#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?

#76 Entrenched Warfare

Alone on this battlefield, I am using up energy by constantly changing sides. I fight awhile on one side and then race across to engage in combat over there. I pause only to bind up wounds and take a short rest.

Everyone who was watching from the sidelines has moved out of range, into the growing shadows, beyond the hill.

The sun is setting. I am alone. I am scared.

I have no way of knowing where the carnage will occur next. I do not know who will get hurt or how bad their injuries will be. The observers have become bored and gone home. Combatants die on battlefields; no one misses them.

How long can I run back and forth between opposing trenches? How long can I wage war on both sides? How long is too long?

#75 Sometimes

#74 I Don't Even Like Her!

I woke up this morning thinking...
"But I don't even like her!"

Even if I am avoiding saying this,
and trying not to think it,
she knows that I feel this way.

"Little Rylee" knows
that I don't like her,
or that I am angry at her,
or that I am afraid of her.

There are no secrets from her,
although she keep plenty of secrets from me!

Could this be one of the reasons
that make me so afraid of her???

#73 I Miss You.

#72 The Voice From Beyond the Wall

At some point in my life I erected a wall within myself. Maybe it was so that I would not have to listen to "her" babbling, crying or screaming. Whatever the reason, it has lead, I think, to the situation that I find myself in now.
It is true that I have often heard the voice from beyond the wall say things that surprised and frightened me. I immediately tossed them back over the wall and buried my bewilderment.
The very serious internal injuries that I have perpetrated against my body appalled me, even more than it did other people. Although I admitted that, at the time, I was the only one home (I was sure of that), I could honestly tell someone that only a truly crazy person could do such things...and I am not crazy! I just never understood where the capacity for that much pain came from (and I still don't).
Then I went and did it again.
The little one beyond the wall is still saying incomprehensible stuff but I will not deny her reality anymore. Together we are tearing down the damn wall.

#71 She Wants to Talk

When my therapist gave me her e-mail address back in August, I wrestled with what I would (allow myself) to write to her about. I realize, now, that I was deciding whether I would give "little Rylee” access. It did seem obvious, as it has all my life, that she would not be allowed to communicate and I was able to enforce that ban even on August 18th when she hurled herself out of her box.

All my life, when I have found myself on the edge, I have had to try to keep her inside until I got home, or at least until, I was alone. There was never a serious possibility that I would let her out into the world. Her feelings; her experiences were to be keep stored away, out of site.
She must not be seen or heard.

Without a doubt, she has taken over in therapy, on some occasions in the past. Even if I can’t quite remember the details, I know when she has been there. But she did it without my permission.
The reason I wrestled with the possibility of her communicating with my therapist back in August is because of how badly "little Rylee" wants to talk to her.
Now it is time to unlock the box.
She has finally found someone that she trusts.

#70 The MEs That Are ME

#69 torture

I know very well that I should not be writing here right now. Hopefully common sense will prevail before I click "post."

But I am so discouraged ("furious") right now. My "little self" has been showing up in therapy for 5 times now. Over the years she has only appeared to another person, under extreme conditions. Extreme fear and/or extreme rage.
But she has been appearing to my therapist for these last few weeks. She has been gaining confidence and losing her fear. She has been sharing her feelings and even some of her memories. She has only done this because of the level of trust we were able to provide for her.

Today that went bust. Therapists have private lives. They need to go off and do other stuff! Maybe lots of it. Maybe for ever!

I lay alone in the dark for a thousand years and no one came.
Who told you to give me hope that it will all be over one day?
Why did you make me think there would be no more burns or blood?
What right do you have to use "a little hope" to prolong the torture!

We are all truly truly alone here.