I Hurt…

July 1, 2010

I actually wrote this yesterday, but wasn’t sure I wanted to post it. Today…I am thinking I will go ahead. Between all of this and trying to get all my art pieces ready before I have to send my PC off and then having to replace my PC before the webinar because they won’t fix it…they will only send a check…and my living situation. I am stretched. I miss being able to catch up on my friends’ blogs. Little by little I do get to read their blogs. It has just been a real challenge to focus, too. And then there it also simply day-to-day life…places to go…things to do.

Anyway…here is what I was thinking about posting yesterday:

Might Trigger

What can I say? I hurt…and it makes me feel like a wimp. This seems to be the week for flashbacks. Inside pain. A few visuals.

There is a woman…can’t remember what she looks like…from many years ago. I cannot stop thinking about the time I visited her apartment. Her son went to school with my son. My son wanted to go to his friend’s. He said that his friend’s mom saw him after school one day and told him that she really enjoyed talking with me. She thought I was really nice and she wanted me to come over with my son.

I did not want to go. I did not remember her. I am not comfortable around strangers. Even when I saw her…I did not remember her…and she would have stood out in my memory…I thought.  It felt awkward. I am not really sure how I got through it. Maybe I dissociated? And where was my younger son? I am sure he was with me? Did he have someone to play with?

I keep seeing the apartment door…I am approaching it from the outside. It was the downstairs apartment and I think there were stairs going up by their door? It is all dark and hazy. I have thought of her off and on throughout the years…briefly. And now…she keeps coming to mind over and over and over again. Why????

Sweet baby toes…and feet…and legs…and…fade to black. Don’t think about it. I HATE what they did to the babies. I HATE what they had us do to them. Communion like no other. SICK! SICK! SICK!


  1. For many years until just before my mother’s death last year, I remembered being handed over to my father and his family at age 12. All these years I believed I lived with my Dad, who I idolized, but slowly those memories clouded and new ones replaced them along with body memories. I began to dought my time spent with my Dad when memories emerged that tied in with the body memories. What was emerging was horrible, unthinkable. Rather than confront and validate, I sank into deep depression, isolation, and attempted to end my life. Hospitalized for 2 weeks, I gained the strength to ask about something I didn’t want to know, but I had to. My mother validated that during that peroid of time as a 12 1/2 year old girl, I gave birth to a daughter, a result of one of the many rapes by my stepfather. I haven’t processed this yet, I cognitively have, but not deep inside my phsychi. I don’t think about it much, but it does crop up when I think of my son serving his 3rd tour in Iraq. Losing my daughter is one thing, but my son is real, and the purpose of my life. So I’ve told another human being, now what? The reality seems greater now.

    • Yes…sharing makes the reality seem greater. Once that happens…it does make it easier to start dealing with it…although it may not seem like it now. Thing is…the reality you have also belongs to someone in the system. Now that you can accept that reality…it starts to open the door for that alter to start healing, too.

  2. Keeping you in my thoughts…


    • Thanks, Meredith. Working through healing and amnesia sure can be interesting…to say the least!

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