I was amazed when reading through my journal for 1991 I found this:
from Journal for April 25, 1991
I have been printing out copies of Ritual Year to send to people. When I glance through it, and see things like “Rape of an Infant” or “Gemstone and Wings” or “Mother abandoned me” — then I hear mother saying “Nothing like that ever happened to you. Who do you think you are? How dare you say these things?” When I go outside I feel like everyone hates me, I feel hostility coming at me from every direction. Then my muscles all tighten up, I feel incredibly tense and dead at the same time.
OK describe how I feel — trapped and yet exploding. at some vast distance from myself I want to scream, run through the streets tearing off my clothes, piss on the Village Green. In my body I feel like I’m encased in a suit of armor, the muscles are tense, I feel pressed on, held down by weights, strapped in — yes, I imagine this is what a person in a strait jacket might feel like. I don’t feel alive in my body at all, I feel like my body is dead, clogged, compacted, pressured, and then animated by prickly electrical energy. So I can’t truly rest when I sit still, and I feel too weak and frightened and scared to try to move vigorously. And what would I do? I could hardly stand being outdoors with the dog. I can’t imagine going out again and trying to do anything. I feel a lot of pressure on my neck, like I’m being strangled, I can feel the pressure mounting in my head. Also I’ve been dizzy a lot lately.
“Ritual Year” was a project I was doing of compiling my most powerful writings into a sort of calendar, one piece for each day of the year.
We had just started doing Journey Into Courage. I’m concerned that the planes are about to start flying. I’m feeling a lot of tension from the stress of my life at this time. I had no idea I was severely depressed and struggling with PTSD.