Dragging into the whirlpool

Hard to  start, feels like a week of rejection. Missed my counselling this week, FIRST TIME . When  woke up feeling physically rough, you know those feelings when eyes feel gritty, there is a brass band practicing in your head and your body feels so heavy its hard to move, when you do move ,well the world moves to. OK,that’s what it was like.  I COULDNT FACE THE WORLD for anyone, let alone for myself

Turned over went back to sleep,did let the counsellor know, felt so rejected at the reply.  The reply was  so formal, felt told off.Spent most of that day in hot  heavy  tears, so long they did not stop, felt so deep. A level I haven’t been to before.

How come some people can cry and look so beautiful? Or am I getting confused with movie crying. I have seen people in tears ,where there eyes sort of glow and tears come down the face like raindrops and they look so angelic. Not like  that, my tears were the snotty sniffy , deep red eyes ,feeling so so alone as if the whole entire world was against me.  Guess the big word is REJECTION,guess massive whirlpool inside me is REJECTION mixing in with JUDGEMENT. YE GODS, THAT MAKES A ONE HECK OF A MESS IN MY HEAD AND HEART.

My aunt died yesterday afternoon, my dads younger sister. Got a phone call from a cousin. hadn’t see her since  my mums funeral over three years ago. Will I go to the funeral ? Its in Scotland.  Means going to the area my dad died, not sure ,even after all these years I can do that. Its strange the memories you hang on to,the first Christmas after my dad, my hero( NOT the person who abused me) died, I was eight.

Few Christmas  cards that year. Fewer presents, But my aunty sent me a whole shoebox of sweets, YES A WHOLE SHOEBOX OF SMALL SWEETS,ALL MINE,JUST FOR ME. WOW.

It as that shoebox that introduced me to Parma violets,they felt so exotic.they still do! I still hold an image of me standing by the dinner table ,with the shoebox on the table,just looking at the box,barely able to breathe with utter total disbelief and excitement.

Not sure I can put words to the mass of emotion I feel, its new ,its old. Its these times I feel so incredibly isolated, or maybe the isolation feels more ingrained. Wonder what Is it like to have someone to share it with,someone who would go with you. Guess that’s one of the parts of abuse that lingers on and on. I can never imagine trusting anyone enough to get to a relationship

Death leaves me feeling icy cold

On a practical basis,will work give me time off? I haven’t been the greatest employee of late. Its not that long since my cousins death. Feeling full of emotion, yet there’s a part of me that’s so icy icy cold. When I feel that ice ,I know I’m in trouble.






How can a piece of paper, a few felt pens, some pastels and charcoal leave me feeling like my insides are being pulled apart and my mind has gone in to a pool of splatter.
Counselling session: looking at inner growth, using creative work. When first mention a few weeks ago ,ok ,I was a bit sceptical thinking it would be interesting and fun to play a bit.

WOW was I wrong.

Started off using black paper ,tried pale colours,yellow ,pink,lime green. Colours I would usually dismiss. MY COLOURS ARE
Second picture full of lines, using fine felt tips, no ideas beyond lines.
It was such fun ,it was so painful, Can’t put words down.
My counsellor had brought so much stuff, out of her bag came all these things an artist, or do I mean a child could dream of.I didn’t know charcoal came in grey and black, and different shades of each. I had that inner squeeze of total excitement ,I wanted to squeal in my excitement didn’t. Actually that’s a shame, my adult “BEHAVE YOURSELF “ must have kicked in. For a few seconds I wanted to cry,
It was sort of “ am I really  really allowed to use all these “ “ your surely going to tell me I can only use one bit of paper”
and a big bit scary.
Afterwards, feeling very mixed up,but no words. Did try out my “paint “ programme, not sure what it’s about,but learning to use it.