Journal Entries
Self-destructive (trigger warning-suicidal thoughts)
Posted Apr 10, 2003
I'm in a self-destructive mode today. Probably shouldn't be behind the wheel of a car. It's so tempting. Pedal to the metal. Flirt with something solid. Maybe a little kiss. Not the tree though. It hasn't done me any harm. Probably not that car either. Bet I had him worried doing 45 mph with a pen in one hand and a pad of paper in the other, writing not watching the road. Safety railings are better. Hmmm…$250K in life insurance, another $250K in accidental death insurance (everyone knows my ankle/foot hasn't been working properly…I could pull this off). Not a bad legacy. I am worth more dead than alive.
Car payment's due today. The IRS and the mortgage company want their pound of flesh next week. The credit card companies are clamoring for their money. And so it goes. Can't divide 200/3000 and come up positive. I'm learning to 'cope' with everything except money problems. (No I can't, but those are the easiest to face). Too bad. I am making a decent salary, just in over my head. If we can just hold out a little longer, maybe I wouldn't have to hold up the whole financial burden, but I feel like the caryatid that has fallen under her stone. She tried so hard but in the end the stone was just too heavy. I just wish I wasn't dragging others down with me. I know he's trying too, but I know I can't possibly convey how terrified I am of being broke.
(yeah, sure you know what else you're trying to cope with today- talk about being self-destructive-don't hesitate, just get it over with-a little pain is good, let's you remember you're alive-you know it's for the best-why wait to get hurt when you can DO IT YOURSELF)
Erewhon found, but nobody is here.
Why is everyone so cheerful at work today?
That bottle of pills looks sooo inviting.
No, better wait until tomorrow…you have to help someone else who's counting on you out of their pit today.
This is the bottom of the pit but I'm still falling.
You can hang on for one more day.
When will tomorrow come?
Discuss this Journal entry [1]
Latest reply: Apr 10, 2003
Broken One (*warning* triggers - abuse, rape, violence, suicidal thoughts)
Posted Apr 10, 2003
How do we manage to find each other? The Broken Ones. We know there has to be a better place. Salvation. Hope. A Safe Haven somewhere.
The anonymity of words without faces. No physical contact or abuse here. At last the body is safe. No hitting or slapping or pinching or twisting or burning. No way to be forced into a submissive posture held for hours on end.
No thrusts and lances of pain while your body is being forced open, held immobile, penetrated, violated. No hand covering your mouth and nose. Not being able to scream, to breathe. No hand groping over your body. No mouth kissing, sucking, biting.
Physical pain, no matter how intense, once the stimulus is removed the body can quickly forget … until it happens again. The sheer desperation of - Please, don’t do it again - falls on deaf ears. The scars remain. Etched into the body, the soul, and the mind.
You must want it to continue. Why else wouldn’t you break the cycle. Could it be the words? Words can hurt. Words do hurt.
Stupid. Dumb. Worthless. Don’t tell. This is for your own good. It’s all your fault. Crazy. Sick. Incompetent. Don’t listen to her. Don’t waste your time. You may watch ME live life and perhaps I will throw you a crumb. I am your master; you are my servant, my slave. I have total and complete control over you. You are here to serve my every beck and call, my every whim.
I used to be intelligent. I was a gifted child. Gifted in negotiation. Fight your own battles. I don’t want to referee. Let me alone. I’m just a kid. Let me sleep.
Book smart, not street smart. Want to come in back, little girl, and see the new shipment of sweaters that I haven’t unpacked (come into my parlor said the spider to the fly – want to come up and see my etchings). He gets a suspended sentence and counseling. I have to live with the shame. Don’t touch. Don’t hug. Don’t kiss. Those are dirty. I am dirty. Eat. If you are fat enough, no one will want to touch you. They will Leave You Alone.
The feeling of cold steel at your throat. The baby moving inside you. If the baby hadn’t moved, maybe you might have fought. Would it have been a quick way to end it all? Your life isn’t worth the lousy $300 … it isn’t worth a cent! But the baby moved. It doesn’t want to die. It’s not fair to the baby. It didn’t ask to be conceived. You could have ended it. Abortion would have been so easy. But you didn’t. So, don’t fight. Maybe the opportunity will come again.
It came before. You held the razor to your wrist but didn’t have the will power to cut deep enough. Your first cry for help?
He’s back from his trip with his girlfriend. Degradation begins again. But he has a girl friend. Maybe he will leave your body alone. No such luck. He is interest in her mind not her body. He starts bringing her everywhere. You come with. You wait on them both. He ignores you, except in bed. She won’t give him what he wants, so he takes it from you.
Year after year goes by. Unless he tells you what to wear, you can’t get dressed in the morning. You become incapable of making the simplest decisions. You don’t sleep. You don’t stop eating. You start thinking of suicide again. Pills are quick. Pills are easy. Just take a handful and hop behind the wheel of the car. Go and go and go until you can’t go anymore.
And then you find salvation. The pedestal is there. The white knight awaits. He gathers in the Broken Ones. Safe Haven.
Discuss this Journal entry [4]
Latest reply: Apr 10, 2003
Broken One (**warning, VERY triggering**)
Posted Apr 9, 2003
How do we manage to find each other? The Broken Ones. We know there has to be a better place. Salvation. Hope. A Safe Haven somewhere.
The anonymity of words without faces. No physical contact or abuse here. At last the body is safe. No hitting or slapping or pinching or twisting or burning. No way to be forced into a submissive posture held for hours on end.
No thrusts and lances of pain while your body is being forced open, held immobile, penetrated, violated.
Physical pain, no matter how intense, once the stimulus is removed the body can quickly forget … until it happens again. The sheer desperation of - Please, don’t do it again - falls on deaf ears. The scars remain. Etched into the body, the soul, and the mind.
You must want it to continue. Why else wouldn’t you break the cycle. Could it be the words? Words can hurt. Words do hurt.
Stupid. Dumb. Worthless. Don’t tell. This is for your own good. It’s all your fault. Crazy. Sick. Incompetent. Don’t listen to her. Don’t waste your time. You may watch ME live life and perhaps I will throw you a crumb. I am your master; you are my servant, my slave. I have total and complete control over you. You are here to serve my every beck and call, my every whim.
I used to be intelligent. I was a gifted child. Gifted in negotiation. Fight your own battles. I don’t want to referee. Let me alone. I’m just a kid. Let me sleep.
Book smart, not street smart. Want to come in back, little girl, and see the new shipment of sweaters that I haven’t unpacked (come into my parlor said the spider to the fly – want to come up and see my etchings). He gets a suspended sentence and counseling. I have to live with the shame. Don’t touch. Don’t hug. Don’t kiss. Those are dirty. I am dirty. Eat. If you are fat enough, no one will want to touch you. They will Leave You Alone.
The feeling of cold steel at your throat. The baby moving inside you. If the baby hadn’t moved, maybe you might have fought. Would it have been a quick way to end it all? Your life isn’t worth the lousy $300 … it isn’t worth a cent! But the baby moved. It doesn’t want to die. It’s not fair to the baby. It didn’t ask to be conceived. You could have ended it. Abortion would have been so easy. But you didn’t. So, don’t fight. Maybe the opportunity will come again.
It came before. You held the razor to your wrist but didn’t have the will power to cut deep enough. Your first cry for help?
He’s back from his trip with his girlfriend. Degradation begins again. But he has a girl friend. Maybe he will leave your body alone. No such luck. He is interest in her mind not her body. He starts bringing her everywhere. You come with. You wait on them both. He ignores you, except in bed. She won’t give him what he wants, so he takes it from you.
Year after year goes by. Unless he tells you what to wear, you can’t get dressed in the morning. You become incapable of making the simplest decisions. You don’t sleep. You don’t stop eating. You start thinking of suicide again. Pills are quick. Pills are easy. Just take a handful and hop behind the wheel of the car. Go and go and go until you can’t go anymore.
And then you find salvation. The pedestal is there. The white knight awaits. He gathers in the Broken Ones. Safe Haven.
Discuss this Journal entry [1]
Latest reply: Apr 9, 2003
Broken One
Posted Apr 8, 2003
How do we manage to find each other? The Broken Ones. We know there has to be a better place. Salvation. Hope. A Safe Haven somewhere.
The anonymity of words without faces. No physical contact or abuse here. At last the body is safe. No hitting or slapping or pinching or twisting or burning. No way to be forced into a submissive posture held for hours on end.
No thrusts and lances of pain while your body is being forced open, held immobile, penetrated, violated.
Physical pain, no matter how intense, once the stimulus is removed the body can quickly forget … until it happens again. The sheer desperation of - Please, don’t do it again - falls on deaf ears. The scars remain. Etched into the body, the soul, and the mind.
You must want it to continue. Why else wouldn’t you break the cycle. Could it be the words? Words can hurt. Words do hurt.
Stupid. Dumb. Worthless. Don’t tell. This is for your own good. It’s all your fault. Crazy. Sick. Incompetent. Don’t listen to her. Don’t waste your time. You may watch ME live life and perhaps I will throw you a crumb. I am your master; you are my servant, my slave. I have total and complete control over you. You are here to serve my every beck and call, my every whim.
I used to be intelligent. I was a gifted child. Gifted in negotiation. Fight your own battles. I don’t want to referee. Let me alone. I’m just a kid. Let me sleep.
Book smart, not street smart. Want to come in back, little girl, and see the new shipment of sweaters that I haven’t unpacked (come into my parlor said the spider to the fly – want to come up and see my etchings). He gets a suspended sentence and counseling. I have to live with the shame. Don’t touch. Don’t hug. Don’t kiss. Those are dirty. I am dirty. Eat. If you are fat enough, no one will want to touch you. They will Leave You Alone.
The feeling of cold steel at your throat. The baby moving inside you. If the baby hadn’t moved, maybe you might have fought. Would it have been a quick way to end it all? Your life isn’t worth the lousy $300 … it isn’t worth a cent! But the baby moved. It doesn’t want to die. It’s not fair to the baby. It didn’t ask to be conceived. You could have ended it. Abortion would have been so easy. But you didn’t. So, don’t fight. Maybe the opportunity will come again.
It came before. You held the razor to your wrist but didn’t have the will power to cut deep enough. Your first cry for help?
He’s back from his trip with his girlfriend. Degradation begins again. But he has a girl friend. Maybe he will leave your body alone. No such luck. He is interest in her mind not her body. He starts bringing her everywhere. You come with. You wait on them both. He ignores you, except in bed. She won’t give him what he wants, so he takes it from you.
Year after year goes by. Unless he tells you what to wear, you can’t get dressed in the morning. You become incapable of making the simplest decisions. You don’t sleep. You don’t stop eating. You start thinking of suicide again. Pills are quick. Pills are easy. Just take a handful and hop behind the wheel of the car. Go and go and go until you can’t go anymore.
And then you find salvation. The pedestal is there. The white knight awaits. He gathers in the Broken Ones. Safe Haven.
Discuss this Journal entry [1]
Latest reply: Apr 8, 2003
Richenda
Researcher U223570
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