How to get Dr. Irene's Advice: Look here!

Ask The Doc Board Archives

The CatBox Archives

Stories Archives


Below is an Interactive Board sampler. A fuller listing is found in the "Stories" menu above.

4/14 Interactive Board: Codependent Partners

3/23 Interactive Board: He's Changing... I'm Not...

3/1 Interactive Board: D/s Lifestyle

1/14 Interactive Board: My Purrrfect Husband

12/12 Interactive Board: What if He Could Have Changed?

10/23 Interactive Board: Quandary Revisited

8/24 Interactive Board: Quandary! What's Going On?

7/20: Dr. Irene on cognitive behavior therapy and mindfulness

6/12 Interactive Board: Unintentional Abuse

11/7 Interactive Board: Is This Abusive?

12/29 Interactive Board: There Goes the Wife...

11/4 Interactive Board: A New Me!

10/8 Interactive Board: Seeming Impossibility

9/8 Interactive Board: My Ex MisTreats Our Son

5/1 Interactive Board: I feel Dead - Towards Him

4/26 Interactive Board: Why is This So Hard?

4/19 Interactive Board: I Lost My Love...

4/7 Interactive Board: Too Guilty!

Poem: Unspoken

Poem: Unspoken

by DJ

"Hope is grief's best music." - Anon.

February 24, 2003

Hello. I spoke to you on-line about living with a controlling caretaker: the good- the caring, and the bad- the controlling. You asked me to write a bit about it. Here is my attempt to communicate my feelings speaking about the pain I felt until I was tutored with the wisdom and insight found on your website. I have signed this with my initials instead of my name to retain my anonymity. Thank you so much for your website. It has been indispensable to me for the past 2 1/2 years.  Dear DJ, Thank you for your heartfelt poetry and your kind words. I hope one day you'll be writing happy songs instead...  Warmest regards, Doc




I lie here in bitter solitude

next to him.


Thoughts swirl through my mind

like dry leaves in windy autumn.


Words teeter precariously on my tongue

begging to be shouted.


If my views are aborted at conception,

is there reason to think at all?


When emotions are suppressed before experienced,

the dormant spirit yearns to cry again.


I suffocate on words unspoken

resigned to the futility of utterance.


They fall on deaf ears with no understanding

of the depth of anguish they convey.


Withdrawn into the hardened exterior

to cover the vulnerability I long to share,


The vibrant woman of times past

weeps silently in the blackened night.


 DJ 2003