Writing, Therapy, and Flashbacks

I don’t feel like conspiring to write brilliantly.  I don’t want to care that the creativity has gone out of me like a candle in the wind.  I think I shall never write again because we are not in the blackouts of depression, despair, or constant self-damnation to write from the heart and soul again.

There’s a website I’m linking here called Writing Forward that has creative writing prompts, but I haven’t been doing them.  Maybe because I’m lazy, maybe because there’s no audience to which to write, maybe the prompts just don’t speak to me like writing about the dark side of life.  

But if I can’t write about things other than me and World War III, then what kind of writer am I?

Maybe I’m afraid.  Writing never comes easily anymore, and I think I’m afraid of failure.  Insert failure/success cliches.  

I bought a book for $4.00 full of creative writing exercises that I hope will inspire me. Perhaps this is a ghost I will always be pursuing.

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So we met with Therapist 2x this week instead of the usual once-a-week session.  I think as a group we were in a better mood and there wasn’t such a self-imposed hurry or demand to get everything said and covered we could because we know there’s another session coming soon.  So I think we were more relaxed.  Today we exchanged first bumps, which is somewhat innocuous on the human “touch” scale.  

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We had a flashback tonight.  I’m scared to think about it, but we can not let fear dictate which insiders we help and which ones we don’t .  What if the girl in the flashback is fleeing towards us? Are we going to close our minds to her and the help she needs?

I don’t know what you expect me to say.  

Nothing really.  I just think we need to be open to sights, sounds, and feelings and not abandon insiders.  Why so angry?

B L O C K

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I'm sad. a teardrop falls in my hand.

A Big Secret Wrapped in a Bow

I’m only half a person right now.  You may poke and prod, dig around for the other half of Missing In Sight.  You will not find her.  You will find more, but you won’t find her.  I’m the only one here, lost inside this head, peeking out behind her eyes.  

I am numb, and it inspires recklessness and danger throughout me.  The drive to feel pain is better than feeling nothing at all.  Inexplicably, I am so numb that I want to numb out from the numbness.  I want to take some pills that will put me to sleep for the night where I don’t have to deal with not feeling anything.

I’ve been feeling a far off irritability and distant frustration since Saturday night.  I can pin point the exact moment I changed.  The feeling just washed over me.  

It’s quite possible and probable that my irritability is a result of my recent weight gain.  Though my treatment team would say it is appropriate I gain weight, I can’t stand myself.  I feel like I thunder through the halls at school and work.  I don’t feel comfortable or safe in my own skin right now.  I definitely feel like I’m in danger and flashbacks of one of the abusers are frequent.  

I think it’s also possible this emotional instability is due to the holidays.  The big secret wrapped in a bow is that we have never celebrated one holiday.  No birthdays.  No Christmas.  No Thanksgiving.  No nothing.  The littles feel very hurt at this time of year because they have never played in what they see others do.  They have never experienced what children might feel like on Christmas, waking up to lots of presents, peeking in stockings, smelling hot cocoa wafting through the cozy, snuggly house.  The Bigs feel left out because they don’t know what it’s like to shop for others, to gather with family and watch movies together, to sit down to a special dinner with special plates and special glasses and special forks; To have enjoyable, happy and laughter filled dinner conversation; To feel the comfort and safety of family surrounding you, supporting you, loving you.  

I feel sad for all of us.  Even in the body’s adulthood, we still aren’t “allowed” to celebrate the holidays.  It’s a power of wills between the members.  And in this case, nobody wins. 

Just for tonight

Went to bed not feeling well last night. Woke up this morning feeling even worse. Fever. Sore throat. Glands hurt.

Being sick =

Which = bad body image

Which = unhealthy eating.

Which equals relapse:

I'm trying to keep this blog a positive place:

But today it's a struggle.

But there's always tomorrow:

And a chance to start over.

But for tonight, I am going to cry.

And cry.

See you in a better place tomorrow.

XOXO

The definition of "Help me"

It's so hard to get these posts started. I just don't know where to begin. I feel everything and I feel nothing. I am angry but I'm calm. I'm sad but have no tears to show for it. Then there's the nothingness lulling me with her sweet numbness. I think I'll take her side.

I don't know what's really wrong with me. Maybe it's the fact I put my husband in a psych ward yesterday. Maybe it's because it brings up my own terror images of being locked away. Maybe it's because the last thing husband said to me was that a part of him wanted to kill me. I think that fits well.

I feel sorry for the spouses, partners, and friends who support us. Husband has it hard. I have several members who are crazy for tattoos. We have four tattoos already. They want several more. I personally don't like tattoos but I feel all members should have an outlet, like the littles should have their Barbies and Fruit Loops and the teenagers should have music and makeup. So why should I say no to other members just because Husband hates tattoos?

It was this fight that sparked his down spiral again. He is angry at me because I allow the tattoos; I don't stop it. Sometimes, when going to get a tattoo, I do want to turn the car around but I'm compelled, pushed forward to the tattoo shop. And when I look in the mirror and see the final piece I grimace but the face in the mirror is all smiles.

He says we value tattoos over him; we love the tattoos more. It's not black or white but his thinking is and this led to comments made by me about leaving him. My thinking at the time was that I just can't deal with him anymore. But I did tell him if he went to the hospital I would stay for now. But I don't see what good the hospital can do. His feelings about us will not change. The hospital will not change his view of our getting tattoos. And I feel completely betrayed by him when he doesn't show other members love other than the ones that are easy to like, for example, the littles.

A lot of damage has been done to this marriage. He was my rock, my support, my everything. I relied on him for almost everything. Which may or may not have been a good thing, but it is what it is.

I've refused to talk to him. He's called four or five times but I can't imagine what he could have to say to me. Every word would be my recall for the verbal daggers he's thrown at me.

Again, I know it's hard on loved ones who have to cope with our illness perhaps as much as we do. He's always done everything he could to accommodate me. It's a shame to lose it over stupid tattoos.

In any case, I hope this reaches someone out there, some reader in Internet land. Maybe then I won't feel so despondent, alone, and hopeless. Right now I feel like hurting myself with a glorious razor blade or the bright flame of a lighter, but I won't. I'll find other, less effective ways to cope.

The Missing In Sight Theme

The Perishers, featuring Sarah McLauchlan

One may think we're alright
We need pills to sleep at night
We need lies to make it through the day
We're not okay

One may think we're doing fine
But if I had to lay it on the line
We're losing ground with every passing day
We're not okay

That's one thing I would never
That's one thing I would never
That's one thing I would never
Say to you.

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Music says it best these days. I'm fading out of sight. I am a riddle, a rhyme, a cryptogram. If you can figure me out then you get to keep me. I don't want me, but maybe I'll be a good girl for you and you'll keep me. For now, something is missing and I'm all alone.

I sit with no satifaction. There is no saving what you have forgotten. At least do me the honor of a tear. Maybe someday you'll look up and realize I was really missing. Once I was sacrificed, there was never going back.

Get me out of here. I went willingly but I changed my mind. Once again, the pleas "no" don't mean "no". I ache all over again. I feel it over again. Please, just kill off what they started. We'll close our eyes and no one will ever have to know. Familiar words laced with booze. Fuck them.

I hate this nightmare that confiscates me. The more I try, the less I become.

Something is missing. Children sacrificed. You've forgotten, but I know how unimportant and insignificant we have been. Can't you tell we're gone? Do you even try for me?

I die to know that you could love me. You look at me and I breathe deep, (hoping), but you see right through me because we are missing in sight and it hurts like hell. Please forgive me.