“Loving You Loving Me”
Private Writings #68
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Post Tuesday 1st July 2014
WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT
Not Suitable For Children.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
Anyone Resembling Anyone Living or Dead
Is Purely Coincidental.
private writings to dr. annie haskell psychoanalyst
I am the storyteller using imagination fantasy feelings & thoughts
to discover self soul eternal serenity & bliss
but to most importantly tell the best tale ever after upon a time.
see you down the rabbit hole.
Private Writings: Chapter #68 — “Loving You Loving Me”
Tuesday 23rd December 2008
Once again I am writing to you after an insomniac’s night of twisted shadows. But mostly, my sleep was shallow. I feel more upset now than I did when I was writing to you before my dreams that turned into ‘the shadow’ nightmares. It was too bad for me to remember. She wants me to be tortured and she sure as Hell doesn’t want me telling you the secrets.
Between you and ‘the shadow’ you’ve got me twisted inside out and upside down. I am very confused about what I feel because I don’t know what I feel except I think it feels like what being in love would feel like. But I don’t even know what being in love is. This is something we really need to talk about.
When I feel love it wants me to tell you something. Something so hard for me to say. I wish I didn’t have to say it out loud. People get crazy when you say these words to them. But since I need for you to know I will say the words. Make believe I am saying these words out loud. Here I go, Annie, you mean everything to me and I never could bear losing you. But to be sure you know what my true feelings are I have to tell you, that I love you.
I know it is a powerful feeling. What we have between us, as therapist and client, is powerful. The energy is sometimes all consuming. What can I say, I know what I feel. It may not be real to you but it feels damned real to me and the next time I write I am going to tell you as honestly and directly as possible, what exactly I understand to be my feelings for you. When I tell you, I love you, I mean each word. The “I” that is spoken of is what is my Identity. Since I have a difficult time determining that, my commitment to what words I use are as strong as my connection with reality will allow.
As far as talking to ghosts, I will continue writing down what they are telling me. And I will ask Angie specifically, “What do you want from me?” But I figured out the answer to that question already. Angie wants me to help her catch her murderer. Hopefully without them trying to murder me first, the one who murdered Angie, the ghosts aren’t murdering me.
Don’t pay me any attention. This has developed into one of the most in sane weeks yet at Redcliff so far. Most of my section is filled with non-violent women, who have no idea who they are or why they are here. Helen is still completely silent. What happened to push her into the quiet space suddenly. She loved telling her stories. Even if she didn’t realize the stories she thought she was making up were actually about real people from her life. Someone filled me in on that.
And Lynn is getting rather obsessed with me. She follows me. Doesn’t say much but when any words pass her lips, it is very important to listen. Someone brushed her off the other day & I thought she was going to murder her. She went physical on her. They had to give her a shot & now she has disappeared. I miss her shadowing me. What do you think of that? I want a person to be near me. A stranger. Not me at all.
Even so, my feelings are more leveled off. Got some truth out from the shadows into the light. Light always frees the spirit of the secrets so they don’t need to hide any longer. It is such a relief when the secrets are set lose into freedom. They aren’t sure exactly what to do after they aren’t hidden any longer. I would prefer they would just fade away once they are no longer lethal.
You may ask, how are they so lethal? They could mean Death. Death by Murder or Death by Design or Death by Suicide. All are Death to the Soul and Innocence.
This feels like a good place to stop. While I still have the ability to think.
I switch up my thinking and feelings all the time. Bear in mind, a feeling today may change in a nano moment. The fickleness of my heart and mind breathe with the chemicals mixing inside my brain.
The brew that is true got lost in the blue that is the hue of the color in your eyes.
A visit with the March Hare & the Mad Hatter is pre-ordained to happen while confined in a facility that is relegated to those who seem to have lost control of their own lives, minds, confusions & chaos.
That is why I am going to stop now. Will finish it up in the morning & send it off then.
I know I don’t have to ask this but I feel I must, “Please don’t judge anything that comes out of this addled mind.” I only know how to speak the truth. Never wanted to learn how to lie. Maybe a “white” lie that would mean nothing but would hurt someone’s feelings. But then I don’t consider that lying. And even then I don’t often do that either. Censor my honesty. Telling the truth is a compulsion. It is most likely because of having to hide everything when I was growing up. Silence & more silence was the better way to survive. I may have survived but for what? So I could enter Hell when I was finally free from the first Hell?
I need to get stoned. Being here put me on edge & my panic attacks have blown out my guts. I am in constant pain physically as well as mentally & emotionally. I need to laugh. In the morning I am going to find something to write to you that is funny. I promise.
Goodnight. Ciao Ciao!!!
© Madison Taylor 2008
“I think writing really helps you heal yourself. I think if you write long enough, you will be a healthy person. That is, if you write what you need to write, as opposed to what will make money, or what will make fame.“ — Alice Walker
The beginning always starts out
With a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor
Le Chateau de Rocher – Home to Madison & Scottie
Their Cats & daughter Alison. She has her own place on the estate
“Pretending is not just play.
Pretending is imagined possibility”
— Meryl Streep