Sunday, October 23, 2011
The spiral of the work
On Friday I went to the Group Conscience of my home group. I will not take a lot of time explaining what that is right now. Very briefly, it is the means by which A.A. groups come to decisions that effect their group which are supposed to be the manifestation of the Higher Power's will (for the group). Most group conscience meetings are run by some sort of Robert's Rules of Order mode. Most take place with the group sitting down at a table. They are usually facilitated by the secretary or some other group member. People generally take turns talking, listen, do not interrupt, etc. this particular group does not sit, they stand. That way the meeting won't take too long. They do not use Robert's Rules of Order or anybody else's rules of order. Generally, people do take turns to talk and usually listen. But Friday night that did not happen. First, I was asked to talk and then shushed, and so I began to shut down. (not that I knew that then) And then this woman got really big and angry and started using an angry voice and waving her arms around and my shut down was complete. The rest of the room was grey fog. All I could see was her. I did not know what was happening at the time. All I knew was that I needed to get away and that I was going to burst into tears. So I left and went and sat in my car until I was calm enough to drive home.
The next day I had the chance to talk to another survivour about what had happened and how I had reacted. Trauma survivours can be reacting to old emotions as well as the new ones that triggered the old ones all at the same time. The clue is how over the top is my reaction in relation to the events. It took me until Saturday night to realise that that was what had happened. And also to see that being shushed triggered all the times I was told I did not know what I knew, had not seen what I saw, had not heard what I heard, etc. And then the woman who was so angry, and yes, it was directed at me. I felt threatened and then it was all over. I could not access my words or think or anything. But I could leave. And I did.
I will not be going to group conscience meetings anymore. For now. Maybe never. I do not know if I am going to the meeting. I would like to. I do not know what I will do. And for now that's okay.
If I need to talk to that woman, I'll know it. If I need to address how the group conscience meetings are run I'll know it.
The important thing for today is that I did what I needed to do to take care of myself and whatever anyone else thinks about that is not my business. Taking care of me is my business.
The next day I had the chance to talk to another survivour about what had happened and how I had reacted. Trauma survivours can be reacting to old emotions as well as the new ones that triggered the old ones all at the same time. The clue is how over the top is my reaction in relation to the events. It took me until Saturday night to realise that that was what had happened. And also to see that being shushed triggered all the times I was told I did not know what I knew, had not seen what I saw, had not heard what I heard, etc. And then the woman who was so angry, and yes, it was directed at me. I felt threatened and then it was all over. I could not access my words or think or anything. But I could leave. And I did.
I will not be going to group conscience meetings anymore. For now. Maybe never. I do not know if I am going to the meeting. I would like to. I do not know what I will do. And for now that's okay.
If I need to talk to that woman, I'll know it. If I need to address how the group conscience meetings are run I'll know it.
The important thing for today is that I did what I needed to do to take care of myself and whatever anyone else thinks about that is not my business. Taking care of me is my business.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
annoyed
having to have a google account for the class I'm taking, not to mention a google eportfolio is really making it tricky to access THIS blog. WHY?? does it have to be so tricky?
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Hmmm
So, I've been thinking why?? has this year seemed so much more difficult than last? Hmm? And why do people seem to think I'm doing so much better when actually it FEELS worse?
Well, let's start at the beginning, shall we? Last year I was taken by surprise and had no fucking idea what was going on. No name for what was happening, no names for the emotions, no reasons for it all. At least, none that made real sense when spoken out loud. Perhaps without any background, last year looked more dangerous to others, those people who reside outside my head/body. Plus, I was not aware of what the background was so the falling apart looked so dangerous. Although, to me it just felt impossible to live with. Not as dangerous as it looked from the outside, apparently. This is difficult to explain.
This year, it seems, looks less dangerous from the outside while it feels MUCH MORE dangerous from the inside. Perhaps this has to do with awareness, perhaps it has to do with denial ebbing away. Maybe it has to do with the nature of the issues that have come to light. Because let's be clear. Nothing that I have *remembered* and no flashbacks except to ones from infancy have been of events that I did not know had happened. What changed was my perception of these events. What changed was that enough light was shed on the lies and twisted knots that were tied into my childhood experiences that I have been able to see how horrible and abusive on a physical, emotional, social, and sexual level, these events actually were. This is stuff I would not do to an insect. I will spare you the graphic details which make me sick to my stomach. But the effects are physical, emotional, and social. Last year I had no words for what was happening. I saw no patterns. Just a ball of nasty, unexplained emotions and pain. this year, I have words. Grief, pain, mourning, saddness, relief (odd, I know). I have physical pain that corresponds with my emotions. My legs and hips hurt, sometimes so much that it keeps me up at night. During the day I spend a LOT of energy practising *containment* because I teach Kindergarten and I need to be grown up, *I will take care of you* me for my students. After school I mostly cry. Sometimes I am just f.i.n.e. until someone talks to me. Then I burst into tears. The tears help the emotional pain and the physical pain. So does yoga. I do have days when I don't cry. I also know when the tears are coming...just not always when. I get a lump in my throat and it becomes difficult to breathe. It is physically painful. Then the tears. Last year I had a lot more of the lump in my throat and not being able to breathe and fewer tears. Although, I must say that after 47 years of repressing any feelings but positive ones ANY tears were unnerving and disturbing. It unsettled my idea of who I am. Huh? I don't cry!
Three months ago, when I was able to put wome kind of coherent thought to what was happening and what it meant I realized that every day when I sat to meditate I had flashbacks. So...I stopped meditating. Cause why in the world would I want to go to a *place* where I allowed stuff like the contnets of my flashbacks. Did it help. you ask? No. The flashbacks came anyway at any time. Even in school. And so did the stepping out of time that I do. And it increased in frequency. Did I start meditating agian? No. My lovely safe place had become tarnished and unsafe. Until earlier this week when it was suggested that I make an effort to make meditating a safe place again. The first time was just all tears. For 30 minutes. The next two were just DIFFICULT with me fighting for breath instead of actually breathing. And probably fighting against more flashbacks too. But I stayed. And the fourth was less painful.
I do not want to embrace the pain. I want to make it go away. It is not going to go away. The only way to go is to make friends with it as I am trying to make friends with the separated parts of myself. the hardest one to soothe is the baby and the hardest one to befriend is the seven year old. But we all live in the same human body and we all share the pain. It will never go away. But, in time, so I am told, it will not be so much on the surface. It will move to an interior place where I can hold it more comfortably. But it will always be a part of who I am. My practise this day is to learn to allow it without beating myself with it. It is and the tears are and the baby cries and the little girl is angry and scared. But together we can learn to become an integrated whole.
This has all become VERY important as there was an incident at work with some inappropriate behaviour by a new staff member which appeared sexual. A parent witnessed it as well as me. Which was important. Because of the look of horror on the parent's face I had an aha moment when I realized why I do not trust this woman. Yes, I did everything that could be done by me. I told our coach and our executive director. I was the one who had to take this woman into the library and tell her about her behaviour. Because that is my job. There was more, I saw so much without being able to articulate it but I was being hypervigilant while I was the only other adult with the children. That was Thursday. It was EXHAUSTING!! Friday I told it all to my therapist, blah, blah, blah for an hour. Today I've had a migriane all day. No wonder.
My therapist was the one who pointed out that I did not turst my own intuition about this woman or her actions. Yeah, well, that's part of the whole legacy. I perceive thus and such. My mother tells me I do NOT perceive thus and such. therefore, I come to have no idea what it is that I perceive. Someday, I may get to have that too.
Well, let's start at the beginning, shall we? Last year I was taken by surprise and had no fucking idea what was going on. No name for what was happening, no names for the emotions, no reasons for it all. At least, none that made real sense when spoken out loud. Perhaps without any background, last year looked more dangerous to others, those people who reside outside my head/body. Plus, I was not aware of what the background was so the falling apart looked so dangerous. Although, to me it just felt impossible to live with. Not as dangerous as it looked from the outside, apparently. This is difficult to explain.
This year, it seems, looks less dangerous from the outside while it feels MUCH MORE dangerous from the inside. Perhaps this has to do with awareness, perhaps it has to do with denial ebbing away. Maybe it has to do with the nature of the issues that have come to light. Because let's be clear. Nothing that I have *remembered* and no flashbacks except to ones from infancy have been of events that I did not know had happened. What changed was my perception of these events. What changed was that enough light was shed on the lies and twisted knots that were tied into my childhood experiences that I have been able to see how horrible and abusive on a physical, emotional, social, and sexual level, these events actually were. This is stuff I would not do to an insect. I will spare you the graphic details which make me sick to my stomach. But the effects are physical, emotional, and social. Last year I had no words for what was happening. I saw no patterns. Just a ball of nasty, unexplained emotions and pain. this year, I have words. Grief, pain, mourning, saddness, relief (odd, I know). I have physical pain that corresponds with my emotions. My legs and hips hurt, sometimes so much that it keeps me up at night. During the day I spend a LOT of energy practising *containment* because I teach Kindergarten and I need to be grown up, *I will take care of you* me for my students. After school I mostly cry. Sometimes I am just f.i.n.e. until someone talks to me. Then I burst into tears. The tears help the emotional pain and the physical pain. So does yoga. I do have days when I don't cry. I also know when the tears are coming...just not always when. I get a lump in my throat and it becomes difficult to breathe. It is physically painful. Then the tears. Last year I had a lot more of the lump in my throat and not being able to breathe and fewer tears. Although, I must say that after 47 years of repressing any feelings but positive ones ANY tears were unnerving and disturbing. It unsettled my idea of who I am. Huh? I don't cry!
Three months ago, when I was able to put wome kind of coherent thought to what was happening and what it meant I realized that every day when I sat to meditate I had flashbacks. So...I stopped meditating. Cause why in the world would I want to go to a *place* where I allowed stuff like the contnets of my flashbacks. Did it help. you ask? No. The flashbacks came anyway at any time. Even in school. And so did the stepping out of time that I do. And it increased in frequency. Did I start meditating agian? No. My lovely safe place had become tarnished and unsafe. Until earlier this week when it was suggested that I make an effort to make meditating a safe place again. The first time was just all tears. For 30 minutes. The next two were just DIFFICULT with me fighting for breath instead of actually breathing. And probably fighting against more flashbacks too. But I stayed. And the fourth was less painful.
I do not want to embrace the pain. I want to make it go away. It is not going to go away. The only way to go is to make friends with it as I am trying to make friends with the separated parts of myself. the hardest one to soothe is the baby and the hardest one to befriend is the seven year old. But we all live in the same human body and we all share the pain. It will never go away. But, in time, so I am told, it will not be so much on the surface. It will move to an interior place where I can hold it more comfortably. But it will always be a part of who I am. My practise this day is to learn to allow it without beating myself with it. It is and the tears are and the baby cries and the little girl is angry and scared. But together we can learn to become an integrated whole.
This has all become VERY important as there was an incident at work with some inappropriate behaviour by a new staff member which appeared sexual. A parent witnessed it as well as me. Which was important. Because of the look of horror on the parent's face I had an aha moment when I realized why I do not trust this woman. Yes, I did everything that could be done by me. I told our coach and our executive director. I was the one who had to take this woman into the library and tell her about her behaviour. Because that is my job. There was more, I saw so much without being able to articulate it but I was being hypervigilant while I was the only other adult with the children. That was Thursday. It was EXHAUSTING!! Friday I told it all to my therapist, blah, blah, blah for an hour. Today I've had a migriane all day. No wonder.
My therapist was the one who pointed out that I did not turst my own intuition about this woman or her actions. Yeah, well, that's part of the whole legacy. I perceive thus and such. My mother tells me I do NOT perceive thus and such. therefore, I come to have no idea what it is that I perceive. Someday, I may get to have that too.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
um...wow
I had no idea that trance journey would stick with me like it did. and in a way that was really hard to be with. It didn't shift for a week. I promised her I would check on her but now I'm afraid I'll be in tears for another week after. I wanted to sort of free her up so she doesn't take me by surprise when I don't know about it. My therapist says trance work is one way to integrate my selves. But she does not participate in it. It's just me and this baby self. And she's got a lot of needs, let me just say. And when she is the surface personality it's nearly impossible to meet them for her. Cause she's driving the bus. It's hard to dialogue with her. Her language skills are limited. I think that may be why this particular trance had such lasting repercussions. It seemed to let loose her feelings and they are not lighthearted. If I can find the courage to go there again and again maybe I can get to a place where I can soothe her before she takes over and let her know that someone did come eventually. Took 47 years. So yeah, she pissed! It doesn't help that there aren't any pictures of me until I am older. No baby pictures of the firstborn child. Seems backwards, doesn't it? There are pictures of me with my baby brother. There is one formal photo of me at one year old. I need to find a way to integrate her so that I can function when she's around and it isn't so exhausting. Cause when she is on the surface I have to put way too much energy into containment to get through the day and not act younger than my students so that by the time I get home, I'm a mess. It doesn't help that when I'm like that I'm so scared I don't trust myself so I go to meetings and all they see is me crying and I guess they think I do that all day long. No, I just can't keep it all contained all day and all evening. Hopefully we can work something out soon.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
I took a trance journey to the little baby me in the crib that was left to cry. Maybe it will help and heal something since someone came. (me) I don't know really. All I can say for sure is that it was the first time I ever cried in a trance. I promised her I would come back and check onher again. Poor thing. She was crying so hard she was gasping. I wiped her face and rocked her to sleep. That was all she ever wanted. Even when she was big enough to ask for it. But she never got it. Well, she got it between the worlds tonight.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
all the days are different
So, today is a bad day. Or if ya want to categorize it more positively, it's a sad day. See, I gave up all my defenses (albeit willingly) and now I find myself in a place where I am continually hurt by events that my dfenses protected me from. And it hurts. And I am sad and angry when that happens. And I am angry at the Goddess because I hurt. Maybe I think I should never hurt. But more realistically, the hurts I received early on were so painful and so bereft of comfort that I find any hurt to be unbearable. and I have no resources except the old ones that feel like they really work. Perhaps railing at the Goddess is helpful. Perhaps not. At the moment my tears are in a locked place and I cannot access them. Did you yoga poses for anger. I still hurt. But then they weren't yoga poses for comfort, were they?
When I tell people that never know what to expect as to my mood from day to day I don't think I can convey the lightening speed with which things seem to change. Yes, I know what that sounds like but so far that has not been something that has come up as a possibility in therapy.
Probably just needing emotional stability. Or maybe that's a fantasy that does not exist.
When I tell people that never know what to expect as to my mood from day to day I don't think I can convey the lightening speed with which things seem to change. Yes, I know what that sounds like but so far that has not been something that has come up as a possibility in therapy.
Probably just needing emotional stability. Or maybe that's a fantasy that does not exist.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
relief?
Maybe, just maybe there is a little lift in the depression and a moving through some of the worst of the grief and pain. One can only hope. One sign? I've been cleaning for the first time in over a year. Oh yeah, it was needed long before that. But I couldn't do it. Not that I was living in flith. Not exactly. Just doing the very least possible to NOT be living in filth. Lately I've been taking buckets of soapy water to everything. It has been good. I think this is the first time in my life, ever, that I have cleaned and NOT been ragefully angry about it. It just needs done. I've been using a series of yoga poses to try and release some of the lifelong repressed rage. Maybe that is what is going on here. Move a little of the rage get movement for other things.
One thing that I've been learning about it that whole emotions stored in the body thing. Like people would say, notice where in your body thus and such is. Sure, sure. I had no fucking idea how to do that. Finally, my body speaks. Yes, it speaks in pain. But the yoga poses help to move the pain, to move it through, so I don't hold it.
It's a good thing.
One thing that I've been learning about it that whole emotions stored in the body thing. Like people would say, notice where in your body thus and such is. Sure, sure. I had no fucking idea how to do that. Finally, my body speaks. Yes, it speaks in pain. But the yoga poses help to move the pain, to move it through, so I don't hold it.
It's a good thing.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
back again
I'm back after a little absence. I was, for a while, just too sad or angry, or grieved, or all three to post for a while. Which says something given the tone of my previous posts. Huh?
Then I was okay. I think I am still okay but my pink cloud is passing some. that's okay. I can't explain the waves of emotion. Painful or not painful. They just are. But life is heavier when they are painful.
I think I stopped posting when I had my latest flashback. It was of my mum molesting me in the bath. It all made so much sense. Pieces of the puzzle of *Me* slid into place. It was sickening and horrifying (literally made me sick) but so many little things made sense after that. And it wasn't like I had not remembered what had happened. No, I always knew it happenend. I just never saw it in a clear light before. Saw it for what it really was. Which tells me that it must have been going on before I had verbal memory. Cause I just never saw it for what it was. Then, one night it became so clear. so plain. I can't explain why I never saw it before. Not that I didn't think it was odd before. Just, I had such a moment of clarity. And that was when things shifted away from being so painful and heavy. Sickened and sad for a few days after but things began to lighten quickly. Very quickly.
So now I'm trying to let the waves of emotion just be what they are and accept what comes without blaming myself if I'm not Little Mary Sunshine.
Then I was okay. I think I am still okay but my pink cloud is passing some. that's okay. I can't explain the waves of emotion. Painful or not painful. They just are. But life is heavier when they are painful.
I think I stopped posting when I had my latest flashback. It was of my mum molesting me in the bath. It all made so much sense. Pieces of the puzzle of *Me* slid into place. It was sickening and horrifying (literally made me sick) but so many little things made sense after that. And it wasn't like I had not remembered what had happened. No, I always knew it happenend. I just never saw it in a clear light before. Saw it for what it really was. Which tells me that it must have been going on before I had verbal memory. Cause I just never saw it for what it was. Then, one night it became so clear. so plain. I can't explain why I never saw it before. Not that I didn't think it was odd before. Just, I had such a moment of clarity. And that was when things shifted away from being so painful and heavy. Sickened and sad for a few days after but things began to lighten quickly. Very quickly.
So now I'm trying to let the waves of emotion just be what they are and accept what comes without blaming myself if I'm not Little Mary Sunshine.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Monday, July 4, 2011
gah
Please to know, dear god, the memories will. not. stop. The latest one is making me sick. Will I call someone in my *crisis list* ? No. Because why would I want to share that and because it is a holiday (naturally) and because they do not call me back. Sliding into very painful place. Nothing to hold onto.
Monday, June 27, 2011
This has been very ...tiring. I have been crying since Friday. I figured something out though. I am embarrassed because I am crying. Like I have no right be be disturbing every one with my emotional displays. Which doesn't help when I can't actually stop. So I don't know what to do with that.
I cried all through therapy. I cried all through the meeting. I was still crying when I went to sleep. I hoped Saturday would be different. But no. I can't talk to anyone. As soon as I start talking I start crying. And I get so weary of the question, What's wrong? It's so hard. It's hard to keep saying what's wrong. Not everyone needs to know what's wrong. And I'm embarrassed so I don't do things I need to do like get groceries.
Someone last night did suggest that I get the book Courage to Heal instead of the workbook. So I did. She said it was more helpful. We'll see. I even feel like my therapist isn't helpful. She just waited for me to stop crying which never happened. She asked me to tell an imaginary friend what I needed. But what I need is more than anyone can provide. At least anyone that I know. Plus, I wouldn't know how to allow that without giving up all my power anyway. So I'm just going to have to be here. Here hurts. and I think I'm not allowed to have this much hurt. But I do. And it just is. And I wish I wasn't so all in pieces but I am.
My computer is back home. All my favourites are lost cause he had to wipe it. All the blogs I followed. Crap.
All my links to pay my bills. Just when I don't have the energy to look them all up and they are due. Again. Crap.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday was a really emotional day for me. It was hard. It started early too and just followed me through the day. It started in meditation. Yup. Something about how different the love of the Goddess is from any other love I know and how I just didn't feel like I could possibly live up to that and (runon probably) I had no idea how to relate to that. I have no experience to go on here. Flying blind comes to mind. And sort of awestruck and terrified all at the same time.
And damn! But once it started it just would not stop. I went to my regular Sunday morning meeting and everytime I opened my mouth I started crying and when some other people talked I started crying. And then I couldn't stop.
After the meeting I had a bad asthma attack or a panic attack cured by proventil. It started to come on during the meeting but I thought I could ride it out. Nope. Standing in the parking lot I was in fullblown NO AIR and PANIC. Couldn't even think what I should do. Kitty suggested I sit down. Someone mentioned an inhaler and I remebered I HAVE one of those. With me. I actually thought I was going to stop breathing. It was VERY scary. Doesn't happen often but fuck that was scary.
Now I keep checking to see if I have my inhaler. I do.
Like I need something else to add to my anxiety.
And my thinking about the Goddess and love wasn't all positive. No. It was really quite scary, really. See, I don't understand love without strings. I keep thinking there must be a catch. When does the catch show up? And if there isn't a catch, somehow that is even scarier. I'm not sure exactly how. But perhaps just in it's unknown quality.
I had a day today like every day was last summer. Breathing on purpose feels like suffocating (yeah, add asthma attack and the anxiety ratchets up) my heart hurts, I"m not very comfortable being me. I'm not even sure who that is.
But maybe, maybe I can sit with the uncertainty and discomfort until it eases.
Although, in the car on the way home from the meeting tonight I played with the thought, *what if it's just always like this from now on? what if this is who I am now?*
I hope not. Cause if this is who I am forever, medicate me, screw my liver.
That's me, Little Marjie Sunshine.
And damn! But once it started it just would not stop. I went to my regular Sunday morning meeting and everytime I opened my mouth I started crying and when some other people talked I started crying. And then I couldn't stop.
After the meeting I had a bad asthma attack or a panic attack cured by proventil. It started to come on during the meeting but I thought I could ride it out. Nope. Standing in the parking lot I was in fullblown NO AIR and PANIC. Couldn't even think what I should do. Kitty suggested I sit down. Someone mentioned an inhaler and I remebered I HAVE one of those. With me. I actually thought I was going to stop breathing. It was VERY scary. Doesn't happen often but fuck that was scary.
Now I keep checking to see if I have my inhaler. I do.
Like I need something else to add to my anxiety.
And my thinking about the Goddess and love wasn't all positive. No. It was really quite scary, really. See, I don't understand love without strings. I keep thinking there must be a catch. When does the catch show up? And if there isn't a catch, somehow that is even scarier. I'm not sure exactly how. But perhaps just in it's unknown quality.
I had a day today like every day was last summer. Breathing on purpose feels like suffocating (yeah, add asthma attack and the anxiety ratchets up) my heart hurts, I"m not very comfortable being me. I'm not even sure who that is.
But maybe, maybe I can sit with the uncertainty and discomfort until it eases.
Although, in the car on the way home from the meeting tonight I played with the thought, *what if it's just always like this from now on? what if this is who I am now?*
I hope not. Cause if this is who I am forever, medicate me, screw my liver.
That's me, Little Marjie Sunshine.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
insights (family herstory)
I had some stuff gel for me yesterday. I took my mother to get the first cataract surgery done yesterday. One of the nurses made a comment about how much my mother complains. Apparently, it is a lot. One of my friends said she is just old. Well, she was on the cataract surgery floor. EVERYONE was old. And yet HER complaining stood out. She complained from the moment she went back to get ready until she was in the car. And when I told her about it she said she had every right to complain and sited her complaints as justification for complaining.
The nurse asked what was wrong with her. I answered that she was not happy. But the question got me thinking.
Okay.
She doesn't just complain, no. She acts out if her complaints are not validated.
Narcissistic with traits of borderline personality disorder.
No, my degree is not in psych. It's in Elementary Ed. But let me just say that we do a lot of dealing with psych. Bruno Bettelheim thinks we should be even more trained in psychoanalysis. But then, he would.
But here's the story. Distorted as it might be by my own lens.
When my mother was married to my father and things were going the way she thought they should things were mostly cool. She did all the things she thought she should be doing and my dad did all the things she thought HE should be doing .
Then he stopped doing many of the things she thought he should be doing and things got much less cool. And mum got sicker. Physically and mentally. She had many ailments and injuries that required my dad to pay attention to her and take care of her.
Then my dad stopped doing ANY of the things she thought he should be doing and left to live with his girlfriend. Things got awful for a while.
mum locked herself in her room for a week. My brother was 9, I was 11. We took care of ourselves because she told us to go away. Then she stopped talking to us and we decided she was dead and called her best friend. She was not dead. She was drunk. She slowly pulled out of that and figured out what to do with her life.
Go back to school, get a job, find another man to pay her the kind of attention she wanted.
There were lots of men.
Now, my brother and I were getting older. We were finding our won ways to take care of ourselves. Not skillful ways but they worked then. And we did not want attention from mum and she did not want to give it. She left us to our own devices and turned a blind eye when she stumbled onto our drugs. She even went so far as to take orders for the state store and buy us liquor since we were too young to do that ourselves and she thought it was better if we drank at home with our friends. Not to mention that she would not have to fetch us from the police station or the park should drinking *out* go wrong. She thought this was a good solution.
But when we moved out she directed much wrath at whichever child got married or moved out. When we were both gone she settled down for a while with a long time boyfriend.
Now all the men are gone and we are the targets of her behaviour.
Now she drinks into a blackout when we displease her.
I don't play along as much as I can (sometimes I've played along before I notice it). She thinks I'm just mean or that I don't love her. ah well, I try to be kind and patient and when I can't I leave. Which she takes as my abandoning her. I totally understand. I just can't stay with her to the exclusion of my ow life.
So what was new to me was that this situation, this mental illness, has been playing out for a long time. Did it play out in her childhood? I have no idea.
What I found so interesting was the timeline and how this behaviour has been going on and building for years. Of course she is not happy. no one is doing what she wants anymore.
And then there is my Aunt Louise. But she would take up another whole post all of her own and I just don't care to go into it. Let's just say older than my mother with a marriage that lasted until my uncle died but VERY similar personalities. And she is a great complainer and judge.
This gives me pause to question my own mental health. But then I've got help with sorting that out. And I have been assured that I do NOT have Borderline Personality Disorder. Good! But then neither does my mother. At least not ALL the traits. But then the fact that she has taken up drinking so much more in recent years makes the whole *what is wrong with her* messier.
No wonder I never felt connected to her. I was not doing what she wanted from the very first day I arrived. separate a sick baby from an emotionally/mentally unstable mother for months? Hmm. that just sets up all sorts of issues. I was never really sure that she liked me. and it is probably true. This may also be why I do not find is as necessary as my brother to meet her needs. I've never been very good at it so why practice getting better at it now?
I don't have any idea how this may read. But it was jolly interesting to me to get it into a timeline and have everything laid out like this.
The nurse asked what was wrong with her. I answered that she was not happy. But the question got me thinking.
Okay.
She doesn't just complain, no. She acts out if her complaints are not validated.
Narcissistic with traits of borderline personality disorder.
No, my degree is not in psych. It's in Elementary Ed. But let me just say that we do a lot of dealing with psych. Bruno Bettelheim thinks we should be even more trained in psychoanalysis. But then, he would.
But here's the story. Distorted as it might be by my own lens.
When my mother was married to my father and things were going the way she thought they should things were mostly cool. She did all the things she thought she should be doing and my dad did all the things she thought HE should be doing .
Then he stopped doing many of the things she thought he should be doing and things got much less cool. And mum got sicker. Physically and mentally. She had many ailments and injuries that required my dad to pay attention to her and take care of her.
Then my dad stopped doing ANY of the things she thought he should be doing and left to live with his girlfriend. Things got awful for a while.
mum locked herself in her room for a week. My brother was 9, I was 11. We took care of ourselves because she told us to go away. Then she stopped talking to us and we decided she was dead and called her best friend. She was not dead. She was drunk. She slowly pulled out of that and figured out what to do with her life.
Go back to school, get a job, find another man to pay her the kind of attention she wanted.
There were lots of men.
Now, my brother and I were getting older. We were finding our won ways to take care of ourselves. Not skillful ways but they worked then. And we did not want attention from mum and she did not want to give it. She left us to our own devices and turned a blind eye when she stumbled onto our drugs. She even went so far as to take orders for the state store and buy us liquor since we were too young to do that ourselves and she thought it was better if we drank at home with our friends. Not to mention that she would not have to fetch us from the police station or the park should drinking *out* go wrong. She thought this was a good solution.
But when we moved out she directed much wrath at whichever child got married or moved out. When we were both gone she settled down for a while with a long time boyfriend.
Now all the men are gone and we are the targets of her behaviour.
Now she drinks into a blackout when we displease her.
I don't play along as much as I can (sometimes I've played along before I notice it). She thinks I'm just mean or that I don't love her. ah well, I try to be kind and patient and when I can't I leave. Which she takes as my abandoning her. I totally understand. I just can't stay with her to the exclusion of my ow life.
So what was new to me was that this situation, this mental illness, has been playing out for a long time. Did it play out in her childhood? I have no idea.
What I found so interesting was the timeline and how this behaviour has been going on and building for years. Of course she is not happy. no one is doing what she wants anymore.
And then there is my Aunt Louise. But she would take up another whole post all of her own and I just don't care to go into it. Let's just say older than my mother with a marriage that lasted until my uncle died but VERY similar personalities. And she is a great complainer and judge.
This gives me pause to question my own mental health. But then I've got help with sorting that out. And I have been assured that I do NOT have Borderline Personality Disorder. Good! But then neither does my mother. At least not ALL the traits. But then the fact that she has taken up drinking so much more in recent years makes the whole *what is wrong with her* messier.
No wonder I never felt connected to her. I was not doing what she wanted from the very first day I arrived. separate a sick baby from an emotionally/mentally unstable mother for months? Hmm. that just sets up all sorts of issues. I was never really sure that she liked me. and it is probably true. This may also be why I do not find is as necessary as my brother to meet her needs. I've never been very good at it so why practice getting better at it now?
I don't have any idea how this may read. But it was jolly interesting to me to get it into a timeline and have everything laid out like this.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
things that make me go hmm.
I have heard from a few people recently that I intimidate them. Really? I find that amazing and at odds with how I view myself.
Little me intimidates you?
I must look at this.
Little me intimidates you?
I must look at this.
thoughts
so, I had my second session with my new therapist yesterday. It went better than the first. That is a big YAY! I NEED to be reminded, often, that I am the one in charge of me. I get to say what freaks me out and ask to have it clarified. I get to say when things make me uncomfortable. Not that comfort is the goal. No. But when things make me uncomfortable it might be important information. I need to know that and my therapist needs to know that.
I also needed to know that no one is *making me choose* to *give up* one therapist over another. No, I am choosing to go to a different therapist for a time to work on a different, and highly emotional issue. It is charged with a lot of fear and overwhelming emotion. And it is old and long repressed which I think makes the work all that much harder. But not undoable.
And, did I mention that my other therapist said he thought I was stable enough in the depression (without meds) to do this work? OMG that helped SO much!
So now I have embarked on a new phase. We'll see how this goes.
I also needed to know that no one is *making me choose* to *give up* one therapist over another. No, I am choosing to go to a different therapist for a time to work on a different, and highly emotional issue. It is charged with a lot of fear and overwhelming emotion. And it is old and long repressed which I think makes the work all that much harder. But not undoable.
And, did I mention that my other therapist said he thought I was stable enough in the depression (without meds) to do this work? OMG that helped SO much!
So now I have embarked on a new phase. We'll see how this goes.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
insight
Why don't I call the crisis line when I am REALLY in a crisis? HA! Because when one is in distress or crisis common sense goes out the window!
What a novel notion!
What a novel notion!
edges
There are some people I think of as edge walkers. I am not one of them. No, I'm more of a clinger I think. Be that as it may, I am walking an edge right now. It is profoundly uncomfortable. I think I have words now for what some of my discomfort is Firstly, setting aside a theraputic relationship in which I have built trust for one in which I not only have no trust yet but fear is scary. What if this new therapist is all wrong for me? what if we don't build any trust? What if the only thing that happens is sustained fear? Well, then I advocate for myself and ask for a different therapist. And my current therapist claims that I advocate for myself quite well. Okay. I'll take his word for it for now.
And he reminded me that I need to tell my new therapist what is going on for me. Like that her seeming nervousness makes me nrevous too. And that the tossing around of big issues like *separated self* scared the hell out of me. Cause my longest known underlying fear is that I am foundationally broken. (Spellcheck hates the word foundationally but I think it best expresses what I mean.)
and he assured me that there will be a place for me at Persad after this work is done.
That I can still call the crisis line and I can talk to him if I need to. Cause my list wasn't working very well this past weekend while I had my emotional breakdown.
He thinks I am stable enough with the depresswion to safely do this work and that if might prove to be foundational in getting to the cause of the depression. And if it should prove to be something that I find I can't do or it gets to be more than I can handle then I can stop and come back to Persad at any time. it's my choice.
And he assured me that I will know if this is the case or not. Cause one of the things I am worried about is just that. Getting to the place where I can't help myself and not being able to stop what I have set in motion. Like The Sorcer's Apprentice.
Next session at PAAR...Friday.
And he reminded me that I need to tell my new therapist what is going on for me. Like that her seeming nervousness makes me nrevous too. And that the tossing around of big issues like *separated self* scared the hell out of me. Cause my longest known underlying fear is that I am foundationally broken. (Spellcheck hates the word foundationally but I think it best expresses what I mean.)
and he assured me that there will be a place for me at Persad after this work is done.
That I can still call the crisis line and I can talk to him if I need to. Cause my list wasn't working very well this past weekend while I had my emotional breakdown.
He thinks I am stable enough with the depresswion to safely do this work and that if might prove to be foundational in getting to the cause of the depression. And if it should prove to be something that I find I can't do or it gets to be more than I can handle then I can stop and come back to Persad at any time. it's my choice.
And he assured me that I will know if this is the case or not. Cause one of the things I am worried about is just that. Getting to the place where I can't help myself and not being able to stop what I have set in motion. Like The Sorcer's Apprentice.
Next session at PAAR...Friday.
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