Thursday, February 6, 2014

our eyes are full of terrible confessions.


“Many abused children cling to the hope that growing up will bring escape and freedom. But the personality formed in an environment of coercive control is not well adapted to adult life. The survivor is left with fundamental problems in basic trust, autonomy, and initiative. She approaches the tasks of early adulthood - establishing independence and intimacy - burdened by major impairments in self-care, in cognition and memory, in identity, and in the capacity to form stable relationships. She is still a prisoner of her childhood; attempting to create a new life, she reencounters the trauma.”
—Judith Herman

Things that make me sad:


-How distant my high school friends have become, almost like the self inflicted ostracisation upon my hospital admission has led to an actual exclusion, ugly and raw, yet completely real. They don't invite me to gatherings or seem to desire genuine friendship anymore
-How few people (if any) I have to tell when I feel crap...Lou won't reply to my texts even though I gave her such a thoughtful (and expensive!) Christmas present and she was so supportive last year, Mama Goose hasn't replied to a single personal email since late November and seems determined to keep things light and focused on her trip overseas (which is fine - just not what I would have done, would do or did), Magnus must get sick of hysterical phone calls and shit keeps happening over and over that I'm scared of overwhelming Laurel Matilda so she leaves (just like the others)
-My eyes are getting worse and worse and my optometrist wants me to do a $800 vision therapy course which I simply can't afford, my 'benign tumour' is being removed in a few weeks and I wish I could have a general anesthetic just so I don't have to be conscious as a whole bunch of people peer at my lady parts, cutting it up just like the disgusting and diseased thing that the Poet left behind

-I really want to go to Boston next year and fly to Perth this July for the National Suicide Prevention conference but I also really want to go to bed and never wake up so where does that leave me?
-I don't think the Poet should  be allowed to be a psychologist in the future but I'm not sure if that's my decision or my fight - even making a statement to the police and leaving it in their hands could put him on the sex offenders register (what's apt justice?)


“Depression turns you into a series of nouns, without the adjectives and without the verbs. You don’t remember where you misplaced your descriptions, your actions (under the sink with your emotions). You become: bed, shower, socks, coffee, keys, obligations.”
—Unknown

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