September 22, 2006


I guess I was in shock and then the bubble kind of burst. The last time I saw Will a few weeks ago he bore his darkness. I had never experienced this darkness from him before. I tried to brush it aside and rationalize it. He certainly rationilized it after it happened. I couldn't accept that I was experiencing post traumatic stress disorder. I went on like nothing; but then I noticed old patterns cropping up in my behavior. Old beliefs of being a bad girl or of calling attention to myself. I felt terrified when a man pulled over and asked if I had a cell phone. He said he had run out of gas. I knew there was probably more going on and wondered if he watched me enter my apartment. I felt felt fear when a man smiled at me as I passed his car as I was walking down the sidewalk. I lost my appetite and began wondering if I was becoming anorexic.

What happened was he stangled me a couple of times in a row. I told a couple of friends; but no one else. I stopped seeing him. But then when I lost feeling in my finger last weekend I lost it. It didn't occur to me that this could be connected until a few days ago. So I sought out a chiropractor thinking that this could be a pinched nerve. When I called a physician referral line they said that it could be orthopedic or neurological. So I must see a family dr. to get a work up on Monday. The neurologist said I need an mri before I go to him. I feel like such an asshole. I went to an emergency room on Sunday night and they disregarded me. They acted pissed off that I was even wasting their time with a stupid numb finger. That was a horrific night. They invalidated me. I think I have to report the hospital for this. They learned that I was Bipolar and treated me like an idiot.

So I have been barely surviving. I have been seeking out things and people that are supportive and therapeutic. I called a trauma counseling center on Tuesday and they haven't called to set up the intake yet. Talk about people dropping the ball. I have had discussions with four friends now and most were quite helpful. My friend who is in a long term depression doesn't know that I am suffering. She knows what happened but not how this is all unfolding.
Another friend woke me up to the fact that it was attempted murder. She kept insisting that I find a therapist. I was in denial for a while.

I went to the clubhouse yesterday to learn how to make jewelry and discovered that there is an excellent art teacher there and she is so passionate about us getting to learn new skills. She wants out input on what types of supplies she should order. There were more people at the class yesterday than usual. It was interesting to meet people who are practicing art. One woman has an art show now at a tattoo parlor/ art gallery. I am going to try to go see it. There are a few accomplished artist who will teach one class a week. There will be an art show in December where I can sell some of my photography. I expressed an interest in doing wood burning on gourds and the teacher said that she would like to teach me how to do wood sculpture. She showed me the log that she wants me to make into art. I am so excited about this. Maybe I can learn skills that I can market. A woman is going to teach healing through writing and collage.

I am considering returning to overeaters anonymous. I went a few times a long time ago and it might be the right thing for me. I have a workbook that I bought there that I started but haven't done much work in yet. I think it might be useful.

I wrote a poem the other day that I think is a bit cheerier than some of the others that I have written recently. Here it is.

The Rich Cold of the After-Snow

After the snow the earth is smooth and clean;
the universe is silent and perfect.
The tragedy is over
the death has happened
the life and the remains
are wiped slate clean
the world sighs and pauses
there is still time
to shove into flannel-lined rubber boots
and cover small hands in socks.
There is time to linger before shoveling snow.
Let's not ruin this peace;
let us inhale the steam
from our wassail.
Let the cardinals pose in rich crimson
in stark juxtaposition to this blank canvas.

Posted by Butterfly Emerging at September 22, 2006 06:10 PM


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