My Blog

I had a flashback when I was in meditation.  There was a lot of kids coming out of the school that we went to.  It was called Wilbanks but it is the BISD building since the 1980's.  The weird part was that a lot of kids that I knew went there including my childhood best friend-Jennifer.   That is twice after EMDR I had flashbacks.  What showed up, all I saw in the flashback was back in the 80s of kids running out to the bus or to recess.  I started at Wilbanks in 1979 in Kindergarten and went there until 1984 and they pulled me out of the 4th grade where they were probably learning fractions and I never learned them because I went to the Hospital in Galveston Texas.   I am having flashbacks in little increments.  

Jason told me I was screaming and moaning in my sleep, and I think I was dreaming about TJ, my sister’s best friend’s dog. When I saw that standard poodle in the office, I immediately wondered if it was tame. I remembered being terrified when Donna’s dog TJ attacked me—I thought I was going to die. Luckily, my sister Karin scooped me up and carried me back to our house on Broadmoor. Could this be possible PTSD? I’ve been screaming in my sleep for as long as I can remember noticing, probably since around 2019. Jason heard it, and one night I even heard my dad yell in his sleep—maybe that’s where I got it from. Today, something triggered a memory from when I was 3 years old. I was watching a YouTube short of a cute kid performing “I’m a Little Teapot,” which reminded me of my grandmother teaching me that song. I just remember her singing it and knowing me I was probably wearing yellow.

First and foremost.  Yes, it does get triggered. I am safe. No one will judge me.   Where is my safe space.  Under my weighted blanket. Sometimes I am a wussy.  But my safe space is the beach in Jamaica.  I have been there. That place is so pretty.  I also been to Hell, Caymon Islands but that is beside the point.  I want to go back to Hell.   What do I see?  The beautiful blue ocean.  What do I hear?  People talking, laughing and children playing on the beach. What do I smell?  Food cooking from restaurants on the beach. What do I taste? but when we got to Cozemel, I tasted my first beer at 40 years old.  My aunt got me a beer.  I guess I could say that she was my favorite aunt.  She was the only aunt on my dad's side the family that ever made any complete sense.   What am I touching?  My feet are touching the white sand beach. That was my ultimate dream was to walk on a white sand beach...

I don't think that I can answer this because all I can think about is my mom when I was about three years old telling me no or when I was about 8 or 9 "sorry charlie". A phrase she would say when she meant no.  So the longer she said no the more I would come to realize there would always be a no.  Not to mention I heard about my sister wanting to go hang out at the skating rink and back then she was 14 years old.  I was then at the hospital in Galvestion Texas.  Anyway, I had heard about the screaming and shouting match that my sister had with our mom.  I don't know know what was said because I was in Galvestion.   So I can't even begin to even express what I can do and what I cannot do.  

Life has had its share of twists and turns. For years, people have spoken for me, as if I don’t have any thoughts of my own—only the ones others put in my head. When I try to express this, I get an eye roll and an “Oh, come on.” I’ve always been told I need to listen to others, but I was too afraid to ask for help, and I’m just now realizing where that reluctance comes from.  me, my mom and dad once moved my box spring and mattress without asking for help, simply because my mom didn’t want others to see my messy house. If people don't like my messy house, they can shut their eyes!  Doesn't people with anxiety care about everything but their house?   Yet during the three years I lived in my apartment, I kept it clean, even though it never truly felt like mine—it felt like Mom was paying the rent. People often say Jason repeats things I tell my “safe” people, but others warn me not to listen to him, calling him an asshole. It makes me wonder why people so often blame o...

Yes!  I shouldn't have developed selective mutism.  I don't think things be any different than if I didn't have selective mutism.  Things would still be the same.  I would have the anxiety but I wouldn't be mute if I didn't have selective mutism.