23 May 2020: Glimpses of the Past

9:13 PM

Today I felt like I had a decent session with my therapist.  I felt like I went into it prepared, open, and ready to be honest.  There was decent dialogue and many things for me to take a look at.  I felt like there were things that I needed to take a look at inside myself.  

As the day has gone on, I have found myself falling deeper and deeper into depression.  There is so much confusion happening on the inside.  I am exhausted on all levels.  

Today there were a couple of things in session that were said that brought up a lot from the deepest pit of my stomach.  Things that hurt so incredibly bad.  Like rip  my insides out and stomp all over them.  And I don’t think he even knew that what he said cut me to the core.  That it brought up so much pain…so much shit that I don’t have any idea what to do with.  Not a fucking clue.  And I know he didn’t mean anything…and his intentions were good…but shit.  

At this very moment I have a lot of feelings…a lot of questions.  And for the first time throughout all of this, I’m finding it very difficult to find the words.  Normally writing is easy…things just flow, but right now I can’t quite figure out the confused jumbled thoughts in my head.  But I’ll give it a shot and see what comes out.  

During the session today, my therapist made a comment about something and made an off handed comment about blood spurting from a major artery…and for fucks sake, I don’t even remember what he was talking about, but I was taken back to my last semester of college.  I was there…watching the blood spurt out of my wrist, spurting at the same rate as my heartbeat.  Watching the blood coat the bathroom sink and run down the drain.  Being calm, and then afraid.  So much blood.  And all I can think is…I don’t even know.  I just sit here, staring at my wrist, caressing the scars…remembering.  The scars are fading, but every now and again, the memories and feelings they don’t feel like they’re fading…they come blaring back into my memory as fresh as ever.  

There are so many new things happening to me…happening inside.  Things that are just coming to me…things that are clearer…and yet so much that’s still just beyond what I can see in my mind.  1st and 2nd grade are completely lost to me.  Except I catch little glimpses of things from that time now.  Glimpses of being touched…feeling confused.  And it’s fuzzy…and I don’t understand it.  And it is making me question everything about my childhood.  With these memories just now coming into recollection for the first time, it feels so completely overwhelming, so present, so gross.  And I am crawling out of my skin.  And I don’t want to be touched.  I don’t want to be hugged.  I don’t want to feel anything.  And it feels incomplete.  And I’m left searching, racking my brain trying to fill in the pieces.  What happened?  What’s just beyond my reach?  

I think about these little glimpses that are just peeking through now…and so many things make sense now, albeit in a very fucked up kinda way.  Being scared of the dark for my entire life…going into freeze mode all the time…feeling hypersexual for as long as I can remember.  Being 10 and having clear memories of masturbating, although I’m pretty sure I didn’t even know what I was doing…being 13 and starting to looking at porn…being 14 and becoming sexually active…all these things that have made me feel like a horrible, immoral bad person all these years finally make sense.  And yet it all feels gross…it all feels disgusting.  And I don’t even know how to talk about it.  And I can’t.  I can’t sleep because I see it there, I can’t stand to be touched because I feel it there, and I can’t stand to be sober because it’s always lingering in the back of my mind.  

And I don’t know how to fit this into my life…into who I am.  And there is so much shame, embarrassment…so many questions.  And sometimes it just feels so overwhelming that I feel like I can’t keep living.  It literally feels like it’s killing me.  And I can’t even talk about it.  I’m not even entirely sure what’s there…and I’m not sure what’s worse…not fully knowing and being tormented by the blanks, or opening up that trauma and seeing it all as it is and being traumatized beyond repair.  

I remember really wanting to find my birth mother as a kid, find out what happened, what the story was.  And then I did.  I found out.  And it nearly killed me.  Like literally, nearly took my life.  And I feel like this is another one of those moments, where I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.  

But I suppose this is where the gross comes from.  That when I feel vulnerable, open, letting people touch me physically, emotionally, having them hold my innermost feelings and thoughts…I feel violated and gross.  Because those are my things.  I own them.  I own my feelings, my memories, my thoughts and my desires.  And it feels like having someone else in them with me is intrusive and gross and I can’t control what happens once they’re inside.  

It’s now nearly midnight.  I have to try to find the motivation to go home.  I have to try to find the motivation to keep going.  I have to figure out how to just make this all go away.  

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