![[dr. bob]](/dr-bob-sm.gif)
Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 8 of 8. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by cricket on January 6, 2006, at 8:00:47
From Cricket, who only knows forests in her mind.
She sinks into a chair and lays head on arms. Think, think, think about what you did. She shrugs the voice off as one would a persistent child. But then a second voice joins in and then a third. Think, think, what did you do. What did you do. A taunting, a playground chant. But there are no children and no swing sets. Only the dim-lit and empty room. She sobs, biting her forearms and licking the salty tears until the voices quiet and she feels a hollowness unfold. It starts in the belly, a neat package unwrapping, but then buds form and the hollowness spreads over her limbs, and up to her face, drawing the eyes backwards and out of focus. The air begins to jangle, a tiny twinkle like dust motes but sparkly. She focuses on an empty glass on the table. There is still time. She can still dig her heels in and hang on. The glass begins to vibrate as if acquiring another dimension. All the parts of the glass, inside, far side, lip, bottom base and empty spaces become visible at once, each molecule dancing in the dim light as if clamoring for attention. Too late then. She moves her eyes across the room, over every object, and they are all blurred, mocking and taunting her with their dance.
She panics then, heart racing, flying around in a glass bubble, nowhere to land, continually bumping into the invisible walls. A card is on the table. It has a photograph of a snow-laden pine tree on the front. Perfectly symmetrical triangle of deep green and white. Each branch heavy with its weight of snow, the darkness hinted at under the branches. She crawls in under the branches. It is warm and the ground is spongy and damp, a rusty brown color. It smells good like skin and dirt and things about to be alive. She makes piles of the brown pine needles, dishing out sustenance to some imaginary family. She digs deeper into the soft dirt, bits clinging to her sap sticky fingers, and finds the skeleton of some long dead bird. She carefully lifts it from the dirt and cradles it in her cupped hands. Skull no bigger than a walnut and as thin as an eggshell. Rib cage, a delicate fortress protecting nothing now. No wings left, just the socket where they must once have been. Then another voice. Always voices. Whispering “come back now. You must come back now.” She doesn’t want to, not yet, more time, just a bit more time, but something makes her reach out and touch the card. Glossy photo, slick under her fingers, card stock at the edges rougher and softer. She runs her finger back and forth between the two textures. And she comes back to where she is. Living room, sitting on chair, she can feel the back of her thighs pressing against the chair seat although they don’t yet seem to belong to her.
Posted by muffled on January 6, 2006, at 9:41:55
In reply to To Muffled - My Forest, posted by cricket on January 6, 2006, at 8:00:47
Holy sh*t Cricket, that is SO amazing writing. I could see it, feel it. Are you trained in writing?
Can you tell me more about what was going on for you at that time?
I can relate to some of the stuff.
Are you ok?
I'm so glad to hear from you, and am honored to have a post to me.
Tell me more.
Gotta get the kids to school.
Take care Cricket.
We'll connect again.
Muffled :-)
Posted by cricket on January 6, 2006, at 14:12:32
In reply to Re: To Muffled - My Forest » cricket, posted by muffled on January 6, 2006, at 9:41:55
Hey Muffled. I'm glad you like it.
I wrote this to try and explain to my therapist what is like when I fog out.
I guess it mostly happens when I go into emotional overload.
I'm okay now, I guess. Just have a bit of self-pity, "My life s*cks" going on.
I hope you're doing better.
Posted by muffled on January 6, 2006, at 14:49:13
In reply to Re: To Muffled - My Forest » muffled, posted by cricket on January 6, 2006, at 14:12:32
> Hey Muffled. I'm glad you like it.
***yeah like I said, its WAY cool writing.
>
> I wrote this to try and explain to my therapist what is like when I fog out.
**good idea
>
> I guess it mostly happens when I go into emotional overload.
**yeah, gotta get away somehow, but if it gets away from you its kinda scarey eh
>
> I'm okay now, I guess. Just have a bit of self-pity, "My life s*cks" going on.***So whats happening w/you? You can babble away to me.
> I hope you're doing better.
**Yeah, I am. The drugs are helping alot. I can think way better.
I zoned in my T's office one time when she was reading something I wrote that was a real trigger for me. And then she's saying something about my fax machine and time etc., and I could hear her voice, but it didn't make sense what she was saying, like it wasn't me or something. And I could see her mouth moving and it looked like she was getting annoyed cuz I think she said it several times. I was trying to come back, and I was comming too slow and I was starting to get scared and I guess she could see that and so asked where I was,but who the hell knows eh? and pretty soon I was back.
I don't usu. zone like that in front of people.
Sucks.
Take care Cricket.
Muffled
>
>
Posted by alexandra_k on January 6, 2006, at 16:50:24
In reply to Re: To Muffled - My Forest » muffled, posted by cricket on January 6, 2006, at 14:12:32
hey. that was really great :-) thanks so much for sharing it. i really liked it. vivid and... i think i understand.
it is strange how other people don't seem to understand. to know what it is like. because... it seems to ordinary to us i guess.
> I guess it mostly happens when I go into emotional overload.
yeah. me too.
> I'm okay now, I guess. Just have a bit of self-pity, "My life s*cks" going on.((((((cricket)))))
i'm sorry if i said anything to hurt you :-(
or if you thought i was dismissive...
i really didn't mean to be...sometimes when i am struggling i get very self absorbed and find it hard to reach out and connect with people. i read what they right and it pains me or delights me and i just can't think of the words... i can't find words. and what i do find... sounds dismissive.. and i'm sorry for that.
:-(
but i do care.
and i wish i wasn't like that.
Posted by damos on January 8, 2006, at 20:54:17
In reply to To Muffled - My Forest, posted by cricket on January 6, 2006, at 8:00:47
WOW! and thank-you.
It's always so nice to see you here and to be able to share something so extraordinary.
Safe hugs,
Damos
Posted by cricket on January 9, 2006, at 9:23:59
In reply to Re: To Muffled - My Forest » cricket, posted by muffled on January 6, 2006, at 14:49:13
> **Yeah, I am. The drugs are helping alot. I can think way better.
Hey, glad to hear that. I haven't been on the boards much but you do sound better.
> I zoned in my T's office one time when she was reading something I wrote that was a real trigger for me. And then she's saying something about my fax machine and time etc., and I could hear her voice, but it didn't make sense what she was saying, like it wasn't me or something. And I could see her mouth moving and it looked like she was getting annoyed cuz I think she said it several times. I was trying to come back, and I was comming too slow and I was starting to get scared and I guess she could see that and so asked where I was,but who the hell knows eh? and pretty soon I was back.
>Yeah, that pretty much describes it. Unfortunately I do it far too much. It's my defense of choice.
Posted by cricket on January 9, 2006, at 9:25:56
In reply to Re: To Muffled - My Forest » cricket, posted by alexandra_k on January 6, 2006, at 16:50:24
>
> but i do care.
>
((((Alex)))
I know. I know.Hang in there and talk with you soon.
>
This is the end of the thread.
Psycho-Babble Writing | Extras | FAQ
Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.org
Script revised: February 4, 2008
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/cgi-bin/pb/mget.pl
Copyright 2006-17 Robert Hsiung.
Owned and operated by Dr. Bob LLC and not the University of Chicago.