#83 Too Late!

#82 Writing or Righting My Story?

Self-injury, in its various forms, makes my pain visible - in the past as well as the present. When there was no one there to care for me, I had to get through it on my own and each time I did, I was proud of myself. However, I was also angry that no one praised my strength and courage. No one noticed or seemed to care.

When I self injure, I am inflicting similar damage on my body and triumphing over it. The scars that I create, serve as a reminder of what went before. I want to show the world how I can survive anything. I want to prove that my survival is no random accident, that I am in control now and I will make it right!
As I re-play my painful childhood, my history is written on my body and I revive that child. I bring her back to consciousness. I say, “Well done, you do not need anyone anymore! You are in control of your survival. You are alive. It is all right now!”

I am not just writing my story, I am making it right.

#81 Writing My Story

My mother is dead.
My story is dead.
I am dead.

When my mother died, I was afraid that my story had died with her. My chances of a confession from her or some understanding of why she did this to me or an apology were gone forever.

Pain in my body is an echo of what was done to my body and it reassures me that I am not crazy and that my body did not die when I left it. If I ever feel safe enough to lift up the trap door and go downstairs again, my body is still there.

My body needed to keep the story alive. It needed to store the evidence and to show the scars. My mind carried the shame and humiliation but my body stored the memory. The scars from my self-injuries are a recording. Without my being aware of it, my body was writing my history...
Dear Diary; today my mother beat me black and blue and red all over. This is what it looked like.

#80 I'll Be Safe If I Stay Up Here.

#79 Lack of Ownership

Is this what gets me into trouble, over and over again?

Being disconnected from my body?
Not caring what happens to it?
Learning to manage the pain by not being there?
Wanting to just live in my head?

All of these and more besides, have brought me to a place of not owning my own body.

I think it is the source problem that has brought me to catastrophe many times in my life.

This time, I clearly remember the voice in my head:
"what is happening to my body is not OK; a normal person would get this stopped!"
instead of:
"I don't like what is happening to my body; I will put a stop to it!"

Sold! Title Transferred a Long Time Ago! No Longer Owned by Resident!

#78 She's Gone Missing!

#77 Who Built The Wall?

Is it that you have gone away from me
or have I gone away from you?
It feels like a wall has been thrown up between us.
I agonize over why you have done this to me.
What crimes did I commit to make you hide yourself from me?

In time, it occurs to me that maybe
I imagined the wall rising up between us.
But, in doing so, I moved away
because it hurt so much to be rejected by you.

Thus have
I created the very thing that I fear most.
Did you go away? Or did I?