The pain is simply appalling today. So much loss, so much hurt. So much damage, so much injury. Done to me. Done by me. My heart just will not stop aching and tears won’t dry up.


I’m actually kind of okay. I know it makes no sense at all, but its not as bad as it sounds. I’m not sure I understand how that can make any kind of sense myself. But it is what it is.

I think it might be as simple as the fact that I couldn’t be much more heartbroken. There’s a certain amount of freedom in knowing that this is about as bad as it gets.

I’ve lived through some pretty gruesome stuff and this is about as deep as the pain goes. This is the bottom of the well.

I know I can survive down here for as long as I have to, because I’ve done it before. The only way to go is up or over and out forever.

It’s actually strangely fascinating how much you can take and still remain basically coherent. You know, in a morbid kind of way.

No sleep at all last night. Not a wink. I was dissociating pretty hard, drifting in and out. Emerging, receding. Winning, losing.

My body hurts like hell. I kind of screw myself up tight into a ball when the flashback thing starts happening. And it was happening a lot. Thankfully I didn’t post anything too off the rails.

I’m having a little trouble telling what’s real and what’s not. When I get like this I start to believe that things which have nothing to do with me are all about me. A kind of paranoia I suppose, but without the sense of threat.

The worst part about that, is the things which actually are about me go over my head.  People try to communicate with me and I just don’t get it. It hurts them, it hurts me. Everyone ends up hurt.

And I’m not blaming myself for things which are not my fault. But the cold hard fact is, the way I am hurts other people. And I fucking hate that. But I just have to find a way of owning it without retreating into self blame and inevitably self pity.

That’s the tricky part. Not hating myself for the things other people did to me. Not hating myself for just being injured.

Not hating myself for the effect it has on the people around me.

But that’s a day in day out problem with this trauma dissociation crap. I just wish it was over. I just want to sleep and never wake up.

I don’t remember if I’ve talked much about what it’s actually like. But it’s nothing like television portrays it. I don’t turn into other people like in the  United States of Tara. It’s not cute. It’s not entertaining. Apparently I just go blank, silent, gone.

The dissociative personalities will communicate quite vividly via my writing, but they very rarely speak outside of that. Barely a word.

That was always a regular feature of my report cards in school. Whippoorwill never talks, won’t ask questions, never asks for help. Little did they know, lil’ Whippoorwill was hardly ever there.

But that’s fine. It could be worse. I rather be a blank than vocal and active and not in control.

It’s the fact that it hurts other people too that screws me up. I don’t do anything bad, it’s just that I’m obviously in so much pain. How anyone can live with, let alone love someone who’s constantly weeping and regularly drifting away into absence, I have no idea.

People are amazing.

I have no idea how I’ve survived this long. How I’ve stayed alive. And I have no idea how child abusers don’t get an automatic life sentence without remission.

But that’s the way the law is. That’s the way society is. The perpetrators get the breaks, the time off for good behavior. It’s the survivors who get the life sentence. That really sucks.

I have to find something to occupy myself with today. I hope I have the mental acuity to write more. If I let myself sleep during the day it will be worse tonight.

To any of my readers who I’ve hurt or upset or distressed or caused concern. I apologize. I won’t say I’m sorry, that doesn’t do anyone any good. But I do apologize.

I have so much love in my heart, so very much. I wish I shared only that. But there’s so much agony, so much trauma. So many nightmares. And this is the place where I shine light on those horrors.

And if you didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be. Simple as that I guess. But thank you anyway. This would be so much harder without you.


The Whippoorwills