WARNING

WARNING. Enter this sight at your own risk. Ugliness exists. You may not like what you see. It may sting you like a bumble bee. It may trigger a memory, sending you to the crematory. P.S. No porn just topic and lanuage could possibly offend. But I have to be real, I cannot pretend. This blog is for me, not you. So, if you do not like, then shoo.































Thursday, May 26, 2011

MY BODY FEELS LIKE RAW EMOTIONS


I do not know how to make this stop.  I feel sick.  I feel every nerve in my body is activated…is reacting to what is hidden inside.  The secrets are bursting at the seams.  Can’t you help me ‘N/SW’?  I know you cannot unless I let you know what is happening.  But, I would rather you read my mind.  I would rather you just know without me having to say the words. 
Don’t ask me to stay alive.  I am in too much pain.  I want you to help, but I cannot reach out because of the fear that paralyzes my body; the fear which keeps me drowning in the Crimson Red flowing so freely from my body, from my soul. 
I am sorry.  Truly, I am.  I do not deserve anyone like you. 
FREEDOM



Wednesday, May 25, 2011

You Will Not Make Me Speak…

THIS IS WHAT I WAS TOLD.  THIS IS WHAT I BELIEVE.

Even if I believed you wanted to hear about the pain I endured, I cannot tell you.  The words will not come out.  They would contaminate you.  You would hate me. 
Were you angry with me?  Yesterday, when you walked into the room, I could see it in your face.  I could see it in your eyes.  You were so angry.  Was it something we did?  It hurt to see you that way ‘N/SW’.  That is the reason we had to run out of group and hide in the bathroom.  It scared us to see you that way.  Angry people scare us.  And so we run and hide, because that is about the only way we have learned to deal with anger.  We either run and hide or WE BECOME ANGRY.  ANGRY IS BAD.  Good girls are not supposed to get angry.  Good girls just do what they are told and do not speak about it.  This is what I was taught.  It is hard to think otherwise.  If I tell anyone, someone or something is going to get hurt or killed.  These were the words they used to control me.  These are the word I hear when I want to talk to you.  You have to help me. 
We are sinking fast.  We are starting to drown.  It won’t be long now.  I will be lost forever.  I keep floating farther from the shore and the waves are churning.  I cannot find anything on which to cling.  You keep saying you are not leaving, you are not going away.  But, then you are leaving.  You are going away again for two weeks.  I know you have your own life. 
THIS IS WHY I HATE THERAPY.  I CANNOT DO THIS.  WE HAVE BEEN DOWN THIS ROAD BEFORE AND WE GOT HURT AGAIN, IT FELT THE SAME AS THE PAST.  ALL PAIN FEELS THE SAME.  THERE ARE NO DEGREES.  JUST STAY AWAY FROM ME.  DO NOT SUCK ME INTO YOUR HEAD GAMES.  BECAUSE, IN THE END, YOU WILL THROW ME OUT WITH THE DIRT, THE DUST, THE GRIME…THAT IS ALL I AM.


Monday, May 16, 2011

The Road Less Traveled…Trust in Therapy.

YOU WANT ME TO WALK DOWN YOUR ROAD...This is what it looks like to me...



So yes I am terrified to take the first step.

Wouldn’t you be afraid if this is what you saw in front of you?  Wouldn’t your first instinct be to run in the other direction? 

If I lose my balance are you going to be able to catch me?

How will you make the bleeding stop while I am traveling down this path with you?  Because I know for certain this will be a path filled with pain and anguish.  I need answers.  I need to know you will not abandon me in the same way others before you abandoned me.

Just the thought of caring for anyone hurts me.  Just the thought of you being close causes so much pain.  How can I survive in agony?   Pain makes me cut.  Pain makes me destructive.

What do you want me to do?  You want me to trust.  You want me to learn to be nurtured.  You say people in my past never nurtured me, so I do not know how to accept nurturing from others.  The nurturing I did receive was something totally different.  You call it abuse.  But all those years I thought it was love.  I thought that was how people loved each other.  I thought that is what it meant to be a ‘good’ girl.  So, therefore, my idea of nurturing is way off base.  My idea of nurturing comes from perversions. 

LOVE = PAIN = LOVE = ABUSE = LOVE = SEX = LOVE = TORTURE = LOVE = BLOOD

All I can say to you is NOTHING.   NOTHING.  NOTHING.  NOTHING.

But, I really want to say:  help me, don’t leave me here alone, I need you, please do not go away, be with me in this sorrow called my life, take the little one’s hand, hold her through the pain, help me find freedom from the prison in which I reside. 

But the words do not make a sound.  When I am with you I am silent.  When you reach out I withdraw.  When you touch I cringe. 

Teach me to speak.  I need to find my voice.  Teach me to reach back.  Teach me that I am worthy of touch.

Just, teach me. 

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

MOTHER’S DAY, SMOTHERS DAY




Why did you hurt me? WHY?

Yes, that is correct.  You read it correctly.  Good for you.  So can you relate?  Do you know how it feels to have your own mother try to suffocate you with a pillow?  If you do, then you understand the pain I feel, the emptiness I feel, the longing for a Mother’s love.  It never goes away…that dream of feeling a gentle touch, a caring touch, a touch that does not cause pain.  I would give anything to be able to go back and make it all different.  But, instead I will continue to bleed for you Mother Dear.  I will continue to suffer at your hands.  I will honor and obey you in spite of your evil.  Why can’t you just leave me alone and get out of my head.  Go away.  Leave me alone.  I want to be free.  I want to be liberated from your prison.  Haven’t you kept me in your shackles long enough?  When will you ever be satisfied?  I know…when I finally sacrifice my life for you…but, haven’t I already done that?

PHOTO FROM:
hurt  japanese-buddhism com karma

Friday, May 6, 2011

TO BLEED OR NOT TO BLEED...THAT IS THE QUESTION.

Photo by ayame nothingnin

YOU CAN NEVER STOP ME

I bleed to stop the pain.  I bleed to feel relief.  I bleed to know that I am alive.  Nothing you say or do matters to me.   This is the only thing I can do.  This is the only thing I ever learned.   Some people drink to escape.  Some people do drugs to escape.  I CUT to escape.

Tuesday, May 3, 2011

ABUSE and Its Aftermath




The many deaths of abuse.


Seeds of death are swelling inside
Like the carcass of an animal
Left in the desert, tainted and rotting,
On the verge of exploding.

As destiny has willed,
Violently it bursts,
To be savagely preyed upon by unearthly scavengers.
They feast upon the flesh and blood;
And when finally glutted,
Move on, waiting surreptitiously for
The next victim of their ungodly world.



Picture from web infiniteunknown.net