10:23 a.m. - April 29, 2002
Gemutlichkeit
Pardon the earlier entry. I'm embarrassed.
I want to tell the story but I'm afraid to. Afraid to open up and feel like a less-than man. I lied to my counselor the last time, when she asked if I had ever been sexually abused. How are things supposed to get better if I can't open up and be honest and stare whatever's inside in the face? There's so much bottled up inside that it eats my marrow and I have osteoporosis of the personality. Can't picure myself sitting down in the chair and saying I want to talk about it--not even here can I say it. Don't even like thinking it.
Somewhere I've lost control of everything and this mess that is my life smells like old beef stroganoff.
Guess I should stop playing misinformation games with the counselor. That'd be a smart first step, eh? I loathe every cell of my body, did you know that? Usually I float along the current but lately it's not working. No, that's not true. There's always a veneer covering the inside and something triggers the inside to roil and throw me off, reminding me that I'm not in charge and am absolutely pathetic. I feel threatened by it. I don't like being happy. You know why? Because I don't deserve it. I don't. I make myself sick and don't deserve to be happy because of what I did and over and over I hear It's Not The Child's Fault but for me it was, I went back because I liked it and there I said it I liked the attention and I knew what I was doing and what he was doing and that's as deep as I can get, I caused it and have to live with the consequences now. So the labels don't apply. I did it to myself and God nothing I can do can undo it and that's my shame and loathing and hate and utter fear that I have a sick mind and a sick body and a sick everything and that's what I don't want the counselor or anybody else to know.
God what is wrong with me. I'm losing it. Check that. I've lost. Holy shit I'm scared.
