Tuesday, July 25, 2006

After so long I failed

I'm strong enough now to admit it... I think.

It had been burning a hole in my chest, tearing at my mind, the feeble bands of mental rubber trying desperately to contain the need.

I failed.

I was so lost. So angry. So hurt. So ashamed. So scared. So confused. So conflicted. So frustrated.

So needing to reach out and just ask for help. So confused about who to turn to, a friend, my boyfriend, C or T... embarrassed and ashamed to even admit it.

I thought if I just ignored it, it would go away. Of course that is never the case. I KNOW this, yet I keep repeating. I never learn. We're supposed to learn from our mistakes, why don't I?

I always stop myself when reaching for help, I always hear over and over again that I'm worthless and don't deserve it. I stop and think of everyone else and their own problems they have to deal with and feel guilty for even considering weighing them down with mine. They are my friends, and I am always there for them no matter what, but I don't expect them to be there for me... really, how is that a friendship?

I've failed myself. I've failed C. I've failed T.

I burnt my arm.

I lied to my boyfriend when he saw the blister and asked what happened. I lied to my best friend.

The shame is overwhelming.

I burnt my arm with a cigarette to stop the pain, the hurt, the sadness, the anger, the shame, the frustration, the confusion.

Momentary numbness.

I so desperately want to burn and cut again.

Momentary numbness.

I've failed.

I did it again...

Blog Carnival - Second Edition

Second edition of the Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse

Sorry it took me a while to post this... please check it out and spread awareness.

Monday, July 24, 2006


Have you felt complacent with being discontented? Like things are falling apart around but you just don't give a damn anymore?

Let it all fall. Shatter to a million pieces... the echo reverberating.


For the past few days I've adopted a whatever attitude. I don't give a damn if I don't wake up tomorrow. I don't give a damn if I do. I'm just here. Flesh and bones, blood and breath but nothing more.

It doesn't matter what I do, or what I don't do. It doesn't matter who I am, or who I may become. I'm just an ant in the farm, scurrying around in the mix of a billion other ants.

I've dodged the black boot many times trying not to be crushed. I'm not dodging it anymore. If it happens, I'll welcome it, if it doesn't I'll silently curse and just keep scurrying.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

I hate her

I fucking hate you. After everything I've done for you, after everything I've given up for you... have you ever given anything up for me? Have you ever done anything for me?


You only bring me down. You're only happy when you've crushed me.

I had to claim bankruptcy because of you. I spent every last fucking penny I had on you when you were sick and not working. Now when I'm in a jam and I ask you for help what do I fucking get?

"I've been where you've been, deal with it"

Well fuck you.


The worst part of it? I expected you to help me. I actually thought you would. But no, it's like you punched me in the gut and spit in my face.

Thanks mom...


I'm feeling abandoned. It hurts. I know it's for the better that C is not completely there for me, it's part of the transition. It's how it has to be. It still hurts. And I still feel abandoned.

It was my choice. My choice to switch to face to face therapy. It is a good choice. I know this. The sessions have already proved to be very helpful. It's really hard making the transition. I don't feel completely safe with T yet, and trust is still building.

I feel like I'm causing more problems for myself with the change.

I NEEDED to talk about what happened with my boyfriend, I needed to go over it, examine what happened and figure out how to avoid it in the future. For over a week now I've been pretending to be asleep so it doesn't repeat and I hate myself for that. I hate that I can't just tell him I don't want to, because I want to tell him, but I'm scared. I'm scared if I say not right now he'll leave. Of course I think that! It's all I've known.

Use me, abuse me, hurt me, leave me.

I'm angry at C for telling me that it's probably better discussed with new T. At the same time, I understand why C would say that. It's important that I stop relying and I guess needing to talk only to her, but at the same time I've been left with this, left alone to struggle with it. Maybe I'm misdirecting some anger. I know that if I had pressed the issue, we would have talked about it, I wouldn't be alone with it, at least not completely. I'm more angry with myself for just simply agreeing with C and dropping the issue. I guess it's a good way to learn how to communicate my needs and be aware of the consequences if I don't.

At the same time I can't help feeling abandoned. I had asked for a session with C this week, but C said we should leave it as is and schedule a session for August. I agreed yet again, even though I didn't want that. Maybe it's for the better, maybe it will be easier when we stop working together. And I can't always get what I want.

But I still feel abandoned.

Monday, July 17, 2006

From one extreme to another

I spent the weekend at my cabin doing absolutely nothing! I read a book, took long naps, ate well balanced meals, took my dogs for walks. I was mostly relaxed and stress free until Sunday evening when I had to drive home. I didn't want to leave, I didn't want to go back to reality - really who would?!

I woke up to my alarm this morning with a panic attack? My stomach was in a knot, my heart was pounding and my chest felt very tight, my hands clammy... I smoked a cigarette and tried to breathe deeply to calm myself but it didn't work. I hopped in the shower and spent extra time just standing there hoping the warm water would relax me, but it didn't. The closer it got for me to leave for work the worse my - I guess - symptoms became. I spent a good 10 minutes bent over the toilet dry heaving before I was able to pull myself together enough to start the drive to work. Start being the keyword! I got to Tim Hortons for my customary morning coffee and it felt like the doors of my car were closing in on me, slowly crushing me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't focus, everything was a blur. My arms started to tingle and my chest felt cold. I forced myself to act as normal as possible while I paid for my coffee and drove away. I kept both hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. I think I ran a red light before I was really aware of where I was. I pulled off the road into a parking lot, rested my head on the steering wheel and just started to cry. I started talking to myself, saying over and over "what the fuck is wrong with you?" - I finally managed to pull it together enough to continue my drive to work.

I found a nicer area to park this morning mainly because I just drove around trying to avoid the inevitable. I spent the entire day feeling nauseus and uptight. Waiting for the commands to be barked, waiting to be told that this and that is wrong, having to ask to go to the bathroom, being expected to run at 140% and do the job of 4 people. Getting nothing but negative feedback. I can't take it much longer, yet I can't afford to just quit. The environment and treatment is unbelievably triggering and I leave every day feeling more and more defeated. I'm holding on because the schedule is perfect, being able to work from home when not forced into the office will be ideal for when I go back to school, but what is the limit? How much longer can I work on empty?

I'm absolutely exhausted. My body aches from being constantly tense. I feel like I could just fall over and sleep for days, yet when I finally do lay down and try to sleep I can't, my mind just won't quit. I'm scared to sleep because of nightmares. It's weird really, it's mainly during the week that I have problems sleeping. Come Friday night and I know I don't have to work the next day I'm sleeping by midnight, although it's not a restful sleep because the nightmares are still very much there. During the week I'm lucky if I'm asleep by 2am and and yet still abruptly waking during the night.

The stress from work, the stress from normal everyday issues, the stress from my past, the stress from healing, the stress from nightmares... I really am sick of it. Thoughts of just giving up have been surfacing more and more. I think of how easy it would be. How I would finally be free from all of this bullshit.

[Black and Blue]

Wednesday, July 12, 2006


I'm not doing very well.

My work life is extremely stressful - I'm not sleeping or eating. Every muscle in my body is tense. I'm filled with stress rage, on the verge of snapping. I normally work at home, but am in the office now for an indeterminable amount of time. I can't afford to pay for gas to drive here or parking since it's now over $10 a day. I am driving though because I start at 5am, as for parking, well I'm parking about 10 blocks away in a seedy residential area for free street parking. It's scary at 4:30 in the morning walking by myself in a terrible area of downtown. All week I've been getting yelled at, whistled at, sworn at, pestered for money or smokes... by the time I get to the office I'm exhausted and scared and ready to turn around and go home and hide in bed.

As for the other stuff, I've been trying to remember what "say it" was, what he was trying to get me to say. I want to know, yet at the same time I don't want to. My father has been calling me for the past week, his birthday is coming up and they want me to go over their house for dinner to celebrate. I haven't called them back. I know I'll feel guilty if I don't at least call him on his birthday, I hate him, despise him, but he's still my father and there was some good with him growing up even if everything he did to me overshadows the good. I don't know, even hearing his voice sends me reeling for a few days afterwards so it's probably better if I don't talk to him. I think what I may do is call him when I know no one is home and leave a message for him so I don't feel guilty.

Sometimes I think about what life would be like if I had a healthy relationship with my father. I watch shows on TV where the father is caring and supportive and will do anything to help or protect his daughter. When I see that, I'm filled with sadness. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but it is something I long for. Something I've never had but miss at the same...

Thanks for all the support everyone, I'm still having problems with comments so I haven't been able to respond directly. But know that I've read them and truly appreciate your words...

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Why can't I say no??

Sometimes I want to, other times I don't. Why the fuck can't I say no?

Saturday night my boyfriend and I had sex. I didn't want to. I wasn't in the mood. I laid there repeating over and over in my head that I don't want to do this, please don't touch me, maybe tomorrow, I'm not in the mood. But I couldn't say it out loud. Instead I just went with the motions and went inside myself to the place I sometimes go. I stared at the spot on the ceiling I used to stare at when my father hurt me. I don't know where I go...

Why couldn't I say anything?

I feel dirty. Ashamed. Used.

Pissed off at myself, hating myself, wanting to hurt myself.

I just don't get it.


Thursday, July 06, 2006

been a while

I haven't been able to write anything for a few weeks now, every time I come here I get a burning sensation in my chest and I just can't type. I'm sorry I haven't been around to offer support...

I've been thinking non-stop since the session with T today. I had to put on the happy, life kicks ass face right after the session because I was with my best friend after work because I had to go into the office today and we carpooled this morning.

I don't even remember the question that triggered me. What played out before my eyes was fucking terrible. I saw me, the little girl me, and my father doing things to me telling me to say it, I don't know what IT is, but I wouldn't say it. I refused to say it, and he kept pressing the cigarette on my thigh telling me to say it. Say it. Say it.

I wouldn't. Fuck, I wish I knew what IT was...

I didn't even remember this until today. I haven't the foggiest idea what we talked about prior to this taking center stage. And I haven't been able to remove it from my wonderful mind either. It's been in the back, poking it's way out at the most inopportune times - funny (not ha ha!) how it seems to work that way...

I said today that I don't really think about any of this except in the one hour sessions, and I guess that's not true. Well, it's true in the sense that I TRY not to, but the more I think about it, the more I realise all of this has consumed my life. The more I try to push everything down, suffocate it and pretend none of it happened, the more consuming it becomes. The more frequent the nightmares/flashbacks haunt me. The seemingly innocent comments or touches send me reeling into myself. The more I fight it the worse it gets, the further into my shell I retreat.

It's scary in my shell. Lonely.

I'm beating myself up for not talking about what I remembered during the session. The drill sergeant is having a heyday with this, he's perched on his box, megaphone in hand shouting that I'm a worthless idiot. Kinda wish I had a mute button... in time I guess, just getting sick of the waiting...

I almost lost control in session today. I came so very close to crying...