Tuesday, August 26th 2025
Just bear with me, now…
What would I be without my monsters?
And those of you who can touch them too?
Waking in the winter and returning to sleep
Submitting under the warm weight of my beast who pulls the sounds from my body and coaxes bursts of speech
Miserably muzzled, I lie with the bears
and fear nothing but my own teeth.
Wednesday, August 27th 2025
I will be visiting my mother soon. I miss her.
“Look what they’ve done to my song, Ma…”1
I’m frightened
that is essentially what the doctors tell me.
I’m incredibly frightened and there is another name for it so that it can be taken seriously…
It’s a disease of Fear and too much of it.
When I ran from the oracles - the floundering false prophets that fed on me - it was thanks to this “disease”
and I could thank it for keeping me there too.
“…Look what they’ve done to my brain. They picked it like a chicken bone and I think I’m half insane, Ma…”
I am frightened that they will find me again… but I am not frightened of them.
I love them
and want to be left alone - with only the echoes of their last words to me
the shadows of what chased me into a locked room…
No more.
I am frightened of the holes I hold for them
the holes I let them feast in
the holes that Fear leaves if not quelled in time.
“But maybe it’ll all be alright, Ma…”
I miss my mother who never questioned Fear
only dealt with it
Fear is inevitable in us, and precious time is considered wasted if spent quelling it.
Fear is protective
Fear is energy
and it has always been our power
We are worriers
Warriors of worry
Worry was never considered wasted while in mine or my mother’s hands
as it wasted away inside us.
I can take anything and everything
I can see the good
I can find the Love
through any and all Fear…
and yet, here I am attempting to quell it
for I can no longer waste myself like this.
“…if the people are buying tears, I’ll be rich someday, Ma…”
I miss my mother.
What the doctors make of me, and whatever newfound safety makes of me
is met with open arms
unquestioned
understood.
There is healing in the challenges of safety,
but I long for the sweet medicinal indulgence of simple understanding
“…C’est la seule chose que je peuz faire, et ce n’est pas bon, Ma…”
I miss my mother.
We find some peace in our understanding of Fear
and how we’ve come to know it
to hold it
to use it
Though, in my case
I fear I've come to to love it.
Friday, August 29th 2025
The pills have been working
and that does not mean that I’m not sad… it means I can see blue.
I can touch it and paint with it
lighten and darken it at will
It’s beautiful
It feels like water
I am still sad, but I make sense.
Art: “Seeing Blue” by MV
Saturday, August 30th 2025
Fear is ever-present with no need.
I need the sea.
Sunday, August 31st 2025
What am I even writing here???
In an attempt to clarify exactly how I feel, I often write things cryptically.
I don’t know if this is helpful at the moment…
I am preparing to enter a trauma education course in order to prepare myself for proper therapy. Sometimes it feels like everyone is putting off dealing with me (including myself). I don’t like rotting in the web of what has happened to me.
I don’t want to rot.
I want to swim in the sea with my father.
I want to eat delicious food with my mother.
I want to go to mass with my grandmother and sing with my grandfather.
I want to play on the beach with my cousins and put on shows for my aunts and uncles.
I want to go next door and… actually, no, I want to come home now.
I don’t want to remember the things that happened there.
And I will let that last sentence be cryptic, because there is too much in this web that I must deal with. And I would love to do it as loved and as unafraid as I can possibly be.
Seeing blue will help. And I will continue to make sense of things.
This entry was written while listening to Look What They’ve Done to My Song, Ma a 1970 song by Melanie. The lyrics are referenced throughout.