Tag Archives: alters

Sick and freaked

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For the past two days I’ve been sick. I don’t think there’s an organic reason. I think it’s directly related to anxiety. This was the weekend five years ago that I struggled to find a reason to continue living. It was the weekend after the nonconsensual experience with a person I knew.

Then today a friend of mine and I went to an event I actually attended five years ago this very same weekend. I was aware of this when I agreed to go with my friend this weekend. I thought it would be a way to make a new and better memory. But then it was very hot outside, and heat is a trigger for me. I think between the heat, and the event itself my body just freaked, and I became ill.

And, getting sick is a whole other trigger for me. I had to tell all the peeps the following:

“We are not dying. We are just sick. Yes, it is unpleasant, but we are very likely not going to die from this. This is no one’s fault. No one is in trouble. No one is bad because we got sick. Let me repeat … No one is in trouble.”

It’s a balancing when I get sick because I have to take care of myself, and then I have to tend to others as well. Much like being a parent that gets sick when the rest of the family is also ill.

Though I think we’re finally coming around the bend from the sickness.

Popcorn everywhere

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Police sirens = shaking. Always. The cackle of the radio that the officers wear renders me foggy, and makes me want to hide.

I never understood any of this until yesterday’s session.

Doc asks for Ronnie. Somehow we start talking about Ronnie’s earliest memory. She remembers sitting in a red recliner with sister Cate. It was popcorn day at school, 25 cents a bag, and she’s clutching it tightly. There’s a picture of a clown on the front of the popcorn bag.

There was yelling. Mom and Dad were yelling. Dad finds a hammer on top of the refrigerator. He tries to hit Mom over the head with it, but Mom fights him. She grabs it from him. He’s too drunk. They are fighting over the hammer. There’s popcorn everywhere. Ronnie held the bag so hard that the bag ripped right through the clown face on the bag. Then Mom’s crying and flipping through a phone book again and again. Dad is gone.

Doc asks Ronnie what happened between the hammer and the phone book. She does not know. I do not know. He asks if anyone inside knows what happened in between the hammer and the phone book. I start shaking, and Belle starts talking.

Belle said she kept her eyes closed. She didn’t want to see. She heard the police come, the sirens. Then she knew they were moving around in the room because she could hear the radios with the loud cackle. She heard the handcuffs click.

Doc then asked me if I had been aware of Ronnie’s memories. Yes, I was aware. Those memories were not new. He then asked me if I was aware of Belle’s memories. I was not. I always recalled the end of that memory with hammer, popcorn and phone book, and nothing in between hammer and phone book except for popcorn. This was new information.

And then it dawned on me that this could be why police sounds freak me out. I’m told that this is progress, good news. It doesn’t feel like either.

She can sing

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For as long as I can remember I have loved music. At one time I recall being able to sing and even singing in a children’s choir. One day the ability to sing was gone, just like that. Somewhere around 3rd or 4th grade I no longer had the ability to sing on key. It bothered me immensely, mostly because I loved to sing, and I just loved music. I followed around the school choirs that I could never join because music teachers would just shake their head no at me any time I even dared to try to join. I never understood why I cared so much about the damn choir.

Now it’s like I found the missing piece of the puzzle with the discovery that Ronnie can sing. We get in the car, and we sing and sing and sing. We sing everything – Pink, Fleetwood Mac, even Blake Shelton. Sometimes I try to sing, and it just falls flat. I try again, and it falls flat again. Finally, I just give in and let Ronnie sing. I let her sing, and I finally feel that void being filled that I’ve carried around since I stopped singing. She sings, and I feel the pure happiness the comes out of us from the sheer act of singing.

Apparently, Ronnie wants me to download the new Blake Shelton song, “Boys ‘Round Here.” It’s not age appropriate, but she has good taste.