TGIF

This has been the longest week.  I am so glad it is Friday.  Freedom starts Sunday.  Yesterday was a better day.  I did a lot in our room. 

Spending the day at your office Wednesday was the cure for our anger and malaise.  It had been too long since we cried--especially since we cried from the depths of our soul.  It has such a cleansing effect; it calms the “beasts” inside. 

We have just not been able to write anything productive.  I hope it comes back, because it helped so much and gave us such a sense of accomplishment.  I guess if I cannot write I will work on our room some more.  I want to be able to draw and paint.  I need to be creative.

DEPRESSION, SADNESS, FEAR, ANGER, HATE, LOVE

"N/SW"

We are so depressed.  No one has the courage to leave him in the den and come up to our room where we feel safe...where we can write or I can make pictures.  I am so sick of watching TV.  It is boring.  It makes me want to eat.  How are we going to get through the next week with him here and you gone.  I could scream.  It feels impossible.  SOMETIMES EVERYTHING FEELS IMPOSSIBLE. 

The 'cook' cooked today.  But other than that we have hardly done anything.  We got up at 5:00am and that is way too long to be up.  Maybe we should just go to bed and read.  This has become the blog for others to post their feelings because other blogs can no longer be used.  'R' is totally pissed off. 

Oh well, I guess I will go.   You won't see this anyway...I am not going to write it in our journal.  When you finally return, there is no need to overwhelm you with pages and pages of bull shit.  I know a lot of us miss you and hope you are okay. 

DEV

THE LIST

IS THE SHELL BEGINNING TO CRACK?

TO ‘N/SW’,

ON MY WAY HOME, AFTER OUR SESSION, I WAS THINKING, “WHAT MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I WANT TO COME OUT AND TALK TO YOU?” (THAT WAS YOUR QUESTION).  I THINK IT IS MORE THAN “BARBIE BAD ASS”!! LOL

I AM GOING TO TRY TO MAKE A LIST SO I CAN UNDERSTAND WHY?  BECAUSE—IT FUCKING BLOWS MY MIND THAT THIS IS HAPPENING.  TODAY IS THE FIRST TIME I HAVE EVER SAID ALOUD THOSE “WORDS”.  YOU KNOW, THE ONES ABOUT ‘TINY’  AND THE CATS.  I AM BEING TOTALLY SERIOUS HERE DUDE.  THAT WAS THE FIRST FUCKING TIME EVER.   AND THE THING ABOUT GOING OUTSIDE WITH THE KNIFE, TOO.   SO HERE GOES.

THE LIST

1.      YOU SEEM PRESENT IN THE ROOM, UNLIKE THE PREVIOUS THERAPIST.

2.      YOU DO NOT ACT LIKE A COLD FISH.

3.      YOU TALK TO ME.

4.      IT DOES NOT FEEL LIKE YOU ARE FAKE.

5.      YOU ARE VERY SMART.  i.e., YOU DON’T DO STUPID!  LOL

6.      I FEEL LIKE YOU ‘GET IT’. i.e., LIKE THE CUTTING AND WHY I DO IT.

7.      YOU HELP ME UNDERSTAND WHO I AM AND WHY I AM THE WAY I AM. (FUCK THAT SENTENCE SOUNDS STUPID. i yam what i yam what i yam!!)

8.      YOU SEEM ACCEPTING OF ME AND ALLOW ME TO BE MYSELF, AS UGLY AS THAT MIGHT BE.

9.      YOU SEEM GENUINE AND AUTHENTIC ABOUT HOW YOU ARE ‘JUST A HUMAN BEING’ WITH YOUR OWN FLAWS.

10.   YOU CAN ADMIT YOU HAVE PROBLEMS AND SHARE THE WORK YOU HAVE DONE.

11.   YOU ARE NOT AFRAID TO SHOW ANGER AT INJUSTICES.

12.   YOU CAN SEEM VULNERABLE. (I DO NOT MEAN THAT IN A BAD WAY).

13.   YOU LISTEN.

OKAY.  I GUESS I WILL STOP ON LUCKY 13.  I SHOULD ADD TWO MORE BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE MY AGE!!  BUT I AM SUDDENLY FEELING VERY TIRED.  SO I NEED TO GO BACK IN AND LET SOMEONE ELSE COME TO THE FRONT.



Picture by Amanda Richards on Flickr.  No copyright infringement intended.

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. 

THE MASK...

If we take away the mask, is this what we will find?



Picture copyright:  Keith Schengili-Roberts



THE WALKING DEAD...BEYOND THE POINT OF NO RETURN

My mind was pushed into a bizarre grotesque world until it became shattered past the point of no return.  There is nothing to define reality or if there is a reality it cannot be alive in my mind.  It has to die.  It has to stay dead.  I am the walking dead.  Is that a movie or something?  The only way to live is to be dead.  I breathe dead air.  I listen to and hear dead voices speaking, dead words coming from dead brains.  Like you for instance...your words are dead.  They are nothing but dead air being verbalized, falling upon the dead ears of the world.  There is no meaning or conviction or emotion.  And that is okay.  I do not need any of that from you.  I do not care if  you are detached and aloof and superficial.  I do not care what you think or what you believe about me.  It does not matter.  Nothing matters when you are dead.  Nothing can hurt you when you are dead.  You are right; I saw things no one should have to see.  I was forced to do things no one should have to do.  Can you see the blood on my hands, my face, my body?  Because...I can.  Crimson Red...always dead, dead, dead.  We bled...Crimson Red.  Now here is where I lay my head.  Here is my bed.

POINT OF NO RETURN

TOO MUCH PAIN WHEN I TRY NOT TO BE ANGRY

I am not made for this.  I was made to be DEV.  That is who I am.  THERE IS NOTHING MORE.  I do not believe you 'N/SW' when you say I have so many things to do as a 15 year old.  That is pure bullshit, since I 'know' that this body is NOT 15...even though I still have trouble comprehending this concept.  I tried to be un-angry DEV and it does not work.  Everything falls apart...Me and everyone in front of me.  LEAVE ME ALONE.  Yes, I know I was the one that went to see you.  So, I happened to be the 'strongest one' that day.  SO FUCKING WHAT!   IT MEANS NOTHING.  YOU MEAN NOTHING.  I MEAN NOTHING.  THE WORLD MEANS NOTHING.  SIMF.  This 'code' and what it represents you will eventually learn.  And you will regret the day when you understand its meaning.  You will realize that I am a vile, ugly reptile.   I am a poisonous amphibian.  I strike.  I am poisonous to the touch.  Do not let looks deceive you.  You may think it looks harmless and the colors attract you...BUT BEWARE.





Purple spotted dart frog...picture from into-the-wild.org





Mumford and Sons - Little Lion Man

OOps...CUSS WORD!!  SORRY!

THE BOX

Today we are decorating a box.  It is a difficult task for us to do.  We all have something we want to put on the box as a decoration.  Probably, it will be cluttered on the outside with our stuff...little souvenirs of things we like.  But, hello...it is our box so who cares?  I hope it is large enough.  We are going to fill this box with our written memories.  We have to write them because we cannot utter the words aloud.  There is a block between our thoughts and our voice.  There are a LOT of memories.   So the inside of the box will be cluttered also.   Eventually, when we are ready, if that day ever comes...we will take the memories and burn or bury them.  I choose burn.  I feel partial to burning.  And since the idea was given to ME, well hell, it wil be "burn baby burn".  Yes, 'N'/'SW' (still cannot decide which to use) suggested this to ME!  Yes me, little piss ant DEV.  The one who believes all she wants to do is play 'head games'.   I don't know.  Am I letting her suck me into her vacuum, only to find out later she had always planned to throw away the bag of dirt that she sucked up in her vacuum?  Is she going to hurt me just like the previous one and the one before that and everyone else in my life.  When she finds out who I am and what I am like, will she hate me?   Will she be frightened by me?  So many questions, they drive me crazy.  But, really, WHAT DO I HAVE TO LOSE?  Nothing.  Life is so painful and so bad and filled with confusion.  How can it be worse?  I don't think it could be worse. 


So, the next time I see her I am going to ask if she will keep the box in her office.  There is no place safe here for us to keep it.  I want to make a small shrine in her office.  From the Latin etymology shrine is scrinium (case, chest).  That is what this will be...a chest of relics (NOT SAINTLY), but it will be a remembrance of days gone by.  But, they really have not gone by...because they are re-lived in our mind
just as if they are happening again.  It is called PTSD.  It is called D.I.D.  It is called ab reaction.  It is called HELL.   And I think she might really believe us.  I think she might really know how to help us help ourselves.  Or at least, I think she is willing to try. 


I cannot think any more.  I am weary.  I wish I could call her.