I am struggling BADLY with my reaction to this awful weather here. I was stranded earlier this week because my car was buried in three feet of snow and I had no snow shovel. I decided to walk to Walmart to buy a snow shovel so I could get out when I wanted to. Half way there, the sidewalks were no longer shoveled so I had to walk on the side of the road where slush was getting kicked up on me as high as I am tall. And then, it started raining. I got to Walmart tired and soaked and cold, only to find they had no snow shovels AND I had to call a friend to come rescue me (which didn’t thrill him). The next day, I bought a snow shovel at Lowes. But the reality of winter here is setting in on me, and it doesn’t feel good. It’s much worse than the winters I am used to. And I sometimes feel trapped in my apartment, sometimes trapped in this city.

I have been thinking for several days now that I might have to cancel my therapy session Saturday due to weather, and that leaves me feeling VERY distressed. It's bad timing. I need therapy right now, and I'm feeling abandoned because I don't think I can get there.

I remember when my mom would go away for hours on end and leave us home with Dad. Oh, we hated it! I missed her and missed her and missed her. I wished she would never leave. I just wanted to crawl in a hole somewhere until she came back because she was the closest thing to safe. I would get terrible stomach aches and my dad would say “what do you want me to do about it?” I would be sad and afraid, and there was No Comfort. I was alone. And I was absolutely helpless to do anything about it. I was too little to leave and find comfort or even distraction. I had no escape. I could not get to my mom, and that was so upsetting. Dad was meaner when she was gone, and nobody was looking after us. We could get as sick or as sad as we wanted, but he wouldn’t do anything to help. Only to hurt.

*********** Next part is TRIGGERING !!! ************************


One time my sister and I accidently slipped and fell on top of our little brother, causing him to hit his mouth on the kitchen floor and split his lip very badly. My dad was mad about it, so he grabbed us girls by our hair and bashed our heads together and then dragged us up the stairs. We sat there, in this dark hallway that we were scared of, crying for mom. We were not allowed to come downstairs, even though we were afraid. And it was night time, and our upstairs always scared us at night (we were kids!). We were alone, and I was the older one. I was the “brave” one. My mom was gone for what felt like an eternity. When she got home, she had to take my brother to the doctor for stitches because my dad didn’t do that kind of thing. So we still had to wait upstairs alone, all that time while Mom was at the doctor. Dad was downstairs standing guard, not letting us come down, because he thought we were bad. No chance to defend ourselves, and no hope for safety or comfort. Only a very bad headache and two scared little girls with sad hearts. We didn’t do anything wrong.

I can’t get to my therapist. I am stuck. I am trapped and scared. It isn’t safe to drive in this weather. I have to stay here. Knowing that, in itself, is enough to make me miss her like I missed my mom.



Anybody know what I mean??