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"If she even could hear me, what am I supposed to say? 'I see you, I love you, you're safe now?' What good would that do? She thinks she's happy to be in pain.
Like if I said 'I see you...'"
"Do you like what you see?"
"I love you..."
"Aww, I love you too! [lie]"
"... You're safe now."
"I know that, silly! There's no safer place to be than in his bed, where he's going to violate me again and remind me I'm wanted."
Until I finished writing this example of why I
Today, Silas has been a little more expressive and it's excruciating. He said today, "why did we let this happen?" over and over. Just to himself. He also lifted his shirt and made motions across his stomach and arms; he wanted to cut those spots. All he wants is to cuddle with me; he's still scared to directly speak to me. I'm sorry I let you down little one. I'll at least be here for you to rest against.
I didn't think Lucy could speak through me. To me, sure, but not through me.
Today I was proven wrong. On her behalf, I said something really inappropriate in someone else's thread. It was intended as sympathetic, but it was actually really not okay. I wasn't in control enough to catch it at first. Then I did, and I edited it out. If you are that person, I'm sorry if you saw that. I hope you didn't.
I think accepting her enough to give her a name has emboldened her, but she's too angry
Hear the snapping sound?
A deer’s gentle hoof on dried ground
Or my mind about to give way
The roaring voice I hear inside
Like waves breaking with the tide
It’s easier to tell you that I am okay
But it’s a lie, as you already know
The light went out long ago
An empty void, cold and gray
Feeling like wasted space
Despite hearing that’s not the case
Too pathetic to run away
I shouldn’t be allowed to speak
Together with my therapist we think I'm ready to go back to EMDR. My attitude and expectations have shifted. Previously I looked at it as fixing a long broken bone. So basically break it again and put back in order. It was a task. One that can be failed, and which I've been failing. Despite going round and round in my memories I couldn't find any emotions regarding them.
This time I'm finally free of this success failure mentality. I will take one last look behind and leave them in the pas
Late last night, thanks to the help of a friend, I was able to bring Alice home. The one I had been calling "Plead."
I have a gut feeling as to why she chose that name. She seems to hold things around the suitcase. "Why am I here?" She holds a memory of waking up drugged in an unfamiliar place, as if taken to a twisted sort of wonderland. And she holds mom yelling at her, but also the grief of losing her... And I projected mom into a stuffed rabbit... Alice wants to follow the rabbit. She w
Spent time with Silas today. I think the biggest thing I need to focus on with his arrival is giving him the space and opportunities to show himself more. I visualized him while we were at the library. He looked at me curiously but still won't talk any more than he has. He seems uneasy around passersby. I guess I need to make sure I have safe places to relax alone with him more often, and make sure I feel safe more often too. He can't feel safe if I don't. There's got to be a easier way.
Wh
Lately I've found it really helpful to identify ways my body responds to triggers. I can't always identify my mind's responses. Feelings come up that I don't allow myself to feel. But my body can't pretend not to feel them.
Earlier today someone told me my toxic way of looking at trauma is because I want to be able to feel like I deserve to be saved, because I'm caught between not feeling like I deserve it and feeling like I need it. That cut deep, but the only way I could actually tell for
Spent last night asleep with Silas curled up against my chest. He's shy to speak still. He's warming up to affection though. Imagined I kissed him goodbye before I went to work. If you need to retreat for now Silas, I understand. I hope you'll visit me again soon. Next time, you can pick one of my plushies if you need something to hold onto. I'm always here if you want to say something or if you don't. You deserve nurture, you deserve your wounds to be dressed and if I'm the only warm thing you
I spoke with the little boy in my head tonight (if you're reading this, the context is in my post titled When I Speak). He showed up and I visualized him peeking over my shoulder. He's scared but inquisitive. He's been using my voice and it seems like he's scared to be punished for it. I'm grateful you're here and talking to me, little one. I'm not angry. This is one of the only ways you can get help. I know nobody else sees you. But I know you're here and when you're ready, you can say what you
You feel broken nowadays. At times it's been difficult to even keep water down, lately. Even though you're able to, all you tell me is how much it hurts.
I know. I'm sorry.
I tried. I kept trying, over and over.
They say that the body can remember things better than the mind. I do think of things like somatic flashbacks when it comes to that, but there's more that I think of, too. More that you keep on display, either internally or externally.
I remember when I poisoned yo
I am aware now
I can think of 2 contributing factors for this outburst:
I have been experiencing an abnormally heavy menstrual cycle for the past 12 hours. Any amount of this cycle makes my hormones do irregular things that my usual medication dosage struggles to contain.
I had a very busy work week and was so exhausted I had been dozing off while standing up, actively doing repetitive tasks. I decided to sleep I this morning and did not realize that choice would result in taking
You... you're just in my memory now. I'll never hear those loving words from your voice again, with a surprise waiting for me in the passenger seat of your truck just so you could see my smile. Sometimes I touch the bed and wish you were with me again, like when I was tiny. I remember your warm skin and your rough face and your bear hugs. I wish I could read The Hobbit to you again while we both forgot about our own pains for awhile, just one last time. I wish I could've let you know that you we
There are so many things that I need to do. So many things that I need to focus on. And every time I get stuck on something that isn't what I should be prioritizing... I go back to the same thing I always tell myself: "Not this thought. This one... This doesn't matter."
My problem, I think, is when it all becomes that. I feel like almost none of my thoughts are productive anymore. Not to myself, nor to others. I tell myself the same things every time: No one wants to hear about how badly I
One of several promises i made to my fight part to try to show her i really care about her was that i'd stop thinking about this stuff. Let it go. Let her and the other two show me whatever they need to at their own pace, and just stop worrying about it in the meantime.
And i'm realizing it doesn't work like that.
I can't stop thinking about it even if i try. That's how this whole sudden decline in my mental health started and it's not any different now. How it started was, i withdrew
I've always loved the colour blue.
Forget-me-nots, though there might be few,
Soap bubbles catching the light,
Or when the clouds break at twilight.
They're all flares in those ocean eyes.
But from my thoughts the grey fog flies
And all that's left is me feeling blue
As the sky cries for you.
It cries for me too,
For I've never seen that infinite hue.
I've never met you with the true blue eyes.
Even if I did, I wouldn't recog
I should be asleep. I just can't right now. I feel like I need to get this off my chest so I can get some sleep. Lighten my mental load I guess.
I hate how detached I've become. I don't feel like a victim, and I mean that in a bad sense. I know there's pain present, it's just that I don't feel it. I've never shed one tear over my assaults themselves. I cried for 2 straight hours Thursday after seeing my mom helpless from surgery and medicine. Again, it's because I hate her. Once my family l
I feel like I have patience for nearly everyone but me, at this point. I don't know where that kindness for myself went - I think there was a time I managed to cultivate some, but it feels lost. Especially after getting as sick as I did, I think my brain is in a few more pieces than it was last month, and that empathy for myself is nowhere to be found lately.
It's frustrating. I think of my father, and keep also thinking things like, "Well... his father was also horrible, and did awful thin
I turned to a fresh page in my book. My hand was scribbling furiously again but not generating the simple shapes of J’s primitive drawing style. She had disappeared.
I had really wanted to spend more time with J, but she stepped aside as abruptly as she had arrived.
Who is this? What are you showing me?
At first glance, it looks like a jumble of squiggly lines. Then, a shape begins to emerge … a large circle in the middle where all of the lines are converging. It looks like a blac
Almost as soon as little i was done drawing, I drew a new picture in my book. But this time it was not little i. The feeling is different. Even the drawing style is completely different … almost like a primitive cave drawing with simple, featureless human forms.
When the drawing is done, she starts a new one.
Then another.
Yet another!
Finally, she stopped after 6. Each one is nothing more than a small thumbnail sketch.
Each sketch features a dark room that I remember fr
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