Friday, 20 August 2010

Disappearing Acts

Sharp, scagged fingernails of feeling trace swirling spirals through the inner fog. I feel the nails drag and pierce as they move across old, unseen wounds and I stare, in search of clarity, or discovery. But even as I look, the lines begin to blur and bulge, just like the clean cut of an aeroplane's path across the blue.
And it blurs and spreads into unfeeling mist.

I so often have the sensation of not being able to see something as soon as I look at it directly.
I remember in the early 1990s when 3 dimensional optical illusion posters were all the rage. Teenagers' bedroom walls would be covered with large bits of glossy paper covered in very repetitive, computer generated, patterns made up of tiny strokes of colour.
The pattern (called a Stereogram) was cleverly designed so that it contained an image which could only be seen when focused on in a particular way. Sort of modern man's answer to impressionism. Van Gogh meets Mac.

I used to find that in order to see the hidden images, I had to train my eyes to be looking beyond the poster; I almost had to DEfocus on the image.
The minute I mastered the 'defocusing' technique (actually known as 'parallel viewing'), the hidden delights of the poster were revealed. However, the minute I tried to sustain the image and look at it more clearly, it would disintegrate into a million, seemingly random, coloured particles again.

That's me in therapy.

I so often have the sense that, in order to glimpse something through the fog of dissociation and disintegration, I have to be glancing at it from an unusual angle. A sidelong look from the very outer edge of a very defocused eye.
The minute I try to keep what I've glimpsed, it slides into the mist of unfeeling and 'unremembering'.

That happened a few times in therapy today.

What also happened is very hard to write about.
I suppose because it requires a greater degree of honesty, explanation (and therefore energy) and recall than I feel able to muster.
Even as I type, it's somehow on the very tip of my memory but I can't quite catch it.

Whatever. As I left the little house in the woods, I hit my steering wheel enough to bruise the heel of my palm.
I wanted to shout.
In the room I had wanted to put my fingers in my ears. I spent the entire session with my hands on front of my face.
I didn't want to be seen.

We now have a two week therapy break.
That too has slipped into the unfeeling fog.

What hasn't is the fact that I have put on weight and I have eaten bits of chocolate almost all day long.
It would be nigh on impossible for me to explain the horror I feel at submitting to the cravings when I haven't done my exercise and I weigh more than I have for quite a while.

The levels of desperation and despair are way beyond anything words could contain.

I have replied to comments on my last post if you feel like having a look.


  1. HI LOVE-
    I did look at your replies back - so nice of you to take the time. It seems you have "tied your own hands" I have been there too, in my own knot of despair and raging truth - it is in the turns and twists of that very knot that also lies your freedom - your "way out" - look harder and you will see. In fact - when I looked and finally saw and could finally unravel my self-made knot of anger, desperation and self loathing - I relaxed in peaceful surrender for the first time. I cannot tell you what to do I can only share what it was like for me. What worked for me. k?

    I see you and I love you
    peace and hope....

  2. I'm very sorry.
    I'm really upset tonight and I'm going to remove the comments option for now.
    Apologies to anyone who feels upset. I don't want any kind words right now.

  3. Ok, no kind words. In fact, I am using you to be with me in my own desperation, via your post and by your honest starkness, and by leaving open or re-opening the comment feature. It is the cool thing about this medium of the internet, that I can have something from you without (hopefully) you feeling burdened by me specifically. I do hope you will use me and the others here in the same way.

  4. No Faith, I won't use anyone... At least, I hope not.
    Please don't worry about the 'feeling burdened' thing. I honestly don't so you don't have to worry about it. Please speak freely.
    I am in a pretty bad place in a lot of ways but i would never want that to impact on anyone else or affect the thoughts anyone wanted to share.
    I'm sorry to be such a mess right now cos it feels it might make it hard for others.
    I am quite aware of owning a death wish at the moment. |I suppose we all do to an extent but right now, mine feels like one of the prominent veins in my arm.
    Hope you are okay Faith.
    Please know you can use this medium without 'burdening' me or anyone else.

    WS x

  5. Obviously, this has not been a very good day for you.
    If you can find enough reserve strength, when you’re feeling completely down, drained, despondent etc. sometimes it’s a good idea to jot down impressions, fears, crazy thoughts and the other things that are churning through your mind. Not cohesive, not edited, and certainly not meant to be linear, but rather as a record of what is present at the moment. There are times that this becomes a rich source and trove of ideas for “later on.

    The overall tone of your post reminded me very much of one of the early chapters of “Alice Through The Looking Glass” (Sequel to “Wonderland’). After Alice has gone through the glass, she discovers a perplexing truth concerning moving from place to place in this strange land. If you look straight at (and travel towards) something, you get further away rather than drawing nearer. It is only by turning around and going in the opposite direction that you are able to approach that which had been in front of you. In other words, there are times that the most effective way of moving forward is to not fixate upon the apparent goal.

    While this is a convenient law of optics if one finds oneself in a mirror, (obviously whatever you see ahead of you in a looking glass, is really behind you). I truly believe that it has application in our “real” world as well. Often we mistakenly believe that by “Tunnel Vision focusing” upon a problem, a goal, a dilemma or a hidden truth, we will be able to “solve” it. Many times the opposite is true.

    While there certainly are “problems” that lend themselves to focus and examination (math puzzles and misplaced keys come to mind), sometimes we place too much emphasis upon the value of rigor (rigour for those of you on the other side of the border) and analysis, at the expense of what is referred to as intuition. Perhaps by letting it just rattle around for a while, insight will often “miraculously” appear. If you’ve read very far in my blog, you may well discover that I am a big fan of intuitive or non-linear thinking.
    Interesting aside - in one of your earlier posts you quoted a song by Shawn Mullins - he lives a few blocks from me.
    Another provocative post. Bob

  6. Hey Bob,
    Yeah. It was an extraordinarily bad day for me. Interested in Alice through The Looking Glass. It really does sound exactly like what I was writing about.
    I haven't had the energy to write anything down. In fact, despite being somewhat disturbed by a number of thoughts (and maybe even feelings) I have felt unable to write them down, ot admit to them maybe.

    I'm not really feeling ok enough to say much more right now. Save that, I am so glad you are reading and that I want to thank you for your accpetance. Many people would never bother.
    As for Shawn Mullins, I love he way his work is is real and true. I love it that he speaks and sings fom the heart, and I love th fact that he sings about stuff I would never dare speak of.

    He is amazing!


  7. Damn, this sounds so hard.
    no caring words; just to say, thinking of you.
    Also praying, which I SERIOUSLY don't do lightly.

  8. I know the pain and the only advise I have is don't give up. I know what it is to wish you could feel nothing, but you do. Please be safe. Find some where in the world that it feels safe. Safe hugs my friend.

  9. Like dust motes dancing in and out of the light...about to grasp only to lose it again. yes I understand. I am thinking of you.

  10. still listening, still caring, and as always, still mesmerized by your ability to find words that so vividly describe your inner world . . . an incredible gift . . . . and though you do not intend to inspire others, you do, and this world could use alot of inspiration . . . . . . your courage and honesty are priceless . . . . and I know it slices you to hear that . . . . . but I hope you can continue to share, and one day, find something that inspires you as well . . . . . .

    thinking of you often, and missing you terribly . . . . .

    with love,

  11. YEah, getting your comments has always a double meaning... that you are feeling better, are interested in the world around you again and keep pushing through. And that you include my blog in your visits. This really started my day wonderfully (it is 7:33am over here) Love to you.

  12. I used to feel what you describe...I never thought it would get better...that I would ever be free. It's a darkness so great that the fight to hold onto seems so fragile. Never give up your corner...believing for you..

  13. S - Yeah. Damn hard.
    Prayers seriously appreciated.

    Wanda - Thank you. My main problem is that nowhere feels safe because I feel so unsafe in my own body.
    Thinking of you. x

    Lostinamaze - Thank you for your understanding. That image, of the dust in the light, is on of my faves. Thanks. x

    M - Dear M... I do often find things that inspire me... it's just that it feels as though nothing is sustainable cos the despair takes over and kills everything.
    I fid i hard to believe that you are still here and still listening to me. I don't feel that I deserve that. You should reread your words to me here and then try to apply them to yourself. They could very well be the exact words I'd say to you.
    I think of you often. Lots of love x

    Paula - I'm so glad that your day started wonderfully. I do indeed often include your blog in my visits. You are inspiring!
    Thank you for being around and for offering so much support and encouragement. x

    Sarah - You are right. I don't really see it getting better, and yet the possibility that it may not feels unbearable.
    The darkness feels just as you describe and I know that you understand the horrors of living with an ed and the rest.
    Thank you for believing fr me. I have no idea why you would and I so so so so so hope that what is true for you can be true for me too.
    Thanks for staying in my corner. x