Posted in Journal Entry

Journal Entry – September 2, 2016

I admit it… Everything is my fault…

Maybe I did not deserve how I was being treated, but neither did he deserve to be treated the way he was either.  Whether I made that explicitly clear earlier or not, I will accept the blame for any misunderstandings, and I am sorry…

I am sorry I hurt everyone, and I love you all more than ever.  It hurts that I lost all of you in one fell swoop just because I could not handle it anymore.  You have stronger shoulders than I do because you deal with these things every day, and I could not handle it for a few measly weeks.

All I can say is how sorry I am and how much I miss all of you: the one who knows me the best, the one who understands my love languages the best, the one who forgives the best, the one who grounds me the best, the one who knows how to make me laugh the hardest, the one who makes me feel like I am perfect the way I am, the ones who make me feel like everything is going to be ok, the one who always surprises me…

I know it will never be the same again, but I do hope that you can all forgive me, some day, somehow…

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Posted in Journal Entry, Uncategorized

Journal Entry – August 27, 2016

Cinderella was such a dork. She left behind her glass slipper at the ball and then went right back to her step-monster’s house. It seems to me she should have worn the glass slipper always, to make herself easier to find. I always hoped that after the prince found Cinderella and they rode away in their magnificent carriage, after a few miles she turned to him and said, “Could you drop me off down the road please? Now that I’ve finally escaped my life of horrific abuse, I’d like to see something of the world, you know?… I’ll catch back up with you later, Prince, once I’ve found my own way. – Rachel Cohn, Dash and Lily’s Book of Dares

Am I allowed to find my own way?  I am simply trying to process everything.  I put each of my relationships in its own box, hoping that the problems in one box would not spill over and destroy the contents of another box.  Yet, I am bombarded as the boxes tilt and fall.  I must go to work every day with a smile on my face to protect the young lives I mold.  It is my prayer that I can make a difference in their lives no matter what is destroying me on the inside.  I once was that suffering child, begging for attention, for help, for someone to notice, and maybe, just maybe, I would not be where I am today if one teacher forgot about everything else for five seconds and asked me what I wanted to play, helped me build a tower of legos, even just colored with me.

Maybe, maybe not…

Thank you, Tia.  You were the best babysitter.  You made the times I felt abandoned and rejected by my parents seem not so bad.  I had fun playing Little House on the Prairie, no matter how many times the Indians kidnapped us.

Posted in Journal Entry

Journal Entry – August 26, 2016

The table has been completely overturned, and I did it to myself!  A couple of weeks ago, [Relyt] and I sat down to discuss my various triggers and the stories behind them.  We talked about some of my childhood, the first time someone attempted to rape me, some of my love life, and [he who shall not be named].  It was a flood of memories and locked doors suddenly all unlocked at once.

Please don’t make any sudden  moves. You don’t know the half of the abuse. – twenty one pilots, “Heathens”

I was overwhelmed by all the emotions, and I just wanted to get it over with.  I wanted to slam the doors shut and hide my feelings.  So I did.  I bottled it back up and redirected the conversation.  Yet the seal had been broken.  I can’t hide from the voices in my head, the endless memory reel.  Every touch, gentle or forceful, every word, sweet or frightening, plays over and over, and to get to those long buried memories, I had to disturb much more recent ones.  Memories of my soul mate threatening to smash my head through a windshield, threatening to expose me as a violent psychopath, cheating on me with every whore with a computer, posting nude photos of me on Craigslist as a ploy to get nudes from lesbians.  Through all of that, I stayed strong, faithful, and submissive.

However the final straw came when he threatened to commit suicide.  I called the police, convinced him to come home, talked him down, kept watch, and worried, and all he had to say was how horrible of a submissive I was because I wouldn’t follow his orders to give him back his knives.  I broke, and I tried to run away.  I ended up at Sanctuary.  I spilled my story to everyone until I was shaking.  It wasn’t every detail, barely brushed the surface, but it was enough.  They helped me leave him, and in the following days, I have bared my soul and began a search for the real me. I am grappling with my own concepts of gender and submission.  I am finally ready for the answer.  I think.

Posted in Journal Entry

Journal Entry – August 13, 2016

The closer you think you are, the less you’ll actually see. – J. Daniel Atlas

Some people do not understand my connection to movies.  “It’s just make-believe,” they say; they make fun of me when I cry in the theatre.  For me, however, for that short timespan, fiction becomes reality.  In my very soul, I become the Great Observer.  I may not be the Clock Winder, but I am aware of the consequences of everyone’s actions and it affects my very core, my emotional and spiritual stability.  Today I watched a film that not only drove me to tears, made me literally quiver with anger, and affect my emotional and spiritual stability, but also question my sanity and concept of self.  I have never seen myself as having dissociative identity disorder as I do not literally hear other voices in my head, but today… maybe I do… maybe my intermittent explosive disorder is a symptom.  The big question is whether or not to commit myself.  I see no part of myself as sane.  Rational, yes.  Sane, no.  I am part psychotic, part sociopathic, part psychopathic, maybe more.  I am the entire suicide squad in one body: Deadshot, Harley, Killer Croc, Diablo, Boomerang… even Enchantress, Joker.  The good I have done in this world goes completely unnoticed; all of my sins are on display.  I am broken, and I am destined to hurt everyone that I love.  Whatever happens, she needs to be stopped.  If I have to die in the process, so be it.  I am a monster, a predator, and I cannot control it much longer.

Posted in Dreams, Nightmares, and Night Terrors, Journal Entry

Journal Entry – August 6, 2016

TRIGGER WARNINGS – graphic descriptions of torture and homicide

As each day passes, I feel more and more connected to the things that confused me so much in my childhood.  My dreams are flooding back to me, bringing with them new aspects and inspirations.  Just the other day, I had the dream where I am scared, hiding, from what I just cannot remember.  I am in my maternal grandparents’ house, and I can feel “it” drawing closer.  I think I see “it” through a window, and I try to hide in the guest room closet, but I find myself descending a ladder into what reminds me of Bane’s sewer lair.  I am surrounded by red and black demons doing Harley Quinn’s bidding as she observes from her throne in a theatre box on the opposite wall.  My friends and family are all being tortured throughout the chamber.  [My sister] is being flayed alive just to my right of the box.  My father is to the left.  I cannot see him, but I hear his screams.  I want to be brave, and I remember time when I have been, sacrificing myself to save everyone else, but this time I run like a coward.  Soon the demons are on me, dragging me back to her presence.  She orders them to drive rebar nails through my knees and elbows, spreading me, for permanent display.  I begin to sob as a black demon approaches.  I close my eyes in anticipation of the pain, but they take me by the hand.  I recognize that grip.  My eyes open, and through my tears, I see Snow dressed in black, holding the instruments of my torture.  We are no longer Dominant and submissive here; we are joint prisoners, just trying to survive.  Snow gives me a reassuring look and whispers that I need to trust them.  Then they raise the hammer, and they begin driving the stake in my thigh.  Somehow I understand that they were trying to save my mobility, by ignoring the order to put the stake through my joints.  Just as I pass out from the pain, someone bashes Snow’s brains out.  I feel the matter splatter my body, and I hear them crumple to the floor.  I woke up sobbing, a charlie horse rendering my thigh useless.

~~~~~~~~~~

My deja vu has also returned full force.  Last night, Angel and his werewolf friend were talking to me, and I could have quoted the entire conversation to them, verbatim, but I didn’t.  My spirit connection is growing stronger, and I am beginning to recognize Kit and Kingair everywhere.  They don’t like to share the same space, but that means I have the opportunity to learn their different personalities.  I feel like a third spirit is in there too, but she is far too shy to reveal herself yet.  I started reading The Path of the Christian Witch this morning, and I feel a connection to Adelina.  However I still do not like the word “witch”, and I do not think I am on a Wiccan path.

On another note, if PTSD triggers were a literal minefield, I would be dead. I am learning how to deal with all this through trial and a lot of error.  It makes me feel so helpless when someone I love is hurting so much, and yet I can do nothing.

Posted in Journal Entry

Journal Entry – July 27,2016

Today I begin my written journey to find myself.  It seems like almost everyone around me knew who they were, what they wanted, and where they were going by the time they were eighteen; but I guess I have always been a late bloomer.  I would love to have a better idea of what to do next, but as the cheshire cat says about if you don’t know where you’re going,

Then it doesn’t much matter which way you go.

At this point, it would probably behoove me to write what I do know.  I know I want to continue being a teacher, I know I hate teaching the way I’m doing it now, I know I’m comfortable with my gender and sexuality now, I know I am happy with my polyamorous lifestyle, and I know I am not pentecostal.  As of right now, I am unsure of my religious affiliation, but Christo-Paganism, or more specifically, Christo-Atanism is appealing to me.  I need to do a lot more reading on the subject though.  In these pages, I will detail my journey, as well as, jot down any insights or thoughts I may have concerning my submissive nature.  For now though, it is time to say good night.