Identify what is most important )0( Eliminate everything else
The idea that some lives matter less is the root of all that is wrong with the world. Dr. Paul Farmer
The suffering of others is not alleviated when no one knows about it.
There is no one right way to live. Daniel Quinn Ishmael
The only thing that you need to start an asylum is an empty room and the right sort of people.
We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be. Kurt Vonnegut

Sunday, December 2, 2012

dunt wanna

I am so tired of talking about all of this.  Oh, not the griping and moaning and groaning and complaining that I do here.  This is therapeutic.  I get bogged down or scared or something and I mostly just go to bed, but sometimes I come here and just spew.

The talking I hate is with my therapist, who insisted on two sessions this week.  I am hoping that writing tonight will release some of this stuff so that I might be able to do some decent work tomorrow.

But, the spewing here.  It empties me so that I do not have to deal with whatever it is for a while.  In starting this project, it was my hope that by writing and getting some of the stuff out of my head that I could gain some kind of perspective and that it would help memove on with my life. 

But, the truth is that I thought, believed that when all the clutter filtered out through my fingertips that it would make room for emotion.  The lack of which is holding me back.  I cannot cry, although when something scary happens or something tender happens I can feel a little weepy, but nothing more than moist eyeballs is the result, and that is not good enough.  Even I know that.

I am repressing all of that crap from before and the process of doing that is keeping me from feeling anything.  Even good emotions.  Sure, I can feel happy and content, and I know that for certain because it has happened four times since moving here.  If it can happen a couple of times, well, then it is possible to have that more often, even regularly. 

I feel satisfaction from my work and from the little bit of artsy stuff I have been doing.  Surely that is a start.  It would be nice if I could find some momentum and keep on going to other feelings and emotions.  And, it is not like I am trying to suppress anything.  I am not.  I would give just about anything to cry, you know, just feel all...or even a little portion...of the grief that I know must be inside me somewhere.  Hell, surviving all of this, I have earned the right to experience grief.  I cannot.  There has to be sorrow and loss and yearning and wanting and need and hope and love in me somewhere, too.  There has to be.  I thought that my life was over whenever he decided, and there was that certainty that the life I wanted, the kind where I would be loved and honored and safe simply was never going to happen.  At some point I realized that I had truly and soundly resigned myself to having only what he allowed.

What I can feel is fear.  Fear that something more will happen to me.  That I will be out somewhere and be confronted or attacked by him.  When I am out of the house, at the market or Walmart or at a restaurant or anyplace, I am hyper vigilant about my surroundings.  I watch my immediate geography all the time so that no one can sneak up on me or catch me unawares.  Parking lots are places to be especially cautious.

I greatly dislike being out of the house after dark.  We are experiencing lots of gloomy weather, clouds and fog and stuff and even today it was dark by a quarter after four.  Everything stops then and I get on this computer and read stuff and visit a couple of web sites and play puzzle games.  All of that is fine, but I want more.  I want lights on at night.  I think about this all the time, every day, even before it gets dark.  I am so freaking stupid.  I know better and to be caught and held by these fears is stupid.  It is stupid.

I have no problems going to work or on errands or to my daughter's, but other than that, I am reluctant to leave the house.  I am careful when I walk onto the porch to get the mail.  I worry about what might be in there.  They have been well instructed to not contact me in any way and I worry about them violating that just the way they are about the financial stuff.  Which, by the way, is now four months in violation of the court orders.

Oh, and I keep thinking that if I am going to be worried about anything it should be that whole money thing, but amazingly I am not.  Stupid, I guess, or maybe there is not any worrying room left for this.

So, I am hoping that by writing all of this tonight that I will be ready for tomorrow's session.  Part of the problem is that I feel like a fraud.  I am able to go out and work and do whatever needs doing, but I cannot do the personal, interior work that I have to get through.  And, it is not as though I am not trying.  I am.  I want this more than anything.  I want this even if it means that I get stuck crying for a while, even a long, long while.  Even if it changes the kind of person I am.  Even if I temporarily stop being myself.  Even then.

Maybe I need medication or less chocolate or more chocolate or something.  What I am not going to do is to run away from any of this.  There were too many secrets for too long.  I may never share most of what happened, am pretty sure that I will not, but I need to do something to find release from the hold all of it has on me.

C'mon, Tomorrow.  I dare you to challenge me and make me cry.  I dare you.  I double-dog dare you.  With a cherry.

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