I can’t reach.

Some days, like today feel as though I have just come out of a hole and the whole world moved on and I didn’t recall it happening. It feels like it’s been weeks, not just days since I have posted here, or written anything at all. I thank all those so much that did reply to my two forgiveness posts. I will reply to you, because the support I feel I get is so huge. I wish I could show each of you.

My nights have been long this last week and filled with nightmares, more than I am used to. One night I even woke screaming and I was sure that I was a child and I was in my room and the man, I named in my books as the bad man was there. He was so real to me, although his face and identity still remains hidden.

Perhaps some part of my mind wants to show me something. I have never had nights as bad as these all night and every night. I wake and I am little in my mind. He’s there and it’s taking me a few minutes to realise, no he isn’t and I am safe.

Safe.

I wish I knew what that actually felt like. I can tell myself I am safe, that I am an adult and he can’t get me.  I feel like I am going crazy.

I have many people to apologise to, so many since my last posts on here that I still haven’t got myself to talk to properly. I’m finding it hard to talk. People want to chat about the ordinary things and all I can think is why does any of it matter? But then who am I to ask that?

My self harm hasn’t stopped, twice today. I can’t dig in deep enough to cut away what it is I’m trying to remove. I don’t even know what it is that I am trying to reach. I can’t get clean. Not in the germ dirty sense, but somewhere inside I feel something. I can’t wash it away, I can’t cut it away. It’s driving me insane.

Talking here, or talking to anyone, I just want to tell myself to shut up. None of it matters.

 

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My Voice Is Silent

My Voice Is Silent.

​ My voice is silent. It has been that way for days, yet today, feels worse. I cannot shift the feeling of being in the wrong for talking.; for letting my secrets out. It is six days, I think, with no real sleep. Maybe it is more. I don’t really know.

​I am floating from one day to the next without having the time to stop and enjoy it. I am just watching . Somehow, I got knocked back inside my head and I am not sure how to come out again. I make myself write this so I can see what I feel and understand myself.

​I was out of bed, in the middle of the night, in a frightening moment when my mind protected me. I was yelling to be left alone before I had even woken up. Suddenly, I was in the memory of a five year old, and the man I do not know was stood by my bed in the dark once more, like he always is and always was.

​I was not dreaming of him. I was not even thinking about him. I had laid there in the dark for almost an hour, getting annoyed with the inability, once again, to fall asleep. I closed my eyes; I must have drifted off a little. When I opened my eyes in half sleep, his face was in front of mine. His hands were on my bed. I didn’t think, I just reacted. It wasn’t until I was at the other side of the room crouched against the wardrobe with my arms in front of me, telling him no that I realised it was thirty years later and he was not there.