Broken Jigsaw
Wish my psychiatrist knew a bit more about Ritualic and Satanic Abuse. I was talking about nightmares and how May the 1st was an important day in the calender and she asked me if I was a practising Satanist (because people have the right to practise whatever they choose). The look on my face answered her question. I started talking about how I have heard there is 'satanists' who aren't into killing babies and eating shit but I trailed of and said I believed in healing and would like to get more into meditation. I said that I didn't know what my parents believed during the abuse in terms of their alters/drugged up/disassociated states or whatever but outside of it they're both staunch atheists. I've always found it a bit stifling. Sure a share a healthy disrespect for organised religions but to rule out all spiritualism, all sense of being part of something bigger, of a connection and wonder in regards to everything and everyone, not for me. I remember when I was pregnant with wee man a friend of my mothers came round, I had decorated my room and was showing her around. She spotted a stone I had bought and said it was beautiful and that I had definitely cleansed it. Later on my mum was pretty cynical about it and expected me to join in. She went well quiet and was maybe even a bit shocked when I said her friend was right, I had cleansed it.
Pretty sore right now and know I will find it difficult to go back on the pill in a few days time, or go and try the injections. I want to talk to my body instead of just taking pills in the hope that problems will go away. Saying that I've upped the dose on the antidepressants and don't feel bad about it. I need to get my brain out of misery mode and as I am short of friends, money, faith, opportunities and ideas about what is 'fun' the pills will have to do for now.
Keep seeing things in the darkness when I close my eyes. Bubble bath, water kind of pink some sort of objects at the bottom. I didn't see long enough to know what they objects were but I'm assuming they were for sexual torture. The water was pink from blood and it was probably around October, 2001 definitely in the flat I had back then. I saw thighs and pubic hair, peoples' faces and other things that terrify me before I make out what they are. I get complacent about how much I know, I even said to Nushrink that I didn't think there were many surprises left for me to remember. No surprises maybe, but there is obviously a lot that isn't processed. I think its to do with abuse that by people who were well trained in how to stop people from disassociating or bringing up alters. Seeing the person who the alters were created to protect being hurt so badly killed some of them Such stuff I would forget soon after the sick fucks had left. I see a pretty young female, possibly from a girl band/model/actress. She wasn't alone of course. They were familiar, especially in 2001.
Been thinking about how much I remember from before we moved to the Glen and how memories after then are harder to think and talk about, even apparently mundane stuff. Like I lost some sort of support when we left Fife. I have a sense of being told (not by my parents) a lot that a the ritualistic stuff was 'just pretend' and occasionally that it was real, depending on the group, the ritual. I was warned before hand, taken through step by step what was going to happen. That's why I was so surprised when those young men broke into that orgy and took a machete to the cross I was tied to, so close to my arm. Closer than the man had meant to by the look in his eyes. I hadn't been expecting it and that's why I remember it. I dawned on me how out of control everything was and how unsafe I was. When we moved to the Glen though things must of changed, if I was told what was going to happen it was by the people who were going to do it, not different people who had some compassion for me. I was three or four when we left Fife I had a sense of being special, of being a bit protected from the hell around me but that ended in the Glen.
Psychiatrist told me to try Nytol for the sleeping problems, gentle exercise and a hot water bottle for the cramps. She's alright really but I am herby renaming her as 'blonde psychiatrist' because she is and nothing to do with any sexist stereotype..
Pretty sore right now and know I will find it difficult to go back on the pill in a few days time, or go and try the injections. I want to talk to my body instead of just taking pills in the hope that problems will go away. Saying that I've upped the dose on the antidepressants and don't feel bad about it. I need to get my brain out of misery mode and as I am short of friends, money, faith, opportunities and ideas about what is 'fun' the pills will have to do for now.
Keep seeing things in the darkness when I close my eyes. Bubble bath, water kind of pink some sort of objects at the bottom. I didn't see long enough to know what they objects were but I'm assuming they were for sexual torture. The water was pink from blood and it was probably around October, 2001 definitely in the flat I had back then. I saw thighs and pubic hair, peoples' faces and other things that terrify me before I make out what they are. I get complacent about how much I know, I even said to Nushrink that I didn't think there were many surprises left for me to remember. No surprises maybe, but there is obviously a lot that isn't processed. I think its to do with abuse that by people who were well trained in how to stop people from disassociating or bringing up alters. Seeing the person who the alters were created to protect being hurt so badly killed some of them Such stuff I would forget soon after the sick fucks had left. I see a pretty young female, possibly from a girl band/model/actress. She wasn't alone of course. They were familiar, especially in 2001.
Been thinking about how much I remember from before we moved to the Glen and how memories after then are harder to think and talk about, even apparently mundane stuff. Like I lost some sort of support when we left Fife. I have a sense of being told (not by my parents) a lot that a the ritualistic stuff was 'just pretend' and occasionally that it was real, depending on the group, the ritual. I was warned before hand, taken through step by step what was going to happen. That's why I was so surprised when those young men broke into that orgy and took a machete to the cross I was tied to, so close to my arm. Closer than the man had meant to by the look in his eyes. I hadn't been expecting it and that's why I remember it. I dawned on me how out of control everything was and how unsafe I was. When we moved to the Glen though things must of changed, if I was told what was going to happen it was by the people who were going to do it, not different people who had some compassion for me. I was three or four when we left Fife I had a sense of being special, of being a bit protected from the hell around me but that ended in the Glen.
Psychiatrist told me to try Nytol for the sleeping problems, gentle exercise and a hot water bottle for the cramps. She's alright really but I am herby renaming her as 'blonde psychiatrist' because she is and nothing to do with any sexist stereotype..
