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NitaAnn Jan 2014
I have reached the bottom of the well of logic & rationality today...
and it is bone dry!

Gosh, it sounds like you had a really bad night last night.
Really?
I hadn't noticed Dr. Obvious!  
I don't need "validation" about how hard the night was!

NEWSFLASH
I WAS THERE!

  At least for some of it!
And the most fabulous thing is...
if you hang on till the next day,
no matter how much it *****,
you get a quick pat on the back for not "hurting" yourself.

NEWSFLASH # 2
Doesn't make it **** any less!!!!!

I have reached deep into the well of logic and rationality today and the well is dry.
So I'm done!
  FINISHED!  
NO MORE TALKING OR REACHING OUT!

It doesn't matter.  It never did.  
I can't do it.  I am not strong enough.
And it seems as though it doesn't matter
how difficult it is as long as you don't cut yourself
then everyone thinks everything is fine.

And I want to just scream out:
NOTHING IS FINE!!! CAN'T YOU SEE THAT?
I COULD NOT BE FURTHER THAN FINE!
  
But it wouldn't matter if I did...no one listens.  
If there are no external scars - no one listens - so it doesn't matter.
NitaAnn Jan 2014
I knew that things weren't going well this week. And I know that this process is cyclical - but today - I spent today trying to find myself. I have been lost this week, and I don't know where I've gone. I feel things inside of me that are trying to break out and if I give in to them I will once again find myself in a mess...useless to everyone, including myself. By mid-morning, I was overwhelmed, and I tried to brace myself, to focus on something other than the thoughts and feelings that were overwhelming me. I have been holding it together since the New Year, ignoring any negative thoughts, focusing on the positive...I am trying so hard to 'emotionally regulate' - but underneath it all I am so broken and I don't know how to fix it. It takes so much energy to hold it together all week long that by the weekend I am exhausted!

I make progress, or at least it seems like progress to me, for a few weeks but then once again, I have hit the brick wall and I lose all motivation and become frustrated with the entire process. It's not that I expect to click my heels together 3 times and be healed, I know it doesn't work that way...but this constant back and forth, and up and down...I have nothing left to give. I have heard over and over and over again, "the process is slow…it will take years, you are making progress"....but it's impossible to live a normal life like this. I can't seem to put my finger on the trigger, I could feel the familiar pain and the hurt...and then I fall back into my old coping mechanisms, I find solace in them, I wrap myself up in the familiarity of drinking, the anti-anxiety and sleeping meds...I haven't cut myself, but today I want to and it is the first time I have had that feelings since December. It scares me and yet I didn't reach out to anyone. What good would it do? My friends would just say, "Nita, You've come so far, pull it together. You're stronger than this." Well, that is assuming they even answered my calls. And DT? I feel so distant from him that I wouldn't call him if I was standing on the roof trying to decide if I'm going to jump from the front, or the back, of the house.

The past several days have been difficult, even with the distraction of school and work, so I'm going to brace myself, because as hard as they've been, it's nothing compared to what the next few days are going to bring.

I'm not okay tonight. I need something, someone....I can't put into words how much it aches, deep inside my heart... Why does this happen? That everything seems to be okay and then suddenly, from no where, the bottom drops out and once again it starts all over again....the hurt, the pain, the feelings of hopelessness. I don't understand...but I don't feel safe tonight. I haven't felt safe all week. I feel like a frightened little girl.

But I can do this, I will be okay... there isn't another choice, is there?
NitaAnn Jan 2014
Come and walk with me!
I take your hand and allow you to push open the heavy, creaking door to my thoughts.
Together we pause at the vast emptiness before us, creaking dreams beneath our feet, memories and beliefs casting shadows on the vast walls.

We move cautiously inside the entrance, tread carefully on my forgotten memories and dreams, their hold on me lost through time.
Please ignore the twitching corpses and further explore darkened, hidden, cobwebbed corners.

Gliding through the room, I pull you down, ducking as another thought flies through the air hitting the opposite wall with a loud splat then landing in the pile of screaming thoughts below, where they stay, awaiting the inevitable time when they will either be dismissed or built upon.

Allow me to guide you through the room, dodging the memories best forgotten, notice the shame and fear apparent on my face as we view them together.

Take a moment to scan the dark room, breathe in the fresh hopes and dreams; their bright bodies hung carefully on the sun drenched walls, waiting for the eventual time when they will be realized or floored.

Their hopes shimmer in vivid brilliance to the limited few who are trusted enough to view them. Laugh as you catch glimpses of the insane images before you, cry at those of more morbid times. Feel yourself being dragged into the moment, your sleeve being tugged at by a crying child.
And in the blink of an eye that same child scrambles over to you.
Pull yourself back into the present, realizing the child before you is me.

Explore the room further, try to avoid the tear filled pool, where all tears are recorded and verified at being shed…wept through time.

Stop and hover at the shrine of the memories of my life.

Images and clips are projected throughout me and are now available for your viewing.
Notice how the salty pool of tears deepens while you witness me recounting the losses, the pain.

As we walk further into the room, journeying through time, moving closer and closer to the present…remember to observe the moments and memories of time, suspended in mid-air, burning in a golden light.

Now witness the smugness…the only part of my mind visible now, its golden beauty being cast throughout my body, washing me in an aura-like glow.

The warmth of the complacency keeps me sane, urging thoughts to be formed, its magnetism pulling words from the neglected pile and painting them into pictures, parading them in the room until they are given attention and brought to life.

As we move toward the door, look over your shoulder at what you have witnessed the room now a hub of excitement, never before viewed by anyone.

The air thick with scents of raw emotion, its nakedness daunting and yet liberating.
Its shadow and mediocre existence no longer locked away but instead camouflaged in an attitude and personality of an unexpected level.

Pursued by many, their relentless banging, wasted energy, their persistence jamming the door further, while the rusted lock twists tighter and tighter, until the eventual breaking of the lock, shattering all ties with the pursuer.

We step over the threshold, out of the house and into the sun.

I close the heavy doors to my thoughts, and replace the rusted lock on my soul.
I glance over at you and you catch my gaze.
You nod your head at me and reach out your hand.

I am unable to reach for you… I don't believe in myself, I don't love myself.

But I hope that eventually I will find peace from the inner turmoil that has me vice grip, tightening with each passing day.

I look at you with desperation in my eyes, longing to believe the wisdom you speak is "truth".
Walk with me...see my shame and sadness, witness my hopes and dreams
NitaAnn Jan 2014
Tonight I want to express my gratitude but my words seem to fail me. The support I receive is part of the reason why I fight so hard. You send me strength when I have none. Even far away, you are still right here, listening to me, encouraging me, holding me, loving me, sending me hope. Shared history explains the how, but love explains the why. You, my guardian angels, carry me through, reminding me that my life is worth fighting for, that I am worth fighting for, I deserve to be here. That Nita can be saved.
NitaAnn Jan 2014
I am surrounded by so many people,
all of these friends that love me
and i can't help but wonder how did i get here?
How did i find this?
I had no one and i felt like nothing.
I wanted so badly for someone just to touch me.
Place a hand on my shoulder, hug me.
Any kind of human contact.
I was dying with out it.
Sinking into a black hole in the earth.
And here it is.
Here is love.

Here are arms embracing me.
I found a place to call home and it not a house
but in the hearts of people with spirits so beautiful
that they don't even seem real.
Is this real?
Sometimes i think i made it up, made them up.
That really there is no love.
How can it be real?
It doesn't make sense that once i felt so dead and empty,
a ghost floating around the earth.
Just an empty shell with broken bits of a girl inside.
And now to feel so alive and vibrant and here,
and solidly placed with my feet on the ground.

I sometimes don't even recognize the sound
of laughter coming from my own lips
or the unfamiliar feeling of smiling to much.
Is this me? Is this happening?
How can I be that same dead girl
that was so invisible and missing so much?
Yet none of those missing parts seem to matter much anymore.
Maybe it will always surprise me
that people are even capable of loving me
or that I am even capable of loving them in return.
Surprising that i can even open myself up to those arms of people.

Surprising that i'm even still here, alive everyday to feel this.
NitaAnn Jan 2014
As a child I would spend my nights in prayer. Praying to God to make it stop or **** me. Life went on then as it does now…slow and painful, with me begging for it to end. I still remember the prayer I would pray to God. A prayer that still gets prayed even today.

“Dear Mr. Jesus, if you can hear me please do not let him hurt me anymore, Mr. Jesus. Please come and take me away with you. I want to be an angel with soft fluffy white wings. Don’t you need an angel like me, Mr. Jesus? I’ll be good. I promise I’ll be a good angel.” Apparently, he didn’t. And it was because bad girls can’t be angels. Bad little girls have to stay with bad people and be punished for being bad.

She is still bad. Bad bad girl. That is why therapist doesn’t want to talk to her. Nobody cares that we are hurting.  All because she is a bad bad girl. Bad girls don’t get to be angels. Bad girls get punished.
NitaAnn Jan 2014
“My dear little one, what do you want? What do you need right now? Sweet little girl, what do you want?”* asks DT


I gently whisper my response, "I want to feel better."


“Okay, tell me more,” he softly inquires.


I take a deep breath and continue, “I want to be okay with all of my feelings and I don’t want to be afraid to share them. I want to believe that I am not my past, that my past is just a part of me. I want to be loved for who I am, and not what I have accomplished. I want to be authentic and real, and not be afraid to show the real me, all of me. I want to laugh more, that deep belly laugh, until tears of joy stream down my cheeks. And I want to cry less from that desperate, hopeless place I find myself in during the night. I want to be able to sleep without nightmares and no longer fear the darkness. I want to live without the voices in the shadows of my mind telling me I am bad, worthless, undeserving of care and love. I want to believe in myself, and I want to believe in others too. I want to trust. I want to understand, at the core of my being, that I am safe, and that I am going to be okay, no matter what happens.”


“Is there anything else?” DT asks me.


“I want to love myself for who I am. I want to recognize that I am working hard, that I will be okay. I want to love myself just because I am alive, and I am strong, and I deserve to find peace and happiness. I want to love all of me, even the parts I have not yet accepted and the parts that I do not like. I want to feel the love I have for myself every single day, even if only in some small way, even if only for a minute."


He answers my request in a soft confident voice,

*"You will have these things. I believe in you. You will be okay. You will live."
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