Psycho-Babble Social | for general support | Framed
This thread | Show all | Post follow-up | Start new thread | List of forums | Search | FAQ

This Is Me ***TRIGGER***

Posted by SandyWeb on July 15, 2004, at 20:11:04

I've already sent this to PartlyCloudy. I might as well share it with the world.

These are some of the things that make me click. Just a sampling.

So now you know that since I've finally CRACKED (as my pdoc so gently put it!), I'll probably remain cracked for quite awhile.


• I remember the gun shot off by my head. It didn’t matter. I don’t think I even jumped. I didn’t care if he shot me. I wouldn’t have cried if he had turned the gun on himself.

• It’s a different monster now.

• I reached out my hand as much as I dared. She grabbed it and I pulled her in. And Lori struggled in, exhausted from nearly drowning as well. And the other girl blamed Lori for not trying to save her. And Lori and I looked at each other and said nothing. And now Lori is dead. Someone murdered Lori when she was only 16. They found her decomposed body in the woods, skull fractured. Maybe I should have let Lori drown all those years ago.

• And we stalled on the tracks. All three of us looked at the freight train speeding down on us, blasting away. No one moved. I was trapped in the back seat of a small 2-door car. He put the car in neutral, we slowly rolled down the incline and off the tracks, and the train continued to blast at us as it thundered past. We laughed.

• The body parts of the pilot and co-pilot were frozen too hard. They had to wait three days for them to thaw out enough to work on again. The pilot and co-pilot had been scared. They had been scared. Family members were angry with Zimmerman’s wife. She did not come back.

• I can’t say what I want to say. The two brains don’t work together.

• I can’t breathe, I can’t swallow, I can’t scream when he strangles me. To love and honor, till death do us part. How appropriate.

• I’m going to die

• Boys and their stupid drugs. They thought it was fun to hold me down. They thought it was a great joke to shoot me up. They never did that again. What a waste of a good drug.

• I tested the ice. It broke. I fell in the well. I did not know how to swim. I was bundled up in my winter clothes. My lungs are screaming, it hurts so bad, I’m exhausted. I was only 4 years old.

• So I sliced and sliced. And the cops were pounding on the door. And I kept slicing into this bloody, pulpy wound. I wouldn’t let them in. And I kept slicing. Darn if I didn’t fail.

• The morgue, the morgue. Off to work we go. “It’s a normal reaction to an abnormal situation.” It’s dead around here today.

• I heard a cop get shot. I heard his screams. We had dispatched them to a garage. He was shot almost point blank. Three screams….one short, two long. Terror and pain. More terror than pain. He had a vest on. His heart still stopped twice in the ambulance. He survived. Those screams are in my head. Not like TV.

• He has torn something in my shoulder. Unrelenting pain. Living on Tylenol for weeks. Unrelenting, unrelenting. And still he makes me take care of the baby. The agonizing pain when I left her out of the crib, gritting my teeth so I don’t drop her. Too painful to sleep, to painful to be awake. I hold my smile. No one knows.

• Skin is boiled off the fingertip of the body part. It is positioned over the morgue worker’s own finger. A complete fingerprint can be achieved. The body part is identified as an individual. Her/his life and photo are posted on the board. Lest we forget….

• My mind has two brains. Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk. It doesn’t seem to want to shut down, even when MY mind wants to. When the second brain talks, it is dominant. My small little brain speaks quietly/calmly, but the second brain is loud and energized. It enjoys talking. About anything and everything. It never stops for breath. On and on. I quietly make comments to it, but the second brain just overrides it. It likes to talk. And I sigh as MY brain and I try to sleep.

• I can not remember about ½ hour of that night. What happened after I hung up with the Mobile Crisis Line? That was at 12:15am/ police dispatched at 12:43am/ police arrived at 12:48am. I remember them pounding on my door, yelling. My wrist was already sliced open. And I continued to slice. When did this happen? What did I do? Where is the memory? Did the second brain take over? I feel frustration.

• I lean up against a part of the airplane debris. A side of the plane with four windows in a row. All but one are missing their glass. The one still has a double layer of glass, with a strip of rubber buckled up in between. There is green algae on the glass. It has been sitting under the ocean for awhile. I know from charts who was looking out this window. I kiss my hand and touch the window.

• I hear a man curse horribly in my head. It disturbs me greatly. I tell God that it wasn’t me. I ask for forgiveness.

• Outside: I smile, I laugh, I talk happily and joke, I carry on with the day-to-day activities. Inside: I can’t sleep, my head is noisy, I feel like I’m losing it, I feel like I will die.

Sandy


Share
Tweet  

Thread

 

Post a new follow-up

Your message only Include above post


Notify the administrators

They will then review this post with the posting guidelines in mind.

To contact them about something other than this post, please use this form instead.

 

Start a new thread

 
Google
dr-bob.org www
Search options and examples
[amazon] for
in

This thread | Show all | Post follow-up | Start new thread | FAQ
Psycho-Babble Social | Framed

poster:SandyWeb thread:366681
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/social/20040706/msgs/366681.html