Intense

Feeling ill. Watching a programme about a school for difficult kids. Difficult because of a traumatic background. Duh. That's what people keep overlooking. Because it's easier to treat the symptoms than the cause.
Incredible dedication of mentors, all that time and energy and astonishing patience. Nothing but respect for them. But then, after three years of diligence, they put the children back in the same home environment that messed them up in the first place.
Those kids' parents should get therapy at the same time. There's a lot of people who shouldn't be allowed to become parents. Why is it that hard to get a driver's licence (in Holland) and that easy to have kids? No permit necessary. The programme is horrible to watch, fascinating too, educational.

Finished reading "Finding Fish" by Antwone Fisher, started "A Private Family Matter" by Victor Rivas Rivers. Heartwrenching, beautifully written and what's typical of these survivors' stories: humour.
But it's making me feel ill. It's so recognizable.
A step for me is also acknowledging that what was going on at our house was not normal and did not happen because I was a difficult kid. I became a difficult kid after the bad stuff. Then got some more bad stuff, et cetera.

The mosaic's timing is superb, as always, since I'm having the intake at the psychologist's office tomorrow. Nervous. Hope I'll be assigned someone trustworthy. I got the bad stuff to come to the surface, now maybe with some help I can start scooping it off, releasing it.

Didn't go to training by the way. Went to bed terrified yesterday. First I was very angry, which is good, because I hardly ever get angry, and afterwards an immense fear took hold and all I could do was go through it. I was lying in my bed with an expression of sheer terror on my face.
Took ages to fall asleep, but it always does, so nothing out of the ordinary, but the fear was enormous, even for me.
When I tried to smile cycling downtown this afternoon, my face hurt.
My whole body is as tense as a clenched fist. I don't know what it's like to wake up with a relaxed jaw. I don't grind my teeth, but my jaws are forcefully clenched together during sleep. They hurt when I wake up.
I washed the salt of my face and decided I was too messed up to go to training. Sometimes it's the right thing to do, to give myself a little push and go despite fear or feeling bad, but sometimes it's better to stay home. I don't want something potentially nice to get an association with struggle and humiliation too often. So sometimes I give in to 'weak' moments which often makes them disappear sooner. Can't always fight.
How can a body endure so much tension for such a long period of time without reprieve? It's a miracle I have such low blood pressure.
I wish I could have screamed last night, I really wanted to and that's a rare occurrence. Didn't want friendly neighbour to call the police though, so I missed out on that. Shame.

I'm suddenly starting to feel genuine concern for myself when I read all this back. That's new. Not pity or self-righteousness, just a gentle concern.
Progress, lovely, I feel something opening up inside, a place where I care about this person who endured so much, without judgement.
A safe place. My god, I don't know how to express this in English words. It's scary and beautiful at the same time.
U2 singing "a moment of surrender" in the background. Hahahaha!!!
Isn't the mosaic awsome.