I don't think I've done nearly enough crying because I feel full of tension, fear, and general "oh no - someone's gonna find out" - find out what? Well, it's not about finding out something. It just childhood stuff.
I'm getting ready to go see my counsellor and I remembering yesterday when I had mini-melt down which looked like me starting to care less, and less about myself. It was me replaying home life in Monrovia, were no one talked (in fact no one does) and I was sometimes too uncomfortable/ scared to ... but when I look at some of the memories that have come up for me since I last posted - I'm not surprised.
First, I was sitting and talking with Pheonix in the kitchen. I was talking about my family, and remembered that my when I was growing up - on one of the trips to the Caribbean my folks would send me on to get me away from my brother (instead of dealing with him) that I had been abused. My grandmother's good friend, who was around 70-75 at the time used to chase me around (I was around 8 or 9, or 10 or 13) and grab my testicles. She would say: "i'm gonna get your scaboblars boy!, I'm gonna get them"
I actually laughed when I remembered. I thought, now that's silly, isn't it. But it's not silly. It's fucked up. I have to go now... many layers to this.. and I'm going to write more on how I'm dealing with this in really healthy ways...
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