Content: Physical pain. Physical torture as a child. Mother and uncle standing in the doorway. Being watched as I shower. Reassuring myself that I’m safe. Robert’s session.

When my pain level gets really high I get confused about why I’m in pain. When my eye lids hurt, when it hurts to talk, when I struggle to breathe I forget it Lupus or CRSD. I forget I have a medical condition and feel trapped in the past. Yesterday I lay in bed, just on the sheet, the fan was blowing over me. I had my face buried in the pillow when I became flushed with dread. I expected to look at the door and see my mother standing there. I fully expected her face to become clearer, for her to fill the doorway. I pulled the covers over me and felt more protected. I had to tell myself she can’t ever again stand in my doorway. I slept with uneasiness and woke feeling bogged down.

Dr. D asked the question: Can your mother come to your house and get in?
Me: No.
Dr. D:  Can she get in and stand in your doorway?
Me. No.
Dr. D. Can she ever hurt you again?
Me: No.

It’s what she left me with that haunts me. I feel her hand from the grave touch my skin and make it crawl. I see her in my head but I try to talk to myself and remind myself that I truly am safe. As far as living family members, as long as I have a cat, no one is coming here.

This spring I was to decide if I could manage a dog which would help me sleep better but I am not able, sadly, I am not able. 

I still watch for breaks in the light that say someone is coming to my bedroom door. I still wait to feel a shift in weight on the bed. I still cover my head like an ostrich and try to forget that where I’m laying is full of land mines, body parts, mental shreds of me. I try to sleep with what I know best and that’s pain.

It takes all I have to remind myself that the pain I feel today has nothing to do with abuse. I’m an adult. My body hurts but it’s a disease, the mother isn’t even alive. The uncle isn’t even alive. They can’t stand in the doorway. They can’t break the light under the door with their footsteps. My mother isn’t going to turn the corner and she isn’t standing in the background watching me shower. I’m safe. I’m okay. I’ll be okay.

Dr. D specifically asked for me today because he knows I am to get time when I see him in his office. I appreciated that. We talked about the above and about the landlord and her inappropriate and at times threatening behavior. We had a sobering conversation about the actions of the manager. I don’t think anyone would believe me. To wrap everything up and say what she’s doing didn’t feel like anyone would believe me. I’m nobody. They aren’t going to believe me. Dr. D and I talked in depth about i and I do understand other terms associated with ‘boil the bunny’ and ‘single white female’. I understand very well.

My presence in this house is odd. I’m on auto pilot. I just do what needs to be done as far as cleaning and such. I don’t think about it. I don’t claim this body as my own so washing it is the same as washing a car. Putting make up on as a male alter feels the same as polishing a car. I’m detached from it, it’s not personal, it’s just a thing, an inanimate object to me. I won’t lie though, I like our hair and I don’t mind managing it. Guys have long hair, long dreadlocks. I like them. I don’t worry about what they dress the body in since I don’t claim it as my own. I don’t see myself as having one at all, yet I exist. I can see myself, a reflection almost…I suppose in the end it doesn’t matter to me that the body is female. It doesn’t matter since I know who I am. Dr. D recognizes me when he sees me. He knows Jordan when he sees her and knows Ariel Lovely. That means a lot to us.

I have to go to sleep now. I’m exhausted.

3:00 pm EST

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