Sometimes it feels....

Like I am alone...standing within four empty walls. Outside the walls, everything and everyone is gone.



There is nothing beyond me. What was once there...has left..disappeared, no longer exists.
My hands cry and weep.
Hmm, once again, anger was running around my house slamming doors and pounding floors in disgust.
And I just wanted to leave.
I didn't want to be the scared frightened child anymore, that was always to blame. I wanted to run, but my legs don't work right now.
I severely miss the people, the parts of me that integrateted last month. They were kinda like freedom. Now, as an adult, I feel pretty damn trapped. I can't get what those integrated parts need. And it's frustrating, as I beat my head against the rubber room wall.

I continue my shutdown. My mind is back up and running and wants to accomplish about a dozen projects and task...then I stand up and realize that physically, I ain't going nowhere fast.  The usual frustration, of the uncertainty of when shutdown will end. I don't do feeling helpless with any degree of comfort. And, even though Therapist Sowise, reinforced my dire need to do nothing but rest and that things can wait...proved excellent advice, in the real world, a sink full of dishes is call for angry temper tantrums. Once again, it's all my fault even though I was completely helpless to change it. Really, dirty dishes in a cluttered kitchen is more cause for alarm than a person who barely can move enough to feed herself? Priorities, priorities.
God, I grow tired I'd this aloneness. I can't remember the last time someone just wanted to sit next to e or hold my hand or cuddle. Jesus, I ask so much.


I put my hands in my pocket and stare at the darkness.

I grow weary of reliving my childhood whereby "love" and self-worth was tied to how well I could clean the living room and cook dinner. I failed and felt like a failure, no good, worthless. I tried my best as I didn't like the punishment, but I could never get it done "good enough".

When I was sick, it was always my fault. No one comforted or cared for me. I was ostracized and sent to stay in my room so as not to contaminate the others with my germs. Being sick meant being punished as well.

So I am helpless in my autistic shutdown. No one gives a shit. I am resented for not being able to do my chores. WTF. History repeats itself.

Really?