Bit of all over the place. *TW* (probably for extreme self pity to be honest!) just incase I ramble off in CSA
I can't work out if The Silent One is trying to break out so she can grow up, or break out so she can hide. So I can hide. Most times there is one Silent One. Tonight, there are many. From aged 3-15. It doesn't take a genius to do the maths. The Silent One was hurt the longest. Repressed the hardest. Survived the worst.
She is ME. I want to see my T. I don't want to see my T. I want to read my letter to her. I don't want to read my letter to her. When I imagine doing it, I feel tearful. So I don't. Because I don't want to cry. I said to my T a few weeks ago that I felt she didn't want me to express extreme emotion to her. She said that she believes I think that because when I turn up, or become manic, she has to calm me down- to keep me in the therapeutic window. But expressing extreme emotion is dangerous. Is selfish. It will never be met with cuddles with her- so what's the point?
Ah- is this the self pity? I don't know. I don't know what I feel. I can't name the feeling in my heart. I don't recognise it, I can't describe it, therefore I can't name it or understand it. It's like......a rubber band being pinged against the flesh of my heart, and the rubber band is twisted round and round and round, multiple times. And it is hot and cold. At the same time. There- I can describe it. I just can't name it.
I need to see my T. I need to see my T before I fall off the planet. Again.