..dear reader..

Shakey from the Ventolin, stirred up by the news, dead spy suspicious circumstances, forget about the truth, press/police/politicians corruption: likewise.  And wee man has been ill and grumpy.  Mild four year violence pretty regularly, I hate it, don't want to be scared of my own son but I am.  Naughty step/thinking space employed several times today.  He's stopped listening to the word 'No', I can't look at him as just someone else that ignores me when I say No.  Been too lax on him recently, too wrapped up in my own tiredness and struggles.  He got his appetite back today though and tomorrow is another day, he's well enough for nursery, I'm well enough to clean. The goddam dreams.  Intense, vivid, often violent and impossible to decipher.  Family turns bad again, so I take wee man out in search of safety but the locations keep changing, Glasgow, London, Aberdeen I tell myself.  Later he's a girl, Henrietta, until a yellow...

write a whole book about me that is. Although not today because I'm tired and irritable. Been spending a lot of time walking that fine line between weeping and not weeping. I wish I could just cry, I'd feel better then, that relaxed, cleansed feeling I used to get after cutting. I'm not even tempted to do anything like that though, carrying and giving birth to the permanently hungry fairy prince sorted that out. Maybe I would of grown out of it anyway. The new psychiatrist isn't a big believer in therapy. She said she's not sure dredging stuff up helps and she's right there is not point in dredging without the proper support to deal with it all. I still want to do it though, wish I lived in California like the women who wrote 'Wholeness' did. Could really use some of that looking deep inside to see the parts of myself and visualising to give them what they need. Memories keep pushing but they rarely break the surface. There's been sex me...

Had a fantastic laugh out loud dream last night. I was reading Triumph over Darkness by Wendy Ann Wood in bed, its very simply written and maybe that helps the messages of hope and healing get through. Anyway in the dream I was very drunk and very happy, falling over, getting lost, dancing with other weirdos in weird jerky styles. I didn't feel like a weirdo though and they didn't look like weirdos either just people, experienced people dancing and letting off steam. I ended up in Cardiff, where I snogged a the member of a boy band and got a lift home in a a big black flash truck-car. On the way to the car I passed a stretch limo it had something on the roof, I'm not sure what if was - a piano or something and I remember looking at it and saying 'tasteful' and who ever I was with laughing with me. At one point in Cardiff I wondered off down this narrow street of white houses and realised I was alone, but all I had to do was say 'stereophonics' in a We...

Pretty grateful to my friend for paying the debt over the dodgy fivers, the men in the shop gave me a calander with bonny pictures of Scotland. Its not getting away with murder but its something and brightens up our bare kitchen. Struggled a bit this evening though, twice in three days I've spent hours in someone's company and my skin was crawling whenever we touched. Could be because he wanted to have sex, I wish he would ask so I could say no. I won't, I can't. Started a poem last night about Japan, dreams, Tsunamis and the feeling of having seen all the news footage before. Everyone has surely, things that big have shadows that are ahead of them as well as behind. There something about the digitalisation and satellites, like I look at the stars and see whats going to happen reflected in their light. I remember talking H about them when they seemed constant, walking sky scrapers, water rising up bedroom windows (but who hasn't had that one) black water, ...