Tired but not sleepy
Changed my twitter to profile to just say 'survivor' but I haven't really been feeling it lately. 'Victim' fits better. I know that's not strictly true of course, I'm not being forced into anything anymore but I find it so hard to really imagine a better life. There is so much damage, so many abusive relationships for as long as I can remember. One of the books talks about a silver lining, someone who made you feel human, cared for and loved. I'm not sure I had one. I don't have the strength to get beyond it all. Everything I have gets used up on the day to day, the viruses, the single parent hood, the living with it all.
NuShrink said I seemed to be opening up but I know I don't talk coherently much. Things just evaporate when I start to talk or write and I'm left feeling dumb. He says I could just do nothing and continue as I am. I have a long way to go with him. If I thought like that I would be dead, a drug addict and a prostitute, a Satanist.
Tonight I remembered car journeys with my dad when I was about two/three and deciding just to go sleep, being told to go to sleep. I tried to talk about my parents friends when with lived in Fife but I didn't get very far. The ones who cried when we left, I think they told me I was good, I think I saw one of their penises the other night. One of them took me to a pond with trees around it. I was attacked by a goose. It hurt and I was terrified. He really consoled me, talked and held me until I had calmed down in a way my father never could. I didn't want to leave him. Did he say 'it' wasn't going to happen anymore not with him, that it was very wrong? Did I say I didn't mind when it was him? What I do know was that he gave me a teddy and it was my favourite. When we moved houses in the Glen it fell of the back of the trailer, I remember seeing it on the mud in the rain outside the farm as we passed. I begged my mum to go back for it, it wasn't far from our new house. She left but didn't come back with it. Maybe the farmer's son took it. I don't know.
Anyway, I find it hard to think of sex of something that anyone who loves me would want to do to me. People that love me do it any cry and say sorry after. Then the hold me, properly, nicely. I think in my teens my dad would weep after sometimes but I wasn't there.
NuShrink said I seemed to be opening up but I know I don't talk coherently much. Things just evaporate when I start to talk or write and I'm left feeling dumb. He says I could just do nothing and continue as I am. I have a long way to go with him. If I thought like that I would be dead, a drug addict and a prostitute, a Satanist.
Tonight I remembered car journeys with my dad when I was about two/three and deciding just to go sleep, being told to go to sleep. I tried to talk about my parents friends when with lived in Fife but I didn't get very far. The ones who cried when we left, I think they told me I was good, I think I saw one of their penises the other night. One of them took me to a pond with trees around it. I was attacked by a goose. It hurt and I was terrified. He really consoled me, talked and held me until I had calmed down in a way my father never could. I didn't want to leave him. Did he say 'it' wasn't going to happen anymore not with him, that it was very wrong? Did I say I didn't mind when it was him? What I do know was that he gave me a teddy and it was my favourite. When we moved houses in the Glen it fell of the back of the trailer, I remember seeing it on the mud in the rain outside the farm as we passed. I begged my mum to go back for it, it wasn't far from our new house. She left but didn't come back with it. Maybe the farmer's son took it. I don't know.
Anyway, I find it hard to think of sex of something that anyone who loves me would want to do to me. People that love me do it any cry and say sorry after. Then the hold me, properly, nicely. I think in my teens my dad would weep after sometimes but I wasn't there.
