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.
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.