Kate --- I don't know why I watch those shows. It's like I can't get enough of them. But this disturbed me a bit - seeing the X-ray and her bloody handprint on a wall. It was a ketchup bottle. It was in like 1982. I feel bad that she died. On those shows, they always glorify defensive wounds on the dead women, saying how hard they fought back. I wonder what they would have said after my autopsy. No defensive wounds? It was rough sex gone awry? Well - maybe not. My arms and legs were almost black where they knelt on them. I don't know why it matters. I'm glad I didn't die. I want to go to heaven and I don't think I had "gotten" it yet.
The adderall doesn't really need to build up in my system, I take it from what dr m said. I just need to try the instant release for a few days, then the extended release for a few days, then both together. It apparently should be effective pretty much right awy. I just can't tell because I'm not at work, although I have spent the last 3 hours organizing cupboards and getting rid of stuff.
Bryce really liked the clothes. But he immediately put together the one shirt and tie that don't go together. Boys! I had to explain which things he can wear together. He said "nobody has ever done something like that for me without a reason and without wanting something in return.". How sad
. I reminded him he needs them for interviews now that he is graduating. But they went out to dinner for their anniversary tonight and he decided they would "dress fancy." Jamie sent me a pic. And he already planned which clothes he will wear tomorrow for church. I'm so glad. He looked good! He's never even owned a tie. He deserves to have nice things.
Not sure what exactly you are suggesting as far as writing out what were my parents' beliefs vs mine. Do you mean about what happened or just in general. How do I know? It's been kind of a shocker to learn that all that stuff wasn't right. Who knows what else I have believed that's not true or healthy. The example you gave about the little girl skinning her knee was interesting. Sounded like my mom. But she would clean it up. Didn't believe stitches were ever necessary unless it was a head wound that wouldn't stop bleeding. But she would treat it. Just not with a whole lot of compassion. More annoyance it seemed. I remember one time I accidentally spilled a pot of boiling water down my chest. I was about 8 probably. She was irritated. I had blisters all over the front of me. She treated it, but while doing so, was scolding me for having done that. Then she still made me go out to a dinner they had planned and made me show her friend. I was mortified because she made me go in the bathroom and take off my shirt. The only times they seemed concerned were if I was injured in a basketball game and may not be able to play. I don't totally blame them. I was pretty accident-prone and I'm sure they were irritated.
If my parents were to see what I am doing - talking to you about what happened, going to a psychologist twice a week, going To a psychiatrist -- they would think I have totally lost it. It is just not what "we" do. They would think I am pathetic. Maybe I am, but I am hurting. I don't know what to say.
I feel like I'm going to lose it a bit here. Like have a fit. But I haven't. And p comes back tomorrow morning. I know if I want to let go, I need to do it now. But I can't force it to come earlier, and I just can't let go totally. I have had my teeth so clenched for the past few days that it is hurting and my jaw is popping. I need to let the pressure out, but it hasn't come out.
Oh well. I need to finish going through stuff. I am in purging mode. I feel like giving almost everything away. I don't need much.
Good night, Kate.