3. Packed up dinner for L and Sally, went up to his office, giving no thought whatsoever to the photos he'd warned me about. It didn't occur to me for a moment I'd have a problem, and L does tend to be a bit overprotective - it's all right (usually*), makes a nice change from being surrounded by people eager to throw me into mortal peril.
I felt a bit sick while they were eating - like, actually physically ill, wondering if it was the pasta and if I should stop them eating it. And then I realized I was thinking about...how it happened. How the boy in the photos got that way. And I couldn't stop.
It's like...you know when you've said something completely idiotic and embarrassing and it just replays in your head over and over and over? And there's just no way to think about anything but what a colossal arse you've made of yourself, no possibility of distraction for more than a few seconds? Like that, but worse.
But that on its own wouldn't be so terrible. I do get that still with some stuff I saw in Afghanistan, and other places before that. It happens. I deal with it. It's mostly...horrible but tedious. Like: Really, I still have to deal with this shit? This can't be done with yet? One's own trauma gets very, very dull after a while.
But this was brand new. Because in addition to the unfortunate how-did-this-happen montage, I also kept thinking: What if it was Sherlock? What would I do? How would I feel? How was that boy's mother going to... I don't know. Survive.
It was a lot more than I was used to feeling in general because-- I don't know how to explain this, except how I tried once to get it across to my therapist, which didn't go very well. (Although, she told me to start this blog shortly after that, so maybe it went better than I thought?) I used a metaphor about bits snapping off a cheap plastic toy, but then she wouldn't let go of the idea that I saw my psyche as a cheap plastic toy. Anyhow, maybe it's better to just say it - I think I stopped feeling things properly a few years ago.
It was before Afghanistan. The posting doesn't really matter. Just that I got this sort of shell and everything got muted, like someone put the world on a dimmer switch. That worried Dr E as much as my plastic toy psyche, but I must say it was really damn convenient a lot of the time.
So. In conclusion (I hope), not used to feeling anything as sharply as I felt that. A shock to the system. Over now.
-
* L - at some point when you're not out of your mind with stress, we really do have to talk about this. It's almost cute when you think I shouldn't be walking through bad parts of town by myself, significantly less so when you don't tell me things I genuinely need to know because you don't want to worry me.
It was a lot more than I was used to feeling in general because-- I don't know how to explain this, except how I tried once to get it across to my therapist, which didn't go very well. (Although, she told me to start this blog shortly after that, so maybe it went better than I thought?) I used a metaphor about bits snapping off a cheap plastic toy, but then she wouldn't let go of the idea that I saw my psyche as a cheap plastic toy. Anyhow, maybe it's better to just say it - I think I stopped feeling things properly a few years ago.
It was before Afghanistan. The posting doesn't really matter. Just that I got this sort of shell and everything got muted, like someone put the world on a dimmer switch. That worried Dr E as much as my plastic toy psyche, but I must say it was really damn convenient a lot of the time.
So. In conclusion (I hope), not used to feeling anything as sharply as I felt that. A shock to the system. Over now.
-
* L - at some point when you're not out of your mind with stress, we really do have to talk about this. It's almost cute when you think I shouldn't be walking through bad parts of town by myself, significantly less so when you don't tell me things I genuinely need to know because you don't want to worry me.
39 comments:
*hugs to you*
If it helps about the plastic toy psyche thing; I'm currently learning to be a counsellor and they tell us that if offered a metaphor just take it and run away with it. It's all about finding the best way for the client to talk about it and if they want to talk about it like a little plastic toy then that's the way to go.
So she probably didn't think you ACTUALLY thought of your psyche as a toy, she was just trying to get you to talk about things you hadn't realised you needed to talk about but had subconsciously brought to mind through your choice of metaphor
And I'm going to shut up now
*hugs you more*
Just that I got this sort of shell and everything got muted, like someone put the world on a dimmer switch.
Not really sure how that makes me feel. Glad - in a way - because I know you have to find some way of dealing with things, and if that helped, once, in war zones, surrounded by fighting, then I think it's probably a good thing? But at the same time, now, hoping that things are gradually getting brighter, sharper, the further you move away from that?
But then I know that's not always how it works, and I know there's nothing you can do to force anything to change, so perhaps that's just me being selfish.
And it's not always that I don't want to worry you. Sometimes I literally can't find the words, or the way to tell you. Which is partly why you find out more on here. Because here I can type it, and change the wording as much as I want before hitting 'post' and...well, sometimes not even hit post at all. But it's not me, struggling for words, with you right there. And seeing you get angry. Because I can assure you my 'fight or flight' response is very well honed over the years, but neither are options with you.
I think your therapist was onto a fairly good thing.
significantly less so when you don't tell me things I genuinely need to know because you don't want to worry me.
Yeah. Must try harder, as my teachers used to say.
As for the main part of this, the pictures, the case...I don't know what to say. The mother is coping - she has little choice, with other kids still relying on her. The family...I don't know. Mine nearly blew apart, and no one died in our case. But I've put her in touch with anyone and everyone I can think of who can help them. Only time will tell.
Not really sure how that makes me feel.
Yeah, I can imagine. I'm sorry, I feel like maybe I should've said all that earlier - a lot earlier - so you know what you were getting into, but how do you say something like that to someone you've only just met without sound like a loony? And I don't think about it a lot, especially with you and boys around. You make me feel like I'm pretty normal most days.
As for it getting better, I don't know. I think it's better than when I first got back to London. So. Maybe that's good?
Telling me stuff on here is perfectly fine, nothing wrong with it at all. (If you think I could've said anything in this post out loud, I am here to tell you differently.) And if I've ever, I don't know, scared you, or made it harder for you say stuff, I'm really really sorry. More than I can say.
Trills - thanks, that does help actually. I always got the impression she thought I was quite a bit more screwed up in the head than I did, so I was always trying not to make it worse, which in retrospect was perhaps not all that helpful.
If you think I could've said anything in this post out loud, I am here to tell you differently.
Seems like we're in the same boat. Well, different boats, but on the same sea? I could continue this into metaphors about being lashed together and riding out the storm...but I'll stop, because I'm hungry, and I know we're meeting for lunch in...very soon. So I'll get out of this office and meet you all. Need to work this afternoon, but I can do it from home, and it's nothing I can't work on around the kids, either. So I'll actually get to see you all, a bit.
If you get to the pub first, mine's a bitter - London Pride, preferably. Or a Guinness, if it's not that vile 'extra cold' travesty.
You guys make a right pair, don't you :-)
John, that sounds like a completely reasonable coping mechanism. Lestrade's talked before about learning to become a bit distanced from the crap he has to deal with; this sounds like a more extreme, more all-encompassing version? Must be quite a shock when something blasts through like that. And of course, it means that Sherlock - and Mycroft, Lestrade - have somehow sneaked through that shell. And if the shock is "over", then having people who have gotten past that barrier is an ongoing situation. A good, if slightly disconcerting, situation one :-)
I'm glad that you're finding the blog to be a way of processing through this stuff (that goes for both of you).
Guinness, if it's not that vile 'extra cold' travesty.
Hear, hear!
Nameless - I can't believe they even agreed to make such a thing. It goes against everything Guinness stands for, surely?
I'm sitting back and digesting, waiting for the arguments to finish about pudding here (Lord's Tavern, very nice, especially if you're a cricket fan, which both Mark and Paul are - and I am too, a bit, if pushed) or my vote is to walk up to Gelato Mio (very nice ice-cream, for England. Would be torn between the mint, fior de latte or coffee) and then back through Regent's Park.
usual 'don't stalk us' rules apply.
Might do ice cream flavours as my next poll...
We did get ice cream, L got coffee flavor, and I'm afraid I ate...er, really most of it. I don't even usually like coffee ice cream.
You guys make a right pair, don't you
Ha, we certainly do!
As you can all imagine, losing your ice cream to Danger is entirely worth it, purely because it means you get to watch him licking an ice cream cone.
In my defense, it was really good. Is that a viable defense for ice cream theft? It must be, right?
I will only take you to Italy if you promise to let me buy you ice-cream, in order that I might get to eat some of my own, if it is. Because if you liked that...well, you haven't tasted anything yet.
The Italian ice cream tour? I like this plan.
Ha! It would take you a week to eat your way through the flavours in just one local gelateria.
Taste is always a very good reason for ice cream theft.
And I highly recommend an Italian ice cream tour in Italy. Holidays in Italy always make me a bit fat, but I really don't care. ;)
L - I'd be happy to try though, for as long as necessary.
Paula - I've never been. It always looks so nice in pictures.
You should really go and see it yourself, then. A great country with great people and amazing food. And you have to try it there, it's different from what you get outside of Italy.
And if you need a very cliché romantic day, go to Venice and take a gondola. ;)
He already knows Italians are great people...tall, dark, handsome, engagingly modest, great lovers...need I go on??
Although I've got to say Venice isn't my favourite place in the world. But probably something everyone should do once.
No need to, I agree. Maybe I should check my bedroom and see if I'm able to find my own Danger or an Italian. XD
Hmmm, going to spend the rest of the day thinking about Tuscany now.
My family are mainly from Marche and Umbria. Although some have moved as far up as Milano, for work. I spent most time between Urbino, Fano that area.
tall, dark, handsome, engagingly modest, great lovers
All absolutely true.
I paid him to say that.
You mean you aren't payment enough? (:
I'm going to have to see about finding some ice cream for myself. (Also, plastic toy psyches sound good enough to me, so long as they're moderately unbroken.)
plastic toy psyches sound good enough to me, so long as they're moderately unbroken
This was my point precisely! Does it really matter if the tail's broken off your T-rex as long as you can still make it eat toy cars and destroy your sister's building block cities?
Should I try to analyse that your psyche apparently wants to wreak havoc on cities by eating them?
The dinosaur was just an example!
You were fairly T-Rex like when it came to my ice-cream earlier.
Except I don't expect a T-Rex could hold an ice cream and reach to lick it. They seem to have very small, useless arms.
I'm not sure they could lick them properly either.
a pterodactyl would probably swoop down and steal it. Like gulls at the beach nowadays.
best ice-cream I ever had was in Florence. Little gelateria on a side street just down from the Duomo. Best latte ever in little cafe with yellow umbrella's just opposite the Accademia.
Want to go to Italy again!!
Must find a tall dark and handsome italian... without a huge slavering dog!
Kira
xoxo
I presume you mean caffè latte? Rather than just milk? Lovely. Although I am an espresso addict, myself.
Favourite gelato flavour?
Good luck on your quest. If I meet any, I'll happily send them your way!
Yes, oops! caffe latte. Espresso is amazing!
Funny story, I went to a gig at the Astoria (before it went away - boo hoo) and I'd been teaching all day so I went to get a coffee. Double espresso, smelt like heaven. Handed it to my friend to hold while I put my wallet away. Turned around and he's holding it at arms length as though it's hazardous waste... wimp!! Should point out that we were both dressed in Victoriana Goth at the time. I think the coffee set off my top hat, mourning veil and black dress!!
Gelato... vanilla, chocolate or lemon! Hmmmmm...
Quest's ahoy!
For me it has to be zuppa inglese, or something like cioccolato fondente extra noir. Although I do have a soft spot for fior di latte, even if some people think it's boring!
And of course, you can't go wrong with caffè. Or affogato.
(Everyone else...as you were, we'll just sit here and dream about ice cream when I really should be in bed already.)
tall, dark, handsome, engagingly modest, great lovers
All absolutely true.
Shame you got stuck with average height, greying, plain, fuck up who's barely been in the same bed as you for the past few weeks then, isn't it?
Stop trolling yourself, that's what anonymous arseholes are for. Anyway, I refute everything but greying as completely non-factual. I know you got home late a few nights, but you always slept with me.
Well, okay. But I'm only tall compared to you.
Sorry. better mood now. Won't troll myself again.
Hush. You're tall, I'm average height. I refuse to admit to anything different.
Right. Okay. That's your story, and I'll stick to it.
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