Saturday, December 31, 2011
today my birth mother is going to see her family, including this abuser who is her brother. I’m trying to understand how to feel about "the family" supporting him, wanting to see him. it's also disturbing that the birth mother would go and not stand up for her daughter. i’m confused. Parts of me are feeling defeated. How could the aunts and uncles, her brothers and sisters, want to associate with an abuser? Is there not enough love in their heart for me to hate their brother who hurt me?
I wanted to go with them for the visit. only just to scare him, intimidate him, and make the visit uncomfortable for him. but i thought in the end it would just hurt me worse than it would him. i thought the Littles would be traumatized by his presence and the rest of us would feel small again. helpless.
sadness is coiling around me, squeezing out the ever flickering light inside of me. i feel so betrayed, so alone, so . . . silenced.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
I read a post today from a regular blogger to whom I subscribe that reinforced her description of her blog. She related it was a pro-recovery blog, and so she was trying to keep everything positive in her posts. I have a different view of my blog. Recovery is never perfect, and, for me, infrequently positive. At least right now. So when I write, I share exactly what is going on with me: the good, the bad, and the ugly. If it is triggering, then I’m sorry. If it’s negative, I can’t control that. I have to be as authentic as I can, and that often means when I write it is not from a good place. So if this blog triggers you or takes you to a place in which you find it difficult to cope, I apologize.
I relate this, because I vaguely recall a post that was submitted recently, and I’m afraid the post was triggering. I do not know what this post was about. I never go back and read my posts, because I don’t want to be reminded of what I might not have written. But I have a funny feeling it might have been triggering. If so, I regret that it might have hurt people.
For the first few days in Sticksville, I didn’t run because I didn’t know where the trails were. This town is the king of hills, and it is not safe to run on the streets. I finally found a trail, but it was on a riverbank that was disgusting and filthy. The trail itself was questionable; I couldn’t tell if I was running in mud or duck and dog poop. So the run was less than stellar.
But yesterday I found a trail that was beautiful and made me want to strap on my running shoes. The sun created twinkles on the lake, and the air was so crisp and clear to breathe. It was the run that saved me. It was 4.5 miles of grounding myself by listening to my feet pounding the pavement, hearing my heart beat, and focusing on my lungs expand and contract. I cleared my head of all non-sense. I saved myself by running.
My salvation lasted only a few hours, and then the anxiety returned, kicking me in the gut, seizing my thoughts, fueling my desire for escape, and rendering me useless. But that’s okay. For a few hours I felt like myself. And I realized in my darkest of darks, I can save myself. It’s not beautiful, and it’s not scripted. It seems to be rough and ugly, trial and error. But I’m saving myself! And I know if I’ve done it before, I can do it again.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Friday, December 09, 2011
I’m feeling particularly vulnerable these days. I don’t know why. I don’t ever know why, and that brings out the angry part of me. I am taking R.A.D. classes, which are self-defense classes. They are a series of four, and they have put me in situations where I have flashbacks or vague, foggy memories. Today is the last day. We go through simulations today where we are really “attacked” by police officers in protective gear. I am scared. At first the self-defense classes were empowering, but now they just make me want to cry. And I’m afraid I will cry today during simulations. I’m afraid I will be break down, go into a flashback, and nobody will ever find me again. Not even Therapist. Especially therapist.
He has hurt us. Again. We disclosed some very intimate details two sessions ago regarding why our head has been so foggy and we’ve been so dissociative, and he acted last session like he hadn’t heard what we told him. He asked us why we thought our head was foggy. We didn’t answer him, because we had already told him and was insulted he was asking us again. At the end of session we said he makes us sorry we ever tell him anything. I don’t know if it hurt his feelings, but I am not sorry that was our response. You don’t ask us to confide our most shameful and personal sides, and then tell or play like you don’t remember. It made it appear to us like he wasn’t paying attention to what we had revealed. I realize he could have been manipulating us to see what WE remember, but you don’t play games with us. Don’t test us. That’s not cool.
So we also met with Secondary Therapist this week for the first time in a few months. Back in late September/early October, we had a parting of the ways. Rather, she parted our ways. We had told her we were going to leave our Dietician, and she told us she couldn’t see us anymore. We were devastated. We had not seen that coming. We felt completely betrayed and abandoned. There was no reasoning with her. So that day we just left her office scared and in tears. We did go back to Dietician, but didn’t return to Secondary Therapist for a while. I was encouraged by my treatment team to call her to discuss what happened. I couldn’t choke back the tears enough to make my words make sense. Dietician spoke with her and strongly advised her we needed more help, so Secondary Therapist agreed to see us. That was Wednesday. It wasn’t easy. She said she had been giving us warnings along the way saying if we didn’t start getting better (gaining weight) she wouldn’t be able to see us. I don’t remember her ever warning us to that effect. So we decided if I lose weight or am not making progress that she will write out the consequences instead of just telling us because the words get lost in the head. I’m still bitter about it. Still feeling betrayed by her. Still feeling like I can’t trust her. But I acknowledge those things, so that gives us some place to start
So, as of right now, I don’t have one therapist I can trust or not feel manipulated by. It seems they always let you down, especially when you start to trust them.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
If you asked me what is wrong, I couldn’t tell you. I would want to tell you, but I wouldn’t be able to. I don’t know what is wrong; I only know something isn’t right. I’ve been feeling this way off and on for two weeks. The anxiety is palpable. It comes in waves and crashes. I become paralyzed, fearful, and teary.
There have been a few times, such as tonight, when I could trace the anxiety to a member, or trace it other times when the anxiety comes at night when I’m waiting for sleep to find me.
I saw Psychiatrist recently. He put me on an additional med, and I think it is helping with some of the depressive feelings I was having. But nothing is helping with the anxiety.
I’m losing time more. I’ve lost all this afternoon. I know “what” I did, because others have told me, but I do not have first-hand account of what took place. The last thing I remember is running a race today and taking the subway back to our car. I was with two other girls, and I remember thinking in my head “What if they really knew me” and I remember an off-balance feeling. The next thing I know I’m at home seven hours later, reading a book, and wondering how I got there.
It’s no wonder I’m switching given the amount of anxiety I feel. But I am completely controlled by emotions of which I can’t call my own. But I catch glimpses and it frightens me. But I have a vague awareness someone feels so deeply empty and irreparable. Even broken hearts continue to beat.
All the same, earlier tonight a movie came on tv that we used to watch when we were younger that would always evoke strong emotions from one of us. Tonight, we were taken back to that exact age and started crying for no apparent reason. It was like déjà vu.
While we can say there are one or two positive happenings in this, our life, there is still so much lacking. And we are at the proverbial crossroads. I am scared of what lies down both roads, both bends, and I am even more afraid to look. Most especially, I am afraid it won’t even matter which path we choose; we will still end up in the same crazy place.