Archive for July, 2009

18 years of being the big sister.

Today my sister would have had her 18th birthday. She was born the 31st of july, 1991, when I was 5.5 years old. My mother and me went by train from the place where we held our holiday to where my dad and his wife and their newborn daughter lived. I remember how my dad told me I would get a sister. When I stayed over at his place for the weekend (which I did every three weeks) he asked me if I knew what a certain room would be for. I answered that I didn’t, and there he told me. I don’t remember much of my sister as a baby or toddler, only that I was annoyed that she once tore a drawing apart that I made, or that she wrecked the puzzle I had been working on.

When she got a bit older, we used to play together. We spend endless times making tracks with domino-tiles, playing circus, being creative with the kind of beads you would lay into a pattern and then iron so they would stick together, me playing computer-games and her cheering me on. I looked forward to her going to highschool (that transition takes place at 12 here), because then she would finally enter “my” world.

She died when she was 11, almost 12, now 6.5 years ago. It was february and I spent the weekend at with my dad, his wife and my sister at their small holiday-home. We had done grocery-shopping already, but had forgotten some minor little things. Me and my sister would go by bike to get those last items, the store being close by. We had to cross one road, she crossed, I stopped in the middle, and she was hit by a car. Many people rushed to help, an ambulance was called, and I rode back to the holiday-home to warn her parents. My dad went back by bike, his wife and me walked back. The ambulance was there soon, and she was brought to the hospital. This was Saturday, and she died on the following Tuesday. She had had almost no injuries, except some bruises and this extreme brain-injury. The pressure on her brain was over 30 when she was brought into the hospital and lowered to 25 over the days, but never became the normal 1-3 it should be. All the bodily-functions where taken over by machines, and after a while her brain just stopped working. Her body was cremated a week after the accident.

And miss her. Who she was, but mostly who she could’ve been.


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Quite strange.

Last night I dreamed about the group of poly people I hang-out with sometimes, and whom I’ve grown to like a lot, and have formed (beginning but important) friendships with some of them. I wrote about them before.

He had bought a large house, far away, close to where the boyfriend lives. So we went there all together, with a large van, and she was the driver. She was there, and possible others, which were not that clearly defined, but just belonged to “the group we consisted of”.  The boyfriend was there too, and he liked this group of people, and he liked me and the group of people in combination.

I don’t remember details of most of the dream. Just that there were lots of rest-stops with lots of toilets (which was not that weird, because I really had to go to the toilet when I woke up, and I tend to incorporate that in my dreams), a few large junctions where we had to ride round and round and round, lots of beautiful forests, lots of positive feelings.

Lots of love.

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Creeping back from out of the dark…

Recently, the past few weeks, I’ve been rude and harsh to some people. Telling them that “they could leave if they said that one more time”, “I could go as well”, things like that. Not very nice. I first ‘blamed’ that on my “rape-recovery revisited”, because that took a lot of my energy and I did not have any other coping mechanisms left when someone did something that was somewhat offensive to me.

But it got me thinking. So I’m easily annoyed, and can’t cope with that in a good way. I can’t do more than one thing at the time, like talking and working on something, especially when the talking involves some other action I have to do next (which is connected to the following point). I get easily confused when I have to do something “big”, with many different aspects (like making a high-tea with 9 different little things to eat, but even grocery shopping is hard sometimes). I am tired all the time. I dream my ass off (next post will be a dream post again).

I am slowly getting burned out again.

Which is in some sense weird, because I enjoy what I do tremendously, and I don’t feel that stressed (although the stressed out tiredness I feel lying on my chest sometimes, should have given something away). I am going to talk about this with my thesis-coordinator today when we have our weekly meeting, and I am going to make an appointment with my general practitioner when I’m back from the boyfriend. Because I don’t think that just that meditation-course is going to help against this.

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TMI Tuesday #197

Argh, I’m always so bad at lists like this, but I’ll give it a shot.

1. The three words that best describe you are moodswingy, intelligent, and strong.
2. The three words that best describe your life are complicated, satisfying, and heersching.
3. Your three guilty pleasures are watching women’s series like Desperate Housewives and Gilmore Girls, eating whole bars of Milka chocolate, and listening to urban/hiphop in my own language.
4. The three places you would like to visit before you die are (countries are allowed too, right?) Iceland, the North pole  or Antarctica, and Japan.
5. The three things you would like to do before you die are find the perfect cupcake recipe, have a house with a huge library (you know, the kind with bookshelves to the ceiling, filled with books from all genres and disciplines, sliding ladders to reach the top-books, comfortable, big antique chairs, a hearth-fire, good whisky: the whole thing), and get really old.

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The past days were difficult. I felt sad, scared, confused, more scared,  trapped, hurt, abused, and panicked. The boyfriend and I had to work stuff out, since he still felt hurt, and I am sometimes too easy in getting over fights and troubles. Everything we said over the phone ended up in almost fighting, in both of us getting annoyed with the other, and both of us feeling hurt. We broke though that. Maybe because I acknowledged that he had been hurt by our almost break-up, and that that pain was real and not to be overlooked. Maybe because I felt extremely bad and started crying, which is something I don’t do often. Suddenly things felt right and calm again between us.

He asked me about the rape, and I told him. I think this was the first time I told someone in detail about what had happened that night. Some stuff I had blocked out, but all had come back again while reading the report of that friend of mine. I felt everything again (because the emotions related to the rape are more intense than the memory itself).

The weird, and nice, thing is, is that I feel I’m really processing the pain now. I’m feeling it, instead of just focussing on getting better. And it helps! Already a few days after being triggered, I feel like I want sex again at some point in time, which will probably not very far into the future. I feel like I want to do bdsm-ish things again. The fear is slowly leaving me, because the rape is getting his own personal spot in my head instead of flowing over to everything that has to do with sex, bdsm or even men in general.

I hope I can keep focussing on feeling and not on “getting over it”. My dreams play a big role in the processing as well, like the dream I wrote about recently, about the girl wanting me to give her a blowjob and me throwing her out of the house. Last night I dreamed that I was a whore, and there was actually some sex with a guy there, and I did not feel extremely bad when I woke up, what had happened before when I dreamed about sex (the guy was not someone I knew by the way, just some random dream-person). I am curious what this night will bring…

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The Night keeps me busy.

The past two weeks I have been dreaming a lot, and the dreams where all quite intense. Every morning I woke up with the dream still in my head.The dreams cover mostly the bad stuff in my life or the things I’m scared of.

Like my former landlady, who I slapped in the face in the dream.

Like the asshole-ex, who in my dream had this amazingly nicely decorated house, and for some reason I came by there and he and  his mother kept criticising and hurting me.

Like last night, where I was pregnant with a very big belly (although secretly, it felt sort of good and happy, while in reality I really don’t want kids now, and don’t see myself having them in the future).

Like discovering all kinds of new rooms in the house/room where I live now, and getting yelled at by my new landlord.

Like sitting on a little fence with a good friend of mine, and when we get home (which was nice, we saw celebrities riding by in cars!), and I stand at the kitchen sink to get some food, she stepped behind me, and started stroking me and rubbing against me, so I turned around and kissed her (all the while thinking “I haven’t asked the boyfriend, so this is not okay!”), and we ended up on the floor, where it turned out she had a penis and she grinned evily and wanted me to suck her cock even while I told her I didn’t want that, so I pushed her off me and kicked her out of the house (together with her friend who was suddenly there too, who was Gabriele Solis from Desperate Housewives; it’s still a dream, and has all the dream weirdness in it ;))

Intense dreaming like this is usually a sign of stress.  That I feel a bit stressed, even if I consciously not feel that, is not very weird, because two weeks ago I started with my internship, which means I actually have to do things again. Things that are important and mean a lot to me and to my future. So I decided to start meditating again, and even follow a meditation-course in september. Hopefully that will give me the peace in my mind I need.

edit: I just realised that dreaming wise it might be chaos, that sleep wise it isn’t. I do wake up after 8 hours of sleep, without any problem when there is no alarm. The problem starts to be there when the 8 hours should be over at 7am in the morning, but that is probably just something which takes time to get used to.

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Falling down the wave.

Yesterday I wanted to write something about that life is like a wave, but I couldn’t find the time and space in my mind. Yesterday I was still on top of the wave. Not the kind of on top which means that I was almost falling down and barely holding everything together, but really, steady, on top of my own wave. Today I’m almost drowning again.

Today a good friend of mine posted a report of a scene she had with her boyfriend with her as a submissive. She had felt extremely good about it, although it had been on the extreme side. Her report was eerily similar as what had happened with me and the Viking, the time I was raped (I first wrote “the time it went wrong” but I should call things by the name, even though that’s difficult). I wasn’t able to finish the report. My hand were shaking (and again when writing about this), I felt like rocking back and forth, which I only do when I’m feeling trapped and panicked, I felt like moving my hands/lower arms in an uncontrollable manner, which is also a sign of panic, the sadness (which had been away for a while, even when I meditated yesterday) exploded in my chest again.

It’s a few hours after reading the report, and I still don’t feel better. I think I made the wrong choice by starting to read a book about anorexia nervosa (which I had to do for the magazine I’m in the editorial board for) and continuing after discovering it was quite explicitly about incest as well. After reading almost all of the book (it was not a very good book, so I skipped the last 75 pages of the 300 the book consisted of), I went to the supermarket to get myself nice food. I found it extremely difficult to pick stuff, which is again a sign that I am not doing well. I cycled home, and just wrote this. (I got some nice high quality microwave meal with pasta, salmon, cream cheese and spinach, chocolate mouse and deep-frozen summer fruits)

Reading that report triggered me back to where I was a bit more than a year ago. On the one hand it might be good, because this might be the start of really healing. On the other hand: I won’t see my sexologist for another 4 weeks because I’m going to be at the boyfriends place for 2,5 weeks a week from now, so I don’t feel like I can do anything with these feelings.

And right now I just feel like I never want sex again, I never want bdsm again. Yes, I want the physical pain, masochist as I am, but I don’t want the power exchange. The power is mine, and I want to keep it. I never want to be abused again, raped again.And keeping all the power to myself, seems like the only way to get there.

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