Intensity in Love

My name is Cristina D. Johnson.

My session, today, was heavy. I was already shook up when I got there. I got some news and instantly started shaking, crying and got a headache, simultaneously. Funny thing is, it was good news, but it was so damn overwhelming. So I showed up to see Michelle very shaky an disoriented.

"Let's take a minute," she said, "Take a couple deep breaths."

I tried...felt silly. I always feel silly when someone says, "Breathe....take a deep breath..." (I even feel awkward doing it for the doctor, now that I think about it. Weird).

Anyway, as I predicted, she asked what my take was, on the dream I had about my father. I told her I was completely, absolutely lost. I had no idea. This surprised her.

The session kind of went all over the place - she triggered me once....one of those snapshots, like a lightning-fast emotional response to something she said, and then poof it was gone.

"What did you say?" I asked her.

She looked at me confused. I was confused. I started crying. I was reminded of something, but couldn't remember what I had been reminded of. It's so strange how those flashbacks work.

"What did it bring up for you?" she asked.

"I don't remember. What was it you said?"

She said she was talking about making mistakes ....

And I snatched a kleenex from the box on the table, where she'd set it for me. "He was so cruel," I whimpered. "So cruel." I started shaking.

"Punishment...that's what it brought up. There were no mistakes. You couldn't make mistakes," I told her, but without the emotional connection. I shed a few tears and it was gone. All that was left was the memory, devoid of any attachment. "He once punished me for holding the cat wrong."

Then we talked about re-parenting.....Cindy is doing a marvelous job at this. "Ron won't be able to re-parent you," she said. I suspect this is because of the extent of the abuse I went through with my father. Plus Ron also, unfortunately, has some of the same traits as my father....tall, powerful, and he has a way about him that's very much like my birth father. I am trying to work past that....as is Ron, to his credit.

And then...the most painful of all: the dream.

First she said she was very surprised that no therapist had ever spoken to me about sexual dreams about fathers who molest their daughters. "It's very common," she explained.

She also told me it's not uncommon to experience arousal when being molested. It's a physiological experience that the body cannot control. It's clearly more obvious for boys/men because, well, you know...it's obvious if they're aroused. But not so much for girls.

"I don't remember ever feeling aroused," I told her. "The only good feelings I recall are those of knowing that I was doing something right...doing something to make Daddy happy....Never do I recall being aroused."

She said we (women) often pile junk on top of it: how gross and disgusting and despicable it is, how wrong and dirty and we have so much piled up on top of it, that even if we were aroused, we wouldn't know it.

Which brought us to the dream. She said the dream was symbolic and - in her opinion, based on what I told her - had nothing to do with my father, and everything to do with Bill.

For me, the most difficult aspect of that dream, was the strong emotional attachment I was feeling towards my father as I initiated sex. The feeling of this very powerful love, was identical to that which I feel for Bill.

We talked a lot about this, about my authentic fear of this love for Bill.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I don't know. Doing something wrong? Saying something wrong? Being hurt. Being abandoned."

But there's more to it than that, even. Kind of like Cindy is "re-parenting" me, Bill is giving me this love that I've never had before and I am terrified of it...not used to it...

"You know," she said, "It takes a huge amount of courage for you to love him....to let him love you that way."

I cried...this heart-wrenching, desperate cry. Aching inside. So confused. So afraid. Hopeful but terrified.

The only other time I ever felt such intense love, was when I loved my father. Feeling that intensity is blindingly terrifying.

Yet....if I let it happen...if I just let it run it's course, I will (or should) re-learn love. Healthy love, instead of the toxic, abusive, painful love that I hold inside as a norm. This fearful, punishing love that sticks to me like velcro.

I wonder....

I wonder if I left Bill years ago, because of this intensity, in favor of a more superficial relationship, that would spare me from loving so deeply.

Thank you Cindy....Ron...Bill......

Bill.....thank you.

Relationships and PTSD/DID

My therapist and I have talked about relationships...how you're always in a relationship, whether with your partner, children, neighbors or the grocery store clerk. These are relationships.

In having these discussions, we've talked about regulating emotions - something that's super hard. I wish I had a map, or some way to draw a picture of how it works.

I can have a relationship with someone and if they're doing things that hurt themselves, I try to be a good friend to them, I try to help and support and encourage. On some level, there's compassion and understanding and it doesn't put me off. I don't take it personally, for example, if someone cuts. I know it's part of their journey and struggle. I just try to be there for them.

I can also have that same relationship and have them do something that frightens or angers me and I shut down. It goes through my brain, processed immediately - instantaneously - and I completely shut down.

Intellectually, I am realizing, "Okay people are fallible. Everyone makes mistakes." but this part inside of me that's shut down is saying, "No, HELL no! DANGER! DANGER!"

I recently had a falling-out with a friend. A good friend. A good, good, good long-time friend. And the timing was really bad, too, because I was "mourning deeply" (as my therapist put it) the loss of my relationship with Gary and all the friends that went with it.

It affected me so badly, that I essentially cut everyone off. I really didn't want to talk to anyone, although I did briefly. For days, though, I screened my calls and was relatively unavailable. I mean, if it could happen with this person, it could happen with anyone!

But because we're so close - and always have been - we're kind of talking about it. Kind of. I'm trying to be different, trying to handle things differently than in the past where I would simply walk away....fast.

I'm trying to use my intellect, rather than my emotions....people are fallible, it's not fair to blame him, it's okay... but the dialogue inside is so much different. The fear of abandonment; the fear of hurt and pain...the story that plays in your head your whole life about not being good enough (all on the heels of a very loud and clear such message from Gary and his friends). It hurts and even if I recognize the irrationality of it, I don't know how to fix it.

Regulating emotions. I've written about it before....it's a struggle. The emotions are so intense.

That's why relationships - at least for me, and I'm sure, many other incest survivors - are so intense.

To my dear friend: I love you. I always have and always will. I'm so sorry that I am so damned difficult. I know I am fortunate to have you in my life. There is absolutely nobody in this world like you and I know you love me... I'm just afraid and trepidatious right now.

All my love.