• Somebody is knocking at the door of my room in the trauma clinic
• I’m at home, though
Darkness makes me feel like I don’t exist. Looking at videos and reading things online and only after finishing do I get the awareness that I exist and I realize: I disappeared during the video.
The Heat:
• My skin is sticky with sweat
• Am I suffocating?
• Too much awareness of being in a body
• Where is it that I’m stuck? My chest or my head?
The Heat and The Darkness set me into a three month limbo. At the beginning of summer, all that I wish is the end of summer. They always touched me in the summer.They always wanted me in the summer. I was always a sex object in the summer.
Do I sit on the floor with my legs spread or do I jump out the window into the light and heat?
Do you sometimes get the urge to cut one of those fat blobs and put it in your mouth?
Talking about a relapse, huh? I was doing just fine for a few weeks, but the the bad Atmosphere came over and fucked everything up. Craving things I shouldn’t crave, grabbing at my hair and scratching at my face. My body was convulsing, it was like my head wanted to be somewhere else.
I would also like to be someplace else. Here is too loud, too “violent”, too damn red. When my stepdad screams, he sounds like a gorrila. He even takes a bit of a gorrila stance. I think you all know what I mean, that through the teeth scream? Yeah, that’s how he screams.
Yesterday night I snuck quietly downstairs, looked in my parent’s room to make sure they are asleep (my little brother was just sitting for a while, so I stood there just in case he’ll wake mom up, but he laid down quickly) and then I walked in my grandma’s room with my flash on the lowest setting to find her Lorazepam. Found it in the closet, grabbed a sheet and “ran” upstairs. When it gets too much, I take half of a 1mg tablet and I’ll be fine, even though I’ll be drunk.
I split on my therapist for a few nights. I screamed and cried because she didn’t acknowledge the traumatic memory I told her, but yesterday she told me that she was just feeling uncertain, because I’m not ready to start trauma therapy just yet, it would destabilize me even more.
I cut a couple of weeks ago and it’s still not healed, because it was an open wound and I didn get it stitched up. I’m thinking about cutting again and puttin a dead wasp in there, that’d be funny to find during surgery.
(Update: So I had the dead wasp idea even back then, in this one draft. Huh, interesting.)
Dear Repressed Memories 