October 31, 2007
counterpoint of mind. (back to the black)
When I read what is written below my whole mind turned to black and for a minute I could not see anything.
"Women who are abused learn how to control the abuse by figuring out what their abuser wants. Once that is figured out, then the abuse, its timing, its trajectory, what happens, is often controlled by the woman who knows what the abusive man wants. But it can be pretty hard for anybody’s mind to cope with that kind of strategy because it is quite a self-sacrifice and humiliation, BUT at least there is less fear of when and what will happen, and that, at the time, is a worthy consolation.
The consolation begins to “fray” after a while, and then a second level of control needs to occur internally for the woman to deal with what she knows but doesn’t know. Often times the secondary level of control is in the fantasy of a special relationship with the abuser."
Often times the secondary level of control is in the fantasy of a special relationship with the abuser.
Often times the secondary level of control is in the fantasy of a special relationship with the abuser.
Often times the secondary level of control is in the fantasy of a special relationship with the abuser.
Often times the secondary level of control is in the fantasy of a special relationship with the abuser.
"Women who are abused learn how to control the abuse by figuring out what their abuser wants. Once that is figured out, then the abuse, its timing, its trajectory, what happens, is often controlled by the woman who knows what the abusive man wants. But it can be pretty hard for anybody’s mind to cope with that kind of strategy because it is quite a self-sacrifice and humiliation, BUT at least there is less fear of when and what will happen, and that, at the time, is a worthy consolation.
The consolation begins to “fray” after a while, and then a second level of control needs to occur internally for the woman to deal with what she knows but doesn’t know. Often times the secondary level of control is in the fantasy of a special relationship with the abuser."
Often times the secondary level of control is in the fantasy of a special relationship with the abuser.
Often times the secondary level of control is in the fantasy of a special relationship with the abuser.
Often times the secondary level of control is in the fantasy of a special relationship with the abuser.
Often times the secondary level of control is in the fantasy of a special relationship with the abuser.
October 30, 2007
October 29, 2007
October 28, 2007
October 26, 2007
October 24, 2007
October 22, 2007
October 21, 2007
October 20, 2007
October 19, 2007
October 18, 2007
October 17, 2007
October 16, 2007
October 14, 2007
Hell. (warning: this post could be triggering)
Some therapy sessions are much more difficult than others. Some sessions stick with me for days, the exact topic continues for several sessions, etc.
Today it is Sunday and so tomorrow morning I have therapy again. My session on Friday was so painful I feel like I could barely tolerate it and I have been torturing myself and my S. with not being able to do any of the following: accept it, let go of it, try to move past it a little. But at the same time- I am trying to tell myself not to be too incredibly hard on myself since it was a terrible story from my past that I told Dr. C on Friday and it is a story I have kept to myself for sixteen years. It seems a little crazy actually to even expect myself to really "get over it" in just one or two days though. It is just that the story was SO bad and the memory was BEYOND excruciating and... there is just not even a good way to describe it or tell it. I mean; the magnitude of it is so much and so insane it really does seem "unbelievable". And unbelievable is not the greatest feeling to be stuck with regarding a very old memory that I have had to block out for the past sixteen years- I mean it is so hard to believe even for me and I am the one who had the experience.... I could go on in a tangle of circles here trying to describe a kind of enormously nonsensical pain that is simply beyond any words that I can think of. I will just instead say that it has been hard to function well since my therapy on Friday. I will just say that even though it is over; the terrible experience that I told Dr. C about- I just feel like I can barely stand it.
I am going to type here the experience I told Dr. C about on Friday and I am going to hope that somehow by posting this message here on my blog where a few people might read it- I am going to hope it makes me feel less alone- I mean- I am going to hope that somehow by posting this here it will create a dispersion of my pain and I will therefore have less of it. As it stands right now I hold the story with myself, Dr. C and S.
When I was 14 I got pregnant ....Ok... crying now.... It is hard just to see the words and I did not even finish the sentence. I will try again....
When I was 14 I became pregnant. It was of course my own father that got me
Ok... I have been staring here now at that fucking flashing cursor trying to go on and just seeing these words make me want to be sick all over again...
My own "father" got me pregnant when I was 14.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I feel like my head is going to explode or fall off or just roll down my shoulder.
he must have told my mom about it. i went to the hospital and the "baby" was vacuumed out of my then 14 year old body and I bled for days afterward and my dad did not wait but two fucking days to start fucking me again and the part that is 'new'.... the 'new' part of the story that I told Dr. C about on Friday was that my "mother" and "father" were "mad" at "me". they pretended i got pregnant by someone else and the "father" called me a whore. So they were "mad" at me (my "parents") and
the
worst
part
of
the
story
is that they were really angry about having to pay for the abortion.
And
so
they
made
me
get
a
job
and
pay
them
back
for
the
cost
of
having
the child of my father
SUCKED
AND
TORN
OUT
OF
ME
WITH A VACUUM.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
**Note: I feel like on Friday after having told this story for the first time in my life; i kind of feel like a huge meat clever was thrown into the center of my chest and now it is stuck there and the pain that I am left with is not just the pain of the clever itself but I feel like it is being driven and grounded down into me; into my heart- my chest. I mean: I have this actual image of myself in my mind with a huge clever being ground in a circle deeper and deeper through my body at my chest. I guess this is how I must have felt then. I mean: I guess after all of the gore and horror of being raped, becoming pregnant, being screamed at about being a dirty fucking whore and then having the afore mentioned "procedure" done to "remove the problem"... well, I guess after all of that I probably felt like they (my "parents") and especially the "father" were just grinding the horrific nightmare truth into my brain every day by making me pay them back for the (literal) cost of it. I actually remember them signing a form saying that it was ok for me to work at a part time job because I was too young to work without a note from my parents. I got a job at a pharmacy.
And
I
paid
them
back
.
Sunday, October 14, 2007 (Apologies for the poor grammar, punctuation, etc. I am just not even able to really care about it all anymore now
Today it is Sunday and so tomorrow morning I have therapy again. My session on Friday was so painful I feel like I could barely tolerate it and I have been torturing myself and my S. with not being able to do any of the following: accept it, let go of it, try to move past it a little. But at the same time- I am trying to tell myself not to be too incredibly hard on myself since it was a terrible story from my past that I told Dr. C on Friday and it is a story I have kept to myself for sixteen years. It seems a little crazy actually to even expect myself to really "get over it" in just one or two days though. It is just that the story was SO bad and the memory was BEYOND excruciating and... there is just not even a good way to describe it or tell it. I mean; the magnitude of it is so much and so insane it really does seem "unbelievable". And unbelievable is not the greatest feeling to be stuck with regarding a very old memory that I have had to block out for the past sixteen years- I mean it is so hard to believe even for me and I am the one who had the experience.... I could go on in a tangle of circles here trying to describe a kind of enormously nonsensical pain that is simply beyond any words that I can think of. I will just instead say that it has been hard to function well since my therapy on Friday. I will just say that even though it is over; the terrible experience that I told Dr. C about- I just feel like I can barely stand it.
I am going to type here the experience I told Dr. C about on Friday and I am going to hope that somehow by posting this message here on my blog where a few people might read it- I am going to hope it makes me feel less alone- I mean- I am going to hope that somehow by posting this here it will create a dispersion of my pain and I will therefore have less of it. As it stands right now I hold the story with myself, Dr. C and S.
When I was 14 I got pregnant ....Ok... crying now.... It is hard just to see the words and I did not even finish the sentence. I will try again....
When I was 14 I became pregnant. It was of course my own father that got me
Ok... I have been staring here now at that fucking flashing cursor trying to go on and just seeing these words make me want to be sick all over again...
My own "father" got me pregnant when I was 14.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I feel like my head is going to explode or fall off or just roll down my shoulder.
he must have told my mom about it. i went to the hospital and the "baby" was vacuumed out of my then 14 year old body and I bled for days afterward and my dad did not wait but two fucking days to start fucking me again and the part that is 'new'.... the 'new' part of the story that I told Dr. C about on Friday was that my "mother" and "father" were "mad" at "me". they pretended i got pregnant by someone else and the "father" called me a whore. So they were "mad" at me (my "parents") and
the
worst
part
of
the
story
is that they were really angry about having to pay for the abortion.
And
so
they
made
me
get
a
job
and
pay
them
back
for
the
cost
of
having
the child of my father
SUCKED
AND
TORN
OUT
OF
ME
WITH A VACUUM.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
**Note: I feel like on Friday after having told this story for the first time in my life; i kind of feel like a huge meat clever was thrown into the center of my chest and now it is stuck there and the pain that I am left with is not just the pain of the clever itself but I feel like it is being driven and grounded down into me; into my heart- my chest. I mean: I have this actual image of myself in my mind with a huge clever being ground in a circle deeper and deeper through my body at my chest. I guess this is how I must have felt then. I mean: I guess after all of the gore and horror of being raped, becoming pregnant, being screamed at about being a dirty fucking whore and then having the afore mentioned "procedure" done to "remove the problem"... well, I guess after all of that I probably felt like they (my "parents") and especially the "father" were just grinding the horrific nightmare truth into my brain every day by making me pay them back for the (literal) cost of it. I actually remember them signing a form saying that it was ok for me to work at a part time job because I was too young to work without a note from my parents. I got a job at a pharmacy.
And
I
paid
them
back
.
Sunday, October 14, 2007 (Apologies for the poor grammar, punctuation, etc. I am just not even able to really care about it all anymore now
October 13, 2007
October 12, 2007
Juan Diego Florez "Ah mes amis" La Fille du Regiment
Today was one of the most painful therapy sessions I have ever had.
All I could think to do was to post something beautiful. I love this.
October 11, 2007
October 10, 2007
"It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)"
I have been at my computer for a long time now all in the name of avoiding the unavoidable. I need to start to answer complicated questions about my own mind... not watch videos on YouTube of the Martha Graham Dance Company or clips from The Muppets.
So... no video, no image and not very much in writing; except to say that I am going to go forward but I just needed to mention first how difficult and painful that is.
Fuck.
Nolens volens.
j.
So... no video, no image and not very much in writing; except to say that I am going to go forward but I just needed to mention first how difficult and painful that is.
Fuck.
Nolens volens.
j.
October 9, 2007
Great.
So now I have an internet connection at my house and do not have to keep going to the library to use their connection. I would be pleased about it, but I am not really very excited because this just means I have to work much harder on the one thing I really most do not want to do; let myself known about and better understand my own divided mind."Having DID sucks!", I want to scream. And I am not even talking about all of the rape and torture and abuse. It is hardest right now to even just know and especially to accept my own mind. I want to run from it... but that is exactly what I have to stop doing. That is what I have ALWAYS been doing... running from my mind I mean. And now I have to stop.
Yesterday when I went out to pick up the modem for my computer I listened to the hard rock radio station on my way there and was excited when a Nine Inch Nails song came on the radio; one I had not heard in about ten years.
And on the way home I listened to a beautiful and brilliant cello sonata by Saint-Saëns.
I would like to think this means I just have rather eclectic tastes in music. Unfortunately I think it is more a sign of my rather eclectic mind.
October 8, 2007
poem by Emily Dickinson
It's all I have to bring today (26)
It's all I have to bring today –
This, and my heart beside –
This, and my heart, and all the fields –
And all the meadows wide –
Be sure you count – should I forget
Some one the sum could tell –
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.
It's all I have to bring today –
This, and my heart beside –
This, and my heart, and all the fields –
And all the meadows wide –
Be sure you count – should I forget
Some one the sum could tell –
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.
October 7, 2007
So it's late and you thought I forgot... *guest post by Jessieh
I didn't.
I love you.
Happy Birthday.
One day the pain will be tucked away in a safe place.
Until then, you are doing great at holding on.
love, jessieh
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October 4, 2007
Perspective. (one more photo before I am thirty.)
A part of me wants to write here about how hard my therapy work is. About how much I HATE having to write huge painful emails to Dr. C to try to keep moving through the hard things from my past.
And about how I do not really want to spend my thirtieth birthday in bed with Lloyd watching the first season of "The Gilmore Girls" (courtesy of Eve) while having to argue the ENTIRE TIME with him over who is going to get to wear the sparkly "Birthday Girl" tiara (courtesy of Eve).
But while I may feel pretty bad about hard things from the past sometimes and while Lloyd can be a real challenge to deal with; it has become impossible to really complain about anything these days and seriously mean it.
On the cusp of moving to Italy and spending the rest of my life with S. nothing seems so bad anymore.
Not really.
Not anymore.
October 3, 2007
These are all of the animals that live at my house. (Seriously.)
Mary Todd is the only one that Lloyd and I are a little bit frightened by. Sammy may be from outer space and Mister Peabody is just sleeping in that picture (I checked his pulse). Maddie looks kind of sweet in the photo but has a tendency to piss on everything, Stewart is crazy and is possessed by the idea of attacking Wednesday. Wednesday does not really like anyone one else in the house. Greta is a fear-biter and we have to be really careful regarding her relationship to anyone who comes within a 200 yard radius of the house. Winston is glad Wednesday moved in because before that Stewart was after him all of the time. Now Winston can just relax with his baby blanket. Nightmare lives by herself in the dining room. Lisa says Nightmare wants it this way. And Abraham is the baby of the house and gets to do ANYTHING he wants.
October 2, 2007
algorithm: a set of rules for solving a problem in a finite number of steps.
(pen and ink on paper, approx. 8" x 6", 1999)
October 1, 2007
I will try to post a new image later today or tomorrow. Lloyd and I have recently had a huge argument regarding our drastically different political views and it has really become vicious and led to major turmoil around the house... I am also not feeling the greatest at the moment and have not been wanting to get out of bed for long periods of time... It will pass but I wanted to make sure that THE (MY) SPEAKER knew I was still alive (Just hiding under a lot of blankets and a very large cat.).
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