falling in to the abyss

I have done it again with all the predictability I have come to expect of my self. I bought pot for Jared. Split it with him. Bought pot again and then again. So I am now nearing the end of a 3/4 of an ounce of pot,  smoking since Friday last. it has been seven days of wake and bake and I am putting on weight because I am eating a lot.Not present at all and missing work for three days. Just popping in and doing the least required and then disappearing home to invisibility. Absence of presence.

manifesto

I realize that my self doubt, and an internalized hate and sorrow about me has to stop. It is chronic and complex, some of which is tied to my ptsd. I am miserable in my spirit. I criticize everything about myself and others. In the days since the accident I have struggled to sleep, struggled with tears, considered suicide yet again. .
I miss creating theatre. I fear loss of income to get back to it. But more than that I fear being good enough. I need  manifesto that I create to help live my life with compassion and love. To live an ethical life and embrace all of my life experience and forgive me forgive me forgive me..
Manifesto
Stop hating myself and accept me for what I am...I am what I am and I deserve my own love.

email to Trish

 Below is a copy and paste of an email sent to Trish...

had a bad day. I had an accident this morning at 7 a.m., in the rain and pitch black. I hit a pedestrian that I did not see. He hit my windshield and bounced off, but landed on his feet and walked to the side of the road. He is okay. I  ran over to him asked are you okay, omg I didn't see you I am so sorry. I am so sorry.  Asked him to sit down. He refused. He said only his elbow hurt. All I could think was I could have killed him. Every time I apologized, he just ignored me. Police came, ambulance and the paramedics checked him out, and said he seemed okay. He refused treatment at first but I insisted that an ambulance be called and he be checked out. The officer was very polite to me, very kind. He told me "It was dark dark,raining, he was dressed all in black, I don't anyone would have seen him." I got a ticket for failure to give the right of way to a pedestrian. It is a misdemeanor. It was very scary and upsetting.. My windshield was destroyed. No other damage to my car. But I am pretty shook up. Have a bad headache and feel very bad about it. 

My day started in a very different place. I have been taking walks in the woods the last week or so. Replaced swimming with this 50 minute walk up bird hill nature preserve. And I like it. I had a breakthrough on my walk last night. And wrote of it this morning. I wrote of feelings and thoughts that I have never before allowed into my consciousness in a fully formed series of thoughts. It was a relief to write it out but disturbing too. But I felt okay you are taking steps into the unknown but they are good steps. Keep on writing about it.

Showered, dressed, made lunch, packed up for gym and left for work...and hit a man with my car by accident. And thought of it as a punishment, hand of god from heaven blame for what I had written. I do not even believe in god. But goddam if it didn't pop into my head and torture me. I don't think I was careless in my driving. I came to a stop at the stop sign and thought will I go up 4th and park or do I want to turn left and park on Kingsley. I choose turning left. I started to turn and as I got in the cross walk that is when I hit him. Poor guy. He must have head his down, he was wearing a hood too. 

I worked hard to stay present. My PTSD is hankering in on me. But I feel vulnerable and alone. I am afraid that I might be sued although he refused hospital treatment, said he was okay, and he was not acting like someone who was building a case. Still I am worried because he was stubborn and nvere looked at me or accepted any of my apologies. Could be shock, and anger, could be his personality. Time will tell.. Rest of day was insurance, reports wind shield repair...

The hard part for me now is disconnecting the early morning breakthrough and truth telling of the hard kind from the subsequent accident and guilt...sigh.

Yesterday was a memorable day. I hit a pedestrian with my car. He is alright. He was seen by paramedics who declared he was okay. I feel bad. I didn't see him, it was dark, no street light, raining and he was dressed in black. The car windshield shattered and I was given a ticket, a misdemeanor for failure to yield to a pedestrian. I am relieved from my initial shock that the man is okay. I am still feeling the aftermath. My muscles are achy and I have a headache.

When it happened I had some bad thoughts. Was I being punished? Here was proof I am bad. A diary entry admitting shame and guilt that has hung over me for years cannot be thrown off through a meager confession.

Pema said

To pick one thing-something we do everyday obsessively-and not do it for a short period of time. Two days. Try and discover what you're trying to avoid. I m going to stop plucking chin hairs with my pointy tweezers.

I was thinking yesterday about past therapists telling me that I was a victim and not to blame, not complicit in the incest forced upon me by my brother. From age five to age twelve I told people. I was rewriting my own history. The image of a twelve year old seems innocent free from blame. I was either a freshman or sophomore so I was either 13 or 14. I wanted to distance myself...from what? Blame, persecution. My own most likely. Alice I think was trying to help me deal with all the complicated feelings and I was resisting my own forgiveness. One therapist that Alice sent me to said "I can see the pain around your eyes. It represents the part of the experience that was pleasurable." How can a victim enjoy any part of the abuse experience?

Because he was paying attention to me. It was never overtly violent or forced. Coerced but as an adult looking back it has taken years to understand that there is a kind of violence in being coerced.

I have distanced distracted ignored suffered because of self hate. Called myself names. Bad no good horrible deviant dirty girl. Obsessed with memories.

Therapists told me about boundaries. But I could not tell them - although I would imagine telling them- like a confessor seeking forgiveness. Imagining their kind and loving words assuring me I was not a monster I was normal and as good as anyone else. But I always felt crushed by the mere idea of speaking out loud my shame. And here at 59 I still am. All the journals and writing and therapy and not a word.

Therapists did not help me resolve the part of the experience that I desired. And I must have for the length of time it went on, and the ease with which I was able to end it. The last time -another lie- was when I heard his car come into the driveway. I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. A first. He found me and asked to come in. I said no. I said no and he went away and he never tried again.

Then the real pain comes from being sexualized so young. Seeking sexual pleasure with others around me, such as boys in junior high and even the family dog and cat. I was in a highly aroused state.

The greatest pain-shame- comes from the last incident. After my divorce, age 23. Willingly in my brother's bed. Fondling, masturbating but no penetration. Who was I that day?

change

I want change, and changes
I am afraid of both.
Change is one thing you can count on. My dad taught me that.

I get within 2 pounds of being under 200 pounds and what do I do? I fall off the wagon and put back on weight and smoke pot every day wake and bake style for two whole weeks.  For two years I was able to change..until I was working out 6 days a week. Have not gone in two weeks.

What feels good about it? The change of feeling. I don't feel as lonely. I am off the grid which oppresses me and triggers me with bad memories. Every day trauma images in my head. I would give almost anything to make them stop and go away forever. I think sometimes when I fantasize suicide ... it is to escape memory. I say fantasize because I would not commit suicide outright. Slowly kill myself through neglect is familiar. As much as I really liked the new margaret I did not know her.

Every day I can have my friend-a joint-hang with me and make it okay to live with my feelings. Your worst fears are your oldest ones.

No one would love me if they knew.

when will it stop being attractive?

I felt good. Sometimes almost giddy. Those are not familiar feelings. I also felt very lonely. I usually do not feel lonely-not because I am surrounded by folks-but because I numb out not to feel lonely. I have learned that by being present I could  feel the mass of my loneliness-I am 59-alone-living in a town anonymously-isolated-it is up to me to change that "state of being" but like a child I still "wait" for some other person to rescue me and make me happy-but it never happens. Odd I still wait.

I fell off the wagon again...a long destructive binge. I have been stoned since Friday September 28. It is now Oct, 8. Went to work as little as possible. Stopped working out. Ate what I wanted. Been hiding, numbing, disappearing, not showing up, sleeping, failing to medicate...I am again acting out. But it is so destructive and unhealthy. Kills me. Kills me. It is like a suicide slow but never the less deliberate. This feels familiar. I know this existence and it sucks. I hate it. Why do I keep returning to it? This where I feel ugly and ashamed of me just for existing. It is a most hateful place.

I will never win any prizes..all my youthful dreams unfulfilled. My usual game plan? Run. Run away from this physical place and your feelings. But your feelings come with you. You have to run away again to get away from the feelings that will come with you.I have fantasies lately of quitting, packing, cashing in 20K 401K and going home to Buffalo. Find a job back home. But home seems a tired place. And by the time I get to that thought I know I will never do that. But I will always want to.

whats goin on?

2009 zoom ahead to October 2012

Very much different and very much the same. Still at HRWC, six years now. I believe outside of Ujima and or HAG that is my longest stay at a job. I have not been in talk therapy for four years now. Another new record.  My learning curve has been steep. For a year now, I have been involved with a meditation group, a once a week meeting that I enjoy and is of benefit. Asa died. Kate married Erin. Garland and Nancy have two little girls and are married. Sarah and George remain a couple. Carmen is in NYC, Robbie and Lorna both had cancer. I lost 70 pounds, lowered my bp, cholesterol, visit my doc every month, work out at rec center, have a personal trainer, take wellbrutin now for two years. I no longer take short acting/corrective insulin, and I take less than half of what I was taking of lantus/long acting insulin. Most helpful were the workshop classes that I took -three times- with Marilyn Migliore's  and her Hunger Within Workshop.

It would appear that I have found compassion for my self. Maybe it is that the boogieman died. Never ever to return. I do believe that there is relief there for parts of myself that have remained afraid all these years right along and next to my forgiveness of and fondness for that same boogieman. The brother that I miss. Someday the universe willin-I will be older then him. If I live to be 66. I will have grown older, than my oldest brother. It is safe now to be angry towards him. I can't hurt him by hating him or being angry at him. Nothing to loose that I haven't already learned to live without.

I still doubt my self. I second guess. I mourn. I live in memory of past traumas.



Living in memory...