I don’t have all that much to say.
I’m trying to keep my mind busy. I’m generally OK at work because I don’t have time to think about things. The kids keep me running. Evenings and weekends are a different story. I’m tired from battling my mind. I’ve been doing some private writing, but I don’t feel comfortable enough to put it up in public. It’s pretty bad. Not as in poor writing, but in just really raw emotional stuff.
I’ve noticed myself absentmindedly scratching at my arms. In my book, this is borderline self injury. So I’m trying to be more aware of what I’m doing at all times. I’m trying to find things to distract my hands when I find myself doing this. Popit has become my latest time sink/distraction.
…may be an understatement.
I’ve been having (what I’m assuming are) horrible body memories. Jigsaw Analogy asked if I had gotten checked out. Ummm… no. I asked one of the Korean teachers at work if she knew of a gyn that speaks English. It was horribly embarrassing for me to even ask her that. She doesn’t. She asked me why. I started to cry as I tried to explain. I hate this so much.
So Jeannie called a doctor she knows and she’s going to go with me tomorrow. I’m terrified. I can’t stand going to the gyn as it is. But I’m in a strange country and a co-worker is going with me. It’s like a nightmare. I know I’ll feel a little bit better when I know it’s all in my head (so to speak). But I’m so dreading have to have an exam done.
Sorry, I just needed to get this out. Good vibes would be very much appreciated.
I’m still around. The body memories are terrible. I’m a master dissociator, but they seem to be getting through the dissociation. I can still feel the pain, even though I’m not aware of why. If that makes any sense at all…
I talked to a friend last night. That helped some.
I’m just completely exhausted. I need about 6 more hours in a day to get stuff done and still have time to keep myself grounded.
I’m convinced I wasn’t a normal child. I’ve been watching my students at recess for six months now. I didn’t really do any of the things they do. Then again, I certainly didn’t have a normal childhood.
One of the “games” I played constantly was having a funeral. And I’m not talking about a funeral for someone else. I’m talking about my funeral. I don’t see how people used to argue that young children could not be suicidal. They argued that young children can’t understand the finality of death. I certainly did.
This “game” of mine started when I was five or so. At least those are the earliest memories I have of it. I can place the time because of the surroundings I can see in my mind’s eye. The green carpet. The little desk and bench in my room. The net full of stuffed animals hanging from the ceiling.
I would put my doll, “W”, on the bench that went with my desk and place it in the middle of the room. I would line up all my stuffed animals and they would mourn. But they weren’t mourning “W”. “W” was actually me. I was pretending that I was having my own funeral.
I don’t remember how long I played this game. But it was quite a while. Nobody ever saw me. They left me alone to amuse myself.
For some reason this bothers me a lot. I don’t know why. It’s such a poignant reminder of how sad I was as a child.
I have them.
I’m having extremely severe almost unrelenting body memories right now. I’m so anxious, I can feel the tension in my back and shoulders and neck. I’m trying to use all my coping skills. I REALLY want to cut. I’m doing everything I can to avoid it. This is exhausting. I don’t have anything useful to write. I just needed to get this out there before I scream and/or do something I’ll regret in the morning.
I just want to wish all my online friends a very Happy New Year!
May 2008 be filled with peace, joy and blessings.