Broken.

*Trigger warning- swearing*

 

Oh how real that is right now.. I didn’t know it was possible to be broken. Not really. I said the words, but I never understood. I had learned to protect myself. Protected by the pretense, by the lies, by the mask.

I didn’t know, I really didn’t know that I could be broken, not that way, not like that.

I see it now, I remember. I feel it. Broken. Alone. Fucking alone.

 

Where were you? Anyone at all? What is wrong with people? What is wrong with this world, that a child would choose abuse so they didn’t have to be alone?

Unconditional love, I know all about that. I have felt it for so many. Too many. For the wrong people, the wrong person. Admitting I needed him, loved him and relied on him has thrown me into turmoil. Shame, regret, and pain. Oh, so much pain.

I am back to pretending- trying to pretend to myself, too. Pretending it’s OK. Pretending that I am OK. The smile, the laugh, so you can’t see me, so you don’t know what I hide beneath.

I am not OK, I was broken. Broken by him, by them. By the abuse, the loneliness, the emptiness, the fear and the fucking awful rejection. That was not OK and I am not OK right now.

My throat is raw and I feel full. Full of what I know, full of what I have seen. Full of years of unspilled tears. Is this what it is to feel? If it is, I want none of it.

I am desperate. Desperate for comfort, desperate for peace, just desperate.

Hold me in your heart, love me, tell me it will be OK, tell me it won’t ever be that way again. Tell me I didn’t deserve it, that I was always worth more than that, even back then. Especially back then. A child, an innocent.

Needy. I hate being needy. It’s not me. I am tough, I am strong. I know better than to need, don’t I?!

I didn’t mean for it to happen, I didn’t mean to be involved. I didn’t want what he did, what it caused. I didn’t want to be alone. I was left all alone.

Rape, rather than be alone. How fucked up is that? I didn’t want it, I swear, believe me?  I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I couldn’t be alone, not with that. What was I to do? What did I know?

How was that my life? How could I have been that person?

So I ask you, anyone out there reading, don’t hate me and please, Oh God, please, don’t fucking leave me. I was let down, I was broken, don’t you do it, don’t you dare, don’t you let me down too… ‘cos I deserve better than I had back then.

 

Therapy worries. Rejection, Abandonment.

I have just had three good days in a row, three! Saturday morning’s writing really helped.

I had an amazing afternoon with my cousin and her family and then a peaceful day Sunday. Yesterday, I had a challenge of handling the children alone until late evening and not only did I manage it, but I felt perfectly calm and natural while doing so- YAY for me!

 

Today is not so good, painful body memories, flashbacks and some fears/worries surrounding therapy and my T again. I really need them to go away, I cannot address them, nor can my T reassure me until next Friday.

One memory in particular continues to bother me. I really hoped it was among the processed memories and I would not need to go there again. Unfortunately, it seems I do. It keeps coming back and no amount of telling it to “do one” works. It just comes back. I can understand why, while we have discussed it before, it was not faced properly, or as necessary, instead it was talked about in order to reach other goals. Therefore, it makes sense that I need to raise it again at some point, but it seems I have some worries about doing so.

The thing that has surprised me, is that the worry is not about having to go through talking it over again, it is not fear or even frustration so much, instead it is more about how my T may react.

What the heck is up with that?? I have no reason to question him, he has never given me reason to.. But:

I am worried about going over old ground and causing him to feel impatient or annoyed with me. I deeply fear his (or anyone’s) rejection and abandonment. And that pisses me off. I thought those feelings had at least faded a little.

My last session with my T is probably why this is getting to me right now. He said a few things that were badly timed- things I will bring up in my next session.

The things he said were actually really encouraging when considered in the right mindset, but I guess I am not there, because I am struggling to see them as such right now.

Lots of fear and worrying. I have thoughts such as:

“Two years of therapy now, is he becoming frustrated with me?”

“Is he sick and tired of hearing about my stuff”

“Does he think I am exaggerating?”

“Does he believe I should be over it?”

Or the worst “Does he think I am over it and I am just attention seeking now?

 

Deep down I know the answers. He is a Person Centered Therapist, it is my agenda, my therapy, it goes on as long as I need and want. I have not stood still, I have made huge leaps of progress- so why the fear? Why the worry?

I have to get past it before I can talk to him about this memory again. It was a particularly nasty incident, probably one of the worst. It was emotionally and physically traumatic, incredibly so. It is also a memory that is (once again) surrounded in shame. As such, I need to feel completely sure he is there for me, with no frustration or impatience directed towards me.

I feel ridiculous for the fear, he is amazing, he has been amazing all the way through this. I should not need to question him.

It’s hard enough to have to get through the body memories and the flashbacks without the fear and worry. Every time I am hit by an intrusive memory I think of my last session when my T picked up on my use of the word “intrusive” and we talked of how it is OK, to tell a memory where to go. Why does that bother me? When or day or so ago that knowledge was a source of liberation for me? I feel so conflicted. I cannot tell this memory where to go yet and I know that is OK. I know my T would encourage me to explore it again. So why the worry?

I am tying myself in knots here. I hate feeling this way, the insecurity, the neediness.

The relationship with a therapist is a strange one isn’t it? You tell this person deep thoughts and feelings, you probably won’t tell another person, yet they aren’t a friend or a family member, or someone that will remain in your life after therapy.

While the boundaries are so very important to me, sometimes it’s hard not to feel needy. He knows my deepest, darkest thoughts. He knows vile and sick details I can never imagine repeating to anyone else. I have told him things I do not think my loved ones will ever know. I cannot handle the idea of his rejection. I cannot bear to imagine that he will abandon me with this.

 

I could beat myself up couldn’t I? I could be frustrated and angry at the way I feel, but what good would that do? I feel this, I cannot help what I feel. And I am not to blame. I did not cause these feelings. I feel this way because I was abandoned, because I was abused, because I was rejected. So, I am doing what I can to help myself feel better this evening. It is back to basics of grounding and comforting through these awful body memories and these troublesome, conflicting fears.

I hate this, what he did, what he caused and how it still lingers in my life now. I want to be free of it.

I hope this passes soon. 😦

 

 

Hatred

*Trigger Warning -swearing*

I am lost in a vast red mist.

Seething with rage because worked sucked, body memories continue and PTSD symptoms are pissing me off. I can see what I am doing, that I am not helping myself. I know later there will be hindsight where I will find steps I should have taken to ground and to reduce stress today. But right now I am angry, I feel attacked and out of control. My children are clashing, one is grumpy and demanding.

I am tired of unwanted disclosures, of gossip and ill feeling at work. On days like today I feel stupid for ever believing that I am ready to be a part of the rest of the world. I resent work and the people there for how under attack I feel and equally hate myself for blaming them for my failings. It is my issue, not theirs.

I hate him too, for making life so difficult. I fucking hate him right now for the spike in hyper vigilance and for the sheer terror I felt when I returned home to an empty house and the back gate wide open. And I hate him, for making me hate myself for that fear too. I hate him for the grooming and control that did such a number on my self esteem that in these moments I cannot find anything but feelings of self loathing.

I want to be a better mother than I am being this afternoon. I want to laugh with them, play with them, cuddle with them; not grit my teeth as they hug me nor clench my fists as they yell and fight. I am not handling them very well right now. And I hate him for that and I hate me too.

I feel as if the new self I am discovering is lost today. I want her back. I want that strong, brave, loving, kind person to return to the fore and take control again.

PTSD sucks. I hate him for doing this to me.

Let go (flashback).

 

An afternoon out with my beautiful family. A walk through the park,

the light departing, the wind rising, howling through the trees and it is all so similar,  far too familiar.

And just like that the sound has gone and I can’t rip my eyes from those trees looming, menacingly over me.

I can’t fight as I know what is coming, as I am drawn back to hell. Like a black hole, I can feel you pulling me through.

Beside me I feel your hand around mine, leading me away from safety. Always leading me away.

Your smell hits me hard and I am frozen in fear, somewhere inside I sink to my knees

because I remember this night and what is ahead for me.

And I am willing you to let go. Please, I beg you, let go of my hand, let me go back to them.

I can hear sobbing and I know it’s coming from within me, but it feels so far away,

it’s like being under water, desperately I am clawing my way to the surface.

And as quick as I left, I know I am back. The sound returns and the cold air hits.

I smile brightly at my children as I run my hands through my hair and stamp my feet to ground.

They are blissfully unaware of the sobs I am containing.They are oblivious to my haunting.

But not my husband, not him. He knows where I’ve been and he knows that you took me. He knows.

And as he takes my hand gently leading me away from you, I know he will never let go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dreams. Where’s my BFG?

I find myself afraid to sleep tonight, yet my day hasn’t been bad, in moments it was actually OK (I had a day off work with my baby and then got to see my big boy in his school play 🙂 ), right now though, I am afraid. 

I’ve been dreaming a lot which has caused hyper vigilance the last few days. Last night was particularly bad. I woke afraid in the early hours, I threw myself into my husband’s arms, then once calm I slept again, only to dream the same dream once more. Again, I woke, received comfort, then straight back into the dream as I fell asleep.

I do not recall the dream at all, but I know it is similar to one I had at the weekend- which was incredibly violent. I was sweating buckets when I woke from that one. So, it certainly seems to be a trauma dream, but I can’t piece it together, I can’t recall enough to know what it is. 

It leaves me afraid tonight, I don’t want to dream of him or of back then, I don’t want to wake with my heart pounding and barely able to breathe, I don’t want to wake in terror ever again. I don’t want the resulting hyper vigilance, I don’t want to have to fight that lingering fear, nor do I want to spend time trying to work out the cause. I don’t want to feel this, I don’t want to deal with it. 

 

Have you ever seen the BFG? The Kids movie about a “Big Friendly Giant” who catches dreams then delivers the good ones to children and the bad ones he locks up tight, never to bother a child again. I want a BFG to deliver a good dream to me tonight, I want him to take away the bad ones and lock them away forever. Heck, I’d settle for just one night right now. 

 

Disclaimer – I do not want any other parts of the BFG movie- i.e the bone crunching giants who eat children :O or even the visit to the Queen’s bedroom 😉 

Paranoid.

 

Why don’t I feel differently this morning? I need to get a grip, I’m safe, nothing has changed, yet I feel more paranoid rather than less.

I fear I’ve lost some of the footing I had gained. It’s like I’ve been climbing a mountain and the last few days I’ve slipped down a little-back to where I used to be. Except this time it is different and I need to remember that. There are no footholds above me, the climb back up should be swift, but I can’t seem to get back to climbing. I feel frozen with this.

Last night my husband had to shower with me, I couldn’t face being alone upstairs at night.. that is an old fear, something that left me long ago. My youngest is going through a shrieking phase, it’s ear splitting and if I react, he does it more. It reduces me to tears each time. I am on edge, the hyper vigilance is constant and it’s making me so jumpy.

I feel stuck in old fears and paranoia and it’s making me want to shut down, delete contacts with people, close down my Facebook and I feel ridiculous saying this, but it makes me want to leave the town I am in and start again somewhere else. Madness huh? Because nothing has changed. I am not unsafe.

I’m so annoyed with myself for being so irrational and so paranoid, the word hysterical crossed my mind!

I hope this passes soon

Afraid

 

I want to write, but I am finding it hard to distance myself enough to face the whole shame thing I’m dealing with in therapy.

I am feeling freaked out. I have worries and fears, that while valid, are stirring up past fears. I am fearing for my safety in an irrational way, I am paranoid about my children being away from me, which made it difficult to leave them today.  My husband is currently out (though not for long at least) and I am really (and embarrassingly) afraid without him here, plus I feel a huge amount of pressure to hide it because my children are with me, they do not need a fearful mother. The weight of the responsibility I have to them, feels quite enormous right now.

This is not a bit of anxiety, not an old fear I need to ground from, it is a present and very real fear. Whether this fear is rational or not doesn’t seem to matter, I am still afraid.  It’s as if I am back where I used to be -fearing for my safety at every turn. Yet, I am not unsafe, I am in my home, miles away from “him”, in a new town, where I feel (relatively) safe most of the time. I wish the rest of me would hurry up and realise that.