2017, 10th of November
- the trauma recovery manifesto
Therapy for trauma: enter at own risk.
A venomous tale toward
the gush of a stream (raging river more like it) of bad life decisions, to remind me why I fight hard to keep the other people who live in me at bay.
The one who wrote the above:
I always keep her hushed,
but at moments when the beasts are restless,
she comes up gasping for air.
Like:
Childhood murmurs
Growing in a chorus,
Trembling,
Terror tormenting them,
when they finally open their core to expose that maggoted wound.
They are given no other option but to confront
permeating,
pulsating
nervous aching,
palpitating
the omitted detail from 10 years of carefully avoiding the detailed depth of her darkness came out to be tested.
therapist (the-rapist)
bad therapy?
evading the reality?
maybe another consequence of childhood became apparent in avoidance behaviour? or repeating old patterned that took me away from confronting my demon.
ten years to mend
it was hard to clean.
or maybe it took that long to dig through the “presenting problem”
either way, what i had left to hide behind,
went away March this year.
a front, no more.
My one lesson?
never again do I ignore the intuition.
once more,
I took a risk,
opened up
to a the-rapist
who reacted to my pain in a way that painted him a common sociopath,
devoid of authenticity
denied me of the right to tell my truth,
then replaying the patterned schematic sequence,
to enact inevitable re-traumatization.
but I am driven to make it through.
at any cost after making it this far.
I am told, the hardest part was over.
ending after I went back to confront the the-rapist
eight months later.
even after I found a new therapist in the midst of my breakdown
who provided support and empathy and a technique called “brain spotting” ( a form of EMDR)
I thought I could transfer the problem to him. and never go back to the other again, but after 5 times of seeing the new, information-packed, educated, up-to-date, trauma-informed therapist I kept finding myself arguing with the one prior
,
who lit the blazing fire.
why could he rent a place in my brain?
when he had not even been aware of the gore, blood
after bleeding the membrane and going deeper than deep.
about the fact,
he had evoked a
vicious, violent, volcano
one that laid dormant
deep in the fire and ice-ocean.
It had to be dealt with.
if it kept internally tormenting me eight months later.
Additionally, studying and training to be a therapist myself I knew the truth and confronting him would be the key to liberty,
I had to go back.
he had to know.
Thi was a neural pathway recoding exercise bc old me would be the kind to run and hide and avoid avoid avoid.
no longer.
he claimed denial, unaware the implication of what he did.
apologized over and over for, about 7 times
for the thing he didn’t even notice
that was:
neglecting my wounded child.
but it didn’t matter
when the damage was done.
the month, upon, month forgotten
after months left in amnesia,
mending, descending to my own demise.
to avoid inflicting the final ending.
ending of: the end: I mean of my life
death of my own being.
i had to go back.
to find out why.
but I made it,
I cannot perceive whether it is a tool for good, helpful for the resurrection of all the dead little girl lost, who lived in me. or another attempt at a fellow human destroying me.
And doesn’t he know about how hard it was to even open up?
I never learnt to trust people to begin,
let alone believe them by the words they utter
TALK CHEAP,
action reveals the reality.
behaviour always revealing a person true motivation.
Made lore for a human cannot convey things to me via word alone.
WORDS = no indication of truth
If he had read the timeline,
he might have realized,
that given my own life,
then they never have been worth a penny.
Him telling me “he didn’t mean it” meant nothing.
“he never read it”
only made it more alienating.
The real learning experience from this was:
TRUST YOU,
and ALWAY rely on your flawless intuition.
I learnt to battle the dark
demonic
menacing mirrored memory
hiding in the brain
not final, but finite enough that I can now trust who I am,
but even then he dared question
the validity of memory
for when i came back he brought up the false memory fallacy,
repeating the inoculation of
the indoctrinated evil coverup of the book of the black lie: by pulling a
ralph underwager on me, imitating the dirty paedophile defender.
he took the darkest pieces of me
buried under the organ that resides
behind my tendons,
bones
flesh.
I had to deconstruct
deprogram
simplify divided part upon part,
while I faced academic information that contradicted what he had done,
triggered me,
why can I not find help or support?
and couldn’t even configure how to enact once automated daily decisions.
afraid and alone
console and weep hoarded pain held for what felt like aeons
no end
deliver my own rebirth
and reprogram from the rancid torment flooding into my limbic system.
ceased to eat,
sleep,
or function.
the husk of a human
at the end of her tether.
does that look like a person who made this up?
He then tried to tell me that.
I had made it up,
perception told me he indicated i lied.
i couldn’t believe he had that audacity,
he had no idea what I’d done to endure what he triggered!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
NOW HE TOLD ME, I WAS MAKING UP FICTION.
after I had fought tooth and nail to even FIRST spill my gut.
CONDITIONED TO BELIEVE THIS IS WHAT WOULD HAPPEN
and he repeated the parental rejection,
denial, deception.
but
a training student can see,
that he had taken the cold, calculated modality
of Socratic questioning
too far.
like I hadn’t done that to my self
night after night
all through life.
put it back on the shelf too high
the children cannot reach
the top left corner
cobwebbed, dust-covered.
the attic chamber for my deepest portions of being
hidden locked and obscure memories,
frightening and far out of normal range,
but then at the same time too vague and somatic,
and early in infancy to even be “fully” retrieved,
let alone even articulated to another.
how I had stored them back in that box
over and over
hidden the key
changed the lock.
prayed to god
and cried wretching
hiccuped sobbing
unfathomable to most
when the prayer
was ignored.
1000 of time now.
how I hoped they were not real
for then I would not be forced to deal
with the consequence,
i had the yield of reaping
when they flooded over
inevitable
and spilt
into my reality.
HOW MANY TIMES BEFORE,
I QUESTIONED THE FABRIC OF MY OWN LIFE
to only deny,
ignore,
denial.
then regret not listening to my intuition.
it had been a thing recurrent
over the time
since I had been FIRST been aware what happened was me being abused
I was fucking tired of it now,
NOW OF ALL TIMES
Imagine finding notebook after notebook
I had never written,
worse they were all different.
painting a picture of the vacant moment.
void to me
but clear to everyone else that there is action taken during the time I cannot remember,
handwriting and parts I could not remember no matter how much I tried
how would you feel if you found a thing hanging in your closet you have no memory of buying
not once or twice
but repeatedly since you could get clothes of your own.
debt and penny devoid of buying random things
no memory of it.
and got in trouble constantly
for action/rule breaking/crime you did not even remember committing.
bullied for the painful thing put through
but forgotten
yet you paid penance for this.
ALREADY
even eerier is when you cannot recognize your own self
in a photograph
you find on an iPad of the guy you are dating
but instantly break into tyranny when you accuse him of being unfaithful,
he is bewildered bc
you took it,
only a few week earlier.
and now you are raging accusing him of everything under the sun
bc you can’t even recognize your own picture
you cannot even tell it is your vessel
from a day dimmed from your mind?
not the only time you failed to realize what you looked like.
but another lost moment
dissociated
another note or diary
written in handwriting unfamiliar
finding presents, in a weird way
became normal
and he questioned
the authenticity of the reality of my entire life?
and he opened that door
not i
but once i had endured the pain
i braved the unthinkable
and went back
BUT rather than be there to help
he told me
it might not be real.
how did he think I’d feel/think/perceive that?
CLEAR TO ME NOW
he has no concern
or care
for me the client.
or general for all of the clients.
I cannot even open that document
I have not read it
I don’t think I can
he was not present for what the aftermath of that laborious event
that began the moment I hit the Send button.
HOW dare challenge the trauma
by insinuating that I WOULD LIE.
AND MAKE THIS UP.
THE FUCK?
that hurt more than all else for he cannot know how deep the core run?
how he tried to take that from me,
RAPE THE RAPE
and i’m not letting him take that,
nope.never,
for he cannot take the truth.
he better not try to deny my inner fire.
I’m faithful to how well I am at journeying into recovery,
BUT he tells me now I’m too well read,
too educated for my own good
to stop reading.
“information overload”
what the hell?
how did he think I survived this?
I did it all alone.
educating self on how to heal?
how else are we meant to navigate?
the road to healing
without any map.
I’m proud rightfully!!!
the force that hid in the ribcage
under lung membrane.
tamed,
all on my own.
yet he tells me my high IQ is responsible for my limitations?
I CANNOT MAKE ANY LOGIC FROM THE NONSENSICAL
RUBBISH.
MY IQ HELPED GET TO NOW.
HOW CAN HE DENY
WHAT HELPED ME SURVIVE
HE has gone too far,
although it is HARD to write all of this.
I made the fatal mistake,
I did not hear what my intuition told me.
the conclusions from the poorly executed,
and carelessly handled homework given by a (the-rapist) made the whole year vanish.
The fight to incorporate all my mind, body, soul.
Integration maketh dissociation go away.
The problem?I am left alone to do the work, for incompetent Orchestra in harmony, The choir of our inner world to be purged, after living bound by ancient tombed prophecy.
All kept under strict lock and key.No more
The fight to incorporate all my mind, body, soul.
paid off now I realize that:
Integration maketh dissociation go away.
But it has not been a breeze, more akin to a tornado.
The problem?
I am left alone to do the work.
pro?
I found many LOST parts of my own core wounded but ready to help me through.
but tired, and exhumed.
Tired of the continual conscious coordination of the part inside coming together in union and melody.
made harder and more of a chore now,
from jagged daggers found
ground into crumbling china,
SHATTERED, tattered, remnants fallen from the once immaculate crockery cabinet.
conducting the orchestra in harmony,
only for the choir of our inner world to be purged.
goodbye to the inner world.
I’VE PAID MY PENANCE.
what the hell?
REMEMBER:
people can only meet me af far
as they know their own self.
He might be in pain and denial
and hiding from his own childhood/boyhood/infancy truth.
he denied that it hurt him like it hurt me,
lie.
I don’t believe him.
i think
his trauma hidden and rumbling woken
by my explosion.
he ate his words
meaning he lies without remorse
or if not,
either he is heart devoid, cunning and evil?
rarely, I cannot read people, but he is rogue.
I am too caring,
and it has helped,
i made that but,
bc i pushed through destruction
IN A WAY I AM REPULSED AT.
it showed how masochistic i can be.
but it worked.
but i’d never recommend it.
or?
BACKWARD MENDING.
TRAGIC.
masochist.
if i did not find the entire
dynamic
perplexing
I do not return.
i’d replace him as I did
and play out an old habit
like i run, hide, avoid,
the inclination to do even prior to the moment i get hurt.
but I’m bravely
naked
and
facing hard
real
truth
vulnerable
exposed
raw
more than I can say of him.
jdhdjh
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Baby girl, warrior goddess, you made it. No weapon formed against me shall prosper. I WAS burnt alive. thrice. What did that achieve? I sharpened my skill set and learned to be wiser.
I will (have can and do)
float on
and on
and
on
i survive
and
don’t
ever (never could would or should )
die
(strength comes in the pillars of solitary silence and suppressed screams of infancy revitalised into an eternity on reverse violence).
defence is my deadliest weapon
wounded spike in the heart
soul
body
and
life
of all who come In cloaked silence
to subvert my own testament
own your truth
see the soul
stripped alive
set it on fire
be born, revive, it’s my soul that forged a whole from the ashes of the dying adversity
in subdued swindled subtle
words
end game
spelling a lie
spell in the lie
to spell my spirit to switch into a self presentation of self creative survival and soul finding soul after decades of sadistic sodomised molested raped an self vs self against the sexual malice in that same violence
turns to screaming
not to self
but to stories unheard
not only me and mine
and the many entwines like mine
but the ones who tried and tormented
burnt and
tortured
before
to tell the same
in the madness and mystical blend of synchromagickmetapsycho quauntum fabric
wait
and watch
souls is whole
and soul is harmless but aware
silent but prepared
defence now back at the evil
and the sword ⚔️ turns unto the sword bearer hiding once
now seen
as seen
(cannot ; will never)
be unseen
soul truth is a force for my protection not desecration and that is
“my winning worldly weapon”
only forged from
my own
protection
or for my soul beyond time
for holding into real life
is the paid price
in past days
already done
sown and reaped
reality I knew to
say, no way.
not speak.
rife with the ritualised violence of self hate anyway it blamed myself into me.
ages stolen away from me and many me
all turn to wage a protection for the one real
in the core
she roars
on silence
and I rose now slowly
heart stirred but never saw too many wounds
to be unheard
no word heard
wings came to be heard in spirit
and I lift my sorrows to the holy of higher sanctuary and that was a sadness sewn into me back in 1992/or was it 93?
now not to know;
nor should of had a test to tear into tow a empty nothing of woe
I win me and back her
and we created more good of her
and she sings on the wings of time
to heal her hurt from the bloodline
and you will never know
and need never see
but it will be seen in reality
and in the residual testament
to stop or stare
stop and share
forge wings
now we fly
you die
I never lie
undoing all this in owls and eagles and sacred spirits
unknown
untouched
but in the end
I flow my part in power to what is my true
and true tomb is time to late to long
by the time it’s true popular
i walk for good
and pure intent
you no ? me not you.
see who comes to seek a recompense or be reversed upon the inverses they help circumvent
either way I don’t seek the retribution or retaliation
only to retire of the old expired macabre domination of divide
this way now I speak my word ? Not really sold as overt, to see the reverse in perverse decibels to come to pass my own hurt.
we watch
and observe
and win
each time
never give in
never let them in
or lose the self you found when they live
as the passing ghosts
are not real
now
and see only haunted
vessels to burn now
I found flame and burning up the life before to
build a new world better
so again
be born
reborn
die
again
reborn.
peace
love
annihilation
or your own desecrated deviation
but I die in pure livation
knowing I try and again reminded of why we died to get by in post 95
;)
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