and it is receeding. i guess it occurred to me that i might get more flashbacks and memories and stuff during the week since i actually talked about some of it last week. but... i haven't really. i've actually had a pretty good week. not too much ruminating. but then i've also had a week pretty filled up with social stuff too and so there hasn't really been all that much time to ruminate.

i have been trying to remember though... i remember a good memory :-) a few of them :-) i never could before... i remember going on trips to the beach with me and my father. just the two of us. i must have been 7 or 8 or 9... i really loved those trips. i have a couple flashbulb memories from those and they are good :-)

remembering a little more about my mother. and trying... trying... to remember back. hard. helps when you are half asleep (trying to get off to sleep at night). i wonder if parts do have different memories. i didn't think they did. had different thoughts and emotions sure. but memories? i didn't think they did...

nothing happened to me in a sense. when you read about some of the horrible stuff that happens to some people. compared with that nothing happened to me. but compared to the memories / childhood of the 'happy healthy' people out there... i said something to my t last week... about how my mother spent quite a bit of time ruminating / reflecting on why i was such a horrible child. he kind of flinched / cringed. i didn't really feel anything. but afterwards... i guess it occurred to me that most parents probably don't say 'i wonder why you are / were such a horrible child?' to their kids. and my brother squeezing my temples when he wanted me to shut up. i thought that was funny in hindsight 'cause i bet i was an annoying little kid. but someone looked at me a little strangely when i told them about that. i don't know. don't know what i'm saying.

electrical storms used to get to me. black sky and all that electricity in the air. used to hide in my room. dissociation... derealisation that was what it was. escape into books. who am i? if you escape into books you assimilate the identity of the people in there i guess. their experiences become your experiences in a way.

i think i'm a chameleon.
my experiences flow through me
assimilated
and spewed out the other side

me
me
me
was never meant to be

he said they formed with a sense of self. but that i don't have one because all of me is cast off to them.

i don't have a sense of self?

i thought i did...

but don't push me on that.

smile sweetly
look inconspicuous
gentle so gentle
and cry quietly at night
so nobody hears