or sleeping.
This is my dream.

Milwaukee, of Morton’s Pride age 12

Sleep Disturbances, But Only Slightly - Saturday, July 22, 2006-4:03 AM EST

I snatched the idea of posting the sleep test from Ordinary Janet. She did the personality test though. but  I’ve done the sleep position before but I dont remember it saying all of this. And, this site is usually pretty accurate. I don’t know about this one though.

What Does Your Sleeping Position Say About You?

I tend to be selfish at time. I worry that I dont give enough to my friends in 3D or on the net so I have to say I kinda agree with the selfish part.

I’m outgoing at times but most often that outgoing is forced. Ah, and I can shock the crap out of people without actually planning it. I think I’m more brazen than brash. I dont like the extreme, I prefer a calm time than a lot of stimulation. I dont hog the covers. Actually, I’ve gotten up to find that Captain has just taken the pillow and gone off with it. The boy is pitiful.

I haven’t written in several days. I’ve lost some time. I remember kind of “waking up” as I walked out of my bedroom, that’s the first memory I have since I bug bombed the apartment. Things look “normal” there doesn’t appear to have been any wild parties thrown or anything like that so I suppose things have gone okay. I was hoping to look on the journal and see what I’d been up to and was quite shocked to see that I hadn’t written.

Last night’s dreams were manageable. Recurrent dream themes of course. This same dream moves from the grandmother’s house to an amusement park on a rollercoaster then to the local mall that I visited as a child. It then returns to the grandmother’s house. The entire family is there but I’m in what they called the “second room” which was on the second floor. I was supposed to be sleeping but the bed was covered with clothing. I tried to sleep on top f them but the mother kept coming in to ask questions. There was something about the mother and an aunt that stabbed my sister to death but I can’t remember the details about that. I don’t care to either. The grandmother’s house was never a good place. Oh, but my youngest cousin and I use to kind of have fun.

I was in what they called the “middle room” and she was in the “second room” which are both on the 2^nd floor. There are 3 levels to the grandmother’s home. The doors were locked to both rooms but she and I found a way to remove the wall from the closet and sneak into the other’s room. The wall was kind of thin so we actually broke part of it out and replaced it when we returned to the room. They found out and nailed it back but she and I would pry it every time and crawl through to the other side. As sad as that sounds, it is a good memory for me. That cousin and I were more like sisters. She’s also the ONLY family member to give birth to children that have not been abused. She did not pass on the abuse and ya gotta give her credit for that. In a family with 6 generations of abuse she refused to pass it on when everyone else in the family continued it. She is an army nurse and her husband does something in the army, I don’t know what he does.

She and I use to play together when we lived in Tampa, Florida. We spent hours swimming and walking around the property. There was a jogging trail that circled the estate and we’d walk it and talk. I was 15 at the time so I guess that made her 10 or 11. The year I lived with them made us very, very close.

Today, I have a closet that leads from one bedroom to the next. I don’t have to use the bedroom door to get to the next bedroom; I can walk through the closet. It’s kind of fun to do that. I think it’s neat.

My sleeping arrangements are different too. No locked doors unless I lock them myself and I do. I started sleeping on the love seat and that has helped keep the nightmares down. When I sleep on the floor the nightmares are manageable but when I sleep in the bed they are horrible and alter the day negatively. But I have choices now and that in itself is freedom.

Austin