The day started with some EMDR with Jill today, visited a memory I have from 7 or 8 years old, a vision of my father bleeding in our kitchen in Wyoming. It ended with a memory of five years ago, a night exactly like tonight, but entirely different. Perhaps I should start this over. Perhaps we can’t start anything over.
My EMDR session was amazing. Jill asked me to visualize a target, focus on the feeling in my body that comes with the memory, and a negative belief about this specific moment which we’d then switch to a positive belief. When I was 7 or 8, I remember standing in the kitchen waiting for Dad to come home. He always rode motorcycles on the weekend, dirt bikes up through the dirty hills nearby, and when he’d come home I could smell the grit and sweat on him. He looked like a wild man. His hair always blown by the wind, and the look of racing death in his eyes, I could always tell when he’d been on his bike. This particular day he came home and had been flung from his bike, he had landed on a log, and one of the branches had impaled his arm, on the inside of his left, just below the elbow. I remember blood, his blood soaked bandana that he’d been using to stop the bleeding, the image of that bandana is something that never left me. That was the day I realized my dad isn’t a superhero. I realized he isn’t invincible. I realized he could die.
I’m not sure if he and my mom went to the hospital, or what happened thereafter, all I remember is the blood. Today I focused on that visual, the image of the red drenched bandana, his arm, his hair. I put my mind into that and the phrase “I’m not in control,” focusing also on the sick feeling in my stomach. Through the process, I explored the emotions that go with that incident, and Jill would guide me, occasionally saying “stay with that” or “push through that”… Every 2-3 minutes she would check in and ask me where I am, and what is going on. The first time through, all I could see was his blood, the shiny dishwasher behind him, his pale furry arms. By the end of the round I could see a gaping hole in his arm, a chasm of blackness that seemed to take up my entire view.
The second go around the bandana was still red with blood and I told myself I’m not in control, but from that image I went to us sitting in our living room in Concord, watching motocross on TV, eating saltines and peanut butter and drinking milk. I would look over at his scar and it would be shiny like the dishwasher, fresh skin that didn’t quite match the rest. My mother came to check on us, but she was always baking something in the kitchen, and when she left, I turned back to the scar. I remember being in awe of how the hole had closed. How there was still this huge visible mark but no blood. We ran the process again.
The third time the bandana wasn’t red. It was white, and pristine. I kept telling myself it was supposed to be red because he was bleeding, and little red stains would try to invade the cloth, but it never stuck. I remember he took it off and was fine. He tried to gross me out with the scar, like any dad would his first daughter. I would touch it, afraid that it would hurt him but my little fingers never caused the damage that branch caused. The skin was soft, and waxy, and at the beginning it was more red, and then faded to blend in with the rest of his skin. I could only tell what had happened because I reminded myself a scar existed there on his arm. I saw the scar when I saw him in September this year, we were standing on the pier in Oceanside and I looked for his scar, the proof that I’m standing with my father. And it was there, but had faded so much I had to squint just to see it. I cried because so much time had passed since I’d looked at that little mark, so much time has been gone since I’ve sat next to him eating saltines and peanut butter. I cried because it’s amazing how we can heal ourselves if we clean the wounds and take care. The mantra changed from “I’m not in control” to “Everything heals with time.” And from there “I can heal too.” And “I want to heal.” Finally, “I deserve to heal.” We completed our first session of EMDR without a hitch.
I cried through every session, the first over the amount of blood and the realization that my dad can die. The second because it had started to heal, but was still this red terrible mark. And the third because so much time had passed since I’ve seen him, and his stupid fucking scar.
I left therapy fuzzy, and it was the most beautiful day, partially because the rain had cleared the smog and I could see all the way to the snow covered mountains in the distance. And partially because I was on sensory overload. I went home and laid on the couch for a bit, watching TV at Deezy’s house, snuggling Saucy and waiting for 4pm to roll around.
At 4, he showed up (the he from my amends day), and we went for a hike up the canyon. We talked about life, about crazy Sauce, about what happens now, and what happens tomorrow. We talked a little about what happened then, but left the past where it lives. As we were walking back to my house, we passed the Magic Castle, and he paused, asking me:
Him: “Do you remember when we came here?”
Me: “Of course…I had to buy a new dress because I didn’t own anything appropriate to wear out with your parents.”
Him: “That was five years ago today.”
Me: “How do you even know that? That it was today?”
Him: “Because it’s my birthday.”
I told him happy birthday, took his arm as we strolled back. Saucy exhausted and me reeling over how much has happened in five years. I feel like I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes in that span, but standing here with this man it’s like nothing has changed, even though everything is different. I can see him clearly now, and my memories of him from that part of my life are in pieces. His eyes here, his smile there. I can see his whole face now and it is a lovely face.
I’m not sure where I stand right now, or how to file this entry. The mountains were beautiful this afternoon and from the top of the hill, we saw the orange sun as it sunk into the pacific. The sky stayed clear into the evening, and when he dropped me off at my apartment, I could see my breath.
E
December 8, 2009
This is beautifully written.
Stacey
December 9, 2009
I’m so thankful for your blog. I’m beginning to come to terms with my many emotional/psychological problems (DPD/AvPD, OCD) and its comforting to have someone be so honest with the issues they are dealing with themselves. Anyway, I just wanted you to say thank you and let you know that I am praying for your continued sobriety and whatever else life has in store for you. Thanks and God bless.
Steve G.
December 9, 2009
Wow, you are discovering life on lifes terms, sweetie!! You don’t know me..just an ex porn actor/druggie/alcoholic(not neccessarily in that order:-). I like your blog. It’s wonderful to see someone blossem. keep it up Jennie!!
fromhousewifetofilmmaker
December 9, 2009
You said, “it’s amazing how we can heal ourselves if we clean the wounds and take care.” What else is there to say?? So true. I’m seeing it in your life. I’m seeing it in mine. But sometimes the cleaning can really hurt can’t it? But the healing sure is divine. New life. New reality. Joy begins to break free like the sun after a thunder storm.
Theresa Jane
http://www.fromhousewifetofilmmaker.wordpress.com
George
December 9, 2009
Thank you for this.
🙂
Scott....ya that one
December 9, 2009
Two great insights here…you are healing Jennie. You’ve moved from the open wound to the covered over gash. still bright pink, but growing stronger. I appreciate the insight into recovery!
Second, he still loves you, as evidenced by sharing some part of his Birthday with you…a day you didn’t even remember.
Take is SLOW, a pink wound can still be torn and the bleeding can start all over again. You could really hurt him!
Get real
December 9, 2009
Penny, all you know is porn. Everybody comments to you like your some new found virgin. They honestly believe that know they have chance with you if only you would engage in conversation. Not once in your blogs have you confessed to being a whore. Once a whore, always a whore. You were a great pornstar. But if you are serious about this addiction and recovering, why do you still operate a website and take in money for it. Shut it down and stop being a pornstar.
Jonathan
December 9, 2009
Get Real, all you know is hate. Everybody comments to give support to a fellow human being. They honestly believe that by saying just one nice thing they might make the difference in someone’s day. Jennie has confessed to being many things in the past. I guess once an asshole, always an asshole. Penny was a great pornstar. You got one right. I trust Jennie with making choices about her financial affairs.
I should know better than to answer a troll. But, I do many things that I should know better than to do.
Get real
December 9, 2009
I just made a point that you don’t heal addiction by staying in it. Like an alcholic working in a bar. Get it troll.
Jen
December 9, 2009
You just totally brought me back to an extremely happy time in my life..
My dad passed away in 2007 from cancer and this entry reminded me of a common interest my dad and I shared when I was a child. Him and I both totally connected on the peanut butter and saltine hype. He would make me little saltine p.b. sandwiches and we would enjoy them together. They were so good! Milk was also a must!
Anyways, thank you for that, and thank you for continuing to inspire.
ben
December 9, 2009
What’s EMDR?
Michael the Geezer
December 9, 2009
“Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) is a form of psychotherapy that was developed to resolve symptoms resulting from disturbing and unresolved life experiences. It uses a structured approach to address past, present, and future aspects of disturbing memories.” That’s from the wikipedia entry, Ben.
TS
December 9, 2009
Think of it as a less kooky version of hypnosis, where you in a conscious state reflect on traumatic events. The thinking being that as you talk about them during the EMDR session it allows your brain to process things you’d walled off. So instead of just being able to remember them, you can really experience them again and incorporate them into your normal self, normalizing them instead of having them just be a bad memory.
jhoop
December 9, 2009
You are growing and healing right before “our” eyes. I too have little memories that I would like to explore as a child but maybe I don’t/shouldn’t. I’m afraid to remember but I think I want to. You give me hope and strength that if I decide to try it might just help me to heal.
Get real
December 9, 2009
Why the delete of the post. You don’t know your a whore.
Jason
December 9, 2009
Jennie,
This entry was particularly well-written. The balance of introspection and sensory description was perfect. Two nice spots among many: The mention of the clear sky in the last line, and the line about leaving the past where it lives. Keep it up.
p.s. Can you ban certain people from making comments, on a user-by-user basis? Or maybe give a friend admin rights and have them do it every few days? Just a thought.
Annie
December 9, 2009
I just started EMDR myself. My experience hasn’t been quite as emotionally charged as yours but we started with easier traumas. And I think for years (hell, my whole life) I’ve numbed myself to the pain, so even now it’s hard to call up.
Matt
December 9, 2009
Yes you deserve to heal, you’ve been through enough. Also, everything does heal…except zombie bites. Please remember that about zombie bites.
Take care.
Michael the Geezer
December 9, 2009
Sorry, but I can’t help feeling a bit protective of you, Jennie. I don’t know you personally, but we all know people who’ve taken wrong turns (maybe turns that we once took ourselves). Anyone with a heart wants to give that person support.
It’s terribly ironic that someone using the nom de rapier of “Get real” would try to insult you for trying to do just that – to GET REAL.
First off, we all get pressured to prostitute ourselves. EVERYONE is a whore at some point. A whore for attention, for fame, for unmet needs of some kind or other. Usually the deal is just to trade your precious, irreplaceable time and labor for too little money.
Time spent doing stuff that does not serve humankind or utilize your own best talents is a poor trade. It costs you in hope and spirit so much more than you get paid in bucks. Porn is just one of the more obvious examples. Fast money (so what if it’s “big money”) for extreme personal degradation. Not such a great deal.
You have talent for organizing your observations and writing them down in meaningful fashion. You’re trying to produce a memoir of your survival and growth process to benefit yourself and readers.
Even if your memoir gets made into a movie, you won’t have that “Flavor of the Week” buzz forever. But you’ll still have your talent. You can learn to write stories, screenplays, articles. You can have a real life writing, and you can do it for your whole life.
For the time being, we can pity “Get real” for what he (she? naah, women have better aim with a spitball) doesn’t understand. Some day he will have to get real too.
Michael the Geezer
December 9, 2009
PS – Even though EMDR was adapted for use in psychotherapy, it’s a very old method of learning and reflection.
Back in the Middle Ages, monks used a technique called Lectio Divina for discovering the deeper meanings in biblical passages. The selected passage would be read aloud three times. After each time, the monks would spend a few minutes meditating in silence about what had just been read. After the third time, they would share with each other things thay had come to understand in their meditations, but also how the passage made them feel about events from their own lives.
Everything of worth lasts, including shared truths.
geo
December 9, 2009
Jesus, that was so moving…
Steevil
December 9, 2009
I’ve been reading this for a while, and by far my favorite entry is this one. I like stories like the one about your father bleeding. I don’t know how to explain, its real. I think it would make an excellent short story.
Gleek
December 9, 2009
i follow the blog, but can’t figure out who deezy is. is he your boyfriend?
Lance
December 9, 2009
Jennie this was a very nice posting of a memory and how you worked through it. I would post it under intense days.
Vincent Tran
December 10, 2009
you see the world beautifully
corry
December 10, 2009
I love Jennie
Stacy
December 13, 2009
This may sound silly coming from someone you don’t even know but I just wanted to wish you luck with your recovery. I have been watching Rehab w/dr drew and you have impressed me tremendously with your efforts. There are certain people on shows like this that you either love or hate and you have been easy to love. I really hope that everything is well for you and that you embrace the wonderful future that I believe you will have ahead of you. Good luck and God bless
Rachel
December 14, 2009
Thank you. I’m in tears.