Therapy Review: Abuse. Sadism. Self Harm

The video is a quickly thrown together sound bite with several art pieces that fit the topic. Death of my brother as well as sexual abuse, suicidal ideation and self harm (cutting) are discussed along side art stills. Close to the end of the video one photo of a box of crayons is seen for several seconds, then the video ends. That crayon photograph marks a detailed discussion of first being abused.

Life without Crayons

No coloring books
No cousin to first touch as I held gray
to fill in a cat who chased
but never caught the mouse.
No crayons would mean no dowel rods on my three year old body because
liberties were taken.
Life without crayons would never ask if
dowel rods broke before my mind had to.

Life did change that day. She saw me differently. Whatever she didn’t beat out of me that day made her violently mad until I left home.

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Screw this

Someone else will have to help the French speaking people. I can’t do this!!!

I figured out what it is. I have no background in this language, nothing to pull from, no confidence. I’m taking the easy way out, I’m sorry. No more French torture. I have zero confidence that i can learn this language. I’m all uptight looking at the words…..yet….I look at the same material in Spanish and I get it! So I can keep stressing about how much I don’t like the subject matter or I can move on and say, nope didn’t try that hard….don’t lie, I didn’t try that hard with the French lessons and I’m taking the easier way out of Spanish because I get it. I get it! I listen to music in Spanish, read in Spanish but I speak Spanglish. At least I have something to draw from ya know. I have some confidence. I’ve been trying to look at this French stuff and I’m going, I don’t recognize a single thing…’s that foreign. I feel for my friends who are learning Russian. … I’m throwing in the towel on French….or the baguette or croissant… I don’t care…… more French please…….close the book, move on………..

I already know I’m going to regret dropping the French because I could have been more helpful, perhaps more approachable in that field but I find French too difficult for me to master at this time. I’m going to regret this…….. I can’t quit……..argh!!!!!!!!!!! (throws minor temper tantrum)

Basically, I’ve failed at this point, however, I shall start again. September will bring a new ‘service year’ and I will be ready to fully commit to this language.

Me, Jordan

The French Focus

I’ve fallen behind on my studies. I’m struggling with French because I simply don’t like the language. We have a lot of people from French speaking African countries in this area. It’s just that I can’t seem to put my heart into it. I think maybe I need to understand that it’s not about me but about helping others and so my attitude about the language may need to be re-examined.

In a way it could be beautiful because its the language of my grandfather’s country.  I felt my head get dizzy when I said that.

I could have chosen a number of other languages. It’s funny, German has always, always been a language close to my heart. That too is a language in my family, on both sides. When I hear that language my heart wakes up yet, there is no true need in that field in my area. There are no German speaking individuals who have moved here seeking refuge from whatever they have suffered.

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Self Destruction. Self Injury.

I woke today around 6 am. I watched a video on my tablet about King Hezekiah. Love that video. I held the tablet in one hand while Mary Jane placed herself in front of it and on my chest. I started listening only. She moved to my cheek and neck, stretched out and took her place to sleep. I couldn’t deny that closeness, body pain or not I loved every single second of it.

We laid there for a while with her sleeping. Right now she’s taken her regular spot behind me when I’m on the computer. The girl is the best companion I could have. 🙂 She has her days where its clear she doesn’t feel well because of the dental stuff but there are also times when she’s her normal cuddly self who will later get into trouble and thoroughly love it.

I talked to Snow about how I’m still feeling. It has to be hard to hear me say I want to cut my arms to shreds, cut my thighs to shreds, just cut and keep cutting. I’m angry and I’m pretty tired.

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Still here. Just quiet. Sleeping a lot.  Jane is doing well, eat, playing, getting in trouble. She clearly feels better than she did a few days ago.

She visited her lemongrass spot to chew and rub against, then she was off to bat around her little green frog catnip toy. I still have my face licked before she settles above my head to sleep. 

I know I’m isolating and still depressed.


Jane and dental work

7 extractions. very long day for both of us.
turns out Mary Jane is about 80 years old with no health issues other than her teeth. all her other teeth are in good health. i thought 7 was a lot and apologized saying i didn’t know. she said its no one’s fault and that they’ve removed more than regularly. i still felt bad like i’d neglected her or something. no teeth were kept. they kept saying she’s so well taken care of. they talked about her coat and eyes and ears and how beautiful she is. i was so happy to know i’m doing right by my girl. 🙂 they asked about her food and when I told them the choices I make for her they said, isn’t that expensive? I said, in the long run, no. I eat fresh Salmon and so does she. I eat Tilapia and so does she. I want those Omegas in her and good fiber in her.

JB is coming tomorrow between 1-2 pm but I’m totally not ready. lol. it is what it is. i’ve got to get some sleep. maybe i can wake early enough to be more presentable.

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humble home. pizza-giggle. pets

My cab driver said the most shallow thing I’ve ever heard. She said, “If I could ask God for anything, I’d ask him for a big butt.” ….. cue the crickets…….. I gave no reply. I mean really, what do you say to that? Screw world peace, forget curing cancer, feeding the hungry, releasing the oppressed, give me a bubble butt! Child please, I’m not on enough medication for crap like this.

I will have my guest here Wednesday. It hit me that I’m a bit shy about my humble home. I told Dr. D today that I struggled with having someone come that might expect more. I’m not poor, I’m destitute. I’ve heard about this poverty line but I think, like Big Foot, it’s an urban legend. Has anyone ever seen it? As a child, the mother’s income saw us way above it. Despite bouts of homelessness she kept her position, strange, but she did. I almost detest money until I need it. I told Dr. D that my needs are primarily emotional and spiritual. I have very little use for …things….

This individual will come here and meet me with no pretenses, no complications, just me and the walls that hold the things that make me tick. Eventually I returned to my center and stopped the whole garbage about my home being too humble. Jordan will handle the artist that’s visiting us.

Dr. D asked if I still feel suicidal. I said yes. He asked if I am going to act on it. I said no but I’m surprised at the length of time these thoughts have lingered.

Car accident number two in one week. Lesson learned: never ride with someone while they’re very, very manic. I actually screamed out, “Oh no, Jehovah, this is going to hurt!” She started laughing. It did hurt and still does. Can I get in a car and not slam into something? When she’s not driving recklessly we have a total blast. I really enjoy her company.

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6 to 9

I fell asleep around 6pm and woke at 9 on the dot. That’s the sleep I’ve had. My mind isn’t racing, I don’t feel weighed down yet I’m awake. Snow comes here tomorrow.

While I don’t really feel depressed, there is restless anger just below the surface. It’s personal, not related to world events.

The dream I woke from had me struggling to climb the stairs in an outdoor sports arena. The stairs kept falling in right after releasing my foot. I barely made it to the next step. While I went up with great difficulty, my sister moved with ease past me and down to the bottom row to her seat.

I wish I could wash out the feeling I have in my stomach.


World events from youth to now

Some of these are out of order. They’re random events written down with a sleep deprived mind and a belly full of left over pizza and flat Cola. I should have had the 7up.

After I say what I need to say, will I have the courage to push the button, publish? This is my private Gehenna. Gehenna was an area outside of Jerusalem where a fire was kept burning for general trash and the bodies of criminals. If I place what’s in my head and leave it here, maybe I can get away from the smoke, breath easier and get some sleep.

In the 2nd grade I had a world map on my bedroom wall. What I wouldn’t give to have another world map. I have no idea where to get an affordable, large size world map. I always wanted a brown globe. Thinking of all the life on that circle, all the potential, the differences; it thrilled me as a youngster and still does. For a girl who doesn’t know directions, north, south, east, west, I’m all about geography. Funny how my brain works.

I used to look at the world map to see how far away Iran and Iraq were from my house.

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