I wouldn't hang around.
The EMDR just happened by itself. We should maybe encourage ourself more with that. All we need to do is remember past experiences of it or even just think about it in general and its starts of in our brain, tick, tick, tick tick.
There was a moment of sheer delight the other day when we pulled our pink good for fingers rubbish for thumb and wrists gloves out a drawer and found two small pieces of plant matter stuck to them. Enough for a modest single skinner. The smell of it had us quite emotional. It gave us a nice little break, nice tiny little break. Been watching the latest Grace and Frankie serious, it does make us laugh but all the weed shots are fucking torture. Its not fair. Nothing is even remotely fucking fair.
Dude missed most of school this week and not because of our sleep avoidance and January depression but a proper cold. He even pucked up tonight which I hope was caused by him eating too many salted peanuts while drinking water and isn't part of the virus because of course we are starting to have a sore throat and feel feverish. We are not crying about this. Almost crying is not crying.
Memory is as expected slowly piecing it's self together. Fevers always being stuff up and we gotta say another fuck you world for making us go through January, our first outside of Scotland and without the foreman contact and also without any weed. It's been rough and is going to continue being rough. Past realities that we have hidden are being exposed and sometimes the feelings that brings up get unbareable. So hungry and heartbroken in our dreams even if there is better ones at traveling without fear at great speeds between them its not feelings of joy that hangover. When awake we are facing some of what Pablo has been through Lynne's Claire beating him black and blue back when we had not been in Fintry long, she was about eleven or so I think he was little three or maybe not long four. How endless abusers and stooges were at the door pretending their cared but we knew better. We had clear memories and knowledge of who and what they were.
Working with Joshua and getting his help to finish some very ancient very horrible slave work. He puked when we should him what so many intelligent and amazing woman had been forced to do for so many thousands of years. He was the first person with a penis to know and do such work for very very long time. We wept when we remembered how the last person to help us out with that shit was Louise, teaching it to him meant we couldn't just get through it without being there and being there brought up how close me and Louise were. How much fun we had. How different our life was when all of it was being shared with someone else.
Neither us felt much when we wrapped it up. Something that had been going on forever, something that so many deeply believed would not and could not ever stop. Finne.
"And we will have a future?" We said, we asked him when we were back in this scared, hungry child state.
"Yes Mum." He said. "Together."
And we both wept.
There was a moment of sheer delight the other day when we pulled our pink good for fingers rubbish for thumb and wrists gloves out a drawer and found two small pieces of plant matter stuck to them. Enough for a modest single skinner. The smell of it had us quite emotional. It gave us a nice little break, nice tiny little break. Been watching the latest Grace and Frankie serious, it does make us laugh but all the weed shots are fucking torture. Its not fair. Nothing is even remotely fucking fair.
Dude missed most of school this week and not because of our sleep avoidance and January depression but a proper cold. He even pucked up tonight which I hope was caused by him eating too many salted peanuts while drinking water and isn't part of the virus because of course we are starting to have a sore throat and feel feverish. We are not crying about this. Almost crying is not crying.
Memory is as expected slowly piecing it's self together. Fevers always being stuff up and we gotta say another fuck you world for making us go through January, our first outside of Scotland and without the foreman contact and also without any weed. It's been rough and is going to continue being rough. Past realities that we have hidden are being exposed and sometimes the feelings that brings up get unbareable. So hungry and heartbroken in our dreams even if there is better ones at traveling without fear at great speeds between them its not feelings of joy that hangover. When awake we are facing some of what Pablo has been through Lynne's Claire beating him black and blue back when we had not been in Fintry long, she was about eleven or so I think he was little three or maybe not long four. How endless abusers and stooges were at the door pretending their cared but we knew better. We had clear memories and knowledge of who and what they were.
Working with Joshua and getting his help to finish some very ancient very horrible slave work. He puked when we should him what so many intelligent and amazing woman had been forced to do for so many thousands of years. He was the first person with a penis to know and do such work for very very long time. We wept when we remembered how the last person to help us out with that shit was Louise, teaching it to him meant we couldn't just get through it without being there and being there brought up how close me and Louise were. How much fun we had. How different our life was when all of it was being shared with someone else.
Neither us felt much when we wrapped it up. Something that had been going on forever, something that so many deeply believed would not and could not ever stop. Finne.
"And we will have a future?" We said, we asked him when we were back in this scared, hungry child state.
"Yes Mum." He said. "Together."
And we both wept.
