"nita" poems
I am a stranger to myself.
I do not know how to be gentle, compassionate, or loving, to any part of myself.
I have always been able to present myself well in most public situations,
be it work, school, parental obligations, parties.
I can be calm and level-headed.
I am able to problem solve in logical and intelligent ways.
I can be humorous and glamorous when need be.
But it seems as though that power and confidence,
that grace and strength, is only a mask.
I now have more days when that mask feels heavy.
And when I lack the strength to put it on, I have to hide myself.
And I’ve been hiding a lot lately.
I hid yesterday.
I am hiding today.
I hear the words of care that others speak,
but they don’t feel real to me.
Sometimes I can accept their words while knowing
that they do not realize that I am a disgusting person who deserves to be treated badly.
They see what I want them to see.
I watch them interact with the humorous Nita, the intelligent Nita,
and I watch it all from the outside.
I want so much more for myself.
Who is this Nita that is respected by so many?
I want to be loved and to feel love.
I want to be free from the father and the host body.
I desperately wish to be free from them, and not just in a surface way.
I want them out of me forever.
My soul cries out for kindness and gentleness
and yet when it is offered I cannot accept it.
I want to be respected and loved
and yet I do not know how to love or respect myself.
I know how to pretend.
I wrote the book on how to hide your feelings.
I know how to smile, I know how to laugh.
I know that I have been given gifts but I don’t know how to use them.
And the ones who were abused, ***** assaulted, degraded…
they are afraid to dream that there is more to life than this.
They cannot fathom that there exists a world
where they can be loved in a gentle way, touched in a way that does not hurt.
They stopped dreaming a long time ago.
I want to stop fighting so hard,
so much of the time...fighting myself, the therapist
the fighting stubborn one just comes out in full-force at any perceived threat
and I want her to stop fighting when there is no reason to fight.
I want to learn to trust in myself and others.
I want the chaos and confusion inside my mind to clear
and I want some sense of cohesiveness and togetherness inside of me.
I want to believe that there is more to life
than pretending behind an illusion of imaginary togetherness...
more than just feeling ashamed and degraded.
I want to trust that I am allowed to heal.
I want to believe that I am worth the time and the effort it is taking,
and the pain I endure every day.
I want to believe that I am not what they said I am,
that real love actually exists,
and that I am worthy of receiving it.
And even as I write this, there is that voice inside speaking to me,
"But what if you're not worthy, Nita? What if you are what they said?"
She is a big part of me~ she has a loud voice.
And if I don't believe in myself...
how can I convince that part of me that I am good and I am worthy?
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 5:29 AM UTC
"Nita, what do you NEED ?"
I HATE it when someone asks me that question!
"Nita, What do you need?"
NEED: “require”… “want”… “necessitate”
"What do you need right now. You don't have to do this in isolation."
"What do you need right now? I am not afraid of the little girl."
"What do you need right now? If you need something I am here to listen."
"If you don't think you are safe, then what do you need from me or others or yourself?"
Why does it matter what I "NEED"? Why do you ask me when you are not going to be able to grant that/those "NEED(S)"?
Is my Survivor Fairy Godmother asking you for a list of Nita's NEEDS so she can come wave her magic wand, sing, bippity, boppity, boo...and I'll become an unf@#ked kid?
Well, why didn't you say so!
Here's my list for the Godmother:
I NEED to be 'unf@#ked'. I NEED the voices in my head to stop. I NEEDED my evil father not to touch me. I NEED the flashbacks to stop. I NEED my body not to hurt. I NEED the fear to stop. I NEED for you to be here for me NOW like you WERE then. I NEEDED to be loved by my parents. I NEED someone to teach me what love really is. I NEED someone to show me that trust really does exist in this world. I NEED you to help me at night when I am suicidal and dissociative. I NEED you to be available after 10pm, when the hell started, you know, like you used to be...back when you actually cared about what I NEEDED. I NEED the little girl to stop whining and crying. I NEED to not have physical symptoms that relate to then. I NEED the nightmares to stop. I NEED the constant headaches to stop. I NEED my crohn’s to not be in a constant flare up. I NEED to stop having recurrent UTIs. I NEED the ****** Angry Girl to stop hurting me. I NEED to sleep. I NEED to want to live before I die.
I NEED you to hear me.
What? There is NO Survivor Fairy Godmother? NO magic wand?
I'm shocked! NOT!
I'm guessing that's why she never showed up then, either...I prefer to think that rather than her never answering my cries of: Please make him stop hurting me!
I NEED you to STOP asking me what I NEED Since we both know that those NEEDS will NEVER be my reality, and that it is actually more painful to ask for what you NEED and not get that need met, then it is to keep your NEEDS to yourself. At least that's true for me.
So...unless you have a survivor registry where I can resister for the aforementioned NEEDS, or, perhaps a survivor merit system where I can earn credits to 'buy' the above NEEDS (I'm not afraid of hard work)...then STOP ASKING ME WHAT I NEED!
Because we both know it does not matter what I NEED!
Can't undo what's already been done. We both know that.
What Nita "NEEDS" right now is a bottle of ***** and some cranberry juice…THAT is a NEED I can meet right now!
A TOAST!
Here's to: UNMET NEEDS
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 10:32 PM UTC
What do you need right now, Nita?
Shelter from the storm...that’s what I would like right now, that’s what I need right now, dear therapist. Shelter from the storm.
I don’t doubt my determination to survive and yet here I am crying again. Crying and wishing for some GD shelter from the storm…the therapist does not question my commitment or desire to continue to work through this and someday come out on the other side. At least I don’t think he does.
I can’t find my safe place now…it was such a fragile structure to begin with, made of straw and easily blown away in a storm. But it did exist two years ago. It did. And for the first time in my life I felt understood, safe, ‘real’. My safe place was a place I could be angry and sad, and hopeless. A place I could ask for guidance in the midst of confusion; a place of encouragement and comfort. A place where I could find shelter from the storm.
But I can’t find it now! I feel like I am on the edge of tumbling into oblivion due to my own intransigence and inability to let the therapist back in.(or anybody) And I desperately need him tonight…shelter from the rain, stability in the wind, comfort in the thunder and lightning that is threatening me now.
And what is maddening to me is if the therapist walked up to me right now, with a stadium sized umbrella and said, “Nita, come in and I will give you shelter from the storm.” I still stand in the rain, wind and thunderstorm and decline his umbrella because of my fear he would just wrench it away before the storm was over.
So, here I sit, like a frightened child, on my own little island, surrounded by the storm, crying my eyes out over loss and betrayal…on an endless search for shelter from the storm.
Here I sit arguing with myself!
*"Nita, you can't do it alone. He wants to help you - take the **** umbrella!"
"No! I won't take it! I don't need his **** umbrella!"
"Fine! You stupid baby! Suffer by yourself then ~ stubborn little *****
"I said take the umbrella!"*
Messed up? That does not even begin to cover it.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
Salty with a tang
My Great Aunt Nita’s little gift
To make us happy…
They are
I’m not
I worry like a mother about her child
She’s gone again
Dead to the world
No matter how much shaking and calling I do
She’s gone
Another breaded miracle in my mouth
Yum
Momentary bliss, a high
Then the crash
Fried pickles distract, but
Once reality returns
I’m still worried
She’s still gone
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 6:41 PM UTC
The truth is that life isn’t fair– it isn’t, but “you do the best you can” – at least that’s what I’ve been told.
The truth is I don’t even know which one of ‘me’ is real and I’m scared of the many times I leave my body and can no longer communicate, it makes me feel unsafe and the truth is it happens every single night.
The truth is I’m scared all the time because at any minute I could change into someone else and bad things can happen.
The truth is every single night my body aches with sharp and persistent pain, and I cannot rest, or find comfort. And the truth is I prefer not to be present when the pain becomes unbearable.
The truth is I feel overwhelmed with the chaos inside my head and the pain in my body – and the truth is I know that no one will be there, so why would I even ‘write’ how it feels anymore?
The truth is DT has no idea what happens now because the truth I don’t think he really wants to know and he wants to believe that because I don’t ‘email’ him or leave him a ‘voicemail’ that I must be doing better. Good Job, Nita, you are doing such a great job navigating through the pain, in a much “healthier” way. But the truth is he doesn’t know anything about my “nightly navigation”.
The truth is no one wanted to know the TRUTH then, and no one wants to know it now. No one wants to see, or hear, about a man fu@#ing a kid. Because the TRUTH is that it’s disgusting and revolting, and horrifying…and the thought really turns the stomach of anyone who hears it. And the truth is, if it makes you feel that way to hear it, then imagine how disgusting it feels to be a kid who was fu@#ed.
The truth is I scared as hell that one day I will seriously hurt or **** myself. Because the truth is that we do tend to hurt and **** ourselves, and if ‘one’ of us does it – the rest of us are scared as hell that it will happen to another survivor!
The truth – the truth is a journey into madness…and you can’t handle my ‘truth’. Because your truth and my truth are WAY to different…
The truth is I’m not that scarred when I’m covered up – and the truth is no one wants to see those scars because it’s uncomfortable and perhaps a reality check that the world really is fu@#ed up – and adults really do f@#k kids – and people like me really do hurt themselves and **** themselves.
The truth is everyone ignores what isn’t “spoken” and the truth is everyone is shocked as hell when the unspeakable happens.
The truth is “I” am not the one with the blinders on. And the truth is you don’t see me now because you don’t want to see me. Because you WANT to believe that I’m doing “better” as a result of your “boundaries” and “limits” (what a good doctor you are!- pure genius…she finally ‘accepts’ the limitations –and as a result huge sigh she’s doing so much better) – but the truth is you don’t know because you don’t ask, and you don’t ask because you don’t want to know- because it’s not pretty and it certainly isn’t something you see in a showroom window.
And the truth is you don’t know what my reality is because you don’t want to know, you don’t want to see. Because my reality is covered up with clothing, eyes that hide the truth, the ability to use humor to hide even the most painful feelings, and a bright smile.
And that’s okay – but really….your truth and my truth are as far apart as Earth and Venus.
Smile Pretty for the Camera, Nita ...that's "perfect."
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
I cannot figure out how to unplug the Emotional Pin-Ball Game.
And I am finished playing for now!
There are nights when I am absolutely afraid to move. Anxiety and fear ~ my current nemesis. Like, one night, when I was on the phone with the therapist and he was telling me to get up and do something, I could not do it. And it was not because I was trying (in that very moment) to be argumentative and defiant, it was literally because my body was frozen and I could not move. And he seemed frustrated, which I understand, as he was trying to help me, and it’s not like he could grab my arm and physically move me (not that he would do that in his office either, but I suspect it’s a little bit easier for him to deal with me in that situation when we are in the same room). It’s so difficult for me to communicate at that point.
Right now I am in this space where I really wonder how I can continue to live up to the person everyone thinks that I am. Who is this person that everyone has created in their minds with my name attached to it? This person that people are praising and say that I am doing great things…Why can I not see the Nita that they see?? I look in the mirror and see constant failure and disappointment.
And I have to say that I am not really in the position right now to be all warrior-like and face all of it head-on. It is really one of those days when I want to curl up in a fetal position with a heating pad and pull the covers over my head. Even though the therapist would say that isn’t a good idea for me to hide myself away from all human contact…I still want too. I don’t have any desires to hurt myself; I’m just tired and I don’t want to be all happy and sunshiny for other people right now.
My body hurts today. On top of my normal Crohn’s issues that I battle daily…my weak body has fallen to pneumonia. So for 6 days now I have been rotating from coughing to not being able to breathe…oh and let’s throw in a Crohn’s fare up at the same time. Way more fun than one person should be allowed to have.
WAH! I’m sure it’s all “emotional” overload, right? I feel like a pin-ball machine…hit the emotional ball and see where it bounces around and what part of my body it hits! Headache/dizziness: 100 points. Abdominal pain: 50 points. Nausea/vomiting: 150 points. Insomnia: 200 points. Cramps/bleeding: 300 points. Coughing fit: 500 points. Uncontrollable shaking or inability to move at all: 1000 bonus points.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
Barack Obama, first US President of African origin.
Langston Hughes, earliest innovators of then-new literary jazz
poetry.
Angela Davis, African American political activist, and author
Coretta Scott King, author, activist, and civil rights leader
Katherine Johnson, African-American mathematician
Anita Baker, African American singer-songwriter
Muhammed Ali, African American professional boxer and activist
Erykah Badu, African American singer-songwriter activist
Rosa Parks, the mother of the freedom movement and civil rights
Ida B Wells, African-American journalist and feminist
Colin Powell, statesman and retired four-star general in US Army
Al Sharpton, civil rights activist and Baptist minister
Nelson Mandela, South African anti-apartheid revolutionary
political leader
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 2:47 PM UTC
It’s nearly midnight…another night of pain. Another night of being overwhelmed by the voices inside my head….they are loud and I cannot tune them out. I have tried walking, reading, listening to music, exercising, relaxation, watching Netflix…but nothing is working tonight… It’s at night when it's his voice I hear. I struggle enough with being stupid, worthless, ***** disgusting – I hate his voice – but was he right? Is that why his voice keeps coming back into my mind over and over again? Was he right? Did he know that I am really worthless on the inside, and I am only pretending to be good on the outside? Did he know the real me?
I don't know how to explain the dark pain and ache I feel inside. I'm unable to describe the utter blackness I see when I close my eyes and try to remember a good time in my childhood. I can't explain the thoughts that are constantly running through my mind making me scared of even myself. I cannot begin to tell you of the emptiness inside of me every single day – when I have to pretend to be someone I am not. I don't know how to explain any of this.
Little Nita is so small and scared. She has been hurt so many times…and this is just too much for her. I have tried to console her, to talk to her, to pacify her – but I am at the point where I am losing what little patience I had and I'm getting angry at her. I can no longer be gentle.
I tell her over and over: *Nita, I know this is hard – and I know it hurts – but I don’t have time to ‘pacify’ and ‘soothe’ you at night when you are afraid. I know you can feel him, and taste him…smell him. I know you feel sick and I know you want to ***** Nita, I know you want her to be here for you, I know you need her to be here…but Nita, she’s gone. She has someone else now and he needs her so she no longer has time for you. I’m sorry, and I know that’s hard to face, but you’ll get through it. You have been through worse. I know you’re afraid. Hell – we’re all afraid. I want to scream out, “I AM AFRAID! PLEASE HELP ME…I am so afraid of who I am…I am so afraid.” So, it’s time now, little Nita…curl up in your blanket and close your eyes. Listen to the sound of your heart beating…*
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
Saying good-bye to another year
Wish I could say it had been
A year of healing and rebuilding
But no
Another year full of emotional scars
As I look back
I am filled with sadness
Regrets
Never thought I would make it this far
Unsure that I want to face another year
No guarantee that this new year will be better
Not sure I can handle any more
Maybe tonight I should say good-bye
To both 2014 and Nita
Bye
So long
Hope your days left are well
Don't mourn
Be happy
Live life for both of us
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
Just pray harder, Nita....
I have been on edge and triggered all day long…actually all week now…there are a variety of reasons…and the mere fact that it is almost the weekend tends to steer me toward the ’bad place’ – and I am falling quickly into the darkness tonight.
There’s no comfort tonight, other than in a bottle of wine and a pill box full of ativan...the therapist would tell me, “Nita, there is no reason to be scared. Find your safe place. Listen to your grandmother’s soothing voice.” Nothing to fear? Are you serious? And the safe place comment always cracks me up! Do you really think there was any place ‘safe’ to go then? Where the hell would I find safety in a 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom, filthy trailer? There was NOsafe place. There was no place to hide! Except inside my head.
I should pray about it. That’s what my very religious grandmother would tell me. ”Just ‘pray harder’ Nita.” God answers prayers. Just pray harder, Nita…pray harder. My grandmother was very religious and very private. Don’t ever air your ***** laundry to anyone, well, with the exception of God. Pray harder Nita…pray harder…
Why didn’t God every answer MY prayers?
Why is that?
Because I wasn't "good enough"?
Because I didn't pray LOUD enough?
Because I didn’t pray HARD enough?
Because no one cared!!!!!!
That's why!
No one really cares now either…throw it all in a container, spray some holy water on it, drop to your knees and PRAY.
DON'T you dare tell me that my fear isn't 'real'. Don't you dare tell me that you ‘care’! No one does! And it doesn't matter anyway - no one can accept the 'unacceptable' - apparently not even GOD!
My grandmother was loving...yes, she rocked me, she sang to me when I was sick - she spent every night with me when I was in the hospital repeatedly for recurring kidney infections... because kids that get f@#ked tend to develop recurring UTIs which left untreated lead to bladder infections which then lead kidney infections. She was THERE! But she NEVER asked me! EVER! No one did!
But I guarantee you she fell to her knees every single night and PRAYED for her f@#ked up alcoholic son and her ******* up grandkids.
Just pray harder, Nita. Just pray harder!
Yeah - I should get down on my knees RIGHT NOW! And PRAY For f@#king RELIEF!
If I'm still breathing tomorrow you'll know HE heard me!
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 11:04 PM UTC
There's a HOLE in my bucket!
So I'm sorry if my badness contaminated you last night!
I tried to contain it all in my bucket but my bucket has a hole in it and all the BADNESS is leaking out! I am now in search of a bucket repair system so I can keep everything properly stored and contained so as not to bother anyone with my pain and badness.
I am sorry for the dissociation and the visible badness that leaked through the hole last night. The duct tape clearly is not as strong as they say...so I do hope I can find that bucket repair kit today so you will never have to see the badness and filth again.
I hope that I did not traumatize you too badly with my badness and I hope that you will forgive me for showing it to you. I do know how horribly traumatizing even hearing about my badness can be...which is why I tried so hard to keep it in the bucket.
I'm sorry for the frustration and pain I caused you and I will do my best to repair the bucket, using the tools you tried so diligently to teach me, and you will never have to be exposed to Nita's badness again.
Promise!
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
I am stuck in this place of begging for someone to listen to me and denying my own desires to talk
It is still here – the longing to cry with someone – but it is impossible now. It’s been impossible for so long I don’t know why I even bother with any of it. I don’t know to help her…no one knows how to help her.
It doesn’t matter if you feel like a victim or a survivor, or at times, both…it still happened. It was me. It was me lying there – it was my body. I am no longer that little girl but it was undeniably me. I was hurt, I cried, I yielded all of my power to him. Me. It was me. No one helped me. I can’t make that any different. I can’t change that….not through my writing, not by speaking, not inside my mind. I can’t undo it.
I want to bury this hurt in an airtight coffin until it suffocates and can no longer damage me. I want to smash the pain with a boulder until it is crushed and no longer alive in me. I am stuck in this place of begging for someone to listen to me and denying my own desires to talk. It all comes back to the forbidden words of trust and need and I’m having a difficult time trying to shift and re-position myself in a positive, healing way.
It’s difficult to get the words out without the tears and emotions. And I won’t cry in front of anyone. There are times when I am aching with the desire to talk about difficult things and I hold back. Why? Multifaceted…complicated question and an equally complicated answer. First, there is a part of me that does not trust anyone, or even want to trust anyone. A part of me is embarrassed at the Nita that will be seen when the tears start. It is not the me that everyone knows…it’s the miserable, self-indulgent, childish, hopeless me. And I cannot risk being seen like that. And there’s a third reason…it feels incredibly undignified to cry in front of someone when they just sit there…silent and unmoving. Late at night, when it is overwhelming and relentless, I ache for someone to talk to about this pain, someone who loves me, not someone who is paid to listen.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
I internalized all the bad things he said to me.
I hear them, I feel them.
But I don’t feel the good.
That’s it in a nutshell.
I watch the “good” Nita from outside of this body
I don’t know her, I don’t see her as part of me.
I have no idea who she is even though she is “me”.
Instead I carry around this sense of ‘badness’
that was drilled into my head for so many years:
**You are bad.
You will never be anything.
You are worthless.
You are an evil.
You are unlovable.
No one will ever care about you.**
And I see that as the “real” Nita.
I believed those things.
I built walls to keep people out so they would not see the “real” me…
the badness.
But I still see that girl.
She is five, eight, ten…
They are still inside me,
Screaming in pain,
Yelling at me to help them
And here I am 30 years later,
Standing here alone with all of these girls
So wounded and afraid and I am unable to help them.
All of this pain from recent years has shattered me,
Ghosts haunt me, and I realize just how much hurt I never let go of.
Every night takes me back to the most painful times in that girl’s life
I see just how little I have recovered from the destruction he left behind
the wreckage that was supposed to be me!
**All of the pain,
All of the baggage
He put on me,
Forced me to carry,
It is too heavy!
And I am so tired.**
I plead with them at night,
“Please don’t be like this…”
And it is so frustrating because
I don’t know how to make them be any other way.
Every night I feel like I am trapped behind this one-way mirror
And I can see everyone but no one can see me.
And I am screaming for help but no one hears me.
No one sees me.
No one will help me manage them
and I have no idea how to do it on my own.
I feel diminutive and insignificant in a way that feels simply dreadful
**It makes me feel worthless.
I feel a bit like I don’t exist.
I watch and listen and look
and I am pleading…
please help me…
please see me here…
but they don’t.**
I know that’s not true.
I know that can’t be true.
People care about me,
People love me,
Want to be with me,
Offer me help,
Try to get me to talk to them,
But no one really SEES me.
No one sees beyond the obvious projection
of who I appear to be
Into my shattered heart
And deep into my soul.
No one really knows her
That is what makes it feel so extraordinarily lonely,
That’s what pushes me over the edge of the cliff
And into the darkness…
Falling, falling, falling…
There’s no one to catch me.
**Where is everybody?
Where are you?
I can’t see the bottom
It’s so black and cold
I’m so afraid…**
But I have to believe that there is someone
Down there in the darkness that is strong enough to catch me
Because I’m not strong enough to catch myself.
Because I am not strong enough to say out loud,
“Please take my hand and help me, I am dying.”
And of course now I am crying
I can barely see the computer screen
And my dog, Starr, is pressing her face under my arm
Putting her paw in my lap as she tries to get as close to me as possible.
She loves me and she’s trying to tell me,
"It’s going to be okay Nita, I promise, we’re gonna make it after all.”
I need to take a deep breath
Know that it’s okay.
Because it is.
Because it has to be.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 7:56 PM UTC
And Just Me.
No clichés…
No humor…
No pretending…
Just Nita without the famous mask talking to you
And you know who you are, if you’re still here, and if you read this
(however, if you read this and you even think it’s you, but it isn’t then it probably applies to you – so yeah, then I’m talking to you too)
Last night I cried for you…
I cried for you and I cried for me…
I cried for all of us.
I cried for all of the hardship & pain you have had to endure in this life,
I cried at the unfairness of it all.
I cried for all the kids and adults who were damaged beyond repair
By the people who were supposed to love them the most.
I cried because you trusted me enough to reach out to me
I cried because I wasn’t sure what to do to help.
It broke my heart to hear you say that no one loves you
And to know that you really believe you are bad and unlovable.
I know you’re scared
I know you hurt
I know that you think there is only one way out of the all-consuming pain.
I believe you when you say you can’t do it anymore.
I know you feel that way.
I know because I feel that way too.
I know about all of those things.
What I don’t know is how to help you get through it.
How to make it okay for you.
For any of us.
I care about you.
I love you.
But I know that my voice is not nearly as loud as the critic inside of you.
The one who has convinced you that you don’t matter
That you are bad and unlovable the world would be better off without you.
I don’t know how to fight that voice either.
If I were with you right now
I would sit with you
I would bandage your cuts for you.
I would tell you in person that I care.
I think of you
I cry for you
I wonder how you are doing.
In fact, I’m wondering how you are doing right now.
I don’t know if you are dead or alive.
I don’t know if you made it through the night.
I hope you did but I don’t know.
That’s selfish of me to say – because I understand not wanting to,
And the mere pain of actually “waking up” day after day.
I’m sorry if my suggestions last night seemed to you like putting a Barbie band-aid on a point blank shotgun wound to the chest. I’m sure it must have felt like that. Sometimes I wish I had a tourniquet instead. But I don’t. But at least I didn’t offer you any kool-aid, or tell you to hold an ice cube, or peel an orange , right? (cuz we know that **** don’t work for sure!)
I don’t know the way out of this, my friend.
If I did, I would scream it from the rooftops.
But I hope you know that even though I am absolutely 200% insane & totally unhelpful,
I do care about you.
And I thank you for inviting me into your life…and for leaving your footprint on mine.
Jul 21, 2013
Jul 21, 2013 at 10:16 AM UTC
I walk a dreadfully narrow & fragile tight rope and there often there is no safety net beneath me. And as such, a slight wind will often make me stumble and fall right back into the cavernous black hole that I spent a significant amount of time climbing out of. I used to be so thick skinned, but my skin seems to have been scoured into a transparent epidermis that now barely covers my flesh. And I do not know why words seem to rip right through that now clear layer of covering and sear through the sensitive tissue beneath. But they do, and just like that, I am back in a place where I feel like I must punish myself. And I want to feel the pain externally on my body because the interpretations of the verbal words I hear resonate through me and each time the words are repeated, the internal pain increases.
And it does not stop there. The words become thoughts and the thoughts turn into internal voices that torture me and say terrible things. They torment me and tell me that I am worthless, that I will never be able to get through this, that I am a bad, filthy little girl and I deserved everything that happened to me. And the truth is that I cannot find a voice to tell me that is not true and it then feels commonsense and spot on to me. And the frightened little Nita says, “I know, I deserve to be hurt. Let him hurt me because I am bad. I will always be bad.”
During the day I manage to quiet the voices, and push them deep down inside of me because I have to function during the day, I cannot allow myself to fall apart. But every day I am a virtual time bomb that cannot be disarmed, and when the darkness falls, the device beeps and I blow up. And the reality is there is a gaping chasm between ‘healing’ and where I am right now. And frankly, I am not even sure healing is possible. And I want to give up. I work so hard to climb out of the darkness, back onto the tightrope, toward the light, only to have something else knock me back off again.
When that all too familiar wind blows and knocks me from the rope, I try to hang on. I try not to allow myself to fall completely into the darkness, the place where there is no shred of hope left. But I often wonder what it is I am holding on to, and what I am holding on for. And I do not know why I am still holding on. Not anymore.
There are too many competing voices. They all have wants and needs and I am too tired to listen to them anymore. They will never become one. They are too different to be integrated. And I am so tired. And the rope is burning through the already thin layer of skin on the palms of my hands and it hurts and I want to let go. I want to let go. I want to let go of the rope and the pain and the anger. I want to let go of the depression and the tears and the fear. There is no balance now, there is only vertigo, and it is so hard to hang on.
It would be so easy to just let go.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
I can’t change right now
because I don’t have any energy to focus on changing.
I am standing at the bottom of a deep trench. It is my trench because I dug this dark & dingy trough that I spend each night in. And I cannot focus on change right now because it takes every scrap of energy residing inside of me just to stay alive. And I am working so hard to shove the dirtiness and shame deep down inside of my blackened soul. DT is right (he usually is, even though angry girl has a hard time accepting what DT says as the truth…eventually it sinks in…when logical/rational Nita comes around and has a chance to absorb it.
After everything I’ve supposedly “survived” – its ****** me off that this part, this “healing & acceptance” of myself is by far the hardest part, by far. (I did NOT say forgiveness - that will never, ever happen – and DT supports my decision on this). Enduring my father’s abuse when I was a child is not nearly as unbearable or traumatizing as reliving it is now. It scared me then, confused me, and hurt me…I didn’t like it. it hurt…but I didn’t comprehend what he was doing, I had no idea what I was losing…my innocence, my trust, all of the things that affect me now. I was a confused little girl who always wondered if this was normal behavior, if it happened in all families. I was an anxious teenager, struggling to be perfect, a chameleon, changing to fit the mold of what everyone else wanted from me.
Now I’m a grown woman who knows about the dangers of abusing alcohol and prescription anti-anxiety medications, I know the risks of the nightly rituals of SI that we engage in and yet I cannot stop myself from continuing to use these “maladaptive” methods to cope (and I use that term loosely). I want so badly to erase it all. I know my nightly behavior is harmful but I am not able to change that right now, I do not have the energy, every bit of it goes into just getting through the day…
minute by minute.
I tried so hard this past week – to let it all go, to push it down and act like a normal human being, but some nights I feel beaten down, crushed by the feelings and thoughts and memories that are running rampantly through my mind like a drove of cattle, crushing everything in their path. I cannot control them…as DT says, it’s like trying to herd cats.
I am not armed to face the girl I am supposed to accept.
And this stupid worthless body is aching and it won’t stop.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
It’s funny…because no one ‘gets it’.
And the coping techniques that are ‘offered’…
Well, they’re like putting a band-aid over a wound that needs a tourniquet!
*“The little girl is suffering a loss and grief that she will need your permission,
patience and love to help her with.”*
That’s what Dear Therapist says.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
Matthew 5:4… that’s what the Bible says.
“I need to “grieve” and “mourn” that which I never had?”
That’s what Nita asks.
Really?
Is this mourning?
Is this what mourning feels like?
A hole in the middle of your gut that gets
Wider and wider each time you try to plug it up?
The bleeding that continues no matter how much pressure you apply?
Is mourning talking about what happened to you?
What comes next, after the mourning period?
Is it “closure”?
And what does that mean, exactly, ‘closure’?
Is closure when you’re supposed to realize that all this
Is just something you should ‘get over’?
Like losing ½ your money in the stock market, or staining a favorite white shirt?
Is this the period of time where I pretend it’s ”business as usual”?
Or is this the time I should “pour out my grief”
“release my anger” and “face my emptiness”
Then feel comforted because you care?
Or maybe this is the time where I call upon the aid of my friends and family
For support, a shoulder to cry on
Someone to walk along side me down this road of pain and anguish.
Sit with me while I grieve the fact that I will never have a childhood,
And that deep down at the very core of my being,
I will always have a feeling of emptiness…
Yet I should rest easy because I shall be comforted…
And somehow find peace with that?
I don’t understand why I can’t do that!
Why I instead I feel myself dissolving.
I sit in your office, my eyes filled with tears,
As I reach for another tissue I actually pretend that you really care.
Maybe in some strange way that makes me feel better
That somehow to think you actually understand
How hopeless it all feels so much of the time.
You know, when you grow up
unloved and unwanted and abused
You become almost super human.
You develop this ability to disappear
Even when it looks like you’re still there, present, in your body.
You can scream but nobody hears a sound escaping from your mouth.
You are invisible and you can fly far away from your body.
You are the thing who was born normal…
But that was so long ago you don’t even remember what it was like.
You don’t remember, you only remember “this”.
The band-aid doesn’t work,
The blood is continues to seep through
I continue to bleed and to grow weaker each moment.
But it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter…just bleed out, Nita.
You know the rules.
Just bleed out.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 6:55 PM UTC
I am hurting and scared and it is not good.
I am lost because I am denying myself again...
I am struggling and I am failing
Tonight may be the end of my 2 months of 'Good Little Nita'.
I am overwhelmed with thoughts of self-hate.
I can feel it.
And I've tried to "contain" it and "push it away" and it is not working tonight!
I have pulled out my "HEALTHY WAYS TO COPE" list
and checked everything off...and it's still here.
This burning inside of me ~ the bad place ~
I need to cut it out of me!
Perhaps what's worse...is I know it will help alleviate the pain
albeit temporarily.
But right now- I'll take 'temporarily'...
it's better than no relief at all.
The quest to fix the hole in my bucket was unsuccessful.
And frankly, I really can't make myself care right now.
I'm finished with staying 'in the present'.
Who would want to stay present in this body?
For God's sake, we have 'no emotional skin'.
Who wants to live like that?
This is not about finding a 'safe place',
or taking allies, or throwing your troubles in a bucket,
it is not about 'courage' or 'wisdom'
this is about 'managing the symptoms', is not?
This is about making functioning less exhausting and difficult.
This is about not speaking, in real life,
about the pain and despair, the fear and the anger.
This is about managing the 'symptoms' and 'masking' the problem.
So tonight I will 'manage' the 'symptoms'
so they do not spill over and have a negative effect on anyone else.
I will 'manage' and I will 'deal with her'
....by myself.
THIS is about being'numb' and 'ignoring' what needs attention.
THIS is about not questioning and popping a pill.
THIS is about suffering in silence
and doing what has to be done to continue to "live" for everyone else
because you do not matter,
and what you want and need do not matter.
They never have.
This is about putting a beautiful expensive picture and placing it over an ugly stain on the wall. The stain will still be there, even when something beautiful and breath-taking is covering it up...and if the picture is never removed the stain will always remain.
It will stay there, ***** & forgotten.
I should not be alone tonight
but I want to be alone.
I want to hurt myself - because I deserve to be hurt.
But then there is that '24 hour rule' – f@#k it!
It's not like there's anyone to call for help anyway!
Clearly that little girl is so ugly, so ***** so revolting -
she even traumatized a valued member of the mental health community.
No one will know that I am suffering.
No one will be allowed to see the scars beneath the clothing
lest they be revolted
They will know only this:
I am Nita. I am strong and I am beautiful and I can do anything.
Smile Pretty Nita
And they, unlike me, will believe it.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
Sometimes I get overwhelmed and I'm unable to find the words to express how I'm feeling.
I doubt myself and my ability to do any of this 'work' - the real work, "THIS". And I grow angry because it feels so unfair that they **** us and we spend the rest of our lives trying to deal with it.
I find myself reading and empathizing with others, others 'like' me…
to some extent we share a 'likeness' - albeit a likeness that we would prefer NOT to share -
and yet it is there, and I can feel it.
I read, and I tell others:
*"hang on"
"don't give up"
"it will get better"
"you can do this"
"you're so strong and so courageous"*
And I mean every word of what I say to everyone. And yet, I can't say it to myself. And what I feel right now....is DOUBT. Because the truth is that sometimes it doesn't get better. And the reality is that even when you hang on by your pinky fingernails, you can still fall. And often times I feel like I CAN'T do this. So many nights I'm scared and I don't understand, and I don't even know where this is going. I don't know which one of me is in charge, and frankly,
I don't know which one of me is the "real" Nita.
I haven't written much this past week...I've felt tired and overwhelmed
and I haven't been able to put the chaos in my head into words on the computer screen.
**The truth is...
Sometimes I'm not strong or courageous.
Sometimes I can't do this.
Sometimes I want to run and hide.
Sometimes I want to give up.**
And I know I'm not the only one...and it isn't fair -
it's not fair that they break us apart and
we spend the rest of our lives trying to find the pieces
and put them back together again.
And some days I doubt I will even be able to find all the pieces of me.
And it feels like it's me against the world....
and the world is winning...
**Is life fair?
Doubt it!**
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 10:59 PM UTC
Someone recently said to me, “God does not give you more than you can handle.” That’s really been weighing on my mind, it inches to the surface, and I feel a surge of anger, then it’s tucked back into the back of my mind. God does not give you more than you can handle?
I know my grandma believed that with all of her heart. Week after week, she would pray for the salvation of my mother, my father, my brothers, sister, and I. Every single night, she was down on her knees praying for redemption, and thanking God for the gifts he has given to her. And she believed it! I admired her strength and her belief in God, because I learned as a small child that God can give you more than you can handle, and when that happens, and you reach out for help, sometimes there’s no one there. I’m not going to sit here and write out examples and questions…such as, really, then why do children suffer and die from cancer?...because I’m sure there are those out there who can provide justification for that.
Sometimes I would ask my grandma about her unending faith in God. “Grandma, what if God doesn't answer? Is he too busy? “ I’d ask. And grandma would answer, “Nita, you just need to pray harder, God will hear you…just pray harder.” And I would remember her words at night, when I was scared and alone, I would think about her words when my father would touch me, and I would pray harder.
God doesn't give you more than you can handle!
Now, in the present, I know that I am “handling” it, but there’s no other choice, is there? Handle it, or give up? I don’t want to be here, facing all of this, and yet, here I am, “handling” it. Is this what it means? That God doesn't give you more than you can handle? Sure, my family and friends have suffered as a result of the abuse of my past. Is God giving them more than they can handle?
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 10:27 AM UTC
*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?*
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 4:38 PM UTC
I don’t want to focus on the feelings of those left behind…not now, not tonight.
I think that life leaves your lungs first and your eyes last...
How does that old saying go:
'The Eyes are the Windows to the Soul'
Maybe that’s why life leaves last through your eyes. The soul leaves your body and then there is no life left in your eyes. And after death, once the soul leaves the body, your eyes look glassy and vacant. I find myself wondering; in that moment, right before death, when you KNOW you’re going to die, and there’s no hope of turning back the clock, is there a feeling of peace and acceptance?
I sometimes think my eyes have been vacant and lifeless for years. And even though my heart still beats in my chest, that through the years of abuse, he did **** me – but, now disconnected from my brain, my body just hasn’t realized it yet. And when it finally does…my broken heart will stop beating.
What are you thinking right now, Nita?
I’m thinking I don’t want to die but I don’t want to live.
I’m thinking I should call DT and see if he has openings this week. But I can’t pick up the phone right now. Besides, it’s after 10, so the DT window is now “closed”. So it would only feel like “rejection” if I did call.
I’m not planning to do anything drastic tonight…well that might depend on your definition of drastic. It’s scary inside my head right now. I don’t know how else to say it. Unusual… it isn’t often that I find myself unable to translate the words inside of my head and put them on paper, even if I’m unable to speak them aloud. I don’t find that to be the case tonight.
Or maybe some things are better left unwritten.
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
"You don't have to be okay, or perfect, you just have to get through the minute, hour, night..." That's what DT said to me earlier when I called him. "Nita, you don't have to feel 'ok' you just have to get through the night."
But...DT, what about tomorrow? And the next night...and the night after that. I'm so tired of watching the clock and just "getting through the next minute".
"Nita, you know it comes in 'waves'...how you're feeling now. There are times when you will be better, and times when you are worse. You know that."
Yes, but what happens when I drown in the next wave, or the wave after that one?
DT was able to calm me down. I was full of fear, fear of the time each night when "logical" Nita disappears and the irrational angry and sad ones take control, put on the red boots and walk all over DT and me! And Nita had one boot on already earlier when she called DT.
"I don't want to die, DT, I don't want to die..." That's what I kept saying to him, on the phone... and I don't, I don't want to die...but I'm so scared that I'm going to die because the pain becomes so overwhelming that I will do anything to make it end. DT told me what to do, step by step, he told me: ”Nita, I want you to go and brush your teeth, take your medication and tuck yourself into bed. Then tomorrow morning, you will get up, shower, get dressed...and get to school. And then you will call my office at 3:30 and we will continue to talk."
But now, the headache that I have been battling all week has now pulled out the new arsenal which is immune to all medication. The lack of sleep has made my eyelids as heavy as bricks, my mind cloudy and my body weary. I am unable to focus. The nausea which subsided for a day is now back with a vengeance. I have thrown up multiple times tonight – and I although I continue to brush my teeth, I would pay the asking ransom for some stronger mouthwash and perhaps some diet sprite.
Although the nightmares abated for a few days, they have returned from the game of hide and seek – l am now hiding and they are now seeking. The ever present feelings of discontent will no longer allow me a moment of peace. This journey to “inner peace” seems to be an impossibility right now.
There is no party at the end of the rainbow – where my heart will sing and my soul will dance with joy. Instead, all I find is the hurt – and sometimes it is so painful, I want to cut out my own heart to keep from feeling it. I am an emotional baby in an adult body and I don’t know how to grow up. I am overwhelmed; there are not enough words in the dictionary to express how it is that I truly feel. Yes, there are times when I want to end it all, but really, I don’t want to die, I want to live, but I want to "live" and not just "survive" the day.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
There is so much running through my head and it is preventing me from sleeping. Which I suppose is okay since we are 4 days from Christmas and I have yet to do any shopping. The therapist would tell me to stop “indulging” and live up to my responsibilities…(Like anyone ever “mirrored” that for me!) The therapist would probably tell me to stop listening to music that seems to make me feel even more depressed…but here I sit, anyway, head phones on, listening anyway.
But I feel so effing worthless and sad right now. Here I sit in the midst of two Christmas trees, a mantle full of poinsettias and lights, garland strung on the banisters, frosty jingling behind me and I cannot FEEL any of it. And I want to FEEL it right now! I want to feel all the good things in my life…and I can't, which makes me even more frustrated. And the only way to force it is to hit the liquor cabinet (which I have not yet ruled out).
I don't think I intentionally planned it this way but the holidays are usually very busy here...which adds to my stress level as I deal with “family” events. Three birthdays to celebrate as well as the 26th being my 23rd anniversary. And I can't get caught up in it this year! I want to and I can't.
And here I sit thinking how I have been married to a man for 23 years and he does not even know me and I'm wondering how that happened. But the reality is, no one really knows me... He loves who he "thinks" Nita is...but I am not really that person at all. And it's really tiring for me to keep pretending to be her after 23 years.
It's been a long long week…I got caught up in the suburban fantasy...it happens...I have fallen and the past can't be undone.
I messed up...I don't feel well at all tonight...not at all...
...I think it is time to go check out that liquor cabinet...
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 4:48 PM UTC
There's a heaviness in my heart- something is trying to happen far away within a part of me I don't remember how to find. I feel lost and I'm just wandering around within my mind, waiting. Wishing for someone to tell me what to do and how - but I am on my own with this. So I write about it, because that's what I now know how to do. And the writing, it soothes me and teases me out of my own thoughts. So much hurt and anger.
Everything around me, and the very fact that I have to go on, whispers to me of my own failure and horribleness as a human being. I know all that I tell myself is not true. I could name a dozen things that make me a good person, but this is not the kind of thing I can just stop and tell myself, “Nita, be thankful and happy.” If there is a switch I can flick I’m unable to locate it and turn it off.
I see myself as a child. I see a little girl sitting in a dark corner, hugging her knees and trying to be as small and "out of the way" as possible. When she looks at me, her eyes are full of a terrible anger- rage, really- and pain. She is scared. I have never seen myself so dark. But she is undeniably me, and she must have existed during that time of my life. I have ignored her, I chose to ignore her because she did not fit the image I held for myself. She makes me think about everything that happened to me. So pain and hurt. The pain from it is unspeakable. I try to list the things my father said to me- did to me- not to relive the memories but to acknowledge the suffering I never could when I was actually going through it. I try to describe the pain and it's so overwhelming that no words will come.
I suppose there is no way, no road map, nothing but fumbling in the dark. I am so tired of walking this road alone. I am not tired of the pain and anger; they are mine- a part of me. But where do I go from here? So many people…they all say different things, no one agrees on anything. How do you know if you’re right or wrong? How do you know if you hurt or don’t hurt, or even if you have the right to hurt?
It’s dark now, the night, the darkness… its killing me! I can’t sleep, when I try I dream. And I’m so tired all day long. I’m really not sure how much more of this I can take.
I think, “Nita, reach out to… Email someone…call someone…don’t let it end like this. But who??
So, grab the razor, reach for the broken glass….let’s have a look at the badness that resides inside of you. Get it out, Nita, let it out. That’s a good girl…watch the blood flow out of your body. It’s bad! It’s evil! It’s part of him.
You deserve to die! Do it already! Just do it! We hate you!
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 6:27 PM UTC