11/29/2023
The darkness has followed me all my life
I've concealed it behind locked doors
Hoping the rust doesn't spread to the armor
Darkness makes light of the truth
They pass through
Stealing parts of my soul I can't regenerate
Evil is left in the wake of their destruction
It's Evil...
That's what lies beneath the surface
That's what I've locked away behind hidden exhibits
They've branded me
Carved parts of themselves into my roots
Poison, I can't extract
The Evil ends when I do...
Seeking safety in myself heightens my awareness
Leads me to unlock doors
and jump into wells
Leads me to connect with destruction
I connect with the danger
With the unpredictability of it all
It's out of control
This part of me is fearless
It's fueled by rage and grief
It pays no mind to the pain and suffering of itself
Nor of others
It is relentless destruction
It's inept at holding values and morals
I fear all the things I know I'm capable of
Knowing I could pay it forward ten folds
There's no warmth here
I'd leave ruins behind
I’m cursed
Forever damned to worry about the consequences of my touch
11/27/2023
I think there will always be a rotten part of me
A part I can’t quite connect to
Neither can anyone else
I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to keep it from spreading
Liar
I can watch myself detach from the world around me
I still miss moments
I find myself attempting to gather up previous shots that never even developed
The increased awareness connects the cord
I zone in on the grip,
Follow it down a well
Here, is where you find the poison
Here, is the part of me that has rotten
The twisted up anger and despair expand and contract
It lives…
It’s all lies
That’s the dream and the fear
Nothing ever was what it seemed
Secrets hid in the shadows
After hours, in the silence of my screams
Truths at the tip of my tongue, ready to launch
But held back by teeth
I’ve always been a good listener, great observer
I watch the different versions play around me
Changing their hues from scene to scene
My soul roams from space to space
Seeking something real
Something to attach to
Connect with…
Survival has always been about catching the lie. This game doesn’t send you back to your last saved spot. You guess wrong, you die. I fear lies, liars…
They’re not safe… They’re dangerous. Unpredictable and out of control.
This, this is why my mind isn’t safe
I’m the collector
Collector of stories I hide within me
Deep in a well
So ask me if I’m fine
I’m a liar
11/14/2023
Someone’s tampered with the volume
The muscles in my face are harder to command
My hands can’t connect with anything
Not even each other
I catch myself gazing through objects
Hoping I develop x-ray vision
Anything that helps me find the molecules making up the world around me
Then I can reassure myself it’s real
That I’m real…
I come back to find myself in fragments of routines
Moving with distinct direction but lacking purpose
I reach for the drive
For the anger I know fueling it
I attempt to sift through the sounds
The noises hold me in place
The buzzing of the fluorescent lights linger all day
At night the buzzing intensifies
Louder and louder it goes…
Until it’s current enters my body to take hold of my soul
I’m unreachable
I will do anything to get away
11/12/2023
I wonder if the rage will always be part of me
Something inside me that continues to regenerate
It’s coming from a black hole
I didn’t know I had it… bad
It’s a never ending source of energy
An eternal resource
One I learned to repurpose without knowing
I didn’t know I had it bad
… Until I didn’t have it bad
11/7/2023
11/3
Attempting to articulate these stories feels like I'm navigating through landmines
One wrong step and... I'm not sure what
But it feels wrong
It feels uncomfortable
It feels new
The sooner I start, the sooner I'm on the other side
I have no idea what's on the other end of this trip
But it must be better than here
At the very least new
I need new
I'm sitting on the train now
I search for the courage
Turn to the window
Let the movie play
It's New Years Eve
We worked
A lot of homes are empty
People gather together under one roof
The fireworks in the area are loud
Highly illegal but beautiful
I feel them shake the walls as I walk through the front door
The air is mostly sulfur at this point
I quickly scan the living room
The couch is backed up against the wall leading to outside world
I align my spine with it
This always eases my anxiety in new spaces
He locks the door
We're in a bad neighborhood
But when he locks the extra latch I'm heightened
I recognize the smell
I'm frozen
The images vary in clarity
His initial attempts lead me to seek space
I head for the door
My leg is caught on something
Throws my balance off and leads me to the floor
A fight erupts
I collect wood polish under my nails as I reach for the outside world
I find a way to get my legs under me
I got one lock undone
As I work on the second he fuses the door to it's frame
A sharp pain shoots up my nose and behind my eyes
I'm swallowed
I continue my attempts
Reaching for all that I can but my feet don't even reach the floor
The coldness of the room invades my body before he does
11/7
I jammed the tape
Maybe this part doesn't need to be watched
Maybe I'm not ready to
It lives in memories
In all 5 senses
In every cell
Not yet...
11/6/2023
The last four days I've felt uneasy
I replay what I shared over and over in my head
Immediately I yell at myself
"Why'd you share that?!"
The anxious thoughts flow
"No one needs to know that"
"What, are you going to go around telling every single thing that has happened?"
"It's too much. No one will believe you."
That's my core fear
I manage memories and the noise on my own
The big things-
Bookmarked things, are what I need help with
This, this is constant static
Background noise of my life
"Why would it need to be shared?"
The big things are hard for me
I can barely manage the work for those
These memories play without my permission
Once they finish they rewind themselves and begin again
I've learned to distance myself
This is how I manage
No one needs to know and I don't let it show
"You're a liar."
"There's no way you lived this."
"Of course no one will believe you."
I feel young, vulnerable
Out of control and powerless
It spilled out of me
Like a hose with built up water
I couldn't turn it off fast enough
And I don't know if all of me is content with it only being background noise
(EMDR Session)
I tell her about my preoccupation with information I shared with my other therapist
How I question if this has really been my life
And how I know others will challenge it too
It's not believable
No one can help me and if it's not believable then what is the point?
I already have targets for EMDR
So I should focus on these
She lets me finish my rant then asks,
"Are the memories distressing?"
I say, "Not really", as I realize I'm again talking about it with another therapist
I'm paying to talk about my lies
She says, "Would you like to do some processing? Doesn't hurt if it's not real or not distressing?"
I think this is brilliant!
I'm almost excited
Eager to catch my lie
I'm a liar who wants to be caught
The targets are made
Again I recount events
We focus on number 1
The beginning...
The ball moves back and forth as I summon the images
I hear the fireworks immediately
I smell him soon after
My arms begin to shake
My breathing is fast and shallow
The tears blur out the ball
I feel stuck
The intensity builds and builds
Then I feel heavy
My body is numb, it's asleep
"I WANT TO DIE"
The thought startles me
She prompts me to follow
But then I feel the thought in my body
The familiar sensation feels real
I want to die, I need to die
I go back to sleep
She prompts me to wake my body and give it a voice
"I'm garbage."
"I'm nothing."
"I'm dirty. Disgusting."
I notice the intense feeling of nausea
I'm going to throw up
My body jerks forward as I try not to throw up on myself
The ball moves back and forth
Heat builds on the right side of my face
I'm preoccupied with the vomit
I try to go back to numb
"I'm here with you. It's ok to be curious."
I think about the vomit
The disgust
The emotion comes in hot, literally
Shame
My whole face and neck are hot
Really hot
"What do you notice?"
My brain scans my body, my emotions, my history
"There's anger" I say surprised
"Yes! Yes! Go with it", she says
I feel this deep vibration in the pit of my stomach rising
It's not vomit
I begin shaking and panting
I'm consumed with rage
"It's anger!"
My head feels like it will shoot right off
"Look at me. We're going to tap"
I don't recall how but I'm grounded
I feel the clamminess of my skin
I'm cold in this chilly room now
I look down at the desk
I mumble, "It was real..."
11/5/2023
My work day ended hours ago. Everything feels robotic. Rehearsed. When I arrive home, I immediately get undressed and pace around. I attempt to parent myself. To parent the self-destructive parts of me that are about to go off. I move with urgency. “What do you need right now?” I find myself under the sun. The heat stings my skin a little but I enjoy it. I hope it sets fire to my skin. Maybe that will make it stop. I’m in and out. I become aware of lost time but don’t know what I’ve done with it.
The dam holds back what I can’t disconnect from. Regardless, the tears flow. I move in silence. I begin cooking dinner, only surrounding myself with the sound of rice boiling and tofu searing on the pan. I finish and realize I’m not hungry. I pace around, change, and head out the door. Each step feels like a ripple of vibrations entering the earth. I can almost hear it. Upon my return I attempt to eat but abandon the plate a few bites in. I sat on my couch listening to nothing but the city. The sounds of cars pushing through air travels up the sides of the building. I hear the wheel of a bike rumble as gears change. You can hear the distance echoes of honking and sirens. The slamming of car doors and voices reach my ears.
“Paint”, I command. I don’t move. “Write”, frozen.
I don’t bother lying to myself by grabbing a glass. From my balcony, I watch the evening crows soar. I’m envious of their lightness. I’m stalling. The cells in my body are finally settling down. I notice the headache and jaw pain.
It’s sweet. Like dark, ripe fruit. There is an earthy taste, like wet wood. It’s not dry but there’s a smoke, dry taste to it. My mouth fills with saliva and the sweetness quickly fades. It’s sweeter than I anticipated. Bitter but sweet. Like dark cherry, raspberry, or maybe even blue berry. I like flavors like this. Like wet dirt and moist wood. I check my guesses before deciding, “ok, now”
Half way in the dam breaks.
He noticed the leaves yellowing. Unsure if he was loving it to much or not enough. “I remember you telling me it doesn’t need much water”. He sets it free outside hoping the sun will care for it. He finds it knocked over, “It may be dead”. He scoops ups the remains and contains them in a plastic bag.
The image of this sticks with me. Despite transparency, not everyone will understand how to care for this plant. He didn’t know how to love it so he set it free. Only to regret it resulting in it’s death. The end of something. The death of us.
“I've got no place
Buildin' you a rocket up to outer space
I watch you fade
Keeping the lights on in this forsaken place
Little star
Feels like you fell right on my head
Gave you away to the wind
I hope it was worth it in the end
You and my guitar
I think you may be my only friend
I’d gave it all to see you shine again
I hope it was worth it in the end
Us against the world
Just a couple sinner's makin' fun of hell
If I keep you here
I'll only be doing this for myself
Little star
Feels like you fell right on my head
Gave you away to the wind
I hope it was worth it in the end
Yеah, I hope so
Think you may be my only friend
I gavе it all to see you shine again
I hope it was worth it in the end
I know this thing is broken
So I leave my door wide open
Been some time since we've spoken
One day we'll meet again
Some distance when you're older
You'll come lean on my shoulder
Tell me that storm is over
That day we meet again
Feels like you fell right on my head
Gave you away to the wind
I hope it was worth it in the end
You and my guitar
I think you may be my only friend
I gave you away (Mh-mhhm-hmm)
I hope it was worth it in the end”
“I’m sorry”
The silence is gone
I’ve spent 9 months containing the anguish
I can no longer hear the city, only myself
I’ve let the real artists and poets of this world speak
I left it up to them to describe the horrors of ruins left from love
So much of it resonates
Yet so much of it only scratches the surface
I wish I could say this was my first understanding of it
The despair resulting from love
Loving anything comes with grief
I desire to love your mess
But no one ever believes me
How could you, when you can’t hear me?
Just like her, he couldn’t love himself enough to make it to me
Maybe it isn’t that
I’m growing to love myself
Yet, I can meet you in any dark alley
I don’t have the right words or actions to cure your pain
Nor do I intend to
But, I can meet you
I show up at every train station and terminal
At each baggage claim, ready
I watch others grab their baggage
Connect with those who see them
I wait until the carousel stops
There is nothing to wait for…
Just like her, he tells me his actions don’t reflect his desires
Yet, I’m standing in a terminal ready with my carefully sorted through baggage
Waiting for yours
You never make it to the airport
I don’t even think you’ve packed a bag
Once again, I exit the terminal
Attempting to maintain my posture
I distance myself
Refusing to let you or anyone else know how destroyed I feel
I launch my baggage into the trunk
Start the car
And leave
I try to make sense of the reasons they give me
How could something expressed so positively be the downfall?
How could you see greatness in me and yet want nothing to do with it?
He sees me going to outer space
Builds the rocket
But doesn’t think to join me?
None of it makes sense
Why am I so hard to love?
11/3/2023
I pulled at the thread and suddenly find myself vomiting up memories
Quickly they come out of me
Brief, tangential
The scariness of the memories is not lost on me
They're clear memories that have lingered in corners
They're background noise
Constant but at times, like now, they're loud
I notice the challenge connecting my thoughts with my voice
The wire isn't severed but it's clearly damaged
I'm cold, I think?
The goosebumps roam my body
It itches as the cycle ends and begins again
I'm delaying
Saying it was hard
But you can't prove I said it
There's no record
Publishing it is harder
I can't take it back once I can see what I said
See what I thought, what I lived
It's a memory
A story in a timeline
Am I giving it more power?
11/3/2023
The train pulls up
Letting out a deep belly sigh
The door to the first cart slows down and stops right in front of me
I see my reflection for a split second before the doors open
I look down the line and notice how long this train is
I let out a deep belly sigh
The train startles me as it calls out to me
It's time...
My heart beats in my head
It echoes in my fish bowl
He's marked on my right foot
I lead with it
At this intersection I chose forward
The hairs on my back rise as the door closes behind me
There is no going back
There is no unknowing
10/31/2023
10/31
The day the barrier between the spiritual and physical world becomes perforated
When continuity is ruptured in the realm of worlds
Where souls in journey and those in transition can meet
I often wonder about the roots of my soul's existence
10/30/2023
I hear the siren a few times on my way to work. The nausea is pretty prominent. I repeat, "There's no siren. There's no siren". As I focus on my breathing. It's been some time since it was this clear and frequent.
(Dream)
The details got away from me. There is some party, lots of people on a large property. I go find my sister. It's someone I know but I don't know why she's my sister in this dream. I go tell her that I got a heads up and they're coming for me. I'm about to leave, to run for it, but at the same time it's like I'm avoiding this. I'm delaying it. 20 helicopters show up. A grip of units peel into the property. Sending particles of dirt everywhere. The pale woman asks me if I speak English before directing my hands to my back.I comply.
I feel... I hear, the first click. I begin gasping for air as I fall to my knees
I'm jolted awake
My eyes scan the darkness for clarity
My chest is compressing into itself
I recognize my bed
"Fuck", I think as I recognize I'm in the middle of a panic attack
I mistakenly try to recall the dream
I feel the cool metal on my wrist
Sending me into complete terror
I want it out of me, off of me
I peel my clothes off, item by item
I'm sweating at this point
Rigid but trembling
I find myself sitting up on the bed
Back against the wall in my underwear
I'm shivering
Unsure if it's a result of the panic or the cold air hitting my sweaty body
My face and head ache
My muscles feel tired
I try not to pass judgment on myself
Try not to feel the disappointment and sense of failure
I spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling
Couldn't tell you what the question was exactly
But my response was a begrudging... "fine".
I justify the suppression of this one due to the risk. I know the cost of opening my mouth. I know the lengths they'll go to make sure nothing ever comes out of me. I rewarded them with my silence. They earned it...I ran, doing my best to never look back. The echoes petrify me.Like real sirens, unclear from what direction it's coming from. Only knowing that it's approaching and fast
My mental state was functional
Distant, absent but manageable
I was managing. I was numb, detached, and reckless with myself. Inviting more harm. I gave up my defenses. I see the lights first. My body tightens up for the fight. The sirens follows. When he approaches my window I accept it, but when he calls my name I leave. I'm just... gone. My name clarifies the danger of this situation. His words cut through me but the painkillers flow through my body. I feel nothing. I'm berated, humiliated. But not in this moment. In this moment, I feel nothing. Most of it I've forgotten. Least that's what I tell myself. My lawyer described the footage as "painful" to watch.
He slams me up against the unit. Bending me sharply at the hips. He stands behind me laughing as he gropes at my body. He locks the first one...These marks will linger for days. Traces of him will be left on my wrists, arms, and hips. I'm thrown in the back. Landing on my face.
I'm connected to a bench on the floor. My spine shoots pain down my legs.
Soon two of them sit on me as my blood is drawn. They put part of my uniform on in the process so now I'm threatened to be thrown in with general pop. I don't say it but I'd feel safer in that cage than in this room of uniforms. One of them is very angry. So angry I can feel him even when I'm checked out. He watches me closely. His blood is boiling at the sight of me. He comes for me… Releasing me from the bench. He calls over his accomplice. My arms are restrained as he whispers, "I'm going to do the rape kit myself you lying bitch". The scent is here… I smell it off him and this brings me back into my body. My legs drag behind me as they carry me down a dark hallway. We're approaching a dark room. I launch my legs up against the door frame. Locking my legs. My wrists are twisting in and I want to give up. In a split second I make the choice-I'd rather die. So I fight to piss them off. Maybe they'll accidently go too far. I swing my legs back down, targeting one of their knees. He releases my arm and I elbow him straight in the face before the other slams me against the wall. I feel his hands trembling. He doesn't feel like rage… I swing my head back, rocking his balance. I begin to scream so loud I feel something ripping in my throat.
The sergeant returns upset by my troublemaking. He "okay-s" my release to a coworker.
I'm full of rage. Slow growing, but silent. I don't say a word. The stream of tears seem endless. I can hear the road below us. The thought is still very vivid for me.
"I'm done..."
I open the door and launch myself. The asphalt bounces off my body. After a few moments I notice the horror of breathing persists. A deep belly cry begins then it turns into a panic attack. I'm enraged with my existence. I punch my face over and over until he comes running to restrain me. I'm fighting him. I'm angry with any obstacle keeping me from relief. He holds me till the energy runs out then carries my limp body back in the car. I try again a few moments later with a razor. Again, he restrains me. I postpone my attempts till tomorrow
Fine…
10/28/2023
Yesterday I bought my first pair of jeans
To be more specific, I bought my first pair of unconditional jeans
No terms or conditions jeans
I’ve purchased several jeans in the last few decades but not one was free of unattainable standards or criticism
Sometimes the purchase was a reward for my commitment to restrictions
I’d squeeze my calves and relentless ass into this unforgiving fabric
Then I’d feel this sense of accomplishment and satisfaction
Sometimes the purchase was a punishment
To prove to some part of myself I was not enough
Wasn’t committed enough, beautiful enough
So, I’d shove the evidence in my own face
Tell myself how unworthy I was and here were the numbers to prove it
My jeans could only be purchased from the same store
The variation in sizes depending on brands was dangerous for me
It could send me into a deep self-depreciating spiral
It could tell me once again it wasn’t enough
Leading to more punishment
Punishment I was in control of
Punishment I could describe as fair
It made sense, it was tangible
I could predict it
Letting go of control is painfully terrifying
My emotions and body respond like I am to be met some sort of torturous death
I’ve avoided mirrors all my life
Doing my makeup and hair with handheld mirrors
Never having to face,…myself
Showering and getting dressed like I’m in bootcamp
I held record times…
Sometimes I still leave my apartment with things on backwards or mismatched for not double-checking
The feeling is like being pants and then shitting yourself on stage surrounded by 50,000 people
Except you’re alone
Over and over, it happens
Every. Single. Day. because how do you leave your body behind?
I’m stuck with this defective meat suit
So, you find ways to manage
Up and down my weight goes
Neither resulting in me loving myself
I never even “looked” malnourished
This also became a weapon, “You can’t even do anorexia, right?”
I spent the last 10 years trying to avoid jeans
In the era of leggings and yoga pants I’ve gone undetected
Especially with COVID
If someone notices my clear aversion to it, I simply note the fabric is bothersome and doesn’t feel breathable
People often offer solutions such as different brands or styles
I let the information slip
I feared being sucked back into dancing with the devil
I’ve kept two pair of jeans however, every once in a while, attempting to slip them on
I feel this is a reasonable size as it’s in-between my lowest and highest weight
Yet the last 4 years they have not gone past my thighs
Again, I’m caught with my pants down
I pull them off like I’m brushing off spiders crawling up my legs
Put them back in the closet
Food will become disgusting and incredibly appealing all at once
I’ll cycle into states of restriction leading to binging, potential purging, and then indifference until I can repress the obsession
I can delay it until the next slip, thought of my weight, comment on my body, or urge to try on these two pairs of jeans
I don’t weigh myself for this exact reason
Can’t even remember when that stopped
Maybe almost 15 years ago
I have it blocked off medical charts if needed
I write 160lbs on anything requiring my weight like my license
I watch myself search for things I can control
Things I can make sense of and seek safety in for brief moments
Convincing myself I’m better in these spaces
Even if I’m hurting myself, I’M hurting myself
I can beat you to the punch
I can hurt myself far more and better than you ever could
I learned from the best…
The cycle began around age 10
Prior to this my family still accosted me with comments on my body any chance they got
I just didn’t understand how food and exercise played a role in what it looked like...
Not yet at least
My mother taught me
She could “help me”, she said
I was standing in the dressing room with her
This new school was trying to look less shitty by requiring more uniformed clothing
Here we are trying to find tan and black Dickies pants
Dickies are made of another unforgiving material and sizes run up
Least for women-I was in between a 12 or 14 in women
I remember because my mother noted I was double her size, a 6.
Children clothes didn’t fit my thighs or chest quiet right so I was indoctrinated into this “size vs women” world as a child
I was standing in that dressing room in just my underwear and socks
I was humiliated as she scanned my body
Pinching and grabbing at the extra stuff
Highlighting the width of the waist band of pants I was about to put on
I wanted to cry
But I didn’t because I knew the response was 1 of 2 options
I infuriate her for making her feel like an asshole when she is trying to help, eventually leading to her striking me
Or she’d get off on the crying and laugh at how ridiculous I’m being
She doesn’t cry so it makes her better than me
I did my best to avoid these interactions with her
I did my best to be likeable
And how do you get the mean girl at the High School to like you?
Hate the person she most despises, … me
Exploring these memories often feels harsh
I question whether I recall them correctly
But then I have friends from childhood make note of me taking diet pills in fourth grade
Younger than my memories go
The feelings that arise in my body make it clear this is true
I imagine a 4th grader on Hydroxycut…
It’s horrifying
That child is me…
In this moment I can feel compassion
I can see why I am the way I am
Then there is just sadness because of how hard it is to undo…
So, yesterday I bought my first pair of jeans
On my period of all circumstances
I forgot my meds and prep this month so my inflammation disorder is out of control
Looks like I’m in my first trimester
I decided last year that I’d make an attempt to care for myself
My physical self, 1x a year… seems reasonable
I spent the entire month contemplating different options of care
Clothes? Jewelry? Makeup?
What does She want?
Here I am, few days before only realizing jeans was always it
I tell myself over and over that the number doesn’t mean anything
I’m struggling to prepare myself
I go into it consciously knowing I am risking exposure to a serious trigger
I walk into the store
Not a brand I’ve ever known my size in
I briefly scan the styles
Immediately filtering the tighter styles
I grab a few baggy options and stretch options
I close the door and take a deep breath
The mirror begins
“Gross” “Look at your cellulite” “You could be so much better” “Look at the spots”
I close my eyes
I try again
I try really hard
I slip on the first pair
I notice I misread the size. It’s a size 2
There is no way this is going past my ankle let alone a thigh
I can hear my heart beating as I think, “Fuck”
I return with more sizes
I decide to go with the larger sizes first
I think it could be easier to stop when it fits
Versus having to watch myself reach for the next larger size
The first one mostly fits
But there is this big gap on my lower back
I know I can’t go smaller so I reach for the stretchy style
I rotate one time
Avoiding my face
“Ok, done”
I head directly to check out and exit the mall
When I get home I toss the jeans into the closet
One hurdle at a time
10/24/2023
She tells me with her 40 years of experience my mom is one of the worst she's known
I noticed the reflex of wanting to defend her
She's sick, yes
But that's only an explanation no longer a justification
She notes my experiences are compounded and traumatic
Unique experiences only leading to a unique result
But aren't we all?
This is brought up because of this stupid pink movie
A movie I didn't even care to see
The annoyance is my resistance to yet another way I have to confront this.. thing
The thing about being different
The thing about being alone and not relating
Today I'm tired
There isn't enough in me to fight that reality
So I acknowledge the sadness
The reality of being surrounded by people but often feeling so utterly alone
I tell her I'm seeking peers
She reassures me they're somewhere around here
But a majority live off 5th and San Pedro
So it's just going to be harder to find now
She tells me it's not impossible
And that I am proof of that
Yet this statement isn't comforting
And maybe it's not meant to be
I'm seeking comfort in something that's never been nor will be comfortable
Often I feel the only difference is I’ve learned to hide my mess
Unless you watch closely, you’ll miss me
Prior to this I spoke with my other therapist
The loudest statement playing over in my head is about my contribution
Just because my experience isn’t the experience of most
Does not undervalue it
My experience can be of contribution if shared
It sticks with me because I think this sums up my internal conflict
How do I balance my existence with the loud backdrop of my history?
So I’m not lost in all the noise
I’m not interested in being the poster child for these types of stories
10/24/2023
When he spoke of his name
I felt he was telling my secrets
He explained the difference between the C and the K
The curtain unveiled the difference
I few years ago I would of dismissed this notion
The use of an E versus an A
It's a shocking realization
But it's true,
I got to be someone different
The E holds no mess
It helps maintain the distance
Since the A is the key that unlocks the door to darkness
It's the absence of light
Ironically so,
As it's also a spotlight
To something I don't want you to know
See the A is unique
It's specific
And if you can find me...
Then so can the darkness
10/24/2023
When the air grows crisper
And the leaves begin to decay
I am alerted of anniversary dates
I've longed to keep at bay
Each year I mark the walls of my soul
Counting the distance
Hoping it’ll grow
10/22/2023
(EMDR Session)
I was found in a dumpster in the back of a shitty McDonalds on Beach
My real mother didn’t want me
My skin was stained from the garbage
My legs are shaking, trembling beyond control
I can’t place the patterns or rhythm
The intensity fluctuates
There’s rocking motions up and down
Then one thigh jumps up
The other follows
They open and close like wings on a butterfly
The source of this is deep
Vibrating my upper body
When she prompts me to speak, my voice breaks through the convulsions
It’s then when I notice my breathing is impacted
I can’t find the emotion
I don’t think is panic
This feels different but also familiar
The ball stops
We’re going to tap now
I begin my attempts at connecting with my thighs
The shaking is erratic
My thighs come up to meet my hands before my hands can come down
My face grows numb
I feel it in my cheeks a lot
They’re dead
My legs give in
They feel tired
Very heavy and tired
No emotion, just energy
10/19/2023
People often ask, "What would you have told your younger self? What would you say?"
I don't think there is anything I could of told Her
There isn't anything I could say
I'm not sure if even showing Her who I am could help
This version of me can see things are different
But this version of me also understands that it doesn't diminish the reality of having to live through what She did
I wouldn't want to invalidate that
I suppose that I would just join Her
I'd stop running for a moment to sit with Her
Not to say anything
Not to teach or demonstrate something
I'd witness the suffering of Her experience
And for someone as lonely as She…
It might just be enough…
-.-
Versions of Her sit in front of me
Which version in my timeline is needed in response?
It isn’t really a decision
I'm becoming aware of the ways She enters
Without Her, there is no me
Without Her, I cannot meet others
-.-
The discomfort was rising
Insecurities wrapped up in anger
I couldn't formulate a thought
Not even an emotion
I was distant
Not because I wanted to be
Nor of their doing
But yet, there was a disconnect
I felt pulled from the circle
I struggled pulling myself back
Scanning my mind for the thoughts and emotions
Those that would pull me back into their worlds
And maybe that's just it
I cannot speak to something I've never lived
No matter how common
I couldn't fake it
10/17/2023
I'm mourning the loss of versions of myself
Looking at the memories engraved on the tombstone sparks the cycle of despair
Grieving the belief I ever held these memories as memories of being loved