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A poem about ‘it’

I don’t want to be caught up in it

suck on it

tear it apart, eat it, rub it, touch it

comfort it

I don’t want to lose it, destroy it, feed it, talk about it

dream it

I don’t want to whisper it, admire it

imagine it

I don’t want to sexualise it, stew it, screw it, sense it

love it, hate it

I just want to be free of it.

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A poem about trash…

It’s late and it’s my turn to take the garbage out. I will get yelled and screamed at, but I must take the garbage out.

These bags smell like trash and it seeps into my clothes. 

I become trash.

I see the moon bright and the shadow from the street lamp distracts me somewhat from the putrid dripping that hits the gravel driveway as I drag the garbage to the bin. 

I have to lift the rubbish up and drop it in the dark hole and it’s there that I come face to face with the remnants of the week, molded and  decomposing, like my insides.

I hold my breath and count to ten, twice, no three times and slam the bin shut. 

Oh how it hurts to take the garbage out.

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Marriage and Dissociation

Seven sleeps to go and I will be married. It all seems so unreal to me. I never thought i would get married. In fact, I was anti-marriage (for me, not others). I thought it was patriarchal and the idea of being with the same person forever scared the hell out of me (me who was notorious for having affairs and who loved to be in relationships, but could never fully commit). And now, that same woman is getting hitched. Oh deary me! I am even wearing a white wedding dress. Granted M is twenty years older than me, he has been married before, has three adult kids and we are walking down the aisle together… So it isn’t truly conventional, but it is very surreal. I mean we are talking about a woman who was in a lesbian relationship for years, had trouble with intimacy unless it was of the “dirty kind”, didn’t believe in monogamy and wasnt afraid to say that she found women whose only dream of glory was their wedding day…. well, just terribly sad. Aagh. Yep I have definitely changed. I don’t feel like me, but then again I have never felt like me. I do like this side better- more grounded, two feet in, willing, open, prepared to commit, to be faithful and to be rigorously honest. I know this is Gods work. M accepts my dissociation and alters and doesn’t seem to bat an eyelid at any of the crazy stuff that comes out of my mouth at times. He doesn’t buy into my crap or let me beat him down as much as my (parts) have wanted to. I have had parts want to destroy him – show him who’s boss – and he has always continued to show love. I still find it weird. I am thankful. This whole thing wouldn’t be happening if I wasn’t sober so I thank God for that.

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A poem from my little one

I feel icky

I feel sticky

I roll around in grass to get the slime off

I come out all dirty

I cough and splutter and gasp for breath

I wonder when I will stop spinning

I get dizzy in this tunnel

I wish it would all just end.

 

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Dissociative Flashbacks

Last night I had bad terrors and tremors and felt like I had taken a bad trip or something. There were just so many parts coming out and thinking and talking and wondering where the hell they were. Some were on guard, another was just so, so sad and another really wanted to go for a long walk. It was night time and my fiancé wasn’t going to let that happen. I am not sure what the trigger was but I shared at a rehab for women who were detoxing off drugs and alcohol and their stories were pretty horrific so maybe that set me off. Then when is got home M and I had a steam bath (he has set up this DIY outdoor portable steam bath, which is pretty funny but works really well). In the steam bath when I was alone I bowled over in the most intense pain and let out a silent powerful scream. Oh the pain of it all, I felt like I was giving birth. Yukky yuk yuk. I wish I could have memories so I don’t just get all this horrible internal pain and bodily reactions. I wish I could pin point it on something. Thankfully I had my stuffed leopard and penguin and everyone fell asleep in the end. Today I wish I could hide in bed but I off to work. I won’t let this beat me.

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Living Sober

Tonight I went to an AA meeting and it was a new meeting for me in a relatively new suburb and so I didn’t know anyone and they are all hardcore AA’s there and I just felt different, not terminally unique, just different. Since getting sober life has gotten so much better, but I also discovered I had DDNOS / DID and that I have dissociative parts and am dealing with memories of ritual abuse. So sometimes I get very depressed and suicidal and it is because I have been triggered or one of my parts wants to speak to me – not because I am not “doing my program”. I know that I have had a spiritual experience, this is absolutely due to having worked the twelve steps and having found God in my life. I just feel like God is the real redeemer for me and not AA as such. Don’t get me wrong, I needed to do the drill and take action, do the suggested things one day at a time and through doing this I was relieved of the desire to drink alcohol. I just feel like I am going to be judged for the way I work the program. Like I am wrong, I am going to get in trouble (pick up a drink) or …? I think I have just been triggered by the meetings. Not that it will stop me going back I just need to know that it is not meetings or humans that will keep me sober, it is God.  This week has been a good week. And I have written a blog post and that has been a long time coming.