Once More Around The Blog

A couple of weeks ago I sat in a Drs waiting room looking to get a mental health plan for my daughter to book her into an Aspergers centre that specifically treated the mental health of those on the Autism spectrum. It's difficult for me to even write this because I don't want my words to give power over her need for resilience.  She cried though and she was adamant that she "Was not one those Autistic people." She then set out on a series of events to hurt me emotionally to prove that she was more in control than me. I wasn't and I'm still not angry at her for this. What you have to understand is that her other parent used words like retard and spastic to describe her when she wouldn't do the things he expected of her. I can understand that with every fibre in my body. That was because he'd used words to hurt me so much in the past. Words to make me feel ashamed of the person I was so that he could use that shame to control me. I know I said I

It's hard to know where to start. The past 12 years I've felt like I've been metaphorically flayed alive over and over again. Collectively we're so visual as a society. If you were physically flayed or burnt alive the wounds and scars would be there for everyone to see. You can imagine just how hard it would be to feel soft touch through so much scar tissue. But when this damage is done to the soul in purely a non physical way how do we communicate that let alone address it. The thing is that's how I felt for so long. That my soul was scorched over and over again I began to cary those coals permanently in my psyche. I couldn't cry and the only emotion I could feel was anger. Anger somebody took what should have been my formative years and locked them away so I'd never have ambition or dreams again. It was indeed cruel. However if I just kept going the way I was holding it all inside to try to protect my pride, would anyone even know I was suffering?