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Nov's Mental Imagery

Discussion in 'General' started by nov_silence, Jan 10, 2007.

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  1. nov_silence

    nov_silence Well-Known Member

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    WARNING: If you plan on submitting your own mental imagery interview for assessment, DO NOT read the proceeding first, instead fill out your own interview first, then read these, so your current mental image is not skewed, resulting in a possible inaccurate emotional state being returned to you.

    Q1. What colour is the road?
    Q2. What texture is the road?
    Q3. How solid is the road?


    The road is sandy, with some gravel in it. At first I am wearing snearkers, but I take it off bc it keep getting filled with sand. I am walking in the shade, and the air is dry and I need to feel something cool. I take off my shoes and let my feet leisurely settle into the sand as I walk. But I am aware of the gravel that seem to catch consistanly in the arches of my feet. It is an annoying presence, but the coolness of the sand is just reward. The road is tan with some dark brown. I can see mica sparkling in it. The small flashed of light surprise and please me. I notice to my left that there is a path of paved road and it is full in the sunlight. I can smell the tar, can almost see the heat emanating from it. I have no desire to walk on it... well some, so I do. And the heat, the scalding is pleasantly shocking, somewhat satisfying in comparison to the soothing sand. I only walk on the paved path for a few steps at a time before walking the softer, sandy path.

    You continue walking and come to a river that must be crossed. There before you is the river; the size and depth are up to you. You cannot go around it but must imagine a way to cross it. Whatever you need to cross the river is already within your mind, just imagine seeing yourself do it.

    Q4. How do you cross the river?
    Q5. What does the water look like?
    Q6. How fast is the water current?
    Q7. Is there anything in the water? If so, what?


    I don't want to cross it. I feel overwhelmed by it. So damn frustrated that I have no chose but to cross. I fume at the river's edge. Body feels heavy, tired. Don't want to go on. I decide that it isn't too deep and think about just wading through it. But there are dark forms moving in the water. I am convinced that whatever they are, they will eat me. The water is dark but blue then murky green when disturbed by the dark forms moving, moving. When I look into the middle of the river there is medium size circle of water rippling, but only about 3 or 4 ripples out. Like there is something breathing there, but no bubbles break the surface... like the water is slowly humming. I am lurded in the water by that movement, but scared of it. I decide to make a wide cirlce around it. I cut my foot on rocks jagged underbrush as I wade through the more shallow parts. The dark forms don't follow me, but move to that rippling in the middle of the river, hovering, as it waiting for me to pass. I use a large branch as a staff to help me negotiate my footing across the river... about 13 feet across. There are times when my I find one step going down further in the water in comparison to my next step. The unpredictability sets my teeth on edge to grinding. I clench my jaws until I cross over. Once I do, I am tired all over but somewhat satisfied.

    You have crossed the river and continue walking. You come to a house. Take a good look at the house. Notice the impression it makes on you.

    Q8. What colour is the house?
    Q9. What condition is the house in?
    Q10. Does anyone live in the house? If so, who?


    Can't go into the house. Feels forbidden. It looks deserted. Like no one has lived there for a very long time. Several trees in the front yard, sparse patches of grass trying to bask in beams of light that tempermentally flicker through. The house is cream with reddish-brown shutters. So many fruit trees, obviously carefully planted long ago; the fruit rotten on the branches. So much so the branches are bent with the weight of their unwated cargo.

    We continue forward in our minds journey and come to an open field. A cup is on the ground, and we stop to examine it. The cup can be of any size, shape, colour and description. Focus on it's look, condition and contents.

    Q11. What colour is the cup?
    Q12. What condition is the cup in?
    Q13. Is there anything in the cup? If so, what?


    The cup changes color: first earth-brown-golden-amber with flecks of cream and sea green. Then to cobalt blue, dark and deep. The cup's mouth is very very wide at the top, and very very narrow toward the base. The handle is small and positioned almost at the base of the cup. The cup is ceramic, holding a steaming liquid. Smelling pleasant and noxious all at the same time.

    You continue walking down the road and come to something blocking your path. It stops you in your tracks and prevents you from going forward. This is an obstacle.

    Q14. What is the obstacle, and please describe it in detail?
    Q15. What do you see beyond the obstacle?

    A being holding a snake in one open palm and a huge spider in the other open palm. It is waiting there, seemingly balancing the two creatures. The being has long fingers, defiant eyes, a cold snarl on its lips. It is neither man nor woman. It has a both a childish air and that of one who knows to much about me. I feel naked and unmasked in its presence. I want to kill it. There is thick black belt around its torso. Over one shoulder and buckled int the middle of its chest. A gleaming balck silver buckle with my name on it. The buckle is mesmerizing and I feel sick and small and want to run, but I can't move. I chant out of fear. I feel helpless and I pray for death.

    There is a haze, an vibrating energy around the being. It feels like heat but also like knives cutting away at my finger tips, my arms, inner thighs, breasts and throat. There are formless shapes behind it and I see gray between the shapes. Bleak like a winter day without snow. The bleak thickens to a fog and clears rhythmically. And I see the edge of a cliff or a jagged edge when it clears.
     
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  3. nov_silence

    nov_silence Well-Known Member

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    Self- Analysis

    Worn out. To follow tomorrow.
     
  4. nov_silence

    nov_silence Well-Known Member

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    Self- Analysis

    #ROAD
    I realize that I can enjoy more in life simply by the choices I make. I also understand that I can cause and increase my pain if I wish... while being cognizant that it's not necc'y. I have learned to be able to look around, to be present more, to not be afraid of toxifying my environment by being present, to active engage in my daily life experience. I remember test my endurance by walking on the black top on the driveway of my old house (where majority of the abuse happened). I realize that I don't have to do my hardest thing, the thing, task, accomplishment (job, grad degree, career) that forces me to the brink of "I can't do it all". But at the same time I can't run from where I have been and where I need to go (some of it I don't want to touch at all, but I would stifle otherwise). There is an urgency that has become more pressing. When I submit to pain, thoughts of self-annihilation sky rocket. The hot paved path reminds me of my journey, the softer path is self-compassion... it is mixed with self-doubt, worry, self-disgust.

    #RIVER
    I walked on countles egg shells and shards of glass as I child. Never knowing when someone would get mad about anything and I would be the target. (RANDOM: thoughts of "can't do it all" comes from when I was a kid and I tried to be so good, do all the right things... and I would stress myself out to do so.. and it resulted in nothing but pain and humiliation. Of course, I am haunted by those feelings of anxiety and the continued [though lessened] pressure to do more, do better, all the time). The river is what I had to negotiate every day and try to get across. I used books, cleaning the house and daydreaming to keep me from succumbing to the reality of my surroundings. The "humming" in the middle of the lake and being lured by it was my insatiable desire to be loved, wanted, acceptable...

    ANOTHER BREAK

    #HOUSE
    The house is a combination of my mother's current house and the house I spent many of my childhood and adolescent years. Deserted bc my family were all deserted nomads; restless, not feeling at home in their home. Fruit dead on the trees to symbolize all the wasted potential of us all. Call it circumstance, family history, transgenerational shit, all the above and more. The patches of grass that tried their best to grow? There was something in each of us that wanted light to warm the most dank corners of our selves. The self to be replenish, nourished, nutured, transplanted; finding new vigor for life and living. Real living. Not the fake happy shit we did around people when they came to visit. I used to feel sad when guests would leave bc the masks would crumble and fall away and we were left with miserable emotional pig sty of our lives. Rotted fruit for innocence so casually disregarded, neglected, that lay waste at the very site of surviva; still unwilling to let go... it would rather die there than to fall into rebirth. Kind of funny that my middle name, Renee, in Latin means "reborn"....

    #CUP
    The colors of the cup are those that resonate very closely. They are spiritual for me. Peace in their most vivid hues. Narrow at the base to represent the mindset of my parents that infiltrated my upbringing, thought patterns, sense of self. Narrow for the instability. The cup's wide mouth, with the capacity to hold much but not having the foundational support to truly function. I think the cup reminds me of where I am have come from and in many ways where I am not represently. Well, I still mourn for the enormity of the expectations my parents had, DEMANDED. I have harboured contents that have been melting me from the inside... but it's like I didn't realize the impact it was having on me, the extent the steam scalded, nerve damage, deep scarring. I was brought up in a religious environment (not spiritual) and the ceramic represents the vessel the body is supposed to be, "jars of clay." I had thought that the way my parents raised me was proper and correct when it was posionous.

    #THE BLOCK
    Man did I have a hard time with this. I started chanting to myself (see trauma diary-public, first post). It was like an alarm went off... like I opened an emergency exit door and lights were flashing and loud voice was blaring, "WARNING, WARNING!!!!!" It took my quite some time to write that out. That being said, f***, I still don't want to touch it. Hate this. I still don't know what to say. The creature a combination of my mother and myself. The snake and spider, my father and my abuser respectively. The belt around the torso reps the beatings I had, the pain I still crave at times, esp when I am in alot of mental pain. Wanting to kill it; escape: from myself, them, the experiences, the haunting memories that strike and leave venom in my veins that can choke my shit up real bad. The fog is when I feel most confused and the only thing that seems clear is my past experiences. When the fog clears and I see the cliff: escape, to kill myself, to go past the Pain, the demons,collect my $200 of shit and cash out, sell out, wicked cheap.

    I am proud of myself for finally finishing... for now :sleeping:
     
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  5. nov_silence

    nov_silence Well-Known Member

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    I don't know if I did this right....
     
  6. anthony

    anthony Renovation Aficionado Founder

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    Whilst you approach life with a certain spirituality, you likely feel alone in life at times, having to hide in order to feel comfort from possibly feeling depreciated from a secret you keep, likely because of an acceptance issue with an authority figure in your life. You are willing to sacrifice yourself to pain in order to be accepted and loved possibly. You are not trusting within sexual intimacy due to secrets you keep, and are aware of this hurt. You are likely afraid or feeling unworthy of getting support, feel deserted as such from your support systems. You have likely suffered severe trauma from committed relationships, and show commitment towards someone, or something other than your partner (if partner present), yet these feelings are mixed. It is like you take pleasure from anyone paying attention to you, no matter how traumatic, is better than being ignored. Your most significant problem at present is the feeling of this male that has hurt you, controlled you, haunts you and feels as though has sucked the life from you, hence your pessimistic optimism for the future.

    What can you tell me about this Antoinette?
     
  7. nov_silence

    nov_silence Well-Known Member

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    I just wrote what I wanted to say and it didn't load. So frustrated I want to cut. But won't... Round two

    I still hate myself. Hate what haunts me inside. And I have tried to maim it, choke it off, kill it so many times. A part of me still would rather die that to speak what I feel is the unspeakable. I feel utterly filthy.

    I keep myself alone. I don't reach out to people unless I am really in danger to myself I will email and chat online with friends but phone calls are so f'g rare. There are people I deeply care for, but feel that I am any use to or not much. That there are times when I feel like I can, but only from a distance or for a limited amount of time. I feel like those people surely have other people in their lives of more importance, who are better than me... and that I really don't have much to offer. So protect my friends from finding out how worthless I am. I did the same thing with my students; loved them deeply...but on the days when I felt so bad, like the biggest failure ever, I would call in sick and hide.

    I feel like I am committing the biggest betrayal... of all that I have worked to keep quiet, to not matter.... This feels like a life and death situation.

    I still believe the abuse was my fault. I wanted love, I got pain. So I paid a price. Everything has its price. And I am still paying for what I never owed, for what I never really wanted: to be hurt. But love hurt with my parents, "love"/attention hurt with Michael Brown. "Loved possibly" is a great way to put it. I was willing to trade in my soul to be loved possibly... and I never felt loved. Except in solid friendships and the two guys I dated... one of which is now my husband. I still feel unworthy of love. I have questioned many times if I am really capable of feeling love or loving.

    I crave pain. I crave a price to be paid for something I want. I fantasize about being raped, about "the rest" being taken from me... whatever Michael didn't take. I think about guy friends who, during sex, would go beyond my childhood and find my desires and treasure them, and I would feel betrayed by my emotions and my body. I have taunted guy friends in the past, surprised by their sexual reaction to me. I had this unquenchable need to prove that I was desireable, wanted. My husband is aware of my fantasies about being hurt sexually, being beaten with a belt, etc. He will not do these things bc he's afraid that it is driven by past experiences and not simply by what turns me on... and that it will connect with my fear and only confirm that I am a dirty little girl who still craves pain for pleasure/attention/whatever is offered as long as there is a price. I am most comfortable with things come with a price. To have something like love freely given feels totally threatening.

    I have thought about having an affair and I have had opportunity to, but I have not. I admit to feeling restless at times, unfulfilled; mostly sexually. I have a hard time communicating to my husband the desire for lovemaking and end up not asking or not approaching him in the right way.

    I was never accepted by my mother. I tried so hard to feel loved by her, but never did. I still fear her. Hence my anger, hence the rare phone calls. Her presence is toxic to me. And I feel like the only way I can protect myself is to stay away. I honestly can't wait until she dies.

    I am commited to my fear and my desire to be sexually hurt. I feel tainted by my sexual desires. I feel like a whore. I have sex, I want more and am usually left feeling unfulfilled and empty and dirty for wanting more. Like I don't deserve to want sex... that it only gets me into trouble, feeling conflicted. So I hurt myself to put my desire away only to plunge into fear. If I was a good little girl, Michael would have never hurt me. I would have been good, but I was dirty, I was bad and I let him. I just wanted to be loved. But I was bad. Bad little girls should be dead.

    I did this alot in middle school. I was so desperate for attention. I was willing to pay almost any price... but never had sex with anyone until my husband (when we were dating. Even then, I didn't have sex with him for over year into our relationship).

    I am not sure if I will ever be free from the feelings. And if I was, who would I become?
     
  8. anthony

    anthony Renovation Aficionado Founder

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    Antoinette, its not about being free from the totality of feelings, its about moving them or accepting them, not fearing them or suffering the negative consequences of our emotions. Yes, we all do wrong at times, but there is a difference between that affecting us negatively, or whether we use those emotions to learn, and turn into positives to help us, reinforce us, and enable us to grow stronger.

    You will move past these feelings, and this is what will help you do it, by knowing your current emotional self so you know what you truly need to deal with at any one given time.
     
  9. nov_silence

    nov_silence Well-Known Member

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    So where do I go from here?
     
  10. nov_silence

    nov_silence Well-Known Member

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    I do not feeling as threatened as I did a few days ago. I have been thinking alot about the feelings I harbour about my parents. I am ready to write a letter. I will post it soon in my trauma diary.
     
  11. anthony

    anthony Renovation Aficionado Founder

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    Interesting ha? You just answered your own question...
     
  12. nov_silence

    nov_silence Well-Known Member

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    At this point, I feel that writing a letter is redundant. I can have a shallow relationship with my mother. It's sad in a way it can't be more... but I don't need more from her. She's done more than enough in my life... and I can do without that toxicity. My father? Fck him. There's nothing to gain from that relationship. I do feel a sense of peace. Just need to free myself from the guilt of my relationship with them not being "more." It is what it is.
     
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