Purpose

I've forgotten how to write. Obviously, I still remember the mechanics of writing, but I've forgotten the art of writing. I find that the talents I once possessed, or at least felt like I had, are now turning into burdens and chores. Before I begin any task of writing, I go through a little pre-grieving process. I dread and complain about my topic, my thesis, my research, and my ability - or lack thereof. How does one go from feeling a euphoric connection with the soul and art of writing to despising the abusive relationship that suffocates my mind? I'm trying to cure this illness that has left gaps in my memory. Here's where that cliche tactic comes in, the catch 22, the part that makes every story interesting:
I know I've suppressed many memories. I know the reason is to protect myself. I know don't want to remember those memories. I know I have to remember in order to finally accept myself.

I can't sit here all day expecting a blog website will make me remember everything. I contacted a hypnotherapist to help me remember. Never in my life did I think I would need a therapist, but I did - I do need help. Don't get freaked out now - I'm not super crazy or anything, but I do admit that sometimes it feels good to admit "I need help."
So, back to this hypnotherapist. I've been three times now. And it's exhausting! I get anxious knowing I have to see her again. I'm excited, but I fear she's going to make me face something I'm not ready to face. Have you ever known something to be true, but it breaks your heart; so you store that memory in the very back of your memory path? Have you ever tried to forget something because if you remember it, then it means it's true and it really did happen? I've tried to forget something.

I've seen the hypnotherapist three times in the past two weeks. I first contacted her because I've had a really hard time concentrating. I've even seen a doctor for the concentration problems and was prescribed Ritalin, but it doesn't help much. The hypnotherapist began asking me dozens of questions over the phone, and I really felt comfortable telling her everything. I told her everything about what I could remember of my childhood and my past in the military and the guilt I feel for being in the military and volunteering for Iraq. I told her about my life now of the challenging new college and feeling incompetent.
I saw her twice in the first week. My first visit: She asks tons of questions again. I've never cried so much in my life. I didn't realize how distant my family is. I didn't realize how distant my friends are. And it's my fault. I see it before it happens. I have a fear of intimacy so I leave before I can share a real connection. It's my fault I'm alone. But, I can cure the cancer that is slowly killing me. Cancer - not the chemotherapy, cell growth type cancer, but the cancer that's killing me emotionally and spiritually. Back to the hypnosis session (see how I'm still having problems focus...): She brought me to this peaceful vision. I stairway led to a beautiful garden with willow trees. A very peaceful scenario that she encourages me to visit from time to time.
Second session:
She has me sit in a comfortable recliner whenever I'm about to delve into hypnosis. She wanted me to remember the first time I've ever felt anxious, scared, sad, and incompetent. Her theory is that they all come from the same place, the same memory, and if I can face that then I can solve my problems. That's when it started. I remember the real reason why I have a weird paranoia of birds. Because when I was around six years old Uncle P held a pigeon in my face and as it furiously flapped its wings, he laughed - loud. There's more to come with him. A couple other memories were of my family. I remember riding a bike in my driveway. I rode and rode around in a circle; and then I fell. I scraped the skin off of my ankle, exposing the white of my bone (maybe I'm exaggerating, but it WAS white!). I ran to my dad asking him to make it better. He told me to stop crying and be a good girl. I cried more.

After the second session I started to get nervous. All the memories of Uncle P started to stress me out. Why did I have so many memories of him? I didn't list all of them above, but he was in a lot of the memories she pulled out of me. I chose to forget those memories for a reason - a reason I don't remember. What if I tell her my deepest, darkest secret? But in hypnosis I went. I remember him again. Even when I don't see him in my vision, I remember him - I feel his presence. I stood in front of a clubhouse that my father and uncles built in my backyard. The clubhouse was dark inside and I stood staring. I couldn't move. Then my memory jumped to inside the house. I'm motionless again in the basement. I don't know what I'm doing there. I walk upstairs. He's watching tv in the living room. The hypnosis doesn't ask me anything about what he's watching, so I can keep it a secret. He's watching naked people on tv doing bad things. He turns and grins at me. I didn't tell my hypnosis that either. Then my vision jumps again. I'm sitting in the corner of the house. I don't know where to go. I'm just sitting in the corner. She asks me what it is that I'm scared of. I told her I don't want to remember because if I remember that would mean it's true.
Before bringing me out of hypnosis, she brings me to a happy moment. I'm with Grandma and we're sitting in the new house that still echoes because we don't have furniture yet. We just sit on the floor, legs spread, and playing with our feet. Then she asks if I love myself and to tell the "little me." You know, the little person, the kid that I travel back in time to visit, the person that I have to relive because those are the memories I chose not to remember.

I'm anxiously awaiting the next visit. Should be interesting how much I'll let myself remember. I feel like I have this dark secret, and it's something so horrible that I hid it from myself. This "secret" is one of the reasons why I'm doing this blog. Never been the type to talk extensively about myself, but it doesn't matter here. With the billions of people on the internet, what are the chances that you'd tell someone my secret? Hmm... what are the chances of anyone reading this, besides myself, of course?

So, back to the purposes of this blog:
1. To improve my writing
2. To get the thoughts that are driving me crazy out
3. To understand myself
4. Because I don't want to tell any of my friends about these things
5. Because I need to remember
6. Because I don't want to deny these secrets anymore

Any of this make sense?