Shame again?

This morning, I woke feeling a whole heap of shame. I had hoped I had seen the last of it.

I’m not quite sure what or why, I don’t have the energy to explore it much right now. I would have understood if I felt it while with my T yesterday. I told him some horrible stuff, that previously would have caused shame and embarrassment.

Before I began yesterday, we discussed our relationship some, my T asked if I was feeling embarrassed with him. I told him no and I meant it. There has been a big change recently, I have been able to tell him without fear of rejection or embarrassment. I did not feel shame while I spoke the details. It hurt, I felt outrage and I felt pain, but not shame. I felt heard, I felt understood and I felt him holding my pain. Shame was not part of that.

I can at least guess reasons behind it, but as I said, that will take energy to explore properly. Energy, I do not have, not that kind and not to face it alone. I need to though, if it doesn’t go at least. It is dragging me down, it’s so big and so destructive.

Shame tells me that I deserve to feel this way. It tells me that I’m dirty and I am used and that’s all I was and am good for. It tells me that I am kidding myself if I think I can be good for anything else. It tells me that I do not deserve the family I have, nor do I deserve those supporting me. It tells me that they’d run away from me if they only knew what I really am. It tells me to keep it to myself, it tells me to isolate. And it’s LOUD.

All those things cause a whole heap of fear and paranoia. I fear being left, I fear being rejected. I am paranoid that it’s right and I won’t always be able to conceal it; one day I will be discovered and everyone will see me for who I fear I am.

I’m shocked at the depth of it. It’s lies are powerful and hard to fight. I’m doing what I can to fight it, e.g. I’ve been seeking the comfort in my husband’s arms, that I don’t feel I deserve, but I’ve been doing it anyway. I’ve not been writing in my journals, for a few reasons (mostly because I don’t feel I can), but I have typed and will publish this, even if I feel like I’m fighting against myself. I don’t want to isolate, I don’t want to keep this to myself, I did that for years and it’s so destructive. I get tired of fighting though.

Why is it always such a fight?

Fighting thoughts

 

I can’t do this anymore;

is a thought I fight each day.

Every single moment, I am pushing it away

I set my sights on the end, that I know is ahead.

I focus on the good bits of the new life I have made.

 

But still, those thoughts won”t leave me

and that edge is way too close,

so I do not know what to do

as I face another new day.

It is  just too hard.

 

Angry.

 

It appears my “writers block” is over, I’ve written a lot in my journal today and two entries here (three now!). It’s a need rather than a want. I need to write. It is the best way to express my thoughts and feelings.

I find myself with a familiar rage that hits very suddenly, and then my thoughts begin to race. It’s incredibly intense as it grows inside me and the need to write becomes quite desperate. It pours out onto paper or here and after I sort of slump with exhaustion and relief. Perhaps dramatic, but I think writing has saved my life.

I’m feeling a lot of anger right now, I’ve been quite angry all day. I suppose I have a lot to be angry about, yes? And though it doesn’t feel like it, I am sure it’s OK to be angry.. right?

 

I am angry that I am going through this pain and suffering right now and I am angry that I ever had to go through such trauma. I am so incredibly angry that my beautiful soul friend was dragged into all this. Angry at me but mostly angry at “them”.

Sometimes I can barely believe that this was and is my life. He changed me forever, because there’s no denial, I am changed and I hate him for it. I hate him.

I hate him for grooming me and oh how I hate him for raping me and for subjecting me to torturous abuse. But I hate him most for making me fall for him.

I hate that he made me afraid of everything, I hate that even with my children, I struggle with their touch and that I have to remind myself to hug them. I hate that I flinch from my husbands embrace because of what “he” did to me. I hate that I am scared of the dark and of going out alone. I hate that I think of what he did all the time, I hate that I feel him with me, I hate that I see him everywhere. I hate that the horror intrudes on my day and that I always have to fight so hard.

Because that is what it is, a fight. Every day, every damn day. It feels as if I am constantly in a duel with him. I struggle with him as I bathe my children and as I make their breakfast. I am pushing him away as I walk to the school and kiss my child goodbye. I am fighting as I work at my desk and banter with my colleagues. I am battling with him as I pick up my children. The conflict goes on, as I help with homework and make the dinner. I go to bed exhausted and as I make love to my husband, the tussle continues. And while sleeping, I am battling in my dreams, because the fight is never ending it just goes on and on.

And I am angry, so very very angry.

 

 

Fight

 

 

He asked me yesterday what fight I have inside

Could I pretend he was fear and show of what I’m made?

I told him I couldn’t do it, that I wanted to run away.

He pointed out that I fight, every single day.

 

I am stronger than I know, to ever get this far.

but I don’t just fight the past, I am in a constant battle

A struggle with myself, feeling versus control

Yesterday he saw it, the conflict in my mind

 

I lost control briefly and I was terrified

The fight was automatic, my defences kicked in

Oh it feels so good to win, almost euphoric

To feel, then regain control whenever I want it

 

He says I’m like a shaken coke bottle

barely containing, ready to explode.

I cannot continue with conflict, I need to let it go.

So the fight will no longer be my life.

 

 

 

 

Seeking

Therapy Friday prompted me to write this, it is from how I felt during my time with him to how I feel two days on. I’m disheartened to say the least, but I know my T would scold me and tell me how much progress I’m making. Anyway, here it is. 

 

Power, control and safety

I seek their blessed freedom

Glimmers of hope he gave me

with him I could finally see

 

daring to reach out and grasp them

time whisked them away from me

In his presence I found them

but alone just a distant dream.

 

My familiar ghosts surround me

lingering, their closeness I seek

sickeningly, I find in them comfort

No fight, they lead me back home