Friday, February 24, 2012

Trust, help and friends

Sometimes I feel like I am such a heavy burden to the people I let into my world, but I feel very lucky to have someone like Melody to help me handle some really screwed up heavy stuff.  There aren't very many people in this world who would be willing to see and help you remove your horrifying child pornography from your computer and hold onto it if/until the police officers ask for it.  I've never been able to trust someone with something so huge in my entire life.  I don't trust people, like at all.  Ever.  I don't let people help me.  Like ever.  Melody is a superhero who has lost lots of sleep just to be there for me.  It's hard for me to trust why someone would want to be my friend, because I'm a psycho with a lot of baggage, but I'm thankful that someone does.

Melody helped me put my photos on a flash drive which she locked up in a safe.  I've had a lot of anxiety and a couple of panic attacks since the photos are gone.  I know it's screwed up that part of me feels kind of attached to the photos.  I don't like them.  I don't feel good when I look at them, but for some reason I feel this impulse to look at them.  I talked about this in therapy this week.  I open up the images and I become paralyzed and mesmerized.  How is that tiny little girl me?  I don't ever remember being so tiny or helpless.  I look at the photos to show myself what a little kid I was, hoping that I can change the disgust I feel for myself for the things I was part of.  The photos are proof that this really happened.  People have been calling me a liar for most of my life.  These photos are undeniable evidence.  I keep looking at the photos because I can't believe that I've been part of something so horrible.  I can't believe how brutal the photos are.  I can't believe someone would keep photographs like those.  I was so tiny and I do mean SO very very tiny.  How was I ever that small?  I don't remember being such a little girl.  I was very small for my age.  Why was I so tiny?

I haven't been able to sleep since prying myself away and walking home.  I still have this intense impulse to look at the photos.  I can feel the anxious urge deep in my abdomen because they are gone, kind of like that unrelenting feeling you get when you know you're about to get into trouble--that feeling of panic you feel when a police officer pulls you over.  I get a surge of panic when a police car is just near me, even when I'm not doing anything wrong.  I wonder what that says about me?  Anyway, I feel a lot of anxiety and the urge to relieve it by looking at the photos and cutting.  I have wanted to cut myself most of the night.  Instead, I spent the night drinking a lot of cheap wine and drawing.  I'm really tired and intoxicated, but I have not self harmed or taken any sleeping pills or Nyquil.