My childhood was terror. I survived by going along with the disenfranchisement of my identity. It caused the inherited rheumatoid factor to become rheumatoid arthritis. I finally dumped the parasite biologigal preditors, but my heart feels crucified and I grieve constantly. I've had intermittent success by "acting" joyful and having joy actually prevail, but long flareups of my body systems, no true friends, no support except for my husband (who is overwhelmed yet sincere in making up the difference for the RA as best he can)--but the brokenness gets worse the older I get. I know there are people who suffer much worse. They must be lonely for authentic friendship too. Past friendships: I was their friend, but they were unable to be mine, and they all were desturbed when my psychic abilities proved actual--insecurity made them "superior." I know my "true" family members live somewhere. Only in retrospect, when too late, do they feel mercy for you. The world is a shadow for sleepwalkers.
2006-12-23
08:43:57
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