Silence is Olden

July 14, 2010 in ADD, Asperger's, Bipolar Disorder, Facts About Patient Anonymous, Health, PTSD and Dissociative Disorders, Therapy

Recently I had to do something that is…well, pretty much foreign to me.  Hell, I don’t think there’s anything that’s “pretty much” foreign about it.

I had to speak up for myself.  Further, I had to do it in such a way that it was verging on violent.  I suppose the reason for that, was because I was backed into a corner.  Perhaps it was a bizarre twist on “fight or flight?” I say it was a bizarre twist, as I was both fighting and “flying.”  I was trying to fight for my life by actually speaking up and defending myself, but I was also…how can I put it? Flying away, because I was so frightened!

Does that make sense? Or maybe it was the reverse.  I was “flying,” or fleeing from the situation, and fighting to somehow allow myself to actually speak on my own behalf. *ponders*

No, I think it’s the former.  I was cornered.  I was trapped like an animal that did have to fight for its life.  There was something… *winces*  Yes, almost primitive about it.

However, we are “evolved” in our thinking, yes? Well, I know I’m not.  Otherwise, why would have this been so hard? So many other people have no problem standing up for themselves, correct? I won’t go into all of the reasons why I have a problem with this.  I know why.  What I found more “interesting” is a bit of fallout.

Another thing I know is that I’m the idiot that wandered away from the village that couldn’t be bothered to send out a one-winged, carrier pigeon to try and find me.  However, if you can place your feet in my idiotic (red) shoes, tap the heels three times…  Well, you’ll either turn into a one-winged, carrier pigeon, or realize how difficult it was for me to say what I had to say.

I felt like one-winged, carrier pigeon shit.

Still, I tried to “just deal with it.”  Because that’s what you do, right?  “Swallow” it.  Sorry…couldn’t resist…

Back to the fallout.  I emailed someone and told them (well wrote them…sent myself off as a goddamn, one-winged, carrier pigeon covered in my own bird shit.)  After I did that, something happened.  As soon as I typed the words on the screen, it somehow became…more…”real?” That’s the best I can describe it.

Immediately afterward, I just broke down.  I started crying my eyes out.  I was sent back to childhood, forward to other years…all of the same things I had been through.  All those years.  You can’t speak for yourself.  You have to shut up.  Don’t you dare state your needs–even if you are trapped and are desperate!

Because when I did? In this case? In response? I was forced to say: “I’ll never mention it again.”