To Be Sent

(Dear Therapist,)

Of course you are not available because you are gone, but sometimes I feel like you are not available even when you are here. It happens when you say things that smack of you wanting me to store and stash things. Stashing things is why I am the way I am. Those things always come back if they’ve been stashed. They’re back now and you really and truly are not here this time. I’ve been on a stashing spree because the things that jump out of storage are so bad, so fucking horrible and terrifying, that there is no way to handle them alone. I NEED YOU. When it gets hard to stuff it all back (yes - I mean when dissociation FAILS ME) then I have to move on to other means. AND NO I WILL STILL NEVER USE DRUGS. NEVER AGAIN. I WILL DIE FIRST AND I FUCKING WELL MEAN IT. But I will work myself into a physical wreck. I will starve. I will get drunk. I will put rocks in my shoes and cut myself and burn myself until something kicks in and makes it all go away. You left me before you even left. WHY? Why couldn’t you at least have stayed with me while you were still here? There is only so long things will stay in storage before they escape and refuse to go back in. They should not have been forced back into storage in the weeks before you left. I tried to use sleep to escape. I know that was stupid, but I start with the least harmful means. Sleep made it worse. I dreamed of a little girl’s tights floating in a bathtub with a man’s underpants. Now what am I supposed to do? (And if you say DBT I will send you some lovely leftover fish by five day ground mail with a card instructing you to smile at the aroma. I swear I’m not above it. Don't you know you're supposed to pretend not to smell the stink? You're supposed to pretend until you puke. And then you‘re supposed to smile. So what if it makes you anorexic to do that? Big fucking deal. Nobody gives a shit as long as you're not whining and complaining.)

I know how much you love my emails all by themselves, but this time I am including a special bonus gift. It’s a link to your goddess, creator of DBT. Try not to get a chubby, okay? Did you know she used to be a nun? She’s obese, too. SHE STORES THINGS VERY SUCCESSFULLY. Yay, Marsha! You go to the head of the class! She doesn’t look very smiley to me, though. Maybe the stink from the storage unit is getting to her. Poor Marsha. Enjoy the link. I’m going to go get drunk.

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