Saturday, October 25, 2014

Accountability Weblog – Keto Day eleven


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25 October 2014

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Journal @ 2:00 am


I am up engaged on coursework. My Song Remedy strategies path is cancelled next week because the instructor and two of my course mates (there are only 12 of us to begin with) are going on a mission trip to the Dominican Republic. Chamber Orchestra is also cancelled next week, but for a different reason (I mean that’s what I’m assuming. Our conductor is not the type of guy to go on a mission trip. Ever. I quite like him, when he’s not yelling at us too loud.). I have ample time next week to complete these assignments. There’s no reason to be working on this now. And yet…

I created a table of contents for a very lengthy notebook which is due shortly after thanksgiving. It’ll be over 100 pages. It’s a compilation of research I’ve done through the semester, session plans I’ve created and session documentation, reflection papers on different music therapy methods I’ve experienced, etc. One of the things that is included in the notebook is a music “audiobiography.”

The music audiobiography assignment requires us to tell our life story by creating a 10 minute audio track that is a sort of collage of sound clips that are no more than 15 seconds each. To do this, I have begun to create a timeline of my life. I’ve only gotten to about age 10. You might say “well that’s almost half way,” but the thing is I remember only a little bit of my childhood. All the significant things I can remember about my life are after age 16. And it’s all traumatic.

The early portion of my life will probably be depicted through the use of static, domestic violence, children crying, single slaps (one for the birth of myself and one for each sibling entering into my life, followed by the cries of an infant), and finally police sirens to mark my father’s exit from my life.

I’m dreading timelining the later portion of my life. It starts with the onset of my ED, proceeds to the suicide of someone close, then we enter into my relationship with my first fiancé, the death of my grandfather, the murder of my first fiancé, my suicide attempts, and a depiction of my most recent relapse into my ED. I won’t end with that though. I’ll go into something related to my current fiancé, my dreams and aspirations, etc. That way it seems like my ED is in the past.

My best friend is in this class as well, and has experienced severe trauma in her own life on top of her struggle with Bipolar Disorder. We’ve planned the day of our presentations already. We’re certain that our audiobiographies will be the most disturbing of our class, so we’re presenting them on the same day. We want our classmates to feel devastated by hearing our lives, and to know that what they hear and feel is only a fraction of our internal struggle and pain. We know that this will be extremely disturbing for us, because we know each other’s lives pretty intimately. Hearing your life laid out in music and sound, and then hearing a close friend’s life laid out in the same way, completely raw, honest, and uncensored is devastating. She’s getting weed and I’m getting booze. We’ll drink and smoke the night before. We’ll crash, and then finish the liquor for breakfast. We give the presentations during the class period, which is in the morning. We’ll most likely skip the remainder of our classes that day.

I wish I were drunk right now.

Just thinking about exposing my life to these people is disgusting to me.


130.4 @ 8:45 pm


I fasted all day.


Journal @ 11:15 pm


This audiobiography assignment is a fucking fuck of a thing.

I’m reliving trauma that I had no intention of ever thinking about again until after I’m dead.


Seriously, we should have professional therapists (free of charge) staying in our dorms with us as we do this assignment, to process the issusathat come up.


Or perhaps an assumption used to be made that all of us have simply had flowery lives and there will likely be nothing exhausting to maintain.


And the article is, I’ve this lump in my throat. I am growing an audio file that encompasses my whole lifestyles, and at this time I am handiest 9 years outdated and the whole thing is an excessive amount of. My 24 yr outdated self desires to cry for the 9 yr outdated and rescue her from the even worse issues which are going to occur, however the 24 12 months previous is not somewhat loopy sufficient to consider that is that you can imagine.


So she sips tea that she forgot to sweeten. She would not care as a result of swallowing down the new tea helps her swallow down her lifestyles and the lump in her throat.


She needs to cry for the infant who’s been crying within her for happening 25 years however she will’t.

For the reason that 24 yr previous discovered that in the event you cry, then somebody will “provide you with one thing to in reality cry about.”


And so tears most effective come when she is aware of nothing will be worse.

Tears simplest come when she’s ready herself for demise.


Tears most effective come when the little lady inside of her giggles joyfully on the considered her remaining breath.

No longer tonight.



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