ACK! I had to remove myself for a minute. I busied myself with a poem, calming down a bit. I felt I was trying too hard ...trying to force myself to write more on the subject at hand.
I see myself in the mirror. I have sensations. I know this is me, but it's after the fact. Am I made up of the stress, the fear, the anxiety, the trembling, the worry, the numbness, the indifference, the pain?
I feel like I've left me off somewhere. I really don't know if I ever had my own identiy.
I grew up in poverty and ignorance...backwoods mentality. It wasn't just my immediate family, but my extended family on both sides. Even at an early age I could feel the sickness as if it were something tangible, some material thing that could be touched. Tangible it was in the mind, and it became a blanket that covered me.
My father was an abusive alcoholic. I kept the secret of the sexual abuse from my sisters, up until last November. I have 3 sisters...except for my youngest sister, we all suffered beatings, and harsh, chaotic living conditions. And, up until last November, I didn't know that my eldest sister 'may' have been molested. She said she always had 'some' feeling, but passed it off as 'dreams'.
I avoid my sisters and the rest of my family like the plague. My sisters all live within 25 miles of me. Up until last November, I'd not seen one of them in 4 years. It was a baby shower that brought us together. I panic when I even think of them, and the 'sickness' envelops me once again.
Feeling a bit fragmented right now. Feeling as if I'm going through the back door to get to the front.  | 
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