The nightmares I've been having are really strange. It's nothing all that traumatic. In my dream I'm laying on my bed, and the window breaks and there is someone laying on top of me. I can't get the person off. I can't tell if it's a man or a woman, the person isn't hurting me. They just lay there on top of me and I can't move, or breath. I'm scared, I scream and cry. Then suddenly I find myself awake, sitting blot upright on my bed, screaming and crying. The window is not broken and there is no one on top of me, stifling me. I'm in panic mode. Ready to get up and run away or fight off an attack, but there's nothing real that's threatening my safety.
I have no idea what the fuck it means, or why I'm having it, or where it even came from! I know in this post it sounds minor, but it has taken me two days just to be able to type about it, to a computer screen. It doesn't bother me in my waking life, once I've overcome the panic and fear. It disturbs my sleep though. Once I've had this nightmare and I wake up, there is no sleep after that. I cannot get back to sleep. I either lay awake, or get up and get ready and go to work early. I've been working a lot of doubles lately.
I'm sure there must be some deep set reason for this nightmare, as there always is. I haven't found it. And until I do find it, there's not really much I or anyone else can do to help me. My whole life I've never really had many nightmares. I had a few when I was a kid. In my adult life though, I never had them until June of last year. HA go figure right. It is really taking a toll on me. All this dark imagination that is going on inside my head when I sleep. What would make me imagine such horrible things!? Some of it I know is based on traumatic events, but this....I just don't know. Until I do know, it will just have to be more restless nights.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Sunday, July 29, 2007
My Mind Is Clear
I took off into the woods and spent time alone with myself. I got angry and screamed and threw things. I got sad and cried uncontrollably. I got happy and sang and danced in the rain. I became pensive and I sat in the dead quiet calm and thought. I felt energetic so I hiked and swam. I was tired and I slept. I was hungry and I ate. I hardly spoke. All I did was exist. Pure and simple. There was nothing to stop me from expressing myself because I was alone. There was nothing to interfere. No outside sources to make me worried or anxious. It was so basic. I needed it. I needed to get back to the most simple way of life I could. My metamorphosis is indescribable. I am clear and calm and strong. I am ready to fight. Ready for whatever is thrown at me. I am ready. I am ready.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
COURT: First Day Of The Rest Of My Life?
What do you do when everything changes? When you sit infront of 40 people and tell your deepest, most well kept secrets? When someone you love and have known for years suddenly sees the old parts of you and realizes what abuse did to you? Is there one single moment of clarity? Or does it come in waves?
I sat in a court room filled with both familiar strangers and souls whose paths I'd never crossed. There were people in that room I have not seen since childhood. I lived with "her" from the ages of 7 to 9. Some people say that you can't clearly remember events or details from that age. I do. I think everyone can. I saw her face and it looked the same. Erase some wrinkles and some graying hair, and she is the same person. Her eyes never changed. Her presence is still haunting. The memories of her still make me sick, violently so.
The man called my name and I walked down the hallway, turned the corner into the room with Blair right behind me holding my hand, looked up from the floor and I saw her face. I immediately turned around and hit the next door, to the women's washroom, and threw up in the trash bin. The man who had called my name raced in behind us, but left. I assume he went to tell the judge or whoever what was going on. I stayed in the bathroom puking for 15 minutes. After I collected myself and washed the running makeup off my face, I went back in. This time I did not look at her. I ignored the fact that I could feel her stare bore right through me. I sat in this little 3 sided box in a hard, uncomfortable chair. The lawyer told me to answer all questions as straight-forwardly as possible. It took maybe 15 minutes at the most. I told my story. I wasn't scared of her. It's almost like this little wooden railing in front of me became an invisible barrier. I kept thinking in my head..."There's a cop with a gun, this barrier is protecting me, she ain't comin over here!" I cried while I spoke my truth. It's human I guess. I stared straight at her when I walked out. She knew me, she remembered. The second I first made eye contact with her I could tell, she recognized me for exactly who I am, and who I was.
Immediately afterwards I couldn't even look at Blair. I was so ashamed and embarassed that I took everything upon myself. I didn't think I'd be able to face her. I saw her tears when I was speaking and shedding my own. She didn't bring anything up, she let me choose the topic of conversation. All she did was hug me. That's the first time in a long time anyone has held me other than my Abuela. It's like she understood without any words. She just held me, and when I pulled away she kissed my forehead and told me that I was brave. We went and had ice cream and talked about clothes, ahh to feel like a kid again!
My whole drive home I listened to music and cried! I just cried, and I screamed, and I didn't care which trucker was looking at me like a nutcase. The moment I went into my room to change my clothes my pillow caught my eye. I lay down for a minute and started to cry. This wasn't the same as before though. This was not sad tears, this was fucking pissed off tears. I hit my bed and my pillow as hard as I could. Now it's like a calm has come over me. I was able to collect all of my thoughts and actually put them into words. I was able to sit here for 10 minutes and type out this blog entry. I feel like I've removed a malignant tumor from my chest cavity. I feel like an adult. I feel safe. In Angela Shelton's version, I feel like I've removed the sword.
I sat in a court room filled with both familiar strangers and souls whose paths I'd never crossed. There were people in that room I have not seen since childhood. I lived with "her" from the ages of 7 to 9. Some people say that you can't clearly remember events or details from that age. I do. I think everyone can. I saw her face and it looked the same. Erase some wrinkles and some graying hair, and she is the same person. Her eyes never changed. Her presence is still haunting. The memories of her still make me sick, violently so.
The man called my name and I walked down the hallway, turned the corner into the room with Blair right behind me holding my hand, looked up from the floor and I saw her face. I immediately turned around and hit the next door, to the women's washroom, and threw up in the trash bin. The man who had called my name raced in behind us, but left. I assume he went to tell the judge or whoever what was going on. I stayed in the bathroom puking for 15 minutes. After I collected myself and washed the running makeup off my face, I went back in. This time I did not look at her. I ignored the fact that I could feel her stare bore right through me. I sat in this little 3 sided box in a hard, uncomfortable chair. The lawyer told me to answer all questions as straight-forwardly as possible. It took maybe 15 minutes at the most. I told my story. I wasn't scared of her. It's almost like this little wooden railing in front of me became an invisible barrier. I kept thinking in my head..."There's a cop with a gun, this barrier is protecting me, she ain't comin over here!" I cried while I spoke my truth. It's human I guess. I stared straight at her when I walked out. She knew me, she remembered. The second I first made eye contact with her I could tell, she recognized me for exactly who I am, and who I was.
Immediately afterwards I couldn't even look at Blair. I was so ashamed and embarassed that I took everything upon myself. I didn't think I'd be able to face her. I saw her tears when I was speaking and shedding my own. She didn't bring anything up, she let me choose the topic of conversation. All she did was hug me. That's the first time in a long time anyone has held me other than my Abuela. It's like she understood without any words. She just held me, and when I pulled away she kissed my forehead and told me that I was brave. We went and had ice cream and talked about clothes, ahh to feel like a kid again!
My whole drive home I listened to music and cried! I just cried, and I screamed, and I didn't care which trucker was looking at me like a nutcase. The moment I went into my room to change my clothes my pillow caught my eye. I lay down for a minute and started to cry. This wasn't the same as before though. This was not sad tears, this was fucking pissed off tears. I hit my bed and my pillow as hard as I could. Now it's like a calm has come over me. I was able to collect all of my thoughts and actually put them into words. I was able to sit here for 10 minutes and type out this blog entry. I feel like I've removed a malignant tumor from my chest cavity. I feel like an adult. I feel safe. In Angela Shelton's version, I feel like I've removed the sword.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Finding Solace
Ohh man last night was a bit dramatic! Totally unexpected. My Abuela and I had a long day, and I went in to take a shower after I thought she was in bed asleep. I'm not really sure why, but I totally lost it. I started crying hysterically! There was no real reason other than the fact that I was going to have to release all that pent up emotion at some point. I figured I could hold out until she at least went back home. Nope. Wrong. So anyways...I'm in the bathroom sitting on the floor with the shower running, crying uncontrolably and in walks my Abuela......can you see the expression on my face...ohh yea, fucking busted! There's no getting out of this one, not with her around. She's more stubborn and persistant than I am! So I had to tell her what I had been thinking about and what was bothering me so much that I was having a total meltdown!
I explained to her that being in NYC and meeting all my friends(family really), and seeing all the places I had lived, and visiting all the tourist attractions, seeing the sights, her asking about September 11, it all made me think of Jess. Every step on that sidewalk, every mile in those cabs, every bump of the subway, every blade of grass in Central Park,every smell, every sound, everything, everything, everything. Everything in NYC reminds me of the life I used to have and the wife that I lost and, GOD I FUCKING HATE HOW I FEEL! NYC is the only home I have ever had up until about a year ago. Everything that has ever happened in my life, happened there. All the good, all the bad, and all the inbetween. My abuse throughout foster care, my rape, my wife's torture by her father, seeing Jess alive for the last time, THE LAST TIME! I got my GED, went to college, worked my butt off, had a nice place to live, fell in love, had awesome friends, an active life, lots of interests, lots of ways to fulfill those interests, a wife!
Throw into the mix that for the first time, I stood face to face with a woman and a group of other people...who shared the blood flowing through my viens. I went to another country, the place I would have been born, and met my family. Not foster famly, not friends who are like family, FAMILY. The woman standing in front of me gave birth to my father. She is my mother, one step removed. She saved my mother from a horrible experience and took that upon herself. This woman has lived so much and knows more withought being schooled than I ever could wish to obtain in two lifetimes!
What's wrong she asked me...I'm on overload and I'm grieving my wife, and facing the abuse I endured. Flat out, there it is. I told her everything. How could I not? She stared at me with those black eyes that seem to know everything. She held my hands in hers, her hands that for over half a century have become perfect. They are tough, and wrinkled, and soft, and gentle, and skilled. She hugged me in her arms, arms that once hugged my parents. She told me that she understood. She told me I would be okay. She told me-what lasts forever is only what I choose. She explained that no matter how bad things are around you, you need to find something good. That's how you survive, that's how you fix things that need to be repaired. Every person is a mechanic of sorts, they all learn how to mend the wounds of themselves and others, dude is she amazing or what, I never would have thought that she would say things like this, or be able to comfort me this much.
Somehow in all of her speaking, which is soft and deep and low and a bit raspy, but so comforting, I stopped crying. I focused on her voice and her touch and without realizing, I focused on myself, something I am not very good at. Her accent and her spanish words rolled around in my head and sank in. They made more sense than anything I've heard since Jess said "I love you" just before she stopped hugging me to board the plane, I never heard her speak again after that. My Abuela is the only person who has been able to reach the woman I locked inside of myself since Jess died. It had slowly been happening, this locking away of a human soul, but Jess' death was the straw the was just too much, it made me lock the door and hide the key. She didn't even need the key to unlock the door. She just pushed it open. I let her in.
I explained to her that being in NYC and meeting all my friends(family really), and seeing all the places I had lived, and visiting all the tourist attractions, seeing the sights, her asking about September 11, it all made me think of Jess. Every step on that sidewalk, every mile in those cabs, every bump of the subway, every blade of grass in Central Park,every smell, every sound, everything, everything, everything. Everything in NYC reminds me of the life I used to have and the wife that I lost and, GOD I FUCKING HATE HOW I FEEL! NYC is the only home I have ever had up until about a year ago. Everything that has ever happened in my life, happened there. All the good, all the bad, and all the inbetween. My abuse throughout foster care, my rape, my wife's torture by her father, seeing Jess alive for the last time, THE LAST TIME! I got my GED, went to college, worked my butt off, had a nice place to live, fell in love, had awesome friends, an active life, lots of interests, lots of ways to fulfill those interests, a wife!
Throw into the mix that for the first time, I stood face to face with a woman and a group of other people...who shared the blood flowing through my viens. I went to another country, the place I would have been born, and met my family. Not foster famly, not friends who are like family, FAMILY. The woman standing in front of me gave birth to my father. She is my mother, one step removed. She saved my mother from a horrible experience and took that upon herself. This woman has lived so much and knows more withought being schooled than I ever could wish to obtain in two lifetimes!
What's wrong she asked me...I'm on overload and I'm grieving my wife, and facing the abuse I endured. Flat out, there it is. I told her everything. How could I not? She stared at me with those black eyes that seem to know everything. She held my hands in hers, her hands that for over half a century have become perfect. They are tough, and wrinkled, and soft, and gentle, and skilled. She hugged me in her arms, arms that once hugged my parents. She told me that she understood. She told me I would be okay. She told me-what lasts forever is only what I choose. She explained that no matter how bad things are around you, you need to find something good. That's how you survive, that's how you fix things that need to be repaired. Every person is a mechanic of sorts, they all learn how to mend the wounds of themselves and others, dude is she amazing or what, I never would have thought that she would say things like this, or be able to comfort me this much.
Somehow in all of her speaking, which is soft and deep and low and a bit raspy, but so comforting, I stopped crying. I focused on her voice and her touch and without realizing, I focused on myself, something I am not very good at. Her accent and her spanish words rolled around in my head and sank in. They made more sense than anything I've heard since Jess said "I love you" just before she stopped hugging me to board the plane, I never heard her speak again after that. My Abuela is the only person who has been able to reach the woman I locked inside of myself since Jess died. It had slowly been happening, this locking away of a human soul, but Jess' death was the straw the was just too much, it made me lock the door and hide the key. She didn't even need the key to unlock the door. She just pushed it open. I let her in.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Grief
Grieving is not an easy process. I knew it would be more painful than I could ever try to imagine to lose someone I loved, but I just wasn't ready for this. I don't think anyone ever is. I keep stumbling upon all these new "steps" in the process. A friend told me that currently I am going through the stage where I am sad for MY PERSONAL loss. Whereas before, I was trying to console everyone else who lost Jess. I guess that was my coping mechanism. To focus my attention on helping other people deal with it. Suicide is fucking scary shit! I was offering everyone the tissues, while I remained dry eyed, with anger! I cried when I first found out, uncontrollably, but after that I was angry. I am still angry. Now though, I feel more sadness. It kills me to think that she is gone. It's hard to sleep, eat, shower, walk, breathe, and even speak some days. I know that all the anger I'm hanging onto isn't healthy, but someday soon I will release it. I've been talking to some great people. I've gathered a lot of information, now I just need to put my knowledge into action.
On a happier note, my Abuela came to visit me! YAY! I'm so proud of her for flying here. She's so brave. Especially at a time like now, while she is mourning my Abuelo's death. She doesn't talk as much here as she did when we were in Colombia, but she has asked to see a lot of things I never would have thought to show her. She keeps my on my toes with my Spanish, let me tell ya!! Not to mention my hair...
I lover her though. She is practically all the family I have in the world. Not too long ago I didn't think I had any real family at all. Now look. I'm the spitting image of my Abuela and my Tia! (Grandmother-Abuela...Aunt-Tia) for those of you who are Spanish challenged.
It's a little but scary for me to let her in. I think she is starting to understand more than I would like, what my life was like for the first 16 years. I wanted to shelter her from all of the horrible things, that make the "America is Perfect" idea a false promise. In a way it's good, but for her it's heartbreaking as well. The last thing I want to do is break her heart more than it already is. I will never know or understand how she has survived her life. She is my one true hero.
And there I end it,
but with a picture from my trip to Washington!
On a happier note, my Abuela came to visit me! YAY! I'm so proud of her for flying here. She's so brave. Especially at a time like now, while she is mourning my Abuelo's death. She doesn't talk as much here as she did when we were in Colombia, but she has asked to see a lot of things I never would have thought to show her. She keeps my on my toes with my Spanish, let me tell ya!! Not to mention my hair...
I lover her though. She is practically all the family I have in the world. Not too long ago I didn't think I had any real family at all. Now look. I'm the spitting image of my Abuela and my Tia! (Grandmother-Abuela...Aunt-Tia) for those of you who are Spanish challenged.
It's a little but scary for me to let her in. I think she is starting to understand more than I would like, what my life was like for the first 16 years. I wanted to shelter her from all of the horrible things, that make the "America is Perfect" idea a false promise. In a way it's good, but for her it's heartbreaking as well. The last thing I want to do is break her heart more than it already is. I will never know or understand how she has survived her life. She is my one true hero.
And there I end it,
but with a picture from my trip to Washington!
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Home
Back in Granville, for those of you who knew that I went to Washington. For those of you who didn't know maybe you should think about and evaluate your position in my life. I had the most amazing, fucking awesome trip ever! I can't wait to go back. It is definately in the plan to move there as soon as possible. I find that I enjoy the west coast much more than the east coast. I will always love New York. It is my home. But after what happened to me there, I understand that it will be in my best interest to find myself a new place to call home.
My Abuela arrived today! She is staying with me for two weeks! So I am going to go and spend some time with her. I need to make sure that she gets the tour! LOL. Colombia is nothing like the town she is in now. I think they call this culture shock!
I hope all is well with everyone! I love you all and I am praying for you all! Talk to you soon. Call the cell or email if you need me.
My Abuela arrived today! She is staying with me for two weeks! So I am going to go and spend some time with her. I need to make sure that she gets the tour! LOL. Colombia is nothing like the town she is in now. I think they call this culture shock!
I hope all is well with everyone! I love you all and I am praying for you all! Talk to you soon. Call the cell or email if you need me.
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