Pain release through bloody daydreams

WARNING: The following entry is gory, bloody, and composed of raw anger. If this is not up your alley, don’t read it.

When I go to craniosacral therapy, I daydream. Today it was quietly nasty, the daydreaming was. Bloody, violent, yet satisfying.

6 years ago I have started on a Depo Provera shot – as a pregnancy prevention method. It blocked my period – I didn’t have one for 5 years. I’ve gone off the Depo in November 2009 (you can’t do more than 5 years), one more drug that was blocking the flow of energy in my body. I had my first period last week. The blood came, and with it more pain, more release. Today, the pain oozed from between my legs in therapy, and with it - my anger.

I imagined my father’s penis being inside of me – it was most painful not when he put it in, but when he got it out – with every friction, it stretched my little vagina, the entrance to it, and it hurt like hell. Today, I imagined pushing him out – I was so strong, he flew all the way to the wall. The wall was studded with sharp knives – they pierced him all the way through, with a crunch. I jumped up, grabbed his dick and cut it off in one motion, then threw it into the garbage can. As if this was not enough, I imagined strangling him, cutting his head off, puling his skin from his chest, slowly, with care to give him the most pain I could. I also imagined my grandfather (the second husband to my grandma), the episode with the rabbits, when he made me masturbate him – I cut his fat belly open, watching steaming entrails roll out. Two rabbits in the cage, the rabbits he lured me with, they grew. The broke the cage and they ate him alive. This was not enough blood for me, I needed more. I imagined my father being cut into pieces, like a huge steak, I sat on his chest and popped his eyes with a dagger, spilled them in his skull, I cut off his nose, punctured his ears, cut out his tongue. It was not enough. I smashed him to pieces, until he resembled steak tartar, sprinkled with blood as the sauce, with his eyes swimming in the middle, as an added décor (forget the egg yolk – too prosaic). I got my hands, my arms, and my clothes soaked with his blood, I tasted the iron in the air. And I reveled in it. I wanted to roll in it, to squeeze his brain through my fingers, to gnaw his bones with my teeth, to jump into his mess with both feet. Ah. I had enough of the blood.

The therapist was astounded  - she said she didn’t remember releasing that much heat and pain from my body from when we started the sessions. I said, I helped it today, I think. With a satisfying smile. Am I a monster after this? I’m not, I got my anger out, and he deserved every little bit of it. I was carrying this bloody scene inside of me for so long, it became part of me. I was always attracted to bloody gory stories. Guess what, this one is out, and I’m less bloody as a result. I feel I’ve smeared the pages with it, sorry if you read this far and got splattered on. But thanks for helping me cleanse.