Tuesday, July 24, 2007

*you and me and the devil makes 3*

*
time to let things out. My demons are eating me up, and the things i could do are the things i won't do.
...
it has been going down hill for how long? i can't even remember anymore why i chose this path. But i must continue on the path i have chosen until another intersection shows up. It is here. Do i follow through? Do i change to the sunshiny brick road or do i continue on this unpaved thorn-filled track?
...
i really wish i didn't have to decide. But everyday brings new and renewed pain, in an unthought gesture, in the rude word, in the inconscient aloofness. There are the times, the moments where my heart is filled with bliss and sunshine, and the birds whisltle a gentle tune. True. But to have these other ones, the ones where a chilly wind girdles my soul, a wind coming from my sould...
...
i told Him i needed a hero. So why did i end up in the minotaur's cave? Must i kill the monster myself to escape the labyrinth?
...
i'm just a scared and scarred girl. i am no hero myself. Am i Muchausen or Dom Quixote? Which will it be?
*
Set aside all denominations. Slave, hero, liar, coward, man, woman... we are human. And a human being can only take so much...
...
i had been dysthimic for almost 3 weeks. Or so i think. I must get an accurate diagnosis as soon as possible. Maybe it was really sadness. People can be sad for a very long time, you know.
...
So i went to the doctor, my ginechologist, on friday afternoon. We talked about my doubts, my PMS troubles, my irregular bleeding. And my traumas. At times the pain surfaces. It has been real close lately. Something most men, i believe, can try but never trully comprehend. Our bodies can be invaded easily. Taken. We can be weak. Women. My man doesn't understand.
...
And the doctor says what any doctor would say: "Get help". Yes, i cried. I have already confessed my weakness. And i decided to have a real conversation with my Man about my pain, my troubles, and my intermittent sadness.
...
Performance night. Rehearsing, going to the club, drinking, playing candy girl, dancing. i could still smile. It hurt, but i could. Sometimes it can be so painful to put on a happy face. Even if you have a drink or two. Which loosen my lips and my emotions.
...
Going home. We stop to eat. Ok, so lets talk...
- "i have been sad for so long. Dysthimic. i need help".
- "So you are unhappy with Me".
- "Not unhappy with You. Just unhappy. This sadness... what happened. i need help".
- "I guess this is the end then".
(i gasp for air. And plead, and cry. i may not be happy with Him now, but being without Him would make me even more miserable. Or completely miserable. And definitely lost).
- "i could not live without You".
- "Stop saying you love Me. The more you say it, the less it means".
(i swallow the rest of my food along with my tears. We head for the car).
...
- "We are over. You must pack your bags and leave".
- "i would rather be dead than away from You".
(how much was fear, or if it was trully Mania as the other doctor posteriorly suggested, i do not know.)
i open the door of the car while He is driving. He yells at me, i reach for my purse. i NEED relief. i open the wallet. He sees a condom.
- "What is that?"
- "a condom"
- "Why is it there?"
- "Because it was in the car the other day and i put it here. Because if i am ever raped again i would rather not go through another month of AZT and fear"...
He screams: - "Shut up! No woman of mine will ever carry a condom, if you carry a condom is because you plan on using it!"
- "No, no, no... i just don't want to be hurt again. You know i will die if anything ever happens to me again... if it ever happens again i do not want to survive this time".
...
Many harsh words later... i superficially slash my wrist. Just for the relief... i always have a razor in my wallet. Always had... since 13, 14? i can no longer remember for how long i have searched the clarity of self-inflicted physical pain. But it bleeds. A lot...
- "I am taking you to the hospital. You will commit yourself. And you will stay there. I no longer want you".
(it was almost 5 am)
- "Please, no. i must go to work. i cannot stay there, i don't want to go".
- "Shut up!"
at this moment we arrive at the hospitals ER. "Why is He wasting these peoples time on me?" i think, "i have so much to do". i get hysterical and scream. i refuse to get out of the car, until i sit in a wheelchair.
...
They clean my (superficial) wound and bandage it. He calls the police. That was what hurt the most, i guess. He was not worried about seeing me well, even if He wouldnt see me again. He was worried about not being considered a suspect would i come to kill myself. So He took me to the police station, where i dismissed the idea of attempted suicide.
...
i am NOT a suicidal person. As disturbed and hurt as i may be, i had too deep of a christian raising to be able to hurt myself or anyone else. I mean, trully hurt. It just goes against all that was deeply imprinted into my programming during infancy. To think someone, anyone, would believe in my suicidal threats sounds amusing to me. And silly. i may no longer be a christian, but i deeply believe in goodness and love. Yeah, i am silly and naive. i don't mind. There is beauty in the world, even if most cannot see it.
*
He took me home...
- "Shower. I am taking you to the psyhchiatric hospital".
- "But i have to go to work. Can't we do it later?"
i took a long shower. Long enough for Him to fall asleep. Then silent as a mouse i got my books together... He woke up when i was about to leave.
- "Where are you going?"
- "To work".
- "No you aren't. We are going to the hospital".
i cried: - "We can go later. Please, i must go to work. i have responsabilities".
...
i went to work. But i had to miss dance class to see some anonymous psychiatrist who prescribed me the meds i am on right now. An episode of mania, he said. "You need treatment"... Made me feel like telling my Man: "i told You". But He wouldn't speak to me. Whatever He did say, sounded like grunting.
*
Work again. i hadn't really slept, or eaten. i felt terrible. So He took us to get something to eat, and i slept. For over 12 hours, i slept.
...
i couldn't speak to Him. i was just so afraid of rejection. Rejection is one of the things i take the worst. i just can't take it. So i just couldn't speak to Him first because i feared Him telling me to shut up. i wouldn't touch Him because i feared being pushed away. i love Him so much it is killing me.
...
So much, i couldn't help looking for His body in bed while i slept. i woke up in His arms... The rest of the day was good. There are great times, when we are together... but there are also the painful moments.
...
Tomorrow has become incognito. Because i have given up on making plans (for now?). i have given up on hope. I am too afraid to be my own hero.
...
i wish i had a conclusion to all these thoughts. There isn't. i just wait. Every nudge, every harsh word, every moment i feel ignored scars me deeper and hurts more than it should. i will get help. i owe it to myself. Even if He thinks that i am a fool and that He should be enough to make me happy. He should... if He weren't as He is. He has refused to be my hero...
...
No, still no conclusion.
*
"Hell-flavored, I've got mood poisoning
You must be something that I hate
I'm just a prison of property
Buckets full of better misery
There's not a word for what I want to do to You
You and me and the devil makes 3"
(Marilyn Manson)
*
It is raining again. There are things to do. A plane to (try to) catch on the weekend, performances, gigs.
...
i will make this work for as long as i can... but...
...
i waited so long for Him to have lunch with me while writing this post that once again i have no time to eat. We are making me sick.
*
... all i want right now is to watch a girly film and eat sweets...
i wish.
*
edit: i am back home, the class finished early. And eating, at last. Hmmm, pasta with blue cheese and lemon sauce.
...
As i went to work i couldn't help but to "sing" this song... it fits the moment perfectly. And it is who i am:

*
About what i wrote above... I can still write. But i have no idea if i will ever be able to ask Him for help again... or to tell Him if i hurt. i really don't know.
*
Let's leave these worries for when we get to them. Off to dance class!
*

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