From: egan@blkbox (Doug Egan)
Newsgroups: alt.sexual.abuse.recovery
Subject: Re: does anybody want ME?
Date: 16 Nov 92 00:09:30 GMT
Organization: CVR

>In article <BxLt4p.CMz@twwells.com> anon-1016@twwells.com (Prisoner) writes:
>>Yeah, everyone wants a piece of me. My wife wants me to be kind

>>trying to be when all that being is is pain or numbness or
>>unconsciousness. I really don't know what it is that keeps me
>>going. I can't pretend that it's a sense of obligation or what.



>>I can't figure it. I keep thinking that all this hurting is just
>>a fake, that the only reason it is there is that I do it is for
>>attention. But I can't accept that: I spent ten fucking years not
>>telling anyone. Was I just hoping that they'd notice anyway? And
>>on top of that, the inescapable logic: no one with their head
>>screwed on straight is going to spend themselves that way. But I
>>can't unravel the knot past there.

>I don't believe that your pain is any sort of a fake. I believe that 
>when people are badly traumatized (whether by another person or by
>circumstances), they can get physically/emotionally stuck in the
>moment of horror. A major way of getting out is by paying attention
>to the present, both one's internal states and one's sensory input.

>>I know why I don't drop it, of course: if I did that, I'd starve.
>>It's just me paying my way. Stupid me hates physical pain, it's
>>why I'm not dead, and I tell myself that starving to death isn't
>>a fun way to go. Well, bullshit. Someone would come and take me
>>away, no doubt, stick me in a fucking mental hospital, maybe
>>overdose me again. Hey, did you know that ODing on Thorazine is a
>>really nasty trip? Ask my young teen self how I know!
>>
>>Mind's wandering. Of course, that's what I'm trying to make it
>>do. If I engage my intellect, you'll all just hate me again.

>I don't hate you, and I didn't hate you when you were in your
>more intellectual mode. 

>>Yeah, call me FMS, you motherfuckers. Rot in hell, you.
>>
>Did anyone actually call you FMS? 

>>Oops. Forgot the spoiler. Well, here: WARNING, DANGER, SPOILER,
>>DEEP BURNING
>>
>>		****RAGE****
>>
>>Do you know how much rage I feel? I want to destroy things. You,
>>me, the computer screen, everyone, EVERYTHING. My body is shaking
>>with the rage I know is there but can't let out. The adrenalin is
>>flowing and I'm right in there with the fight or flight. But fight
>>what? Flee from what? I want to tell you how very, very angry I
>>am, with you, with everyone, with me, my wife. I want to *FEEL*
>>that. But I can't. Only little spurts, quickly suppressed.
>>
>>What to do with this malevolent monster? Stuff it back? But that's
>>death. He is me and what I have to deal with. Let it out? You've
>>already driven me away, for much less an offense. I can do neither
>>so I do a little of both and find that as with any compromise, I
>>get the worst of both alternatives. I neither let it out and I am
>>distanced anyway.

>Is there anything that it would be safe for you to let your
>destructiveness out on? (I mean something like cheap crockery.)
>(I realize that this wouldn't be as strong as destroying every-
>thing, but it might do some good.)

>Have you considered writing about all this as truthfully and
>fully as you can (in a secure notebook)? It seems to me that, in
>this post, you're pulled between wanting to communicate and
>believing that you can't.  In a notebook, you could be clear
>that you're writing to make yourself understandable to you.

>>I was about to say "This is going to kill me..." but I don't know
>>that that's true. Hell, I've lasted this long, right? I oughta be
>>able to deal with another decade of purgatory. And once I've
>>managed that, one more. Hey, only fourty more years to go.
>>Someone once told me they were comforted by that thought, that
>>their life had an end. But if that's how it is to be, I WANT IT
>>OVER NOW!
>>
>>Shit. I started with "does anybody want me". Thinking not, I hurt.
>>Please don't answer and say that I'm valuable to you this way or
>>that way; that just misses the point. Is there anyone who will
>>want me, as I am, hate, rage, self-pity, perversions and all?
>>None and I know it. Yes, I understand the reality: everyone has
>>their own shit to deal with and mine is much too much for anyone
>>to deal with.

>I don't like seeing you in so much pain, but I'd been wondering
>how you were doing. I can't save you, but (for no very obvious
>reason) I rather like you. Us rage-filled intellectuals have to
>stick together or something.

>>Including me.
>>
>>You know, I've not been totally out of contact; I've tried to
>>keep e-mail contact and the occasional phone contact. But it isn't
>>helping. I'm not real. It's all fake. It feels fake and it looks
>>fake.

>I've felt considerably more "moved in" in this universe since I've
>been paying more attention to my breathing and my senses. (This is
>a 10 year+ project that is by no means done, but it's been worth
>the trouble.) 

>Also, all this lying you've been doing may be part of what's 
>making you feel unreal. 
>>
>>It's funny. Once upon a time, I said to someone that if there is a
>>thing I want and it's important to me and it's something that has
>>to come from people, I may not have it. Well, he didn't believe
>>it. But it's true. However you look at it, no one in their right
>>mind will put up with me long enough. And if they might, I'll fuck
>>it up so that they won't, right? It sure seems that way. Just look
>>at my history here.
>>
>>Oh, goddamn. Whining and, soon I'll bet, sulking. Well, maybe not.
>>I've been awake 24 hours and maybe I'll get to sleep before I do
>>that. I hope so. Welcome to my life.

>Treat yourself as gently as you can stand , even in some small
>matter.  (I know it's very difficult and probably terrifying, but
>it might get you off the treadmill.) 

>>Well, not really. Do you realize that if you met me in person
>>you'd have no idea of this stuff? I've gotten so good at faking
>>it that only those people who have known me for years and you on
>>the net would imagine that this stuff is buried underneath. My
>>wife sure as hell doesn't have the foggiest. I keep pretending
>>because that's all that I can do.
>>
>>Sure, can you see it? Oh, boss, I hate to tell you this but for
>>the last year, I've only been working half the time; the rest of
>>the time I've spent in a massive depression. And it isn't going
>>to get any better, either. Instant pink slip, for sure. And, [my
>>wife], you have made my life absolutely miserable by not being
>>the sort of person I can confide in. And you've made it worse by
>>hanging around with that man, doing it in spite of my expressed
>>unhappiness about it. Just how stupid do you think I am? Divorce
>>city, here we come. Yes, and for the people who use my computer:
>>hey, folks, you know that helpful stuff from the administrative
>>account? Well, inside that man is someone who might just decide
>>to jump off a bridge one day, leaving you all in the lurch. Yeah,
>>that's the way to build confidence.
>>
>>Yeah. Right.
>>
>>I'm not going to say those things; with any luck, I won't even
>>follow the worst case scenarios. What I will do is keep hiding,
>>stay huddled in the corner of my life, pretend that all is well
>>for as long as I can. Pretend that I'm alive.
>>
>>Is any of this getting through?

>Quite a bit.

>Nancy Lebovitz
>nancy@genie.slhs.udel.edu 
>>

-- 
--------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Crystal Chambers                       "Love conquers all!"               
Internet:    egan@blkbox.com                          - unknown           
Friendswood, Texas                                                        
Newsgroups: alt.sexual.abuse.recovery