#132 Blame Lifted.

#Fire Science 101

When a forest fire is raging, the experienced fire fighter lights a small, controlled fire directly in the path of the out of control blaze. This fire uses up the oxygen available to fuel the big one.

When I was a kid I was always worried about my Dad. He went away to the hospital 28 times in 4 years. Each time I was terrified that he would not come home again. Sensing the extreme tension in the house didn’t prevent me from getting on my mother’s nerves. The raging forest fire was the real possibility that my father might die and I, the carbon copy of him, would not survive that. He, who I loved above all else, was in constant danger and therefore so was I. A four year old can not figure out how to fix this.
So I lit small fires and my mother raged. The small things that I did to make her angry sucked all the energy from the forest fire of losing my Dad. When the small fire was extinguished, my mother and I both found some peace. My mother needed time to collect herself and my body needed time to heal. The pain was a distraction from the forest fire still baring down on us. The small diversion did not make my Dad OK but it re-directed the enormous energy needed to deal with the chronic fear. As an adult, self-injury would quite literally provide me with small burns to provide me respite.

#130 Battlefield Solutions

When I was a kid, my defence against overwhelming fear and helplessness was disocciation: "I can leave my body. This is amazing. Up here, I am not so scared."

But now that I'm a so-called adult, I often find myself in the midst of a firestorm of fear, rage, despair and hopelessness. The old weapon of disocciation is inadequate. But it does put me ten feet above the battlefield. It is not an escape from the firestorm but it makes it possible for me to bring in the big gun. We each have our own personal weapon of self-destruction that will send the demons back into the closet (for a while). My weapon of choice is self injury.

When I feel like I am about to explode or jump off a bridge, I leave my body to make it possible for me to burn or cut myself. To do violence to your body or your life is a terrible way to manage pain. Only a truly crazy person thinks this is a good solution, but it is a quick one.

#129 Incompetence!

People shouldn't be screwing around instead of doing their jobs! I want the trains to run on time all the time.
Incompetence! people who don't do their jobs make me crazy. I was never allowed to be incompetent, irresponsible, lazy, late, careless or forgetful. My life depended on it. My mother hated me if I was not getting it right!
I was never allowed to be wrong. Don't tell me that people are not perfect; that everyone makes mistakes. At 6 or 5 or 4 or 3 years old...even as a kid I wasn't allowed!
There has been a bomb ticking inside me for ever. A thousand times I have woken up in the morning and said: "Thank God - I put it off for one more day. The bomb didn't go off and I survived one more day.
I want to find that incompetent person and smash their head against the wall. They are putting us all in danger by being sloppy, careless and stupid! I want to kill them...I want to kill myself because I am so far from perfect. I want to kill my self because I never get it right. I smash my own head against the cement wall to drive out the danger.
I don't hear the bomb ticking anymore.

#128 The Explanation Point!

From the day that I was born,
my mother wanted an explanation!
"What's wrong with you?"

I dreaded the day
when I would have to explain...
so, I refused to talk until I was three!

then...
"What the hell are you doing?"
"What the hell are you thinking?"

now...
all these years later,
if I am sad or mad or scared,
I panic.
"What the hell am I feeling?"
someone wants to know.

Nothing. I am feeling nothing.
Nothing beyond the explanantion point!

#127 The Black Hole

I see myself sitting alone on the edge of a huge black hole. I know that I cannot survive being thrown into it again.
In there, I cannot touch the sides;
there is no beginning and no end;
it goes on forever.
So there, at the edge of the black hole, I split in two and abandoned myself.

The part that made her escape floated up to heaven where she could not see or hear or feel or remember....
or sometimes she just climbed into my head where she could fantasize about a place of safety....
and it was there that I learned to control time.
I could be outside time. She would shout, "it will be over soon!" I would project myself forward to a time when, it was indeed, all over!

Left behind, in the black hole, was little rylee. I left her alone, over and over, because I had been where she is now and I thought that I was going to die! I will do anything to avoid experiencing those feelings again. Including abandoning myself.

I will float away to heaven.
I will climb into my head and shut the door behind me.

#126 Careful or Careless?

If I am careless with my feelings you’ll get mad at me.
If I’m careful with my emotions you’ll get frustrated with me.

Yes. Yes. I know, there is a middle ground.
I have visited that ball park and survived,
but I‘m not able to live there all the time.

If I try to contain all of my anxiety and anger,
I will be alone when this lethal mixture goes off.

I am convinced that I will always carry too much of these feelings.
History tells me so.

It is so very important to me that I am in control of them,
out in the world where innocents can be hurt.

But, whether careful or careless,
I can feel them pushing outwards against my skin.
And it scares me.

But with one person, please God,
with just one person, I would like to feel safe.

#125 Feeling Outside, Feelings Inside.

My mother wanted me to be shy,
until it became an embarrassment.

Under my picture in the high school yearbook,
it said, “silence is golden.”
Did I really not talk to anyone
for five years?
The caption should have read,
“was anyone there?”

In the half century since,
I have hid behind many masks:
bashful, anxious,
androgynous, obese,
aloof, depressed;
keeping people out;
not letting people know me.

Telling myself that
I am too crazy, too stupid, too weird
to fit in.

The me that-is-me does not belong here.
The me that-is me-does not really know why.

#124 Yes I'm Still Here.

#123 My Self-Critic

MY SELF-CRITIC (JUDGE & JURY) HATES ME!

SHE IS ACTIVE ALL THE TIME. OF COURSE SHE IS TELLING THE TRUTH. IF SHE ISN’T THEN WHY IS SHE DOING THIS TO ME? WHAT WOULD BE HER MOTIVE FOR LYING?
She says that I am stupid, stupid, stupid; that I am fat, lazy and weak. She says that I have no right to feel the way I do; that I am a little kid with my emotions.
Also she says that I don’t deserve to be happy; that I don’t even know how to be happy. She says that I am too sensitive. She says that I am not good enough and that I never do anything right. She says all my efforts are embarrassing; that I will screw up eventually so it isn’t even worth trying.
And she says that the world is not a safe place and that I mustn’t let people “ in”. She says that people don’t like me or wouldn’t if they got to know me better. She says people are just being polite. She says that I can keep bad stuff from happening by worrying constantly about everything.
Then she says that hurting myself will make it all go away. She says that I am too angry and I will be punished for it.
Of course, she says that I am much too needy; and I am not, nor was I ever, loveable.
She says that I am not allowed back in my body.

IF ANY OF THESE ARE LIES....WHY CAN I NOT STOP THEM???

BECAUSE I HAVE NOT SUFFERED ENOUGH?
BECAUSE I HAVE NOT BEEN SEEN TO HAVE SUFFERED ENOUGH?

(NO POINTS FOR SELF-INFLICTED SUFFERING, OBVIOUSLY)
RYLEE

122 No One Should

#121 The Me That Is Not Me

#120 Shame

#119 Why Is It So Hard?

All I did was try to attend a flu clinic and now I am overwhelmed with anxiety.
I went to the office at 2:15pm but there were too many people! I read my book and went back at 3:30...too many people! I sat downstairs for twenty minutes and tried one more time. I didn't look at the adults and children waiting in the hall and got as far as putting my hand on the door. The reception room was full with kids all over the floor. Now the panic came in waves. I couldn't breathe. My heart was pounding so hard I thought they could hear it inside. I ran.
I cried all the way home. I hate this. It is so ridiculous. This is one of those days when I cannot stand to be seen. I cannot walk through a group of people with nothing to do but stare at me. Kids are the worst. I become upset around them, I think, because they are so unpredictable.

How I would love to hurt myself right now; just to calm myself down and help me forget. Why is everything so hard?

#118 Man of the House

“Be strong...
look after your Mother and Sister.”
i nod agreeably.
This Doctor,
who has come to the house
to declare my Father dead,
hands me a pill...
and appoints me,
the youngest,
head of this fragmented Family.

i take the job
because
the shining centre,
my older brother,
has been murdered by a drunk driver
just six months ago.

The Sun was gone
and now my Dad is gone too.

Through those dark winter months
i watched cancer
dig this second hole
in our wretched, despairing, despondent Family.

“Off to church we go,
God will help you cope
when I am gone.”
But He didn’t Dad,
because i didn’t know how to ask.

So,
here am i...the
ill-equipped replacement.
“Bring home the bacon,
dress the part,
take care of everyone!”
Where are my blue tights and cape?

Reeling from this double disaster,
i keep trying to conquer my fear,
to outrun sickness and accident
that can come in the night
and take another one of us.

Trying to keep everyone safe
didn’t leave time
for growing up.
i became the Man of the House
when i was just a scared little girl.