Today, my therapist told me she's not going to "blow smoke up my ass" or "bullshit" me. I like her even more now.
She said this to make sure I knew she's not trying to "dress me up in a pretty dress and send me back out into the world." She said it because of my response to her telling me I am not ugly and I should not be ashamed. My response was, "But I am ashamed and everyone knows and everyone can see it." I told her about my self-realizations today.
We talked about my explosions of rage and she said even if the actions are wrong, the feelings are there and they're neither good nor bad, simply are. Told her I'm so tired of always saying "I'm Sorry" for things that seem to happen out of my control...it's like vomit. I told her I was ashamed of it and that I hate who I am.
She said I don't really know who I am, yet. But we'll get there.
I told her about mine and Gary's conversation this morning. I cried and told her he's right about all of it. He's always right... the shame - God the shame - is so compounded because of the flashback.
"Do you want to tell me about the flashback?"
I kind of told her...kind of.
"The shame is bigger than the world, bigger than me," I cried.
"You were a child," she said. "You had no control."
"BUT I DID IT!" I yelled back, not really knowing where it came from, feeling so, so ashamed - the image so fresh in my mind, I felt I could reach out and touch it. That's how REAL a flashback is.
"You were just a child and to this day you're doing the same thing - you're trying to do what everyone wants you to do."
This made me sob even harder because I'd told her that I told Gary I'd do anything - anything - to work it out because all I wanted, was for him to love me.
I told her about pushing people away. She said most trauma survivors show people their ugly core first, then that way, if the person leaves, it's okay.
"I used to do that," I confessed. "I used to lay it out like a disclaimer. Tell everyone about my past. But I don't do that anymore."
"Then how are you pushing people away?" she asked.
"I don't know," I cried, wracking, sobbing cries. "I don't know. I talk, I buy birthday cards. I'm a good listener. I don't know how I push people away. I don't know what he means."
She said I am probably not pushing people away, but that is his perspective. I told her I do keep people at arm's length - and I do - but that's not pushing them away. Neither, according to her, are these outbursts. They're not pushing people away; they are based on a lifetime of abuse that started as a child and have become a dysfunctional habit of sorts. That's why they're so intense. "You get flooded," she validated. She's absolutely right.
She says I'm like an onion and we have to peel away these layers of abuse and intrusive thoughts that have been built around a beautiful core. She said she can already tell that I am a strong, generous, giving, authentic, compassionate person...going through a crisis. She said, "Most people would have crumbled three weeks ago. You have more strength and courage than you realize yet."
She told me I am functioning as best as I can right now. Even with the drinking - which I told her I agreed with Gary about (and she kind of nodded in agreement) - I told her I realize there are things I need to change but she, recognizing I was criticizing myself, again said: "You are managing the best way you know how, for now. That will change."
She said we'll get to that core, but some people - those like Gary and those who listen to his side of the story without ever even wondering how true it really is or saying they're uncomfortable knowing about my personal history - are not worthy of bearing witness to the peeling of my layers.
She's right.
As the session ended, she searched for a word to best describe me right now. As her blue eyes turned towards the ceiling, she looked back at me and said, "Raw. You are raw right now."
She's right about that, too.
It was an extremely emotional session.
Friday, June 29, 2012
My Current Truth
I'm in the beginning stages of "healing" - I use quotation marks because it sure as hell doesn't feel like healing. They call it the crisis stage and it's unbearable to go through alone.
My life is a wreck - all caused by me. For the past four weeks, I've been volatile and unpredictable because of this pain I'm in over this break-up. I don't know how to handle it. I keep having nightmares about him.
So then I go drink (alone, by the water) and it helps...
But sometimes it brings out the worst, although I don't have to be drinking for my worst to come out and usually the worst only comes out when he's here, in reaction to feeling abandoned (that's not an excuse).
Some of my sins:
This morning we talked and he told me - again - what a vile person I am. He didn't use those exact words, but he told me some pretty hurtful things, including "I don't care about you" and he doesn't love me. These words cut me more than anything. And, to make it worse, it was my fault. My fault that he no longer cares for or loves me. He says I lie to myself and to everyone, and he can't believe a word I say. It's like four good years of our five years together is gone...never existed. He said not one kind thing about me...or to me. He even said he's "waiting for the opportunity [to call the cops on me]"
Oh God...
All of this is my fault. Everything. I don't know how to handle any emotions so it all just comes out as rage... I don't know what else to do. So on top of that, I have to deal with knowing that everything is my fault.
This makes me think of daddy..... makes me angry, makes me hurt more than anything. The anger comes out at Gary or (a couple times) Carolyn or my oldest son or whomever is in firing range - but the hurt...I cry sitting here now, thinking about how the things my father and the many other men did to me, have led me to this and how everyone expects me to just get over it...and I'm trying. I'm trying so hard, and I was told to embrace the people who are there and who love me and care and want me to heal but I don't believe that. I don't believe anyone can love or care or help. I never have. How can someone like me ever be loved?
See Attachment Disorder.When you go through what I went through as an infant and toddler, it happens.
Sounds like a big pity party, doesn't it?
It's not. It's the truth of how it feels to have your wreck of a life, thrown in your face without any compassion for the things that have gotten you there to begin with. You're already walking around with the weight of the world on your shoulders - already trying to save face, already trying to fake it...trying to matter... trying to ignore the enormous shame and guilt and filth that lives inside you - and then someone comes along and shames you, guilts you and makes you feel even more filthy.
I wanted, this morning, to tell him he's a good friend...wanted to try to do something right. Anything right.
But then I heard these horrible things about myself and all I could do was sit there and rock and cry and realize how true they are....
Right now, I'm doing very little to help myself because I feel helpless and hopelessly lost. I have zero energy, I'm so overwhelmed. All my own creation, I know, but Dear God....some compassion would be nice. Just to know that after five years, he still sees some beauty and potential in me.
I've hurt people - people I didn't intend to hurt, but did. I don't know why I did. I have no reason...no explanation, although I'm sure - deep down - there is a reason or two. Perhaps that's my way of pushing people away. I think partly it's because "well, if he'd abandon me, so will you, so fuck you. I won't give you the chance - I'll leave you first!" Who knows? But it's mine to own.
All of this pulls my past into my present and I react from there. I don't know how to stop or control it.
I wish I did... I hate my life the way it is right now, on so many levels.
I am sorry to those I've hurt. The shame I feel over this is profound, and I know an apology is not enough. I'm not a hurtful person, at my core.
At my core, I am a compassionate, giving, loving, affectionate, attentive person. People who've known me for years, know this.
But my core is in defense mode now, covered by the ugly that is me. The ugly that is my life. The ugly that keeps surfacing through this "healing" journey.
My life is a wreck - all caused by me. For the past four weeks, I've been volatile and unpredictable because of this pain I'm in over this break-up. I don't know how to handle it. I keep having nightmares about him.
So then I go drink (alone, by the water) and it helps...
But sometimes it brings out the worst, although I don't have to be drinking for my worst to come out and usually the worst only comes out when he's here, in reaction to feeling abandoned (that's not an excuse).
Some of my sins:
- Vile words/texts to others out of rage.
- Violent outbursts - including grabbing him, grabbing his shirt, demanding to know why he gave up, why he left me.
- Shoving the mattress off the bed and ripping the sheets off (in my mind, I was preventing another woman from sleeping in our bed).
- Sarcasm
- Some would say I have excuses for all these things.
- Some would even say I'm writing this "for affect"
- Pushing others away
- Not letting anyone in
- Suicide ideation
- Cutting
- Drinking too much, to numb and escape
This morning we talked and he told me - again - what a vile person I am. He didn't use those exact words, but he told me some pretty hurtful things, including "I don't care about you" and he doesn't love me. These words cut me more than anything. And, to make it worse, it was my fault. My fault that he no longer cares for or loves me. He says I lie to myself and to everyone, and he can't believe a word I say. It's like four good years of our five years together is gone...never existed. He said not one kind thing about me...or to me. He even said he's "waiting for the opportunity [to call the cops on me]"
Oh God...
All of this is my fault. Everything. I don't know how to handle any emotions so it all just comes out as rage... I don't know what else to do. So on top of that, I have to deal with knowing that everything is my fault.
This makes me think of daddy..... makes me angry, makes me hurt more than anything. The anger comes out at Gary or (a couple times) Carolyn or my oldest son or whomever is in firing range - but the hurt...I cry sitting here now, thinking about how the things my father and the many other men did to me, have led me to this and how everyone expects me to just get over it...and I'm trying. I'm trying so hard, and I was told to embrace the people who are there and who love me and care and want me to heal but I don't believe that. I don't believe anyone can love or care or help. I never have. How can someone like me ever be loved?
See Attachment Disorder.When you go through what I went through as an infant and toddler, it happens.
Sounds like a big pity party, doesn't it?
It's not. It's the truth of how it feels to have your wreck of a life, thrown in your face without any compassion for the things that have gotten you there to begin with. You're already walking around with the weight of the world on your shoulders - already trying to save face, already trying to fake it...trying to matter... trying to ignore the enormous shame and guilt and filth that lives inside you - and then someone comes along and shames you, guilts you and makes you feel even more filthy.
I wanted, this morning, to tell him he's a good friend...wanted to try to do something right. Anything right.
But then I heard these horrible things about myself and all I could do was sit there and rock and cry and realize how true they are....
Right now, I'm doing very little to help myself because I feel helpless and hopelessly lost. I have zero energy, I'm so overwhelmed. All my own creation, I know, but Dear God....some compassion would be nice. Just to know that after five years, he still sees some beauty and potential in me.
I've hurt people - people I didn't intend to hurt, but did. I don't know why I did. I have no reason...no explanation, although I'm sure - deep down - there is a reason or two. Perhaps that's my way of pushing people away. I think partly it's because "well, if he'd abandon me, so will you, so fuck you. I won't give you the chance - I'll leave you first!" Who knows? But it's mine to own.
All of this pulls my past into my present and I react from there. I don't know how to stop or control it.
I wish I did... I hate my life the way it is right now, on so many levels.
I am sorry to those I've hurt. The shame I feel over this is profound, and I know an apology is not enough. I'm not a hurtful person, at my core.
At my core, I am a compassionate, giving, loving, affectionate, attentive person. People who've known me for years, know this.
But my core is in defense mode now, covered by the ugly that is me. The ugly that is my life. The ugly that keeps surfacing through this "healing" journey.
Two More Weeks
Found out yesterday that I won't be moving out as soon as I'd thought. I've been shaking ever since. There was a time when I would have taken it as a sign - a time when I was more spiritual - but now, I'm just scared.
Scared because I don't want to go through all these emotions with him. I had another nightmare last night about him, too, but this one wasn't as bad as yesterday, although I feel it's very telling.
In the dream we were at a wedding with a friend from my past - long, long ago who wasn't ever really a friend. I don't know why he was in the dream; he was my ex-husband's friend.
Anyway, it was a serve-yourself-buffet kind of place, very unique. I fell, twice, trying to get food because the building spun around. It was a spinning building (very slowly) so you could see the view outside from all windows.
I fell the first time and was just a little embarrassed.
The second time, though, I fell and my underwear were revealed and I was horrified. I went back to the table where Gary and this old friend were and I was crying.
Gary stood up and he sheltered me from the rest of the crowd, kept talking to me calmly, told me we could go for a ride....just being very soothing.
Then, the friend said, "Gary knows you gap. He's really good with you." - by "gap" I understood him to mean lose time.
It made me cry; I woke up crying.
But with the dream, comes interpretation and I feel like Gary is responsible for showing my underwear to the entire town and then pretending to be this super nice guy (the "friend" in the dream actually raped me years ago - don't know what to make of him being in the dream). That's all I can make of it.
The night before, I dreamt that he was screaming at me and pointing his finger at me, yelling, "I'll control who you see, where you go, what you do, all the way down to what you eat!"
I woke up and vomited.
How can someone stop loving you so quickly?
Scared because I don't want to go through all these emotions with him. I had another nightmare last night about him, too, but this one wasn't as bad as yesterday, although I feel it's very telling.
In the dream we were at a wedding with a friend from my past - long, long ago who wasn't ever really a friend. I don't know why he was in the dream; he was my ex-husband's friend.
Anyway, it was a serve-yourself-buffet kind of place, very unique. I fell, twice, trying to get food because the building spun around. It was a spinning building (very slowly) so you could see the view outside from all windows.
I fell the first time and was just a little embarrassed.
The second time, though, I fell and my underwear were revealed and I was horrified. I went back to the table where Gary and this old friend were and I was crying.
Gary stood up and he sheltered me from the rest of the crowd, kept talking to me calmly, told me we could go for a ride....just being very soothing.
Then, the friend said, "Gary knows you gap. He's really good with you." - by "gap" I understood him to mean lose time.
It made me cry; I woke up crying.
But with the dream, comes interpretation and I feel like Gary is responsible for showing my underwear to the entire town and then pretending to be this super nice guy (the "friend" in the dream actually raped me years ago - don't know what to make of him being in the dream). That's all I can make of it.
The night before, I dreamt that he was screaming at me and pointing his finger at me, yelling, "I'll control who you see, where you go, what you do, all the way down to what you eat!"
I woke up and vomited.
How can someone stop loving you so quickly?
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Shame
Where does it come from?
The images I keep seeing over and over (result of the most recent flashback) cause me such profound shame. But why? Intellectually I know it wasn't my fault.
So why do I feel such a deep-rooted shame over the things I did with my father. And that's not even talking about the rest - the rapes, my brother, my step-father, my uncle.
And now, here I am living this life of hell - certain everyone will say it's all of my own making and I'm sure to some extent that's true. But the shame is compounded now.
This morning I get text messages telling me that people are essentially coming out of the woodwork to talk about things "they've seen me do" - I don't have a clue, but just put me down more, make me feel even more like a piece of shit, unworthy, unlovable, undesirable, un-everything.
Shame.
People who want to see me work on my issues - as if I'm not.
Shame.
I don't talk about it, that's all.
But he keeps putting me down, focusing on one thing, never minding the rest of it...disregarding the rest of it.
My stomach can't handle being here, in this same house, in this place with him. I literally get nauseated. I can't handle it. I love him so much, yet I trust him not at all.
I believed in him.
Just like Daddy.
Just like the rest.
He accuses me of pushing people away. I suppose that's true...but not really. I don't push people away, I just don't let them all the way in. And this is a real good example of why that's so.
People - especially around here - can't handle the truth. The ugly. The nasty. The brutality.
I can't even handle it, and it happened to me!
So if you know someone who's going through the healing process, don't go around talking about them as if you know what they're going through. Trust me: you don't. You can't fathom what it's like to have a constant picture of your father's penis in your mouth, play over and over in your mind as if you're still a child. You can't fathom how enormous a grown man's penis is to a six-year-old girl, pressing against her. You don't know what it's like to be repeatedly held down and gang raped and beaten. It's excruciating. You don't know what I'm healing from, nor the strength and courage it takes to face it.
To talk about me behind my back, as if you have some understanding is an insult. It's also a betrayal of the worst kind.
And you worry about my drinking a six pack? To numb the pain of your giving up? To numb the pain of your constant betrayals? While I'm dealing with this shit?
Really?
Drinking is bad - but it's not as bad as what you've put me through. I don't drink a lot (except once, the other night, had too much - what a disaster that was) and I drink alone, with nobody. I stay away from people. I try so hard to ignore the fact that you're out partying with your friends, everyone's (apparently) talking about my "problems"
Whatever it is they imagine my "problems" to be.
There is no compassion in this town. There is no understanding.
Everything is just hunky dory.
Cruel doesn't begin to describe what you've done to me...and then pretend to care, just adds salt to the wound. So daddy-like.
I love you enough that I would never do this to you. Ever.
Still.
The images I keep seeing over and over (result of the most recent flashback) cause me such profound shame. But why? Intellectually I know it wasn't my fault.
So why do I feel such a deep-rooted shame over the things I did with my father. And that's not even talking about the rest - the rapes, my brother, my step-father, my uncle.
And now, here I am living this life of hell - certain everyone will say it's all of my own making and I'm sure to some extent that's true. But the shame is compounded now.
This morning I get text messages telling me that people are essentially coming out of the woodwork to talk about things "they've seen me do" - I don't have a clue, but just put me down more, make me feel even more like a piece of shit, unworthy, unlovable, undesirable, un-everything.
Shame.
People who want to see me work on my issues - as if I'm not.
Shame.
I don't talk about it, that's all.
But he keeps putting me down, focusing on one thing, never minding the rest of it...disregarding the rest of it.
My stomach can't handle being here, in this same house, in this place with him. I literally get nauseated. I can't handle it. I love him so much, yet I trust him not at all.
I believed in him.
Just like Daddy.
Just like the rest.
He accuses me of pushing people away. I suppose that's true...but not really. I don't push people away, I just don't let them all the way in. And this is a real good example of why that's so.
People - especially around here - can't handle the truth. The ugly. The nasty. The brutality.
I can't even handle it, and it happened to me!
So if you know someone who's going through the healing process, don't go around talking about them as if you know what they're going through. Trust me: you don't. You can't fathom what it's like to have a constant picture of your father's penis in your mouth, play over and over in your mind as if you're still a child. You can't fathom how enormous a grown man's penis is to a six-year-old girl, pressing against her. You don't know what it's like to be repeatedly held down and gang raped and beaten. It's excruciating. You don't know what I'm healing from, nor the strength and courage it takes to face it.
To talk about me behind my back, as if you have some understanding is an insult. It's also a betrayal of the worst kind.
And you worry about my drinking a six pack? To numb the pain of your giving up? To numb the pain of your constant betrayals? While I'm dealing with this shit?
Really?
Drinking is bad - but it's not as bad as what you've put me through. I don't drink a lot (except once, the other night, had too much - what a disaster that was) and I drink alone, with nobody. I stay away from people. I try so hard to ignore the fact that you're out partying with your friends, everyone's (apparently) talking about my "problems"
Whatever it is they imagine my "problems" to be.
There is no compassion in this town. There is no understanding.
Everything is just hunky dory.
Cruel doesn't begin to describe what you've done to me...and then pretend to care, just adds salt to the wound. So daddy-like.
I love you enough that I would never do this to you. Ever.
Still.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Whatever it is
Help me.
I am so scared.
I don't even know where to start. I can't clear my head, can't stop these crazy feelings.
Help me.
I feel so overwhelmed. Grief, rage.
Help me.
Like a ping pong ball, I go back and forth between loving him and hating him.
Help me.
Help me to stop blaming myself and help me to move forward.
Help me, please, because I feel so lost. My body is exhausted. My mind won't stop.
Help me - whatever it is: God, Universe, Nature.... - help me, please. I don't know what to do. I keep making these mistakes but then I shred myself inside for them because I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do.
Help me...please........
I feel so alone.
I am so afraid.
How do I do this?
I am so scared.
I don't even know where to start. I can't clear my head, can't stop these crazy feelings.
Help me.
I feel so overwhelmed. Grief, rage.
Help me.
Like a ping pong ball, I go back and forth between loving him and hating him.
Help me.
Help me to stop blaming myself and help me to move forward.
Help me, please, because I feel so lost. My body is exhausted. My mind won't stop.
Help me - whatever it is: God, Universe, Nature.... - help me, please. I don't know what to do. I keep making these mistakes but then I shred myself inside for them because I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do.
Help me...please........
I feel so alone.
I am so afraid.
How do I do this?
Found out the truth
I went upstairs yesterday to print something because, for some reason, I couldn't print from my computer. I confess: When I went up there, I snooped on his FB. Yeah, yeah I know. I never normally would but the curiosity got the best of me, especially since he's been so secretive.
I'm both glad and shattered that I did.
Where to even start...
First off, he told EVERYONE. I mean, I knew he told people but he'd told me he just told a few friends - which is bad enough - but he told EVERYONE. He told one girl that we've only met twice! I read further, I find out exactly what he's telling them - he's telling everyone that we're splitting up because of my being an alcoholic and this is just so untrue!
As I mentioned in my Confession blog, I have - LATELY - been going to my sitting spot with a six pack because of the flood of emotions that I and my body cannot handle. Prior to this, however, the only time I ever drank was when we went out. That's it. And we rarely went out, because I had gained a lot of weight and didn't want anyone to see me. I was ashamed. Most often, he went out alone, because of this. He seems to be forgetting this. I am so mortified by the things he's telling people but also just blown away that he doesn't even care.
In his messages, even one of my supposed allies was talking about how she hated that I was "drinking away my sorrows" - great, more ammunition for an already distorted point of view!
Yesterday, after I read his messages - found out he lied about the wedding. He didn't go alone, as he'd said he was. No. He took my "friend" and you know, that's not the worst part - he made me feel like shit for not calling and cancelling myself, when he never even did it as he'd said! So he doubly lied about the wedding. He made me feel like the lowest form of life, by accusing me of waiting until the last minute to cancel ("because it costs them money, you know" and all this other bullshit), when I wasn't waiting until the last minute. He lied..lied straight-faced lied.
That one really killed me.
He met another woman, too. A woman he kept trying to get to come join him (wherever he was). She's pretty - going by her picture.
Another "friend" made the comment, "Your house, your rules" and his response was "a-yup!" as if I never even lived here...the same game...it was never my home. It was never home to me.
This - even now - was too much. Too much. I was so devastated and shattered and broken. I called my therapist, cancelled my appointment, and went and bought some beer. Doubled up on my meds.
Sat there at my place, opened a beer, then called my therapist back, got her voicemail. I told her I probably need therapy now more than any other time.
She called me back, I was sobbing. The whole time, Gary is defending himself, won't apologize. Never does. Always blames me. Like a psychopath.
My therapist called me back. I was sobbing. Oh my God the pain I was in is not something I can even utter. She said, "It's okay, honey just calm down. I'll see you in an hour." so I went to therapy. I told her what I'd found. I admitted I was wrong for snooping, but I found out a lot. I found out the truth which seems to now be missing from his vocabulary. Everything he says is a lie. Everything!
I also told her about my confession - about the drinking. She didn't yell at me or even look at me cross-eyed. She understood what I meant when I told her the emotions flood me and the pills don't work. They just flood me, like a tsunami. My skin catches on fire, I sweat, I hyperventilate, I shake and cry. "But," I told her, "When I go to the water and have just one beer, I calm down immediately."
"I understand," she said, not an ounce of judgment in her voice. She was kind, compassionate and understanding. She knew exactly what I meant. She said it's no surprise, given the crisis I am going through right now.
I told her the truth, rather than all this bullshit that he's spreading around about me. She told me it sounds like I have a lot more integrity than he does. And she's right. Because even now - even after all this shit, all these lies, all this indiscretion and the backstabbing exaggerations - I would still not do to him, even HALF of what he's done to me. My therapist said that's because I understand what integrity is.
Clearly, he does not...and never has.
So I ordered a pizza for Trevor and him, picked it up, went home, fed Trevor, called him, told him there was pizza at home, and I left immediately.
He texted me saying I didn't have to dump it and run. Just goes to show how little he understands about the damage he's doing. He'd rather point the finger at me, blame me for everything - which is easy when you're lying and sneaking around, pretending you're this wonderful saint. (Oh he had to mention he got my "car fixed for me" to several people, too). He also told one person for certain my financial situation.
I went to my spot and drank.
I then left and went to the marina because you can get closer to the water at the marina. Lo and Behold, the boat is in the water. He lied AGAIN. Just that morning, he'd said he was going to put her in when he got the money.
I went on the boat to get the restroom key and when I came back, I just sat there on her, reminiscing. I told him she was beautiful - the boat, I mean - and he threatened to call the cops if I didn't get off his boat. Again, there are no words to describe the pain of hearing those words. I took my CDs and my measuring cups and closed her up, leaving in agony. How could he be so cold? I was sobbing on the phone to him - why? Why would you do that? How could you?
"Just get off my boat," he says, "or I'm calling the cops." So cold. He essentially undid, anything special we shared on that boat by doing this. And there was a lot. I was so ....just so blown away. So indescribably blown away.
Text messages ensued and he told me if I didn't stop he would call the cops and have me arrested. I was in so much pain - so, so much pain - with nobody to talk to and he was just making it worse and then threatening to call the cops? I was both hurt and enraged.
I then found out where he was - helping HER move. More sneaking around. I could hear, on the phone, laughter in the background.
There literally are no words to describe what I'm feeling. No words. I am in pieces.
I'm both glad and shattered that I did.
Where to even start...
First off, he told EVERYONE. I mean, I knew he told people but he'd told me he just told a few friends - which is bad enough - but he told EVERYONE. He told one girl that we've only met twice! I read further, I find out exactly what he's telling them - he's telling everyone that we're splitting up because of my being an alcoholic and this is just so untrue!
As I mentioned in my Confession blog, I have - LATELY - been going to my sitting spot with a six pack because of the flood of emotions that I and my body cannot handle. Prior to this, however, the only time I ever drank was when we went out. That's it. And we rarely went out, because I had gained a lot of weight and didn't want anyone to see me. I was ashamed. Most often, he went out alone, because of this. He seems to be forgetting this. I am so mortified by the things he's telling people but also just blown away that he doesn't even care.
In his messages, even one of my supposed allies was talking about how she hated that I was "drinking away my sorrows" - great, more ammunition for an already distorted point of view!
Yesterday, after I read his messages - found out he lied about the wedding. He didn't go alone, as he'd said he was. No. He took my "friend" and you know, that's not the worst part - he made me feel like shit for not calling and cancelling myself, when he never even did it as he'd said! So he doubly lied about the wedding. He made me feel like the lowest form of life, by accusing me of waiting until the last minute to cancel ("because it costs them money, you know" and all this other bullshit), when I wasn't waiting until the last minute. He lied..lied straight-faced lied.
That one really killed me.
He met another woman, too. A woman he kept trying to get to come join him (wherever he was). She's pretty - going by her picture.
Another "friend" made the comment, "Your house, your rules" and his response was "a-yup!" as if I never even lived here...the same game...it was never my home. It was never home to me.
This - even now - was too much. Too much. I was so devastated and shattered and broken. I called my therapist, cancelled my appointment, and went and bought some beer. Doubled up on my meds.
Sat there at my place, opened a beer, then called my therapist back, got her voicemail. I told her I probably need therapy now more than any other time.
She called me back, I was sobbing. The whole time, Gary is defending himself, won't apologize. Never does. Always blames me. Like a psychopath.
My therapist called me back. I was sobbing. Oh my God the pain I was in is not something I can even utter. She said, "It's okay, honey just calm down. I'll see you in an hour." so I went to therapy. I told her what I'd found. I admitted I was wrong for snooping, but I found out a lot. I found out the truth which seems to now be missing from his vocabulary. Everything he says is a lie. Everything!
I also told her about my confession - about the drinking. She didn't yell at me or even look at me cross-eyed. She understood what I meant when I told her the emotions flood me and the pills don't work. They just flood me, like a tsunami. My skin catches on fire, I sweat, I hyperventilate, I shake and cry. "But," I told her, "When I go to the water and have just one beer, I calm down immediately."
"I understand," she said, not an ounce of judgment in her voice. She was kind, compassionate and understanding. She knew exactly what I meant. She said it's no surprise, given the crisis I am going through right now.
I told her the truth, rather than all this bullshit that he's spreading around about me. She told me it sounds like I have a lot more integrity than he does. And she's right. Because even now - even after all this shit, all these lies, all this indiscretion and the backstabbing exaggerations - I would still not do to him, even HALF of what he's done to me. My therapist said that's because I understand what integrity is.
Clearly, he does not...and never has.
So I ordered a pizza for Trevor and him, picked it up, went home, fed Trevor, called him, told him there was pizza at home, and I left immediately.
He texted me saying I didn't have to dump it and run. Just goes to show how little he understands about the damage he's doing. He'd rather point the finger at me, blame me for everything - which is easy when you're lying and sneaking around, pretending you're this wonderful saint. (Oh he had to mention he got my "car fixed for me" to several people, too). He also told one person for certain my financial situation.
I went to my spot and drank.
I then left and went to the marina because you can get closer to the water at the marina. Lo and Behold, the boat is in the water. He lied AGAIN. Just that morning, he'd said he was going to put her in when he got the money.
I went on the boat to get the restroom key and when I came back, I just sat there on her, reminiscing. I told him she was beautiful - the boat, I mean - and he threatened to call the cops if I didn't get off his boat. Again, there are no words to describe the pain of hearing those words. I took my CDs and my measuring cups and closed her up, leaving in agony. How could he be so cold? I was sobbing on the phone to him - why? Why would you do that? How could you?
"Just get off my boat," he says, "or I'm calling the cops." So cold. He essentially undid, anything special we shared on that boat by doing this. And there was a lot. I was so ....just so blown away. So indescribably blown away.
Text messages ensued and he told me if I didn't stop he would call the cops and have me arrested. I was in so much pain - so, so much pain - with nobody to talk to and he was just making it worse and then threatening to call the cops? I was both hurt and enraged.
I then found out where he was - helping HER move. More sneaking around. I could hear, on the phone, laughter in the background.
There literally are no words to describe what I'm feeling. No words. I am in pieces.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Ashamed, alone
This morning, I wrote a blog about a meltdown I had last night. It was ugly. Very ugly.
This morning's blog, though, was unfair and unkind, and it was not emotionally honest, so I removed it.
I lashed out at others instead of looking at myself.
Long story short: I went to a friend's house for dinner and drinks. I was going to leave, but was convinced to have another drink, at which point it was decided we call him to pick me up because it wasn't safe for me to drive. For a moment, I don't remember what happened. The next thing I remember is fighting with my friend in her driveway as I was taking off walking. She wasn't doing anything wrong, that I recall so I don't know what caused my angry outburst. I continued walking down the road and in my mind I hear shouts about how I'm going to get her dog killed (because the dog followed us) but it's very vague.
I don't know what happened next, but I do remember sitting on the side of the road with a woman whom I've met a couple of times but who I couldn't tell you what she was wearing or looked like. She was very soothing. She sat down with me and talked to me and I listened. I didn't hear anything but I listened, cried and rocked. And she rocked with me. She put her arms around me and rocked with me while I cried.
I don't know what I was feeling in that moment. I was certainly feeling more soothed...it was an unusual experience - especially coming from a woman. It's never happened before. I remember her saying she had four kids. Perhaps that's how she knew what to do.
I don't remember going home, but I remember him stopping on the side of the road and picking me up. I don't remember getting home, but I do remember fighting once inside.
This morning, when I woke up, I was angry at everyone else...because it was easier for me to be angry at them, than to face my own shame and humiliation. I went to my sitting spot, sat in the car in the rain and watched the raindrops fall like a waterfall on my windshield. I noticed how the curtain of water was distorting everything and making different things look like they were moving when they were stationary. I also noticed the birds flying and playing - I wondered how do they fly with wet wings? The marvel of nature I suppose.
And then I wondered, "What am I supposed to do?"
And then I thought - be honest.
So I am being honest and I was honest when I texted him and admitted to him that my drinking had gotten out of control but that I couldn't give him that. It had to be my choice, my decision. I was vulnerable; I told him I was afraid, ashamed and I don't know what to do.
His response was "make some changes in your life."
I told him I am. I have made enormous changes in my life. That's what's wrong with me now. Dear God the changes have been huge. But I don't understand what he means when he says this. What do you mean, make changes in my life? What else can I do? I'm so lost, so confused. What do you mean?!
I need help and support. I need understanding and guidance. I don't understand. I feel more alone now than I have in years. My friend is no longer speaking to me and sent me a nasty message this morning, saying as much. She called it "tough love"
I responded with not-so-nice messages to her, too. But as I sat there, looking through the distorted windshield, I realized I had reacted inappropriately and I sent her a message: "I'm sorry for last night. There is no excuse." That's as honest as I can get.
It was entirely my fault.
But there - sitting in the car, alone - my tears fell with the rain and I realized, I can't blame them. Can't blame them for leaving me. Can't blame them for quitting. These irrational outbursts, these unpredictable triggers, the drinking, the being lost...this whole journey it's too much. I know what's in my head, but they don't and they no longer trust me to tell them, nor do they want to hear it.
I think that realization was what made my stomach sink because in that moment, I realized why I am so alone. I blamed myself, hated myself, kicked myself, put myself down. I beat myself up worse than I ever have and worse than they both could, together as they sat together discussing the night before (he went to visit her...which hurt. They have each other, I have no one). Never mind that it's my fault - just saying it hurt.
Alone is such a simple word, for such a profound feeling. I don't even want to be seen or heard or talked to.
I just wanted him to love me and this wanting kills me. He can't show one ounce of love for me now. He says he's in defense mode.
He doesn't see that I am, too. That I was betrayed, too. That I was devastated, too.
I'm so confused, so hurt....so humiliated and ashamed...
....And alone.
This morning's blog, though, was unfair and unkind, and it was not emotionally honest, so I removed it.
I lashed out at others instead of looking at myself.
Long story short: I went to a friend's house for dinner and drinks. I was going to leave, but was convinced to have another drink, at which point it was decided we call him to pick me up because it wasn't safe for me to drive. For a moment, I don't remember what happened. The next thing I remember is fighting with my friend in her driveway as I was taking off walking. She wasn't doing anything wrong, that I recall so I don't know what caused my angry outburst. I continued walking down the road and in my mind I hear shouts about how I'm going to get her dog killed (because the dog followed us) but it's very vague.
I don't know what happened next, but I do remember sitting on the side of the road with a woman whom I've met a couple of times but who I couldn't tell you what she was wearing or looked like. She was very soothing. She sat down with me and talked to me and I listened. I didn't hear anything but I listened, cried and rocked. And she rocked with me. She put her arms around me and rocked with me while I cried.
I don't know what I was feeling in that moment. I was certainly feeling more soothed...it was an unusual experience - especially coming from a woman. It's never happened before. I remember her saying she had four kids. Perhaps that's how she knew what to do.
I don't remember going home, but I remember him stopping on the side of the road and picking me up. I don't remember getting home, but I do remember fighting once inside.
This morning, when I woke up, I was angry at everyone else...because it was easier for me to be angry at them, than to face my own shame and humiliation. I went to my sitting spot, sat in the car in the rain and watched the raindrops fall like a waterfall on my windshield. I noticed how the curtain of water was distorting everything and making different things look like they were moving when they were stationary. I also noticed the birds flying and playing - I wondered how do they fly with wet wings? The marvel of nature I suppose.
And then I wondered, "What am I supposed to do?"
And then I thought - be honest.
So I am being honest and I was honest when I texted him and admitted to him that my drinking had gotten out of control but that I couldn't give him that. It had to be my choice, my decision. I was vulnerable; I told him I was afraid, ashamed and I don't know what to do.
His response was "make some changes in your life."
I told him I am. I have made enormous changes in my life. That's what's wrong with me now. Dear God the changes have been huge. But I don't understand what he means when he says this. What do you mean, make changes in my life? What else can I do? I'm so lost, so confused. What do you mean?!
I need help and support. I need understanding and guidance. I don't understand. I feel more alone now than I have in years. My friend is no longer speaking to me and sent me a nasty message this morning, saying as much. She called it "tough love"
I responded with not-so-nice messages to her, too. But as I sat there, looking through the distorted windshield, I realized I had reacted inappropriately and I sent her a message: "I'm sorry for last night. There is no excuse." That's as honest as I can get.
It was entirely my fault.
But there - sitting in the car, alone - my tears fell with the rain and I realized, I can't blame them. Can't blame them for leaving me. Can't blame them for quitting. These irrational outbursts, these unpredictable triggers, the drinking, the being lost...this whole journey it's too much. I know what's in my head, but they don't and they no longer trust me to tell them, nor do they want to hear it.
I think that realization was what made my stomach sink because in that moment, I realized why I am so alone. I blamed myself, hated myself, kicked myself, put myself down. I beat myself up worse than I ever have and worse than they both could, together as they sat together discussing the night before (he went to visit her...which hurt. They have each other, I have no one). Never mind that it's my fault - just saying it hurt.
Alone is such a simple word, for such a profound feeling. I don't even want to be seen or heard or talked to.
I just wanted him to love me and this wanting kills me. He can't show one ounce of love for me now. He says he's in defense mode.
He doesn't see that I am, too. That I was betrayed, too. That I was devastated, too.
I'm so confused, so hurt....so humiliated and ashamed...
....And alone.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Relationships with DID/PTSD, incest and rape survivors
There's a book called Allies In Healing that's written specifically for partners of victims of childhood sexual abuse.It's an easy-to-read, Q&A format.
One of the questions is [paraphrasing], "Ask yourself if you're ready to be in a relationship with someone who's going through the healing process."
I'm going to tell you something: The healing process is ugly and it gets worse before it gets better. It's confusing, painful, irrational, illogical and it's definitely not like getting over spankings from when you were a kid. There are outbursts, there's rage, there's profound pain, sometimes directed at you - the partner - who is the only outlet there is.
Another of the questions in the book [paraphrasing once again] is, "When will I have my [partner] back?"
This is a good question but there's no solid answer because it honestly depends on a lot of different things: the kind of help your partner is getting, their age, their knowledge, the extent of their abuse, the extent of their willingness to delve deeper and deeper into their own pain. For awhile, it seems like everything is about them and it is...at least, for them. So it seems like you've lost your partner.
You haven't.
Your partner is doing some horrifically challenging work that requires more energy than cutting an acre lawn with fingernail clippers in 120-degree heat. It's hard, hard work.
From personal experience, I can tell you that assuring your partner you'll be there through the journey with her, and then bailing when it gets ugly, does more harm to an already wounded soul. It's better to break it off early, to understand what you're facing (possible self-injury, flashbacks, nightmares/night terrors, panic attacks, unpredictable triggers, etc.). Your partner will also probably try out every possible coping skill they know, including cutting, binging, drinking, substance abuse, and a host of other things, before they are taught - through therapy and continued work - that there are healthy ways to cope. During this time, your partner won't know who or what to trust...for them, it's like trying to learn to walk all over again, but with leg braces and pain.
It's better to get to know about these things and then say, "I don't think I can do this," in the beginning, than to wait when your partner is most vulnerable and then quit on them. It's like being abandoned all over again. It's a horrid, wretched, terrible feeling that undoes a lot of work your partner has already done.
With PTSD, here's what happens: You may say, do, act, smell, or otherwise do something that triggers a subconscious memory for your partner, and boom! Out of the blue, without either of you knowing it, you're being screamed at, or they've shut down completely, or they go into panic mode, or they self-injure. This is not your fault and is not aimed at you, nor is it your partner's fault. It is a Post-Traumatic response, triggered by the amygdala in the brain that stores memories, and it's hair-trigger quick. That's why I say it's not your partner's fault: They don't even know what's happening until it's happening and they won't know how to stop it until they've gotten through the crisis stage (more about the crisis stage can be read in the book The Courage To Heal). The crisis stage can last anywhere from weeks to months to years. Again, I believe it depends on a lot of the same categories as mentioned above.
With DID, sometimes different "parts" (or "alters") emerge out of sheer protection mode, when feeling threatened and the partner will black out - not remember - what was said or what happened (please note that DID is not as dramatic as the media and movies has portrayed it. Some people describe "switching" as a simple mood swing because it can be so well-hidden). This sounds irregular - and it is - but it's a natural structure and function of the brain for someone who's experienced complex trauma, especially as a child. Please be compassionate when this happens. Again, it's not personal. These "parts" were a brilliant, creative way for your partner to survive unbearable abuse and to protect them from experiencing the pain of it.
I read - I'm not sure where - that very few relationships survive this stage. I was certain, though, that my partner and I would make it. He read the book, Allies in Healing, and assured me he would not leave.
Unfortunately, that turned out to not be the case - the same as in many, many other books and autobiographies of survivors I've read. It's a sad plight, a sad and vicious cycle that makes partners the secondary victims of the abuse suffered by the survivor. It is, after all, difficult to see someone you once loved, crumple and crumble into something you never thought you'd see. I understand this, but leaving them when they're crumpled and crumbled and far from their best, is less healthy and helpful for them, than it is if you do it in the beginning.
Some tips:
Please.
One of the questions is [paraphrasing], "Ask yourself if you're ready to be in a relationship with someone who's going through the healing process."
I'm going to tell you something: The healing process is ugly and it gets worse before it gets better. It's confusing, painful, irrational, illogical and it's definitely not like getting over spankings from when you were a kid. There are outbursts, there's rage, there's profound pain, sometimes directed at you - the partner - who is the only outlet there is.
Another of the questions in the book [paraphrasing once again] is, "When will I have my [partner] back?"
This is a good question but there's no solid answer because it honestly depends on a lot of different things: the kind of help your partner is getting, their age, their knowledge, the extent of their abuse, the extent of their willingness to delve deeper and deeper into their own pain. For awhile, it seems like everything is about them and it is...at least, for them. So it seems like you've lost your partner.
You haven't.
Your partner is doing some horrifically challenging work that requires more energy than cutting an acre lawn with fingernail clippers in 120-degree heat. It's hard, hard work.
From personal experience, I can tell you that assuring your partner you'll be there through the journey with her, and then bailing when it gets ugly, does more harm to an already wounded soul. It's better to break it off early, to understand what you're facing (possible self-injury, flashbacks, nightmares/night terrors, panic attacks, unpredictable triggers, etc.). Your partner will also probably try out every possible coping skill they know, including cutting, binging, drinking, substance abuse, and a host of other things, before they are taught - through therapy and continued work - that there are healthy ways to cope. During this time, your partner won't know who or what to trust...for them, it's like trying to learn to walk all over again, but with leg braces and pain.
It's better to get to know about these things and then say, "I don't think I can do this," in the beginning, than to wait when your partner is most vulnerable and then quit on them. It's like being abandoned all over again. It's a horrid, wretched, terrible feeling that undoes a lot of work your partner has already done.
With PTSD, here's what happens: You may say, do, act, smell, or otherwise do something that triggers a subconscious memory for your partner, and boom! Out of the blue, without either of you knowing it, you're being screamed at, or they've shut down completely, or they go into panic mode, or they self-injure. This is not your fault and is not aimed at you, nor is it your partner's fault. It is a Post-Traumatic response, triggered by the amygdala in the brain that stores memories, and it's hair-trigger quick. That's why I say it's not your partner's fault: They don't even know what's happening until it's happening and they won't know how to stop it until they've gotten through the crisis stage (more about the crisis stage can be read in the book The Courage To Heal). The crisis stage can last anywhere from weeks to months to years. Again, I believe it depends on a lot of the same categories as mentioned above.
With DID, sometimes different "parts" (or "alters") emerge out of sheer protection mode, when feeling threatened and the partner will black out - not remember - what was said or what happened (please note that DID is not as dramatic as the media and movies has portrayed it. Some people describe "switching" as a simple mood swing because it can be so well-hidden). This sounds irregular - and it is - but it's a natural structure and function of the brain for someone who's experienced complex trauma, especially as a child. Please be compassionate when this happens. Again, it's not personal. These "parts" were a brilliant, creative way for your partner to survive unbearable abuse and to protect them from experiencing the pain of it.
I read - I'm not sure where - that very few relationships survive this stage. I was certain, though, that my partner and I would make it. He read the book, Allies in Healing, and assured me he would not leave.
Unfortunately, that turned out to not be the case - the same as in many, many other books and autobiographies of survivors I've read. It's a sad plight, a sad and vicious cycle that makes partners the secondary victims of the abuse suffered by the survivor. It is, after all, difficult to see someone you once loved, crumple and crumble into something you never thought you'd see. I understand this, but leaving them when they're crumpled and crumbled and far from their best, is less healthy and helpful for them, than it is if you do it in the beginning.
Some tips:
- Be compassionate - don't do things you know are going to trigger your partner, especially if you're breaking up because emotions are all out of control for a survivor in crisis mode.
- Remember - Remember that this person who is now completely different from the one who you met and fell in love with, is still the same person, just going through an inhuman amount of pain.
- Be patient - Know that the break-up is going to add salt to a gaping wound that's been opened by the work they've been doing. It's going to be un-utterably painful for them. Obviously it will be difficult for you, as well, but referring to tip number one, remember they're the ones in the crisis stage.
- Be discrete - Don't go out telling all your friends that you're breaking up with your partner because of all the problems she has, or - worse - tell everyone/anyone about the problems she's going through. A survivors journey is extremely personal and sharing it with anyone is a horrible betrayal.
- Be rational - Know that this person who is going through the crisis stage and reacting to your leaving, is reacting from a place of a deep wound. They are, however, still capable of love and understanding, if treated with dignity, respect and compassion. For the most part, they're not going to go out and cause a scene, rob you, steal from you, stalk you or otherwise harm you as long as you - you the one not going through the crisis stage - can keep these things in mind.
- Be honest - Remember you're the one who promised to stay, promised not to leave them as they went through this journey and then - just like they experienced probably many times before - you decided to abandon them in the midst of a crisis, when they believed in you. Although this is sadly understandable, it is wholly unkind and unfair to the survivor. They now have fresh feelings of shame, guilt, humiliation, and abandonment they have to deal with on top of what they're already coping with.
Please.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Public Breakdown
Yesterday, I went to the store. We were texting - I can't remember what about - and he informed me that he'd told our two friends "weeks ago" that I would not be attending their wedding that we were both invited to.
The last time he and I discussed it, his response was "let's just table it for now," so I did, thinking maybe we could be civil enough to work it out - or even go separately. Whatever. I certainly would have no problem honoring their wedding day and I was looking forward to it.
But yesterday, he told me this and I was crushed.
Let me see if I can articulate it.
First of all, he never told me he didn't want me to go, never anything since the "table it" conversation. And yesterday was the first mention that he'd told them. Why didn't he tell me when he'd told them?? WHY??
Second of all, I know very little about wedding protocol and he knows this. I've been with him for five years, and in those five years I went to the only two weddings I've ever been to in my life, so he knows I don't know much about them.
Third, and most importantly, I felt so violated. It was my job to call her and tell her I wouldn't be coming, not his, because the way I would have said it would have been way different than what he told them (apparently). He accused me of waiting until the last minute but that's because he never said 'no' and also because I didn't know you had to do it in advance. If I had, I certainly would have. But he didn't even have the courtesy to tell me he was going to tell them, to give me the opportunity to do it.
I broke down right there in the store, shaking, crying, nauseated. I didn't even care who was around or who saw me. I was just devastated that he would do something so cold and cruel. Treat me like someone he hasn't ever known; like an asshole. Make me look like an asshole for not calling her and letting her know.
I did end up calling her - got her voicemail. I told her how happy I was for her, and that I know she's going to be a beautiful bride and that I'm sorry I can't be there because of the circumstances but that I know it's just going to be perfect...and hopefully I'll see her around.
I got no response.
He absolutely has ruined my life here.
He also told me yesterday that if there are any "outbursts" or mentions of suicide, he was going to call the cops immediately. (Yes he read my suicide ideation blog) but it doesn't matter because he still has this block in his mind of how to care for and love someone, authentically. It's all about him, but he covers it up by "letting me stay here" and "getting my car fixed" (which was OUR car for over a year and which he never got fixed when it should've been, because it didn't break down from me using it; it broke down from US using it). But then he just keeps shaming and shaming, triggering, gaslighting, and then says I'm crazy when I react out of sheer panic and pain. It's like he wants me to be locked up... and I don't even want to be here. I'm trying to get out and I'm doing all I can do! Can't he just be a little compassionate??
The last time he and I discussed it, his response was "let's just table it for now," so I did, thinking maybe we could be civil enough to work it out - or even go separately. Whatever. I certainly would have no problem honoring their wedding day and I was looking forward to it.
But yesterday, he told me this and I was crushed.
Let me see if I can articulate it.
First of all, he never told me he didn't want me to go, never anything since the "table it" conversation. And yesterday was the first mention that he'd told them. Why didn't he tell me when he'd told them?? WHY??
Second of all, I know very little about wedding protocol and he knows this. I've been with him for five years, and in those five years I went to the only two weddings I've ever been to in my life, so he knows I don't know much about them.
Third, and most importantly, I felt so violated. It was my job to call her and tell her I wouldn't be coming, not his, because the way I would have said it would have been way different than what he told them (apparently). He accused me of waiting until the last minute but that's because he never said 'no' and also because I didn't know you had to do it in advance. If I had, I certainly would have. But he didn't even have the courtesy to tell me he was going to tell them, to give me the opportunity to do it.
I broke down right there in the store, shaking, crying, nauseated. I didn't even care who was around or who saw me. I was just devastated that he would do something so cold and cruel. Treat me like someone he hasn't ever known; like an asshole. Make me look like an asshole for not calling her and letting her know.
I did end up calling her - got her voicemail. I told her how happy I was for her, and that I know she's going to be a beautiful bride and that I'm sorry I can't be there because of the circumstances but that I know it's just going to be perfect...and hopefully I'll see her around.
I got no response.
He absolutely has ruined my life here.
He also told me yesterday that if there are any "outbursts" or mentions of suicide, he was going to call the cops immediately. (Yes he read my suicide ideation blog) but it doesn't matter because he still has this block in his mind of how to care for and love someone, authentically. It's all about him, but he covers it up by "letting me stay here" and "getting my car fixed" (which was OUR car for over a year and which he never got fixed when it should've been, because it didn't break down from me using it; it broke down from US using it). But then he just keeps shaming and shaming, triggering, gaslighting, and then says I'm crazy when I react out of sheer panic and pain. It's like he wants me to be locked up... and I don't even want to be here. I'm trying to get out and I'm doing all I can do! Can't he just be a little compassionate??
Friday, June 22, 2012
Almost Suicide
"Almost Suicide"...suicide ideation..It happened to me last night. Only, there's way more to it than that.
Last night, I was experiencing this. I was triggered - I know I was triggered because I don't remember half of it now - but I know it was my ex boyfriend who triggered me. An argument ensued. I'm reading over some of the text messages sent. He said I was sleeping in "HIS bed" - which is actually a sleeper sofa in my room. But I think that was only part of the trigger. The big trigger was going out. I was planning on possibly going out with a friend to a place me and my ex often went to, to sing karaoke. When I told him this, he said he wouldn't go. I think this was the biggest trigger.
After my flashback the other day, the big flashing red neon sign in my life is "SHAME!"; since that flashback, I can't even brush my teeth without gagging. I put my partial (tooth) in and gag every time. I take my meds, and almost vomit (actually did vomit this morning).
So feeling like he was ashamed to be seen with me in public (he's said as much), triggered me further and I was out of control. I know- from the texts- he said I hit and yelled at him, but I defended myself saying I'd shoved him. It's not uncommon for him to blow things WAY out of proportion. He always, always exaggerates. I couldn't tell you what happened but I do remember leaving. I took all my pills with me, so desperately broken-hearted that he would go to "our place" and piss on it like that. So hurt. In one text, I said "Go out to your precious bars and, like always, pretend I don't exist. Because I don't."
Anyway at some point I sent him a threatening text message about suicide.Something about drink all your happy drinks with "our friends" (your friends) I'll be dead - something like that.
We talked about this weeks ago - about how a person can be talked down, how I can be talked down, and need to be. This is what you do with someone who feels they can't take anymore. You show love, concern and you talk to them. Yes it takes time, but that's what you do.You're gentle and kind and you just care. Just talk to them. I know this from both my own experiences, and experiences I've had with others.
People suffering from suicide ideation do not want to die; they want a reason or reasons not to die. Mostly, I believe they just need to feel loved, like they matter. It takes a lot of emotion - authentic emotion - to do that. It takes time. It takes attention - honest attention.
So last night, I reached out to a friend of mine but my texts weren't going through to her, for some reason.
Meanwhile, my ex calls the police. Smart move, asshole. Make me feel MORE shame. Create a circus - have friggin state trooper cars surrounding me, picking at my stuff, asking me questions, as I sat parked by the water. They didn't even want to let me take my car home (insisted I go home - the last place in the WORLD I wanted to be). Humiliating. I told them I was not going to be trapped in that house without my car. Told them they were welcome to follow me home.
So I came home, he left. Went out to his precious bar, as if his work was done. He called the cops. I told him he was a coward and even used the "P" word and yelled at him for forgetting our talk - that I'd told him I could be talked down. He forgot. Not only did he forget, but he did the stupidest thing he could've done.
As if - AS IF - I would EVER tell the cops (or anyone with the power to lock me up) that I'm suicidal? People with suicide ideation aren't STUPID, they're HURTING and they're AFRAID and they're most likely TRIGGERED.
I told the cops everything they wanted to hear. How do I know what they needed to hear? Because I was raised in the system and I know all the right things to say. That's how. And if - IF - they had taken me to a crisis center, I'd have done the same thing there - I'd have told them all the right things. Just because I'm depressed, triggered and hurting, doesn't mean I'm stupid.
But my trust in my ex is gone. It was already broken, now it's completely gone. I see him as an emotional coward, unwilling or unintelligent or both, to talk me through a crisis, despite my telling him that's what he should do, if it ever happened again. But he's so wrapped up in himself and his "stuff" ....I never mattered. That hurts. I am still bitterly angry as I write this. So deeply hurt. So deeply wounded. I didn't matter enough for him to listen. I didn't matter enough for him to talk to me. I'm sleeping on "his" bed (the sofa sleeper) - as if I'm just some stranger who hasn't spent the past five years with him, supporting him, caring about him. Instead, he had to call the cops - have someone else take care of his problem.
Don't do this to people who you love, who are going through suicide ideation - in fact, you don't even have to love them; just care enough about another human being to take time out of your life to talk to them - they just need to matter, just need to be heard. The worst thing you could do is call the cops or a hospital and have them locked up. That just compounds the shame they're already feeling.
Last night, I was experiencing this. I was triggered - I know I was triggered because I don't remember half of it now - but I know it was my ex boyfriend who triggered me. An argument ensued. I'm reading over some of the text messages sent. He said I was sleeping in "HIS bed" - which is actually a sleeper sofa in my room. But I think that was only part of the trigger. The big trigger was going out. I was planning on possibly going out with a friend to a place me and my ex often went to, to sing karaoke. When I told him this, he said he wouldn't go. I think this was the biggest trigger.
After my flashback the other day, the big flashing red neon sign in my life is "SHAME!"; since that flashback, I can't even brush my teeth without gagging. I put my partial (tooth) in and gag every time. I take my meds, and almost vomit (actually did vomit this morning).
So feeling like he was ashamed to be seen with me in public (he's said as much), triggered me further and I was out of control. I know- from the texts- he said I hit and yelled at him, but I defended myself saying I'd shoved him. It's not uncommon for him to blow things WAY out of proportion. He always, always exaggerates. I couldn't tell you what happened but I do remember leaving. I took all my pills with me, so desperately broken-hearted that he would go to "our place" and piss on it like that. So hurt. In one text, I said "Go out to your precious bars and, like always, pretend I don't exist. Because I don't."
Anyway at some point I sent him a threatening text message about suicide.Something about drink all your happy drinks with "our friends" (your friends) I'll be dead - something like that.
We talked about this weeks ago - about how a person can be talked down, how I can be talked down, and need to be. This is what you do with someone who feels they can't take anymore. You show love, concern and you talk to them. Yes it takes time, but that's what you do.You're gentle and kind and you just care. Just talk to them. I know this from both my own experiences, and experiences I've had with others.
People suffering from suicide ideation do not want to die; they want a reason or reasons not to die. Mostly, I believe they just need to feel loved, like they matter. It takes a lot of emotion - authentic emotion - to do that. It takes time. It takes attention - honest attention.
So last night, I reached out to a friend of mine but my texts weren't going through to her, for some reason.
Meanwhile, my ex calls the police. Smart move, asshole. Make me feel MORE shame. Create a circus - have friggin state trooper cars surrounding me, picking at my stuff, asking me questions, as I sat parked by the water. They didn't even want to let me take my car home (insisted I go home - the last place in the WORLD I wanted to be). Humiliating. I told them I was not going to be trapped in that house without my car. Told them they were welcome to follow me home.
So I came home, he left. Went out to his precious bar, as if his work was done. He called the cops. I told him he was a coward and even used the "P" word and yelled at him for forgetting our talk - that I'd told him I could be talked down. He forgot. Not only did he forget, but he did the stupidest thing he could've done.
As if - AS IF - I would EVER tell the cops (or anyone with the power to lock me up) that I'm suicidal? People with suicide ideation aren't STUPID, they're HURTING and they're AFRAID and they're most likely TRIGGERED.
I told the cops everything they wanted to hear. How do I know what they needed to hear? Because I was raised in the system and I know all the right things to say. That's how. And if - IF - they had taken me to a crisis center, I'd have done the same thing there - I'd have told them all the right things. Just because I'm depressed, triggered and hurting, doesn't mean I'm stupid.
But my trust in my ex is gone. It was already broken, now it's completely gone. I see him as an emotional coward, unwilling or unintelligent or both, to talk me through a crisis, despite my telling him that's what he should do, if it ever happened again. But he's so wrapped up in himself and his "stuff" ....I never mattered. That hurts. I am still bitterly angry as I write this. So deeply hurt. So deeply wounded. I didn't matter enough for him to listen. I didn't matter enough for him to talk to me. I'm sleeping on "his" bed (the sofa sleeper) - as if I'm just some stranger who hasn't spent the past five years with him, supporting him, caring about him. Instead, he had to call the cops - have someone else take care of his problem.
Don't do this to people who you love, who are going through suicide ideation - in fact, you don't even have to love them; just care enough about another human being to take time out of your life to talk to them - they just need to matter, just need to be heard. The worst thing you could do is call the cops or a hospital and have them locked up. That just compounds the shame they're already feeling.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
My Confession: Coping and Healing
Lately - for the past week or so - I've been going to a spot where I can sit in my car and watch the boats going up and down the river. I take a six-pack with me. It started when the emotions ran too hot at home, and I couldn't cope.
Better than all the anti-anxiety pills I have (and I have a lot), drinking down the first beer stopped the pain.
By the third beer, I'm only crying intermittently, when thoughts of what's happening and how hopeless or helpless I feel, cross my mind.
This is a coping mechanism...it is not alcoholism.
I've had two therapists and more than one book explain that the coping mechanisms for incest/rape survivors run the gamut:
But what my therapist said really helped me. She said: These coping skills should be honored for the service they provide you while you're going through this. And she's right.
Now, I'm not saying that sitting at home every night and getting plastered is acceptable, nor is abusive, destructive behavior...but I am saying that people who are partners, family and friends of survivors need to understand that these coping skills are simply a part of the journey. For me, lately, I've been coping with SHAME.
****Trigger warning*****
After a recent horrifying flashback, brought on by my ex, shame bubbled up in my throat and I thought I would vomit. I could clearly see and feel my father's penis touching my mouth. I could literally feel the soft flesh against my lips - it looked so big, in this flashback - it was like it was happening all over again and I felt it all over me, like spiders crawling all over my skin. I couldn't breathe. All I could see was his penis, all I could feel was it going in my mouth, and all I could think was, SHAME SHAME SHAME!
****End Trigger****
This catapulted me into the past few days of nothing but shame. A hollow woman feeling this deep-down pain and shame and it's shadowed by what's happening in my life. Even though intellectually I know it's from my past, this shame is pulled into the present and I live with it here, and now, unable to emotionally connect it to my past.
So I drink a six-pack by the water when the emotions get too much. It's the only thing that works. The ONLY thing.
Being chastised and criticized for doing the only thing you know to do, to stop the pain is just compounding the shame that survivors already hold. Yes they know it's bad to cut or drink or use drugs. It's bad, bad bad and I'm a bad, bad, bad person if I do it so I better not tell anyone or show anyone. Right?
But the worst thing people can do is shame a survivor for their coping techniques. The best thing they can do is understand them and know, these are not intended as self-destructive behaviors. They are self-preservation maneuvers. They are not meant to harm anyone else (which is why most of it is done in secret or, conversely, done blatantly to push others away for the same reason - to avoid being chastised).
Self-abuse in all forms is bad. Survivors know this.
But until they've gone through the steps and therapy to know and learn better coping skills, it's all they have.
Better than all the anti-anxiety pills I have (and I have a lot), drinking down the first beer stopped the pain.
By the third beer, I'm only crying intermittently, when thoughts of what's happening and how hopeless or helpless I feel, cross my mind.
This is a coping mechanism...it is not alcoholism.
I've had two therapists and more than one book explain that the coping mechanisms for incest/rape survivors run the gamut:
- binging/eating disorders
- cutting
- drinking
- substance abuse
- self-sabotaging
But what my therapist said really helped me. She said: These coping skills should be honored for the service they provide you while you're going through this. And she's right.
Now, I'm not saying that sitting at home every night and getting plastered is acceptable, nor is abusive, destructive behavior...but I am saying that people who are partners, family and friends of survivors need to understand that these coping skills are simply a part of the journey. For me, lately, I've been coping with SHAME.
****Trigger warning*****
After a recent horrifying flashback, brought on by my ex, shame bubbled up in my throat and I thought I would vomit. I could clearly see and feel my father's penis touching my mouth. I could literally feel the soft flesh against my lips - it looked so big, in this flashback - it was like it was happening all over again and I felt it all over me, like spiders crawling all over my skin. I couldn't breathe. All I could see was his penis, all I could feel was it going in my mouth, and all I could think was, SHAME SHAME SHAME!
****End Trigger****
This catapulted me into the past few days of nothing but shame. A hollow woman feeling this deep-down pain and shame and it's shadowed by what's happening in my life. Even though intellectually I know it's from my past, this shame is pulled into the present and I live with it here, and now, unable to emotionally connect it to my past.
So I drink a six-pack by the water when the emotions get too much. It's the only thing that works. The ONLY thing.
Being chastised and criticized for doing the only thing you know to do, to stop the pain is just compounding the shame that survivors already hold. Yes they know it's bad to cut or drink or use drugs. It's bad, bad bad and I'm a bad, bad, bad person if I do it so I better not tell anyone or show anyone. Right?
But the worst thing people can do is shame a survivor for their coping techniques. The best thing they can do is understand them and know, these are not intended as self-destructive behaviors. They are self-preservation maneuvers. They are not meant to harm anyone else (which is why most of it is done in secret or, conversely, done blatantly to push others away for the same reason - to avoid being chastised).
Self-abuse in all forms is bad. Survivors know this.
But until they've gone through the steps and therapy to know and learn better coping skills, it's all they have.
More Confused
I was once told, "You can take the girl outta the ghetto, but you can't take the ghetto outta the girl," by someone who said they loved me.It dug, deep. It hurt because there I was, desperately trying to change my life, move ahead, take some steps up. And then they said that to me.
I realized, in that moment, they didn't - couldn't - love me. I wrote them off, because I couldn't take the pain and the drama. It wasn't what I wanted or needed in my life, as I tried starting anew.
Over the past three weeks, I've been the victim of gaslighting repeatedly. It doesn't help when you already think you're going insane and everything in the world, is your fault and you're wrong and dirty and unlovable. My emotions are so out of whack - I can't help that I cannot shut them off. I just can't...although strangely enough, sometimes I can. I just can't in this position because of the gaslighting.
I recently talked with the person who said those terrible words to me long ago and they were so understanding - they "got it!" - and they were confused about why he doesn't get it. What's so hard about it?
It made me even more confused....that someone who'd once wounded me so deeply, could now be so supportive and know so much and understand so much. They were completely validating and understood.
And yet I also have this man who proclaims to love me, telling lies about me - denying that he is - and then telling me I'm pushing him away because of my reaction to his actions. That's gaslighting. This man who says he loves me but it's moving into hate, because of my reactions to his coldness and his irresponsibility. That's gaslighting. I apologize over and over, yet hear nothing from him about the wrongs he's done to me, and he accuses me of doing things "for affect" and being manipulative and using him, when all I want is to try to work things out, and I get angry and hurt....only to have him shut me off and tell me I'm out of control or I'm making it worse. That's gaslighting.
But me - stubborn me - I keep banging my head against that same wall...wishing I could fix things, knowing they'll never be the same because he keeps doing these things to me, while proclaiming his innocence to others, telling everyone what a great, civil, wonderful guy he is.
I have a friend who says "we don't need a man" and she's right, under normal circumstances, but this is different. This is a five-year relationship that's ending because of my disorders. I needed him. He promised not to give up. I don't take promises lightly. I'm amazed he did. I'm so hurt...my trust is so wounded. Nothing in any of this makes sense. He's not making sense. He says one thing, does another.
He has been going out for weeks telling everyone we're breaking up (while I was stuck in the house, unable to defend myself) and other things that are nobody's business but mine. Yet, then he comes home and talks about possible reconciliation which means he's been lying all along. He never meant to reconcile or he'd have said "well, we're working on it..." or "We're having some problems, but hoping to get through it..." no it was just "we're splitting up" or "she's leaving me" (another gaslighting - you can't threaten me and bully me and expect me to want to stay).
He never tried. He doesn't know how to love. For him, love is being generous. That's not love. That's NOT love!
So then, what is love? For me this love has been utterly confusing, hurtful, untrustworthy, breakable, frightening and unkind. Mostly, it's confusing. I feel like, personally, if my partner had these disorders, I would read and learn everything I possibly could to know more about them, so I could be a better, more supportive partner. I never mattered enough for him to do this.
I never mattered enough...which makes the question, "What's wrong with you?" run through my head like a train, over and over and over again - not for the first time. It's always there. All of those toxic implanted beliefs from being Daddy's little girl and later being raped so many times, those "you are dirty" and "you are worthless" and "Nobody could ever love you" messages are now inflamed, pounding inside my skull, crawling under my skin...and he's only proving them right.
I just can't believe any of this.
I realized, in that moment, they didn't - couldn't - love me. I wrote them off, because I couldn't take the pain and the drama. It wasn't what I wanted or needed in my life, as I tried starting anew.
Over the past three weeks, I've been the victim of gaslighting repeatedly. It doesn't help when you already think you're going insane and everything in the world, is your fault and you're wrong and dirty and unlovable. My emotions are so out of whack - I can't help that I cannot shut them off. I just can't...although strangely enough, sometimes I can. I just can't in this position because of the gaslighting.
I recently talked with the person who said those terrible words to me long ago and they were so understanding - they "got it!" - and they were confused about why he doesn't get it. What's so hard about it?
It made me even more confused....that someone who'd once wounded me so deeply, could now be so supportive and know so much and understand so much. They were completely validating and understood.
And yet I also have this man who proclaims to love me, telling lies about me - denying that he is - and then telling me I'm pushing him away because of my reaction to his actions. That's gaslighting. This man who says he loves me but it's moving into hate, because of my reactions to his coldness and his irresponsibility. That's gaslighting. I apologize over and over, yet hear nothing from him about the wrongs he's done to me, and he accuses me of doing things "for affect" and being manipulative and using him, when all I want is to try to work things out, and I get angry and hurt....only to have him shut me off and tell me I'm out of control or I'm making it worse. That's gaslighting.
But me - stubborn me - I keep banging my head against that same wall...wishing I could fix things, knowing they'll never be the same because he keeps doing these things to me, while proclaiming his innocence to others, telling everyone what a great, civil, wonderful guy he is.
I have a friend who says "we don't need a man" and she's right, under normal circumstances, but this is different. This is a five-year relationship that's ending because of my disorders. I needed him. He promised not to give up. I don't take promises lightly. I'm amazed he did. I'm so hurt...my trust is so wounded. Nothing in any of this makes sense. He's not making sense. He says one thing, does another.
He has been going out for weeks telling everyone we're breaking up (while I was stuck in the house, unable to defend myself) and other things that are nobody's business but mine. Yet, then he comes home and talks about possible reconciliation which means he's been lying all along. He never meant to reconcile or he'd have said "well, we're working on it..." or "We're having some problems, but hoping to get through it..." no it was just "we're splitting up" or "she's leaving me" (another gaslighting - you can't threaten me and bully me and expect me to want to stay).
He never tried. He doesn't know how to love. For him, love is being generous. That's not love. That's NOT love!
So then, what is love? For me this love has been utterly confusing, hurtful, untrustworthy, breakable, frightening and unkind. Mostly, it's confusing. I feel like, personally, if my partner had these disorders, I would read and learn everything I possibly could to know more about them, so I could be a better, more supportive partner. I never mattered enough for him to do this.
I never mattered enough...which makes the question, "What's wrong with you?" run through my head like a train, over and over and over again - not for the first time. It's always there. All of those toxic implanted beliefs from being Daddy's little girl and later being raped so many times, those "you are dirty" and "you are worthless" and "Nobody could ever love you" messages are now inflamed, pounding inside my skull, crawling under my skin...and he's only proving them right.
I just can't believe any of this.
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Last Night
It's happened a lot lately: I wake up in the middle of a dead sleep, heart pounding, head thrashing, sweating, but I have no memory of any nightmare, although I know there must've been one.
Last night, I woke up, went downstairs to get an anti-anxiety pill and a sleeping pill. I came back upstairs, took the pills, heart still pounding. What did I dream that would cause me such panic? I wish I could remember.
I walked upstairs, quietly.
I stood there and watched you sleep. You were so peaceful, snoring, of course. T.V. on, of course. I reached over and turned off the T.V. You didn't even budge.
I had this incredible urge to just climb under the covers with you - just to feel the comfort of closeness, just to feel safe. But instead I stood and cried.
I held my stomach, still turning from the panic but beginning to subside. The ache in my heart was now dominating. How your leg spread over to where I once used to lie. Even in sleep, I don't exist for you anymore.
I needed you. But I couldn't say it.
Instead, I whispered, "I love you."
You didn't rouse.
I left you with your dreams.
Last night, I woke up, went downstairs to get an anti-anxiety pill and a sleeping pill. I came back upstairs, took the pills, heart still pounding. What did I dream that would cause me such panic? I wish I could remember.
I walked upstairs, quietly.
I stood there and watched you sleep. You were so peaceful, snoring, of course. T.V. on, of course. I reached over and turned off the T.V. You didn't even budge.
I had this incredible urge to just climb under the covers with you - just to feel the comfort of closeness, just to feel safe. But instead I stood and cried.
I held my stomach, still turning from the panic but beginning to subside. The ache in my heart was now dominating. How your leg spread over to where I once used to lie. Even in sleep, I don't exist for you anymore.
I needed you. But I couldn't say it.
Instead, I whispered, "I love you."
You didn't rouse.
I left you with your dreams.
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