Understanding

"You don't understand. No one understands what it's like inside my head"

Oh but honey I do know. I was there and in some ways still am. Hating what I see when I look in the mirror. Wondering how it is I can be cared for when I care so little for myself.
Wondering when I'll have the courage to sink the blade just a little bit deeper. Just a little deeper I would think, then the pain will all be gone away.

"I want to kill what's inside of me"

Me too. Only therapy lets me say these things louder than a whisper. I know what it's like to hate what's inside of you. To want to kill it. To want to stop the hissing voices telling you you're nothing. You don't matter. All of them are right.

I've been there. When I was there I hated the people that told me they'd been there too. I hated that they told me it would get better. I hated that they told me it wasn't just me. I wanted to feel special. I couldn't even be uniquely miserable.

But the thing is; all of the things I say to you I wish people had said to me over and over and over again when I was 15. To be honest it's what I wish people told me when I was 20, and 25 and even 30. Even now at 33 I long to hear someone tell me I'm valuable.

The only way people can know you don't feel valuable, really know it, is if you tell them.

Oh, I wouldn't have listened either. The times when my parents or friends would tell me these things. That I was beautiful and lovable and valuable I really mostly thought they had no clue. They thought the girl I showed them was beautiful. They thought the boisterous acts were lovable and endearing. They thought the way I allowed my body to be touched and my favors abused was valuable to them.
I simply didn't believe them.

I can see it there in your eyes too. That you don't believe me. That you think I'm just some old lady thinking herself hip to your jive.
But I see it and it's ok. You don't have to believe me tonight. Tonight is just one of the many times I will tell you that you are beautiful. That you have value that is not in how your body looks, that how you look is not even close to the most valuable thing about you.

So I know. But you don't have to believe me. I understand, and you don't have to believe that either. Some things are true even if you don't believe them.

I'm stuck in this dream it's changing me I am becoming
the me that you know he had some second thoughts
he's covered with scabs and he is broken and sore
the me that you know doesn't come around much
that part of me isn't here anymore
all pain disappears it's the nature of my circuitry
drowns out all I hear there's no escape from this my new consciousness
the me that you know used to have feelings
but the blood has stopped pumping and he's left to decay
the me that you know is now made up of wires
and even when I'm right with you I'm so far away
I can try to get away but I’ve strapped myself in
I can try to scratch away the sound in my ears
I can see it killing away all my bad parts
I don't want to listen but it's all too clear
- The Becoming NIN

KILLERS!

Pete and I were sitting at home last week and there was a knock on the door around 7 or 8pm.
I made Pete get up to answer, because he's in charge of taking care of the killers and I'm in charge of the spiders....and let's face it, the likelihood that a spider was knocking on the front door was slim to none.
I heard a voice ask if Pete was the owner of the home and dang it I had to get off the sofa anyway, I hoped this wasn't some sort of killer trick.

There was a young woman at the door with a clipboard and other people in her same outfit with clipboards wandering up and down the street in front of my house. So of course, I thought KILLER KILLER KILLER!
She basically said that :insertcontractingcompanyhere: had just finished some work in my neighborhood and wanted to know if they could provide me with a free estimate for anything from roofing, siding or room remodel work.
I said no, thank you and shut the door firmly. Then I went through and made sure all the doors and windows were locked. (Ok, maybe not the last one....but probably because Pete was there and I was too embarrassed to be that paranoid in front of anyone.) But I had (fortunately or unfortunately) just read an article about thieves disguising themselves as contractors/handymen/women that try to get in your door by "cold-calling", casing the joint and then unlocking doors or windows to come back and rob/attack the homeowners later.

Nice story right? A little funny Bethany paranoia and strangers roaming the streets at night, hilarious! Except.....


The next night we were at Sharen's and there was a knock on the door and THE SAME WOMAN was standing on their step saying they had just finished work in HER neighborhood and wondered if they would like free estimates for anything. THE SAME WOMAN! MILES AWAY! AHHH! KILLERS KILLERS KILLERS!

Pete was at Sharen's too and said it would have been hilarious had I whipped open the door and started screaming at her about stalking me and how I moved just to get away from her and then she showed up HERE! Which would have been funny, but I just didn't have the energy.

Second Guessing

Five breaths
Ten seconds
One 2nd guess

I have no idea what the right thing is, I have no idea what to say even
I stare. Gaping open mouthed torn between wanting to vomit all that is on my heart out and zipping my lip to protect what little is left whole inside
I wait for people to tell me what the right thing is, but the best I can do is reject the wrong things hoping that eventually the right thing becomes clear.

No choice is still a choice I hear
Restless I pace
I sit
I lay down
I pace again

Pretty Woman and the beginning of Juno bringing the tears I had banished back to my eyes
Harry telling Ginny it will all be ok
I toss and turn
Dreaming of the answers I won't remember when I wake up

Just Say No

Just say no to crazy ladies that open bank accounts for you and ask you to just real quick run across town to buy their kids division cards.
I'm looking at YOU Peter James Mohring.

So Pete comes home from work last night and we're sitting on the sofas talking about drama llamas and how we deal with them and he tells me this little gem which I have considerately decided to pass on to all of you.

Pete goes to a local bank to open an account this morning. First, he couldn't figure out how to get in the doors because we have metal detectors down here in the big city to keep the robbers from stealing our money.
He walks in, sits down and the woman who he estimates to be in her mid to late 30s starts telling him all about her kids and their back to school shopping. He asked her to lay down on his portable therapy sofa that he carries around in his back pocket and told her to tell him how that made her feel.

Well it made her feel bad. Very very bad. See she needed division flash cards and she needed them bad.
After Pete told her where he worked, all part of the alleged new account paperwork she was filling out, and when he told her she freaked out.
"OH PETER!" she cried, "I saw the PERFECT division cards on their website. But," (here she put on her very best sad sad mommy face) "but they just don't carry them at the local stores which are still so very very far away and I couldn't possibly order them on the big bad scary internet because how will they arrive?! By MAGIC?!"

Suddenly, the bank was filled with a triumphant call to action. Pete sprung from his chair (knocking it over in his fervor) and stood hands on his hips and declared, "I! I will travel across the endless roads fighting the evil traffic lords and secure you division cards! AS GOD IS MY WITNESS your children shall learn to divide if it is the LAST THING I DO IN MY LIFE!"

"Oh Peter. Oh, your kindness will be described to the generations to come in my family whose ability to divide is a direct result of your kindness. Here. Here is $10. Please travel the long roads to your job and bring me back the division cards."

Pete sat as she finished his paperwork reveling in the wonder of showing kindness to strangers. He joked, "I promise to come back, but...if by chance I don't make it you can take your $10 back out of my account."

Horrified the woman recoiled. "NO! NO! Peter I would NEVER EVER DO THAT!"

**This has been a dramatic reenactment of an actual event that occurred in the life of Peter James Mohring, all around nice guy. No names have been changed to protect the innocent, but details may have been embellished.