Monthly Archives: January 2013

She’s Lost Control

She lost me on the pain piece, though I guess it’s true also. I just don’t ever remember feeling pain. I would stop when the pain came. But the rest of it, she’s pretty right on… I envy her for being able to write it so well, when I struggle to find the words to convey exactly what it is that I feel and endure…

A Song in the LIfe

She’s Lost Control Lyrics // YouTube Video
***

sitl6You will hold it in your hands, and you will hate yourself. You will hate yourself because you promised, you swore, not only to yourself but to a million other people, that it wouldn’t happen again. It was over. You’re strong. You’re better. You’re cured. What the fuck does “cured” mean anyway, when you have an illness that doesn’t even have a distinct list of symptoms, let alone a god damn cure? An illness that sneaks up and bites you in the night when you sleep; you go to bed just fine and you wake up in the throws of some kind of emotional throw down or melt down and it doesn’t matter how much you want it to go away, it won’t because it’s as ingrained in you as your name, your date of birth, your best friend.

It’s a strange…

View original post 897 more words

Advertisements

I know the pieces fit…

I watched them fall away.  I know the pieces fit…

I’ve been dealing with/thinking about/discovering more dissociation, and different ways I do it these last few weeks.  Yesterday was the most pronounced in terms of difference… It’s weird.  I need to process it.  I need to figure out how it all fits, what’s it’s purpose? what do I do next? … I’m at a loss.  I really miss having my old therapist, who was more experienced in all of this.  I miss her availability.  I don’t want to dismiss D, but I can’t help but compare him to her… I was finally getting somewhere, and I chose to move (was forced to?)… I know there is a purpose to all this.  I know I need to learn something, but I don’t know if I want to learn it this way…

Trauma recovery is a tricky thing.  Just as you get going, things get thrown in your path.  You move forward cautiously, then realize you reach a plateau.  But it’s a comfortable place, one you think you can work from… And suddenly everything changes and you are dealt a new hand to have to play…


trigger warning…

I’m trying to be ok with a comment a friend made on fb, as she has every right to be upset by my comment… but it’s hard. A few days ago I had been having a really rough week, and I was tired of being told to turn to religion. My defenses were down and I was raw. The last straw was when a friend of my wife’s commented for the umpteenth time to “Let go & let god” and that everything happens for a reason, and that I should “pray” about my situation… That last sentiment triggered such a deep hurt and rejection, I lost all cool and composure. I ranted long and hard about how a belief in a god does not make everything better… I was rude and disrespectful and cursed a lot… I can understand that people would be hurt, but I didn’t care. I was tired and hurt myself… My wife said that she would take it down in the morning (it was on a status she had put up) because she did not want her mom to be mad at me for not only cursing, but putting religion down… I was fine with it. I got out my rant and could care less if it was up any longer than that… She never did take it down. I’m not quite sure why, maybe it was the strong responses in both directions about what I said, maybe she just forgot and then thought it was up for that long, might as well leave it… whatever. It is still there. Anyway, a friend of mine read it and was very insulted and hurt by it. She made a comment to that effect on her page, but without mentioning who the comment was directed to. She was very respectful and did a great job communicating her displeasure with my stance (and insults) on something she holds dear.
I shouldn’t be hurt or bothered by this. I shouldn’t feel the way I do about it. But then why can’t I shake it?
I am triggered by religion and inaction in the name of religion because of my experience with one individual, and later with a “spiritual” experience… The first person I ever confided in about the abuse and violence going on at home (and my resulting depression and hopelessness) simply told me to “Just pray about it, and god will help you out”… I had just told her that I feared for my mom’s life, I felt suicidal, and was terrified to be home every day of my life, and she told me to pray about it… That was such a let-down. Everywhere they encourage you to tell someone when things like this are going on, and when I did, I was offered no help. It was a guidance counselor at school mind you, a mandated reporter even back then (she left the school the following year and was replaced by a wonderful woman who helped me so much, and i am now privileged to call her my friend)… I felt so abandoned and lost in that moment. My hate for religion grew from there. The ignorance and uncaring she displayed made me feel totally alone. To this day I have trouble asking for help, and believing that anyone with any power to do something will actually do anything to help (well, that and the countless times the police were called to diffuse a situation at home…). I don’t trust easily, so when I went to her with that information, my little bit of trust crumbled to dust in the moment of her indifference…
I know most people today have no clue why I feel so strongly against any organized religion. I haven’t told many people. I definitely keep my mental health and abuse history off of fb (it is not the place for things like that)… I know this friend has no idea why I said what I did, she is just insulted by it… I should be able to take that at face value and move on, as I know I was rude with it… but it just feeds my rejection and feelings of neglect from so long ago. And now I want to be stubborn and not apologize or remove it because it triggered my rebellious side, and I want to stomp my feet and scream that I am right, but only because I don’t want to tell why I really feel that way. I don’t want to spill that my 1)abuse 2)was not stopped by someone who was supposed to help, but 3)instead thought I should turn to “god” to better my situation. I don’t want to explain myself, I just want to be mad about it, because I have a right to be mad. I know I should have done it more tactfully, but I was hurt… All I ever do is apologize for holding the hurt in, until it gets too much and I burst. I play nice and respectful and pleasant, and no one gets it. They keep at it… They insist that I am wrong and stupid and should “give my life to god”, but they don’t hear my protests when I am nice. They don’t respect my pleas to stop hitting me over the head with that. So I snap, and I revert to being 3 and screaming whatever I want, however I need to, in order to be heard.
I don’t like hurting people. I don’t like insulting them or their beliefs. But I can’t bring myself to apologize for my rant, or to back-track and say it nicer just to appease everyone. But that too is an internal conflict. The part of me that strives to please everyone all the time and be pc and nice really wants to take down the comment and apologize for insulting everyone. The 3 year old in me wants to sit there, stick my tongue out and say “Good!” (now you can be as hurt as I was)… It makes me want to cut and cry and break things. It makes me want to hide and delete fb all together… It makes me hate myself for being hurtful… but it makes me feel good too. And that scares me. I never want to be someone who hurts others because she is hurt… I don’t want to be my dad… I never want to be my dad…


What a day

I’m totally wiped. My old therapist returned my call and we were able to talk briefly. This was on my way to see my new therapist… Without really thinking,  I ended up driving past where my aunt was laid to rest… I haven’t been by there in 20 years… holy cow! Talk about being thrown back into the past.  I was suddenly emotionally back at the time of her death… I don’t know what kept me from mentioning it to Dr C since we were on the phone when it happened.  I just slipped back.  I have no idea what it was we talked about before we hung up. I’m not quite sure how I was able to continue driving.  After a few stops, I was at D’s office.  I was very separate from myself, only I was not dissociative in any way I remember ever being before.  I struggled to explain it to him.  I was fidgeting with a toy, but… it felt like there was something else taking control of that piece… only I was aware I was doing it,  aware that I was “supposed” to be doing it, but it wasn’t really under my conscious control.  I don’t know how to explain it accurately.  There was a protective side to me that took over.  During the session, I was able to identify that seeing the cemetery triggered an urge to cut, but that the fidgeting kept me from trying to act on it. I was able to tell him this. we talked some more,  but I was totally thrown by this sensation.  I think I may have dissociated this way in the past (something felt familiar and safe about it) but not necessarily with this level of consciousness behind it.  I’m still not describing it right,  but I can’t think of the way to tell it accurately.  I’m not quite sure I have a full understanding of it.

Anyway,  I managed to tell him some other things that I had intended to tell him.  We kinda came up with a safety plan.  I was kinda able to tell him my anxieties around calling hotlines and asking help when I don’t feel like my problems are pressing and worthy of attention.  He tried to reassure me about the value of calling 211 in times of “crisis”… I told him I might be able to call if I needed to.  I probably lied…

Later,  my wife and I went to a woman’s drop-in group.  I really liked it.  I was able to ask the clinician after the group for info on any therapeutic group they may have.  She said the one she ran was currently closed,  but offered to ask the group if it was ok that I join, if I wanted her to do that.  I was able to say that I would be interested,  and I was able to do so without apologizing for being a bother (something I do regularly,  and something I did multiple times with D today).

Overall, it was a good day,  but very exhausting.  Now I just have to make it through the next week without crumbling… I told D that I would like to do a day program for the extra support right now,  but I wasn’t aware of any that I could afford without insurance…  He is supposed to get more info from some local places and will call back by Friday…


numb

The overwhelming emotions of the day (days) have given way to a numb state.  My head is having trouble forming thoughts and understanding information coming at me…


Reaching out to nothing

It feels like no matter how much we ask for help,  there is no response… either we are looking in the wrong places, or it’s just hopeless… (or maybe it’s just that we are not asking in the right way… I think it’s all three)


my voice escapes me

There are times when what’s inside is just not able to be formed into sounds… I can type them, but I can’t speak them… It’s funny, because written words are so much more permanent, but the courage to say it is not there.  Writing is more impersonal, more detached… it’s easier… and I’m so much better at it in times like these than I am at giving voice to the thoughts.  It requires less effort. Less commitment to connect with another because I don’t have to hear your voice when you see what it is I am saying.  I don’t have to see your face… I can hide and do it anonymously… I suppose I could do that over the phone also, but then you may not hear what I am not saying… and I am reminded again why I should just melt into the fibers of the carpet…

It’s not happening… the sense of relief that washed over me earlier has given way once again to that dark cloud that seems to permeate everything.  I am alone because I chose to be this way.  I build up the walls not only for myself, but against others seeing in.  I really miss my old therapist.  I miss that I could call her and be squeezed in that week as early as she had available, or she would talk to me over the phone.  I miss that I trusted her… while I am not running from D, I don’t yet trust him… and that makes me feel so alone in this.  I don’t want to burden other people with the weight of my thoughts.  I choose not to let my family in because they have their own shit, and they don’t need to hear what is in my head.

The weight bears down on me almost too much at times, and I just wish it would finally squish me out of existence… but that won’t happen… and even if it did, it would be incredibly selfish of me (as I am so often reminded) .  I wouldn’t want to do that to anyone else… they don’t deserve it… but the peace on my end would be nice…