Fuming right now. This is a therapy blog. It may not make sense. It WILL NOT make sense. I’m blogging ANGRY tonight so this is purely to get my feelings out. I am so angry I wish I could tap each letter out with those wooden stick things that you beat drums with. I’m too fed up to think what those sticks are called….ahh yes, drum sticks.

I am angry at lots of things and lots of people but really I’m mainly angry about one thing and one set of people…

Tonight Matthew, I am…….angry with the abusers in the satanic paedophile ring. I am angry that the full moon is mooning tonight in all it’s full glory. I am angry that the full moon upsets me and I am angry that I feel angry that the full moon upsets me.

If the full moon didn’t bring back traumatic memories though I wouldn’t be human. I’m having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of traumatic memories and please guys before you tell me to not dwell on the past I will tell you “off you must fuck”. I’m just not in the mood tonight.

I am triggered and irritable and really quite scared and ungrounded.

I shared on Facebook why I hate the full moon, after posing the question to my friends- asking whether they understood it’s significance. They didn’t. Most people don’t. How can society know what is in my head and the head of other SRA survivors? They are innocent and they remain unsullied by my particular niche kind of trauma.

This is why I NEED to write my memoirs. I am not going to blog them all. I am going to create something special that people pay for and want to read and tell their friends to read.

I have lay in bed since 1.20pm. It is now 21.04. I have barely moved but I have wanted to scratch my skin till it’s raw for hours on end. The discomfort of my inner feelings make me want to scratch my skin over and over till it bleeds. I have stayed suspended somewhere horrible in my mind (that is the same every full moon triggering month.) Full moon-suicidal thoughts-self harm urges. TICK.

I hurt badly. And I will NOT have non-traumatised people give me well-meaning advice tonight. You have NOT lived what I lived. You do NOT know my stories. You have NOT lived in my skin. You have NOT felt your bones freeze in terror. You do NOT have my images in your head. You do NOT feel the same skin crawling sensations I feel. You do NOT sense danger like I sense it. You have your issues and your hurts and your pain, but the trauma I lived IS EXTREME and NICHE and WEIRD and SICK and fucking HORRIFYING. All objectively. It is UNUSUAL. It is CREEPY. It is SINISTER. It involved life and death situations and threats and darkness and pure undiluted evil.

I am fucking fuming tonight. I can’t bear to see another ‘isn’t it fucking brilliant that it’s the full moon tonight’ article on social media. I feel the moon as it it. I sense the moon and the energetic shifts. My moods and energies are in tune with the moon and the full moon is when all this traumatic shit happened :(

Excuse the excess of swearing in this post btw. I don’t care how any of this sounds. Seriously. Not tonight. This is unrestrained blogging from a place of desperation and pain and deep searing hurt.

My bones ache with the weight of my burdens. My muscles strain against the pressure of trying to NOT explode into smithereens. My head is too heavy for my body and my neck is where the imaginary collar is tied, rendering me a vulnerable animal in clear sight of a predator. My eyes are unfocused and the spin in my head rumbles on like it’s stuck on the hand-wash setting. The agitation and water pressure is tolerable but constant. The temperature is not enough to starch your whites but not all that pleasant to endure for long periods either.

Fuck even this blog post. I can’t be arsed. I can’t be arsed with living or anything. I don’t feel well. It is the full moon. It is spring. Enough said. Shittest blog post ever. Unedited and rubbish. Fuck it.

My psychologist is ringing me first thing. That is hope.

It is something at least, which is better than nothing, but tonight I am just feeling EVERYTHING and I crave the deliciously beautiful silence of n.o.t.h.i.n.g.