Recent posts
#1
Recovery Journals / Re: Ran's journey
Last post by Ran - Today at 02:58:57 PMGot new information. Seems me helping family members with disabilities could count towards disability support activity requirements and I wouldn't have to worry about working or studying or attending job office and my financial support would continue. It would take immense pressure off my shoulders and I can still do my work in graphic design field and use this time to heal more withouth extra worry.
I ended not telling about the cptsd stuff to GP. I think I got scared a bit, but I still can tell my psychiatrist.
My gp wrote me medication for my heart as I get palpitations and had high blood plessure.
I think a lot of the symptoms especially inflammation that do not go away with antibiotics and high sensitivity to medications could be due to cptsd as well. I did read some stuff about it online.
I ended not telling about the cptsd stuff to GP. I think I got scared a bit, but I still can tell my psychiatrist.
My gp wrote me medication for my heart as I get palpitations and had high blood plessure.
I think a lot of the symptoms especially inflammation that do not go away with antibiotics and high sensitivity to medications could be due to cptsd as well. I did read some stuff about it online.
#2
Other / Re: Our Healing Porch Part 8
Last post by Blueberry - Today at 02:55:19 PMFinally come to join you on the porch, san and everybody. I'm curled in a chair covered in warm wool blankets watching the fire and dozing off. It feels easier to sit and do nothing but here on the Porch than at home.
#3
Other / Re: Our Healing Porch Part 8
Last post by sanmagic7 - Today at 12:42:58 PMTBB, thank you for joining me. so glad you found this place. there is a big porch off the big house that faces the beach and water, w/ chairs and blankets, a fire on the beach, waves lapping. there's this cabin, a veggie garden for those who like to putter there, a tree house - whatever you want. this cabin is in the woods on a lake for fishing, and it really is magic. i slept in my rocker last nite - it felt safer than my bed. glad you find this place comforting. 
chart, i love that you love to do that stuff! there's always plenty to do (or not), so have at it! thanks for being here. love it.
i'm very shaky this morning, so will be staying here for a bit. i just can't believe this happened.
chart, i love that you love to do that stuff! there's always plenty to do (or not), so have at it! thanks for being here. love it.
i'm very shaky this morning, so will be staying here for a bit. i just can't believe this happened.
#4
General Discussion / Re: progress notes nov 25
Last post by Chart - Today at 12:20:03 PMJamesG3, your narrative seems to reveal to me a side of human nature that I simply cannot fathom. Though faced with it a million times, I fail utterly to comprehend humankind's inhumanity to their fellows. All that I can assume is that human consciousness is still evolving. I believe it is a dark period for our species, no less so than for the capacity of individuals and organizations (business) to wreak havoc and misery upon their clients and our planet. This inordinate power in the hands of the few is given willingly and freely by an enormous population nearly devoid of existential understanding. Yet it need not be so (imo).
I believe the final indivisible quantum particle is love. It is the total and eternal foundation upon which is constructed our universe. Pulling back, one by one, the infinite layers of understanding, we inevitably approach that singularity that becomes more undeniably evident the closer we get. Attaining, absorbing and dissolving in this state, we slowly pull those of like energy towards us, like mass falling in towards those points of infinite density. And that pull is not a plunge into destruction, but a metamorphosis into a rebirth, an evolution into a different reality, one where the construct is one step closer to the ultimate element.
I believe those who wreak havoc on others do so out of an ultimate hatred and denial of themselves. In that I mourn for them. And that mourning is a release from their power and impact over me. Step by small step I inch my way towards self-love, and in this way find clues of like-souls along the path. Slowly I set aside my arms of anger and pain of betrayal. Slowly I say, because some days finds me upside down facing back upon the path I've traversed. I see my horrible mother there behind me and my heart leaps into my throat for the love that has been wasted in hate. And here, on this point of the path, I weep, not like a man, but as a child that understands nothing, nothing but that one basic element.
And for me it is clear... unconditional love, for others AND FOR MYSELF... that is my lifeboat. That is my rope and harness on this cliff of life. How many times have I considered cutting my own rope? Yet I don't, I haven't... why? Because I see and read and feel in the experiences of others that thing that I too have experienced and felt and written. Across the ether I sense connection. And it wills me on.
Thank you from my deepest heart for sharing your experience, JamesG3. This world is truly as beautiful as we want it to be.
I believe the final indivisible quantum particle is love. It is the total and eternal foundation upon which is constructed our universe. Pulling back, one by one, the infinite layers of understanding, we inevitably approach that singularity that becomes more undeniably evident the closer we get. Attaining, absorbing and dissolving in this state, we slowly pull those of like energy towards us, like mass falling in towards those points of infinite density. And that pull is not a plunge into destruction, but a metamorphosis into a rebirth, an evolution into a different reality, one where the construct is one step closer to the ultimate element.
I believe those who wreak havoc on others do so out of an ultimate hatred and denial of themselves. In that I mourn for them. And that mourning is a release from their power and impact over me. Step by small step I inch my way towards self-love, and in this way find clues of like-souls along the path. Slowly I set aside my arms of anger and pain of betrayal. Slowly I say, because some days finds me upside down facing back upon the path I've traversed. I see my horrible mother there behind me and my heart leaps into my throat for the love that has been wasted in hate. And here, on this point of the path, I weep, not like a man, but as a child that understands nothing, nothing but that one basic element.
And for me it is clear... unconditional love, for others AND FOR MYSELF... that is my lifeboat. That is my rope and harness on this cliff of life. How many times have I considered cutting my own rope? Yet I don't, I haven't... why? Because I see and read and feel in the experiences of others that thing that I too have experienced and felt and written. Across the ether I sense connection. And it wills me on.
Thank you from my deepest heart for sharing your experience, JamesG3. This world is truly as beautiful as we want it to be.
#5
Other / Re: Our Healing Porch Part 8
Last post by Chart - Today at 11:33:14 AMJust a heads up to everyone, I'll be out and about this morning around the cabin doing little chores. No worries, it's my thing. There're some trees down farther off that could use clearing. I'll stack the logs I get in the dry-shed. Noticed the gutters could use cleaning as well. I'll do that after. But after that I'm joining you by the fire. This afternoon I want to read too. I've got the energy to make tea this this afternoon and I've brought French pastries. There's plenty for everyone.
:-)
:-)
#6
Recovery Journals / Re: TV's Repair Journal
Last post by Chart - Today at 11:03:00 AMThank you for sharing your story, lowbudgetTV. It was very soft and warm and touching. I'm sorry for the loss of your friend. Sounds however as if you have understood and accepted the deeper reality of how we live our lives and what truly matters on our short journey here. Making connection is a big theme for me too. Finding others that understanding what I'm experiencing. Aside this Forum, I've very few people in my life I can truly connect with. I think I understand your struggle there.
Sending hugs and suif that's okay.
Sending hugs and suif that's okay.
#7
Other / Re: Our Healing Porch Part 8
Last post by TheBigBlue - Today at 10:19:06 AMThis is such a beautiful place... thank you all for painting it so vividly that I can almost feel the warmth of the fire and hear the floorboards creak under the rocking chairs.
San, I'm really glad you came here to rest. Your description brought something soft into my night too. That feeling of innocence and then the sudden drop back into reality ... I get that.
If it's okay, I'll join you for a while.
I'm settling into one of the porch chairs with a wool blanket wrapped around me and my service dog curled at my feet, listening to the quiet crackle from inside the cabin. The air smells like cold night sky.
I think I'll stay here a bit too. It feels good to imagine a place where nothing is urgent, and everyone gets to just be.
San, I'm really glad you came here to rest. Your description brought something soft into my night too. That feeling of innocence and then the sudden drop back into reality ... I get that.
If it's okay, I'll join you for a while.
I'm settling into one of the porch chairs with a wool blanket wrapped around me and my service dog curled at my feet, listening to the quiet crackle from inside the cabin. The air smells like cold night sky.
I think I'll stay here a bit too. It feels good to imagine a place where nothing is urgent, and everyone gets to just be.
#8
General Discussion / progress notes nov 25
Last post by JamesG3 - Today at 08:58:33 AMHi all. bit of mind dump here but a LOT has happened and I need to articulate it. Like you do.
ADHD diagnosis came through as expected in July. Aced the test! I'd had plenty of time to anticipate my reactions as I was certain it was coming, so no big flip out, soul searching or regrets. Not entirely accurate, that tho, as the final diagnosis lets the last doubts go away and your are free to process a whole life through the right lens finally.
Meds straight away, concerta, and effects have been remarkable. Trauma thoughts virtually vanished overnight, which at first I thought was solely down to the meds, but which i now suspect is 50% of why it lifted.
The thing is, that the ADHD was the missing component in my C-PTSD story. It was the gift to my protagonists, the instability in me that justified the condescension, bullying and neglect. It gave them fuel to undermine my boundaries and my privacy. And when the trauma moments reached their absolute crescendo, it made me less and less able to control my feelings, and my focus and my self moderation went to pieces, which, of course, made their lousy, petty behaviour even easier. As the trauma hit, my self control went with it, and shame was to follow.
But shame isnt always obvious, is it? The feelings were masked and hidden. Obsessed with the trauma, I put all recovery eggs in one basket, and didn't go near the ADHD at all. Why would I? I had legitimate reasons to assume everything was down to PTSD.
But it didn't stay down, and it naturally made recovery from C_PTSD impossible. I couldn't work out why I could get rid of that last 20% of the shrapnel. I couldn't, because it wasn't shrapnel at all, it was simply how I was wired.
Some things you simply cannot help, it's who you are. I was sensitive, scatty, prone to creative bursts one moment, and cognitive gridlock the next. So what? Is that a crime? Apparently, yes. It's an especially heinous crime, it seems. when you have a mother with a stroke, a business, an alcoholic partner * bent on dying and a narcissistic sibling determined to wipe out everything else around him. With everyone around me dumping their issues on me and leaving me to do the heavy lifting, they stood back to pick holes in a breakdown they were quite happy to create. More stress, more mistakes. To keep control, I had to think harder, push my poor brain to its absolute limits, my masking breaking down under the sandblasting. Every stumbled was highlighted, and broadcasted back at me, exagerating the effect. Victim shaming was the order of the day. ADHD and trauma, my head was at a level of self control that was simply too much, and it waited until my mother died and one wall of my cage was gone and I moved away, and then it broke.
Of course it broke. Self control like that is a dam, you hold back, but it's never going to be forever, the trauma lifts and then the bouncing bomb will finally pop and the flood will come. It's just a matter of time.
10 years later, I have the means to stop it, finally.
I've been hoping for someone or something to forgive me for the things I did wrong. But that's just it. I did NOTHING wrong. I was thrown a thousand babies and I caught way more than was reasonable. For someone with ADHD, I'm amazed I caught any of them. But what I dropped has haunted me, not least because they are the substance of the stick that was used to beat me, occasionally directly, but more often in the cowardly shadows of gossip and online slander. They'd never win a a public head on accusation against me, because it wouldn't work, and a one with two neurons of enquiry would have asked 'yeah, but where were you, then?' Instead, those with the most to answer for chose to mutter their poison in fringe venues. Emails and messaging with distant relatives, over beer in pubs, at my dead partner's wake. Some I caught out, a lot I didn't, and never will, but the damage it did was enough to destroy friendships with people I just couldn't bear justifying and compensating with any longer. Frankly, it was so painful, I let people go who were on my side, simply because I felt I couldn't take the chance.
The smallest slivers of truth, can create the most grotesque and inflated lies. I just felt flawed at a deep, deep level and I couldn't shake it. What I now know was ADHD, was the component that made it unshakable, a gift to these awful, morally lazy people who'd chosen cheap, easy narratives over a complex terrible story, simply for the * of it or to explain away why they didn't come to the aid of my ex partner and a man desperately trying to save her from herself. I can say with 100% certainty, that even a small intervention from these people could have changed EVERYTHING. I asked, repeatedly, and they ignored me. It made zero sense to me. How can you lie on such an industrial scale like that?
But I get it now, I get ME. I can see how I tried to cope with the building crisis with stress lines everywhere I didn't even remotely understand. Even so, I took it on, did my part, even tho others didn't. I get WHY I broke afterwards, I get why I was such a target, why I felt every injustice with the pain of 3 people, I get all of it.
Now I have to just let the monsters and the goblins go altogether. I was hanging on for admonishment from people unworthy of the job. I don't need to feel even linked to these people. I GET that one now. Oh yes. Letting go means exactly that. Go... GO AWAY. Get out of my beautiful mind.
It can be a horrible world, if you let horrible people tell you it is.
IT's actually however beautiful I want it to be.
ADHD diagnosis came through as expected in July. Aced the test! I'd had plenty of time to anticipate my reactions as I was certain it was coming, so no big flip out, soul searching or regrets. Not entirely accurate, that tho, as the final diagnosis lets the last doubts go away and your are free to process a whole life through the right lens finally.
Meds straight away, concerta, and effects have been remarkable. Trauma thoughts virtually vanished overnight, which at first I thought was solely down to the meds, but which i now suspect is 50% of why it lifted.
The thing is, that the ADHD was the missing component in my C-PTSD story. It was the gift to my protagonists, the instability in me that justified the condescension, bullying and neglect. It gave them fuel to undermine my boundaries and my privacy. And when the trauma moments reached their absolute crescendo, it made me less and less able to control my feelings, and my focus and my self moderation went to pieces, which, of course, made their lousy, petty behaviour even easier. As the trauma hit, my self control went with it, and shame was to follow.
But shame isnt always obvious, is it? The feelings were masked and hidden. Obsessed with the trauma, I put all recovery eggs in one basket, and didn't go near the ADHD at all. Why would I? I had legitimate reasons to assume everything was down to PTSD.
But it didn't stay down, and it naturally made recovery from C_PTSD impossible. I couldn't work out why I could get rid of that last 20% of the shrapnel. I couldn't, because it wasn't shrapnel at all, it was simply how I was wired.
Some things you simply cannot help, it's who you are. I was sensitive, scatty, prone to creative bursts one moment, and cognitive gridlock the next. So what? Is that a crime? Apparently, yes. It's an especially heinous crime, it seems. when you have a mother with a stroke, a business, an alcoholic partner * bent on dying and a narcissistic sibling determined to wipe out everything else around him. With everyone around me dumping their issues on me and leaving me to do the heavy lifting, they stood back to pick holes in a breakdown they were quite happy to create. More stress, more mistakes. To keep control, I had to think harder, push my poor brain to its absolute limits, my masking breaking down under the sandblasting. Every stumbled was highlighted, and broadcasted back at me, exagerating the effect. Victim shaming was the order of the day. ADHD and trauma, my head was at a level of self control that was simply too much, and it waited until my mother died and one wall of my cage was gone and I moved away, and then it broke.
Of course it broke. Self control like that is a dam, you hold back, but it's never going to be forever, the trauma lifts and then the bouncing bomb will finally pop and the flood will come. It's just a matter of time.
10 years later, I have the means to stop it, finally.
I've been hoping for someone or something to forgive me for the things I did wrong. But that's just it. I did NOTHING wrong. I was thrown a thousand babies and I caught way more than was reasonable. For someone with ADHD, I'm amazed I caught any of them. But what I dropped has haunted me, not least because they are the substance of the stick that was used to beat me, occasionally directly, but more often in the cowardly shadows of gossip and online slander. They'd never win a a public head on accusation against me, because it wouldn't work, and a one with two neurons of enquiry would have asked 'yeah, but where were you, then?' Instead, those with the most to answer for chose to mutter their poison in fringe venues. Emails and messaging with distant relatives, over beer in pubs, at my dead partner's wake. Some I caught out, a lot I didn't, and never will, but the damage it did was enough to destroy friendships with people I just couldn't bear justifying and compensating with any longer. Frankly, it was so painful, I let people go who were on my side, simply because I felt I couldn't take the chance.
The smallest slivers of truth, can create the most grotesque and inflated lies. I just felt flawed at a deep, deep level and I couldn't shake it. What I now know was ADHD, was the component that made it unshakable, a gift to these awful, morally lazy people who'd chosen cheap, easy narratives over a complex terrible story, simply for the * of it or to explain away why they didn't come to the aid of my ex partner and a man desperately trying to save her from herself. I can say with 100% certainty, that even a small intervention from these people could have changed EVERYTHING. I asked, repeatedly, and they ignored me. It made zero sense to me. How can you lie on such an industrial scale like that?
But I get it now, I get ME. I can see how I tried to cope with the building crisis with stress lines everywhere I didn't even remotely understand. Even so, I took it on, did my part, even tho others didn't. I get WHY I broke afterwards, I get why I was such a target, why I felt every injustice with the pain of 3 people, I get all of it.
Now I have to just let the monsters and the goblins go altogether. I was hanging on for admonishment from people unworthy of the job. I don't need to feel even linked to these people. I GET that one now. Oh yes. Letting go means exactly that. Go... GO AWAY. Get out of my beautiful mind.
It can be a horrible world, if you let horrible people tell you it is.
IT's actually however beautiful I want it to be.
#9
Other / Re: Our Healing Porch Part 8
Last post by sanmagic7 - Today at 06:25:05 AMi'm here, having a very rough nite. blueberry assured me that my good feelings i've been having the past few nites will no longer overwhelm me while i'm here. i want to sit in my rocking chair in the log cabin, fire going, good book, knitted throw over me, bixby the bison by my side. wow, it's like i went back to a very good time at 16, enjoyed it all over again, laughing, smiling, whoopin' and hollerin' watching my beatles do their thing, but it was like i was suddenly thrust into reality.
the portion of the anthology that was on was when they began getting into drugs, being stoned all the time, top of the world, got scared cuz they were picked up by the police in manila - just hearing them talk about being so paranoid suddenly when everything before was unicorns and rainbows, riding high, enjoying themselves, making music, and then their reality hit, that they didn't quite have the world at their fingertips, they had rules to follow as well, and their choices could take them into some heavy trouble.
somehow it was the end of an age of innocence. and i came down just as hard. it was so pristine and fun and frolic before that. and i was thrust back into my real world, too. i need to rest for a few days here. good books - steven king's 7 book series about the Dark Tower right now. not scary, but mystical at times. i'm on book 2. i'll stay here, i think, until i finish it. this was too scary for me tonite. thank god this place is here, and thank you blueberry for being there for me.
the portion of the anthology that was on was when they began getting into drugs, being stoned all the time, top of the world, got scared cuz they were picked up by the police in manila - just hearing them talk about being so paranoid suddenly when everything before was unicorns and rainbows, riding high, enjoying themselves, making music, and then their reality hit, that they didn't quite have the world at their fingertips, they had rules to follow as well, and their choices could take them into some heavy trouble.
somehow it was the end of an age of innocence. and i came down just as hard. it was so pristine and fun and frolic before that. and i was thrust back into my real world, too. i need to rest for a few days here. good books - steven king's 7 book series about the Dark Tower right now. not scary, but mystical at times. i'm on book 2. i'll stay here, i think, until i finish it. this was too scary for me tonite. thank god this place is here, and thank you blueberry for being there for me.
#10
Recovery Journals / Re: TV's Repair Journal
Last post by lowbudgetTV - Today at 12:14:02 AMI just finished up another monthly therapy session. It was very helpful and I think I am slowly doing better about things I want to be better about.
(Content warning for tragic death in this entry, nothing graphic, but be good to yourself!)
Sadly, I found out on thanksgiving that a good and dear friend passed. I do not recall if I mentioned it here so I'll re-explain, but it was even more shocking and... interesting (in a fate-of-the-world type of way) because she was the daughter of my grandmother-figure who recently also passed of natural causes. Last time I saw my "M" before I became a self-imposed orphan, she had just causally isolated me and told me this grandmother figure was in hospice. At least I knew to keep an eye on things and know when she passed, which I did by following and keeping up with my old dear friend, her daughter.
But, alas, I found when wanting to give her some thanksgiving/holiday joy, that she had recently tragically died in a car accident. It was so shocking. It was like a dream. It was so strange to me that she passed so soon (in the grand scheme) to her mother in an unrelated way! It wasn't even her fault in the accident; it was mere chance.
I was sad, as anyone would be with tragedy, but I didn't really feel anything until I talked about it with my therapist. I thought it'd just be a footnote, saying things like "oh yeah, this terrible thing happened, (and also I've had some related dreams about my "M" dying recently too; definitely related)" but it was so connective to other thoughts I've been having, as it turns out.
For instance, I noted that one of my first thoughts when looking into the tragic death of my old friend was that "oh good, it wasn't her fault". I don't care, someone died! It's tragic no matter what! But I knew it was my "M" in my brain. I remembered her heartless words about the people I loved. I remembered how she insulted this person before. She insulted my adoptive grandmother too. She didn't like that her daughter was poor and asked for help and blah, blah, blah. But here's the truth, as I sit here and mourn a family that was never mine and yet was more a family than my blood relatives were to me: they didn't care about money or status or anything. They lived such beautiful and rich lives, whether rich (the grandmother) or poor (the daughter). They helped each other. The daughter died in the accident going to help someone. She was so giving, as was her mother. That's all that really matters. They were filled with love. They lived a good life, albeit that the daughter should've had some more time to live--but with the good amount she had, she lived a good one, despite being poor and different and difficult.
My "M" still lives, and as far as I know from the last I've heard of her, she is alone and miserable. And the woman she disliked is beloved and mourned by all who knew her, and there are smiles and celebrating in her honor because that's what she asked for after her death. And here I am: I know the difference between those two women.
I am very overwhelmed and scared and confused in my life. According to my therapist, I'm normal: I'm going through a quarter-life crisis and I'm traumatized. I am not alone. I am trying to feel less alone by talking to others. I still am lost and confused and I don't know what I'm doing. I'm overwhelmed because there's so much I want to do and I don't know who I am and I don't know how to get there. Yet, I take everything in, and I see it through my eyes. I always have seen a lot through my eyes, being that I am a quiet person who thinks too much. I think I'm getting there in what I have to do.
I remember thinking of a long-ago memory while my Therapist was talking about EMDR things (she's not certified or whatever, but her mentor was and gave her some advice; it's helpful!)... I remember how nice it felt to receive messages during a bad time--to interact with all and everyone even if sometimes they were imperfect or bothered me a little. I miss it. It feels so lonely how I am now. I want to find people again and be so open and free to let them in and try. I want to give to the world unabashedly. I think I might try to do that more. I think I should begin to be more like a child again, as if the next stage of life was a rebirth. In a way, it is.
(Content warning for tragic death in this entry, nothing graphic, but be good to yourself!)
Sadly, I found out on thanksgiving that a good and dear friend passed. I do not recall if I mentioned it here so I'll re-explain, but it was even more shocking and... interesting (in a fate-of-the-world type of way) because she was the daughter of my grandmother-figure who recently also passed of natural causes. Last time I saw my "M" before I became a self-imposed orphan, she had just causally isolated me and told me this grandmother figure was in hospice. At least I knew to keep an eye on things and know when she passed, which I did by following and keeping up with my old dear friend, her daughter.
But, alas, I found when wanting to give her some thanksgiving/holiday joy, that she had recently tragically died in a car accident. It was so shocking. It was like a dream. It was so strange to me that she passed so soon (in the grand scheme) to her mother in an unrelated way! It wasn't even her fault in the accident; it was mere chance.
I was sad, as anyone would be with tragedy, but I didn't really feel anything until I talked about it with my therapist. I thought it'd just be a footnote, saying things like "oh yeah, this terrible thing happened, (and also I've had some related dreams about my "M" dying recently too; definitely related)" but it was so connective to other thoughts I've been having, as it turns out.
For instance, I noted that one of my first thoughts when looking into the tragic death of my old friend was that "oh good, it wasn't her fault". I don't care, someone died! It's tragic no matter what! But I knew it was my "M" in my brain. I remembered her heartless words about the people I loved. I remembered how she insulted this person before. She insulted my adoptive grandmother too. She didn't like that her daughter was poor and asked for help and blah, blah, blah. But here's the truth, as I sit here and mourn a family that was never mine and yet was more a family than my blood relatives were to me: they didn't care about money or status or anything. They lived such beautiful and rich lives, whether rich (the grandmother) or poor (the daughter). They helped each other. The daughter died in the accident going to help someone. She was so giving, as was her mother. That's all that really matters. They were filled with love. They lived a good life, albeit that the daughter should've had some more time to live--but with the good amount she had, she lived a good one, despite being poor and different and difficult.
My "M" still lives, and as far as I know from the last I've heard of her, she is alone and miserable. And the woman she disliked is beloved and mourned by all who knew her, and there are smiles and celebrating in her honor because that's what she asked for after her death. And here I am: I know the difference between those two women.
I am very overwhelmed and scared and confused in my life. According to my therapist, I'm normal: I'm going through a quarter-life crisis and I'm traumatized. I am not alone. I am trying to feel less alone by talking to others. I still am lost and confused and I don't know what I'm doing. I'm overwhelmed because there's so much I want to do and I don't know who I am and I don't know how to get there. Yet, I take everything in, and I see it through my eyes. I always have seen a lot through my eyes, being that I am a quiet person who thinks too much. I think I'm getting there in what I have to do.
I remember thinking of a long-ago memory while my Therapist was talking about EMDR things (she's not certified or whatever, but her mentor was and gave her some advice; it's helpful!)... I remember how nice it felt to receive messages during a bad time--to interact with all and everyone even if sometimes they were imperfect or bothered me a little. I miss it. It feels so lonely how I am now. I want to find people again and be so open and free to let them in and try. I want to give to the world unabashedly. I think I might try to do that more. I think I should begin to be more like a child again, as if the next stage of life was a rebirth. In a way, it is.