September 28, 2015

Inertia

Everytime we open the new post box parts slide, skulk, bolt, disappear down fox holes, behind walls I cant see the top off, atomise themselves away or casually wonder off while whistling through their teeth.  They don't want to open up and share here in the dark with no idea who is watching and who isnt. Littles know they are conditioned to 'write home' and have no inclination to keep pretending they don't know what that's all about. Usually the only people and places that felt like a real home were the last places and people we would be writing anything to. Killing them ourself would often be better option in terms of trauma and loss at least then they wouldn't be tortured, programmed, enslaved, bred, experimented on and used as against us.

We wish we could manage our time better. Encourage parts to articulate their needs and working with each other. Organising a schedule that could be done day after was never going to work, way to triggering of what the abuser networks do when they have you full time and because there is too many of us. Some of us really liked week/month cycles though. Trying to work out everything we wanted, what was possible and what was needed. Everything stopped being such hard work to being rewarding and fun. When we felt bad someone would try and help us and if they couldn't they would help us find someone who could. Just seeing people try sometimes was enough to make us feel so much better.

We could see some of the people who were working with us were shocked sometimes at how it well it worked to the point of suspecting we were much more dissociated than we were, that we were pretending because we thought we were supposed to.  When we explained how different it felt to be with people who tried to keep us safe and allowed us to be whatever we were most understood. It was worst  for those who knew that the abuse networks designed the parts that need to be cared for the most if we can ever be safe and that meant they would loose me again.

If there was enough time spent acknowledging and treating us somewhere with less triggers and bad memories so we could begin to reach our Gollums ourselfs  The communication and the caring for each other would get internalised just as the indifference and oppression is in horrible environments. Being physically stronger and full of evidence to show people do want something better enabled us to find out those most in need. We knew the punishments we would get for healing and attempting to explore peoples potentials but often many of those whose job is was to help us would have no idea about the risks. We do underestimate people occasionally but no bloody wonder.

Those abuser proof firewalls took a lot of damage and the bastards have definitely had us pretending to do shit but the worst of the work demanded had already been done by others before me.  Pretending was all some of them were after of course they already had what they wanted from torturing and experimenting on mother and others for years. We dont know how far they got through and are unlikely to have been able to find out since because of the system and networks making it impossible to have privacy or be safe enough to check. There's always that consensual need for us to 'not know' some pretty major stuff for various reasons. Every tiny aspect of everything about our behave always has to be constantly gauged, the value of remembering versus the risk a part who who can not bare that kinds of constant danger, our skills in pretending to be a part we weren't (or didn't even have) to someone who may or may not already know versus seconds of being true to my our soul, our nature.

The decades of violence and theft, the forcing pictures into our own and others mind, the forcing us to tell and live so many lies couldnt kill our romantic hopes for love, community and justice with those we fought with here but not one of those ideals is gonna survive the isolation when the main force maintaining it is ignorance, fear and inertia.. and a population with a taste for social rigidity and torture..

Firenze. Natale

Sempre.








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