the longer we go without posting, the harder it is to write something here. it’s the all or nothing thing i think,well, maybe, just really not sure.

there’s so so so much that has happened inside, in our thoughts, in our therapy, in our processing and healing, and of course life, and yet there has been this vast emptiness here in our journal. all we have are our taped therapy sessions and some occasional brief handwritten journal entries and what’s left within that has not been written but resides somewhere in here in time and space.

it’s hard to just start writing whatever current is going on, whatever it is that is right there in our thoughts and feelings at the moment we begin posting. it’s as though it’s wrong, not right, not valid? (interesting that word came up in the mind), not something that can be written unless we go back and fill in all the gaps, which of course is overwhelming. thus, the gaps won’t be filled in anytime soon and thus, a nothingness exists. and the nothingness continues onward and the nothingness gap grows and extends further.

suddenly someone inside wonders how much the nothingness that exists here on our online journal, how much of that is a symbolic thing of the struggle we’ve battled constantly, but more prevalently lately in our healing. there’s a saying within that is uttered on a regular basis, both within and outside, particularly when any discussion of ritual abuse comes up. and really, it’s more than ritual abuse, but somehow leaving out the satanic part or the cult part or the other things we wonder about or the mind control words before or after or in conjunction to ritual abuse or ra is somehow less scary, less real, less telling than to use the sra or any of the other words spelled out. of course i know we just wrote them and spelled them out, but it’s a start from leaving them blank and unsaid and just known by us what we mean when we use the terminology that we do.

so the saying that is used, which at some point we tracked down to this really bad circular thinking and programming and stuff and will have to take time to find it within sometime to explain it, but anyway, here it is. “nothing happened. it’s not true.” it’s not true because nothing happened. if nothing happened, then there is nothing to tell, nothing to say, nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing to remember. just a vast nothingness. a blank. a darkness of nothing. just exactly as the word means. nothing. empty. nothing. and if we should dare to remember or dare to see, dare to feel, dare to speak, dare to tell, then what comes from within us is utterly not true. it’s just not true. we are crazy and a liar. if we know we aren’t lying consciously then our other brain is tricking us. it is there tricking us to believe something happened and we are crazy and wrong and nothing happened, it’s not true. and since we have another brain tricking us into believing this and it is purposefully making up things that aren’t true and when nothing happened, then surely we must understand how utterly and horribly bad we are and useless and beyond worthless and disgusting and sick and crazy and oh the worst upon worst of badness there ever could possibly be. so to not be this inescapable badness that is beyond redemption and “badder than our current badness” as some kids would explain inside, we must understand and remember that nothing happened, it’s not true. that is the safest thing to know. to know nothing. to know anything that our other brain tries to trick us with is not true. that nothing happened. that there is a vast darkness of nothing and really just an empty nothing. and so there is nothing to say, and on and on it goes.

well i guess we explained most of that circular crazy stuff although it feels like there is more, oh so much more that relates to all of it.

and so we had this spark of an idea and wonderment that perhaps our lack of writing here, thus nothingness, is perhaps a parallel (?) or something to the struggle we’re dealing with inside. as though the more we battle that nothing happened, it’s not true, and the more the truth is tearing down the denials and the walls, then the more we need to show in other ways, that nothing happened, it’s not true, and that there is nothing to say, nothing to tell, nothing to reveal, yadda yadda.

i don’t feel like i’m grasping or explaining the entirety of what this is. i caught this faint fleeting glimmer of an idea as we were writing stuff above and that’s where it lead me for a moment, but it is lost and gone and i’m grasping at nothing i can see or feel or think. but i still grasp, hoping i will end up with something that i can take with me and journey further within to understand and connect pieces of things.

oh without explaining, without writing when this has already drained us from writing what we have written, there is so very much going on within. it feels huge and is very scary and we are constantly getting triggered to cut and self-injure and that is a battle that is so hard right now to fight. and the utter sadness and emotional pain is vast and deep with an unyielding of neediness that just won’t end. to even have a glimpse of observation as an insider to their pain being expressed to our therapist, even if for a few seconds and then i’m, we’re gone, that horrific pain that is beyond measurement is just so frighteningly real and what lies beneath their pain is even more frightening to me. the horrors, the injustice, the evil, the memories of whatever that must exist somewhere inside me that is beyond the nothingness and darkness and blankness, it is all too much. as others inside reveal themselves and write and share things and as we look back on old writings from others and information previously shared, the shock of “that exists within me, within our system” is almost a bit too much. never in my wildest dreams would i imagine some of these things to be within or words and things to be expressed in the ways that they are and yet it comes from within our system and it is so strange and surreal sometimes to put together pieces of not one life, but many lives within here. yeah sure, one body and thus one life, but there are so many of us within and although some of us share a lot of similarities there are just as many of us that are vastly different from one another. and we all have a life within here and are part of this body’s life, whether she likes it or not. words do not comprehend it well.

this is another attempt at writing. we will continue to make attempts and hopefully someday we will return to routine writing.

us, julies, and whomever else