I ran into a journal entry called Love List on the blog MotherLovely. For those of us with serious mother issues read the title again. It does NOT say motherly love, it says mother lovely. Anywhooo, the entry talks about looking around your house and noting things you love about your home. I like her idea for a number of reasons but for my purposes I’d like to change the angle a little bit and direct it to PTSD. She listed things in her home that she loves but I’d like to list things in my home that make me feel safe, secure, comforted and grounded.
Archive for the 'Trust' Category
This entry is a follow up to the pink dryer entry . This handwritten entry goes into detail about how difficult it was to feel as if I belonged anywhere or was seen as anything but an object of derision.
The very first art piece shows a three headed child with the caption, “You can be anyone except who you really are.” This art therapy piece will make more sense if the pages are read concerning being black and how I was told to be an example for others. The example I was to set was insane and rather stupid thus the title, Black for Dummies.
My therapist and I spent a good amount of time talking how during this writing I stumbled upon the understanding that my sister should not be seen as weak for how she handled the abuse. Continue reading ‘Black for Dummies’
The situation: I called to set up an appointment to get my internet installed but the installer complicated things to the point that I had to call the company. The main complaint was his aggression and unwillingness to complete the install. He wanted to make sure the line worked but didn’t want to hook my PC up to the line. He wanted me to sign the paper before the job was completed, before I had my new phone number and before I had the email address associated with my account. In addition to that he kept doing that man burp you hear in bars. He did it 5 or 6 times while he was here. Totally gross.
Self Love: An Opinion – Monday, November 28, 2011-2:46pm EST
I got a letter today from Grace who spoke of the elusive act of self love. She commented that everything and everyone is taken care of BEFORE she has her own needs met. This is common, I know. Mothers do it a lot, friends do it, teachers and everyone else. This is where my opinion on the matter comes in. I think part of the reason we do it has to do with running from ourselves. If I keep moving, keep doing for others then I move right past my own empty feelings and need for nurturing and care.
Two days ago I purchased a gift for my friend Maureen. I can’t wait for her to see it. I can feel her getting closer and closer which means I won’t be around again. I wanted to get her a thank you gift for all the homey touches she’s made here so I picked up a vintage ruler. It’s actually a wooden brick mason’s ruler but I know she’ll like it because it’s vintage. It’s a Lufkin No 636 and it folds up nicely. For just a buck I can make her smile. I like that.
I know she’s getting closer. I know this because I can feel her, but this means I won’t be here. Since I won’t be around I went ahead and paid everything for the month and filled the house with groceries. I made sure there’s a variety of a food so that even if Robert takes the helm he’ll have food he likes. I need to get some chalk for our chalk board so I can write to Amy, L.J. and Little Anna that they can do the basics. They don’t know they can eat, get something to drink or use the restroom without asking. They have no idea it’s 2011 because they’re stuck in the year of their age. When I was their age I had to ask to do absolutely everything. I didn’t make a move until I was told to. Those three still ask.
As I wipe away dust and fold clothes by the window I hear Jacquelyn tell me to pace myself.
I realize I’ve been gone for awhile. I look at the condition of the house and see that a 19 year old boy has occupied my home for nearly three months without taking care to clean it and without concern for the others who live in this head. At first I was irritated that so much needs to be done. Pay a few bills, do the laundry, take out the trash, wash the car (he seems to have messed that up too) and for the love of Pete get some good food in this body of ours. I can feel the difference. I can tell that a teenager has made our food choices. I don’t begrudge him though. I don’t.
Disclaimer: My comments here are about the movie and my experiences. In this entry I don’t provide information on what a suicidal person should do or what friends should do for a person who is suicidal. All I discuss is the movie and how it relates to particular experiences I had. I can’t possibly cover all my bases on the subject of suicide so I’m sticking to a very narrow discussion.
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