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fellowshippers2005-12-08 09:33 pm
geniusartist.livejournal.com) wrote in fellowshippers2005-12-08 09:33 pm
Journal Keeping (5)
Title: Journal Keeping (5)
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairing: EW/DM
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: I feel very obligated to let readers know that I will be touching upon sensitive issues in future parts. Nothing graphic. But be warned if you continue with the story.
Summary: Elijah's therapist instructs him to keep a journal. Nightmares, train rides, a forgotten traumatic event and one Dominic Monaghan are the subjects of his entries.
8.30.04
The problem with spur of the moment decisions is, well, they’re made in the spur of the moment.
The first redeye flight I took cross-country after I started having nightmares resulted in disaster. I don’t know why I thought being thousands of miles in the air would somehow render me temporarily... inaccessible. On the upside, the nightmares weren’t quite so vivid and involved as yet. So, it was still relatively easy to tug me to wakefulness.
I was in first class, (remember, that’s the only way to ride), and since it was a redeye, I had the seat next to and around me to myself. A movie -- what was it again? Oh hell, I can’t remember. Anyway, it was nearing its end and I was yawning every five seconds. The last thing I saw before passing out was this little kid running across an open field to catch a ball. It was lights out soon without me being conscious of it and next thing I know someone’s shaking me by the shoulders. I flinched away, startled and awoke to three stewardesses -- I mean flight attendants (that’s what they like to be called nowadays) -- peering over me with these horrified expressions on their faces. One of them, at least, was attempting to neutralize her shock. The other two... well, let’s just say they won’t be winning any Emmys anytime soon.
To say that I was embarrassed would not only be the understatement of that year, but of the entire twenty-first century.
Alas, I am once again on a redeye curriculum. This time it’s on the Amtrak.
Bugger.
I bought a Grande Caramel Machiatto from Starbucks before boarding the train and finished it in less than 10 minutes flat. Thereafter, my left leg took on a mind of its own and insisted on jittering up and down for an entire hour straight. And by my fifth trip to the loo in a space of 30 minutes, I was certainly getting some very curious looks.
It’s another 6 hours before I arrive in LA.
God, I could use a cigarette.
I have my next session with June tomorrow. It’s not until 4 pm. Means that since I’ll be spending the day sleeping once I get into LA, my entire sleep schedule will be fucked and I’ll resort to sleeping in the day on Tuesday as well. ‘s alright. I can get up at two, be shower fresh by three, and then be happily on my way to have my lovely therapist dig into my head, ask me intrusive questions that I’ll feel obligated to answer, and then once I’ve disclosed requested information, will realize I’ve said too much and not enough and somehow didn’t communicate myself adequately so that after all the cards have been flipped to reveal their number and suits, I’ll have been exposed, dissected and overanalyzed, and will leave feeling shittier even though the point was to feel more unburdened somehow. Or at least understood.
Run-on sentences are ok at 3 in the morning.
June gave me a book on “dormant memories” at our last session. Since we’ll have four days until our next appointment, I’m going to give you some homework.
Gee, thanks.
And like the passively-well-behaved-people-pleasing middle child that I am, I -- of course -- read it. Some of it, at least.
The underlying theory on repressed memories, pseudonym recovered memories, I learned, has been debunked and considered unreliable and horse shit by modern day mental health professionals. Dormant memories, on the other hand, are accepted phenomenon, “forgotten” memories of extraordinarily traumatic events.
Like child abuse.
And such memories can be triggered instantaneously by an event. Such as a photograph of the abuser. Or an article on abuse.
Or a happenstance meeting with the abuser staged by one’s own father.
No therapy is usually involved in triggering the memories. The results are unexpected. Understatement. And frequently very disturbing to the individual. Under-understatment.
Done. So done.
Fandom: LOTR RPS
Pairing: EW/DM
Rating: PG-13
Author's Notes: I feel very obligated to let readers know that I will be touching upon sensitive issues in future parts. Nothing graphic. But be warned if you continue with the story.
Summary: Elijah's therapist instructs him to keep a journal. Nightmares, train rides, a forgotten traumatic event and one Dominic Monaghan are the subjects of his entries.
8.30.04
The problem with spur of the moment decisions is, well, they’re made in the spur of the moment.
The first redeye flight I took cross-country after I started having nightmares resulted in disaster. I don’t know why I thought being thousands of miles in the air would somehow render me temporarily... inaccessible. On the upside, the nightmares weren’t quite so vivid and involved as yet. So, it was still relatively easy to tug me to wakefulness.
I was in first class, (remember, that’s the only way to ride), and since it was a redeye, I had the seat next to and around me to myself. A movie -- what was it again? Oh hell, I can’t remember. Anyway, it was nearing its end and I was yawning every five seconds. The last thing I saw before passing out was this little kid running across an open field to catch a ball. It was lights out soon without me being conscious of it and next thing I know someone’s shaking me by the shoulders. I flinched away, startled and awoke to three stewardesses -- I mean flight attendants (that’s what they like to be called nowadays) -- peering over me with these horrified expressions on their faces. One of them, at least, was attempting to neutralize her shock. The other two... well, let’s just say they won’t be winning any Emmys anytime soon.
To say that I was embarrassed would not only be the understatement of that year, but of the entire twenty-first century.
Alas, I am once again on a redeye curriculum. This time it’s on the Amtrak.
Bugger.
I bought a Grande Caramel Machiatto from Starbucks before boarding the train and finished it in less than 10 minutes flat. Thereafter, my left leg took on a mind of its own and insisted on jittering up and down for an entire hour straight. And by my fifth trip to the loo in a space of 30 minutes, I was certainly getting some very curious looks.
It’s another 6 hours before I arrive in LA.
God, I could use a cigarette.
I have my next session with June tomorrow. It’s not until 4 pm. Means that since I’ll be spending the day sleeping once I get into LA, my entire sleep schedule will be fucked and I’ll resort to sleeping in the day on Tuesday as well. ‘s alright. I can get up at two, be shower fresh by three, and then be happily on my way to have my lovely therapist dig into my head, ask me intrusive questions that I’ll feel obligated to answer, and then once I’ve disclosed requested information, will realize I’ve said too much and not enough and somehow didn’t communicate myself adequately so that after all the cards have been flipped to reveal their number and suits, I’ll have been exposed, dissected and overanalyzed, and will leave feeling shittier even though the point was to feel more unburdened somehow. Or at least understood.
Run-on sentences are ok at 3 in the morning.
June gave me a book on “dormant memories” at our last session. Since we’ll have four days until our next appointment, I’m going to give you some homework.
Gee, thanks.
And like the passively-well-behaved-people-pleasing middle child that I am, I -- of course -- read it. Some of it, at least.
The underlying theory on repressed memories, pseudonym recovered memories, I learned, has been debunked and considered unreliable and horse shit by modern day mental health professionals. Dormant memories, on the other hand, are accepted phenomenon, “forgotten” memories of extraordinarily traumatic events.
Like child abuse.
And such memories can be triggered instantaneously by an event. Such as a photograph of the abuser. Or an article on abuse.
Or a happenstance meeting with the abuser staged by one’s own father.
No therapy is usually involved in triggering the memories. The results are unexpected. Understatement. And frequently very disturbing to the individual. Under-understatment.
Done. So done.
no subject
no subject
Thanks for reading!
no subject
I see you wrote some other fics; is it possible to read them?
no subject
Well, since you came through Liz... :)
*friends you*
Most of my stories are in Memories.
Thanks!
no subject
no subject
You've shown remarkable courage in your other writings. I am trusting you to take this character of Elijah exactly where he needs to go.
Thank you again for sharing your insights into human nature and your gift for words with all of us.
Tomato
no subject
Thank you!