Insensitive Kitten

Insensitive Kitten
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2001-05-15 05:06:04 (UTC)

...explain the shit stains on your face...

I just remembered something....I was reading something
about SI and they talked about feeling disconnected and
alien from yourself. Of course I'm familier with that but
for some reason that sentece spurred a memory from four
years ago...which may have been one of the biggest and
first warning signs that the disease was approaching.

When my grandmother had her stroke only two people had died
before that in my life, and I'm going to give you
background on that before I go on.

As I child I didn't have ANY real friends because, for some
reason, I was picked by the hand of life to be the 'geek'
of the class. So, from first grade untill junior high I was
not only verbally assualted but pysically assaulted from
peers as well. I dealt with it pretty well and basically
got over it and was almost somewhat popular by the time I
got to High School but before that and especially in my
grade school years it was quite traumatizing.

I can remember at the age 9 or 10...I don't
know...somewhere around there...I would wander around my
block in desperate search of companionship. Anyone, adult
to baby would do. You couldn't imagine how lonely and
desolate I felt at such a tender age with no one to relate
to. Not only that, but I come from a broken home.

This made me leachy, anyone within radar that would give me
the time of day was on my speed dial and constantly
bothered by me. But I didn't know any better, nor did I
notice that this behavior didn't make me anymore popular
with the kids then I already was.

Well, I did have two people that I considered my second
family...two people who pampered me...who accepted me as a
person and listened to me tell my childish stories eagerly.

They were almost my everything.

They also happened to be a 70 year old husband and wife.

Things got rough as I went through my "gawky" stage and
they died.

So...there I was, left with NO ONE to turn to. I felt
abandoned and useless, scared and dirty.

All before sixth grade.

Then I was left with family. My grandfather, grandmother,
and mother.

I told them everything...for sheer lack of anyone else to
talk to.

They were all dubbed my new companions.

Then Hell broke loose and my grandmother had the stroke.

It took me two days to be able to drag myself to the
hospital to see her and once I did I was crushed. She had
gone from this head-strong, tough, brave woman to this
dribbling obnoxious and soon to be abusive creature.

Hope sifted away....

For months I was afraid to close my eyes or zone out
because everytime I moved it felt like I wasn't me. It felt
like as soon as I closed my eyes or went to sleep I
wouldn't wake up. Nothing was real anymore. I didn't have
feelings and all emotions were gone.

I was the cardboard cutout of me.

It scared me half to death not to be able to feel...I
remember telling my mom about it but at that time we didn't
have the funds for a pychologist.

So I went on not feeling....dizzy.....numb...cold....glassy
eyed....in an extended period of shock.

Shock that my world had crumbled and everyone was gone.
Those whom I had once relied on for comfort were dead or
had gone and left demons into the disgusting bodies they
left behind.

I had no reason to feel....my body wouldn't allow it anyway.

My soul had had enough of the whole "emotion" bullshit.

What good had that done anyway?

And....it hasn't done me any good since....

But I just wanted to share with you that....cos I couldn't
keep it to myself....and many of you, I know, have been
curious about my reasons for cutting.

And this is the earliest sign.


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