The Voices in the Storm

Stream of consciousness  from ~11:40 pm to 9:00 am.

I wish I didn’t wake up.  But maybe the mouse was a good distraction, or maybe it was the thing that woke me up.  I still have so much rage inside me, and I’m not sure if it’s from the rage inflicted upon me or from having a lifetime of running from something that was supposed to be my safest place to go.  Now the only place that feels safe is the desert.  Perhaps I’m angry at the mouse for attempting to take that, too.

My own mind feels stolen from me and replaced with the burden of wondering if I’m playing the victim.  And it was the thieves who were the ones that taught me the definition of love, then stole that from me, too.  It is now for me to differentiate the difference between “I love you” and “I silence you”.  It’s because of that, this is no normal heartbreak - this one is packed with rage and shame and confusion...and I do not miss it.  To miss it would be like missing a funhouse with a maze of mirrors with no idea if there was a way idea if all my effort to keep fighting for a way out would ever pay off.  No, I don’t miss them.  I miss what I needed them to be.

I’m safe here.  I’m safe here.  I’m safe here.  My closest confidant through this all says I need to find balance with my anger toward money.  But how do you ever choose to shake hands with your puppeteer?  That’s simply not a puppet’s choice.

The stress is still trapped in me.  My upper back is loaded with a feeling bigger than if the world sat right between the blades of my shoulders.  I feel the fight mode stronger than ever...when I’ve mostly been stuck between freeze and flight.  What am I still missing?  What is left to unlock?  Forgiveness?  I’m not ready.  And I don’t know if I ever will be.  Or is there an even deeper pain still inside?

The mouse was the trigger.  That’s all there is to invade my safety here.  I’m in the desert.  Nobody is around.  The sound of the highway lulls me to calmness - the highway has been a good mother to run to.  Maybe if I focus on the highway, she can sing me back to sleep.

The hardest part of all was not the anger, neglect, and the mind was being unloved...and then shattering my ability to ever trust love again.

Is life supposed to hurt this bad?  Yet also have such wonderful moments of simplicity?  Why can’t we just live in the simplicity?  Why are there people trying to pull us out and break us?  Why is everybody else so attached to complicating this earth?  Much less bring those who want nothing to do with it into their web?  Will I ever be completely free?  I don’t know what there is left to do?  Perhaps just time.  And maybe time will end the triggers, and I can put my fear of guns away for good.

Is this the only way to leave the darkness behind?  Light it up with all my words that I was never given the space to say?  Or hear?  Or see?


I can run to safety.  But I cannot heal love alone. 

Why do these words just pour out at night?  They keep me awake.  It’s this or the nightmares.  Is this my mother (Hei Jung) speaking from inside me and fighting back?


Perhaps this is why people don’t want to face the truth.  The pain is too much to bear.  Is this how people lose empathy for each other?  Because they have no space left to carry someone else’s pain?  They have no other option because they’ve lost trust in love?  Is this why people would rather reach for fancy cars, nice clothes, and big houses?  Is this how narcissism is born and raised?  But we have to keep moving toward the light...or else you’re stuck with the narcissist forever.


Survival mode instruction manual:

Freeze, fight, flight, let go, love.


You never let me leave the nest...

the only way for me to leave

was to set it on fire

with the words

that were silenced

by the friction

between your steel wall


the shards of flint you turned me into. 

The only nights I sleep is with the alcohol, but the alcohol takes the mother in me away...Hei Jung.  She’s hard to hear, and the pain just gets trapped.


Don’t leave me.


Was it intentional?  WAS IT INTENTIONAL?!  It was intentional.  Every bit of it.  From both of you.  The only part that wasn’t intentional was me figuring it out and the consequences of it.

Did you enjoy hearing me say I wanted to saw my head off from not knowing what was reality or not?  Is that why you just watched?  Saying and doing nothing?  Did you know it was you the whole time?  In my head?

You taught me even more if I couldn’t get my needs met, to go away.  Far, far away.  You just kept driving in that stake - with every gaslight, stone wall, lovebomb, and F-bomb. So that’s what I did.  I mastered it.  But you can’t master running away.  Unless you master learning how to stay.  But you can’t keep me there.  And that is my biggest imperfection that I will have to learn how to embrace on my own.

I ran to a lit parking lot of a casino.  I thought of the irony in my love for the game of poker.  But the way I won double tournaments, sometimes coming back with a chip and a chair, was with my love for reading body language - my love for the people - not the love for money...which was the game of my opponent...and that is more proof that love wins.  Love wins.  Love wins.  Love always wins.

I think the mouse is gone.

I had a nightmare.  I was running from a storm.  I was in no rush as I moved things around in my van.  The storm was huge - gathering dark purple clouds.  As I kept packing up, feeling it growing, I couldn’t see it behind the walls of the van but felt it coming for me.  Orange lightning illuminating the clouds.  I finally got behind the drivers wheel and began to drive away.  There were other vans following me...not passing me...I wanted them to pass.  I didn’t want to lead, I wanted to follow.  I wasn’t sure where to go except to escape the storm.  I landed in the driveway of our house.  I searched for the dogs but the dogs wanted to be with you.  But you had got a new puppy.  And left it down with me...under this new metal walkway you had built while I was gone.  I heard mom on the bridge right over my head, as I tried to stay quiet and unseen, while she was explaining things to her friends with me as the crazy one.  And then Dad went calling for their new puppy, he finally looked over the bridge and saw me hiding underneath it as I was listening in.  We confronted each other.  Mom was crying and angry - more angry than I’ve ever seen her.  And dad protected her, saying SEE WHAT YOU’VE DONE?!  Because the “happy part of her life was over” because of me.  And I started speaking up for myself but for some reason I couldn’t get the words out - all I could do was cry.  Finally I pushed out the words I WAS A BABY!  I JUST WANTED TO BE LOVED.  And I told dad  I JUST WANTED YOU TO BELIEVE IN ME.  And then I woke up screaming YOU ALWAYS LOVED EVAN MORE.  And now I know why.

I appreciate your concerns.  I know what I’m doing.  I just need to get this out.  It’s been trapped inside my whole life building and building.  I just need someone to listen...and love me anyways.

Thank you,

Hei Jung

My name that I was born with is as much my birthright as is the air in my lungs.

I wonder if phobias are tied to childhood traumas?  I find it strange I can look at a mouse now without screaming.  It’s something else now.  Have I become someone else through this?  Has my brain changed?

The power of the human brain is horrifying yet fascinating.   


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