- Thread starter
- #61
mumstheword
MyPTSD Pro
So I have stuck to no alcohol.
Feeling all sorts of things as well as numb.
I'm feeling needy. I'm so hungry for motherlove. I am someone starved of it. I've had to give out a lot of it though.
I'm so uptight I wanted to get back on the weed the other day, but I feel like it's already set me back emotionally a lot. Or maybe that's just the "developmental trauma".
I'm a tiger pacing in a cage.
A mama tiger who's had her cubs taken off her.
I'm a weary hag.
I need to tap into to one of my inner healthy people. This one is the "crazy lady in the attic".
My teeth are very grindy and my psyatica, no, I know it's not spelled like that but it's playing up.
Stuck in the attic of my mind.
Tomorrow I will go to my uni gym and do yoga.
I am so not enlightened today. Today I am in the dark, smelly, musty, dusty, cob weby attic with a lump in my throat and a bum pain and I'm bleeding and my "down there" hurts.
Where is that small, hurt child?
Where oh where is she?
She is hiding in a grotty corner, her face is smudged with tears and dirt, her lashes look like they've been rained on. She is so lonely and afraid. So neglected, like the little match girl, she is cold and raggy. A little raggamuffin.
Come to me, my darling. Let me comfort you.
Feeling all sorts of things as well as numb.
I'm feeling needy. I'm so hungry for motherlove. I am someone starved of it. I've had to give out a lot of it though.
I'm so uptight I wanted to get back on the weed the other day, but I feel like it's already set me back emotionally a lot. Or maybe that's just the "developmental trauma".
I'm a tiger pacing in a cage.
A mama tiger who's had her cubs taken off her.
I'm a weary hag.
I need to tap into to one of my inner healthy people. This one is the "crazy lady in the attic".
My teeth are very grindy and my psyatica, no, I know it's not spelled like that but it's playing up.
Stuck in the attic of my mind.
Tomorrow I will go to my uni gym and do yoga.
I am so not enlightened today. Today I am in the dark, smelly, musty, dusty, cob weby attic with a lump in my throat and a bum pain and I'm bleeding and my "down there" hurts.
Where is that small, hurt child?
Where oh where is she?
She is hiding in a grotty corner, her face is smudged with tears and dirt, her lashes look like they've been rained on. She is so lonely and afraid. So neglected, like the little match girl, she is cold and raggy. A little raggamuffin.
Come to me, my darling. Let me comfort you.