The journey begins ... or continues ... articulating the rollercoaster that is my life


Ok ...So, taking the plunge ...I'm going to start where I am and perhaps travel in circles, or spirals, up or down, maybe both at the same time, or backwards from here, or all over the place, zig zagging and jumping or dancing around ... I give myself permission to go wherever it seems appropriate or what feels right at the time.

I'm going to start at where I've only just been, in the last 30 minutes. I just rang the hospital where they offer an inpatients program for chronic sufferers like myself. It has a 3 week program for those of us who are struggling with trauma and/or dissociation symptoms that are marring our lives. I'm to ring back tomorrow morning and get the specs.

Meanwhile I'm wondering how much life I have left and if I can spend some of it truly at peace, not frightened or shamed or tortured inside or putting on a brave, brave face that covers so much hurt and pain.

I'm only 44 and my youngest son and numerous other's comment on how young I look. My boy says I look like I'm about 30. I think it's because trauma froze so many parts of me from such a young age, they froze and splintered, lost somewhere along the road I've travelled.

Some I've managed to collect and some remain stranded, crying out for me through the fog and cold and darkness, or hiding in caves filled with dripping slime and hidey holes.
I'm coming! Don't despair! I'm coming to retrieve you soul fragments and self-slithers! A slither is a tiny piece and mine got locked in ice. The ice of malevolence and terror and trauma and smashed into pieces. Now I call a desire for wholeness. Let the journey begin, or continue or do whatever it needs to do.
May we, indeed :-) Bleev

I'd like some right now
Right now for my heart to stop racing
My breath to not be ragged when I've been doing nothing
My body to unfreeze
My mind to get over thinking having to make dinner is a giant ordeal
My teeth to quit grinding
My brain to truly believe I AM SAFE
Where and why did the child cry?
She survived by barely being there
She knew that no one was there for her
She hid and wondered why
She knew it was very very wrong
What was going on?
If that was sanity, she'd be crazy
They were so cruel, those who ruled
No where to turn, terror and horror and pain and blame, the shame, the shame, the shame
I want to scoop up my little girl self and hug her and tell her that she is good and worthwhile and that I will always love her and protect her. That she doesn't have to be afraid anymore. No one is going to hurt her ever again. That it wasn't her that was wrong, It was them. I love you my child self! Come to your Mama-self! Come home!
So I chickened out about ringing the hospital this morning. I'm going to talk to my support team though, because I need their support to do this anyway. I have a phone appointment with my Trauma Counsellor coming up and an in office one with my psychologist, so I'll run it by them and let them know that I want to go to Queensland for the Trauma treatment

I'm hopeful.
I want this
Relief, better coping skills, back to better functionality like I have had, on and off, through battling this damn thing, my whole life.
I want what getting busy does, again. Distraction from the grief and, I say this word a lot, horror.
I want to be a rock, for my children. Not to hide under a rock, in my own personal cave.

I want to forgive my parents and be able to talk to them again. Not triggered, but with love and compassion for them and their impaired humaness. Because they are not bad people, just very selfish and self -absorbed and with massive mental health problems of their own..

I'm angry at my Dad for leaving me with her. He knew she was very mentally unwell.
He knew she was a gaslighter.
He knew she went off with a psychotic man. He knew she was sexually loose and narcissistic.
He couldn't handle her, and was told by his therapist to leave her when she was pregnant with me.
Why did he think that I would be ok with her?
Why did he never offer me any support to deal with her and her crazy life, filled with other bonkers, dodgy people?
It was just "be good for your mother".
Gutless hypocrite, is what I want to say to him. So mad that I opened up to him recently about how hard my life has been and what he contributed and I got self-justifications and "don't be hard on your mother, she's been through a lot."
For one, I'm not the one that's a narcissist and two, what about what I've been through? He's never wanted to know the half of it.
Dear Daddy,
I'm writing to tell you I plan to be admitted into a private hospital for a 3 week stint to help me get over all the Trauma I've been though. Maybe you'd like to help out, as you well know, I've not had the opportunities to finish schooling, get any equitable or long term employment or maintain wellness for any length of time.
I don't blame you. You are a disabled man yourself. You have Aspergers and were suicidal for much of my growing up years.
I'm glad you didn't kill yourself.
I'm glad I'm still here too.
I love you.
Crying now.
That was a big cathartic word explosion
I do love my Dad, I do
I know he suffered a lot too
He had no choice in the matter
But to leave me with her, when I was two
That's what he says, anyway
He is Autistic, can't respond or function
Socially very well
My mother is Historic
Scary and dramatic and scatty and batty
Can't feel empathy
He can't show it
She can't feel it
Where did that leave me?