Archive for March, 2007

Moving Day

4 years ago
in

I packed from 7pm last night until 7am this morning. Almost everything is packed now. There are only a few things left (including the computer) but I can’t pack them until I get some more boxes. , Randy, and my roomie were supposed to help pack, but they didn’t really. My mom packed a few boxes from the kitchen, Randy packed 2 boxes and all my roomie did was pack his room.

My back is sore as hell. Today we have to move all this shit. Randy and the others will definitely have to help. I have to get it done today because I have to go back to tomorrow. I probably won’t be back online until April 5th. That’s when the cable company is connecting the internet at the new house.

I’m happy to be moving out of this apartment, but I’m freaking exhausted. I had to rush packing because we didn’t find a house until yesterday. I didn’t want to start packing before because I was afraid we’d have to stay here another month and I didn’t want to have to live out of boxes.

Anyway, I need to get going. I have to go rent a U-Haul truck.

Back on the Path…

4 years ago
in ,

Memories of my past have been haunting me. I had buried them deep within myself and kept them there for so long that even I had all but forgotten about them. They weren’t gone; not even close. They were in hiding – growing and festering inside me – dreaming of the day when they could erupt and rise again… all at once.

That day has come. I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew I would eventually have to confront my past before I could truly let it go, but that isn’t making it any easier. Luckily, I’m not going through it alone anymore.

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A Buried Memory Returned to Haunt Me

4 years ago
in , , ,

I’ve been feeling shitty since Friday. I didn’t mention it in my last post, but the real trigger for Saturday’s near-cutting was seeing the man who raped me when I was seventeen. It made me feel like it had just happened all over again. I had no idea it would affect me like this… its been almost 11 years.

I had been raped prior to that countless times by my and another member. You would think I was accustomed to it by then – and I was, but only by those who habitually sexually abused me. Typically, the invasions began while I was sleeping. If I awoke during the violation I usually pretended I was asleep until it was over. It was easier to block it out if I thought of it as a bad dream. Sexual assault is always scathing, but the usual attacks I endured were non-violent and over fairly quickly; except my defloration – I was six years old. I won’t go into a lot of detail about the itself. It is still too upsetting for me. I don’t want to trigger a cutting session. (more…)

Stumbling blocks

4 years ago
in , ,

I’ve had a pretty rough week. I feel like I’m whining, but I have to have some kind of outlet for my . I thought my life was the hardest it could be before I went to . I hoped that after leaving the hospital everything would magically be okay. I wanted that to happen so badly. I thought if I made myself believe that everything would okay then it would be. Unfortunately, few things are as simple as we would like them to be.

The truth is that life was pretty simple when I was discharged. I had learned so much and I was so determined to get better. I thought I had finally learned how to fix myself and I didn’t even give a second thought to how life would really be. I thought I was making so much progress, but I’m not so sure now. I’m really confused.

There are very stressful things burdening me: I have 6 days to find a house, pack and move; I’m having financial difficulties due to the time I was off , among other things; and I haven’t even started doing the for my algebra class which ends in about five weeks.

About half an hour ago, I was lying in bed thinking about the things that are stressing me out. I was trying to find solutions, but there aren’t any simple ways to resolve my concerns, problems, or issues. I began getting discouraged because I let things get to this point. A short while later I started blaming, chastising, and berating myself – just like the good ol’ days. Before I knew it I had an urgent need to feel pain and see blood trickling down my legs. The yearning filled me completely – I was paralyzed with it.

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The Root of My Evil

4 years ago
in ,

I’ve made plenty of mistakes in my life and I have been punishing myself for those mistakes for years. I have made myself so miserable it hurt to even breathe. I have always felt inherently bad and I deserved everything that happened. My therapists tell me that I had to blame myself for all the bad things that happened to me in order to survive my childhood. They say I had to keep the people who did those things good because they were the people I had to depend on. At first, the concept sounded completely ridiculous, but I’ve been thinking a lot about it and it is starting to make sense. Maybe I’m not as horrible as I had convinced myself I was.

As a little girl I could not fathom that my step-father would verbally, sexually and physically me for his own pleasure, so I must have deserved or provoked it. I couldn’t allow myself to admit that my mother cared more about men and neglected me because she was selfish and only cared about her own needs. I told myself that I was bad, unimportant, and unworthy. I thought everything bad that happened was my fault.

For example, I was six years old the night my step-father took my virginity.
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