Sundrip Journals
I heard so many one line commands about who I shouldn’t trust but you never told me when its okay to trust.
Never trust a man when he tells you he loves you. He just wants to sleep with you.
Never trust anyone who says “trust me.”
When is it okay to believe a man who says “I love you?” Exactly when is it okay to trust at all? Please tell me, how did you summate the trustworthiness of a complete gender into one single sentence?
My therapist and I discussed the theory of Basic Trust as explained by Erik Erikson. Erikson says that a child learns trust from his caregivers. He trusts that when he’s held he won’t be dropped. He trusts when he’s hungry he’ll be fed, comforted when he’s ill and have his needs cared for. This foundation of trust if healthy can lead to a healthy trust and outlook of the world. We take trust lessons from very early on and apply what we’ve learned to the world around us. Dr. D remarked that when my mother violated me she also damaged my Basic Trust which I then took into the world and based everything on these early lessons.
What I took from our conversation was that the earlier we treat our children with care and concern the better. From infancy we start to learn and we take those lessons with us out into the world. I can say with certainty, everything I know about mistrust I learned from my mother.
***comments are off***
I was on my way home from therapy and in decent shape. I wasn’t overly dissociative nor was I overly stressed so I figured I’d stop off at DAV because after all it was dollar Monday. I wondered what sort of treasures I might find. Since I forgot my wallet at home I abandoned my treasure hunt and headed straight home. Before I could get home I’d have to cross the railroad tracks. I could see up ahead the red lights flashing warning of a coming train so I slowed my speed appropriately. I was breathing slowly, almost in a content sort of way. Normally one would desire that but in no way were my thoughts peaceful or joyful. I pulled off to the side in the parking lot of a paint supply store and got out of the car. I lit a cigarette and let the train pass by. After it was no where in sight I got back in my car and went home, alive.
She said she’d been thinking about me and wondered how I was doing. When I first saw her and she asked for my phone number I for a second didn’t think I could say no to her. For a second I fell into my old pattern. Fortunately I caught myself.
I know for a fact that the reemergence of Blossom means taking several steps backwards. It means beating my head against a brick wall. I just can’t do that. It’s been a very long and troubled year and a half since we broke up. Boy have things changed since then.
Dr. D told me on Wednesday about a new chronic pain support group at his office that he thought I may benefit from. I’m definitely interested BUT I’m worried too. I’m worried about my ability to sit in a room with several people, perhaps in a circle where I feel totally exposed. I also worry about the size of the room and where my seat is in relation to the door. I want to sit far away from the door but in sight of it. I figure the person who sits closest to the door is the “first to get got.” If I’m far away from the door it’ll take extra effort to get over to me. By that time I’ll be good and mad and ready for their stupid ass!!! I don’t want to be by the door but I do want to be in sight of it.
There’s too much in these paintings to try and explain everything. I think the 
overall theme is anxiety, rage and grief.
When Dr. D saw this one here he didn’t notice at firs that it’s a human head vomiting up flowers. The head is tilted back and is strangled by a golden rope as flowers “grow” from it’s open, strained mouth. He said it’s disturbing but very well describes how hard it can be to manage what I feel. He said to keep writing, keep drawing what’s in my head and dreams because the work will pay off in healing. God, I hope so. I’d like to try and do a digital version of Flower Pot. I like that it expresses the feeling of being overwhelmed in an accurate but grotesque way. Grotesque is important since there’s nothing comfortable at all about how I’m feeling.
My therapist and I discussed the hanging people. I tried to explain to him that they aren’t suicide gestures but an illustration of how overwhelming emotion can be sometimes. My thoughts and emotions sometimes feel so powerful that it feels as if they could kill me. This is not me hanging but emotions strangling me. One of the things we talked about too is how the figure has evolved from a simple dress-like figure to one with hands and feet to one with distinctive clothing. I commented that perhaps the emotions are getting a little clearer and less generalized. I hope that’s the case. I hope things get clearer in my head.
I feel as if I’ve been running around like a chicken with her head cut off. Therapy started again which means between all the other stuff going on I’m doing therapy work. That two weeks was nice not having to show up and look stuff straight in the eye. This is my first week back since Christmas.
In therapy we talked about what it means to be an emotional bully. When I asked him if he felt I behave that way he wanted first to know what my thoughts are on it. I told him in my eyes and emotional bully is someone who steps on the emotions of others the same way a bully smacks around a weaker person just because they can. It’s as if they target certain sore spots and hurt the person emotionally because they can. A bully is someone who is a coward and who needs to feel better about him or herself so they target those they feel they can overpower physically or in this case emotionally. The agenda for a bully is usually to make himself feel more powerful and to put a protective shield around him that says, “Don’t mess with me.”
After explaining my views he said when he thinks of an emotional bully he thinks of someone who is domineering and relentless in their relationships. Everything is on their terms and without concern for others. He said despite how blunt I can be from time to time he doesn’t see me as an emotional bully.
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