Thoughts of a Sprite

Friday, July 15, 2005

Warning: Deep post ahead

I am going through some weird psychologically progressive stage right now. I have been in this reflective mood for the last several weeks, well okay, months might be more like it. I have mentioned it before, like there was something lying at the edge of my consciousness, but I just can't grasp it. Well, I think I have shed some light on it.

Have you ever felt disconnected from everyone and everything? Like life was happening, all around you, but you were just not living it. Going through all the right motions, but lacking something... For instance, you get up every morning, eat breakfast, but you do not taste it.

I have been feeling like this as of lately. Sometimes, I think that when I am talking, people just don’t hear me. I do not know if it is because they do not want to listen, or if it is that I am saying the wrong words. When people look at me, sometimes I feel like I am transparent, and they just see right through, and do not see me at all.

I fell off the nonsmokers wagon, but I plan on getting right back on it. I am seriously working towards bettering myself. Eating healthier, trying to quit smoking, and I am trying to work on some of my history issues as well. But sometimes I just don’t know how to go about working through them. With all this weighing on my mind (I am about to bear some soul here people) I worked up the courage to call my childhood psychologist. The one who helped bring all this to light, and get me out of there. (Little did we know that where I was headed was no better... but that is a different story.) I have kept a bracelet and ring that she gave me 18 years ago. It was hers when she was young, (she thought she was unable to have children,) so she passed it along to me. Well I found out that she did in fact have one daughter, who is 15 now. I wanted her to have it to pass to her children and grandchildren. Anyways, we met for dinner, and I filled her in on a nutshell of Life at my father's house, and all the steps between there and here. And though we did not go into depth, it felt good to talk about it, knowing she was not going to judge me. Not going to fault me for talking about the past. It is like it has been this hush, hush secret all these years, and no one is supposed to know. So you bottle it all up, until if festers to a point that it has done more damage.

It made me feel good, that she wanted my father's address so that she could write him a few choice words. I have repressed a lot of what happened before my father's house, and I know this. She has offered to let me come and read my file. They will purge it at the end of this year (5 years after the child turns 18 when it is a case that goes through court,) so I may even be able to keep it. I think this might help get to that fuzz at the edge of my consciousness that I keep mentioning. It is going to take some preparation, but I need to know. She also told me that I should write a book, saying that there are three types of people, "those that have it easy, those that hit a bump, and those that have it really hard, and you kiddo are that third type of person." I felt so vindicated, at this.

I feel guilty sometimes for even thinking about what has happened, let alone talking to someone about it. Other than the fact my grandmother told me never to tell anyone our business, meaning "keep your mouth shut kid," I really can't explain why, There is this unspoken understanding that if you don't talk about it you can pretend it never happened. Well "it" happens to be the first 17 years of my life, so I can't pretend that "it" never happened. And "it" hasn't been exactly cake since then either. But yet this is what I do, go on as if everything was okay. I have never really dealt with it, any of it, and the therapist confirmed this theory as well. Slowly but surely over the last several months, I have started to try to work through some of it. Calling her, writing some of it down to share, anything to make the nightmares stop. Somehow, I feel like this history, my history, isolates me from everyone else. I have found that it is always easier to talk about in third person too, like this history instead of my history, funny how you disassociate yourself like that. I did not even realize that I do it, until I read the last nightmare that I wrote. It said "a four year old girl" instead of me.

So that is where my head is at lately, trying desperately to make since of things, so I can deal with them and move on once and for all. I think I have come a long way. I have a home that I am comfortable in, be it an apartment, it is still home~ there is a big difference between a home and a house, and I have a home! I have a nice vehicle, nice things, good grades, good friends, and Draco. If I could just heal on the inside, I would be all around balanced.

My biology test, (another of those steps that was just like going through the motions) was awful! I studied my ass off with Ruth, and on my own, and I still did not walk out of there with that "I aced it" feeling. I have set high standards for myself in school. I have made it my light at the end of the tunnel. This biology class is throwing that light all out of focus! SO aggravating! But I will continue, chin tucked until I pull my GPA back as close to 4.0 as I can get it!

Good news: I am very excited about this upcoming week. I am going with Larry to the CJIS conference in Daytona beach, for three days, we leave Monday, and get back Thursday night. They have a whole track just on records. Work is paying for everything, and paying me for to go. It is an actual serious training, and I get to go! I think it may be just the break in the monotonous routine that I need. Totally stoked.

T-10 days till the new laptop arrives. (Not that I am counting or anything)

I am sorry this post was so deep today, I wish that I could just be light hearted, and humorous, but these things are weighing heavily on my mind, my heart, and my soul. Hopefully I have not scared any of you away, and will have a lighter update soon. Until then, take care of you.

Good quote: Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the number of moments that take our breaths away. (Will Smith Hitch)

shes_a_sprite @ 9:52 PM.

2 comments

Unknown said...

I found your blog through "I'm Patrick"
Wow, thank you for sharing that and for going deep, I think it's great that you can do that.
I gave up smoking, it was difficult, it took me 2 attempts before I worried about my health and just made myself stop.
I think people can sometimes treat others like they are invisible, I feel like this at times too, who knows what it is!
I dont know what happened at your fathers house, but whatever it is, don't feel guilty, as children we only know what our parents teach us, what they do to us or tell us is their choice, what we learn is because of them, it's their responsibility to keep the home safe, loving and a comfortable place where we can feel warm and well. If you didnt feel like this, then it's certainly not your fault, and you have nothing to feel guilty about.
Well here I am rambling on, take care

12:36 AM

Oprayearth said...

Well theres no need to be sorry for posting what you wanted on your blog.Pain is what keeps us going sometimes. No matter how deep and hurtful, and its good I suppose to talk it over and even if its not healed right away its being chipped away one moment at a time. Healing a heart is like glueing broken glass together or returning ashes back to form, its never healed completely back to normal but it is in its new form for a new start in eternity.

Take Care of Yourself Heather!
Always here for you.

.:Dusk to Dawn there is no difference in their beauty:. -Op

10:38 PM