sometimes i feel trapped in my brain.
it’s where i’ve always lived, because i hate my body and i like to pretend i don’t have one.
my brain is rarely still. it is usually analyzing and shaming and interpreting. listing things and reminding and tallying. if it made a noise it would be incessant, like a creaky rusty box fan or the drone of an airplane that never quite approaches or leaves.
backposted, written June 17/19
The very first thing that came to my mind was being physically trapped by my brother. In a room with a locked door, in a room without a locked door even. It’s amazing how you don’t a concrete physical inability to escape, to be trapped. Verbal threats, the position of a hand around a throat, held tight around your wrist, a glare even will do it. A look that says you are not leaving here, don’t even try. Similarly in those situations, how your own body freezes and traps you there, forcing you to just endure it. How your brain may shout at you to leave, or your eyes might focus on the door, but you just cannot manage to get your body to move out of the fear and through that door.
I don’t like siting still in one place where I am not comfortable and at home. I currently do a job where I am on my feet all day, walking around and doing things… I like that, the ability to move around. I don’t like feeling stuck in a room and unable to move. I have trained to go into a profession which will be an office job, but part of the reason I haven’t done it is that I don’t want to feel trapped in a room at a desk all day.
This week I went back to t after several weeks of not going after a really bad session. I didn’t realise I was doing it but I never sat back in the chair for the entire time I was there. I hovered on the edge of it, and right over on the side that put more distance between my therapist and me, and less distance between me and the door. I think I was ready to get up and walk out – I didn’t want to be trapped there, forced to stay if she hurt me.