we’ve been cleaning out boxes and sifting through things, some of which we recycled and some of which we kind of sorted into piles (but not really).  Just doing the first preparation of filing and steps along the way to ultimately clean out crap.  Mostly just trying to get a grip on our living room which has been taken over by clutter and boxes everywhere.  We’ve been busy and made a lot of progress but there is still a lot more left to do.  We came across some therapy stuff.  It was hard to look at- hard to see stuff we’ve written years ago.  I found stuff as far back to when I was 18 and 19 years old.  It seems I was much more alert with attempting to be insightful and aware of any weird thing that seemed normal to me but probably is abnormal to others and stuff like that.  It seemed I was on a better track for healing.  I don’t know.  I guess it would make sense– I was more fresh to the healing process and not so damn worn out and tired of it all.  I saw stuff we wrote to our former therapist, Wendy.  It seemed to bring up a lot of grief and sadness and self-hate.  I look at that stuff and don’t understand how she put up with me/us.  And from what I understand, there are some inside that still believe she did reach her limit and stuff.  I look at all this stuff and years of therapy and years of this grueling journey of healing and where my life has taken me.  I also had some pictures that I had to dust off the envelopes they came in from the photo place and prepare to put them away in photo boxes.  So of course we skimmed through those photos.  I look at photos of me and I see the ones where I look really nice– my hair is nice, I’m thinner, my clothes are ok, and I often have make-up on.  And then there are the ones where there is no make-up on, my hair is combed but still ugly and not flattering on me, and for some of them, I’m fatter… much fatter… and then there are those where the acne on the face is just right there blaring through the photos.  I hate those photos and how much things change like that.  I always look at the photos where I look really nice and stuff, with make-up and hair done neatly, and I wonder who is that? where did she go? what happened? I long for that girl to return and at the same time I have no identification with her.  I know intellectually that is my body but emotionally I feel like I’m looking at some stranger that has no relation to me.  And then I see the other photos of me that I think are ugly and gross and other things and the self-hate is just so strong and the suicidal ideation rages strongly to intense degrees.
we’re just feeling really suicidal suddenly.  the wave of it is hitting us.  i know we just need to go to bed. we’re tired and we’ve been tired for close to two hours but we were trying to get something done.  there’s so much more to do but it is better and movement is being made in the right direction.  just so badly want to die and so much self loathing and disgust and wonderment of how could somebody like us and find any value in us.  how could Wendy do that? was it even real? she saw some of the worst in us.  she saw so many inside and had to deal with so many that had to have been a pia to her to deal with.  she had to put up with us.  we were just a wreck years ago and yes we’ve made progress, but that wreck still is within us.  it’s always teetering on the edge of coming out and wreaking havoc and often times it wreaks havoc inside.

we just hurt and want so bad to die. i know it will pass.  it’s just feelings. it’s just utter sadness with tears. tears finally. trying not to push them away.  we haven’t cried (for reals) in such a long time.  yes tears will spring to the eyes occasionally and sometimes a few will fall down but we haven’t really cried in such a long time.  i think we need a good cry but it still won’t happen yet.

and the other thing… aside from the likelihood that a lot of these feelings are from looking at stuff and it stirring things up, but there was a moment tonight where we realized we were getting stuff done and we could feel the stirrings of the punishment and aftermath of this.  the damn programming we can’t get rid of or something.  a lot unsaid here but we know what we’re referring to.
and there are other things connected with getting stuff done.  and it is connected to living and dying from various perspectives from groups inside who are battling different things.

i guess it makes sense why we avoid all this and why it overwhelms the hell out of so many of us inside just thinking about it or beginning to tackle the problem.  it stirs up so much g-d awful fucking shit and the dying needs increase substantially.

whatever. we’re going to bed.

julies and some Julies