01-27-04 - 9:10 a.m.
I am going home tommorrow, and I feel ready to go, although I cannot deny my fear and sorrow. In my dreams last night, I was crawling through a series of tunnels, almost running. I had to make up lies to my friends, to be clever and daring in trying to escape men who also repeatedly raped me. Later I had to go back to rescue my sister. In my dream, once I got "home",near the end, I was paranoid still, my heart beating fast in my dream-chest. I checked the closets, turned on and off the lights, then finally laid down,only to feel a stranger grab me. I awoke with a very physical sense of escape. This might be a melodramatic assumption on my part, but I believe this dream was a subconcious expression of some of the fears, the lack of emotional "safety", I have felt regarding returning home or being home at the first place. The day before yesterday Bat and I were both too stressed to really aid each other, and I ended up in tears after an angry rejection. He was not, however, the main issue.
Recently I have shed tears mourning losses at home, the brief lifestyle and mood changes that have come over the family slow and steady for years until suddenly I've realized they're different. Little things strike me, remind me. In the bathtub that evening I was singing to myself, "I don't know why I love you like I do." Singing to us and playing guitar used to be one of her truest expressions of love and joy, and now she is too busy, too overcome to give it true time and energy. It's been a long time, and her happier songs such as that one seems to be ages in the past. It brings me heartache to think of my mom, stressing over the schedule and money, tense over my father's recent problems (they think he may have had a mini-stroke), and cowering due to Dicey's tyranny. I watch my parents suffer a good bit and wish I could help. Watching Dicey injure them is much worse than when she hurts me, largely because it's entirely out of my control and I feel hopeless.
That night, despite the cuddling, kissing, I love yous, and bevy of "I'm sorrys" I still gave him only incomplete forgiveness for bitter comments such as, "You really know how to not turn a guy on", nitpicky criticisms of my choice of diction, and his urge to give me small pinches whenever I started to get comfortable. He stated he was acting so asinine because I had been "belligerent since the morning." Projection, my friends, projection.
Some of my hopes to help my family end up hurting me, I believe -- I start to interpret this emotional relief as my "family duty" and when I cannot be balanced enough to provided it, feel like I have not done a good enough job or have let them down. Probably this sense of duty is partially related to the fact that when I was not contributing very well to family chores or even following their moral doctrines very well, my parents have always been proud of me for doing my best to be a friend to my sister. Speaking of...
I plan to lock up here soon diary after my sister's unpleasant comment indicating her perusal of my diary. Let me say she didn't forget to tell my mother of my debaucherous activity, or my brief stint with Percoset popping. Right now there is nothing all to controversial going on, and therefore I feel it appropriate to allow it stay open after all she has read about vigorous fucking and alcohol consumption. I am thinking of starting a new diary without telling her where it is. In any case, my schmancy membership feature are running out in two or three weeks, and as much as some of my regular readers have enjoyed my diary & the comments feature you could always find it in your heart, perhaps, if you're real rich and you're sick of rolling cigarettes with twenties, to. Thanks for even considering it!