We did let some worms out then I "ran" to my grandparents farm. As soon as I crossed onto their farm (in memory of when they were there) I cried. Cried for safety, comfort, then cried that they weren't really there (and well, neither was I). But my therapist reminded me that with all our bad memories we need to work on finding the good safe ones, too. They can help us rewrite or rewire our body's experience of the trauma. Of course, if I had not be passed out drunk and able to runs several miles to Grandma and Grandpas they would have taken care of my. And Grandpa would have chased the boy down with a gun. My worms come from younger places but today it ended up in late-teen drunken rape...you know, feeling so helpless but also so stupid. I tried to kill myself shortly afterward.
So it was kind of neat running away from that f#cker and run,run,run,run,running to Grandpa;s...if nothing else, diffusing a lot of trauma energy. Squirmies have settled. They'll return. Some are stuck, sleeping in my feet. And my pelvis are is a disaster...makes me want to kill myself....rest assured my therapist knows....AND I'll haul my ass to the ER no problem if I'm going to kill myself. I actually LIKE the ER. I just feel too humiliated by my current pelvic problems...repeating phrases that I'm disgusting and I deserve this.......and yet remembering we're a team, I'll find a way to take care of all of my part.
ugggggggggggggggggggggggg