Well, another day....
24 hour promise...
I am seeing my family doctor today for a referral to see a pscychologist. But as usual, there's a waiting list.
What do I do in the meantime?
I'm scared.
I'm scared of hurting myself.
I talk to God.
I scream at my mom for hurting me so badly, then I tell her that I forgive her. You see, I made peace with her before she died. I took care of her. She was an old lady and I did what I had to do to make her comfortable and loved. I think she needed me in the end when she dying. She only wanted me.
I am selfish when I ask now "where were you Mom when I was a little girl, and I needed you? I needed you to make the abuse stop. I needed you to show me love.
I can't remember any happy childhood memories.
It's like before all of the bad memories were blocked out. Now, all of the good ones are. IF there were good ones.
I am consumed with bad memories. I hurt for that little girl who didn't have a childhood. It's all I think of. Even when I am busy.
People tell me to stay busy.
When I am cleaning, I feel like I am being chased. I have to move fast and at the same time do a good job.
In my mind I hear, bend down and sweep, move things out, you won't break your back.
You are a lazy *%#€*. Do it right!!! If I didn't do it right, I would have to do it over. Usually with other stuff that she threw on the floor.
If she wasn't home and I cleaned, my older brother would tell her that HE cleaned. And I didn't listen to him. I would be cleaning and cleaning and then whatever was still left to do, he would tell her that I wouldn't even help him. So she would yell at me, call me names and make me do it.
ie. if I tidied up, made beds, swept, mopped, waxed floors, (we had old tiles),,, but if I didn't get to the dishes yet... I would get into trouble.
It was HIS mess. Especially if he skipped school. I would have to start cleaning as soon as I walked in the door. (Perhaps after I "satisfied" him first).
I was just a little girl. I couldn't clean as well or as quick as I can now....
I just want to hug that broken little girl and tell her that she is loved.
I just want to punch that boy in the face. (And all the others one who had a go at me too).
I want to sit my mom down and tell her all that happened to me. Yell and scream and ask why didn't she love me. Why didn't she protect me. Why didn't she believe me. Why? Why? Why?
I'm not a lazy whore.
I'm not just good for spreading my legs for boys.
I'm not ugly and hairy.
I cry because I hurt, not because I'm crabby.
I was taught never to talk back. To respect your parent.
I feel such guilt just writing this.
I'm scared if I commit suicide, I will go where he is. He committed suicide when he was 51.
I'm scared to end up where he is and he will continue to torment me. Forever.
I ask God to keep me from doing anything.
But I get into a dark hole, where I just "react". I don't know how to stop it.
Meds only help at night. Every night I cry before I go to sleep. I try to keep it together for most of the day. I pretend when I'm around other people. The pretending is very stressful.
My thoughts bounce all over the place. All day long....
My therapist said because the trauma happened for so many years, none of it was processed. So my brain doesn't know what to do with all these memories.
I am very organized in real life. But I don't know how to organize my memories. Does that make me a failure?
I cried myself to sleep last night. Memories follow me around like a cloud.
I had a bad melt down at the chiropractor office the other day. Then I blurted that I'm constantly thinking suicide.
They suggested a psychologist. I will need a referral from my medical doctor.
I just want the pain to end. I want the memories to stop.
This morning the dishwasher was full. I turned it on to wash. Came back one hour later, the dishes were hot, not washed. So the food was baked on.
I could hear my mothers voice in my mind telling me to get my lazy ass busy and wash them by hand. It won't hurt my lily white hands. I started yelling back. I feel like I am cursed. I feel like their ghosts are actually haunting me. I know it's not possible. It's my FEELING. I could feel them laughing at me because I had to do the dishes by hand.
I remember as a little girl, we were walking uptown where we lived. We stopped in half way to visit my mom's drinking buddy/friend. I don't remember if the lady was hung over or drunk. But I do remember that there was a big pile of dirty dishes in the sink. My mom told me to wash them before we left.
I washed and dried them. I don't remember if the lady had running water. I know that we didn't. I would have to heat water on the stove. I was never allowed to "air dry" the dishes either. Because one - It looked messy, and two - flies might land on them.
I was only eight or nine years old. I hated washing dishes. My brothers were never allowed to help me because she would say "I was trying to put an apron on them" hat she meant is that I was making them gay if they did dishes. I was the only girl so I had to do all of the housework.
However, my older brother would lie to her and tell her that HE cleaned the house up and that I refused to help. Meanwhile, he made the mess, then he would make me clean it up before she got home. She would get mad at me, because she believed him that I was lazy.
I couldn't win.
This morning, when all that was happening, there was a small sharp knife on the counter. I grabbed it and for that instant I felt like stabbing myself. It happened so fast, but just before I did, I threw it into the sink instead.
Afterwards, it was like it was mocking me. I eventually hid it in a drawer. One that I seldom look in.
I think about suicide often. But yet, this morning, I told God that I don't want to die.
I'm afraid of that black hole, and that instant when I can't control myself. I am asking Him to keep me safe.
When I am determined to do something. I do it. I won't just stab my arm and try to get attention. I know that I won't.
I want my normal back. I really do.
I used to have a wonderful life. I don't want to be on medication and in a fog. I want to be happy and content and confident once again.
Lord, help me please.
Hooty
I had a bad melt down at the chiropractor office the other day. Then I blurted that I'm constantly thinking suicide.
They suggested a psychologist. I will need a referral from my medical doctor.
I just want the pain to end. I want the memories to stop.
This morning the dishwasher was full. I turned it on to wash. Came back one hour later, the dishes were hot, not washed. So the food was baked on.
I could hear my mothers voice in my mind telling me to get my lazy ass busy and wash them by hand. It won't hurt my lily white hands. I started yelling back. I feel like I am cursed. I feel like their ghosts are actually haunting me. I know it's not possible. It's my FEELING. I could feel them laughing at me because I had to do the dishes by hand.
I remember as a little girl, we were walking uptown where we lived. We stopped in half way to visit my mom's drinking buddy/friend. I don't remember if the lady was hung over or drunk. But I do remember that there was a big pile of dirty dishes in the sink. My mom told me to wash them before we left.
I washed and dried them. I don't remember if the lady had running water. I know that we didn't. I would have to heat water on the stove. I was never allowed to "air dry" the dishes either. Because one - It looked messy, and two - flies might land on them.
I was only eight or nine years old. I hated washing dishes. My brothers were never allowed to help me because she would say "I was trying to put an apron on them" hat she meant is that I was making them gay if they did dishes. I was the only girl so I had to do all of the housework.
However, my older brother would lie to her and tell her that HE cleaned the house up and that I refused to help. Meanwhile, he made the mess, then he would make me clean it up before she got home. She would get mad at me, because she believed him that I was lazy.
I couldn't win.
This morning, when all that was happening, there was a small sharp knife on the counter. I grabbed it and for that instant I felt like stabbing myself. It happened so fast, but just before I did, I threw it into the sink instead.
Afterwards, it was like it was mocking me. I eventually hid it in a drawer. One that I seldom look in.
I think about suicide often. But yet, this morning, I told God that I don't want to die.
I'm afraid of that black hole, and that instant when I can't control myself. I am asking Him to keep me safe.
When I am determined to do something. I do it. I won't just stab my arm and try to get attention. I know that I won't.
I want my normal back. I really do.
I used to have a wonderful life. I don't want to be on medication and in a fog. I want to be happy and content and confident once again.
Lord, help me please.
Hooty
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