violence. detailed abuse. beating.
Dream ….I had a small, round stamp pad of red ink with a clear plastic domed lid. This one little ink pad was viciously sought after by my mother. She drove across town to take me to her house. The hallway was long and narrow with the top half of the wall painted light peach and the bottom half vertical wooden planks. We fought all over the house. She fought for control of the ink pad in the restroom but I was able to get away. We fought over it in the bedroom with my sister watching. She didn’t understand why I didn’t just give her the ink pad.
My sister gave the mother everything she owned. The mother wanted my ink pad for one reason only, to say she owned everything and controlled everything about me. I held on tight. In the hallway she stood on top of me and held me down with one foot on my stomach and the other on my hand with the ink pad. There was laughter and fear. I couldn’t move. She had her disgusting feet on me. I hated her feet, man I hated her feet. In real life my sister used to massage them in the evening for a dollar. I’d rather eat glass. I’d done it a few times and absolutely hated it…and her….everything about touching her made my skin crawl. I even hated the way she smelled. Everyone has a personal body smell, I hated hers. I hated her eyes, her hands, her. One finger touching me may as well have been an acid burn.
There I was in the dream held down by her bare feet and I couldn’t move. I was about to lose control of the ink pad. The feeling was strange because it was just a game to her, just another way to demoralize, humiliate and strip me of everything…to dominate and make me feel small. Then she give me that grin and a flicker of joyÂ in her eyesÂ I wanted to razor sheer off her face. The emotions through me were strange in the dream. I was laughing inside at the same time I wasÂ afraid and disgusted. I couldn’t move. I can laugh it off like it doesn’t matter to me….I don’t care, it was all a game to me anyway…that’s what I hoped I could convince myself if she took the last thing I owned after fighting so hard to keep it. Â I woke before she reached for a little round ink pad in red…..end dream
Red: Strength, courage, empowered
Thoughts: Right now my finger tips and lips are very, very sensitive. The lightest touch is a mix of pain and cold. My mother admitted that humiliation is a strong weapon. It’s hard for me to rebound after feeling humiliated. The experience brings on an anger response with vivid scenes of retribution in my head. Right now my head is haunted. I keep trying to blink away or shake out of my head the feeling of dowel rods on the palms of my hands or a thick plastic comb slamming on my lips. Hands, lips, feet, legs, back, dowel rods in the house with extras in case one broke during a session with her, she had a back up to finish. Then I got up, absorbed it and went about the house as if nothing was wrong. Back to life as use you will.
I say I absorbed it. I see myself getting up off the bed, a bit dazed, tired, humiliated. Once I am stable standing I take a breath, one of the first without a mattress in my face, filtering the air. Just like that its gone, just like that and I’m ready for whatever is next.
I’ve been awake too long. It’s 9:03 am and I’ve yet to sleep…again. I have therapy Monday afternoon which is good because Betty had decided to get me a chair. She says she already has it. No matter, she can keep it. She’s not welcome here anymore. It’ll be good to have a session before she attempts to come here. I can see it now, this will be the person to help break my 5 year streak of not dropping the f-bomb.
I hate myself right now, and most of everything.