trying to recover memory through therapy
next week my newe therapist says we can try to devote the next session to trying to remember what happened. I know i shouldnt rush it, but this shit has just got to stop. I want to get to sleep before midnight, i want to be able to try and draw for five minutes at a time without freaking out and giving up. And i need to remember, so i can have control over my life. Life is so damn short, i have so many things i want to learn and see and do, but if i cant get started what can i do?
I want to look for a charity to work for, but i have been too tired. Im in a funk i guess, but ill get out of it. Trying to do things with the weight of whatever im carrying around is so frustrating, imagine trying to carry a heavy safe on your back and go through your whole day like that. Sometimes, its like that literally, when i know i have the dexterity to do some simple thing, but the strain of the weight is too heavy and i slip under it, then i drop my cup, spill my change, skew the line im drawing.
Its going to come anyways, because my head feals like a balloon thats going to pop. Headaches, body pains, sleepless nights, fear to go to bed, these arent going away until i find somee way to deal with it.
At least i identified another trigger, even though i forgot to mention it to my therapist. Whenever my mom calls, i dont know what to do, so i just let her talk and say uh huh, yeah, okay. But i know that she abused me once, even if people dont take it seriously, i do, and being sodomized by my brother i think qualifies me for a sense of perspective on the whole thing. And im positive something else happened, and almost sure she had something to do with it.
So i sit there and listen to her ramble on about stupid things, and my mind just blanks. Everything but this little voice in my head that just wants to scream until my voice is raw and my throat is bloody. But i dont know how to let myself do that. That scream is the thing that follows me through the day and into my nightmares.
I would be lying if i didnt admit that i was terrified of what this memory could be. Im even more terrified to put my life in perspective, to see all the things i have lost, all the things that other people call a living hell, but that i called home.
I dont always want to think that less than a couple of years ago i was tripping on acid, trespassing through peoples properties just because they told me i couldnt, walking around at 3 in the morning so pissed off that i was looking for an exuse to try and kill someone with my bare hands. Sometimes i got so wound up at night i could almost feel myself snapping, tearing the throat out of the next asshole cop who decided to bother me for walking around alone at night. That never happened, but it sure as hell could have.
Tripping on acid made things feel like the werent real, like demons were around every corner and spirits were so real they were talking to me. I felt like god had forsaken me, that i hated god with a fierce loathing boardering on madness. I was trying to rebel against existance itself, like staying alive was trying to prove some sort of point.
I remember trying to think of selling drugs as a way out, a way to have power. I even invested a couple of times, though i never sold it myself. Sometimes i wonder if my contstant ranting about drugs and capitalism controlling everyone helped drive some of my friends to doing what they did. One of my friends is a constant pothead now, and a dealer, and i feel bad because i dont want to have anything to do with him anymore.
My memory comes and goes, but what i remember is thinking life was a lie, and i was trying to be an honest person, no matter what the cost. But now i wonder, who was i really pissed at? Was it the schools? The government? I dont really think so anymore, even if i do get angry and outraged, nothing they ever did to me personally could make me that crazy. They felt like the cherry on top. So the question i find myself asking is, "What is the missing piece of the puzzle? What is causing this pit of darkness inside me?"
I dont really know, but i do know i am not going to spend my life running from it. Thats just not who i am. No matter what happened to, no matter what i may have done (if anything), no matter what i couldnt do then, i am not gong to back down from this.
I want to look for a charity to work for, but i have been too tired. Im in a funk i guess, but ill get out of it. Trying to do things with the weight of whatever im carrying around is so frustrating, imagine trying to carry a heavy safe on your back and go through your whole day like that. Sometimes, its like that literally, when i know i have the dexterity to do some simple thing, but the strain of the weight is too heavy and i slip under it, then i drop my cup, spill my change, skew the line im drawing.
Its going to come anyways, because my head feals like a balloon thats going to pop. Headaches, body pains, sleepless nights, fear to go to bed, these arent going away until i find somee way to deal with it.
At least i identified another trigger, even though i forgot to mention it to my therapist. Whenever my mom calls, i dont know what to do, so i just let her talk and say uh huh, yeah, okay. But i know that she abused me once, even if people dont take it seriously, i do, and being sodomized by my brother i think qualifies me for a sense of perspective on the whole thing. And im positive something else happened, and almost sure she had something to do with it.
So i sit there and listen to her ramble on about stupid things, and my mind just blanks. Everything but this little voice in my head that just wants to scream until my voice is raw and my throat is bloody. But i dont know how to let myself do that. That scream is the thing that follows me through the day and into my nightmares.
I would be lying if i didnt admit that i was terrified of what this memory could be. Im even more terrified to put my life in perspective, to see all the things i have lost, all the things that other people call a living hell, but that i called home.
I dont always want to think that less than a couple of years ago i was tripping on acid, trespassing through peoples properties just because they told me i couldnt, walking around at 3 in the morning so pissed off that i was looking for an exuse to try and kill someone with my bare hands. Sometimes i got so wound up at night i could almost feel myself snapping, tearing the throat out of the next asshole cop who decided to bother me for walking around alone at night. That never happened, but it sure as hell could have.
Tripping on acid made things feel like the werent real, like demons were around every corner and spirits were so real they were talking to me. I felt like god had forsaken me, that i hated god with a fierce loathing boardering on madness. I was trying to rebel against existance itself, like staying alive was trying to prove some sort of point.
I remember trying to think of selling drugs as a way out, a way to have power. I even invested a couple of times, though i never sold it myself. Sometimes i wonder if my contstant ranting about drugs and capitalism controlling everyone helped drive some of my friends to doing what they did. One of my friends is a constant pothead now, and a dealer, and i feel bad because i dont want to have anything to do with him anymore.
My memory comes and goes, but what i remember is thinking life was a lie, and i was trying to be an honest person, no matter what the cost. But now i wonder, who was i really pissed at? Was it the schools? The government? I dont really think so anymore, even if i do get angry and outraged, nothing they ever did to me personally could make me that crazy. They felt like the cherry on top. So the question i find myself asking is, "What is the missing piece of the puzzle? What is causing this pit of darkness inside me?"
I dont really know, but i do know i am not going to spend my life running from it. Thats just not who i am. No matter what happened to, no matter what i may have done (if anything), no matter what i couldnt do then, i am not gong to back down from this.
): 1.Take a break from your Mother. Can you avoid talking to her for a little while? Even if it means cutting down by half the number of times you see or phone her, I think ytou need some space. Screen your calls. 2. Write a letter to your mother that you never intend to send. Don't hold back. Open up on the page and let it rip. Maybe a therapist already suggested this, but I think it would be a great vent for your anger and frustration, which, by the way, I TOTALLY identify with.
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