Cydniey Buffers (cydniey) wrote,
Cydniey Buffers

Sorry, not sorry

About my last post. I didn't realize it was so brutal. Not until Doc told me it was. And then people on reddit told me it was. It came out of me very analytically. I had this epiphany three nights ago, but let it simmer until I could be objective when I wrote it down. That was my attempt at objective. I think I have a different definition of that word than the rest of the world does. If I were famous, I could write one hell of a tell-all book, people would forget all about Lena Dunham.

After proof reading it, Doc kept asking me if I was okay and asking what I was reading on the computer, checking to see if I was obsessing. I wasn't. I got it out. I've read over it about a dozen times, more than any other single piece of writing I've ever not performed.

Reading it showed Doc how badly I need a therapist to go along with my medication regimen. That I have some very deep seated issues that he can't help me get over because he can't even begin to identify with them. Most of them in some way related to the church and its effect on my parent's parenting skills.

In their defense, mental illness wasn't a thing kids had back then. In 1974 a child had to be quite disruptive/dangerous/out of control to get psychiatric attention. I mostly kept my hallucinations to myself. Sometimes I would call them my imaginary friends. I didn't tell anyone that my stuffed animals talked to me. I had a red bear, and a small dog. Randy and Poochie. I remember coming home as a teen after one of my mother's purges of my room to find out that my father had thrown Poochie away. I fucked myself up that night. I can still see those scars. Years later, the red bear, Randy, was kept when an ex threw me out.

Okay, enough. I'm bored with myself. I didn't mean to trigger anyone or hit anyone over the head with a big heavy thing. I just wanted to share an epiphany with you.

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