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I Feel Different
I feel so self conscious and very needy right now. This isn’t the normal me. I don’t cling or need validation at every turn, not usually anyway. Right now I’m worried that this and that person will be angry with me or I’ll do something foolish and push people away. I feel lonely and basically not like myself. All the self loathing has me physically exhausted. Well why wouldn’t they go away you stupid….blah, blah, blah. Shut up please!!! I’ve even been begging in my dreams. I don’t beg or plead but recently it feels like my heart only does those two things followed by deep, deep sorrow.
Today a friend called to moan about no longer having a maid to clean her apartment. She said she had to clean the apartment all by herself and make her own dinner. I thought to myself, please call me when you have a real problem. But I said nothing. I just listened UNTIL she said, “I wish I had someone like Maureen that I could pop out and have clean my house.” Oh no you didn’t. You didn’t go there. You wish you had been so damaged by abuse you split off into parts that function separately? And please don’t go, Oh that’s not what that means. It just means I wish I had extra help. Well, it’s not extra help just by itself. It’s extra help with issues. So just don’t go there. Besides, why bring up Maureen, who has been MIA for months just cause you had to fire your maid? Gracious!!! Too sensitive of a topic to just toss out her name cause that bitch is too damn lazy to cook or clean for herself. You don’t work. You don’t do anything at all and you have a maid? Girl stop, please, cause I can’t take it.
Dear Mama
Dear Mama,
If it weren’t for the fact that I’d never get your filth off my hands I’d wrap them around your neck and squeeze the fuckin life out of you for what you put me through. I’d hold your fat body out of the window and show you how it looks six stories up. I’d show you what insanity looks like when I hold you in a corner by the scruff of your neck with a knife to it. I’d do that if it didn’t meant touching you. I’d slap you until my hands were numb. I’d tied you like a hog like you did me and I’d leave your fucking ass in the wet, moldy basement until I got good and damn ready to go down and get you. I’d tell you just how disgusting you are. I’d let anyone and everyone have a piece of you because you’re just property, you’re owned. But most of all, I’d just show you what it means to be at the mercy of another human being. The only mercy I’d offer is that I’d kill you. How horrible of me to let you live after having put you through those things? I couldn’t do that to you. You’d have nightmares. You’d fear everything that moved. You’d never have a meal you didn’t feel guilty for eating. You’d put on clothing and still feel naked, exposed. I’d have to kill you after putting you through a glimpse of what you put me through. It’s the right thing to do, killing you after this.
No One and The Therapist
I tell you this so you’ll tell me I’m not a bad person. I tell you so you’ll make it better and make it go away. I tell you out loud so that it’ll shame me and remind me to keep my head down, so I’ll remember not to ever make a fool of myself and consider myself equal. I’m looking off to the side with these words spilling out of my mouth. The words were not mine but yet they were and they rolled off my tongue naturally, naturally like a broken gas pipe spilling explosive fuels into once breathable air. I tell you these things because I’m scared of myself and of what I see in my head. I want you to take them from me but I know I have to remember to never think myself worthy of equality.
That’s absurd he said. I think you’re worthy. Bull shit I thought, don’t you understand I have to heal from this but we can’t cross the line that makes me a fool, that makes me forget that I have to bow down, serve others and keep my place in the line of things. Doesn’t he understand that?
Where Are You? - An Inner Conversation
Me 1- Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you?
Me 2- I’ve been right here.
Me 1- I thought you were gone.
Me 2- I’m right here.
Me 1- I’ve missed you. I’ve felt so lonely lately.
Me 2- I don’t understand.
Me 1- Stop leaving. It’s not right. I don’t like it when you leave. Stop leaving. I’m scared.
Me 2- I’m standing right here. What’s wrong with you?
Me 1 - I don’t know. I thought you were gone and I was scared.
Where Are You - An Inner Conversation
Monday, February 11, 2008, 12:07 pm
How are you?
Therapist to client– How are you?
Client - The same.
Therapist – What does that mean?
Client - I’m as angry as I was yesterday. I’m as tearful, as sad. I’m the same.
At 1:45PM when Mr. Negative Cabby didn’t show up I knew something wasn’t right. I called the cab company to find out where he was. They said he’s not going to be able to get me today and they’re trying to send someone else. The operator asked if I’m bringing the dog. It’s illegal to ask me not to bring him so they ask, “Um, are you bringing the dog? If you’re not we can take the flag for the dog off and maybe someone will catch the call out.” “No, I’m not bringing the dog today.” Within ten minutes I had a cab show up. (I know, I know it’s illegal. I know I can report that but please supply me with the energy to fight it.) So, the cab driver showed up. I got to therapy about 15 minutes late. Amy (age 5) stayed out the entire time which was odd. That was odd but frustrating was waiting a full hour for a cab to come and bring me back home. Someone left the dog flag up which was why it took so long to get home. (Report it, tell me something I don’t know. Again, supply me with the energy to do it. I’m tired y’all, the fight is a bit much. It’s easier now to not bring the dog than to fight them on it. So I left him here.)
Spit Fire - And Inner Conversation
Angela - At least you get a birthday, I’ll be 15 forever.
Joan -Would you please go away.
Angela - Where? Go where? I’m stuck in this body with you forever. Where am I going?
Joan - Oh my gosh, a little me? Oh the humanity of it all.
Angela - I know you didn’t!
Joan - Please Angela how am I to get some sleep if you’re rattling on?
Angela - I just figure if you’re able to cuss I should too and not hear that dang on “because you’re a kid and kid’s can’t cuss” bullshit.
Joan - I just want to go to sleep, can’t we talk about this tomorrow?
Little One- You know if we do this we won’t get a resurrection.
Joan - We only took 2 milligrams sweety, we aren’t dying.
Little One- But you want to and if we do we won’t get a resurrection.
(At this point I’m holding the little one on my lap, she’s looking up at me.)
Joan - You don’t really think that do you? Suicide isn’t the ultimate unforgivable sin sweety.
Little One- No, but we won’t get a resurrection because we’re not right.
Joan - Yeah I know.
Little One- So can’t we just try to hang on for only a few days. We always change our mind after a few days. We can just try and sleep.
(I’m taking her back to her safe place but she’s dragging behind me, doing the thing I did with my own mother years ago. She’s trying to talk some sense into me.)
Little One- All we have to do is sleep. We’ll get better. I know we will. We always do. Can’t we just wait a few days.
Joan - Sweety, I swear, it was 2 milligrams which isn’t enough to hurt me just enough to help me go to sleep so I can rest.
Little One- Your promises are only good to other people.
(I whipped around in shock. Her eyes got really big like she’d done something wrong and was in for it now.)
Joan - It really was, it was only 2 milligrams. I swear it, I really do. It was only 2 milligrams. We’ll be here tomorrow morning then we’ll wake up and you’ll see.
——–
Raw Anger
This morning when I woke up I had that all too familiar inner rage going on. All Captain had to do was pant too hard, rub up against me while passing. All Grace had to do was meow. She didn’t leave it there though. No, couldn’t do that. I walked to the table to have a breakfast of brownies and found a nice size upchuck load on the plate….grossed me the fuck out. What was she doing on my table in the first damn place? And why the brownies? Were they just the perfect place to leave a hair ball? First of all, she bites without provocation and is quite destructive, now THIS? She is soooo working on living in the streets. There’s nothing worse than cat vomit but on my table? That’s just fuckin’ nasty. What did Bella do? Bella, well, she can’t do much wrong just sleeping now can she? Probably. There’s no telling. I was raw angry so no matter what she did I was going to be annoyed by it. When I feel like that it’s my red flag to step back, take a deep breath and remember that the Three Stooges aren’t trying to irritate me. They’re doing the exact same thing they do on a daily basis (except toss their cookies on my table) that I usually handle quite well. Why is today different? It’s different because last night was different. Talking about Robert then him coming out later last evening had its fall out. It’s ugly here at home.
It was easier when we talked about how others inside dealt with the mother. We seem to handle those memories a lot better than Robert’s stuff.
I was truly pissed when they didn’t have a card for me. After I got finished ranting about it they told me it was because once Robert’s name was written on a card the whole thing changed. My name and other names didn’t get written down because his did. We freak out when we think of him, when we can feel him around we just freak out….then we’re pissed, big time. I still have no idea what it is about this therapist that makes him want to come to therapy. I hate this.
Raw Anger-Tuesday, December 18, 2007-6:19PM EST
Waiting For The Wind To Change
The problem is that we like Maureen better than we like Robert. Just as when the little boy walked into the cafeteria during a party and everyone left, so all progress stops when Robert is around. Well, not all, he’s productive when it comes to artwork. At least his artwork sells. The thing is, Maureen we’ve complained about eating frozen meals and left overs. We’ve talked like spoiled brats about how we can’t believe we’ve been reduced to potato flakes and TV dinners. The truth is, it’s not the good food we miss, it’s the fact that we know Maureen love us and that’s why she does what she does. That’s why she’s the picture perfect black version of Mrs. Cleaver. She cooks and cleans like nobody’s business. Her attention to detail for us means she cares.
Going out to dinner, having a table a hundred others have eaten from meant nothing to us as a child. who cares if the places were expensive. Who cares? There was nothing special about it. That table belonged to everyone and no one, the same as us.
Session Review - Identifying With The Aggressor
Boy oh boy I should have just kept up the appearance of only being a victim. Damn! Lord knows he’s not going to want to sit in a room w/ Robert unattended. Robert earned the reputation he has but the boy doesn’t … he’s not the old Robert but he still holds onto the guilt from when he was. That was the point of us telling him that stuff. Now I worry, we worry we may have said too much. Robert wants very badly to go to therapy and talk to Dr. D but wants to do it honestly. He doesn’t want to act as if he has no violent yet consensual past.
We talked again about identifying w/ the aggressor. I seem to be able to hear that and not want to toss my cookies but we don’t hear it without seeing Dr. D tie us up…….we don’t hear it w/out seeing him do what our mother did to us. Actually, Robert sees it. The whole time Dr. D is talking he sees him seconds from leaping from the chair to show just how weak he can make us, just how weak he can make is in a short period of time. He can make me beg in 4 seconds flat.
We talked about the mother maybe having fears that caused her to control others. He asked if we wonder why she did what she did. Um, part of me says it was our fault and part of me says there is no answer to that question other than that she’s evil. I said she was born w/ out a conscience. He asked if that was possible. I said maybe her mother beat it out of her. I told him when he says she was afraid I hear it as an excuse for her behavior. He said no it just might explain it a little better. For me explaining it is the same as making an excuse for it. I have a really hard time w/ giving her slack for any thing at all. What really could explain her reenacting scenes from the movie The Green River Killer or Ted Bundy on her children? I don’t give a flying flip what she was afraid of. I don’t even try to understand why.
On the way home the sun went down just as beautifully as yesterday. At that moment I wondered why. I wondered why it even bothers to be so beautiful over such an ugly world. It reminded me of driving along the high way when I was a kid. The clouds formed like snow capped mountains but what was so exceptional was how the sun beamed down rays right through the clouds. It seemed like each ray was caught in a cloud. My sister looked out the window and said, “Mama, look, Holy Spirit.” It is such beauty that makes me ask why, why hang there so effortlessly, so delicately in splendor while we suffer mostly silent, mostly fearful and mostly without hope? Why? That’s when I start to wonder. But I’m taken in by it’s beauty so very much that I’m just happy it does hang there. The mother, ugly and violent, the sunset effortlessly beautiful. Why? Who cares why. It is what it is.
Goals for today: Dinner and Spiderman 2. I think we may be addicted to Spiderman movies. I’ve already walked the dog and taken out the trash. The main goal is to get some sleep. We got to bed at 10Am only to get up 2 hours later to deal w/ therapy. That’s crap if I’ve ever heard it.
Austin’s August
Identifying With The Aggressor
Wednesday, November 28, 2007-5:10PM EST
***comments are close*** ***the reason comments are closed for session review entries is because the notes are specifically for Pride members. It makes it easier for us to come and read our notes without the complication of comments. When we come and look at our therapy notes we want to be able to focus on the notes and not the comments. If you have something you’d like to add or comment on you can do so via email or even on a different entry or the guestbook. I don’t care where just not here. ***
Session Review Guilt
Morton’s guilt is high over not being able to protect us from the mother. The therapist says that with how out of control the mother was no one could protect us all the time, every day, every hour. The job was too big he said. We talked about how the mother knew Morton by name and about how she use to mock him and try to get him to come out. She was scared of him when he did. There was no guarantee that he’d pop out. It was like rolling the dice. She mocked and pushed and called him by name until she pushed too far and there he was in her face. A dog we use to have she decided to call Mortimouse after Morton. The woman walked a thin line. She knew him early on. Stupid, stupid woman.
Talked about the gathering, about cutting this week end, art and participating in a PTSD study. Will talk about Tampa next week. Talked about the dog’s panting being triggering and the head movement of him licking his paws, major triggering. In our dreams he turns into the mother. When he lays down at the foot of the bed on his bed if he bumps the bed we stand up so fast. It’s almost as if he somehow turns into the mother. It’s stupid.
Is he really going to do therapy w/ me and Morton? If so, why? Why not just Maureen? It’s always been them in the first place. It kind of pissed me off that it’s been so dang on long and now I keep popping out in therapy. I don’t even know why I’m there. It’s just stupid. I was happy he didn’t tell me I shouldn’t’ cut. That wouldn’t have gone over well. I’ve already said it. It’s mine so deal with it. I guess we told him because we wanted him to know this week end was hard even though we had fun it was hard. It was hard enough for us to need to relieve the anxiety some way. I hope we didn’t sound manipulative when we told him we cut. I cut but don’t’ tell me not to. I just wanted him to know we were struggling. Maybe I should apologize Wednesday for bring it up cause it might not have come out like I wanted it to. I don’t know.
We have been so pissed lately, about everything. When we want to throw stuff we know we’re pissed. And it feels like everything we touch is shit. I don’t know.
We talked about cooking and about college. He asked if we’d ever consider cooking professionally again. Hell no. We’re done with that. It isn’t right that we’d be so irritated with the pup and the cats. We want to tell them to stop touching me. Just stop touching me. Stop wanting me to pet you. stop demanding attention, go lay down and leave me alone. I don’t know. It’s just not right to be so overwhelmingly angry w/ no real understanding of why.
I came home, did some art work. That’s all.
Robert for MP
Session Review Guilt
Monday, November 19, 2007-5:07PM EST
