Tag Archive for 'Siblings'

Dream Therapy: Sister Dies Rewrite

Published on August 22, 2011 in Dream Therapy, Dreams, Emotions, Grief Sadness Loss, Mental Health and PTSD. 0 Comments Tags: , .

In dream therapy you re-write your dream/nightmare so that it has an ending you can live with. The dream I had the other night about my sister had an ending I can’t live with so I’m going to do a creative writing kind of dream re-write. The original dream is here.

It had only been one hour since the University announced immediate evacuation to safeguard students from the fast approaching blizzard, yet the place was deserted. Students and Faculty abandoned the school with speed and fury leaving silence eerily dangling in darkened hallways….Scratch that! Let’s go lighter and skip past the packed cab leaving us behind. We’ll go right to the part where my sister and I are alone in the school.

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DREAM: Like A Play Thing

Published on August 8, 2011 in Anxiety, Dreams, Emotions, Grief Sadness Loss and PTSD. 0 Comments Tags: .

In the dream my sister was having some mental health issues. She wasn’t herself, she was absent yet functioning in a manner in which others might not immediately realize she wasn’t well. The dream took place either on a bus or airplane. I couldn’t tell which one. The only people there were me, my sister, my mother and a young girl. The Caucasian girl was about 30 years old, heavy set and had short brunette curly hair. In the dream my sister and I were our current ages (40 and 44), my mother was about 35 years old which is the age she always is in my dreams.

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A side salad and a window seat

Published on July 11, 2011 in Gratitude Journal and Relationships. 0 Comments Tags: , .

I’m more than half way unpacked. While unpacking I haven’t stopped to cook a meal or anything, I’ve just eaten sandwiches and salads. The other night as I sat on the futon and picked out Chinese crunchy noodles, I was reminded of all those nostalgic times with an old girlfriend I used to traveled with. Sometimes we only traveled across town, but across town there’s a really wonderful hotel that serves free cocktails every Thursday evening. She and I checked in Wednesday, closed the curtains to shut the world out then we’d chat until all hours of the evening. We’d sing show tunes in the hot tub, dance in the room and sit down to a candle lit microwave meal and a side salad. Once Thursday evening hit it was Cosmopolitan time for me and several Tom Collins for her. After free booze it was back upstairs for more girl time. We had a blast doing that. For most of nine years she and I found a way to have mini vacations like this.  Expensive? Yes, but well worth the bonding time.  

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The Sound of Her Voice

Published on June 23, 2011 in Abuse and Female Sadist. 0 Comments Tags: .

She’d talk to me and tell me what she wanted to do to me. She’d talk for an hour or longer. I’d think to myself, “Shut up already. Just shut up.”

I’m not sure why she ran her mouth so much but she did. She did, and she knew exactly how to make me feel like nothing.

It seemed to take forever for her to reach the point of arousal that made her get up from the bed next to mine and make me wish I was dead.

Art Therapy Sketches

Published on May 2, 2010 in Abuse, Art Therapy, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Emotions, Female Sadist, Grief Sadness Loss and PTSD. 0 Comments Tags: .

a foreign conceptThe other day I sat up watching an infomercial about Lord only knows what when I had an epiphany. I don’t have to fight to stay awake. I can go to bed when I’m tired. The epiphany came in the form of an insider’s voice who said, “You know, you don’t have to stay up.” Oh, okay. Really? Are you sure cause that doesn’t sound right. To walk in the room and lay down to rest seemed like a foreign concept. WTF? Do what?

Dr. D and I discussed how difficult it’s been to feel alone yet constantly have company. That company is in my head but its still hardship. I’m taxed by the realization that I have no real alone time, no private thoughts. As illustrated in the sketches I go to the grocery store with a gang of people. I use the restroom with an audience, a chattering group accompanies me to the dinner table, when I walk the dog, when I take a bath and when I sit in therapy. Even though we work well together it’s still a hardship to NEVER, ever be alone. The fact that we do work together (most of the time) makes our existence easier but it’s still very much a burden to feel as if everything about me is shared. Our closeness as a group is shown in the drawings where we are holding hands. It’s also shown by how close we’re standing to one another.

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Power and Pain

Published on April 1, 2010 in Abuse, Anger, Anxiety, Art Therapy, Emotions, Female Sadist, PTSD and Therapy. 0 Comments Tags: .

Begging to be Heard (Power and Pain)

The writing on this piece drawn during my session today says, “She had self control when it came to pain not related to abuse. I am sympathetic to crying related to grief and loss but I’m not when it has to do with fear of abuse.

It is more than cruel to watch abuse and hear someone scream knowing full well you can’t do anything. I never even thought to at the time but after I wanted to kill the mother.”

These are notes from the session concerning how my sister broke her wrist and split open her thigh but didn’t panic and scream. She could  keep it together when there was fear or pain that didn’t involve my mother but add my mother in the mix and she totally lost herself.

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On Sisters and Potatoes

Published on March 29, 2010 in Anger, Art Therapy, Emotions and Relationships. 2 Comments Tags: .

It took me a little bit to think of something that made my sister stand out to me or my mother. Everyone knew she was pretty but being pretty isn’t’ anything special, especially when you’re told so all the time. My sister, just like a million other girls, was pretty. In my search to find something that makes her human, makes her an individual I didn’t count her looks into the equation.

It seems important to me to find something about my sister that makes her an individual and not nearly a figment of my imagination. I have a mental image of her but I don’t have many details of her as a person. Who was she inside? I have no clue. I know she was perfect in every mannerism save her desire to disgust me to the point of vomiting. She had a knack for grossing me out and practiced that as often as possible. I always saw it as meanness, almost an extension of other abuses. I’ll spare details but suffice it to say the girl could literally turn my stomach.

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